#jude/madge

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

WBW for Jude

B A S I C S

full name: Jude Abernathy

gender: male

sexuality: bisexual

pronouns: he/him

O T H E R S

family: Hollis & Katniss & Primrose Everdeen (cousins), Matilda Jade Everdeen (mother), Haymitch Abernathy (father), Clara Everdeen (aunt), Johnny Blue Everdeen (uncle), Maude Ivory Baird (grandmother)

birthplace: Disctrict 12

job: performer, Victor, justice building employee

phobias: any of his loved ones in the games

guilty pleasures: Capitol cocktails (avoids drinking many because of his dad)

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: chaotic good

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert

organized/disorganized

close minded/open-minded

calm/anxious

disagreeable/agreeable

cautious/reckless 

patient/impatient

outspoken/reserved 

leader/follower

empathetic/unemphatic

optimistic/pessimistic

traditional/modern

hard-working/lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Jude x Misty, Jude x Ness, Jude x Madge, Jude x Babs, Jude x Bellona

ot3: Jude x Lysa x Gale

brotp: Hollis & Jude, Jude & The Band, Jude & Finnick

notp: Jude x Hollis

Send me “World Building Wednesday” and an OC and I’ll tell you

[randomestroleplays]

Hollis sat on the edge of her bed, head in her hands, and let out a long sigh.  She appreciated the support, she did, but ever since Katniss had boarded the train, all she had wanted was a moment to herself.

Gale had found her first, as she was leaving the Justice Building.  He would help, he’d promised.  He’d take her out hunting and help her take care of her family until Katniss came back.  Neither of them were acknowledging the alternative.

Jude had been next, pulling her into a tight hug and letting her sink into his arms for just one moment.  He’d kissed the top of her head, made her promise that she would let him know if he needed anything, and told her to get some sleep before the start of the games.

It felt like she had seen half the district on her way home.  The rest of the band, of course; Gale and Danny’s friend from the mines, the one who’d grabbed her when Prim’s name was called — Camden, she thought his name was; Madge; Mayor Undersee… everyone had something to say, a testament to Katniss’ strength, their best wishes. 

She appreciated it, how much her district cared in their own ways, but putting on a smile and professing her absolute faith in her sister was exhausting, and all she wanted was a moment to herself.

Well — she heard the floor creak on the other side of the door: Prim, no doubt — maybe some company would be alright. 

[ @hvbris ]

[logictoinsanity]

Recently read The Silence by Tim Lebbon and it was great, found out there was a movie and watched it and now I'm subjecting the Internet void to

My Thoughts on The Silence (2019) (6.5/10):

-(TLDR: I enjoyed it, but if I hadn't read the book it'd be much less interesting

TLDR of the move: if youve seen a quiet place, very similar creature, blind and hunts via hearing, reminiscent of like, piranhas combined with bats. parents, young son, deaf daughter and moms mom are trying to survive)

- Casting is all good except for Huw they fucked up (actor did a good job, just don't think he has the right vibe and its not /just/ because he's bald)

- Jude and Ally are great, Otis is a Rottweiler and I can't remember if that's book accurate (definitely not how I pictured him, I pictured a mutt that vaguely resembles a dark grey Irish wolfhound, but not as ridiculously large). but he's so so cute (I hid during The Scene™ so I have no clue how they handled it, but maybe next time I can just think about the dog actor having a really fun time)

- Not a fan of the change of setting, I understand that the problem had to move faster than the book, but they could've still kept the UK and Moldova, I feel like this would be more important to me if I was British tho tbh, im sure theres aspects of the characters in the book that got messed up when they turned american that i didnt notice. Probably cheaper to film in the USA tho.

- Obviously lacks all of the incredible build up and suspense of the entire first quarter of the book, with Ally seeing the cave on TV and slowly watching it become a bigger and bigger thing, which is one of my favorite things about the book

- Note from ~25 minutes in- better than a quiet place because it starts from the beginning, although I've heard the quiet place 2 provides a lot more context, maybe it's a ouija situation

- FUCKING HATE THAT THEY CHANGED 'HE WANTS ALLY FOR HER SIGN LANGUAGE AND SEES HER AS A FUCKED UP SAVIOR' INTO 'THE GIRL IS FERTILE' THATS SO FUCKING STUPID WHY WOULD THEY VALUE FERTILITY AT ALL WHEN BABIES ARE IMPOSSIBLE TO HUSH AS A PRE ESTABLISHED FACT THATS JUST GROSS PERVERSION FOR THE SAKE OF SHOCK VALUE INSTEAD OF WHAT ACTUALLY MAKES SENSE FOR THE PLOT

- They also fucked up the order of events with the hushed attacking the house, which fucks up the relevance of the grandmas sacrifice, since they just grabbed Ally again right after

- They also didn't include the smile from grandma to Ally which would've been so so easy to include and imo was a good moment.

- I liked Jude stabbing the guy, can't remember if that was in the book. also didn't like that it was three kidnappers instead of one really big guy who ignored like, a knife wound and being punched repeatedly

- Overall very similar to how I feel about THG movie, although this movie is worse than THG generally, so the concept is amplified. fun to watch because I know the deeper parts, decent basic genre movie, but doesn't have nearly the substance, meaning, or craftsmanship as the book.

- Really wish the beginning had slightly more time to show the doubt the world had when the vesp infestation first started. I think like two or three weeks passed between the Moldova cave incident and the vesps crossing the British channel in the book. There also wasn't time to show all the ways people tried to fight back, the military burning cities while blasting off fireworks, releasing toxic gases, etc. But I think specifically the doubt that was surrounding the vesp infestation in its early stages is a very important part of what makes the book so effective, it shows how people will ignore the things they cant handle, the cognitive dissonance we all have about whats happening in far away countries, it could never happen to us etc

- Really wish Glenn got more screen time and character development, especially in relation to the doubt, but I understand why he didn't. He's the madge of this film (not as bad tho, they did their best with him and the time they had I think)

- Feel pretty much the same about the ending, I get they needed a satisfying conclusion since they knew the odds of a sequel were slim, and the original ending would've been to frustrating for a more general audience.

- Personally though, I would've written it closer to the original, but they make it to the house in Scotland, and there's vague hints about the refuge (and maybe a more solid conclusion on rob somehow) so its like, there's a little open endedness and if they really wanted to do a sequel they could, but its still satisfying and more follows the original storyline. Especially since they totally cut out the plot line of huw and his parents weird relationship and his weird feelings about Scotland.

- Still enjoyed it more than quiet place, though tbf I don't remember that movie very well, I was high as fuck during both movies, and I haven't seen the sequel

- Huws brother and sister, Allys best friend and the lake house woman's machete are all absent, along with the prime Minister announcements (although I guess itd be the president) which I really enjoyed since the governments response is a key component to how a society reacts to catastrophy, which I think is a solid bit of the point of the book

- Basically I want a five hour long extended version that's just a little more book accurate and has slightly better pacing and casting. Just like The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson, and every other book to movie adaptation I've ever seen

[porchwood]

Fic Bits 2018: The One That Got Away

Modern AU; Madge POV. Jude/Madge, Gale/Madge. 

They say you can never go home again, and yet here I am, packing to do just that.

The second autumn after you graduate from college is when the niggling feeling starts, like you left town without returning your library books or forgot to put the new insurance card in your glove compartment. When the first one comes around, you’re elated that you don’t have to think – let alone worry – about registering for classes, mapping your daily routes across campus, or buying school supplies of any kind, but by the second you’re starting to feel like something’s wrong. It’s easy to understand why so many people fall into teaching. Your body gets set on that routine, so that going back to school in fall is as instinctual to humans as seasonal migrations are to birds.

Ironically, it was the school year that determined this move – or rather, the school year that necessitated it, though the fall semester is already several weeks underway. Beginning in January, Dad will be teaching again for the first time since I was in elementary school – and, doubt it not, loving every minute of it.

At twenty-three my life could and probably should be independent of my parents’, but no matter which way I turned the situation around in my mind, there was no truly good reason not to move back with them. As badly as I don’t want to go back to the small town where I grew up, there’s nothing substantial enough to keep me here if my parents are gone.

We’ve always been thick as thieves and, oddly, moreso since moving to the capital city. The fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue that kept my mother to a quiet routine in our hometown made her a veritable recluse amidst the constant bustle of squealing brakes and blaring horns, and everything was so blindingly expensive, we rarely partook of the concerts and boutiques and exotic restaurants that had sounded so exciting from our living room back home.

Moving here as a family had been the result of two somewhat predictable stars aligning perfectly: after twelve years as mayor, Dad was elected to the state legislature and I was accepted into the music program at a small private college, a short bus ride from the capitol building. My parents rented a spacious loft halfway in-between the two, which enabled me to keep tabs on my mother while enjoying the independence of living off-campus all through school, while our place back home was loaned out to visiting professors and the like – short-term rentals to keep the utilities running and keep an eye out for any maintenance issues that might arise. I’m told I missed out on the “full college experience” by not living in a dorm, but from all accounts, it’s a party I’m glad to have skipped.

For all intents and purposes, home has been 37 Ash Terrace for the past five years. Four-and-a-half hours isn’t the longest drive, but there was always one reason or another to stay here through the holidays – which is not to say we’ve never gone back, of course. Our family revisits can be counted on two hands, but I’ve made a few extra trips on my own for special occasions, the last of which – the baptism of Katniss’s son Janni – was more than two years ago now.

I look up at my bulletin board, now stripped of everything but the central photo, and have just tugged out the tack when my phone rings. It’s a local cell number – local to our hometown, not to here – but doesn’t pull up a contact, and I cross the first two fingers of my free hand, hoping one of my cover letters has snared an interview as I answer, “Hello?”

“Is this Madeline Undersee?” asks a young male voice.

That was one of the best things about moving away, and one that I’m particularly loath to leave behind: finally getting to be Madeline, not Madge. That a young professional back home is addressing me as such, however, gives me hope.

“It is,” I affirm, and there’s a brief, quickly stifled sound from the other end before the caller goes on, “I was wondering if you might be available to play a wedding in November.”

The pieces snap together in my mind. It’s probably a local boy who went to college in the capitol like myself – it’s a common enough path – and found himself a fiancée, though it is a trifle odd for the groom to call ‘round for an accompanist.

“I’m sorry; I’m actually moving out of the area this weekend,” I reply, “but I can refer you to several other musicians who would be excellent choices.”

“I’m afraid it really has to be you,” he says with what sounds far more like mischief than regret. “What about a wedding in your hometown? Would that be a little easier to manage?”

“In –?” I break off, mind whipping through the possibilities. It’s hardly a secret that the Undersees are moving back after five years in the big city, but we’ve kept radio silence on my own return except where potential employers are concerned, so there’s no way some random local groom could even know about me, let alone want to hire me for his wedding. “Who is this?” I demand more than ask, a shy fifteen-year-old bookworm all over again, bristling in anticipation of the prank.

“You really don't know?” the young man responds, sounding genuinely surprised, and for a half-second my heart skips in hope, never mind that his voice bears no resemblance whatsoever to Gale’s rough, smoky timbre. “I’m wounded, mädchen,” he laments, and my heart trips halfway through its skip and somersaults clumsily forward to faceplant onto the concrete below.  

“Jude?” I squeak.

“You haven’t forgotten me entirely, then?” he teases.

“Don’t be daft,” I retort, my stunned heart now flailing in shock. “So…you’re getting married?” I almost ask if it’s Columbine but that crush is surely ancient history now, never mind that last I heard, she was headed to some fashion design or modeling program out east.

“Don’t be daft,” he throws back with characteristic self-deprecation, but the affection beneath it wraps about me like a blanket – or one of Jude’s incredible lingering hugs. “But I do need a wedding accompanist,” he goes on, “which as I said, really has to be you, but I want to tell you about it in person. When are you back?”

“Well – tomorrow,” I reply, and the whole thing suddenly feels surreal. “Well, the day after, really,” I clarify. “Tomorrow’s the drive up and the U-Haul unload. Mom and Dad hired movers but you still want to go through everything, you know?”

“Of course,” he assures me. “Want to meet at Primavera for Saturday lunch – say, 11:30? My treat.”

“Primavera?” I puzzle. There’s never been an Italian restaurant in our hometown – it’s too small and rural to sustain any such – but the nearby city has a few shopping malls and a much wider selection of eateries; it makes sense that Jude would want to go to one of them. “What – where is that?” I ask.

He gives a little choke of laughter in reply. “Have you really been away so long, mädchen?” he wonders, but something about my ignorance seems to amuse – even delight – him. “It’s Italian – awesome Italian – right next to Mellarks’.”

“There’s nothing next to Mellarks’,” I counter, because our tiny historic downtown has never been able to keep shops for long, not with countless department stores and discount stores not twenty miles off. “Unless…are we having a sidewalk picnic, Judah?” I venture, almost hopefully, and he laughs.

“If the first date goes well, we can do whatever you want on the second,” he replies, and I miss him so much that I snatch up a pillow with my free hand and hug it to my chest as hard as I can. “But I promise: there is a legit Italian restaurant next to Mellarks’,” he says. “I’m going to buy you lunch there on Saturday, and you’re going to love it so much that you’ll refuse to live out of takeout range ever again.”

“Color me intrigued,” I tease. “As much about your mysterious wedding as this new eatery.”

“They’re both worth the wait,” he promises, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

“I missed you,” I blurt and Jude falls suddenly, uncharacteristically silent. There are any number of well-deserved retorts he could hand me, ranging from You didn’t have to to I didn’t go anywhere, but Jude is the sweetest boy I’ve ever known – on a level with Peeta, really – and even in our most frustrated moments, he never addressed me half as harshly as Gale would on a good day.

I think I hurt him a long time ago, though he’s never said as much.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, and the corners of my eyes prickle hotly.

I don’t want to go home – you can never go home again, everyone says as much – don’t want to explain why I have a music degree from a respectable college and am looking for any old day job in my hometown and living with my parents. I don’t want to see Gale Hawthorne – never mind how wildly I do want to see him – to face all the inevitable jibes about how I “couldn’t make it in the real world.”

But if Jude – sweet, funny, precious Jude – is coming back into my life, it just might be bearable. He’ll have a job and new friends now – a girlfriend, to be sure – and he may not even live in town any longer. But we can grab lunches together here and there and laugh about stuff that happened in high school. Maybe we’ll find new things to laugh about.

“See you Saturday?” I say.

“I’ll be the one with the red ribbon,” he replies.

As always, I’m the one who hangs up.

Jude always let me end our calls, always hanging on in case of one last thought or lament, one more drawn-out Night-night or See you tomorrow.

Looking down at the phone in my hand, I remember the incredibly idiotic reason Jude isn’t saved as a contact anymore and sit on my stripped mattress, both arms curled around the pillow and my chin resting on its edge. It was stupid and childish – and ultimately pointless, because he didn’t try to get in touch at all after that. Oh, he did the usual friendly Facebook stuff – comments on my posts and the like – because Jude is that kind of sweet, but he’d never do anything to make me uncomfortable.

And also, maybe, he was hurt.

It’s not as if I shut him out – there were no calls or texts or emails to ignore – and you could hardly call my across-the-state move for college “avoidance,” but it certainly aided me to that end, especially five summers ago.

I bite my lips together for a long moment, silently call myself an idiot, and save the number as a new contact: Judah Tolliver. Neat, professional, and objective, like a grown-up. After all, if he’s hiring me for a wedding we’ll be exchanging calls and texts over the next few months; there’s no reason not to add him to my phone.

Returning to my call history, I dial Rue, the high school friend I’ve stayed closest to by virtue of us attending the same college. Our courses of study and career veered apart over the past few years as Rue set aside music to pursue dance full-bore and is currently spending her days with a traveling company that does famous ballets in a pared-down, intimate contemporary style, with dreamlike costumes that I suspect her father has a hand in, but we’ve stubbornly kept in touch all this while, meeting for a meal and a chat whenever her schedule allows.

She’s halfway across the country dancing Swanilda in Coppélia this season, so our farewell supper took place about two weeks ago. I don’t expect her to answer and am beyond surprised when she does.

“Hey chickie-babe!” she cries. “Are you home? I’ve only got a minute but I want to hear all about it. How did your house hold up?”

“We haven’t left yet,” I tell her. “We’re loading the U-Haul tonight and driving back tomorrow.”

“So where’s the fire?” she teases. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you to bits, but why call now? Are you getting sad about leaving – or going back?”

Rue understands my misgivings, even if she doesn’t share them. After I told my parents I’d move back with them, I curled up on Rue’s couch and cried myself into a stupor while she nestled her tiny fairy-form around me in a supportive hug. Going home is not failure, she told me over and over again, her husky voice sounding so like her mother’s as she rubbed my back in soothing circles. You and your parents have always supported each other; it makes sense you’d go back with them, at least for a little – and it’s not forever, not if you don’t want it to be.

Rue’s parents – a costumer and a choreographer – left the capitol when they started having kids and heartily embraced small town life in the heartland, but they both had vibrant careers behind them and were ready for quiet inexpensive living, for Piggly Wiggly and the county fair and a fixer-upper farmhouse, and they quickly found avenues to exercise their talents on a smaller scale.

I’m a year and a half out of college with eleven wedding gigs, five funerals, and a teaching slot at the local conservatory to show for twenty years at the piano and a B.A. with high distinction.

“Jude just called,” I reply by way of explanation. “He wants to hire me for a wedding –”

“His?” she interjects impishly.

“No,” I quell, “but he wouldn’t tell me who it is over the phone either. We’re meeting for lunch on Saturday to discuss it.”

“Meeting for lunch to discuss a mysterious wedding right after you move back to town?” she presses slyly. “Maybe it’s yours!”

Rue knows there’s nothing of that sort between Jude and me and never has been, but she’s equally convinced that there must be, or should’ve been. He adores you, you know, she’s told me time and again. Like, Peeta-and-Katniss level devotion. Couldn’t you just kiss him once and see what happens?

“Be serious,” I snort.

“I am,” she insists. “I never understood why the pair of you never got together, or why you fell out of touch after graduation. Jude was crazy about you –”

“He was like that with everyone,” I counter. “The sweet, funny thing – that’s just his natural demeanor.”

“And did he ask everyone to marry him if their respective crushes married other people?” she wonders.

“He said we should go on a date, not get married,” I remind her, the edge of a snap creeping into my voice. “It was a low moment and a long time ago. We were both feeling angsty.”

I don’t mention the other thing, the thing I’ve never told anyone – not even myself when I can help it.

“Well…maybe it’s time, sweetie,” she posits quietly. “Maybe Columbine finally found a husband and Jude wants to give the pair of you a chance.”

“I really don’t think that’s it,” I tell her, oddly wearied by the subject, but judging by the increasing volume of background noise, Rue’s about to be pulled away anyway.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she admits at the selfsame moment. “I’ll be back in a few weeks myself, but call me ASAP after your lunch with Jude, okay?”

“You got it,” I promise, and we hang up. I set the phone on my mattress, next to the photo of Gale Hawthorne from the state hockey finals seven years ago, and sigh.

I haven’t seen him since the reception after Ashpet’s baptism, and it wasn’t the most auspicious encounter.

I’d never struck a man before – or since – and certainly never in a church basement.

“Magpie?��

My father pokes his head through the open doorway. “Movers just got here,” he says. “Is your room ready to go?”

I tuck the picture of Gale inside my battered paperback of Jane Eyre, just behind the Candygram with the red ribbon threaded across the top and tied in a perfect, pressed, bow. “This is it,” I affirm, and slip the book into my purse before following my father downstairs.

As a tween I was enamored of the 1995 remake of Sabrina and resolved to head off to school with a photo of Gale – obligingly supplied by Jude, who worked on the yearbook – to pin on my bulletin board and systematically cover with playbills, flyers, ticket stubs, and the like. But I could never quite bring myself to obscure him completely, and when I went to London for my semester abroad I brought him there too, to try and forget in a foreign land.

The book is a Gale token too, also obtained for me by Jude.

I finagled to take Senior Lit in spring of my junior year in order to free up an elective senior year and as a result took the class with Jude. The first book on the slate was Jane Eyre – which I loved, somewhat to my surprise – and in true high school fashion, each copy had a log card inside the cover for the present user to write their name on, beneath the names of the book’s previous readers. Of course, neither Jude nor I got Gale’s but we knew someone had it, and at Jude’s graduation party – months after all the books had been checked back in – he stole me away to his room to press the prized copy into my hands.

I think you were looking for this, he said as I opened the cover, frantically scanned the names inscribed therein and threw my arms around him with a shriek.

But Jude, I realized, pulling back with a start, you swiped this; what if they won’t let you graduate-?

I just did, he reminded me gleefully, and the diploma is signed, sealed, and securely secreted in Mom’s wall safe as we speak. Anyway, it wasn’t my copy, so even if they do notice it’s missing, it’s not me they’d come after.

I looked back at the last name on the card – Annie Cresta – and shook my head at him. If she gets in trouble for this, I warned.

She won’t, he promised. They don’t care that much about one of twenty-three beat-up paperbacks, and it means a whole lot more to you than to the school.

I hugged him again, fiercely this time, and he curled his arms around me with a little sigh. I’m so glad you like your present, mädchen, he murmured. I know it’s not you graduating, but I wanted to beat the rush.

I spent most of Senior Lit associating Gale with Mr. Rochester, to Jude’s clear chagrin, which was curious as he didn’t seem to like the character any more than he did my sullen, dark-haired crush. I’ll grant you similarities, he agreed, but can you imagine Gale delivering that beautiful string speech in any universe?

We took our Jane Eyre final on Valentine’s Day, and in the class directly following I received an anonymous Candygram with a strawberry lollipop affixed, a red ribbon painstaking woven through neat holes punched across the top and tied in a small bow, and the handwritten message:

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you – especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”

I wished so badly for it to be from Gale – never mind he wasn’t even in school anymore, let alone inclined to quote Charlotte Brontë – or maybe that I had some other mysterious tall-dark-and-handsome admirer, but I knew exactly who it was from and let my head fall against his shoulder as we sat next to each other in the choir room, his literary Valentine cupped in my hands.

Jude’s breath caught a little at the gesture, then leveled out in a long slow sigh.

Thanks, Jude, I whispered.

We both knew it wasn’t a real love note but I treasured it as one just the same, pressed between the pages of my student planner until finding a worthier setting inside Gale’s copy of Jane Eyre. The book and Candygram went everywhere with me – every summer camp and weekend trip during my senior year and in college, on every choir tour, every visit back home, all across Europe on my backpacking trip with Rue and then on to my bedside table in England. If I couldn’t lay hands on it at a moment’s notice I’m not sure I’d be able to breathe.

The movers are quiet and efficient and the truck is loaded in a fraction of the time we anticipated, prompting Dad and me to hash out the pros and cons of setting out tonight instead, but there are plenty of last-minute little things to wrap up and we’d all prefer to make the drive on a good night’s sleep – which unfortunately, is not to be had for me. Dad booked us a hotel room in the suburbs for convenience, so we could check out of the loft as soon as the truck was loaded and leave in the morning without having to wait for one last walk-through with the landlord, but while he and Mom drift off quickly in their queen bed, I frown up at the ceiling from the sofa sleeper, contemplating Jude and Jane Eyre.

The capitol is a long way off, mädchen…

My junior year – Jude’s senior year – was like high school is in the movies: a charmed, wonderful dream that feels like it’ll never end. In October Peeta finally plucked up the nerve to ask Katniss out, and their relationship brought both her and I – and to a lesser extent, Rue – firmly into the Mellark circle. Jude and I had been friendly before that, but he’s both cousin and close friend to the Mellark brothers, and as a result he and I were thrown together almost constantly at meals, school events, even youth group outings. We jokingly called these “triple dates” or “quad dates” sometimes, since the rest of our group consisted of fast-and-firm couples – Peeta and Katniss, Luka and Johanna, and often Finnick and Annie as well – but no one ever seemed to take the idea of Jude and me as a couple seriously.

We were madrigal seat partners that December, which necessitated all kinds of marriage banter throughout the dinners, then after Christmas came Senior Lit and Jane Eyre and auditions for school’s production of Fiddler on the Roof. Determined not to miss out on a role when my best friends were undeniable shoo-ins, I dyed my hair a deep chestnut-brown the night before my tryout – solidly shocking everyone in my acquaintance, but it served its purpose when I was cast as Tzeitel. I’d had my hopes set on playing any one of the sisters and forgot until the read-through that I was playing the one whose wedding is a major showpiece of the play – and that I would be marrying Jude, made even more endearing in little round glasses.

I’d never had so much fun, before or since.

I left most of my high school mementos at home when we moved to the capitol but the Fiddler album has stayed with me, and from time to time I page through the photos, the notes that came with flowers from my parents and teachers, the programs that we all signed – and the subsequent ridiculous everyday notes from Jude addressed to “Wifey” and “Mrs. Kamzoil.”

Prom came around in April and our school required everyone to attend in pairs, so it was effectively decided over youth group pizza after a highway trash cleanup that I would be going with Jude. I’d nourished a pipe dream that Gale might magically materialize and ask me to go with him – you could attend with someone who had graduated and it happened now and again, with college freshmen coming back to escort their girlfriends – but when he actually did appear at the dance it was with Leevy, his flavor-of-the-month girlfriend, if the rumors were to be believed.

I still had my brown hair at prom-time, which Jude lamented to no end while alternately telling me that I was “gorgeous just the same” and making me laugh at the silliest things. The dance was a blast for the first two hours, and then Katniss and Peeta quietly revealed to our group that they were engaged, with plans to marry the following spring after graduation.

Their courtship had been rapid and intense – emotionally, not physically – and no one was surprised that marriage was forthcoming, but the timetable was shocking to say the least. None of us believed that Katniss was pregnant or anything of the sort but they were both barely seventeen, and neither had any interest in going on to college. Peeta had a career waiting at the bakery he loved and Katniss was supremely adaptable to almost any kind of work – and neither was closing the door on trade schools or vocational degrees, if a good fit should present itself. They had decided – rather practically – to spend their senior year planning the wedding and finding a home rather than fretting over the ACT and college applications, and they would get married at the end of May, before the weather got too hot and everyone headed off to college.

It was a preposterous and entirely sound plan.

Peeta and Katniss skipped the school-sponsored after-prom party, unsurprisingly, while the rest of us splintered off into contemplative pairs. Finnick and Annie and Luka and Johanna both seemed as good as engaged to me, but the announcement had rattled them as well, and Jude and I wound up watching the smarmy stage hypnotist by ourselves in a subdued sort of silence.

It wasn’t that either of us was unhappy at the news, exactly. While I considered Katniss my best friend, we had never been chatty in typical girlfriend-fashion, and yet her impending marriage struck my stomach like an icy stone. You’ll be going to college anyway, I reminded myself, and you’ll stay in touch, but none of this served to soothe.

Jude absently wrapped his tux jacket around my shoulders and then his arm, resting his cheek on the top of my head. He’d barely spoken since the engagement reveal and I couldn’t begin to guess what his uncharacteristic silence meant.

It sounds really nice, he said suddenly, softly. Staying right here, getting married, coming home to a wife and babies.

I wanted to retort something dry and mildly caustic but couldn’t find the words for any reply at all because it was nice, this future Peeta and Katniss were setting up for themselves. I wanted to continue with music as long as I could; to study abroad, to live in the capitol and maybe other cities in due course,, but that wasn’t the future either Katniss or Peeta wanted, and why should they force themselves through the college mold, going eyes-deep in debt for degrees they had no interest in and possibly jeopardizing their relationship with the distance and other, inevitable, obstacles when the future they both craved was easily within their grasp?

Madeline, Jude continued in that same soft tone – I was always Madeline or, affectionately, mädchen to him – if Columbine and Gale marry other people, will you go on a date with me?

Almost as long as Jude and I have been friends, we’ve been aware of each other’s hopeless longing for an oblivious sweetheart and openly commiserated about it, with no fear – or even thought – of annoying each other or hurting feelings. Butcher’s son Jude was in love with Columbine Wilhearn, all black curls and lovely voice, whose mother was a small-scale – if highly in-demand – clothing designer and I was in love with broody, breathtaking Gale, whose mother managed the local laundromat and who despised my very existence because, as the mayor’s daughter, I had surely been born to privilege – never mind that my father had been a music teacher before his election and that as mayor he served a rural town of some 8000 people and dealt with weighty matters like dog waste ordinances and ribbon cuttings for tiny antique shops.

We’d both made periodic, futile attempts to elicit our respective crush’s attentions, but somehow for the course of that year – the year of madrigal seat partners and Jane Eyre and getting married on-stage in Fiddler – the longing had felt a little less pressing. Jude still ordered flowers for Columbine on opening night – she was playing the female lead, after all – but in other circumstances he would’ve done so for every performance, not just the first, and he brought me flowers too – a vaseful of red tulips from his mother’s garden to brighten my corner of the greenroom. And while I knew he’d asked Columbine to prom their junior year – and been turned down, of course – I don’t think he even tried the next time around, just cheerfully stepped up to escort me when the opportunity arose.

In fact, to the outside observer, Jude and I probably appeared to be dating for the past year.

The realization left me cross, embarrassed and oddly weary. Jude and I were just friends, everybody knew it, but could we have inadvertently sabotaged each other’s crushes by spending so much time together? Would Gale have emerged to ask me out if I hadn’t been so immersed in the Mellark circle this year – and in Jude’s company in particular?

We’re at prom, I reminded him, my tone shorter than he deserved. I’m wearing an evening gown and your tux jacket. How much more of a date do you want?

I want to pick you up at your house, he replied without hesitation, a brush of lips against my lilac-threaded crown braid. Just you and me and maybe your dad on the porch, to shake hands and talk about the weather and remind me to have you back by 10:00, and I’ll tell you how beautiful you look as I slide an orchid on your wrist. We’ll go to a fancy restaurant and trade bites of our entrees and steal a pepper shaker when we leave, just to see if we can get away with it. We’ll hold hands under the table and slow-dance like it means something, not just because we came together and it’s obligatory, and when I drop you at home, you might let me kiss you under the porchlight.

I pulled away to look up at him, at those gentle smoky eyes – gray like Gale’s and yet absolutely, utterly, nothing like Gale’s – and tried to decide whether to throttle him or burst into tears, because I knew he didn’t mean any of this the way it sounded but it was still the sweetest thing I’d ever heard – and remains so to this day. But I didn’t want Jude – I didn’t, I was sure of it – and he didn’t want me, he was just getting broody – in the hen fashion, not the Gale fashion – because of Peeta’s engagement and Columbine had remained stubbornly indifferent to him, even in a tux or stage makeup or a doublet and tights.

Please, can I go home? I whispered. I’ll call my parents so you don’t have to leave.

Don’t be daft, he said lightly, but his eyes were sad. There’s nothing left to stay here for anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Columbine at the soda table laughing at something Gale had just said and was inclined to agree.

I didn’t go home, though Jude was more than willing to make the detour: I went to Rooba’s, because she had a spacious house and had invited our whole group to stay over after the after-prom party, to sleep till noon and enjoy a lazy brunch before going home. We were a remarkably well-behaved group of teens so it felt more like a church lock-in than anything else, except for the fact that I changed into my pajamas from an evening gown and slept in Lettie Wilhearn’s bedroom – sans Lettie, of course, Rooba having given her older kids the weekend off work and banished them to the lake cabin.

Jude didn’t say a word on the drive. When we got to his house he asked if I wanted anything to eat or drink, then obligingly disappeared after retrieving my overnight bag and directing me to the nearest bathroom.

I belatedly recalled that I was still wearing his tux jacket and intended to hang it on the back of Lettie’s desk chair when I turned in, but somehow I ended up taking it to bed with me as an additional makeshift cover, my nose burrowed in the comforting scent of his collar.

I dreamt about orchid corsages and hand-kisses and sneaking a pepper shaker into my purse and woke with sore, slightly puffy eyes, as though I’d cried myself to sleep. Lettie’s alarm clock read 11:18am in the blaring midday sun and in the papasan opposite me was Jude, curled up like a child with a pile of throw pillows under his tousled head. His eyes were open and contemplative and very carefully focused on the pillow adjacent to me.

Hey, I greeted him in a sleepy croak.

Hey, he replied softly, eyes flickering to mine. Do…do you hate me, mädchen?

I blinked rapidly, trying to think what he might have done to make me hate him or if he was just referring to the fact that we’d ended up sleeping in the same room, which didn’t bother me two pins. We’d fallen asleep on each other on the bus back from Knowledge Bowl tourneys and music competitions more times than I could count.

Why on earth would I hate you? I puzzled.

Because I…asked you out, he reminded me with a wince while still firmly maintaining eye contact, as though determined to stay strong for his sentencing.

At prom, I confirmed, a smile creeping irrepressibly across my mouth. It’s a bit like being in love with one’s own wife, Sir Percy. Demmed unfashionable.

The Scarlet Pimpernel was second on the Senior Lit slate and Jude had loved it just as much as I loved Jane Eyre.

Consequently, my remark won a grateful, crooked smile and I patted the bed beside me: an invitation Jude accepted without hesitation, stretching out his lanky frame with a groan and a breathless oof! as I flung my arms around his waist and pillowed my head on his chest.

I liked the smell and feel of Jude beneath my cheek. It felt like home – or going back there – and I think in that moment I finally realized those moments were numbered and swiftly counting down.

I’ve never been asked out before, you know, I reminded him. It was sweet; the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And anyway, you potentially asked me out, under a very specific set of circumstances.

True, he agreed, and that seemed to set everything to rights. Want go find some breakfast? he wondered, tracing my braid with a fingertip.

No, I replied firmly and nuzzled deeper into his t-shirt, hiding my face from the sun.

Me neither, he agreed, and curled his arms around me, hugging me snugly to him.

Jude had clearly passed a rougher night than me because he drifted off almost immediately and was still sleeping hard at 12:30, when the savory smells of Rooba’s thick-cut bacon and handmade sausages roused my belly and brain respectively. (I learned later that Luka and Johanna had commandeered Jude’s bed, not for anything sketchy, but that they were curled together and sound asleep by the time he finally made it there, hence being relegated to Lettie’s papasan – a fine place for reading and cat-naps but miserable for a night’s worth of sleep.) On my way to the bathroom I practically collided with Jenny, Jude’s fourteen-year-old sister, noshing on a bacon sandwich and voracious for gossip.

So are you and Jude together now? she demanded with all the cheerful frankness of their mother. I saw you cuddling in Lettie’s bed.

I had always adored Jenny Tolliver more than I would ever let on. She and Jude were the only full siblings among Rooba’s five children and the similarities were endearingly obvious, despite the fact that Jenny inherited their father’s stunning black hair where Jude was a tow-headed, gray-eyed hybrid.

That was snuggling, I corrected her. Small but crucial difference.

You should think about leveling up, she advised gravely. He adores you, you know, and I hear teenage weddings are coming back en vogue.

Go away, imp, I teased, unbothered by her implication. She’d wanted me and Jude to get together since our first season of Knowledge Bowl and stubbornly refused to acknowledge that we didn’t like each other that way. I need to find some coffee and then we can argue this further.

I’ll be waiting, she said gleefully, stepping aside to let me into the bathroom.

But Jenny and I never reconvened for that argument, because that afternoon was the start of the slow crumble of the perfect high school year. Not because of anything to do with Jude or prom or Katniss’s engagement: because of something I overheard on my way to the kitchen that ended up being far more significant than I could’ve imagined.

Rooba and Marek – the Mellarks’ bachelor uncle – were preparing all the cooked food for the sleepy teenage brunch binge but Peeta’s father had stopped by with an assortment of pastries from the bakery and was on his way out again, talking to Rooba on the back porch, when I passed by en route to the kitchen.

So they’re young, she was saying. They’re hard workers with good heads on their shoulders, and they both went through the wringer at a young age. They know how to provide for a family and will do whatever it takes to put food on the table. They’ll do fine – better than fine, if we help them out a bit.

Janek Mellark’s response to this wasn’t clear – something about waiting – and Rooba replied in a strange, edged tone: Would you wait if Alys was willing?

I moved away before I could hear his reply, if indeed he made one, and enthusiastically engaged burly, cheerful Marek in a debate as to which of his offerings – stuffed French toast, chocolate chip pancakes, or Belgian waffles – would be the best to start off with, but there was a hot thudding in my ears and my eyes couldn’t seem to focus.

Alys, of course, was Katniss’s mother Alyssum – my mother’s best friend and confidante from childhood to the present – and I knew through my mother that Alys and Janek Mellark had been high school sweethearts on the very cusp of getting engaged when she unexpectedly broke up with him to get together with Jack Everdeen. Janek married Raisa Brognar – Rooba’s younger sister – on the rebound and everyone had gone on to produce their respective children and find varying degrees of contentment in their lives, but by all accounts, the Mellarks had rarely if ever been happy together, and of course, Katniss’s father died six years ago, leaving Alys bereft and in a stupor of grief, not unlike my own mother when her twin sister died at sixteen.

According to my mother, Alys Everdeen and Janek Mellark had carefully avoided each other since their breakup in high school, but when Peeta and Katniss began dating, they were thrown together to a certain extent and forced to interact socially. Further, in an unguarded moment that winter, Janek had admitted to Alys that he was still in love with her – feelings, Alys confessed to my mother afterward, that she was troubled to find she returned.

Of course, I discussed this with no one but my mother, though many a time I’d ached to confide in Jude, since we were similarly on the fringes of this relationship – not directly involved but connected through our mothers and their own relationships with the couple in question.

Something about Rooba’s remark that morning after prom implied that things were changing or had done, maybe irrevocably, and when I asked my mother about it that afternoon she gave a long sigh and kissed my forehead as though I were still a little girl. Do you really want to know, petal? she wondered. It might be easier to be ignorant till it all comes out.

Of course, I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t wanted to know, and that’s how I learned what happened after the newly engaged Peeta and Katniss left for prom. About the argument that ensued when Alys furiously confronted Janek about his son’s proposal – and what happened after the argument.

I suppose it shouldn’t have come as that great a shock, but when you hear about a classmate’s parents getting divorced, you don’t think about his father sleeping with another classmate’s mother – or getting her pregnant. But it was some months before all of that came out, months when I could almost forget the secret burning in the back of my mind as the perfect year wound down to its inevitable, poignant end.

[goldenmotesinamemoryjar]

(via (824) Pinterest)

[thisbluespirit]

The Hidden Truth: 1.11 “The Final Analysis” (24th September 1964).  Written by Peter Lambda; dir. Peter Sasdy.  Featuring regulars Alexander Knox, Elizabeth Weaver, Zia Mohyeddin, George Moon & Ruth Meyers. Guest starring Lyn Ashley, Patricia Healey, Philip Locke, David Lodge & Simon Lack.

Dr da Silva (Zia Mohyeddin) watches an ambulance arrive at St Judes, carrying a pregnant woman, Jenny (Lyn Ashley) who’s been badly injured in a car crash.  The birth of her baby brings three people into conflict - and Professor Lazard (Alexander Knox) and Dr Coliton (Elizabeth Weaver) “must tread carefully if they are to avoid allowing their personal feelings to colour their judgment.”

Other guests include Patricia Healey and David Lodge as Nan & Henry Barker, Philip Locke as Michael Watt, Helen Lennox as Sally, Douglas Muir as Mr. Proudfoot, Simon Lack and Margaret John as Dr Roberts & a ward sister (more St Jude’s staff?), and Emrys Leyshon as a police constable.

“The Final Analysis” was one of only two episodes not to include James Maxwell’s Dr Fox.  The IMBd summary suggests that it focused primarily on Lazard (or “Professor Hazard” as they put it) and Dr Coliton, but the Mirror chose to preview the episode with a feature on Zia Mohyeddin, who played da Silva - “An actor everyone wants to know” and added the detail about his part in the opening sequence, so he may also have been prominent in the episode.

Tonight Zia appears as Dr. Hamavid da Silva, a post-graduate from Ceylon, in the scientific series “The Hidden Truth” (ITV 8.0).

 He has earned himself quite a reputation, both in the theatre and on TV.  He first came to prominence in the West End in the play “Passage to India,” and followed this up with a top-class performance as Lawrence’s guide in the film “Lawrence of Arabia.”

 Now he is adding to his reputation in “The Hidden Truth.”

 Zia has packed a lot of experience into a very busy acting career. He has done a bit of everything – from commentating to acting and directing in radio in Karachi; acting and directing for Australian TV.  He organised the first professional theatre in Pakistan and played for the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford. Then he went to Hollywood for “Passage to India”; and toured America with a one-man show of story-telling, poetry-reading and recitals.”  

The article also noted that Lyn Ashley, playing the pregnant woman at the centre of the conflict, was the daughter of actress Madge Ryan.

(IMBd gives 1st October 1964 as the date of broadcast, but the TV pages have it scheduled as 24th September (following ep10 on Sept 17th), with no indication of any reschedule & episode 12 appears in the schedules as per normal for Oct 1st over most regions.)

As with the next two episodes, Kaleidoscope lists "The Final Analysis” as having surviving clips or sequences - here’s hoping Talking Pictures will let us have a peek at those!  And maybe we can work out which three people are coming into conflict over the baby...

[fiddler-sticks]

hi!

25. what do you want to name your future kids?

YESSSSSSSSS

I have so many combos I like lol

Girls: Margaret (Madge) Gloria, Iola (Iylie) Cricket, Anais (Avie) Verla, Phaedra (Phaye) Elaine, Josephine (Josie) Sonya, Rowena Faye, Snow (Nova) Novelia

Boys: Nathaniel (Nat) James, Reason (Reese) Nicholas, Ebenezer (Eben) Allen, Dexter (Dex) Jude, Hugo Crispin, Darcy Fortitude, Ivan North

[transnames]

Masc/neutral names with the "dge", like from "bridge", sound in it?

Sure! Here are the names I could find with “dge” in them: 

Bainbridge

Bridger 

Coleridge

Dodge

Elbridge / Eldredge

Ledger

Ludger

Madge

Padgett

Ridge

Rodger

Since most of those names are quite rare, you can also look at these names with the same sound, but spelled differently:

Angel

Benjamin

Elijah

Gage

George

Gene

Gerald

Giles

Magic

Major

Nigel

Page

Reginald / Reggie

Sage

Vergil

And the sound you gave is pretty much how the letter J sounds, so here are some names that start with J. You can also check out the J tag.

Jackie / Jack / Jake

Jaden

Jamie / Jamison

Jared

Jarvis

Jason

Jasper

Jay

Jeffrey

Jeremy / Jerry

Jerome

Jesse

Jett

Jimmy

Jody

Joel / Joe / Joey

Jonah

Jonathan

Jordan

Joseph

Joshua

Jude

Julian / Julius

Jupiter

Justice

Justin

Feel free to send in another ask if you’d like more names!

[simflaura-archived]

Name List (So far!)

Lavender

Boo

Rudolph

Marlowe

Elm

Moody

Nova

Marietta

Juniper

Sage

Basil

Wildflower

Honey

Harley

Blair

Jangmi

Jupiter

Lane

Elliot

Dmitri

Jack

Evelyn

Laverne

Rosie

Vanilla

Jess

Adzuki

Robin

Marbella

Emery

Seth

Ashton

Pinto

Mozart

Leo

Nova

Tulip

Orchid

Colette

Lucas

Ivey

Matcha

Jasmine

Sunny

Isbell

Will

Primrose

Lily

Ambrosia

Winnie

Bella

Logan

Ollie

Bailey

Madge

Clementine

Rhys

Bea

Marigold

Ginger

Lykki

Josie

Juliette

Charlie

Claude

Aurora

Eleanor

Olive

Sapphire

Ozinold

Chai

Beatrice

Lesley

Marley

Imogene

Mallory

Julian

Jude

Monet

Mikey

Melody

Fernley

Valeria

Penelope

Juliet

Rosemary

Bathory

Aello

Bumble

Mona Lisa

Yoko

Darling

Maybree

Blakely

Costello

Emily

Ivory

Hazelnut

Cosette

[the-record-obituaries]

Jan. 15, 2020: Obituaries

     Ellen Lankford at 16

Ellen Kay Lankford, age 57

Miss Ellen Kay Lankford, age 57 of North Wilkesboro, passed away Monday, January 13, 2020 at her home.

A Celebration of Life Service will be held 2:00 PM, Saturday, January 18, 2020, at Arbor Grove United Methodist Church on Arbor Grove Church Road in Purlear, with Rev. Dr. Susan Pillsbury Taylor officiating. Speakers will be Mr. Ken Welborn, Mr. Larry Griffin and Mrs. Janet Lael Wood. The family will receive friends immediately following the service in the fellowship hall of the church.

Miss Lankford was born August 1, 1962, in Wilkes County to Samuel Hayden and Willa Mae McNeil Lankford. She was a laboratory scientist with Guilford County Health Department and was a member of Arbor Grove United Methodist Church.

Ellen always excelled in school. She attended Millers Creek Elementary and West Wilkes High schools. During her senior year, she transferred to Wilkes Central High  School to take advanced classes, which allowed her to enter college as a sophomore. She went to Appalachian State University in Boone where she earned her bachelors degree in biology. She continued her education at Wake Forest Baptist Medical School and Appalachian State University, going on to earn her masters degree in biology.

During high school she worked for Winn-Dixie grocery store in North Wilkesboro and later for Blue Ridge Opportunity Commission under the late Betty Baker. After completing her college education, she worked at Davie County Memorial Hospital in Mocksville. Later, she went to work for the Guilford County Health Department as a laboratory scientist. She also worked part-time at Moses Cone Hospital in Greensboro in the same capacity.

She lived in Greensboro during most of her working career. She retired from the Guilford County Health Department. Ellen moved back home to Wilkes in August 2015.

Ellen had no children, but rather looked at her brothers, Mike and Jerry’s, children as her own. Later, when Jerry’s grandchildren arrived, she acted as a grandmother to those children as well. In return, they all loved her dearly.

Although she had many hobbies and interests – mostly dealing with more intellectual endeavors – her main passion and love was for her family, whom she treated wonderfully.

Ellen was also an accomplished pianist and vocalist. She could also play the dulcimer.

She was preceded in death by her parents and two brothers; Gary Steven Lankford and Michael Grayden Lankford.

Ellen is survived by a brother; Jerry Alfred Lankford of Millers Creek, five nieces; Eva May Lankford and fiancé Robert Carlton of Millers Creek, Heather Renee Greene and husband Joven of Wilkesboro, Jennifer Osborne and husband Edwin of Millers Creek, Anna Lankford and husband Josh Church of Millers Creek and Gabriella Lankford of Hamptonville and two great nephews; Sammie Osborne and Charlie Church. Ellen is also survived by her two dearest friends: Janet Lael Wood of Wilkesboro, and Lisa Church of Millers Creek.

There are also four special people Ellen claimed as family. They are Destiny, Cassidy and Samantha Toliver - whom she considered nieces - and their father, Ken Toliver, all of Wilkes. They are the children and husband of Ellen’s dear friend, the late Carmel Toliver.

Special music will be provided by Gabriella Lankford, Destiny Toliver, Larry Griffin and Rev. Dr. Susan Pillsbury Taylor.

Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Window World Cares St. Judes Children’s Research Hospital 118 Shaver Street North Wilkesboro NC 28659.

Online condolences may be made at www.reinssturdivant.com

Deborah Parsons, 67

Mrs. Deborah Annette Walker Parsons, age 67 of North Wilkesboro, passed away Sunday, January 12, 2020, at Wake Forest Baptist-Wilkes Medical Center.

     Funeral services will be held at 2:00 Thursday, January 16, 2020, at Reins Sturdivant Funeral Home Chapel with Rev. Casey Walker and Rev. Tyra Eugene Martin officiating. The family will receive friends from 6:00 until 8:00 Wednesday, January 15, 2020, at Reins Sturdivant Funeral Home. Burial will be in Scenic Memorial Gardens.

     Mrs. Parsons was born March 6, 1952, in Surry County to Bradshaw James Walker Sr. and Rebel Augusta Mitchell Walker. She was a member of St. John Missionary Baptist Church in Taylorsville. She was employed by Tyson Foods for over 25 years. She was also employed as a CNA for several years to follow.  

     In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by her husband; Robert Parsons, a grandchild; Joshua Preston Fraser and a sister Margo Adams.

     She is survived by a daughter; Deva Waugh Fraser and her husband Shiles of Winston Salem, a sister; Jettie Walker of Roaring River and a brother; Bradshaw James Walker Jr. of Alton, VA. She is survived by nieces and nephews; Tianna Adams, Brian Adams, Meanna Adams, Bradley Walker, Greta Ferguson, and Erica Harper.

     She was loved by many and always greeted people with a smile and an infectious laugh. She was passionate about her gardening and had a remarkable green thumb. She never met a stranger and showed concern for all.

     Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Wilkes Senior Resources PO Box 2695 North Wilkesboro, NC 28659.

 Leatrice  Clonch, 44

Leatrice Ann Clonch, of Millers Creek, passed away on Saturday January 11, 2020.

     Leatrice was born on Sunday April 13, 1975 in Wayne County to Roger Lane Laws and Barbara Cecilia Clonch.

     Leatrice is preceded in death by her father; brother Daniel "Shane" Clonch and step father Roy Bare.

     Leatrice is survived by her mother, Barbara C. Clonch of Millers Creek, brother, Cecil Gordon Bare and wife, Amanda of Purlear and many nieces and nephews.

     The Family will conduct a celebration of life Thursday, January 16, 2020 at Church of God of the Union Assemble in Wilkesboro form 6-8 p.m.

     Rev. Ronnie Bumgarner and Rev. Chris Slane officiated

     Adams Funeral Home of Wilkes has the honor of serving the Clonch Family.

 Martha Shaw, 77

Mrs. Martha Jean Corley Shaw, age 77 of Wilkesboro, formally of Carrollton, Mississippi, passed at her home on Friday, January 10, 2020.

     Memorial services were January 13,  at Wilkesboro Baptist Church with Rev. Tad Craig officiating.  

     Mrs. Shaw was born December 13, 1942 in Pascagoula, Mississippi to Robert R. and Jimmie Lois Eubanks Corley. She grew up in Thebes, IL and considered her hometown as Chicago, IL. After moving to Itta Bena, Mississippi, she met and married Jimmie Bryant Shaw, Sr. while he worked as the Town Manager for her father, Robert R. Corley, the Mayor of Itta Bena. They married on March 12, 1977 and were married for 40 years prior to his death on September 10, 2016.  During her career as an Office Manager she was employed by The Greenwood Commonwealth, Scientific Telecom and Johnson Implements, all located in Greenwood Mississippi. She retired from Johnson Implements. Martha Shaw was an accomplished business woman, loving and doting wife, mother, grandmother and friend. She loved her family, loved to craft, sew and scrapbook. Her legacy is the love she gave to her husband, children and grandchildren as well as her extended family and friends.

     In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by her husband, Jimmie Bryant Shaw, Sr.; a son in law, Wesley W. Gregory; a sister, Bobbie Johnson; and a brother, Robert Hal Corley, who died in Vietnam.

     She is survived by three daughters, Gia Amato Gregory of Wilkesboro, Michelle Amato Livingston and husband, Matt of Greenwood, MS, Stephanie Amato Morris; a son, Dr. Francis X. Amato, III and wife Gena Amason Amato of Blowing Rock; a step daughter, Loretta Shaw Langdon and husband Dirk of Smithfield, NC; ten grandchildren, Chase Alexander Wylie, Justin Brady Morris, DJ Langdon and wife Jodee Boswell Langdon, Gray Robert Brower, Madelaine Claire Amato, Lillian Nicole Amato, Abigail Leigh Amato, Shelby Layne Browning Warren and husband Caleb Warren, Sarah Landreth "Laila" Browning and Nathan Lewis; a great grandson, Finley Shaw Langdon; three sisters, Peggy Green Palmer and husband Alex of Red Banks, MS, JoAnne Williams of Cape Girardeau, Missouri and Mitzi Pittman Workman of Collierville, TN; a brother, Jack Corley and wife Doreena of Valparaiso, IN; and several nieces and nephews.

     In lieu of flowers, the family would like for memorials be made to the American Cancer Society PO Box 9 North Wilkesboro, NC 28659 or to Aiden's Army c/o Sharron Amason, 322 Clawson Street  Apt. 108 Boone, NC 28607 to help Aiden Amason fight a rare childhood cancer.

 Clyde Brown, Jr., 87

Mr. Clyde R. Brown, Jr, age 87 of North Wilkesboro passed away Friday, January 10, 2020 at his home.

     Funeral services were January 12,   at Lutheran Church of the Atonement with Rev. Roger Hull officiating.  Burial was in Mountlawn Memorial Park.          

     Mr. Brown was born August 1, 1932 in Rowan County to Clyde Roscoe Brown, Sr, and Mary Eliza Overman Brown.

     He was a member of Lutheran Church of the Atonement.

     He graduated from Catawba College and later served on the Board of Trustees for Catawba College.

      He was a long term member of the Elks Club, served on the Board of Social Services and Wilkes Cares.

     He also served as the Chairman of the Wilkes County March of Dimes, Vice President of the N.C. Lutheran men and served many years on the Atonement Lutheran Church's Church Council.  Mr. Brown made his career at Lowe's Companies where he retired.

     In addition to his parents he was preceded in death by two sisters and brothers-in-law; Madge Russell and husband Gilbert, Mildred Brown and husband Leo and brother-in-law Milton Crowther.

     He is survived by his wife; Anna Hughes Brown of the home, three sons; David Lewis Brown and wife Janice of Efland, Martin Andrew Brown and wife Leisa of Gastonia and Douglas Warren Brown and wife Melony of Lewisville, seven grandchildren; Matthew Brown and wife Jessie, Genavee Brown, Kristine Brown, Lee Brown, Marinn McKelvey and husband David, Jessica Brown and Noah Brown and one sister; Louise Crowther.

     Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Wake Forest Care At-Home Hospice, 126 Executive Drive, Suite 110, Wilkesboro, NC 28697.

 Mark Anderson, 30

Mr. Mark Alan Anderson, age 30 of North Wilkesboro, passed away Thursday, January 9, 2020 at his home.

     Funeral services were January 13th,   at Flint Hill Baptist Church with Pastor Kent Wood and Pastor Kevin Souther officiating. Burial was in the church cemetery.  

     Mr. Anderson was born April 28, 1989 in Wilkes County to Danny Talmadge Anderson and Deborah Gail Eller Anderson. He loved video games and most of all he loved his family.

     He was preceded in death by his Father; Danny Talmadge Anderson and Grandparents; Troy and Twila Eller and Talmadge Anderson.

     He is survived by his mother; Gail Minton and step dad Roy Minton, Jr. of Hays, brother; Phillip Daniel Anderson, grandmother; Ruth Anderson of North Wilkesboro, Aunt and Uncle Frances Cleary and husband Brent of North Wilkesboro and two cousins; Matthew (Larrisa) and Martin (Patricia).

     Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to the Donor's Choice.

  Melissa Norman, 74

Mrs. Melissa Mae Joyner Norman, age 74 of Ronda, passed away Wednesday, January 8, 2020 at Rose Glen Manor in North Wilkesboro.

     Funeral services were January 11,   at Temple Hill United Methodist Church with Pastor Matthew A. Nichols and Rev. Clyde Holeman officiating. Burial was in the church cemetery.  

     Mrs. Norman was born January 23, 1945 in Davie County to Wilson Joyner and Mamie Welborn Joyner. Melissa was a graduate of Appalachian State University where she obtained a Master's Degree.  She was retired from the Iredell County School System as a School Teacher and was a member of Temple Hill United Methodist Church.

     She was preceded in death by her parents.

     Mrs. Norman is survived by her husband; Benjamin (Benny) H. Norman of the home, a sister; Magdalene Pinnix of Booneville, a sister in law; Faye Cornog of Springfield,  Il, a brother; Woodrow Joyner of Ronda, a brother in law; Paul Norman and wife; Jean of Mint Hill and several nieces and nephews.

     Flowers will be accepted.

   Charles Miller, 70

Mr. Charles Danny Miller, age 70 of Millers Creek, passed Thursday, January 9th, 2020 at his home.

     Funeral services were January 13,    at Union Baptist Church in the Wilbar community with Rev. Steve Faw and Rev. Julius Blevins officiating. Burial was in the church cemetery with Military Honors by Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 1142 Honor Guard.  

     Mr. Miller was born February 13, 1949 in Wilkes County to Charlie Miller and Bernie South Miller. Mr. Miller served in the Army during the Vietnam War. He was retired from AEV and was a member and deacon of Union Baptist Church.

     In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by his infant granddaughter; Jessica Miller.

     Mr. Miller is survived by his wife; Bobbye Griffin Miller of the home, a son; Guy Miller and wife Jamie of Millers Creek and two grandchildren; Jake Miller and Kaylee Miller.

     In lieu of flowers, the family wishes for memorials to be made to Gideons North Camp PO Box 1791 North Wilkesboro, NC 28659 or Union Baptist Church Cemetery Fund c/o Lanny South 165 Kingcross Lane Millers Creek, NC 28651.

  Helene Napoli, 69

Ms. Helene Clara Napoli, age 69 of Moravian Falls passed away Thursday, January 9, 2020 at her home.

     A memorial service will be held at a later date.

     Ms. Napoli was born November 16, 1950 in Nassau, NY to Louis John and Evelyn Jane Callegari Napoli.  She was a member of Mt. Carmel Baptist Church and a Licensed Practical Nurse at John J. Foley Nursing Home.  She also volunteered at BROC and Boomer Community  Center.

     She was preceded in death by her parents.

     She is survived by three daughters; Maria Coles, Patrina Brown both of Wilkesboro, Lisa Conroy of Cary, two sons; Anthony Coles and wife Bonnie of Mastic Beach, NY and Jason Coles and wife Cheryl of Moravian Falls, five  grandchildren; Tiffany Marie, Marc Anthony, Ebony Rianne, Logan Joseph, Mickenzie Lorraine and one great grandchild; Daniel Michael, two sisters; Joanne and Maria and four brothers; Louis, John, Peter and Paul and an aunt; Anne Easton of Mesa, AZ.

  Ted Nelson, 87

Ted Carlisle Nelson, age 87, of Hays, passed away Thursday, January 9, 2020 at his home. Ted was born August 10, 1932 in Buncombe County to William Terry and Pansy Robinson Nelson. He was a member of Round Mtn. Baptist Church and a US Navy Veteran. Ted loved to garden and fish. Mr. Nelson was preceded in death by his parents; his loving wife of 58 years, Jessie B. Nelson; and brothers, Boyd and Bill Nelson.

     Surviving are his children, Thomas Nelson and spouse Delilah of Haleyville, Alabama, Alice Childress and spouse Paul, Susan Teague and spouse William, Terry Nelson and spouse Lisa, Ronald Nelson, Ellen Teague and spouse Larry all of Hays; sisters, Dorothy Hall of Castle Rock, Washington, Elizabeth Nelson of Asheville; eight grandchildren; ten great grandchildren; and two great great grandchildren.

     Graveside service with military honors by Veterans of Foreign Wars Honor Guard Post 1142 was  January 12,  at Round Mtn. Baptist Church Cemetery with Rev. Roger Jennings, Elder Anion Cole and Rev. Larry Teague officiating. Flowers were accepted or memorials may be made to Round Mtn. Baptist Church Cemetery Fund, Airport Road, Hays, NC 28635. Miller Funeral Service was in charge of the arrangements.

  Bruce Blackburn, 94

Bruce Blackburn, age 94, of Purlear, passed away Tuesday, January 7, 2020 at his home. Mr. Blackburn was born September 4, 1925 in Wilkes County to Levi Gentry and Celia Jane Holman Blackburn.

     Bruce was a veteran of WWII and was stationed in the South Pacific as a U.S. Navy Radioman. He was awarded the American Theater Medal, Asiatic Pacific Medal, Philippine Liberation Ribbon and the Victory Medal. Before retiring, Bruce worked as a full-time mechanic. He was an avid farmer, raising cattle for many years and then continued to find great joy in helping his son with cattle in his later years. He loved spending time with his grandsons. He was a member of Lewis Fork Baptist Church and also enjoyed attending church with his son and wife at Fishing Creek Arbor.

     Mr. Blackburn was preceded in death by his parents; his wife, Helen McNeil Blackburn; brothers, Ray Blackburn, LG Blackburn, James Blackburn, Worth Blackburn; two brothers that died in infancy (David and Joseph); sisters, Arlie Blackburn Dyer, Vetra Blackburn Watson; half-brothers, George White Blackburn, Wintford Blackburn, Sherman Blackburn, Edgar Blackburn; and half-sister, Blanch Blackburn Elledge.

Surviving are his son, Benny Bruce Blackburn and spouse Anita of Purlear; daughter, Karen Blackburn of Peachland, N.C.; grandchildren, Daniel Bruce Blackburn, Esq. of Charlotte, Joshua Kirk Blackburn of Raleigh, Kristopher Ray Stanley of Asheville; and one great grandchild.

     Funeral service was January 11,  at Lewis Fork Baptist Church with Pastor Dwayne Andrews and Pastor David Wellborn officiating. Eulogy will be provided by grandsons, Daniel Bruce Blackburn, Esq. and Joshua Kirk Blackburn. Burial with military honors by Veterans of Foreign Wars Honor Guard Post 1142 will follow in the Church Cemetery.  

     Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Lewis Fork Baptist Church Cemetery Fund, 395 Lewis Fork Baptist  Church Road, Purlear, NC 28665. The family has requested no food. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.  

     Pallbearers were Daniel Bruce Blackburn, Esq., Joshua Kirk Blackburn, Kristopher Ray Stanley, John Dyer, Shelmer Blackburn, Jr. and Robert Blackburn.

   Carol Weaver, 76

Carol Rebecca Weaver, age 76, of North Wilkesboro, passed away Tuesday, January 7, 2020 at her home. Mrs. Weaver was born October 27, 1943 in Tazwell County, Virginia to Charlie and Thena Sparks Waddell. She was a member of Northside Baptist Church. Carol was preceded in death by her parents; and brothers, Jim Waddell and Bob Waddell.

     Surviving are her husband, Sam Weaver; son, Steve Weaver of Elkin; daughter, Treva Prevette of North Wilkesboro; grandchildren, Noah Weaver of New York, Ronald Rhodes and spouse Sarah of Ronda, Harley Weaver of Elkin; great grandchildren, Haylee Rhodes, Aaron Weaver, Abigail Weaver, Emma Weaver; brother, Ted Waddell of Virginia; sisters, Joyce Crawford, Joan Alley, Mary Wood all of Virginia; several nieces and nephews.

     Funeral service was January 11,  at Miller Funeral Chapel with Brother Jason Whitley officiating. Burial was in North Wilkesboro City Cemetery.  Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to the donor's choice. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

 Jonathan Parish, 30

Mr. Jonathan Lee Andrew Parish, age 30 passed away Sunday, January 5, 2020 unexpectedly in Raleigh.

     A Celebration of Life Service was January 11, at Reins-Sturdivant Chapel with Rev. Daron Brown officiating.   A private burial was be held.  

     Mr. Parish was born August 1, 1989 in Catawba County to Frank Tony Parish and Melissa Dawn Sheets Parish. He was employed by DoneRight Merchandising. He served in the United States Army National Guard Bravo 3-47 1st Platoon.

     He was preceded in death by his grandfather; Frank Parish.

     He is survived by his parents, his wife; Amanda Colene Pearson Parish, his children; Jameson LeeAndrew Parish, Trever Long, Jayceelee Diane Anderson, Isaiah Patrick and Jonah Glenn Parish, one sister; Anthea Dawn Parish, grandparents; Rick and Barbara Poteat, Barbara Parish, Tom and Shelba Sheets and Jeanie Francis-Hayes.

     Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to a trust fund for his children at any State Employees Credit Union Branch.

 Raymond Schwind, 75

Mr. Raymond Edgar Schwind, 75, of Wilkesboro, passed away Saturday, January 4, 2020 at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center.

     Raymond was born Saturday, May 27, 1944 in Oxford, New Jersey, the son of the late Gerardt Paul Schwind and Edna Wildrick Schwind Haper.

     He had served in the United States Army Armed Forces.

     Those left to cherish his memory include: his wife, Nancyann Mary Schwind; children, Tonyalee of Pennsylvania, Nancylynn of Jew Jersey, George of North Carolina, Chad of Pennsylvania; twelve grandchildren; sister; Dorothy of New Jersey; brothers, Alfred of Pennsylvania, Paul of Arkansas, Richard of Texas, Larry and Joseph, both of New Jersey, and John of Pennsylvania.

No formal services to be held.

     Adams Funeral Home of Wilkes and cremation services is honored to be serving the Schwind Family.

  Hubert Dancy, 91

Mr. Hubert Everette Dancy, age 91 of Mocksville, passed away peacefully, Wednesday January 1st 2020 at Kate B Reynolds Hospice Home in Winston Salem.  

     Mr. Dancy was born December 28th 1928 in Wilkes County to James and Lala Dancy.  He was an avid wrestler in high school and college.  He lettered in the 9th grade and was a state champion.  He continued wrestling at Appalachian State University where he was on the Mountaineer wrestling team contributing to a national team scoring record in 1950.    He left college to serve in the Air Force during the Korean War later to return and graduate with a physical education degree. He retired after 30 years with Boeing as a production manager.  He was a member of Wilkes United Methodist Church where he enjoyed cooking with the Methodist Men during church functions. After marrying Mary Ann, he was blessed to become a father, grandfather and great grandfather.  He loved his family.  

     A skilled craftsman, Hugh spent lots of his retirement days in his workshop where he could create just about anything anyone asked for; but his passion was making knives.  His love for model trains was shared with his friends and fellow members of the Black Cat Station in North Wilkesboro. He also loved to cook, work the puzzles in the paper and watch sports especially Appalachian State Football.  He loved his kitty Ellie and Addie a small dog he kept during the day.  

He was preceded in death by his parents, two wives Rachel Anderson Dancy and Mary Ann Pennell Dancy and two brothers Harold and Willard Dancy.  

He is survived by his stepdaughter Michelle Rundle of Mocksville, step sons Michael Cooper and wife Margaret of N. Wilkesboro, and Jeffery Mark Cooper of San  Diego, California. Three step grandchildren Megan Fiedler and husband Jim of Pennsylvania, Michael Cooper Jr of Raleigh, North Carolina and Sierra Cooper of California.  Two step greatgrandchildren Mason and Madeline Fiedler of Pennsylvania.  

Memorials may be made to Wilkesboro United Methodist Church PO Box 197, Wilkesboro NC 28697 or Kate B Reynolds Hospice Home (Trellis Supportive Care Attention: Finance, 101 Hospice Lane, Winston Salem, NC 27103).  

Per his wishes, after cremation a private ceremony will be held at Scenic Memorial Gardens.  

  James Curry, 82

Mr. James "Sonny" Albert Curry passed away at Curis Nursing Home in Wilkesboro on December 27, 2019, his 82nd birthday.

Sonny was a good hearted man and devoted father who was loved and well respected by friends and family.  Sonny graduated from East Mecklenburg High School and was in the United States Army. He graduated from Ringling School of Art in Sarasota, FL.  Sonny worked for Lowe's for 28 years as a commercial artist. He liked bowling and golf and was a fan of the Carolina Panthers and Duke University Football.  

He is survived by two daughters; Emily Moran and Brooke Curry, a granddaughter; Hailee Curry, a brother; Jerry Curry and a nephew; Jonathan Curry.

In lieu of flowers memorials may be made to Sharon Presbyterian Church, 5201  Sharon Road, Charlotte, NC 28210.

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

The Hanging Tree, 50th Hunger Games Cast

so I have a problem... what started as trying to cast Jude Abernathy’s mother turned into casting younger versions of several characters and I refuse to keep it to myself (well and @the-witching-ash​ who has to deal with all of my nonsense ily) so here we go — feel free to use any of the canon character’s fancasts but please credit me if you do, I spent an embarrassing amount of time at work thinking about this

Matilda Jade Abernathy, née Everdeen † | Jude Abernathy’s mother | Johnny Blue Everdeen’s younger sister

Johnny Blue Everdeen † | Hollis, Katniss, and Primrose Everdeen’s father | Matilda Jane’s older brother 

Clara Everdeen, née Atwater | Hollis, Katniss, and Primrose Everdeen’s mother

Haymitch Abernathy | Jude Abernathy’s father | Victor of the 50th Hunger Games

Maysilee Donner † | Madelyn Undersee’s older sister | Tribute in the 50th Hunger Games 

Madelyn “Mady” Undersee, née Donner | Madge Undersee’s mother | Maysilee Donner’s younger sister

Rik Abraham † | Camden Abraham’s father

Harlow Abraham † | Camden Abraham’s uncle | Tribute in the 50th Hunger Games

Terra Abraham, née Aldane | Camden Abraham’s mother | Hazelle Hawthorne’s cousin

Everly Belltree †  | Tribute in the 50th Hunger Games

Hazelle Hawthorne, née Aldane | Gale Hawthorne’s mother | Zinnia Abraham’s cousin

Aster Hawthorne † | Gale Hawthorne’s father

[porchwood]

SSS/Writing Check-In: The One That Got Away

(Jude/Madge with the possibility of endgame Gale/Madge and Jude/Columbine, plus every other couple from my fleet of ships)

For all seven of you who are interested, here’s my favorite scene from this week’s onslaught of modern AU hogwash (7,642 words and another 3,000ish words of notes): a prom flashback. Because Jude as Madge’s prom date melts my heart. A lot of stuff here was originally intended for Head Over Feet and may turn up there eventually.

***

Peeta and Katniss skipped the school-sponsored after-prom party, unsurprisingly, while the rest of us splintered off into contemplative pairs. Finnick and Annie and Luka and Johanna both seemed as good as engaged to me, but the announcement had rattled them as well, and Jude and I wound up watching the smarmy stage hypnotist by ourselves in a subdued sort of silence.

It wasn’t that either of us was unhappy at the news, exactly. While I considered Katniss my best friend, we had never been chatty in typical girlfriend-fashion, and yet her impending marriage struck my stomach like an icy stone. You’ll be going to college anyway, I reminded myself, and you’ll stay in touch, but none of this served to soothe.

Jude absently wrapped his tux jacket around my shoulders and then his arm, resting his cheek on the top of my head. He’d barely spoken since the engagement reveal and I couldn’t begin to guess what his uncharacteristic silence meant.

It sounds really nice, he said suddenly, softly. Staying right here, getting married, coming home to a wife and babies.

I wanted to retort something dry and mildly caustic but couldn’t find the words for any reply at all because it was nice, this future Peeta and Katniss were setting up for themselves. I wanted to continue with music as long as I could; to study abroad, to live in the capitol and maybe other cities in due course, but that wasn’t the future either Katniss or Peeta wanted, and why should they force themselves through the college mold, going eyes-deep in debt for degrees they had no interest in and possibly jeopardizing their relationship with the distance and other, inevitable, obstacles when the future they both craved was easily within their grasp?

Madeline, Jude continued in that same soft tone – I was always Madeline or, affectionately, mädchen to him – if Columbine and Gale marry other people, will you go on a date with me?

Almost as long as Jude and I have been friends, we’ve been aware of each other’s hopeless longing for an oblivious sweetheart and openly commiserated about it, with no fear – or even thought – of annoying each other or hurting feelings. Butcher’s son Jude was in love with Columbine Wilhearn, all black curls and lovely voice, whose mother was a small-scale – if highly in-demand – clothing designer and I was in love with broody, breathtaking Gale, whose mother managed the local laundromat and who despised my very existence because, as the mayor’s daughter, I had surely been born to privilege – never mind that my father had been a music teacher before his election and that as mayor he served a rural town of some 8000 people and dealt with weighty matters like dog waste ordinances and ribbon cuttings for tiny antique shops.

We’d both made periodic, futile attempts to elicit our respective crush’s attentions, but somehow for the course of that year – the year of madrigal seat partners and Jane Eyre and getting married on-stage in Fiddler – the longing had felt a little less pressing. Jude still ordered flowers for Columbine on opening night – she was playing the female lead, after all – but in other circumstances he would’ve done so for every performance, not just the first, and he brought me flowers too – a vaseful of red tulips from his mother’s garden to brighten my corner of the greenroom. And while I knew he’d asked Columbine to prom their junior year – and been turned down, of course – I don’t think he even tried the next time around, just cheerfully stepped up to escort me when the opportunity arose.

In fact, to the outside observer, Jude and I probably appeared to be dating for the past year.

The realization left me cross, embarrassed and oddly weary. Jude and I were just friends, everybody knew it, but could we have inadvertently sabotaged each other’s crushes by spending so much time together? Would Gale have emerged to ask me out if I hadn’t been so immersed in the Mellark circle this year – and in Jude’s company in particular?

We’re at prom, I reminded him, my tone shorter than he deserved. I’m wearing an evening gown and your tux jacket. How much more of a date do you want?

I want to pick you up at your house, he replied without hesitation, a brush of lips against my lilac-threaded crown braid. Just you and me and maybe your dad on the porch, to shake hands and talk about the weather and remind me to have you back by 10:00, and I’ll tell you how beautiful you look as I slide an orchid on your wrist. We’ll go to a fancy restaurant and trade bites of our entrees and steal a pepper shaker when we leave, just to see if we can get away with it. We’ll hold hands under the table and slow-dance like it means something, not just because we came together and it’s obligatory, and when I drop you at home, you might let me kiss you under the porchlight.

I pulled away to look up at him, at those gentle smoky eyes – gray like Gale’s and yet absolutely, utterly, nothing like Gale’s – and tried to decide whether to throttle him or burst into tears, because I knew he didn’t mean any of this the way it sounded but it was still the sweetest thing I’d ever heard – and remains so to this day. But I didn’t want Jude – I didn’t, I was sure of it – and he didn’t want me, he was just getting broody – in the hen fashion, not the Gale fashion – because of Peeta’s engagement and Columbine had remained stubbornly indifferent to him, even in a tux or stage makeup or a doublet and tights.

Please, can I go home? I whispered. I’ll call my parents so you don’t have to leave.

Don’t be daft, he said lightly, but his eyes were sad. There’s nothing left to stay here for anyway.

[porchwood]

Gale and Mrs. Undersee...crack-ship waiting to happen??

In Ch 5 of my Gadge fic, Six Months to Strawberry Time, Mrs. Undersee and Gale have a brief interaction at the school assembly. She jokes about going weak-kneed at his proximity (which I think could be canonically true, considering her reclusive life and the fact that she spends very little time around attractive young men), and later references his rebellious nature in a manner that shakes Madge deeply.

While writing said scene, I was abruptly besieged by the thought of how fascinating a pairing between Mrs. Undersee and Gale would be. No, not a Mrs. Robinson, not a full-on May-December romance - say, a really sleek rebellion story where Gale joins the resistance as a young teen after his dad dies and the mayor’s wife is the codemaker they’d-never-suspect-in-a-million-years that he delivers missives to. They have a handful of interactions and ultimately become lovers, which tempers Gale slightly but really brings life back into Mrs. Undersee, who goes from demure reclusive codemaker to ‘40s noir badass chick with sleek skirt suits, hats with net veiling, poison rings, etc. ;D And then Madge, who has been absent and therefore oblivious to all of this, comes home from her boarding school/conservatory. Gale comes to the house, assignation-ready, looking for “Madeline Undersee” - and delicious complications ensue.

Seriously. This besieged me back when I wrote the chapter and recently revisited my brain with a vengeance, and not because I’m perversely inclined! Though canon doesn’t delve into it, Mrs. Undersee has more reason than most to hate the Capitol, and Gale is canonically vocal and vehement in his hatred for the Capitol... what if this fellow feeling drew them together toward a common purpose and thrust them into proximity, making things slightly complicated on the way??

The morphling that Madge brought after Gale was whipped - one of the cornerstone moments of the Good Ship Gadge - belonged to Mrs. Undersee, and she almost certainly needed it badly (and did not have an unlimited supply). Madge tells us in canon that, “They’re my mother’s. She said I could take them.” And here’s how our friends at the creatively accurate Hunger Games Wiki put it:

So according to THG Wiki, right after Gale’s whipping, the mayor’s wife suddenly roused herself from her silent dark room to send her only child out into a snowstorm to deliver her personal supply of expensive, badly needed painkillers to a young man who is in a world of trouble with the Peacekeepers?? They ship this pairing more than I do! ;)

Only kidding, but I am curious whether anyone has toyed with this in fic or meta. There’s nothing under Gale/Mrs. Undersee as a pairing on AO3 or FFnet, but sometimes people play with odd pairings in Tumblr drabbles...?

P.S. I’ve been pecking at this post for several days, during which time some 1800 words of dialogue and notes have materialized for the aforementioned AU concept. (EEP!) Anybody even remotely interested?

[porchwood]

So I just checked the word count of the current chapter of Strawberry Time: 12,750. In the grand scheme of things that doesn’t sound like much, but added to the two posted chapters, it brings the fic to 36,430 words, making it my second longest fic after When the Moon, with no sign of slowing down/going away. 

I have no idea what’s happening. My life has leveled out into this exhausting depressing place where I can’t stir a single Everlark fic ember to life (and believe me, I’ve tried - I tried like crazy to get Honey-God written in July and managed a couple thousand words, if even :/), yet for some bizarre reason there’s a massive “meanwhile, back in Twelve” Gadge/Primko side story just pouring out with all kinds of details and nods to additional side romances. I mean, no one out there can possibly care two pins about the relationship between Mayor Undersee and his wife, right? and yet for some reason they’ve taken over the current chapter, which was supposed to consist of quick clever Gadge bursts over the course of a week, not A Day in the Life of the Undersees. And yet it feels strangely compelling and “right” and I wouldn’t cut a word of it.

Also, I dreamt about Gadge (in Strawberry Time) two nights ago. I’ve never even dreamt about Everlark.

And I’ve started a Gadge plot bunny wishlist on the white board in my kitchen because, dang it, if the Gadge pairing/dynamic doesn’t beg for some delicious film/book retellings that simply don’t suit Everlark (or Primko, or any combination of Jack/Alys/Janek/Raisa, for that matter).

I have absolutely no idea what’s happening. (I’d probably be terrified by it if I wasn’t so dang tired.) I know it’s not WtM. I’m sorry it’s not WtM. :( I haven’t worked on WtM since Christmas, except for one feeble trying-to-walk-on-a-broken-leg attempt at the beginning of the next chapter. Things are bad all the way around and right now I don’t know if I’ll ever even manage another word of Everlark in any universe. But Strawberry Time is proving to be a parallel fic in a true sense, so hopefully that’ll appease WtM cravers, at least a little. :(

[porchwood]

Fic Year in Review (2018)

2018 was a terrible year, which is saying a lot because 2017 once seemed the pinnacle of awfulness, as did the three years preceding. For so many reasons that I doubt anyone wants to hear about, this has been my worst creative year since I started writing fic (of any kind) - and that includes the year I had a life-shattering hysterectomy. I’m currently driving 45 miles a day to earn $10/hour and working split shifts to boot, and I have no idea how I’m going to pay all my January bills. (If you missed the previous post, I lost my house - and my second job - in October and it was neither fun nor exciting scrambling to find another one, pack up everything, and move out in 30 days.)

I tried several methods to jump-start my poor brain, including March Madgeness (a month of themed Madge/Gadge posts), Madge Mondays (the same thing done weekly in miniature), the THG Reread, and Camp Nanowrimo, but I only managed to eke out about 5000 words of Strawberry Time (most of the rest of Ch 5 was written in 2017), 10,000 words of WtM: Ch 15, and 7500 words of The One That Got Away (a modern Jude/Madge AU that really wanted to be written :/ ).

Right now I’m too exhausted and sad to talk about it more than that, but I’ll post the fic bits in a minute for anyone who’s interested. They’re minimally edited, but it’s the least I can do with over two years since the last WtM update. :(

[goldenmotesinamemoryjar]

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