#and you know what? I hope she makes that philandering husband of hers work for his cheque

[lydiaas]

NADIA MORALES in S02E12 AT LONG LAST

[donutloverxo]

Some help

Note - this is a sequel to first night but can be read as a stand alone as well. Sorry for the months of delay. These maybe my words but my dear friend lizzygal(on ao3) helped me a lot! Couldn't have done it without her.

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Steve recruits his brothers help in knocking you up.

Warnings - 18+ only please, dub con, so much smut, soft dark!Steve and Bucky, Bucky is Steve's half brother, mentions of period sex, mfm threesome, some analplay, breeding kink, homophobia/sexism (cause it's medieval times).

Pairing - King!Steve x reader, Steve x reader x Bucky, Bucky x reader.

Word count - 5.8k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

“Steven,” you hummed next to his ear, his name smoothly rolling off your tongue. He never gave you the permission to call him that but you were his wife and soon-to-be queen, who would dare stop you?

He quirked a brow, looking up from the book he was reading to you, his blonde hair shining so brightly in the sunlight, the blue in his eyes even more prominent. “What do you want, my love?” he asked. Touching your lower lip with his thumb, pulling it down a bit just for his own amusement.

He had suggested a picnic with you to be more romantic. As you had demanded for him to be. It was his own fault, as much as he loved taking you apart and putting you back together every single night that wouldn’t be enough for a women. His late mother had taught better.

Never hit a woman. Always protect her and provide for her. Never force yourself on your wife.

He knew better than to even look at a woman the wrong way. He was well aware of his fathers philandering ways, how he had more than a few bastards, and the bruises his mother worked so hard to covered up.

Even though his half-brother Bucky was a product of an affair, his mother took him in and treated him as her own. Bucky had saved his life more times than he could count.

Looking at your pretty face now, he knew he could never do anything to hurt you. He loved you far too much, even though he had yet to tell you that. He knew for sure that anyone who dared hurt you would die a gruesome death by his hands.

“Would you like to play a game? I’m bored of reading.” you whined, pouting your bottom lip as his thumb stroked your chin.

You had been married to the king for over two months now and things couldn’t be better. You were sure he’d be cruel towards you, what with the way he treated you on your wedding night. But... apparently that was just a part of coupling. He only ever acted like that in bed.

He refused to let you have your own room. A king and queen sharing chambers was unheard of. At first, you weren’t sure what to make of it. He had given you the excuse of wanting a son as soon as possible and that there was no way he could keep his hands off of you.

“Sure,” he closed the book keeping it aside, “What would you like to play?”

“Well, I used to play tag with my sisters. So... um... I run and you chase after me, if you’re able to catch me then I run after you,” your eyes lit up. You hadn’t had a moment to breath or have childish fun in weeks with your wifely duties, which we’re too fun to be called ‘duties', and your duties as the future queen.

He shook his head, caressing your face “Can you run? You’re so clumsy, princess, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” he teased. He had tried to teach you how to ride a horse but you seemed to have no sense of balance.

You puffed your cheeks, “I won’t.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he laughed “What do I get if I catch you?”

“What would you like?” you blinked.

He hummed in thought, he could ask you what he really wanted. But it’d scare off a good girl like you. He’d have to train you and discipline you some more. You were still shy and inexperienced. It’d take time and he was more than willing to wait.

“I want a lot of things... but right now I’ll settle for a kiss,” he smiled.

“Just a kiss,” you giggled “deal,” you shook his hand on it before getting up and fixing your skirts.

“I’ll give some time to get far enough. It’s no fun if I catch you in a moment and win,” he smirked.

“We’ll see,” you hollered over your shoulder, already on your feet, running as fast as you could.

You ran for the woods near the palace, towards the small waterfall you loved so much.

Laughing in mirth, with the soft summer breeze in your face, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about mudding your skirts. You craned your neck to see if he was following you, sticking your tongue out to him, “You’ll never catch me.”

He frowned at that. He was running at a much slower pace, just to let you have your fun but he wasn’t about to let you get away with being so cheeky. It would set a bad precedent. Increasing his pace, he circled a hand around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and in the air, “What was that, princess?” he whispered huskily in your ear.

“Oh,” you shivered, squirming in his hold “It’s not fair! You’re a warrior, of course you’d be more athletic than me.”

“Now, don’t be a sore loser,” He pressed his lips to your cheek. “You’re only as good as your word,” he said putting you back down on your feet as you turned around to face him.

“Fine,” you grumbled, standing up on your toes and puckering your lips to kiss him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, stopping you.

“Kissing you?” you frowned.

“You promised a kiss. But we didn’t decide on where it would be.”

“Where do you want it?” you tilted your head, frowning in confusion.

He took a hold of your wrist, bringing your hand down to his crotch to make you feel his arousal. His chasing after you as if you’re his prey, had done something to him.

You gasped, “No! My king, not here.” you shook your head. You had only pleasured him with your mouth a few times, it was hard work but worth it to see make him feel good and seemed to work you up for some reason as well.

“You’re denying your king?” you shook your head again, “Get on with it before someone comes and sees us. It would be a scandal,” he rushed you, working on freeing his erection.

“I - ” you gulped. You had no other choice.

“Your grace!” you both whipped your head as you heard someone calling. “Your grace,” Peter came running through the bushes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve fixed his pants before walking towards the boy.

“We’ve just received word. The enemy has seized the fort in queens.” he heaved “and - and they’re terrorizing the villages. They killed the Lord and his family.”

Steve processed the new information. This was bad. As good as he was at fighting a war he’d never want to willingly do it. Not unless it was a last resort. It caused too much death and misery.

He had married you just to avoid one with your kingdom, hoping to make a firm, or a good enough, alliance instead. It was a blessing in disguise really.

“Alright. Get the troops ready. We’ll leave at first light. And send for Lord Barnes,” he instructed.

“My king,” he heard your trembling voice looking behind to see you so scared, hugging yourself to make yourself small, “Are you leaving as well?” you wanted to know.

“You know I have to, petal,” he replied pulling you flush against his chest. He nuzzled his nose in your hair “You have to take care of the kingdom while I’m gone.”

“But I don’t know anything.” you sniffled.

“You’re much stronger than you think,” he swayed you both to calm you, “ and on’t you worry. I’m leaving Bucky behind. He’ll guide you.”

“No,” you pulled away to look at his face “you said that he’s your sergeant. Don’t you need him?”

“I need the kingdom to be safe, too. Sweetheart, I know what I’m doing.” He said kissing your knuckles.

You twisted and turned in your bed. Missing the warmth your husband provided you with. But he had been gone for over a month. You had to post pone your coronation and your visit to your parents.

You drowned yourself in the courts activities everyday, hoping to keep your mind off of things. If anything happened to your husband, you couldn’t bear it.

You were surrounded by people everyday, who seemed kind but you had never felt so lonely. They were only kind to you because they were scared of you. They didn’t really know you.

And you didn’t know anyone there, except for James. While you had developed a friendship with him he was often busy with his duties.

You gave up on sleep. Putting a robe on to cover yourself, you made your way to James' chambers with your guards following you.

With the king being gone and you visiting his brother in the middle of the night - you knew it wouldn’t look good. You couldn’t think about that right now. You needed to speak to James. To confess your anxieties, to have him reassure you.

You didn’t bother to knock, you nudged the door open. You blinked, rubbing your eyes just to make sure you weren’t seeing things. A woman was straddling his waist, bouncing up and down on his cock, you didn’t even know women could be on top, another was... sitting... on his face? Why would she do that? Wouldn’t that suffocate him?

When she threw her head back, moaning wantonly, you understood. Your cheeks heated up as you realised what he was doing. Just like Steven uses his tongue and mouth on you...

“Oh heavens!” the one on his face gasped as the other one stopped her moments, looking at you as her jaw dropped.

“What?” James grumbled.

“It’s the queen,” she winced as they both got off of him, collecting their clothes “I’m sorry, your grace - we’re sorry,” she gave you an apologetic look. Scurrying their way out as James quickly put on his breeches.

“Your grace,” he greeted you. “What brings you here?” he grunted, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Who were they?” you asked. You had no idea how or why you felt so betrayed. James was his own person, he was known to be a ladies man, you should’ve expected this.

“They were whores, your grace.” His lips twitched as he suppressed a smirk at the incredulous look on your face. Steve had told him about your naiveté, how it was so adorable and how it strangely turned him on. He seemed to love having you as his wife, that was for sure.

“You’re doing this, while your brother is off fighting a war?” you scoffed.

“It was just a way to clear my mind, princess,” he retorted. “How can I help you?”

“I - ” you couldn’t even think of anything, what would you say? Why were you here anyway. “I miss, Steven,” you said, your bottom lip trembling as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Oh,” he smiled.

You truly were adorable. And while he was happy that his brother had someone who loved him so deeply, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealously. Steve had someone like you. Who loved him for who he was. Who was missing him and waiting for him to come home.

“Steve is very capable. He can take care of himself. Don’t you worry, he’ll be back before you know it,” he promised.

“We haven’t heard from him in days. What if, god forbid, something terrible had happened,” you choked on a sob, hugging yourself you thought of how miserable your life would be without him.

Not just because you’d have to take on an entire kingdom but also because you didn’t know what you would do with yourself without him. If you’d never see his face again... you couldn’t think of anything worse.

“Hey, now,” he was about to reason with you, but you wrapped your hands around his waist, burying your face in his damp chest. “He’ll be back. Have some faith,” he said.

Steve had never been good at sharing. Even as a kid he’d often be vaguely jealous. Since he was much smaller and sicklier than Bucky back then.

Bucky had to be on the receiving end of his simmering rage when he had danced with you at a soiree. It was supposed to be just an innocent dance, but you looked so beautiful, he couldn’t help himself as he flirted and joked and made you laugh.

Only to have Steve kick his ass in sparing the very next day. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. It was as if with every punch and kick he spoke 'don't touch my things.'

Who could he blame him? If he had a wife such as yourself he’d never want to share either.

If Steve were to see this, you hugging him while he was half naked and unchaperoned in his chambers in the middle of the night...

“I should go,” you murmured, looking up at him, his dark hair, much longer than your husbands, sticking to his handsome face.

“We can talk tomorrow. And don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he cupped your delicate face, swiping a thumb across your cheek, “Steve will be back.”

You nodded, walking towards the door, hoping to catch some sleep before you have to wake up for court, but then stopped abruptly.

Looking at him over your shoulder, you shouldn’t... you’re a lady, you’re the queen! You should know better but you had always been a curious girl.

“Can three people... make love at the same time? Is that possible?” your hands clutching your nightgown as if your life depended on it.

He gave you a hearty laugh, running his hand through his hair, “Not just three, many people can make love together. The most I’ve seen is... six.”

You turned to face him, “Six?!” you gasped. “Do men like doing that? Would that mean... would the king want something like this as well?”

“Yes, many men do... if you know how to treat a woman right then she would too. But you don’t have to worry about Steve. He’s never been THAT perverted.”

You hummed, and here you were thinking your husband was the most perverted man alive. “Can... two women make love together?” you had always wanted to know.

“Yes, they can. Two men can as well,” he answered.

“How would that work?” you frowned and then realised how it would, “But sodomy’s a sin!”

“Then I guess I’m going to hell,” he smirked.

“Have you been with a man?”

“Yes, I have. Do you hate me now?” he pouted.

“No,” you shook your head, “I could never hate you. I’ve always felt that was ridiculous. There is no reason for it to be unethical... right?”

“That��s right,” he nodded.

“I won’t tell anyone though. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you.”

“That’s kind of you, princess.”

You faked a wide smile, nodding here and there to make it look like you were listening. You had started a book club with the ladies of the court, just to get your mind off of Steven, who had now been gone for over two months.

He had stopped writing to you, only sending messages to the James and the kings guard now. He had finally defeated the enemy and was on his way home. You couldn’t think of anything else.

“Your grace,” you jerked when you heard your handmaiden whisper in your ear.

Looking over your shoulder, “What is it?”

“His majesty is here,” she grinned, visibly happy for you.

“What?” you got up, “Where is he?”

“He’s in his chambers. We tried to stop him, so he could get a proper welcome but he was much too eager to see you,” she giggled.

“Ladies,” you turned to them, trying to curb your giddiness and act as elegant as you could, “You’ll have to excuse me. Please do continue without me.”

Steve groaned as he felt his muscles loosen up in the warm water, looking around his chambers for you.

“Where is the queen?” he asked his footman. He had sent for you over an hour ago and his patience was running thin.

“I’ll look into it right away - ”

“My king?” he heard your sweet voice calling for him, “He’s not here...” the partition to the bathtub probably restricting your view of him.

He chuckled at how disappointed you were, “I’m right here, petal,” he called, getting up from the bath as his footman helped him into a robe.

His heart swelled upon finally seeing your pretty face, letting out a shaky exhale, he took you in as the servants excused themselves. He pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in a warm hug. “How’s my queen doing?”

“Lonely without you,” you mumbled, propping your chin on his bare chest so you could look up at him, “You... shaved...” you touched his smooth jaw.

He looked much younger and different without his thick masculine beard. Not as rugged as he used to, just as handsome but in a boyish way.

“Yes, I did,” he kissed your palm, “Do you like it?” he asked as you nodded. He had only done it for you. He hadn’t been able to take proper care of it when he was away and he wanted to look presentable for you. “I’m sorry you were lonely, my love. I was too, more than you could ever imagine. All I thought about was you.”

“Do you promise to never leave me for so long again?”

“I’ll never leave you. I don’t think my poor heart could bear it. You’ve turned me soft.”

“I won’t have you make fun of me!” you half-heartedly pushed at his chest.

He held onto your wrists, for someone so small and dainty you sure could do a lot of damage with your punches, “I swear I’m not making fun of you, I love you,” he confessed.

You laid your head on his beating heart so he wouldn’t see you all flustered, “Well, I love you too,” you grumbled.

You noticed the gash on his neck, “You’re hurt!” you gasped, “We should call the doctor...”

“I’ve had much worse, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he smiled at you biting your lip in worry, always so adorable, pulling it away with his thumb, he bent to nip at it. “I missed the way you taste, I’ve been thinking about it for so long, it’s the only thing that got me through.”

You hummed, your face heating up as he pressed his arousal into your stomach, his hands holding onto the curve of your hips. “My king...” you shivered.

“We can talk later, right now I have to have you, I know you missed me too...” he whispered against your ear.

You felt a shudder creep up your spine as his hot breath fanned against the shell of your ear, “Maybe later, if you let me tend to you first.”

“You want to take care of me?” he beamed at you as you nodded. “Very well. But only for a few moments after that I won’t hear any more excuses and put that mouth to good use,” he said, pressing his lips to yours one more time.

There wasn’t much you knew about treating wounds, you were only doing so for your own peace of mind anyway so you simply cleaned the few scratches and gashes he had, kissing them like your mother did to your wounds when you were little, remembering how that always made you feel better.

“They’re the best kind of medicine,” he said about your kisses, “I have a cut here,” he said pointing at his lip, wanting some more of them.

“Don’t tease me!” you huffed.

You felt his muscles go stiff as you kissed him between his shoulders, now that you didn’t have to look at his face it’d be much easier for you to talk, “I heard the ladies at the court talking, they were saying if I can’t get pregnant in three months it means I never will.”

The thought of being barren and a disappointment to him terrified you to no end.

He shook his head, “You need to stop listening to gossip - ”

“But,” you interrupted him and pouted your bottom lip quivering as you recalled their harsh words when they thought you weren’t listening, “They also said that if I can’t get pregnant you’ll get a second wife,” to which he laughs, “don’t laugh at me, you always make fun of me,” you puff your cheeks.

“I’m not cleaning you up anymore,” throwing the rag on the ground, “or letting you make love to me.”

He growled at that, turning around and pinning you to the bedding, “You don’t get to decide that, love, or tell me no, when will you understand?” he scoffed as if he was scolding a child, sneaking a hand up your skirts and inside your breeches. His fingers toying with your wet lips.

“Now that I’m back we’re going to try to make a prince every night. Before you know it you’ll be swell with my child, I won’t stop then though,” he smirked, “I’ll have you whenever I want,” it’ll only be better when your body would be fuller and curvier with his heir.

“I’m never taking another wife, ever,” he said, pulling his hard cock out of his robe, pushing it into you slowly, your walls gripping him tighter than he remembered, better than his hand could ever be, “This is the best cunt I’ve ever had. There’s no way I could ever have another,” he tried to fight off his climax so he could make you come at least once before filling you up as you squirmed and whimpered under him, “... you’ve ruined me.”

This was strange. It was almost time for bed and Steve wasn’t back. Usually he’d back much sooner, so he could perform his husbandly duties. Even though you had been trying, so hard, for over a month you had gotten your menses just a few days ago.

You were so disappointed, you didn’t have the heart to tell him, but you had to when he tried to coax you in bed. Sobbing in his arms as he calmed you, “We’ll try again, we have all the time in the world,” he had said and you couldn’t believe how kind he was. Until he had his way with you anyway, even while you were bleeding.

“As if a little bit of blood if going to bother me.” While there was you purpose for it, you knew you couldn’t make a baby while on your monthly you now also knew that you could do it with your husband solely for pleasure.

“When will the king be back?” you asked your maid as she worked on helping you get ready for bed.

“I saw him on in the gardens with Lord Barnes,” she answered, helping you into your nightgown, “Shall I send him a message?”

“No, that’s alright.”

You dismissed her, sitting on the edge of your bed you worked on a scarf you had been stitching for your mother while waiting for the king. You planned on giving it to her when she would visit you for your coronation. She would be expecting some good news as well and you hoped to have that for her as well.

You perked up when you hear the doors to your chambers creak open loudly, putting away your work for now you made sure to look into the mirror one last time to look presentable.

“How was your day, petal?” he hugged you from behind, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, “You smell so good,” he hummed.

“Steven,” you giggled. “Thank you, I had a very long day with the preparations for the ball and the court.”

“Hope you’re not too tired,” his voice salacious and hoarse with desire as he cupped your breast through the thin material.

“No,” you shook your head, “Not at all. I mean... not too much,” you added so you wouldn’t seem too eager, “do you want to...”

“There’s someone joining us tonight.”

“What do you mean?” you turned to look up at him, his blue eyes, usually as blue as the sky on a summer afternoon, much darker now.

“You told me how much Bucky helped you and how much you loved him, right?”

You nodded, you hadn’t really used the word love, you were quite fond of him but didn’t know yet if you loved him.

“Hey, there, princess,” you yelped when you heard James' voice before seeing standing at the door.

“I told you to wait,” Steve gritted.

“You were taking too long,” he took a few long, lazy strides as you scrambled to put a robe on. “You wanted to know how three people can make love at once - now you can find out for yourself,” he said to you.

Your chest heaved as you swallowed a lump of air, “Steven, what? What’s going on?”

Steve cupped your cheeks in his palms, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, “My mother told me to, made me swear on her deathbed, to take care of Bucky, to look out for him and I haven’t been doing that. I’ve been selfish with you...”

“You’re always selfish with the things you like,” Bucky chided.

“But I’m working on that. I have to get better at sharing, if I have a woman as good as you, I am obligated to share.” He tried to explain as Bucky pulled you away from him, your back pressed to his front, “Bucky,” he scolded, “wait a minute, will you?”

“I’ve waiting long enough,” he licked a stripe up your neck, leaving goose bumps on the wet skin, “You’re right she does smell good.”

“I don’t understand... is this a test?”

“No, petal. Bucky’s going to help us conceive. After you give me my son you can give us both daughters. As beautiful as you. I’ve always wanted a girl,” he smiled.

“What if people find out,” you tried to swat Bucky’s hands away but he pinned them both on your back, undressing you and taking off your robe, followed by your gown.

“They won’t. Even if they do, who’s going to stop us?”

“But.... but... doesn’t James want a wife and kids of his own?”

“He has sworn his life to protect the crown. He can’t marry or have kids.”

“Do you want me to go away, princess?” he asked you, ripping your gown away as it pooled at your feet, leaving you naked in front of both of them, “Do you want me to marry another woman?”

“No...” you shook your head.

And because he had grown tired of your questions Steve kissed you, if only to shut you up. He pulled away as James threw you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bed and thrown you on the bed.

He pushed your knees apart, settling between them he traced your inner thighs.

You tried to push him away, to close your legs. The idea of being with James was tempting... but you had sworn yourself to Steven. This wasn’t supposed to be right. This is not how it’s supposed to happen... you can only be with your husband. But it was also your duty to obey him... and he wanted this to happen.

“Steve, a little help here,” Bucky groaned and looked to Steve.

He simply shook his head, climbing on the bed, he pinned your hands above your head, “I told you she was feisty. That’s alright, though. I like it when she struggles and pretends that she doesn’t enjoy it when I fuck her so hard and deep,” he looked down at you as you pleaded him with your eyes, “Till you can barely think or walk straight. She likes it, but she’d never admit it.”

You whimpered, fresh tears streaming down your face as your husband spoke such vulgar things about you...

“Oh!” you squealed, feeling James' finger prodding at your entrance before sinking into you.

“Gotta get you ready for my brother,” he cooed, soothing a hand down your hair, “Shh... it’s okay, just take it like a good girl. Don’t you want to be good for us? To please your king and give us princes and princesses?” he asked as he kept his fingers driving in and out of your heat at a leisurely pace, “Well?” he prodded further.

“Love,” you look up at Steve when you heard his gritty voice, “Bucky asked you a question. Maybe I didn’t make it clear enough but from now on you have to listen to both of us. Do whatever we tell you. We know what’s best for you.”

You nodded, your eyes misty as you felt your abdominal muscles clench, “Yes, yes I do want to have your babies,” you whimpered as James latched onto a hardened bud on your breast, you held onto Steve’s hands as the coil in your gut snapped.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out, looking at your fucked out pussy, glistening with want, “I’m going to fuck you, just for a bit, get you stretched out and warmed up for your husband,” he declared, his cock achingly hard at just the idea of it as he rid himself of his clothes.

“Steve told me all about how you have some magical pussy, he’s addicted to it,” he lined himself up to your entrance, looking up at his brother for just a moment before looking back to your face, “now I get to find out for myself,” he moaned as he pushed his length inside you.

“Isn’t she something?” Steve said, licking away your salty tears and letting go of your wrists since you were done being a brat, “You always look so pretty when you cry,” he praised as you whined, he held your jaw and made you look down, two sexes meeting, Bucky’s cock fucking in and out of you, “Whose cock do you like better, sweetheart?” he asked you.

You shook your head, refusing to answer, closing your eyes you let yourself get lost in the feeling of James, he was stretching you out so painfully and deliciously, your mind cloudy and unable to think or even form a coherent sentence. You felt the familiar coil forming in your belly but then James abruptly.

“Damn,” he heaved, slipping his cock out of you, “I almost came.”

“What?” you blinked as Steve switched places with James, spreading yours juices around your drenched lips, heat radiating between your legs.

“You’re all warmed up nice now, petal,” he pulled his hand away, taking his cock out of his pants, “I want you on all fours,” he instructed, flipping you over.

You barely had enough strength to stay up but James helped you by pulling at your shoulders, his hard cock bumping against your nose as you winced.

“Arch you back nicely now, I want to see your ass,” he pushed at your lower back till your ass was perched up to him, smearing his pre ejaculate against you, he sank into your heat. Moving his hips brutally against you, since you were already prepared for him.

“Will you suck me off, princess?” Bucky asked but didn’t wait for your answer as he pushed his erection past your lips, shuddering as you licked the underside of his cock, “Steve taught you well,” he breathed out. Holding onto your head, driving his cock in it, you couldn’t take all of him, but you didn’t have to, this was more than enough.

Steve had loved you since the moment he met you. He didn’t know if he could call the impure thoughts he had about you love but it was the closet thing he could think of. He wouldn’t even let another man touch you, let alone use you or fuck you like only he is allowed to.

But this was different. This was Bucky. His brother and soulmate. They were basically the same person, they could share you. He loved the idea of starting a family with you both.

He flipped you so you were on your back, he kissed you, “I’m going to fill you up, sweetheart, why don’t you come with me? Can you do that for your king?” he snaked a hand between your bodies, rolling your bundle of nerves between his fingers as Bucky whispered sweet nothings to you, telling you the names he had picked out for your kids, as you clenched around him, gushing all over him.

He released inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He pulled away to look down at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath but he stayed inside you, to make sure his seed stays in your womb.

He smiled as you weakly wrapped you hand around Bucky’s cock, stroking him till he released all over you, white spend painting you pretty skin, all over your breasts and your stomach.

He finally pulled his soft cock out of you, laying beside you as Bucky pulled you on to if him.

“Give me a minute to get hard again,” he ran a hand through sticky hair.

“Take all the time you need,” Bucky smiled, nibbling your ear, playing with the mess between your legs, you tried to squirm but he kept a firm hold on you as he played with your sensitive pussy.

“Didn’t you hear? He’s going to fuck you again, we have to keep you ready, princess,” smearing some of the juices around the tight ring of your second hole as you gasped. “Maybe you’ll be able to take both of us at the same time someday, hm?”

“That’s... possible?” you asked as he pushed a finger in, it was strange and uncomfortable, yet you wanted more of it.

“Of course, you can. With proper training,” he kissed your temple as Steve climbed back on top of you both.

Nudging at your swollen cunt, you winced in pain, “Is it too much, petal? Do you want me to stop?” he wanted to know. He’d love to fill you up some more, but not at the expense of your discomfort. He had scared you enough already.

“No,” you held onto his shoulders, “I want it, please,” looking at him with shining eyes. He could never say no to you. Just as you to him.

“Whatever you say, love,” he smiled, licking your lips till you grant him access to your mouth, he prodded at you tongue.

He was slow and steady, mindful of the bruises on your body and your overworked cunt. He was close as Bucky pushed two fingers inside you and around his cock, stretching you out even more.

He was about to reprimand him, to tell him to be more patient with his delicate innocent wife, but you screamed out in beautiful agony, exploding around his cock and begging for more. From Bucky or from him, he wasn’t sure.

“Maybe we’ll get our son tonight itself.”

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be added to the taglist.

I really hoped y'all liked it🤭🤭 idk how the first part has so many notes but I love this trope so much! Like some king Steve corrupting a good sweet girl ugh🥺🥺

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[suddenlystolen]

Hi! (This is inappropriatewenning's main account, by the way.) I really appreciate your work sharing more of the context for JGY as part of the MDZS filial piety examination. I was wondering--and go ahead and ignore me, I don't want to make you do annoying work!--but I assume there's also plenty of stories about what you do when your loyalty to your father and to your mother conflict? Since that's a thing that strikes me so much with JGY's story, he's doing so much for his mother and for his father...and his father is awful to and about his mother. I'm sure this is something that comes up in Chinese literary/folk tradition, but do you know where I might look for it?

Anyway, thank you so much for that detailed meta, it's just what I've been hoping to find!

Thanks @inappropriatewenning for asking so nicely <3! And I think @jiggysgotanevilhat had a similar question in the replies!

I’d like to activate Cunningham’s Law where the fastest way to get the right answer on the internet is to post something wrong. So I’m gonna say: I have tried,,, looking for such a story but I haven’t found anything truly analogous to Jin Guangyao’s situation. I’m going to hazard a read on this situation — which is that this only attests to how difficult Jin Guangyao’s situation is. But this is what I have, and most of it is a summary of what I’ve found in Maria Sibau’s book Reading for the Moral: Exemplarity and the Moral Imagination in Seventeen Century Chinese Short Fiction.

So for more context, within the Chinese literary and vernacular tradition, there are stories that stage a conflict between filial duty and the obligations associated with other family bonds. Maria Sibau terms them filial dilemmas in her book. As she puts it, these stories “tackle issues that fall into what may be termed moral casuistry: to whom should one give priority, father or son? Mother or wife? Mother-in law or husband? Father or adoptive father…duty towards mother vs father.”

What’s interesting is that the only example she gives of a conflict between filial duty between mother and father…isn’t really a conflict. It’s known as 挺刃终除鴞悍, 皇綸特鑒孝衷 “Brandishing a Dagger He Gets Rid of the Harpy, The Imperial Edict Gives Special Consideration to His Filial Intention”. It’s a story of a twelve year old boy Cui Jian murdering a prostitute that his philandering father takes in as a concubine. It was for said concubine insulting his already tempestuous mother, who makes a suicide attempt but is stopped by Cui Jian. Cui Jian is imperially pardoned for his crime because “killing the prostitute and thus going against his father was a minor offense, while killing the prostitute in order to save his mother was for a greater cause. He demonstrated [that he possessed] both wisdom and virtue.” I’ll leave y’all to draw the uncomfortable parallels to the Jin household and the Mengs if y’all wish :”) (Side note: There’s also a section in Sibau’s book on Filial Murderers touching on how crimes of passion stemming from the feeling of filial piety often got lighter sentences in ancient China, and could even be memorialised as exemplars. You could choose to use it to sympathise with why Jin Guangyao reacts so violently when his mother is insulted, and even why Nie Mingjue is so aghast when his father is insulted by Meng Yao while he was captured and brought before Wen Ruohan).

Anyway my guess is that it would be hard to find any traditional stories about choosing between one’s mother and father. Most “solutions” to filial dilemmas put the parents before other familial ties, because they were there for you first. By that logic, how can there be a moral exemplary, who rightly discerned if duty to mother or father should come first? Both just seem like wrong choices,,, It’s also important to note that there will also be people pointing to filial exemplars as examples of foolish filial piety (愚孝 yu xiao). The only certainty is that the choices made by those caught in filial dilemmas will be scrutinised by generations as part of their moral lessons :”)

So I guess Jin Guangyao gets to be his own filial exemplar? People can write stories about him — “He Killed his Dad…Creatively…for Insulting his Mom.” Discuss.

But yeah I wouldn’t dig too hard for a story of when filial duty between parents clash. Most chinese people wouldn’t be able to rattle these like case studies off the top of their head anyway. But I think there's a good chance that MXTX draws partly upon her chinese audience’s understanding of filial piety, to up the tension of Jin Guangyao’s predicament, where he’s caught between honouring his father and mother, building it up until it blows.

Heck, an understanding of filial piety for non-Chinese audiences might even enhance their appreciation of even other Chinese dramas or books! There’s often a good overlap between the CQL and WoH fandom, so I'm going to try give an example from WoH if that helps.

[SPOILER] So if you’ve watched WoH, my guess is that watching father-son pairs such as Long Que and Long Xiao (yeah that’s the Xiao that means filial piety) or Xie Wang and Zhao Jing is more interesting if you set it against the tradition of stories of fathers and sons trying to figure out the proper filial relations between each other [SPOILER END].

So I'd say the practice of staging scenarios in stories that complicate the practice of filial piety and understandings of parent-child relationships is very much a living one :P

[gotnofucks]

My Little Girl

Pairing: dark!Tony stark x reader (ROYAL AU)

Summary: Prince Tony hunts you on the royal hunting trip.

Words: 6.1k

Warning: non-con, yandere, breeding kink, smut, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Why don’t we have more Tony fics?? That man is fire

MASTERLIST

Part 2   Part 3

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When you lived in a monarchy, certain hierarchies had to be followed. A king marries a queen and bears princes and princesses. Similarly, a maid marries a porter boy or servant, and bears kids who work like their parents. You were taught to follow these rules just like everyone else in the kingdom. Your parents were both servants to the king and queen, and once you were old enough you were sent to work in the palace alongside your mother too. Queen Maria Stark was a loving queen and often the soothing balm for her people who bore the stern commands of King Howard Stark. You loved to work for the queen as you got the chance to work alongside your mother and see the royal luxuries. The work was easy enough as there were so many people to help and sometimes when you did something really well you were handsomely rewarded. You took great pride in wearing the gold earbobs given to you by the queen and you stubbornly refused to let your father sell them in exchange for money.

The kingdom was a prospering and peaceful one, much more advanced than their neighbors which made the prince a very eligible bachelor. Prince Tony Stark was a handsome young man and as far as you were concerned, he was a shameless rake. You didn’t serve him directly, but you’d seen a gaggle of girls leave his chamber from time to time and the obnoxious sounds and giggling that escaped through his door made you shudder. You’d heard fellow maids mutter excitedly about spending a night with him and you flushed at how they could allow the prince to compromise them like that. What man would marry them if they got to know of their dalliances with the prince. Your parents were in the process of fixing a match for you in the baker’s family that supplied desserts to the kingdom. As a mere maid, you would be marrying above you and you shuddered to think what your future husband would say if he ever thought you had consorted with other men before marriage. With this in mind, you took special care to stay away from the prince and his lords, always praying you wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye.

You were excited today since you’d be accompanying the Queen and her ladies to their hunting trip. It was also rumored that Princess Virginia Potts - nicknamed Pepper - would also be joining the royal company. Everyone suspected that by the time this trip would be over, Prince Tony’s philandering ways would be over, and he would be engaged to Princess Pepper. Your mother who was not coming with you desperately prayed the royal match would be made, since she hoped that after their marriage your services would be availed by the princess and carry on after she took over as queen. Being a royal’s personal aid was an envied position and those servants who had that honor often had a superior sneer on their faces. Their jobs were more than simply attending to their masters during the day. They would also draw their baths, help them dress and accompany them to every royal event. These were the servants who ordered the other servants around and if you could make that position with the new princess, maybe it would be the baker’s boy who would be marrying above him.

Your mother’s instructions were very clear. Never be rude to any lord or lady and do their bidding without complaint. If you meet Princess Pepper, do your best to catch her eye and make her like you so that when she marries here, she’ll remember you and have you as her maid. More than that, stay away from every other man, be it lord or servant. You didn’t need whispers reaching home about you having a romp in the bushes with a stranger.

The path the hunting party was following was rough and you bemoaned your fate as you walked. The higher up servants travel on mules beside their masters, or in the palanquin with the royals if you were a personal aid. You prayed that Princess Pepper would like you so that in future you wouldn’t have to walk like a common maid. When it was announced that they will be pitching the tents for tonight and will continue deeper into the forest tomorrow, you almost moaned in relief. Your legs ached and your back hurt from carrying stuff on it for most of the day. The only thought you had was serving the ladies as fast as you could so that you could join the rest of the servants in your own tent and get some rest.

Once everyone was fed and you had seen to the comfort of the ladies, you made your way back to your tent that was pitched a little way away from the royals. It had taken longer than expected since every lady wanted extra mesh to keep the insects out or needed you to smoke coal in the corner of their tent to kill mosquitos. By the time you were done tending, almost everyone was in their own tents and only the night guards remained outside. Your tent finally came into your view when you passed the animals that were tied nearby. Walking past you noticed a water trough and paused. Your feet were dirty and itched and pouring a little water on them and cleaning the dried mud seemed like a good way to get better sleep. You approached the trough and lifted your skirt and with one hand splashed water on your feet. The cool water felt like heaven to you and so you poured some more. Between the water splashing and cicadas chirping around you, you didn’t hear anyone approach until their voice startled you.

“And who are you, taking water from my horse’s trough?” Came a masculine voice.

You started and turned around suddenly to the three men who stood behind you. Your movement was fast causing you to stumble on your wet feet and fall face first into the ground. You groaned in pain and three pair of feet rushed forward.

“Are you okay?”, someone asked and taking hold of your arm pulled you into a sitting position. Your breath almost stopped as you gazed into the eyes of Lord James Rhodes. Behind him stood Lord Steven Rogers and – your breath hitched – the prince himself.

“I – I am sorry to trouble you my lord. I am fine, thank you.” You stood up and Lord Rhodes removed his hand from your arm.

“What are you doing here at this time?” It was Lord Rogers who had asked you this and you turned your eyes downcast quickly. His reputation with the ladies was just as notorious as the prince’s.

“I was washing my feet, my lord.”

“You shouldn’t be out in the forest at this time girl. Do you want to be eaten by some wild animal?” Lord Rhodes admonished you and you shook under his glare. “Go back to your tent now and let everyone else know not to wander at night here. You get it?” You eagerly nodded and hoped they’ll leave so you can run back to your tent and die of shame.

Lord Rhodes shook his head and went away, and Lord Rogers followed him. The Prince however stayed and came closer to you.

“You’ve got mud on your face little girl”, and he took out a handkerchief which he dipped in the water and brought it to your face. You stood still, trembling as he wiped the dirt on your nose and cheeks. Once it was clean you slowly raised your eyes to him, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he beheld your bare face for the first time. His lips parted as he started at you and you gulped, taking a few hasty steps away. Your mother is going to whip you for embarrassing the family name by being such a silly ninny in front of the Prince.

“I’ll take your leave, your highness.” You dipped into a curtesy and turned away, ready to run.

“Wait!” Prince Tony said and you stopped, turning to face him again. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n, your highness” You hoped he would not ask your family name. What would your poor paa do if he ever learnt of your mishap.

“Y/n” The prince whispered your name. “Who are you serving currently?”

“The Queen’s ladies your highness”

Tony nodded and you finally turned away. You skipped into your tent, not even bothering to change out of your stained dress before sinking into the thin mattresses that served as your bed and pulling the sheets up to your chin. Your sleep that night was restless, nightmares of being banished from work plaguing you. Despite laying down later than everyone else, you still woke up early and cleaned your dress the best you could. Your supervisor would be about soon with your orders of the day and you had to be prepared.

“Get your asses moving, you lazy hens!” Your supervisor shouted and you cringed. She was a tall woman with a stern face and carried with her a thick stick that she used on the backsides of maids who didn’t work fast enough for her. She gave everyone their orders but when it was your turn for it, she frowned.

“You are Y/n?” She asked and you nodded fearfully. Perhaps she had heard of your stunt last night and was here to whip you.

“You make your way to the Prince’s tent. Your duty is with him until I tell you otherwise.”

Your mouth opened in shock and you gaped at her like a fish out of water.

“W – With the prince?” You squeaked and the supervisor glared at you.

“Don’t you go talking in that voice around his highness and the lords, girl! He has requested you and you are to serve him for the duration of the hunt. You get it? Now run along!”

You stumbled around the campsite and made your way to the Prince’s lavish tent. You couldn’t understand what was happening and you kept chewing on your lips nervously. Reaching the tent, you hesitated before entering. The royal’s tents were better than your quarters back home. The ground was evenly flattened and was covered with a rug. There was a soft mattress on a wooden frame, how they carried it here you didn’t know. The drapes of the tent were velvet and the sheets on the bed were silk. You looked around in awe.

“Ah good, you’re here.”

You jumped and looked at the Prince who you hadn’t noticed in the corner of the tent. You curtsied and he smiled at you. His hair was disheveled from sleep and his robe was open at the top, baring his chest. Head rose unbidden to your cheeks and you ducked your head quickly. Tony walked around the bed to come closer to you and stood in front of you.

“Will you fetch me my garments from the chest in the corner along with my riding gear?” He phrased the command like a question and you quickly nodded, rushing to get what he wanted. The Prince had requested you, but why. You took out his clothes and taking them in your hand you turned around and almost dropped them in fright. The Prince had removed his robe and stood only in his underwear, his hands on his waist with a smirk on his face.

“Well? Are you just going to stare at me, or will you come here and help me dress?”

You walked forward slowly. It was not entirely uncommon for a man to have female servants, but what he was asking you to do was done by personal aids. Those were generally of the same sex. You hesitated before holding open the prince’s tunic for him to slip his arms into. You pushed it on his shoulders and had to reach on your toes since he was so much taller than you. You quickly fastened his tunic and held out his trousers to him. He didn’t take them from you but only raised an eyebrow and you almost started crying. He wanted you to put them on him! You were sure he could see your shivering form as you helped him put one foot in and then the other. He had placed one hand on your shoulder to steady himself and the heat of it was burning you. Thankfully, he buttoned them himself and you fetched his riding cloak and belt.

“You’re very quiet, aren’t you?” Tony asked, and allowed you to don the cloak over him. You took the belt and wound it through the loops before buckling it. Your shaking hands made it difficult and Tony chuckled, his own hands stilling yours.

“You look like a scared kitten, little girl. Do I scare you?” He asked and you nervously raised your eyes to his. He was smiling, his handsome face only inches away from yours.

“No, your highness. I’ve just never done the work of a personal aid before.” Tony hummed and pulled you a little closer by your hands so that his front brushed against yours, only your clasped hands in between.

“You should get used to this now. You’ll be serving me in this capacity from now onwards.” He said. You nodded and tried to get out of his hold, but he held you tight. Your heart kept hammering in your chest and you almost fainted as the Prince started leaning down towards your face.

“Tony, what’s taking you so long?”

Lord Rogers entered the tent and stopped short as he looked at your frightened face inches away from the Prince’s annoyed one. He smirked and folded his hands against his chest. “I’m sorry your highness, did I interrupt something?” His tone was mocking, and you willed your tears away. What must they think of you?

“You have the worst timing Steve.” Tony harrumphed and released you from his hold. You staggered back from him and ducked your head. “This is Y/n, my new personal aid. She was only helping me buckle my belt”

Steve chucked and shot the prince an amused look. You had heard that the prince and lord Rogers were childhood friends, but they had to be seriously close for Steve to call him by his name and without formality. Tony quickly dismissed you then and told you to prepare for today’s journey. You were to travel with the prince’s group. You bobbed a curtesy and left, brushing against Lord Rogers who didn’t move from the entrance to give you way.

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

You were living your worst nightmare as you walked with the other servants beside the Prince’s hunting party. You were the only woman between The Prince, his two lords and half a dozen other servants. The forest got darker the deeper you went, and you kept stumbling on long weeds and catching your clothes on low hanging branches.

“Stop!”, Lord Rhodes said raising a hand and everyone came to halt. Everyone felt silent and the eerie sounds of the forest seemed to echo. The horses shuffled nervously, and you looked around for whatever it was that Lord Rhodes had seen.

“There” Whispered Lord Rogers and pointed somewhere in the distance. You couldn’t see what they saw from their mounted height, but you stepped back cautiously. What if it was a tiger? Or a bear?

The men readied their bows and arrows and The Prince took the first shot. Notching his arrow and pulling it taut, he looked utterly determined to get his prey. His eyes were dark and focused, a hunter who wouldn’t be denied anything. The arrow sailed past the trees and you heard the sickening noise of it sinking into some animal who whined. Two of the servants rushed towards the sound and a few minutes later they dragged in one of the largest moose you’d ever seen. It was meters long with horns like spread wings. The Lords cheered in appreciation and clapped the prince on his back.

“Well, seems like you got the largest one right in the beginning your highness. I doubt anyone else will bring an animal grander than this”, Lord Rogers said, and the Prince gave him a smug smile. He looked at the dead animal and then to your surprise at you. His lips twitched and you involuntarily shuddered.

“This animal is too large for just two people to handle. Tie it up and all of you take it back to the campsite. Don’t you dare let it drag on the ground. I want everyone to see it in its glory.”

As the servants got out the ropes and started tying the moose upside down to thick logs, you breathed a sigh of relief. You preferred going back to the campsite than being near the Prince and his friends. Once it was done, the men carried the beast on their shoulders and started walking. You walked behind them, trying not to bump into them.

“Y/n, where do you think you’re going?” The Prince called out and you stopped. Turning to look at him with your hands held before you, you softly spoke.

“You said all of us are to take the animal back to the campsite, your highness.”

“All of the men. Not you.”

Your panic-stricken eyes met his and you saw him grin. Looking at the other men you noticed Lord Rhodes frowning at the prince while Lord Rogers sat on his horse in absolute amusement.

“You can’t help them carry the animal anyway. Come along, we still have to make a round around the clearing before getting back before sundown.”

You followed them in a sort of trance, sweat running down your back. Whatever the Prince had planned, you wanted no part in it. You prayed that Princess Pepper would arrive soon with her entourage so that you could get away from the overbearing presence of the Prince. Walking onwards you saw you’d reached a stream and the men dismounted to allow their horses to drink. You unloaded the flask from the horse’s side and served the men before resting against a tree. You were aware of the Prince’s gaze that had not left your person for hours now. What he found so interesting you didn’t know, but you tried your best to skirt around him without bringing more attention to yourself.

“You seem tired.” The prince suddenly arrived in front of you and jolted you into a standing position. You timidly shook your head. “Yes, yes, you do seem awfully tired. You’ve been walking all this time. But you know, I am nothing if not a benevolent prince. You’ll ride with me”

Your eyes started watering and you tried to step away but the tree at your back prevented you from doing so. The Prince placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“Don’t be afraid. My horse is extremely well behaved, it won’t jolt you.” He took your hand then and dragged you unwillingly to his ride. You tried to dig your legs in the ground, but he persisted. You looked at the other two lords and though Lord Rhodes had a disapproving look in his eyes, none of them said a word as Prince Tony lifted you around the waist and swung you on the horse back. You sat side straddled and before you could make a noise, he climbed up behind you and had his hand under your chest in a tight hold. You sniffled as the Prince pulled at the reins and the horse started moving. As scared of riding the animal as you were, you were more afraid of the man sitting behind you, pulling you tight against his body.

“Your highness, please. I’ll walk” You said, your voice cracking. He was too close. His front was pressed against your back and side and you were afraid to move lest you fall.

“Nonsense. As a kind ruler, why would I allow you to walk when you can ride with me, my little girl.” You felt his head dipping low and then his nose touched your head, moving slowing down until it brushed against the back of your neck. You squirmed in his hold, terrified beyond your wits for you knew there was no one who could challenge him. You felt his breath against your skin and then his lips burned a kiss on your skin making you almost jump out of his arms.

“Be still!” He ordered sternly and pulled you back harder into him. His hand slowly caressed your side before it fondled your covered breast and you finally let your tears fall.

“Please, don’t do this.” You begged and you felt him shift behind you.

“You don’t tell me what to do little girl. The moment I saw you last night, you were meant to be mine. So, shut up and stop moving. You do not want to make me angry.” His command was hissed directly in your ear and your shoulders slumped. You raised your head an inch and saw Lord Rhodes had ridden way ahead in order to avoid seeing you. Lord Rogers however was just a few paces away, his eyes leering at you and roving over your body. Prince Tony followed your gaze and clenched his jaw.

“Steve, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll avert those eyes right now. Don’t let me catch you looking at her again. She’s not to be shared. This one is mine.” He said gruffly and immediately Lord Rogers straightened and urged his horse faster to go behind Lord Rhodes.

The Prince hugged you, resting his chin on your head.

“No one else will have you. I can almost smell your innocence, its so palpable. Only I’ll have you. No one else will defile you. You’re mine. Only mine.”

You returned to the campsite in the Prince’s arms, his slow touches all over your belly and chest. He had pressed his lips on your neck and his beard had scraped against your skin. You had felt his arousal against your back, and you were mortified. You had to escape from here in the cover of the night and go back home. You will tell your parents and run away to some other kingdom.

You had asked to be let off a little away from the campsite so no one will catch you riding with the Prince. He had seemed utterly reluctant but then he let you down and allowed you to walk the rest of the way. Once there you quickly rejoined the other servants while everyone returned. You tried your best to keep yourself busy with the work and assisted others in making beds and collecting wood. You were picking off leaves from the hem of ladies’ dresses when your supervisor charged towards you puffing like an enraged bull.

“You girl! What the devil are you doing here? Didn’t I assign you to the Prince? He’s expecting you in his tent! Leave that dress and scram!” She shouted. You hid behind the dress in fear.

“Please madam, I am sick. The forest didn’t agree with me and I am afraid I’ll get sick before the prince. I cannot do him that disservice.” You said, trying to sound like you really were sick. It wasn’t very difficult since the very moment the Prince put his hands on you, you felt bile rise in you.

“Silly child! Why the hell does palace employees incompetent servants like you I don’t know! Go make yourself scarce! Don’t you dare puke on anything, or I’ll tan your hide with my stick. GO!”

You scampered away as fast as you could, offering to wash the dishes and stay out of view. You were thankful that everyone would be tired after a long day and would retire soon. You’ll pack yourself some meager supplies and run away once everyone was asleep. Come morning when they’ll realize you’re missing, you’d be home and on the run. You will not be the Prince’s plaything. Your mother would understand. She would arrange for some relative to take you in.  

You took your leave early, scarfing down some food and laying in bed so no one would disturb you. By the time the beds around you filled with other maids, they already believed you were asleep. Soon their snoring filled the tent and after waiting for some more time you crept out of your bed. You quickly tied some food and a flask in your satchel and moved out on tippy toes. The night was silent, and you gave a relived sigh because no guards were placed before the servant’s tents. Quiet as a mouse you scurried through the dark to the path you’d taken while getting here. You didn’t want to travel at night but you’d rather brave the dark than let someone ruin you.

You kept to the edge of the path, hoping that if anyone passed by, you’ll jump into the trees and hide. How did your life take this turn? You were supposed to marry a baker’s boy, maybe get the opportunity to serve the new princess. Your life was supposed to be simple. Go to work, manage your house, and husband and give him a few children every few years. Its what your mother taught you. You didn’t wear dresses that showed your bosom like some other maids, you didn’t style your hair or steal cologne from the ladies’ room. You were a good girl, keeping her virtue for her husband like you’d been taught to.

So lost were you in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the figure waiting for you in the dark. You stumbled and fell straight into the arms of the very man you were running from. The moonlight glossed over Prince Tony’s face and you gasped in fear, kicking your hands and legs that he quickly held in his own. His eyes were angry, and rage was clear on his face.

“Little girl, I was told you are sick.” He said in a dangerous voice. His hands tightened around your own while you looked at him with a sense of doom.

“Y – your highness” You whimpered, and he growled. Quicker than you could know what was happening, you were dragged into the trees and pushed against one, Prince Tony’s hands on either side of you. Caged.

“You dare to run away from me, your master, your Prince?” He said through gritted teeth, his hands curling into fists and you trembled. He took your hands in one of his and pushed them above your head, the other hand covering your mouth the moment you opened it to scream. “You going to call for help, my little girl? Who’s going to help you? Hmm?”

Silent tears trailed down your cheeks and the sparse moonlight illuminated them. The Prince breathed deeply, his eyes taking in your delicate form. Leaning down he licked those tears away and you sobbed behind his hand and closed your eyes.

“I’ll remove my hand now. If you scream, I’ll gag you with a cloth. Or would you prefer my cock?”

His vulgar words made your body shudder and heat rise in your face. You shook you head, and he slowly took his hands from your mouth and cradled your face. He kissed you hard, his lips punishing with barely suppressed anger. You struggled in his hold, but he didn’t let up, forcing you to accept his kiss. Accept him.

“You’re mine. You can’t run away from me. I’ll have you and if you dare try to escape, I’ll have you chained to my bed.” He vowed. You gave a pained cry and wiggled your wrists that were bruising in his grip. He let them go and examined them gently, a complete contrast to a moment ago. “You must remember not to make me mad. I can be kind to you. You’re my little girl.”

He kissed your abused wrists and then your fingers. Your breathing returned to normal under his gentle ministrations. He pulled you into his arms, head resting on top of yours.

“When I saw you last night, it felt as if I’d woken up from a dream. I had never seen a girl as beautiful as you. Every pore of you reflected your innocence, just waiting to be defiled by me. You were mine from that very moment. You are meant for me and I will have you. You will stay with me and bear my heirs.”

You pushed at his chest and shoulders.

“Your highness, please let me go. You are meant to marry Princess Virginia. I am just a maid.”

Tony looked at you in disapproval and one of his hand clutched your head and tilted your head so he could kiss you breathless again.

“I will marry whoever I choose to marry. You will be my princess and when I take the throne you will be my queen. You’ll rule by my side and share my bed.”

“Your Highness –”

“Your Prince!”

“My Prince, please. I am a lowly maid. I will marry the baker’s son and you will marry a princess.”

You thought you could make him see reason. You thought he would understand but the next moment you were back against the tree with a hand against your throat.

“Marry a baker’s boy?!” He thundered and you whined under his hold. “I will burn down this whole kingdom and cut open every last man who dares look at you. You are mine!” He bent to look deep into your eyes and your heart stopped. In his eyes was the same look he had when he hunted that moose. He was the hunter and you were his prey. He will not be denied.

He roughly pushed away from the tree and taking your hand hauled you towards his horse. You were too scared to fight, too scared to cry. You kept your eyes downcast and hoped lightening would strike you out of your misery. You rode back to the campsite with him, not saying a word. His hands were steel bands around you, and you thought he would never let go. Once you reached there, he got off his horse and rather than putting you on the ground carried you in his arms to his tent. Lord Rogers stood outside with a torch in his hands and perked up when he saw you both.

“Steve, I want no guards outside my tent. No one enters or interrupts me tonight.” The prince ordered and Lord Rogers nodded. He gave you a sardonic smile as the prince carried you inside, the flap shutting behind you both. Placing you down on his soft mattress Prince Tony finally let you go. He cupped your face and gazed into your eyes.

“You’ll call me Tony from now onwards. When we’re with others, it will be My Prince. Starting from this night, your whole being would be devoted to me and me alone. You will not look at any other man and if any other man looks at you, you will tell me. It that clear?” He asked you and you nodded. He smiled then, the hardness leaving his face. He kissed you slowly, letting you feel him inside your mouth. His hands traveled from your face to your shoulder and then to the buttons on your dress, undoing each. You pressed your hands against his chest and pushed and Tony pulled away with an annoyed frown.

“Little girl, are you denying your prince?”

You shook your head and looked at him pleadingly.

“My Prince” You breathed and then corrected yourself. “Tony, we cannot do this. You are a Prince, no one would dare cross you. But I will be rejected by the society for losing my virtue to a man not my husband. The King and Queen will not accept me, and I would be cast aside. I’ll be ruined.”

Tony’s eyes turned liquid and a look of utter tenderness overcame his features. He sat down next to you and took you in his lap, your head on his shoulder.

“My little girl, my princess, I would not cast you aside. Mother and father will have to accept you. They will, once I tell them you are carrying my heir.”

You wanted to curse and cry but settled for weeping in Tony’s neck. Nothing could be done now. He will have you and he aims to keep you. More than that, he wants you to be with child so that he can marry you. You will never be able to look your mother in the eyes again. You let Tony push you on your back and climb over you.

He took off your dress and helped you unlace your corset and remove your stockings. Left only in your threadbare chemise, you shivered in embarrassment. No man had ever seen you like this. You watched Tony relieve himself of his clothes and when he removed his underpants your eyes widened in shock. If he puts that thing inside you, you will die, you were sure of it. Tony chuckled at your reaction to his cock and stroked it, making it larger and harder and it seemed like you would faint.

“Don’t worry little girl, I’ll be gentle with you tonight. You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you? You’ve kept yourself for me, so I’ll be good to you in turn. It’s your first time so I won’t take your mouth, only your maidenhead. You will be mine in every way possible.”

He slotted himself between your legs and parted your thighs. Cold air hit your quim and Tony took a moment to admire you before licking a straight strip from your entrance to your nub. You trashed at the unfamiliar feeling, and Tony held you down and got to work on you. His tongue swirled in circles over your bud, making vibrations run through your body like lightening. His finger very gently probed your untouched entrance and glided in smoothly because of how wet you had gotten. He ate you out, thrusting his tongue in and out until you released in his mouth with a muffled scream. You didn’t know laying with a man would feel good. Older women often described it as a chore, but you felt like you were floating.

Kissing your thighs and your belly, Tony removed your chemise to stick his tongue in your belly button before laving it on your breasts. He fondled them and sucked your sensitive nipples, making you cry out when he bit on them.

“These will nurse our children, and after you’re done feeding them, you will nurse me.”

His words got you hot and tingles shot through your spine and settled between your legs. Taking your hands, he put them around him, kissing you deep and long and leaving bites all along your neck and chest. He lined himself him your entrance and looked into your eyes.

“Keep those eyes on me, I want to see them when I make you mine.”

He pushed in, stretching you wider and wider, every inch leaving you gasping in pain. He was careful not to rush and when after what felt like forever, he stopped, you looked in his eyes to see them blown almost black with lust. His touch was possessive, and he thrust slowly as first, letting you get used to it and to ease your pain. You let out a little moan when he brushed against your bud and he growled in triumph before he took you like a man possessed. His thrusts were harder and deeper, his balls slapping you in your ass. He kissed you wherever he could and despite how much you hated being caught in this situation, you moaned.

“I’m going to fill you up now and then again and again. I’ll fill you until you’re round with my child. I’ll fill every hole of your body with my essence until you stink of me. You will be my wife, my princess, my queen and the mother of my children.”

Pinching your bud, you came for the second time, clamping down on him and triggering his own release. You felt warmth blossom inside you with his seed and he gave a few more thrusts before stilling. Pulling out, he lay beside you and took you in his arms. He kissed your head and then your lips before resting you on his chest.

“You have been excused from all your duties as a maid. The only thing you’ll be doing from now on is me.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: anything with Jiang Yanli, I’d love to see more of her PoV

part 2 of whumptober 20 (JYL/LXC field medicine)

ao3 link

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It wasn’t that Jiang Yanli never thought about other men.

After all, she was a female cultivator, and her opinion was therefore one of the ones that was rather eagerly solicited when it came to naming the most attractive young masters in the cultivation world; it was only that it had never seemed to matter. After all, she was engaged, and always had been, to her mother’s dearest friend’s only son, and that, it had seemed at the time, was that.

Oh, her father spoke warmly about marrying for love and not for obligation, but Jiang Yanli had never quite understood what he meant. Even if she didn’t love Jin Zixuan, she loved her mother enough to want to respect her wishes, and it was easy enough to dismiss what negative things she’d heard about him – arrogant, self-centered, impetuous, but of course he was still young, and weren’t most teenage boys like that? – and instead daydream about the life she would have in the future.

When she was young, it was mostly daydreams of having some faceless man (she couldn’t imagine little Jin Zixuan, who at three years younger was barely more than a baby) bring her gifts and tease her and kiss her, then say she was the prettiest person he’d ever seen. The way she’d always heard was supposed to be how lovers talked, the way people said that a marriage ought to be like - the way her parents’ marriage had never been.

When she was a bit older, her thoughts drifted away from retreading romantic stories and to the actual work of being married, of being the mistress of Lanling Jin. In the beginning, her duty would be to first and foremost produce an heir and a spare, to remain healthy throughout the process, and to support her husband as he slowly began to take on the duties that would eventually become his, but later on it would get more interesting. A sect leader could not be everywhere, and his wife would often be left in charge when he was not at home – she would have to know everything about the sect, same as him, enough to make decisions in his absence; she would have to answer correspondence, make decisions, negotiate with traders, collect duties, enforce the peace, and she’d also have to manage the sect’s social scene on top of it all.

She probably wouldn’t have much time to cook, Jiang Yanli thought wistfully, thinking about how Lanling women prided themselves on never having to lift a finger for themselves, and threw herself into her favorite hobby now, while she still could. If she was clever about it, she might be able to get good enough at it that her future husband would find some dish of hers that he liked, something that only she could make, and then her cooking would be something done at his request – a charming idiosyncrasy, an indulgence of sweethearts.

When she got older still, and learned about Sect Leader Jin’s philandering and the iron grip of control Madame Jin imposed on Lanling in order to keep her position in the face of all the backstabbing and politics, she thought to herself that that sounded exhausting. But by that point, all of her childhood daydreams had Jin Zixuan’s name on them – although admittedly not his face, for all that he had grown up into one of the most handsome young men of his generation, and certainly not his mannerisms – and it was far too late to raise a fuss now. So Jiang Yanli studied willpower in addition to trade routes, learned how to exploit social norms in addition to how to manage a dinner party, taught herself how to play people just as well as she played the guqin, absorbed the lessons of both murder and mathematics, and above all figured out how to stand up for herself and what she believed in no matter what overwhelming pressure she might face.

Even though Jiang Yanli was pretty sure that Madame Jin wouldn’t appreciate that last part in a daughter-in-law, especially not one reputed to be as easygoing as her father.

(“Let her be upset,” her own mother had snorted when Jiang Yanli had tentatively raised the issue. “Are you supposed to ruin your own future because she’s a bitter old mother-in-law that’d rather not give up control so early? I may have agreed to marry you to her son, A-Li, but she agreed to marry him to my daughter. If she wanted easy and pliable, she should have thought again.”

“But she’s your friend,” Jiang Yanli had said, frowning a little. “Don’t you want her to be happy?”

Her mother had looked tired. “Once, more than anything,” she’d said. “But the chance for that passed long ago.”)

So it wasn’t that she didn’t notice other men. It was just that there was no point in allowing herself to look, and she knew enough of her parents’ marriage, and of Madame Jin’s, to not want to look.

And then, suddenly, there was.

Her engagement was broken. One could say that it happened at her own beloved brothers’ hands, at her father’s blind dislike of arrangements even when it was one his own daughter had long ago accepted and had even learned to long for, but in truth Jin Zixuan was a proper young master, old enough to make decisions for himself, to exercise some control over his own life, and the first bit of control he’d taken into his own hands was to decide that he didn’t want her.

It was – not fine, no. She spent some time crying over it, and yet more time comforting Wei Wuxian who was distraught at having caused her pain, and the most time of all quietly wondering what the point of her existence was now that she was no longer useful as a marriage tool. She’d never been much of a cultivator, never been especially pretty, never been anything more than average – what was the point of her?

Maybe that was when she’d decided to pick up medicine.

Field medicine was womanly enough to satisfy critics, and yet it was something useful in a practical sense: she could save people’s lives, if she only learned enough, and studying she could do.

Sometimes, she even got the chance to save the lives of very attractive people, like when the First Jade of Lan lay crumpled in the cot before her as she patched him up. So this is the one they ranked first, she thought, examining him with her eyes even as she kept her hands busy, and she was forced to admit that the other female cultivators of her generation had good taste. He was devastatingly handsome.

Kind, too, she soon learned; gentle and courteous in his mannerisms. He smiled often, which she appreciated in a person (if one interpreted Jiang Cheng’s scowls as smiles, he smiled nearly as much!), and he seemed to genuinely admire her efforts at medicine, however rudimentary. Over dinner, which he insisted on sharing with her even after he was well on his road to recovery, the conversation between them flowed easily and well: they both had brothers they loved, which was a conversation topic of which neither of them would ever tire, and they both enjoyed art and music. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking, but enjoyed asking questions (especially after she’d made him a meal he particularly enjoyed, which was often), while she enjoyed the way he blushed when she teased him.

She didn’t think much of it, of course. If she couldn’t keep the husband that had been promised to her since before she could walk – if she was too dull, too plain, too weak, too average to be worthy of an untried young man like him – then she definitely had no hope of catching the most attractive and capable young master of their generation, a dashing war hero and sect leader in his own right.

And then, when they were both laughing over an especially hair-brained scheme they’d concocted to try to get Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to spend more time together – Jiang Yanli had noticed how much Wei Wuxian talked about Lan Wangji once he’d returned to the Lotus Pier, and Lan Xichen swore up and down that Lan Wangji had been no better – he turned to her and said, “If you were in Gusu, your brothers would be sure to come to visit you.”

“Me, in Gusu?” Jiang Yanli was startled into a laugh. “Why would I be in Gusu? As your guest?”

Lan Xichen coughed. “I had been hoping for something – a bit more permanent than that. If that would be something you would be open to.”

It actually took her a moment to understand, and then she had to raise her hands to cover her suddenly burning cheeks.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he said hastily. “Just something to think about, if you’re interested…and of course, if your heart is elsewhere –”

“It isn’t,” she blurted out, and had to turn away.

“I’d hoped that was the case,” he said quietly, his voice warm. “I’ll take my leave, Mistress Jiang.”

Jiang Yanli had grown up thinking of herself as the future mistress of Lanling Jin, with its riches and its beauty and its poisonous heart, and then she’d assumed she’d be nothing at all, an old maid that helped Jiang Cheng manage his sect until he finally found a wife to suit him.

She’d never thought about being the mistress of Gusu Lan.

Gusu Lan, which was not as wealthy as Lanling Jin but just as complex – with its own trade routes and subordinate sects and business to manage – with its beautiful and serene landscape, its culture that emphasized harmony and unity rather than backstabbing – with no overbearing mother-in-law that would have barely been tolerable even when her own mother would have been there to hold her back, but would have been impossible without such protection –

She hadn’t dreamt of Lan Xichen as a child, or even as a teenager, but when she thought about all those dreams with a faceless man that she’d named Jin Zixuan regardless of any similarity to the real thing…

Lan Xichen fit in much better to the idea in her head than the real Jin Zixuan ever had.

“I won’t live separately,” she told him when he came over the next day, before he could even say a word; it had been just about the only problem she could see with his proposal. “In another house, certainly, but not an entirely different dwelling, and if I have any children, I would want them to live with me regardless of their gender.”

“I wouldn’t dream of having you so far away,” he said, and he was smiling again, broad and bright and – somehow, impossibly – hers. “Might I kiss you?”

“You may,” she said, and he did.

“Mistress Jiang,” Lan Xichen said a moment later, “you’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.”

Remarkable, Jiang Yanli thought to herself, was better than pretty any day.

[introvertguide]

The Apartment (1960); AFI #80

The next film on the list that we reviewed was the one of the last black and white films to win best picture, The Apartment (1960). The film actually held the title of last B&W Best Picture winner for 50 years until The Artist came along in in 2011. Along with Best Picture, the film was nominated for 10 Oscars and won Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Art Direction, and Best Editing. The film also won Best Picture from the Golden Globes, the BAFTAs, the Director’s Guild Awards, and the Critic’s Circle Awards. Truly a great synthesis of acting, directing, cinematography, music, and story, this movie is one of the lesser known greatest films of all time. I have more to say about this film, but I want to go over the story in all of its excellence. But first...

SPOILER ALERT!!! THIS COMEDY HAS LEGITIMATE SURPRISES AND SUBJECT MATTER THAT WOULDN’T FLY TODAY!!! TRULY A GREAT FILM THAT NEEDS TO BE SEEN!!! I STRONGLY SUGGEST WATCHING IT INSTEAD OF JUST READING THE STORY LINE!!!

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An opening run of establishing shots with a voice over by the main character lets the audience know that he is a drone accountant at a giant firm with little chance to move up in the world. C.C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon) is a lonely office drudge at a national insurance corporation in New York City. He has lucked out and found a way to leverage his home in order to climb the corporate ladder. Baxter allows four company managers to take turns borrowing his Upper West Side apartment for their extramarital liaisons, which he manages with a detailed schedule. Baxter has not seen any movement, but he is constantly offered the promise of a promotion since he is a “team player.” 

One of the serious down sides of this ploy is that his apartment is in constant use and the bosses are making a mess and drinking all his liquor. C.C. has no place to go some nights so he stays and works late. Because C.C. is constantly going in and out and people can hear women in his apartment, he is starting to develop a different kind of reputation with the other tenants. While unable to enter his own apartment when it is in use, his neighbors assume that their neighbor is a playboy bringing home a different woman every night.

C.C. is able to get glowing performance reports from his four managers and he is able to submit them to the personnel director, Jeff D. Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray), in hope of a promotion. Sheldrake promises to promote him, but demands that he also receive use of the apartment for his own affairs, beginning that night. As compensation for such short notice, he gives Baxter two theater tickets to The Music Man. After work, C.C. asks Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), an elevator operator in the office building, to go to the musical with him. She agrees but goes first to meet with a "former fling," who turns out to be Sheldrake, and let him know there will be no more meetings. When Sheldrake dissuades her from breaking up with him and promising to divorce his wife for her, they go to the apartment as poor Baxter waits forlornly outside the theater.

Later, at the company's raucous Christmas party (there is dancing on the tables and the lamest strip tease of all time), Fran is told by Miss Olsen (Edie Adams), Sheldrake's secretary, that Sheldrake has also had affairs with her and other women employees. Later at Baxter’s apartment, Fran confronts Sheldrake with his lies. Sheldrake maintains that he genuinely loves her, but that he has no intention of splitting up with his wife. He then leaves to return to his suburban family as usual and Fran is so depressed that she finds sleeping pills in the apartment bathroom and attempts suicide.

Baxter learns through finding a dropped hand mirror that Fran is the woman Sheldrake has been taking to his apartment, so he goes to a bar and lets himself be picked up by a married woman. When they arrive at his apartment, he is shocked to find Fran in his bed, seemingly dead. He sends his pick-up away and enlists the help of his neighbor, Dr. Dreyfuss (Jack Krushen), to revive Fran without notifying the authorities. I should not laugh, but it is pretty funny that the doctor goes straight to slapping Fran in the face to wake her up. The actors did not hold back; he is slapping her in the face really hard, so much so that you can tell her cheeks are reddening even in black and white. Baxter makes Dreyfuss believe that he was the cause of the incident and, scolding his neighbor for his apparent philandering, Dreyfuss advises him to "be a mensch, a human being."

As Fran spends two days recuperating in the apartment, C.C. takes care of her, and a bond develops between them, especially after he confesses to having attempted suicide himself over unrequited feelings for a woman who now sends him a fruitcake every Christmas. While they play a game of gin rummy, Fran reveals that she has always suffered bad luck in her love life. As Baxter prepares a romantic dinner, one of the managers arrives with a woman. Although Baxter persuades them to leave, the manager recognizes Fran and informs his colleagues. Later confronted by Fran's brother-in-law, Karl Matuschka, who is looking for her, the managers direct Karl to the apartment out of jealousy. At the apartment, Karl's anger at Fran for her behavior is deflected by Baxter, who again takes responsibility. Karl punches C.C. (and interviews with Lemmon revealed that the punch did land), but when Fran kisses him for protecting her, he just smiles and says it "didn't hurt a bit."

Sheldrake learns that Miss Olsen told Fran about his affairs, so he makes the poor choice of firing the woman who knows of all his dealings, and she retaliates by meeting with Sheldrake's wife, who promptly throws her husband out. Sheldrake believes that this situation just makes it easier to pursue his affair with Fran. Having promoted C.C. to an even higher position, which also gives him a key to the executive washroom, Sheldrake expects Baxter to loan out his apartment yet again. Baxter gives him back the washroom key instead, proclaiming that he has decided to become a mensch, and quits the firm.

That night at a New Year's Eve party, Sheldrake indignantly tells Fran what happened. Realizing she is in love with Baxter, Fran abandons Sheldrake and runs to the apartment. At the door, she hears what sounds like a gunshot. Fearing that Baxter has attempted suicide again, she frantically pounds on the door. Baxter answers, holding a bottle of champagne whose cork he had just popped in celebration of his plan to start anew. As the two settle down to resume their gin rummy game, Fran tells C.C. that she is now free too. When he asks about Sheldrake, she replies, "We'll send him a fruitcake every Christmas." He declares his love for her, and she replies, "Shut up and deal."

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This film is one of the most praised movies of all time, but it is not one of the most generally well known. This is probably due to the subject matter, although It’s A Wonderful Life also deals with suicide and is one of the America’s most popular family films. The problem is most likely that extra marital affairs by big company management as a normal thing was highly frowned upon. With the whole #MeToo movement, it seems that this kind of philandering culture might very well have been a known problem for decades. A movie based around the premise that office managers need a nice place to have sex with secretaries and elevator girls would not have been acceptable under the Hays Code. This is also the second film on the AFI list where Fred MacMurray plays a bad guy before being the understanding patriarch on My Three Sons and the first person honored as a Disney Legend in 1987. Fun fact, MacMurray was an uncredited extra in a film called Girls Gone Wild in 1929.

Billy Wilder knew that this was going to be a divisive film due to content, but he also had the confidence that everything would work out following the massive success of his previous film, Some Like It Hot. Wilder had considered a film based on adultery back in the 1940s but was unable to get funding at the time due to the Hays Code. The film was also based on a real life Hollywood drama in which an agent was shot by a producer over an affair (in which a low level employee apartment was used) as well as a friend of a co-writer who returned home to a dead ex-girlfriend following a break-up. 

It is amazing to think that this film is described as a comedy. There are office politics in which mid-level managers use local celeb status to take advantage of their subordinates. There are half a dozen cheating husbands that string along their affairs. There are characters so hurt that they would rather die than deal with what is done with them. There are raging parties at work where everyone gets massively drunk and dance on the desks. Women are treated like objects that either need to be protected with violence or thrown away. And yet the film is legitimately fun with characters that are worth rooting for.

Some of the success rides on the fabulous acting of Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine and the witty dialogue written by I.A.L. Diamond. In fact, the dialogue and limited characters feels a lot like a stage play, which come to fruition in the form of Promises, Promises on Broadway by Burt Bacharach, Hal David, and Neil Simon. Dealing with real sets and locations, however, resulted in some colds and sickness since the actors were really out in the New York snow. Some other realism in the film came from both lead actors taking blows for the film: Shirley MacLaine got proper slapped by the doctor and Jack Lemmon was really punched by the brother-in-law.

A stand out aspect for me in this film which I talk up quite a bit is the cinematography. I have used many screen grabs from the film and used them as my avatar. I identify with the feeling of being used for something which made a mid manager look good while allowing them to do bad things. In fact, I am sure that everyone has felt like a Baxter at some point, and it is great to see him stand up for himself. Here are a couple of screen grabs (besides the top photo above) that I have used:

That lonely man in the middle of countless empty desks, that look of frustration when others are using your things to live a better life than you, and that time that love makes utility become fun and gadgets seem pretentious. It is very easy for me to get lost in how much I love this film. It has been far and away my favorite find from the AFI Top 100 between when I first saw the film in 2014 and now.

So, should the film be on the top 100 list? It has the awards and the history along with being a fantastic film. Of course it belongs on the list. Would I recommend it? Yes. This film is the type that makes people like me want to go through lists like this. I had never heard of the film in 2014 and it floored me how good it was. Each time I watch I appreciate it more, and the whole film project becomes well worth my time and effort. This film is so good, it affirms my life choices. I invite and implore you to check it out for yourself.

[badsext]

Hey could you do a fanfic for tourmaline but like an x reader one ?

Meet me at the Tetterby: Tourmaline x Fem! Reader (human)

Author’s note:  Thank you for the request, Anon.  I hope this fic is what you were looking for.  My other Tourmaline stuff has been wlw so I assumed that is what you wanted.  Let me know if I am wrong and I will write you another.

Summary:  Reader is a human who wanders into the Tetterby Hotel drunk.  Tourmaline takes her in and gently explains what kind of establishment she has wandered into.  After some coaxing reader explains that she came to the Tetterby on purpose.  She wanted to meet the beautiful fae she sees on the balcony every day.  

Warning:  Smut

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It had been building inside you for months now.  It was like an itch that started small and now it consumed your entire body.  You went down to the pub in your most scandalous attire for some temporary relief at the bottom of a glass.  Life was difficult in the Burgue, especially for a woman like you - stubborn, independent and too smart for your own good. Intoxication gave you an excuse to indulge your inhibitions, but you weren’t as drunk as you let on.

You sat confidently on a stool at the bar looking like a modern woman in a tailored tweed cycling costume in spite of the weather and the absence of a bicycle. The men in the pub scoffed at your appearance or ignored you entirely, which suited you just fine.  The women looked at you with jealousy disguised as pity.   The barkeeper, a big mustachioed fellow, fooled by your wanton facade had cut you off.  There was nothing keeping you here, you thought, and progressed down the slushy gray streets alone.  It was just past sundown.  It was cold, but you were warmed by the wine and spirits still flowing through your bloodstream.  All the windows in the tenements and shops were dark and closed for the night.  That is, until you reached the coarsely named ‘Carnival Row.’  

You thought it was disgusting how humans treated fae.  As a member of the local chapter of fae rights activists, you had campaigned for Chancellor Breakspear and celebrated his win, but there was still so much work to be done.   Further down the block you began to see lamps in the windows and heard lively music from inside.  An invisible force pulled you towards the Tetterby Hotel.  You hesitated for a moment, but curiosity compelled you forward.  Inside you were greeted by a flurry of activity.  You heard clink of glasses, conversation, laughter, the shuffle of shoes, and the closing of doors. A piano was tinkling out a bawdy tune.  Here fairies could spread their gossamer wings in all their glory.  It was breathtaking.  Suddenly all the voices faded to a stop, followed by the music.  You were taking it all in when you realized that all eyes were on you.  

There were only two reasons for a human woman to visit the Tetterby. The first was an angry wife there to confront her philandering husband.  The second, a religious zealot, there to rid the place of ‘sinners.’  You, of course, were neither, but how were they to know?  

“I’m sorry, please carry on…really.  I’m not here to start trouble,” you insisted.  The noise resumed as the staff and patrons went back to their transactions.

The madam approached, sizing you up.  “If you’re looking for a job, the answer is no.  It’s fae only, sweetheart.”

“Oh, no, I -”

“She’s alright.  I’ve got her.”  You watched as your advocate descended the staircase.  She was stunning in burgundy and rose lingerie, a perfect compliment to her bronze completion and blue finger wave locks.  It was hard not to stare.  The madam threw up her hands and turned to more important matters.  

“You look lost…I’m Tourmaline.  What’s your name?”

You introduced yourself.  

“Do you know where you are, love?”

You nodded, grinning.

Tourmaline laughed. “Have you been drinking, Y/N?,” she asked gently.

“Yes.”  

“It’s been a slow night.  Would you like to come upstairs?  I can make you some tea,” she said, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.  You rested your head in the crook of her neck.  She smelled like heaven.

“Um hm,” you replied and she escorted you upstairs.

Her room was cozy, warm, and eclectic.  “Have a seat,” she said, putting the kettle on the fire.

You looked around and sat cautiously on the edge of the bed.  She sat down next to you and handed you a full cup and saucer.  You took a sip and smiled at the taste.  “It’s a fae blend of herbs. You like it?”  You looked deep into her eyes and nodded.

“You’re a funny girl,” she said looking back into your gaze and softly sweeping a stray hair away from your face.

You took a deep breath, put the teacup on the dresser.  “I…I have a confession to make.  I’ve seen you from your balcony.  I just wanted to meet you.”

“Is that so?”  She had put her feet up, lounging on her side, holding her head up with her hand. Her breasts had shifted in her camisole. You longed to see them fully exposed, to touch them.

“I think you’re beautiful…I’ve got money.  It’s just..for your time…we don’t have to -”

She kneeled playfully on the bed.  Her wings made their fist appearance of the night as she stretched them to the heavens, their iridescent hues accentuated by the firelight.  “Why don’t you take off those clothes and come over here,” she said, smoothing the duvet in front of her.  

Your heart beat out of rhythm and your breath became ragged.  This magnificent woman was so brazen yet so soft.  It was almost too much.   Your cheeks were aflame as you knelt to remove your boots.  When you looked up she was watching you with lust filled eyes.  Your confidence grew along with your arousal.  The buttons of your blouse seemed to open of their own accord and your skirt pooled carelessly on the ground.

You climbed onto the bed facing her, felt the heat radiating from her.  She cupped your face in her hands, kissing you slow and purposefully, igniting your deepest longing.  Your hands hands melted into the curve of her waist.  She removed your hair pin and watched with delight as your hair fell in waves on your shoulders.  A crooked little smile appeared as she eased you back onto the bed and began removing your stockings one by one.  It tickled when she kissed your foot arches.  You gasped when her hand rubbed softly between your legs, targeting your most sensitive skin through the thin linen. “Mmm, this is going to be fun,” she said, pulling your chamise over your head.  Each little exposed bud tightened instantly.  You wanted to be touched, but you needed to touch her, feel her body react.  She removed what was left of your underthings and was about to touch you there, but before she could…

You rose up and kissed her passionately.  She took a surprised breath.  You removed her robe and silk camisole then kissed her neck and shoulder.   Her divine sent permeated your senses.  You grazed her breast with a featherlight touch, then gently tugged on her nipple.  She ground her sex against yours.  You gripped the waistband of her drawers and slipped them down over her soft curves and all the way down her legs.  She spread them looking up at you, daring you.  You needed no coaxing.  Your fingers found their way to her wetness.  You stroked her gently at first.  Her head rolled back and she made a sweet little sigh.  Then you found your rhythm, skillfully rubbing her swollen nexus of nerves.  She twitched and hummed as she released then fell on top of you giggling.   Just the weight of her body and the suppleness of her skin against yours was so intensely gratifying, you wondered if this was all a dream.  

Tourmaline shocked you back to reality when she parted your legs and pressed her naked sex against yours, sliding around in delicate little circles.  The sensation of her wet swollen womanhood repeatedly making contact with yours and watching her slide up and down on top of you brought you to a quick and satisfying orgasm.  There was a devious look in her eye. She was only getting started.  She turned around and lowered herself onto your hungry waiting lips.  Her slick arousal tasted of honey and lavender.  

She leaned over to reciprocate, voraciously teasing and suckling your swollen sex.  It was and effort to staying focused, but you managed until she started beating her wings.  The vibrations coursed through your connected bodies, the euphoria making you scream curses into her void.  Once the room came back into focus, you noticed that you were hovering a short distance above the bed.  You quickened the pace of your tongue and moved your fingers inside her until she cried out with her release.  Her wings suddenly gave out and the two of you fell onto the bed with a thud.  You both laughed when you realized that the fire had been blown out and there were papers scattered about the floor.  

You huddled under the covers together for warmth.  “I’ll have to light the fire again,” she giggled.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” you confessed.

“It was glorious and I’m pretty jaded about this sort of thing,” she said. You felt like she was being sincere, but a small part of you still wondered.

There was a loud I nock at the door.  “You’ve been in there an hour with that girl.  I’ve got lads out here who want a go!”   It was the madam.  You scrambled to put your clothes back on.

Tourmaline threw on her robe, grabbed her purse and charged angrily to open the door.  “How much would I make for you on a night like this, five pounds?  Here’s seven!…Go on, take it and leave us alone for the rest of the night!”  The madam looked stunned, but she pocketed the cash and left without another word.  Your heart swelled as you witnessed the exchange.  

“I can’t believe you did that!,” you said sheepishly blushing.

“That’s one thing you should know about me.  I do what I want,” she smirked.

@dandycandy75 @transboyo14 @unlikelymoors @pighunter76 @marychovny @bi-satanist @i-dont-knoq @dopeybubbles @coleblackblood @discardmyfeelings @lillietheoneandonly @ancient-muse @joeythespookyraccoon @ofdazzlinghazes @bamfkurt @mckie113

[roanokesunset]

When you get time can you maybe write a story about Jackie telling Jack that she's pregnant?

AHHH I’m so so sorry it’s been so long!  With the combination of school, swim, other activities, finals, SATS, AP tests, I just haven’t had the time, and it’s really awful for me to just be getting to this now, but I finally did!  I hope you enjoy, and again, I apologize for my long wait!  

Jackie sat with the papers on the desk, her hands shaking.  Jack was off at the Senate, and Jackie had a doctor's appointment in the morning.  

For the past few weeks, she hadn't been feeling well.  In the morning, she would wake up nauseous, and throughout the day, she found certain foods that she used to love absolutely appalling.  Then, there were other foods she used to hate and have sudden cravings for.  

The sudden mood swings, and cravings, the sickness... Jackie had a feeling she knew what was up.  Then, after skipping a month for her period, she knew.  There was no other way around it.  She was pregnant, or thought she was.  The only way to make sure was to get checked by the doctor.  

|||

The family doctor, Janet Travell, walked into the medical room, papers in her arms.  

"Well, Mrs. Kennedy.  Let me be the first to congratulate you on your pregnancy.  You're a few weeks along, and I'm sure that in a few weeks or so, you'll begin to show slightly."  

"My...pregnancy?"  Jackie asked, her heart almost skipping a beat.  "I'm... pregnant?"  

"Yes, Mrs. Kennedy.  The blood tests that we took two weeks ago came back positive.  I have the results capsulated in these folders."  

Dr. Travell handed Jackie the folders, allowing for her to quickly scan the results, seeing the words 'Pregnant' scribbled on the paper.  

Letting the papers rest in her lap, Jackie put both of her hands to her face in shock, extremely surprised, and could feel tears beginning to prick at the corners of her eyes.  

She looked up at Dr. Travell, a smile perched on her face.  

"You have to promise me one thing,"  Jackie began, twiddling her thumbs together, and swinging her legs gently along the table.  

"That is?"  

"You can't tell Jack about this.  You have to keep this a secret from him.  He's going to be so pleased, I know it."

"Of course, Mrs. Kennedy.  My lips are sealed.  I won't tell Jack anything until you give me the word.  I'm assuming that Jack will be bursting with pride, and will tell me eventually.  Up until that point, my lips are sealed.  Doctor to patient confidentiality."  

Jackie let out a massive sigh, relief pouring off her shoulders.  "Thank you."  

|||

That was a few days ago.  Now, Jackie knew that she needed to make the move to tell Jack about the impending pregnancy.  

Jackie was cleaning at home, getting things ready for dinner.  Jackie had planned on cooking something for Jack tonight, but she didn't want to botch the plans.  So, she ended up hiring someone to cook for her.  

"The food is almost ready, ma'am,"  the hired help replied, before darting back into the kitchen.

Jackie decided to have Steak, mashed potatoes, peas, and clam chowder, Jack's favorite, in order to surprise him for dinner.  

The sound of the phone ringing drew Jackie from her thoughts.  

Rushing over to the phone, she picked up, "Hello?"  

"Hi, Mrs. Kennedy.  I just wanted to let you know that your husband left the office not too long ago. "  

"Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln.  It's appreciated."  

"Have a good night, Mrs. Kennedy."

"And you as well."  

The second that Jackie put down the receiver, she felt herself move into a frenzy.  

Jack would be home soon.  The truth would soon be out.

Jackie began to bite on her nails- a habit she found horrible to break, as she began to count down the minutes.  She didn't need to tell Jack that night, did she?  In some way, she wanted to keep it all to herself.  Her and the baby.  

No.  She couldn't do that to Jack.  She wanted to share it with him, to have something they could both be apart of together.  It was something that they both created together.

It, wether the baby being a boy or a girl, was something that she and Jack both created.  Together.  Two halves of the same whole.  Jackie thought more and more about their child, the one that was barely a little bean in her stomach.

Whose eyes would it have?  Hers?  Or Jack's?  Jackie hoped for Jack's eyes.  He had blue-grey eyes that often reflected storm clouds, or waves crashing in the ocean.  They were bright and cheerful, and they were alluring.  It was what Jackie was drawn to by Jack.  She had dull, brown eyes, as she thought.  Jack on the other hand.... said otherwise.  

Whose hair?  Would they be blessed with Jack's thick, auburn waves or Jackie's deep chocolate curls?  It was interesting to think of the almost infinite combinations that they could come up with for their children.  

Jackie was so enraptured in her thoughts that she didn't realize Jack was home until she heard his cheerful voice float down the hall.  

Stepping into the doorway of the living room, Jack chuckled.  "I thought you'd be happier to see me, Kid."

Jackie looked up, seeing her husband with his arms wide open.  "Jack!"  She replied, rushing into his arms.  "I missed you so much,"  she replied, burying her head into his shoulder.  

"I missed you too."  He replied with a small laugh.  

"Come, dinner's almost ready and I'm absolutely famished,"  Jackie added, practically dragging Jack towards the dining room.  

The two ate dinner together, Jack chatting amicably about work.  The Senate was getting busier again, and the two were making strides within their relationship.  Jackie was happier that Jack was finally making it home for dinner.  However, her mind was adrift in the sea of her thoughts.  

'Will this grow us apart?  Is the timing good?  Will this baby stop him from philandering?' Jackie asked herself, her questions continuing to grow in her head.  

She was shaken from her thoughts when she felt a warm pressure on her hand.  

"Kid, are you alright?"  Jack asked, concern furrowed in his brow.  The two were trying to make strides in their relationship, and Jack showing more care and empathy was something that they were making steps.  

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine, I've just got some things on my mind,"  Jackie replied, pushing her food around on her plate.  

"What is it?"  Jack pressed, curious.  "You might feel better once you get it off your chest."  

Now was a good time as any.  

"Well, Jack.  I don't really know how to tell you this, but..."  Jackie trailed, looking away from him.  

Jack gently squeezed her hand.  "Take your time."  

"I..I..."  After taking a deep breath, Jackie turned to look back at Jack.  "I'm pregnant."  

Jackie sucked in her cheeks and watched Jack's expression.  

At first, it morphed from confusion, to shock, then to complete joy.  

"Are... are you sure?"  Jack asked, almost breathless.

"I have the papers to prove it."  

"Damn.  Kid, we're...we're going to be parents.  I can't believe it."  Jack responded, before leaping out of his chair and wrapping his wife in a massive hug.  

"We did it.  We're going to be parents.  I'm... I'm going to be a father."  The smile couldn't be wiped off of Jack's face.  

"Thank you,"  he replied, kissing her gently.  "For everything."  

The two finished eating and disappeared into the living room together, bound by the new prospects that their future held.  

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

Diversion: Chapter 2

Diversion: Chapter 1 can be found on my masterlist because Tumblr hates links.

...and I ran, I ran so far away

Esme left the stable in a blur. Her heart throbbed in her ears and her limbs felt numb. The haze that enveloped her was interrupted by occasional flashes of panic which overcame her in realization of what she had done.

 But, what had she done? Her consciousness lurched between savoring the memory of the moment when she wrapped her arms around Tommy and justifying the action as spontaneous and innocent. Like Tommy had said, it was just a sisterly show of affection. It was really only a hug. There was the matter of the kiss... She tried to convince herself that it meant nothing, but then she felt Tommy’s soft lips lingering on hers and saw the look in his eyes when she pulled away from him. She was in an awful kind of limbo, suffering for sins that she hadn’t even enjoyed.

 She wondered why the fuck Tommy was always around her lately. For the last year he had made a point of avoiding her, but last week he insinuated himself into her life—into her personal business with John. At first, she wrote it off as Tommy keeping an eye on his brother’s home life for the sake of the Blinders. After all, John was no good to him if he was distracted. After tonight, though, she wondered if Tommy had other motives. If anything, Tommy was methodical; maybe he had been patiently waiting for an opening.

 She walked up the lane at a quick pace, every step drawing her closer to her destination. She needed to see John. Her conscience craved absolution that only he could give. If she could confess to her husband what she’d done, maybe the shame that she felt would be erased. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath made soft white clouds in the dingy air. The ash from the forges of Small Heath swirled and parted in her path as she swept around the corner into the warm lights of the pub.

 She reached the threshold to the Garrison and drew a shaky breath. She had to get this right. She would have one chance to present her side of what happened and make it seem beyond reproach. She paused for a moment while she thought about how she could tell John that she’d thrown herself at Tommy’s head.  John may be easy to sway, but Arthur had no emotional attachment to her. Arthur would be able to smell bullshit from a mile away. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

 If she stayed quiet, John would never know. Tommy sure as hell wouldn’t say anything, but keeping this secret to herself would do her no favors. If she kept it to herself, it was as good as admitting that she felt something for Tommy. She couldn’t bear to face his cold blue eyes filled with the smug assumption that she ached for his touch. She stood up straight and set her mind on what she needed to accomplish. She was an honorable woman. She had kept to herself while John had his fill of philandering. She had nothing to hide.

 After a moment’s hesitation, she had worked up the nerve to go inside.

 John was not expecting to see Esme at The Garrison. He and Arthur had drained a bottle between them and called out for another. The willowy blond barmaid who had delivered the bottle was sitting in the booth next to John and sprang to her feet when Esme came into the snug. As she skittered away, John visibly squirmed in his seat, readjusting himself. Esme bit the inside of her cheek and ignored the retreating girl who was practically in her husband’s lap and reminded herself why she was there.

 “John!” she beamed, “com’ere you!” She slid into the booth and took his bewildered face into her hands. In an uncharacteristic display of public affection, she kissed him deeply. When she pulled away from him, she gazed adoringly into his eyes. “I’ve seen the ‘orse. He’s beautiful.” Esme ignored the fact that the seat was still warm from the barmaid’s ass and tried to look hopelessly smitten by her husband.

 John was gobsmacked. He’d agreed to let Tommy pick a horse for Esme to ride, but hadn’t given it much thought since then. She was convincingly over the moon about the horse, and he decided that it wouldn’t hurt to take the credit. He straightened up and slid his arm around Esme’s waist, “I’m glad you found him to your liking, love. Arthur and I were just discussing how I bought him.” He winked at Arthur who willingly played along.

 You were just buttering up that barmaid, Esme thought, but outwardly she giggled and pressed herself into John’s side. “I was so excited that I nearly knocked Thomas down. I hugged him and gave him a peck before I thought what I was doing,” she giggled. “His face was a right picture!”

 There it was, what should have been an insurance policy against any guilty feelings or repercussions. John and Arthur laughed along with her. Esme breathed a sigh of relief, but deep in her heart, a seed had been planted. She nearly shuddered at the thought of what could grow there in time.

 She felt an overwhelming urge to be close to John. She snaked an arm into his jacket and around his waist. He shifted the toothpick in his mouth and looked sideways at her. “Ay girl, what are you up to?” he teased.

 “Come home with me and find out,” she purred, playing along.

 “Me and Arthur still have some business to go over. Run along home and I’ll...”

 Esme couldn’t stand his rejection. Not tonight. She pushed away from him and broke in, “You’ll what, John? Get that blonde slut back in here the second I’ve walked out?”

 Her temper flared and she faced him with her eyes flashing a warning. The shit between her and Tommy was all John’s bloody fault. How was she supposed to feel when he so obviously thought that she was an idiot? When he blatantly flaunted his infidelities in front of her face?

 “You’re out of order, Esme,” John quietly insisted. “Go home and I’ll be there soon.”

 “I swear to God, if you come home smelling like that tart’s cheap perfume…”

 “Go on,” Arthur cajoled, “I’ll make sure that he trots home within the hour.”

 Esme shifted her eyes between the both of them and decided to cut her losses. She would go home, even though her insides were still shaking and her heart ached with uncertainty. “See that you do.”

 ***

 The children would be sleeping by the time she got home. She thought about having a bath and a few glasses of brandy while she waited. One part of her needed to hold John in the same way that a child craves the reassurance of a parent when it’s done something naughty. The other part resented John for pushing Tommy to take an interest in her, and she in him. After all, if her husband wasn’t fucking around Tommy would have no reason to be involved.

 The house was dark except for a lamp that burned low in the parlor. Esme thanked her lucky stars for the dimly lit room and skirted the light, rushing through the shadows and hiding her face from Polly.

 “Thanks for putting the kids to bed, Pol. I’m going up to have a bath.”

 “Where’s John?” Polly called to Esme’s back.

 She seemed not much more than a blur of tangled curls as she brushed past Pol on her way through the house.

 “Esme!”

 She stopped and braced herself for Polly’s questions. Esme had hoped that she could get up the stairs without Polly looking her in the face.

 “Did John not come home with you?”

 Esme dreaded having to answer. Pol could read anyone, and her delinquency would surely be apparent when she spoke. “He’s at the Garrison drinking. Where else?”

 Polly rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Was Tommy at the stables?”

 The sound of his name sent a cold shock through her body. She tried to separate herself from the person who embraced Tommy just hours ago. She nodded her head. “He was unloading the horses.” She tried to act naturally and coached her face into a smile. “He gave one to me.”

 “John bought the horse for you.” Polly no more believed her words than Esme did. They both knew that Tommy had bought the horse for her, but Pol tried to help her errant nephew’s cause.

 Esme took the hint and changed tack, “Right, well, if I want to go for a ride tomorrow I’ll need to be up early.” She turned toward the stairs, but before she could make her way toward the silence she so desperately needed, Polly stopped her again.

 Polly had noticed something odd in Esme’s demeanor, but she couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong. “Have you and John been fighting tonight?”

 Esme looked Polly in the eye and gave her an honest account. “I asked him to come home, and he made an excuse to stay at the Garrison.”

 She didn’t have the heart to mention the barmaid who she suspected was sitting on her husband’s lap as they spoke. Polly understood her silence and didn’t push Esme any farther.

 The steaming hot water soothed her sore muscles but did little to settle her mind. As she soaked she watched the clock. Over an hour had passed and John had yet to come home. Worse than that, whenever she closed her eyes she replayed the moment that she pulled away from Tommy and saw his gaze lazily drifting over her. She could still feel his fingers pressing into her shoulders and smell the smoke and whisky on his skin. Whatever happened between her and John tonight, she had to steer clear of Tommy tomorrow.

JFC, I don’t know where I am going with this. It’s really my personal catharsis. Tell me what you think.

Chapter 3 can be found on my masterlist because Tumblr hates links.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Hello! I adore your Vetinari&Downey series, and you've mentioned that it's fine to request drabbles. So, maybe, if you like the idea, you can write smth about the first time young Downey felt some distinct longing towards Vetinari? Maybe with some butthurt and jealosy on Will's part involved.:-)

Thank you so much for the prompt! I have no idea if this is what you were hoping for but it’s what you got. Boys being dumb. 

[The AO3 Link] 

It’s always the throwing of things. Perhaps not every day but since his arrival at the guild Vetinari has been pelted with various and sundry objects whenever Downey felt the need to express his presence. This was usually followed by an “eyyup Dog-Botherer.” Or some equivalent. The intellectual level of the interaction depended upon age in the beginning, twelve year olds not being notoriously bright as Downey was two years Vetinari’s senior, then later, it would depend upon his energy level, how committed he was to being a nuisance or how intense the hangover.

But this has temporarily ceased. Vetinari is cautiously relieved for it means that he can get through a month without having to deal with Downey’s obnoxious presence. What has replaced it though? Staring.

Perhaps it’s because it’s Hogswatch break, Vetinari reasons. There’s only a handful of students at the guild over these two weeks and therefore Downey has less of an audience to perform in front of. Or, perhaps it’s because he’s finally growing up. Being one and twenty must mean something surely. Vetinari considers himself immensely more mature than Downey, and always has been. Even though he’s a mere nineteen and only having taken the black the year previous he believes himself to be miles ahead of the other boy.

Young man, now, he supposes. They’re both young men. Young gentlemen, as teachers usually say in a disparaging tone.

The Guild library is laid out with a main body of the library, the nave if you will, is lined on either side with shelves then in the centre are large tables for students to occupy. The first floor is split so you are either on the east or west side with both affording a view of each other and the ground floor tables. Vaulted ceilings and large windows make for an airy and peaceful environment. It is, perhaps too predictably, Vetinari’s favourite place in the Guild. He sits currently on the west side, first floor, working through notes on how best to approach the methodology for next term’s research project when he becomes aware that some else is nearby.

He looks up then around and sat across from him, on the east side, is Downey. Sitting is perhaps too strong a word, lounging with books would be more accurate. When their eyes meet Downey’s face contorts into something Vetinari has never seen before and he twists in his chair and pulls up a book.

Vetinari thinks that for someone eternally dull-witted Downey has his mysterious moments. Vetinari watches as Downey reads with great diligence, not looking up again until Vetinari bows his head over his notes. With head still bowed Vetinari glances over and finds Downey pulling a similar move. They both look back to their work.

With great concentration Vetinari manages to finish his outline and a few thoughts on where best to begin. Having gone past three he decides to see if any of the kitchen staff will take pity on him and give him a late lunch or an early tea, whichever is easiest.

Getting up he finally allows himself to look over again to Downey and finds him still reading, though a stack of papers have appeared so apparently real work is happening. Packed up and walking down to the ground floor Vetinari glances back one last time and finds Downey watching him. When they meet each other’s eyes this time there’s no awkward scurrying back to work.

‘What do you want?’ Vetinari asks. They’re alone, therefore no need to keep one’s voice to a whisper.

‘What are you on about?’ Downey replies.

‘Just tell me what you want.’

‘Why do you think I want something, Dog-Botherer? Why do you think I’d want anything from you?’

If Vetinari isn’t mistaken, Downey is blushing. Strange, strange lad.

Vetinari shrugs then decants from the library.

The next iteration of this strange and unaccountable change in Downey comes the day after Hogswatch when Downey appears to have a strange sort of silent argument with himself in the common room then approaches Vetinari very slowly and says, ‘um.’

‘What, Downey?’ Vetinari asks from over his book.

Once again, the universe has conspired for them to be alone. Downey appears to take some heart in that.

‘I’ve um got this,’ he holds out a bag of chocolate coins. ‘Um, you want to gamble for them?’

Vetinari stares at the bag. A few informational notes about Downey’s heritage ticks through his head.

‘With you?’ Vetinari asks.

‘No, with the King of Lancre.’

‘I’d rather not.’

Downey scowls, ‘Right, fine.’ He stalks off.

Vetinari tries to return to his book but finds that it isn’t as entertaining as it had been when he began. He wants to reinvest in the main character who is currently attempting to convince her sister to do away with her philandering husband but cannot. He turns around the recent developments in Downey’s behaviour which dated back perhaps a month or so. It hasn’t been long.

He wishes Madam were in Ankh-Morpork for she could then inform him what all of Downey’s shifts in behaviour mean. Learning how people tick and how to leverage that to his advantage is a skill he is still developing. Though Downey has, until recently, been the most simple to manipulate as he was never a deep or complicated river to navigate.

Rivers do change course. Vetinari gets up and goes up to the dorms and knocks on Downey’s door.

Downey opens it, ‘what? Oh.’ Perhaps his expression uncertain? Vetinari believes there is something of a conflict written across it but he isn’t sure what that means.

‘I changed my mind.’

Downey sucks on his bottom lip. It’s not an attractive look. ‘I already have people playing.’

‘Oh.’

‘Who is it?’ A voice from inside asks. Vetinari recognizes it as Jacob de l’Enfer. Another voice, that of Willis, asks a similar question.

Downey, over his shoulder, ‘Dog-Botherer.’

Vetinari’s desire to continue the impromptu socializing vanishes. Downey, when speaking to Jacob, becomes another person. It is a transformation to watch.

Jacob is saying, ‘let him join us. You haven’t explained the rules yet.’

‘Oh DB would know them,’ Downey says.

‘Would he?’ Jacob appears behind Downey with curiosity. Vetinari smiles, a brittle thing. ‘I didn’t know that.’

Downey is pure charm in his reply. It is a performance and Vetinari feels like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be seeing. Then Downey’s attention is back on him and Jacob has retreated and it’s back to the two of them. The way it’s been since they were ten and twelve.

‘I guess you can join,’ Downey says whose eyes are like black forests and his hair a rusty brown. There is light behind him so his face his shadowed.

Vetinari shakes his head. He bows out. He doesn’t want whatever strange, unaccountable olive branch it is that Downey is offering. Or trying to offer. Mostly, he isn’t sure he wants to see him talking to Jacob. He slinks back to the common room, pours himself a whiskey, and does his best to ignore whatever it is that just happened.

Really, things are a tragedy. Downey has decided this as he prowls around the mostly-empty guild. Life is trouble. That is going to go on the plaque his ashes will be hid behind after he dies.

Here lies William (maybe spelled Guillaume or Gulielmus or Willym he hasn’t decided which one has the best colour yet) Downey, Assassin. Let it be known to all that Life is Trouble.

He feels such guilt and such shame. These are not emotions he is overly familiar with so doesn’t know what to do with them. As this is the issue he puts them in a box and spends much of the first week of break drinking with Willis.

What is the trouble that he laments over? It occurred to him, one fowl early Ember day, that Dog-Botherer has a nice profile. That was the unfortunate slope that he has since found himself sliding down. It’s only nice, he informs himself, because Dog-Botherer has finally managed to grow into his nose which was always unfortunately large.

No longer gangly with too many limbs it seems that Dog-Botherer has gained in height and has filled out. All while Downey wasn’t paying attention and really, who is the scag to do something like that to him?

He laments about this to Willis. ‘Willis.’

‘What?’

‘Why must I go and find someone attractive whom I shouldn’t?’

They’re in Willis’ room with a bottle of wine and chocolate bark. Downey’s family is not of the faith to celebrate Hogswatch and so he never bothers to go home during the holidays. Willis’ reason for staying changes every year but Downey has distilled it down to: I live with my angry grandfather and do not wish to return unto him unless I must.

Willis nods sagely. ‘I’ve had that happen. I was seeing Clarissa then went and fancied her cousin. It was a mistake.’

‘Yes,’ Downey points with his wine glass. ‘That’s exactly it. There’s this, uh, lass who I might be going with. The path we’re on is going swimmingly enough and I’m pretty sure she’s keen but there’s this other person who I’ve never noticed before but now all I do is stare whenever they’re around.’

‘Right,’ Willis pours them both more wine in a manner that says he is about to get down to business. ‘So what you need to do is figure out which one you prefer.’

‘Um, the one that it could kick off with in the near future. I think the other one is mostly obnoxious.’

‘All right, so you just need to remember that she’s annoying. I had to do that with Clarissa’s cousin. I had to remind myself that we never have anything to talk about and really, she’s very dull. She’s just got pretty hair and a cute face.’

‘That’s the problem,’ Downey agrees. ‘Faces. Or profiles in this case.’

Willis laughs, ‘you like the weirdest things, Will.’

‘This, uh, lass with the profile is deeply annoying though.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘She thinks she’s so smart, better than the rest of us, somehow superior. Condescending. Rude.’

‘Is she smart?’

‘Oh,’ Downey nods with disinterest. ‘Terribly. Probably the smartest person I know other than Ludo. I don’t really care about that. It’s the blase attitude. She doesn’t pay any attention to me.’

Willis begins peering at Downey then says, very slowly, ‘I think you like this girl a good deal.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘What’s her name?’

Downey becomes prim. He says he doesn’t kiss and tell. Or, in this case, find-a-profile-nice-to-look-at and tell. He adds, ‘anyway, she doesn’t pay any attention to anyone–’

‘So no competition!’ Willis crows.

‘That’s not the issue here, Willis. The issue is that I do not wish to be interested in her at all because it makes me feel guilty because I’m already half down the garden path with this other person who is fabulous in all ways. An absolute brick. Why they’re interested in me is a mystery.’

Willis’ wisdom most often comes out in wine soaked moments. They’re opening a second bottle and Downey is suggesting that maybe they eat something other than chocolate with cranberries stuck in it.

‘I think you should maybe try and get to know the other girl. The smart one. Then see which route you’d like to go. At the moment you’re working with only half the information,’ Willis says. ‘I can’t really be of any more use since you’re so tightfisted with names.’

Downey waves him off. This isn’t the time for that. This is the time to lament how the universe is cruel and has decided to target him unfairly. He was going along very nicely, thank you, everything was in its proper place until now.

‘I had everything ordered,’ Downey complains. ‘Now it’s not. Well,’ complaint becomes frustrated resignation. ‘Whatever. It’ll pass. I’m sure nothing’ll come of it.’

Willis agrees in his way which is to say he is suspicious and unconvinced but happy to let it drop. They finish the second bottle then go in search of food.

Dog-Botherer is across from him in the common room. Downey hates that Dog-Botherer is across from him. Yet he wishes DB would pay him even the slightest bit of attention. Why is DB nice to creeps like Creevey? And that other strange fellow Flanagan. It makes little sense, they have nothing to offer and aren’t at all remotely interesting people. Downey had been lab partners for a year with Flanagan. It had been a decidedly painful experience.

DB at least is interesting. At least judging by the reading materials he carries around. But DB doesn’t notice him unless he’s chucking something at the lad or insulting him and this eats him up. Indeed, DB once went so far as to say that Downey is not a nice person. Downey disagrees - he’s the nicest person he knows! Other than Ludo. And Jacob.

There’s the rub though. Jacob is a very real possibility. A very real and very soon possibility. And a very real and very soon possibility that he desperately wants. Everything is so much brighter when Jacob is around. He feels less reckless and prone to poor life decisions. Jacob steadies.

Dog-Botherer on the other hand has a habit of provoking the worst in Downey. But that’s only because he refuses to notice Downey in any real capacity instead spending time with creepy Creevy. Also that rich Ramkin girl. Downey dislikes that. His family might not be as rich as her family, nor as aristocratic, but he still should merit some of DB’s time.

Yet. Yet. The rub is reality and reality is that DB will most likely forever remain in the realms of Never Happening Not Even In Your Dreams. DB is also in the realms of Do You Even Want It To Happen? Is That Something You Actually Want To Deal With? The Lad’s As Emotional As A Dead Fish.

Ugh, he thinks as he flounces back into the couch. Dog-Botherer glances over at the sharp exhalation Downey gave upon hitting the cushion.

This is going to turn into another round of awkward staring like they did in the library the other day. Maybe he should start going home during the breaks. He plays this scenario through then decides against it. Whatever messiness happens at the Guild during break is eons better than going home to family and being dragged off to temple for hours then having big dinners with various and sundry. Unimportant people.

Willis’ suggestion lingers like a bad smell. Try and get to know Dog-Botherer? How does one get to know someone so removed and impersonal? Who has such little warmth? His longing has deep conflict within it - how could someone like him want someone like Dog-Botherer? Yet he does. He also wants Jacob. He wants wanting. He wantonly wants.

Determination takes over. He shall not be daunted by this. Rising from the couch he casually strolls over to the object of his confusion and says, ‘I’ve got some chocolate coins. Want to gamble for them?’

Dog-Botherer looks up from his book. The cover is florid - two women wearing an unseemly amount of red. Dog-Botherer seems confused by this so Downey shows him the bag of gelt that was conveniently on his person.

‘With you?’ DB asks.

‘No, with the King of Lancre.’ Downey internally winces. This isn’t the way to go about things but he is watching himself from outside of his body.

‘I’d rather not.’

And he is very much in the moment now. He nods and says, ‘All right then’ and having nothing further to say wanders from the common room.

Once the idea of the game is formed Downey finds himself corralling Willis into playing with him and, to his great joy, Jacob.

Jacob arrives before Willis and Downey immediately regrets his clothing choice because Jacob is casual yet elegant. How can one man manage it so effortlessly? Downey himself wears an itchy jumper his grandma knitted for him several sizes too large at the time so he could grow into it.

Jacob has red hair and freckles and is everything divine. Downey feels so common next to him. Yet when Jacob smiles Downey cannot feel common because nothing is common when Jacob is beside it.

‘Wine?’ He asks as Jacob piles a few pillows on the floor in a circle for the game. ‘I also pilfered Dr. Follett’s brandy if you’re in the mood for that.’

‘A brandy would be nice.’ Jacob settles in on the floor with back leaning into wall. ‘Dr. Follett is going to be after you as soon as he knows you took it.’

‘No fear, I framed Creepy Creevy.’

Jacob rolls his eyes but accepts the brandy without complaint. Downey pours himself one as well and settles down opposite Jacob. The sun is setting so there’s a warm glow on the young man’s face and Downey thinks if he could have a portrait painted it’d be this moment right here.

‘Your holidays treating you well?’ Downey asks. He stretches his feet out. He dares not touch Jacob and Jacob dares not touch him.

‘Oh yes. I came back early as mother was having another one of her spells and I couldn’t be in the house for it. But prior to that I was having a good time. I got you a present.’

‘Oh,’ a blush creeps up Downey’s neck. ‘I didn’t get you anything -’

‘It’s all right, I know Hogswatch isn’t your thing.’

‘I listen for the bells sometimes,’ Downey says. ‘I think they’re nice.’

‘The bells?’

‘The Hogfather’s bells. I’m usually mostly alone at the Guild save for Willis so it’s something to do. We order in Agatean and he cries about his family after we get into the whiskey.’

Jacob is wry, ‘that a yearly tradition?’

‘Yes, bless him.’

Jacob licks his lips and pulls out a small package and hands it over. He is suddenly not looking at Downey but the plants by the window, the book and mug littered desk, the floor. As Downey begins to unwrap it Willis barges in singing a dirty ditty about a sailor.

The present is tucked under the bed. He looks at Jacob who smiles faintly.

‘You could’ve knocked, Willis,’ Downey chides as his friend quickly makes himself at home by stealing Downey’s throw blanket and nesting on the floor with it. ‘Wine or Dr. Follett’s brandy?’

‘Wine.’

Downey pours him a glass and passes it over.

Right as he begins to seat himself there’s a knock on the door. Downey points to it, ‘see Willis, that’s what you could do.’

‘I could,’ Willis agrees happily. To Jacob he says, ‘Will keeps trying to imprint manners on me which I think is a laugh coming from him.’

Jacob to Willis, ‘you have to catch him in the right mood then he’s a perfect gentleman.’

Downey ignores them and opens the door. In the dim of the cool hallway is Dog-Botherer. He’s holding his florid book to his chest and looking confused.

‘What?’ Downey asks.

Dog-Botherer says, ‘I changed my mind.’

Downey breaths in and does not let it out. He races through several alternate scenarios of letting Dog-Botherer join them. The invitation, when he made it, had initially been just for them as per Willis’ direction. But now that Jacob is here he frets. This is the last time he is ever listening to Willis’ advice.

‘I already have people playing,’ he replies lamely.

‘Oh.’

Jacob asks who is at the door. Downey wishes Dog-Botherer didn’t have such a stupid face. If he didn’t have a stupid face Downey wouldn’t be in this position. Willis asks follow up, ‘let them in or out Will but first who is it?’

Downey answers, ‘Dog-botherer.’

Dog-Botherer glares at the name. Rooted to the spot Downey can’t move. Until Jacob says, ‘Let him join us. You haven’t explained the rules yet.’

Downey replies, he isn’t sure what he says. When he looks at Jacob the man is encouraging. Downey knows Jacob thinks he needs to polishing. Jacob had said, ‘I think there’s a good man beneath all of that anger’ and Downey had replied, ‘Aren’t there books on how you’re not supposed to try and change people’ and Jacob, the delight he is, had said, ‘I’m not. I wouldn’t want to. I’m just saying that you’re a bit of an arse but you’re also a good person. You can be both.’

In the present Jacob appears behind Downey and says something which clearly annoys Dog-Botherer who gives a cold non-smile. Downey says something to Jacob. He wants to close the door and return to how things were before this unnecessary complication. Clearly he’s doing fine as Jacob laughs at whatever it is he said and returned to the circle.

Downey mutters, ‘I guess you can join.’

But whatever small desire Dog-Botherer had to join is gone. DB’s face is caught in the light coming from setting sun and lanterns and he, too, looks like a portrait. But a quiet, dark one.

DB says, ‘You clearly have enough players. I won’t get in your way.’

Downey watches him walk back to the common room. It’s an awkward walk as if DB, too, wishes to disappear temporarily into the marble of the Guild. Pushing whatever mad jealousy that rears its head as DB’s back disappears around the corner he spins on his heels with a cheerful smile.

‘All right,’ he grins. ‘Get ready to lose all your chocolate to me.’

They do. Downey preens and spends the rest of the evening eating chocolate in bed and once again pondering that great philosophical question of: Why is life such trouble?

[gadgetgirl71]

Amazon First Reads November 2020

Well Halloween is over and Guy Fawkes/Bonfire Night is only a three days away. You’d think it was bonfire night every night. People have been letting off numerous fire works every night and over the weekend its been even worse. As they start going off just as dusk falls and they go on for the rest of the night, sometimes even in to the early hours.

Anyway back to this months Amazon First Reads, Prime Members are allowed to choose one book this month out of the eight titles.

This months choices are:

Thriller

The Last Resort by Susi Holliday, Pages: 300, Publication Date: 1 December 2020

Synopsis: Seven strangers. Seven secrets. One perfect crime.

When Amelia is invited to an all-expenses-paid retreat on a private island, the mysterious offer is too good to refuse. Along with six other strangers, she’s told they’re here to test a brand-new product for Timeo Technologies. But the guests’ excitement soon turns to terror when the real reason for their summons becomes clear.

Each guest has a guilty secret. And when they’re all forced to wear a memory-tracking device that reveals their dark and shameful deeds to their fellow guests, there’s no hiding from the past. This is no luxury retreat—it’s a trap they can’t get out of.

As the clock counts down to the lavish end-of-day party they’ve been promised, injuries and in-fighting split the group. But with no escape from the island—or the other guests’ most shocking secrets—Amelia begins to suspect that her only hope for survival is to be the last one standing. Can she confront her own dark past to uncover the truth—before it’s too late to get out?

Book Club Fiction

Memories in the Drift by Melissa Payne, Pages: 279, Publication Date: 1 December 2020

Synopsis: My name is Claire. I’m thirty-six years old. It’s September. I know what I’m doing and why I am here…for now.

Ten years ago, Claire Hines lost her unborn child—and her short-term memory—following a heartrending tragedy. With notebooks, calendars, to-do lists, fractured pieces of the past, and her father’s support, Claire makes it through each day, hour by hour, with relative confidence. She also has a close-knit community of friends in the remote Alaskan town where she teaches guitar to the local children. It’s there, in the reminders.

As determined as Claire is to regain all that’s disappeared, she’d prefer to live without some memories of her before life—especially those of her mother, Alice, who abandoned her, and Tate, the ex-boyfriend who broke her heart.

But when Alice and Tate return from the past, there’ll be so much more for Claire to relive. And to discover for the very first time. Through healing, forgiveness, and second chances, Claire may realize that what’s most important might not be re-creating the person she was, but embracing the possibilities of being the person she is.

Suspense

Every Last Secret by A R Torre, Pages: 302, Publication Date: 1 December 2020

Synopsis: Welcome to the neighborhood. Watch your husband, watch your friends, and watch your back.

Cat Winthorpe has worked hard to get what she has: a gorgeous home; social standing; and William, her successful, handsome husband. Then a friendly new couple moves into the estate next door. While cautious, a good neighbor like Cat greets them with open arms and warm hospitality.

Neena Ryder isn’t a fellow lady of leisure. A life coach with off-the-rack dresses, personal issues, and a husband who hasn’t delivered, she’s anxious to move up in the world. This beautiful new town is a step in the right direction. It’s also making Neena aware of what she doesn’t have. Namely, William. When Neena’s infatuation escalates into obsession, it’s just a matter of eliminating a few obstacles to get the life she wants. The life next door.

As Neena’s secret fixation grows, so does her friendship with Cat. But beneath their cordial interactions is a wealth of temptations, secrets, and toxic jealousy. For both women, the desire for a perfect life can turn perfectly dangerous.

Historical Fiction

Under a Gilded Moon by Joy Jordan-Lake, Pages: 409, Publication Date: 1 December 2020

Synopsis: From the bestselling author of A Tangled Mercy comes an enthralling novel of secrets, a tumultuous war of ideas, and murder as classes collide in the shadow of Biltmore House.

Biltmore House, a palatial mansion being built by the Vanderbilts, American “royalty,” is in its final stages of construction in North Carolina. The country’s grandest example of privilege, it symbolizes the aspirations of its owner and the dreams of a girl, just as driven, who lives in its shadow.

Kerry MacGregor’s future is derailed when, after two years in college in New York City, family obligations call her home to the beautiful Appalachians. She is determined to distance herself from the opulence she sees rising in the Blue Ridge Mountains, however close its reach. Her family’s land is among the last pieces required to complete the Biltmore Estate. But something more powerful than an ambitious Vanderbilt heir could change Kerry’s fate as, one by one, more outsiders descend on the changing landscape—a fugitive from Sicily, a reporter chasing a groundbreaking story, a debutante tainted by scandal, and a conservationist prepared to put anyone at risk to stoke the resentment of the locals.

As Kerry finds herself caught in a war between wealth and poverty, innocence and corruption, she must navigate not only her own pride and desperation to survive but also the temptations of fortune and the men who control it.

Memoir

Jew(ish) by Matt Greene, Pages: 199, Publication Date: 1 December 2020

Synopsis: What does it mean to be Jew(ish) in 2020? Caught between tradition and modernity, between a Jewish family and a non-Jewish son, Matt Greene ponders the big questions concerning identity, religion, family and Seinfeld.

When his son was born to a non-Jewish mother, Matt began to consider the upbringing he’d put behind him—the sense of not belonging, the forbidden foods, the holidays that felt more like punishments. There are more types of Jew than there are bagel fillings, and for every two there are three opinions. But if you’re not a black-hatted frummer, if you’re allergic to groups, if you observe but don’t believe, or you don’t observe at all, does that make you less Jewish?

In this wide-ranging series of essays, at turns irreverent, insightful, urgent and iconoclastic, Matt considers what might loosely be termed ‘the modern Jewish experience’, and asks what it means to be anything in a world obsessed with the self and the other.

Domestic Suspense

Open House by Katie Sise, Pages: 255, Publication Date: 1 December 2020

Synopsis: A missing young woman, ten years gone. A town still held in the grip of an unsolved mystery. A breathtaking novel of psychological suspense by the bestselling author of We Were Mothers.

A decade ago in upstate New York, art student Emma McCullough walked into the woods and was never seen again. It’s a mystery that still haunts her bucolic university town and her broken family, especially her sister, Haley, whose need for closure has become an obsession. But now, finally, the first piece of evidence in the vanishing has been found: Emma’s bracelet, lodged in a frozen piece of earth at the bottom of a gorge. For Emma’s three best college friends, for a beloved former teacher, and for Haley, the chilling trinket is more than a clue in a resurrected cold case. It’s a trigger.

Then a woman Tis attacked during an open house, and the connections between the two crimes, ten winters apart, begin to surface. So do the secrets that run as deep and dark as the currents in this quiet river town.

Biographical Fiction

The Empress by Laura Martinez-Belli, Translator Simon Bruni, Pages: 402, Publication Date: 1 December 2020

Synopsis: From a bestselling author in Mexico comes her English-language debut—an enthralling historical novel about the tragic reign of Empress Carlota of Mexico.

It’s 1863. Napoleon III has installed a foreign monarch in Mexico to squash the current regime. Maximilian von Habsburg of Austria accepts the emperor’s crown. But it is his wife, the brilliant and ambitious Princess Charlotte, who throws herself passionately into the role. Known to the people as Empress Carlota, she rules deftly from behind the scenes while her husband contents himself with philandering and decorating the palace.

But Carlota bears a guilty secret. Trapped in a loveless marriage, she’s thrown herself into a reckless affair. Desire has blinded Carlota to its consequences, for it has left her vulnerable to her sole trusted confidante. Carlota’s devious lady-in-waiting has political beliefs of her own—and they are strong enough to cause her to betray the empress and join a plot to depose her from the throne. As Carlota grows increasingly, maddeningly defenseless, both her own fate and that of the empire are at stake.

A sweeping historical novel of forbidden love, dangerous secrets, courtly intrigue, and treachery, The Empress passionately reimagines the tragic romance and ill-fated reign of the most unforgettable royal couple of nineteenth-century Europe during the last throes of the Second Empire.

Children’s Picture Book

The Snow Dancer by Addie Boswell, Illustrated by Merce Lopez, Pages: 32, Publication Date: 1 December 2020

Synopsis: Young dancer Sofia wakes up to a quiet, white world—it’s a snow day! She makes her way outside to the neighborhood park, where a field awaits her, white and shining and open. It isn’t long before the rest of the neighborhood wakes its sleepy head—and the other kids make their way to the park, scattering all of Sofia’s beautiful silence. But with the help of a new young friend, Sofia is ready to show everyone what a snow dancer can do on a perfect day like this. With lyrical language and gorgeous art, this book sparkles with all the joy and beauty of a snow day.

*** Which book will you choose? I’m not sure which book I’ll choose as non of the books stand out to me. ***

#AmazonFirstReads, #Amazonkindle, #AmazonPrimeMembers, #BiographicalFiction, #BookClubFiction, #Books, #ChildrensPictureBook, #DomesticSuspense, #HistoricalFiction, #Kindle, #KindleBooks, #Memoir, #Suspense, #Thriller

[yourspacedk]

enrico cappelletto

Many people view a kennel or crate from a person's perspective - a cage, or prison. Yet, if it's properly introduced, a dog crate provides a way of security for your pet; an area of her own. At an equivalent time, a dog that's comfortable during a crate is simpler to housebreak and travels well. enrico cappelletto It is important to urge the proper size crate for your dog while she may be a puppy. it's best to urge a crate which will fit her as an adult - she'll quickly grow into it! Ideally, the crate should be large enough to permit an adult dog to face up and switch around, with about four inches of additional space long . Its important that you simply determine how large your puppy could grow to - there are many books or websites which will offer you this information. Very young puppies shouldn't be crated for any length of your time as they're going to not be house trained and can soil the crate. If your puppy messes in his crate don't punish him. Simply wash out the crate employing a pet odor neutralizer. The odor of ammonia-based products resembles urine and your dog will plan to urinate within the same spot again.You will got to teach your dog that the crate is hers. Some dogs take longer than others to "catch on" to their special place. this is often not a sign that the dog doesn't just like the crate, just a results of unique personalities each dog has. Training your dog to use the crate requires variety of small steps, also as patience. The kennel should be related to pleasant moments. If you force your dog into the crate or get angry at her, she is going to see the crate as a nasty thing. Spend time together with your dog while she is inside in order that your dog doesn't associate being within the crate with being left alone or abandoned. To introduce the crate to your dog, sit beside it with treats in your hand and call her to you. When she involves you, give her a treat and much of verbal praise during a happy voice. Place a treat at the doorway of the crate, and after she takes it, toss one into the crate. whenever you place a treat inside, provides a unique command so she begins to associate the behavior with the command. this may help your dog to associate positively with the crate.

Read more End the session before the dog loses interest. Once your dog enters the crate easily, begin employing a ball or toy - if you retain using food your dog may develop behavior problems. Crates and kennels are comforting for dogs and excellent tools for housebreaking, but they ought to be used carefully. Puppies will got to be taken out of the kennel during the night to alleviate themselves. Never leave any dog confined to a crate for quite 6 hours - they're going to get bored and may develop behavior problems as a result. Never use the crate as a punishment, as you'll be unable to use it once you got to - your puppy should be happy to travel into the crate at any time. Making use of those simple tips and suggestions will make your life, and therefore the lifetime of your puppy, much easier within the future. Best Pet Health Information [http://www.Best-Pet-Health.info] may be a resource which can assist you find infomation, hints and tips to stay your dog happy and healthy. Dog News Center [http://www.dognewscenter.com] publishes news and articles about dogs and puppies. I get weird, morbid pleasure sometimes out of lecture my husband about cheating. Affairs. Scandals. i can not help but bring it up while casually scanning his eyes for a glimmer of guilt, trying to find a particular reddening round the collar, trying to catch the whiff of women's perfume when he leans in to hug me and promises he'd never, ever forsake me for anyone else.

Despite continued vigilance, I've yet to seek out any clues that my husband is joking . The deepest recesses of his closet hold only lint balls. The messages on his voice mail at work are dull and mundane. The mastercard statement contains no mysterious charges, besides the revelation that Hubs eats much more barbeque for lunch than he admits to. Okay, okay, I are often a snoop- but only after I've watched an episode of Cheaters and gotten tears in my eyes as Two-Toned Tammy screams "We got a baby together! We got a baby together! How could you are doing this to me!" at her philandering boyfriend-of-six-years after catching him within the Popeye's parking zone together with her roommate/sister/best friend. I'm not alone in my snooping, either. Hubs likes to point out up within the middle of the day sometimes, unannounced, just to "see what I'm up to." once I went out of town with the youngsters a couple of months ago, I returned home to get that he'd skilled my entire bathroom cabinet, checking out God-knows-what. He's also admitted to Googling my ex-boyfriends. I find this type of thing flattering. I've told Hubs i do not ever need a boyfriend. But I've admitted that i might adore a lover . My admirer would be quite handsome, enough to offer my husband pause, but he'd even be an advocate of code of conduct and would have a "look-but-don't-touch-EVER-not-even-when-you're-both-a-little-drunk-and-there's-no-one-around" quite sensibility. Instead, my admirer would content himself with sending me flowers (Casablanca lilies) and boxes of candy (Godiva) and books of poems (Neruda), with notes that say things like, "When I saw you in carpool this morning with the sun in your hair, i noticed I had never seen anyone or anything more beautiful." Or "You fold a contour sheet with a grace and perfection that others can only dream of. many thanks for being you." or maybe "You are the most well liked soccer mom this side of the Mississippi. Ah-OOO-gah!" I'm not particular. it is the thought that counts.

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Italian psychologist in Denmark psychologist in Denmark My husband won't like all the eye my admirer would give me, but he'd need to tolerate it because he has many admirers of his own. the character of his job is such people are constantly arising to him and telling him how great he's . He likes to tell me these stories, to which I counter with something like, "Oh an equivalent thing happened to me today. i used to be at the supermarket and this total stranger walked up and said, 'I just love your ability to save lots of a minimum of 25% on your grocery bill whenever you shop!'" Hubs generally snorts derisively while I quietly seethe. But my admirer would put a stop to the present quite behavior. "Hubs," he'd say, taking my husband's hand and shaking it heartily, "I hope you recognize you are a very lucky man." Hubs would look slightly uneasy as he noted the firm handshake and type eyes of my admirer. That night, Hubs would happen with an outsized bouquet of his own and a suggestion of dinner and dancing. Or dinner and drinking, which is more our style. "Admirer," I'd say as he called me on the phone for the fifth time during a week, just to listen to the charming lilt of my voice, "I really can't accept your gifts anymore. you have been simply wonderful, but between you and me, i feel Hubs is getting a touch jealous." "Lucinda," he'd whisper with just the proper blend of regret and compassion, "I are going to be content to admire you from afar, if that is what it takes to form your life easier. But I even have devoted my life to you- and therefore the evidence of which will be impossible for either of you to ignore." Regretfully, we'd both hang up the phone. After weeks of not hearing from my Admirer, my husband would silently bring me a replica of the Living section of the newspaper. "Local Artist Receives International Recognition for "Lucinda" Series", the headline would read. Pictured beside his oil painting called "Lucinda with the Sun in Her Hair" would be my Admirer, his searing, questioning eyes burning through the newsprint. A short time later, I'd be named Parent Magazine's Mother of the Year supported an anonymous submission. Hubs would attempt to pretend he mailed within the entry, but the editor's admission that my "ability to artfully manage the lives of my husband and three children while radiating a tremendous inner calm and stunning the locals with my otherworldly beauty" set me aside from the opposite entrants would clue me in on who was really liable for my resulting photo session and free trip to ny . By the top of that year, "Lucinda (Love of My Life)" would top the Adult Contemporary music chart. I'd join the super exclusive ranks of world famous muses. Occasionally, Vogue or life style would do short pieces on me, despite my wish to stay anonymous. the sole photos they'd be ready to secure would be of me rushing between my minivan and my front entrance , using one arm to balance Baby and a bag of soccer balls and holding up the opposite ahead of my oversized-sunglasses-and Pucci scarf-covered face. Yet readers would note the winsomeness in my frown, the hurried spring in my step. Soon, I'd have Admirers exposure at my door from all parts of the world . So you see, what's an affair really besides some hurried bonking and tons of postcoital guilt? a lover is basically the thanks to go. If you recognize of any good candidates, I'd be happy to review their qualifications... I'm a missionary spreading the great news that strength training--lifting weights--pumping iron--is literally the fountain of youth. Yes, idler , I'm chatting with you. This news could change your life! You can feel younger, stronger, and more vigorous--perhaps better than you have ever felt in your entire life. Advanced age isn't a static, irreversible biological condition. it is a dynamic state that in most of the people are often changed for the higher regardless of what percentage years they've lived or how long they've neglected their bodies. Perhaps you have been experiencing a number of the signs of aging. After maturation (about age 30), we lose one-half pound of muscle annually .. If you're 60, this suggests you have 15 pounds less muscle than you probably did 30 years earlier--unless you've got been doing exercises that help retain or build muscle. Do you feel older than you want to feel? Are you wiped out at the end of a busy day? does one notice fat where you wont to have muscle? Are your favorite sports harder than they wont to be? does one check out your older relatives and think that you simply don't need to ever appear as if that? does one wish you have the energy to exercise? Strength exercise can help solve these problems. You can have more energy, you'll replace the fat now stored on your body with muscles, regardless of how old you're . You can be brimming with vitality. Let me share with you a number of the advantages of resistance training. the primary reason is that it helps keep you from aging--your body are often the maximum amount as 15 to twenty years younger than your actual age. If you're 60, wouldn't you wish the body you reside in to seem and performance as if were 45 again? It's truly possible. Miriam E. Nelson's book, Strong Women Stay Young describes a study done at Tuft University in Boston during which 20 women 35 and older lifted weights during a structured program for one year. At the top of that point their bodies were fifteen to twenty years younger than members of

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the

[lubdubsworld]

Tumblr prompt ( Jimin / OC)

Part 1

Part 2

Genre : Heavy Angst 

Warnings : Dubious Consent, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation.

Pairing : Park Jimin/ OC , Jeon Jung Kook / GFriend Yuju , Kim Taehyung / IOI Sohye . 

Request fic : An abusive marriage drabble with Jimin .

Rating : 19+

Warning!! Warning !! Warning !!

Author’s note : if you’re here hoping for the story to have a happy ending then I’m going to have to apologize. Jimin is a ..disturbed ... person in this story.

He isn’t changing. 

Don’t read if you find it off putting. Just Don’t. 

Also this picks up from the end of Part 1. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3 ~~ Why I stayed. 

I woke up with lips pressed against my neck, open mouthed and wet, tongue licking the curve of my neck in smooth languid movements. I blinked groggily, trying to understand what was going on. I was sweaty and there was a little bit of my hair on my cheek. I reached for my face, only to be jolted by the feel of metal on my wrists. 

Handcuffs. 

I came to my senses swiftly, panic bubbling up in a menacing wave. 

“Hey baby....” Jimin’s voice was sultry and low , drawling . I swallowed and tried to open my mouth but he shushed me. 

“No talking. I’m going to be the one doing all the talking and the only thing you’re allowed to scream is my name...” He whispered, pushing up onto his elbows and leaing over me to kiss my nipples slowly. I was still not entirely sober, the last vestiges of sleep still tugging in the corners of my mind. Everything wasd hazy , like cobwebs. 

“I got really mad last night.” He whispered suddenly and the words just instinctively made my entire body clench in apprehension. Whne jimin was mad nothing good ever happened to me. 

“Do you think I’m suffocating , baby? Are you getting tired of me?” He sounded hurt, insecure. “ Tell me. Use your words, baby , go on.”

I took a deep steadying breath. 

“N-No.” 

“Do you things I’m being unfair, wanting my wife to love me , the way I love her?” He whispered , lips trailing across my torso, thumb and forefinger toying with my nipple till the little nub pebbled up. It was cold . His grip wasn’t gentle and I breathed to my nose, trying to regulate the pain receptors in my head. 

Breathing helped. 

“Answer me!!!”

“No...No .. you’re... you’re not being unfair.” I stammered out, staring as he carefully levered himself up and straddled my hips, settling on my thighs, just enough to let me know he meant business. Jimin was dressed only in silk boxers, his erection pushing out through the soft fabric and it was almost pavlovian, the sight making saliva pool in the back of my throat. 

“I just don’t want other men looking at you. You’re so good to me baby. You make me so happy. You’re the only thing I love with all my heart. and I’ve proven that to you.... And ... i want you all to myself. You’re all I need. You’re enough. Am i not enough for you ?” Jimin said thoughtfully, palms cupping my breasts lightly , squeezing and stroking before one hand moved up to wrap around my neck. 

“You’re enough. “ i whispered and then choked a little when his fingers tightened .  More, tell him more ,  “  You’re more than enough. “ He squeezed tighter “ Ah... ow... Jimin.. Jimin .. You...You’re more than i deserve.” I choked out, tears stinging now and his grip finally loosened. 

“Good. I’m glad you’re so self aware.” He leaned down, casually kissing my cheeks. And then he sat up again , reaching down to lightly spread my thighs. My hips cbucked up when he slipped two fingers inside me, prodding deep with easy directions, curling his fingers in a come hither gesture and rubbing the dsoft patch of skin high up inside me.

The spot that literally made me see stars. 

I was shaking , my body trembling at the sudden stimulation , wrists burning from where the metal of the handcuffs chafed the skin and he pinched my nipple harder and the pain and pleasure all mingled together ito one helpless feeling of  too much too much too much....

“But, if we’re going to go to this brunch thing , that hyung’s invited us to... I want you to remember something. You belong to me. if I find you getting too close to Jin or any of the other members for that matter, you’ll be in hell of a lot of trouble..” He leaned down again and pressed his palms across my waist, fingers spanning my hips and pinning me down before he used his legs to spread my l;egs wider. 

“Jimin...I...”

“What did I say about not talking ?!” He slapped my ribs, hard and the fiery burn went straight to my thighs, making them clench. 

“Now, let’s get started , shall we? Safe word?” 

“Red.” i muttered. 

“Good. But don’t use it unless you’re really hurting. You know that right?” He said sternly.

I nodded weakly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Look at you... I want to lock you up inside here forever baby...” Jimin whispered, sinking fingers into my hair, massaging shampoo into the thick strands as I lay in the bathtub. The water was warm , filled with camellia oil , muscle relaxants and some bubbly soap that smelled amazing. I was still in a daze, my brain sluggish and very slow on the uptake. Jimin sat behind me, leaning on the edge of the bathtub while I lay on his chest. 

The welts from the flogger on my legs, the back of my thighs and my bottom stung and i wanted to curl into the water and cry but I knew why he’d been extra rough. Now, Everytime i moved or sat or stood or walked ,the phantom pain would make sure that my mind would always be on him. 

I let my head fall back into his chest, whimpering because he was still hard, still inside me and i was sore. So incredibly sore. 

He nudged his hips lightly. 

“Ride me.” Jimin said softly. It’s painful, just the thought of lifting myself up but he helps, pulling out of me and turning me around till i was straddling him, knees on either side of his waist as i slolwy sank down on him. 

He sighed and mouthed at the curve of my neck, kissing gently as he gripped my waist, lifting me up and bringing me down till i sank down on him. 

By the time we were done, the water had run cold again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ironically, I wasn’t the one getting distracted by someone else that afternoon. 

“I’m such a huge fan, Jimin ssi... I’ve been a fan from the time you debuted.” The girl was young and pretty, very lissome and graceful. She was apparently one of the trainees in Yoongi’s Entertainment company and Hoseok had brought her along to the luncheon in Seokjin’s huge sprawling manor home. She was wide eyed and I found her amazed admiration rather adotrable. 

Now, if only she would stop touching my husband. 

i shifted awkwardly on the lawnchair, fingers trembling a bit around the glass of chilled watermelon juice in my hand. 

Jimin was sitting with Jung Kook and Taehyung, his hands tapping impatiently on the edge of his armchair, a telling sign of his annoyance. But he was dressed like a prince, white shirt stretching right over his muscled frame. Lean waist fitted in  trim black jeans, belted tight with brown leather. His ash blonde hair was styled simply, his handsome face just ethereally beautiful.

And ethereal really did suit the three men sitting together, I thought vaguely. Jung Kook with his strapping , grogeous body and his dark, heavy gaze . Taehyung with the elfin , almost surreal features . 

They looked like heavenly beings and the girl just sat there, not knowing where to look and who to watch, basking in their attention . 

I felt a bit sorry for her. these boys were drugging. The withdrawal symptoms were going to hit her hard when this day ended. 

“oppa... You should sign my bracelet...” She looked really young next to them, preening and simpering and i realized that she wasn’t particularly young. 

i was just older. 

We were all old now, I thought surprised. 

Late twenties. no longer girls or young men but actual men and women

Married men and women. 

But that didn’t stop these other women from  wanting them . The maknae line. Women still worshipped the ground they walked on and in their eyes they could do no wrong. Beautiful perfect and just all around Gods. 

Sometimes, the fan chants seemed less like chants and more like some sort of a spell, cast on unsuspecting female minds.

 Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jung Kook. 

They held so much power, I thought , mildly sickened . So much power that had been handed over to them by willing victims. 

Women who were willing to sell their souls just for a glance, a touch . 

And more often than not , both Taehyung and Jung Kook indulged them. 

Jungkook , was staring shamelessly at the girl, eyes heavy with lust and next to me Yuju snorted.

“Look at him just eye fucking that bitch like he wants to strip her right here.” she said, bitter anger in her tone. i smiled sympathetically, reaching out to hold her hand. 

it wasn’t exactly a secret, Jung Kook and Taehyung’s  philandering ways were as old as the hills. 

They slept with budding idols, trainees , rookie actors. 

And while Sohye still clung to the belief that Taehyung would change someday, Yuju had long given up on him and I wondered , why. 

Yuju wasn’t like me. 

She was an ex-idol. 

Sometimes, it seemed amazing that someone like Yuju, so beautiful and so smart and so talented, would stay in a marriage where she was constantly pushed aside for some other woman. 

i moved to reach for the tissues on the wicker work table on the lawn , flinching when my entire backside throbbed. 

“Are you okay?”  Sohye said worriedly, her gaze soft as she helped me up from the chair. I managed a weak smile, my entire body sore and aching .

“Uh.. yeah. i must’ve slept funny last night. I think i pulled a muscle in my back.“ I muttered. 

“Really? Are you sure it wasn’t kinky sex..?” Yuju teased.

“I.. What- no...”

“Don’t be ashamed. At least your husband has sex with  you.  And not everything in a skirt .” She scoffed still glaring daggers at Jung Kook. Finally, jung Kook seemed to sense the death glare aimed at his skull, turning around and flinching. He quickly whispered something to Taehyung who grimaced and glanced at us. 

“Need any assistance , ladies?” He called out cheerfully. 

“Not at all... Please continue with who ever you’re doing.” Yuju said pointedly and Jung Kook’s eyes flashed red with anger. 

“Yuju...” He growled softly . 

“Oops.. whatever... i meant whatever you’re doing. Not  whoever. “ She giggled faintly and jung Kook turned away , ears red with fury. 

“If we weren’t in public he would likely have slapped me.” Yuju said thoughtfully. A brief flash of hurt in her gaze made my heart ache. But it was fleeting. gone before anyone could see.   

Sohye just smiled vacantly. She was staring at Taehyung , wistfully , her eyes heavy with regrets. 

“I want to divorce him.” She whispered quietly.

Yuju rolled her eyes.

“We all know that’s not an option.” She said bitterly, pouring a glass of vodka and handing it to me.” Have some alcohol, y/n. That’s the only thing strong enough to help us deal with these bastards.”

“Why not?” Sohy sounded close to tears. “ I hate it !!  i hate when he comes home smelling like another woman!” 

 What do you think will happen if we divorce them? you think you and i will land another movie role Sohye? You think any one will buy Y/N ‘s paintings? instead they’ll curse us out, boycott us... accuse us of being whores and sluts and bitches who hurt their precious ‘ oppa’ ...... Yes, we have our own careers and we make money too.... but do you think we’ll still have a career if we leave these bastards? ” she laughed without mirth.

“ Why leave them ?” i said softly.”  The fame. The money . The gowns and the envy. Why give all that up just to get away from a few bruises ?” i said softly , tracing the purpling skin on my wrists from the handcuffs.

“Hear, Hear!” Yuju chuckled. “ Why indeed? “ 

Sohye grimaced , looking away angrily. But she didn’t say anything. 

i smiled a little and watched the three of them again . Jimin was flipping through his phone, fully ignoring the girl who tried hard to get his attention. i wasn’t particularly flattered by it. Jimin being unfaithful was never even a worry.

Because Jimin knew. 

He knew that no one else would let him do all the depraved things he needed to do in the bedroom. And for a brief second, I wished he would.

i wished he would just sleep with some other girl and then maybe I could be the one to accuse and demand and control. 

“But , Y/N can’t relate with us, Sohye... She has the most faithful husband in all of South Korea....” Yuju grinned, stroking my forearm. 

“You’re lucky. Jimin never even looks at another girl. He knows his wedding vows and he takes them seriously.” Sohye whispered her voice trembling just a bit.

“Lucky.” I whispered, staring at him . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ Do you think they will leave us... someday?” Taehyung says thoughtfully as they watch their wives, walking around the lawn, hand in hand. 

“Mine wouldn’t.” jimin says easily. “ Because unlike you heartless bastards, I treat her like a fucking queen.” 

Jung Kook shrugs. 

“Yuju won’t leave me. If she does my fans will butcher her. Her parents already cut her off when she m,arried me. She can’t afford to leave me he says confidently but there’s a vulnerable undertone to his words. He sounds uncertain. Sounds worried. 

“Well, there’s one thing we know. They won’t leave us this week.” Taehyung grins. 

Jung Kook laughs.

“That’s comforting? “

“For this week yes. I’ll worry about Sohye leaving me next week, because i know she isn’t leaving me this week. Fair enough, right?” Taehyung grins. 

“You going to fuck the new one? Or should i call dibs?” Jung Kook whispers. 

“We both know she’s wet for Jimin... What say jimin? Going to break the chastity streak and just indulge a bit?”

Jimin shakes his head at his best friends. His soul mates he thinks, vaguely. 

“Like I said, I love my wife.” He says honestly. “ i’m not going to hurt her that way.” 

Jung Kook scoffed. 

“Later , then. Losers.” 

“At least do it after the brunch is over you son of a bitch.. Yuju is right here!!” Taehyung hisses and jung Kook merely laughs. 

And jimin wonders, if this feeling of foreboding is something he should be worried about.

What if she really did leave? 

What if....

 He feels the sudden, suffocating urge to touch her. 

He ignores Taehyung’s voice and strides out of the door. Across the lawn. He reaches her in less than ten seconds flat and a few minutes later, he has in his arms. 

“Jimin!” She cries out, surprised.

“Don’t leave me....” He says softly, voice breaking. 

“I... I won’t.” And her voice shakes. That little pause, that hesitation takes root inside him. It makes him want to claw away his insides. He hates feeling so vulnerable. 

He hates the uncertainty. Because no matter how many times she bent to his will, no matter how many times she let him do those things to her, it isn’t enough.

He can never fully convince himself that she won’t leave. 

“Please, y/n.... hold me...” He whispers, raggedly.

“Jimin...?”

“Don’t say anything... Y/N please... Don’t leave... Just Hold me....” 

But her hands lie limp on her sides and Jimin just stands there  trembling. He wonders why she won’t hold him. 

Was it so fucking hard to hold him? 

His fingers clench into fists. He wants to shake her. Break her down and demand that she hold him. Demand that she love him. The way he loves her. 

He’ll show her. When they get  back home, he’ll show her ..... 

It starts raining then. 

“Let’s go home, Y/N” He  says softly. His voice is low, trembling a bit with anger and she senses it. She always senses his anger like the perfect little prey that she was. 

And now it’s her turn to  tremble. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your cold face tells me everything rather than words I can see a break up rising over me like a high tide I know it will soon be our last but I can’t let you go Don’t talk, don’t leave just quietly hold me girl

AUTHOR’S NOTE : This is just... yeah. Sorry. Comments are love. This may be the last part. 

[yeehawbisexualold]

You're a Marshmallow, Emma Swan

A CS Veronica Mars AU.

Rated T. 4.3k words. (1/?)

A/N The first chapter very closely follows the pilot in order to set up the characters and plot. Future chapters may not be as verbatim. Also, words in italics are used to represent voice-overs. Although David will be her father, I decided to keep Emma’s last name as Swan because Veronica Mars is such a distinctive name and so is Emma Swan and I don’t think Emma Nolan or the Nolan family would pack quite the same punch.

Welcome to Storybrooke high school. If you go here, your parents are either millionaires or work for millionaires. Storybrooke, California, a town without a middle class. If you’re in the second group, you get a job—fast food, movie theaters, mini-marts. Emma Swan’s after school job means tailing philandering spouses or investigating false injury claims.

She gets out of her car, a beat up, yellow bug, to see a crowd formed around the school’s flagpole. The source of the crowd’s interest, she finds, is a naked boy, duct taped, precariously to cover his private bits, to the pole with the word snitch (misspelled as “snich”) painted across his bare chest. She pushes through the hoard of spectators, gawking at the scrawny boy’s misfortune. “Who’d that guy rat out?” “Why doesn’t somebody cut him down?” “Yeah, I’ll do it. I wanna be the guy up there tomorrow.”

Reaching into her pocket, she tells the guy snapping a selfie on his phone to move.

“Who died and made you the queen?” the jack ass asks as she pulls out her pocket knife. He backs away silently when she snaps it open near his face.

“You’re new here, huh?” she asks the kid as she begins sawing away the duct tape near his wrists. He nods. “Welcome to Storybrooke High.” The bell for class rings and as the crowd begins to disperse, she sardonically cheers “Go Pirates!”

She cuts away enough to free him but leaves him with the pieces that protect his modesty.

In advanced placement English, she rests her head on her desk, falling asleep to the sound of her droning teacher’s voice.

“Did anybody complete the reading?” the woman inquires, removing her glasses. “Emma? Emma Swan, congratulations you’re my volunteer. Pope, An Essay On Man, lesson one.”

“Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined from home, rests and expatiates in a life to come,” she speaks from memory.

“And what do you suppose Pope meant by that?” the teacher quizzes.

She twiddles her fingers. “Life’s a bitch until you die.”

“Thank you, Miss Swan, for that succinct and somewhat inappropriate response.”

~

Random locker searches are the latest tactic the administration has adopted in its losing war on drugs. Except for Emma Swan, the searches aren’t random. She knows when they’re going to happen before Vice Principle “Grumpy” does. (His real name is Leroy but the students of Storybrooke aren’t much for respecting authority.

“Emma Swan. This should be good,” one of Sheriff Zelena Mills’ lackeys says with a smirk.

“Will you please open your locker?” Grumpy asks.

She twists in her combination and swings open the door to reveal a perfectly bare locker. Well, bare to the exception of a photo of Grumpy framed by a red heart and taped to the metal door

“Wow,” she huffs with a grin. “This is a little embarrassing.”

~

Emma sits alone at a round, red plastic lunch table, stabbing her disposable fork into the atrocity the school calls lunch. She stares blankly across the outdoor cafeteria at a group of rowdy students.

I used to sit there, at that table. It’s not like my family met the minimum net worth requirement. My dad didn’t own his own airline like Greg Mendell’s or serve as Ambassador to Belgium like Tamara’s. But my dad used to be the sheriff and that had a certain cache. Let’s be honest though. The only reason I was allowed past the velvet ropes was Neal Hood, son of software billionaire Robin Hood. He used to be my boyfriend. Then one day, with no warning, he ended things.

The most obnoxious of the students perches himself on Neal’s lap, rubbing his chest as he smirks at Emma.

And let’s not forget Killian Jones. His dad makes 20 million a picture. You probably own his action figure. He built his career on being the British bad boy and his son tries his damnedest to upstage his levels of naughtiness. Every school has an obligatory, psychotic jack ass. He’s ours.

Neal pushes him off and turns his attention back to Tamara who’s snuggled herself up against his side and Killian simply sits next to him clapping his hands together and pointing at Emma with a wild grin.

A figure sits down across from her, partially blocking her vision of Killian’s antics.

“You ok?” they ask, startling her out of her focused glare.

“What?“ 

It’s the kid she cut down earlier.

“You look, I don’t know, hypnotized.” He explains, opening his lunch.

“Did I say you could sit here?” she snaps at him. As soon as he stands, shoving his lunch back in the bag, she feels remorse. Killian pisses her off but that’s no reason to treat the new kid, who’s already had a rough enough first day, like shit. “Wait. Of course, you can sit here.”

He sits back down with a smile.

“That was cool what you did.”

Before she can respond, she’s interrupted by a voice behind her.

“My bitch. Weren’t you supposed to wait for me at the flagpole?” The bare sleeved, tattooed interrupter crouches down and gets in the kids face. “I’m not sure I could have made that any clearer.”

The kid looks like he’s going to shit his pants. 

“Leave him alone,” Emma demands and the guy turns his attention to her.

“Love, the only time I care what a woman has to say is when she’s riding my big ole hog and even then it’s not so much words as just a bunch of oohs and aahs, ya know?” He asks planting himself in front of her.

“So it’s big, huh?”

“Legendary.”

“Well, let’s see it. I mean if it’s as big as you say, I’ll be your girlfriend.” She smiles brightly and gasps as if she’s just had a thought. “We could go to prom together!”

When he just laughs and leans back she continues “What seems to be the problem? I’m on a schedule here.”

“Dude, don’t let blondie talk to you like that!” his friend chimes in.

“Sounds like your buddy here wants to see it too.”

“Hell, I’ll show you mine!” the buddy shouts but is interrupted by Grumpy, arriving to break up the disturbance and ask Emma why trouble follows her around.

“So what did you do?” she asks the ‘snitch,’ who’s name she learns is Henry, after everyone clears away from the table. If she just confronted Will Scarlet, the leader of the local biker gang, she deserves to know what she was standing up for.

He explains how he works at the local gas station and while he was working alone last night, some of the guys walked in and stole alcohol from the store, stuffing bottles in their jackets and only paying for a pack of gum. He tripped the silent alarm but when the police came—"We don’t have police here. We have a sheriffs department.“—and he went outside, he realized an entire gang sat in the parking lot. Intimidated by all of the guys, he told the sheriff he pressed the alarm by accident. “You need to go see the wizard, ask him for some guts.” The sheriff told him before hauling the two bikers away.

“Go see the wizard? She said that?” Emma asks once he’s finished his story. “Congratulations, in your short time here, you’ve already managed to piss of the biker gang and the local sheriff.”

~

She heads to her fathers P.I. office, Swan Investigation, after school and is surprised to find Regina Hood’s car there. She hates Emma almost as much as she loves her son.

She sits down at the reception desk and busies herself with paperwork, waiting for Regina to walk out. Ingrid, the local, low-level lawyer walks in and offers “her father” a case to discover how the strip club her client works for keeps their liquor license and help her client make a deal.

After Ingrid leaves, Regina walks out of her father’s office.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, David. I don’t like you,” she says coolly, strutting past in her clean, pressed, white pantsuit, her chin tilted back in an air of arrogance. She turns her icy gaze to Emma. “I hate the fact that I’m here. But I know if anyone will be dogged and resourceful in this matter, it’ll be you. Don’t call me at home, I’ll call you.”

And then she’s gone, the air feeling decidedly less chilly without her presence.

Sure she’s a bitch. But can you blame her? After all, dad did try to send her husband to jail for life.

Her dad joins her to eat and she attempts to figure out why Regina was here. He ignores her attempts at questioning him, joking about the plastic resemblance of the cheese on their sandwiches. But after enough grilling, he reveals that Regina believes her husband Robin is having an affair—late nights and motels—and that he took the case because they need the money.

“Good, I would have been pissed if you hadn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if you were.”

They continue eating together until the phone rings and her father announces he has to leave for a trip to El Paso, demanding she leaves the Hood case alone. She nods in response, knowing full well she’s lying.

~

She follows Robin Hood to his office. As she sits in her car, staring up into the windows of the building, she thinks about her best friend Milah, Robin’s daughter. Leaning back against the seat she recalls the pep squad car wash they worked in October of last year, both of them wearing the tight t-shirt and shorts combo, Emma with her hair in pigtails and Milah with hers long and loose.

“I’ve got a secret, Emma Swan,” she giggled, conspiratorially as she rubbed a soapy sponge along the hood of a car. 

Those were the last words Emma ever heard from Milah. Later that night, she was found dead by her pool.

Emma’s father had been driving her home when he received a call about a disturbance at the Hood estate. When they arrived, David instructed her to stay in the car. But she saw Neal, sitting on a bench with his arms tucked around himself, rocking back and forth, his face ashen and his eyes wide, filled with an emotion to this day she can not name. All it took was one look at him and she was rushing in the house to see what happened.

“Where’s Milah?” she asked, her chest tight. All he could offer in response was a scrunched brow and a mouth, shaking into a frown.

Outside she found the area swarming with cops, a grieving couple, and by the pool, the lifeless body of her dead best friend—eyes wide and unseeing, blood dripping down her face from the gaping wound above where her temple met her scalp.

But everyone knows the story, the murder of Milah Hood. It was on the cover of People Magazine. It made entertainment tonight. The town was flooded with journalists. And of course, everyone remembers the bumbling, local sheriff. The one who went after the wrong man.

That bumbling sheriff was my dad.

Six weeks after Milah’s death, her crime scene video was leaked by someone in the sheriff department. In a matter of hours, millions of people around the world had seen the grizzly footage. Someone had to be held responsible and that someone was David Swan.

“So, Swan, does your dad still think that Milah’s father did this?” Killian confronted her in the school computer lab. “That’s my girlfriend. Your friend. Neal’s sister. Your dad is destroying the Hood family. What’s the matter with you people? What’s the matter with you?”

She knew he was lashing out because he was hurt but so was she. When he maliciously spit out the words, “I’m done with you.” She thought good because she couldn’t help but hate him a little bit for the way he was treating her.

Her father’s belief that Robin was the murderer no longer mattered. An emergency recall removed him from office and the investigation was no longer in his hands. Her mother wanted to move out of Storybrooke. The loss of status and loss of income was too much for her.

They had to move because they could no longer afford to stay in their house but Emma and David were not going to be run out of town.

~

A pair of Milah’s shoes were later discovered on the house boat of one Triton King and her father’s successor, Sheriff Zelena Mills’ face was plastered across the news for her amazing arrest.

~

Emma’s dad may not have been right about Robin but, sitting in the parking lot of a skeezy motel named the Camelot, she knows Regina is right about him now. She can’t imagine it’s a business meeting that’s being conducted at one in the morning, behind the door of one of the upper-level rooms.

Before she can get any substantial evidence, her car is swarmed in the parking lot by none other than Will’s gang.

“Car trouble miss?” he asks with a smirk.

“Might be a loose belt but if you wouldn’t mind checking under the hood,” she answers sweetly.

One of the guys walks up to her open window and her dog Wilby, affectionately nicknamed backup, jumps out. The guy lands flat on his back as the dog snarls at his throat. Another stomps up, yelling at her to call off her dog and she tazes him in the chest. Down he goes.

She calls Wilby off.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll call it a draw,” she tells Will.

“Love, come on, it’s too late for that.”

“Here’s the deal,” Emma informs him, no bull shit face in place. “Leave that kid at school alone for a week and I’ll make sure your boys walk.”

“Why do you care for that kid so much, anyway? Things I heard about you… You must really lay the pipe right.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she says cheerfully with a sarcastic nod of her head.

Mr. Electricity begins to lift himself up, using her door as leverage, and she charges her tazer in front of his face as a warning.

“Alright, one week. But if you don’t get them off, I’m coming for you, your boy, and your little dog too. And remember, if you get lonely out here, Will love you long time.” He kisses the air at her as he revs his engine.

Quite a reputation I’ve got, huh? You wanna know how I lost my virginity? So do I.

It happened at a party at Tamara’s, that much she knows. She’d curled her hair and put on one of her favorite dresses—white, knee length, and flowy. Her reason for going was simply to show everyone that the way they treated her didn’t affect her.

It was a mistake.

As she walked through the crowded room of people from whom the only attention she received was pointed whispers and giggles, people whom she once considered friends, she was handed a drink. She didn’t know who handed it to her but she chugged it down.

Before long she was stumbling around dizzily and then everything went blank. She woke the next morning, alone in bed, a soreness between her legs and her underwear on the floor. She walked through the house, crying silently, an entirely new type of pain tightening her chest.

She’d thought she’d felt all the pain a person could feel—being unceremoniously dumped by whom she thought was the love of her life, having her best friend murdered, all of her old friends turning against her, and her mother leaving her and her father. But there was at least one thing left the world had to throw at her, one more thing to show her that life truly was a bitch and things would never be the same.

In the present, Robin Hood steps out of the motel room door and Emma snaps as many pictures as she can before he shuts it behind him.

She doesn’t actually get a shot of the woman’s face but she gets some pretty good images of him talking through the door way and the license plates of each car in the lot. That should be enough to get her started.

~

The next day at school, she sits at her usual table. The kid she’d saved is already there.

“You should hear the things people say about you,” he begins.

“You didn’t have to sit at my table,” she grumbles. Who is this kid? She saves his ass and he chooses to sit at her table for what? To make fun of her?

“And what a fine table this is. What do you suppose it’s made of?” he ponders, tapping his closed fist against the shiny top. “Oak?”

“Look, if people are saying such awful things…” she trails off, shaking her head.

“Well, I figure I’ve got a choice. I could either go hang out with the jerks who laughed at me, took pictures of me while I was taped to that flagpole. Or I could hang out with the chick who cut me down.”

It feels good, his kindness, and a warmth blooms in her chest at the thought of a possible new friend.

“So you wanna get the bike club off your ass?”

“Can we come up with a code name?” he asks, eyes wide with hope.

“Sure, kid.”

She laughs at school for the first time she can remember since Milah’s death.

~

Her dad returns that night and as he prepares steak on the grill, Emma tells him she got pictures of Hood at the Camelot. He reprimands her for disobeying him but then asks to see the photos. He looks through the stack of images and pauses on one of the license plates of a car.

“I want you to stay away from Robin. You hear me?” he commands firmly, in the serious father voice he so rarely uses.

“But dad, why?”

“Listen to what I said, Emma. Stay away from him. I’m telling Regina I’m dropping the case.”

He storms into the apartment, leaving the grill unmanned.

~

When Grumpy conducts his next “spontaneous” locker search at school, he makes a stop at Killian Jones’. Killian opens the door, expecting to be in the clear, only to showcase a lovely bong in the shape of a naked man, one hand on his hip, the other grasping the bowl placed where it’s penis should be.

“What’s this, Killian? This appears to be a device used to smoke marijuana.”

Killian looks around the hallways, flooding with people now that the class bell has run and as he’s lead away, his confused eyes land on Emma standing beside Henry.

“I know it was you!” he shouts, angrily, jamming his finger in her face. “This isn’t over, ok?”

She fake yawns at him, patting her hand over her mouth. Henry grins at her side.

“You’re so cute and innocent. I’ll get you for this,” he threatens as he’s pulled away by Grumpy and the deputy.

Jefferson, the residential stoner, passes by and offers her a high five. She’d recruited him in art class the day before to make the bong for her.

Phase two of operation freedom was done.

After school, she drove home to the sheriff’s department. Phase three. With a remote control detonator, he sets off a spark in the bowl of the phallic bong residing in the evidence lock up. The smoke from that sets off the fire alarm and the woman behind the counter calls the fire department.

Then, after the flaming crisis is handled, she heads to the fire department.

“Did you make the switch?” she asks the fire chief who then hands her a large envelope with a video tape inside.

A lot of people in this town still love dad. That comes in handy.

~

The residual love of her father only gets her so far though and sometimes she is left to her own devices.

Using a phony accent she makes a phone call pretending to be the secretary of the sheriff’s department, claiming to be having trouble with the computer’s system. She asks the man on the phone to run a set of plates involved in a hit and run for her. Except there was no hit and run and the plate number she if reading off is from the car parked at the Camelot the night she watched Robin.

“I’ll be damned, that’s some family,” the man on the other line says, chuckling.

“What is it?”

“That car is registered to one Kathryn Swan.”

She hangs up the phone in shock just as her father opens his office door.

“Explain to me again why we’re dropping the Hood case.”

She’s going to give him one more chance to explain himself, to tell her the truth, to tell her why her mother’s car was parked outside the Camelot the night Robin Hood visited it. But he doesn’t take it. Instead, he sips his coffee and gives her some bullshit excuse about corporate espionage, telling her it’s dangerous and they don’t get paid enough.

He asks if she wants to rent a movie and she walks out, leaving him alone in the office.

She heads to the court house and asks the receptionist which direction the bikers case is.

“Emma! I haven’t seen you since…” the woman trail off uncomfortably.

The last time I was here? Come on. That’s easy.

The last time she was there was the morning after Tamara’s party. She’d limped up to the counter, eyes smudged with mascara, and said she needed to report a crime.

After she sat in front of Zelena and reported what happened, Zelena chuckled in her face and asked “Is there anyone in particular you’d like me to arrest? Or should I just round up the sons of the most important families in town.”

Emma sat silently, shocked and dismayed. She knew Zelena was mean but this was downright wicked.

“I’ve got not a shred of evidence to work with here. But that doesn’t matter to your family now does it?” The woman continued on ignoring the tears streaking down Emma’s face. Ignoring her disheveled appearance, her wild hair, her red eyes, her torn dress. Ignoring the pulsing pain Emma could feel through out her entire body, not a pain physical in its origin but manifesting itself as such and causing her anguish never the less. “Look at this, she cries. I’ll tell you what Emma Swan. Why don’t you go see the wizard, ask for a little backbone.“ 

Emma left Zelena’s office with no answers to what had happened to her and no hope of ever finding out.

Now she sits in a courtroom, watching a smug Miss Mills deliver her testimony of her account of the night she arrested the two bikers at Henry’s place of work.

“Your honor, can we show the tape?” the opposing lawyer requests.

When the tape is loaded, no robbery is to be seen. Instead, an officer walks a prostitute to his car and is seen opening the door for her, getting in on his own side, and then guiding her head down to his lap.

Phase one of operation freedom had been staking out the strip club and recording the footage of their interesting ways of keeping a valid liquor license.

“Sheriff Mills is this how you run your department?” the judge questions.

Emma finger guns at Zelena and walks out of the court room.

She meets Henry at the beach and presents him with the actual footage of the robbing. He thanks her and tells her that “Underneath that angry young woman shell there’s a slightly less angry young woman just dying to bake me something. You’re a marshmallow, Emma Swan.”

She grins and turns her head away, amused but unwilling to admit it.

They spend some time flying around his remote controlled airplane. Just as she’s getting the hang of it and actually having some fun, Henry interrupts her.

“Emma, look at your car.”

She turns to see Killian lounging across the hood, crowbar in hand, surrounded by his 09er buddies (the richest of the rich, those residing in the the prestigious 90909 zipcode.)

“Do you know what your little joke cost me?” he asks, hopping off the car and swinging the crowbar.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you won’t be getting your bong back.”

He smashes a headlight. “Wrong answer.” He twirls the metal in his hand. “Would you care to guess again?”

She crosses her arms across the chest of her red leather jacket, keeping her face impassive, unwilling to let him phase her no matter what.

“Clearly, your sense of humor.”

And he smashes another head light.

“Nope, the correct answer is my car. That’s right my daddy took the Jolly away. And you know what I won’t be having?” He questions, resting the bar behind his neck and stepping closer to her. He leans in her face and answers his own question with a smirk and raised brows. “Fun, fun, fun.”

She wants to smack his British accent right out of his mouth.

“Uh, Killian,” his friend warns as a heard of bikes pull up along side them.

It doesn’t take long for Will and his friends to flip the situation in her favor.

“What do we have here? Vandalism?” Will asks. “No, the only vandalism that happens in this town goes through me.”

Killian tells Will he doesn’t have a problem with him and Will tells him he’s wrong. With Will smashing in the hood of Killian’s friend’s car (with the crowbar he’d pulled out of Kilian’s hands) and his biker buddies tearing apart the inside, they’re easily convinced to “head for the hills.”

~

Emma sits in her car outside of her father’s office building, watching him move around through the window.

This morning, when I woke up, I had one person in the world I could count on. But if there’s one thing you learn in this business, the people you love let you down.

David leaves, driving away in his car and she heads into the building. Her dad thinks she doesn’t have the code to the safe but he’s wrong and until now she hasn’t had to use it. She types the code in and opens it to find a large file, stuffed with folders and papers. As she pulls the contents out she realizes it’s the Milah Hood murder file, some of the evidence less than a month old, including the photo of her mother’s car she took the Camelot.

If the confessed killer is already in jail, why hasn’t dad given up on the case?

[goloveyaself]

The Call

The Call

Camera One: Picture a woman, maybe 65 years old. She has MS, gets around with a walker. The bathrooms in her very old house are the size of shoeboxes; very tough to get in and out of if you’re larger than a 12 year old boy or have a walker. She is and does. Now this woman, because she’s sick, (and because she’s sick, she feels much older than 65), she has to go to the bathroom frequently. Like a lot. And going to the bathroom is a very time-consuming activity; struggling to first get to the bathroom, then struggling to get inside the bathroom door with her walker. Then there’s the getting the pants down, or the dress up, or whatever while holding onto the walker so that she doesn’t fall. Eventually, after what may be almost an hour, she gets to plop her exhausted body onto the toilet, knowing that when she’s done, she will have to reverse the whole process to get out of the bathroom and back to her chair in the living room (which may as well be 100 miles and 2 weeks away). She will likely repeat this process three or four times before her day is done.

Camera Two: Picture a woman, maybe 37 years old, pacing around her kitchen, a loaded handgun on the table. She’s wearing nothing but a pair of men’s boxer shorts; likely her ex-lover’s. Ah, her ex-lover, he has broken her heart. She is devastated by the loss of him. She helped him move out; thought she was was the bigger one. Truly believed that it would help their relationship, if he had some independence, the chance to find his own way. He had moved in with her when he was only 25; from his Mom to her. Now he was restless; acting cold, detached. She thought she could rise above, help him. They looked at apartments together; her  always feeling that growing, gnawing anxiety in the pit of her stomach, the middle of her chest. But no, this would work. He would miss her so much; he would see what he had with her and he would want it back. She would help him; always help him. It seemed like the best thing. Until it wasn’t. Until Jennifer with her monstrous tits and stupid smile. She wasn’t even out of college yet. And she would drive his BMW, the same car that the woman drove almost every day when they were together. The woman would be getting morning coffee at Dunkin Donuts, and monster tits would pull in in the BMW. It wasn’t her car. And she would stupidly say hello to this woman, the one whose soul mate she was sleeping with, doing the things they used to do together in the bedroom and it made the woman sick to her stomach to think these things; the video tape rolling inside her burning brain. Ugh. She was driving his car. And she would say hello and the woman would want to jack her up onto the wall by her stupid neck and tell her…….it’s not your car…...he’s not your man. Instead she would just stare at her and hope that she might die on the spot, there in Dunkin Donuts while holding her medium regular extra fucking sweet.

Camera One: MS is a miserable thing, and this woman feels so alone, isolated even. Her children grown, her cheating husband long dead from a sudden heart attack. He lived long enough to get over all of his philandering ways, and just as he was becoming the husband she had always wanted, he dropped dead. So now she doesn’t remember his cheating and lying. She has forgotten his mean streak and sharp tongue that used to cut her to the quick at a moment's notice. She only remembers the love….”Oh, your Father and I were very much in love” she would say to her daughters. The younger one would always try to remind her... “Mom, he was a prick” she would say. But no, her mother wouldn't have it, she wouldn't hear it. They were in love, and he had been a wonderful man. So now she needs to get out of the bathroom, this sick and tired woman who is all alone in this big house. She is struggling to get out of the bathroom, knowing that in another few hours (if she can wait that long) she will need to get into this bathroom again. The doctor’s told her….drink lots of water, and she comes from that generation of people who believe every single thing that people in “authority” tell them. If the police, or the President, or the boss, or the doctor (or your cheating husband) says it, then it’s true. So she drinks copious amounts of water, maybe hoping it might cure her of this wasting disease she has acquired. This wasting  disease of the broken-hearted. And this makes the bathroom a place that she must visit often. And she’s sweating and tugging at her clothes, trying to get them back into place. The bathroom door is so narrow; she drags herself along with the walker; this life is hell for her. Sometimes she just wishes she would die in her sleep to end this misery; each day blurring into the next with the bathroom being her focus. Like a full time job; never a break from it; no time off. She makes it back to the living room drenched in sweat. Falling back into her chair, she drops into the restless sleep of exhaustion.

Camera Two: The younger woman continues to pace the kitchen. She sits at the table and spins the gun around in circles like playing spin the bottle, except she’s the only player and the only kiss coming her way is a bullet searing through her tortured brain. She picks the gun up and holds it to her temple. She’s suffering, her guts feel like exploding with this pain that has no relief. How could he do this to her? How will she ever get over this; he said he loved her; she believed it could never end. Soul mates. Forever. Together. She puts the gun down and rises from the table, walks into the bedroom. She sees the bed where they used to sleep spooned up against each other; where they used to make explosive love, melting into each other, disappearing into each other as though they were one person. Is he doing that with the girl with the huge tits now? Does he feel that way with her? Can she possibly bring him to that place, that spiritual oneness that they shared. Oh...My...God. The pain is  unbearable. Yes, she’s been hurt before, but never like this. He was supposed to be “the one”. She’s out of her mind with grief, the empty space where his love used to be growing larger and darker, about to consume her; swallow her whole. She goes back to the table, picks up the gun. Holds it to her temple, puts it into her mouth and wraps her lips around the barrel. She’s sobbing uncontrollably. Just pull the trigger; PULL IT! It will be so fast, she knows she won’t even feel it. BANG! Lights out; pain over.

Camera One: The woman wakes up from her short sleep; this short respite from the drudgery of her life of back and forth to the bathroom. The doctor’s won’t just give her a catheter and bag. She’d like one, but they want her up and about, walking as much as possible. They know that if they catheterized her she would sit in her chair and rot from lack of desire to live.. She doesn’t want to live without him. She doesn't know how to live without him. The night he died, and she returned from the funeral home, she said to her daughter, her youngest daughter…”well, now when he doesn’t come home, at least I’ll know where he is”. She said that. And her daughter told her “Mom, maybe God is giving you the chance for a whole new life”. She was only 51 then. Still young; still pretty. She could have started over, had a second chance. But she couldn’t do it; couldn’t live without him. “We were so in love, your Father and I” she would say. And this was true for her; the way she had chosen to remember it. And it would make her daughter sick, because she saw it, she was there for it, and she knew that it wasn't true. So now the woman is awake, and she has to go to the bathroom again. And she just wants to cry, because this is what her life has come to. And she thinks….”he would never have stayed with me like this; he would never have loved me like this”. And she begins the long journey to the bathroom, again, the long miserable struggle, for the third time today, and it is only just past noon. She thinks what she wouldn’t give for a pair of legs that work, and eyes that see clearly, and to walk without the help of a walker. She remembers when she could do that; when she was young, her body strong and healthy. What she wouldn’t give…..Please God, just let me die in my sleep, she thinks.

Camera Two: She can’t take another minute of this suffering; her world has fallen apart. What's the point in living? She picks up the gun again, opens the chamber to make sure the bullets are there. No turning back. She can pull the trigger and be done. No chance for this to happen to her ever again. No more pain and suffering. She puts the gun against her temple, she puts it back on the table. She crawls onto the kitchen floor and sobs, rolling around, writhing in this heartbreak; sick of herself, sick of the pain, sick of it all. She gets up and grabs the phone. Someone…. someone has to help her, make this pain stop, someone has to answer the phone. She calls a friend; no answer. Fuck! She calls her Sister; no answer. It’s meant to be that she dies today; no one is out there to help her. HELP ME she screams inside her head. She gets off the floor and returns to the table, picks up the gun.. she puts it in her mouth again; one shot, take out the brainstem. Done. Over. Her finger squeezes the trigger just a little. Her hand is trembling. She puts the gun down; picks it up again. Into her mouth, another squeeze on the trigger. She's scared; FUCK! SOMEONE HAS TO HELP ME; PLEASE FUCKING HELP ME! She puts the gun down and grabs the phone, tears running down her face; snot running out of her nose. She doesn’t care anymore; who fucking cares???? She dials her Mother; her Mother answers the phone. She cries into the phone “Mom, please, please help me….I’ve got a loaded gun, Mom, in my mouth...she’s blathering, barely making sense….”a  loaded gun, Mom, I can’t take the pain, can’t take it anymore, please”......

Her Mother’s voice breaks through her tears, interrupts her begging and crying and says simply to her, to this young woman who is putting a gun to her head, sticking a gun in her mouth, her Mother, her poor, sick, sweet Mother says….”Can you please call me back, I’m in the bathroom”.

The woman looks at the phone, her crying stops. She suddenly feels calm. She hesitates, thinks for a minute, then says…”sure Mom, I’ll call you back”. She puts the phone down on the table. She stares at the gun; she looks back at the phone. She gets up from the table, taking the gun with her. She calmly walks into the bedroom and puts the gun back in the case under the chair. She stands silent in the middle of the room. She thinks she’ll just take a shower now, get dressed, and get on with her day.

Camera One: A Mother, miserable and suffering in the tiny bathroom, all alone in her old house, just trying to get through another miserable day, and as she pulls herself up from the toilet once again, sweating and struggling; she doesn’t even know, that in her struggle, in her misery, she has just saved her daughter’s life.

[weekendwarriorblog]

WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND April 19, 2019  - THE CURSE OF LA LLORONA, BREAKTHROUGH, PENGUINS

Yay! Another week where I haven’t seen any of the new releases! This is what happens when studios offer a single press screening rather than a few options, I guess.

After a rather dismal weekend, this weekend sees the release of a mixed bag of movies that will wrap-up the winter/spring movie season before Avengers: Endgame comes along and just destroys everything else in theaters. This is also Easter weekend and with no schools and many being off work for Good Friday, we’ll see a large bump with most movies being frontloaded for the weekend. (Easter Sunday is usually reserved for family meals, Easter egg hunts, etc, so not as much movie business.)

Beginning on Wednesday, we have two relatively family-friendly films in Fox 2000’s faith-based BREAKTHROUGH  (20thCentury Fox) and DisneyNature’s PENGUINS  (Walt Disney Pictures), again, neither which I’ve seen. The first is a higher-profile faith-based drama that’s being released in perfect timing with Easter, but unlike the movies of PureFlix, I feel that the marketing campaign could bring in a wider audience, especially with popular actors like Chrissy Metz, Topher Grace, Mike Colter and Dennis Haysbert.  Penguinsis another Disney nature doc, this one a cute story about a penguin named Steve, voiced by Ed Helms, and its G-rating will help make it a choice for family with young kids over the holiday weekend.

Then on Friday (or rather, Thursday night) comes the latest horror film from producer James Wan, THE CURSE OF LA LLORONA (New Line/WB), which looks like another solid scare-fest even if the reviews out of SXSW weren’t as strong as the ones for Pet Sematary (which I still haven’t seen!) and Us (which I’ve seen twice). I’m definitely interested in checking it out, especially the work of director Michael Chaves, who has already been attached to direct the next Conjuring movie (although this one is not related).

Opening in 300 theaters Wednesday is the Bollywood release KALANK (FIP), directed by Abhishek Varman, a romantic drama about six characters looking for love in the town of Husnabad, North India.

Also opening fairly wide this weekend is Michael Berry’s adaptation of Riley Thomas’ stage musical Stuck (Eammon Films), starring Giancarlo Esposito, Amy Madigan, Omar Chaparroand Ashanti as four of six New York commuters stuck on a subway car, as they sing their stories to each other. Sounds more fun than what normally happens in New York when the subway car stops between stations.

Apparently, Bleecker Street plans on expanding Max Minghella’s Teen Spirit, starring Elle Fanning, wider, although I don’t have a theater count at this point in time, so I’m not sure if it’s expanding enough to get into the top 10 or how many areas it will be in.

LIMITED RELEASES

My favorite movie of the weekend is Pamela Green’s doc BE NATURAL: THE UNTOLD STORY OF ALICE GUY-BLACHÉ (Zeitgeist), which will open in L.A.  at the Laemmle Monica Film Center then move to NYC on April 26. If you don’t know who Alice Guy-Blaché is then you really need to see this movie, since she was such an important part of cinema history. She was there from the very gestation of cinema in France as the first female director who was making so many inroads into various filmmaking techniques while being mostly ignored by the men in the industry, including those who documented the history of cinema. This is an amazing film to see all of Ms. Guy’s accomplishments, while also being demeaned by a philandering husband who took credit for much of her accomplishments. I was also amazed to learn while watching this film that Fort Lee, New Jersey used to be the hub of cinema in the early 20thCentury before Guy’s husband and others moved to California and set up Hollywood, mainly to get away from paying fees to Tom Edison. This is an amazing doc that I recommend highly if you consider yourself a film buff on any level.

Another great doc opening this week – New York on Weds and in L.A. Friday – is Penny Lane’s new one HAIL SATAN? (Magnolia), which explores the Satanic Temple and its leader Lucien Greaves, who have created a political movement around the ideas that church and state should be kept separate. They do this by raising funds to set-up statues of Baphomet on the same capital grounds where governments have set-up statues of the Ten Commandments. They also do this with a sense of humor that reminds me of The Yes Men, whose own pranks have been documented well in film. Either way, this movie is not what you might think i.e. it’s not a commercial for Satanism as in the type that sacrifices babies. It’s just a group that uses the name of Satan to fight for religious freedom.

Gugu Mbatha-Raw plays a woman who goes on the run after her superpowers are discovered in Julia Hart’s FAST COLOR (Codeblack Films). This opens in select cities this week, and I’ve reviewed it over at The Beat.

It Follows director David Robert Mitchell’s new noir thriller UNDER THE SILVER LAKE (A24) seems to be getting dumped with a quick release in New York and L.A. on Friday before debuting for streaming on Amazon Monday.  I guess the mixed reviews it got at its premiere at Cannes last year didn’t help matters.  It stars Andrew Garfield as 33-year-old Sam who discovers the mysterious Sarah (Riley Kough) in his apartment swimming pool, but when she vanishes, he goes looking through L.A. to find what happened to her. I haven’t seen the movie yet, but it’s looking unlikely I’ll see it in theaters now.

Dame Judi Dench stars in Trevor Nunn’s RED JOAN (IFC Films), playing Joan Stanley, a widow living in retirement when the British Secret Service arrests her for giving classified information to the Soviets for decades. Based on a true story, it will open at the Landmark 57 and IFC Center in New York as well as other theaters and On Demand.

Tessa Thompson and Lilly James star in Nia DaCosta’s feature film directorial debut LITTLE WOODS (NEON), which premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival last year, at which DaCosta won the Nora Ephron award. Thompson plays Ollie, a North Dakota woman who was once arrested for smuggling prescription drugs across the border, something she gives up until her pregnant sister Deb (James) shows up needing $3,000 to save their family home. I’m hoping to catch it again sometime this week, since I want to give it another chance.

Currently playing on DirecTV and opening in select theaters and On Demand Friday is Fred Wolf’s DRUNK PARENTS (Vertical Entertainment), starring Alec Baldwin and Salma Hayek. Semi-wealthy Frank and Nancy Teagarten are dropping their daughter off at college just before the repo man shows up at their door, so they do some drinking and hold a yard sale as to hide their deteriorating wealth.

Orange is the New Black star Taylor Schilling stars in Laura Steinel’s Family  (The Film Arcade) as career-focused Kate Stone, who is asked by her estranged brother to babysit her ‘tween niece Maddie, as one night turns into a week.

Prolific Korean auteur Hong Sang-soo’s new movie Grass  (Cinema Guild), will open at the Metrograph in New York. It’s a rather talkie piece that involves a bunch of people talking to each other in a café where a young woman (Kim Min-hee) eavesdrops and adds their characters to her story.  I’m generally mixed on Hong Sang-soo, and this one seems a bit more artsy with less of a narrative, but I assume diehard fans will enjoy it.

Wanuri Kahui’s Kenyan coming-of-age drama Rafiki (Film Movement), the first Kenyan film to show at Cannes, will open at BAM on Friday. It follows the journey of Kena and Ziki, two young woman whose fathers are rival political candidates but who have formed a bond of friendship.

Just in time for 4/20 comes Robert Ryan’s doc Breaking Habits (Good Deed Entertainment) about Christine Meeusen’s decision to leave her cheating husband of 17 years with her three kids, reinventing herself as Sister Kate and setting up a cannabis farming business that would become the Sisters of the Valley medicinal marijuana empire.

Also, a reminder that Terry Gilliam’s The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, starring Adam Driver and Jonathan Pryce, is supposed to get a limited release this weekend after its Fathom Events “one night only,” although I have no idea of number of theaters or locations or anything.

LOCAL FESTIVALS

As with every weekend, there’s a lot going on, and in New York, up at the Film Society of Lincoln Center, they’re kicking off this year’s ART OF THE REAL on Thursday and running through April 28. The Opening Night film is Frank Beauvais’ Just Don’t Think I’ll Scream, compiling the thoughts and revelations of the filmmaker. I haven’t been able to get to any of the press screenings, but it usually has an interesting and diverse line-up which you can read more about at the link.

REPERTORY

METROGRAPH (NYC):

Fans of Brazilian cinema will want to check out some of the Metrograph’s new series about Brazilian filmmaker Nelson Pereira dos Santos, which runs from Friday through April 28. The movies range from his groundbreaking 1955 doc Rio, 40º to 2011’s The Music According to Tom Jobim with nine films, few of which have received distribution in North America. This week’s Late Nites at Metrographinclude Sion Sono’s Anti-Porno and Bertrando Bonello’s 2011 film L’Appollonide (House of Tolerance), neither which I’ve seen, but the weekend’s  Playtime: Family Matineesis Disney’s The Love Bug, one of my absolute favorite films from childhood.

THE NEW BEVERLY  (L.A.):

Besides showing Henri-Georges Clouzet’s murder-mystery Quai Des Orfevres on Wednesday afternoon, Tarantino’s rep theater is showing double features of Hitchcock’s Family Plot  (1976) and the thriller Black Sunday  (1977) on Weds. and Thurs, the classic Jack Lemmon-Walter Matthau The Odd Couple (1968) and Robert Redford/Jane Fonda’s Barefoot in the Park (1967) on Friday, then Cheech and Chong’s Next Movie (1980) and Ice Cube’s Friday (1995) on Saturday. This weekend’s KIDDEE MATINEE is a surprisingly recent movie in Universal’s Hop – cause it’s Easter weekend, get it? – and the midnight movies are The Hateful Eight on Friday night and the 1981 John Belushi-Dan Aykroyd movie Neighbors on Saturday. Sunday and Monday are double features of Only When I Laugh (1981) and I Oughtta Be in Pictures (1982). Monday afternoon is a screening of Martin Scorsese’s 1999 film Bringing Out the Dead, starring Nicolas Cage and Patricia Arquette.

FILM FORUM (NYC):

One of the repertory series I’m most excited about since first hearing about it is the Film Forum’s latest series “Trilogies,” which this weekend will show all three of Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather trilogy, and Sergio Leone’s Western trilogy with Clint Eastwood: A Fistful of Dollars (1964), For a Few Dollars More (1966) and The Good, The Bad and the Ugly (1966). This weekend is also the start of Masaki Kobayashi’s The Human Condition, while Monday is a trilogy of films by Jacques Beckere called his “Paris Youth Trilogy,” including Antoine and Antoinette.  Sadly, they don’t seem to be showing Edgar Wright’s Three Cornetto Trilogy as part of the series. :( This weekend’s Film Forum Jr. is the 1985 crime-comedy Clue, based on the board game.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Word came out last week that Netflix is looking to buy the Egyptian, so hope they retain the repertory programming. Thursday is the new restoration of Bjork’s 1990 movie The Juniper Tree, Friday night there is a Brian Yuzna double feature of Society and Bride of Re-Animator, both from 1989 with Yuzna in attendance. Saturday sees a TRIPLE feature of Sam Raimi’s Army of Darkness (1992), Waxwork  (1988) and Fulci’s The Beyond (1985), all in 35mm!

AERO  (LA):

The Aero’s “Classic Movie Clowns” series begins Thursday with a Harold Lloyd-Buster Keaton double feature of Safety Last! (1923) and The Navigator (1924), Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator (1940) plays on Friday, as well as a series of Silent Comedy Shorts (with live music!) on Saturday, as well as Laurel and Hardy’s Sons of the Desert (1933) along with their shorts Brats and Helpmates. Easter Sunday sees a collection of Bugs Bunny and Friends animated shorts and a double feature of Richard Kelly’s Donnie Darko (2001) and Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead  (1981).

IFC CENTER (NYC)

The IFC Center started its spring series last weekend, but I received the info too late to include. This weekend’s Waverly Midnights: ParentalGuidance is Hitchcock’s Psycho, while the Weekend Classics: LoveMom and Dad is Terms of Endearment and Late Night Favorites: Springis David Fincher’s Fight Club.

MOMA (NYC):

Modern Matinees: B is for Bacall this week shows the 1947 film Dark Passage on Weds, Howard Hawk’s To Have and Have Not  (1944) Thurs, and The Big Sleep  (1946) on Friday. Also the What Price Hollywood series continues with Clarence Brown’s 1931 film A Free Soul and Josef von Sternberg’s 1934 film The Scarlet Empress on Weds, the 1939 film Midnight and 1935’s Sylvia Scarlett on Thursday and more. They’re also showing Franco Rosso’s Babylonover the weekend.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

This week’s series is See it Big! Action with screenings of Raiders of the Lost Ark, Seven Samurai, Anne of the Indiesand The Adventures of Robin Hood. On Good Friday, the family program is the animated Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit.

QUAD CINEMA (NYC):

The Quad continues its Wild Things: The Ferocious Films of Nelly Kaplan this weekend with Charles and Lucie, Néa, The Pleasure of Love and more.

BAM CINEMATEK (NYC):

Thursday ends the The Anarchic Cinema of Věra Chytilováseries of the Czech film star.

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART  (LA):

This Friday’s midnight offering is Panos Costamos’ too recent to be repertory Mandy, starring Nicolas Cage.

STREAMING AND CABLE

Streaming on Netflix this week is Jennifer Kaytin Robinson’s SOMEONE GREAT, starring Jane the Virgin’s Gina Rodriguez as an aspiring music journalst trying to get her dream job at a magazine, even though that would mean moving to San Francisco. Her boyfriend of nine years (Lakeith Stanfield) decides to break up so she and her two best friends (DeWanda Wise, Brittany Snow) decide to go out for one last adventure in New York City.