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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years

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Enamored [29] - Confessions

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback my loves, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please let me know what you think, thank you! ❤ And as always, thank you @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter and the story❤

Summary: Midnight leads to whispered confessions.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sickness and death.

Word Count: 5000

Series Masterlist

Now that your best friend was back from her honeymoon, you couldn’t wait to actually enjoy living in the same house with her. You had been looking forward to it ever since she had got engaged to your brother, and now that they were married, you were going to have so much fun together.

Well, at least that had been the plan.

Your brother, on the other hand, seemed to have different plans.

You could barely see Cecily for almost a week after they had returned from Stormview. Anytime Elias was in the house, they were both busy, most of the time missing the breakfast or dinner. You had attempted to go upstairs to remind them of the time but for some reason, both the Duke and Aunt Lavinia had stopped you, telling you to leave them be.

So when Elias went outside to meet with Anthony and Simon at the gentlemen’s club, you had all but rushed upstairs to spend some time with Cecily.

It was the norm for a husband and wife to have separate bedrooms connected with a private door so that they could go to each other’s rooms if needed, though you weren’t sure why. Yet, Cecily’s room remained completely untouched, and apparently her and Elias had decided to spend their nights in Elias’s room, using Cecily’s for her wardrobe and her belongings.

“You sleep in the same bed then?” you asked Cecily with a frown on your face and she lowered her head to hide her smile as she made herself busy with the earrings she was trying to choose from the jewelry box in her lap.

“Um—yes.”

Your frown deepened. “But why? You have your own bed here.”

Cecily shifted her weight, trying to repress her smile and you sat up straighter.

“Cece, you must tell me what happens after one gets married!”

She pressed the back of her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head.

“I cannot!”

“But why not?” you whined, “I would’ve told you if it were me!”

“I will tell you right before your wedding,” she promised you. “And I will do a better job than my mama did.”

“What did she say?”

“Something completely different.”

“But what happens, really?” you insisted. “I will never get married, I told you. I’ve decided to become a spinster.”

She tilted her head to shoot you a look. “You’re being nonsense.”

“I’m not!” you said. “So you might as well tell me now. Is it that scandalous?”

“Oh more scandalous than you could ever think.”

“Cece!”

“I swear to you I will tell you before your wedding—you’re not going to become a spinster,” she cut you off when she saw you open your mouth. “Speaking of weddings, how is everything with you and Anthony?”

You pulled back slightly. “What do you mean?”

“How’s your…” she trailed off and smiled slightly. “Friendship?”

“Why do you sound so sarcastic about my friendship with him?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about—what do you think about these earrings for the Buxton Ball? With that gown over there?”

You thought for a second, then shook your head.

“Not those but,” you said, reaching into the jewelry box to pull out a pair of diamond earrings. “These would go well with—”

You never got to finish your sentence when a resounding thud reached upstairs and a sharp scream made you and Cecily both leap out of the bed to get out of the room.

“My lord!” you heard a maid’s voice right before you reached the stairs and as soon as you saw what was happening at the bottom of the stairs, your blood ran cold.

The Duke was lying on the floor unconscious, two maids and the butler were checking whether he was alright while the rest of the staff rushed to the foyer. You could almost feel your whole mind freeze in panic and you just stood there, pinned to your spot, unable to look away from him. Cecily ran past you to hurry downstairs as she got on her knees to check whether he was still breathing, then turned to the head valet.

“Send word to the doctor and Lord Westcliff,” she said. “Now!”

The footmen carried the Duke to his bedroom as soon as the doctor got there. You and Cecily were basically the only members of the family in the house at the moment, Elias was outside, Kenneth was with Hugh probably at the park and Iona had gone to the modiste with Aunt Lavinia, so all decisions were to be made by you or Cecily—

Well.

Made by Cecily, because you couldn’t even think through the panic, let alone decide on anything or speak.

You kept your eyes on your father who was lying on the bed unconscious as the doctor talked to Cecily while you just leaned back to the wall by the corner of the room, trying your hardest to focus but before you could pull yourself together, the door opened and Elias walked in, breathing hard as if he had just run there.

“Elias!” Cecily rushed to him to hug him and he wrapped his arms around her for a moment as Anthony stepped into the room as well, making you turn your head.

Somehow, his mere presence was enough to soothe this horror that had taken control of you. He kept your gaze in his for a moment, but before he could do anything, Elias walked past him to pull you into a hug.

“Are you alright?” he asked and you nodded slowly.

“I am,” you murmured and he pressed a kiss on top of your head before walking back to the doctor. You bit inside your cheek, leaning back to the wall as your eyes followed him until they fell on the Duke. Anthony stepped closer to you to stand beside you, his hand close to yours, almost touching.

“What happened?” Elias asked the doctor and he took a deep breath.

“My lord, it seems that Duke Avon has had a problem with his heart,” he said. “Small issues such as these are not ideal, but can occur from time to time. That’s not the threat at this point, but…”

You held your breath and Elias swallowed thickly.

“But?” he asked and the doctor took a deep breath.

“The marchioness says he fell down the stairs?”

“He did,” Cecily said and the doctor looked at the Duke.

“A head injury such as this may cause fever.”

And just like that, blood rushed to your ears, muffling your hearing. You could swear you were pinned to your spot as you stared at the doctor, completely frozen.

“These couple of hours are crucial, and we cannot do nothing else but wait.”

Out.

You need to get out.

“Excuse me,” you heard yourself murmur before you walked out of the room as fast as you could as if someone was chasing you. You had no idea where you were going, you just knew you couldn’t stay there any longer, not when—

No.

You couldn’t think about that, not now.

You went through the first door you got to and found yourself in the library, but you could barely pay any attention. You went to open the nearest window, then sat down on the floor before you lied on your back, sniffling.

Fever.

It was fever.

Like before, like what happened with your mother, like those last days.

You shut your eyes tight, willing to stop the thoughts from making their way to your mind and tried to focus on something else, anything else.

The footsteps coming closer made you open your eyes and Anthony entered your sight. It wasn’t logical at all, yet you couldn’t help but feel as if everything would be fine just because he was there. Though panic was pulsing through your veins, him being with you offered more relief than you thought was possible.

“That looks uncomfortable,” he commented. “Do you mind if I join you?”

You kept your eyes on him before you turned your head to fix your gaze on the highest point of the shelf.

“Why not? It’s a funeral after all.”

“It’s not a funeral.”

“It’s fever.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t think you understand,” you insisted. “It’s fever, Anthony.”

A look of realization dawned on his face before he took a deep breath, then came to lay beside you.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” he said slowly. “I really am, but it doesn’t have to be the same for your father. Sometimes a fever is just fever.”

“And sometimes it’s not,” you murmured. “And before you say anything, I’m not going back there, I can’t. I already saw one parent die and I’d say that’s enough for one year, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Even if you’re right,” he said. “I’m not saying you are, but even if you are, trust me. You would regret it until the rest of your days if you weren’t there for him when the…when the time came.”

You pulled your brows together and turned to look at him better, guilt crashing down on you before you sniffled again.

“Can we just stay here for a little while?”

He smiled softly as held out his hand for you, and you hesitated for a moment, then entwined your fingers with his. A warmth spread from your hand, spreading through your whole system as his thumb caressed your skin, distracting you for a moment before you heaved a trembling sigh.

“I told him he was a disappointment,” the confession left your lips in a whisper and he frowned.

“Hm?”

“He didn’t allow me to marry Pierre,” you said, his grip tightening on your hand only for a moment as if he feared you would leave before it loosened again. “And I saw red, and I told him he was a disappointment to my mother, just to hurt him.”

“Y/N.”

“And the funny part is, she never said anything like that about him,” you said. “She never called him a disappointment, and I said it to hurt him, I said it to—”

“You’re his daughter, and he loves you, no matter what you told him.”

A bitter laughter escaped from your lips.

“I never wanted his love,” you said almost automatically. “My mother did. He should’ve given it to her instead.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

You clicked your tongue.

“I’m supposed to be angry at him,” you said through your teeth. “I promised myself I wouldn’t even go to his funeral, I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

“It’s okay to not want to lose him,” Anthony said. “You’re not betraying anyone by feeling such, least of all your mother.”

A silence fell upon you and you bit inside your cheek, then squeezed at his hand.

“Anthony?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “For being here.”

A soft light crossed his gaze.

“I will always be here,” he said, his voice low. “No matter what.”

You could feel the tears rushing to your eyes but you managed to blink them back, swallowing thickly.

“Good,” you said inaudibly. “I like the sound of that.”

By the night time, the house was more crowded than usual. Aunt Lavinia was back, so were Kenneth and Iona, and Lady Bridgerton had arrived to help with—

Well, anything really.

There was a completely different world going on outside the room, but inside the room, it was just you and Elias and the Duke. The doctor hadn’t said when the Duke would wake up, or whether he would or not for that matter, so the only thing to do was wait.

Which you were used to.

“I’ve heard one of the maids say…” Elias croaked out, “Say that I walked in here a marquess and I will walk out a duke.”

You shook your head even if you were thinking exactly the same. “You don’t know that. No one does.”

“Don’t we?”

“Elias.”

“I can’t lose him too,” Elias murmured. “I’ve already lost mom and I can’t…”

“The doctor said he might wake up.”

“Y/N, I’m not ready,” he said. “I’m not ready for any of this, least of all being a duke—”

“If it happens,” you said. “You have me, and Cecily, and Anthony. Trust me you will be fine, we will all help you. You won’t be alone in this.”

He nibbled on his lip and stole a look at you.

“How do you feel?”

“That’s not important.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s not the first time I sit beside a parent’s bed not knowing whether they will make it to the morning,” you forced yourself to say. “I’m fine.”

He wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss on top of your head.

“He loves you, you know that right?”

You blinked back the tears and scrunched up your nose, a bitter smile curling your lips.

“Eh, it’s not like I gave him any reason to.”

“That’s not true.”

“Elias, I’m fine,” you lied through your teeth. “I’m more worried about you right now.”

Elias opened his mouth, but then turned his head when the door opened. Aunt Lavinia sniffled, her eyes bloodshot.

“Elias, we need you outside for a moment,” she said. “There are things that need to be signed and Percy is…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, and Elias’s jaw clenched, then he nodded before standing up.

“Y/N—”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” you said and Elias took a deep breath, then walked out of the room, leaving you alone with the Duke. You heaved a sigh and reached for the wet cloth in the bowl of cold water, then wrung it before pressing it on his forehead.

“Mom never said that about you,” the confession left your lips in a whisper. “To be honest, she would probably ground me if she heard I called you such.”

The only thing that could be heard in the room was his stable breathing.

“And I’ve seen the room at the Stormview Park,” you said. “It’s clear there are things I do not know about my mother, or about you for that matter. Perhaps it’s because no one tells me anything. You and my mother have that in common.”

You dropped the cloth into the water before you wrung it again.

“I asked her numerous times, you know?” you said. “What really happened between you two, what your marriage was like… She always said, “the past will drown you if you let it ma chérie, best not give it the power” but I’ve always wondered whether she was in love with you, deep down. But you were, weren’t you? You were in love with her.”

He moved his head just a little and you pulled back the cloth, still holding it tight before the foreign word spilled from your lips.

“…Father?”

His eyes fluttered but didn’t open, and you let out the breath you were holding, shaking your head at yourself.

“Right,” you muttered. “Didn’t work with mom, wouldn’t work with—”

“Cassie?”

Your head shot up and you stared at the Duke whose eyes closed again even though he seemed to be fighting to open them, and goosebumps rose on your arms while your whole body froze.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to mumble and you blinked back the tears, letting out a shaky breath as he opened his eyes again, “Cassie I’m so sorry, I never should’ve believed him, please forgive me…”

“It’s okay,” you said through frozen lips, “Just save your strength, alright? Rest, I’ll be here.”

His eyes closed again and you clenched your teeth, commanding yourself to be calm as you repressed the sob climbing up your throat.

You were alright.

You weren’t going to burst into tears just because he was dreaming of your mother on his death bed just like she had dreamed of him—

The door opened and Aunt Lavinia stepped inside, wiping at her eyes.

“You should rest a little Y/N.”

“He is in an out of consciousness,” you said. “It’s better if I’m here I think.”

“I’ll be here,” she assured you, “Go and try to get some sleep.”

“I won’t be able to sleep, Aunt Lavinia.”

“Try anyway,” she offered you a small smile. “I mean it, I will get you dragged out of this room if need be. Go and get some rest.”

You sighed and nodded your head, then pushed your seat back and walked out of the room as if someone was chasing you.

You made your way to the main drawing room and by some miracle, it was empty. You figured it made sense, Lady Bridgerton was probably helping Cecily run the household upon such an emergency and Anthony had to be with Elias, so they were probably both in the study. Kenneth had taken Iona outside for some fresh air because she had been crying since she heard what had happened, so—

You were alone.

You walked to the sofa by the corner of the room, walking past the fireplace that was warming up the room and sat down before you curled up on the sofa, pulling the pillow under your head, blinking back the tears.

Fever made people see things, that wasn’t unusual.

You wiped at your eyes, gritting your teeth at yourself and closed your eyes, exhaustion making its way to your head, making all the thoughts fuzzy. You could feel the peaceful numbness of sleep surrounding you and soon enough, you felt yourself being pulled into darkness.

You didn’t know how long you had slept, but someone saying your name along with the pleasant scent made you open your eyes and you blinked groggily, taking in your surroundings. Anthony’s coat was on you, no doubt to keep you warm while you slept and he and Lady Bridgerton were sitting on the armchairs by the fireplace. The sofa you were lying on was in the darkest corner of the room unlike the light of the fire making it easier for you to see them, and you stole a look at the clock on the wall.

4:30.

“Not yet,” Anthony said, “I don’t want to disturb her, let her sleep some more.”

Lady Bridgerton smiled at him.

“You two have been spending more time together as I’ve noticed.”

Anthony looked down at the drink in his hand.

“She no longer walks on air,” Lady Bridgerton said, “But the last time I saw her, she looked happier than…before.”

Anthony sipped his drink and nodded.

“That’s my fault,” he rasped out and offered her a sad smile. “I took that from her and I don’t—I don’t know if it’ll ever come back, mother.”

She heaved a sigh.

“Anthony, you must talk about it with someone,” she said. “You don’t have to give me all the details, just…tell me. I swear it’ll make you feel better.”

Anthony let out a bitter chuckle. “Jesus, where do I even start?”

“From the beginning.”

You held your breath, keeping your gaze on his handsome face as he took a look around the room.

“I first met her right here,” he muttered. “The day after she arrived, and I thought…” He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath,

“I have never seen another person who is happier to be just alive,” he ended up saying. “It was strange, really. Even when I first saw her when she arrived in London—it’s the type of happiness that takes everyone around her under its own spell.”

You swallowed thickly as Lady Bridgerton’s smile widened.

“My dear, that wasn’t the first time you saw her.”

You frowned at the same time Anthony did.

“What do you mean?” he asked and Lady Bridgerton tilted her head.

“You don’t remember?” she asked. “I mean you were just a little boy but you did see her. Before Cassie left, I took you to Stormview and you and Elias sneaked into her room to look at her.”

Anthony pulled back. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “And apparently –I have no idea how you two did it— but you climbed to the crib to look inside and you ran back to me, exclaiming; she smiled at me!”

You felt a smile curl your lips and Anthony let out a small chuckle.

“Well, then nothing changed,” he said. “Years and years later, she arrived here and she smiled at me and…that was it. That was enough.”

Lady Bridgerton reached out to squeeze his hand. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Anthony said. “The funny thing is, she thinks she was the first to realize her feelings for me.”

“It was you?”

“It was me,” Anthony nodded. “I knew my feelings for her long before she did, I was just trying to ignore it. Took me a while to understand it wouldn’t work.”

“When did you know?” Lady Bridgerton asked and you held your breath.

“Do you remember that picnic we went to, the day after you invited her for tea? Simon and Daphne made me go with all of you?”

“Yes and you two were seen talking by the bridge? Daphne all but ran to ask me about you two that day.”

Anthony pointed at her with his glass, then took a sip.

“It was then,” he said. “Right on that bridge. We were talking and that whole time, I didn’t want it to end, like I could spend an eternity there, just being with her, talking to her. And then Eloise and Penelope came to take her to the garden, and I was watching her leave, and I remember thinking to myself that…”

Lady Bridgerton stayed quiet and Anthony turned to look at her.

“Sunlight shifts as she walks,” he said, making your heart beat in your ears. “I couldn’t look away— I can’t look away. Ever.”

A silence fell upon the room, and Lady Bridgerton took a deep breath.

“I could tell,” she said. “You were so happy. Happier than I’ve seen you in years and then…”

“Then I ruined it.” Anthony finished her sentence for her before downing his drink and reached out to pour himself another while you bit on your lip, watching them.

“I will not ask what happened, it’s clear that it pains you, just like it pains her,” Lady Bridgerton said. “But I know that she loves you, Anthony. Anyone can see that.”

Anthony’s voice was a mere whisper: “I don’t know if that will be enough for her to forgive me.”

“Do you want to be with her?”

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

“Then it will be enough,” she said. “You two might not see it yet, but it will be.”

A tear escaped from your eye and you bit inside your cheek, commanding yourself to be quiet in your head.

“Heartbreak does not last forever,” Lady Bridgerton said. “Especially if love is still there.”

“It lasted a lifetime with her parents.”

Lady Bridgerton shook her head. “That was different.”

“It might not be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember what Avon said to me?” he asked. “How I was living his cautionary tale? How there were parallels?”

The Duke had talked to Anthony?

Oh—

That had to have been when he sent you back into the ballroom, at the first ball you had attended after your heartbreak.

“Cassie and Percival…” Lady Bridgerton trailed off and scoffed a humorless laugh. “They burned very bright just like you two, I admit. There are some similarities between you and them but Percival is wrong. It’s not the same.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen them, and I’ve seen you two together,” she said gently as you gawked at her. “Cassie was one of the sharpest people I’ve ever seen, she was passionate, hypnotizing even, but she could also be ruthless when she wanted to, just like Percival. They found the perfect reflection of their own chaos in each other but towards the end of it their marriage was nothing but an emotional boxing match. They both knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

“They didn’t teach that kind of malice, that kind of hostility to their children,” she said. “They raised them better than that, and that’s how it’s different, they made it right with them. Neither her, nor Elias will ever make the mistakes their parents did.”

“But her and I...”

“You two don’t have it in you to hurt each other like that,” Lady Bridgerton said. “It’s obvious even in the way you look at each other, Anthony.”

“I didn’t understand Avon before,” he admitted after a beat, “After the divorce he’s never been with anyone else, never recovered, never moved on, but I understand it now. It’s because once you…once you have that person and you lose her because of your own mistake, because of your own doing, you can’t even consider anyone else. Even the thought of it feels impossible.”

“You’re saying if she never forgives you—”

“It’s either her or no one,” Anthony cut her off, making your heart skip a beat. “I told you before. There will be no one else for me. I don’t care how long I have to wait.”

“And if she marries someone else?”

Even under the dim light you could see the flicker of pain on his face.

“Even if she marries someone else,” he said. “When she forgives me, when she no longer has a husband, when…you name it. Even if it’s just one day with her, it’ll be worth it.”

“You’re willing to wait for your whole life with the hopes that one day she might be with you?”

Anthony nodded and sniffled before heaving a shaky sigh.

“The hope of maybe being with her one day is better than the lifelong torment of knowing I cannot be with her,” he said. “If I have to spend my whole life waiting for it, then so be it. At least it will be spent on something worthy.”

“Anthony…”

He cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes before rolling his shoulders back, sitting up straighter and it was only when you realized tears were freely falling from your eyes. A silence fell upon the room but before anyone could say anything, you heard footsteps approaching and you closed your eyes to pretend to be asleep.

Soon enough, Cecily’s voice carried into the room.

“Your room is ready Lady Bridgerton,” she said. “Anthony, yours too.”

“How’s Elias?”

“Aunt Lavinia all but kicked him out of the Duke’s room so that he could sleep but…” Cecily trailed off, making you feel as if something was squeezing at your heart. “He just dozed off, I don’t know for how long.”

“You should try to get some rest as well Cecily.”

“I will soon. Once I make sure everyone is comfortable—Y/N is still sleeping here?”

“I can carry her to her room,” Anthony said and there was the sound of shuffling before you felt him lifting you up into his arms. You wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your face into his chest, his scent filling your nostrils, disbelief still making you feel dizzy.

“I’m awake,” you mumbled, your voice way too weak but neither of them listened to you.

“Where’s…?”

“I’ll take you there, follow me.” Cecily said and Anthony followed her into the hallway before he reached the door to your room. Cecily opened it for him, and he gently placed you on the bed before pulling the covers over you, and you rubbed your eyes and looked up at him.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Anthony said, caressing your cheekbone with his knuckles, awakening fire underneath your skin as you tried to keep yourself from entwining your fingers with his.

“Cece, could we have a moment?” you rasped out and Cecily’s eyes darted between you two.

“I’m right outside,” she said and closed the door behind her, and you pulled yourself upright to sit on the bed.

“He’s not awake yet, is he?”

“Your father?” Anthony asked. “No, but your aunt is with him. You need to get some rest.”

“Will you stay?”

Anthony paused for a moment, then licked his lips.

“I wish I could,” he admitted. “But if anyone saw me leaving your room...”

“It’d be a scandal,” you finished his sentence for him and he took a deep breath.

“I’ll be in the house,” he said. “I’m not leaving, I promise. Send for me when you wake up, I’ll be here in seconds.”

You nodded slowly and wiped at your eyes again before sniffling and he reached into his waistcoat to pull out a handkerchief to offer it to you—

The handkerchief that you had embroidered. You stared at the stitching of your handwriting, then looked up at him.

“You kept it.”

Anthony frowned as if the thought of not keeping it was out of question.

“It’s the only thing I have of you,” he said. “Of course I kept it.”

You wiped your eyes with the handkerchief before you lowered it to fiddle with it, the guilt crashing down on you all of a sudden.

“I don’t have anything of you,” you confessed. “I burned them all and now there’s nothing.”

Anthony stared at you for a moment before he shot you a soft smile.

“That’s not exactly true,” he said, his voice low. “You have my heart in your grasp.”

A small smile curled your lips as well.

“Spoils of war,” you murmured. “You said it yourself. It hurt me so it’s my right to claim it.”

A fond light crossed his eyes before he nodded.

“It’s yours,” he said. “Completely. To do as you wish with it.”

You swallowed thickly and looked up at him as he leaned in to press a kiss on top of your head, his hand cradling your cheek.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night,” you whispered and watched him walk out of the room before he closed the door behind him.

Then you lifted the handkerchief to press it on your lips and slipped under the covers, closing your eyes.

Chapter 30

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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victoriareyloficlists · 4 years

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12 March 2021 Additions to Reylo Enemies-to-Lovers

These fics have been added to the Enemies-to-Lovers list located here.

Got a Feeling we Should Just Go Home by slugmutt (AO3 2018 Rated M Complete, 13 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Spending the week before Christmas with sullen deputy-CEO Kylo Ren is the last thing on earth Rey wants to do. Going back to his hometown with Christmas-loving Rey in tow is the last thing Kylo wants to do. But with a little help from family, some holiday magic, and a stray blizzard or two, they might start seeing things differently.) From R to Kylo by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben and Rey are archaeologists who absolutely cannot stand each other. They also happen to be pen pals, but they don't know who the other is, until one night they get trapped together at a creepy excavation site, and suddenly their hatred begins to unravel.) Housewarming by ArdeaJestin (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When her best friend Rose asks Ben Solo to help on moving day, Rey knows she's in trouble. If only those big strong arms didn't make her forget what an obnoxious jerk he is every time she looked at him.) How You Turn My World, You Precious Thing by BensLostTookaCat (VillainTheBlank) (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: He's the hotshot asshole who leads The First Order, the legal arm of The Resistance. She's the new company liaison who has been assigned to The First Order to keep them accountable.The annual Resistance Masquerade Ball is about to turn Kylo and Rey's worlds upside down.) Adrift by HeartSabers (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 16 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The A/B/O, You’ve got Mail, environmentally engaged AU no one needs and no one wants.) ignorance of etiquette by blessedreylo (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Lady Rey Kenobi lives a life of pristine comfort and luxury on her family's estate in Chesire with her parents Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi and Lady Satine Kenobi. When they receive word that an old family friend, Lord Benjamin Solo, is coming to visit, Lady Rey is reminded of how he tormented her as a child. She decides that she will prove herself not the same girl she once was in more ways than one.) Both Telling Lies by GreyForceUser (ReyandKyloforever) (AO3 2020 Rated E Incomplete, 1 of 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben and Rey run into each other at a club and meet in the bathroom at 12:05. They may be something, but they can never be friends.)

#reylo #reylo fanfic

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buckybarnesbingo · 3 years

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Titles Game

Tonight I'm Going Back to My Old Ways - suggested by @steverogersnotebook

@somesortofitalianroast - Bucky didn’t usually go for straight guys. Not since Brock in college, anyway. But tonight, all he could see was the blond across the bar. He was laughing with his friends, and he was gorgeous. Muscles for days, a body Bucky wanted to climb like a tree, and a wonderful smile that was a combination of Hallmark wholesome and downright dirty that shouldn’t have worked, but did. The piercing blue eyes just sealed the deal: Bucky was going to get him in his bed. (there would definitely be a tag in there about how they need to communicate and how Steve's not straight)

@wolfnprey - Bucky had settled down after he started a family. Everything told him he didn't deserve happiness, but he was beyond listening. Until some old ghosts showed up. Literal ghosts, and they were hellbent on making sure Bucky's life was upended. He'd buried the necronamicon in the basement ten years ago, but now he was digging it up with the help of his old partner. If only Steve was forgiving.

@steverogersnotebook - (Early recovering Bucky) finds it hard to come to terms with the modern Brooklyn, seeks out night clubs and smokes like a chimney in an effort to feel the way he remembers feeling.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - Their relationship had been strained in a way that Bucky was pretty sure couple's therapy couldn't fix. Not that he had tried. He wasn't about to unload all of his trauma concerning not being his old self anymore on some poor middle-aged Brooklynite mother of three even if she did have a degree that supposedly helped. There was no way she was prepared to help a brainwashed assassin with a fault list from Coney Island to hell and back again. So instead he'd unloaded all of that on Natasha. As a best friend, she was legally obligated to listen to him anyway. And besides, she was cheaper; she could be bought with a whine and a wine. However, talking to Natasha also meant he got the cold, hard truth that his relationship was suffering not because he'd forgotten who he was and became a brainwashed assassin for decades, but because he'd forgotten who Steve was and hadn't spent a lot of time figuring it out again. So per his therapist's (Natasha's, whatever) advice, Bucky's getting back to his roots and rebecoming the man who knew everything about Steve Rogers and hoping that maybe somewhere along the line, he can figure out what it was that made the two of them work so perfectly together.

More under the cut!

Down the rabbit hole - suggested by @liquidlightz

@phoenixgryphon - MCU Nat going down the rabbit hole that is pre Cap2 TWS information

@steverogersnotebook - An edgy Alice AU where bucky meets the OUAT version of the mad hatter.

@somesortofitalianroast - Bucky wasn’t sure how, but he was constantly seeing the same figure out of the corner of his eye. A tall, muscular blonde, who seemed as though he wasn’t quite there, which was why Bucky was sure he was imagining the man, or confusing multiple tall muscular blonds. They weren’t as uncommon as one would think, and Bucky was so tired, so he decided not to worry about the blond. Until the day he literally fell down a rabbit hole - in Brooklyn, of all places - and ended up in another version of New York.

@wolfnprey - Stripper AU. Nat drags Bucky to Down the Rabbit Hole for a particular stripper named Alice who is a beefy blond with bright blue eyes.

@bookdragon13 - Or alternatively: Steve goes to Storybrooke during his quest to find Bucky and meets Jefferson. Steve immediately goes “Bucky?” And Jefferson, in his sassy way, says “who the hell is Bucky?” But proceeds to use his hat to help Steve find his Bucky, if only to meet his lookalike Whether or not this becomes angsty, I’m not sure

@psychiccatpanda - Bucky In the 21st Century: After spending too much time on the internet trying to figure out what some of the things he’d been hearing about really were, Bucky wishes he’d trusted Tony when he said, “Snowflake, there’s whole swaths of the interwebs you don’t want to know. Trust me, please?” Now, six and a half hours later, he knew that there was Avengers fan fiction (and what that consisted of) and Avengers cosplay porn. He wasn’t sure what to do with this information. But maybe he just needed to do some more research. After a snack.

@liquidlightz - Alpine was very protective. Bucky loved gardening and he'd planted many different flowers, but there was a fat rabbit that kept popping by and eating all the best tulips, daylilies, you name it. Bucky was hesitant to harm the creature, but Alpine was having no more of it. She chased said rabbit down its hole and Bucky had to dig her back out.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - Bucky’s family owned a farm so he'd had a plethora of pets his entire life, but when he'd moved to the big city, Bucky had stuffed Top Hat the white rabbit in her carrier and told her they were headed for the adventure of a lifetime, no looking back. And truth be told, sometimes New York was lonely. But the other truth was he didn't miss Indiana at all. He loved New York, but he'd never regretted his move more than the day he came home to discover Top Hat not in her enclosure. He had to go door to door on the entire floor and maybe the floor above and below his. Everyone had to help find his missing long-eared, fluffy-tailed best friend. Cue everyone in Bucky's apartment complex searching the entire building for one white rabbit trying to pull her own disappearing act. And cue Bucky searching for a rabbit, but finding maybe a little more along the way.

You pull hope from defeat in the night - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@steverogersnotebook - After a terrible loss on a mission, Bucky and [strained relationship/preferred pairing] are nearly wiped out themselves. One has to get out and get help for the other before it's too late for them too. In dragging the injured party to safety, promises made in supplication reignite hope for a resolution.

@somesortofitalianroast - (pre-serum!steve/Winter Soldier!Bucky) After exhausting missions, there’s nothing Steve likes better than hooking up with a guy at a bar, preferably one who would believe him when he said he wouldn’t break. Tonight, he chose the guy carefully, a big, beefy brunet with thighs for days and something about him that made him look gentle. One night turned into another. And another. And another…. Who said hookups couldn’t lead to love?

@bookdragon13 - Just when Bucky was feeling his lowest, walking around Brooklyn at night, he hears a faint meowing. Bucky finds the white kitten and takes it to the local vet. Afterwards, he couldn’t just leave the white fur ball behind, adopting her and giving her the name Alpine. With Alpine around, Bucky couldn’t help but start feeling like he could climb out of the hole he’d dug himself in. He can’t help but laugh at Alpine’s antics and when he’s having a bad day, she cuddles with Bucky as he rubs his fingers through her fur

@liquidlightz - Bucky had written off more cheques than his body could cash, yet again. Losing badly at poker and getting beaten down for failing to pay up. This night was turning out better than the last, as he found himself in the hands of a gorgeous Doctor with gentle hands who seemed to enjoy his attempts at flirting through bloodied teeth. Things might be looking up, he was going to go all in and take another chance tonight.

@wolfarrowepz - (Winterhawk, hockey AU)The Avengers were eliminated in the second round of the playoffs.... less than a third of the team had been with them when they won the championship 3 years ago. Now all Bucky wants to do is go home and sulk and ice his knee in peace. Clint has decided he needs to come to dinner with the team to show all the rookies and new guys to show them that losing isn't the end of the world. Fuck it all if Bucky will do whatever Clint asks. Bucky he liked him since they joined the team together as rookies. Clint is 100% oblivious to every move Bucky makes but if Clint asks him to do something he will. Clint on the other hand is convinced Bucky isn't into him. Cue pining and the inevitable "of course I Like you, you dope!" moment.

With Steel and Silver Burning Heart - suggested by @ibelieveinturtles

@steverogersnotebook - Dragon trainer AU, Steve goes to slay the dragon, Bucky's the dragon trainer. They meet, they clash, they enemies to friends to lovers.

@phoenixgryphon - big beefy bucky the blacksmith. who builds broadswords to bring in the bills

@somesortofitalianroast - (Regency!AU) James Barnes was well aware that he was the Marquis of Buchannan in name only. With no money left in the estates coiffers and three younger sisters - the oldest a mere year before her official debut - to support, he was desperate. Desperate enough to approach the new Duke of Brooklyn - a known rake with a history of getting in duels - with an offer: he supplies the cash for Rebecca’s debutante and in return, he gets James. But what happens when the purely financial relationship is no longer purely financial?

@liquidlightz - Bucky was not amused when the blade pierced his heart. Fuck, that hurt! "You asshole", he berated his not-looking-so-hot-now date on the other end of that dagger, "I thought we were having a good time." Bucky had to thank his lucky stars, and not his wits, that this hunter was a moron and that blade was cheap metal and not silver. He should, maybe, start being a little more discerning in his hookups.

@bookdragon13 - As a Knight of the Realm, Bucky was sworn to protect the royal family. He didn’t mean to fall in love with the Princess in the process. Neither did Bucky realize he was a jealous man, until he saw another knight, Brock, try to kiss the Princess, with her unwilling. Bucky immediately called Brock out, challenging him to a duel. When Brock was wounded, Bucky threatened that if Brock tried anything with Her Royal Highness again, he wouldn’t be so lenient.

#buckybarnesbingo2021 #bbb2021 #bbb discord party #titles game #party game

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jadelotusflower · 3 years

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June 2021 Roundup

It's been a month of highs and lows. Every year my city holds a cabaret festival, and I've seen some truly amazing acts over the years - including Lea Salonga, Kristin Chenoweth, and Indina Menzel. This year's Artistic Director was the great Alan Cumming, and although due to covid he didn't quite get to curate the program he wanted to, the opening night Gala was still a highlight, as was Alan's DJ set at the pop-up Club Cumming afterwards, where there was much singing at the top of my lungs and dancing to pop anthems and theatre tunes. At one point Alan, dressed in a onesie and perched on the shoulders of a man wearing only sparkly short shorts, was carried around the dance floor while Circle of Life blared. Reader, I was delighted.

I was also able to see his solo show Alan Cumming Is Not Acting His Age, which was hilarious and damn, he can sing!

As for the low, I was meant to fly to Sydney for the weekend to see Hamilton, a trip I have been looking forward to for almost a year, but had to be cancelled because of a covid outbreak and border closures. The tickets have been rescheduled, but I'm still kind of bummed about it (while completely appreciating the need for covid safety, especially when our vaccine rollout has been completely botched by our incompetent, corrupt federal government)

Anyway.

Reading

The Hundred and One Dalmations (Dodie Smith) - With all the bewilderment over Disney's Cruella, I decided to revisit the original novel which I first read as a kid. It's funny, I had very vivid memories of this book, or rather thought I did, particularly the scene where Roger and Anita have dinner at Cruella's house that fixed in my young mind as utterly disturbing with all this devil imagery and the implication Cruella was literally some kind of demon, which must have been either a) my overactive imagination or b) an illustration, because it's not as clear as I thought it was. The strangeness is there (food with too much pepper, Cruella's inability to keep warm, the walls painted blood red) but not the explicit demon imagery I had remembered. There is a part later in the book recounting the history of Hell Hall and the rumors of Cruella's ancestor streaking out of the place conjuring blue lightening, but clearly child me was reading far more into the book than was on the page.

But I still wish they'd gone with this version of Cruella's backstory, because to me an aristocratic, ink-drinking, heat-obsessed, possibly-demon spawn, high camp villain is more interesting and rings far more true than plucky punk against the establishment.

Smith clearly had Facts About Dalmations to share, and she does really craft a wonderful animal-based story that the Disney animated film is largely faithful to. Key differences include: Roger's occupation (he doesn't have to pay tax because he wiped out government debt somehow?!?), Pongo's mate and the puppy's mother is called Missis, Perdita is another dalmation who acts as a kind of doggie wet nurse, Roger and Anita both have Nannies who come to live with them (Nanny Butler and Nanny Cook), Cruella is married to a furrier (who changed his last name to de Vil). Also odd, on her first description Cruella is described as having "dark skin" but later in the novel her "white face" is mentioned, so I'm chalking it up to 50's descriptors not having the same meanings they do today.

The Duke and I (Julia Quinn) - After being just whelmed by the tv series, I wasn't really planning on reading the books, but I saw this on the top picks shelf at the library and damn, the top picks shelf is irresistible. This is very much Daphne's book (and I had known each in the series dealt with the different sibling) so many of the characters and much of the plot of the show is absent, as are some of the more baffling elements of the show like the Diamond of the First Water nonsense, which I always thought was a strange character choice in that it stacks the deck for Daphne when her character arc is better served as somewhat of an underdog (in her third season, the kind of girl who is liked but not adored), and the Prince subplot which was always far too OTT even for soapy regency romance.

It's a breezy, fun read (that scene excepted), even if the misunderstandings are contrived and I'm never going to take "I'll never have kids because I hate my dad" as a credible romantic obstacle deserving of so much angst.

Faeries (Brian Froud and Alan Lee) - A lovingly detailed and illustrated compendium of Faerie and its inhabitants, drawing from a range of European (but primarily Celtic) folklore and mythology. Froud was a conceptual designer on The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, and the link is clear in the art as well as the focus on faeries as mysterious but oftimes sinister beings, where human encounters with them rarely end well. Lee has illustrated several publications of Tolkien's novels, and was a lead concept artists for Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings and Hobbit trilogies, and there is a touch of Middle Earth here as well, or rather the common inspiration of the old world. A useful resource for my novel!

Watching

The Handmaid's Tale (season 4, episodes 4-8) SPOILERS - So when I last wrote about this show in the Roundup, I was complaining it wasn't going anywhere. Well, I'm happy to be wrong because they finally changed things up with June finally escaping to Canada. That part of the plot following the survivors and their trauma has always been far more compelling than Gilead, and so it was a welcome development even if I side-eye some of the choices (none of these characters is seeing an actual licensed therapist why?).

This show has always been difficult to watch given the subject matter, and that has not changed after the shift in power dynamics. I will give the show credit for showing a broad range of trauma responses, from Moira wanting to move on and not let it consume her, to June, a ball of rage and revenge on a downward spiral, to Emily, trying to follow Moira's path but being drawn to June's, to Luke, trying his best but utterly unequipped to deal with what is happening.

But it is very hard to watch June go down this path - raping her husband (I concede the show perhaps didn't intend for it to be rape, but that's what is on screen and framing it as just "taking away Luke's agency" doesn't change that), wishing death on Serena's unborn child, and orchestrating Fred's brutal murder by particulation, then holding her own daughter still covered in his blood and it getting smeared on Nicole's face (an unsubtle metaphor in a series full of unsubtle metaphors).

There are interesting questions being asked of the viewer, and the show (perhaps rightly) not giving any answers. I can certainly appreciate the catharsis of Fred getting what he deserves even if I personally find the manner of it horrifying, but where is the line between justice and revenge, is revenge the only option when justice is denied, when does a trauma release become cyclical violence/abuse - the show is, for now, letting the viewer decide.

Soul (dir. Pete Docter and Kemp Powers) - In a world full of remakes/reboots/sequels, Pixar is perhaps the lone segment under the Disney umbrella committed to original content. However, there does seem to be a Pixar formula at work directed to precision tugging the heart strings, and some of the film feels like well-trod ground. On the other hand, it's hard to criticise the risk of centering a kids film around the existential crisis of a middle aged man, even with the requisite cutesy elements (and of course, the uncomfortable pattern of yet another film where the black lead character spends a great deal of the runtime in non-human form - herein, an amorphous blob or a cat). But the animation is stunning, it successfully did tug my heart strings, and the design of the Great Before and the Jerrys is original and fun.

RuPaul's Drag Race Down Under - Drag Race is somewhat of a guilty pleasure for me, since I generally don't watch reality shows, and this is something I really enjoy even if I'm not invested in the fandom (which like many fandoms can be very yikes). This year it was time for the Australian/New Zealand (Aotearoa) queens to show their stuff, although it's been met with mixed reactions. Covid restrictions didn't allow for guest judges, relegating them to mere cameos via video calls, and its clear that Ru and Michelle really don't quite get all the cultural nuances - Aussie judge Rhys Nicholson was however always delightful. But it wouldn't be Australia without a racism scandal, with the great disappointment of the two queens of colour eliminated first, and one queen having done blackface in the recent past yet making it all the way to the top four.

In the end, the only viable and deserving winner was last Kiwi standing Kita Mean, and it was pure joy to see her get crowned. I do hope they fix the bugs and indeed do another season to better showcase AU/NZ talent.

Writing

A far more productive month - to try and get out of my writing funk I had a goal to try and write every day, even if it was only 100 words. While I didn't quite achieve a consecutive month, I did get a pretty good average, at least got something posted and two others nearly there.

The Lady of the Lake - 2441 words, Chapter 4 posted.

Against the Dying of the Light - 2745 words

Turn Your Face to the Sun - 1752 words.

Here I Go Again - 1144 words

Total words this month: 8082

Total words this year: 35,551

#personal #long post #roundup #june roundup #reading watching writing #here's to the second half of the year #I really want to get to at least 100k written #so we'll see

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fortunatelylori · 5 years

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Realism in Sanditon

Since detractors of this show are adamant about how unrealistic and how not accurate to the time period Sanditon is, I thought I’d share a few of my favorite realistic details that make Sanditon stand out from the fray of period drama adaptations.

Sidney’s portrait

One thing that really bugs me in period dramas is how portraits always look exactly like the real person they’re supposed to represent. Take Mr. Darcy for example:

It’s almost as if someone took a picture and then put some brush strokes on top of it, doesn’t it?

Except that things were hardly ever as simple as that because not all portraitists were so good as to paint a replica of one’s face and because sometimes, even if they were, as in the case of Thomas Lawrence who painted everyone who was anyone during the Regency, including the regent himself, they were obliged to tweek reality from this:

to THIS:

Which is why I take such delight in Sidney’s portrait. You could see how this:

could be the inspiration for this:

But it doesn’t quite fit, does it? Me thinks Sidney should have asked for his money back. That painting does not do him justice.

The ball scene

One thing period dramas are known for is their ball scenes and the beautiful, albeit strange to our modern eyes, dancing. However should we really expect that these balls would have looked like perfectly choreographed scenes of obviously trained dancers in period costumes? I mean look at this:

(neither one of these are mine. I picked them up on google. if you recognize your work, let me know and I’ll add the credit)

This looks more like Swan Lake than a night at your local club, which is what a ball ultimately was. And speaking of clubs, anyone whose ever been to one knows that not all dancers are created equal. So why should they have been during the regency? Surely you’d have differences in proficiency based on whether or not you had had a dancing instructor or if you had a musical ear or not (even people during the early 19th century would have been born with no ear for music) or even how much practice you got (someone who lived in London, for example, would be expected to be a better dancer simply because he/she got more opportunities to dance than someone who lived in a small, remote village) and on and on.

And it’s exactly that realistic disparity that Sanditon portrays so wonderfully.

For example, you can tell from the scene that Esther Denham and Georgiana Lambe are the best dancers of the lot.

Look at those pirouettes!

Georgiana even manages to look graceful while dancing with grease lightning Arthur over here:

At the other end of the spectrum, we have sweet angel Charlotte who loves to dance and will stand with anyone who will partner her but … she’s not very good, is she?

She looks like a limping dear, bless her.

And then you have the men .... The Sandition fellas, not unlike men today, all have their signature moves!

The annoying guy who does the chicken dance:

The older guy who “escaped” from home and is now partying like it’s 1768:

And … Arthur doing his best Michael Flatley impersonation:

This is a long way of saying that when you say that the ball in P&P 1995 (for example) was more accurate than the ball scene in Sanditon, you aren’t actually talking about historical accuracy and even less about realism but rather what you have been taught to expect from a period adaptation.

Also please do tell Mary Bennet, who garnered praise for her renditions of “Scotch and Irish airs”, that Scottish music at a regency ball was unheard of.

Charlotte’s hair

I’d wager to bet that even Sidney’s butt was less controversial than the fact that Charlotte wears her hair down. Half the Sanditon tag is filled with people that are just unusually angry at this small, and rather inconsequential, choice.

That being said would they be satisfied with a very simple, not thrills bun like the one Elizabeth Bennet wore in the 2005 adaptation?

I would say no because at the time the film came out, people hated how badly her hair was done. But here’s the thing: Charlotte is even poorer than Lizzie, has 11 siblings and most likely no actual chamber maid that might assist her with the kind of hairstyle people complaining about the hair choice actually want:

So if you really wanted to go historically accurate with Charlotte’s hair you’d go with a very simple bun that would then be covered by one of these monstrosities:

“I have made myself two or three caps to wear in the evenings since I came home, and they save me a world of torment as to hair-dressing!” - Jane Austen, 1798

I, for one, would much rather have Charlotte’s hair down than whatever poor Jane is wearing up there.

The dandy

We all know the term and I assume the man who invented it, Beau Brummell:

The Dandy has come to represent the height of men’s fashion and elegance. Fun fact though: that super high collar and cravat that Mr. Darcy is so fond of wearing?

That was designed so the wearer was forced to keep his nose high up in the air, which was particularly useful because of the less telegenic habit of snorting snuff that regency men engaged in. So if you are truly committed to historical accuracy please imagine Mr. Darcy with brown snot coming out of his nose from now on.

There is no brown snot in Sanditon thankfully but Sidney and his friends do engage is some heavy duty smoking using these long, frilly cigarette holders:

I think Sidney just about pulls it off which I assume is as far as anyone could pull off this trend

In addition to that, there’s a great deal of cane wearing with these characters even though those walking sticks aren’t assisting them to walk in anyway which makes canes truly the eye glasses you wear when you don’t have an eyesight problem of the 19th century.

Between the cigarette holders, the useless canes and the mad hatter look:

Sanditon exposes the dandies for what they truly were: part innovators, part fashion victims.

All of these examples aren’t really meant to convince you that Sanditon is 100% true to history (it’s not) or even that it’s more accurate than other Austen adaptation.

Rather what I hope you take away from this is that Austen adaptations in general are not a play by play documentary on the regency period but rather fantasy, Disney versions of 19th century England. Sanditon challenging that image is not actually a bad thing or inherently less accurate than any other adaptation out there.

#sanditon #jane austen adaptations #my metas

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sassysnowperson · 5 years

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Total Words Posted 2019: 263,964!

Total Works: 30 works in 7 fandoms with 30 different relationships (counting Gen pairs - also, it was not, in fact, a pairing per fic, but a couple repeats, and a multi-pairing fic).

As compared to last years: 269,752 words, 64 works, 3 fandoms, 40 different pairings.

Compare/Contrast between this year and the last: Roughly the same wordcount! Again! I've been pretty consistent these last three years. I wrote fewer, longer works, but remained very open in terms of pairing. We're growing the fandoms, but Star Wars definitely wins still (though, breaking it up by TYPE of Star Wars, I diversified this year - learning to write more broadly across the canon! Star wars is about 12 fandoms in a trench coat, after all).

Major thing(s) I learned this year: Narrative courage, I think might be the best way to sum it up. I feel like I've taken more chances than I have in past years - I've learned how to write different characters and different settings than I've written before.

I feel the need to shout out Arrivals, Connections, Departures here. It's my WIP longfic that I started this year. It's already nearly 50k, and it's nowhere near done. This story is going to be LONG, and honestly, it's intimidating for me! There are so many things I want to write, and a fic like this requires commitment. I think it's a story worth telling, through, and I'm enjoying sharing it with folks. But I'm learning how to pace myself when I'm not writing fic all in a rush, breaking it up with breaks for smaller fics. Trying to find the balance between loving my WIP and getting to chase creative spark.

I also got way more involved in exchanges, the gift-swap is fun, as is a chance to write something I've never written before.

How I did on my Goals for Last Year: One of my goals was to go back to my ongoing series and I...did not. I had a sort-of idea for how Bodhi Lives would roll out going forward, and I feel like I've grown enough as a writer that I'm not satisfied with my tentative outline anymore. I'm not sure what the solution to it is - I still love the universe, and I'm not ready to close the book on it yet, but at the same time, I'm not sure how to move forward. Will require thought.

HOWEVER, my other goal was to get Arrivals, Departures, Connections started, and I did! We've got the ball rolling!

I also had the goal to write more gift fic, interspersed with my giant fic, and I did that too! I think probably about two-thirds of my fic output this year was written as a gift for someone else.

Goals for the Coming Year: I think I want to set the goal of finishing my massive WIP in 2020. At least the draft - hopefully getting it posted, too.

I also want to close some of the "open tabs" I have in my fic writing brain. Off the top of my head, that's the Bodhi Lives conundrum I talked about earlier, my Bodhi/Cassian series (am I ever actually going to write them having sex? It's a mystery), my K-2SO narrates wildlife fic, and I've got a bunch of prompts sitting in my tumblr inbox. Next year, I'd like to either decide that I'm not going to write them, or start sitting down and getting them out into the world.

I'd also like to read and comment more - I've been a good writer this year, but a bad fan community member. I think it might be fun to do fic read-a-thons together, or something like that.

Under the readmore is a round-up of the fics I wrote in 2019. I'm going to group them by fandom, sub-fandom for Star Wars and Marvel, and then by date posted.

If you’ve been reading my work, talk to me!

What’s been a favorite story? Most unexpected? What was the first thing of mine you read? What are you hoping I’ll write more of in 2020?

Note: Titles below are links to the works.

Star Wars

Rogue One

Critical Flaws - (Galen Erso/Lyra Erso/Bodhi Rook) (50458 words, 21,847 posted this year) - Galen, Lyra, and Bodhi form complicated plots for how to kill the Death Star, and also have to figure out why they are to each other, now that Galen has reunited with Lyra. (A continuation of the Lyra Lives series, where Lyra decides to go with Jyn instead.

Entirely Useless - (Cassian Andor/Leia Organa) (1780 words) - Cassian and Leia make time for something entirely useless.

Suboptimal Shape and Texture - (Cassian Andor/K-2SO)(100 words) - A moment of quiet.

Instinct and a Winning Smile - (Davits Draven/Antoc Merrick/Mon Mothma) (5208 words) - Antoc Merrick never wanted to be in the middle of Mon Mothma's fling with her spymaster. But that's exactly where his substandard sabaac face has landed him.

Poet with a Problem - (Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso/Bodhi Rook) (2774 words) - University Professor AU, where Professor Rook should really know better than to get a crush on both his best friend, and his best friend’s nemesis.

Star Wars Prequel Trilogy

Trade - (Obi-Wan Kenobi/Owen Lars/Beru Whitesun) (5839 words) - When one-and-a-half year old Luke’s Force powers start acting up, Owen and Beru reach out to the man that brought him in the first place.

Flustered - (Padme Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker) (5500 words) - Padme Amidala has a horrible crush and her husband is not helping.

Knight Amidala - (Padme Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi) (18865 words) - At the end of RotS Anakin dies, Padme wakes up with all his power, and the galaxy changes.

Star Wars Original Trilogy

Obvious and Intractable - (Dak Raltar/Luke Skywalker) (13717 words) - Considering all the problems in Wedge's life, it's impressive that the issue of Luke Skywalker's gunner even shows up on his radar. But Dak Raltar's obvious and intractable crush on his commanding officer is a problem, and it's growing more complicated by the second.

Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Keep Coming Back - (Star Wars Sequel Trilogy) (5515 words) - Han finds Rey on Jakku. She’s not ready to leave, so Han keeps coming back.

Insult and Intimacy - (Lando Calrissian/Poe Dameron) (9365 words) - A Regency AU in Space featuring Titles and Genteel Understatement and Suitible Matches, as well as some scandal and a bit of kidnapping.

What I Wanted to Tell You - (Finn/Rey) (557 words) - What was it that Finn wanted to tell Rey?

An Awful Legacy - (Rey’s Mother/Rey’s Father) (879 words) - Rey’s mom reacts to...certain revelations.

Scorch Marks - (Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker) (910 words) - Wedge leaves the new generation to their celebrations, and considers an old familier X-Wing.

Calrissian Sass - (Lando & Jannah) (1181 words) - Lando loves showing Jannah all the things she missed out on, growing up.

Just My Type - (Zorii Bliss/Rey) (1058 words) - Rey is really interested in Zorii’s relationship with Poe, and Zorii has no idea why.

Star Wars Legends

Truce - (Wedge Antilles/Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker) (15038 words) - Wedge and Mara don’t like each other and they don’t trust each other, but they’re both willing to do what’s needed to save Luke.

Star Wars Intra-Universe Crossover

Sharpened - (Rogue One/Solo) (Jyn Erso/Qi’ra) (17490 words) - Jyn’s found the score that will let her stop running. Unfortunately Qi’ra of the Crimson Dawn stands between her and her target. Podfic Available.

Whatever You Want - (Sequel Trilogy/Rebels) (Rey/Ahsoka) (6782 words) - Ahsoka slept for forty years, and Rey wakes her up.

New Lands for the Living - (Original Trilogy, Sequel Trilogy) (Poe Dameron/Luke Skywalker) (50241 words) - Time-travel fix-it AU where Poe Dameron winds up on Tatooine before the Original Trilogy, winds up married to Luke Skywalker, and is desperate to fix things.

Hoping It's Mutual - (Rogue One/Sequel Trilogy) (3247 words) - Bodhi Rook and Poe Dameron have eighteen hours together before they take on a stupid, risky mission that could lead to both their deaths. They make the most of the time.

Eight at the Most - (Original Trilogy/Rogue One) (Luke Skywalker/K-2SO) (8332 words) - K-2SO has questions he wants answered and no concept of social niceties. Luke Skywalker, honestly, finds this a refreshing change from gentle respect everyone treats him with these days.

Arrivals, Departures, Connections - (Sequel Trilogy/Original Trilogy/Rogue One) (Wedge Antilles/Bodhi Rook, Luke Skywalker/Poe Dameron) (WIP - 46,751 words written in 2019) - A sprawling, story of loss and love, friendship and romance, and all the messy ways those things collide.

Star Wars Extra-Universe Crossover

The Face Underneath - (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine/Rogue One) (Cassian Andor/Elim Garak) (300 words) - Injured and alone, Cassian finds a familiar face in a very unfamiliar environment.

Various

Remixed: 100th Fic Fest - (K-2SO & Bodhi Rook, Cassian Andor/Bodhi Rook, Bodhi Rook/Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles/Bodhi Rook, Poe Dameron/Bodhi Rook) (500 words) - A what-if drabble series in my existing universes, along with end notes - much longer than the drabbles, amusingly - musing about these AUs

Marvel

Captain Marvel

Galactic Response Time - (Carol Danvers & Nick Fury) (5130 words) - All the OTHER times Nick paged Carol.

The Avengers

Return Policy - (Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers) (8888 words) - A missing scene fix-it that shows how exactly Steve returns the Infinity Stones.

Good Omens

Life's Little Pleasures - (Crowley/Aziraphale) (1758 words) - A statue in Crowley's apartment sparks an unexpected discussion.

Russian Doll

The Messed Up Motherfuckers Afterlife Movie Club - (Nadia Vulvokov & Alan Zaveri) (2991 words) - After everything, Nadia and Alan watch a movie.

Sailor Moon

Destiny and Property Destruction - (1055 words) - Instead of getting Moon Powers, Usagi gets a giant mecha.

#fic talk #2019 fanfiction year in review #year in review #This is always so much formatting #worth it #but man #About halfway through each one I'm going...I need to write less. For sure #also this didn't fit in the above #but another thing I'm proud of this year is New Lands for the Living #it's a 50k fic that I wrote in like...two months #because it was for an exchange #it was not supposed to be 50k #but I got it written!#and I'm very proud of it #:D

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 6 years

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On a photo of a not exactly human face I sculpted....

labratbren said: What do you do with them when they are done? Do you ever post pictures of the finished product?

Ah, well, um....short answer? Nothing.

Here’s the longer answer (VERY long)....

While I was always drawn to sculpting, I really didn’t sculpt growing up.

I mean, I tried to use clay I dug out of the ground, drying it in the sun, when I was tiny. Naturally it crumbled except for this lump of a head I still have. In Kindergarden the art teacher had his own kiln and let us use the scraps left over from the pots he had us make. I still have a loop armed alien and creature head I made, but he left with his kiln the next year. The dough art they had us make in second grade was gone by the next year, ‘cause this buggy and humid climate doesn’t agree with it. My parents gave me modling clay, but I hated it. I wanted something that would “stay”.

But everyone acted like sculpting was hard, so maybe I wasn’t missing out.

Then one day, when I was 19 or so, my hands got bored. Anyone would have laughed if I’d said I was bored right then. I had a book open to one side of me, a magazine on the other, as I went back and forth reading both. I was also listening to music AND watching the movie The Brothers Karamazov at the same time. I have this problem where I always feel like I should be doing more, and when I am doing something I get itchy to be doing something else. Like my brain isn’t fully occupied even if I’m really enjoying whatever. That day my hands needed something to do, and there was this block of clay left over from a project one of Pop’s projects (a river system display, I think) It was just sittin’ there on the porch so....

And it turned out sculpting was easy! I mean, maybe not art bit doodling around having fun making faces. Do NOT be intimidated by sculpting! It comes so much more easiy than trying to convert our 3D world into some 2D drawing. Seriously, try drawing a nose head on! But toss on any wedge on a sculpted face and you have a nose...

Ok, maybe I just am bad at drawing! But I really do wish more people would try sculpting.

Anyway, the clay was another dead end, but it did inspire me to hunt for something I could “make stay”. And that something was sculpey.

Whenever I was certain I would have the place completely to myself for a full hour I’d go stand out on the ramp behind the house and sculpt. It wasn’t too often, what with the house also being the office of the family business and my family being the sort of close one that did everything together. I couldn’t sculpt and be watched. All I needed was an our because I sculpted quickly. In an hour I’d have a little bust, rough as heck but with some detail I liked.

But then I ran out of places to put my busts in my already overstuffed bedroom. I solved this by just slicing the faces off and just baking them. I could glue magnets to them and line all the edges of my metal bookcases.

I did dabble in other things. I tried a full figure and made a few little stick figures. I sculpted something from Babylon 5 for my brother, mixed my box painting (I used to paint boxes when I had a table) with sculpting for a Discworld box for Mom, Easter bunnies for my parents, magnets for everyone, Christmas ornaments...

When she saw the Christmas tree ornaments my cousin Katharine, dollhouse collector, roped my into making her a doll. She had specific requirements for a 6″ tall Beast in what I gathered were Regency era clothes from her decription. In my ignorance I assumed the doll would have to have a jointed body, fabric clothes and furry fur, which kinda drove me nuts! But somehow I pulled it off! I sculpted a few more of those little dolls (no sewing on these!) as gifts for my parents and brother, as well as a bit of goofing around for myself (I liked my little Sleestack a couple decades late for little me). But that was that.

Then the weirdest darn thing happened: I was suddenly stricken with a full imaginative block!

I stopped sculpting. I stopped painting boxes. I stopped writing stories. Worst of all I stopped dreaming! I still remember how upsetting that was, this sense of loss. It was like having a part of me paralyzed.

It lasted years. Terrible years.

When my father became sick right after my irreparable rift with my brother, as I was facing the most terrible external loss of my life, something woke back up in me. Constant, vivid dreams, elaborate epics spiraling through night after night, images and stories that writing didn’t full satisfy the need to express. I started painting miniature boxes again. Box after box after box....

But no sculpting.

I dunno why I still didn’t sculpt. I just didn’t.

Then my father died.

Pop’s death was a devistating moment. My father. My best friend. When Pop was sick I told him he couldn’t die because I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. There is a lot of truth in that. I love Mom dearly, but our brains work very differently. Pop might have been smarter, and his depth of knowledge was certainly mind blowing, but our mental wiring followed a similar eccentric pattern. That said, somewhere along the line my parents and I had become a sort of unit, functioning as one. Think one of those anime giant robots made of smaller ships, Voltron or something. Then imagine it functioning with the head section missing. Five years later we still feel that void.

So anyway, Pop was dead, the family business gone with him, and I was unemployed with no qualifications in a rural area with few job opportunities anyway. This was, and frankly still is, not a good situation. And my cousin Katharine thought she had a solution.

Katharine sent me a letter suggesting I make dolls. She’d shown the doll I’d made her to a dealer who said I had talent, and she sent me a copy of Art Doll Quarterly to show me that my “weird” stuff might have a market...

Honestly I felt inspired by this. I immediately seriously considered it. I’d work a bit bigger than 6″ scale, sculpt the clothes instead of the stress and tedium of sewing, and figure out a way to do ball joints. Because each thing would be unique (until I could teach myself mold making) and letting go of something I make is soooo hard for me, I decided to use the story of one of my painted boxes as inspiration. I’d make wolf people, which I figured would create enough sameness to help me let go, but enough variety to keep me from being bored. I quickly sketched out a reasonable design and got to work.

Obviously things didn’t turn out to be so simple. Sculpting ball joints by hand is fiddly to manage. It would need a bit of experimenting. I could do a head on day, casually. I could do the upper body, arms and waist joint with a lot of effort another day. A third day would be waist and legs. Fourth day was the hellish threading. I wasn’t set up for safely storing unbaked work in progress, so I had to do these marathon one sitting sculptings on the bodies. Then I’d rest up a few days and just sculpt a few heads.

The ball jointing drove me nuts. So I gave myself permission to not worry about wolfheads, but just sculpt whatever head happened. From the backlog of heads I’d just pick one to experiment with body making. In just a couple months I was making progress.

The first discouragement came with an art show. The county has a sort of art society and they were having a sculpture show. I was scared silly to show my work to anyone, since at that point it was 2014 and I wasn’t even on Tumblr. No one had seen them. Still, when I went to see about entering the lady there was encouraging. I was soooo nervous and tentatively hopeful when I went to the grand opening with Mom amd my cousin Shirley. I was soon deflated. No one seemed to notice my figures. My work was the odd one out anyway in a sea of found object sculptures, colored paper masks and ceramics abstractly suggesting the figural. Also, everyone there knew each other and so no one was talking to me. At one point I did this really sad thing of hovering near my figures in case anyone came near so I could sorta maybe get them to notice them....

When the show ended a few weeks later the lady very nicely said at least a couple school children had liked weird figures, ‘cause, you know, kids like that fantasy stuff. I definitely should sculpt a lot bigger and maybe use terra cotta instead....

Yeah. I felt my stuff was crap. I was crap. Why had I ever thought anyone would like my crap? Heck, I’d thought I’d at least find a club I could join, belonging, friends....

But, I kept at the doll making experimenting, crap or not. That winter it was too cold for much sculpting in my unheated house, but I could work on trying to figure out how to paint them....

Then life happened don’t ya know. At first I thought it was a temporary break while I dealt with crisis after another. I kept sculpting heads, strictly sculpting a head a day (still just an hour each)....until the spreading collapsed floor situation forced me to move the box I’d made for storing the bodiless heads out. And that was that for doll making.

Still, I kept sculpting. I went back to just the faces....

And that’s where I am now. I gave up sculpting every day, because I no longer have time. I watch a movie and sculpt. I bake the face and take pics I post on here. I wrap ‘em in tissue and put them in a storage container....

And that’s it.

I don’t do anything with them. I’m not entirely convinced there is any point anymore. My life isn’t going to include free time. Or tables to work on. It has been years after all, and it gets less and less likely I’ll make anything more than a few boxes full of chipped up sculpey faces for the nephews to find when I die. Well, unless they follow my brother’s advice and throw them out unopened! LOL

I sculpt just ‘cause I sculpt. I post pics of them on Tumblr, ‘cause Mom isn’t really all that interested in looking at them. They aren’t ever going to be anything, but I guess if I enjoy making them and someone out there likes looking at them that’s okay. They may be nothing, but that’s something.

#comments #art #sculpting #artists on tumblr

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vdbstore-blog · 7 years

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New Post has been published on Vintage Designer Handbags Online | Vintage Preowned Chanel Luxury Designer Brands Bags & Accessories

New Post has been published on http://vintagedesignerhandbagsonline.com/club-tropicana-why-kitsch-is-everywhere-this-summer-fashion/

Club tropicana! Why kitsch is everywhere this summer | Fashion

At Primark, the £6 best-selling bikini of the season has pineapples on it. If it has sold out in your size, though, don’t worry: online shop Asos has three different bikinis with pineapples on them. It has got phone cases, necklaces, backpacks and dressing gowns to match, too. At John Lewis, one in five products sold in the summer party department has a flamingo on it, as does every other birthday card in Paperchase. Ditto the fairy lights in the US clothing chain Anthropologie, and the USB sticks in Urban Outfitters. The vases in the window at Zara Home are shaped like cacti, as are the ones at The Conran Shop. At Oliver Bonas, you can find watermelon-slice earrings to match the watermelon beach ball you picked up at Selfridges, which goes so well with your new Dolce & Gabbana watermelon-painted handbag.

Describe a 1950s Palm Springs poolside cocktail party using only emojis, and you capture the aesthetic of summer 2017. The colours are pink and green (a flamingo with a palm tree, a watermelon slice). The shapes – pineapple, cactus, Martini glass – are as sunnily evocative and as easy to draw as a smiley face. Move over industrial chic bare bricks and copper pendant lights, because we are living in the Age of the Pineapple.

If you thought pineapples and flamingos were last year’s story – well, they were. Flamingos starred in a Gucci advertising campaign, and novelty items emblazoned with pink birds were the runaway high-street success of 2016. Now, halfway through 2017, John Lewis reports that flamingo-related sales are up 40% year on year. “The flamingo is still king for us,” says buyer Lisa Rutherford. “It’s on greeting cards and wrapping paper, and it tops the sales list in every single category week after week. Now we have expanded into watermelons and cacti. We’ve got an inflatable lobster, too.”

Ahead of the trend: a Gucci’s advert from 2016, featuring flamingos. Photograph: Gucci.com

Palm Vaults, in Hackney, is this year’s most Instagrammed cafe. The serenely kitsch pink-and-pistachio decor nods to the famous Beverly Hills Hotel, whose dusty pink walls are offset by Martinique banana-leaf wallpaper, which was designed for the hotel when it opened a century ago, and has become a classic. Authorship is hard to define in popular culture, but the Beverly Hills Hotel comes up again and again as the mothership of tropical kitsch. Its swimming pool is all swagged cabanas and striped beach towels, a stage set for an heiress in a kaftan to step out of a Slim Aarons photograph and order a margarita. Perfect, then, for our ultra-connected age, in which holidays have become intensely social. (Consider: a decade ago, the ultimate aspirational holiday image was having a paradise beach all to yourself. Now, it is sharing a giant inflatable flamingo with your best friends.)

“This look is a kind of shorthand for summer and cocktails and festivals. All those nice things,” says fashion editor turned style blogger Erica Davies. “Social media drives desire, because you open Instagram and see people dancing under palm trees at Coachella, and that makes you want a bit of that in your own life.”

Inflatable flamingo are to be spotted flocking together in John Lewis. Photograph: John Lewis

The plastic lawn flamingo was a smash hit across America when it went on sale in 1957, the year of Elvis Presley’s Jailhouse Rock: an expression, perhaps, of a sublimated suburban yen for escape. “Flamingos aren’t something you see in everyday life,” says interior stylist Emily Blunden. “And that’s the whole point. By having one in your house, you bring a little bit of fantasy into your home. We’d all like to live in a Malibu beach house. But that’s not feasible, so we work with what is.”

You can buy a pineapple for 79p in Tesco now, but the fruit still carries symbolism from the days when it was a sign of status – there is a 17th-century painting in the Royal Collection of Charles II being gifted a pineapple by a visitor on bended knee. It is also a symbol of hospitality: in parts of the US, the pineapple is a traditional door-knocker icon, because it stands for welcome. Dressing your home as if setting the scene for a party comes naturally in the age of Fomo (fear of missing out), when events and experiences are the ultimate treasures. “It is about being positive, about having something to look forward to even when the world looks a bit grey,” says Davies.

Several times in the course of talking to people for this article, I asked a question about pineapples and was given an answer about emotion. Or I brought up cacti only to find the conversation segueing into the economy. “As designers, we reflect what’s going on in the world,” says Molly Park, head of design for home and gifts at Oliver Bonas. “These kinds of purchases are driven by emotion, so what we create is a reflection of society’s emotional needs at a given moment. Right now, we are going through an age of activism. Everyone has a cause. And that means that the colours and graphics that people respond to are quite punchy and loud.” She predicts that the upbeat mood of tropical kitsch will give way, next season, to something starker and more hard-edged.

Pool-side style: Palm Springs goes kitsch during Coachella in 2016. Photograph: Vivien Killilea/Getty Images

A trend puts a time stamp on a product. Greeting cards and gift wraps are trend-driven because, subconsciously, you want the recipient to know that you took the time out of your lunch hour to buy those items specifically in honour of the occasion. Before tropical kitsch we had “coastal”: whitewashed everything, handpainted signs on rope handles, shells and starfish. Before that, “chateau glamour”: faux deer heads, chandeliers, velvet sofas. What is different about this look is that rather than being founded on a colour scheme (pebble and cloud white for coastal) or a specific piece (a chandelier for the chateau), it is built around immediately identifiable mascots. The flamingo brands your home just as a Nike swoosh brands your T-shirt or a smiley face sign-off signals the tone of a text.

Beneath the surface feelgood factor, tropical kitsch has a subversive edge, in its nostalgia for pre-Trump America. Popular culture has always had a soft spot for milkbar-era Americana – Katy Perry was namechecking Cherry Chapstick on I Kissed A Girl in 2008 – and this mood is currently making itself felt across film (the baseball jackets and retro diner uniforms in Baby Driver) and fashion (cowboy boots and stars and stripes in Raf Simons’s Calvin Klein debut, a collection soundtracked at New York fashion week by Bowie’s This is Not America).

And, for all its jazziness, this is a fundamentally egalitarian trend. Put bluntly, it does not make you look wealthy. Its origins are in the sophisticated Hollywood Regency taste of America’s first interior designers, Elsie de Wolfe and Dorothy Draper, but it is sold in a way that makes a virtue of the cheap, cheerful and temporary. Generation Rent want Instagrammable interiors that they can take with them when they move. There is no point saving up for a fitted kitchen in a rented flat, but you can buy a bar cart and a pineapple-shaped ice cube holder to go on top. The economic circumstances of the target market have shaped this trend. Interiors tell the story of our lives. In 2017, that message is written in emojis.

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