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binbons-character-stuff · 3 years

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The Thief of Joy

This was requested by @emmaloo21 like a hundred years ago.

"Hey," you heard a whisper from around the corner from where you were definitely not hiding, and then Peter's golden head peeked at you from the other side of the shelf of books in the library.

You hurried to dash away your tears, but Peter had two younger sisters and could see the signs of crying well enough. "Oh, darling, don't cry," he soothed, sitting next to you and pulling you into his arms, your head going naturally into the crook of his neck.

"I am not crying," you said, though Peter could feel the dampness of your cheek against his neck.

"Shhh," he shushed you. "It will be alright, I promise."

"Of course it will," you said, pulling back a bit and forcing a smile to your face. "You're here."

Peter smiled at you with genuine affection. You had fallen into his family so naturally that it felt like you were another sister most of the time. "Tell me what has you sad and I'll fix it straightaway."

You chuckled. "Just having you here is enough."

"Darling, you know I'll always be here for you, don't you?" Peter crooned to you as he rocked back and forth.

"Of course, Peter. I never feel so safe as when I'm with you," you said honestly, if a bit sadly.

Caspian sighed silently, heart shattering a little more as he witnessed what he had suspected for some time: you loved Peter.

And who could blame you? He was young, handsome, courageous -- well, aside from 'young' he was everything that Caspian wasn't and probably never would be. And Caspian could accept all of it from everyone but you. You were his life. You had been inseparable until his escape; most of his people assumed the two of you would marry one day; he had assumed that the two of you would marry one day.

Caspian left as quietly as he had entered; he had known you were upset and he knew where you would go to be alone. He just didn't realize that Peter was also aware of the spot. Was it now a secret lovers spot?

As Caspian made his way silently out of the library, he wandered the corridors aimlessly, his only destination somewhere quiet and empty. He feared that his heartbreak was going to become a bit of an embarrassing affair and he preferred to kick the wall and throw his childish tantrum with no witnesses.

Peter. Always Bloody High King Peter the Bloody Magnificent! He took over command, bowled over any decision that Caspian ever made, he insulted him and acted like Caspian was a complete incompetent. And if that wasn't enough, he now was romancing the girl he had loved for as long as he could remember, the woman he had always hoped to make his Queen. More than that, though, you were his best friend, he needed you in the way that he had always thought you needed him.

Apparently he had been mistaken. Now you had Peter to run to when you were upset.

You had calmed down, focusing on Peter's soothing voice as he told you about something called automobiles in his home world.

"Feeling better now?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," you whispered. "Thank you."

"How about you tell me what's been troubling you, then?" he coaxed.

"It's nothing, really. I'm being silly."

"I shall decide what's silly and what isn't," Peter announced arrogantly.

You smiled, though his arrogance was a trifle annoying. Caspian was never -- you sighed, unable to complete a thought without him interfering.

"Come, now," he said sternly. "I am a King of Narnia; you must tell me."

"I missed Caspian terribly when he was gone."

"He spoke of you a great deal while we were in hiding. I understood you to be quite good friends."

"Yes," you said, not realizing that you wrinkled your nose a bit when he said 'friends.' "It just does not feel like he missed me as much. He seems to want to spend all of his time with your sister."

Ah, Peter thought. She loves Caspian. "Lucy and he do seem to be together a lot."

"No, Peter, I meant Susan."

Peter hesitated a moment and said, "Shall I tell you a secret?"

"If you wish," you replied rather disinterestedly. You were too busy picturing your old age as a spinster, dying alone for the overwhelming love you felt for your King.

"Susan thinks Caspian is beautiful."

Your eyebrows drew together in anger. "Thank you so much for sharing that with me, Your Majesty."

"So beautiful, in fact, that he could wear one of her dresses and be prettier than her."

You gasped, scandalized and amused. "She did not say this!"

"Perhaps not in so many words, but dear one, Susan and Ed and Lucy and I...we're old. Caspian is a boy. Susan is not interested."

You smiled then, but ruefully. "It does not mean that Caspian wants me because Susan does not want him."

"Then more fool he, I say!" he said buoyantly.

"Thank you, Peter," you said quietly.

"Of course," he said gently. "I must go, but do not tarry here too long, it will be supper time soon."

"Yes, Peter," you said quietly, smiling bravely for his efforts to cheer you.

You watched Peter leave and sighed. You were selfish enough to be pleased that Susan wasn't interested in Caspian, but as you had said to Peter, Susan not wanting Caspian did not make Caspian want you. There was an old saying that your Mother told you when you coveted a sibling's toy or sweet: 'Envy is the thief of joy.' You knew that it was wrong to be jealous that Susan held Caspian's heart, but you simply could not help yourself.

You sat and stared out the window at the late afternoon sun painting the courtyard below with a golden shimmer, pondering how to go on without Caspian in your life.

Caspian had retreated to his bedchamber, wanting to be alone for a moment. Well, physically alone. Since he had been crowned King, he had felt nothing but alone and lonely.

Before he had run away, you and he had been together whenever possible. You had taken lessons together -- and skived off of lessons together, as well. He had shared with you his worries of ruling a Kingdom someday, and you had simply smiled and told him he would be a wonderful King. Now, you barely met his eyes, leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Perhaps you knew of his feelings for you and were trying to keep him from humiliating himself? You were always so kind and generous to him, giving him perhaps the only affection he received since his mother died when he was small. How had he so badly misinterpreted your actions to mean you loved him as he loved you?

Or had you been plying him with honeyed words to become his Queen but decided that Peter was a better catch?

Caspian's jealousy ate at him as he paced his bed chamber, thinking back to all of the times he thought he had seen love in your eyes. Was it only a reflection of his own love, and not a genuine emotion at all? Were you simply smarter than the other girls at Court who had sought to snare him with their beauty and wiles? Had you seen the desperate need for love that he carried within him and exploited it?

He had to know.

Caspian gathered his jealousy, anger, and outrage close to him, wrapping himself in coldness to stave off the hurt. He stormed out of his bedchamber, his expression clouded with the anger and anguish that had taken root in his heart.

A few people tried to stop him on his way back to the library; he did not even acknowledge them. He was so focused on getting the truth from you that nothing else mattered. Indeed, for just this one moment in time, the Kingdom could burn.

Caspian would find out how you really felt, and Aslan help anyone who tried to stop him.

You heard someone come into the library, low voices conversing, and then someone left again. You went back to staring out into the courtyard below, wishing that you had been brave enough to share your feelings with Caspian before he had run away to escape his Uncle. Would it have mattered to him, knowing that you loved him and were waiting for him to return safely? You sniffed, too depressed to even wipe away the tears from your cheeks.

You shook your head and muttered, "If wishes were fishes --"

"We'd all swim in riches," Caspian surprised you by finishing the rhyme.

"Cas -- Your Majesty!" you gasped, jumping to your feet and dropping into a deep curtsy. "You surprised me."

Caspian narrowed his eyes angrily. "You cannot even bring yourself to use my name any more?" he growled.

You looked up, tears streaming down your cheeks, confusion in your eyes. "I was not certain I still had that privilege."

"Rise," he said harshly. "I do not wish to have you cowering before me."

You got to your feet, hands folded primly before you and eyes on Caspian's toes, but you kept your silence.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, softening a bit.

You shrugged. "I do not wish to burden you with my worries," you whispered.

Caspian stiffened. "Did Peter not return your feelings?" he spat.

Your eyebrows shot up. "I beg your pardon?" you said, deceptively softly.

Caspian should have known better; he had known you for most of his life and he had seen both the storm and the calm before it. He was simply too angry to recognize your tone of voice. "I said," he snarled, "did High King Peter not return your love? Did your plan to catch a better husband than me, a mere King, fall apart? Do you regret tossing aside my feelings for you in favor of Peter?"

You finally understood the expression "to see red." Your fists clenched at your sides and you gnashed your teeth. "How dare you speak to me that way, Caspian!"

"I saw the two of you together earlier, sitting in that very spot!" he yelled. "He had his arm around you and you put your head on his shoulder, sweet as could be!"

You shook your head angrily. "He was comforting me because I am in love with a very stupid boy whom I thought was in love with High Queen Susan," you said in disgust.

"I have loved you since I was twelve, Caspian! I was crying because you spend all of your time with Susan and cannot even be bothered to speak to me, and you accuse me of being a faithless trollop for my pains? Well, fear no longer, for I do believe I am over my feelings for you!

"I cannot believe I have wasted so much of my life loving you. And you tell me now that there were feelings to toss aside, as you accuse me of currying favor with Peter because he has a higher rank? Well, congratulations on finally telling me you once cared for me while you essentially called me a whore," you sneered with anger and distaste. "But I suppose that is acceptable behavior for a King. I do hope it was worth it, Your Majesty." You gathered your skirts in hand and swept away from him and out of the library.

Caspian stood in stunned silence, unable to fathom the tremendous insult he had just given you out of jealousy and stupidity.

You loved him.

You loved him, and he had crushed that love under his boot heel for the sake of his cowardice and envy.

Caspian dropped to his knees, head in hands in grief and self-loathing.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, then got to his feet and steadied himself; he needed to figure out what to do.

You were in your bed chamber among the suite of rooms your family had in the castle. You were crying quietly lest you alert your parents of your fight with the King. Your Father had supported Caspian and even been thrown in a cell when Caspian had escaped; you did not wish to sow discord between them.

How could Caspian accuse you of such low behavior? And even if you were casting your nets for Peter, what business of Caspian's was it? He had never made any declarations, never even insinuated that he was interested in you romantically, or even politically. What about his behavior, either before or after he had run away, should have conveyed his intentions?

You were not wrong in this, and if it meant your exile from Court...well, perhaps you could do with a visit to your grandparents, at that.

You called your maid in and asked her to begin packing your things while you went to convince your parents that some time in the country would do you a world of good.

Caspian was more nervous than he had been even before his coronation. He was about to serve penance before attempting to apologize, but even though he had mentally prepared himself, his heart raced and he had broken into a cold sweat.

His hand shook when he raised it to knock.

The door opened quickly, thrown wide by Queen Lucy exuberantly, as she was with all things.

"Caspian!" she shrieked happily, leaping into his arms as if she hadn't seen him for months rather than the few hours since the morning meal.

Caspian hugged her back, always touched to be worthy of this kind soul's affection. "Hello, sweet one. And what have you been up to today?" he asked, trying to hide the true purpose of his visit from this angelic child.

It didn't work, of course. Lucy might be the youngest of the Pevensie family, but one must keep in mind that they had lived entire lives in the past; this adorable, chubby-cheeked little girl was over a millennium older than Caspian.

"What troubles you, Caspian?" she asked kindly, pulling him over to sit.

"I need to speak with Peter, actually," he said quietly. "Do you know where he is?"

"I believe he went to visit your future Queen," she said mischievously.

"Hush," Caspian said automatically. Lucy had divined his feelings for you while they were still hiding from Miraz and took every opportunity to discreetly tease him.

"Tell me what is wrong, Caspian. Are we not friends?"

He looked down at his boots. "I behaved very badly," he said, his voice a broken whisper. "I do not believe that I can undo this mess I have created. I think it rather more likely that her father or your brother will call me out."

Lucy sat up straight, concern drawing her features into an uncustomary frown. "What have you done that is so bad?"

Caspian took a deep breath and looked down into his hands that were clenched into fists in his lap. "I was almost mad with jealousy! I...I accused her of trying to ensnare Peter with her wiles so that she would have a High king rather than just a King. She took that to mean I was calling her a -- a person of low morals."

"Goodness," she breathed.

"Yes, and she was livid, as she absolutely should have been. I imagine she's told her father or Peter by now. I would not be surprised if one or both of them are sharpening swords as we speak," he said dully. "I am worthy of neither my crown nor her love. And I know that I should be more concerned over failing my country, but right now all I can feel is bereft at the loss of the girl I have always loved."

"This is bad, Caspian," Lucy whispered.

Edmund strolled into the room just then, so Caspian and Lucy stopped talking.

He looked at them and said, "Well, that wasn't suspicious at all! Were you talking about me?"

"No, Ed," Lucy said with a roll of her eyes. "I do have an errand I need to run, though. Be a good sport and keep Caspian company, would you?" she asked as she got to her feet.

"Lucy," Caspian began in a warning tone, getting to his feet as well. "Where are you going?"

"I say, Caspian, if she isn't safe here then she isn't safe anywhere," Edmund said jovially. "Fancy some exercise? You said you'd show me that move where you change hands with your sword while you spin away from your opponent."

"Excellent," said Lucy as if the matter was settled. "You two go and play." I have work to do.

Normally, Lucy would go to the library or the sitting room where the six of you could usually be found of an evening, but Caspian had confided that your row with him had taken place in the library, so she headed to your family's apartments, knocking politely.

The maid who opened the door immediately dropped into a deep curtsy, then led Lucy to the sitting room and scampered off to alert you of her presence and then to prepare a tea tray.

"Lucy," you said warmly. "I was not expecting you, what a lovely surprise."

Lucy pulled you into a hug. "Are you well?" she asked quietly.

"Of course!" you lied, knowing that your red eyes and runny nose told a different tale.

You both smiled politely while your maid brought in a tea tray. "Shall I pour, Miss, or would you rather I continue packing your things?"

Lucy raised her eyebrows at you wordlessly.

"I'll pour, thank you," you said quietly, avoiding Lucy's eyes by busying yourself with the tea and biscuits. "One lump, yes?"

"Yes, thank you," Lucy said politely, accepting the cup and taking a small sip. "And would you prefer to give Caspian one lump or two on his thick skull?"

You looked up quickly from your own tea, then nodded acceptance. "Of course he came to you," you said with a dry chuckle. "I am so very angry with him, Lucy."

"And it sounds like you have every right to be. What a complete idiot!"

Your eyes opened wide in surprise, for you would ever expect Lucy to try to broker peace and support Caspian. "Quite so," you agreed quietly, surprisedly.

"I cannot believe how cruel and selfish he was with you," Lucy went on. "I rushed straight over to see you. I know how much you loved him, it must have been such a disappointment to find out how wrong we all were about his character!" Lucy internally crossed her fingers, hoping that she was taking the correct tack with you and that attacking Caspian would lead you to defend him.

Your eyebrows furrowed at Lucy's words. "Perhaps that is not entirely accurate," you said hesitantly.

"How could we interpret his actions any other way? He besmirched both your honor and Peter's! Just because he says he was mad with jealousy," she said, emphasizing the 'mad with jealousy' bit in a disbelieving way yet loud enough that you could not possibly miss it.

"You do not think he was jealous?" you asked, insecurity showing in your expression so clearly that Lucy almost felt bad.

"Oh, yes, he was positively raving! Never seen a fellow so head over heels for a girl. But he's a King; just because he has always loved you and wants you to be his Queen, that doesn't mean that he can lose control of his emotions like that."

"But he is not just a King, Lucy! He is also a man. Of course he will make mistakes! We cannot burden him with expectations of perfection!" you defended him.

"Well, now that he has insulted you so greatly that you couldn't possibly forgive him, I'm afraid he'll be stuck with some political match and wind up in a cold, loveless marriage. He probably won't have anyone to allow him to be just Caspian; they will all expect the Perfect King Caspian at all times." She sighed sadly. "Unless he does something truly reckless and gets himself killed or abdicates."

"No, he will not," you said angrily as you surged to your feet. "Not if I have anything to say about it. Where is he?"

Lucy struggled to keep her smug satisfaction to herself. "I believe he is having Edmund pummel away some of his guilt in the training yard."

You turned away without another word, caring not at all whether Lucy accompanied you or not. Lucy did follow along, of course. She had orchestrated this peace, she was absolutely not going to miss it.

As you grew near the training yard, you heard the clanking of metal weapons clashing alongside the whomping sounds of wooden weapons being used for training.

When you arrived, it still took you by surprise that Caspian had recruited Narnians to work alongside Telmarines in the army as well as his personal guard. The training arena had been expanded to accommodate the increase in numbers of guards, not to mention the size of some of the newer members.

Of course Caspian would go out of his way to treat the Narnians with fairness and respect. He was simply a good man.

You found Caspian and Edmund on the far side of the arena, pounding away at each other with metal training swords and shields. You watched for a while, proud of how adept he was with a weapon. His movement was smooth and fluid and you found yourself watching him with the same dull expression as all of the other unwed girls lining the fence to watch the two handsome men train.

You were able to forget for a moment that you were angry with Caspian -- well, miffed, really. He had always been graceful and quick with his weapons, but he had been coltish still when he left. He had returned with broader shoulders and far more muscular. He had gained strength and reach and lost none of his quickness and agility. He was truly a formidable fighter and you were proud to think that perhaps if his apology was very very good, he just might still be your husband one day soon.

You giggled to think that you had even considered leaving his presence. It was ridiculous to think that now you knew he felt the same, why in the world would you go away? As close to Caspian as possible was where you wanted to be for the rest of your life, and after you had given him a suitable opportunity to grovel for forgiveness, you planned to inform him that there was a wedding to plan.

Caspian heard the melodious giggle that always made him smile and immediately looked around until he saw you, leaning against the fence and smiling dreamily. He certainly -- CLANG!!!

"Caspian!" you shrieked as you clambered over the fence and hurried over to his side. He was down on one knee, dented helmet off and laying in the dirt at his feet while he tried to shake the ringing out of his ears.

Edmund was livid. "I could have killed you, Caspian! How dare you take to the training field this distracted," he raged at Caspian before turning his wrath on you. "And you! Do you not know better than to distract a man while he trains? I've got a mind to turn you over my knee!"

Caspian surged to his feet, still a bit dizzy but not so woozy as to allow Edmund to berate you in front of half the inhabitants of the castle. "That is enough, Ed," he said quietly.

You reached Caspian and took his face in your hands. "Are you well, my love?" you whispered as you looked into his eyes, trying to see if his pupils were normal.

Caspian threw his gauntlets to the ground and covered your hands with his. "Did you just call me your love?" he whispered back.

"I did. You are," you said with a smile.

"Then I am more than well," he said with a grin that lasted only a moment. He took your hands in his and pulled them away from his face and dropped back to one knee. "I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am, dearest. I was jealous and stupid and do not deserve you."

You tugged at his hands, trying to pull him to his feet. "I forgive you, of course! Now stand up, everyone is staring!"

"Not just yet, I have more business to conduct on one knee," he said with a happy smile.

You smiled back. "Oh, indeed? Checking soil quality? Collecting rents from worms?"

"Silly girl," he chided playfully. "No, I thought since I was already down here I would check to see if you had plans for the rest of your life?"

You pursed your lips and looked up as if giving his question deep consideration. "Hmmmm let me think," you hummed. "I suppose I could make time for the right activities."

Caspian grinned at your sass, then said earnestly, "You have been my best friend and favorite person for as long as I can recall. You have supported me, counselled me and comforted me over those years of friendship, and I am so grateful to you for that. As we grew up together, my feelings of platonic love for you grew and evolved into very, very romantic love. I would spend every day of my life with you, showing you how much I love and appreciate you. Will you do me the very great honor of being my wife and Narnia's Queen?"

You had felt yourself melt as Caspian spoke until you were amazed that you were able to remain upright. "I would be honored to be your wife, Caspian. It is all I have ever wanted. I love you so very much, my darling."

Caspian jumped to his feet and pulled you to him with a think against his armor, but you didn't mind at all. He whispered, "I love you," as he leaned down to gently kiss you.

You slid your hands up Caspian's chest to wrap them around his neck and kissed him again. When you broke apart and opened your eyes, Caspian's were still closed, but he had such a look of bliss on his face that you knew that this was right.

"Judging from the silly look on your face, perhaps we should have a healer evaluate your head before I hold you to your proposal?" you teased gently.

Caspian opened his eyes and smiled happily, overwhelmed with joy. "No, my love, I was just savoring the moment."

"Come. I still want you to see a doctor," you said, pulling him along. "Oh, and we must name our first daughter Lucy."

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#caspian x #prince caspian #king caspian #ben barnes #binbons 1k follower event

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mediaevalmusereads · 3 years

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Wicked and the Wallflower. By Sarah MacLean. New York: Avon, 2018.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Bareknuckle Bastards #1

Summary: When a mysterious stranger finds his way into her bedchamber and offers his help in landing a duke, Lady Felicity Faircloth agrees—on one condition. She's seen enough of the world to believe in passion, and won't accept a marriage without it. Bastard son of a duke and king of London's dark streets, Devil has spent a lifetime wielding power and seizing opportunity, and the spinster wallflower is everything he needs to exact a revenge years in the making. All he must do is turn the plain little mouse into an irresistible temptress, set his trap, and destroy his enemy. But there's nothing plain about Felicity Faircloth, who quickly decides she'd rather have Devil than another. Soon, Devil's carefully laid plans are in chaos, and he must choose between everything he's ever wanted...and the only thing he's ever desired.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: explicit sexual content, blood, violence, threat of sexual assault, references to child abuse and disfiguring

Overview: I wasn’t a fan of MacLean’s A Rogue By Any Other Name, but I figured I’d give the author another shot and read something a little more recent. While I didn’t enjoy everything about this book, I did like it much better, and most of my complaints are probably personal preferences (rather than anything MacLean did wrong). I’m primarily giving this book 4 stars because I think MacLean did a good job making the romance more substantive and the plot more high-stakes, but I refrain from awarding it 5 stars because the hero was a bit too edge lord for my tastes.

Writing: MacLean’s prose is quick and to-the-point, which I think many romance readers will appreciate. It is easy to get through and sets the scene pretty well, and there weren’t really any moments where I felt like I needed more context or more support to understand what was going on.

Despite not having a clever structure like the use of epistles to break up the narrative, I have to give MacLean credit for using her themes well. At one point, the hero tells the heroine the story of Janus and a lover named Cardea, and I felt like the themes of past, present, and future were paralleled really well in the way the romance ended up going down. I also really liked the way Felicity’s lockpicks acted as a metaphor for a lot of social phenomena, and the way darkness and light enhanced the implications of some of the action.

I think the only complaints I have concern the prologue and the pace of the first 100 pages or so, and even these are minor. First, the prologue: the prologue sets the stage for the entirety of the Bareknuckle Bastards series, which is fine, in itself. After describing the birth of 3 bastard male offspring and 1 legitimate female offspring to a powerful duke desperate for an heir, MacLean focuses on the daughter’s power from infancy to womanhood for about a paragraph before she turns away from her and says “hers is a story for another time. This story begins with the boys.” I thought it was strange to set up the novel as “there’s this really powerful woman... but we’re ignoring her for now to focus on the boys.” It felt odd, and felt like a privileging of male stories over female ones.

Second, the pace. It took a little while for the plot proper to get going, in mu opinion, because the first 100 pages or so were filled with a lot of conversations. Granted, some of these conversations establish character relationships, which is fine, but there were points where I felt like the pace could have been sped up. The heroine’s first lengthy conversation with her mother and brother, for example, felt drawn out, and some of the initial conversations between Devil and Felicity could have been condensed. But that’s just my opinion - I’m sure others will disagree.

Plot: Aside from the romance, most of the plot of this book involves a number of complex schemes. The summary, in my opinion, doesn’t quite paint an accurate picture. Felicity, an aging, plain-looking, semi-outcast spinster, struggles to find a husband after being caught up in a number of minor scandals. As a result of these scandals, her “friends” have deserted her and distanced themselves from her by calling her names and belittling her (often to her face). In a fit of anger and frustration, Felicity tells them she is engaged to the Duke of Marwick - a man she has never met, but is the ton’s most eligible bachelor at the moment. Gossip quickly spreads, and Felicity realizes she has risked permanent ruination if the duke publicly denies their engagement.

Marwick, however, happens to be one of the 3 male bastard offspring of the previous duke, but no one (not even Felicity) knows that. He’s in the market for a wife so he can produce heirs and solidify his hold on his title. Devil, Marwick’s bastard brother, wants to get revenge on him, not just because Marwick took the title and did nothing to help his siblings, but because of a number of things from their past (which I won’t spoil). Upon finding Felicity by chance, Devil strikes a bargain with her: Devil will convince Marwick to marry her in exchange for a favor, which he will cash in at some point in the future. Felicity agrees, but Devil never intends for Felicity and Marwick to marry; his plan is to instead use Felicity to humiliate his brother, primarily by seducing and ruining her before the wedding. Doing so will send the message that Devil will always be the one with the power to undercut his brother’s happiness. It’s a little petty, but there it is.

All that being said, Devil doesn’t so much teach Felicity to be a temptress as he does engage in a power struggle using Felicity as a pawn. While it’s true that Felicity demands that her union with Marwick be not just a marriage of convenience, but one where Marwick burns with passion for her, Devil is less of an instructor and more of a person who pulls strings behind the scenes. Unbeknownst to Felicity, Marwick has already agreed to marry her without Devil’s influence, in part because he doesn’t care for the women of the ton; he’s only after a marriage of convenience. When he learns that Devil intends to meddle in his affairs, he becomes set on marrying Felicity for no other reason than to show his brother who is more powerful. Devil, on the other hand, falls for Felicity and has to choose between his personal happiness and ruining his brother.

It feels complicated and petty, and it kind of is, but I honestly felt there was enough conflict there to avoid thinking that the only barrier to the main couple’s union was personal reservations. Felicity had enough social pressure on her (from society and from her family) to try to make an advantageous match, and Devil was questionable enough in character where a union with him would put Felicity and her family’s reputation (further) at risk. Devil also had enough of a conflict between his own wishes and his vendettas for the angst to be interesting.

Characters: Felicity, our heroine, is a witty, stubborn woman who displays exceptional lockpicking skills. At first, I wasn’t sure I would like her, but I think MacLean does a good job ensuring that Felicity is constantly pushing Devil and constantly insisting on her own agency, instead of just buckling at the first hint of arousal. I also felt that the lockpicking would be some kind of empty quirk at first, like an empty gesture to female agency, but I actually though MacLean ended up using it well, having it be a commentary on female societal constraints as well as the saving grace in the final showdown.

Devil, our hero, was complex enough to be interesting, but a little too edgy for my personal taste. While I liked that he had a past that informed his actions in the present, and he was ruthless without being cruel, he did have some moments that turned me off. His jealousy, for one, was mostly fine because he never acted on it, but I still disliked that his first thought was violence whenever another man so much as looked at Felicity. I also think he was a bit too self-hating, as he constantly brought up the fact that he was “raised in darkness” or whatever, and while fine sometimes, it got old and repetitive. And finally, there were moments where he tried to control Felicity’s actions, and while I understand that some of them were born out of concern for her safety, I still hated how constantly he would yell about her not being where she should be. I will praise MacLean, though, for making Devil a character who put Felicity’s emotions and desires ahead of his own (to a point). One of the big problems I had with Bourne in A Rogue By Any Other Name was his selfishness, and I feel like Devil was a good mixture of selfish (by way of his desire for revenge) and selfless (by way of his love for Felicity).

I also really liked that we got to see Devil at work in his smuggling business. Too often, I feel like I’m told that a character is bad or a criminal, and I don’t really get to see them hard at work or their business playing an important role in their lives. Unlike Bourne, who seemed ashamed of his business to some extent, Devil is really invested, and I liked that Felicity was able to find good things about the smuggling operation, such as loyalty between the workers and the money it brought to poor neighborhoods.

Side characters also felt way more interesting and complex. Felicity’s family, for example, were flawed without being evil, and I liked the arc where her family had to come to terms with all the pressure they put on her. Devil’s siblings were also fairly well-developed, with thoughts and opinions on the romance that enriched the story rather than distracted from it. I also liked that Marwick was “evil” without being a caricature, and I almost felt like I understood and could possibly forgive his actions up until the final showdown. All in all, I think most characters worked, and nothing felt too empty or shallow.

Romance: When all’s said and done, I feel like Devil and Felicity had good chemistry, and MacLean handled their romance very well. In part, I think I took to this romance so well because MacLean emphasized emotion over sexual attraction. I generally dislike it when romances treat sexual attraction as the main driver of the romance, so they lay it on thick in a way that feels ridiculous. Though there was some sexual attraction in this book, MacLean put more weight behind the emotional connection by showing a lot of banter. Felicity’s and Devil’s banter not only showed off their personalities, but showed how Felicity was able to hold her own and keep surprising Devil. While I did feel that Devil could be a little controlling at times, I ultimately think MacLean did enough work to show Felicity rejecting his influence and consistently pushing boundaries (in a way that wasn’t problematic), thereby establishing them as equals.

I also really liked that both characters enriched the other’s emotional lives, and their arcs mirrored one another. Felicity is extremely insecure about her plainness, and Devil is fairly insecure about his criminality and lack of good social standing. Together, they help one another realize that they are worth something and are good enough, just the way they are. I really love it when romances do this because it shows that the romance is based on something other than physical attraction or the fact that a hero was nice once.

And as a side note, I also loved that Devil insisted on Felicity’s consent whenever they engaged in sexual activity. I never got the feeling that either partner was pushing the other to do things that they weren’t 100% into. The only thing that came relatively close was the scene when Felicity asked Devil to have penetrative sex with her, and he initially refuses because he doesn’t want to ruin her. She does push the issue a little, but I read that more as her making the decision for herself about whether or not to be “ruined,” not as her making Devil do something he was reluctant on doing for personal reasons.

TL;DR: Despite featuring a fairly edgy hero, Wicked and the Wallflower is an emotionally-satisfying romance with a clever use of thematic elements, such as past/present/future, light/dark, and locked doors/lockpicking.

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alliluyevas · 4 years

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Hi! I hope I don't bother you, but would you be so kind and share some historical middle grade fiction reading recommendations? I love reading those! Have a lovely day :)

this is absolutely not a bother, I love doing book recs and I love this genre! Some of my very favorites, in roughly chronological era by the period they’re focused on:

The Roman Mysteries series by Caroline Lawrence

I happen to love good detective stories, and this series includes that, along with so much else. During the reign of the Roman emperor Titus, Roman preteen and enterprising amateur sleuth Flavia and her three friends Nubia, Jonathan, and Lupus solve mysteries and experience historical events from the eruption of Vesuvius to the opening of the Colosseum. This series has really well-developed characters, both major and minor, and strikes a great balance between enjoyable fun and some pretty heavy dramatic storylines. There are also a lot of actual historical figures depicted, like Titus and Pliny the Elder.

Crispin: The Cross of Lead by the always-wonderful Avi

One of the comparatively few children’s historical novels I’ve read and enjoyed with a male protagonist! In medieval England, young peasant Crispin is forced to go on the run for his life after the steward of the estate he lives on declares him an outlaw for mysterious reasons. With the help of a traveling musician who he meets and befriends, he attempts to clear his name and discover why there’s a price on his head to begin with. Beautifully written and thrilling.

Catherine Called Birdy by Karen Cushman

Also set in medieval England! This book is written in a diary format by the narrator, Catherine/Birdy, a young noble girl who records her daily life, her struggles with becoming a proper young lady, and her fears about her upcoming arranged marriage. The narrative voice is really unique, snappy and humorous and deeply engaging.

The Tudor Women series by Carolyn Meyer

This is a four-part series focusing on the childhood/adolescence through young adulthood of women in the English Tudor dynasty: Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Queen Mary I, and Queen Elizabeth I. My personal favorites are/were the Anne and Mary books, but I think they’re all very worth reading. They’re quite well-written and the author has a real gift for characterization. These were my introduction to the wild world of the Tudors!

The Lady Grace Mysteries series by Patricia Finney

Another middle-grade historical detective series! (Technically, I think I’d consider both of the Tudor series middle-grade bridging to young adult, but I’m counting them both here). Lady Grace Cavendish is a bright, mischievous young maid of honor in the court of Queen Elizabeth I who solves mysteries, including plots against the queen. The world of the Tudor court is very well realized and a lot of the mysteries are very clever.

The Lacemaker and the Princess by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Isabelle, the young daughter of a struggling family of lacemakers, visits Versailles to deliver lace and is stumbled across by Marie Antoinette, who selects her to be a playmate for her own daughter, Therese. As she travels between the world she once knew and the world of royalty, she has to decide who she is and where she belongs, as outside the palace the French Revolution is brewing. (Note: Marie Antoinette did actually bring ordinary children to play with her kids, but Isabelle is an invented character). I feel like this is a quite compassionate and nuanced take on the time period and the complicated friendship between Isabelle and Therese was very interesting.

A Drowned Maiden’s Hair by Laura Amy Schlitz

Maud, a difficult and awkward preteen orphan during the Victorian era, is finally adopted by a pair of spinster sisters who work as spiritualist mediums. At first, she is thrilled, but as she realizes the two are con artists who plan to use her in their rigged seances to scam grieving parents out of money, she has to decide whether this new family is worth having. I feel like this book really tapped into the spirit of Gothic novels for a middle-grade audience, it was really delightfully creepy as well as quite emotionally affecting.

Esperanza Rising by Pam Munoz Ryan

Esperanza, a wealthy young Mexican girl, is left mourning and destitute after her father is murdered by bandits and her uncle forces her, her mother, and her grandmother off the family estate. Along with a family who formerly worked as servants on the estate, her family immigrates to America as migrant agricultural laborers in California during the Great Depression. Esperanza has to adjust to her difficult new life and find strength and hope where she can. This book is very captivating but is also absolutely beautifully written, very poetic. It also provides a very important look at a demographic of people who are not as frequently talked about when we discuss the period of the Great Depression.

Breaking Stalin’s Nose by Eugene Yelchin

Set in the Soviet Union during the Stalinist-era purges. Nine-year-old Sasha is an ardent admirer of Stalin and thrilled that he’s about to become a Young Pioneer--until his life is turned upside down when his father is accused of crimes against the state and arrested. As he struggles to make sense of these events, Sasha accidentally damages a bust of Stalin at his school and tries to cover it up with the help of other children of “enemies of the state”, who are outcasts at the school, as Sasha has now become. This is a really thoughtful book that combines acerbic, surrealist humor with deep compassion, and it’s a great look at a really horrible period in history that isn’t talked about much in the United States, tailored very well for the developmental level of middle-grade readers. Also, Sasha’s father is an NKVD officer who is later denounced and purged himself, which was a pretty common scenario at this time, and I appreciate the author’s choice to show how the lines between victims and perpetrators weren’t always very clear.

Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Paterson

This is a coming-of-age story about Louise, a tomboyish teenager living in a fishing village on a remote island on the Chesapeake Bay during World War Two. This is hands-down my favorite children’s novel (I think it bridges middle-grade and YA) and one of my favorite books after. It is an incredibly poetic and poignant story, both uplifting and heartwrenching, about a girl struggling to discover her own identity and carve out a place in the world, as well as a really captivating portrayal of an insular community that is both comforting and crushing.

In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson by Bette Bao Lord

Nine-year-old Shirley Wong immigrates from China to Brooklyn in 1947 along with her parents. She struggles at first to fit in with her classmates and neighbors and misses her large extended family back in China, but she eventually finds ways to make friends and thrive in America while being true to herself. Also, she falls in love with baseball! This book is partially based on the author’s experience as a young Chinese immigrant. The way that Shirley navigates a very foreign and confusing world is depicted in a funny, poignant and accessible way and the clever, scrappy Shirley is a vividly written character who definitely goes against common stereotypes about Asian American girls.

Penny from Heaven by Jennifer L. Holm

Eleven-year-old Penny feels caught in between the two sides of her family--her mainstream 1950s Anglo-American mother and grandparents, who she lives with, and her father’s relatives: a large, loud, very Italian, very Catholic immigrant family. As she grows up, she begins to uncover the family secrets that contribute to the tension between the two sides of her family, including uncovering the story of her father’s death when she was a baby. This is a really beautiful, moving story about love, trauma, and the things that families often find too painful to talk about, and it’s also a really vivid picture of 1950s Americana as a whole and Italian-American families in particular. Also, Penny is partially based on the author’s mother as a child and her own family history which I thought was sweet and pretty compelling.

#reference #book recs #thank you sooooo much!!!#a couple of these i havent read in a while but i have fond memories and others i have and they def hold up even to an adult reader

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holylulusworld · 5 years

Text

You know me well – Part 4

Summary: Winning a contest to earn a small role in the next Supernatural Episode is a dream coming true. The only problem is the man you admire for his talent thinks you are not good enough. When he finally admits something he turns your world upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, Jared Padalecki x Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins

Warnings: angst, sad reader, Jensen being a douche, unrequited love (kinda), comforting (Genevieve), heartbreak

You know me well Masterlist

Only a few more weeks and you can go public. Only a few more days to keep on going and pretend you are not in love with Jensen.

Since Jared caught both of you Jensen is more subtle on set, always aware someone else than Misha or Jared could see him touching you.

“The party is this weekend. Are you excited?” Jared asks as you play with your barely touched food.

“I don’t know, Jared. I’m not used to this kind of stuff and attending it alone doesn’t make things easier.” Giving your friend a cracked smile, you keep on pretending it doesn’t hurt Jensen suggested you shall go alone to the party.

“Jensen will not go with you?” Misha is taking aback. He had hoped Jensen would reveal you are a pair during the party. The season is wrapped, hiatus is close, only re-shooting needs to be done but that’s it. “I mean the season is over, we could just announce it at the party.”

“Misha, don’t.” Jared is patting your back, seeing the hurting on your face. “I guess Jensen wants to wait for the first Con as we agreed to. You can come with me and Gen if you want to. This way you don’t have to go alone and keep your word.”

“Thank you, Jared. I’d like that even if I would prefer going with Jensen.” Grumbling you watch Jensen talk to a foreign woman. He’s joking, placing his hand onto her back and your heart drops.

You have seen him with that woman before, in a magazine. He was dating her before you and broke up with her not long after they announce their relationship.

“Why is Michelle here?” Misha cocks a brow, glancing at Jensen talking to his ex-girlfriend in front of you, in front of his friends.

“I’ve got no fucking clue.” Jared exhales as he gets up to talk to Jensen. The moment Jensen sees his friend he removes his hand from Michelle’s back, greeting Jared as if nothing happened.

“A word, Jay?”

“Sure. Later, Michelle.” Jensen smirks following his friend toward his trailer. “What’s wrong, Jared?”

“What’s wrong?” Pointing at you sitting next to Misha Jared shakes his head. “Your secret girlfriend sits right there, telling me you refused to go to the party with her and then we have to watch you getting all cozy with your ex!”

“Dude, relax. Michelle is doing me a favor, okay. The rumors got worse and I thought if I walk around with her a bit everyone believes we are back together, and Y/N and I can take a deep breath. Soon I can announce my relationship with Y/N.” Jensen doesn’t see your hurting or the way you play with the seam of your shirt. He doesn’t see the doubts all over your face.

“You better stop this shit, okay. Be a man and call things off with Michelle, tell her thank you and we can survive these few weeks till you and Y/N reveal your relationship.” Jared storms off to bring you away as Jensen walks back toward Michelle.

----

The night of the party started surprisingly funny. Sitting in the hotel room with Genevieve you watch Jared bickering with Misha about the right way to wield an angel blade.

“Boys, we have to go. Where is Jensen?” Genevieve watches your face fall as you shake your head.

“I don’t know, Gen. Last night he said he’d be here at eight or so but it’s already nine and he doesn’t answer my calls.” Sniffling you try not to ruin your make-up.

“What the heck! We agreed to go together so if’s not obvious you and Jensen are a pair. As Misha is without Vickie tonight he’s with us too. Where is Jay?” Jared paces around the room, trying to reach his friend. “Doesn’t answer my call either.”

“We have to get going, Babe. Maybe he’s late or something.” Squeezing her husband's hand Genevieve tries to calm Jared. “He can meet up with us before we go in. Let’s roll and wait for him outside.”

“Still don’t know why he doesn’t answer our calls. Is this about the fan post last week?” Looking up at Jared you can see the tall man’s face fall. Remembering a fan wrote she assumes you and Jensen are a pair he rubs your back, shaking his head.

“No, Y/N. Listen, Jensen loves you and we are for sure meeting up with him before we have to walk over the red carpet, okay. Stay with us and everything will be fine.” Not believing his own words Jared nods as his wife.

“Don’t worry.” Slinging her arm around your shoulders Gen tries to calm your nerves. “Jay will be there, and you can dance all night. No one will disturb your fun at our party.”

----

In the limousine, you tried to call Jensen again, but he refused to answer. Jared is getting antsier per minute. The pit in his stomach grows and he looks at Misha for help.

“How about I lead Y/N to the carpet until Jensen arrives. We can take a few pictures and wait for the rest of the cast.” Misha tries to break the awkward silence, patting your thigh. “We are going to rock the red carpet, Y/N.”

A fake smile on your lips you nod at Misha, knowing he means well, but the look on Jared’s face tells you he believes something is wrong with Jensen and your heart beats faster than it should.

“We are here, ladies and gentlemen,” Clif exclaims as Jared almost jumps out of the limousine to hold out his hand for Genevieve. Misha is close behind, helping you get out and that’s the moment you hear someone yelling Jensen’s name.

Your eyes search the photographer and then your eyes land on the red carpet and your heart shatters into pieces.

Instead of attending the red carpet with you and his friends Jensen poses on the carpet with his ex-girlfriend. Smiling he holds her hand as he nods at the reporter who asked if he’s with Michelle again.

Pale, panting heavily you feel Misha moving his arm around your waist. “We are going to rock this carpet and later Jared and I will kill Jensen,” Misha whispers leading you toward the carpet as you feel like your legs are jelly.

“How can he do this, Jared? I don’t get what he wants to achieve with it. We agreed to attend the party together and now Jensen messes with our plans and poses with that bitch.” Genevieve is balling her hands into fists as you shake your head, giving her a cracked smile.

“Gen just drop it. I guess that’s Jensen’s way to call things off with me. Maybe she’s the better choice. Look at me and then look at her, Genevieve.” Glancing down your simple robe you hold back a sob. “Jensen is way out of my league. I should be relieved, this way the lies finally end.”

Misha leads you toward the red carpet, angrily clenching his jaw while Jared glares at Jensen who dares to glance at you in Misha’s arm.

“I swear at the end of the party I’ll kick his ass. I can’t believe he pulls a stunt like that. I warned him, Gen. Told him to not hurt the kid. Look at her.” Pointing at you trying to fake a smile as Misha attends the red carpet with you Jared silently curses.

----

“Y/N, you came here with Misha tonight, not with a boyfriend. Why?” The reporter asks and you clear your throat.

“Misha was alone, just like me. Vickie couldn’t make it and he was kind enough to offer his free arm to me as an old spinster as I didn’t find someone to attend the party with me.” It’s not a complete lie so you smile politely and answer more questions.

“We all cheered for you and Jensen. All of us bet you would make a cute couple. The chemistry on screen is so strong between the two of you.” Another reporter tries and you laugh, giving him a wink.

“It’s called acting, Sir. Mr. Ackles is obviously in a relationship with the lovely woman he brought to this party. I don’t think he could ever think about me as a love interest. I’m only a colleague.” Misha is keeping you upright, smiling into the cameras as Jared and Gen join you.

“Jared, Jared! Don’t you think Y/N and Jensen are a cute couple too?” The same reporter asks.

“Well, Y/N is a wonderful actress and a good friend, on top of all a great person. I think she deserves someone showing his love for her and making her feel special. I bet she will find someone giving her all of this in no time.” Jared smirks as he can see Jensen turned pale at his best friends’ words.

“One last question to Y/N. Please.”

“Go ahead.”

“What does your ideal man look alike.” The reporter asks and you smile, taking your time to answer.

“It’s not always about the looks. I prefer a man showing me his affection, holding my hand and making sure I’m alright. So far I didn’t find a man doing so…” Clearing your throat you point at Jared and Genevieve.

“I want what Gen and Jared already have. A loving relationship, someone who cares about you and is not afraid to show it even if it means getting a shitstorm.” Now you smile sweetly, let the photographers take some more pictures before you let Misha lead you inside.

“I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

“Thank you, Misha. Without you, I wouldn’t make it tonight. I needed all my strength not to cry. When this is over I’ll pack my things and leave his house…”

----

Jensen is keeping his distance, always aware people are watching him so he dances with Michelle, ignoring you the whole evening.

“He could at least have asked you to dance with him. What the fuck is he thinking?” Jared curses, watching Jensen glance at you once again.

“You know he wants someone he can present. That woman is perfect. I’m only his dirty secret or she’s better in bed as he didn’t get any so far. I’ll call a cab and leave the party. I spend enough time waiting for him to explain his behavior.”

Walking away you want to use the restrooms but Jensen follows you to take the chance and kiss you, but you push him away.

“Get off me, Ackles. Go back to the woman you brought here, I’m no longer your latest fling.” Jensen is gasping at your words while you turn to walk away.

“Wait, I did it for us!”

“For us?” Furious you slap his cheek, not caring if anyone sees you.

“There is no us, Jensen. There are you and that perfect arm candy and then there’s me walking over the carpet with Misha as he had to keep me upright. I don’t know what sick game you tried to play with me but it’s over…” Turning on your heels you storm toward the restrooms as Jensen runs after you dragging you into the room.

“I tried to kill the rumors, Baby. I did it for you.” Trying to touch your cheek Jensen has to watch you flinch away.

“Rumors? Seriously. All the reporters were rooting for us. No one would’ve cared if you had kept your word and attend the party with Jared, Gen and me. Misha was there too. No one would’ve known we are a thing, but you came here with that woman. A woman you had sex with, Jensen and I shall believe you did this for us! I might be younger than you but I’m not dumb, go fuck yourself…or rather fuck her cause for sure you will never touch me.” Panting you slap Jensen’s hand away as he tries to reach out for you.

“Please, Baby Girl…”

“Stop calling me like that…we are done…”

The realization hits Jensen like a freight train as you leave the restrooms, not looking back.

Instead of making things easier for you, he lost you only as he was too afraid to go public yet…

You know me well Tags

@mlovesstories, @bitchwhytho

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom, @thewinchesterco, @hobby27, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana31, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @voltage-my2dlove, @fandom-princess-forevermore @thenamelesschibi, @lauravic, @fandomsrourlives, @wittysunflower, @drakelover78, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @spnhollis, @void-imaginations, @jay-and-dean, @shatteredabby, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @neii3n, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @alltimesamantha, @chonisberonica, @supernaturalonice @stuckys-whore, @shadowkat-83, @officialmarvelwhore, @wecantgiggleitsafandom, @meganywinchester, @shikshinkwon, @miraclesoflove, @yolobloggers, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @straycuties9, @kayla-2000, @ilovefanfic86, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @sadn0va, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @linki-locks11, @geekofmanyforms, @eggingamazinglove, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @heartislubbingdubbing, @atomicfandombomb, @defenderrosetyler , @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @exo-nova, @the-chocolate-moose, @laxe-from-outer-space, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @mblaqgi, @differentstudentrunaway-e70bf763, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

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@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @thefaithfulwriter, @dreaminemz, @negans-lucille-tblr, @akshi8278, @hhiggs, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @multisuperfandom, @deansgirl-1968, @justanotherwinchester, @jadesupernatural, @squirrelnotsam, @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo, @roonyxx, @jason-todd-squad, @thevelvetseries, @spnsuper17, @adoptdontshoppets, @woodworthti666, @frederikkeborup, @psychicforest, @luciathewinchestergirl, @michellemxndes

#spn #spn fanfiction #angst #Supernatural RPF #RPF #spn rpf #Jensen Ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #You know me well Masterlist #jensen x reader #jensen x you #Jared Padalecki #jared x gen #Misha Collins #Genevieve Padalecki #jensen ackles series

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Note

ok, so roman godfrey; reader invites him for a new year's eve party at her house. reader's parents end up criticizing roman. roman worries he's not good enough and needs cuddling. *and i need some soft boo imagines*. happy 2020, btw.

(A/N): Happy 2020, also to you, lovely nonnie, although I am late!

Thank you for sending it in, I just wanted to say that the family described in the ask is not definitely mine (if I brought Roman home, my dad would literally cry of joy, because he finally ‘managed to take out the trash, permanently’).

As always, if you didn’t like it or anything, you are more tha welcome to send me another ask so that I can rewrite it for you!

I hope you’ll enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Toxic Parents, Psychological Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Deprecating Talk, Nadia Being The Angel She Is (we don’t deserve her, honestly).

Your family, you knew it by experience, could be a bit… ‘too much’.

So, you had insisted on Roman not coming for your New Year’s Eve party, which you celebrated each year among your family, since you had spent Christmas, alongside Roman, taking care of Nadia exchanging the little gifts you had prepared for each other.

Shelley had also visited you, dropping in her gifts for you, Roman and Nadia, who cooed softly at her aunt, trying to grab her bandaged hands, meanwhile you and Roman hugged each other at the tenderness of the scene.

It had been a calm day and you couldn’t help but be thankful for it, wanting nothing more than your beloved boyfriend and his daughter around you, for these festivities, but Roman had insisted on joining your family on New Year’s Eve.

‘What will your parents think if I don’t show around?’ he had joked, circling you with his eyes, as you finished dressing up in the elegant dress you had chosen ‘… they’ll think I am either a ghost or don’t exist’.

Which you could totally see your parents thinking, but you had just done one last try to dissuade Roman, grabbing softly his face, tucking a few rebel strands behind his ears, looking at him in the eyes and explaining that you were worried he might run away, after having met your parents.

‘Babe, you challenged my mother, Olivia Godfrey… I do think that I can handle your parents’ he had smirked all victoriously and you had been infected by his smiling confidence and ended up making him accompany you to the ‘party’.

You had arrived early, since you knew that your parents would have found it distasteful for you to arrive even simply punctual.

Your parents hosted the party at their house and your entire family attended it, although as you arrived you found only half of the actual family: your grandparents from your father’s side, sleepily lounging on the sofa, meanwhile your mother and aunt worked in the kitchen and you were greeted by your father.

For which you were low key thankful, since he was a bit calmer than your mother.

He grabbed your coats, barely giving a look at Roman, who tried to present himself as soon as you father came back, his hands empty.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Mr. (L/N)” he muttered, offering him his hands “I am Roman Godfrey, (Y/N)’s plus one!”.

“Ahhh it’s nice to finally meet you, Roman!” instead of going for Roman’s outstretched hand, he straight up hugged your boyfriend, startling him “… we almost thought you weren’t real!”.

You felt Roman shudder at that insensitive affirmation, but you put on an small fake smile on your face, gripping back your boyfriend as you joined the laugh, half looking at the kitchen, hoping to find something that might distract your father.

“… ahh isn’t that, Claire?” called you out your grandma, using your cousin’s name, but you welcomed the distraction and brought Roman, alongside you in the kitchen.

Which wasn’t the smartest move since it meant that you and Roman stepped right into the bullseye and both your mother and your aunt set their gaze on you.

You smirked through the annoyance, meanwhile Roman didn’t seem to understand the threat that your family was and smiled at everyone, helping your grandma, with moving onto a chair so she ‘could take a closer look at you and your handsome knight’.

You were thankful that Roman quickly moved to join a ‘casual’ conversation with your grandma, so he was sheltered by your mom and aunt, who went to quickly crowd around you.

“You look lovely, sweetheart!” mumbled your aunt, as your mother pointedly examined you and you knew all too well that she was either analyzing whether you had put on some weight or how much the dress you had chosen was worth.

And then she pushed you in a tight hug, mumbling about how much she had missed you, as you heard your grandma going on with Roman over the fact that she totally believed that you would have remained a ‘spinster’.

You saw Roman’s gripping hands tightening in his lap at that mention, but he kept a serene smile on his face.

“… ah Roman it is also a pleasure to meet you, I don’t want to bother your conversation with granny, but it is nice to meet the man who made an honest woman of my pumpkin”.

Roman turned to her, smirking lightly, before he also offered her a hand, gaining a nod of approval from your mother, since Roman completely met her personal standards: rich, beautiful and young.

“It is an honor to meet you, finally, Mrs. (L/N)” he answered, not realizing the entire tension that had been going on through you.

“Oh, please call me Sandra” she joked, and then let your boyfriend go back to the enlightening conversation with your grandma, as she asked you the details about the relationship.

You were extremely thankful when the other half of the family joined you, your sister more than anyone else, since she had shared half the traumatic experience that your parents were.

But one slip of her tongue shattered the picture-perfect image of that night that you had created.

“… where is Nadia?” she asked at Roman: she had met you and Roman, much before than your family having, once, slept on Roman’s couch, when she was in Hemlock Grove.

You loved your sister and trusted more than all the other members of your family, so you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from welcoming her, once she was visiting Hemlock Grove for a job offer, and her and Roman had seemed to have good chemistry (although she had begrudgingly threatened him with a fork, had he ever solely thought to hurt you).

She had also met Nadia, loving her role as an aunt, but unfortunately hadn’t gotten the memo about not talking of her toyour family, because first of all: you didn’t trust them with the knowledge of Nadia, and secondly, you knew how your mother would have taken such news…

So, you tried to do some damage control.

Whispering back your reply that ‘Nadia was with Destiny and Peter’, so you could hope that maybe… just maybe… your mother hadn’t heard your sister.

But your mother had caught the dialogue, already and immediately shot you a surprised look, quirking an eyebrow in a questioning way, before she uttered.

“… who is Nadia?” you half-wanted to lie that it was either Roman’s sister or a friend but couldn’t help but believe that lying wouldn’t work with your mother.

And again, your sister had another slip of his tongue.

“Roman’s daughter, mom! She is a cutiepie… you should see her!”.

Both you and Roman were frozen on your spot, and slowly your mother’s gaze finally reached yours, as you faked a smile, feigning calm and innocence, as Roman’s hand sneaked to yours.

“You have a child?” she asked, almost unbelieving, as if she had been promised a pony and got a smelly donkey.

“Ahem… yeah… Nadia is my daughter from a previous relationship… the mother died, in childbirth” explained rather calmly Roman, meanwhile your thumb drew soft relaxing patterns on the back of his palm.

“Nadia is a beautiful baby, and I am beyond lucky to have Roman share her with me” you tried to gain some sympathy from your relatives, which seemed to work on almost each one of them, except your mother, whose gaze held an immediate hostility towards you and Roman, making you both shrank in his seat.

You tried to shift the attention away from you and were beyond glad when your father suggested that you and Roman could go to get some new wine, both because of the free air and both because you could completely swallow an entire bottle of alcohol.

As you walked outside, your sister mouthed ‘sorry’, having understood her mistake and you just shook your head, as you headed outside.

“… is something wrong?” asked softly Roman once you were out of earshot, although you still felt your mother’s eyes onto you, a sensation he shook off, hugging you gently “… your mother sounded… troubled when she heard about Nadia”.

You heard completely Roman’s uneasiness in his voice and gently gripped him tighter.

You had been beyond blessed to be welcomed in Nadia and Roman’s safe haven, and it wasn’t something that you took lightly or would let your mother taint with her affirmations: you already knew why that knowledge annoyed her so much, but you didn’t share in the slightest her opinions.

“She is just old-fashioned, but don’t worry about it… I am more than happy to be with you and Nadia” and Roman seemed to be lightly comforted by the soft smirk you had gifted him, before pushing an even softer kiss on his lips “… she’ll have to deal with you and Nadia, because I have no intention to let you go”.

“Neither do I, lovely” he giggled and as he leaned in for a kiss, but you were immediately brought apart by a rather stern cough, not even attempting to seem fake, revealing your mother, sending you two pointed looks.

“.. Roman, you wouldn’t mind meeting with my husband in the kitchen, he is having problem moving the table, so that we could have more space for each other” and as Roman tried to lightly protest, but your mother simply silenced him with a “… don’t worry, I’ll take care of the wine with my daughter”:

You sent Roman away with a smirk that stated your confidence in avoiding killing your mother, but you couldn’t help but be highly unnerved by her prolonged silence, as you moved to the wine cellar, but preferred it to words.

Which didn’t wait long to appear.

“Are you crazy about getting yourself with a man like him?”.

“You seemed to like him, mom” you retorted, meanwhile you fake of looking through the wine bottles, your hands gently caressing the glass of their bodies.

“Before I discovered he had already a daughter on his paycheck!” she made you turn to look at her in the eyes “… you know that not only you’ll never be his number one priority, but also any child that might come from you will never be loved as that… Nadia”.

“Mom I highly doubt it” your mother came from a completely different generation, the one where you married somebody and stayed with them, till they grew old and dead.

Even if they cheated, even if they were violent.

But Roman wasn’t simply ‘it’, because he had already a daughter.

“Don’t come crying at me when he breaks your heart” she retorted, almost spitting on you as she turned on her heels and left you there.

You took a deep breath, but a sob shook your back again and you couldn’t help but take your good time as you tried to calm yourself down.

In the end you chose one of wine and faked not having heard your mother talking so horrendously about your boyfriend.

Roman looked worried as you came back, and you shot him a small smirk, in an attempt to relax him, but it didn’t do much, because Roman’s worry didn’t ease up and he kept you for the rest of the night by his side protectively.

But he wasn’t able to stop your mother’s glares.

Because of those, you literally ran away after the Midnight happened and the New Year came, justifying your escape as having to pick Nadia and your mother sent you a little smirk, as if to say ‘see… this is what your life will be like’.

You and Roman had to go through a rather awkward silence as you drove back home, picking up Nadia from Destiny and Peter, the latter being extremely attached to Nadia, joking about not wanting to giver he back.

As you got her back, justifying your sadness as tiredness, you strapped her to the booster set, and after a few minutes of soft giggling, she went back to sleep.

For which you were thankful since you were honestly without a once of energy and Roman was gracious enough to suggest he set down, to let you undress, having half an idea of having a midnight bath.

When Roman came back, you were checking the temperature of the bath, dressed in a simple light robe and your hair were in a quick updo, letting Roman gently caress you from the back of your hair to your spine, a soft thrill of pleasure running down it, with his movements.

“Care to have one more in the bath” he asked, tiredly, although he was well aware that you wouldn’t have pushed him away, even more after a night like that.

“… wouldn’t have it any other way, beloved” you replied, gently grabbing one of his hands, proceeding to undress him with extreme gentleness, and then let him have the privacy to immerge himself in the warm water, as you pushed aside your robe to join him.

“… now I understand what you meant with your parent being ‘too much’” Roman softly joked, as you settled onto his chest, laying comfortably your head against his shoulder.

“I am sorry you had to deal with them” you mumbled, turning lightly to lay a soft kiss onto his neck.

“I am actually the one sorry…” he muttered, and you raised to look at him in the eyes, confused “… I shouldn’t… I come with a shit ton of baggage, that much is true”.

And you softly turned to him, grabbing his face strongly in your hand.

“All my mom said is shit” you mumbled, pushing him lightly on his shoulder “… you and Nadia are not baggage, you’ll never be”.

“No, no… one day you’ll realize that… you fucking deserve better and… I can’t fucking give it to you”.

“You sound like my mother, when you say this” you shot back with an harsh glare at him, as you raised Roman’s chin so that he could see your eyes properly “I am a big girl, I think that I can decide on my own, without anybody telling me what to do”.

“You are ruining your life, with us, babygirl” muttered almost powerless Roman and you just pushed yourself back against his chest, raising lightly water, which splashed slightly outside.

“I don’t think so…” you replied, as your hand slipped to grip his softly “… you have no idea how I feel whenever Nadia smiles at me and giggles with me, it makes me feel the most cherished ever… something that not even my family could give: she is not baggage, she is family”.

“… are you going to quote ‘Lilo and Stitch’” shot back Roman, but his tone held no bite and you simply smirked, leaning down to press a kiss onto his lips “… we are fucked up”.

“… fucked up in this together” you completed, giggling as Roman’s hands started tickling you, making you squish even more water out and you were just able to lightly fight him and giggle.

In the end, your new year had started amazingly.

#roman godfrey #roman godfrey reader #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey fic #roman godfrey fluff #fluff #roman godfrey angst #angst #roman godfrey ask #roman godfrey blurb #roman godfrey drabble #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey oneshot #roman godfrey one shot #hemlock grove #hemlock grove imagine

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tcm · 5 years

Text

Bette Davis and Dark Victory (’39) by Theresa Brown

I was working at my computer one Saturday night a while ago when a friend texted me:

“Prognosis Negative. 8:00pm.”

I stopped what I was doing, shut everything down, turned my TV to TCM and settled into DARK VICTORY (’39). I had a good time with a sad movie about a girl who dies.

The girl? She’s been an old maid, a spinster, a waitress, an alcoholic, a secretary, a tramp, a fashion editor, a murderer, a schoolteacher, a nanny, a mother, a daughter, a half-crazed sister. She’s all those and more. She is Margo Channing. She is fearless. She is The Queen. She is TCM’s Star of the Month: the incomparable Bette Davis. Loving classic films as we do might put us in a niche audience, but anyone over 30 who has ever seen a motion picture at least knows the name Bette Davis. She’s undoubtedly the most famous female in classic films that the general population of today knows. Now if you haven’t seen this film, be forewarned, this review contains SPOILERS. If you do know it, there’ll be no surprises. Come. Walk with me through this movie.

Bette Davis plays socialite Judith Traherne, who goes through denial, grief and then acceptance of the fact she is dying. The movie shows each phase of her experience not in a jagged, disjointed, paint-by-number way, but seamlessly flowing from one situation to the next. We all have to face the inevitable. Me, I refuse to go. Nope, I ain’t goin'! But if I must, this movie might help get me through it. Max Steiner waves his baton over the music score. And director Edmund Goulding keeps it all together...even if by the end, we’re a sobbing mess.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? ~

To start. Judith’s hand-eye coordination has gotten so bad that she’s forced to see a doctor. She puts up a false bravado at Dr. Steele’s office. She rants and rails, but the Doctor (played by dependable George Brent) stays steady, focused and not scared off by this human tornado. He sees through all that and calls her out. The camera frames Davis in profile as she slowly bows her head in acknowledgement of each symptom. She’s broken. She can no longer deny it. Judith finally admits to needing help. Goulding shoots this scene well. Judith is vulnerable and Dr. Steele, commanding.

A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED ~

Hollywood newcomer Geraldine Fitzgerald plays Ann, Judith’s best friend/business manager. (You can hear the hint of the brogue still in her. Fitzgerald’s previous film was WUTHERING HEIGHTS, ‘39). Ann has the tough job; she watches over Judith. She is the Keeper of Secrets. Her eyes don’t leave the doctor for a moment when he tries to examine Judith. She...watches...him. Later, when Ann finds out Judith is not going to make it, Fitzgerald plays the scene in a way that amazed me: her gasp, the air sucked out of her, the tremor in her hands are all subtly done. I’ve replayed that moment a couple of times because Fitzgerald seemed true, genuine and pitch perfect in that moment. Ann had to go through all the emotions Judith will be going through, but she had to go through them all now...this instant. The genius of the film is rather Hitchcockian: we, the audience, are given more information than Judith. And now we are made to watch over Judith too. We hold our collective breath.

I also like how there is just the faintest whiff of jealous rivalry when Judith thinks Ann wants the doctor for herself. On a (very) personal note, what makes me chuckle is watching how the studio tries to tamp down Geraldine Fitzgerald’s looks. What a beautiful girl she was with that deep red hair; I swear you could see it through the black-and-white. I chuckle when I see how they have Fitzgerald in "sensible" shoes or a frock with long sleeves—buttoned up to her collar and down to her hem as if she were a monk—while Bette is in frilly femme-y girly clothes. Fitzgerald’s beauty shines through even if Bette is the Star. Fitzgerald is a good supporting actress. She supports Davis marvelously throughout this entire movie.

PROGNOSIS NEGATIVE ~

To be honest, this is the moment we wait for. It’s a great set-piece. Steiner sets us up on tenterhooks with his music of discovery and realization. Judith sees her file on the doctor’s desk and questions nurse Wainwright (one of my favorite character actresses...Dorothy Peterson) about it. She finds out the truth about her condition. And again, we’re given information some of the film’s characters don't have. Judith knows. And she’s gunning for Ann and the good doctor.

I'M GOING ON A BENDER...JUST TRY AND STOP ME ~

That scene in the restaurant is classic; Judith is a cat toying with two messes before she strikes the fatal blow. Ann and the doctor have no clue WHAT she’s talking about. (Huh? Wha'? Nice try.) Judith feels betrayed, tears 'em both a new one, storms into the night to drink and party and run...run...run away from all this.

The point/counterpoint of the scene, with Judith and her frivolous ritzy crowd with not a serious thought in their rich pointy heads, is good. "Oh give me time," the song goes. Davis uses those great ‘Bette Davis-eyes’ to good effect here. She can’t run. She can’t hide. She knows she is dying. Her eyes go dead. She cares about nothing.

PLEASE, MAKE ME FORGET ~

I’ve heard bones of contention made because Humphrey Bogart plays an Irishman in this, brogue and all. Is he convincing? I dunno. He and Davis appeared in a few Warner Bros. films by the time this film rolled around. (If you get a chance, watch MARKED WOMAN, ‘37.) Michael, the Bogart Irish horse trainer, makes his move on Judith. He’s always liked her, respected her. He’s not afraid of her like those other vanilla milk sops who buzz around her. She encourages his advances, but she comes to realize making out with the lower-class stable hand will not change things or stave off the inevitable. But it was an option she was willing to try. You’ll be the judge if they had chemistry or not or if Bogie is a convincing Irishman.

I’M HAPPY AND CONTENT ~

I love the scenes in Vermont with Judith and her doctor. The betrayal and recriminations are all in the past. They’re married. Judith stops running and lets love wash over her. Here’s another side to Bette. She’s all friendly and warm and giving. She’s sweet and young. She and Brent made several movies together and definitely have good chemistry. As the doctor who falls in love with his patient, he’s totally committed to her. He’s making her happy. And I’m happy Judith is happy. She’s a new woman.

KIBBITZING WITH OLD FRIENDS ~

This is a nice scene of old friends getting together. It’s Judith, Ann and Michael - the horse trainer. I liked Bogie better in THIS scene. Doesn’t he look good with the fedora and trench coat? (He’s going to wear more of this in the coming decade...and with Lauren Bacall waiting in the wings in the mid-40’s). Judith’s got her best buddy up in Vermont for a visit. She’s surrounded by people who care for her. This is a nice moment shot outside.

...BE MY FRIEND ~

What we’re told would happen, is now happening. And both women know it. It’s time. Ann takes it baaadly. Judith still has "noble" work to do to get everyone squared away. Ann holds one more secret and is made to promise not to tell the doctor. GULP! It’s a sad touching scene in the garden...their last together. When Judith sends her away telling Ann she must do this alone, it’s really tough. Nothing maudlin or mawkish. There’s a strength in it. I’m sad watching Ann run down the road, passing laughing children, running to deal with her grief alone. Losing her friend.

I LOVE YOU ~

Here is the moment where Judith totally thinks of others. Steiner doesn’t lay it on thick with harps and violins. His score is understated as it accompanies Judith’s goodbye to her husband. She’s sending him off to a medical conference in New York. She won’t be here when he returns. She puts on that false bravado once again, but this time it’s for him; to give him strength in his future without her. This a very touching scene. When he picks her off the stair-step, has her in his arms and they look out the window together, we know she’s almost totally blind.

Once again, we know more than the character in the movie. For me, this saying goodbye is reminiscent of BRIEF ENCOUNTER (‘45) or THE FALLEN IDOL (’48) where your last goodbye is spoiled by something outside yourselves.

DARK VICTORY is one of the triumphs of Bette Davis’ legendary career. We see different sides of her throughout the film. Yes, we all must face our end alone. We can only hope to leave those left behind in a better place. Stay tuned for Bette Davis every Tuesday this November on TCM. She does a fantastic job showing us her journey.

#Bette Davis #Dark Victory #George Brent #Geraldine Fitzgerald #Humphrey Bogart #classic movies #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #Theresa Brown

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Happy Together : 1

A table for one

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Chapter Summary: The reader goes on a blind date.

Notes: The first few chapters are going to move slow but I promise, there is a pit to this juicy apple. To clarify the setting, Steve Rogers resigned after the Sekovia incident and Accords were put in place and has since found a new, quite prosperous life as a restaurant owner. Random, I know, but I still wanted to keep this tied to the MCU in some way. Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags. <3

Your anxiety flared as you climbed out of the cab, your toe almost catching on the curb as you called to the driver to keep the change. You stepped up on the sidewalk and stared up at the high street moniker of one the city’s hottest restaurants. Bold letters marked its transparent facade; Spice. It wasn’t your first choice; you’d have chose a place more affordable and slightly less intimidating. You weren’t much for formality. Sure, you dressed nicely, making certain that you were pressed and primped, but you were no socialite. You were sure the menu would have you dreading your credit card statement.

You sighed as you resigned yourself and approached the tall glass doors. The early stirs of the evening breeze ruffled your knee-length skirt beneath your pea coat. You gripped the thin leather strap of your purse, the beige leather clutch neutral enough to match the magenta wrap dress Tandi had lent you. Your own wardrobe had long been purged of garments befitting a date. You had sworn off men after your last relationship; almost two years ago and were content to live by your own rules. Your nude heels clicked on the pavement as you pulled the thin metal handle of the door and slipped inside.

You had tried to excuse yourself from the night but Tandi had been insistent. You still weren’t ready for a date, especially a blind date. Even if it led to nothing, you didn’t want your hope to be built up only to find yourself as deflated and depressed as your last boyfriend had left you. ‘Come on. It’s been two years.’ ‘Mike was an asshole.’ ‘You’re too young to be a spinster.’ Tandi’s arguments had thoroughly shamed you into agreeing to the date and you had to admit, your apartment was growing rather lonely these days. Besides, she said Danny was a nice guy. And cute. You had seen his picture and you wouldn’t turn him away without a closer look.

You approached the podium-like desk where the hostess stood. Her sleek blond ponytail made your low chignon seem frumpy. You smiled and greeted her with as strong a voice as you can muster. “Um, reservation for two. Under Y/N.” You watched her scan the tablet for your name and her blue eyes flicked back up to you.

“You’re the first one here,” She announced, “May I take your coat?” She asked and you chewed your lip nervously. You were always painfully early.

“Yes,” You awkwardly removed your coat and dropped your purse in the process. “Please,” You handed her the jacket before retrieving your bag. “Sorry.” She took your coat, retreating to the front closet to hang it with those of other guests and returned to you. She guided you into the dining room, passing the bar lit by pale LEDs and you glanced around nervously at the other diners. They certainly outclassed you.

“This is you.” She waved to a table for two, “Can I get you a drink to start?”

“Just water please,” You answered as you sat. She nodded and turned away, diligently going to get your order. You touched your neck as you looked around, the buzz of voices slightly comforting. The hostess returned, bringing a menu with your wine glass of water and informed you that a server would be with you shortly. You checked the time on your phone. He would likely be there in a few minutes, you told yourself.

The server arrived thereafter and you informed him you were waiting for someone, assuring him you were fine with just your water for now. You bent your ankle, twirling your foot anxiously under the table as the clock ticked by. Ten minutes. Maybe it was traffic. It was Friday night after all. Another ten passed and you spread your fingers over the tablecloth, suppressing a sigh. You took out your phone and saw a message from Tandi.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’ the text read and you swiftly thumbed a response, ‘He’s twenty minutes late.’ Your phone vibrated in your hand as she sent a second message, ‘He’ll be there. Don’t worry.’

You tucked your phone back in your purse and looked around. A proper drink would calm your nerves but you couldn’t find your server. You could flag down another but you didn’t want to treat them like they were interchangeable or inhuman. So you waited, occasionally peeking around for the man in the pressed white button-up. It had been half an hour and you were struggling to sit still. You stared at your phone screen. Nothing.

A shadow moved beside you and you looked up, hopeful that your server had finally return. Instead you found a blonde man, clean shaven with sparkling blue eyes, his hair combed back neatly. He wore a dark blue button-up and a perfectly tailored jacket, emanating an air of authority. As if no one had ever told him no. You recognized him but he wasn’t Danny.

“Have you been helped?” He asked with a flawless smile, “You look a little...lost.”

“Um, my date is just late. I wanted to, um, get a drink,” You said meekly, touching your jaw nervously as you spoke. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers and you quickly rescinded them, tucking your hand under the other.

“I can get that for you,” He offered, “We’re a bit busy tonight so forgive my servers for forgetting you. What will we have?”

“Um, I…” You took the oblong wine menu in hand and opened it, the words all gibberish to you. You usually just grabbed the wine you could afford off the shelf. “I…” You scanned the French titles and pressed your lips together, trying to hide your shock at the price of a single glass.

“May I make a suggestion?” He filled the void and you nodded, looking up at him once more. “Do you prefer red or white?”

“Red,” You answered, trying to seem unfazed by his presence. You weren’t expecting to be served by the boss and your situation was not making you any less bothered.

“The merlot is nice and rich but not too strong,” He explained, “My personal favourite. I have it imported for the restaurant on my own dime. No other in New York serves it.”

“Um, I’ll try that then,” You snapped closed the menu, flinching at the noise as you hadn’t meant to shut it so harshly. “Thank you.”

“Not at all, I’ll be back,” He marched away from you towards the bar and you stood slightly to look over your shoulder and the other patrons. Another fifteen minutes and you’d just accept that you had been stood up. The realization made your cheeks burn and you took out your phone once more, typing a quick message to Tandi, ‘He stood me up.’

The owner returned and set the glass before you with the same smile as before. He was even more handsome than the man who was supposed to be here with you. “Thank you,” You mumbled as you pinched the stem between three fingers.

“You’re welcome,” He chimed, “Anything else I can do for you?”

“N-no,” You stuttered, trying to hide the humiliation skittering up your neck. “Thanks. I’m okay.”

“I’ll be back to check on you, alright?” He assured and you nodded, watching him as he went.

It was nice to be treated kindly, even if it was the man’s livelihood. Hell, he didn’t even have to be cordial. He owned the place. Shit, he more than owned the place. He was a former Avenger, renowned around the world. Steve Rogers had saved the entire city from ruin and was a king among the masses. After the incident in Sekovia, he had retired, and many pondered at his new choice in vocation. You gathered it had been a thoughtful decision as he hadn’t ever lived a normal life. Yet, even in his own day, there were restaurants and it was simple enough to know what tasted good and what didn’t.

When the fifteen minutes had passed and you had been sitting there for a whole hour, you checked your phone and it was still lifeless. Your glass empty, you stood and headed for the washrooms, hiding in the narrow hallway just next to the kitchen. You dialed Tandi’s number, your head swimming with hurt. The ringing echoed in your ears and finally she answered.

“He fucking stood me up, Tandi!” You hissed, keeping your voice low. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, hun, I didn’t think--He hasn’t said anything to me,” She said sympathetically, “Just...oh, oh...uhhh…”

“What is it?” You asked, swallowing stiffly as tears threatened to rise. You were completely embarrassed.

“N-nothing,” She sputtered and you huffed at her poor attempt at lying.

“Just tell me,” You looked over your shoulder as a server exited the kitchen, the door swinging noisily behind him.

“He, um, just posted a Snap,” She admitted quietly, “He’s at The Pillar.”

“Oh my god,” You touched your forehead. Don’t cry. You didn’t even know the guy. He was a complete stranger and it was better that he stayed that way. “I’m never doing this again, you go that? I’m too old for this childish bullshit.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I--” She replied desperately.

“It’s not your fault,” You interrupted her, “It’s his for being a jackass.” You crossed your free arm across your middle and turned towards the dining room, “I gotta go.”

You didn’t wait for her response as you walked back to your table and sat, slipping your phone back in your purse and pulling out your wallet. You were just going to go home and forget about this. You tried not to frown, a neutral expression was enough to get you through. You sensed movement and looked up as Steve approached once more, his eyes on your empty glass. “Would you like a refill?”

“No, I’m good thank you,” You opened your wallet and dug out some cash, more than enough for the wine but you wouldn’t stiff the owner on a tip. “It seems there’s been a change in plan,” You gave a poor excuse for a smile and stood, holding out the money. “You were right. The wine was good.”

“It’s on me,” He gently pushed away your hand, “You sure you’re not hungry? We have some great specials.”

You stifled a dry laugh. “I appreciate you being so nice but I’ve lost my appetite,” You couldn’t help the edge to your voice, “Really, thank you.”

“No worries,” He turned his palms out in a placating manner, “Maybe come back sometime...when you’re hungrier?”

“Yeah, maybe,” You fibbed. You didn’t have the money or the pride to return. “Thanks, again.”

“Have a good night,” He smiled and stood back, letting you pass as he watched you intently. There was something about him that tickled your nerves. He seemed friendly enough but there was more to it. It was almost like he was wearing a mask. Something more than the typical customer service act. You could feel his eyes follow you until you had passed the bar and turned the corner to the front desk. You requested your coat from the hostess and waited for her to find your plain pea coat. It was nothing, you told yourself. He was just being nice. Being stood up had just put you off.

tags: @ruff-m3rc @alexakeyloveloki @lanabanana-86 @sathlens @jessieray98 @kellyn1604 @ahideousthinginside @ironlady1993 @kloe-iel

#steve x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve #dark!fic #fic #series #happy together #mcu #marvel #steve rogers x reader

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entwinedmoon · 4 years

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John Torrington: Family Ties

(Previous posts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

When Torrington sailed off into the frozen sunset, he left behind his sister, parents, and two stepbrothers. He probably also left behind friends and co-workers. Maybe even a pet. He was unmarried, but he could have had a significant other waiting for him. However, we don’t know anything about his friends, co-workers, pets, or lovers. His family, on the other hand, we know about for sure, and while we don’t know the sort of relationship he had with any of them, we do know he allotted a significant amount of his pay to his stepmother, so they must have been close enough for him to contribute that much from his own earnings.

How his family responded to the news of his death, I don’t know. It’s something I think about a lot. But his family had to move on, and they did, living their lives without him as best they could. What happened to Torrington’s family after he left? Are there any living relatives today who remember him?

When Owen Beattie prepared to exhume the bodies on Beechey Island, he first sought out permission from descendants and relatives. I sometimes see people summarize Beattie’s attempts by saying that he did get permission from the descendants. But that is not what happened.

Beattie published a short article in The Times, a major newspaper in London, asking for any relatives to contact him. Exactly what he said in this article I do not know, and trust me, I’ve tried to find it through the Times’s archives. Whatever the article said, it didn’t refer to Torrington by name, or it would have shown up in my searches. This article was the method he used in his attempts to contact the descendants of the Beechey Boys, according to Beattie’s book, Frozen in Time. And he received no response.

Later, some of Hartnell’s relatives contacted him, after the pictures from the first round of exhumations were published in newspapers and magazines, but relatives of Torrington and Braine never contacted him. That means Torrington’s relatives did not give permission to have his body exhumed. Torrington became well known after photos of his mummified body were spread around the world through various media outlets, so at this point, if there are any relatives of his still alive, it’s odd that none have come forward.

The silence from the Torrington descendants could be explained in a number of ways. Here are the most likely possibilities, in my opinion:

There are no living Torrington relatives.

There are living Torrington relatives, but they don’t know they’re related to him.

There are living Torrington relatives who know they’re related to him, but they never saw Beattie’s article and they have yet to hear anything about the exhumations on Beechey.

There are living Torrington relatives who know they’re related to him and they did find out about the exhumations, but they don’t want to come forward for personal reasons.

The easiest way to answer this riddle would be to trace Torrington’s family to the modern day, a project I’ve been working on off and on for the past year. I’m 99% sure there are living relatives, but I haven’t actually found them yet. I still have a lot of branches of the family tree to verify, and that could take a while.

If Torrington does have living relatives, they wouldn’t be his direct descendants because he never had children, unless he had a secret love child we don’t know about. Any living relatives of his would have to be from either his extended family, such as his cousins, or through his sister, Esther. I have yet to be able to determine who is grandparents were, so I can’t trace his extended family, which makes Esther my best bet for trying to trace the Torrington family line. Luckily, Esther is much easier to find in the archives than her brother.

John Torrington left his home behind for good on May 19, 1845. A year and a day later, his sister got married. On May 20, 1846, Esther Shaw Torrington married Thomas Burgess in Ashton-under-Lyne. Thomas’s occupation is listed as a piecer—the same occupation the Hoyle brothers had in the 1841 census. His father, Robert, is listed as a mechanic. Esther’s father, William, is still a coachman. Esther could not sign her name, but Thomas could.

It’s interesting that Esther is living in Ashton now. Her stepmother is from there, and if the James and William Hoyle in the 1841 census are the right Hoyles, then her stepbrothers were probably living there at the time as well. But why was Esther, a single woman (or “spinster,” as it says on the marriage certificate), living there when Mary’s address in the allotment book was still in Manchester? Did Ashton have better work opportunities? Better air? Esther has no occupation listed on her marriage certificate, but many working-class women worked, both before marriage and after. She probably had a job, but it didn’t get mentioned on the marriage certificate because women’s jobs weren’t usually recorded. Was she working in Ashton? Staying with her stepbrothers? What brought her there?

Perhaps what brought her there was Thomas. Thomas Burgess was baptized January 1, 1826, in Ashton-under-Lyne, the son of Robert and Anne Burgess. Robert was a joiner in 1826, which is a type of carpenter. By 1841, Robert had become a mechanic, and all three of his sons, including 15-year-old Thomas, had become cotton piecers.

There are many possible ways for Esther and Thomas to have met, but of course I’m going to look at all the similar pieces and try to cram them together. William and James Hoyle were piecers in Ashton. Thomas Burgess and his brothers were piecers in Ashton. Maybe Esther met Thomas through her stepbrothers and moved to Ashton be get married. Or maybe she’d already moved to Ashton and Thomas never knew her brothers. It’s all just speculation, but sometimes speculation can land at the right spot.

Another piece of speculation I can’t help but consider is whether Esther thought of her brother John on the day of her marriage or not. Was she disappointed he wasn’t there? Did they toast to his health in his absence? Had John met Thomas before leaving, or had Esther met him only in the past year? Did Esther dictate a letter to tell John about her marriage? Was the letter waiting for John with the good news, a letter he would never read because he was already buried in the frozen ground on Beechey? Best not to speculate too long on that…

Esther shows up next in the 1851 census, and I love Esther because, out of all the Torringtons, she’s the only one who consistently shows up in the census records starting with this year. To make things even easier, Esther not only stays in the census from here on out, she also stays in Ashton-under-Lyne. In 1851, Esther and Thomas are living with his parents. Robert is back to being a joiner, and both Esther and Thomas are employed in the cotton industry.

I think Thomas is a cotton spinner, and I want to say Esther is a cotton carder, but it’s hard for me to decipher the handwriting. They don’t have children yet, but they may be refraining from starting their own family until they are able to support themselves. Or maybe they just haven’t had any luck yet.

By 1861, they’ve moved out on their own, but Esther is incorrectly listed as “Hester,” which made me almost miss this census record.

It looks like Thomas isn’t here, but don’t worry, he’s alive and well, he’s just on the previous page of the record book.

Thomas and Esther—sorry, Hester—are living on Cotton St in Ashton-under-Lyne. Thomas is now a flour carter, and Esther is a housewife raising three young daughters, Eliza, Sarah, and Mary J. Three kids since the last census, congrats Esther and Thomas! But let’s back up a bit.

Eliza is listed as their oldest child at age 7 in 1861. Eliza was baptized March 19, 1854, (fun fact, Franklin’s crew would be officially declared dead on March 31, 1854—okay, maybe that’s not such a fun fact). Her baptism registry also lists her birthday as February 14. Thomas is listed as a painter, but a painter of what? I doubt this means he became an artist. There were plenty of things that needed to be painted—from houses to coaches—so he probably did something more along those lines rather than portraits or landscapes.

When I first saw that Esther and Thomas didn’t have their first child until eight years after they got married, I thought that sounded off. Why would they wait so long? After doing some digging, I realized they hadn’t waited.

Two years earlier, on July 24, 1852, Esther gave birth to a baby girl, Sarah Ann. Sarah Ann was baptized on August 22 that year. At this point, Thomas is still a cotton spinner.

I assume the name Sarah Ann is in honor of their mothers—Esther’s birth mother, Sarah, and Thomas’s mother, Anne (way better combo than Renesmee). You may have noticed that Esther and Thomas had a daughter named Sarah in the 1861 census, but that she was only four. Sarah Ann should have been nine in the census. Why are there two vastly different ages for Sarah? That would be because this isn’t the same Sarah.

Sarah Ann died in 1853, at only six months old. She was buried on February 13. A year and a day later, Eliza would be born.

Sarah Ann is the only child from before Eliza that I’ve been able to find, but that’s not saying there weren’t more. Actually, while I was double checking that last sentence, I stumbled across another possible child of Esther and Thomas—Henry Burgess, born January 4, 1850, and died sometime in the quarter of Oct-Nov-Dec that same year. However, a quick check on the UK General Register Office website says that the maiden name for the mother of this Henry Burgess was Lee, and there was an Esther Lee from Ashton-under-Lyne, so this might be a false alarm. But it’s yet another avenue I’ll want to explore before dismissing completely. SEE UPDATE FOR MORE INFO!

Esther and Thomas’s second daughter named Sarah was born May 27, 1856, and she was baptized on September 21. Thomas is listed as a bobbin painter, which must have been the type of painter he was when Eliza was born too.

Their next daughter, Mary Jane, was born June 26, 1859, and was baptized August 21. Most of my genealogy work happens on Ancestry, but they don’t have a copy of Mary Jane’s baptism registry. I have her birth certificate on order, but it won’t get here before this post is published, so I can’t say if Thomas was still a painter or if he’d moved on to his 1861 occupation of flour carter.

In 1862, Esther and Thomas welcomed a son, Thomas, on June 7. He was baptized on July 27.

Thomas’s occupation looks like “Larter,” although I can’t find information on what that would be. At first, I thought the “L” was actually a “C.” That would have made him a “Carter,” the same occupation he had in 1861, but there’s another record that looks like it clearly says “Larter.”

Esther and Thomas had another daughter, Anne, born on September 15, 1865, and baptized October 29. Thomas’s occupation really looks like “Larter” here, but what is a larter?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Whatever it might be (SEE UPDATE), he’s not one by the next census in 1871.

Thomas is now a bookkeeper in a painter’s business. Eliza and Sarah are working as cotton weavers while Mary and Thomas Jr. are in school. Unfortunately, tragedy strikes the next year. In 1872, Thomas passes away on September 15, at only 46 years old.

What did he die of?

Lead poisoning.

I admit I had a minor freak out when I saw lead poisoning was the cause of Esther’s husband’s death, considering the role it is suspected to have played in her brother’s death as well. But Thomas and John died twenty-six years apart and may never have met, so this is simply a coincidence—but what a coincidence.

How did Thomas get lead poisoning though? My bet is on paint. In the Victorian era, some paint was lead-based, and Thomas had worked as a painter and then in a paint business as a bookkeeper. He could have easily been exposed to lead-based paint to a toxic degree.

But there was some happy news for Esther the next year. Her oldest surviving daughter, Eliza, married John Thomas Manifield on August 19, 1873. Eliza’s father is listed as being a bookkeeper despite being deceased by this point. It also says that Eliza is 20 when she should only be 19 in 1873, but this does look like the right Eliza, and there’s another record from a few years later that pretty much confirms it. I’ll get to that in a little bit.

There’s more good news in 1874—or I think it’s good news. It seems like Esther started marrying her daughters off quick after Thomas’s death, because Sarah got hitched on November 14 to a twenty-one-year-old man named Arthur Dale. Sarah’s father is still listed as a bookkeeper, despite being dead for two years. There’s also an age discrepancy issue with this marriage certificate that almost made me discard it as not being the right Sarah.

Sarah’s age is listed as 20, but she was born in 1856, which means she should have been only 18. Did she age herself up on purpose? In the 1881 census, her age is 26, which is still too old, but in 1891 her age is 34, which would coincide with being born in May of 1856 (the census took place in April). So, I think this is the right Sarah Burgess, but either she lied on her marriage certificate—and the next census—or she gave the wrong age by accident. She couldn’t sign her name, meaning she was probably illiterate, so she also probably couldn’t do math, and maybe by 1891 someone had finally corrected her. Who knows!

Unfortunately, the next record I found is a sad one. Esther Torrington Burgess died September 19, 1878, at age 51. If I’m reading the death certificate correctly, I believe she died of a combination of uterine cancer and phthisis—aka tuberculosis. John Thomas Manifield, her son-in-law, signed as being present at the time of death, which is how I know the marriage certificate for Eliza belongs to the right Eliza.

Eliza and Sarah were both married at this point, but I don’t know what happened to Mary. There are too many Mary Burgesses—including one born in Ashton-under-Lyne in 1860, a year after Mary Jane, making it nearly impossible to be sure which records are for the right one. There was one Mary Burgess who ended up in a convalescent home, but it might be the other Mary.

As for Thomas Jr. and Anne, they were still underage, and they ended up in the care of their uncle John Burgess by the time of the 1881 census.

I haven’t had a chance to do much research into this next generation of Torringtons as of this time. I do know that Eliza and John Thomas immigrated to America at some point after the 1881 census—but then she died in 1890 from cancer. She didn’t have any children, and John Thomas Manifield would remarry the next year and live out the rest of his life in America.

I’ve started research into Sarah but am not close to finishing. All I can say at this point is that Sarah Burgess Dale had at least six children, possibly as many as ten, although they didn’t all survive to adulthood. I’ve found her in a family tree on Ancestry, but those aren’t always accurate, so I need to verify all the children first before climbing further out onto that limb. But if there are any living Torrington relatives, I have a feeling a good portion of them are probably from the Dale family.

I can’t say much about Mary because, like I said, there are too many Marys to track her down. And I haven’t had a chance to do much research into Thomas and Anne yet because I’d hoped to finish my research into Sarah before moving on to them. Although, I did find some records for Anne when casually searching for Burgesses (she may have married a man with an unusual name, making it easy to find—thank you, Anne!), but I want to go through them carefully first before announcing anything as fact.

But what happened to John Torrington’s parents and stepbrothers?

Well, as for his stepbrothers, I haven’t had much of a chance to look into them yet. From what I’ve found, William Hoyle is too common of a name, and yet I can’t seem to find one born in the right area. He’s a ghost who disappeared from the records as far as I can tell. Either that, or he’s the William Hoyle who had a problem with stealing things and got shipped off to Australia.

For James Warren Hoyle, so far I know that he got married and became a fruiterer (fruit salesmen). But it looks like he died in 1864, according to a probate record. There are a couple James Hoyles out there—and it looks like two of them married women named Jane, which is not helpful—but the probate record says James Warren Hoyle, and that has to be Mary Torrington’s boy.

Speaking of Mary Torrington, she and her husband are also difficult to track. There’s a census record from 1861 that I think might be for them, but I can’t be sure.

Mary looks right—she would have been about 64 and she’s from Ashton-under-Lyne, so her info checks out, which means this should be the right William, but I don’t know when or where William was born, so I can’t be sure. But if it’s him, he’s had a change of occupation. After decades of being a coachman, he’s now a tea and coffee dealer. They’re also not in Manchester, but St George Hanover Square. That’s the same place the other John Torrington, JT1, was staying in the 1841 census. Could this be his parents? They were also named Mary and William. I really don’t know if these are the right Torringtons or not.

But I did find the death certificate for Mary.

Mary Torrington died August 8, 1866, at age 69. She’s listed as the widow of William Torrington, so he must have died at some point before this date. William the tea and coffee dealer died in 1862, so if that’s the same William, he died four years earlier. It looks like Mary had been living with Esther because she died at her house. Esther signed the certificate with her mark. At this point, Esther had lost her birth mother, her brother, her father, and now her stepmother. At least one of her stepbrothers has also died. In six years, she would lose her husband too.

Esther had a rough life, losing at least one child and outliving most of her family. I hope that in my search for her brother’s legacy, I can honor hers as well.

Next: An afterlife of sorts for John Torrington—the pictures from his exhumation living on in the media.

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Torrington Series Masterlist

#john torrington #franklin expedition

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haledamage · 5 years

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yay, writing! Chapter 2 of my Cait Cousland/Nathaniel Howe fic, and what looks like it’s going to be a long story after all. Takes place after this one. Someone help me name this damn thing so I can put it on AO3

Cathain hated Amaranthine, and hated Vigil's Keep most of all. Every inch of it felt steeped in history, in the combined legacy of the Howes and Couslands. Every room held a memory, of summers and holidays and dinners and parties. Of mornings with Thomas and afternoons with Delilah and nights with Nathaniel. Cait's bedroom still smelled like Delilah's favorite perfume. All their things had been removed, but the feeling behind them remained, drifting through the halls like ghosts. And through it all Nathaniel loomed, a living, scowling specter from a different life. He didn't speak, not to the others and especially not to her, but she could always feel him there. He was in her periphery as she spoke to Veral about deploying Wardens to surrounding lands, hiding among the stacks as she perused the library, waiting in the hallway as she headed to her room for the night.

Once, frustrated and more than a little tipsy, Cait leaned against her door and demanded, "Are you waiting for an invitation, Nate? You never needed one before." He didn't stop looming after that, but he did it a little farther away, giving her more space. She tried not to be disappointed. After three weeks, Cait had had enough. She wandered into the cellar under the pretense of exploration, listening for quiet footsteps on the stairs behind her as Nathaniel followed her down. It had been outfitted as an area for sparring and close-combat training. Straw mats covered the floor to soften falls and polished wooden weapons of all shapes and sizes lined the back wall for practicing armed fighting. Best of all, it was empty. "What is this?" He asked quietly from the doorway. It was the first time he'd said anything to her since the Joining. Cathain kept her back to him, pretending to test the balance of a couple of daggers. Over her shoulder, she said, "I need to blow off a little steam. All this time in the Vigil is making me feel restless. I thought I could take it out on one of the dummies down here." "There aren't any dummies down here." "There's you," she said with a sly grin. He huffed a laugh, the sound surprised out of him, and she grinned wider. She grabbed a longsword and tossed it toward him. He caught it almost absentmindedly. "This was your plan all along," Nathaniel growled, but he stepped onto the mat across from her as he did. She tried not to notice how broad his shoulders were from years wielding a bow. "I had other plans, but I figured you'd be averse." Cait spun the daggers in her hands and stood on her toes, ready to move quickly when she needed to. He tried not to notice the toned muscles of her arms from years of swordplay. Nathaniel lunged at her without warning. He was faster than she expected, but she was faster still and managed to sidestep the first swing of the blade. In the opening he left, she brought a dagger up toward his ribs, but he knocked it away with a quick strike to her elbow. She danced backwards a couple steps and waited. He wasn't as angry as Cathain had anticipated. She'd expected that hatred she'd seen from him that night in the prison; the whole plan had been to help him work that off so they could make some progress towards civility, but it seemed to have mostly simmered away over the weeks since. Nathaniel was aggressive, sure, but not in a way that said he wanted to hurt her, just in a way that said he wanted to win. He was good. Larger and stronger than she was, but also nearly as fast. He was smart, calculating, and willing to fight dirty. No wonder Varel's men had had trouble with him. He feigned a leg sweep, changing at the last second to land a solid blow in her stomach. "I came here to kill you, you know," he murmured in her ear as she doubled over. "Don't worry," she rasped, trapping his sword against her stomach and using the opening to strike hard under his shoulder joint. He grunted and stepped back from her. "I don't take it personally. Some of my best friends have tried to kill me." That made him pause, and she tried to exploit the opening to get a few hits in, but he moved almost instinctively to block her attempt. "What makes you think I won't try to kill you now?" It was an empty threat, either a test or an attempt to drop her guard. Progress. Cait smirked, unable to catch her breath enough to laugh. "You're welcome to try." He lunged again, but instead of sidestepping she moved forward, getting under his guard. She flowed around him and brought the pommel of her dagger down on the back of his neck. He collapsed to the mat. "When you're done, maybe we can sit down and actually talk about this." He rolled onto his back and stabbed up toward her. She only barely dodged in time. "There is nothing to talk about," Nathaniel said as he climbed to his feet. "Right," Cathain said. One of her hands was numb; she dropped the blade it held and kicked it away. "Nothing. Certainly not the eight years since we last saw each other. Or the fact that we're here beating each other up instead of any of the much more pleasant ways I always imagined this reunion going." Nathaniel roared and rushed at her again and she was too slow to dodge. It was all she could do to get her one remaining blade up between them before he shoved her hard against the wall, practice sword to her throat. "I win," he growled breathlessly. "Are you sure?" Cathain pressed her wooden dagger a little harder into his ribs where she held it in the minuscule space between them. If this had been a real fight, with real blades, they'd both be dead. They stayed there for several long moments, faces inches apart and breath loud in the empty room. She couldn't read the look on his face. He looked like he wanted to press his sword closer until she couldn't breathe. He looked like he wanted to kiss her. He looked like he wanted to keep fighting. He looked like he wanted to run. In the end, he did none of those things. He dropped his sword to the floor with a clatter and pulled away from her enough to lean against the wall next to her. He slid down it to sit. After a second of hesitation, she sat next to him. Now that they were here, Cathain didn't know where to start. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to justify her actions. She wanted to tell him that she missed him. She did none of those things, instead just letting the silence build between them. "I've been speaking with your… Zevran," Nathaniel said softly. He sounded so weary; Cait clenched her fists in her lap to stop herself from reaching out to him out of habit. "He told me a little about what happened in Highever. About… what my father did. Was he exaggerating?" Cathain leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. "Probably not. I'm sorry." "I'm sorry too," Nathaniel said. She could feel his eyes on her, but kept hers closed. "You've never given me reason not to trust you before, I just didn't want to believe my father could be capable of... something like that. I've been cruel and stubborn. You deserve better." "You've always been stubborn," she smiled slightly and was gratified when he chuckled. "You deserve better too. From me, and from the King, and from the Grey Wardens. Your family shouldn't have to suffer because of your father's actions." He didn't say anything in response, but Cait didn't really expect him to. The tension he'd been carrying had finally left him and the silence between them was almost comfortable; that was enough for now. She heard a small thud as his head hit the wall next to hers. Nathaniel’s voice was very low and very close when he spoke again. "This isn't how I pictured you becoming Arlessa of Amaranthine." That made her sit up and look at him. He was the picture of relaxation, head tilted back and forearms resting on his knees, but she could see the shrewdness in his half-closed eyes. The way he studied her made warmth bloom in her chest. "Obviously," Cathain said too quickly, but with thankfully just enough glibness, "once we got too old for suitors to be interested, Delilah and I were going to get married and rule Amaranthine as spinsters together." Nathaniel laughed, a full and joyous sound that made the room a little brighter simply by merit of its existence. "And what age were you when you came up with this foolproof plan?" "We were 10, and the plan was very sound, thank you," Cait tried to look offended, but his laughter was infectious. "It held up well until one summer Fergus and I came to visit and your voice had changed and you were a foot taller. It was all downhill from there." His eyes were still full of laughter and a warmth that had been missing the last few weeks. "I'm sorry to have ruined all your plans, but I'm afraid I don't regret it." His smile faded into a look of contemplation. "Have you heard from Delilah since…" he trailed off, but she understood. There were a lot of things that could be since… and none of them were pleasant. She shook her head. "Not in a few years, actually. I was going to ask Zevran to look for her while he's in town." A look of panic crossed Nathaniel's face and Cait held up her hands. "Not like that! I just mean he's very good at finding people." Nathaniel thought about that for a moment. Finally, he asked "And you trust him? Even though he tried to kill you?" "Technically, he didn't try to kill me. Loghain tried to kill me and used Zev to do it," she knew it was splitting hairs, but the difference was important to her. She added, "But yes, I trust him. More than most." "Loghain sent assassins after you," he said incredulously, "and you traveled with him as well?" "I… yes. It sounds kind of reckless when you put it like that." Cathain felt strangely defensive of the former teryn; Loghain had made some very poor decisions in the name of good intentions, but they'd grown to understand each other and even, after a time, become close friends. "Some of your best friends have tried to kill you, indeed," Nathaniel chuckled. "I guess I thought you were joking." He dropped the subject, though, and instead climbed to his feet with a groan. "Maker's blood, I think I'm made of more bruises than skin. You sure know how to put a man in his place." "You needed someone to knock some sense into you," she said as he offered her a hand and helped her to her feet. "Maybe you shouldn't have led with 'I came here to kill you' and I would have gone easier on you." The smile was gone from Nathaniel's face as if it had never been there. "Caitie, I'm--" She put a hand on his chest and shoved him lightly, just enough to knock him off balance. "Nathaniel Howe, if you apologize to me again, I'm going to knock you around the mat for another round." He stepped forward into her personal space, catching her hand and holding it against his chest, where she had minutes ago held a blade on him. She could feel his heartbeat through her palm. His eyes and voice were intense when he said, "I'm sorry, Caitie." Cathain tried to shove him again, but this time he didn't budge. She sighed; she didn’t have the energy left to fight him on this. It was hard to stay properly righteous when he was so close. "We both screwed up, okay? Let's just… start over." "Start over," Nathaniel mused. The look on his face was somewhere between awe and skepticism until it spread into a rare, gentle smile. "As you wish." He was still quiet around Vigil's Keep after that. He still stalked the edges of her vision as she went about the business of being Commander and Arlessa and rebuilding the damage done by war and neglect to both the keep and to the people. He no longer maintained a hostile silence, however, occasionally offering advice or a dry quip; once, he even attempted conversation with Anders. But mostly he just watched and waited, never too close but never far away. When finally, finally, things had settled down at the Vigil enough for her to pursue interests outside the keep, Cait found Nathaniel waiting for her outside her room. He was in his armor, bow strung and slung over his shoulder. As soon as he saw her, he growled, "I'm going with you." She fought to keep her face serious. "You don't even know where we're going." "Doesn't matter. I'm going with you." She pretended to think it over, as if she hadn't already planned to ask him along. As if she had ever even considered leaving him behind. "Tell Anders and Oghren to suit up. We leave in 20." Nathaniel gave her shoulder a quick, friendly squeeze. "Thank you," he said. Cathain wasn't sure what he was thanking her for, exactly, but he was gone before she could ask. She watched the empty hallway for a long minute before she went to her room to get dressed. Her shoulder was still warm where he'd touched her, and for the first time in a long time she felt something like hope.

#dragon age awakening #dragon age origins awakening #nathaniel howe #cousland/nathaniel howe #cait cousland #cait/nate #I wish I could draw #I want to draw that whole fight scene!#this was a lot of fun to write

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cherichoate · 5 years

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Peter Pan: Quotes that Reveal the Characters

About Mr. Darling:

“The way Mr. Darling won her was this: the many gentlemen who had been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously that they loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to her except Mr. Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so he got her” (1).

“It was dreadful the way all the three were looking at him, just as if they did not admire him. "Look here, all of you," he said entreatingly, as soon as Nana had gone into the bathroom. "I have just thought of a splendid joke. I shall pour my medicine into Nana's bowl, and she will drink it, thinking it is milk!” (12-13).

About Mrs. Darling:

“Mrs. Darling was married in white, and at first she kept the books perfectly, almost gleefully, as if it were a game, not so much as a Brussels sprout was missing; but by and by whole cauliflowers dropped out, and instead of them there were pictures of babies without faces. She drew them when she should have been totting up. They were Mrs. Darling's guesses” (1).

About Wendy:

“Wendy's favourite time for sewing and darning was after they had all gone to bed. Then, as she expressed it, she had a breathing time for herself; and she occupied it in making new things for them, and putting double pieces on the knees, for they were all most frightfully hard on their knees.”

“When she sat down to a basketful of their stockings, every heel with a hole in it, she would fling up her arms and exclaim, Oh dear, I am sure I sometimes think spinsters are to be envied!’” (55-56).

About Peter Pan:

"Eventually Peter would dive through the air, and catch Michael just before he could strike the sea, and it was lovely the way he did it; but he always waited till the last moment, and you felt it was his cleverness that interested him and not the saving of human life. Also he was fond of variety, and the sport that engrossed him one moment would suddenly cease to engage him, so there was always the possibility that the next time you fell, he would let you go” (28).

“He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he had been saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what it was, or he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not be able to say for certain what had been happening (30).

About James Hook:

“His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly” (38).

“He was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew” (38).

About Tinker Bell:

"Tink," said Peter amiably, "this lady says she wishes you were her fairy."

Tinker Bell answered insolently.

"What does she say, Peter?"

He had to translate. "She is not very polite. She says you are a great [huge] ugly girl, and that she is my fairy.

He tried to argue with Tink. "You know you can't be my fairy, Tink, because I am a gentleman and you are a lady."

To this Tink replied in these words, "You silly ass," and disappeared into the bathroom” (20-21).

“Tink was not all bad; or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change, only it must be a complete change. At present she was full of jealousy of Wendy” (35).

About the Narrator:

“You see, the woman had no proper spirit. I had meant to say extraordinarily nice things about her; but I despise her, and not one of them will I say now. She does not really need to be told to have things ready, for they are ready. All the beds are aired, and she never leaves the house, and observe, the window is open. For all the use we are to her, we might well go back to the ship. However, as we are here we may as well stay and look on. That is all we are, lookers-on. Nobody really wants us. So let us watch and say jaggy things, in the hope that some of them will hurt” (115).

“Now that we look at her closely and remember the gaiety of her in the old days, all gone now just because she has lost her babes, I find I won't be able to say nasty things about her after all. If she was too fond of her rubbishy children, she couldn't help it. Look at her in her chair, where she has fallen asleep. The corner of her mouth, where one looks first, is almost withered up. Her hand moves restlessly on her breast as if she had a pain there. Some like Peter best, and some like Wendy best, but I like her best. Suppose, to make her happy, we whisper to her in her sleep that the brats are coming back” (116-117).

* I chose to include quotes that seems to reveal the character of the narrator because there is much in the narrator’s voice that reminds me of Peter Pan. In one breath, the narrator insists that there was little redeemable about Mrs. Darling. He goes so far as to say, “...I despise her.” Yet, in the next breath, the narrator, as fickle as Peter, insists that between Peter, Wendy, and Mrs. Darling, “...I like her [Mrs. Darling] best” (117).

Deeper Character Analysis: Peter Pan

Peter Pan is, as it should be, perhaps the most enigmatic character in the book, Peter Pan. Not only is he a character full of contradictions, he seems to be the embodiment of both innocent (yet impish) children and loyal dogs, eager to forgive and forget an injury inflicted by a person he is fond of. And yet, the one person that children universally love and forgive most is the one person that Peter begrudges: his mother. Still, the need for a mother is there for Peter. His primary justification for tricking Wendy into going with him to Neverland is to provide a mother for the Lost Boys--a mother who can tell them bedtime stories. Peter displays naivety and innocence in his acceptance of what it means to be given a kiss and in his reaction to having lost his shadow. Like a little boy overwrought by the loss of something important to him, Peter cries over the loss of his shadow (even though he denies he’d been crying when Wendy tries to console him). In contrast to the image of innocence, Peter seems to have no concept of guilt when he injures or even kills another. The narrator says of Peter Pan:

Like Mark Twain’s clever, mischievous Tom Sawyer, Peter Pan’s only desire is to shed himself of responsibility and to enjoy adventure, even though it may be at the expense of others. One can imagine Pan gleefully standing by and watching as Tom tricks the gullible neighborhood children into white-washing Aunt Polly’s fence in his place.

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archivednimueries · 5 years

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👀 dr. lestrange : D

a c c e p t i n g ➟ send 👀 for a drabble of the first time my muse saw yours

rodolphus . // @knowshisown

To say that this was the first time she’d seen Dr. Lestrange would actually be a lie. Some eight years ago it had been nigh impossible to turn on a television screen or take a glance at the front pages of the papers without seeing his dark eyes staring back into your soul. Of course, she’d been much younger then, no longer a little girl frightened by the things that lurked in the dark but not quite woman enough to find him as handsome or as luridly enticing as some of her teachers and neighbors ( the self-ascribed spinsters and starving wives in loveless marriages ) had. If anything, she remembered his voice best. She’d sat through the entire televised trial, just waiting for him to talk.

Nimue had also seen his face in the pages of her textbooks and littered about campus here and there. Director Merlin liked to hang up newspaper clippings, various medallions, and endless accolades from his past exploits like hunting trophies. To the new initiates, they were something to aspire to; to the tried and true; they were something to pass by without a second thought. They were a lot like the withering hero in that way.

On the car ride over, his picture had stared up at her from the seat of the passenger’s side along with the endless papers that made up his case file. Occasionally, the blonde had found the time or the reason to glance over at it. There were other photos too, of course. His exploits. His victims. Merlin had made sure to stock her with enough none too subtle reassurances that Dr. Lestrange was a dangerous man whom she was meant to fear and despise. This was something that Dr. Fletcher had also made certain to do upon her arrival at the asylum, endowed with his endless polaroids and grainy camera footage of past violences committed by the subject of her visit.

A frightened girl is one that listens to her elders. Perhaps they were hoping that with any luck she’d take to leaning on the shoulders of slavering old men in an attempt to shield her eyes from the boogeyman. ( Little did either of them know, Nimue had been the type of little girl that kept her closet open and stared down the shadows until the rising dawn. )

She breathes deeply, heels clicking on the damp stone floor of the basement as keeps to the right side of the long hall like she’s been told. Frightened isn’t quite the word for what the young trainee is feeling, but apprehensive is likely as close an explanation to the actual emotion that she can get. Surely there’s something inhumane about keeping anyone - no matter their crimes - locked away down here? There are no windows, no light. She longs for a breeze but feels only the chill of being belowground and hears the faint dripping of ancient, rusted pipes.

If one of them were to suddenly burst, would anyone come down here and save them?

Their eyes meet at precisely the same time; his following her until the clicking has stopped and she stands parallel to the doctor on freedom’s side of the great glass wall. Silence settles in the air about them for a short time, gazes intent and appraising of one another for reasons that neither knows for certain and both can only glean from imperceptible flashes of acknowledgment.

It occurs to her that the old film footage and news clippings never could have done him any sort of justice. There are nuances and character to Rodolphus Lestranges’ face that the technology of a bygone era never could have hoped to capture. He is handsome, she belatedly acknowledges to the schoolmarms and sex-starved streetmates of her young adolescence, but it’s a passing and untroubled thought, easily flitted away.

No, she is more curious to know if his voice is how she remembers it. Nimue has always had a musical ear.

❝ Dr. Lestrange, my name is Nimue du Lac. ❞ She offers up her name like an entree, served with an intentional shuffle towards the glass ( there would be no handshakes for them ) and her most endearingly nervous grin. ❝ Do you mind if I speak with you? ❞

#long post //#knowshisown #( ....i may have gotten carried away jfc )#ic. ► ❝ raised up by your hand o lady ❞ ┈ in general #ic. ► ❝ both are false is a lie ever right? ❞ ┈ nim answers #pv. ► ❝ how do we begin to covet? ❞ ┈ & knowshisown

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beautiful-bau-beau · 6 years

Text

If You Love Someone

Tale as Old as Time Masterlist

“This is some storm.“ Maeve shuddered, pulling a covering tightly around her shoulders, holding an umbrella over Diane’s head. The aforementioned woman wore thick, warm furs to protect herself against the harsh wind and rain as they walked through the village, heading to the tavern.

"At least we’re not tied to a tree in the middle of nowhere… surrounded by bloodthirsty wolves.” She whispered. Maeve did not know whether she should laugh or cry as she thought of Diana all alone in the cold. “You know it’s not too late. We could always turn back…” Diane’s eyes narrowed and she turned to her companion.

“Why would you want to? The old spinster is getting what she deserves after treating me so harshly. Calling me ugly, denying me from my one true love. Impossible.” Diane snapped, “My god Maeve, why do you care about her well-being? You can not even hold an umbrella correctly!”

Maeve immediately lifted up the umbrella, flushing with shame. “It’s just… every time I close my eyes… I picture Diana stranded alone. And then when I open them… she’s… here!” The woman gasped, arm lowering.

“Do not be ridiculous Maeve, the idea of that is simply…inconceivable….Just as your ability to hold the umbrella!” She huffed, turning to see Maeve staring at something behind her.

The library was dark, but the rooms above it were dimly lit with candles. Diane could not believe her eyes when she saw Diana in the window, a woman beside her. “Who is she?” Her tone was similar to before Diana was tied up, making the hair on the back Maeve’s neck stand up.

“That is Emily Prentiss. She takes care of the books when the director of the library is away on business.” Diane simply said nothing, but sharply turned her heel, marching away.

“Miss?” Maeve called, running after her. “Where are we headed? What is going on?”

“Maeve, I have a plan. A plan to get everything I ever wanted, and no one can stop me.” - (Your POV)

“What are you doing y/n?” A voice inquired from behind your figure. You spun to find Alex Blake behind you. She had been the castle librarian, historian, and your old tutor, but she had been transformed into a bookend. You had not see her much since the curse was placed. “It looks as if you are polishing the mirror you were gifted.”

“‘Gifted’ does not seem like the correct word.” You mumbled, placing the object upon your table.

“Nevertheless dear, my question still remains. You seem to be anxious, why is that?”

“I was hoping to give this to Spencer. He seems lonely and I believe if he were to see his mother, he may feel more at ease here. I know I have already introduced him to the wonders of the library, but I do not think I have given him enough. He saved my life, and has somehow given new meaning to it.” Alex smiled softly at your sentiment.

“I realized I have now changed. I wake up every morning, excited and overjoyed that he is apart of my life now. The staff used to be so cold, but now I know and care for them. I am no longer the person I used to be….That is all thanks to him.”

“I believe that you are in love.” Alex chuckled. “That is wonderful! It is what every one has been waiting for!”

“Then you know I cannot allow him to remain here?” You sighed, turning away from her gaze. “I care for him too much to allow him to be separated form his mother, and forced to be with me.”

“Y/n… there is to be a ball for the two of you tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes. He has been helping restore the palace to its former glory, and I suggested making use of the ballroom. I hope to…” You broke off your sentence. “The mirror will be his to use however he wishes. A…parting gift. My goodbye.”

“I believe you are very wise Princess. I believe love is like a dove. You must give it room to venture, and be free. The tighter you try to hold onto it, the more it will try to get away.” You stayed quiet, looking out your window.

“You have taught me well. I will and have always treasured you, even if I have never said it.” You failed to notice between your conversation that she climbed up on your vanity, pressing her cold lips on your cheek.

“I have always known. I wish you luck, for parting is never easy, no matter how many times you have done it.” -

(Third Person POV)

“Mademoiselle Turner, a woman of high stature, such as yourself must know that I don’t usually leave the asylum in the middle of the night, but I believe you will make it worth my while.” Mousier George Foyet, head of the insane asylum, sat across from the two women in the parlor of Diane’s home.

“My good sir.” Diane faked a smile as she handed a few gold pieces to Maeve, who stood beside her. The servant passed the currency to the leering man who wasted o time to inspect its realness. “The situation resembles this. I’ve got my heart set on marrying Spencer Reid, but he needs a little… persuasion.”

“Mousier Reid is very concerned about the health of his mother. The worry is…overtaking his time.” Maeve carefully clarified.

“Everyone knows his mother is an absolute lunatic. She forced me to help her the other night. She was convinced that Spencer was taken by a terrible beast, and mentioned talking teacups, a castle in the middle of the forest, and that it was covered in snow. May I remind you that it is summer?”

“I believe the woman sounds harmless, even if her brain may be starting to go.” Foyet sighed, rubbing his nails on his shirt, eyeing the objects around him greedily.

“We may agree to disagree. My point, Mousier, is that Spencer would do anything for the safety of his mother.” Her eyes gave away the meaning of her seemingly ordinary phrase.

“So am I to understand that you wish for me to throw Diana in the asylum as bait to persuade the young man into marriage with you?” Diane nodded. “I do not believe I understand why you would chase after a man who clearly does not have any interest in you when there are so many others that do.”

“I am not paying for you to understand, you simpleton.” She barked, shoulders squaring up. “Do you agree to my terms?”

“You drive a hard bargain Diane.” Foyet snickered, standing and bowing deeply. “But how could I refuse?” -

Once Diana had been healthy enough to venture outside of the library, she insisted on Emily leading her over to the tavern, and exposing Diane for who she truly was. She was convinced that with Emily by her side, everyone would finally believe her. The large crowd the tavern inhibited quieted down immediately at the sight of the two educated women. The silence was broke down by a triumphant cry.

“Diana!” Diane cheered, running over to the older woman and wrapping her arms around her. “Maeve and I were so concerned! After you ran into the forest we tried looking for you but we feared the worst!”

“The lies that slip from your tongue are despicable. You tried to kill me and you left me to the wolves.” Diana pushed herself away, crossing her arms.

“Darling, It is s one thing to rave about your beasts and castles but it is another thing to accuse me of attempted murder.” The crowd mumbled incoherent ramblings.

“Diana… do you have any proof of what you’re saying?” A young barmaid, Elle Greenaway asked, a hand coming to rest upon Diana’s shoulder.

“Ask Emily, she rescued me from death.”

“Emily Prentiss! You would hang your accusations on the testimony… of an old spinster who wastes her time reading books when she is supposed to be watching over them?” Diane chuckled, a few chiming in with her. Emily kept her calm, observing the selfish airhead in front of her.

“I believe Diana mentioned that Mademoiselle Donovan was also present. She saw it all.” Emily uttered.

“Me?” Maeve squeaked, eyes wide. Diane never mentioned that she would also be involved in this plan.

Ah, right. Don’t take my word for it. Maeve… my dearest companion… did I… your oldest friend and most loyal compatriot… try to kill the mother of our dear friend Spencer?“ The way Diane smiled may have seemed innocent to others, but to Maeve it was almost as terrifying as knife to her throat. If she answered truthfully it was highly doubtful that anyone would believe her seeing as Diane’s parents helped found the town of Villanueve. If she lied, as Diane wished her to do, Maeve would live to see the next morning.

"No, she did not. Diane is the sweetest person I have ever known and is not capable of any malicious thought, let alone a murderous action.” Maeve swallowed thickly not being able to look anyone in the eye.

“Diana… I dealt with your delusions the other night but it pains me to say that I believe you have become a danger not only to yourself, but to others. No wonder Spencer ran away. He must have been so exhausted having to deal with your lunatic ramblings and accusations. You need help, sweetnesss. A place to heal your troubled mind. Everything’s going to be fine. Let me introduce you to my friend, Mousier Foyet.” At the mention of his name, the man seemed to appear out of thin air.

“No…no please you cannot do this to me! You cannot hide me away because I chose not to subject my son to your horrors.” Diana tried to step away from Foyet’s grasp, only to bump into associates of his. “Emily! Elle! Someone, please!” She turned, hoping to find a compassionate face only to realize that Emily was gone, and no one dared to speak up.

“Please!” Diana screamed as she was dragged into a cage within a carriage. Her begs and pleas fell on deaf ears, as did her sobs. “Spencer….someone….help me.”

- @phoenixwwitch @totallynotn3rdy95 @cool-bluemoon @amarislestrange @rogerthatsgt @marieannfandoms @bekaperk @dontshootmespence @mariadrinaa @charcoalblack-ish @queenelsaschyler @captainreid @drunk-fairytale @thepartofmethatyouneverfind

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #tale as old as time #beautiful-bau-beau #spencer x reider #spencer reid x reider #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x reider

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nooo-body · 6 years

Text

I've had a truly BAD week and I need to vent. Sorry, in advance.

I lead a very opressed life. I can't say anything because what I say becomes weaponized. I say hello, and suddenly it's a curse word, a hammer to be driven into your skull. I have no place where I can just be, every place is owned by someone else, and I have to live by their rules. I'm not 15, and living by my parents rules. Im 67 and I should simply be dead. I wish I were. I always thought that sometime I would turn a corner and find something good. At this late date I've finally realized there is no silver lining, there are no more corners to turn. The only respite is death, and I'd welcome it with open arms, but I cannot seek it out I was taught from a young age that suicide is wrong. The Catholics got me young, and their teachings never let go. I'm so stupid to believe in any of that, but it is what it is.

I don't want tomorrow to come. I truly don't. I have nothing to look forward to. Nothing that has anything to do with my life. All my hopes & dreams are built on pretend, just like they have been when I was a child. Nothing in my life is real. I've known I'm a complete screw up since I was a school kid. I supposedly had a high IQ, but a teacher said to me, "It's not how smart you are, it's how you use your intellect." Right then I saw my life & complete failure laid out in front of me. I'd never amount to anything, and I haven't. I've done nothing. Ive never helped anyone, never improved anything.

All i ever hear, every day, is that I'm fat & not worth the space I take up, and the air I breath. Death is all I have to look forward to. I'm nobody & nothing. I wanted desperately to get away from the negativity, but when I finally did leave home, the negative came with me. I was still fat & ugly. I still wasn't good enough to do anything that mattered. I couldn't work in publishing because I wanted to write. I finally gave up writing. My 9th grade English teacher told me my flaws were obvious, but not to me. I was too stupid to see my own mistake.

I was big & ugly. The only nickname I ever had was Mac, because I reminded someone of a mac truck. Big & ugly. My own mother said to me everyday, "You could be pretty if only you didn't..." Whatever the blank was, it was something about myself I couldn't change. I was a tom-boy, I was not graceful, I was always ruining my clothes. I knew that pretty was a dead end, and simply out of reach. I am completely unlovable. I was told repeatedly as a child no one would ever love me, and believe me, no one has. People never wanted me to even touch them. I was terrified to touch people, that my touch somehow would burn them. I kept to myself. I began to completely identify with the Phantom of the Opera. This finally frightened me so badly, I wouldn't let myself go there, but it was a small hole I managed to jump.

When I was in my late 20s, I moved to NYC. Stupidly hoping someone in such a big city would care I was alive. I met two different men who I stupidly convinced myself, cared for me. Neither did, I was stupidly lying to myself. The first was a movie theatre manager, biggest theater in NYC. He was handsome. All my girlfriends & acquaintances thought he was dreamy, the Marlboro man come to life. He would fuck anything that was female, he was a swinger (seriously, member of Plato's Retreat) He loved to collect cherries. His assistant manager told me not to get involved with him. I did out of desperation. He collected his prize, and told me I was hopeless & clueless in bed. He dumped me a few days later. I was so ashamed. My first sexual experience, and I'd gotten it all wrong. I felt like such a fraud. A few friends took me out to dinner that night to celebrate, and I was so ashamed of myself, I couldn't tell them I was hopeless. I just kept my mouth shut and tried not to cry.

The second guy seemed at first to actually care. At least at first that was how it seemed. He flirted with me, teased me, said the right words. He wanted the only thing guy1 taught me, fellatio. We were together far longer than we should have. Every time I worked up the courage to break it off, he'd start in about committing suicide. It made me insane. Suicide is just anathema to me. My brother uses this trick as well! Anyway, Finally he disappeared for a month or two, and when I finally found him, he'd gotten married, but he still wanted head. After all that was what I really liked!, according to him. I hated it. He finally disappeared, for about a year. Then he called me, out if the blue. That's when he finally drove it home, he assumed I was a cheap whore, but liked him so much, I always gave him freebies. I was horrified. I just gave it all up. Faced the fact that men hated me & I was/am truly unloveable.

According to my brother, I've destroyed his life too. I forced him to move to NYC. I forced him to sleep in a small half room. I forced him to take work he didn't like. I refused to play the right computer games. It's my fault he has a bad heart, has bad circulation, and heart problems. When I was sick, I forced him to go shopping for me, and that's how he got sick. He hates NYC, and I've forced him to live there I've ruined his life by always buying him the cheapest gaming computer possible. He was too sick to work. I forced him to cook for us. I intentionally buy him the wrong size clothes, since he can't work, he has no money to buy his own clothes. My fault he's sick, unemployed & forced to live in NYC. I've also copy-catted him by getting sick too. He has no legs (he actually was careful of what he ate, his whole life, but had a bad heart, high cholesterol, and bad circulation), which is my fault. He never got grief counseling. But when i got diabetes, bad circulation, a heart murmur, and horrible arthritis, I did it to spite him. I was fat & lazy, as always. I just kept making his life worse. Tonight I bought him some new underware, and nearly destroyed his life because it was the wrong size. It was the identicle size I got fron Amazon last time, but now it's wrong, and I'm a bitch. If i say anything, I add fuel to the fire, but if I don't say anything, I don't care and can sleep through anything. I'm just an ugly, fat bitch. Years & years ago, I had a crush on Johnny Depp. (Long before I discovered sweet Tom) Every argument I get Depp, Paris & fat me in a frilly pink tutu thrown at me. None of the was ever even a passing thought!

I can't walk anymore because the arthritis in my knees is so bad, but I'm lazy and can't be bothered. I had a substitute nurse earlier this week, who I asked for help with something. Her answer? I'm an entitled white bitch, who thinks everyone is her slave. So, you can see, it's really me. I'm a truly terrible person.

Everyone's life would be so much simpler if I just didn't exist. I'm tired of being the baddy, of being useless, of being hateful & hated. People refuse to help me. I have both a social worker and an Adult Protective services worker who are supposed to be helping me with an apartment problem, and neither will return my calls. I'm that hateful. I should live on the street, no clothes, no shoes, no coat, just me sitting on a rolling desk chair waiting for death. I have nothing positive to offer anyone. I try to live in a dream world, just to hold on to some sanity, but I can't do it any longer. When I was young, I used to dream about husband, children & loving family. That certainly never came to pass. I still try to dream about someone not hating me (I dream that Tom would be kind enough to at least pretend not to hate me, if ever I should meet him, which of course I can't since I can't walk), but the reality is I'm fat, ugly, useless, stupid and utterly unlovable. It doesn't hurt any less, and at 67 I'm getting close enough to the end that with nothing to dream about, nothing to hope for, it might just as well be over.

I could go on, but you get the picture, ugly, old, self-centered, cruel spinster should just stop playing the game. It's lost.

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contrivedcoincidences6 · 7 years

Note

15 and 27 MSR

15. “I’ve never felt this way before….and it scares the shitout of me.” 27. “I love you, you asshole.”

From this prompt list

Edited by @alittlemissfit

This is gonna hurt. I’ll probably write a second part. I had an idea like this floating around but was inspired by @wtfmulder‘s condom fic and the idea solidified into something you guys are going to yell at me for.

He was drunk and making a mistake. Even as he pushed intoher he knew it was a mistake but it had been so damn long and he was so damnlonely. Back when he’d first met Diana they had seemed like a match made inheaven, they had all the same interests and she didn’t think he was crazy. Ofcourse it didn’t last.

Diana wanted more than just the X Files, Mulder didn’t. Whenshe was offered a job in Europe she took it and left Mulder feeling empty andcheated.

She was an expert in Mulder manipulation and he knew it, butit didn’t stop him from falling into her traps every time. He’s always had aweakness for powerful women who show him attention.

Lately his favorite powerful woman, Scully, had not beenshowing him any attention so when Diana came to him with sweet words and sexyunderwear he gave in.

They drank and talked about old times and when she put herhand on his knee and told him how much he turned her on he kissed her.

When he closed his eyes he tried to imagine Scully butcouldn’t. Diana was so different than Scully he couldn’t even use his famousimagination to conjure her up.

The fact is that he had little interest in having sex withanyone besides Scully but he was frustrated with her and horny. Part of himwanted to spite her and he began to picture her face if she were to see them.

She’d been so indifferent to him lately and he’d do justabout anything to get the stony look off her face.

“Yes Fox….” Diana hisses in his ear and he pulls back.

“Don’t talk to me,” he says. Diana has been playing thisgame since she got back, stopping at his apartment at any hour, calling him inthe middle of the night, and Mulder knows she’s using him too.

He saw her jealousy over Scully and he knows that herattempts to be with him have only come from her wanting to mark her territory.They are both using each other and they know it. He doesn’t want her to pretendit’s more than that.

She just narrows her eyes and moves her hips in a way thatmakes him moan.

Afterwards she puts her clothes back on and leaves without aword. It’s fitting really that only minutes after Diana leaves Scully knocks onhis door for the first time in months.

Of course she would avoid him like the plague until the onenight he fucks a woman she can’t stand. For a cold moment he wonders if somehowshe knows. His earlier fantasies about her walking in on him and Diana don’tfeel pleasant anymore. Now the thought of Scully finding out fills him with allout terror.

He rushes to throw on some clothes before she lets herselfin but she never does. After he’s fully dressed in a tee shirt and sweats hegoes to open it, not sure what to think of her not just using her key.

“Scully,” he says, trying to act normal.

She nods at him and he can tell, suddenly, that she’s beencrying. He’s revolted with himself when he pictures Scully alone in herapartment crying while he fucks Diana.

The way she’s looking at him leads him to believe that she’snot been crying over him and he ushers her in.

“Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing her arms.

She shakes her head sadly and bites her lip.

The day had been a long one for Scully, filled with Mulder’shovering and background checks. He followed her around the bullpen like a lostpuppy and never got any of his own work done. As of late she had been feelinglike more of a babysitter than an FBI agent.

“So big plans for your Friday night, Scully?” he had askedher with an annoying grin. He knew damn well she never had plans.

“Just looking forward to a relaxing weekend alone.” She putemphasis on the last word and felt a pang of guilt at the fallen expression onhis face.

“Want to hit the town?” he asked and for a moment sheconsidered it but then remembered the contamination showers and their last bigargument about their current elephant, Diana.

“No thank you, Mulder, she responded evenly and collectedher things to avoid looking at him.

When she got home she decided to put on the TV and clean hergun. It was one of her typical Friday night activities that probably labeledher as a spinster. If she was being honest with herself she was depressed.

She’d been depressed ever since the X Files had been shutdown she just showed it in a different way than Mulder.

She expressed it by leaving her apartment only for work andshutting herself tight inside her own little world, Mulder expressed it bytrusting busty spies and slowly driving her insane.

As she began to clean her gun she tried to picture what anight out with Mulder would have been like. Though Mulder could be the mostselfish, pigheaded person she knew he was also, when he wanted to be,thoughtful and even romantic.

At the word romantic entering her brain Scully shook herhead at her own foolishness. Maybe once upon a time she had pictured that kindof relationship with Mulder but she realized these days that Mulder had eyesfor someone else. She didn’t doubt that he had once had romantic feelings forher but even if he still did Scully was not going to play second fiddle in the band with Diana and the XFiles.

Sighing she opened the drawer to find another hankie andfound the photo of Emily that she hid away in there.

At the sight of the smiling little girl Scully felt a cagedsob rise in her chest. Images of Mulder’s tenderness with the sick child filledher mind as well as the flowers he’d brought to her funeral. He had been soperfect during that time, so tender and kind. He’d held her hand and talked heroff the cliff when she needed it. Scully couldn’t help but wonder where it hadall gone wrong.

The fact was that their relationship wasn’t going to heal ifno one took the first step and she knew that she needed to. No matter what shehad once wanted their relationship to be she knew that she still needed him in herlife. So she closed the drawer and gathered her things to go see him.

She didn’t wait a moment after parking before heading up thestairs, knowing that if she waited she would think better of it.

At his door she wrung her hands and hated that she felt sonervous about seeing Mulder. It showed her how bad things had gotten.

She didn’t use her key and instead waited for him andrehearsed what she’d say.

He was rumpled but wide-awake when he opened the door.Something was off and she wondered if he’d been watching one of his secretmovies before she arrived. She had to wrench that thought from her mind beforeit became distracting.

“Are you okay?” he asks tenderly and rubs her arms.

Scully feels the tears coming back and looks away.

“I just have been doing some thinking, I have not beentreating you fairly lately-” She began but he cut her off.

“Scully, I’ve been an asshole,” he said guiltily.

Scully’s hand covers one of his, “Maybe, but I shut youout.”

There is something about how desperate he is that issomewhat frightening to her. Her eyes track his face and suddenly land on apurplish mark on his neck. She freezes and so does he.

Mulder remembers the way Diana was sucking on his neck lessthan an hour before and knows without seeing it that she left a mark. Idly hewonders if she did it on purpose, one more way to fuck him.

“Scully?” He asks and hears the fear in his own voice.

She starts to pull away from him but he holds on to her.When her eyes meet his again they are wet with tears but not the sad ones frommoments before, these are angry tears.

She looks past him and he follows her gaze to Diana’spanties on the ground near the couch. Mulder knows this was purposeful and hefeels the heat of anger rise up in him.

While he’s distracted Scully pulls away from him and startstoward the door.

“Scully…” Mulder says helplessly.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Mulder.”

In an instant the anger that was directed at Diana focusesin on her.

“Is there some kind of secret rule I missed where we’re notallowed to fuck other people?” He can’t believe he hears the words coming fromhis own mouth and shrinks back.

Mulder expects fiery anger from her but when she turns backto him all he see is terrible sadness and he damns himself to hell.

“You’re right, Mulder. There’s no rule. You can do whateveryou want.” Her voice is despondent and Mulder tries to think of any way he cansalvage this. She is almost to the door and Mulder knows that if she leavesthey won’t ever discuss it again.

“Scully, please wait!” In a last ditch effort he movesforward and pulls her close. His arms wrap around her from behind and he burieshis face in her hair.

“Don’t leave, please.” He begs her and feels a tremor run throughher.

“Mulder, let me go.” Her voice is icy.

“She came over and I was so lonely, Scully. I knew it was amistake the whole time but I just couldn’t stop. Please, Scully. I’m so sorry.”He nuzzles her neck and tightens his arms around her

She wants to kill him. The pain and anger in her are sostrong that she’s afraid she might actually hit him. In the state he’s in he’dprobably let her.

“Who Mulder?” She knows who it was but needs to hear him sayit.

“It doesn’t matter.” He mumbles against her neck and despiteherself she feels a thrill between her legs.

“Was it Diana?” She finally asks.

He’s still against her and that’s an answer in itself.

“Please don’t leave me.” His breath is heavy on her neck.

She wants to turn into him and let him hold her but then shepictures those same arms wrapped around Diana. She imagines his lips kissinganother woman just hours before and her body hums with humiliation and anger.

Why should she feel this way? It wasn’t like she and Mulderwere sleeping together, they weren’t dating and yet she felt betrayed. Itdidn’t seem fair to either of them that they hang in this relationship limbo.

“I will no compete Mulder.” Scully says after a long pause.

“There is no competition.” Mulder’s pillowy lips pressagainst her neck.

“Well you just slept with another woman Mulder.”

Mulder sighs, “You slept with Ed Jerse.”

Anger wells back up again, “That is not the same and youknow it!”

Scully pulls herself out if his arms, cursing her weakness.

“It felt the same! I felt how you’re feeling now Scully! Iwas so angry and I knew you didn’t owe me anything but I felt like I’d beencheated on. I’ve never felt this way before… and it scares the shit out of me.I love you Scully.”

“It’s not the same Mulder.” Scully said weakly and recalledhim telling her he loved her in the hospital. She wonders if he’d meant itthen.

She breathes, “You know what I think about Diana.”

“I know.”

“And you have a history with her. Ed Jerse was just a onenight stand.”

“I want a future with you Scully.”

“Then why would you fuck you ex?”

“Because I’m an idiot. Because I was drinking and she wasthere and I was lonely.”

Scully could see he meant what he was saying but the paingnaws at her.

“I don’t love her Scully, I love you.” He cups her cheek.

“And I love you, you asshole. But I need some time tothink.”

When he was standing so close to her she had a hard timefocusing.

Mulder looks like he wanted to keep going but he just nods.

Scully gives him a short sweet kiss on the corner of hismouth and takes her leave.

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magnet-rose · 6 years

Text

The Division Bell - Reylo Fic

Wasn’t sure if I wanted to start posting this here, but figured why not?

PREFACE: I am not new to Star Wars, but I am new to the Reylo shipping. When TFA came out I didn’t really latch onto a pairing, and of course now the TLJ is out I have seen what I should have seen AGES ago. I think I honestly didn’t believe that Reylo would ever be a thing because the dynamics of characters like that is MY JAM and so rarely happens when I want it to! So, that being said, I have never written a Star Wars fic. At least not one that ever left my brain (re: obsessed at a child/teen but didn’t know the wonders of fanfic). So if I make inconsistencies with the canon (Legacy or otherwise), I apologize, also if I rehash stuff that’s been done a billion times I’m sorry but as of today I’ve read like five reylo fics! I’ve been trying to read up on the back info on the Star Wars Wikia so bear with me!

Updates might be sparse (busy working adult, working on original fic stuff) but I’ve got an ending already in mind, so I should be able to push through until the end. Not sure how long it’s going to end up being but I promise to do my best and bring a good story no matter what.

Chapter 1 A New Machine

It starts with a death.

High above the Endor moon a battle of blades and wills rages. The Emperor laughs as his apprentice attempts to take down his only son.

Attendant Snoke stares out from an antechamber, he had visited the Emperor to view the new battle station. The Emperor had been trying to create a partnership with the Attendants and he was here to see if such a partnership would be fruitful. He and the guards that attended to the Emperor the had been sent away prior to the arrival of Vader and Skywalker but Snoke had stayed just out of sight. The Emperor always held his most important apprentice up on a pedestal and he wanted to see this dark force user.

Then he sees the betrayal of the Emperor. Vader was indeed powerful, but he was also weak. He had been built poorly. Snoke looks for an escape, he can sense the movements of the force and sees this battle station is on the verge of destruction. Snoke steals out the back and flies away in an emergency ship that only a select few of Palpatine’s servants knew about he also brings with him the few members of the Emperor’s small ruling council. Inside the ship is everything needed to build the Empire back from whatever vestiges the rebels leave behind.

Snoke manages to rally the support structure and secure a dozen of the credit accounts of the Empire before the New Republic freezes everything. In the darkness of of a quiet corner of the the galaxy he begins to rebuild what the Emperor squandered. The Emperor got his wish, the Attendants would create a partnership with the Empire, but it would be under Snoke’s command, and not a weak human like the Emperor.

If the Emperor had taken the time to see that he had built his Empire on weak foundations then maybe he wouldn’t have died, wouldn’t have made the mistake of letting Vader get the best of him. But now, Supreme Leader Snoke, began the search for his own apprentice, someone to help him secure his place in this faulty part of the galaxy and give the Attendants their rightful place of rule.

As the years pass he keeps an ear close to the ground and hears that the leader of the New Republic is not only an untrained force user, but the twin of Luke Skywalker and daughter of Vader. He thinks and plans at first to go after her, maybe he can turn her to his way, but when he reaches out across the chasm of space he finds a steel trap mind and one that would not be easily molded. It might bear fruit in the end but it would take too long.

He’s almost ready to give up on that option when he sees something even better. Leia Organa is with child. He knows then. He knows exactly what he needs to do.

Ben is born into a happy family. As a newborn he is all smiles and strong fingers. His parents feel complete. He was wanted. He was given everything he needed. His family loved him.

Ben is an infant. Some nights he wakes his parents up, they aren’t sure what is happening, but they are nightmares that scare him awake.

Ben is four years old. They are having dinner when he tells his parents about his new friend Snowman. They smile and chuckle thinking it’s a cute name for one of his friends. But how could they know the truth?

Ben is six years old. He is sitting in the office of the school administrator. Ben is stoic except for the hot tears streaming down his face. He had just set fire to the robes of a boy who had been bullying him about his ears. When they ask why he did it, he tells them his friend Snowman told him to do it.

The school administrator is as baffled as his parents. There is no such person or child at the school.

That’s when Han and Leia start to worry.

Ben is ten years old. He fitfully sleeps most nights, there are always bad dreams, and dark whispers on the other side of sleep. That night something else wakes him: the sound of a baby crying.

He gets up and not hearing it again steps out into the hallway. His parents are sitting in the kitchen talking in low voices, but he can tell it’s not a happy conversation. They have been arguing more frequently and even though they say it isn’t his fault, the voice at the back of his mind tells him otherwise. He’s not sure who to believe.

He doesn’t see a baby anywhere and almost turns to go back to bed when the voices of his parents rise slightly. He tucks himself behind a couch in the living room and listens to them.

“...going away...”

“...again?”

“...for a few weeks...”

“...you promised Ben...”

Ben frowns and he picks at the bits of Chewie’s hair from the back of the couch. It always seemed to be on everything. His dad was leaving again. His mom always got really stressed out before he left and sometimes after he left too.

It’s because he doesn’t love you. Snowman says. Ben ignores the voice at the back of his mind. He was already thinking it, but the reminder didn’t help.

His parents are getting louder and he tries to hunch into a ball to shut it and Snowman out but they are both getting louder.

It’s only a matter of time. They both really hate you. They’ll send you away. Snowman says sadly.

“No.” Ben mutters.

“What happened to the job here?!” Mom is saying.

“He backed out of the deal!” Dad replies.

“You mean you sabotaged it!”

“What? No!”

Louder and louder. They can’t be free because of you! Snowman shouts.

Ben’s face is covered in tears of fear and rage he stands up and screams. The furniture around him explodes away, pictures on the wall crack, the light in the hallway fractures and begins to hiss.

Finally all three of the voices are quiet. His parents are staring at him and all he sees in their faces is fear.

Rey is born into an unhappy family. Her mother was as kind as she could be, but she didn’t want to be saddled with a child. It was hard enough to get through a day without a child to care for. Her father would rather do his few trading jobs during the day and come home and drink after. Neither of them wanted a child. Everything was a trade, come and go, ebb and flow. And while they discussed the possibility of giving her up for adoption, they knew no one would pay a fair price for a newborn, not when it took more work to feed and care for her than it was worth.

The father tried to find some hopeless rich spinster to buy the child but not a lot of people were willing to deal with dirty junk traders like them.

Rey is two years old. She’s been inconsolable all day. Something is upsetting her and the father and mother can’t figure out what’s wrong. They have been stranded on dirty sweaty Jakku for three months. Everyone’s nerves are already frayed and the broken ship isn’t getting fixed.

Ben is twelve. The day that Snowman--no, Snoke--had predicted was here. His parents were sending him away with Uncle Luke. He tries to hide his frustration and anger but Snoke is always at the back of his mind telling him to put that anger to use so he has a hard time keeping the resentment from showing on his face.

His father has never been very good about emotions. But Ben knows when he’s trying. Dad hands him a little wooden box. “Your mom says you’ve been getting into calligraphy, I got this for you from a merchant on Corsica.”

Ben takes the box and holds it like a baby. It will become one of his most cherished possessions. But it doesn’t take the sting away from being sent away.

Rey is five years old. She is having a bad day. Most of her days are good, she’s generally a happy child, full of light and life, she’s even become the joy of her mother’s life in some respects.

But today she is feeling like the world is ending. She keeps hitting things and acting out.

“I’ve had enough,” the father says. “Plutt has agreed to take her in exchange for a graphene chamber and 1000 credits.”

“Oh,” the mother says. She feels conflicted about it, but her nerves are shot and she really wants a drink.

They drop her off with Plutt and take the money. Rey doesn’t realize they are leaving her until she sees them head for the ship but the man named Unkar Plutt is holding her arm. They don’t look back. Rey cries for them to come back. She wonders what she did wrong. The day just never got better.

Ben is fifteen years old. He has woken up to his Uncle holding a lightsaber over him.

Do it. You knew this day would come. Snoke says to him.

He opens himself up to the rage, he finally lets his anger lead the way. His own uncle was thinking about killing him. Bad enough that his parents had sent him off to this godforsaken planet with a dozen people he didn’t know. He hated it, he hates his uncle. He destroys everything around, the little hut that each of the students got crumbles around him and buries Skywalker.

The other students come out to see what happened.

“Luke Skywalker just attempted to kill me! We are not safe here. Come with me.”

Some of them try to argue with him. Some try to figure out what happened. Some try to say that Ben is the one at fault. Those are the first to die. Blinded by rage he kills one by one the other students who didn’t want to come with, and with the handful of others he steals a ship and flies into the waiting grasp of Supreme Leader Snoke.

As he kneels at Snoke’s feet, the ancient creature of a man stands tall. “Kill Ben Solo. He means nothing and is nothing anymore, but now with me you can mean everything. That is a mask given to you to hide who you truly are. I give you the name… Kylo Ren. Become who you are supposed to be. I will make you strong Ren, follow me and we will hold this galaxy together.”

TBC... obvs

Next chapter

#reylo #kylo x rey #kylo ren #rey #star wars #star wars tlj #fanfic #fanfiction #reylo fanfic

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