#i LOVE writing for miss v shes so fascinating to me .. i should draw her more

[sunbeares]

waitttttt since this is a secret blog i can finally talk abt stuff im making without worry .. i should probably finish that miss v and neighbor meeting fic with my personal hc abt neighbors name at some point. the ao/3 bk/mn tag is so stagnant ..

[liannyeong]

Things just work out (in the end)

Summary: Two close friends who decided to marry each other if they’re still single at the age of 30. What can happen, right?

Word count: 3181

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): Fluff, Just a pinch of angst

A/N: Yay a new fic! And finally, I have gotten used to spelling Jaebeom’s name correctly. This idea is totally cliche lol but well, I just had to write it when ideas started popping in my head. Originally, I had other plans for this plot but I decided to condense it into just a short fic lol. I actually aimed for a 2k word count but well, I always end up writing more whoops ~

i.

Long-time friends, that's what they really are, Not the best of friends but they're close enough to lean on each other and share about their problems. For example, failed relationships. None of their relationships ever last a year. Their friends wonder why, but not even they know the answer to the problem. In the end, they're labelled as the curse in any romantic relationship.

"You know," Jaebeom starts, after a night out with their mutual friends. He had just dropped off their friends who lived along the way, and is now left with her as always. They live the closest to each other anyway. "I'd say we should make a deal."

"A deal?" she echoes.

"Yeah. Let's get married if we're both single by the age of 30."

She snorts. "That's 5 years from now!"

Jaebeom shrugs. "Anything can happen in 5 years."

She keeps quiet, thinking it over before she speaks. "And if we're still single?"

"We marry," Jaebeom says so offhandedly, as if it's nothing serious.

She has a brow raised. "Just like that?"

"Yeah, why not?" Jaebeom retorts. "Nobody seems to want us. And even if they do, it never last more than a year. So why not we skip the basics and get married?"

She bursts out laughing. "You're mad," she says disapprovingly.

"Well, just think about it," Jaebeom insists. "I don't think we've got anything to lose. After all, how bad can it be if there are two 'cursed ones' in a relationship?"

---

ii.

Surprisingly, she agrees. In the year they both turn 30, they hold a small wedding. Then, she moves into Jaebeom's apartment because it is larger. As the months go on, nothing seems to change -- only that Jaebeom has become more gentlemanly towards her. Perhaps being married to someone, having another person to take care of has made him kinder, she doesn't really know. What she knows is that she doesn't hate it. It actually feels nice to have someone to be with at the end of the day. Jaebeom has been a spectacular husband: he listens to her rants about anything, helps her cook dinner. It has been really great.

But sometimes, she can't tell the difference between Jaebeom being chivalrous or... well... having feelings for her? It sounds as if she's too full of herself to think about it, but how can she not when he does things that are questionable?

For example, in one breezy day, Jaebeom took off his jacket just to tie it around her waist when she was wearing a dress that touched just above her knee.

"In case there are any perverts lurking around," he had said dismissively.

Or the few times when he noticed her shivering from the coldness of the air. Be it the air-conditioner of their car or the chilly air anywhere else, Jaebeom would drape his jacket over her body silently, and focus back on whatever he was doing.

Or that one time when they were stranded in the rain with no umbrella. The man threw his precious leather jacket over their heads, then pulled her by the waist with one hand as he led them across the street.

It doesn't seem anything, really. But that last incident is the last straw. Jaebeom has never held her without her permission. He has always made sure not to do anything physical to her, if she doesn't consent to it. The other part of her mind argues that it was just a one-time thing. She can't really comment much on it, can she?

The easiest way to figure this out is to ask him directly. But god, wouldn't it make her look like fool? Imagine Jaebeom saying that "No, I don't have feelings for you. What made you even think that?" Or "We married because of our promise, nothing else." Ugh, this seems like an unnecessary stress on her mind.

One thing's for sure though: even if Jaebeom doesn't harbour any feelings for her, the things he do certainly has an effect on her... She wonders what kind of feeling this is...

---

iii.

Jaebeom is an aspiring singer-songwriter. He has put his works out there to the world through his Soundcloud, which landed him a stable job at a local music company. She knows he's well-known in the music industry -- he's always got big projects to do, producing songs for popular idol groups out there. It's fascinating. Having known him for years, seeing him slowly gaining the recognition he deserves makes her happy.

But with bigger projects to tackle, that means longer working hours. And he will certainly bring his work home. It's frequent that Yugyeom, Jaebeom's partner, comes over to their shared apartment to continue with their projects. Usually, she would hear the same damn beat played a million times across the house. Today, it's more quiet. Perhaps, they're sourcing for inspiration? she wonders to herself. Well, it's not as if she minds the quiet ambience.

She heads to Jaebeom's room-slash-studio to call him for dinner but as she raises her hand to knock, she hears Yugyeom saying, "Hyung, you should tell her you like her--"

She freezes.

"Shut the hell up, Yugyeom. These walls are thin!" Jaebeom hisses.

"But hyung--"

"Drop it, Gyeom-ah. We're not talking about this now," Jaebeom cuts.

Her mind reeling. Jaebeom has someone he likes...? What...?

She totally misses out the footsteps on the other side, until the door swings open suddenly. She jolts in surprise, her hand still raised up.

Jaebeom is looking at her, wide-eyed, as if caught doing a heinous act.

"How long have you been standing here?" he asks after clearing his throat and his face from any expression.

"Just. I was about to knock your door but you opened it," she lies smoothly. "Dinner's ready."

"Great! I'm hungry!" Yugyeom exclaims as he jumps out of his seat and brushes past the two of them like an excited puppy. He heads to the kitchen by himself, leaving the married couple in the hallway.

Jaebeom's voice is soft and cautious as he asks, "Did you hear anything?"

She blinks up at him, trying her best to put on a blank expression. "No? Was I supposed to hear something?"

Jaebeom actually flushes. "N-no. It's great you didn't hear anything," he mumbles.

She nods, eyeing the man. "Let's eat."

---

iv.

Jaebeom always lets her listen to his finished work before its official release to the public. One particular song is about wanting to get closer to another, but they can't because of certain circumstances. Another is about loving a person from afar. It bears a resemblance to Jaebeom's situation, if her thoughts are correct. And her curiosity only gets bigger.

"Your songs... It sounds real," she tries to start the topic in mind. "Do you... possibly... have feelings for someone?"

Jaebeom swivels his chair to look at her in surprise. He looks caught.

She lets out a gasp. She sputters, "You-- Wait, who is she-- Oh, wait, no--" She halts herself when her mind clicks. "Why did you agree to this marriage thing if you have someone you like?! Oh god-- What have I done??" she panics.

"Hey, relax," Jaebeom's calm voice cuts her panic. "It's nothing, don't worry."

"Don't worry?!" she repeats in anger. "How can I not worry?! You're-- Oh god, you could have been with the person you like right now, if not for this--" she gestures the space between them, "thing between us!" She buries her face into her hands, mumbling to herself, "What have I done..."

Jaebeom crouches before her, hands closing around her wrists delicately to pull them away from her face. He brushes her cheek with a knuckle, smiling softly. "It's fine, really. It's no big deal."

"How are you so calm about this?"

"It's because I don't regret anything."

"You don't regret anything?" she echoes his words. "Not even this marriage agreement between us?"

Jaebeom's smile falls just a little. There's a certain warmth in his gaze, a gentle expression on his face. It's one that she has never seen before. Well, not directed to her at the very least. "I don't."

"Why?"

"Because," he starts slowly, "you have been a great partner so far. I don't have any complaints about you."

She frowns, feeling that something is amiss. "There's something you're not telling me."

Jaebeom blinks. Then his shoulders slump. He settles on the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of her.

"You're right. There is something I haven't told you," he admits. He lets out a sigh. "But how can I, when I might risk losing everything I have?"

"What's going on--"

Jaebeom looks at her dead in the eye.

"I like you," he confesses.

She draws a deep breath.

"I don't know when it began. But after the wedding, after a few months into this marriage arrangement, I guess I developed a soft spot for you. Which gradually became real feelings. Perhaps the feelings have always been there, I don't know, but I only realized it through this marriage."

"I--" she gapes her mouth like a fish. "I thought you-- I thought you like someone else!"

Jaebeom shakes his head. "I don't. I like you."

She gasps.

"I--" Jaebeom reaches forward but she immediately rises, backing away. The man looks hurt but she can't wrap her mind around this new revelation.

"I'm sorry I need time to process this," she says hastily before striding out of his room.

---

v.

Jaebeom seems to understand her position, so he minimizes any interaction or encounter between them. After all, she's still a little confused. It's not easy to accept the fact that Jaebeom has fallen for her when all they've ever been was close friends. Sure, she may have liked the chivalrous way Jaebeom treated her, but she doesn't think it's any indicator that she may harbour the same feelings toward her.

Anyway, Jaebeom doesn't been home for days. She doesn't even know how he's been. Is he eating alright? Is he stressed? Is he okay? She knows it's her fault -- it was her reaction to his confession that made them like this. Still, she can't help the uneasiness in her heart when Jaebeom disappears for days.

So when the man comes home in the wee hours of the night, she feels her heart pound. He looks so tired, so ragged, like a homeless person. He looks like his life got sucked out of his body.

"Jaebeom--" she calls softly.

He slowly turns, his eyes are heavy, dark circles and eye bags underneath. "Did I wake you? Sorry about that... Well, good night." He drags himself into his room and the door clicks shut.

She stands alone in the doorway of her own room. He looks horrible... She wonders if she could cheer him up. She realizes she actually misses his company. The way he would always be there for her at the end of a long day. The way he would listen to her attentively as she rants her heart out. When has she ever done the same for him? She reckons she has never.

With new determination, she pads over to his room silently, then sneaks in. Jaebeom is already fast asleep, not having changed out of his clothes. He's sprawled out on the bed, and she slowly makes her way to him. The bed dips under her weight, then she rests her head on his arm, snuggling close to him.

"Wha--?" he mumbles groggily, looking over at her.

She only shushes him, curling an arm around his waist as she joins him to sleep.

---

vi.

When she wakes, Jaebeom is still passed out. But his body is turned towards her, his breathing soft and slow. She's still got her head pillowed on his arm. Her eyes wander his face, from the two brows to the twin moles above his left eye, down to the two closed slits and to his round nose, until--

His lips, crafted perfectly like a cupid's bow. The soft pinkish color. She wonders what it feels like to kiss him.

Wait.

What?

K-kiss Jaebeom?

She jolts up, suddenly very awake. She glances back at Jaebeom and her eyes automatically lands on his lips again. Her heart pounds in her ears. Oh my god.

She stomps out, into the safe haven of her own room, her heart beating fast.

No way.

Does she actually like Jaebeom???

---

vii.

Things are still awkward between the two of them. She doesn't mention about the night she slept over at his room. Neither did Jaebeom. It's probably best to leave it for now. She wouldn't know how to face him when she's been having weird feelings since then.

Speaking of which, her mind is plagued with thoughts of Jaebeom and her newfound feelings. She has been trying to rationalize her emotions, but now, she wonders if she's in denial.

What's so bad about liking Jaebeom, anyway? she ponders. He has been a great husband. Hell, she hasn't felt this comfortable with any man before! Comparing to all the boys she has ever dated, she must admit that Jaebeom is the best among them. But wait, Jaebeom and her are not considered as dating, right? If Jaebeom is already this good, what more a real dating relationship? Or even better, a real marriage?

She blushes furiously, raising a hand to cover her face. At the same time, she accidentally knocks over a hot pot, letting out a yelp of pain. The first thing her body does is to put her hand under the running tap water. As she lets the burn cool, she looks over at the kitchen floor. The contents of the pot have spilled all over the tiled floor. She sighs. She shouldn't be this distracted while cooking.

The man who plagued her thoughts emerges from his room haphazardly, his face painted with worry. He glances over the floor before going back to her, especially on her hand.

"I'll grab the first aid kit," Jaebeom says. He comes back, calling her over with a hand held out for her to grab. He then leads her to the couch in the living room, sitting her down and opening the kit. He takes the seat next to her, their knees knocking.

Jaebeom helps to apply a burn cream onto her hand. She will never admit this, but his touch is more scalding than the heat of the pot. She flushes.

"What happened?" he asks gently as he rolls a bandage around her hand.

"I just--" She makes the mistake of looking up. She realizes how close they are. Jaebeom's face is just a few inches away. She can hear his soft breathing. She can even count his lashes. Embarrassed, she averts her eyes, mumbling, "I got distracted, that's all."

"You should be more careful," Jaebeom says, closing the kit and putting it away afterwards. "Just rest, okay? I'll clean the kitchen. We can just order in today."

She nods. Jaebeom heads to the kitchen and starts to clear the spill on the floor. She watches as he picks the soggy vegetables and dispose it into the bin. She slumps in her seat. All she wanted was to cook a simple soup for dinner. Now, Jaebeom who is busy has to clean the mess she made. She feels sorry.

So she turns on her phone and places an order on Jaebeom's favorite from his favorite restaurant.

---

viii.

After coming to terms with her own self, she decides that it's time for them to settle this awkwardness between them.

She knocks onto Jaebeom's door and the man lets her in. He looks a little worried, a little uncertain about what's happening.

"It's about us," she begins once she settled comfortably on his bed.

"Oh," he lets out.

"Look, I-- Um--" she stutters. She breathes out then starts again, "When you confessed to me, I just... I didn't know what to make sense of it. So I'm sorry with how I behaved afterwards. I just didn't know how to deal with it."

"It's fine, I understand," Jaebeom says softly.

"But I just can't stop thinking about it," she adds.

Jaebeom leans forward now, quick to assure her. "Hey, look... If you're uncomfortable living with me, I can move out. We can just sign the divorce papers. It's not a big deal."

She shakes her head. "It is a big deal--! I just--"

The man smiles weakly. "You don't have to force yourself to live with me. I'm not hurt if you don't return my feelings. I understand really. I have made you uncomfortable--"

"No, Jaebeom!!" she nearly shrieks. "What I mean to say is-- I think I-- I think I like you too..." Heat rises in her cheeks and she knows without doubt that her face is as red as a tomato.

Jaebeom stares blankly at her, stupefied.

"I've been thinking a lot about it," she continues. "Back then, I thought... It isn't a bad idea to marry you. But now..." Embarrassed, she's staring at her lap, afraid to look at Jaebeom's face. "I want you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you," she confesses.

Jaebeom moves forward, kneeling on the floor, a hand gently cupping her left cheek.

"Do you really mean that?"

She nods, blushing.

Jaebeom smiles, his eyes forming crescents. "Spending my life with you, I'd love that."

She looks at him, face gleaming with happiness. Her eyes accidentally look down to his lips and she turns redder. She looks away quickly, abashed.

Jaebeom must have noticed this as he follows her face, peering at her. His hand is still pressed against her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" he asks softly.

She gulps. What does it feel like? her mind wonders. She tilts her chin up, a silent agreement. She watches as Jaebeom moves closer and shuts her eyes when he's just a breath away. Their lips gently brush against each other, and it already feels otherworldly. The moment their lips connect... God, it feels so good. She feels how plump and soft his lips are. And god, the way he rolls his lips against hers... It's electric.

She swears that is the best kiss she has ever had. Reluctantly, they pull apart for air, both their chests heaving. Jaebeom doesn't move away though, he presses their foreheads together. Her eyes feel heavy as she opens them. Jaebeom is already staring back, as if he couldn't believe that they kissed.

"Is this real?" he whispers.

"Yes, it is," she answers before lunging forward. Jaebeom topples backwards, his head hitting the floor with a thud. She worries, but the man laughs it off, giddy with happiness, so she can't help but smile along. She leans down, pressing a quick kiss onto his lips. Jaebeom stares up at her fondly, tucking her hair behind her ear. That hand cups her neck, and he directs her for another kiss. His other arm tightens around her waist, pinning her close. They kiss like teenagers, when chemicals are high.

[welllpthisishappening]

Welllp These Are Books: the June 2021 Edition

I have read a lot of books this month. That should be stated upfront. Just an absolute metric ton of books. Some real good, some not-so good, some inadvertently hysterical. Also, I made that BINGO board. Because, like, you ever have a total crisis of writing-confidence and ignore that potential freakout and the tendency of your coworkers to miss deadlines by reading every free Amazon sports romance you can find? And several full YA series? In one month? No? My experiences are not universal, I understand. Anyway, there’s thoughts and opinions and spoilers under the cut. Everyone read the Once Upon a Con series, I’m begging you.

READ THIS SERIES! PLEASE! EVERY BOOK WAS SO CUTE! EVERYONE IN EVERY BOOK WAS SO CUTE! THE FANDOM STUFF DID NOT GIVE ME SECOND-HAND EMBARRASSMENT!

Geekerella by Ashley Poston Part romance, part love letter to nerd culture, and all totally adorbs, Geekerella is a fairy tale for anyone who believes in the magic of fandom. Geek girl Elle Wittimer lives and breathes Starfield, the classic sci-fi series she grew up watching with her late father. So when she sees a cosplay contest for a new Starfield movie, she has to enter. The prize? An invitation to the ExcelsiCon Cosplay Ball, and a meet-and-greet with the actor slated to play Federation Prince Carmindor in the reboot. With savings from her gig at the Magic Pumpkin food truck (and her dad’s old costume), Elle’s determined to win…unless her stepsisters get there first. Teen actor Darien Freeman used to live for cons—before he was famous. Now they’re nothing but autographs and awkward meet-and-greets. Playing Carmindor is all he’s ever wanted, but the Starfield fandom has written him off as just another dumb heartthrob. As ExcelsiCon draws near, Darien feels more and more like a fake—until he meets a girl who shows him otherwise. 

The Princess and the Fangirl by Ashley Poston Imogen Lovelace is an ordinary fangirl on an impossible mission: to save her favorite Starfield character, Princess Amara, from being killed off. On the other hand, the actress who plays Amara wouldn’t mind being axed. Jessica Stone doesn’t even like being part of the Starfield franchise—and she’s desperate to leave the intense scrutiny of fandom behind. Though Imogen and Jess have nothing in common, they do look strangely similar to one another—and a case of mistaken identity at ExcelsiCon sets off a chain of events that will change both of their lives. When the script for the Starfield sequel leaks, with all signs pointing to Jess, she and Imogen must trade places to find the person responsible. The deal: Imogen will play Jess at her signings and panels, and Jess will help Imogen’s best friend run their booth. But as these “princesses” race to find the script leaker—in each other’s shoes—they’re up against more than they bargained for. From the darker side of fandom to unexpected crushes, Imogen and Jess must find a way to rescue themselves from their own expectations...and redefine what it means to live happily ever after. 

Bookish and the Beast by Ashley Poston In this third book of the Once Upon a Con series, Rosie Thorne is feeling stuck—on her college application essays, in her small town, and on that mysterious General Sond cosplayer she met at ExcelsiCon. Most of all, she’s stuck in her grief over her mother’s death. Her only solace was her late mother’s library of rare Starfield novels, but even that disappeared when they sold it to pay off hospital bills. On the other hand, Vance Reigns has been Hollywood royalty for as long as he can remember—with all the privilege and scrutiny that entails. When a tabloid scandal catches up to him, he’s forced to hide out somewhere the paparazzi would never expect to find him: Small Town USA. At least there’s a library in the house. Too bad he doesn’t read. When Vance’s and Rosie’s paths collide, sparks do not fly. But as they begrudgingly get to know each other, their careful masks come off—and they may just find that there’s more risk in shutting each other out than in opening their hearts.

— I cannot possibly overstate what an absolute delight this series was. Cute and sweet and adorable. Like rot your teeth sweet with romances that my high-school self would have swooned over. (I would have been so in love with Darien Freeman as a 16 year old, it’s not even funny. Also, I would have been obsessed with Starfield.) Let’s be honest, my current self swooned quite a lot. Reading these books genuinely felt like a love letter to fandom. To the good and bad and trashy parts of it, and it made my heart swell thinking about these fictional kids and the community they found and how much they learned and then they FELL IN LOVE and, like, not to sound like an after-school special, but: THE REP IN THESE BOOKS?!?? HOLY S H I T. So good. So goddamn good. And not, like, shoved to the side. Like, Jess falls in love with a girl. And it gets its swoon-worthy moment as much as anyone else. Plus, bi-librarian dad who wears suspenders??? Sign. Me. Up. Twisting the fairy tales into the stories also worked really well in my opinion. Honestly my only gripe was that Darien found a cell phone number in the white pages, but, like, everything else was a joy. Please read these books. I promise they will make you smile.

IN WHICH I CAN NEVER TURN DOWN A BEAUTY AND THE BEAST ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge Betrothed to the evil ruler of her kingdom, Nyx has always known that her fate was to marry him, kill him, and free her people from his tyranny. But on her seventeenth birthday when she moves into his castle high on the kingdom's mountaintop, nothing is what she expected—particularly her charming and beguiling new husband. Nyx knows she must save her homeland at all costs, yet she can't resist the pull of her sworn enemy—who's gotten in her way by stealing her heart.

— Yo. YO. Everyone in this book was horrible! And it was wonderful! I figured out the twist approximately point two seconds after the potential for a twist was possibly introduced and it did not diminish my enjoyment of this book for one second. I am such a sucker for any Beauty and the Beast AU, but this was way different than anything I’d read before and Nyx was a blood-thirsty terror and I loved her. The magic and the world building was fascinating in that I really did not expect Greek gods and goddess, but it was also a welcome turn in a weird, huh, that’s interesting sort of way. And the banter was a-plus, top tier. Even when they were snarking at each other. Especially when they were snarking at each other. (Still a pretty quick turn from enemies to lovers, but I’m willing to overlook that based almost solely on the snark.) Plus, the castle was fascinating. And there were more twists aside from the main twist, none of which I figured out. All of which I gasped over. The end was like—chef’s kiss, fantastic. I would like a novel-length sequel to tell me how everything worked out.

...BUT THE LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD ONE WASN’T AS GOOD

Crimson Bound by Rosamund Hodge When Rachelle was fifteen she was good—apprenticed to her aunt and in training to protect her village from dark magic. But she was also reckless—straying from the forest path in search of a way to free her world from the threat of eternal darkness. After an illicit meeting goes dreadfully wrong, Rachelle is forced to make a terrible choice that binds her to the very evil she had hoped to defeat.Three years later, Rachelle has given her life to serving the realm, fighting deadly creatures in a vain effort to atone. When the king orders her to guard his son Armand—the man she hates most—Rachelle forces Armand to help her hunt for the legendary sword that might save their world. Together, they navigate the opulent world of the courtly elite, where beauty and power reign and no one can be trusted. And as the two become unexpected allies, they discover far-reaching conspiracies, hidden magic . . . and a love that may be their undoing. Within a palace built on unbelievable wealth and dangerous secrets, can Rachelle discover the truth and stop the fall of endless night?

— As much as I loved Cruel Beauty, I was like ehhhh on this one. Which is part Little Red Riding Hood (although that seems like a stretch, honestly) and part The Girl With No Hands, which is a fairy tale I have literally never heard of before. Rachelle was just—sorta whiny? Which, y’know, she was cursed and had fucked up her entire life, so fair, but also...annoying. I kept reading mostly to try and understand what the FUCK was going on with the magic. I like to consider myself a relatively intelligent person who can understand most YA novels, but this one was tough to keep track of. Like, sure, the imagery of the Dark Forest was cool, but also what is a Gladspring? I’m still not sure I know. Also, this kind of dragged in some places. Lots of patrolling the palace (whining about life) and not enough magic-fighting or establishing any sort of relationship between Rachelle and Armand. Which just sort of happened? Amidst, approximately, twenty-four different twists that were admittedly cool, but also felt like they came out of nowhere. Everything that happened in Cruel Beauty made sense. Most of what happened here felt like it was shoehorned in for shock value.

YOU WANT MORAL AMBIGUITY? BOY HAVE I GOT MORAL AMBIGUITY FOR YOU. IN GODDAMN SPADES.

The Firebird Series by Claudia Gray Marguerite Caine's physicist parents are known for their groundbreaking achievements. Their most astonishing invention, called the Firebird, allows users to jump into multiple universes—and promises to revolutionize science forever. But then Marguerite's father is murdered, and the killer—her parent's handsome, enigmatic assistant Paul— escapes into another dimension before the law can touch him.Marguerite refuses to let the man who destroyed her family go free. So she races after Paul through different universes, always leaping into another version of herself. But she also meets alternate versions of the people she knows—including Paul, whose life entangles with hers in increasingly familiar ways. Before long she begins to question Paul's guilt—as well as her own heart. And soon she discovers the truth behind her father's death is far more sinister than she expected.

— Guys. GUYS. These books, oh my G O D. Little known fact about me, but I am trash for cross-dimensional soulmates. The concept of “we’ll find each other anywhere” is one of my favorites, so I was so psyched about these books. And for awhile that’s what I thought I was going to get out of them. But. BUT! What I actually got was something, not totally different, but not entirely great, either. The problem here was that when anyone used one of the Firebird devices to jump dimensions they TOOK OVER THE BODY THEY JUMPED INTO. So, like, that consciousness got shoved to the side while whatever prime!person just took over. Living that body’s life. In a different dimension. And that’s kinda fucked up, right??? Brings in all sorts of questions about consent and morality and let me tell you, guys, this YA series DID NOT ADDRESS A SINGLE ONE OF THEM. Which is also super fucked up!! So, like, Marguerite is just bouncing around dimensions taking over people’s bodies and lives and leaving this, frankly, trail of destruction in her wake. And as if that wasn’t enough!!! In the second book Paul’s soul gets, like, split and she’s got to round up the pieces through dimensions, meeting all sorts of Pauls who are occasionally kind of shit people and he eventually just, like, CANNOT COPE. Seriously, I could not stop reading these. Partially for the moral ambiguity. Partially because I could not figure out why Paul loved Marguerite. Also, capitalism was the ultimate villain. AS IT SHOULD BE, REALLY.

CREEPY FAE WERE KIND OF CREEPY AND THAT’S NOT BAD, BUT LIKE MAYBE THIS WASN’T A GOOD BOOK?

An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson Isobel is an artistic prodigy with a dangerous set of clients: the sinister fair folk, immortal creatures who cannot bake bread or put a pen to paper without crumbling to dust. They crave human Craft with a terrible thirst, and Isobel’s paintings are highly prized. But when she receives her first royal patron—Rook, the autumn prince—she makes a terrible mistake. She paints mortal sorrow in his eyes—a weakness that could cost him his life. Furious, Rook spirits her away to his kingdom to stand trial for her crime. But something is seriously wrong in his world, and they are attacked from every side. With Isobel and Rook depending on each other for survival, their alliance blossoms into trust, then love—and that love violates the fair folks’ ruthless laws. Now both of their lives are forfeit, unless Isobel can use her skill as an artist to fight the fairy courts. Because secretly, her Craft represents a threat the fair folk have never faced in all the millennia of their unchanging lives: for the first time, her portraits have the power to make them feel.

— I’ve seen this book mentioned a lot. As good. And it wasn’t not good, but Isobel was pretty goddamn annoying and kind of dumb and a little self-important and I was mostly here for the creepy fae. That was fun. More fae should have antlers and stuff. Everything in this story happened ridiculously fast. I couldn’t believe it was over when it was over.

THE PROSE WAS VERY PRETTY. I’M NOT SURE WHY THE DRAGON HAD TO BE SUCH A MONUMENTAL DICK.

Uprooted  by Naomi Novik Agnieszka loves her valley home, her quiet village, the forests and the bright shining river. But the corrupted Wood stands on the border, full of malevolent power, and its shadow lies over her life. Her people rely on the cold, driven wizard known only as the Dragon to keep its powers at bay. But he demands a terrible price for his help: one young woman handed over to serve him for ten years, a fate almost as terrible as falling to the Wood. The next choosing is fast approaching, and Agnieszka is afraid. She knows—everyone knows—that the Dragon will take Kasia: beautiful, graceful, brave Kasia, all the things Agnieszka isn’t, and her dearest friend in the world. And there is no way to save her. But Agnieszka fears the wrong things. For when the Dragon comes, it is not Kasia he will choose.

— Let me just say first off, that this should have been two books. Everything happened so quickly, I swear I got whiplash. That being said, as a heroine, I liked Agnieszka a lot. She was understandably freaked by everything that happened, but once she kind of settled, she didn’t take The Dragon’s shit and that was good because The Dragon was kind of shitty. This is why it should have been two books. Because everything The Dragon did felt like it needed some kind of explanation. Or at least some sort of reasoning for why he was such a monumental bastard. Which is why I was a little confused that Agnieszka was in love with him? He was such a dick, honestly. The last third or so of this book was the best because Novik really does know how to write action and the magic itself was pretty fascinating. (I wish it went into more depth, but I think I’m spoiled by fic and that’s not actually how the publishing world works.) Kasia might have been the most interesting person in this story. Girl went through it and just became a total badass. I loved her.

MARAUDER FEELINGS! MARAUDER FEELINGS! SO! MANY! MARAUDER! FEELINGS!

The Raven King by Maggie Stiefvater All her life, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love's death. She doesn't believe in true love and never thought this would be a problem, but as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she's not so sure anymore.

— RICHARD GANSEY, MY BELOVED. What a dweeb. A self-sacrificing, sorta sad dweeb. When he wrapped his jacket around Blue, my heart exploded. I think I spent the last fifteen or so chapters with disconcertingly wide eyes and possibly my hand over my mouth. Still not entirely sure why a Welsh king was in Virginia, but I loved it. Was real glad he was there. As promised by that one book rec list I read months ago, the Marauders vibes of these books were off the charts. It was a weird story with lots of weird things and I hope Mr. Grey gets to be happy one day and that Ronan and Adam make out some more eventually. I think they’ll both feel a lot better if they do. Like, about the world as a whole. Has anyone read the Ronan spinoff series? Should I read the Ronan spinoff series?

OK, THIS WASN’T THAT BAD, ACTUALLY

To Love Jason Thorn by Ella Maise Jason Thorn... My brother's childhood friend. Oh, how stupidly in love with that boy I was. He was the first boy that made me blush, my first official crush. Sounds beautiful so far, right? That excitement that bubbles up inside you, those famous butterflies you feel for the very first time--he was the reason for them all. But, you only get to live in that fairytale world until they crush your hopes and dreams and then stomp on your heart for good measure. And boy did he crush my little heart into pieces. After the stomping part he became the boy I did my best to stay away from--and let me tell you, it was pretty hard to do when he slept in the room right across from mine. When tragedy struck his family and they moved away, I was ready to forget he ever existed. Now he is a movie star, the one who makes women of all ages go into a screaming frenzy, the one who makes everyone swoon with that dimpled smile of his. Do you think that's dreamy? I certainly don't think so. How about me coming face to face with him? Nope still not dreamy. Not when I can't even manage to look him in the eye. Me? I'm Olive, a new writer. Actually, I'm THE writer of the book that inspired the movie he is about to star in on the big screen. As of late, I am also referred to as the oh-so-very-lucky girl who is about to become the wife of Jason Thorn. Maybe you're thinking yet again that this is all so dreamy? Nope, nothing dreamy going on here. Not even close.

— Ignoring the fact that this was almost blatant self-insert, this was a mostly good, occasionally trashy book with brother’s best friend and the one who got away tropes. Which, as we know, are my life’s blood. (Plus, surprise, fake marriage that isn’t really fake?!? Ok. OK!) My only eeek moment was when Olive got super drunk and wanted Jason to like—consummate the marriage and he was like, No Olive, you’re drunk. And then they ended up doing everything except having full-on sex, which felt a little creep and a lot sketch and then it was never mentioned again. Also, Olive needs to find some better friends, God.

EMERSON COD VOICE: HE’S STAAAAAALKING YOU

Marriage For One by Ella Maise Jack and I, we did everything backward. The day he lured me into his office-which was also the first day we met-he proposed. You'd think a guy who looked like him-a bit cold maybe, but still striking and very unattainable-would only ask the love of his life to marry him, right? You'd think he must be madly in love. Nope. It was me he asked. A complete stranger who had never even heard of him. A stranger who had been dumped by her fiancé only weeks before. You'd think I'd laugh in his face, call him insane-and a few other names-then walk away as quickly as possible. Well…I did all those things except the walking away part. It took him only minutes to talk me into a business deal…erm, I mean marriage, and only days for us to officially tie the knot. Happiest day of my life. Magical. Pop the champagne… Not. It was the worst day. Jack Hawthorne was nothing like what I'd imagined for myself. I blamed him for my lapse in judgment. I blamed his eyes, the ocean blue eyes that looked straight into mine unapologetically, and that frown on his face I had no idea I would become so fascinated with in time. It wasn't long after he said I was the biggest mistake of his life that things started to change. No, he still didn't talk much, but anyone can string a few words together. His actions spoke the loudest to me. And day after day my heart started to get a mind of its own.

— Ok, ok, ok, so I enjoyed the Jason Thorn book, right? Was, like, how bad could this other book be? And it wasn’t bad, but it was patently ridiculous. Let me explain what happened. Not entirely sorry for the spoilers. Jack the lawyer sees that Rose is only going to get the space for her coffee shop from her uncle’s will if she marries someone. She WAS engaged, but the guy split. For reasons no one can understand, especially Rose. She’s sad. She’s spent so much money on espresso machines! Enter Jack the lawyer who one random afternoon is like: HEY ROSE, YOU’RE MOSTLY A STRANGER, BUT I ALSO NEED TO GET MARRIED FOR REASONS I’LL ONLY SORTA EXPLAIN, LETS DO THAT. So they do???? And Jack the lawyer continues to be kinda weird and a little shady, but Rose has got the coffee shop and things are going well. Until! She’s got a leaky brain!!! That’s not a joke. Not a typo. Out of goddamn LEFT FIELD, Rose has got some horrible medical condition, so thank God she got married because Jack the lawyer’s got great health insurance. (this is ROMANTIC) and she’s got to have an operation and he stays with her and sleeps in the hospital chair and her coffee shop is somehow still going strong??? On Madison Avenue??? What sit-down coffee shop on Madison Avenue do you guys know that would succeed? None because it’s not downtown. I digress. Anyway, Rose makes a miraculous recovery, she and Jack the lawyer are now almost in love? At least having a shit ton of sex. They’re mostly happily married. Until, part two! The ex-fiance shows up and is like JACK THE LAWYER PAID ME TO BREAK UP WITH YOU. To which Rose is understandably flabbergasted. She confronts Jack the lawyer who fesses that he’s been seriously crushing on her since they met at her uncle’s Christmas party. She doesn’t remember this. He does. BECAUSE HE’S A STALKER. So, he knew about the will stipulation with marriage BACK THEN, which is why he used FIRM RESOURCES to investigate the ex-fiance and found out he was a con man, using Rose with plans to basically steal all her money. This infuriated Jack the lawyer because he thought Rose deserved better and then proceeded to basically con her himself, just in a different way. With marriage! He told her he needed to get married to show he was a family man to make partner. THAT WAS A LIE. He didn’t need it at all. He just—wanted to marry her??? To help her??? What a psycho. She leaves. He continues to lurk outside the coffee shop. They make up. No one mentions the stalking. The end.

I KEEP GIVING HELENA SECOND CHANCES AND SHE KEEPS...NOT DESERVING THEM

All In Series by Helena Hunting Sometimes I need an escape from the demands, the puck bunnies, and the notoriety that come with being an NHL team captain. I just want to be a normal guy for a few weeks. So when I leave Chicago for some peace and quiet, the last thing I expect is for a gorgeous woman to literally fall into my lap on a flight to Alaska. Even better, she has absolutely no idea who I am.Lainey is the perfect escape from my life. My plan for seclusion becomes a monthlong sex fest punctuated with domestic bliss. But it ends just as abruptly as it began. When I’m called away on a family emergency, I realize too late that I have no way to contact Lainey.A year later, a chance encounter throws Lainey and me together again. But I still have a lie hanging over my head, and Lainey’s keeping secrets of her own. With more than lust at stake, the truth may be our game changer.

— Last year I read a hockey romance by Helena Hunting that was very cute and traditionally published and she’s got a bunch more free Amazon books that, for some reason, I keep downloading and reading and they continue to be absolutely ridiculous. That first one was a not-so-secret accidental pregnancy (as previously discussed ONE TIME without a condom mention and bam pregnant) but the second one with Rook’s sister was actually pretty cute. I’m not sure why they all called him Rook. Almost all these series have at least one book with someone recovering from an injury and they inevitably fall in love with their physical therapist. So, that one was pretty ok. None of these, however, were quite as entertaining as (wait for it) QUEENIE AND KINGSTON. WHOSE FRIENDS AND TEAMMATES ALL CALL HIM KING. QUEENIE. AND. KING. Gag. I read it anyway. At least 99% of that decision was based solely on the fact that the story started just after King found out his sister was actually his mom. How am I supposed to stop reading THAT?!? I ask you. Highlights of Queenie and King’s romance included: him calling his mom/sister MOMSTER, Queenie being secretly married this whole time, WITHOUT KNOWING IT, his strawberry allergy that flared up because she’d had a strawberry milkshake and then GAVE HIM A BLOWJOB, her dad finding out they were dating because he was the GM of the team and saw that his starting goalie was having a MASSIVE allergic reaction, Queenie’s eventual ex-husband getting engaged to someone who previously tried to self-inseminate to trap Rook into a relationship (I am not making this up, I swear) and then when he found out that his fiancee’s kid wasn’t actually his, he got into a massive fight and earned a 20-game suspension. THAT’S A QUARTER OF AN NHL SEASON. Tom Wilson got fined five thousand dollars for practically killing Artemi Panarin on the ice! I did not read the last book in this series because it was MORE ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCY and because it was Queenie’s dad and King’s mom and that meant they’d share a sibling. Which is where I draw the line, guys.

THERE WERE SEVEN BOOKS IN THIS SERIES! EVERY SINGLE ONE HAD TO HAVE A SCENE WHERE THE DUDE UNDERSTOOD THAT PERIODS WERE A THING???? LIKE THAT WAS IMPRESSIVE SOMEHOW?!?!

Hot Jocks Series by Kendall Ryan I've never been so stupid in my entire life. My teammate's incredibly sweet and gorgeous younger sister should have been off-limits, but my hockey stick didn't get that memo. After our team won the championship, and plenty of alcohol, our flirting turned physical and I took her to bed. Shame sent her running the next morning from our catastrophic mistake. She thinks I don't remember that night—but every detail is burned into my brain so deeply, I’ll never forget. The feel of her in my arms, the soft whimpers of pleasure I coaxed from her perfect lips…And now I’ve spent three months trying to get her out of my head. Which has been futile, because I’m starting to understand she’s the only girl I’ll ever want. I have one shot to show her I can be exactly what she needs, but Elise won’t be easily convinced. That’s okay, because I’m good under pressure, and this time, I’m playing for keeps.

—I read all of these. All. Of. Them. They were exceptionally quick reads. Every single one had a copious amount of sex in it and a very weird, apparently required scene, where the dude had to be like I’M NOT SQUICKED OUT BY PERIODS AM I NOT THE ULTIMATE EXAMPLE OF MASCULINITY?? My favorite one was Grant and Ana’s, though, because it was so goddamn absurd I cannot believe someone wrote it. Basic gist was that Ana was dating someone on Grant’s team (he’s the captain, natch) but the guy was a dick and abusive and so one night Ana decides to leave, but she needs someone to help her and WHO DOES SHE TURN TO??? That’s right, reclusive captain Grant. Who’s spent the last few years watching his teammates marry-up and start families and he’s so jealous, but he can’t say anything because he’s a stoic MAN™. So he takes Ana and her dog (of course she’s got a dog) back to his super swanky bachelor pad and she just sort of...stays there? Video of the boyfriend accosting her at her job gets leaked and the boyfriend gets sent to the AHL which is not really how it would work, but fine. Naturally, Grant and Ana hook up. It’s emotional. Vaguely romantic. There’s no GODDAMN CONDOM. So, she gets pregnant. But, of course. Except! She doesn’t know if it’s dick boyfriend’s or Grant’s. Because he’s the male lead in a free sports romance on Amazon, Grant is the MOST understanding. He wants to help Ana. He would like to continue having sex with Ana. This is ready-made happily ever after. Only Ana’s like...eh?? She doesn’t want it to look like she bounced from one hockey player to the next, but also she sorta did and she kept telling Grant she just wanted to be friends, only to have sex, like, three chapters later. Then she just moved out! Just moved out. Seven months pregnant. Moving out. With her dog. Of course, this is a free sports romance on Amazon, so eventually she moved back in with Grant. Once she realized independence wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. And because he left practice to be there when she had the baby. Oh! And she got a DNA test after. To see whose kid it was. Grant ripped that ‘ish up. Just ripped it up. Which is cool, I guess. But, like, you didn’t want to double check? What if that kid has to go to the hospital? Did she put Grant’s name on the birth certificate? What are his parental rights?? Anyway, they’re all set to live HEA when....THE DICK BOYFRIEND DIES. Straight up. No explanation. Nothing. Just Grant tells Ana he’s dead, she’s like, oh wow that’s sad, they send some flowers to the funeral and that’s THAT. I assume this was to close any potential plot holes on the father of this baby, but it was hysterical and I cannot stop thinking about it. Strangely enough, the one where the couple made a secret sex tape in college and then got back together because it got released may have been the healthiest relationship in this series.

[whoslaurapalmer]

okay, final rule of wolves thoughts, clearly very spoilery, also literally just me talking about writing --

-there was a LOT going on plot wise but I feel like it was all paced pretty well, but at the end it did fall apart a little? mayu's pov just drops out?? (that's the book you should write next leighb not more crows as much as I love the crows but I'll get to that) zoya being queen is like phenomenal but also is really rushed?? same with nina and hanne?? they all become rulers completely unchallenged, without any difficulty?  -again, phenomenal moments and rightfully so and I'm glad they happen and they SHOULD, that difficulty shouldn’t always be there, nina calling it a beautiful dream but it being real matters so much, but it just doesn't feel.......narratively well done idk idk -i think it is just that it feels really rushed in some way  -like i don’t want them to have to work harder for that. but it IS really, really rushed 

-captain inej. my whole heart -kaz and jesper and wylan..........also my whole heart -kaz. my boy. the light of my fucking life.  -l o v e  h i m 

-i loved seeing zoya and genya and alina hang out at the very very end and wish there'd been moreeeeee

-ONCAT’S STILL ALIVE, THERE IS A GOD  -misha.......... :( 

-david's death -- on one hand, the cruel casualties of war, even when you think nothing can go wrong, the contrast in it happening right after the wedding, war and life can turn on a dime and that’s just, how it happens -- but, ugggg. It hurts bc there was so much of david and genya being precious and that shouldn't be the slap in the face it is when you read it again because then it's not sweet it's just foreshadowing loss and that's actually aggravating to think about. because we got so MUCH of it in rule of wolves. -especially bc david is THE ONLY casuality of the cast in this book????? literally the only one?????? unless i forgot someone????  -not that I WANTED more cast to die but. big casualties in alina's story and one (1) here. yes they've already lost a lot and zoya's garden shows that but, then especially why kill david 

-i don't know if I think the darkling gets redeemed -- I think it's a little funny that he brings together the starless one worshippers and he super hates them bc they aren't what he thinks he deserves and he can't completely manipulate them -- and I think him being resurrected in yuri in king of scars was a FASCINATING twist. because you read that and you think, oh my god, how are they going to handle that?????? 

-but, that's the thing, in writing -- it's not enough to write something that's a fascinating twist, you need to follow through with the right consequences of that twist. which means, you have the darkling again. what happens with him? he’s killed again -- but if immediately, why bring him back? if they wait to kill him, what is his worth to the plot that he lives longer? (and then he manages to manipulate them again!! as much as i wanted to see alina, i was really surprised that they actually, legitimately put them in the same room, that they even considered it, that they even asked alina!!! yes, nikolai will expend any avenue to help ravka -- but put alina and the darkling in the same room??????????) 

-he’s not killed again, or right away -- then he has to hang around. what does he do? does he try to regain his followers? he can’t because they aren’t who he wants. he has no one to go to. he doesn’t even go to alina again even if he knows where she is.  does he immediately plot against nikolai? but even the darkling admitted he can’t, but, since he did keep his powers, he’s clearly capable of it, actually. so then he’s just, trying to get the worshippers together and it just keeps going wrong for him like a sitcom plot? if he has to live -- is he redeemed? not every character can be redeemed. not every character DESERVES to be redeemed. does he hide and we never see him for the rest of the book? then that leaves an unresolved plot thread to be brought back later, and why? and then why not just kill him?  -then does he become a bigger plot problem for the characters that’s kind of unnecessary?

-so it brings me back to, again -- as fascinating a twist as it was, was it necessary? does the act of following through with the consequences come to outweigh the power of the twist, because those consequences cause more problems?  -and in general i think leighb is really good at working with ‘x happens -- there are consequences’ in her plots, so that’s why i’m so concerned about picking them apart 

-i’m sorry to make this like all about lulu talks about writing semantics but i respect leighb a lot as a writer particularly in her worldbuilding and characters which is why i want to think about this on a technical level  -so in the end -- is it a good twist??? or does it only harm or reduce the narrative that came before (he had to die and that was okay!!!!) and add an unnecessary additional plot problem to the narrative now??

-but -the darkling having to be the one in the thornwood, and finally stop the spread of the fold, what he himself was responsible for, that he deserves to finally suffer for because the darkling is a fuckwad and I hold like zero sympathy for him????? beautiful beautiful beautiful. (-but, again, it felt kind of too convenient, to have that be the answer to the blight.) (what should be the answer? i don’t know. it makes me wonder if the blight was something else unnecessary)  -but then genya forgiving him, for knowingly giving her to the king??? (not everyone has to be forgiven. not everyone can be forgiven.) zoya fulfilling his wish to be a saint???? which she did not have to do???? (guess it would appease the followers though??) giving him a pov???? like we need to know where he is, and it's funny that he's pissed off at the followers, but also maybe shouldn't be funny??? -oh what would've been fun (the good fun. not funny fun) was him wrestling with yuri more

-SPEAKING OF WRESTLING i know nikolai has to come to terms with the demon somehow and the failed obisbaya apparently helped but the demon was in the back quite a bit, I thought, even for as much as he shows up -maybe it’s just because it’s been like a year since i read king of scars 

-okay so the ending  -i know leighb said she wanted this to be like the grand finale of grishaverse but that she was still open to more and like i completely understand that but  -knowing when to end something is important, too. -every story has a natural conclusion. I think, yeah, there’s always, some piece that could probably still be talked about, BUT – you can’t just keep going back to a story or a world and try to draw more out of it, keep pushing something in it so you can push your characters and your story more and more. eventually it won’t feel the same. it won’t be a natural ending anymore, it will be, here is an end, OH LOOK HERE’S A NEW THING, here is an end, OH LOOK HERE’S ANOTHER NEW THING, and that’s already happening a little here. (-i don’t think it was bad that it happened with nikolai at the end of ruin and rising -- that’s leighb addressing the consequences of something that she set up, and why i think king of scars was necesary.) -stories end. character arcs, as we know them, come to an end. if not, then they are just mined for content, usually angst and drama, and that’s especially not good writing. you risk stopping creating something that feels genuine.  -so yeah i think king of scars was necessary to talk about the aftereffects of nikolai’s demon and where ravka is going. but i don’t know if i think it was successful.  -what bothered me about king of scars, even with the parts i did like, was actually nikolai and zoya meeting elizabeta and juris and grigori -i don’t know if i just thought it was unexpected and i’d feel differently if i read it again?? but i never forget reading it last year and feeling just, weird about it, like it was too out of left field, idk  -i think the connection between saints = grisha is important. but again it’s all just, execution stuff 

-i don’t think she should’ve set up a whole new adventure in the last like four pages, if it’s supposed to also have the ability to be a contained end to the story  -i don’t think it make sense to tease a new story!! i don’t think it’s needed!! i think it should have just had a plain happy ending with zoya taking the crown and being with nikolai!! i don’t think that’s bad!!!!  -i know the big thing is that, the downfall of grisha is the desire for power, and that’s what got alina (at least she got better. like the one time where ‘character lost powers’ is okay) and especially the darkling, but zoya has come really far in these two books in how she sees other people and working on relying on them as people she loves and i liked her chapters the best and they were what hit me the hardest, and i know it’s going to be a worry for her but i don’t think the idea of her becoming the darkling is something that should be given that weight  -ESPECIALLY IF IT WAS ONLY FOR FOUR PAGES 

-so yeah i think the logical next book would be a place leighb hasn’t explored, like with six of crows.  -there’s a lot to do with the shu and the kerghud that she could do and as much as i love kaz and think another heist would be cool, a heist has already been done and i think it would be a wasted opportunity to do that without doing something new in the grishaverse 

-it honestly really made me want to reread six of crows because i missed the crows a lot  -and i think it says a lot that so many people liked the chapters with kaz and jesper and wylan so much in rule of wolves -that was why i caved and bought rule of wolves right away!!! because i wanted to see the boy!!!!!! but i did also care about nikolai and zoya.  -personally i do think six of crows are the best books in grishaverse. i think they’re the most tightly plotted and have the best characters and are the most CONTAINED and the most compelling (even if i can’t always follow kaz’s implied background machinations) (i can’t always keep track of all the politics either!!) (not that big of a deal for me, though.)  -that duology is close to perfect. i think everything wraps up almost completely neatly (although i will, actually, be wondering now, about how death is handled in a narrative, re: matthias, because when i was reading them i thought, well, someone has to die in crooked kingdom, but, why? but anyway), and i love that the ending of it all is 1) characters continuing to change, and showing they will continue to change 2) inej reuniting with her parents aaaaaaa  (-worth noting though that the epilogue of ruin and rising is indeed one of my favorite things as well, too.)

-i did still enjoy rule of wolves, though!!! a lot of little moments i really really liked, and nikolai and zoya were beautiful and delightful and i love them too, and i do kind of want to reread king of scars and this one again to see if my opinion has changed when i read them closer together but -i also do really just want to reread six of crows, again. 

[we-are-colleagues]

Before V went to jail, where was she living? In an orphanage? My memory is bad so please excuse me if this has been obviously stated numerous times. She assumed her entire family was dead and if we are taking that article that people are retweeting seriously, those Russian rednecks really are her family. Why would she think they’re dead (pre season 3) if they aren’t and why would people make her think they were? Apparently V has some talk with her real mom and I assumed she was dead lol

I wouldn’t blame your memory, anon. References to her family are few and far between. Nothing has ever been obviously or clearly laid out on the show.

This is probably not what you were asking for but I’ve been thinking about this for a while and have gathered the few canon references to her family across the three seasons. So, we can break down what we know for sure, what we can guess and what we straight up have no clue about.

Some of it’s murky and contradictory, which I’m sure they’ll clear up in 3x05.

As early as 1x02 we get a reference to Villanelle’s mother. In the scene where she’s lying to Konstantin and the Twelve’s shrink about who the drawing is of.

Pretty obscure, a throwaway line. But it does tell us Villanelle knows what her mum looks like. She was in Villanelle’s life at least in her formative years, enough to recognise her.

The next time we find something substantial out about Villanelle’s past is when Eve identifies her as Oksana Astankova and unearths her prison record.

I did find a sample of the prison document online that included a bio that claims she was an orphan but it’s never shown on screen so I’m not really going to consider it evidence, not when I don't know if it's real info. The parts of the prison record shown in the show, however, gives us her fathers name: Anatolijevna. We shouldn’t take it to mean that this is her father’s name. Russian middle names (patronymics) are usually derived from their father’s first names, where female variations end in ovna or evna, and male variation end in ovich or evich. So, her father’s real name should be Anatolij. (idk if that’s common knowledge but it was sure news to me when I started writing this)

We find the most out about Villanelle’s past from Eve’s encounter with Anna in 1x07. Here is her speech about Villanelle: 

“We were told a new student was coming. History of violence. Antisocial behaviour. Her mother was dead. Her father was a drunk. She arrived at the school and ... everyone stepped back. Everyone. So I stepped forward. Extra time. Extra lessons. Extra love.”

It doesn’t definitively answer who Villanelle was living with then or where, but it does sound like she wasn’t in the care of her parents. And perhaps in the care of the state. At this point, she has already been in trouble with the law and is on some kind of radar for her psychopathy.

It’s also stated in 1x07 that the only reason Eve is motivated to chase down Anna is that she is the only link to Villanelle’s past because there is no record of V’s family on file.

So, Villanelle believes at least one of her parents is dead prior to being imprisoned and being freed by The Twelve.

In 2x08, we get confirmation from Villanelle that, to her knowledge, her whole family is dead. This is also the scene where Konstantin reveals that she’s wrong.

They don’t discuss it much further until S3.

My own conception of Villanelle’s family was always based on what Anna said, that her mother was dead and her dad was a drunk who had presumably died while Villanelle was in prison.  It certainly matches up closely with Villanelle’s back story in the books, though the texts are quite different, they are still the basis for the first season.  I thought the family Konstantin refers to would be less direct than her mother, a sibling maybe. But it seems like she does meet her mother in 3x05.

As for if they are her real family. Everything I’ve seen about it has referred to them as her real family. Them being fake might explains some of the discrepancies, but I can’t see Killing Eve dedicating a whole episode to a trick.

As for you question about why she would think they were dead if they aren’t. Sally Woodward Gentle an Executive Producer for KE discussed this a little bit in an interview (x) ‘This is something that everybody has lied to her about. So ever since she got picked up to be trained as an assassin, one of the ways to control her was to say, “There is no option for you. There’s nobody there for you. They probably didn’t love you in the first place. By the way, they’re all dead.” It’s twofold. To realize that you've been manipulated is a very powerful thing for somebody like Villanelle, who wants to be in control and feel that she is where all the power lies. That's one thing that has really driven her. And then to try to find out why, if people are still alive, nobody came to try to find you is a big thing. Again, that would impact on her ego. And she’s spent quite a long time trying to think about who she is, so to be faced with your family and to try to analyze where you came from or how self-determining you are is going to be fascinating for a character like Villanelle, who’s really quite analytical, but at the same time, at the moment, quite emotionally volatile.’

Her comments kind of imply, the canon we know, is a lie constructed by The Twelve. It’s also likely Villanelle’s family think she’s dead too. She’s meant to have died in prison.

This is where I start to dip into theory territory, cause there is one big hole I can see if Villanelle is told this lie purely to control her when she becomes an assassin for The Twelve. Then why does she believe her mother is dead when she meets Anna? Why is that the official state record? Why can’t Eve find anything on her parents either?

The only thing I can think to explain this is that The Twelve’s influence in Villanelle’s life stretches beyond her knowledge. That they were involved before they broke her out of prison. That they were grooming her throughout her life. It would explain why they have such a special interest in her as an assassin. And it would certainly send Villanelle off the edge to realise how little control she truly has over her life and for how long that’s gone on.

But hey that’s my take. There is a bunch of guesswork in there. and I’m probably missing stuff.

So, that’s what we know. What the Executive producer has said and what I think might be the reason for some of it. I guess we’ll know soon.

Thanks for the very interesting ask, anon. Hope you don’t mind that I went a little overboard with the answer xx

[queenlifesupport]

Like It’s Yours (Ben x Joe x Y/N) #1

A/N : This is sorta inspired by @freddiesmercvry (Truth or Dare) and low-key from 50 Shades of Grey... Also please leave suggestions for scenes or some smutty situations!! (this might have typos, also im so tired while writing this so it might be SHIT)

WARNINGS : SEX, Language, Unprotected Sex, Kinkiness. WORDS : 3,019

I haven't been out of my small apartment in days, I had work piled on my desk like theres no tomorrow, my job was absolutely pushing me to the edge and I needed a break before I fell. I used the strong liquor in my hand to pump myself with confidence in order to move onto the dance floor, I wasn't much of a drinker but tonight called for it. It was hard to make out what song was playing due to the overdramatized bass that throbbed through my eardrums, but whatever it was, people still let loose of their problems and personal lifestyle. 

I attempted to stand while the drink flew through my system, accomplishing balance on my six inch heels. The confidence finally brought me to the large gathering I've been eyeing all night. I entered the crowd, feeling like I'm lost in a humid corn-maze, being bumped into by random strangers that were also tipsy, some more than others. Finding the middle of the crowd, it was my time to let loose. During the midst of my drunken swaying, my eyes fluttered open to view those around me, gaze following the eyes a man a few feet away. He looked lascivious as he mirrored my moves. His blonde hair was slightly swept to the side, he wore an all black suit that tailored him quite nicely, you could tell he was fit. I held his stare intensely, not daring to make a move in his direction for I did not want to lose the challenging match so easily. He seemed to not budge easily either, I debated in my mind to either approach or signal him over. His glare made my stomach slightly weak, out of reflex I looked away, I knew I couldn't approach him on my own. I continued to dance, deciding to slow it down, adding more sensualness to the way I moved. I needed to draw him in and this was the only way I knew how. Although our beaming was cut off from my shyness, I could feel his eyes still exploring every inch of my body. My feet began to ache, I had a inclination that connections would not ascend further, I'd rather sit down instead of waste my time. I looked up one last time, giving the stranger a smile before strutting off to the lounging area. I felt overheated from the moving along from the warmth emanating off others, once getting away from the swarm I accompanied myself on the white pleather. I sighed at the cool air being pushed over me from the air conditioning overhead, I wondered why there wasn't air conditioning above the dance floor. It was getting late according to the time on my phone screen, I should head home soon so I can attempt to demolish my workload tomorrow.

"Hello." My thoughts were interrupted by a harsh British accent, I took a gander at the wellspring of the voice and to my surprise it was him, the one from the herd in the dancing mass. My eyebrows lifted ever so lightly, I didn't think he'd follow.

"Oh - hi." I could only manage a short response. He lightly chuckled before asking me if he could accompany me on the cushion, I accepted. He smelled of Versace cologne, the hint of green apple, mint, and lemon, it was exhilarating on its own.

"Crowded night, I suppose." His voice was as mesmerizing as his scent.

"Indeed. I've never been here, thought I'd give the nightlife a try."

"I agree, I usually come here to meet interesting people, and as of now, I've accomplished my goal."

"You don't even know my name." I laughed now.

"Good point, I'm sure it's as interesting as you seem. Now humor me." From then on, we talked about all sorts of aspects of our lives; work, friendships, hobbies, and even romantic relationships. I learned his name is Ben, he lives with his best friend Joe, he's an actor, and he plays football (soccer) in his pastime. Once I looked down again at my phone, it allowed us to see we've talked for about 2 and a half hours straight. Time did fly when you're having fun.

"I should probably get home." My smile faded at the thought of ending our night, he frowned slightly too. I opened iMessage to text my friend, earlier she agreed to drive me home since I would be drinking and I've always been her designated driver in the past. "I just have to wait for my ride, in the meantime I can get your number?" 

"Sounds lovely." He recited his number to me as I quickly pounded it in, setting his contact as 'Ben'. 

"We should get together sometime soon, maybe coffee tomorrow?" A ding from my phone alerted me of a notification. "Fuck - she can't pick me up."

"What's going on?"

"Her tail-light is busted, she doesn't want to get pulled over while driving around." I sighed frustratingly. My apartment was about a 45 minute walk from here and I wasn't in the mood to walk in heels.

"I can order you an Uber."

"No no - You don't have to pay for me. I can order one."

"Why don't you come over for the night? It's just 10 minutes away." He seemed serious about his statement. I couldn't tell if it was a legitimate invitation. Would I really go home with him? I wasn't that type of person, meet them then immediately jump to the next thing. "Well, are you down?"

"Sure, I don't see the harm in that." I didn't even give a second thought to my answer. 

The industrial-loft like apartment was dark and smelled of cedar wood, it gave a very expensive vibe yet homey at the same time. I hung my purse and coat up on the welcoming racks and followed Ben further into the flat, as we ventured through he flicked every light switch allowing the place to illuminate under the warm lights. We entered the kitchen, presently taking a seat at the island as he sought what appeared to be a wine rack.

"Care for a drink? We have Dom Perignon, Caymus, whatever you desire." I desire him. 

"I don't speak rich, surprise me." He gave my comment a delightful snicker. My love life was very exhausting, I was constantly focused on my profession. I never discovered many fascinating folks, however he was something different. He was adorable, smart, kind, and as a plus, rich.

"For the lady, Beau Joie." He held two beautiful champagne flutes, each held a fizzing liquid. I accepted the cup between my fingers and took a drink at the same time as him. I've just heard of this stuff in romance books and films, yet I was at that point of truly liking him in one night. I felt my cheeks heat up with a pink as he sent me little wink while his lips pursed around the glass rim. "Have I let you know that you're the beautifulest amongst all the women I've ever seen?" I couldn't help but roll my eyes playfully, biting my lip at his compliment.

"You haven't seen many women I assume?" My eyebrow raised at him as I yet again took a sip of the champagne that tasted like citrus and apple as it hit my many tastebuds. 

"I've seen my fair share, and I can tell you what I said was a fact. Don't believe me if you want, but I can prove it if needed." I gulped at the possibilities he could be suggesting.

"And what are you implying, Mr. Hardy?" I scooted to the edge of my seat, leaning in closer to him. He did the same, only a few inches from my lips.

"Why don't you kiss me and find out?" His voice was deep, pushing me over the edge, I couldn't deal with him. I went forward, crashing my lips with his soft ones, sharing the alcoholic tase between the sensual moment. I didn't mind the taste. I felt his strong grip move to my thigh as we continued to synchronize our lips, soon feeling his tongue graze my bottom lip in anticipation to enter. I allowed it. We pulled apart after a few moments of heavy interaction, we both sat there out of breath. 

"Take off your blazer." My request was forward and I demanded I got what I asked for. He slipped it off without question, grabbing onto the bottom hem of his under shirt, giving me a questioning look before I nodded, then he took that off too. I was correct before, he was fit, my fingers ran down his abs, drawing an imaginary sloppy line from his V-line to his biceps, clutching a hand around his upper arm to feel the hard muscle. 

"Maybe we should get you out of that pretty little dress of yours?" His whisper was dripping with lust, I had to clench my thighs harder. Everything he said drove me crazy, I was soaked at this point. 

"Who said you earned it?" 

"Who said you were the one in control here?" He made me melt, he was so dominant and I loved it. I surrendered, standing up, first unzipping it from the back as we held eye contact, then slipping down the dress sleeves, finally pulling it down to pool around my feet. He bit his lip at the sight of the black lace panties I wore underneath, the dress had enough support to wear it without a bra. In the cool air, my nipples were hard at the high amount of excitement I felt. "I think you might be missing something else." He slightly pointed at the thong I still wore. I slid my thumbs into the waistband, teasing him by stretching out the fabric but not pulling them down. As I continued, I could see him getting quite impatient in his seat. "Now." I finally slid them down at his command, feeling embarrassment at my exposure but replaced it with fake confidence. 

"What now?" I sweetly asked, swaying seductively as I walked myself directly in front of him. He harshly grabbed onto my hips, pulling me in to take my nipple between his teeth, harshly sucking and nipping. I moaned loudly, his sudden action sparked my body massively. "Fuck - Ben." My hand took a fistful of his blonde hair, tugging slightly. His suction pulled off as he took a moment to look up at me.

"Don't call me that." I looked down confused. "You can call me Sir." He then wrapped his lips along the other breast. His other hand found its way to between my thighs, rubbing my clit slowly. His fingers rolled perfectly. 

"Hmph - Sir, I need more please." He hummed against the soft skin in response, he continued. "Please, I need to be fucked." He withdrew his lips and hands from me, standing up to match my height, unbuttoning the suit pants then releasing himself from them. Once he was left in his boxers, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the counter on the other side of the island. Although there was a cup holding utensils, he used his arm to sweep them off the counter and to the floor, scattering everywhere. He once again grabbed onto my hips, ordering me to jump then also lifting me up to sit bare-ass on the counter, he re-adjusted his hand position, placed his hands on both my under thighs, lifted them up so that my pussy was at a better angle for him to enter while I leaned back and held myself up on my arms. He bit his lip as he gazed down at my glistening slit.

"You're so wet for me, princess. How bad do you want my dick in your tight little pussy?" I rolled my head back in anticipation. 

"So bad, Sir, please fuck me." He finally removed his last layer, revealing his hard and throbbing cock, I licked my lips at the sight of him completely nude in front of me. I moaned quietly as he teased me with his tip, it was this moment I was beyond thankful I was on birth control. I craved him cumming inside me. I made no remarks at his slow entrance, I knew thats what he wanted from me. Suddenly he thrusted in slowly, I moaned out, hearing him sigh as he slipped in. 

"You're so tight, babygirl. You feel so good around my cock." He continued a slowed pace, allowing me to adjust to his length and width. At first it felt slightly uncomfortable but was soon replaced with pure bliss.

"Sir, please go faster, " He slightly built up to a fast pace with my request. The sound of our moans and slapping skin filled the quiet apartment. His thrust grew faster and deeper, and I moaned even louder with every push. At this point I was a moaning mess, the pleasure took over from the waist down, the overflowing delight clouded my head. 

"Turn around, I want your ass facing me and your stomach against the counter." He slid out of me, causing me to whine in response. "Do it, now." I followed his order and managed to rotate myself on my tits, it was cold sending small goosebumps on the surface of my skin. "Such a lovely ass." As his words distracted me, his cock slipped back into my slit, hitting deeper than the last time. I cried out in pleasure, stretching my arms out attempting to reach for something. All of a sudden the sound of glass hitting the floor could be heard, I knocked the glass full of champagne off the counter.

"Fuck Ben, I'm sorry." I managed to get out between breaths as I used my hand to push behind me on his chest. All he did in response was grab my wrist and pin it behind my back.

"I don't care, don't think about it babygirl." He sped up once again, now grabbing a fistful of my hair. My legs started to weaken from all the pleasure, I couldn't control any sounds that left my mouth. I barely had a grip on my surroundings either. "Shit baby, I'm close." His teeth clenched together, grunting as he continued the pace.

"Cum in me Sir, fill me up." I attempted to push him over, and I succeeded. Feeling his warm cum release inside me. After a few sloppy thrusts, he pulled himself out. 

"Now it's time for you baby." He lowered his face to my cum dripping pussy, licking a strip from my clit to my opening, pressing his tongue into my slit. I groaned as his tongue thrusted in and out, it was significantly more exciting to me that he had quite recently came inside me and is currently licking it up. I didn't require substantially more attention to cum, I was already close when he was fucking me with his dick.

"Sir, I'm close." I moaned.

"Not yet baby." He muffled against my pussy. I rolled my eyes as I attempted to not cum. His tongue removed from me, now standing and inserting two fingers. Curling them with every moan, he harshly pulled up and down causing an intense amount of pleasure. I was bound to cum at this point. 

"Sir, p-please, let me" I couldn't finish the sentence without stuttering on my moans, "let me cum, please."

"Now, babygirl." And with his reaffirming words, I let myself release around his fingers, urging them with both our cum joined. "Face me." I pitifully pivoted, looking at his fingers he held at my face level. "Suck." I eagerly took his fingers in my mouth. Sucking and enjoying our tastes together, once I licked all the wetness from his fingers he sighed as he removed them from my mouth. "You better to go tidy yourself up, sweetheart." His voice was presently delicate as we ogled at one another, flushed from our recent climaxes. 

"Wheres your room?" My voice was strained and tired from the many moans I recited. 

"Down the hall, second room on the left." I let myself down from the counter, to my surprise he snaked his hand behind my neck, pulling me in for a soft kiss. I blushed before I slightly wobbled to his room. 

It was the following morning, I laid in his bed, naked whilst enveloped by his white sheets. I didn't know what I was thinking the previous evening, however I was satisfied with my result. The washroom entryway was open, enabling me to watch Ben wash himself in the steamy and glass doored shower. I had no desire to go home. I heard the water stop, signaling me that he would be emerging any moment. The shower door accompanied the silence that now filled the room.

"When do you want me to go home?" I called to him, tracing imaginary shapes on the sheets. 

{TAG LIST // @fixedonroger // @lovingbenhardy // @bemywiggins // @vampire-way// @brianrogerinas // @16wiishes // @theonlyone-meeeee // @g-g-g-ghost-butt // @oxuminaa }

[marquis1305]

A poet’s heart

For my dear @saffyre-viral, who not only let me borrow their dear Inquisitor, Saturn Lavellan. But has also been more than patient while waiting the week that it took me to write this piece. Set directly after Damaia witnesses the Inquisitors shape-shifting ability for the first time. 

Saturn was always more than willing to entertain Damaia’s curiosity, without ever realizing exactly what might come of it. 

Damaia had accompanied Saturn back to Caern Bronach after they had finished cleaning out the old Crestwood caves. She found herself absolutely fascinated by the Elvhen, more so than when she had first learned what Saturn was. She could feel the questions swirling through her head as she watched the petite elf.  

Apparently, Saturn could feel those same questions.  

"Come along, Damaia, I already know that you are nearly buzzing with curiosity. I would rather be able to relax while you ask. I find that shifting forms takes more out of me than it once did," Saturn smiles, but Damaia can see the weariness written all over their stance.

Damaia can find she has only one plausible response to this.

She leans down and lifts the elf, cradling them against her chest, one arm supporting their back, and the other wrapped under their legs.  

Before Saturn can begin to protest, Damaia smirks down at her. "What can I say, I wanted to practice sweeping you off your feet."

Saturn could only shake her head and roll her eyes. Damaia carries her into the rooms near the loft, shooing out the agents playing cards. Promising them that they could have the room back after the Inquisitor had had a moment of rest. Damaia gently sets Saturn down into one of the chairs.  

"I am not a fragile creature for you to coddle, Damaia," Saturn chides, chin lifted to stare down the Qunari kneeling before her.  

"No, you are strong, and proud. Two traits I very much admire, my dear Inquisitor. But two traits that often do not allow for weakness to show, and with me, you don't have to worry about it. Because I will do my best to care for you and support you either way,"Damaia huffs a quiet chuckle, then strokes a hand over Saturn's pale hair. "What can I say, it's in my nature to act like a mother hen, clucking away at her chicks."

"I would like to remind you that I am quite a bit older than you, Damaia," the playful tone indicates to Damaia that Saturn has allowed this small act.  

"Yeah, and that is one of those things that I want to ask about, if you are feeling well enough."  

"Perhaps some water first?"

Damaia stands, scanning the room for any sort of liquids besides the liquor that the agents had left behind. Finding a jug of water in the corner, she goes to quickly fetch it, offering it to Saturn. Letting her drink her fill as Damaia fetches another chair to sit beside her. Damaia lets her gaze slip over Saturn's face, once more committing it to memory.

"You are staring again, Damaia."

"I have always had a fondness for beautiful things, for powerful things. You are both, I can't help wanting to capture each moment you allow me close to you in my mind. Unfortunately, I don't have an artist's hands," Damaia shrugs, her gaze warm as it continues to scan over Saturn's face.

"Just a poet's heart. You would have done well among my kin. They too appreciated such things," Saturn's face softens slightly, handing back the jug of water to Damaia. Who sets it off to the side. Pulling out some rations from her pack for the two to share. "Now, ask your questions."

“I will take that as a compliment," Damaia chuckles, then thinks for a moment, trying to get her questions in an order that might make sense. "What is your favorite memory?”

Saturn pondered, there are plenty to choose from considering. After a while they met Damaia’s eyes and with a wistful tone, “My favorite memory would have to be when I climbed one of the spires in Arlathan. The Elders were so pissed! See, I had a rebellious streak a mile long when I was around, what, 19? That was when I went by “she”, before I knew I had a choice in how I presented myself.”

"No wonder I never hear you complain about the Storm Coast's cliffs," Damaia smiles widely. "I would have liked to see that, and your rebellious streak. Might be fun to witness it. What did Arlathan look like?”

“That…is hard to describe... considering I don’t remember much about it besides that spire I talked about.”

Damaia shrugs, while curious, she wouldn't obsess over things that she had never expected to be able to learn about.  

“Was it easy to adapt to the changes of learning to live in modern times?”

After a beat Saturn responded, “Depends on what you mean by that. When the Veil was created, things changed. It wasn’t as easy to summon our magic anymore, our dreams became riddled with temptations from angered spirits, and many of our people died. When I fell into our “deep sleep” later on we missed a few things but it didn’t really seem any different.”

That catches Damaia's attention, honing in on what Saturn had said about sleep.

“Do you have to sleep?”

They blink a few times before they burst out laughing, “Of course I have to sleep! Just because I sleep for centuries at a time doesn’t mean I don’t have to sleep in between!” After a few seconds they caught their breath. With a slightly embarrassed look from Damaia, Saturn rushed for something to say, “Though, I get where you are coming from! We sleep for a considerable amount of time, yes… but I haven’t fallen into Uthenera in a very long time. I doubt I ever will.”

"I love the way your laugh sounds," Damaia lets her embarrassment over the question fade. Huffing a short laugh even as she runs her hands through her hair. “Were there schools?”

“They were optional. But we all had to learn to control our magic with ease. We also had training for the other fighting classes. That’s why you see me fighting with a sword or with daggers on occasion.”

"Which I find that your ability with weapons is rather impressive. Far better than my just smashing people with my staff, at least."  

"Do not discount your ability, you have a knack for catching your opponents off guard. It is quite the talent to be unreadable on the battlefield," Saturn leans forward to press a hand on Damaia's knee.

"I don't know if I would quite rank that up there with your finesse with both magic and weapons, and your ability to shift into the creature. It was amazing to watch," Damaia cannot help the awe that pushes through her voice. She catches Saturn's hand and presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "But we can talk about that another time, when I have properly romanticized the moment."

Saturn laughs again, "Very well, do you have any other questions?"

"I think only one more that has been pressing on my mind, as Summer's eve is approaching. Did you celebrate any holidays?”

“Not really, no. Though we all practically worshipped the spirits. We were too proud, I think, to celebrate anything. If you meant me, then I’d love to celebrate but I have absolutely no idea how.”

"No idea... what do you mean?"

"I have never had the opportunity to celebrate anything."

"What about with the Lavellan clan."

"We had not been with them long enough to celebrate any of their holidays."

Damaia suddenly stands. Pulling Saturn up with her, drawing them close. "Then I shall simply have to find a reason for us to celebrate, my liege."

Holding Saturn close for just a moment longer, Damaia releases them, pressing one more kiss to their knuckles. "I should stop pestering you with questions. You need to rest before we head back to skyhold, especially now that I am certain of your need for sleep."

Saturn nods, feeling their weariness after the events of the day. "I am always happy to answer your questions Damaia. But it has been a long day, yes."

"Then, by your leave Inquisitor." Damaia's eyes twinkle with mischief. She watches as Saturn leaves, knowing that she would have to work quickly and borrow some of Leliana's agents to follow through with the plan quickly taking form in her mind. Damaia heads over to the requisition desk, borrowing sheets of parchment. Her near illegible scrawl skittering over every sheet, save one.  

That one, she brought back to her own tent. Where she kept the supplies that Master Vincento had given her. She would need quiet to finish this particular piece of the puzzle.  

The next morning, the group was ready to leave for their home. Damaia took her place walking next to Saturn's mount.  

"You are particularly quiet this morning, Demona." Varric's voice rings out from the other side of Saturn.  

"My apologies, master storyteller, I shall ensure to return to my usual amount of chatter. Since you miss the sound of my voice so."  

"What can I say, not often our resident lightning storm isn't booming and filled to the brim with energy."

"Maybe I am just building up for the next strike?"

"Let me know when that happens, I'll be sure to stand out of the way of the concurrent rain, kid. "

Damaia only responds with a laugh. Even as her mind races. This would be a long trip back, but Damaia hoped that her efforts would be worth it.  

In the five days that it took to make the trip, Damaia received exactly three letters.  

The first from Josephine, confirming.

The second from Solas, advising.  

The third from Vivienne, applauding.  

She spent the evenings talking with Cassandra, who, it turned out, had many difficulties hiding her initial reaction. After that however, Damaia found that she was of immeasurable assistance.  

When they finally made it back to Skyhold, as was their custom, Damaia would press a quick kiss to Saturn's knuckles, then excuse herself to gather the piles of reports that the Frostblade mercenary company would send. She made her way up to Commander Cullen's office, exchanged a few words with him in regards to the favor that she had requested, and then left with an armload of papers.  

When night fell, Damaia slipped out of the room that she had taken above the garden. Making her way to the main hall. She was met by Cassandra, Leliana, Vivienne, Solas, Josephine, and Cullen.  

"You are all wonders among wonders. Is everything prepared?" Damaia could feel herself bristling with nervous energy.  

She had painted on her red formal Vitaar, had adorned her horns with the carved gold bands that her parents' had presented her with the day she left for the Frostblades. On her ears, the golden links and cuffs that she had pierced to indicate each major victory in her life. As was the custom that her father had taught her.  

The green silks that she had requested Vivienne and Josephine to purchase wrapped around her. The band about her chest glittering with beads and jewels beneath the trimmed half jacket. Her skirts loose and flowing to her bare feet, embroidered with vine motifs.  

"You look a vision my dear, far better than your customary attire," Vivienne had been proud at what her personal tailor had achieved with the materials Josephine had acquired from her Antivan vendor. A matching suit had been laid out in the Inquisitor's chamber just before they had retired for the evening.  

Along with the note that Damaia had passed off to Cullen that morning. In her finest calligraphy.

"Wait until the moon lights the night's sky. Then come and meet me in the dining hall. Please follow any further requests as given by your advising council, as I have requested their assistance on this matter."

"That sounded very much like a compliment Madame De Fer, watch out, or I might take it to heart." Damaia teases, even as Josephine interjects.  

"There is no time for squabbling, Captain Damaia, but indeed. We have managed to prepare everything. Though I do fear that it is woefully short of what I have invisioned."

"It will be a dream, Josie. All of your parties are, so stop fussing so. Come, Damaia, we must get you in place before the Inquisitor arrives." Leliana nods to Damaia, offering her her hand. Damaia takes it eagerly, following the spymaster's lead.  

Solas falls in step beside them, eyes glancing over the scene. "Given how thorough your requests were, I have no doubt that our Inquisitor will be quite pleased with the results."

"Your advice was of great help Solas, though I would have never suspected you of enjoying such things."

"It has been one of my many pleasures, while traveling the fade, to witness grand events. It shall be of greater pleasure to bear witness to this one, my friend."

"Demona, I'm hurt," Varric calls out from the opposite end of the hall. "I had hoped we were close enough that you would give me warning if you were planning on doing anything dramatic."

"Ah, Varric, normally I would suggest that almost anything I do is dramatic, but I was hoping that this in particular would be special," Damaia flushes darkly, her normally easy chuckle tinged with nerves.  

"I apologize Damaia, but... I couldn't help but hope that Varric would be willing to capture the moment for history. It is... not something that should be forgotten." Cassandra blushes nearly as hard as the day that Saturn had convinced Varric to continue his romance serial for her. And Damaia can't help but soften at the words.  

"I do not mind, Cassandra. In fact, I would be quite eager to hear our master storyteller's rendition of tonight. Barring that I do not manage to completely fumble everything."

"It is unusual to see you so unsure, Captain, you will do fine. I am certain that our Inquisitor will appreciate the effort, even if everything is not perfect," Cullen clasps his friend on the shoulder. The gesture bolstering Damaia's spirit.  

"I assure you, everything will go to plan. Now, come, time is running short," Josephine hurries Leliana and Damaia along, shooing them to take their places. Leliana escorts Damaia to the dais where Saturn's throne usually sits. The object having been removed for the occasion. Solas and Vivienne light the candelabras, both with regular flames and with veilfire. Cullen moves to stand off to the side, where Leliana joins him after ensuring that Damaia stands in the center of the Dais. Cassandra and Varric move to sit at one of the banquet tables, which are groaning with the weight of food and delicacies of the varies countries of Thedas.  

The walls are decorated with symbols both new and old. Runes of ancient Elvhen that the Inquisition had recently discovered and been studying, those for prospering, health, and happiness were most prominent. Surrounding those were symbols of modern Thedas. Ranging from dragons, Andrastian, all the way to  Avaar and Qunari; any symbol of strength and celebration of each civilization.  

It was all just as Damaia had pictured it to be.  

Josephine had really managed to outdo herself this time.  

Each of their friends moved to sit at the tables, except for Cullen and Leliana, who stood just behind several candelabras, reading over a few sheets of paper.

She owed them both some major favors for this, Cullen especially. But Damaia had heard the man when the Chantry sister had led their little sing along. No way was Damaia going to pass up on another chance to get that man's voice heard.  

Finally, the moment had arrived.  

Saturn opened the door from their chambers.  

And their breath caught in their throat. Eyes drifting over everything in the hall. Finally stopping on Damaia.  

"Turned out that I already had a reason to celebrate, have since the day I met you." Damaia gazes with wonder at the person who had made this entire crazy year make any sort of sense. Her heart roaring at the sight of them in their formal wear.  

Leliana and Cullen's voices lift in a song that Damaia couldn't understand the words to, but Solas had said that it would be appropriate for the occasion.  

She trusted the elf to know better than she.  

Saturn walks forward, still awed by the sights and sounds around them. Catching sight of their advisors and friends watching teary eyed at the ensuing scene. Varric scribbling away furiously on a sheet of parchment.

"You did this, all of this?"

"Well, mostly it was done by our very sappy friends over there," Damaia chuckles, leaning down to catch Saturn's hands. Placing a kiss on each palm. "But I did what I could to get my vision across."

Saturn swallows back at the tight feeling in their throat.  

"Now come, this is a celebration after all. And I have managed to get us quite the finest voices in all of Thedas, we shouldn't squander the moment," Damaia clears her throat before kneeling down before Saturn. "My dearest Inquisitor, would you do me the honor of joining me in this dance?"

[swanisms]

a kiss for every season | (1/1)

“Why do we still have mistletoe up? It’s March.”

notes: aka  On five kisses shared beneath the mistletoe in that big house on 115 W 10th St, Storybrooke, Maine.   

also on ao3

I -

Henry pauses in the doorway, and Emma stops, too. The reusable grocery bag isn’t too full this time so she doesn’t mind the abrupt stop. She’s just curious, really. Maybe a little concerned.

His voice is too loud, the pitch just on the edge of intolerable when he asks, “Why do we still have mistletoe up? It’s March.”

It is March, and it’s a hot one at that. Global warming’s finally reached Storybrooke, and Emma hates it for how it’s too cold to quite melt the snow but too warm for her to want to put on her snow boots. Every day, she’s forced to pick between sweaty feet and cold toes.

Despite having chosen cold toes today that are starting to thaw quite painfully, Emma smiles. Who would’ve guessed that choosing which shoes to wear would be the most difficult decision she’s had to make in over two months now?

Following Henry’s words, she looks up at the mistletoe above her head. The real mistletoe her mother helped her hang is deader than dead but the fake one Henry made in his art class is as festive as they come for a Christmas in March.

Who would have known that some dry twigs, half-fallen leaves and a plastic plant could make her so delighted?

Staring at the mistletoe, Emma makes a promise with herself. She’ll be the one to guess. She’ll be the one to know. She’ll look at everything around her and never question the joy it brings her.

“Because, kid,” and she leans forward and down, only slightly now because he’s almost her height, to pluck his headphones out of his ears so he’ll can hear her above whatever soundtrack he’s plugged into now, “There’s no one season for kisses.”

She presses one to his forehead, and pulls back. Henry has this way of smiling at her that makes her feel like she’s the best mom in existence, and she may not believe that - for one, she nearly broke his iPod the other day when she accidentally kicked it off the couch - but she’s definitely up there with the most blessed because he gives her that smile - of pride, of love, and of everything he’s shown her she could have all along.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to her cheek as well, barely a peck but she feels so, so loved.

“You’re right,” Henry says simply, and with that, he takes his headphones back and puts them in his ears.

  II -

  “There’s mistletoe still up, love.”

Emma pauses her reading, even though it’s getting really good. The Frozen sequel Henry’s been writing since they finally managed stable contact with Arendelle is… She won’t tell Elsa that she should let Henry write her wedding vows, but she might just send the book through. Just for her thoughts, of course.

Placing the book in her lap, Emma looks to her pirate.

(Husband is nice, wonderful, yeah, but pirate is perfect for the man who treasures her heart.)

(She’s long since stopped blushing at that thought; now she just tinges pink and bites away the smile in her cheek)

Killian’s foregone black for once for dark blue denim, and she appreciates it with a swipe of her tongue over her bottom lip and a thought taking form - his form, but the denim foregone for nothing at all.  He has his hand on his chin, frowning at the large but easy to miss sprig. She finds another smile, deeper than the one she wears whenever he comes home, tugged out from that great big part of her chest that she can't believe, sometimes, that she thought could never be filled.

With some kind of defeat in him, Killian turns to her, looking confused and a little frustrated.

“I thought I got all of it,” he says.

“Nope,” Emma replies cheerily.

He did get all of it when it was first hung, but when she had Henry replace it a week later, he never noticed it. Until now. Four months time is enough to make the reply no longer even a white lie.

“‘S’pose I should take it down then.”

He stretches to lift the sprig from its hook, but Emma climbs out of her seat on the couch, wincing slightly at the cold floorboards on her bare toes. She makes it just in time to still his hand on the green leaves. His hand is warm, and quickly finds a new destination as he falls back on his heels and takes hers. They thread their fingers as they come face to face, and his confusion becomes curiosity, a smile quirking his lips as he says, “Or… I should leave it?”

“Leave it,” Emma confirms.

Killian draws forward and she rises on her toes to meet him, the kiss gentle and sure. She pulls back and it isn’t exactly that she wants to end the kiss, but even though the floor might be warming beneath her feet, she stills feels more than a little chilled standing so close to the windows and the door in nothing but an oversized sweater and very, very short shorts.

“Unless it bothers you,” Emma says softly.

“Why should it?”

Emma laughs, slightly shaking her head. She stares at the open v of his shirt, walking her fingers up and down the line of buttons.

“Oh, I don't know -” She lets her fingers go past the buttons, softly brushing over the hair, up and up to feel him swallow sharply. “Maybe you don’t want an excuse to kiss me every time we walk in together.”

“I didn’t know I needed an excuse to kiss you, love.”

The rough timbre of his voice makes her ache, and she nearly forgets the line of conversation, so fascinated by the heat of his skin, the sharp dip of his collarbone.

“Hmm, well, let’s just call it a reminder then.”

“A reminder, huh?”

Killian’s smile teases her, and the heat in his gaze warms her inside and out. She glides her hand down his chest and presses it to her belly. Emma watches him follow the motion, watches him get the hint - as if he needs one. His hook covers her hand and then slides lower, slowly dragging her sweater up until the cool metal finds over sensitive skin. Emma lets out a breath, not a gasp, but quieter, as he draws slow circles over her belly, just above where she is quickly growing to need him.

Really fucking desperately need him, actually.

“I suppose I did need one,” Killian murmurs - because he’s moving in lips just about ready to cover hers, and as his forehead touches hers, he whispers, words that have her aching and her desperately grasping at his hand, “I promise you, love, next time I won’t forget.”

  III -

  Her back simply hurts, and she’s so, so close to the couch and relief but she just can’t make it. Emma stops and leans against the door for support, hoping it’ll alleviate the pain just enough to carry her for those last few steps.

It only seems to worsen as the moments tick by. She almost feels like crying, but more like, she doesn’t remember suffering this much the last time. To be fair to this little one, she’d had a lot of other suffering to contend with beside the physical ones of a growing Henry.

This time, all she has is this added weight; a general crankiness that can only be helped by a hefty serving of Doritos, peanut butter, milk chocolate, and graham crackers; and the smile that comes to her face when she can swear that she feels her daughter breathing within, her heartbeat just in tune with Emma’s.

She wills herself to move from the door, but since her will isn’t strong enough, she leans there until footsteps carry above her, and she calls out in the hope of relief, “Killian?”

The footsteps quickly lead towards her, and then he’s there, taking the steps two at a time, dangerous for someone as deceptively clumsy as him, but she’s too grateful to worry when he pulls her from the wall, resting all her weight on him.

She cries a little, just a little as she burrows her face in his chest, for the lessened strain and the pain to come when he helps walk her to the couch. The tears dry up quickly, at least in comparison to the last couple of emotional overloads caused by the baby, the noise of the new neighbors moving in, and the puppy that sat in her lap during her unplanned visit to the animal shelter. When she finally feels okay, she draws back from his chest - a big part of her a little disgruntled by the motion - and finds comfort in his eyes.

“I suppose this wouldn’t be a good moment to remind you of our earlier conversation,” he says gently.

Emma sighs.

“Go on, it’s fine.”

“I told you that this would be one trip too many,” he chastises, and she feels exactly as stupid as she did, waving goodbye to her parents while her body screamed to get home. She feels stupid, but he’s so forgiving, gentle as he asks, “Are you going to take my advice next time?"

“I’ll consider it.” He sighs, so she clarifies, “I mean, I’m going to remember just how much pain I’m in right now and ask myself ‘Is it worth it?’”

He nods.

“Was this trip worth it?”

Emma grins, the pain more than bearable for how the happiness is just so restless to escape.

“Leo’s going to be a great uncle,” she exclaims. She flashes him a wider smile. “He chose out the perfect gift.”

“Mmm,” Killian hums.

She frowns at his lack of acknowledgement, his intent so concealed that she has only a moment to breathe surprise before his mouth covers hers, instinct faster on the uptake than her, letting him lead her in the kiss - like his hand on her waist during their first dance, her body acknowledging what her head and heart could not yet - her perfect partner in that, in this, in everything -

In this.

They both draw back at the same time, and as he carefully starts to shift them, he says, “Come on, love, let’s get you to the couch.” Before they take the first steps, however, he nudges her attention above to see the mistletoe hanging over the door. “A reminder,” he says, “To remember.”

She rolls her eyes with a grumpy smile, but eats her unspoken, Yeah, whatever, when she takes the first step. She looks down at her feet. Hell, if the mistletoe doesn’t work at least she’ll always have this image in her head.

Fuck. She might have to get another bigger size of shoes.

  IV -

  “Now, I’m quite certain we didn’t have this here before.”

Behind her, Emma stifles a smile only a moment before she sets it free, grinning at Killian widely. “No?”

Iris shakes her head, her dark hair flying all around her, the crown of plants shifting, lying askew when she replies, “No, daddy. Mommy put it there. She said you’re supposed to give me a kiss.”

He lifts a curious eyebrow, forcing a mask of detachment. “Am I?”

Iris narrows her eyes, turning to Emma who nods vigorously.

Iris swings back and whines, “Yes, you are.”

“So it’s just one kiss?”

This one stumps her enough that she’s caught off guard when he wraps his arm around her and heaves her up. She squeals loudly, and then louder still as he places a kiss to her forehead, to her cheek, to her hair - the last before she starts to wiggle against him.

“One!” she yells, trying to get out of his arms.

He sighs, “Alright,” and sets her free - but only into Emma’s waiting arms, where she continues where he left off, kissing Iris over and over again as she squeals. They pass her between them until Iris decides she has had absolutely enough of them.

At the next pass, she balls her hand up and hits Killian square in his jaw. Her little fist near takes him out, and he winces visibly just as Emma sweeps Iris up, and pushes forward, placing her free hand on his chest. “Are you okay?” Emma asks.

He likes the way she says it, true care in her voice, and with her hand placed above his heart like she just knows how her words hit him, make his heart swell with his love for her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, daddy,” Iris cries.

His possible bruise is forgotten as he reaches to reassure their daughter before she starts to truly cry. He’s a little too late on that, tears slipping out of her eyes to track down her already reddened cheeks. But, it’s alright because Iris is very much like her mother.

It’s naught but a simple task for him to get her to smile.

“Have I ever told you that there is a healing power in kisses?” He smiles encouragingly when she opens her eyes, her little brow furrowing in curiosity instead of distress. To the question in her eyes, he says, “It’s easy to fix a little hurt such as mine. A simple kiss will do.”

“A kiss?”

Iris ponders this with a tight knot in her brow.

Killian nods, deliberately trying to match Emma’s enthusiastic one.

“True love’s kiss?”

He looks to Emma at that, her smile soft and unbearably proud - or perhaps that’s the pride he feels, to have a love so true.

“Yes, and always, my dear,” he confirms.

He leans cheek first expectantly so his daughter can kiss him very, very wetly. He rubs at his jaw, mostly for the act and partially to wipe the moisture out of his beard. Pulling his hand away from his face, he looks to Iris in awe, easy to act out when it’s something he truly feels.

“See? I’m completely fine now.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, needing to put it into words for both their sakes. “Because I truly love you. With all my heart.”

He kisses the tip of her nose this time where it’s still red from her crying. Iris rubs at her eyes, pulling away to gift him with a bright smile.

“I’m fine too!” she exclaims in mimicked awe.

She reaches towards him so Emma lets her go into his open arms, where he holds her just so, allowing her to wrap one arm around his neck and stare into his eyes. There are still tears on her cheeks and now he can see that her nose is about to run. He forgoes moving for the tissues however because there’s obviously something on the tip of her tongue.

Her face always screws up just like Emma’s when she’s about to admit something she’s been holding back for too long. Long moments pass before she makes her confession with a solemn nod.

“I love you, too, daddy.”

Killian laughs. He can’t help it or stop it. For the last time she said she loved him was half an hour ago when he’d helped her out of her snowshoes, and then she’d said it only minutes before that when he helped her up the slick stairs to Emma’s bated, worried breath - despite his assurances that balancing on ice very much is like balancing on the plank. It was only an hour before that, that he saved her from the little prince’s snowballs and led the charge to take him down once and for all. With three snowballs to the gut and the mountain gathered in Iris' little hands pressed against his chest as she sat atop Emma’s brother, he lay defeated while Iris yelled in triumph, “I love you, daddy.”

Killian laughs and he would never stop the sound because his Iris loves him. Every time she says it, he swears he’s never been happier, and every single time, she proves him wrong.

A cry at his waist has him seizing up however, the little rum bottle shaped monitor speaking loud and clear.

Emma moves swiftly. “I’ll get his bottle warmed up, and I’ll grab the diapers. I completely lost the A&D last time, though…” She trails off as she opens the fridge, so Killian nods, and says, “I’ll find it.”

The crying gets a little louder, a little more distressed, so Killian turns to Iris, lifting her chin with his hook, oh so carefully as to not hurt her. It’s a fear he’ll forever hold, even with the cleverly crafted blunted sheathe Hephaestus gifted him (being on good terms with Grecian gods is a blessing), but it’s a fear that she never has, so it’s with a smile that he says, “Sounds like someone else is in need of the healing power of kisses.”

Iris nods sharply, and with an arm held pointed in the air so that he knows she’s in charge, she orders, “Go!”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Killian says.

Iris giggles as he hoists her more carefully, and Emma isn’t a moment behind them, the milk bottle warmed enough that she can reach into Iris’ hair and secure the mistletoe headband before it tumbles down the stairs.

Iris raises two curious eyebrows at Emma.

“It’s your kisses he’ll need the most of,” she explains.

“You’re right,” Iris says without a note of surprise or denial.

She adores her brother. Killian looks to Emma who shares his smile. Their daughter is completely like them in that regard.

Together, they quickly join Sam before his cries get any worse. Iris is quick to leave Killian’s arms, not because he needs them free in order to lift Sam from his crib, but because Killian’s going to place him on her bed, where she can easily give her healing kisses.

It’s a miracle, that of true love, of course, that all it takes is that kiss to quiet Sam’s cries, and another to make him laugh.

And another to make Killian’s heart stutter as Sam looks to Emma with wonder in his blue eyes and reaches out his little hands.

“You want one from me, too?”

Emma takes him up despite his diaper not being secured in the slightest. Iris laughs as it slips off him while Emma kisses him with the soft reassurance he needs.

Killian leaves Emma to fix the diaper, she being more skilled than he at putting on midair diapers. But he doesn’t leave Sam to her. He takes his boy, cradling him gently, and places a kiss on his head as well until he opens his blue eyes again, reaching out a little hand to prompt him for kisses of reassurance, for the love Killian himself never thought possible, and for Killian’s heart of mistletoe that’ll bloom forevermore.

  V -

Henry stumbles through the doorway, chased by Lucy, the reason for his stumbling. Her energy is infectious, and he calls out to the sweet smelling house - chocolate chip cookies, god he’s hungry - “Anybody home?”

Sometimes, he forgets how quick his daughter can be, because his calling is unnecessary, a cry of delight in chorus with his words as Lucy pulls his mother from the living room.

She looks so happy, is his first thought, before he’s tackled in a hug, smothered in kisses upon kisses until she finally pulls back to hold his face in her hands for a moment, taking him in as he does her, “I missed you, kid.”

“I missed you.”

“Why is there mistletoe up there? It’s summer.”

Henry looks up, following Lucy’s words, to confirm that yes, his mom still has mistletoe over the door. He can’t help but look to her at her soft explanation, “I missed you.”

Henry looks down at Lucy, her expression both expectant and demanding - he’s the Author, he better have a good story for this.

It’s good; he knows it is, because of everything that makes it so. Because his mother is right here, and the sound of little feet pounding the wood is growing louder above his head. Ella’s taken the opposite route, heading towards the backyard, sure to meet Killian out there because if his mom isn’t the one manning the grill, then he is, and Lucy - his Lucy is staring up at him, her expectation growing increasingly more suspicious.

He bends down to her height, cradles her head in his hands so he can place a kiss to her crown. When they pull apart, and she looks at him, half smiling and half confused, and another, bigger half exasperated, he can’t resist and places another kiss to her forehead.

Before she can tell him off, he says, “A wise woman once told me, there’s no one season for kisses.”

“Henry!”

“Henry?”

The side door opens, Ella stepping in with Killian right behind her, and before they can be truly distracted, he adds - because he’s a writer after all, so he knows all too well how stories change and adapt, and his story is far greater than it was before; because his story is as the mistletoe above the door, he adds:

“It’s as timeless as my love for you.”

-

on the kids names:

Iris, for her metaphorically being the treasure at the end of rainbow, after all the showers have passed. Sam - and I headcanon they let Iris name him simply because she knows none of the names of their dead relatives so she's less likely to name him after one - literally for Samwise Gamgee because what's better than a loyal, loving little brother that'll go to the end of the world for you?

[artificialqueens]

girls like dollies chapter 2 (trixya) - lale

A/N: thanks for the love for the first two parts! I’m really loving writing this, I hope you enjoy! As always, much love to kate-boosh for creating such gorgeous trixya art!

It took Trixie a few seconds to realize she was staring at Katya like an idiot. The other girls were looking at her, and she quickly did her best to snap herself out of it.

“Hi! Apparently you have my schedule?” she said, grateful that she managed not to totally trip over her own words as she pulled herself together.

Katya cocked her head, her forehead scrunching up. She went from gorgeous to adorable in no time at all. “Schedule? I do not even know that word! I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said, throwing her hands up. Her accent was thick, and Trixie immediately felt embarrassed. If her English wasn’t good, Trixie didn’t want to confuse her.

“Oh, um…they said they gave it to you?” she said lamely, grasping for the right words.

Ginger let out a huffing noise, moving past Trixie to sit on one of the beds. The two sides of the room were decorated in totally different styles. Ginger’s bed was surrounded by posters for musicals and stage shows, and she had neatly arranged floral bedsheets with a few cushions scattered over the top. The other side, which had to be Katya’s, sported an abstract composition of random magazine cuttings and pictures stuck up on the walls, and her unmade bed had a bright clash of red and purple sheets.

“Bitch, stop confusing this poor girl,” Ginger said. Katya laughed, a huge, wheezing laugh that made it seem like Ginger had said the funniest thing in the world. Trixie felt a sudden, desperate urge to make her laugh like that.

“Okay, okay. You never let me have any fun,” Katya said, no trace of an accent left in her words. She turned to her desk, which was covered by a mountain of books and other random items, and looked around for a moment before producing a crumpled sheet of paper. “Da! Here it is,” she said, unfolding it. “Tracy Martel, drama program.”

“What? Did they get my name wrong?” Trixie said in alarm, reaching for the schedule. Katya let her take it, a bright smile on her face. “Oh. Trixie Mattel. Why did you call me that?” she said, surprised.

“Sorry, Tamara,” Katya said carelessly, waving a hand at her. Trixie blushed. Having someone insist on calling her by the wrong name felt like it should be an insult, but it didn’t come across that way. The other girls certainly didn’t seem to think anything of it, so she decided that Katya couldn’t have been being mean.

“What have you been doing with yourself this afternoon?” Ginger asked Katya, who’d flopped down onto her bed and stretched her legs wide. Her skirt slid up her pale thighs, and Trixie felt her cheeks heat up. She looked away quickly.

“I went down to the art studio for a while, but it was so quiet. Maybe I’ll tag along to drama tomorrow,” Katya said, shrugging.

“What program are you in?” Trixie asked curiously.

“Oh, I’m not,” Katya said nonchalantly. Trixie blinked. As far as she knew, everyone at RuPaul’s had to be part of one of the specialist programs they offered. There were enough to choose from, that she knew well from how many times she’d read the academy’s brochures: you could focus on drama or art or design or dance or sport, and get some of the best training in the whole country. She opened her mouth to ask Katya what on earth she was doing at RuPaul’s if she wasn’t studying any of those things, but Ginger cut in before she could speak.

“I’m starving! Trixie, let’s go and see if the girls are back from art. I’m sure Kim won’t appreciate us stealing you away for your first dinner here,” she said, standing up. “Miss Katya, are you coming with us today?”

“Da! I heard whispers about pizza,” Katya said, eyes bright as she leapt to her feet.

“Girl, you say that every day. There’s never pizza,” Jinkx pointed out from the doorway. Katya waved a hand.

“We live in hope, darling,” she drawled. Trixie laughed, and Katya turned that stunning smile towards her.

That smile…it gave her butterflies. Katya was gorgeous, and in the few minutes Trixie had spent around her she’d already proven herself to be hilarious and a little mysterious. Trixie was utterly captivated by her already. Katya pranced ahead of them down the hallway, and Trixie watched her messy blonde hair bounce around her shoulders.

She had a girl crush, that was what it was. She’d felt like this before, with the gorgeous girl in the grade above her whose boyfriend had the locker next to Trixie the year before, and the girl who lived two doors down from their old house. She was fascinated by how beautiful they were, how cool and funny they were – she wanted to be them. That was all it was, no matter what anyone said about her. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t.

Thankfully, Kim emerged from her room in time to rescue her from her own thoughts. “Trixie! How was drama?” she asked. Despite her afternoon spent in the art studio, she looked pristine; Pearl, however, who was stood behind her, had hands covered in paint and a streak of blue up the sleeve of her sweater.

“It was incredible,” Trixie said honestly. Kim beamed back at her.

“Was she amazing? She was always the best back in Milwaukee,” Kim said to the others. Trixie flushed, embarrassed but pleased by Kim’s words.

“She’s marvelous,” Max said, giving Trixie a kind smile. The other girls were nodding along, and Katya raised an eyebrow at her.

“Marvelous? Maybe I really will drop by the theatre and see this for myself,” she suggested, a bright smile on her face.

“Can we go?” Pearl said, saving Trixie from having to respond. Katya didn’t shift her focus from her, though, a surprising amount of intensity in her gaze. Trixie had to look away, her stomach full of butterflies.

“So impatient! Someone wants to see a certain other someone whose name begins with V,” Jinkx teased in a singsong voice.

“Shut up! It’s not that, I’m just hungry,” Pearl insisted, rolling her eyes and trying to look irritated but looking more embarrassed than anything. “There’s nothing going on with me and Violet.”

“Oh, so I suppose you two were just having an innocent slumber party last week?” Kim cut in. Katya squawked loudly, dissolving into wheezing laughter. The others laughed too, though Trixie thought that may have been as much to do with Katya’s reaction than anything. Pearl had turned bright red.

“You were asleep!” she spluttered.

“I wish I was,” Kim told her with a straight face. “I can never unhear those noises. They fill my nightmares.”

Trixie looked between them, trying to hide her surprise. Was Pearl a lesbian? It certainly sounded like it. Kim didn’t sound bothered by the fact that Pearl had apparently had sex with another girl in their room.

“I think you scared the new girl,” Ginger said, a smirk on her face.

“Don’t tell me you have a problem with girls who love girls, Trixie,” Pearl said, apparently having shaken off enough of her embarrassment to give Trixie a questioning look.

“Of course Tracy doesn’t! Do you?” It was Katya who spoke, cocking her head as she waited for Trixie’s response.

“No! I don’t care what you do,” Trixie said quickly. She didn’t care who any of the girls were attracted to. She wasn’t gay, that she knew, but it didn’t matter if any of the others were. Katya nodded in approval, a proud expression on her face.

“She’s a good one,” she announced, linking her arm through Trixie’s. Trixie let her, too surprised to question how quickly Katya was willing to decide they were friends. Katya kept their arms looped together as they walked down to the dining hall a few steps ahead of the others.

“Are you really Russian?” Trixie asked, unable to help her curiosity about Katya’s disappearing accent. She laughed, waggling her eyebrows at Trixie.

“Why would I give away all my secrets, Tallulah?” she said playfully.

“I suppose I should take that as a yes,” Trixie said dryly. Katya laughed again, loudly and freely.

“Da. I’ve been going to school over here for years, though. I sound like you American girls now,” she said, adopting an exaggerated Southern accent.

“Don’t you miss your family?” Trixie asked.

Katya shrugged. “It’s alright. I can still talk to them and see them in the holidays. How about you? It must be weird for you, your first time away.”

“Oh, um. No, it’s okay. I hadn’t really thought about it too much, to be honest,” Trixie replied. It wasn’t even a lie; she’d been so caught up in the excitement of how good things had been so far at RuPaul’s that she’d barely thought about her family back at home. She didn’t even know if her mom knew where she was.

“At least you know Kimberly! I would say she can look after you, but we all know she can’t even look after herself,” Katya said solemnly.

“That’s rich, coming from you!” Kim said from behind them. Trixie looked around at her, and Kim looked pointedly between Trixie and Katya, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Trixie just shrugged, giving her a bemused look in return. She was just as surprised that Katya had taken such a shine to her, but she wasn’t going to fight it. Katya was possibly the most enigmatic person she’d ever come across, beautiful and hilarious and full of energy. No wonder Trixie had such a girl crush on her.

When they reached the dining hall, half of the tables were already filled and there was a short queue for food. Katya sniffed the air, then gasped dramatically. “You all doubted me!” she said, turning and pointing accusingly at the other girls.

“Pizza,” Ginger said, looking shocked. “Katya…was right? Girls, the impossible has happened. The end of the world is here!” she said, drawing a cross over her chest and pretending to bow her head in prayer.

“You fucking bitch,” Katya replied, but she was laughing as she dragged Trixie over to line up for pizza. Trixie was starting to get the impression that she might be spending a fair amount of time in the near future being dragged around by Katya. She didn’t mind that idea at all.

-

By the time Trixie got back to her new bedroom, she was exhausted but buzzing after what she decided had been a successful first afternoon. The pizza for dinner hadn’t been the best, but she’d hardly cared given the company. She’d met Violet, Pearl’s not-girlfriend, though she wasn’t sure she’d made the best first impression with her. Not that it had been her fault – Katya, sat opposite her, had accompanied Kim’s introduction of Violet with crude hand gestures and silent orgasm impressions, and Trixie had struggled to keep a straight face. She’d decided that the reason Katya seemed so cool was that she genuinely didn’t seem to care about anything. Everything she said seemed to be an attempt to make people laugh, and most of the time her humour came from a sentence of randomly strung together words that somehow became hilarious when it was coming out of Katya’s mouth.

If Katya had been a guy, Trixie thought she definitely would have had a crush. But she was a girl, and Trixie wasn’t gay. It was a girl crush. That was a totally different thing – she wanted to be friends with Katya, and be more like her. She didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

Pearl had disappeared off with Violet on the way back to their room, so it was just Trixie and Kim. Trixie opened up her suitcase to unpack properly, since she hadn’t had time to do more than change when she’d first arrived.

“I’m so happy that you’re finally here,” Kim said, crossing the room to help her. “I felt like I hadn’t heard from you in ages! Were you trying to keep it a surprise?”

“No. I just…didn’t know how to tell you everything,” Trixie admitted. Kim frowned, pausing in her task of stacking Trixie’s clothes on her bed.

“What happened?” she asked. Trixie sighed, perching on the edge of her bed.

She told Kim everything. What her stepfather had done, how she hadn’t known that she was going to get taken away until the moment she got home and saw the social worker. How she’d gone from group home to group home until she’d managed to get the audition for RuPaul’s. How she still hadn’t spoken to her mom and didn’t know if she would anytime soon.

As awful as it all was, it felt therapeutic to get the story off her chest. Kim had her arms wrapped around her by the end, holding her in a protective hug.

“But what made him do it? Did he just snap?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Oh…yeah. He’d just had enough of me, I guess,” Trixie said evasively. What was she supposed to say? My sister told him that people at school say I’m a lesbian because I look at other girls? She wasn’t. She wasn’t! What was the point in going into it with Kim when it wasn’t even true?

“I’m so sorry, Trixie. At least you’re here now. You never have to see that asshole again,” Kim said. Her lisp made her angry words sound comical, and Trixie managed a laugh.

“I’m so glad I’m here. Everyone seems so nice,” she said.

“They are! And you always wanted to be able to take acting more seriously. This place is perfect for you,” Kim agreed. “Katya seems to really like you.”

Trixie couldn’t help but blush. “She’s cool. Absolutely crazy, but really cool,” she said.

“Oh, she’s a total weirdo. But everyone loves her,” Kim said. She stood up, going back to piling Trixie’s clothes for her neatly. Trixie put everything away, only keeping out pyjamas.

“What are the classes like?” she asked.

“Fine. Pretty normal, except there’s barely anyone in each class. You can’t sleep through them like you can in Milwaukee,” Kim said. Trixie groaned. “Hey, it won’t be so bad. You have most of your classes with Katya, right? She’ll keep you entertained,” Kim pointed out.

Trixie smiled at the thought. “Yeah, I guess I got lucky,” she agreed. She changed into her pyjamas and climbed into her new bed. It felt a little strange to settle into a new room, but it was a familiar feeling to her now after her weeks shuffled between group homes. She grabbed her phone from the beside table, plugging it in to charge overnight. The screen lit up, and she swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. Still nothing from her mom. Did she even care that Trixie was gone?

She pushed the thought aside, tapping on the facebook icon instead.

Max Malanaphy added you as a friend

Miss Fame added you as a friend

Jinkx Monsoon added you as a friend

Katya Zamolodchikova added you as a friend

Ginger Minj added you as a friend

Alaska Thunderfuck added you as a friend

Pearl Liason added you as a friend

Kim Chi mentioned you in a status update

A smile spread across her face. She accepted all of the friend requests, and went straight to Katya’s page. Her cover picture was a shot of Katya and some of the other girls in dorky poses, and her profile picture captured her stunning smile. Trixie couldn’t find much else on her page, but she couldn’t resist scrolling through her pictures for a minute before going to see what Kim had said about her.

Kim Chi is feeling happy! So excited to have my sister Trixie Mattel at school with me at last!

Katya Zamolodchikova, Jinkx Monsoon and 5 other people liked this

Katya Zamolodchikova: welcome to the madhouse, Tracy

Trixie smiled at Katya’s comment, tapping the like button on the status and the comment. “You’re such a fucking loser,” she said fondly to Kim.

“You love me anyway,” Kim said, grinning over at her from her bed.

“Yeah, I kinda do,” Trixie agreed. She put her phone down, snuggling under her covers. Who cared if she hadn’t heard from her mom? She was reunited with her best friend, and she’d already made friends with so many new girls. RuPaul’s was living up to everything she’d imagined it could be so far, and she’d only been there a few hours.

“I really am glad you’re here, Trixie,” Kim said in a softer voice.

“Me too,” Trixie said back, smiling into the darkness.

[btp-yami]

Incarnate Jazz ACTION SCENE~

Aw I missed writing for Atticus - he’s a bundle of sarcasm and emo teen nerves~

Atticus re-positioned his backpack, smiling at his phone; he didn’t quite remember what Mae was originally talking about, but she looked very excited about it. He had started the video call right after getting out of school, taking the long way home in order to talk longer (before being embarrassed by his mother or Diane).

“...Oh and they brought a REAL leopard cub for us to study the other day!” She grinned. “It was so cute, I wish we had been allowed to get closer to it...! But knowing the difference between house cats and wild cats like that was really fascinating.”

“I take it you’re enjoying the study abroad, then...?” Atticus arched an amused brow.

“Absolutely!” She gave him a small smile of apology. “I wish you could’ve come...I bet you’d love these classes!”

“Probably, but the heat sucks; that and I’d hate to be in another country with a new sister or brother on the way.”

Mae stifled a chuckle, before a frown found a way to her face. She seemed to glance around her surroundings, before bringing the phone closer. “...What about this Madji guy? Any news?--Have you been okay? And your mom and dad?”

“I’m fine--and they’re okay...” Atticus replied, bringing his voice down, before frowning. “When I left for school they were, anyway...” He brought his shoulders back. “I’m not worried, though - Catherine stayed with Mom, and Dad can take on anybody.”

“What about Noah?”

“He’s been all over the place, trying to keep watch over both Mom AND Dad, AND Didi and me...” He sighed. “I think it’s really starting to wear him out. Yuugi and I were at the shop yesterday and basically had to close up early cuz he passed out on the couch...We called Dad to help - there’s still some stuff we don’t know how to do. Or can’t.”

Mae frowned. “Yikes......Are they any closer to finding a way to stop this guy?”

“Last I heard, no...But Yuugi doesn’t know much either. Noah’s suddenly keeping a lot hush-hush, I don’t know why. Dad’s not sure, either.”

As he turned down the alley, Mae returned a small smile. “I could do some research on my end? I’m not too far from Egypt?--See if I can find anything about Set?”

“Thanks, but I know you’re really busy.” Atticus passed her a smile. “And I’d hate for you to get hurt for getting involved...I promise to keep you posted, though.”

“All right... You get home safe, okay? I’ll talk to you later - I should get ready for my next class.”

“Tell me how it goes, okay?”

“I will! Bye~!”

Mae waved at the screen, and then hung up.

Atticus chuckled under his breath - before bumping into someone. He shot back and away a good five feet, looking up with a flinch.

Now five feet away stood Madji Qadir. Thanks to how much Noah had been blocking him from getting anywhere near their family, Madji’s arrogance and swagger had long since been lost. His face looked slightly gaunt, dark circles under his pitch-black eyes. His skin even looked a bit pale (still leaving him rather dark, but lacking in saturation).

Atticus’ eyes widened, drawing back a couple more steps. “Qadir...!”

“How was the little talk with the little girl, hm...?” Madji pressed in a drawl, accent still present, though he tilted his head oddly. “You should keep things more private, Little Prince...”

“My name is Atticus.” Atticus glared at him, removing his backpack to take it in-hand so he could summon out his own pair of white wings. “And my private life is none of your business.”

He tried making a lunge into the air, in order to put distance between himself and Madji - for something to grab his ankle when he made it only ten feet. He looked down, seeing it was a tendril of dark energy, weak and thin as it was. It was enough to sling him back around to the ground, though, with Atticus yelling out at the impact.

“Do not test me, Prince...!” Madji growled, stalking closer. “Set has long since grown tired of this circling about that Ma’at has caused...!”

“Clearly...!” Atticus groaned, turning about to glare at him. “Considering you’ve started using third-person P-O-V...”

The tendril released Atticus’ ankle, but Madji only tilted his head, eyes growing even more black and empty. “This block over Set’s power is causing much strain...the presence of Horus’ blood...! Ma’at’s protective fields can only hold out for so long......and when they fall, Set will enact his revenge upon Ma’at for interfering...!”

“You keep your hands off my uncle!” Atticus shouted, firing a small blast of ice at him.

Madji simply conjured another tendril to take the hit, and then smacked the resulting ice against the nearby wall to shatter it. He tilted his head again. “But, since you’re here...Set is quite annoyed. It would’ve been more fun to kill the mortal Ma’at first, for his insolence...You shall have to do.”

Rather suddenly, a dozen black tendrils rose around Madji’s body. Atticus released a gasp, his eyes wide.

“Now die.”

The tendrils shot down at Atticus.

He shouted, bringing his arms up overhead - “NO--!”

An ice barrier formed over his body, thick enough that the tendrils only made cracks, but they kept lashing against the barrier. Atticus remained huddled, shaking all over with each whip against the ice.

“Enough!” Madjir snarled, and the tendrils thrashed against the ice. “Little Prince is stuck in ice, darkness will soon slice and dice...!”

“Stop rhyming, it’s creepy as hell!” Atticus shouted, glaring at him, before re-forming the ice barrier.

“Come out, Prince...!!”

Atticus kept his hands up to re-form the ice barrier repeatedly, though the tendrils only wove together - forming thicker appendages - and deeper cracks were made.

“Leave me alone!” Atticus yelled.

He gave a curt yell when a thick tendril whipped hard enough at the barrier that it sliced right through it, promptly whacking Atticus across the middle and shoulder, cutting his uniform and skin, though not too deeply.

“That’s it...!” Madji snarled, smirking. “Time to die, Little Prince...!”

“I said leave me ALONE--!”

In a burst of energy - eyes glowing blue - Atticus’ yell became something of a sonic scream; it made enough of a sound wave that the tendrils broke apart, as did the rest of the ice barrier, and Madji was thrown down the alleyway, onto his back, and he struggled in getting up.

Taking up his backpack, Atticus sprung up and sprinted out of the alley, not risking checking behind him.

~*~*~*~

Not too far off, Noah was hurrying towards the same alleyway; it wasn’t as strong as before, but he could still pick up on whenever Atticus had sent a strong enough message through what remained of their mental link. And he could only assume it had been due to Madji Qadir.

“Noah--!”

Turning a corner, he saw Atticus rushing down the street, dodging around the couple of people.

Noah heaved a sigh of relief. “Hey...!”

As soon as he was close enough, Atticus latched around Noah in a hug; he hugged him in return, but checked around to make sure Atticus wasn’t followed. He didn’t spot any shadows lingering on him, either.

Noah drew back, frowning as he looked over Atticus’ face, checking the long cut across Atticus’ chest and shoulder. “Are you okay? Was it Qadir?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah...” Atticus panted, blinking back relieved tears. “I-I’m sorry, I-I’d been talking to Mae and--”

“No, no, no, it wasn’t your fault.” Noah reassured, keeping his voice on the quieter side. “It’s okay - you’re safe; that’s all that matters.”

Atticus nodded, heaving another sigh of relief before burying himself against Noah again to catch his breath.

Meanwhile Noah was glancing around, double-checking their surroundings. When he still saw nothing, he patted Atticus’ back. “L-Let’s go to your dad, okay...? And we can get that cut patched up.”

Atticus nodded stiffly, and Noah kept an arm around Atticus the whole time as they walked towards the hospital.

[nchyinotes]

How to launch an independent magazine, by Delayed Gratification

February 22 2018

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/how-to-launch-an-independent-magazine-22nd-february-2018-tickets-40937174190?aff=es2

In this class you will:

-Learn how to turn your magazine idea into reality

-Find out how to identify a successful editorial niche

-Understand the nuts and bolts of commissioning writers and designers

-See how to pull together a winning subscription, distribution and marketing plan

-Discover how to survive and thrive beyond the first year

You will leave with a good insight into the independent publishing industry and a strong idea of how to set about launching an independent magazine.

 Thoughts: I actually found this event on eventbrite a few months before it happened, sent it to my friend who I knew would be interested (hi Ayesha!) and then forgot about it. Then the day before, she asks if I want to go because her friend cancelled so she had an extra ticket, so I ended up going with her haha. I’ve always been vaguely interested in starting a magazine, and was actually the co-editor of an online art magazine aaaages ago with my online friend (hi Angela!), but was never really serious about it. While some of this information was not new for me (a lot of it overlapped with your typical entrepreneurship/startup advice, ie. finding a niche), the advice that was specific to launching indie magazines (logistics and business aspects) was very useful and interesting, and I really appreciated the numbers they threw in from their own business. Overall, was a very fun and honest look at the business, and the organisers were super friendly. Also left with a free copy of Delayed Gratification (their mag), which was cool to read.

  EDITED NOTES

 Introduction

Met early 20s in dubai, journalism students, working as time out editors, learnt how to make print mags together / fell in love with it

Went in different directions, and then all ended up back in london at 30

Just over 7 years now

Named independent magazine editors of the year 2017

Most independent magazines are losing if not hemorrhaging money - lots of vanity projects, made as a shop front for creative agencies.

Attrition rate is extraordinary. Intense desire to make them, but the number that make it past issue 2 / 3 is very low.

Lower barriers to entry than ever before - people are used to them, a lot more need for them (solace in print from digital world) + tools are there + there are all these places to sell them now (mag culture!)

Bad news: will probably break your heart, high failure rate, odds are against you, difficult economic model to make work, are not immune to pressures in mainstream press (but don’t face: massive debt built up in 80s/90s for rapid expansion, pensions liabilities, offices)

Were dreamers + journalists: novices at nuts and bolts of making money/funding

90% of success is turning up - determination to keep going even in early years

Maybe expand into documentaries / books in the future

Key lessons

1) you probably shouldn’t launch an independent magazine - sink which you pour your money, dreams, hopes

Brainstorm: Why do indie mags fail?

Not thinking about how you pay for issue 2 → run out of cash v quickly (where frequency comes into it, ie. weekly)

Just getting visibility: Hard to find your audience - with so much competition, etc

Often have expertise in one area, but lack expertise in another function that’s vital to bringing product to market

Content burn out, esp. If you make big commitments (launch with huge interview etc) - second album syndrome? Not to create too many structures that need to be filled in early days.

2) ^ can be overcome with a niche - you need a niche

Fat brad magazine

Terrible people magazine

Slightly foxed, nutmeg (scottish football periodical), mc1r (only about redheads)

Their niche: slow journalism, something to champion

What it did for them:

issue 1 cover was by obama’s hope poster artist (+ issue 5, limited edition posters, interview = all for free)

Content by Interviews (henry kissinger, etc) + writers - because it resonated with them, wanted to support it = can use those people’s credibility to add to theirs

Coverage + press: something to talk about (today program on radio 4: one 6 minute interview got them ~400 subscriptions = able to be condensed and easily explained/summed up)

Could have been slightly more bullish about fast news in the start, should you be worried about alienation??

Brainstorm: A name and niche

Colors magazine - activism & protest issue

Trend (mindfulness) vs Niche

Helps to sort of person we appeal to, what need am i filling that hasn’t been filled, what is my spin

Need to be passionate (committed, reason without a doubt), not egotistical, believe in your idea, ask for help a lot, honest

3) you need to think about the business

Beyond issue 1, what it is to run a magazine business (VAT returns, subscription systems, fb ads)

Frequency & cost

Weekly or monthly is really really fast. Always easier to go from quarterly down, because it shows you’re getting better, etc (awks if you have to go the other way).

Issue 1: 12 pounds, issue 2: 10 pounds.

When setting price for individual issue, what would you charge for a year’s subscriptions? You want to offer subscribers an appealing discount (that you��re not losing on each subscription)

Christmas is key for the indie mag industry - big burst of subscriptions as gifts. So don’t launch in jan or feb lol, christmas run is key, be well established for this! 50+% this year was from last 5 weeks of sales

Don’t launch in summer - nobody gets subscriptions then, more newstands then

Print, digital, or both?

People don’t want to pay for digital issues, not that captivated by complicated stuff you can do on there.

You have to charge VAT + pay percentage to platform for digital copies

People expect to pay less for digital copies

But there are some digital projects that are fascinating - de correspondent (similar premise, crowdfunded, purely digital in dutch, really collaborative / self contained digital ecosystem. / community driven)

Physicality - You can get people to pay for a physical / tangible object that they just don’t for digital, they have relationships with them.

Latterly (weekly newsletter, after building huge online audience for free, now printed publication)

^ merits of this?? Passion project more bc of time sink??

Subscriptions vs newsstand

Subscription systems

Gocardless (pay direct debits)

Chargebee - portal

V difficult to make money out of newsstand sales - 50% of the cover price, 3-6 months after mags are sold, and they generally only sell 60% of the ones you’ve sent them. Treated as marketing for subscriptions.

Not difficult to set them up

In London / UK: Ra&Olly, MMS, Smiths (difficult + unresponsive + dont fulfill, but have a stranglehold on mags in country)

Paid: gold star media (get you in to salons, hotels, airport lounges, etc)

Is your magazine one that a company would like to support? Team up because they really like it

Customer

Site sales: shopify

Fulfilment: newsstand

Adjust your expectations

4) take subscriptions!!

Newsstands are hard

It’s money upfront, will help with print bills, cash flow, etc

Community building

More chances for someone to like someone

Alternatives: Kickstarter, indiegogo (to test out if appetite is there)

Subscription renewals / Direct debits ?

Do not build your business model around advertising, it’s so diffused + competitive, can’t do trackability on print issues

No ads > bad ads

Corporate work - if you prove you can make mags, you can make them for other people too

Magazine as a broader way of selling your skill set

plan for issue 2/3/4 already + worst case scenarios

5) you need to make something special

Making your magazine:

Commissioning editorial content

There are a lot of really good writers out there desperate to work for you

Draw up a commissioning form - rights and responsibilities, deadlines, etc

Approach writers that you like - tell about mag & ask them to pitch OR give them a story and ask them to write it

Longer form + freedom

Always pay! You have a contract, leverage, etc

Editorial pagination * av word count * word rate = commission

First: 10p/word

Now: 25p/word

Industry average: 30p/word

Interviews / verbatim interviews: with an expert in the subject. Get it without having to pay a word rate, take what you need from it, may tighten it up for free anyway when you send it back for approval  

Ask people who just brought out a book

Finding a designer - they expect a very carefully designed product

Don’t be afraid to let things evolve - keep moving/changing things around

First issue is not going to be perfect, important thing is that it exists

Look at magazines / things you like + get in touch with them

Have your favorite designer create a template (or a regular design) for you - easier for recent grads etc to follow, at a cheaper price

Design software: considerable expense

Indesign, photoshop - creative suite, expensive monthly. Worth looking at older versions (old DVDs on ebay - work with designer to save it down a version)

Pagination (80-100), size (delayed gratification is too big/wide to fit through most letterboxes, something smaller / standard sizes are better), GSM (cyclical trends), binding (perfect bound, saddle stitch / staples are much cheaper)

Costs of the last issue, excl. Wages (which has come up a huge amount, 7-8k in the beginning bc lots in house and paying less) : 23.8k pounds

West ale ?? printers company

Approach the printers

The only thing that’s going to push your price up is if its special paper they have to order 4 u

You’ll get inundated with calls once you start up

You want a printer that will work around you (missed deadlines or changes post-proof stage)

6) you need to tell people about your mag

Brainstorm: how are you going to get noticed?

Making waves - Print someone controversial, getting into mainstream press

Power of positivity vs negativity (attract passionately negative people? In emails? Lol. prepare yourself for backlash)

Collaborating with influencers / people with followings / associations that make sense / endorsement (within the niche) - genuine

Loving print means embracing digital - lots of new people come from digital content

Weekly newsletter : manageable amount of content, keep engaging (mailchimp), moving people through the marketing funnel

Events - sense of community, benefit for subscribers.

Free is not recommended. Commitment.

Indie mag community - swap inserts in different titles/issues/newsletters, nicer fit, more interest

Podcasts

Questions

Usually print about 1000 copies of issue 1

Issue 0 - proof of concept (rarely done in indie mags)

Limited run projects - must be pitched to advertisers / subscribers before hand as such (will probz break ur heart at issue 6)

[latestnews2018-blog]

There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than These Grandma Twins

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/there-were-zero-things-better-this-week-than-these-grandma-twins/

There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than These Grandma Twins

Welcome to Good Stuff, HuffPost’s weekly recommendation series devoted to the least bad things on and off the internet. 

The best thing I saw this week was this photo of two old women I’m going to assume are twins because they look exactly the same and are wearing matching pink outfits. If I’m wrong, sue me.

Why do I like it? I don’t know. I just do. Maybe it’s been a so-so week, but I can’t think of anything else that has brought me more joy. Look at their outfits! The shirts! The glasses! The hair! Are those called shorts or pants? Who cares! I love them!

My colleague Ashley Feinberg described this photo as “fucked up,” claiming “there’s no way you get to 80 and still keep buying matching outfits with your twin without something being extremely fucked up.” She is wrong. Sometimes two cute twins (presumably) are just two cute twins (presumably).

Do you know these twins? I would like to interview them. Thanks. ― Maxwell Strachan

Jonathan Chait’s BOFA Tweet

Twitter

On July 12, in the year of our Lord 2018, at 10:51 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time, persecuted white man Jonathan Chait tweeted three perfect words: “What is BOFA?”

BOFA, as any self-hating internet user knows, is “bofa deez nuts.” It is the “What’s ‘updog’” prank, only vastly stupider and consequently infinitely funnier whenever an unsuspecting target takes the bait. Jonathan Chait took the bait, and the result was more beautiful than any of us could have ever hoped to deserve. 

Jonathan Chait, however, deleted his tweet — the tweet in which he asked, “What is BOFA?” — and deprived us of our constitutional right to dunk on Jonathan Chait. Just one more example of illiberal deplatforming from the radical left.

Anyway, congratulations to the remarkably damp Jonathan Chait on giving brief, beautiful life to a perfect tweet. We should all be so lucky. ― Ashley Feinberg

Sweet Soccer Boys Sharing Gentle Hugs

ALEXANDER NEMENOV via Getty Images

This week I wanted to recommend hate-watching (or more like “confused-watching”) Fox’s nightly special “World Cup Tonight,” but my editor made me turn it into a standalone blog. 

Instead, I will recommend a more healing aspect of the World Cup spectacle: watching the beautiful boys of soccer comfort and celebrate with each other through emotional embraces. Jezebel’s Sheena Raza Faisal saluted these loving clinches in a very on-point post that features not quite enough images of man hugs ― check the comments for more, especially England manager Gareth Southgate soothing Colombia’s Mateus Uribe after Uribe missed a crucial penalty kick in a shootout against England.

Boy, it sure is dusty in here, etc., etc. ― Claire Fallon

Glynnis MacNicol’s New Book

Illustration: HuffPost/Photo: Simon and Schuster

After hearing Glynnis MacNicol talk about her new memoir, Nobody Tells You This, at the Strand in New York City, I’ve had this one sentence stuck in my head. When asked about the plight of unmarried, childless women and our society’s treatment of them as somehow other or incomplete, MacNicol hit back with a statement that resonates with me still: “We look at women as a problem in need of a solution.”

In her book, MacNicol draws attention to the ways strangers feel they have a right to women’s bodies and lives in service of the ultimate goal, motherhood. The shame around it all, the general lack of freedom or agency, is really frightening. Although I have yet to read Nobody Tells You This, I’m excited to. And I’m ready to recommend it as a refreshing take on what life can be like for women who choose not to do what is expected of them. ― Anna Krakowsky

The Birth Of Kulture

Kulture ❤️❤️anything else woulda been basic 💁🏽‍♀️💁🏽‍♀️💁🏽‍♀️Okrrrrr

— iamcardib (@iamcardib) July 12, 2018

Cardi B had the baby and her name is Kulture with a K. That’s self-explanatory Good Stuff. ― Julia Craven

When June Smacked The Shit Out Of Commander Waterford On “The Handmaid’s Tale”

In a moment when it feels like terrible men are trying to whittle away women’s rights on a near-daily basis, sometimes you just really want to see a lady righteously smack the shit out of a dude who deserves it. Enter the “Handmaid’s Tale” finale!

June (Elisabeth Moss), who has spent two seasons being psychologically tortured, raped and belittled by Commander Fred Waterford (Joseph Fiennes) ― a man who desperately wants to be powerful and desperately wants the approval of women he knows are better than him ― finally stops bottling up her rage and lets him have it, right across the face. I could watch this GIF on repeat for the next two years. ― Emma Gray

England’s Loss

WATCH: Mario Mandzukic scores the game winning goal in extra time to put Croatia in its first ever World Cup Final. #ENGCRO #WorldCup pic.twitter.com/dnRpjSNPHo

— Jurado (@JuradoNYC) July 11, 2018

It’s not coming home. LOL. ― Travis Waldron

The Enya Song In “Eighth Grade”

You know a movie’s good when an Enya song pops up in a pivotal scene. But even without “Orinoco Flow,” Bo Burnham’s “Eighth Grade” would be an indie masterpiece ― one you should definitely, totally, run to the theater to see.

It follows “Most Quiet” superlative winner Kayla (Elsie Fisher) during her last week of eighth grade, as she tries to come to grips with her social anxiety and lackluster lifestyle before high school. Behind her phone, she’s confident, even funny. But in real life, Kayla is quiet, a loner. Burnham allows viewers to study her every move in a tech-obsessed world while contemplating their own adolescent memories. It’s beautiful, raw and utterly sweet. ― Leigh Blickley

Megan Amram’s Emmy-Nominated Web Series

Please watch “An Emmy for Megan,” a hilarious and weirdly poetic exercise in doing the bare minimum, while remaining utterly extra. The concept is simple: Writer Megan Amram, best known for her work on “The Good Place” and Twitter, decides she reeeeally wants to win an Emmy Award. (It’s her favorite award!) So at the last minute, she decides to write, direct and star in a short web series about making a short web series to win an Emmy.

The six episodes, under 10 minutes each and created in the week leading up to the submissions deadline, use the constraints of the Emmy requirements like forms of meter and verse. There are tears and tantrums and alcohol-fused meltdowns and even a surprise MUTINY along the short (so short) way.

Amram’s feat is not only hilarious but effective. On Thursday, the series was nominated for two Emmys: Outstanding Actress in a Short-Form Comedy or Drama Series and Outstanding Short-Form Comedy or Drama Series. Don’t sleep on the most inspiring tale of our time. ― Priscilla Frank

A Podcast About A Cult

When I was a kid, my best friend’s name was Robin, which was kind of weird because my mom’s childhood best friend’s name was Robin. The difference between my Robin and my mother’s Robin (aside from their being entirely separate humans) was that the latter ended up in a “Wild Wild Country”-ish cult.

My mom told me the story of her friend’s descent into Cult Town, U.S.A., and the teen girl power rescue mission that boldly extricated her a million times. Everything about it fascinated me. For a while, I actually thought it was a cosmic inevitability that my Robin would end up in a cult from which I’d need to liberate her. Anyway, she didn’t. But “The Gateway” is a good podcast about a cult. ― Katherine Brooks

Road Trip Music

Over the past few years, there’s been renewed interest in the work of John Fahey, the instrumentalist who put American primitive guitar on the map. As the genre has surged in popularity, acolytes and like-minded explorers have come out of the woodwork. Specialty labels have reissued private-press recordings that had long since gone out of print. It seems as though every town had an uncelebrated devotee of these obscure, mystical tunings. Worshipful but questioning, celestial and homespun, primitive guitar uses repetition and drone to access the pleasures and enlightenment of devotional music.

In April, Fahey’s hometown of Takoma Park, Maryland (just outside D.C.), honored the genre he helped create with a multiday festival. Lauding his work, it also shone a light on others who followed a similar path, devoting years to decoding the light and limber picking of Mississippi John Hurt and replicating the primal thump of Reverend Gary Davis. It was only fitting that one of this generation’s best pickers showed up ― Marisa Anderson, a guitarist based in the Pacific Northwest.

Anderson recently released a new album, “Cloud Corner,” which should be her breakthrough. She does something that I think most Fahey followers miss. She captures his melancholy, favoring mood as much as speed and technique. Her songs put you in places and moments. One song off an earlier album, she has said, is a tribute to her favorite swimming hole in Kentucky.

The new record lands on weightier subjects like the Syrian refugee crisis while other tunes process Tuareg-style playing through her fuzzy, electric style. But mostly, the songs ring clear, notes hushed or plucked pure. The album is meant for one of the few modes of escape where we can all still worship in peace: the road trip. ― Jason Cherkis

And Finally, The Women Of Color Who Dominated The Emmy Noms

Noam Galai via Getty Images

Sandra Oh was nominated for her role in “Killing Eve.”

This week in Good Stuff for me was the plethora of amazingly talented women of color who got Emmy nominations for best and supporting actress, including Sandra Oh (the first Asian woman to be nominated for lead actress in a drama), Tracee Ellis Ross, Issa Rae, Zazie Beetz, Letitia Wright and my queen Thandie Newton. ― Zeba Blay

Get last week’s Good Stuff here.

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[themediareviewer]

The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun

1968, Isao Takahata. Action, fantasy, medieval-ish. 

What a delight to have the chance of watching this movie! Few will probably know it, but the ones who do probably know it as one of the first movies in which Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata — the two main directors of Ghibli Studio — worked together. As a big fan of Miyazaki’s work, I must admit I definitely saw it under that light.

As an “older”movie (49 years!), there are obviously certain things that can feel and sound a bit “outdated”. The level of the animation is not consistent throughout the movie and the drawing style is visibly simple if we compare it to the flashy, exuberant effects of today’s movies and anime. However, The Great Adventure of Horus is one of those classic stories that should be watched simply because it is the base to so many stories that we know and love nowadays.

In matters of plot, this movie reminded me a lot of Hayao Miyazaki’s later movies, markedly Princess Mononoke. Here, the movie takes place during trying times and constantly reminds us that coming together as a community is often the only way to move forward. 

There also seems to be a large interest in war-like topics, such as the notion of men going off to war, leaving their wives and children behind. This reality of death, and the loneliness and harsh living conditions of the survivors is very present throughout The Great Aventures of Horus — though not always the main point of the story. This tangible fear and recognizable circumstances anchored the context of the movie pretty well for me, even with all of its fantastic elements. We might not have talking animals or magic spells in our world, but we do understand concepts like food rationing or a grieving wife and kids.

In fact, I find that Japanese animation often seems more comfortable tackling these harsh topics than American animation does. When characters die in Japanese animated movies, it is not always for noble reasons and they’re not always charming deaths. It’s a type of death that seems to confront, even the youngest audience members, with the harsh reality that sometimes people we love just die, in sometimes violent or even pointless ways. And although we can feel angry about those deaths, we (and the characters in the movie) don’t always have the power to do anything about them.

It leads me to wonder if this willingness to explore such helplessness comes from Japan’s own experience during World War 2. Of course, this is nothing but personal speculation, but who better to speak of “feeling helpless” than a nation who sacrificed so much and didn’t get to celebrate victory? I’m not speaking in terms of people being right or wrong in the war -- rather, I’m acknowledging the fact that war is harsh on all sides, and sometimes, decisions made by the head of states can have dire consequences for the majority of the population when they might not even agree with the decision to begin with. Interestingly enough, the animated movie Animatrix also touches upon these feelings of helplessness over a governmental decision, and Princess Mononoke makes us wonder if there really is such a thing as the “right” side in a war. All that to say that, it is often interesting how a country’s history strongly influences the messages explored by their movies, and even their artists’ willingness to tackle certain topics.

As a matter of fact, I am often positively surprised by how much confidence Japanese animated movies have in their audience. I remember watching Princess Mononoke in English for the first time and being struck by how explanatory the dubbed version was in comparison to the Japanese one. While in Japanese the character would say something like, “Ah!”, the English version would say something in the lines of: “Ah, look! The trees are coming together in order to make a barrier!” Reflexively, I would just laugh, because it felt like the people responsible for the movie’s dubbing thought that what was taking place in the animation was unclear, and so needed to explain the visuals through the dialog. In other words, where the Japanese animation trusted its viewers to pay attention to the movie and figure things out on their own, the English-dub seemed to feel their audience needed more explanation and hand-holding in order to appreciate the movie.

Though I am not a fan of purposefully vague movies, I do think there is room for improvement in that front, particularly in Western movies. Audiences will understand way more than some people might give them credit for -- and if they don’t, maybe dumbing down the plot isn’t the way to solve the issue. Instead, a combination of the audience’s willingness to understand harder concepts and of artists to lay their information with enough coherence and grace would benefit both sides, I think.

In fact, as much as this movie is a classic, if I had to complain about one thing, it would likely be the subtitles. Now, I’m no expert in Japanese, so I couldn’t say that such and such translations were “wrong”. Nevertheless, I know that Japanese is a complex, often poetic language, where what is read in-between the lines can be just as important as what people are actually saying. One word emphasized in a different way can completely change the meaning of a sentence. One “nope” instead of a “No” can make a world of difference. That is why when sentences were overly simplified in the English subtitles, they often sounded laughably crass. “You’re like my twin brother then!” the subtitles would read. For English speakers, this sentence can sound odd, in that it seems at once too intimate and too childish.”Like a twin brother” implies such a strong bond, yet since it is being spoken by a child to a stranger she just met, makes it sound like a naive comment. (In fact, most people in the audience laughed at this line in the movie!) However, if we consider that the original Japanese sentence sounded more like, “Your soul and mine are as similar as twins then!”, now the sentence holds the weight of a child with a scarred soul; a kid who has seen too much and whose dialog mirrors the discrepancy between her vocabulary and her age. Of course, this was just an example and I’m likely taking some poetic liberties with the translation. Nevertheless, this is one of the moments when I wish I could speak all languages, because (risking sounding too lame), I am much too aware of how much can get lost in translation.

Another element present in Horus that become even more relevant in Miyazaki’s later movies is the nebulous definition of the word “Good”. Here, Good or Bad aren’t adjectives used to describe a person; rather, a person has both good and evil inside them. Without giving away too much of the plot, there are several characters in the movie whose nature we can’t quite pin down at first -- and that’s because often, those characters are confused themselves! That willingness to admit that people are often more than just good or bad makes these characters way more realistic than many other animated characters to me. In fact, Mark Steinberg once mentioned that Japanese animation often depicts what he calls “emotional realism”, that is, it uses a style that might not look or move very realistically, but realistically depicts the complexity of emotions inside a person. A character who agrees with the protagonist at a certain point in the story might disagree in some other aspect — just as real people do. We have changes of heart, and we can act differently when we’re tired, or sad or angry. Likewise, once someone comes to trust you as a person,  that trust is often enough for them to believe you no matter how much someone seeks to undermine your credibility. There is no big moment of “You doth betrayed me!” (*big, exaggerated motion*). Rather, those who like you will likely back you up no matter what, and those who don’t, will probably find any excuse to act against you.

Finally, I’d like to discuss the clever use of budget in this movie. When I think of movies like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, where even the simplest shot has a picture-perfect background, with a beautifully crafted movement and a painfully sharp photo quality, I understand why people could expect that same level of perfection from every animated studio out there. But as an audience, we should remember that not every studio has that sort of budget and man-power. That movement style we understand as “realistic” comes with a cost that not everyone can pay. And yet, artists may still choose to tell a story with the means they have available, and we as viewers should be willing to meet them half-way. You know the saying, Tell me a good story and I will read it from a toilet paper (it’s not a saying... But it is a good reference to V for Vendetta). If we only judge a movie by how visually appealing it looks, we could be missing out in some great stories out there. 

The Great Adventures of Horus is one of those movies where, likely for budgetary reasons, the artists used very simple animation. More than once there were long sequences of still frames where the only “movement” was literally the camera movement over the static drawing. It might feel a bit jarring to look at -- particularly for someone who is used to Pixar-like movies -- but it isn’t so jarring if we consider that animation also came after centuries of Shadow plays and Kamishibai (literally “paper play”) in Japan. In that context, animation is not limited to a realistic aesthetic or to a particular quality of movement; it is a means of telling a story, a box of stylistic possibilities.

As such, I found myself thinking of why the artists chose to use partial animation in certain scenes instead of others. In this movie, the makers clearly put their limited budget toward animating the sequences with most emotional value for its characters. The clearest example is that while one of the main battles in the movie (which could be considered imperative to the plot) happens mostly through these moving stills, while the festival of the sun -- which introduces Horus to the village in a more relevant way -- is lavishly animated. The fighting sequence, though important, depicted nothing more than violence and death, and didn’t really require complex animation to be understood by the audience. On the other hand, the dancing sequence is a moment of bonding. Here, we get a fantastic 3-5min sequence where the whole village is dancing around a bonfire while the sun is setting. Between the shadows cast on the floor, or the dozens of people making a zig-zag conga line, or the children running between the people dancing, I just couldn’t stop marvelling at the richness of the visuals. It seems almost contradicting that the same movie could have animation “cheats”, but it’s really not. It is precisely because the movie chose to have some “cheap” shots that they could afford to go big where it mattered to them. As someone who appreciates good storytelling and character development, I definitely respected that decision.

When it comes down to it, I feel this movie is definitely not for everyone… in the same way that The Godfather is not for everyone. As a viewer, you sort of need to know what you’re walking into. However, by adapting your frame of mind and taming your expectations, you can appreciate the movie for what it is: a piece within a historical context with its own filmmaking significance. Personally, I watched The Great Adventures of Horus, as the originator, an inspiration to many movies I love today. The visuals range from noticeably simple to masterfully complex, and the characters go from flat talking animals to scarred men of war. All in all, this movie is the very definition of go big and go home.