#like they were eight but that’s the epitome of romance at age eight

[rrcenic]

so,,, i finished my summer reading,,,

have an enders game doodle dump :)

if the enders game fandom is like. alive and queer please please please talk to me!!!

[foodieforthoughts]

I Would Do It Again - One

Summary: Anya Adams, a troubled soul but fierce on the outside, stumbles over a stranger at a party and ends up sharing more than just her name. She’s in for a whirlwind encounter when he turns out to be her boss. Striking up a deal for pleasure, Anya soon finds herself mixing work and play. For someone who swore off love, would she let the handsome Brit break down her walls?

Pairing: AU Henry Cavill x OFC

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, smut, romance, minor age gap, fluff

A/N: This has been sitting in my Docs for too long. I was worried about sharing it, and I already have two ongoing series, but I am sharing this now since it’s already complete! I hope you guys enjoy it. It’s my first time writing an AU series and it’s not beta-ed. 

Divider by @firefly-graphics

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve |

Title: One

I felt the thumping of the beats course through my body as the DJ brought on a high tempo song. I tapped my foot with the music. In my mind, I was having the time of my life. It was smack dab in the middle of summer in New York and the temperatures were soaring high. A co-worker had invited me for a big summer rooftop party on a posh SoHo hotel. She had noticed how I was having a difficult time at work with my boss being a prick and I deserved a much-needed break.

So I had donned my most sexy outfit, a sheer black halter neck bodysuit dress with a neckline so deep it left little to no imagination and thigh high slits on both sides, slipped on my strappy heels and headed out to enjoy drinks and maybe get raunchy with someone to release tension.

The plan to meet someone interesting was looking far-fetched as I was stuck here listening to the guy standing next to me who was talking about how big his company was. I was only half listening to him, not even bothering to nod along. I believed that if he had to say it out loud, maybe he was overexaggerating. So instead I looked across the expanse of the floor to maybe spot someone remotely exciting.

I did not want to sound extra, but when my eyes set on him my mind went ‘Hot damn!’.

Standing across from me on the other side of the pool was this handsome hunk leaning against the glass fences. He looked like the epitome of masculinity with his biceps flexing under the crisp white shirt every time he moved his arm to lift the glass of liquor up to his lips.

“-can take you up to my penthouse in Tribeca-” the unattractive and equally inappropriate man came up close to me. His breath had the stink of cigarettes and whiskey in a combination that made me gag.

I scrunched up my face as he moved into my personal space. I could not care less about my politeness. I shoved him away from me and walked away. More precisely I walked to the other side where I had spotted the man. I stood bracing my arms on the fence and bent at the hip, making my butt stick out in the air. I did not mean to act vulgar, but I had seen men look at a woman’s backside the instant it was in the line of their eyesight.

But he was different.

I glanced slowly at him again. He was busy in a conversation with another person and he had hardly thrown a look towards me. I bit my lip when he ran a hand through his slicked dark hair. I was aware that he might not be interested. It didn’t usually take me this long to be standing alone and not grab a man’s attention.

I looked back out towards the expanse of the New York skyline and pulled my hair over my other shoulder exposing my back to the sunlight which was beginning to mellow as the evening approached.

“Hi,” a voice called out from the side.

I whipped my head up to see a young man, way younger than me, with a beer in his hand but dressed in a fancy suit. He had a boyish grin on his face. His hairstyle somehow reminded me of Troy Bolton from the High School Musical movies.

“I couldn’t help but notice you standing here, alone,” he added and leaned his back on the glass fence besides me. He was standing in a way that gave me a clear view of the man with his friend while also giving me the opportunity to talk to the man-child attempting to talk to me.

“Aren’t you too young to be making a pass at me?” I did not want to sound rude. So, I added a smile at the end of my question. I smirked at him when he laughed.

“I was just going to ask for a dance. You are really pretty.”

I liked to think I was pretty. Not Hollywood material or model like pretty. But a compliment never hurt. “Thank you.” Genuinely feeling happy from his flattering remark. “Since you are not being crass. I think I’ll dance with you.” I smiled looking at his face light up with a big smile. Music was playing at full blast since the beginning, but someone had decided to change the playlist to soothing pop songs rather than the upbeat music playing earlier.

The Troy Bolton lookalike took my glass of wine and placed them on a table. Just out of curiosity I glanced towards the man I had wanted to hit on. My breath hitched when I saw him looking back at me. He was still in conversation with his friend, but he was looking at me from over the person’s shoulder. He had a tight-lipped smile on his lips, but his eyes looked smoldering.

I wondered if he had noticed me the moment I had come over to his side. Now that his gaze bore into me, I was almost certain he had been listening on my conversation with my young dance partner. As the moment of surprise and wonderment passed, I smirked to myself.

Now that I knew I had his attention, my motivation to dance, possibly entice him, was on overdrive.

I did not want to brag but I had recently gotten a lot of experience in club hoping. Besides trying various concoctions of alcohols in the Tri-State area, I had also wooed many men by dancing with them. I knew sometimes I was borderline promiscuous, but those thoughts were only reserved for when I was feeling down and was self-loathing.

Brushing the fleeting thoughts away, I grabbed Troy’s hand, we did not even bother to exchange names, and pulled him to the area where already a few people where swaying to the music. On the way to the dance floor, I asked the DJ to turn on some sexy beats for us to dance. The shaggy bearded DJ wasn’t impressed with my music request, he sulked but obliged anyway.

As the beats dropped, a popular RnB song, others joined the dance floor. It was getting crowded but like a way made only for us, I could still see the hunk from where he was standing. He had turned slightly to lean completely against the fence and his friend was absent.

The setting sun and the orange sky made him stand out like an Adonis. I felt a wave of excitement wash over me thinking that I had his attention. Feeling bold and fresh wave of adrenaline wash over me, I wrapped my arms around my dance partner and we both swayed together. He had his hands on my hips and his eyes trained on mine. I stepped even closer and intentionally rubbed my breasts on his chest. I couldn’t help but smirk as he closed his eyes with a slight opening of his mouth, a sigh leaving his lips.

I knew I could have that effect on guys, but I was only putting a show for him.

My knees felt weak as our eyes met from across the floor. He was sipping from his glass again, other hand tucked inside his pocket. It was weirdly arousing to think of all the attractive women-tall, blond and fair ones-he had his eyes on me.

I was feeling a little more adventurous, so I tried to take the sexual tension up a notch. I turned around so that my back was against Troy’s front. I pulled his arms to wrap around my waist while I swayed my hips to rub against his crotch. He seemed to be getting riled up too since his hands were beginning to run up my sides and I could feel him poking me from behind. I closed my eyes to the music for a moment, the buzz from the alcohol finally hitting me, and enjoying his hands travelling up my thigh…

“I’ll take it from here,” his voice was gravelly but also commanding, the British accent sending a chill throughout my body. I opened my eyes to find that the stranger had walked up to us while I had my eyes closed. He was so close to us; I could breathe in his pleasantly musky, citrusy cologne. Before I could say anything, he stuck out his hand towards me. I was astounded that he could sound dominating and act polite all in the same heartbeat. Like walking in a trance, I took his hand and made him lead me wherever he wanted.

I could hear poor Troy’s desperate protest but neither I nor him turned around to pay any heed.

As soon as we were out into the hallway leading up to the elevator, he pulled me to a corner graced by only a potted plant. My back hit the wall with a force hard enough to make air leave out from my mouth. I wasn’t given any chance to gather myself as his lips came crashing down on me. I could taste the scotch on his lips and feel the softness of them as they moved in fervor against mine.

“Aren’t you a tease,” he said while travelling down my neck while leaving kisses on my skin. “I am fairly certain this is what you want. But if not-” he stopped to look up at me. His chest was heaving along with mine; I could feel my erect nipples straining against my dress fabric.

I was left speechless, yet again. This man who looked like a sculpted Greek God up close, with his steel blue eyes and chiseled jaw had kissed me so feverishly that words had practically been thrown out of my head. I opened and closed my mouth several times to form words.

I watched as his expression changed from aroused to concerned with a single eyebrow raising up. I shook my head to come to my senses. I would be stupid to stop now. My knees were already weak from being this close to him. And my panties were already soaking wet from the kisses we had exchanged.

“Don’t stop,” I breathed out before pulling him by the front of his shirt to meet his lips with mine.

“I’m Henry,” he kissed the nape of my neck, sucking gently and making me moan. My toes curled as his hand travelled down between my legs and brushed against my mound.

“Anya,” I barely breathed out. I felt him suck at my neck, feeling a bruise forming but caring less and less about it as the moments passed. “Are you going to take me home?”

I could feel his lips curl in a smile against my skin. He cupped my breasts gently in his hands and gave a squeeze before coming up to look me in the eye. His azure orbs had darkened with lust, his lopsided grin causing dimples to appear on his cheek. “Yes,” is all he said before leading me down the hallway to the elevator.

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 2 ~It’s Her Cue~

Previously in Sparks Will Fly ...

A slap on his back tore his gaze away from Claire. "Easy now lad," Willie said in a low, amused voice. "Ye look like ye could use the same drink as her."

Jamie glanced back at the subject of their conversation. "Aye, but make mine a double," he whispered.

"On it," Willie replied, laughing as he walked off.

What the bloody hell?  He should be withdrawing himself away from this attraction because this mad instant bond between them was like an overloaded electrical fuse, capable of incinerating him alive. He'd already learnt his lesson from his last relationship. He'd been there and done that, but yet he didn't have the will to stop himself from finding out how their connection would play out.

Oh, Christ, this is bad. So, so bad, I'm in so much big trouble.  Taking a huge sigh, he found himself a stool nearest to the pool table and watched Claire steal the show from the best snooker player in Broch Mordha.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

"Just polishing my balls for the lovely lass, here." 

The people around her howled with good-natured laughter.

Claire kept her head down as she sat on the edge of the stool, chalking her stick, waiting for Hugh to stop showing off and blathering with his mates, and to finally break. She felt eyes on her, and when she looked up, she met Jamie's gaze where he sat with his brother at the high table. 

Annalise leaned in from behind her and whispered, "Ginger can't stop looking at you."

Claire drew in substantial deep breaths. She'd watched Jamie play shinty earlier, and she thought he looked impressive then. Tall, strong, lithe, covered in mud and the epitome of a Highland warrior. Not that she had any idea what a Highland warrior would have looked like. After all, she only had the movie, Braveheart to go by. But who would have thought he'd show any interest in her. Perhaps, because she'd probably looked like she was about to climb him. Who could blame her, though? The moment he'd looked into her eyes, he stirred something inside her, which no man had ever done before him. And by some feat of willpower, she wondered how she'd succeeded not breaking into song right then and there. Up close earlier and now, sat only a few feet away, Jamie looked even better. Wavy auburn hair touched the collar of his plaid flannel shirt and the way his jeans hung low on hips, it shouldn't be even allowed. 

"He probably thinks I'm easy. You know how some rural folks think city people like us have loose morals."

Annalise gasped. "Why do you think he would think that?"

"I think I came on too strong and flirty," she confided in a low voice. "He's a man, so of course, he'd respond, and it probably works a treat for him too since I'm only here for a holiday. But my God, he's one fine specimen of a man, isn't he? I'm even getting butterflies, and the last time I had them ...goodness, I can't even remember." 

"Don't be daft ...you don't even know what he's thinking. Besides, you're single, and you're allowed to show interest if you fancy someone." The ice in Annalise's vodka and tonic clinked behind her. "This is the twenty-first century, and you're welcome to it. Flirt away and get butterflies. Let yourself go a little. I don't know if it applies here, but I'll say it anyway ...what goes on in the Highlands, stay in the Highlands." 

Aww, bless her.

Claire was grateful for her friend's presence in her life. If Annalise hadn't been there to constantly coax her out of her self-consciousness and to confide in to, she'd probably still be living a secluded life, and London would have eventually eaten her whole. Now here she was, openly flirting with a handsome stranger and she'd agreed to let him take her out.

Claire smiled. "How about you? What's happening with you and Willie?"

Annalise made an exaggerated sighing sound behind her, making her laugh. What a tart! 

"Hey, by the way, Jamie asked me out. So I guess, after this game and a round of drink, we're going to split. He wants to take me on a Christmas night tour. Will you be alright with Willie?" Claire asked. She had to make sure as this was their holiday together and she didn't want Annalise feeling abandoned.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. The boys seem like decent blokes, but as a precaution, I took photos of their driving licences and sent them to Geillis. She'll have them thoroughly checked out. Really handy to know someone whose boyfriend works with the police."

Claire's eyes widened, and she turned around to face her friend. "You didn't! I told Jamie I trust him." Geillis Duncan was their mutual friend they'd met in London at a party. After hitting it off, they'd forged a tight friendship, and the three of them became close until Geillis had to move back to her home city of Glasgow when she met the love of her life. Claire and Annalise were going to visit her before flying back to London.

"Of course, I did, silly. We're both on our own. Just because we're on our holidays and having fun doesn't mean we have to be lax when it comes to precaution. Don't worry, it'll be fine." Annalise reassuringly squeezed her arm. "Speaking of protection ...do you have condoms?"

What!?!  Sex was the furthest thing from her mind. But she didn't have time to reply as she saw at the corner of her eye, Hugh finally, leaned across the pool table and broke. As Claire stood up to take her turn, their audience cheered and whooped. 

Ignoring the hoots and whistles, she watched in concentration as the colourful balls rolled, not one of them dropping into a pocket. She began to walk around the pool table, taking in each position of the balls as she tapped her chin. Alrighty Beauchamp, let's have a look, shall we? This should be easy-peasy, lemon squeezy. We'll go for stripes. 

"Ye ken how to play, hen?" Hugh teased, extracting laughter from his friends. "If not, I promise to go easy with my shaft." Another round of loud laughter ensued.

Claire ignored the innuendo, and the sally going on and focused.

First, I'll down that nine-ball hanging over the pocket and use the rail to tap out the eleven, crammed against the twelve. That'll leave open the six, thirteen, and fifteen. Once I drop the fifteen, using a little side spin, that should bring me to the other end of the table. Then I'll sink the eleven and the fourteen into the same corner pocket, gently hitting the ten off the rail in the process, so I don't get stuck later having to bank shot it. Knock in the eight, then I'm clear to finish it off. Good God, Beauchamp, you're so good.

Satisfied with her strategy, Claire leaned over the green felt and positioned herself. Although Hugh's loud wisecrack didn't rattle her, the intensity of Jamie's stare was another matter. Taking a deep breath, she redirected her concentration on her game plan and took her first shot and then another, working clinically and accurately. Unfortunately, their encounter earlier kept creeping back into her consciousness and playing in loops in her head. It didn't help that his scent stuck on to her when he'd caught her after the fall. He smelled of forest and fresh laundry. None of that heavy musky expensive perfumes London yuppies liked to bathe in. It made her want to lean in, bury her face in the crook of his neck and take a deep breath.

Bent at the waist, Claire stretched over the edge of the table and focused on the fifteen-ball and tried not to wince at the memory of openly flirting with Jamie. In her defence, it wasn't every day she was rescued by a very manly bloke who stared at her like he didn't want to let her out of his sight. She wondered if she'd appeared too eager and was totally misunderstanding the look he was giving her. There had been a hint of wariness lurking behind those beautiful translucent blue eyes when she'd agreed to go out with him. Had she said something to cause him to throw up his guard?  

Having gone to a Catholic, all-girls, boarding school, her experience with the opposite sex was limited to the ones she read in romance novels. Orphaned at a young age, her guardian uncle Lamb didn't believe, dragging her across the globe with him was an ideal way to raise a girl, especially when he worked mostly with men in archaeological sites. So he'd decided the best place for her upbringing was with the nuns, right through college.

So when it finally came for her to start adulting and dating in a big, bad city like London, she'd been like a deer caught in the headlights. But she quickly found her feet with the help of her friend and flatmate, Annalise, a Parisienne by birth and a Londoner at heart. The French girl had been a mentor to her, initiating her to the trappings of singlehood and city life. Though the dating and getting-to-know-a-guy part was also an exciting discovery, she quickly realised every date she'd been to, after having gone through a handful of them, was a recycled version of the last. Same lines, same latest fashion, exaggerated backstories and trying too hard to impress instead of being themselves. So at the ripe age of twenty-five, she still had to experience what it was like to have a boyfriend. Annalise accused her of being too picky, but Claire always reasoned she just hadn't met the right one. She'd envisioned her first boyfriend to be someone endearingly awkward, not too loud and maybe a little shy. But Jamie was the least awkward man she'd ever met. He was easy on the eyes, and he lived inside his skin like a well-worn pair of jeans. He was far from a starter boyfriend she'd envision - definitely, not a boy anything.

"Go, Claire! You can do it!" Annalise shouted at the sidelines.

As she marked her shot on the eight-ball, she glanced up at Jamie and felt her focus wobble a bit. When one of the lads emitted a low whistle as she moved her hips to settle herself at a conducive angle, he didn't have a smidgen of amusement on his face. More than anything, he looked liked he was about to knock the front teeth off of the offender.

She didn't want a pub brawl to start in her honour, even if it sounded romantic in movies or books.

Straightening up from her position, she gave Jamie what she thought was a sexy smile. "Hey, Jamie," she called to him. "You got that single malt ready for me? This shouldn't take long." She tried not to blanch for sounding overconfident and cocky. It seemed cheeky for presuming she'd finished this game in a jiffy, but the pleasure of seeing his piercing blue eyes creased at the corners was definitely worth the minor discomfort her behaviour had caused her. Oh, Lordy! There were hushed oohs, followed by a round of testosterone-laced jests, making Jamie shake his head in amusement. At least, to her relief, he stopped looking like he's about to wallop anyone. Trouble averted in the knick of time!

As Jamie turned to get the attention of the bartender, she quickly lowered herself back over the table in the same position and sunk in the remaining balls. When she finished, her opponent, Hugh looked, well …not the least bit pleased about it. It probably didn't help she'd earlier acted cocksure about winning the game and might have dented his macho ego in front of his mates. 

Claire watched Hugh purposely marched towards her as their audience clapped, cheered and teased him for losing to a lassie.

"Ye got me at a disadvantage. I must admit I went easy on you since ye're new around here," he said loud enough for everyone near the pool table to hear. 

Claire gave him a charming smile, even though she felt like throttling him for not being man enough to congratulate her. "I know. Too bad, you assumed I couldn't play because I have a pair of boobs."

Hugh's eyes dropped down to her breast, and his cheek twitched, as he openly leered at her. "I must admit, ye have a lovely pair, and it might have distracted me from playing a good game, now that I come to think about it. Ye ken what ye need? Ye need a good ..."

"Stiff drink?" Jamie interrupted as he handed Claire a glass of single malt. "That's what ye were about to say, aye?"

Jamie's words were mildly pleasant, but she detected the underlying warning in his tone. Hugh didn't look like one to back-off, but when Jamie took a small step forward, he eyed the height and breadth before him and thought better of it. Splitting a forced smile between her and Jamie, Hugh raised both his hands as a sign of truce and slowly walked back to his mates.

With a sigh, she placed her cue stick on the pool table and faced Jamie. "This is fast becoming a habit of yours, isn't it?"

"What?" he asked, taking a step inside her personal space. It was another one of his moves to add to that growing habit list of his. Her old fashion side, the side influenced by her upbringing in the boarding school, wanted her to take a step back. But the side, that suspiciously sounded like Annalise, was shouting at her to hold her ground.

So she held her ground and arched an eyebrow at him. "You coming to my rescue. Again!"

When his mouth expanded into a smile, she couldn't help noticing his full, beautiful lips. With a cleanly shaven angular jaw, they made him looked like an angel who'd spent time in hell. Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly looked back up, hoping he hadn't noticed her wandering eyes.

His amused expression told her he had. "Ye could say, rescuing ye is one past time that's beginning to grow on me." 

She laughed out loud. It was something she did whenever she was nervous or when shyness overtook, and the most annoying part of it, it was almost always accompanied by a snort. She quickly sobered up. Acting like a loon was definitely beginning to be her nervous signature move.

As if sensing her unease, Jamie quickly changed the subject. "By the way, that was some show ye put on. Ye'll be the topic of everyone's conversation for the next few days. And Hugh the butt of jokes."

"I didn't realise I was playing with a sore loser," she said, taking a sip of her whisky. When the heat slid down her throat, she tried not to flinch. Acting cool wasn't her forte, but she was determined to work on it. "If I'd known, I would have given up my slot."

"Dinnae fash. Hugh's all mouth and no trousers, but he's harmless. So where did ye learn to play like that?" His eyes scanned her face, and he cocked his head a little like he was committing each of her features to memory.

"My uncle taught me. We'd play for hours whenever we get time to spend together."

"Ye're close to yer uncle. That's nice. I hope I'd be that type of uncle one day."

She beamed. Jamie looked like the type of uncle who would have boundless of energy playing with children. "My uncle's for the most part, both a father and mother to me when I wasn't in the boarding school. My parents died when I was young."

His face turned serious. "Sorry to hear that. My parents have always been part of my life, so I can't begin to imagine what it was like for you growing up without them."

Claire gave him a grateful smile as she pulled a vibrating phone from her pocket. "Oh, bummer," she whispered, glancing down at the screen. "I have about fifteen missed text messages. I didn't feel it going off. I must have been caught up with all the excitement of the game." 

He ran a hand along his jaw. "Some lad missing ye back home?"

She hesitated, glancing up at him. "No." She shook her head, vigorously. "It's my friend, Geillis." She skimmed through the messages wondering why there were so many of them. Annalise had sent the photos of the brothers' driving licences to Geillis, and probably something had come up.

"Is everything alright?" he asked as she continued to read the messages.

"It's fine," she squeaked, looking for any incriminating data Geillis might have found. She found none. Instead, what she was reading was making her face heat up.

"Are ye sure? Ye have a troubling frown forming on yer face. Maybe I can help."

She sighed and rolled her head. "Annalise sent the photos of your driving licences to my friend Geillis. And a selfie she took with you and your brother earlier. You know ...to have you check out and see if you're legit. Geillis' boyfriend works with the police you see."

He arched an eyebrow. "And?"

Is he upset? "Don't look at me like that. I told you I trust you."

He laughed. "Like what? Ye're the one who's giving me an odd look. I told ye I was alright with it. So what did she say? Do I get her seal of approval?"

She winced. "Yeah, Geillis says it's all good."

He picked up his whisky from the nearby table. "Geillis sounds like a verra nice friend. I think I like her already. What else did she say?"

She felt the colour drain from her face. "I swear you wouldn't want to hear the rest of it. Geillis is raving mad."

"Try me."

"I think we should leave it ..."

"Come on, Sassenach. It cannae be that bad."

"I'd rather not."

"Go on, humour me." His blue eyes danced, and she marvelled for the umpteenth time at how handsome he was.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you." She shut her eyes for a few heartbeats and puffed out a breath. "Well, she said if you're the same bloke who competed against her boyfriend at caber toss last spring and won ..." Oh dear, God. "...I ...um ...I should let you ground my corn."

He practically choked on his whisky.

She grimaced and wondered if she should thump him on the back. "I'm sorry. Geillis has an odd sense of humour. I'm afraid it's just her way of saying that her boyfriend thinks you're ace ...well, that's if you're really the bloke who he thinks you are."

He recovered quickly and grinned. "How about ye? What do ye think of me?"

She ignored the question. "You haven't confirmed anything to me yet," she said, speaking into her whisky glass. "Did you really win the caber toss competition?"

He looked smugly amused, and the smile that spread across his face already answered her question.

"So you're a tree surgeon who plays shinty and tosses poles in your spare time ...whatever next."

He nodded at her phone when it lit up again. "What else is your friend saying?"

She put her drink down and glanced at the screen. "'She said, the men who participated in this year's caber toss, including you, posed with nothing on but their kilt for a charity calendar."

He smiled. "Aye, that's right."

"And she asked me to ask you if you're wearing anything underneath the kilt because I'm getting the calendar as a stocking filler."

His booming laughter made a few heads turn their way.

"See I told you, she's raving mad." She took another sip from her glass and realised it was empty. Ah, fiddlesticks! "I thought her boyfriend would have mellowed her down a bit, but I have a feeling, she's worse than ever."

He eyed her glass and grinned. "I definitely have to meet this friend of yours."

She felt a twinge of ache in her heart, which took her by surprise. "Annalise and I are stopping at her place in Glasgow before we fly back to London on Three Kings. So you won't be seeing her."

He leaned in closer. "I ken we've only just met. Ye think ye're going to miss me when you go back?" His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Even though she was a right bumbling mess around him, she had to admit she was having too much fun in his company. So much so, she didn't really want to think about leaving yet. Her mind was already racing and wondering if Annalise would agree to celebrate Hogmanay here instead of in Edinburgh. "Well, that depends ..."

"Depends on what?"

Her curiosity to explore the dynamic between them made it difficult to keep her guard up. It was useless trying to fight whatever this was when she was so drawn to Jamie. Surely he must be feeling this too. She swallowed hard and decided to be brave. "If I'll have a reason to miss you," she blurted out before she could change her mind. 

A tiny fraction of the playfulness displayed on his face was replaced by uncertainty ...and Claire's stomach coiled at the proof he wasn't prepared to act on the attraction between them. Whatever his reason was, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know as her guard began to scramble back into place. Oh, God, how could I be so dim? Maybe he's got a girlfriend or a wife ...

"Arbroath Smokies."

Stunned, she looked at him. "Wot?"

"Have ye eaten?"

"Uh, um ...not since midday."

"Weel, hard to fall in love with ..." He took a huge deep breath. "...Broch Mordha on an empty stomach."

"Huh?"

That playful smile was back on his face. "Have ye tried Arbroath Smokies?"

"No. I don't even know what that is."

"Ye have to try it. I know just the place." Jamie glanced over his shoulder. "Come on, let's have a quick drink with Willie and Annalise so we can get out of here." 

And then just like that, he wove his fingers through hers and tugged her towards the bar.

[carriagelamp]

~ Queer Lit 30 Day Book Challenge ~

I decided to do this challenge I came across for June! Originally it was designed as a “day-by-day” thing, but my June was way too hectic to do a write up every single day… so I decided to make a nice compilation for the end of the month instead!

This is perhaps not the “purest” form of the challenge but I wanted it to be personal for me. Growing up when I did and where I did, I had very little exposure to queer books, especially age-appropriate queer books. That being said, there’s some books on this list that are really only “queer” by technically, or through a secondary character rather than the main character. I debated whether to include these but finally decided that, yes, I would. I owe it to myself. Even though some of these books that aren’t “as queer” as other, they were (or are) really important to me as a queer person and my journey is understanding that, so I wanted to acknowledge them!

More info about the books and the challenge under the cut!

Day One: First Queer Book You Remember Reading

Color by Taishi Zaou and Eiki Eiki

Remember how I mentioned a lack of available, age-appropriate queer books? I was one of those kids who was definitely exposed (probably too young) to queer manga/yaoi. It wasn’t necessarily what I wanted, especially as a wee ace teen, but it was the best I had at the time and it meant the world to me at the time, to see same-sex relationships even if looking back on them is very “YIKES”.

I’m sure I read others before this, but Color is one of the first that I really remember and which I a) actually owned and which b) wasn’t completely repellent in hindsight! I haven’t reread it in probably over a decade so I have no idea how it stands up, but at the time it read like a much more “realistic” account of two teenagers developing a crush and starting a relationship and as a questioning teenager it really helped me realize that this was a real, viable option.

Day Two: Queer Book That Reminds You Of Home

The Witch Boy by Molly Knox Ostertag

I hummed and hawed about this one for a long time because honestly I tend to read books that make me feel far from home. I decided to go with The Witch Boy though because it’s a story that challenges gender norms and stars a large family out in the woods, running wild and exploring magic, and honestly it gives me vibes that remind me of vacationing with my extended family. We’re also partially ginger and inclined to run wild in the woods. If we knew magic we’d have used it for sure.

This book is about 13 year old Aster, who lives in a family where the women all become witches and the men all become shifters. Aster, however, has no interest in shapeshifting and instead finds ways to study magic and learn the arts of witchcraft while constantly being pushed out by his female relatives… though everything might change when a new danger, that may or may not be connected to Aster studying magic, begins to appear.

Day Three: Queer Book That Has Been On Your TBR Too Long

Beneath The Citadel by Destiny Soria

That was an easy choice, this has been sitting on my bookshelf for months, staring at me accusingly every time I enter my room. I’m really excited to read it (Magical heist? Rebellion? With an asexual protagonist? Yes please) but for some reason I have not gotten around to it. Some day, baby, some day.

Day Four: Queer Book With A Name Or Number In The Title

George by Alex Gino

George is an absolutely charming middle grade novel about a child named George who the world perceives as male… but who knows she’s definitely a girl. The novel begins when her class decided to put on a play about the novel they had just read: Charlotte’s Web. George is desperate to play Charlotte, her favourite character, but isn’t even allowed to try out because it’s a “girl’s role”. George and her best friend struggle with how to handle this problem and manage George’s secret amid elementary school and home drama.

This book is really adorable – it was a nice, easy, cozy read for an adult, and would also make a great read aloud to elementary-age children if you want to introduce them to transgender characters.

Day Five: Queer Book Where The Protag Has A Fun Job

The Magic Misfits by Neil Patrick Harris

Not actually a queer protagnoist, but a queer side character who plays a major role in the series. Mister Vernon, one of Leila’s fathers, has arguable the coolest job: he’s a retired stage magician turn magic shop owner, which is complete with large rabbit, hidden room, and tons of fascinating gadgets to help a young practical magician learn their trade. He is hands down one of the neatest character in the series and is a major catalyst throughout the series.

The first book follows Carter, a runaway orphan who practices street magic to get by, as he runs away from his horrible uncle and winds up meeting a gang of magic-loving friends in a small town. Hiding from his uncle is only the beginning though, and the mysteries surrounding the town and Mister Vernon become thicker and thicker as the series goes on.

Day Six: Favourite Queer Graphic Novel

Check, Please! by Ngozi Ukazu

There’s lots of fantastic queer graphic novels out there, but I have to name Check, Please! as my favourite (and not just because I’m Canadian and am legally obligated to at least show interest in a hockey story). Check, Please! is the friggin cutest story about Eric “Bitty” Bittle, former figure skater and avid baker, who joins the Samwell University hockey team. The story is told in the form of Bitty’s vlog as he recounts the bizarre quirks of the Samwell hockey team, his struggle to overcome his fear of checking, and his growing crush on the team captain, Jack. Seriously guys, this is cavity-inducing sweetness and you can read it all online for free, here on tumblr @omgcheckplease or at its own website, checkpleasecomic.

Day Seven: Queer Book You Often Reread

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

Another book I haven’t reread in years, but this was the first queer novel I ever read (and owned!) so I read it obsessively, first the copy from the high school library and then my own copy (which is, let us say, well-thumbed by this point). It was pure fluff, in an aggressively diverse, relentlessly accepting, rainbow-coloured high school and it was exactly what I wanted in high school, and it still makes me happy whenever I remember it. It’s a straight-up high school romance, pretty traditional to the genre, but it has the most delightful supporting cast you could ever ask for. Maybe I should reread it again this summer…

Day Eight: Queer Book With A Happy Ending

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst

This was a bit more of a “yeah it was fine” book for me, but honestly… queer people deserve some average, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies. As far as my normal reading preferences go, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies are my bread and butter. And this one has a cute sapphic romance to go with it. It’s about Denna, a princess with a dangerous secret: she has a magical Affinity for fire, despite being betrothed to the prince of a kingdom that aggressively prosecutes and fears magic-users. So now Denna is in a strange land, trying to hide her increasingly volatile magic, solve an assassination that rocked the kingdom, and deal with the growing connection between her and the prince’s wild sister, Mare. It has court intrigue, a murder mystery, horses, and lots of confused sapphic pining so it’s totally worth picking up if you want a light summer fantasy adventure.

Day Nine: Queer Book With (Over) 100 Pages

River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey

I decided to try to get as close to 100 pages as possible! River of Teeth is a 114-page novella that I haven’t quite finished (work and covid stress happened) but which I am fucking losing my mind for. I can’t recommend it enough. It’s peak alternative history, about queer hippopotamus-riding cowboys in Louisiana during the early 20th (late 19th?) century. Like… I don’t know how to emphasize how unbelievably cool this book is. Genderqueer demolition expert with a giant crush and a penance for making things blow up and attempting to poison guests when they’re bored?? Check. Gay gunslinging hippo-riding cowboy with an angsty backstory (and also a giant crush)? Check. Sexy, fat, badass lady con artist with an albino hippo that she spoils? Check. Like damn guys. I’m not done the book and I’ve already bought the sequel because I know the second I pick it back up I’m not gonna stop until I’ve ploughed through it all. This book is the epitome of “refuge in audacity” and “rule of cool”. Is it over the fucking top? Absolutely but that’s the point.

Day Ten: Favourite Queer Genre Novel

The Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare

I’ll be honest, I’m a little shaky on what counts as a genre novel (isn’t… everything… a genre??) so I decided to interpret it as “slightly trashy YA supernatural fantasy” because that sure is a hella specific genre I’m weak for.

I really thought I was done with the Shadowhunter novels, I thought they were a goofy series I left behind in teenagerhood that I could look back on with amused indulgence. And then I found out that there was a novel specifically about Alec and Magnus and! Oh no! Ding dong I was wrong. I fell back in hard because listen… I love them. They were one of the first canonical same-sex relationships I ever read about in an actual novel, they meant a lot to me then and still mean a lot to me now. I have nothing to say to defend myself here except that this book wrecked me and I can’t wait for the sequel.

Day Eleven: Queer Book You Love In A Genre You Don’t Read

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connel

I am very rarely a slice-of-life / romance genre sort of person. I like my stories cut with a heavy dose of fantasy, scifi, action-adventure… something. So a graphic novel that’s not only a romance, but one about an unhealthy relationship and infidelity is like… super outside my usual range of reading material. But it was very much worth the read! The art was stunning, and the complicated emotions it tapped into really touched me. I’m very happy to have read it, and was so damn satisfied by the end.

Day Twelve: Queer Book With A Strong Sense Of Place

Belle Révolte by Linsey Miller

Linsey Miller is one author I very actively follow, I love her works and they always have very distinct, complicated worlds with unique societies and magic systems. Belle Révolte was her latest book and followed a prince-and-the-pauper type of story, in which wealthy Emilie des Marais is determined to learn noonday (magical) arts in order to become a physician, someone who can actually work to make her home a better place… but this is not something a proper lady would ever be allowed to do. So she flees her finishing school and meets poor, but magically gifted, Annette Boucher and offers her the chance to switch places. Annette goes back to school as “Emilie” and gets to hone her skills at the midnight arts while Emilie will use her name to sneak into medical school and fight her way up the ranks to physician. This is a challenging enough task, with rebellion roiling just beneath the surface and the country about to slip into a arrogant war that threatens the lives of hundreds…

Day Thirteen: Queer Book That Really Made You Think

Our Dreams At Dusk by Yuhki Kamatani

This is a four book manga series that is completely breath-taking. It’s touched by magical-realism and completely drowned in visually stunning metaphors and symbolism. Seriously, I’ve reread these books multiples times trying to digest how the wide variety of symbols overlap and contradict and compliment and challenge each other. I still haven’t really gotten a solid handle on it, it’s very fluid, so yeah… definitely makes me think.

The story starts with Tasuku Kaname who believes he may have just been outed as gay by a high school friend, and feels like he’s watching his entire world crumble around him. He is seriously considering taking his own life, when he runs into the mysterious woman “Someone-san” and winds up leading him to a drop-in center that’s run by a local non-profit, and is also a hub for a number of queer people in the community. The books follow Tasuku as he grows, learns, makes mistakes, and confronts his feelings, along with a number of other members at the drop-in center. It is completely beautiful, optimistic, but also quite stark and harsh at its look at homophobia and transphobia in modern Japanese society and how it can effect people in different ways. I just bought book four and can’t wait to read it and see how everything ends.

Day Fourteen: Queer Book That Made You Cry

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Holy shit guys. Listen. Listen. If you don’t read any other book on this list, please consider reading The Marrow Thieves. It is hands down the best book I’ve read so far this year. Another book that doesn’t have a queer character as the protag, but as one of the main supporting characters and listen, his story fucking destroyed me as a person. That romance just… aaaaaaah. AAAAAAAAH.

Anyway. The Marrow Thieves is a Canadian dystopian novel. It takes place in a post-climate change world in which society has been ravaged – partially due to the wildly different and extreme weather patterns, but also through a strange disease that has spread through the population that has left people completely incapable of dreaming. Now unable to rest, process their lives, and dream of a future, people are being driven insane and only one group appears to be immune: North America’s First Nations people appear to be unaffected. And so they begin to be harvested, rounded up and collected in “school” in order for people to suck the marrow out of them to give to white people afflicted by this disease. The Marrow Thieves follows a First Nations boy named Frenchie as he flees the recruiters and tries his best to survive in this post-apocalyptic like wilderness, banding together with other First Nations people who are heading north, where they hope to find communities of their own people with whom they can shelter and start to rebuild their lives.

It’s a YA level novel, not very long, and such an insanely good read. I cannot emphasize enough PLEASE GO READ THIS BOOK. 

Day Fifteen: Queer Book That Made You LOL

Mostly Void, Partially Stars by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor

Welcome to Nightvale always makes me laugh and it was a lot of fun to get to read the transcripts of the episodes. I’m a sucker for novelizations/transcripts of shows. It was a nice nostalgia trip and gave me an excuse to go back and relisten to some of my favourite episodes too! If you’ve never gotten into Nightvale… hey, it’s a classic! Podcast is fucking stunning if you’re into podcasts, and if you’re not but would enjoy a weird, queer, eldritch horror comedy then try the book! It’s the first “season” compiled in text form, exactly how it’s heard in the show.

Day Sixteen: Queer Book That Is Really Personal To You

Jughead volume 1 by Chip Zdarsky et al

Including this one because gee golly it sure did make me want to fight a lot of people for quite a while. It was one of the first stories I ever found/read that had an explicitly asexual main character… (and a character I already really loved! Which I now got to feel an even stronger connection to! It was so fun and validating!) so it was super awesome how like half of tumblr decided for a year there that this was apparently a cardinal sin. Imagine… one single version of old, long standing comic series deciding to retcon a character to represent a heavily under-represented community… imagine being so fucking angry about that that you decide to start a hate campaign on the internet. So much fun to live through that as an ace person. Anyway, these comics were nothing amazing but I sure do love them aggressively out of pure spite, even now that the aphobia on tumblr has died back down I will hold this to my chest and adore it.

Day Seventeen: Favourite Queer Book Sequel or Spin Off

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

Honestly do I even need to say anything here? Is there any queer person who hasn’t read Mackenzi Lee’s The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue series? If you are someone who hasn’t read it yet… go do that?? Absolutely stunning, one of my all-time favourite book series. It’s the perfect combination of hilarious and goofy, intense action, heartfelt character development, and a dash of “wait was that supernatural or??” This sequel was fantastic, this time focusing on Felicity, Monty’s sister, and her quest to become a physician despite being a woman in the 18th century. Awesome look at femininity, feminism, asexuality, and race. (Also… OT3? OT3.)

Day Eighteen: Favourite Queer Book By A Favourite Author

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

One of those “ehh is this technically queer? Not really but close enough, it is in my heart” books. It was one of the books I read as a teenager when I was still beginning to seek out and try to explore queer lit in so much as I could.

Terry Pratchett is, hands down, my favourite author, and though he doesn’t tend to write explicitly queer literature, his exploration of gender through allegory is top fucking tier. Everything to do with the dwarves in his series is fascinating, and a really great challenge/critique/exploration of gender, and this is the book that takes it to the next level (and brings in at least implicitly queer characters). It’s about Polly Perks, who lives in a small, war torn nation, choosing to join the army in order to find out what happened to her brother. However, as tradition dictates, she can’t join as a girl… so she disguises herself as Ozzer, a young man. There’s a lot of twists and turns, and as always Pratchett delivers fantastic humour and just absolutely delicious satire.

Day Nineteen: Queer Book That Changed Your Life

And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson

This was the book that made me realize that I, as a queer teacher, could have queer kid lit in my future classroom. Maybe a comparatively small revelation, but a really important one to me. It made me realize that this didn’t need to be something I kept a secret in my professional life and which could really positively influence children, especially queer children. It was the first queer children’s book I ever bought.

Day Twenty: Favourite Queer Book Series

Candy Color Paradox by Isaku Natsume

Alright… I’ll admit it, this isn’t actually my favourite series, but I’ve used my favourites in other spots. And this is a good one! Definitely more of an actual “yaoi” than the other manga I’ve included (here there be sex) but it has a very different vibe that what I’m used to from that type of manga. The main pair are actually both capable, mature adults, with careers they actively care about, and who get together in the first volume! 

The rest of the series is less about them angst-ily toeing around their relationship, and much more about them learning to grow as a couple and balance their work and relationship and society. It’s funny and sweet, and I really enjoy these two losers. It’s a very low-stakes enemy-to-friends-to-lovers story, in which Onoe (a reporter) and Kaburagi (a photographer) are paired up on a news story they’re supposed to dig into together. What starts as a bickering rivalry gradually becomes respect, friendship, and love~ Onoe is a gremlin of a protag, so he’s a treat to follow.

Day Twenty-One: Queer Book That You Recommend A Lot

Mask of Shadows by Linsey Miller

To repeat myself: Linsey Miller is awesome! This is my favourite book of hers, the first of a duology. It’s kind of like an intense, edgy Tamora Pierce novel with murder. In this world, the Queen has a team of assassins known as the Left Hand. They’re an elite group that keeps the Queen safe and does the dirty work that needs to be done to protect the kingdom and keep the encroaching nations at bay. When the assassin Opal is killed, a contest is announced to find the new Opal. People from all over come to complete for the honour of being one of the Queen’s royal assassins, including gender-fluid thief Sallot Leon. Sal has some deep motivations to become Opal that go beyond a loyalty to their kingdom, but they’re going to have to survive their competitors if they even wants a chance at it… (Sal generally goes by either she or he in the books, but I’m using they in this instance since it’s in a more general sense.)

Day Twenty-Two: Queer Book That Made You Take Action

The Deep by Rivers Solomon

Uhh, I don’t really have any books that made me take action per se, but this one sure gave me a lot to think about. It’s about deep sea mermaids who originated from the pregnant slave women tossed into the ocean to drown during passage to North America. From those dying women, this race was born and were taken in by whales, raised and protected until they could descend into the deep ocean waters, to form their own safe society. Their collective past is so painful though that as a species they’ve developed a very short term memory. But a people can’t live without any ties to their roots and so one of them, the Historian, holds all the memories for their entire species and shares it with everyone once a year so that the community can be connected to their ancestors before once again returning the memories to the Historian for safe keeping. Yetu, the current Historian, is so overwhelmed by these memories, that she can no longer take it – she flees her people, her responsibilities, and her pain and escapes to the surface instead...

Day Twenty-Three: Queer Book By An Author Who I Killed Is Dead

Cybersix by Carlos Trillo

I cannot emphasize enough, this is not actually a queer comic, it is in fact a very homophobic, transphobic and sexist comic written by a horrible person.

That being said, he’s dead and I own it now the TV series was essentially about a genderqueer superhero and a very confused bi biology professor who has a crush on both personas. I had a passionate crush on both personas as a child, and I will cherrypick this comic until I die in order to enjoy the only kickass genderqueer/genderfluid noir antihero I’ve come across. I am valid and I am not open to debate or discussion. Do not read this comic it’s horrible (but consider watching the show).

Day Twenty-Four: Queer Book You Wish You’d Read When Younger

The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang

This is such an incredibly soft story with the nicest art. There’s so much understanding and compassion in it and its exploration of gender and self-confidence and being true to yourself would have been very reassuring to me as a child, especially by late elementary/middle school. 

Day Twenty-Five: Queer Book In A Historical Setting

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

A retelling of Achilles’ and Patroclus’ relationship from childhood to the Trojan war. So yeah, you can imagine that this was also a candidate for Day 14 :’) I haven’t read this one in years but god it was lovely and emotionally destroyed me as a person.

Day Twenty-Six: Queer Superhero Book or Comic

Overwatch: Reflections by Michael Chu and Miki Montillo

I don’t really read superhero stories very often (the comics have always driven me a little bonkers, trying to find a way to enter the totally unapproachable Marvel/DC canons, and the MCU burnt me out years ago for every other sort of superhero story) so this is the closest I can get. Tracer’s a superhero yeah? Anyway, I, like every other queer person in the Overwatch fandom, lost my fucking mind when this dropped for Christmas a few years back and officially declared Lena Oxton not only the face of the entire franchise but also a lesbian. It’s an adorable little comic and Tracer’s girlfriend is a sweetheart.

Day Twenty-Seven: Favourite Queer Children’s Picture Book

Prince & Knight by Daniel Haack

There’s a number of sweet queer children’s books that are popping up these days, but this is my favourite just because it’s less about “explaining the gays to children” (though those books also have their place) and more of a cute little fantasy adventure in which the actual protagonist is gay. It’s about a prince who sets out to find himself a bride who can help rule by his side, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t interested in any of the girls. Instead, when a fire breathing dragon threatens his kingdom, he meets a brave knight who fights along side him. It’s very supportive and the art is lovely.

Day Twenty-Eight: Queer Book That Made You Feel Uncomfortable

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann

This is a book with an asexual protagonist that I was originally really excited for. I know there are a lot of people out there who really enjoy this book and connected with it, but it didn’t do it for me. Maybe because my expectations were too high, but the protagonist’s experience with asexuality was vastly different than my own and the narrative voice ended up rubbing me wrong (and let’s be honest, slice-of-life romance is NOT my usual genre at all). So it’s not “made me uncomfortable because it’s Bad And Wrong” more just… totally vibed wrong with me. Maybe the perfect book for other people but definitely not for me, I had to return this one unfinished because it’s portrayal of asexuality just made me so deeply uncomfortable.

Day Twenty-Nine: Queer Book That Made You Want To Fall In Love

The Gentleman’s Guide To Vice And Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

This book had to make it on here somewhere, and honestly it could have gone in a lot of different spots, but I chose to put it here because the relationship between Monty and Percy is so incredibly sweet and authentic it really does make you want something like that. TGGTVAV (for anyone who has somehow not heard of it) takes place in the 18th century, and is about Monty, his best friend (and crush) Percy, and his sister Felicity going on a final “hurrah” tour of Europe before Monty's father finally tries to pin him down in England and force every part of Monty that’s deemed “unacceptable” out of him. So Monty intends to live this summer up… until everything goes off the rail and the three of them are suddenly fleeing across the continent with assassins at their heels and a strange, stolen artifact in their possession.

Monty has a lot of growing to do in this novel, and that’s one of my favourite things about it. For his and Percy’s relationship to ever have a chance, Monty needs to learn and change and actually communicate with other people, and it makes the relationship feel strong. Not a fluffy, surface level romance that often happens in YA but something built from the ground up by two friends who really want to make it work. Ahh, it’s lovely. One of my favourite novels.

Day Thirty: Queer Book With Your Favourite Ending

My Brother’s Husband by Gengoroh Tagame

A two-book manga series that was completely stunning. It deals with queer relationships and homophobia in a very stark, real-world manner that you don’t often get in manga, while still being incredibly loving and sympathetic. The book is about Yaichi, a single father whose estranged brother (Ryoji) recently died. One day, a Canadian named Mike arrives, introducing himself as Ryoji’s widower. Mike had come hoping to visit his late husband’s homeland to try to get some closure, and Yaichi ends up inviting Mike to stay. The whole story looks Japan’s societal biases, through Mike’s experiences, Yaichi’s thoughts, feelings and prejudices, and those of his daughter who adores Mike. 

Seriously, this is one of the kindest, most earnest looks I’ve ever seen to internal prejudices that critiques them without demonizing the person who feels them. Instead it lovingly embraces grief, growth, and love. This series made me cry multiple times, was good enough that even my straight brother practically ordered me to go out and buy the second book when he finished the first, and the ending was just *chef’s kiss*

Honourable Mentions

A few books I really wanted to fit on my list somehow but couldn’t quite manage it, so here: All Out an anthology of historical fiction short stories about queer teens. The Tea Dragon Society series and Princess Princess Ever After, graphic novels by the amazingly talented Katie O’Neill. Heartstopper a webcomic turn graphic novel by Alice Oseman about a pair of rugby players. The Different Dragon a cute picture book in which the boy has two moms and which is about accepting different ways of being. And Lady Knight a part of Tamora Pierce’s Protector of the Small series because because Kel is word-of-god aro(and/or ace) and I’ve adored that series and Kel since I was about thirteen so by god I’ll take it.

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Now for those that wanted to do their own challenge, I found it on @gailcarriger’s blog.

[wondereads]

Personal Recommendation (1/10/21)

The Queen’s Rising by Rebecca Ross

Why am I recommending this book?

This book was a bit odd because it wasn’t very high in tension, but it went by so fast. There’s something about the worldbuilding that just made me want to know more, so even though the story itself wasn’t full of twists and turns, it held my attention.

Plot 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

Brienna is half Maevan and half Valenian, two countries that are similar to our worlds’ Scotland and France. She is sent by her grandfather to passion, the practice of studying art, music, wit, drama, or knowledge. After jumping from passion to passion, Brienna finally settles on knowledge, but her inexperience leaves her without a patron, which could have her labelled inept. However, once she starts having visions from the perspective of a long-dead Maevan noble, she is offered patronage from a mysterious man who seeks to uncover an artifact from Mavana’s past.

Like I said, this book is very low tension. Most of it is spent at the passion house where Brienna studies or planning at the house of her passion-father, her patron. Once the action does get started, it’s all very neat. There are some surprises, but Brienna and the others aligned with her generally manage to steal and spy with little resistance. The big theme in this book is identity; Brienna starts out torn between two countries, she and many others adopt new names, and most of the big reveals have to do with people turning out to be different than what they claim to be.

The plot was very simple, but the worldbuilding made up for it. Brienna, within the passion of knowledge, is a historian, so there are all sorts of lovely history lessons tied up in the book. However, I would still say the plot was a little lackluster. The rebels’ plans always seemed to go too smoothly; it would’ve been more interesting if Brienna was forced to improvise when something went horribly wrong. For example, the entire plan hinged on Brienna being taken to Damhan, for reasons that are most definitely spoilers, so it would’ve been a bit more exciting if Brienna had to convince Lannon, the Maevan king, rather than him just playing into their hands. Still, bonus points for not making Brienna a secret princess and keeping her in the role that was established for her.

Also, there is magic in this book, but it’s very subtle. The only magic explicitly seen are the memories that Brienna inherits from her ancestor.

Characters 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. I’m a sucker for found family. Brienna is very focused on the unknown identity of her father; she’s an illegitimate child who was raised by her grandfather. However, the story centers around her multiple found families in her passion-sisters, the girls she studied the passions with, and her patron, the man who essentially adopted her and the brother that came along with it. Brienna also develops deep bonds with some disgraced Maevan nobility. My favorite was Brienna and Merei’s friendship, I hope they get to keep seeing each other after the book ends.

Brienna herself is a nice character because she’s very much the epitome of “jack of all trades, master of none, but better than a master of one”. Her education in all the passions definitely comes in handy, even though she has her faults in all of them.

Finally, for the romance, I’m a bit split on it. For one, Brienna and Cartier are very sweet with each other, and Ross wrote some great scenes with a lot of tension between the two. It’s very obvious they care for each other, and it’s nice to read a YA book where the main couple don’t start out at each other’s throats, figuratively or literally. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get completely into it. That was mostly due to the eight year age gap that had Brienna and seventeen and Cartier at twenty-five. I do appreciate that they didn’t even consider a romantic relationship possible until Brienna was no longer his student, but the age gap, even in a medieval setting, especially at Brienna’s current age, was a bit too much.

Writing Style 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

Before I get into anything else, Rebecca Ross knows what’s up. At the beginning of the book, there’s a detailed map filled with the typical embellishments of a medieval map. Then there’s a cast of characters complete with family trees for the Maevan houses that make an appearance during the story. If you really want to know who Brienna’s father is, just take a look there. I absolutely love when author’s include things like that, and there’s even a table of contents with actual chapter titles. I love it!

In terms of actual writing style, Brienna used language that was appropriate for the time period, and the switch to third person during the memories was very nice. I do prefer third person in both reading and writing, but I didn’t mind the first person here, especially because Brienna was a very sensible character that didn’t get sidetracked easily.

Overall 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

I thought I’d get bored with this book easily, especially once I realized I was a third of the way through and Brienna hadn’t even left the passion house. It was quite the opposite. I finished this book in two days, and I didn’t have to push through it at all. While the tension was lacking, it flowed very nicely, though I do wish there had been some more high stakes moments. The relationships were all very well written, even if the age difference irked me, and I loved having a map and family trees I could flip to. I would recommend this book to historical nerds and those who enjoy fantasy and softer reads.

Reviewer’s Note

Sorry for the delay! I spent all weekend binging the Tolkien movies with my family, so this is a little late. The next review will be on time on Jan 24!

The Author

Rebecca Ross: American, born in Georgia, author of The Queen’s Resistance and Sisters of Sword and Song

The Reviewer

My name is Wonderose; I try to post a review every two weeks, and I take recommendations. Check out my about me post for more!

[writingwithcolor]

British Bangladeshi Muslim 21 Year Old

I’m usually a lurker on this blog but, I’ve decided to send in a POC profile - mainly because it’s so rare for me to see someone like me represented in the media. In fact, I’m not certain I’ve ever seen someone Bangladeshi represented in mainstream media 

Beauty Standards 

Colourism is a very big thing still in the Bangladeshi community. My parent’s generation, despite liking to think that they’re very open minded still fall into the trap of the narrow minded view so present in the older generations. I’ve always fallen on the fairer side and as I grew up and developed mild iron deficiency, people would comment on how beautiful my skin was (and some people use the Bengali word for beautiful as being synonymous for fair), whilst my younger sister who is on the darker side but very rarely gets such comments. 

Clothing 

On a day to day basis, I wear casual English clothes or more casual Asian clothing around the house. But, for special occasions where I’m going to be with other Bengali people, I do tend to wear traditional clothing. Essentially, all the women in our house have two wardrobes; one with English clothes and one with Asian clothes. Although, nowadays, the English wardrobe seems to be growing more and more packed. A quick thing - traditional Asian clothes, especially those that are very flashy and embroidered, are heavy and so people don’t tend to wear them that often. 

But - it differs between person to person. My mum wears English clothes around the home but her older sister wears a saree - a plainer saree but a saree none the less. 

Culture 

Culture is an odd one for me because I’ve never felt as if I belonged to either one. Growing up, I didn’t fit into the typical English stereotype because I wasn’t Caucasian and I grew up bilingual. I’d also hear all these bad things about Bangladesh, and the experiences others had around me would mould the opinion I had of a country my family still refer to as their motherland. But, as I’ve grown older and actually started to make opinions for myself, I’ve begun to accept that I can be a part of both, I don’t need to be one or the other. 

Dating and Romance

In my family at least, ‘dating’ is done with the intention to marry. It all remains very chaste - with very little/no physical affection - until after marriage and almost all dates are with chaperones. The only ones that happen without chaperones are those in secret or those happening after the engagement. Nowadays, I feel like love marriages are the norm and most couples meet through being introduced by other people. 

Food

Food is a big part of our culture. In fact, if you’re invited to someone’s house, or if you pop in for five minutes, it’s considered rude to not sit down and have a cup of tea or even to have an entire meal. Food is one of the ways that we show affection for each other and, especially for important days like Eid, food plays a central role. Eating a meal together on a festival day like Eid is one of the few days of the year when all the adults and all the children gather together and spend time together. 

In my home at least, rice and curry is a staple. As Bangladesh is mainly riverine, fish is an important part of the diet. In fact, there’s a saying that if you can’t eat fish, you’re not really Bengali (which makes things a bit awkward for my uncle who is allergic to fish) and in some families there’s a tradition of a new bride cooking a fish curry on the second day of marriage. I’m not sure why, but it’s a thing. 

Home/Family life/ Friendship

I could talk about family for ages … 

My family is on the big side with my Mum being one of eight and my Dad being one of six. I’m one of three, but all of my cousins are considered like siblings - because we were raised as siblings. The familial bond is an important one and it’s often one that’s a burden to bear. For instance, as I’m the oldest granddaughter/niece/cousin I’m called affa by every cousin younger than me (Affa meaning older sister) and this burden is quite a heavy one to bear. It means that when the cousins experience any issues, they run to you to sort it out whether it’s something small or something big and it’s a burden I don’t mind shouldering. After all, it’s one I’ll likely have to carry for the rest of my life. 

Everyone older than you is treated with respect - even if you don’t want to respect them at all. For some reason, it’s an important thing.

Friendship between Bengali girls is … something else. Often we’ll break off and have our own conversation in Bengali as if it’s some sort of secret code and this usually comes in extremely handy when discussing secret birthday party plans in front of the person whose birthday we’re planning. Personally, my parents have never been strict that I can’t have any male friends - I honestly don’t think they care but I know of other parents who insist that their daughters can’t have male friends. 

Language 

To me particularly, the language was an important thing. I grew up bilingual because my grandparents lived with us and they couldn’t communicate in English. But, I don’t remember ever making the effort to learn it - it was something I picked up. I certainly can’t read or write in Bengali but I can speak it. However, this ability doesn’t seem to have transferred to my sister and most of the younger cousins. Most of my younger cousins can’t speak Bengali and so struggle to communicate with our grandparents and it’s sad to say but this isn’t strange at all. Many of the new generation British Bangladeshi’s can’t speak the language and in fact, they don’t care to learn it because they don’t see it as being worth passing along. 

Religion

As a Muslim woman, I find myself being constantly policed. Whether it’s by the media or by those around me. There seems to be a misconception that if a woman wears a hijab (the head covering) then she is the epitome of all things chaste and virtuous - but that’s not always the case. There are so many hijabis I know that don’t pray five times a day or keep their fasts or they drink etc. In fact, I’ve met a lot of muslim women who don’t wear hijab but their niyyah (intention) and their behaviour is inline with religion - my sister being an example. 

The basic 5 pillars of islam, the first of which is the shahadah which is the declaration of faith. This is whispered by father’s into their children’s ears at birth and is the last thing whispered into someone’s ear as they pass away.

The daily prayers are the second - with 5 prayers throughout the day and this is something I know many people struggle with, but I personally think that faith is a personal thing - you alone know your struggles. If you are praying 5 times a day and you are ridiculing someone who only prays once, you may think you’re doing the right thing. But for all you know - that person who prays once a day may be someone who reverted to the faith (revert being what we call converts) and they may be on the road to accepting Islam. Your two minutes of ridicule may even turn someone else away from peace they were hoping to find in Islam.

Zakat is the third which refers to giving alms to the poor and this is often done in the month of Ramadan. 

Fasting in Ramadan is the fourth pillar and during this month, Muslims fast from sun rise to sunset and we’re not allowed to drink or eat anything. (And yes - this includes water. Not even water? Is a question we always get)

The final pillar, the fifth refers to Hajj which is the yearly pilgrimage to Mecca. Everyone who is able to afford the trip and can make it, should complete it at least once in their lives. All my family who have been, have said that it is the most peaceful time they’ve ever spent in their lives. 

Things I’d like to see less of…

Muslim girls being ‘repressed’ by wearing the hijab and having a curfew and being secretly rebellious once they leave the home.

 Yes, I have a curfew but mostly it’s because my parent’s are terrified after hearing of all the stabbings and the acid attacks that happen to hijab wearing Muslim women

The overly strict father figure who is unreasonable and adores sons over his daughters. 

My father was on the strict side yes, but I realise now, after growing up and talking to him that it was all shaped on his own experiences. Yes, he might not have let me play in the streets until late like other kids but it was because when he was young, if he stayed out too late the racist teens would approach the Bengali children and attack them. My father was strict, but in the way that other parents in his position will be. (If anything, my mother is stricter … and the worst thing she does is text me a list of chores that she wants me to do whilst she’s at work)

That brings me onto the next point; the mother who stays at home being uneducated and relying on her husband for everything. 

There’s nothing wrong with that - but the issue comes when this character is used to put down Bengali women, to try and show how much better Caucasian educated women are. 

Another thing I absolutely can’t stand is the idea of a Bengali girl falling for some plain, boring Caucasian boy and he removes the wool from over her eyes, teaching her how repressed she was and how she should embrace this Western lifestyle. When a boy tried that on me in my first year of uni, I walked away from him the moment he told me that he has a hijab kink because Muslim girls are and I quote ‘untouched and I can teach them everything’.

Things I’d like to see more of…

Supportive family units. 

Whilst I might fall out with my parents every now and then, as is natural, they still support me. My father and I often head out for little ice cream cafe dates and my mother is teaching me to cook (although her cooking style tends to be put enough of this in and enough of that - there’s no measurements of anything) and my siblings and cousins and I gather as a whole every weekend. Those of us that live close enough to anyway. The 20+ of us that do gather, take over a house and all between the ages of 21 and 5 tend to be unruly and can go crazy but it’s a dynamic no one seems to want to represent.

The educated hijabi. 

Goodness, I can’t stand seeing the trope of a girl wanting to marry and pop out babies and etc - yes, it’s a valid trope but again, so many people use it to show how backwards we are. My eyes are even rolling now - Bengali Muslim girls are amongst some of the most driven people I have met and this is usually because the older women in our families weren’t given these opportunities and most people instantly assume that we’re not going to get far. 

Casual mentions of Islam - religion is a big part of a character. 

But I hate it being a controversial thing especially since Islam literally translates to ‘peace gained through submission to Allah’ and newsflash, Allah is the arabic word for God. That’s it. Why can’t we have characters who have to be home before sunset because they need to pray? Or hijabis needing to go shopping for a new headscarf or even phrases like 'this top would be so cute if it weren’t see through’ or 'if only this dress was floor length and then I wouldn’t have to wear leggings with it. I hate having to wear leggings in the heat’. These are things I regularly say! 

Wooow, this is long and I kind of ended up rambling. But I hope it helps someone! 

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[flying-elliska]

I finally finished Call Down the Hawk ! Here’s my first reaction (very spoilery!!!!) 

- On the whole I loved it. Loved most of the new characters, the themes, the more grown up vibe and the expanding worldbuilding. Is very clearly a set up, opening novel so a bit frustrating in the pacing but nothing major, just a lot more questions than answers. I just felt like it was still the start of the novel, rising tension and then boom ! the end. Had the same feeling with the Raven Boys tbh. But mostly I didn’t want it to end so soon. 

- this book is so sad ? but sad in a nuanced, gotta cope with it, adult sort of way. Like TRC was about a cool adventure quest, of course there were threats but it was full of magic and friendship and the thrill of becoming yourself and wanting *something more.*This is about stopping the end of the world and people having no good options and I can’t think of one main character in this book that isn’t like...subtly devastating. But it’s sad in a way that centers the agency of the protagonists and how much they care and how hard they’re trying, so it doesn’t feel fatalistic or gloomy. It’s just *arrrrrgh my heart*. They’re all trying so hard to cope but if they don’t find a better way to cope with their problems soon it’s going to kill them. Lol the young adult mood nowadays or what. 

- Ronan broke my heart, really. I loved that on one hand there are clear signs that he’s grown so much - he is able to show tenderness, to be open about his sexuality, he’s taken control of his dreaming to a point where he’s capable to help Hennessy - but at the same time he’s clearly depressed and he doesn’t know his place in the world and feels like everyone is moving on without him. Because the implications of his powers make it impossible for him to live a ‘normal’ life. Surviving your teenage years and self-acceptance is only the beginning ; then you have to deal with a world that isn’t made for you. He needs to find his people. This is just so, so relatable for a neuroatypical twenty-something...feels like a punch in the face. I am sooooo happy he found Hennessy and I can’t wait to see where their relationship goes. Worried about Bryde and how easily he could manipulate Ronan, though. Also, I am interested in the new sun symbolism attached to him - the kid permanently dressed in black with his ‘night horrors’ previously - now he’s making little lights/little suns everywhere in the guise of fireflies or floating flowers or little lights ; he has sundogs and a sun blade. Obviously there could be a link to the fire that is slated to destroy the world (and Kavinsky’s fire dragon !!!!) but it can also very much go in the direction of ‘stepping into the light’ and full life giving potential and sun-drenched tomatoes and happiness. MAN his arc in this trilogy is going to rock so hard i just cannot wait. 

- I just love Hennessy and her girls so, so much. The idea of living with clones of yourself is so fascinating to me...the fact that Hennessy struggles with the similarities with her mother, the artist who killed herself, and how caring for the girls seems to be a substitute for caring for herself, which she can’t manage. That scene in the bathroom...heartbreaking. Like can you imagine not being able to sleep for longer than 20 min ? That’s torture. Nod her relationship with Jordan, so complex. This idea of ‘my parallel universe self can live a better life than me if I keep all the self-hate’ ; of dreaming a better version of yourself. They care for each other so much but there is so much resentment being trapped in that state of being too. I wonder why Hennessy dreamed copies instead of something else : out of a need to be less alone with her plight ? To find others like her ? Or is it a darker ‘take her not me’ way to hide ? The fact that she gets a moon sword in the end (the moon being a reflection of the sun duh) makes this symbolism all the more present. Maybe she had this struggle of feeling like a copy of her mother, beautiful and wild and doomed and codependent on the man she loved. I can’t wait to see where this goes. I was just heartbroken that most of the girls had to die. Plus some bi rep yayyyyy (and more characters that are not white dudes ftw). It’s interesting that the Lace picked her specifically to torment ; I can’t help but feel it’s tied to that unsteady sense of self. Anyway, I really hope Hennessy gets to a place of love and self knowledge and self care and being surrounded by people who love her. I feel like her POV really underlines how tiring it can be to doubt yourself so constantly. 

- Declan Lynch ! Wow, I just love love love a POV switch that shows unsuspected depths about a previously disliked character. His arc is really *eldest sibling plight* taken to the extreme. Being boring for survival because you can’t afford to be a problem. Yup, extremely relatable too. It’s very refreshing because a lot of the MC of TRC have this ‘edgy cool we don’t like rules vibes’ which can come over as very immature (i meah duh they’re teens) and Declan had to grow up too fast and his sticking to the rules and trying to impose structure on Ronan’s life and completely draining his own life of any sense of joy or individuality, feels half like a survival technique half trauma response stemming from the terror of being given responsibilities at way too young an age and coping with the chaotic environment he grew up in and the constant threat of discovery. It’s like, textbook ‘child parentalization’ and it really sucks and Niall Lynch is an incredible asshole. And Ronan is pretty much stuck in father worship mode and turning all his anger towards Declan. The growth there...is going to be super therapeutic. And I love his thing with Jordan. Survival makes it impossible for them to be their true selves but they find something true together ? Aww. I can’t wait for them to be together at the Barns, which is really Romance Central in this universe. (I foresee angst too but ehhhh). And more art flirting and museum dates. 

- I also love how dream beings are getting more autonomy in this book. I think Declan distancing himself from Jordan in the end is this old complex about being non-magical and therefore inferior, but also because he doesn’t consider dreams to be real people capable of consent or interiority. I found the idea of Aurora Lynch always extraordinarily fucked up and in this book we learn it’s even worse - that she was basically a copy of Declan’s real mom ? Imagine growing up with that...no wonder he hates Niall. Though the idea of Mor O Corra doing the same thing is really intriguing, makes you wonder what the fuck happened there (was it a mutual decision ? was it a revenge thing ? Man their whole family is just so messed up lmao. But I just love the idea of Boudicca and the magical lady mob though.) And Matthew learning he is a dream and starting to deviating from his ‘happy but kind of dumb’ behavior in the previous books. He’s always been this previsible creature but now he isn’t and I feel like a big difference between him and Jordan was this knowledge. She has this knowledge of what she is and she immediately has more sense of self and agency and I feel that that’s a key theme of the book - knowledge, self knowledge. It’s basically what the ‘Call Down the Hawk’ title links to - Bryde talking about the man who turned into a falcon and then a hawk and learning so much about the world ; calling down the hawk would mean the man coming down and sharing this knowledge ; for Ronan it’s as well meeting and helping Hennessy ; so it’s about knowing your own nature through meeting people who are like you, as well. I love !!!!!

- Adam ! Not enough Adam in this book. I spent the book missing him, but that makes sense, because that’s the mindset Ronan is in. He represents what Ronan can’t have, and the Longing tm just permeates the whole book. Everytime he appears he’s just the epitome of cool, whether as dark academia vibes Harvard Student with his queer clique the Crying Club or Hot Motorcycle Boyfriend. He knows exactly what Ronan needs - understands his distrust when Ronan wonders if this is the Real Adam, tells him ‘go slow’ instead of just don’t, wants to take a look at Bryde to check the dude out, drives eight fucking hours on a motorcycle he can’t even drive properly to spend three hours with Ronan...he’s just like a dreamboat in this one lmao and after all the shit he went through in TRC...Therapeutic. But he is also increasingly distant and it’s so painful in a delicious way - the longing between characters who are already together but who are being kept apart by life is one of my fave angst tropes ever. Ronan wants to grow old with him and has romantic horny farmer dreams about him and the whole ‘tamquam alter idem’ thing...Boi i die that shit is just so...Romance tm. And I love how true to them it is, they’re achingly tender and yet there is still that strong chaotic shithead vibe between the two of them. Honestly the fight with the murder crabs was fucked up but made me laugh so much too. But then Ronan not being able to stay ? HEARTBREAKING. Ronan having Adam under ‘MANAGEMENT’ in his phone...really fucking funny but also feels like Ronan puts a sense of stability and direction in Adam and now that Adam is so distant...he feels extra vulnerable so he compensates with jokes. Ouch. Anyway I really want more about Adam and the Crying Club. Adam’s mix of cold, calculating pragmatism and compassion and understanding ? I love him so much, damn. I hope he’s a POV character in next book. I can see Ronan disappearing with Bryde and Adam looking for him, tbh. He’s too important to Ronan to stay on the periphery forever I hope. 

- the Carmen Farooq-Lane chapters were my least favorite, especially when she’s with Parsifal - it felt kind of repetitive. I feel like Maggie’s villain chapters are often sort of a weak point - the bad guys tend to be either ‘Vague Ominous Cosmic Horror Entity that wants to Destroy Everything’ (also often a terrifying reflection of mental health issues/existential terror) or ‘Evil Prep’ lmao, and I had the same feeling w the Whelk or Greenmantle chapters in TRC. That said, I feel like Farooq-Lane has potential. Her persistent self delusion about how she’s the good guy is fascinating. Her ‘evil sibling, obvious trauma hidden by politeness and cleanliness, probably is going to have a redemption arc’ thing feels very Gray Man. Her punching Ramsay moment was very ‘hell yeah’ and tbh I already ship her with Liliana - who feels a bit underdrawn at the moment too, but interesting potential. The Moderators, still, feel a bit too ‘generic lawful evil agency’ yet, but the concept is interesting. I really really love Bryde as an idea though. His speeches to Ronan are fascinating ; from one aspect they really illustrate a fascinating concept of the Earth coming back to real magic but from another, he sounds like a cult leader. Selling this idea to vulnerable people that their difference makes them special - and well Ronan and Hennessy definitely are, but does that make them better than other people ? Seen as how Ronan reacts to Declan, it feels like he would be vulnerable to that idea. Hennessy not so much ; I can see her accept Bryde’s help out of pure necessity maybe, but not be swayed by his lies. I really feel like they’re going to need each other. 

- So much cool worldbuilding...The Fairy Market concept is amazing (but also scary as shit right...like they’re selling people ? Probably dreams but that is still fucked up as hell ? Then again we’ve seen dreams die in pretty casual circumstances so the question is very much ‘so...what is personhood here?’). The idea of Visionaries is absolutely horrifying. Some people saying Adam could become one ? My god I’m not sure if I could stand those levels of angst. His ‘seeing the future of the world instead of people’ thing though...feels very compatible. Or at least like Adam could contrebalance the Visionaries’s visions somehow at the very least. Anyway, this is going to hurt. But it’s cool to have more answers ; the ending of TRC left a lot unexplained in my mind about the Lynch fam or why all those people wanted the Greywaren so bad etc. So this is very satisfying. 

- So Miss Maggie really went wanting to be normal at the expense of your true self is no way to live and also if you don’t create what you need to, you're going to die ? haha thanks for the callout i feel attacked. But honestly her saying that this was about the necessity and price of creation man I am soooo interested in where this is going to go next. All in all a stellar book, 10/10 would read again to overanalyze (yeah more than this even), most frustrating thing is waiting for the next one 

[fatehbaz]

Man-eating plants in early horror fiction and public consciousness

“The man-eating tree Ya-te-veo reported to occur in Central America by Buel (1887).”

An excerpt:

Carnivorous or insectivorous plants have long induced fascination in men, and they are among the most popular plants in cultivation; they are often offered for sale in garden centres and over the Internet. There are many amateur botanical societies that focus upon them. The first living specimen of Dionaea muscipula Ellis ex L. came to the attention of the populace of London in 1768, an event that ‘caused a sensation throughout Europe’ (Magee, 2007: 49). Indeed, Linnaeus is reported to have declared ‘miraculum naturae’ (Magee, 2007) upon seeing D. muscipula. Prior to this event, John Bartram had sent Patrick Collinson, a London botanical collector, several plant parts, after the specimen sent by Governor Dobbs of North Carolina had failed to arrive (Magee, 2007). Bartram used a popular name for D. muscipula, tipitiwitchet, a somewhat ribald Elizabethan term for vulva (McKinley postscript to Nelson, 1990). This connection between female sexuality and carnivorous plants continued into 19th century England and may have had something to do with their popularity and continued public fascination.

Insectivorous plants epitomize Victorian England's cultural interest in the Gothic form in literature, architecture and art and, in terms of natural history, bizarre spectacles. These ‘queer flowers’, as Grant Allen described insectivorous plants in 1884, reached a zenith of popular and artistic attention during the mid to late 19th century. Allen's essay demonstrated the lure of the insectivorous plant as a floral femme fatale and in richly descriptive language described its ‘murderous propensities’ (Allen in Smith, 2003). Smith (2003) considered Swinburne's poem ‘The Sundew’ in relation to Allen's essay and Darwin's (1875) study on insectivorous plants. He noted that ‘both Swinburne's poem and Darwin's book were prominent elements in a cultural fascination with the sundew that extended from the 1860s well into the 1880s’, and ‘in the aftermath of Insectivorous Plants the potentially subversive moral and cultural implications of “The Sundew” become more difficult to ignore’ (Smith, 2003: 130–131).

In one of the most fanciful of Victorian stories, the German explorer Carl Liche and members of the cave-dwelling Mkodo tribe were described as making a trip through the Madagascan jungle. At one point, they come upon an amazing sight: a large plant with a bulbous trunk resembling a 2.5-m pineapple with eight elongate leaves, 3–4 m long, studded with hook-like thorns surrounding a depression filled with honey-sweet liquid. At the top of the tree are a set of long, hairy green tendrils and tentacles, ‘constantly and vigorously in motion, with … a subtle, sinuous, silent throbbing against the air.’ The story goes on to say that one of their women is forced at javelin point to climb the trunk. Then ‘the atrocious cannibal tree, that had been so inert and dead, came to sudden savage life. The slender delicate palpi, with the fury of starved serpents, quivered a moment over her head, then as if instinct with demoniac intelligence fastened upon her in sudden coils round and round her neck and arms; then while her awful screams and yet more awful laughter rose wildly to be instantly strangled down again into a gurgling moan, the tendrils one after another, like great green serpents, with brutal energy and infernal rapidity, rose, retracted themselves, and wrapped her about in fold after fold, ever tightening with cruel swiftness and savage tenacity of anacondas fastening upon their prey.’‘The great leaves slowly rose and stiffly, like the arms of a derrick, erected themselves in the air, approached one another and closed about the dead and hampered victim with the silent force of a hydraulic press and the ruthless purpose of a thumbscrew.’[‘Liche, 1881’ (almost certainly a fictitious author; see below) cited by Osborn (1924)].

Some readers took this account seriously. Travellers had been returning from the jungles of the world with astonishing stories: ferocious man-like apes, vine-shrouded lost cities. Gorillas and the Mayan ruins turned out to be real. Why not the man-eating tree in far away Madagascar, when at home in England there was a vegetable carnivore, the sundew, known to everyone? In Victorian times, Gothic stories combining horror and romance prevailed, and the story of a man-eating tree or any carnivorous plant was utterly exciting. Vegetable man-eaters matched the characters used in the supernatural tales about ghosts, haunted mansions, werewolves etc.

Combined with the fantastic findings in natural history by travellers, these man-eating trees tickled the fancy of writers. Buel (1887), for example, in his book Sea and Land included a section on carnivorous plants, in which, following a description of the action of Dionaea Ellis and Drosera L., he then wrote about a plant from Central Africa (possibly Liche's Madagascan plant) and tropical America, where it is known as Ya-te-veo[I-see-you.] (Fig. 1), ‘that is not contented with the myriad of large insects which it catches and consumes, but its voracity extends to making even humans its prey’. What fate awaited the ‘unfortunate traveller’? ‘The body is crushed until every drop of blood is squeezed out of it and becomes absorbed by the gore-loving plant, when the dry carcass is thrown out and the horrid trap set again.’ Due to the spines reported to pierce the body of the victim, Buel made an analogy to the maiden, a torture instrument ‘of the dark ages’ (with inward pointing spikes) which ‘was made, somewhat crudely, to represent a woman, hence the name applied to it’. Following more gory details about ulcers resulting from puncture wounds inflicted by the plant and mention of the ‘hundreds of responsible travelers [who] declare they have frequently seen it’, he concluded this section as follows: ‘All of which, however, I am inclined to doubt; not that there is no foundation for such statements as travelers sometimes make about this astonishing growth, but that the facts are greatly exaggerated’. Thus even writers aiming to provide a vivid, but true, account of the wonders of nature managed to confuse real and fictional carnivorous plants.

Liche's story was adopted by Chase Osborn (1924) in his book Madagascar, Land of the Man-Eating Tree. Osborn said missionaries had vouched for the existence of the tree. No one has ever laid eyes again on this carnivorous horror, or on the Mkodo tribe for that matter, and Ley (1955) wrote that the Madagascan man-eating tree, the Mkodo tribe and even Carl Liche himself were all fabrications. It is nevertheless a gruesomely good story that may have its origins in older works, such as the True History of Lucianus Samosatensis, written in the 2nd century AD, in which female grapevines consumed sailors who tried to mate with them (note again the references to carnivorous plants being alluring and female).

-

Excerpted from:

Mark W. Chase; Maarten J.M. Christenhusz; Dawn Sanders; Michael F. Fay. “Murderous plants: Victorian Gothic, Darwin and modern insights into vegetable carnivory.” Botanical Journal of the Linnean Society, Volume 161, Issue 4, December 2009.

[mirandalinportfolio]

VICE: Face Shapes and Blood Types: Wading into the World of Online Dating in China

The Mandarin term shengnu literally means “leftover woman.” It was coined to describe China’s growing crop of middle-class women who, thanks to new educational and economic opportunities, have been able to rise to unprecedented ranks within Chinese society—at the expense of their love lives. Nearing (or, heaven forbid, passing) the age of 30, these women find themselves materially successful but romantically unattached.

As a female in her mid-20s, living in China with a graduate degree and no significant other, I’ve been particularly sensitive to the term’s use. But while local media and gossipy mothers often use it derisively, my leftover sisters and I have come to embrace it as a badge of honor worn by independent women who know what they want and are unwilling to settle.

We shengnu are in dual position of being supposedly desperate, but in actuality having all kinds of men to choose from. In 2003, Gong Haiyan, a single coed from Shanghai, started the online date site Jiayuan.com (“Beautiful Destiny”) because she was frustrated by the lack of legitimate dating options she found around her. The bare-bones website she initially sketched out has since grown into China’s largest online-dating website, with over 56 million registered users, more than OKCupid and PlentyOfFish combined.

Like Gong Haiyan, I have, in my years in China, had little luck on the traditional meat market, so I decided to see if her internet service, and a few others like it, could be a better matchmaker for me.

Signing up for an account on Jiayuan or any of China’s other big-three dating services starts like most sites: cheesy screenname, recently created email account, vaguely accurate description of age and looks. But just like democracy, dating in China has developed distinct Asian characteristics. Your blood type, face shape, and willingness to have your future in-laws live with you are treated as basic information (O-positive, duck-egg-shaped, to be discussed when the time comes, for the record).

My profile photo also proved to be a sticking point. It was rejected three times, initially because I chose some abstract avatar, then because not enough of my face was visible. “Show the world who you really are,” the site moderator urged. Although that struck me as contrary to everything the internet stands for, I submitted my passport photo and was passed to the next phase.

While most of your profile’s essentials can be filled out with the help of a drop-down menu, the final stage requires a personalized self-introduction. A provided example on Zhenai.com (“Precious Love”) is instructive as to what kind of women the service is appealing to:

Before, in order to focus on my studies, my mom didn’t let me date. Now, because of work, I don’t have time to date. As time passed, I suddenly discovered I’d already become one of the “shengnu.”Actually my demands for my other half aren’t that high. He doesn’t have to be that handsome, or that wealthy, but he must be motivated, responsible, obedient, and that’s about all. I have great hopes and visions for my future, but I hope to accomplish them with the person I love….

It was flattering but not altogether too surprising that within minutes of activating my profile, my inbox was flooded with messages. The first came from a 26-year-old, O-type (hurray our children, or rather our child, will be a universal donor!), triangle-faced man named “Poisonsc…” But as I browsed through his profile, alarm bells quickly went off. He was a private entrepreneur. He listed his monthly income as 3-5,000 renmindi per month (equal to about $480-800 dollars, an average white-collar salary). He didn’t own a car or a house yet. No wonder he was single.

With the growing numerical disparity and social parity between sexes, women know that not just anyone will do anymore. Owning a car and home are standard expectations before marriage. A candidate’s appeal rises if he has a five-figure monthly salary and stable career (state-owned corporations are best), but falls if that means he has to work overtime and thus won’t be around to whisk his partner off on romantic dates. Modern China’s romance with materialism was epitomized on the popular TV dating game show “Are You The One”, when one contestant famously claimed she’d rather cry in the back of a BMW than smile on a bicycle.

Baihe.com (meaning “Lily”, but also literally “Hundred Matches”) makes it easy to weed out the scrubs. Users can sort users by age, height, education, and income. Though IRL I’d like to think I’ve never judged any person by such narrow criteria, I decided if I was going to date in China, I had to do it with a Chinese mindset. So clicking the obvious choice, I browsed on.

The top hit was a block-headed 30-year-old with a lush head of hair named Heavy. The self-described “Chairman-looking” home-owner had posted half a dozen photos of him frolicking on an exotic beach. He clearly had the right salary-to-free-time ratio.

Like nearly every male profile I browsed, though, Heavy had almost no demands of his partner. He wanted someone between 24-28 years old, 140-175 cm tall, preferably ethnically Han. But income, education, and housing situation—factors that can make or break a man's prospects—were all listed as “no preference.”

Despite the cold rationalism that seems to surround these sites, all these sites still cling to the sweet romantic notions. It's about finding your other half. Each user, before finalizing their profile, must check off a box affirming their good moral character and honest intention to search for a spouse on the site, NOT a one-night stand. Bang With Friends, this most certainly is not.

But while sites try to ensure pureness of heart, there's no escaping the internet's inherent ability to con, especially in a country that trades on its ability to mass produce fake Chanel purses and pirated DVDs.

When I began my online search, the Chinese Lunar New Year was fast approaching. It’s a time when virtually everyone in the country returns home, gathers with their loved ones, and is ruthlessly interrogated about their personal lives. Accordingly, internet message boards light up with ads seeking and offering rental girlfriends and boyfriends. Taobao, China’s version of eBay, for a while banned the search term altogether.

“Busy at work, no time to consider relationships,” reads a typical message. “Can anyone help me cope with the parental pressure?”

Though joke and scam posts are rampant, I decided to respond to one that at least sounded thorough. User 19760923b was a 32-year-old male, Master’s degree, 180 cm, 75 kg, “probably considered good looking” seeking a 25- to 30-year-old female for an eight day "rental" to northeastern China.

“I’m just a regular office worker, not anyone rich, so anyone looking to get rich or become a mistress please don’t apply. If you’re too ugly or too fat, it will tip my parents off, so sorry, you won’t be considered.” What a charmer.

19760923b promised the rental wouldn’t be required to sleep in the same room or perform any kissing and fondling, though she “must be willing to hold hands.” He offered 300-800 Renminbi per day, negotiable. The deal also included train tickets to and from Beijing. If necessary, he’d be willing to also accompany his rental girlfriend to her hometown.

Using a mix of my latent Chinese class skills and Google Translate, I wrote a brief note expressing my desire to fake it. Within a couple of hours, I received an email: “Thank you for your reply, but I don’t think you will be a good match to bring home.” Even to play a sham girlfriend, the rejection felt real.

But my heartbreak was soon eased. A bounty of new "flirts" and "winks" were waiting in my inbox. One man in particular, using the name “Single-Minded,” had sent 13 messages in a span of 35 minutes. Though back home such over-eagerness would be ruthlessly mocked over a round of drinks with girlfriends, in China, it felt reassuringly sincere.

“Your subtle smile makes my heart jump,” cooed his first message. “I love to smile too. I hope we can smile together. Can I get to know you more?”

Mousing through his profile, I learned he was university educated, a car and home owner, and employed in finance by a Fortune 500 company. I was already imagining my mother’s approving nod.

In his next note, he waxed even more poetic: “In the whole world, who knows how many millions of people pass us by, but fate made me stop and look at your photo. I hope you will look back at me.”

His clear, unobstructed profile photo showed an athletically built man in his early 30s, with hair gelled into the snow cone swirl common among aspiring C-Pop stars. He was also wearing what looked like a lumpy holiday sweater knit by his grandmother. A sign of filial piety, I hoped.

As I clicked to respond, a screen flashed open offering me a series of ready-made responses. There was the generic, “Thank you for your interest. Please tell me more: ^.^” Or the flirtier, “If you read my message, write back so I know you reciprocate O(n_n)O.” Or the straightforward rejection: “Thank you for your interest. I don’t think our circumstances are a fit. Good luck, hope you find your soulmate.” I wondered if 19760923b had copied his response from here.

But as I considered what level of emoticon flirtation to use, I realized Single-Minded’s messages had also been computer generated. A row of tabs suggested dozens of opening lines, categorized from "funny" to "cute." Worst of all, my Single-Minded suitor had chosen from the "standard" section. He didn’t even use a creative scripted response!

Outraged, I aired my sense of betrayal to a male Chinese friend. Far from sharing my indignation, though, he bashfully confessed that at the age of 25 and just entering his first official relationship, he too had used a move learned from an American teen soap. How else, he asked, were young people, sheltered by overprotective parents since birth and often right through their adult lives, supposed to know how to hit on girls?

If, as they say, Chariman Mao abolished arranged marriages in 1951 after his own unhappy experience with the practice during his first marriage, the system that’s replaced it hasn’t made finding a genuine connection any easier for Chinese men and women. In the end, I got rejected for the role of a rental girlfriend, used an algorithm to pick out men by their income and blood type (which I later discovered in Asia is associated with certain personality types similar to zodiac signs; type-Os are ambitious, self-confident, and recommended to eat extra poultry and fish), got wooed by a succession of swirly-haired men with scripts, and continue to be harassed by all three dating companies trying to sell me additional matchmaking services. But I am still no closer than before to finding my soulmate.

And probably even further from finding a one-night stand.

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/yv5987/face-shapes-and-blood-types-wading-into-the-world-of-online-dating-in-china

[untitledprojectss-blog]

the urbanization of a green romance

willow was raised in the garden. 36 square feet of grass hidden behind the concrete block her dad called home—she’d explored every inch, i promise. she spent her earliest years digging holes with her tiny fingers, so that dirt caked under her nails and discolored her palms. everything her hands touched darkened just slightly with a thin layer of chalky mud—her homegrown handprint, as willow called it.

that small plot of grass sat in the corner of her dad’s “backyard.” it didn’t match the so-called minimalist energy of the rest of the outdoor space, which was deeply coated in greyness and thoroughly drenched in the aroma of a businessman much too fond of glass walls. as much as he wanted to mask the inherently unkept nature of, well, nature, willow’s dad couldn’t just get rid of the garden because it kept his daughter out of the house. at dawn, he opened the door to the backyard and watched willow skip outside; at dusk, he called her inside to his chagrin and locked the door. on good days, he ate dinner outside with her. but good days were rare, so she usually made do with whatever snacks she could find in the garden.

from now on, i’ll refer to willow’s dad as just romeo, for both the sake of anonymity and another reason.

romeo grew up on a dairy farm with his mother, father, and three older sisters. as the story goes, he was exceptionally smart, so his parents knew he couldn’t just stay on the farm like the rest of his family. he had to go to college and make money. his potential had outgrown the apparent limitations of a wooden barn and a happy life. but perhaps what truly made romeo exceptional was his love for juliet. the daughter of two environmentalists, juliet joined her parents at age 13 on their door to door crusade asking local farmers to inhibit their use of dangerous pesticides. it just so happened that one of the local farms harming the environment belonged to romeo’s family. juliet rang the bell, romeo answered, and they lived happily ever after.

well, not quite. in fact, they spent their first few years of friendship fighting. given both their natural intellect and their repressed love for one another, romeo and juliet couldn’t help but constantly argue over their individual ideologies. however, though they disagreed on most things, they both agreed strongly that nature was god’s greatest gift.

romeo and juliet’s love story became further complicated upon realizing that though they were both smart, only romeo had been awarded a scholarship to attend the college of his choice. so, he left for school still too afraid to admit that he was deeply in love with juliet; she stayed at home to find a job somewhere in town and help her parents with their work.

they both assumed that’s where their relationship would end. but, with a cruel twist of fate, romeo showed up to the law firm where juliet was a receptionist, hoping to find a lawyer to draw up his parents’ last wills and testaments. instead of a lawyer, romeo found himself embracing a woman he hadn’t seen in years in the middle of a waiting room filled with fluorescent lighting and the distinct stench of impending grief. he stepped back for a minute to take in the moment. something was different.

during the five years they’d known each other, juliet had worn overalls almost every day. the stains, the way they frayed at the edges, and the remarkable smell of her homemade perfume amalgamated in that pair of overalls. he fell in love with those overalls just as he fell in love with the girl who wore them. on the other hand, juliet adored romeo’s tendency to dress in overwhelmingly flamboyant colors. he refused to let himself be camouflaged into the crowds at school, and it made her immensely proud.

romeo noticed that juliet’s pencil skirt and blouse were absent of stains or frayed edges, and she smelled like fresh linens, an odor he’d come to detest after four years of work study in the laundry facility at his university. juliet saw romeo’s navy blue suit and blinked three times to clear the haze from her vision. still, no color anywhere. she wiped her eyes again to make sure it wasn’t just her imagination. they both had evolved into the people they claimed they would never become. as much as it made them lose some sense of love for each other, all of it was rekindled when they opened their mouths; the way they spoke and the sound of their voices had remained.

just three months later, romeo and juliet tied the knot in solitude underneath the willow tree halfway between romeo’s family farm and juliet’s childhood home. the tree represented everything their relationship came to embody: balance, compromise, and harmony. they bought the land where the tree stood and lived there together for three years. she continued to work as a receptionist, and he found a job as a banker in town. together, they built a one-bedroom home next to the willow tree. perfection and cleanliness didn’t exist near the willow tree, and romeo and juliet loved it that way.

when given the opportunity to work for a new hedge fund in chicago that a college friend had started, romeo couldn’t say no. it would mean big things for their family, and they could finally afford to have a child. so, they gathered their things and said goodbye to the beautiful willow tree, unaware of the life it had sparked within juliet.

in just a few short months, romeo had transformed. he disappeared to the office at 7 am and returned at 10 pm to his very pregnant wife. she didn’t need to work, he said, she could start a garden in the backyard instead. juliet couldn’t be bothered to protest. she got down on her knees and created the garden from scratch. 36 square feet of grass hidden behind the concrete block her husband somehow called home. she spent the last three months of her pregnancy in the garden—planting, watering, and bathing in what she wished was the sun but was actually a flickering streetlight that the city couldn’t bother to fix.

it’s awfully ironic that in the same place where juliet fostered the growth of both her child and her plants, her life was taken from her. at nine months pregnant, juliet was rather clumsy, especially when trying to get around the garden without stepping on her plants. one false step and her head hit the concrete surrounding her safe haven. when romeo came home hours later, juliet was still breathing, but barely. at the hospital, they told him that his wife had passed away, but his daughter was miraculously okay. romeo heard the first news and nothing else. he ran to his wife’s side and cradled her head until his navy blue suit was soaked in her dark red blood.

they needed a name for the child who had overcome so much to somehow not only survive, but genuinely thrive. she was the epitome of nature’s capabilities. she was both romeo and juliet. she was the willow tree.

as soon as she could crawl, romeo set willow down in the garden and left her there. if anyone asked, he knew that his daughter would be safe in the soft grass. but secretly, he hoped that eight hours in the garden would be enough for the one thing that kept reminding him of juliet to face a similar fate.

just a year ago, romeo constantly craved time with his wife. now, all he desired was true solitude. after all, he simply wasn’t cruel enough to kill himself with an infant at home.

[rosiep66]

Ross Poldark and Noblesse Oblige

"ROSS POLDARK AND NOBLESSE OBLIGE" "You are mistaken if you think greed and exploitation are the marks of a gentleman." - Ross Poldark to George Warleggan, "P0LDARK" (2015) When I first heard Ross Poldark speak those words to his nemesis, George Warleggan in Episode Eight of the current "POLDARK" series, I found myself wondering if Ross might be full of shit. Or perhaps he was either illusional . . . or a class bigot. Regardless, I could not help but roll my eyes at his remark. I realize that some might wonder how I could accuse Ross Poldark . . . Ross Poldark of class bigotry. This man has been a champion of the working-class in his little part of Cornwall. He has managed to befriend his workers. He has spoken out on behalf of them and other members of their class. And he has been willing to make any effort to come to their aid - especially those who work on his land, even if he sometimes come off as patronizing. He has certainly expressed anger when he believed any of them has needlessly suffered, due to the actions of the upper-class or other wealthy types. Ross had spent days in a state of drunken anger after one of his former employees, Jim Carter had died after spending over a year in prison for poaching. He had also married his kitchen-maid, Demelza Carne, despite the tongue-wagging of his elite neighbors and family members. Also, one cannot deny that the Warleggans deserved Ross' scorn. George Warleggan's grandfather had been a blacksmith who eventually became a moderately wealthy man. His sons - George's father and uncle Cary - acquired even more wealth, leading the family to become their parish's wealthiest bankers. George was the first in his family to be and his family were a money hungry bunch that resort to grasping ways - legal or illegal - to not only acquire money, but also rise up the social ladder in order to become part of Cornwall's upper-class. They are pretty much an ambitious and venal bunch. And yet . . . the interesting thing about the Warleggans is that they had managed to acquire great wealth on their own - meaning without the help of some aristocrat or gentry landowner. So, why did I have a problem with Ross' words? Were viewers really expected to believe that only noveau riche types like the Warleggans were capable of greed and exploitation? History tells us that the landed gentry and the aristocracy were just as guilty of greed and exploiting not only their workers, but their land. Years of land exploitation, living greedily from their profits and doing a poor job of managing their money led to a decrease in their wealth. This was the case for Polarks, the Chynoweths and other upper class families - fictional or not - who found themselves cash poor by the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. British landowners had been enclosing their lands - forcing tenant farmers to become agricultural laborers - since the late seventeeth century, at least a century before George Warleggan had enclosed the Trenwith estate, following his marriage to Elizabeth Chynoweth Poldark. And they continued to do so well into the nineteenth century. If Ross regarded himself, his uncle Charles Poldark, his cousin Francis Poldark and other members of the landed gentry like Sir Hugh Bodrugan, the Treneglos, Ray Penvenen and Unwin Trevaunance as "gentlemen", then his comments to George were spoken in error. Most, if not all, of these gentlemen were capable of greed and exploitation. Ross might occasionally criticize the behavior of his fellow members of the upper-class, just as he had did following the death of his former employee, Jim Carter. But he has never expressed antagonism toward them with the same level that he has toward the Warleggans. It is quite obvious that he regarded these men as "gentlemen". He seemed to have no problems with socializing or forming a business enterprise with them. And if this is the case, I cannot help but wonder about the true reason behind Ross' antipathy toward the Warleggans. Had Ross' antipathy originated with his exposure of the Warleggans' cousin, Matthew Sanson, as a card cheat? I rather doubt it. Ross and some of his other acquaintances had been making snide comments about the Warleggans' rise in wealth since the series began. No matter how many times George tried to befriend Ross throughout most of Series One, the latter would dismiss his effort with a sardonic or nasty comment. Yet, Ross seemed to have no problems with socializing with the likes of the snotty Ruth Teague Treneglos and her ineffectual husband; the money grasping blue-blooded politician Unwin Trevaunance, who sought heiress Caroline Penvenen's hand for her money; or the self-absorbed Sir Hugh Bodrugan, who seemed to have no concern for anyone or anything, aside from his own pleasures - including Demelza Poldark, whom he pursued like some aged satyr. Even Ross is not the epitome of "gentlemanly" sainthood. He seemed so hellbent upon finding a wealthy source of copper or even tin from his mine, Wheal Grace that he failed to consider that he lacked the funds to ensure a safe environment for his workers. This greed and determination to strike a lode without any safety measures led to an accident and the deaths of a few men. And his aggressive, yet adulterous actions against his widowed cousin-in-law (I might as well be frank - his rape of Elzabeth) in the eighth episode of Series Two made it perfectly clear that "gentleman" or not, Ross can be repulsive. And yet, despite all of this, Ross seemed to regard the Warleggans as an unworthy lot. I am not saying that George and his uncle are a nice pair. They can be just as repulsive and greedy as their upper-class neighbors. And on several occasions, the Warleggans have made derisive comments about Demelza, who happened to be a miner's daughter. All this tells me is that contrary to Ross' comment to George, the latter's family is no better or worse than the other upper-class characters in the "POLDARK" saga. They are quite capable of being snobs. But what about Ross? Is he a snob? He may be friendly toward his workers and willing to help them out, but his positive regard toward them seemed to have a patronizing taint. In fact, his love toward his working-class wife Demelza seemed to have the same taint. Although his good friend, Dr. Dwight Enys, managed to rise from his working-class background to become a doctor, he did so with the help of upper-class patronage. And Ross provided his own patronage toward Dwight in helping the latter establish a medical practice in their part of Cornwall. Ross even helped Dwight in the latter's romance with the blue-blooded Caroline Penvenen. I cannot help but wonder if the Warleggans had the benefit of "noblesse oblige" in their rise to great wealth, would Ross have been less hostile toward them? Perhaps it is one thing for Ross Poldark to help the lower classes have a better life - by offering them jobs or homes, providing patronage for someone like Dwight Enys, or marrying his kitchen maid. It is another thing - at least for him - to tolerate people from the lower classes like the Warleggans to rise up in wealth through their own efforts and not via the benefit of the "noblesse oblige". And my gut instinct tells me that the Warleggans’ rise via their own grit, ambition and brains was something that Ross could not stomach.

[valiantchildstudentme-blog]

Sukarno | president of Indonesia

New Post has been published on http://gampangqq.link/sukarno-president-of-indonesia/

Sukarno | president of Indonesia

Sukarno, also spelled Soekarno, (born June 6, 1901, Surabaja [now Surabaya], Java, Dutch East Indies—died June 21, 1970, Jakarta, Indonesia), leader of the Indonesian independence movement and Indonesia’s first president (1949–66), who suppressed the country’s original parliamentary system in favour of an authoritarian “Guided Democracy” and who attempted to balance the Communists against the army leaders. He was deposed in 1966 by the army under Suharto.

Early life and education

Sukarno was the only son of a poor Javanese schoolteacher, Raden Sukemi Sosrodihardjo, and his Balinese wife, Ida Njoman Rai. Originally named Kusnasosro, he was given a new and, it was hoped, more auspicious name, Sukarno, after a series of illnesses. Known to his childhood playmates as Djago (Cock, Champion) for his looks, spirits, and prowess, he was as an adult best known as Bung Karno (bung, “brother” or “comrade”), the revolutionary hero and architect of merdeka (“independence”).

Sukarno spent long periods of his childhood with his grandparents in the village of Tulungagung, where he was exposed to the animism and mysticism of serene rural Java. There he became a lifelong devotee of wayang, the puppet shadow plays based on the Hindu epics, as animated and narrated by a master puppeteer, who could hold an audience spellbound through an entire night. As a youth of 15, Sukarno was sent to secondary school in Surabaya and to lodgings in the home of Omar Said Tjokroaminoto, a prominent civic and religious figure. Tjokroaminoto treated him as a cherished foster son and protégé, financed his further education, and eventually married him off at age 20 to his own 16-year-old daughter, Siti Utari.

As a student, Sukarno chose to excel mainly in languages. He mastered Javanese, Sundanese, Balinese, and modern Indonesian, which, in fact, he did much to create. He also acquired Arabic, which, as a Muslim, he learned by study of the Qurʾān; Dutch, the language of his education; German; French; English; and, later, Japanese. In Tjokroaminoto’s home he came to meet emerging leaders who spanned the rapidly widening national political spectrum, from feudal princelings to fugitive communist conspirators. The eclectic syncretism of the Tjokroaminoto ménage, like the romance and mysticism of wayang, imprinted itself indelibly upon Sukarno’s mind and personality. He was later to treat nation-making as a heroic theatrical, in which the clash of irreconcilable men and ideas could be harmonized through sheer poetic magic—his own.

Endowed with commanding presence, radiant personality, mellifluous voice, vivid style, a photographic memory, and supreme self-confidence, Sukarno was obviously destined for greatness. In 1927 in Bandung, where he had just acquired a degree in civil engineering, he found his true calling in oratory and politics. He soon revealed himself as a man of charisma and destiny.

Sukarno’s amours were almost as renowned as his oratory. He divorced Siti in 1923 and married Inggit Garnisih, divorcing her in 1943 and marrying Fatmawati, with whom he had five children, including his eldest son, Guntur Sukarnaputra (b. 1944). As a Muslim, Sukarno was entitled to four wives, so he took several more wives in the following decades.

Indonesian independence

For his challenge to colonialism Sukarno spent two years in a Dutch jail (1929–31) in Bandung and more than eight years in exile (1933–42) on Flores and Sumatra. When the Japanese invaded the Indies in March 1942, he welcomed them as personal and national liberators. During World War II the Japanese made Sukarno their chief adviser and propagandist and their recruiter for labourers, soldiers, and prostitutes. Sukarno pressured the Japanese to grant Indonesia its independence and, on June 1, 1945, made the most famous of many celebrated speeches. In it he defined the Pantjasila (Pancasila), or Five Principles (nationalism, internationalism, democracy, social prosperity, and belief in God), still the sacrosanct state doctrine. When the collapse of Japan became imminent, Sukarno at first wavered. Then, after being kidnapped, intimidated, and persuaded by activist youths, he declared Indonesia’s independence (August 17, 1945). As president of the shaky new republic, he fueled a successful defiance of the Dutch, who, after two abortive “police actions” to regain control, formally transferred sovereignty on December 27, 1949.

From his revolutionary capital in Yogyakarta (formerly Jogjakarta), Sukarno returned in triumph to Jakarta on December 28, 1949. There he established himself, his collection of paintings, and his numerous retinue in the splendid palace of the Dutch governors-general. He proceeded to preside urbanely over a spectacle that was at once diverting and disturbing. His increasingly numerous and outspoken critics maintained that Sukarno inspired no coherent programs of national organization and administration, rehabilitation, and development, such as were quite clearly necessary. He seemed instead to conduct a continuous series of formal and informal audiences and a nightly soiree of receptions, banquets, music, dancing, movies, and wayang. Indonesian politics became increasingly frenzied, with Sukarno himself engaged in devious maneuvers that made stabilization impossible. The Indonesian economy foundered while Sukarno encouraged the wildest of extravagances. To be sure, the nation scored impressive gains in health, education, and cultural self-awareness and self-expression. It achieved, in fact, what Sukarno himself most joyously sought and acclaimed as “national identity,” an exhilarating sense of pride in being Indonesian. But this achievement came at a ruinous cost.

After “dreaming” in late 1956 of “burying” the feuding political parties in Indonesia and thus achieving national consensus and prosperity, Sukarno dismantled parliamentary democracy and destroyed free enterprise. He ordained “Guided Democracy” and “Guided Economy” for the achievement of Manipol-Usdek and Resopim-Nasakom—arcane acronyms symbolizing policies but signifying dictatorship.

Sukarno’s personal and political excesses, as epitomized eventually by his neo-Marxist, crypto-communist ideology and his infamous cabinet of 100 corrupt and cynical ministers, induced a continuous state of national crisis. Sukarno narrowly escaped recurrent attempts at assassination, the first in 1957. Regional insurrections broke out in Sumatra and Sulawesi in 1958. Inflation escalated the cost-of-living index from 100 in 1958 to 18,000 in 1965 and on up wildly to 600,000 in 1967. In 1963, after shouting repeatedly “To hell with your aid” (1950–65 total: U.S. $1,000,000,000), Sukarno all but broke with the United States. After having exacted U.S. $1,000,000,000 in Soviet armaments and other items, he next affronted Moscow.

On January 20, 1965, Indonesia formally withdrew from the United Nations because the latter supported Malaysia, which Sukarno had vowed to “crush” as “an imperialist plot of encirclement.” Yet, until 1965, Sukarno was still able to stir the Indonesian masses to near-hysterical belligerency. Millions of Indonesians sang and shouted his slogans and acclaimed Sukarno as “Great Leader of the Revolution,” “Lifetime President” (his official title), and oracle and warrior of the Nefo—his acronym for the “New Emerging Forces”—in violent conflict with Nekolim—the neocolonialism, capitalism, and imperialism of the “doomed” Western powers.

The coup of 1965

The nation was shocked and shaken out of its trance by an abortive coup on September 30, 1965. A clique of military conspirators calling itself the September 30th Movement kidnapped and killed six top army generals, seized a few key urban points, and proclaimed a new revolutionary regime. General Suharto, the commander of the Jakarta garrison, swiftly reversed the coup.

Suharto and the military generally believed the Indonesian Communist Party (Partai Komunis Indonesia; PKI)—which to some measure had been supported and protected by Sukarno—to be behind the attempted coup. The PKI, by contrast, understood the plot to be entirely a military matter. There ensued an oblique contest for power between Suharto and Sukarno, during which thousands of communists and alleged communists were slaughtered by the military; estimates of the number of people killed during the purge range from 80,000 to more than 1,000,000. As the country recoiled in horror, activist youths demanded the political demise of Sukarno, the Sukarnoists, and Sukarnoism and the total reform and reorganization of the state. On March 11, 1966, Sukarno was obliged to delegate wide powers to Suharto, who subsequently became acting president (March 1967) and then president (March 1968), as Sukarno sank into disgrace and dotage.

Sukarno died at the age of 69 of a chronic kidney ailment and numerous complications. Suharto decreed a quick and quiet funeral. Nevertheless, at least 500,000 persons, including virtually all of Jakarta’s important personages, turned out to pay their last ambivalent respects. The next day another 200,000 assembled in Blitar, near Surabaya, for the official service followed by burial in a simple grave alongside that of his mother. The cult and ideology of Sukarnoism were proscribed until the late 1970s, when the government undertook a rehabilitation of Sukarno’s name. His autobiography, Sukarno, was published in 1965.

Willard A. Hanna The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica

Source

[thesassybooskter]

HIGHLAND CONQUEST by Alyson McLayne: Spotlight & Giveaway

NOW AVAILABLE/SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA

HE WAS LOOKING FOR VENGEANCE

Laird Lachlan MacKay never planned on leading his clan, but when his older brother was murdered, he was left with no choice. His vow to avenge his brother has led him to the MacPherson clan—and their bewitching healer, Amber.

INSTEAD HE FOUND HER

Amber MacPherson is desperate. Dressed as a boy to escape her clan’s treacherous leader, she runs right into Lachlan—who orders her detained. At first she causes him nothing but frustration, especially when she blackmails him into helping her clan. But when she’s threatened by the same man who murdered his brother, Lachlan will do whatever it takes to keep her safe—and by his side.

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  The love story between Amber and Lachlan is one of my favorites. Amber is the MacPherson healer who’s had to pretend to be a witch in order to stay safe from her depraved laird while she heals her people. Lachlan’s the laird of his own clan who attacks the MacPhersons in order to bring their laird to justice for killing Lachlan’s brother. When the MacPherson laird escapes, Amber blackmails Lachlan into sticking around and helping her people. She’s outspoken and strong-willed and doesn’t hold anything back in her dealings with her new laird. Lachlan doesn’t hold back, either, and the two of them begin a tumultuous relationship that dances around their physical and mental attraction and drives both of them just a wee bit batty.

  February also brings us Valentine’s Day, a favorite holiday of many romance readers! So I decided to celebrate the release of HIGHLAND CONQUEST on February 6th, and Valentine’s Day eight days later, by revealing my top 6 favorite romance couples of all time!

  Anne & Gilbert

When I was ten-years-old, my mom gave me the first three Anne of Green Gables books by Lucy Maude Montgomery. I got hooked on Anne’s adventures and all the different characters in Avonlea, including her nemesis, Gilbert Blythe. When they first meet, Gilbert pulls Anne’s braid and teases her about her red hair, calling her “carrots”. She responds by smashing her slate over his head. Thus the relationship between Anne and Gilbert is born, and a rivalry and enmity develops between them that takes years for them to overcome. Along the way Anne refuses Gilbert’s declaration of love and almost becomes engaged to another man. But finally she realizes she loves Gilbert too, and wishes with all her heart that he’ll say the words again. Which he does, bringing me my first ever Happily Ever After—warm fuzzies and a heartfelt sigh included.

  Arwen & Aragorn

Just saying those names leaves me sighing and feeling a little teary and mushy inside (in a good way!). Theirs is a romance for the ages, portrayed beautifully by Liv Tyler and Viggo Mortensen in Peter Jackson’s filmed adaptation of JRR Tolkien’s Lord Of The Rings. Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, is an immortal elf who falls in love with the mortal Aragorn, heir of Isildur and rightful claimant to the thrones of Arnor and Gondor. In order to be together, Arwen has to give up her immortality and know that she will only die after Aragorn has died. Aragorn tries to dissuade her from being with him, but Arwen will not be swayed, saying: “I would rather share one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone.” Sigh…

  Mac & Barrons

If I had to pick a book boyfriend it would be Barrons from Karen Marie Moning’s Fever series. He. Makes. Me. Shiver—in a good way. He is the epitome of Alpha—strong, dominant, smart, whose only saving grace is that Mac is his everything…even if she doesn’t yet know it. There is no greater bad boy in my opinion. You just know that his reserve and icy control shields a raging inferno beneath. When Mac & Barrons finally get together at the end of book four (and yes, I do know they were together when she was Priya, but that doesn’t count), it’s like he unleashes himself on her. He devours her and she devours him right back. And what makes their love story even twistier, adding more layers to their relationship through the first four books,  is discovering in a later book (Burned, I think) that Jericho Barrons and MacKayla Lane have done the wild deed once before—all night long—and Barrons used magic to erase Mac’s memory of it. Bad. Boy. And here’s the other thing I love… they still call each other Barrons and Miss Lane, same as they always did, unless they’re having sex or in near-death situations. Then it’s Jericho and Mac.

  Elizabeth & Mr. Darcy

How can I write a list about my favorite couples and not include Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy? Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen is one of the first classic novels that I read and I kept the book in my backpack for many months reading it over and over, when I was at university. Mr. Darcy’s proposal to Elizabeth about halfway through the story is a shock because he’s been nothing but aloof and haughty toward her and her family—in fact, the proposal is filled with condescension about Elizabeth’s lack of social position and wealth compared to his, and he claims it’s an obstacle his love has had to overcome. The scene where Elizabeth rejects him is a favorite of mine—especially the rain-soaked version between Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen. What I love about this scene, is that Mr. Darcy is undone by her. He takes her opinion of him to heart, even though some of her accusations against him are unfounded. She opens his eyes to his lack of kindness and grace and it changes him for the better—makes him into a man that Elizabeth could love.

  Han & Leia

I contemplated putting Han Solo and Princess Leia at the top of the list. My brother took me to see Star Wars when it first came out, so technically they were the first couple I met—but at seven, I was too young to truly appreciate the sigh-worthiness of Han and Leia. This is a romance that builds…and builds…and builds amidst verbal sparring and sarcastic jabs until finally near the end of The Empire Strikes Back they kiss—just before Han is yanked away from Leia and frozen alive in carbonite.  Irrepressible bad boy that he is, when Leia says a heartfelt, “I love you,” as they’re securing Han for freezing, Han looks back at her and simply says, “I know.” Gets me every time.

  Claire and Jamie

Seeing as I write Highlander romance (and love Highlander romance—big shout out to some of my favorites: Julie Garwood, Monica McCarty, and Karen Marie Moning!) it would be impossible for me NOT to include Claire and Jamie Fraser from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. She’s created this unforgettable, iconic romance between Jamie and Claire all wrapped up in some of the most interesting and tumultuous times in Scottish history. I’m going to choose to focus on book three, Voyager, for one big reason: the REUNION. Le sigh. You begin the book, knowing that Claire and Jamie will reunite after so many years apart, and then you have to wait…and wait. Or was I the only one who didn’t jump ahead? Finally, Claire walks into Jamie’s shop, and they kiss, but we still have to wait as Jamie grabs the drunken Mr. Willoughby from the pub, gets chased, and takes Claire back to a whore house, before…the moment. It starts with an awkward kiss and nose bump before Jamie takes control and says to Claire, “Give me your mouth, Sassenach.” Excuse me while I melt.

  Do you like my list? Did I miss any of your favorites? Please let me know if you agree or disagree with my top 6 favorite romance couples!

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  About Alyson McLayne

Alyson McLayne is a mom of twins and an award-winning writer of contemporary, historical and paranormal romance. She’s also a dog lover and cat servant with a serious stash of dark chocolate. After getting her degree in theater at the University of Alberta, she promptly moved to the west coast where she worked in film for several years and met her prop master husband. Please drop by for a visit at www.alysonmclayne.com and look her up on Facebook (www.facebook.com/AlysonMcLayne) or Twitter (@AlysonMcLayne).

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HIGHLAND CONQUEST by Alyson McLayne: Spotlight & Giveaway was originally published on The Sassy Bookster

[natg1rl-blog]

Life Lessons

Chapter 2 Part 1 of ‘Little Black Book’.

xx

First term of year eight finally came to a close and what an adventure it had been. I was still saddened by the fact I had been knocked down from my pedestal and was no longer considered one of the ‘cool kids’. Even my ex boyfriend from primary school and his best friend Murphie ran with Millee’s crowd. You would think they would have had my back, but apparently even in High School it’s every man for themselves. No matter what the situation, I had to remain thankful for the friends I had – old and new. On the last day of the first term for year Eight, the girls and I decided to do a celebratory lunch down at Pizza Hut. It was all you can eat for $9.95, best deal around. Initially it was just Renee, Sarah, Marley and I who had the lunch date… but when Pamela caught wind of it there was no way she was letting us go without her. When the bell rang at 1pm the five of us couldn’t get out of class quick enough. Two weeks of freedom sounded like the best thing in the world to me. Getting away from that school, those awful girls and not to mention Scott and Pamela’s putrid relationship was the only thing that kept me going. Unfortunately however I had to spend one more afternoon with her and my patience was running thin...

‘Oh… my… god, I can’t believe we haven’t come across any hot guys yet!’ Pam obnoxiously blurted out on the side walk of a busy main road.

She was the epitome of embarrassment.

‘You have a boyfriend.’ I snarled.

That didn’t stop her though.

‘It’s okay to look.’ She shot back.

I rolled my eyes.

‘Well it probably doesn’t help that you’re with us.’ I said meanly.

I couldn’t control myself, it was like word vomit. All of the girls laughed, including Pam. I guess she felt it was easier to laugh off an insult than to believe that I had actually meant it.

When we reached Pizza Hut the five of us approached the lady behind the counter.

‘Can we please get the kids works?’ Marley asked the lady before she even looked ready to deal with us.

‘Sorry girls, lunch finishes in ten minutes.’ The lady informed us.

All five of us looked at each other with the same kind of reaction. The unanimous one was disappointment.

‘Unless you think you can manage that?’ The lady interrupted.

Before either of us even had the opportunity to say anything, Pam felt her input necessary.

‘C’mon guys, we can totally stuff our faces in ten minutes.’

I could not even believe she went there.

‘Pamela don’t be stupid.’ I snorted.

I felt like her mother.

‘Hungry Jacks is just over the road, maybe we should go there instead?’ Marley suggested.

All of us felt as though that was the next best option, apart from Pam of course but she was victoriously out-voted.

We all made the short trek across the road to Hungry Jacks. Once we sat down with our meals it didn’t take long for the discussion to turn south.

‘I wish Scott were here.’ Pam groaned.

I swallowed hard in my throat. I felt Renee’s eyes on me, looking for a reaction. I could tell she was worried that Pam’s comment upset me, and it did. At that moment a group of young boys walked into the restaurant. Every single one of us girls went silent, including Pam. As they emerged closer I noticed that a couple of them looked familiar to me. I turned to Renee and could tell that she knew them too, that’s when it clicked.

Earlier that year a few of us went to our first High School Blue Light Disco. It was one of the best nights I had ever had. I ended up meeting a guy who was friendly, charming and somewhat cute. The two of us had an instant connection and we spent the most part of the night dancing with one another. His friends were associated with a few of Renee’s friends so she had seen them out from time to time. Our groups migrated into the night and I felt as though it may have been the beginning of a beautiful romance. A couple of days after the disco Renee texted one of the guys she knew to dig up any information that might indicate that the cute guy may have also been into me. His name was Cahile. He was short, but taller than me, and he looked very Country - red hair, freckles, and dark brown eyes. He wasn’t melt-your-soul hot but he still had that cuteness about him that sparked my interest just enough. The moment that truly shattered my opinion of the opposite sex was when Renee broke the news that Cahile had absolutely no interest in me whatsoever. He had told his friends that I was gross and that just brought me back to the primary school days when girls had ‘cooties’. I was glad that Cahile wasn’t with the guys now.

‘Hey Renee, how’s it going?’ One of the familiar guys approached whilst the others decided to proceed to the counter.

I was a little taken aback that he even approached us; I guess he was more acquainted with Renee than I had originally thought.

‘Hi Drew, not bad yourself?’ She responded politely.

He stood there a little bit awkwardly for a moment as though he was waiting for an introduction. Luckily Renee caught on quickly before it got too weird.

‘Oh, these are my friends,’ She started to point us all out.

Here we go, I thought to myself.

‘Marley, Sarah, Pamela... and you know Bella?’

Dammit.

Drew looked at me blankly until something registered in his brain.

‘Oh, yes. You’re the girl who…’ I cut him off before he could finish that sentence.

‘Please don’t remind me.’

Drew chuckled. He seemed nice enough. I was thankful that he left the situation alone.

‘I better go join my mates, nice to meet you.’ He ended whilst turning around to join his friends.

I never knew a Thirteen year old boy to be so polite.

‘He was really cute.’ Marley commented once Drew was out of sight.

‘Isn’t he?’ Renee shyly agreed.

‘I actually think his friend is hot, the one with the scruffy brown hair.’ I had to admit.

Drew’s friend was also there the night of the Blue Light Disco. I remember thinking the same thing then but I was too caught up in Cahile to care.

‘Oh my god Bella, I was just thinking the same thing. We have the best taste in guys!’

Oh great, Pamela had an opinion. I tried to ignore her whenever she spoke. I often just faked a smile and let that be that.

After lunch the girls and I decided to take a walk to the shopping centre and do some window shopping before saying goodbye for the day. As we headed to the Plaza, Pamela  took the lead with Marley and Sarah, whilst Renee and I trailed behind.

‘You okay?’ Renee asked.

I smiled at her concerned nature.

‘Yeah, I’ll get over it.’ I promised with a smile.

There were plenty more fish in the sea. At least that’s what they say.

I couldn’t help but notice Pamela walking like an absolute weirdo. She used to be a child model and from the looks of things she was desperately trying to rehash her glory days.

‘Pam we’re not on the catwalk!’ I taunted.

Pamela laughed off my insult once more. Nothing seemed to faze her. Either that or she knew how to hide it well. When we reached the shopping centre the five of us took rounds in calling our parents. Pamela went last and I didn’t even bother.

My mum was a cool mum. I had grown up my whole entire life with just her and my brother. She used to tell me stories about my dad and how he never wanted us kids. My sister allegedly turned around at the innocent age of four and told my mum to go fuck herself. Where she learned that kind of language, I have no idea. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back in mum’s eyes and she made our dad take Mila away to live with him. I never knew a life where my mum and dad were together. They split up when I was about 2 years old. One of the stories mum told me that will always stay with me was that when I was very young she won a car through the local radio station. Her and my dad had already split at this time so he was jealous of this victory. She told me that because of this reason my dad came around to our place when mum was at work, kidnapped my brother and me, let the dog out from the side gate and then blackmailed mum into giving him the car. If she didn’t he swore she would never see us kids again, and it was too late for the poor dog. From what I knew of my dad, he didn’t seem like the kind of person who would do that. I knew my dad a little. I never got to see him often but he and mum stayed in touch and she would often seek refuge from him at times of struggle. But why would my mum lie? It wasn’t until much later in my life that I discovered that was unfortunately mum’s go-to. She was a compulsive liar and it was destined to become a big problem in the future. Because mum and I were so close in the early days she did have a lot of trust in me. So on days that I decided to do a little bit of shopping with friends, or go to the movies with my sister, she trusted that I was responsible enough to take care of myself. A lot of people would continuously comment that I was older beyond my years. I knew what was black and white, right from wrong, good from evil – can’t say the same for everyone. I didn’t need a strict parent like some kids do, so our relationship worked well.

Pamela didn’t have the same kind of parent. When she got off the phone from speaking to her dad something was different about her. She had this fear behind her eyes and it almost looked as though she was struggling to fight back tears.

‘You guys, I can’t stay. My dad’s really mad.’ She explained.

‘Why is he mad?’ I wondered.

I was surprised at my genuine concern.

‘Because I told him we were going to Pizza Hut and he was meant to pick me up from there. He is really angry that we’ve been walking the streets without a parent with us.’ She went on.

‘Pam we’re thirteen, not five.’ I seemed to be the only one who had an opinion on this matter.

Pamela didn’t have a come-back; she sort of just let her head drop down with her mouth in a pout. I felt bad for her.

‘Okay so what’s happening?’ I asked.

‘He’s coming to get me… will you girls wait?’ She sounded desperate.

I wasn’t overly keen but before I could say anything Marley answered for the group.

‘Of course we will.’

Time was passing so slowly. It felt like it had been several minutes since Pam got off the phone with her dad and I knew for a fact they only lived down the road. The four of us were sitting on one of the benches outside the shopping centre whilst Pamela nervously stood watch over the car park.

‘I thought you said your dad rushes.’ I mentioned, less than thrilled that we were wasting valuable daylight.

‘When he’s mad he usually does.’ She promised.

Just then her dad’s four-wheel drive came roaring around the corner. The four of us stood up ready to say goodbye. Pam headed toward her dad’s car but momentarily stopped to turn back toward us.

‘Is anyone coming?’ She pleaded.

I knew she only asked because if one of us went with her it would prolong her lecture until she and her dad were in private. None of the girls were willing to play the bad guy so I chimed in.

‘No sorry, we’re all staying.’

‘Okay,’ disappointment clouded her voice before she turned back and headed for her dad, ‘bye.’

As Pamela hopped into the vehicle and her dad drove away I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the girls.

‘Can we please go and have some fun,’ words that I had been waiting to utter all day.