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madamhatter · 3 years

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how lucky it was for these two girls to spy sophie in passing! it was as if the universe had heard the two friends speak so highly of the visitor who would occasionally swing by emile’s class for show and tell. it had been a while since they had last seen sophie, so one could imagine their excitement in recognizing the other from a distance, little feet pattering against the ground as they ran towards the woman, a basket of flowers in each girl’s hand. their voices call out to her to get her attention, and almost immediately, two outstretched hands offer sophie a blossom each as gifts. “do you remember us? will you be visiting us again soon?”

Have I gotten familiar to the floating island above? Inquiries of conformity frequented my mind, a yearning and craving they were, hinged to me as if a shadow. Have I finally anchored myself to such a place? Adaptability was once a trait I believed to possess, yet two years proven me a fool to think positive of myself. Cries of seagulls above, not one eye needs to glance in that direction to confirm their habits. 2, 3, 4, … ., 10, 11, 12 … . . Circling overhead for opportunity, they salvage for impressionable and giving folks or food - - either of which would be found with both decision. Unfortunately, this place where I meander, in this current time, is not a place where morsels may be handed out.

My finger waved side-to-side, a metronome to the workings of the world around me. Up to two, it was a scale of my own design that mimicked the original; dexterity may be a particular of mine, but a human I am and matching a metronome isn’t (normally) physically possible. However, what the body may lack is refined by mind; what my body precedes only the possibilities of what happens underneath this unremarkable form.

Compulsory movement, life regulates itself to streamlined performance and rituals. Contrasting the fluidity and bind of the human spirit, that is what everyday life comes down to. Just like how the backdoor of the bakery behind me swings open at the 6th measure, pitter-pattering of feet and store restocking go on from the 7th to 10th, before the door closes at the 11th, and silence resumes. Sometimes, the the baker’s assistant rushes out earlier, breaking the pattern, but it remains relative – earlier at the 5th or rushed at the 10th.

And, again, the measure restarts, but only for that particular event. Recognizing the numbers that conduct the procedures of mundane living, notwithstanding the strange when it rears itself unceremoniously in, that must’ve been the trait of mine. Still, a useless one. It never did serve any benefit of others, even in the workshop. All it did was aid me in orchestrating and working with or around others, quick to my feet or hands, or anything that was needed of me, appearing like a summoned ghost to their unspoken or voiced commands.

Between the valley or above the clouds, tumultuous life continues fixed to the course of the sun and moon, creating a shift that man, who once saw it indescribable and unnamable, to time, which then was domesticated to years, seasons, months, and days. Tumult… Haha. Foolish of me to even determine that I’ve grown accustomed to this place.

I adjusted my recline, my hand flat against my cheek and my elbow resting on top of a wooden post that belonged to a longer winding rail system. It separated this level of the district at its ledge and from below, the port.

I mindlessly pick at the wicker basket rest at the crux of my other arm. Scarred and calloused tissue brushes and accounts the wintery flowers in my collection.

A sigh.

Life goes on, I repeat that to myself so often, as should I. Yet, why do I feel myself hanging with uncertainty with only a line of spider silk around my ankle? Dangling yet expectant of the prey. “Hm?”

A scratch in the pattern I’ve memorized. A pattering from behind greets my ears. A set of two pattering, to be exact.

I turn my head, brows raised at the sight.

White dyras, they grew in a place whose name has been recently burnt from history. A collection of snow white single-petaled flowers grouped together, the pistils having honeycomb yellow stems that reach out. At the time of maturity, their pollen spreads into the wind like their perennial cousins that often mistaken as flowers, dandelions.

Flowers of innocence, it is the first image that comes to mind when you see them. A pair of two young schoolgirls approach with pep in their feet and recognition in their eyes.

Phoebe, ruby eyes and dark brown hair, thick and intricate cornrows worked from the left side to ride, creating an elegant ponytail with teal, orange, and white beads fastened to the end of each of the braids. Elena, orange eyes and moose hair, her head is covered mostly by a orange beanie that matches the same shade as one of the beads in Phoebe’s hair, and all that can be seen are relaxed fringes.

Two girls from Mister Claire’s class. Goodness, it’s been a while…

“Do you remember us? Will you be visiting us again soon?” “Of course I do. Good morning, Miss Phoebe and Miss Elena. I promise to visit as soon as I can.”

My expression softens from its rigid and tensed look, I even felt the muscles of my cheeks and shoulders relaxing at what is the first nonobligatory conversation someone holds with me today.

“How are you both doing today? Isn’t the incoming spring breeze just refreshing? Not as shiver-inducing like the ones that passed a week ago.”

Expectant eyes, however, now look befuddled, leaving a young woman like myself puzzled over why two young students looked at me in such a way. Had I spoken too vaguely again? Had I dictated myself like an old maid again? Had I spoken too carelessly, making my accent slip out?

Far too many questions, far too little time. Damn social interactions!

Something catches my eyes.

“Huh?”

I look down, now to fully perceive the dress of the two young girls. As expected, in their casual wear. Had either been in their uniforms, then this Sunday would’ve been an odd day.

Ah, they carry similar baskets to my own, and just like them, the weight of the baskets had been filled with flowers. Their variety was the typical ones that grow naturally in the city, compared to the others in my clutch, being from the rooftop garden.

And, in their hands were…

“Oh, goodness! How terribly daft of me.”

Heat coats my cheeks. Immediately I squat to the ground, an ungracious move that was covered by my long skirt.

They had been holding out the flowers. For inspection, no doubt. That’s why they recall me so well, I was a spectator to their show and tells often. However, the events of these past weeks, and ‘late night’ shifts left me more battered and wearier than what I expected from the work.

“These look wonderful! Are you planning on sharing this with Mister Claire and the class tomorrow? Your teacher would adore the idea and for all you have, you can even adorn the classroom! How fitting for spring.”

I hold my closed fists in front of me, nodding my head, drinking in the image of a flower-covered classroom from floor to ceiling, embracing the change of season. I heard countless times from my peers in education that decorations were of the norm, since they had to deal with my blank expression from time-to-time about such customs. My mind remains wrapped around the idea, but the silence itself is deafening compared to the replies that, at this point, should’ve been exchanged. Should I be worried about the gaze that still hasn’t changed? Phoebe glances to her friend and back at me. Elena remains with her eyes on me Both of them possibly doubting someone of my age and the things I’ve said. Which, still, do not come to me. And, too, which isn’t surprising or even insulting.

Until one of them stares with such resolve, even pity, at the social barrier, finally addressing the lost elder:

“These are for you, Miss Hatter.” A courteous inflection but bewildered expression from Elena.

“Huh?” The confusion remains thick, but my mind vocalizes it. “They’re for me…?”

Relieved heads nod at the movement in conversation, silently happy at the wall was overcome.

“My apologies..–” I clear my throat. “Today is ..” Index finger taps the back of my hand, putting together the words. “Valentine’s Day.”

A supportive nod from Phoebe.

“Ah…”

Polite obligations sets in, despite the hesitation and discomfort growing in my mind, and it is my responsibility that I must uphold. To take these flowers were necessary, no matter how I felt on the exchange. Yet, most importantly, it would make them happy – which I would not deny young children any joys they could feel.

“Both of you are so generous and kind for your ages!”

Despite the frigidness trailing down my spine, the cold making my hands wanting to curl up, the shudder that comes with taking in this reality, I remain with some dignity in this shambled body I known as myself.

But, its name…… That depends on who needs me, requires me. I am whoever they wish for me to be. And today, I am Miss Hatter.

“Coral bells and marbled poinsettias, what beautiful spring colors with the blushing pinks and pale whites. Ever fitting the season and the holiday, you two have such a spectacular selection.”

Carefully, I retrieve each flower, naming any fact from my insignificant lips. I settle them into my basket.

“Thank you.” I clap my hands together, bowing my head momentarily.

“As well, excellent timing for I have something that’d interest you as well. ”

Their expressions of curiosity lights an already bright day. Inquisitiveness has them almost on their toes, inching closer without any qualms to how anyone would perceive it; a child’s whimsical mind, always unprejudiced and welcoming on its own.

I search through my basket and I pinch the selection I had in mind that perfectly match both Phoebe and Elena’s color coordination.

“Please have this.”

Tied together by a red ribbon is a bouquet crafted and arranged by my own hands. Sunset orange plumerias and white spider lilies bunched together, the plumerias at the forefront while the spindly spider lilies were in the background, embellishing the size of the bouquet altogether.

Two of beautiful bouquets for two beautiful spirited girls.

“I promise again that I’ll visit Mister Claire’s classroom. Tomorrow is the perfect day to do so and it would be only fair to share something for once.”

Though softer than a whisper, both girls remain attentive of each word and their eyes wider and now dazzling. What has caught their attention away from the arrangements?

Perhaps it was the moment of surprise that overtook them. It is a swift change in mood and something unexpected from this interaction.

I’m not sure why but my face feels a little tired. Ignoring it is the best choice, my body falters in how ‘healthy’ it feels already.

My hand rests above my chest.

This feeling. Like when the sun hits my back whenever I set laundry on the wire for my sisters, and when the rays awaken me from my workshop bench when the shop is idle midday, and when the light grants me sight to read during the terribly rainy days back in the house between the valleys.

My cheeks are warm.

( Most unknown to her, Sophie Hatter smiles.. Had she known, she’d called herself spry in the moment, her body and mind feeling far too aged to consider it normal for her. Yet, for those witnessing, it was something else. Not delicate like how she performed duties, not crafted as she trained it to be.

Unrestrained, exquisite, a true look of beauty underneath all she found unremarkable and felt apathetic towards. )

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

( She smiles, genuinely and simply, as Sophie Hatter. Something she should do more. )

#( checkbooks inquiries and much ; answered asks )#( verse: ¿cual tu vas a ser? dentro del espejo ves; ¿algiuen más en ese cuerpo? | yni )#asocier #submission #long post #long post tw #[ I really did clown myself. Blame what I'm playing + me wanting to try 1st person after a long while. ]#[ so tumblr deleted my last chatter tag FML. - ]#[ Anyways! BIRB THIS IS SO CUTE TYVM FOR SENDING ;__; ]

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notalittlebutalottie · 4 years

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Written for Klaroline Valentine’s Day Bingo 2020 @kcvalentinesbingo by @eliliyah (I am determined to get a bingo...even if I end up going past Valentine’s Day lol)

Prompt: Candlelit Dinners

“Klaus!” her voice travelled through the winding path lined with canvases both plain and painted. She wondered which of the paintings were being selected for his next show; she always liked to go because it meant free champagne and the chance to act like she had any idea about the cost of his paintings around real connoisseurs.

Caroline sighed as she found the main area of his annoyingly large loft apartment, the currently propped up canvas without its painter. While she dusted off the stray snowflakes on her black leather jacket, she hadn’t noticed him wandering in from the bathroom, paint rag in hand.

“Come to drag me off to dinner already, Caroline?”

Her shoulders jumped and she spun around to view Klaus covered in paint. He was like a child let loose in a kindergarten class. The splash of blue marking under his chin was indicative of his usual pondering gesture. She placed her hands around her waist, fingers drumming across the leather gently.

“I’m here to make sure you’re not late. You know how Elena gets when you rock up like it’s nothing.”

Their old high school group had managed to stay friendly over the years, luck bringing them all to New York for work. Unfortunately, there were less parties and more unfulfilled plans once they began their jobs. That was when she and Elena had proposed they meet every Thursday night for drinks and plastic-cheese covered nachos at a bar equidistant to their apartments. Caroline had done a meticulous search of bars fitting that criteria. Yet despite being freelance and having the most relaxed job in the entirety of the universe, Klaus could still find time to waste away while the rest of them waited for his arrival.

His relaxed posture tightened in panic as he replied, “Oh, well if Elena requested—”

“Shut up,” she broke out into a breathy laugh, reaching for a nearby brush to throw at his shoulder. She barely missed, the brush swiping against the skin of his arm.

Klaus’ brows raised teasingly, but he held his hands up in surrender when she folded her arms. He did love to see her face whenever he even grazed her buttons. “Okay, okay,” he chuckled before looking at his watch, his eyes crinkling in confusion. “Forgive me if my watch is playing up, but why the bloody hell are you here? We’re not meeting for over an hour.“

His watch was correct. Caroline shifted on her feet, shrugging as she wandered along to his easel. She picked up a thin brush to inspect as she replied nonchalantly, “Well, you see—”

Klaus pushed out his lips, attempting to contain the knowing expression wishing to break free. He kept silent and revelled in the cute way she meandered on her way to an answer.

“I finished work early and thought, ‘you know who lives nearby? Klaus’ and coincidentally I have this really fancy gala coming up. So then, I thought ‘you know who has a weird, bordering on creepy, collection of designer dresses? Also Klaus’. And then, I came up—”

“I don’t think it’s that weird,” he muttered in between her rambling.

“—and your door was unlocked, which, by the way, is totally dangerous! I could’ve been a murderer! So, I came up and here you are and here I am with the need for a dress!”

It was at this point, Klaus had resigned himself to chuckling rather tiredly. In all of their years of friendship, she hadn’t improved upon her lack of concise explanation, though he would argue against himself that it was an enjoyable pastime to hear it.

“First of all, sweetheart, you know that my sister uses my place as a second storage unit.” He pressed his lips together for a moment, noting the adoringly childish way his friend bit her tongue out. “Second of all, I resent being used as a designer store. That being said,” her eyes wandered coyly, “you did make the trip in the snow and I suppose it would be rude to deny you.”

“Thank you,” she said with a deepened tone and a curtsy. The lip-service was short as she rushed off to his room, which left him to laugh quietly as he preoccupied himself with painting.

Caroline was happy to see the trunk left of his bedroom door with its gorgeous gold baroque detailing atop a seafoam coloured paint. Oh, she could have just died as she unlatched it and lifted the lid; all those beautiful dresses could easily blind a person unprepared for its glory. Rebekah may have been a bit stuck up —Caroline refuted that she was a mini-version of herself—, but she had impeccable, expensive tastes.

“So, how is Rebekah?” she called out while removing her jacket and shirt in quick succession. Her eyes had been caught by the Saint Laurent midi dress that Rebekah had so smugly shown off when visiting the previous year.

“Wondering if you can get away with keeping one of those ridiculously priced gowns?” he questioned, soon speechless for a moment as her bare back reflected in a nearby mirror. Though it took him a moment, he averted his gaze.

“It’s not like she would notice one missing,” Caroline reasoned in a musical tone.

“You and I both know that is absolutely not true.”

A few dresses and many thoughtful paint strokes later, Caroline was strutting out of his room in the outfit she arrived in but with a silk black dress poking out of her bag. Rebekah would kill her if she saw the oxymoron that was her the two-grand dress in Caroline’s forty dollar bag.

“Your services are appreciated.” Caroline smiled, her eyes turning into crescent moons of themselves. “New piece for your next show?” she asked with the drop of her jaw at the beautiful shapes taking place on the canvas.

“Perhaps.”

She was enamoured by his concentrating face. The first time she saw it, she giggled at the murderous stare that took hold of the canvas. Now, it was simply pleasurable to see how much his work meant to him.

Her lashes fluttered in an attempt to break herself from her thoughts. “We should probably go. We’ll probably take a little longer because of the snow.”

“Already? I was so hoping we could spend more time helping you loot my sister’s clothing.” Klaus’ lips tugged out gently but spread into a full smile when her flat expression met his eyes. “Help me with some of these?” he implored, his arms gesturing to a stack of paintings below the window.

“Aye aye, captain.” She saluted, smiling back when she noticed another stain of paint had appeared on his cheek.

Caroline’s phone pinged and she quickly fished it out of her bag while Klaus picked up the first painting, taking the opportunity to peer out of the window. “Uh, love?”

“Hm?”

She squinted at the stream of messages coming through to their group chat. Damon was celebrating the snow blanketing the city while the rest of them complained about having to get home.

“I’m not sure we will be going out tonight.”

“Yeah, the rest of the group are calling for a reschedule.”

“No, I mean at all.”

Like a cruel punishment from the gods, the lights cut out with the end of his words.

“Are you kidding me?” Caroline puffed her cheeks out, her annoyance growing as she noticed the internet had immediately followed suit with the lights.

“The roads are covered and by the looks of it, every door down this street is blocked. I don’t think you’ll make it far,” Klaus informed her with faux guilt to cover the fact that he was happy to have her alone for once.

Caroline groaned, her feet dragging as she attempted to navigate his place in the dark. She could barely make out his figure but took hold of his arm to get her bearings. “I think this is the worst thing to have ever happened.”

“Ever?”

She didn’t need to see to know he was grinning ear to ear and promptly gave his chest a gentle punch.

“Forgive me, I was unaware you were so captivated by the cheap beer and knock-off Mexican food.” He couldn’t fully read her expression, but the idea of her pout was enough to tickle his senses.

“Hey, I was looking forward to drowning in those nachos after I missed lunch,” she reasoned with a huff.

He gave into a laugh, grasping her wrist and leading her slowly around the path of paintings to the kitchen. It was no surprise that she immediately commented on the lack of organisation in his loft.

“I’m sure I can whip up something just as delectable, love,” he mused, leaving her standing in the middle of the kitchen while he cautiously felt his way to the cupboards.

“I can’t believe you still don’t have a table,” she mumbled. “Where do you even eat?”

“At my workstation. I am an artist after all — can’t be away from my craft for too long.”

“How brooding of you.” Caroline took it upon herself to rummage through a bottom cupboard, pulling out a set of three medium-sized candles. Each one she had bought for him as a Christmas gift. That liar had told her he used them all the time, yet they were safely stored in the back.

Swiftly, she pulled a box of matches from a drawer and took to lighting each candle. The smell of cinnamon and winter berries filled her nostrils to her delight.

“Should I be concerned you know your way around my kitchen so well? And in the dark, no less.” Klaus couldn’t deny he was both impressed and rather infatuated with the idea.

She rolled her eyes, lips teasing a smile. “Should I be concerned you don’t?”

Caroline didn’t wait for his reply as she placed the candles in an odd triangular shape on the floor.

“Are you planning to sacrifice me, love? I should have known you only wanted my friendship for my body,” he teased as he finished the meal preparation.

“Yes, I’m trying to become a billionaire and the requirement for sacrifice was a frustrating British man who lacks a dining table,” her monotone voice rang out while she searched his bedroom for a blanket. His bed always looked so inviting, even in the dark she could only think about the memory foam mattress he had bought the previous Spring.

“Well, I am willing and able.”

She shook herself from those ideas when he shouted out in reply.

Caroline finally returned with a blanket, neatly laying it on the cold flooring of his kitchen. She looked up at him and the two plates of food in his hands. As he slowly lowered himself down to place them on the blanket, she scoffed through a laugh.

“Wow, I wonder if Picasso’s dinner of choice was also pop tarts and PB and J?”

“I assure you, I serve only the finest foods when hosting a candlelit dinner,” Klaus spoke slowly, enunciating in that delicious way he would when flirting with other girls. “Besides, I believe he was more of a macaroni and cheese, guy, sweetheart.”

She let her gaze flick to his lips, taking a gratuitous view of them in hopes that the candles didn’t expose her. “Well, I hope I’m not just another candlelit dinner during a snowstorm in that case.”

The smirk that grew on his face was hard to remove when he felt her eyes travel towards his lips. “Certainly not, Caroline. You’ll be the one and only.”

#klaus and caroline #klaroline fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the originals #drabble #valentine's day #bingo

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elejahfanfic · 4 years

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The Vampire Files/3

Fanfiction

Part 3

AU crossover story with tvd characters

Elena Gilbert and Nick Amaro

are FBI agents, investigating paranormal activity and all different strange cases involving demons, witchcraft, vampires.

There will be other tvd/to characters in it, as well as characters from other fandoms -

ft. Joel Goran from Saving Hope

warning: smutty, 18+

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

_gifs are not mine *

tags_ @miguelsbrat

thanks so much for reading. I hope you like it. xoxo

✽-( ˘▽˘ ❁)/✽

Days after

Whitmore

Bonnie Bennett finished with her report, sending a copy over to the FBI. Elena's remark about the amulet and mentioning the name of the monster that was out there killing women, who were not random women, but fellow witches, rattled her. This was not just an Agent, Bonnie thought.

****

FBI Headquarters

Washington, DC

Was Elena just an Agent? Nick wondered. He now took his tablet and opened the Elena’s PhD-'Vampires and Folklore'. Such a simple title to a very extensive read.

He read, 'Throughout history, these beings have resided alongside man. Myths and folktales from all points of the globe speak of beings that feed on the living. From the Japanese Kasha to the Irish Dearg-Du and the Tlaciques of the Mexican Nahautl Indians and the Arabic Algul they exist.

... In closing, the interesting thing to note is that although the creatures of mythology largely contradict the popular view of vampires, they do exist. They exist at all corners of the world and in nearly every culture known to man. Although they exist as superstition and folklore, they persist in appearing in the dark shadows of humanity.’

Nick put the tablet down. This definitely gave him a further insight in his new partner. To Elena this world was very real. They were not catching ordinary criminals.

Although he didn' believe in demons, vampires, curses or any of the superstitions, he had to admit all was very intriguing. She clearly resented the fact that he was assigned to be her new partner. Their effort to bond over pie and coffee didn't go all too well, but it was a step forward in admitting they had a job to do and that was enough. He poured himself a glass of Bourbon.

Flashback

"I guess they assigned you there because she needed someone who is cool-headed," Camille said to him as they talked earlier on the phone,"maybe they are testing you-"

"Or- they are testing me, all right! And the cool-headed thing- you are too generous- I shot the deputy."

"And you were cleared. He happened to be in the line of fire. Shall I come over?" Camille reminded him.

"No. I have tones to read. Familiarize myself with the demon files she has given me as homework."

"Have fun." Camille said hanging up.

He had no desire to read anymore so he took his car keys and got out of the office.

*********

Elena waited for a man in the Rock Creek Cemetery

"Do you have it?" she said as he finally got to the .meeting point

"Here" Klaus passed her a little box.

"When is the Initiation ritual?"- Elena asked.

"March 23rd- full moon" the attorney said.

"Right" Elena said.

"You think this is connected to Jackson's murder?" Klaus said.

"Yes," Elena said putting the box in her bag,"and it had nothing to do with the investigation we were on. The witches wanted him dead. And they will cover it up."

"Why do you what you do then?"

"Why are you?" she posed a counter question.

"Maybe there is no real answer." Klaus said.

"Maybe to brings some order in all disorder?!" Elena said and without any goodbyes she walked away.

Klaus took his phone and dialed a number.

******* At Rebekah's house, that evening

Rebekah and Caroline sat down for supper.

"No answer" Caroline said trying to get hold of Elena again.

"Have some more wine," Rebekah offered,"She told me she will come"

And not long after, Elena rang the doorbell. And so the three friends sat down for meal, to chat and unwind. All of them had several crappy months behind them. And this little get-together was to give one another wind beneath the wings.

"Joel has accepted to work at Jeffersonian" Rebekah said looking at Elena. Namely, Joel was her ex-boyfriend.

"Good for him" Caroline said taking a sip of the cocktail, her eyes also swaying at Elena. Caroline noticed that yet again she was there physically, but mentally she was somewhere else.

"So, how is he really?" Caroline asked Elena.

"How is who really?" Elena looked at her friend somewhat absent-minded.

"Your new partner. Come on- spill!" Rebekah said impatient to hear what Elena had to say about Nick.

"Ok. He is different, that's for sure. He is very text-book. We have a job to do. Catch the twisted criminals!"- Elena said in a sarcastic under-tone.

"This doesn't sound like you're a match made in heaven" Caroline then said.

"We don't have to be. We just need to be focused on the one thing and apply team-work," Elena said,"ok- now what is this thing with you and Stefan?"

"Didn't you say you are never going back there?" Rebekah now looked at Caroline.

" I know I said - and it was just sex" Caroline said following a deep sigh.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Rebekah didn't understand why she could not draw the line once and for all. "He is never going to give you more- he said so- he is in love with this -whoever she is"

"Don't I know that" Caroline said taking a sip of the drink again.

"Love- who wants it- so overrated anyway," Elena said thinking of Joel.

Rebekah now gave her a look that would kill. "You're not helping!"

"Come on- seriously. Look at us. When do we have time for love? And then if maybe we find the guy- it all just goes to blows" Elena suddenly stood up.

"Where are you going?" Rebekah said surprised she was acting like nothing mattered at all to her.

"I don't know. I just can't sit here and -everything inside of me feels like a ticking bomb- and I can't talk about it with you cos of the investigation." Elena said quite agitated.

"Is it that bad?" Caroline now stood up as well.

"It is that bad," Elena confirmed," I might get suspended or even worse- lose my job."

"It is only a job!" Rebekah then said,"and a wretched one. Dealing with such difficult cases all these years no wonder you are breaking."

"I am not breaking! I am good at what I do. I love this job. I- sorry guys- but I have to go-" Elena took her coat and went out.

Rebekah and Caroline stayed behind speechless for a moment.

"I have never seen her like this. She is always so -" Caroline said not knowing how to label Elena’s behaviour.

Rebekah finished her sentence, "Messy."

Messy, maybe was right, but much deeper, Elena felt like her other life was consuming her entirely. And she was on the brink of spilling it all out to them. I am not the person you think I am. I, Elena Gilbert am a demon hunter. My family. My mother was a demon hunter. My grandmother. My life....my life is not my own. Elena's head throbbed with a horrific sensation that she might fold.

And why was she on the breaking point right now and not before?

Flashback

A couple of months ago

In Alabama

Jackson came to the designated place Elena had gave him directions to. She hopped into the SUV and they took off for Washington.

"So, you found it?" Jackson asked.

"Yes." Elena unfolded the cloth and showed him the dagger.

"Are you sure this is the demon soul dagger we are looking for?!" the Agent asked.

"Positive," Elena answered,"you know that my dreams are not just peachy dreams of walking down the beach."

"What about the curse?"

"That is something I still need to figure out."

"The lawyers released the shaman." Jackson said.

"Well, with this, they will lock him up forever and throw away the key."

With the thoughts of that night, Elena drove to her apartment building. As she got into the garage, she got her phone out.

"Nick?" she said as he answered the call,"can you come down to "George's?- yeah- see you-"

She got out of her SUV and walked into the bar she would frequently hang out. Nick arrived some fifteen minutes later.

"Hey" he said as he sat down next to her on the bar.

"Hey-" Elena said back.

He played it cool, but he was amazed that she called him out so out of the blue, and it had nothing to do with a case.

The bartender asked him what he wanted- and he saw Elena drinking beer, so he ordered the same.

"So, after hours, beer?!" he joked a little.

"Hate the stuff, but sometimes, I need its bitter taste to make the sweet taste better." Elena said.

"Right" Nick uttered. More weirdness, he thought. Head she summoned him to share something or just to hang out? Whatever it was, he was ok with whatever. They can just drink beer and she could just be silent. Or they could play a game of billiards, which he suggested.

"Yeah, haven't played like in forever, but I have to warn you- I used to kick ass at the Academy" Elena said.

"Well, I did the same."

They ordered a couple of more beers.

Nick, as well as her were playing as if it was some kind of competition. And he won. Twice. Just barely, but still he won.

"I am really out of practice" Elena said putting the cue stick aside.

"You really hate to lose?!" Nick remarked.

"Well, yeah. But I am not a sore loser. Really, I am not." she walked over to the bar asking for another beer.

"Ok, so - are we going to talk about it now or tomorrow?" he said wanting to know why she had actually called him out.

"I don't feel like talking. Can we just hang and drink beer?"

"Of course we can." Nick said.

"I need someone who will be there and not ask me questions," she now looked at her partner curling a sour smile on taking a silent breath," I ran away from my best friends tonight. People, who care. I don't know why at one moment- I just could not stay there with them.And they have always helped me go through anything. It's just that I want to spare them from dumping my pain on them. They already have enough of their own shit making their lives miserable."

"But- isn't that what friends are for? Tell them any shit?" Nick said.

"Yeah- you're right. And it's true. But, ahm- I just didn't want to suck them into my darkness." Elena tried to reason about her decision to abandon the party.

"But a partner can suck up anything?!"

Elena gave him another serious look, which confirmed what he had said.

"You are also in the darkness with me," she said to him,"sitting in the shadows"

Nick was quiet. The way she said it was like she reached down his soul reading it like a book.

"Don't mind me. Just get so morbid at times. Tomorrow, the sun will be up again and I will be ready for anything, partner," the brunette then said,"I’m gonna head home.”

"Me, too” Nick said getting up.

"See you tomorrow," Elena said,"thank you. And I want a rematch!"

"Anytime, partner," Nick said,"see you tomorrow."

Jumping into her car, she drove off to the University Hospital. She was too weary, and home was the last place she wanted to be.

“Hey, Sophie” Elena said as she walked in the special ICU where the coma patients were held.

“I so need you to wake up - things are not good,” Elena muttered to the witch inhaling deeply,“I need you. They killed Jackson. But to kill it, I need the angel blood. And even when I find it, I can’t do it without you. There is one good news. I have found the Salem witch.”

Elena now went to tell her friend and curator of the Smithsonian museum a little bit about her new partner, as well as her current state of mind. Some half an hour later, she made her way to the car, stumbling at her ex, the dashing doctor, Joel Goran at the elevator.

“Working late” he said.

“I - went to see Sophie.” Elena said.

“Ah” Joel uttered adjusting his backpack, keeping to his side of the elevator.

“I hear that you are going over to the Smithsonian? Had enough of being a rock star surgeon?”

“No - my hand is - I can’t do surgeries anymore. My hand still has tremors and - yeah. So, I’m going to join the Bones team.” Joel replied.

“Right - sorry about your hand” Elena said.

“I’m sorry about your - partner.” Joel said sympathetically.

“Thanks�� Elena nodded a little.

And then there was the look. The one that spoke more than words. The one that blurred all the lines.

Half an hour later, in Joel’s apartment, the blurred lines became even more blurry.

Elena pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips and sank down on his cock, taking him as deep as he would go.

His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her down, with a hoarse groan.

She melted against him, taking him inch by inch until, at last, she had accepted all of him.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, looking up at her through heavy eyelids., 2so good.” His fingers traced paths up and down her spine, coaxing soft moans from her. Lifting her hips and grinding downward, gyrating to stimulate her nub. She used him for her pleasure, ignoring his needs. She just wanted to get off, and he didn’t seem to mind. She took him faster, rotating slightly with each downward stroke. His hips rose off the bed to meet her strokes. He bit his lip, his head tossed back.Watching his expression was almost better than the waves of pleasure coursing through her own body. He could feel her trembling, and the way she arched back, he knew she was nearly ready to crash. He now flicked over her nub with her thumb, making her orgasm spiral out with a shuddering cry. She fell down on him, breathing against his mouth, “I so needed this.”

She pulled away from him off him and rolled her onto her back in the center of the bed, taking a small breather.

Elena was not a selfish kind, and she now pulled him to her, streaming her hands down his abs, wrapping her hands around his cock. She sat up, ready to take him int his mouth, but Joel stopped her. “I want to feel you - I need to be inside you “

She had not objections. Kissing her, he pushed her soflty back onto the mattres, he climbed on top of her and slid inside her. Her eyes drifted closed. Her back arched, rubbing her belly against his. He grunted under his breath, latching his lips onto hers as he pushed in slowly. The brunette closed her eyes and concentrated on the perfect rhythm of his long and deep strokes.

His quiet gasps in her ear sent her lust spiraling out of control yet again. Her hands moved down his back, digging into his flesh as she bucked her hips against him. His strokes shifted, becoming faster and harder. She felt like heaven and he lost himself now completely. Wrapped up in her warmth, he quivered and shook against her.

His gasps grew shaky and punctuated. Moaning softly his name, she soon brought him over, and he shuddered violently, groaning hoarsely against her shoulder, holding tight, till his spasms stilled.

Pulling out, he collapsed beside her, eyes closed, breathing hard. “This was - so amazing. I missed this -”

“It was.” Elena said getting up from the bed.

“Where are you going? Come back.” Joel sat up.

“I can’t stay” Elena said and disappeared into the bathroom.

Joel crashed back on the bed, taking a deep breath.

_to be continued

#elena gilbert #nick amaro #nicklena #fanfiction #fanfiction crossover #joel goran #au fanfiction #alternative universe #tvd au fanfiction

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klaroline-fantasies · 5 years

Text

Shewolf

For KCFanficWeek Day 2

Someone has been killing supernatural people in the Quarter; witches, vampires and werewolves alike.

The witches think it’s the vampires or the werewolves that have been doing it.

The vampires think it’s the werewolves and the werewolves think it’s either the vampires or the witches.

Everyone was blaming each other but Klaus knew considering everyone thinks it’s the other person that did it…it meant that none of them were the culprit. He knew whoever was killing the supernatural beings in the French Quarter was an outsider, possibly a hunter.

It had to be a very skilled and powerful hunter to rack up a body count such as the amount he racked.

But he also doubted it to be a hunter because he never heard of a hunter going after witches. He knew humans had a predilection for hunting witches but not real hunters.

Hunters hunted vampires and werewolves, not witches.

But whoever was doing the hunting had to be skilled enough to recognize who were vampires, who were werewolves despite the absence of a full moon and especially who were witches as they weren’t easy to detect.

His thoughts brought him to the chilling thought that they might be dealing with one of the Five. He had thought that when Silas died, so did the Five and their quest to keep the 2000 year old immortal from being resurrected, but it was the only logical explanation for that could have been doing all the killings in the Quarter.

But the fact that he was unable to catch the culprit was what ticked him off. The Five were stronger than your average corn-fed hunters. They were magically created to stand toe-to-toe with vampires, while those who decided to be the world’s savior by being hunters were just regular humans with basic skills for hunting. Neither of them was capable of eluding him.

He then thought it could’ve been someone from their past. Someone that he have forgotten and has come back for revenge or something, but none of the people from his past who could have still been alive could’ve eluded him and if they seek vengeance, they would also desire for Klaus to know who they were so that he would know why they were doing it.

The person killing the supernatural beings didn’t have specific method either. They chopped off their heads, ripped out their heads, but for the witches it was as simple as snapping their neck or stabbing them with regular objects. The person doing it didn’t designate any specific killing method for specific species either. It was entirely random, like whoever they chanced upon they would kill.

The people he killed weren’t connected in any way, shape or form. It was all very random.

He sought to have a chat with Mystic Fall’s friendly neighborhood vampire, Stefan.

He told Klaus he hadn’t seen a hunter from the five since Elena’s brother, the Gilbert boy. Before he hung up, Stefan had also told him that Caroline was still the same before they ended their conversation.

He had heard that Caroline’s mother had passed.

He knew she would take that very hard.

He was also not shocked to find out she had switched her emotions off. He expected it in fact.

The Sherriff was her only blood relative she had left, the only remnants of her human life remaining. Now that she had lost her mother, and she felt alone. He knew had anything happened to her mother that would’ve been the outcome.

He decided he wouldn’t intervene because Caroline would eventually return to her emotions on her own time.

The temptation to see her without her emotions controlling her actions was there, but he had enough going on in New Orleans to bring her into the mess. Maybe when he had established more control then he would’ve invited her someday.

Some days had passed and more bodies had shown up.

He was beginning to get peeved by this unknown assailant who had been assassinating the members of his kingdom. He would stalk the town at night in hopes to catch the person in the act and use them as solidification to his crown by executing the person with the supernatural residents to see. But he never could get there on time. His kills were now more quick and messy, like they knew he was tailing them and they just killed the person and ran.

He was in a late night meeting with the vampires when suddenly two vampires came in dragging another body in. It was random nightwalker, but what was interesting about this specific kill was that the killer carved a message on the vampire’s chest just below the gaping hole where his heart once was.

“Missed me?” - C

He had no idea who it was, he knew many enemies whose first name began with the letter C. The words were carved with a fork or a skewer because it was written in such a way that would show it was a sharp object with two equal pointed ends.

Marcel wanted to round up all the members of the werewolves whose names, nicknames or last names began with a C, as well as the witches and even the vampires. Klaus wasn’t interested because he knew for sure that whoever it was, wasn’t a French Quarter native. This was a stranger. Had it been someone from New Orleans, they would’ve selected their prey, but these were too random to be someone from New Orleans.

He was on his way towards his room in the compound when he got a call from Stefan.

“She’s gone”

He froze in his movements as he knew exactly who Stefan meant when he said ‘she’ “What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She kinda just left like two months ago and we’ve been souring the earth for her and we can’t find her anywhere and I’m desperate. I didn’t want you to worry so I lied.”

Klaus growled into the phone “Never ask boys to do a man’s job.”

“Look, if I wanted to get insulted I could’ve gone to Damon. I’m telling you now because she’s emotionless and somewhere in the world racking up a body count. At this point, the only person who might be able to find her is you. Is there anywhere you can think of that she might go?”

Klaus’s angel boiled and he marched to the library room to prepare for a trip. The unknown person racking up bodies in New Orleans would have to wait until he got back. He would have to make some calls to his contacts around the world and send a picture so they have an idea on who they should be keeping an eye out.

He opened the door to his room but stopped at the doorstep at the sight in front of him.

The room was dimly lit and there was an eerie quietness to it. But what stood out to him was the chair in the centre of the room and the back was turned to him…with someone sitting in it.

That’s also wasn’t what caught his immediate attention, what caught his immediate attention was that the figure sitting in his chair that he couldn’t see was dangling her arm from the arm rest and her hands were bloodied and she held a fork in her grasp. He could see the fresh blood dripping from the fork as if she had just made her kill.

He knew it was a ‘her’ from the dainty fingers that held the weapon.

A sudden realization dawned on him…

Caroline had slipped the Salvatore’s two months ago…

The killings began a little over two months ago…

No…

Caroline couldn’t possibly evade capture for so long…

But she’s emotionless, she’s not held back by her inhibitions and her conscience. She’s the monster she’s been holding back since she turned.

She’s a stranger in New Orleans; she has no ties to anyone except him…

He never expected the culprit to be Caroline, nowhere in his mind had he allowed the idea to fester in his mind. He felt she was incapable of such a thing...

…but she abandoned her emotions, which rendered her capable of killing so much people.

He saw the back of her blonde hair and he knew that not even his sister would be so dramatic. He was completely and absolutely sure who she was now…

It was Caroline.

And the growing smirk on his face and the swell in his chest told them that he couldn’t be more proud.

She not only kept under the radar to the point where he didn’t even know she was in New Orleans, but she made sure the killings were all random so as to not point back to her should she have allowed a pattern to show, she treated each kill as the last with no prejudice, she refrained from giving him hints as to who it could be and when she was ready to show herself, she did it with style.

She could give Jack the Ripper a run for his money as she revealed herself on purpose whereas he kept his identity hidden.

The chair swiveled to face him and there she was, sitting in a very lady like manner with a smirk on her face. She wore a black boots, black jeans, a blank top and a jacket to match. She wore her hair in a manner he had never seen before, but even with her sinister appearance, he could see a flicker of her life glistening in her eyes.

“Well…” she trailed of softly “Did you?”

He knew she was referring to the message she left him on her last victim’s chest.

“Something tells me you already know the answer to that question.”

She blushed and looked down.

“So…” he took a step inside and hung up the phone, he would call Stefan back later “Should I expect more bodies to pop up or was that the last?”

“That’s the last…for now. I achieved my purpose.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. She got up from the chair and slowly approached him.

“You guys were running around like headless chickens, trying to find out who’s been killing people. You blame your own, you blame the werewolves, you blame the witches, you blame the vampires, you doubt each other, you doubt yourselves, and no one figured out that the murderer wasn’t even from around here…but I think you did.” She stopped in front of him, she was so close to him she could feel his body heat against her skin and all she had to do was lean forward slightly to touch his lips with her own “It was so much fun to watch.”

He liked her like that, confident, assertive, calculating…but he could very much tell that she was missing her emotions, that she was different, because while he could see a spark of her light, it was just a spark…he found her slightly lacking without her emotions in a sense despite the fact that he did enjoy that side of her.

“Was it better on your end than mine?” he asked in a whisper, his eyes glancing to her lips briefly before back to her eyes.

“So much better…”

With those words she smashed her lips to his. Her kiss was hungry and wild; he returned it, pulling her closer by wrapping his arm around the small of her back. Her hand that wasn’t as coated with blood wrapped around his neck to keep him close. He heard the fork slowly drop to the floor and he allowed himself a little more time with her lips before he used his other hand to cradle her face.

He slowly pulled away and hummed in delight.

“I would be delighted to return to this after…”

“After what…?” she mumbled while her eyes were still closed.

With a sharp twist he snapped her neck. She fell to the ground unceremoniously and he looked down at her. It was time she returned to her emotions before she started killing more people and make the recovery that much harder.

He pulled back out his phone and called Stefan.

“Find yourself on the next plane to New Orleans, we have a lot of clean up to do.”

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #kc fanfiction #kc fanfic #kcfanficweek #dark #mine #mydrabbles #my drabbles #well dark-ish

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yuvilee · 5 years

Text

5th November 2019 Student-led seminar 3

Text: Filipović, Katarina (2018) ‘Gender Representation in Children’s Books: Case of an Early Childhood Setting’, Journal of Research in Childhood Education. Routledge, 32(3), pp. 310–325. doi: 10.1080/02568543.2018.1464086.

Table of content:

Introduction Main part: A coherent picture, or is it? From 15 between 1967 - 2013 to today's releases Conclusion: How far have we come? Notes: Books and articles Picture(s)

About the author: International Master in Early Childhood Education and Care (IMEC). Dublin Institute of Technology, Oslo and Akershus University College of Applied Sciences, University of Malta and University of Gothenburg. Erasmus Mundus joint degree.

BSc. in Pedagogy – Psychology. University of Tuzla, Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Katarina Filipović had previously worked in a range of educational roles such as primary school Pedagogue and Psychologist, Early Childhood Educator and Associate Faculty Lecturer.

Research interests: Children’s and educators’ well-being, work related stress and burnout, impact of educational policies on practice, professionalism in ECEC, and gender in early years.

Teaching Areas: Professional Practice In The Early Years, Child Protection And Safeguarding, Supervised Practice Placement(1)

Introduction:

The end of 2019 is just around the corner and humanity can look back at many great achievements by men and women alike, such as landing on the moon, curing or even eradicating many diseases or fast communication technologies, to name just a few. With all those accomplishments, one might think we as a species live in an equal society that strives to build a better world from generation to generation. And I do believe this is the case! Some aspects, however, are still ongoing issues, such as gender equality or ethical equality.

To think equal, to act equal, live equal also means to teach equal, to live as equal role-models for our next generation. It starts with small things like labelling clothes, hair-styles, or colours to be dominantly female or male.

To teach equality means to offer learning material that depicts this virtue. In this discussion, I am looking at educators who are aware of gender equality and their use of picture books. Going through recently published picture books one might think that things have changed, for example with the bestselling book ‘Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls’ by Elena Favilli and Francesca Cavallo from 2016. This book compiles short-story biographies of 100 real-life women that could be role-models, including Amelia Marie Curie, the Brontë sisters, and Jane Austen. Favilli and Cavallo self-published the book with money raised in a Kickstarter campaign. Their original target was set for $40,000, they ended up receiving $675,614 by 13,454 backers between April 27th and May 26th, 2016 (28 days), which shows an amazing response and acceptance by society(2).

Above: My screenshot of Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls, (2019)

A coherent picture, or is it?

The given research by Filipović uses picture books chosen by skilled educators for younger children between the ages of waddler to early school, the books in that study are a mixture from 1967 to 2013(3).

In my view this study, however, only scratches the surface of the actual topic: the image of the woman in modern societies. Her research shows a glaring imbalance that fits the narrative perfectly but shies away from really forming a conclusion and making a strong statement. And that even though Filipović underlines her research with a broad variety of similar research outcomes highlighting an ongoing problem between gender representation in early childhood picture books.

Looking back into recent years, we find many different movements with this as their main topic, not just #metoo. Gender studies are more common than ever as Filipović’s references show, and pay-gap has long entered mainstream discussion(4).

Women still tend to enter nurturing professions more than risk-taking, managerial or scientific ones, even though they have equal or sometimes better qualifications. Germany just released a governmental study that showed young girls out-matching boys in mathematics at school, yet they perceive themselves as clearly inferior to their male classmates(5).

Looking at depictions of women vs. men in media and advertisement would open a whole other can of worms(6).

And it all fits together so coherently: we are coming from a patriarchal past(7). Just a few generations ago, men ruled everything and women were confined to the kitchen or tending to the children. While we are looking with suspicious eyes at other societies such as the conservative Muslims in Saudi-Arabia, where this is still very strongly the case, we believe to have developed far beyond this point(8).

From 15 between 1967 - 2013 to today's releases

Shifting our focus away from the 15 books in Filipović’s study one might think that - as stated in my introduction - the book publishing market would have adjusted by now. Especially since the Rebel-Girls book became a best-seller(9). Publishers might offer more on this topic, right? On the contrary, as The Observer and The Guardian in an in-depth analysis found out:

‘The most popular picture books published in 2018 collectively present a white and male-dominated world to children, feature very few BAME (black, Asian and minority ethnic) characters and have become more biased against girls in the past year, (...) Male characters continue to dominate the most popular picture books: a child is 1.6 times more likely to read one with a male rather than a female lead, and seven times more likely to read a story that has a male villain in it than a female baddie. Male characters outnumbered female characters in more than half the books, while females outnumber males less than a fifth of the time.’(9)

And even continuing in 2019, in research by Sarah Mokrzycki, Victoria University with 100 best-selling books, similar results are to be found. In her research, books for girls were also highly stereotypical:

‘In the female-led stories, protagonists only showed ambition for traditional feminine pursuits. There were three ballerinas, three princesses and one fashion designer - Claris, a mouse, who “dreamed about clothes” and “read about handbags in Vanity Fair”. (In this story, a misbehaving girl is also chastised for being “neither proper nor prim!”) In comparison, the male-led stories showed protagonists in roles ranging from farmers and chefs to zookeepers and scientists.’(10).

To be fair, her research was for the Australian book retailer Dymocks, a comparable research would need to be done for the UK market.

How far have we come? Conclusion

It all forms a very coherent picture that is not difficult to understand and to accept and which explains every single problem in gender inequality we have - when considering our past, the way we have developed over the last generations, and the problems that very obviously and provenly still linger. We are still fighting the same problems, not to the same extent as women in Saudi-Arabia have to, but they are the exact same problems, yet it appears that resistance and denial are still extremely present.

Maybe stemming from conservative thinkers who still want the ‘good old times’ back when things were easy and women didn’t meddle in their affairs, maybe people just want to live their lives without being bothered by topics like tolerance in nuances (‘Am I still allowed to tell this joke?’, or ‘This picture is funny but now someone tells me it’s sexist? 5 years ago it wasn’t, why now?’). Maybe, though, it’s a much more underlying issue, one that is ingrained into our very beings from the moment we start learning about it. From large factors like the role our mothers portrayed to us as kids, to the value of boys in the schoolyard who can be daring and risk-takers vs. girls who need to be protected and sheltered and rather should play with puppets that they need to take care of and role-playing games, down to the smaller things like an obvious miss-portrayal of genders in the children’s books we read to our kids.

Perhaps this is where the foundation is laid, where we will raise yet another generation that accepts slightly sexist images or objectifying women in advertisement. From there, it’s only a few steps to underpaying and discriminating women and worse. So yes, it does make a difference whether we choose a book about a boy and read it to a girl or if we rather choose to tell the girl a story about an adventurous girl. It does make a difference if the female part in a book is only there to care and the male character is away or depicted as brave and working and fun and successful. Those choices by our parents shaped our future and they will shape the future of our children(11).

It’s not difficult to see or understand this, which is why I wished this study would have put things into context more directly and was more critical. Because there is a lot of reason to be direct, and critical, and loud.

So what can we do as illustrators? Let’s identify and lock away the stereo-typical from our stories. Try to address this matter with our publishers, families, gift our children non-stereo-typical books and toys. Create role-models. But what kind of alternative presentation possibilities could be used for male and female figures? Could custom-made children’s books work as a good alternative? What are other alternatives?

During my research for our presentation on this topic, I stumbled over the campaign ‘Let Toys be Toys’. Their focus is to create a non stereo-typical environment for children in the toy and book industries in the UK. They not only try to convince publishers of books and the toy industry to shift their focus from gender related products to uni-sex products. They also offer help for parents to address their concerns and provide discussion material and lesson plans for teachers(12). I found this to be very encouraging.

Another part that I did not address here but found during my research for the presentation are tests like the Bechdel-Test which was mainly created for movies but can also help to identify books with female protagonists. It’s not only about male-female ratio alone, as The Guardian article quoted above already indicates. We could add more and more tests, such as the BAME test as well(13).

Notes:

Books and articles

Biography retrieved from TU Dublin (2019), Staff Articles. Available at: https://www.dit.ie/llss/people/socialsciences/staffarticles/name176641en.html (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Kickstarter (2019), Good night stories for rebel girls. Available at: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/timbuktu/good-night-stories-for-rebel-girls-100-tales-to-dr (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Filipović, Katarina (2018), ‘Gender representation in children’s books: case of an early childhood setting’, Journal of Research in Childhood Education. Routledge, 32(3), pp. 310–325. doi: 10.1080/02568543.2018.1464086.

The gender pay gap among full-time employees was 8.9% in 2019 according to the Office for National Statistics in a recent release from 29 October 2019. Office for National Statistics (2019), Gender pay gap in the UK: 2019. Available at: https://www.ons.gov.uk/employmentandlabourmarket/peopleinwork/earningsandworkinghours/bulletins/genderpaygapintheuk/2019#the-gender-pay-gap (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Institut zur Qualitätsentwicklung im Bildungswesen (201), National Assessment Studies and IQB Trends in Student Achievement. Available at: https://www.iqb.hu-berlin.de/bt (Accessed on: 04th November 2019). Cf. Schmoll, H. (2019), ‘Leistungsniveau in Mathe und Naturwissensschaften gesunken’, FAZ Online, 18.10.2019. Available at: https://www.faz.net/aktuell/politik/inland/iqb-bildungstrend-leistungen-in-mathe-und-naturwissensschaften-gesunken-16439167.html (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Still to this year advertisements like recently from VW and Philadelphia got banned, cf. BBC (2019) ‘Philadelphia and VW ads banned for gender stereotyping’. Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-49332640 (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Not only due to belief system but also family structures, social surroundings, education, and media.

Cf. Power, G., (2019) ‘Things that women in Saudi Arabia still can’t do’, The Week, 3rd of September. Available at: https://www.theweek.co.uk/60339/things-women-cant-do-in-saudi-arabia (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Cf. Best Sellers in Philosopher Biographies by Amazon.co.uk: Amazon (2019) ‘Best Sellers in Philosopher Biographies’. Available at: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/bestsellers/books/268059/ref=zg_b_bs_268059_1 (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Ferguson, D. (2019) ‘’Highly concerning': picture books bias worsens as female characters stay silent’, The Guardian. 13th June. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jun/13/highly-concerning-picture-books-bias-worsens-as-female-characters-stay-silent (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Mokrzycki, S. (2019) ‘I looked at 100 best-selling picture books: female protagonists were largely invisible’, The Conversation, 03rd June. Available at: https://theconversation.com/amp/i-looked-at-100-best-selling-picture-books-female-protagonists-were-largely-invisible-115843 (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Cf. McCabe, J., Fairchild, E., Grauerholz, L., Pescosolido, B. A., & Tope, D. (2011). Gender in twentieth-century children’s books: Patterns of disparity in titles and central characters. Gender & Society, 25(2), 197–226. doi:10.1177/0891243211398358. Also cf. Blake, J., & Maiese, N. (2008). No fairytale. The benefits of the bedtime story. The Psychologist, 21(5), 386–388.

Let Toys be Toys (2019). Available at: http://lettoysbetoys.org.uk/ (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Cf. Darby, S. (2016) ‘11 children's books that pass the bechdel’, Romper, 17th May. Available at: https://www.romper.com/p/11-childrens-books-that-pass-the-bechdel-test-10544 (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

Picture(s)

Hanser Literaturverlage (2019), [Screenshot]. Available at: https://www.hanser-literaturverlage.de/buch/good-night-stories-for-rebel-girls/978-3-446-25690-3/ (Accessed on: 04th November 2019).

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inloveandwords · 5 years

Text

The Buzzword Readathon starts on Monday and I’m SO ready.

OK, maybe not SO ready, but kind of ready and also nervous because I have a lot of physical books on my list and only one audio. Finding time to sit down and read a physical book is always a challenge for me, but that’s the whole point right?

If you’d rather watch this TBR and rec, check out my video here:

youtube

Otherwise, keep reading!

Buzzword Readathon TBR

The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill

Every year, the people of the Protectorate leave a baby as an offering to the witch who lives in the forest. They hope this sacrifice will keep her from terrorizing their town. But the witch in the forest, Xan, is kind and gentle. She shares her home with a wise Swamp Monster named Glerk and a Perfectly Tiny Dragon, Fyrian. Xan rescues the abandoned children and deliver them to welcoming families on the other side of the forest, nourishing the babies with starlight on the journey.

One year, Xan accidentally feeds a baby moonlight instead of starlight, filling the ordinary child with extraordinary magic. Xan decides she must raise this enmagicked girl, whom she calls Luna, as her own. To keep young Luna safe from her own unwieldy power, Xan locks her magic deep inside her. When Luna approaches her thirteenth birthday, her magic begins to emerge on schedule–but Xan is far away. Meanwhile, a young man from the Protectorate is determined to free his people by killing the witch. Soon, it is up to Luna to protect those who have protected her–even if it means the end of the loving, safe world she’s always known.

What if it’s Us by Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera

Arthur is only in New York for the summer, but if Broadway has taught him anything, it’s that the universe can deliver a showstopping romance when you least expect it.

Ben thinks the universe needs to mind its business. If the universe had his back, he wouldn’t be on his way to the post office carrying a box of his ex-boyfriend’s things.

But when Arthur and Ben meet-cute at the post office, what exactly does the universe have in store for them?

Maybe nothing. After all, they get separated.

Maybe everything. After all, they get reunited.

But what if they can’t quite nail a first date . . . or a second first date . . . or a third?

What if Arthur tries too hard to make it work . . . and Ben doesn’t try hard enough?

What if life really isn’t like a Broadway play?

But what if it is?

Anywhere but Here by Stephanie Hoffman McManus

Seven years ago, I left Conway, South Carolina swearing I would never go back. I put that town in my rearview and didn’t stop until there were several hundred miles between me and the memories I wanted to leave behind. But you can’t outrun your own heart. The past always comes back, and it didn’t matter how far I went, I couldn’t erase the mark he left. I’d never met anyone like Kellen Nash before. He made me feel so . . . alive. Until I made the mistake of falling in love with him. I spent seven years trying to forget only to be forced to come face to face with him again. I wasn’t prepared for old wounds to be reopened or for him to still have this effect on me. He nearly broke me once. I won’t give him the chance to do it again, even if he does still look at me like he can see everything I keep hidden inside. There’s too much history between us, like the North and the South, to forgive and forget so easily, but the longer I’m back, the more I start to question what really happened then, and the more I worry about what will happen if he discovers my biggest secret.

At seventeen she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and not at all what I expected. A girl like her didn’t belong with a guy like me, but that didn’t stop me from wanting her, or breaking her heart. I never thought I’d see her again, but she’s back. Only she isn’t the girl I knew. In her place is an angry spitfire even more gorgeous than I remember, and she’s determined to take all that anger out on me. I’ve spent seven years missing her, living with the regret of letting her go, and when I start to catch glimpses of the girl I loved, I realize it’s never too late. Or is it?

When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon

Dimple Shah has it all figured out. With graduation behind her, she’s more than ready for a break from her family, from Mamma’s inexplicable obsession with her finding the “Ideal Indian Husband.” Ugh. Dimple knows they must respect her principles on some level, though. If they truly believed she needed a husband right now, they wouldn’t have paid for her to attend a summer program for aspiring web developers…right?

Rishi Patel is a hopeless romantic. So when his parents tell him that his future wife will be attending the same summer program as him—wherein he’ll have to woo her—he’s totally on board. Because as silly as it sounds to most people in his life, Rishi wants to be arranged, believes in the power of tradition, stability, and being a part of something much bigger than himself.

The Shahs and Patels didn’t mean to start turning the wheels on this “suggested arrangement” so early in their children’s lives, but when they noticed them both gravitate toward the same summer program, they figured, Why not?

Dimple and Rishi may think they have each other figured out. But when opposites clash, love works hard to prove itself in the most unexpected ways.

Why We Broke Up by Daniel Handler

Min Green and Ed Slaterton are breaking up, so Min is writing Ed a letter and giving him a box. Inside the box is why they broke up. Two bottle caps, a movie ticket, a folded note, a box of matches, a protractor, books, a toy truck, a pair of ugly earrings, a comb from a motel room, and every other item collected over the course of a giddy, intimate, heartbreaking relationship. Item after item is illustrated and accounted for, and then the box, like a girlfriend, will be dumped.

Roar by Stacy Sims

Women are not small men. Stop eating and training like one.

Because most nutrition products and training plans are designed for men, it’s no wonder that so many female athletes struggle to reach their full potential. ROAR is a comprehensive, physiology-based nutrition and training guide specifically designed for active women. This book teaches you everything you need to know to adapt your nutrition, hydration, and training to your unique physiology so you can work with, rather than against, your female physiology. Exercise physiologist and nutrition scientist Stacy T. Sims, PhD, shows you how to be your own biohacker to achieve optimum athletic performance.

Complete with goal-specific meal plans and nutrient-packed recipes to optimize body composition, ROAR contains personalized nutrition advice for all stages of training and recovery. Customizable meal plans and strengthening exercises come together in a comprehensive plan to build a rock-solid fitness foundation as you build lean muscle where you need it most, strengthen bone, and boost power and endurance. Because women’s physiology changes over time, entire chapters are devoted to staying strong and active through pregnancy and menopause. No matter what your sport is—running, cycling, field sports, triathlons—this book will empower you with the nutrition and fitness knowledge you need to be in the healthiest, fittest, strongest shape of your life.

♥ ♥ ♥

Buzzword Readathon Recs from my Bookshelf

Hideous Love by Stephanie Hemphill

An all-consuming love affair.

A family torn apart by scandal.

A young author on the brink of greatness.

Hideous Love is the fascinating story of Gothic novelist Mary Shelley, who as a teen girl fled her restrictive home only to find herself in the shadow of a brilliant but moody boyfriend, famed poet Percy Shelley. It is the story of the mastermind behind one of the most iconic figures in all of literature: a monster constructed out of dead bodies and brought to life by the tragic Dr. Frankenstein.

Mary wrote Frankenstein at the age of nineteen, but inspiration for the monster came from her life-the atmospheric European settings she visited, the dramas swirling around her, and the stimulating philosophical discussions with the greatest minds of the period, like her close friend, Lord Byron.

This luminous verse novel from award-winning author Stephanie Hemphill reveals how Mary Shelley became one of the most celebrated authors in history.

What I Thought Was True by Huntley Fitzpatrick

Gwen Castle has never so badly wanted to say good-bye to her island home till now: the summer her Biggest Mistake Ever, Cassidy Somers, takes a job there as the local yard boy. He’s a rich kid from across the bridge in Stony Bay, and she hails from a family of fishermen and housecleaners who keep the island’s summer people happy. Gwen worries a life of cleaning houses will be her fate too, but just when it looks like she’ll never escape her past—or the island—Gwen’s dad gives her some shocking advice. Sparks fly and secret histories unspool as Gwen spends a gorgeous, restless summer struggling to resolve what she thought was true—about the place she lives, the people she loves, and even herself—with what really is.

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Everyone in Shaker Heights was talking about it that summer: how Isabelle, the last of the Richardson children, had finally gone around the bend and burned the house down.

In Shaker Heights, a placid, progressive suburb of Cleveland, everything is meticulously planned – from the layout of the winding roads, to the colours of the houses, to the successful lives its residents will go on to lead. And no one embodies this spirit more than Elena Richardson, whose guiding principle is playing by the rules.

Enter Mia Warren – an enigmatic artist and single mother – who arrives in this idyllic bubble with her teenage daughter Pearl, and rents a house from the Richardsons. Soon Mia and Pearl become more than just tenants: all four Richardson children are drawn to the alluring mother-daughter pair. But Mia carries with her a mysterious past, and a disregard for the rules that threatens to upend this carefully ordered community.

When the Richardsons’ friends attempt to adopt a Chinese-American baby, a custody battle erupts that dramatically divides the town and puts Mia and Mrs. Richardson on opposing sides. Suspicious of Mia and her motives, Mrs. Richardson becomes determined to uncover the secrets in Mia’s past. But her obsession will come at unexpected and devastating costs to her own family – and Mia’s.

Little Fires Everywhere explores the weight of long-held secrets and the ferocious pull of motherhood-and the danger of believing that planning and following the rules can avert disaster, or heartbreak.

When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore

To everyone who knows them, best friends Miel and Sam are as strange as they are inseparable. Roses grow out of Miel’s wrist, and rumors say that she spilled out of a water tower when she was five. Sam is known for the moons he paints and hangs in the trees, and for how little anyone knows about his life before he and his mother moved to town. But as odd as everyone considers Miel and Sam, even they stay away from the Bonner girls, four beautiful sisters rumored to be witches. Now they want the roses that grow from Miel’s skin, convinced that their scent can make anyone fall in love. And they’re willing to use every secret Miel has fought to protect to make sure she gives them up.

How to Find Love in a Bookshop by Veronica Henry

The enchanting story of a bookshop, its grieving owner, a supportive literary community, and the extraordinary power of books to heal the heart

Nightingale Books, nestled on the main street in an idyllic little village, is a dream come true for book lovers–a cozy haven and welcoming getaway for the literary-minded locals. But owner Emilia Nightingale is struggling to keep the shop open after her beloved father’s death, and the temptation to sell is getting stronger. The property developers are circling, yet Emilia’s loyal customers have become like family, and she can’t imagine breaking the promise she made to her father to keep the store alive.

There’s Sarah, owner of the stately Peasebrook Manor, who has used the bookshop as an escape in the past few years, but it now seems there’s a very specific reason for all those frequent visits. Next is roguish Jackson, who, after making a complete mess of his marriage, now looks to Emilia for advice on books for the son he misses so much. And the forever shy Thomasina, who runs a pop-up restaurant for two in her tiny cottage–she has a crush on a man she met in the cookbook section, but can hardly dream of working up the courage to admit her true feelings.

Enter the world of Nightingale Books for a serving of romance, long-held secrets, and unexpected hopes for the future–and not just within the pages on the shelves. How to Find Love in a Bookshop is the delightful story of Emilia, the unforgettable cast of customers whose lives she has touched, and the books they all cherish.

♥ ♥ ♥

Buzzword Readathon Recs I’ve Read

Atheists Who Kneel and Pray by Tarryn Fisher

Yara Phillips is a wandering muse.

She dates men who need her, but always moves on to something new, never staying in one place for very long.

David Lisey is in need of a muse.

A talented musician lacking lyrical inspiration. When he first sees her, he knows he’s found what he’s been looking for.

Yara believes she can give David exactly what he needs to reach his full potential: A broken heart.

David’s religion is love.

Yara’s religion is heartache.

Neither is willing to surrender, but religion always requires sacrifice.

The Sky is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson

Adrift after her sister Bailey’s sudden death, Lennie finds herself torn between quiet, seductive Toby—Bailey’s boyfriend who shares her grief—and Joe, the new boy in town who bursts with life and musical genius. Each offers Lennie something she desperately needs… though she knows if the two of them collide her whole world will explode.

Join Lennie on this heartbreaking and hilarious journey of profound sorrow and mad love, as she makes colossal mistakes and colossal discoveries, as she traipses through band rooms and forest bedrooms and ultimately right into your heart.

As much a celebration of love as a poignant portrait of loss, Lennie’s struggle to sort her own melody out of the noise around her is always honest, often uproarious, and absolutely unforgettable.

Where the Silence Gathers by Kelsey Sutton

In this companion novel to the critically acclaimed Some Quiet Place, Alex must choose between Revenge and Forgiveness.

For as long as she can remember, Alexandra Tate has been able to see personified Emotions, and she’s found a best friend in Revenge. He’s her constant companion as she waits outside Nate Foster’s house, clutching a gun. Every night since Nate’s release from prison, Alex has tried to work up the courage to exact her own justice on him for the drunk driving accident that killed her family.

But there’s one problem: Forgiveness. When he appears, Alex is faced with a choice—moving on or getting even. It’s impossible to decide with Forgiveness whispering in one ear . . . and Revenge whispering in the other.

Buzzword Readathon TBR & Recs! + {New Video} The Buzzword Readathon starts on Monday and I'm SO ready. OK, maybe not SO ready, but kind of ready and also nervous because I have a lot of physical books on my list and only one audio.

#buzzword readathon #recommendation

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