2, 5, and 14 for the ask game!!

I finally get to answer this I kept on loosing my phone 😔

Ok starting from the top

2. Favorite album: ooh this is a toughy I don’t really often listen to albums in one straight go however I did listen to pink panthers new album heaven knows and I enjoyed it very much, Especially the track mosquito. The music video had the Bridgerton actresses in it and it was so cute. Oh I also listened to orange lounge full album on repeat.

5. Tv show of the year: I didn’t do a lot of watching this year if anything I rewatched a lot of old stuff. However I did watch Emma an older anime from like 2006 takes place during Victorian England so it shows the grime. It has two seasons but my GOD the main male love interest is a COWARD not only did he have my girl Emma stressed he also had the nicest girl (I forgot her name) even more stressed out. I also watched cunk on earth for the first time😍 hilarious 10/10. After that I watched queen charlotte but I live in the house of phobic so I need to rewatch it on my own because every time I watched it with a family member they skipped over the gay parts and ended up going too far and missed vital plot scenes ugh it was so annoying.

Lastly 14. Favorite book this year: now ima a trashy historical romance novel enthusiast I cannot lie 😣 so first off we have the bachelor betrayal series book 1 & 2 now do I recommend these eh idk. it’s a historical books series so it’s not surprising that the bisexual lesbian is a hidden villain very wack, I understand they were going for a character foil type angle but yeah 😕 I also reread Bridgerton offer from a gentleman book 3 my favorite book in the series. It’s a classic Cinderella type story but I love it. Outside of historical land I also read white royal blue just for giggles. I’m on the last few chapters. Very cute, I probably wouldn’t have read it if one of my moots hadn’t tagged me in a book list post so I decided I’d give it a read and I’m glad I did so far it’s been very enjoyable.

That’s all folks. Thanks for the asks I love doing these things.

Little Things On Sunday Mornings

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, swearing(maybe?), me not proofreading + writers block

Words: 1,224

Summary: Although Sundays in the house are usually pretty lazy, a little company would make it much more enjoyable.

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​, @stydia-4-ever​, @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @simonsbluee​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @peakysputain​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Little sock covered feet padded through the halls. Despite it being early in the morning, Charlie was full of energy. He stumbled often, still very young and very new to walking, but made due. Charlie stopped in front of his parent’s door.

It was already opened a crack, so he pushed his way in and waddled over to their bed. The two were fast asleep in each other’s arms. It was Sunday, so sleeping in was a norm for around everyone in the home.

The little boy struggled to climb onto the bed due to his little legs and equally as little arms. Nevertheless, he didn’t give in. A few more tries later and he’d managed to crawl onto the middle of the bed. Y/n let out a small moan and adjusted under the sheets, the new weight on the bed likely the cause of her movements.

He took her spacing from Tommy as the perfect opportunity and crawled between the two, sliding under the sheets. Charles grinned to himself as Y/n’s arms wrapped around him and her soft voice whispered a sleepy greeting with a lazy chuckle. “Good morning little man.”

Charles nuzzled into Y/n and relished in the attention. Her eyelids flicked open slowly and she pecked the tip of Charlie’s nose. He gave her a look of confusion as she pulled away and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Noises left his mouth, babbles and attempts of forming real words to prevent her leave.

“It’s alright, Charlie. Mummy will be right back.” She pinched his cheek before she left the bedroom.

Five minutes had passed before she had returned. Y/n stopped in the doorway and smiled at the sight before her; Tommy’s arm was slung over his son, who played with father’s face and giggled heartily. Thomas looked as if he slightly enjoyed the odd actions- and he did. His heart was content with the three people that often these mornings in his bed doing nothing but being together.

“Are you just going to watch, or would you like to have your turn getting a visit from the little doctor?” Even through his raspy voice, you could practically hear his smile.

“I would love to...” Y/n walked over the bed and sat back in her spot. “But I think he’s having a wonderful time playing with your face, daddy.”

“Oh nooo, I’m sure he wants you to have a turn, mummy.”

The occasional “mummy” and “daddy” were just something they’d picked up after referencing to each other with said names whilst talking to Charles. Ada had commented that she found it cute while John snickered and Polly slapped his arm lightly, scolding him under her breath.

“See?” Thomas lifted Charlie onto Y/n’s lap and scooted beside the two. “If not, you can always get a refund.”

“And how exactly am I paying doctor Charlie?”

The boy responded with more giggles and babbles, causing the couple to chuckle softly. He clapped to himself and smiled brightly. His smile grew as his parents clapped along with him.

“By...” her hand moved to his foot, her fingers slowly gaining speed as they began to tickle his sock covered foot, “tickles?”

Charlie squealed and squirmed. His feet kicked and thrashed without his consent and giggles erupted from his little mouth uncontrollably. Slowly, he attempted to crawl over to his father, to escape his mother’s evil hands of tickle.

However, Tommy was not the right person to go to. He too began to tickle Charlie and a small smile made way to his lips. Y/n lied next to them with her head resting on her hand that was held up by her elbow on top of the pillow. She watched with intrigue and adoration; her boys, Tommy’s smile, and Charlie’s giggles.

The tickling stopped as Tommy lifted Charlie up and set him between him and Y/n. Charlie scooched to the end of the bed and hopped off, running out of the room and disappearing as he ran further out. Y/n and Tommy turned their heads towards one another and exchanged small looks of curiosity.

Their curiosity was solved after five minutes, surprisingly. Charlie’s rushed stomps echoed through the halls, followed by occasional tiny grunts. And there he was; the little Shelby with an arm full of stuffed toys from his room, bear, dog, rabbit and everything.

“Charlie? What’ve you got?” Y/n tilted her head at the boy.

He babbled excitedly and surged forward, face planting in the bed with his stuffed animals to break his fall. Charles’ laughter brought them relief with the knowledge that he hadn’t gotten hurt. One stuffed animal at a time, he placed his friends on his parents bed and climbed up after them.

“What’s that? Is that Mr. Bear?” Tommy decided to indulge Charlie and played along with the game he’d just started. He picked up the fuzzy bear and held it up beside his ear, “Did you say something?” 

Despite his tough exterior, Thomas was a goofy man. He was amazing at voices, perfect with children, and great at cheering someone up when he wanted to be. The only people who’d been lucky enough to see such a thing were his family and some of his friends.

Charles’ expression changed when Thomas picked up a voice and messed around with it. He talked in his normal voice, then the one he came up with; acting as if it was the bear.

Noticing his mother’s lack of a role in his attention, since he’d been carried away with watching Mr. Bear talk to his father about silly things, Charlie crawled closer to his mother and sat on her lap. He watched as Tommy set the bear down and leaned over to kiss Y/n before returning to the stuffed bear in his lap. A new idea in mind, Charlie grabbed his mother’s face, smooshing her cheeks together.

“And he- oh? ‘Ave you got mummy’s face, little man?” Tommy chuckled.

Little squeaks were spoken in return as Charlie stared Y/n dead in the eyes. She felt only slightly intimidated- but found it extremely cute and amusing. “Bubba, whatever are you d-” Y/n was cut off by tiny lips hitting hers. Charlie looked at his dad with a smile just as equally amused as his.

“I think he just initiated some kind of contest.” Tommy stared at his child with a lopsided grin. “Bring it on, little man.”

“Oh quit it. You’re just jealous that I’m giving Charlie attention.” She joked. Charlie clapped with joy as his mother pressed little pecks on his cheeks. The door creaked open, Charlie’s nanny standing tall with her own arms full of toys Charlie dropped in the halls. Y/n nodded and sent Charlie with her, waving until the door clicked shut.

“I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m the queen of England.” Although Y/n rolled her eyes, her smile held strong. “I’ll give you some attention too, my handsome man-baby.”

“I’m not a man-bab-” Y/n rolled over, so she was straddling her husband, and kissed Tommy softly, smiling at him when she pulled away. He too grinned in return, lips up from ear to ear, and tossed the bear, which he had yet to let go of, aside. His hands gripped Y/n’s hips, her arms resting around his neck. “You really are the queen, ya know?”

“Yep.”

Books I’ve Read in 2020

AHello! I’m trying to read as many books as I can during the quarantine, here’s what I’ve finished so far:

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (literary fiction): a son writes a letter about his life to his illiterate mother. Breathtakingly beautiful with it’s way with words this book is lovely and real in the hardest and sweetest ways. The author’s combination of prose and poetry is dazzling and intricate, this book has stuck with me for days afterward. 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (fantasy): a money-lender gets in trouble after bragging she can turn silver into gold and is kidnapped and ordered to do so by a fey creature. It may be that I am the perfect audience for this type of book, but it’s my favorite thing I’ve read all year. It’s a book that equally takes on the fantastical and real-world with compelling female characters at the center of the whole thing. A wonderful fantasy journey inspired by eastern-European Jewish folklore. 5 out of 5 stars.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll (horror graphic novel): a series of short horror comics. Absolutely bone-chilling! This was a really fun type of scary story, especially the last one which made my skin absolutely crawl. Deliciously eerie, this was treat to read if not a little too short. 4 out of 5 stars.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender (magical realism): a young girl can taste other people’s emotions in their cooking and begins to understand her family in new ways. This was a weird book, but it has everything you’ve got to love about that combination of the surreal and mundane. It’s sense of character was electrifying and I had fun engaging with this type of off-kilter real world. I was a little frustrated in parts bc of some characters choices, but that too was true to life. 4 out of 5 stars.

Crier’s War by Nina Varela (steampunk fantasy wlw): about a Made automaton heir to a throne and her human hand-maiden that is trying to kill her. This was an easy read with a lot of tension between the two main characters that I liked, but the writing itself was very weak. There was waaay too much exposition in parts and the dialogue had some really hockey lines. I enjoyed the twists and turns in the middle of the book, but the beginning and end didn’t have much movement. 2.5 stars out of 5.

The Huntress by Kate Quinn (historical fiction): honestly, I’m a little disappointed. This book just did not hit my sweet spots, it wasn’t fast-paced enough for me to get immersed in the plot, and the characters weren’t real enough to be wholly invested in them. That said I adored Nina Markova and the Night Witches, so that did help. 3 starts out of 5.

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White (horror sci-fi retelling): HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. A retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein from the perspective of Victor Frankenstein’s wife and my God! The characters! The plot was well-enough, but the characters took the whole show for being complex and compelling. The main character was breathtakingly layered and I was wholly invested in Elizabeth and her story and the triumph at the end of this story was tangible. 4 out of 5 stars! 

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (fantasy): A story of a young woman who lives in a valley where a girl must go live with a wizard for 10 years. She is certain she won’t be chosen, but ends up having to be “uprooted” herself. I enjoyed most of this book! However, I think I liked “Spinning Silver” a lot more just because the ending of this one somehow lost me. The characters were good and plot compelling, but (SPOILERS) the big battle at the end seemed to drag and didn’t interest me somehow. 3.8 out of 5 stars.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (fantasy): excellent read! A story of a young woman in Jazz Age Mexico who goes on an adventure with a Mayan death God who is trying to regain his throne. A romp across the country absolutely brimming with likable characters and fairy tale twists. My only complaint would be that most of it felt a little predictable due to the fact we knew where we were going throughout the whole story, However, it was still greatly enjoyable for the heroine herself, Casiopea. 4 out of 5 stars!

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng (literary): a story of two families in a progressive “planned” community, how their lives intertwine, their secrets, and a central question surrounding motherhood. Deeply empathetic to its characters and introspective, this is an every-day story of people in suburbia that reads like a thriller. I could barely put it down and felt deeply for its characters and situations, 5 out of 5 stars!

Wilder Girls by Rory Power (YA sci-fi suspense): a story of a group of girls at a boarding school on an island affected by the “tox” which alters their bodies in strange ways like giving them scales or an extra spine. This was an eerie, interesting read with a wlw romance! Watch out for the body horror in this one, but it was very gripping and held my interest. Some of the pacing was off in places (like the romance), but had a very creepy atmosphere that did it for me. 3.8 out of 5 stars!

If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (thriller-mystery): A thriller about a group of Shakespeare actors in their last year of college and one of their classmates who turns up dead. I enjoyed the murder mystery part of this novel more than I expected despite the fact I had guessed who had “done it” pretty early on. I really enjoyed the James-Oliver dynamic with its growing homoeroticism, but I didn’t like how the character of Meredith was handled at all. She felt like a one-note aside. I might have given this book four stars, but the ending was EXTREMELY frustrating for me and I did not like the “open-ended” conclusion. 3 out of 5 stars.

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): a weird character-driven comedy about an old grumpy man and a new family that moves in next to him. Warning for themes of suicide. Anyway, I don’t normally indulge in cliches like “I laughed, I cried, I loved one Cat Annoyance.” However, that’s exactly what I did. I laughed out loud, I cried my eyes out (THE CAT’S HEAD WAS IN HIS PALM), I loved this book. It was sweet and compelling and thoroughly immersive. 5 out of 5 stars!

The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow (historical fantasy): set in the early 1900s comes a story of a young girl and her experience with “Doors” that lead to different worlds. This book had a lot of great character development and really interesting descriptions, however, I didn’t like it as much as I wanted to. I found it hard to get myself to sit down a read it. There was just something missing with the push to “page-turn,” but it was still a really good book. 3.7 out of 5 stars!

Gideon the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (high fantasy, kinda gay): I AM FILLED WITH EMOTIONS. This was book was definitely a page-turner. I was very confused with it at the beginning, but the characters and their interactions were, forgive the expression, the life blood of the story and kept me wholly invested. The ending has CRUSHED my heart, but damn did I have a good time reading it. 4.5 out of 5 stars!

Harrow the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (sequel to Gideon the 9th): I really enjoyed this book. It was just as strange and twisting as the first book, though I think I enjoyed the first one a bit more since I love Gideon. It was fun ride overall, though the ending was kind of really confusing. So 4 out of 5 stars.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (historical fiction): Overall, I really enjoyed this book! The writing style was personable and grounded in reality. I found myself really liking the main characters and the exploration of the life of a bi main character was really well done I thought. A solid book with drama and glamor to boot. 4.6 out of 5 stars!

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (historical fiction): A story of two sisters during WWII and their resistance to Nazi occupation. To be honest, this book wasn’t my cup of tea. It was compelling, but also wholly depressing and I felt like gloried in the pain of the two main characters too much. The history was wonderful and realistic, but it didn’t make me feel anything good afterward. It was just dark. 3 out of 5 stars.

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (mlm romance): I finally finished this after the heaviness of The Nightingale. This is a story of the First Son of the USA falling for the prince of England. And it turned out to be a very fun and light hearted read! Some of it was kinda generic and too political, and it coulda been shorter, but I thought the romance itself made up for it. It just made me feel so sweet and lovely inside. 4 out of 5 stars!

Anxious People by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): I’m searching out heartfelt books and this one ticked off all the marks on my “sweet” list. A lovely book that made me cry more times than I would like to admit. Compassionate beyond belief, funny and heartfelt. I think I enjoyed A Man Called Ove slightly more, but this book was also dear to me and something I hope to reread in the future. 4.2 out of 5 stars!

Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel (sci-fi): A post-apocalyptical story about a group of traveling Shakespeare actors and a symphony. Overall, an excellent read that somehow pictures a more realistic or even softer version of the apocalypse. At first, I wasn't happy with the jumping around of the story, but as I progressed I grew fonder and fonder of the interwoven characters and their journey. A very fascinating read about a world that hits a little too close to home. The appreciation of the arts and preserving humanity was somehow very hopeful and I was fully engaged with this story. 5 out of 5 Stars!

Up next: The Hidden Life of Trees by by Peter Wohlleben (nonfiction science), The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin (urban fantasy), The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (fantasy)

Queen live at National Bowl in Milton Keynes, UK - June 5, 1982 (Part-1)

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It was originally intended for the band to play this concert at Arsenal Stadium in Highbury, but it was moved to Milton Keynes for the same reason the Leeds show wasn't played at the famed Old Trafford. It's also worth noting that the band wanted to play at London's famous Royal Albert Hall as well, but the plan was never orchestrated as there was much fear that the weight of Queen's lighting rig would make the ceiling cave in. An early tour itinerary listed two London shows (June 4 and 5) on the agenda. The Teardrop Explodes were among the bands (the same line-up as last week in Leeds) who opened for Queen at this show. Their guitarist, Julian Cope, stood before about 40 thousand Queen fans and introduced the next song as being probably the best song they had ever heard, prompting someone near the stage to throw a toilet seat at him, which missed (people are known to bring cameras and certain substances to concerts, but toilet seats?). Lemonade bottles were then thrown at the guitarist which he tossed back into the audience. The complete Queen concert was filmed. A shortened video was shown on UK TV on a show called "The Tube" in January 1983 (omitting Action This Day, the bit of Las Palabras de Amor, Back Chat, Get Down Make Love, part of the guitar solo, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Another One Bites The Dust, and Sheer Heart Attack), and on MTV in the US in August 1983 (the latter was a simulcast, with the audio being broadcast on FM radio in stereo, on the west coast, at least). The video was edited by Gavin Taylor, who was later invited by the band to direct the now famous video at Wembley Stadium in 1986. An even shorter version (about 50 minutes long) of the Milton Keynes video was shown on UK TV in 2001 (and many times since). Both the Milton Keynes and Wembley shows would eventually be released on DVD uncut. The 2004 official release of this show (both on CD and DVD) is called "Queen On Fire: Live At The Bowl". The DVD is a beautiful document of Queen's show at the time, packed full of classic Queen moments. There are also extras from 1982 shows in Vienna and Tokyo. After a great version of Play The Game, Freddie essentially apologizes to the audience for much of the latest album's content: "Now most of you know that we've got some new songs out in the last week. For what it's worth we're gonna do a few songs in the funk/black category, whatever you call it. That doesn't mean we've lost our rock and roll feel, okay? I mean it's only a bloody record. People get so excited about these things! We just wanna try out a few songs. This is Staying Power." For some reason part of the speech was removed for the CD release of "Live At The Bowl." Without a doubt this is his definitive live delivery of the song, pulling off all of the stops. Mercury is at his peak tonight. Somebody To Love has been a vocal adventure of Freddie's for the past couple years. His intro is different every night, as is his solo spot towards the end. The version captured here on film is surely one of his best. Before launching into the familiar piano theme, he asks the audience in a moment for the ages, "Are you ready?" And in excitement, "Huh? Are you ready brothers and sisters?" Part way through his vocal exchange with the audience in Now I'm Here, Freddie says, "C'mon, we're gonna make you sing like Aretha Franklin." At the end of the successful duel, he jokingly says, "Right, you can join the band!" The r&b influence is never more evident than it is here, and it makes for a classic version of the song. Brian breaks a string just before his guitar solo in Dragon Attack. While he switches to a Red Special copy, John Deacon gets to play the bass solo as it's heard on the record - the one and only time he has the chance to do it. It's on the fly, and he nails it note for note. "Las Palabras de Amor" was released as a single a few days ago, and Brian plays a small bit of it on his 12-string acoustic before Love Of My Life. He then mentions how the band won't be playing their "song of peace" tonight, as he calls it. This remains the only show where the Hot Space ballad would be referenced. Brian's guitar briefly cuts out during his solo spot, a moment that was edited out of the 1983 TV broadcasts (and slightly edited on the CD release) but seen uncut on the DVD. Brian's guitar tech is seen rushing on and off stage within seconds, having quickly resolved the issue (it was likely a sticky pickup switch). About half way through Sheer Heart Attack, Brian sneaks in the riff from I Go Crazy an octave up, and much faster, to match the tempo of the energetic News Of The World rocker. The song would be dropped from the set after this show, only to emerge again late in the pending North American tour. This would be Morgan Fisher's last show with the band as the touring keyboardist. A number of theories abound about his departure, including butting heads with Mercury's personal manager Paul Prenter or his apparent fear of flying, but it was simply a case of him moving on to other gigs (Fisher confirmed in a 2009 interview that he has never been afraid of airplanes). The CD and DVD releases would be patched up a bit, most notably in the third verse of Fat Bottomed Girls where Freddie's voice cracked badly on "locality," as well as for "now I'm here, now I'm there." Roger's timing with the guitar delays at the end of May's solo spot was bit off at the show, but this is fixed up as well. The sound quality as a whole is much better than the broadcasts, but there are a couple differences in the mix - some of Brian's backing vocals (particularly at the end of Somebody To Love) can be clearly heard in the broadcast mix but were brought down for the official releases, and compression has been added to Roger's snare drum, giving it a much fatter sound compared to Queen Rock Montreal. Brian May and Roger Taylor are interviewed before the show, as shown on the Bowl DVD and the original TV broadcasts. Brian reveals that he really enjoys playing Play The Game. He explains, "You've done your leaping about, and you've made your statement on your entry. And then you can settle down and start really playing something." Roger says his current favourite is Under Pressure. On the day before this show Freddie's boyfriend at the time had bitten him between his thumb and forefinger during a fight, causing it to bleed profusely and require stitches. On the DVD, Freddie is seen tossing the bandage around just before coming on stage. The sixth picture was submitted by Fabio Minero, and the eighth is from Alessio Rizzitelli. The second set was taken by Brenski.

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Fan Stories

“At the time, I was living on the Mull Of Kintyre on the West coast of Scotland. I remember being elated at getting tickets for the last gig of the UK tour. I always tried to get 'last night' tickets, because the band were famous for always going a little more 'over the top' on each of their tour's final nights. So, we drove down from Scotland, which took an eternity with fuel and meal stops, and stayed at the in-law's on the south coast of England. The next day we set for the 'new-town' of Milton Keynes, about 100 miles or so, away. We got there quite early before the gates opened and the weather was unsettled, lightly raining for about five minutes nearly every other hour. The support bands for the day were 'Teardrop Explodes', who had a fairly big hit with a song called 'Reward'. I quite liked Julian Cope and his band, but this WAS a rock gig, and the audience weren't generally as receptive to this brass backed 'new romantic' style of music. The customary sea of lemonade bottles headed towards the stage ensued. Now it was over twenty years ago, and the memory starts to fade a bit after a while, so I'm not sure whether 'Heart' were next on, or 'Joan Jett and the Blackhearts'. Either way, both bands played well, and were most enjoyable. Joan Jett had recently had a very big hit with 'I Love Rock'n'Roll' (very recently covered by Britney Spears), and the crowd loved that one. This was prior to 'Heart' having a major hit in the UK, but they were at that time an established and well known band. Looking at the stage, there were these items that looked like little vehicles hanging from the gantry, we later found out that these were individual self contained lighting platforms with a guy sat in each directing three spotlights wherever they were required to do so. The Queen set itself started with an extended backing tape from the intro of Flash Gordon. Most of you will have seen the video of this gig, so I won't labour on about what they played too much. Only that the crowd, as a whole, weren't into the 'Hot Space' numbers that much. Personally, I was watching my favourite band, so I didn't really care what they played, as long as it was theirs. The bits cut out of the video, included an intro to 'Las Palabras De Amor' from Brian, (just before 'Love Of My Life'), though they never actually played the whole song, Brian announced that they were not doing their song of peace tonight. Brian's two-day guitar solo was edited out, as was 'Fat Bottomed Girls', the intro harmonies on this did come across as pretty iffy, and of all songs, they also edited out 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love', much to my disappointment, as I'd heckled Freddie about his ability as a guitarist, and 'stone me', he only went and answered me. Knebworth '86 was a much better show, but I know I'm lucky enough to have had the honour to be able to compare them.”  - Steve_C/Kes

Part-2

Part-3

Books, May - June 2021

Tess of the Road - Rachel Hartman [dnf]

A River of Stars - Vanessa Hua

The Sealed Letter - Emma Donoghue

Giant Bones - Peter S. Beagle

Moominsummer Madness - Tove Jansson *

The Beacon at Alexandria - Gillian Bradshaw *

The Phantom Tollbooth - Norton Juster *

Libertie - Kaitlyn Greenidge 

Stay - Nicola Griffith

Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age - Annalee Newitz [Thoroughly enjoyable, but also the sort of pop archaeology book where things like this happen repeatedly, and I’m sorry, but I laughed: “And then, as if by magic, the eminent University of Cambridge archaeologist Andrew Wallace-Hadrill appeared.” (As far as the narrative admits, they did not have an appointment; while they were wandering around Pompeii, collecting information about his speciality, he was wandering around Pompeii, happy to be encountered and become a source.)]

Teach Me - Olivia Dade

The Address Book: What Street Addresses Reveal About Identity, Race, Wealth, and Power - Deirdre Mask

We Are Watching Eliza Bright - A.E. Osworth [“I am not going to read the gamergate novel,” I said, “and especially not when it’s using 1st person plural MFA POV half of the time,” but then I voyeuristically devoured the gamergate novel which is, really, its point: “We are obsessed with what goes on where we can’t see it.”] *

Ivory Apples - Lisa Goldstein [what the hell?!? no.]

The Future of Another Timeline - Annalee Newitz

The Scarlet Seed - Edith Pargeter [the scenes that made me cry as a child still make me cry now, and that’s rather nice]

The Perilous Life of Jade Yeo - Zen Cho [Five books later, I’m prepared to admit that Zen Cho and I aligned for one glorious novel and some related characters (Sorcerer to the Crown; Rollo & Aunt Georgiana), and I’m mostly indifferent to everything else, but I keep trying because there’s always a sentence like this: “Being good-looking and interesting and having the heavy-lidded gaze of a romantic tapir does not excuse writing a foolish book.”]

Elementals - A. S. Byatt

Searching for Black Confederates: The Civil War’s Most Persistent Myth - Kevin M. Levin

What Katy Did Next - Susan Coolidge

Feed the Resistance: Recipes + Ideas for Getting Involved - Julia Turshen et al.

A Duke, the Lady, and a Baby - Vanessa Riley [dnf]

The Sibyl in Her Grave - Sarah Caudwell

Sabriel - Garth Nix *

Outcrossing - Celia Lake [dnf]

Mending Matters: Stitch, Patch, and Repair Your Favorite Denim & More - Katrina Rodabaugh [so I feel like this was a couple of blog posts inflated into a book]

Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake - Alexis Hall [extremely funny, made me want to bake during a heat wave, likely to suffer in reviews from mismatched genre expectations: it’s romantic comedy, not romance (I’ve just looked and yep! this is a major complaint)] *

Tales from Moominvalley - Tove Jansson

Goblin Fruit - Celia Lake [dnf]

Coffee Boy - Austin Chant [trying to do more than its length and thin characterization can carry, but also heartening in the main character’s explicit refusal to embody a limited and patronizing narrative of marginalized suffering; I wouldn’t want every trans romance to do this so overtly, just as I don’t want every queer romance to be about overcoming homophobia, but I want a few of them to (fair also to note that in contemporary settings, I find boss/intern scenarios really unappealing, and no, I don’t care if they talk about it; had it been longer I would almost certainly have bailed)]

Uncanny Valley - Anna Wiener [didn’t really plan to read this; definitely didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did - I thought it would be just another new adult navel-gazing indictment of tech bros, and it is, but it’s got seriously good style to go with it] *

Lord John and the Private Matter - Diana Gabaldon

Behind Closed Doors: At Home in Georgian England - Amanda Vickery

On Juneteenth - Annette Gordon-Reed

Salt Magic, Skin Magic - Lee Welch

Lord John and the Hand of Devils - Diana Gabaldon [read the first two novellas, but my tolerance for Diana Gabaldon’s Diana-Gabaldon-ness is relatively low and the second novel wore it out; dnf]

Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade - Diana Gabaldon

A Seditious Affair - KJ Charles [because once you’re 75+ comments into an increasingly-involved modern AU, the only reasonable thing to do is give in (looking back at the innocence of this mid-June annotation...oh, you sweet summer child)] *

Four Hundred Souls: A Community History of African America 1619-2019 - edited by Ibram X. Kendi and Keisha N. Blain [in the end, I’m not sure the organizing principles of 5 year chunks and short word counts really allow enough scope for many of the essays, but look for this to show up on Most Challenged lists and as a target of reactionary legislation anyway]

A Gentleman’s Position - KJ Charles [see prev. entry in series]

The Secret Adversary - Agatha Christie [sometimes you should not reread your childhood books]

Fire Watch - Connie Willis

The Ruin of Gabriel Ashleigh - KJ Charles [possibly shouldn’t be an entry, but what the heck, it’s sold separately; see prev. entry in series]

The City of Brass - S. A. Chakraborty

American Quilts: The Democratic Art - Robert Shaw [that subtitle tells you exactly what to expect from the text, but the quilts are lovely]

Engaging Diverse Communities: A Guide to Museum Public Relations - Melissa A. Johnson

Strange the Dreamer - Laini Taylor [dnf]

Game Night

Julie and the Phantoms x Platonic!Reader

Maybe storms and power outages aren’t so bad when you have your friends around to keep you safe.

Warnings: Thunderstorms...? None, otherwise

A/N: this is so self-indulgent, it’s unbelievable, but ya know what? write what you want to see and this is what i want to see!! also: my first time writing for jatp publicly, oop. also: we love julie molina in this house, don’t be a coward

To say you hung out at the Molina’s house more than your own would be somewhat of an understatement.

You’ve been a good friend of Julie’s for awhile now and you spend most of your time there. Not to say you don’t necessarily want to spend time at home, you’ve just always found the company of friends more enjoyable and Mr. Molina’s always more than accommodating—a friend of Julie’s is a friend of the family’s.

“What’d you get for number four?” Julie asks, glancing up from her pile of papers to look at you perched on the end of her bed.

“England,” you hum.

Julie taps her glittery pencil to her paper. “Y/N, we’re doing Calculus.” Your eyes dart away from the window you’ve been staring out of to finally glance down at your paper—and the numbers that litter it.

“Right. Sorry,” you breathe, both of you emitting light laughter. “It’s just...it’s raining kind of hard out there.” Julie follows your gaze to notice the rain pattering against the glass, each droplet with more force than the last.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to thunder later,” she adds. Her tone is casual as she shifts in her spot, returning to her work. There’s a moment as you stay still, eyes watching the rain, before Julie seems to notice. “Are you okay?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you nod your head. “Yeah, yeah. Just distracted.” You drum your fingers anxiously against her knee and Julie’s eyes narrow as she watches. “Should I...head home? Is the storm going to get that bad?”

“We might lose power, but you know you can still stay if you want. If not, I guess my dad could drive you home...” She trails off as she shrugs. The anxiety radiating off of you is almost enough to combat Alex. “I never knew you didn’t like thunderstorms.”

You furrow your brows, eyes darting back to Julie. “I never said that,” you defend and you see the confusion written on her face. “I don’t mind them. They sound calming and the grass after a storm smells nice, but the electricity and the claps of thunder...” You shudder. “I guess it makes me...nervous.”

Julie raises a brow. “‘Nervous’ how?”

“It’s dark. And also quiet, but way too loud at the same time. It’s confusing, and what? I’m just supposed to...wait for it to be over?” You shrug suddenly, shaking your head. The papers in your lap beg for your attention. “I can’t explain it, I don’t know. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Julie’s quiet for a moment. She carefully watches as you force yourself to focus on the homework in front of you despite the incessant noise just outside. “If you say so,” she settles finally. Her eyes linger on your uneasy form before she too finally returns to her homework.

You two work for awhile longer, trading answers and asking questions back and forth until you’re both done. “Now that that’s finished!” Julie sighs triumphantly, pushing her notebooks off her lap.

She gets to her feet, moving to put everything back in its place while you just stuff your things back into your nearby schoolbag. It’s about as much cleaning as you can do.

“Why don’t we head to the studio?” Julie asks. The question comes out suddenly, making you sit up and furrow your brows. As far as you are concerned, you two were just going to loiter around the house until you inevitably shuffled home. “Come on, we can hang out with the guys.”

Of course, with knowing Julie came knowing the guys. After their performance at the Orpheum, you were able to see them and touch them too—so long as Julie was present. You were already close before you could see them, so the friendship only increased tenfold after.

You’re just confused because Julie wasn’t always known for her spontaneity and this feels awfully spontaneous.

“Yeah, sure,” you decide with a nod. Confusion aside, you aren’t going to pass up an opportunity to spend time with your friends.

Julie breaks into a smile. “Great! Why don’t I get my dad to make us some hot chocolate and then we’ll head over?”

You can’t stifle your gasp. “You mean...Ray Molina’s Famous Hot Chocolate?”

“Yes, that hot chocolate,” Julie agrees with a soft laugh and a playful eye roll. You laugh yourself, getting to your feet to follow Julie downstairs.

After the hot chocolate’s made and put into some travel mugs, the two of you make the daring race to get to the studio in the rain.

It isn’t as effective as either of you hope, but you’re both clutching your sides with laughter when you finally set foot in the garage.

“Uh...you guys are soaked,” Alex observes instantly, gesturing towards the pair of you with the drumsticks in his grasp.

Before anyone can say much else, Reggie’s eyes light up. “What is that?” He asks, looking toward the colorful mugs you both hold. “Is that...hot chocolate? It smells like hot chocolate.”

“Yeah,” Julie answers, wiping a hand over her face before she takes the jacket that Luke tosses her way. “I got my dad to make us some.”

“It’s delicious, by the way,” you quickly add, raising the cup to your lips to have a swig. The liquid’s nearly scalding, but you’re still dripping wet so it’s a welcome warmth. You make an over exaggerated ‘Ah’ sound just to tease the ghosts that can not eat or drink.

“What are you guys even doing?” Luke asks. He’s up in the loft and you narrowly miss the blanket he throws at your head. “I thought you were studying.”

“Well, we finished,” Julie responds, walking towards the couch with you on her heels. She sets her mug down, shrugging on the jacket she’s been given to make up for the rain. “And now we’re going to hang out. Because that’s what friends do.”

As you sit down, cradling your drink with both hands, you miss the pointed look all the boys receive and the subtle nod Julie gives them as she gestures towards you.

“Right! We’ll hang out...like friends do!” Alex says in a hurry. His stilted tone makes you squint up at him. “What are we doing exactly?”

A clap of thunder outside makes you jump suddenly and your grip on your mug tightens. You ignore the sudden hammering in your chest as you sink back against the couch, adjusting the blanket on your shoulders.

“We have a song!” Reggie exclaims, looking from Alex to Luke up on the loft. “We could show it to Y/N, right?”

“I think that’s a great idea!” Julie agrees, sending her bandmate a smile before she shifts to face you. “What do you say? Want to be the first to hear a new Julie and the Phantoms song?”

The corners of your lips can’t help but tug into a smile. “Some me what you got,” you say, a slight shrug accompanying your words.

With that, your four friends waste little time before giving you an impromptu performance. It goes as expected with the four of them leaving you in awe of their talent. Even still, pride swells in your chest at the thought of everything they’ll be able to accomplish together.

“It’s not finished,” Luke explains as they finish, the last few notes of Julie’s keyboard lingering in the air. “That last riff—”

“Was awesome,” you cut in, letting out a scoff. “You guys always rock. If that’s not finished, it’ll blow people away when it is.”

“Sweet,” Reggie says, reaching over to fist bump Alex in celebration. The gesture makes you laugh and fondly shake your head.

Julie shifts on her bench to face you better. “Thanks,” she tells you, smiling brightly, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Before you can say more, there’s another clap of thunder and, like an extinguished candle, the lights go out with an inaudible pop.

You can’t help but jump back, before your shoulders fall. “And now the electricity’s out,” you sigh, pulling your blanket close. Your eyes will adjust, but for now, you can’t even really see Julie or the guys. There’s only so much moonlight shining in through the windows to illuminate the room and a pit forms in your stomach.

“Luke, there’s some flashlights up in the loft,” Julie calls out and before she can finish her thought, you recognize the sound of Luke clambering up the stairs.

For awhile, you can just vaguely hear him rifling around. “Luke?” Alex asks, sounding just a bit confused. “Did you get lost?”

“Dude, it’s dark,” Luke emphasizes from up above. Despite the situation, you manage a laugh. Then you hear a triumphant gasp from above. “Got ‘em!” On cue, you hear a click and Luke’s shining a flashlight down from the loft. “Am I supposed to bring all of them...?”

“...yes?” Julie answers like it’s supposed to be obvious.

It takes Luke a moment more before he returns with a armful of flashlights. Julie pulls a battery-powered lantern from his arms, clicks its switch, and sets it on the coffee table. Thankfully, despite its size, it does well to light the studio and you feel an invisible weight lift off your shoulders.

“There,” Julie breathes, before grabbing another flashlight. “I’m going to run and check on my dad and Carlos. And tell them we’re okay.”

“You’re going back out there?” Reggie wonders, raising his eyebrows in subtle surprise. Julie chuckles, waving her flashlight at him.

“I’ll be okay.” You watch as she starts toward the door, and it’s like she can feel your eyes on her because she turns back. “There should be some board games laying around if you guys want to play some when I get back.”

With that, she opens the garage door. The small building is hurriedly filled with the sounds of the pouring rain outside before Julie pulls the door shut behind her and you’re plunged back into silence.

“So,” Alex starts, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes fall on you. “Board games?”

You contemplate it for just a moment before a small smile pulls at your lips. “Board games.”

The four of you split up, rummaging around in search of any board—or card—games. Reggie stops near instantly, instead gathering up blankets and pillows to throw on the floor so you’ll have a comfortable space to play.

By the time Julie returns, you’ve found just about anything you could get your hands on. Operation may need batteries and Candyland might be missing a piece or two, but you’ve got it.

The night quickly devolves into a haphazard time for board games.

“Julie—” Luke starts, staring at her imploringly over the board game in between all of you. “Please.”

Julie arches a brow and extends a hand. “Fork it over.”

“But I don’t have $150!”

Your laughter quickly fills the studio as you watch the exchange. You tried to warn Luke that Julie was not to be trifled with and he was in over his head, but he didn’t seem to think so.

Julie is unwavering. “Should’ve watched where you landed,” she retorts, eyes falling on Luke’s silver battleship atop Pennsylvania Avenue.

Luke throws his arms into the air, clearly in dismay. “Julie—”

“$150,” she repeats sternly and Luke sighs. He’s grumbling to himself as he sifts through his owned properties, choosing one to inevitably mortgage. Alex just knowingly shakes his head at the events unfolding.

Reggie blows out a sigh, setting his hands atop his knees. “Capitalism.”

The night continues on for what feels like hours. You realize you can only continue to lose to Alex in Clue so many times. Though, you can always watch Luke go bankrupt.

Before too long, you’re all laying on the floor in a heap. The lantern and every flashlight’s turned off. The moon outside’s the only illumination you’ve got, but your heart remains quiet.

Julie’s head is in the crook of your neck and you think one of Alex’s arms is thrown over your waist. Reggie’s legs are haphazardly tangled with yours and Luke’s bent at an awkward angle to insert himself in between all of you. It can’t be comfortable.

Yet blissful noise fills the air. You’re all tiredly giggling about everything and nothing at all.

“You’re all so loud,” Alex groans into a pillow, sending you all into another bout of laughter. “That’s not helping!” He lets out a muffled shriek before he lifts his head to glare at Luke in the dark. “Did you just kick me?”

“I don’t know, but he needs to get his elbow out of my hip,” Julie complains, though her voice is half-muffled by your shoulder.

“And mine,” Reggie pipes up and you can only vaguely understand Luke’s defense as you begin to succumb to sleep.

When you finally wake up, sunlight is streaming into the studio and you’re able to see that the lights are back on as well.

You lay still, everyone asleep around you. Their breathing is quiet, but even, and it’s here—in their overbearing embrace—you feel calm.

Sighing, you stare up at the ceiling and let yourself enjoy this moment of peace. Luke is snoring, or maybe it’s Reggie—perhaps both, but you’re content all the same. Alex is mumbling incoherently beside you and Julie shifts every so often, making you smile softly to yourself.

You know they did this, all of this, just for you. They weren’t as subtle as they hoped, but it doesn’t matter. Your heart is warm all the same as you shut your eyes and let yourself fall back to sleep.

the last great american dynasty → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n l/n buys an old home and quickly becomes the talk of the town

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.7k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

pls enjoy this fic as i write my other four... its proving most difficult to keep up with all of them but i’m trying. and of course this is based off the song the last great american dynasty by taylor :)))

also here is the house i’m going to be referencing :)

when you moved to england your first task was to do as your parents suggested, stay with your distant relative, aurora sinistra. 

and you followed their advice. you tracked down her home. she just happened to be away. she had left a note saying something about how she couldn’t miss some sort of planetary alignment and would be in germany for the next week.

you had decided to explore the new territory and after an hour of walking around the town you met your soulmate, a home. and not just any home, a beautiful large piece of art made of stone. 

the huge house enticed you to climb up the large hill it was sat on. 

up closer you saw the vines and wisteria climbing up the exterior. then more details like the broad windows in need of cleaning, an old oak door, and doric columns that made you feel like you stumbled into a princess story. 

you forgot your normal manners and had entered the home without a knock, pacing slowly through the entryway, studying the decor.

“excuse me?” a voiced called.

you had turned to find a tall brunette woman holding a toddler.

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to just walk up into your home. its just, very beautiful, and i saw a for sale sign by the mailbox.” you had sputtered out.

the woman seemed even more surprised after you had spoken, “are you american?”

“yes?” you had replied, confused.

“it’s just, no one comes here and now i know why you did,” she laughs a little and adjusts the little boy on her hip. “this is a family home of a dark wizard, not many people want to visit a house that has such negative connotations. but i’d love to give you tour if you’re still interested in it?” she asks.

you smile, “i’d love to. i’m y/n by the way.”

andromeda tonks had quickly taken a liking to you and offered you the home. she explained that absolutely no one else would buy it given the fact it used to belong to her sister, who had fought alongside voldemort. 

you didn’t mind the weird history that came along with the home, it was too beautiful to pass up. plus, it wasn’t unlike to you to cause a stir. you took pride in doing things out of the ordinary.

that’s how you came into the possession of the lestrange family home, or as you call it, wisteria house, after the flowers that inhabited the residence.

now, almost a year later, you’re the talk of the town. most of your pureblood neighbors found you too new. you were new money, you were apart of an american half-blood family, and you hosted parties they deemed too loud. however you knew they were tasteful.

you couldn’t care any less about what they thought of you. your home was your everything and you wouldn’t change yourself for some stuck up old families. you found it marvelous ruining everything they deemed sacred.

one of your neighbors in particular, a man named lucius malfoy, had annoyed you to no end. he hated everything about you. andromeda told you several times by now that he proclaimed you a mad woman to anyone who brought you or wisteria house up.

so today, on the fifth of june two thousand and three, you were determined to win this feud.

lucius’ home, malfoy manor was hosting a party tonight, and you were set on ruining everything.

as you entered the mansion, you absentmindedly smoothed out your tight fit gown. it hung off your shoulders and had a tasteful slit on the left side, exposing your leg.

“y/n, come sit with teddy and i!” andromeda calls from a nearby table.

you smile at the woman and take your seat beside her, giving teddy a kiss on the forehead. he in return, makes his hair your favorite color and smiles up at you.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come dear. i know how rude lucius has been to you, but i’m glad you’re being pleasant and showing off your best face.” andromeda says sarcastically, bringing her wine glass to her pointed lips.

you smirk, “lucius deserves to experience my full presence.”

the party kicks off and andromeda introduces you to many people, like harry potter, who you feel very awkward around. you can’t help it, you don’t know how to talk to someone who saved the world.

she also introduces you to lucius, who is carrying around a small poodle like it’s a handbag. he doesn’t say much to you and you don’t mind, his voice annoys you.

you decide to sneak away from andromeda’s conversation with lucius and make your way to a balcony. to the right, you spot your home. you smile to yourself and begin studying the malfoy garden. 

after a little time passes you decide it best to find andromeda again, but before you can take a step lucius’ dog is licking your exposed leg.

“well how did you get here?” you jokingly ask the animal, crouching down to pet it.

the dog leans into your touch and that’s when you have an idea.

when you attended ilvermorny you learned a spell for dyeing flags so that the opposing houses couldn’t change it. it proved a big hit given the thunderbird house liked to turn flags into theirs as a joke during quadpot games.

you could dye the dogs fur so that lucius would have a conniption. the dye was completely safe as well, and you were sure the party guests would love to see lucius attempt to change to dogs fur back.

so you dyed the dog a key-lime green, and let it run back off to its owner.

“i suppose my father was right, you are mad.” a voice says from the hall.

you furrow your brows and step further into the hallway so you can get a look at who’s speaking.

leaning against the wall is a tall, pale, blonde boy. draco. andromeda told you about him. apparently he doesn’t like his father much and to spite him, takes teddy on walks in his garden every saturday and thursday morning.

“you know, people have been saying that my home is cursed to make any woman who lives in it insane. and i must admit after finding your aunt bellatrix’s journal i might have to believe them. her sanity did begin slipping after moving into that home.” you say, raising your eyebrows.

“bella was always mad. but if you keep tormenting my father i think it’ll be him to go insane. not that i don’t enjoy your little pranks on him.” he gushes, letting a small smile creep onto his face.

“i can’t just end your dad an i’s little feud here, draco. it would make me look cowardly,” you tease, biting your lip. “i really don’t even know why he invited me to this party. come to think of it, i don’t even know what we’re celebrating.”

“i invited you. it’s my birthday party.” he replies.

“why thank you for your invitation. may i ask how old you are?” you ask.

“twenty-three at 11:37,” he looks at his pocket watch, “ten more minutes.”

you study him before saying, “you know there’s a wall at my house that shows you the way the stars look. would you like to see how the universe aligns the stars for your birthday?” 

draco runs a hand through his hair, “i’d love to. and i’ve been meaning to see what you’ve done with bella’s old house.”

the two of you quietly sneak out of malfoy manor and into wisteria house. you lead him upstairs and into the sky room. the room had an enormously tall glass ceiling, and was decorated with things aurora had given you.

on the wall furtherest from the door was a live depiction of the stars above. tonight the wall showed a vibrant blue galaxy spotted with deep orange and bright white stars.

“you’re lucky, this is one of the best ones i’ve seen this whole year. the stars must like you.” you sigh, happily.

draco laughs a bit and looks at you, “despite being the town nuisance, i find you rather enjoyable.”

“despite that compliment being backhanded, i find you rather enjoyable as well.” you tease.

draco laughs, “did you know that the sacred twenty eight pureblood families have a nickname for you?”

you shake your head asking him to explain.

“they call you the last great american dynasty because you bought this big house and have money they can’t trace.” he says.

“i cant deny, i kind of like it.” you giggle.

draco looks down to his watch, “one minute and then i’m officially twenty three,” he pauses to smirk a little, “you know this is the age my parents got married, and i suppose my mother will expect the same of me now.”

“i’ve always said the best age to get hitched is twenty three. the brain isn’t fully developed so you can still love like a teenager but have the responsibilities of an adult. i suppose by that logic, i too should be getting married this year.” you joke.

draco smiles before looking at you quizzically.

you furrow your eyebrows, “what is it?” 

“i think i have the perfect way to win your little feud with my father.” 

“and what is that?” you ask.

“let’s get engaged.” he says simply.

“draco, i’m honored but,” you pause, thinking.

what would be the harm in accepting. you could spend however long you wanted mulling over the actual wedding. lucius would have to respect you a little more. and draco seemed to be a nice person.

“you know what, this mad woman wouldn’t mind being engaged to you. so long as you don’t rush me to marry you, and we stay here, at wisteria.” you bargain.

“you’re sure? you haven’t been drinking have you? i’d hate to propose to a woman who won’t remember this in the morning.” he jokes.

“i haven’t had anything other than pumpkin juice tonight. although i can say this is extremely impulsive, i am almost certain i’d like to marry you. i mean i just saw the ways the stars looked on your birthday. that’s the most intimate thing i’ve ever done with someone.” you smile.

“that’s the most intimate-” you cut the boy off with a simple, “of course not, silly.”

the two of you talk through the rest of the night and into the early morning before draco escorts himself home.

the following months were bliss, aside from lucius’ annoyance about you and his sons engagement. draco took you all over britian. you bought some of the best ice cream you’ve ever had from a shop in diagon alley, you visited aurora at hogwarts and met the lovely headmistress named minerva who gleamed at draco every time he spoke, you took draco to meet your parents in november to celebrate thanksgiving, and the two of you did a lot of landscaping for wisteria house.

“guess what tomorrow is.” you instruct your fiancee who is tending to the small wiggentree.

draco wipes the dirt from his forehead and purses his lips in thought, “ah, it’s our engagement party.”

you wink at him and wrap your cloak around yourself more trying to get warm, “precisely. i was thinking we announce the wedding day.”

he chuckles, “why y/n, we won’t be getting married for a while. plus i’d hate to toy with mother by giving her a date she’ll have to wait anxiously for. you know that woman is practically dying to have a wedding. though, i would have thought potters’ would have quenched her thirst.”

you roll your eyes, “we’re announcing the day. march the fourth two thousand and five.”

draco’s eyes widen, “and you’re sure?”

you nod and draco barrels toward you with a hug. it knocks you back a bit but you smile and hold the boy tight against you. 

it didn’t take you long to become enraptured in everything that was draco malfoy. he loved you with a firey passion you longed to never go out.

the wedding day came quickly, but not quick enough for you and your fiancee.

“you know, i must say, this crowd has to be bigger than harry’s on his wedding day.” you say to andromeda, narcissa, and your mom.

“it’s because half of these people are a little too invested in your life. i love you but having your wedding at a former deatheater’s home isn’t exactly normal. i mean i know it’s not bella’s house anymore but the history remains. i can’t say anyone likes a home of a deatheater. no offense sissy.” andromeda says, looking out the window at the large crowd in the garden.

narcissa rolls her eyes and continues weaving the wisteria into your h/c hair. 

“i wish i was better at braiding honey, but narcissa is doing better than i ever could. you were right to have me just doing your makeup.” your mom says, eyeing your mother-in-laws’ handiwork.

“i just can’t believe the day is finally here. my little boy is getting married. i always knew he’d marry a woman who could keep up with him.” narcissa smiles.

after you and your bridesmaids (who consisted of your best friend, andromeda, and your cousin aurora) were ready, narcissa and your mother escort you all down to the venue.

the two mothers smile at you before taking their seats. 

“next time we talk you’ll be a married woman.” your best friend says, nudging your shoulder.

“isn’t it crazy?” you laugh, clutching your flowers.

she gives you a confident look before walking onto the aisle.

soon enough its your turn to walk. the long train of your white dress trails gracefully behind you and your off the shoulder long sleeves keep your arms warm.

the grey eyes at the end of the aisle look at you with such adoration you can’t help but to let out a stray tear.

draco looks regal in his light grey tux. his blonde hair is styled just like it was in a picture you found of him from his sixth year at hogwarts, and his rosy cheeks allude to his nerves.

when you reach him he holds a hand out for you and wipes the tears from your eyes.

your father is officiating the wedding and gives you a smile that only a father can give before starting his speech.

soon enough it’s time for draco to say his vows.

your lover sniffles a bit before speaking, “y/n l/n, for years this house has sat quietly on this hill, free of women with madness and bad habits until two years ago when it was bought by you. y/n, the most brilliant woman i’ve ever met. you ruined all the negativities that came with this home. your nature is unlike anyone else. you always see the best in people and things. you make a friendly competition out of anything and it never fails to amaze me at the way you push yourself. before we met i was out walking with a few old friends from school and you were outside wisteria planting lilac. i remember one of my friends referred to you as loudest woman this town has ever seen. i have to agree, your aura is impossible to escape. but i would never want to escape your madness. everything you do fills me with light. who knows if you never showed up what could have been. i’ve had a marvelous time ruining everything this home used to stand for with you, and i’d be honored to continue doing just that for the rest of my life. i adore you, y/n.” 

your heart begged to reach out and hug him.

“i love you draco malfoy.” you profess.

“i know pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride.” your father beams.

draco leans into you and gives you a kiss full of love. all the best things in the universe couldn’t compare to this moment right now. in the end you had two soulmates, one, a home that you poured all your work into and two, a man who you poured your whole being into.

when the two of you break away you smile at your husband, knowing that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

and the town whispered the same thing years into your marriage, “there goes the last great american dynasty.”

The Second First Christmas

A/N Despite the fact that I’m posting it after Boxing Day, this little fic is about Metric Jamie and Claire celebrating their first Christmas as a couple.  It is unadulterated fluff, and in keeping with the season of giving, I’m going to give this an Explicit rating.  You’re welcome.

With special thanks to @lady-o-ren, for Jamie’s gift idea!

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

December 24, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

Claire could hear her phone vibrating loudly on the metal shelf inside her duty locker.  Overcoming fatigue so severe it blurred her vision, she entered her combination and yanked open the door, thumbing the screen just before the call went to voicemail.

How did he do it?  Jamie had an uncanny, and frankly slightly unsettling, ability to guess her whereabouts, even remotely.  The past week he had found her in the massive Spitalfields Market merely on the hunch that she would be craving sushi after her Pilates class.  At one point she’d found his prescience disturbing, but now it soothed her.  Someone cared for her enough, knew her well enough, to plot the passage of her days on the virtual map of his mind.  And that someone was on the line.

“You’ve reached the voicemail for Claire Beauchamp’s circadian rhythm.  Press One if you’re a cortisol suppressant, Two if you’re an espresso machine, or Three if you’re Claire’s boyfriend, last seen in the flesh prior to the winter solstice.”

Jamie’s low rumbling chuckle filled her ear.

“Ye’re verra funny for a lass goin’ on twenty-four hours wi’out sleep, Sassenach. How was yer shift?”

Having worked most holidays in the A&E since graduating nursing school, Claire knew they went one of two ways: either complete bedlam, or utter boredom.  This one had been the latter, for which she was thankful.

“Surprisingly calm, but that means no lovely adrenaline to keep me awake.  I may sleepwalk into the Thames on my way home.  Are you at the station already?”

“Aye, jus’ starting my shift.  Can ye be at the main entrance of the hospital in five minutes?  I’ll call ye an Uber.”

“Jamie, that’s really not necessary.  I’m quite capable of walking...”

“Claire...” he interrupted, and needn’t say anything more.  They’d had numerous conversations and minor confrontations since becoming a couple over what Jamie termed her “wee addiction to self-sufficiency”.  She was trying to learn to accept help when it was offered, but it was an iterative process.

“Thank you.  I’d appreciate that.  Will I see you tomorrow morning before I go back on duty?”

Both Jamie and Claire were working extra hours over the holidays to offset the cost of refurnishing their flat.  Every minute spent together was therefore doubly precious.

“Aye, I’ll wake ye when I get in an’ we can celebrate our second first Christmas t’gether by tryin’ tae keep the other awake long enough tae open our presents.”

She smiled, but it morphed into a yawn.

“Get some rest, Sassenach.  And Claire,” he added in a serious tone, “t’would be a fine gift tae find ye in my bed, preferably naked, when I come home on Christmas morn.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she husked, suddenly much more awake.

***

There was a puff of cool air and then the Earth moved.  Straining to hold onto slumber, Claire rolled away from the disturbance, gripping the blanket beneath her chin.  A low chuckle preceded a solid warmth radiating along the entire length of her spine.  Something bristly abraded her shoulder and she flinched away.

“Has anyone told ye ye look like a wee hedgehog when ye sleep, Sassenach?”

“I’m fairly confident they haven’t,” she retorted, rolling onto her back and stretching before opening her eyes.  The room was mostly dark, but Jamie’s auburn curls glowed in the dim lamplight escaping their living room.  His bare shoulders were humid and pink from the shower.  “What time is it?” she asked.

“Gone four.  We have a few hours afore ye have tae be back at the A&E, aye?”

“Mmmm,” she hummed affirmatively, caught up in tracing the ligatures of Jamie’s upper arm.

“Good.  That should leave us jus’ enough time.”

“Just how many presents are we exchanging?” Claire laughed, mesmerized by the eager passage of Jamie’s eyes over her face.  The hand that wasn’t bracing his head aloft began a lazy exploration beneath the blankets, touching her naked skin so softly that it almost tickled.

“Only two.  An’ the first one’s already unwrapped.”

“How fortuitous,” she teased before leaning upwards to capture his waggish lips in a warm introductory kiss.  “Merry Christmas,” she murmured as they parted some time later.

“An’ tae ye as well, Sassenach.  Ye canna imagine how many times I thought of ye t’night, yer beautiful skin warm against my sheets.”  Jamie’s free hand was on the move again, firmer now along the contours of her body as it came alive to his touch.

“Slow night, then?” she gasped as his knuckle found her nipple, slackened with sleep.

“Painfully so.”

There was no further conversation for a time, mouths being employed far more enjoyably.  Four months of intimacy had bridged the span from friends to lovers, replacing hesitation with ardour.  They were still learning each other’s tells; when to lead and when to follow, how to ask and how to demand.  It was a giddy education for them both.  

Tonight, Jamie’s fatigue and drawn-out anticipation left him shaking with want, a sensation akin to sharing a bed with an earthquake.  His broad torso was outlined in the light from the door as he knelt between her thighs, lust pinwheeling like sparklers in his eyes.  Fortunately, condoms were no longer a necessity after they both produced clean blood tests and Claire had an IUD implanted.  So when he slid into her body, there was nothing but the needy clasp of flesh on flesh.  Her sigh of pleasure mingled with Jamie’s groan of relief as they began their dance.

“Yer breasts, mo nighean donn,” Jamie growled past the iron clench of his jaw.  She dragged her pupils down from the back of her eyelids to observe the twin objects in question, undulating in time to their meeting and parting.

“Touch them for me,” Jamie commanded.

Aware that her every movement was being minutely observed, she made a show of arching her ribs and running her hands first beside, then below, and finally between her breasts.

“Seadh, mo ghaol.” The words snuck unbidden between Jamie’s strained lips.  She didn’t have the Gaihldig, but his meaning was clear.  Go on.  So go on she did, dragging fingernails over the creased flesh of each areola before giving both nipples a sudden pinch.  Whatever tectonic fluctuations her actions caused, Jamie felt them, for he let out an ecstatic whimper.  A worried furrow now marred his brow.  Her fluent eyes read the desperation written on his face.  He didn’t have long, and he needed her to go before him.

Her right hand drifted down to where they were joined.  His cock was thoroughly coated in her moisture as it emerged from her body.  Wetting her fingertips, she began to trace the intricate geometry of self-pleasure against her flesh.  Breathy moans filled the air.  Jamie’s teeth were bared in a snarl of panicked concentration.  She wasn’t going to overtake him in the wire sprint to the finish, she realized.

“Do it, Jamie.”  His crazed glance snapped upward to meet her own certain one.  Doubt clouded the seascape of his irises.  “God, please,” she begged.  They’d spoken of it.  A fantasy.  A mental titillation not yet brought to life.

Resolution came just in time.  Slipping from her heat, he grasped himself and with two hard strokes erupted all over her skin with a hoarse cry, anointing the final acceleration of her fingers as she echoed his climax with a convulsion and a sob.

Minutes later, they lay side by side, still recovering their breath.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Claire warned.  “We still need to exchange gifts.”

“Greedy wee thing,” Jamie groaned, already halfway to slumber.

***

A shared shower and two cups of strong coffee later, they sat on their new sofa.  Claire’s carefully wrapped gift for Jamie lay on the coffee table before them.

“I can’t help but notice that there’s nothing under our tree for me, Fraser.”

“Och, ye mean ye expect me tae serve ye and give ye a wee present, Sassenach.  Ye truly are greedy,” he groused dramatically.  Standing, he extended his hand and confused, Claire allowed him to lead her towards her bedroom.  For a moment she considered that he might actually be taking her back to bed.  As he turned on the light she understood his intention.

As a lifelong wanderer, Claire could count on the fingers of one hand her precious material possessions.  Her mother’s emerald earrings.  Her father’s pocket watch.  A jade fish from the Cat Street night market in Hong Kong, a lucky talisman she carried in her pocket for every test and exam.  And a beautiful antique print of Persepolis left to her by her Uncle Lamb.  All but this last had survived their apartment fire unscathed, but the water and smoke damage to its parchment had been irreparable.  Or so she had believed.

“Jamie,” she gasped upon seeing the lithograph once again mounted in its frame on her wall.  “But... how?”

“Well, I willna bore ye with the details, but suffice it tae say that there’s an antiquarian o’er in Bermondsey who can work miracles.  There’s still a wee bit o’ smudging near the edges, but I reckon it adds to its character,” he explained.

“A palimpsest,” she said, taking his hand.  At his questioning look, she explained, “when one story is written overtop of an older one.  This print is a remembrance of my Uncle Lamb and his love for me.  And now, when I look at it, I’ll be reminded of your love as well.”

“Aye, just so,” he agreed.

***

Claire was unaccountably nervous as Jamie began to unwrap her gift.  She’d felt certain she’d picked just the right thing for him; personal without being sappy, meaningful without being extravagant.  But with eyes still misty from the thoughtfulness of his present to her, she was having doubts.

“Tis rather heavy,” Jamie observed as he lifted the rectangular package onto his lap.  His eyes were alight with childlike glee, which was a gift unto itself.

“A chess set!”  His smile was genuine, but Claire’s heart plummeted.  What kind of woman bought her lover a chess set?  She began to stammer.

“I... ummm... I thought you could invite your friend John over to play.  You mentioned missing the challenge, and ummm....” she broke off, floundering, but Jamie paid her no heed.  He was lifting each wooden piece from its velvet resting place, inspecting its shape with a look of utter fascination.

“Where did ye find this, Claire?” he asked at last.

“Oh, uhh, online, actually.  It’s from a store in Inverness, but of course I wasn’t able to...”

“It’s Culloden,” Jamie interrupted.

“Errr, yes.  I thought, you know, a chessboard is a tactical battlefield.  And with you being Scottish and your family’s Jacobite history...”

“Claire, this is the most amazing chess set I’ve e’er seen.   Look here.  See this wee knight?  Tis a Scotch Hussar.  An’ the white king is the Duke of Cumberland.”  Jamie’s finger traced the words and images carved on the plinth of each piece, going on and on about the clans represented by the tacksmen pawns and his own grandsire, Lord Lovat, symbolized by a tiny strawberry carved on the base of an ebony rook.  Claire’s ribs began to loosen their vice-grip on her lungs.  Maybe she hadn’t horribly miscalculated after all.

“Sassenach, thank ye.  Truly.   Tis a grand gift.”  The chess set had finally been set aside and they sat facing each other, hands gently caressing as the winter sun slowly warmed the room in tones of blush and grey.

“You’ve very welcome.  I’m so relieved that you like it,” she replied with candour.

“I love it.  But no’ half sae much as I love ye.”

“I love you too.”  It was only after the words had taken flight from her lips that she realized she had never said them aloud before.  Not to Jamie, whose sudden stillness indicated that he had heard her.  It was too late, then, to pluck her soaring words from the air and cage them once again inside her heart.  Too afraid to meet his gaze, she concentrated on smoothing her palms over the backs of his hands in a hypnotic rhythm. 

His response, when it came, was whispered into the secret stronghold they had built together.

“There’s naught on Earth tae compare wi’ the gift of yer heart, mo nighean donn.  I want ye tae ken that I shall treasure it, an’ ne’er give ye reason tae regret placing it with me for safekeeping.”

Jamie lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them both sweetly.  Still looking down, she nodded her acceptance of his pledge, a single tear escaping from the tip of her nose.

It was well past sunrise by the time Claire rose from their bed a second time, kissing her sleeping lover goodbye before creeping out of their flat and into the gemstone light of a perfect Christmas morning.

I Relate to the Sparrow

“Arthur,” Douglas clears his throat, the beginnings of a mildly problematic intuition stirring at the back of his mind. “You do know what ‘attractive’ means, right?”

“Of course I do,” Arthur scoffs, about as offended as he ever gets, which is to say, hardly at all. “What do you take me for?”

A Cabin Pressure ficlet. Acespec!Arthur, pre-canon. Title borrowed from Susannah Pearse's eponymous song cycle.

They’re sitting in an overpriced café in the main concourse of Prague Airport, enjoying the momentary respite from their employer’s sharp tongue – just a spot of Arthur-wrangling, nothing Carolyn couldn’t sort out in the blink of an eye, should she want to, but as they’re genuinely quite early there’s no real objection to letting the boy roam freely around the duty free area just a little longer. Not precisely the brightest of chaps, Arthur, but he’s really not all that bad, when you get to know him; and for all that he’s already witnessed countless displays of Carolyn’s maternal exasperation at her son’s misplaced attempts at making himself useful, he suspects no one would ever find the bodies of anyone who was foolish enough to dare touch a hair on Arthur’s head.

“What do you reckon?” Nigel nudges him, eyes darting sideways as a gorgeous specimen of the flight attendant persuasion walks past them, her pristine uniform doing a rather marvellous job at putting her long legs and delectable backside on display.

“Hmm. Not too bad,” he agrees easily, taking a sip of his alcohol-free passion fruit martini. “Reminds me of one of my old flames, actually.”

Well, not so much an old flame as a mutually enjoyable layover in Bern, somewhen between wife number one and wife number two. He’s certainly had his fair share of fun in his brief spells of singlehood in between marriages, not to mention his early days as a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed first officer at Air England.

“What about that one?” he drawls at length, glass subtly raised to point at a stunning redhead strolling down the concourse, her low-cut dress leaving very little to the imagination. “Ten to one says she wouldn’t think twice about jumping into bed with an airline captain.”

“Well, we could scarcely call ourselves ‘an airline’, but I take your point,” Nigel concedes at length. “Carol’s best friend’s a redhead, and she’s always on about her latest conquests. Makes you wonder, you know.”

The rustle of several bags signals Arthur’s approach, mercifully without any sign of an irritable Carolyn hot on his heels for a change. “Hello, chaps,” he greets them, looking if anything even jollier than his usual self, which is something of an accomplishment when it comes to someone whose entire personality could be summed up as ‘perpetually cheerful’. “Did you know they have four different types of Toblerone in the duty free shop?”

At his side, Nigel sighs almost imperceptibly, and downs the rest of his virgin mojito. It’s not that he doesn’t get on well enough with Arthur, he even told Douglas as much on the first leg of one of their earliest intercontinental flights together; he just happens to find constant chatter a little tiresome, and who can blame him when he’s married to the most talkative woman this side of the English Channel. Not that Douglas ever had the occasion to exchange more than a few pleasantries with Carol, which is just as well, given how Helena seems to hold some kind of long-standing grudge against the woman for reasons she never actually cared to explain.

“Care for a spot of bird-watching, Arthur?” he says instead, keen on forestalling any potential diplomatic issue between his captain and their employer’s only son and heir. “Nigel and I spotted a few truly remarkable specimens earlier on.”

Arthur blinks, confusion apparent on his face. “Birds? How did they even get in here?”

“They’re not actual birds, Arthur,” Nigel explains, only just managing to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “We’re talking about women.”

“Ooh, I get it,” Arthur nods, plainly not getting it in the slightest. “What about them?”

“Attractive women,” Douglas clarifies, as if talking to a twelve year old. “It’s who can get most in however long it takes for Carolyn to hunt us down and shout us back to our respective duties.”

“Brilliant. How about that girl sitting on the bench, the one with the book? She looks like she’d give really good hugs.”

The two pilots exchange a surreptitious, disbelieving look at that, which goes completely over Arthur’s head. Each to their own and all that jazz, but for all that he’s got a good thirty years on her, Douglas can think of at least a dozen plausible scenarios off the top of his head in which he’d very much rather take a rain check.

“Suit yourself,” Nigel shrugs at length, twirling his empty glass so that the melting ice cubes clink against one another. “I can see at least four other people from where I’m sitting that I’d rather take to bed, and I’m not even counting that gentleman in the indigo suit over there.”

“How do you mean?” Arthur frowns, looking like he’s slowly and earnestly puzzling over the meaning of that sentence in his head.

“I mean,” Nigel huffs, pinching at the bridge of his nose in what is most likely a desperate attempt to keep himself from snapping at his boss’ offspring. “We’re not all straight here. I believe we’ve been through this before.”

“Oh!” Arthur’s eyes widen, almost comically, and then he’s shaking his head. “No, not the you being bisexual bit, I know that. I meant the bit about taking random strangers to bed.”

“Arthur,” Douglas clears his throat, the beginnings of a mildly problematic intuition stirring at the back of his mind. “You do know what ‘attractive’ means, right?”

“Of course I do,” Arthur scoffs, about as offended as he ever gets, which is to say, hardly at all. “What do you take me for?”

As luck would have it, Carolyn picks that exact moment to emerge from the crowd, phone still in hand. “Ah, there you are, drivers. I bring good news.”

“Absolutely not, Carolyn,” Nigel interrupts her before she can get another word in. “I don’t care if it’s the Queen herself, tomorrow’s our first day off in weeks, and I’m not going to give up on that.”

“O ye of little faith,” Carolyn sighs dramatically, and just like that, the entire conversation is forgotten.

.

A week later they’re on standby, and it’s just the two of them in the Portakabin – Nigel having apparently decided he feels lucky enough to brave the airfield canteen for a latte and whatever it is they’re trying to pass off today as pastries – when Arthur approaches him, and from the look on his face, he’s been ruminating about this for quite a long time.

“Douglas,” the boy begins, somewhat hesitantly. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he sighs, putting his pencil down and pushing the crosswords further away on his desk. “Go on.”

“I mean, it’s kind of a personal question. You don’t have to, if you’d rather not.”

“I’m not telling you how I got your mother’s Talisker off the plane, if that’s what you’re planning to ask,” he ventures, and that seems enough to momentarily derail Arthur’s train of thought.

“Wasn’t going to ask about that, actually,” Arthur shakes his head at length. “You know that game you and Nigel were playing in Prague?”

Douglas nods, slowly. “Bit sexist, I’ll give you that. Still, just a spot of harmless fun, hey? No harm done.”

“Yes, no, I mean – I’m still not sure what it was all about.”

“Come on, Arthur, I distinctly remember you mentioning at least two different girlfriends ever since I started out here at MJN Air. You can’t be seriously suggesting you didn’t at least have an idea as to what was going on there.”

“But,” Arthur pleads, a faint note of distress starting to tinge his voice. “You and Nigel, you’re both married, right?”

Douglas is suddenly reminded of everything he’s managed to piece together about Carolyn’s ex-husband – Arthur’s father – so far, and quickly realises he’d better tread carefully now. “Yes, we are, Arthur. I promise neither of us was seriously planning on cheating on our respective wives; it was more of a hypothetical question, you know – something along the lines of, who would you rather sleep with if you weren’t married. Not one out best moments, as far as game material goes, but there you go.”

“Yes, but – I was wondering, how can you tell?”

“How can I tell what, exactly?” It’s Douglas’s turn to start feeling confused, if he’s perfectly honest. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

“That you’d like to, you know. With them.”

“Arthur,” that half-formed idea from a week ago is back now, and it’s getting more and more disturbing by the moment. “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never – ”

He trails off, struggling to reassess the situation to the very best of his judgement. “Not,” he hastens to add, “that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Oh, you mean sex,” Arthur nods his head sagely. “Yes, I’ve done that.”

“Right,” Douglas feels pretty much like he’s grasping at straws now, but he’s still determined to see this through, whatever this is. “So, you must have been able to tell, that you wanted to. That you were attracted to them.”

“Well, that was easy. They were my girlfriends, of course I knew I fancied them. How does it work with someone you’ve never even spoken to?”

“Surely, with each of your girlfriends, you had to go through a stage in which they were but strangers you’d only just met?”

Arthur tilts his head to one side, considering. “I suppose so, yeah. I still didn’t know I wanted to have sex with them back then, though.”

“It’s not – you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is. You were attracted to them, that’s the point. Doesn’t matter the exact moment you decided to act on it, so to speak.”

“But, I mean – with your wives, you didn’t just – I don’t know, look at someone walking past you on the street and go, oh, I know I’d like to have sex with them one day.”

“It was precisely like that with the current Mrs Richardson, in point of fact,” he points out, though he elects to omit the – neither small nor insignificant – detail that he didn’t so much bump into Helena on a stroll through the park as she was one of the bridesmaids at his second wedding.

“Oh. Okay. No, it doesn’t work like that for me at all.”

Douglas can almost hear the wheels inside his own head finally click into gear. His daughter would be appalled if she knew he’d put most of her half-hour lecture on sexual orientations and gender identities out of his mind as soon as she was finished with it, but he hasn’t precisely forgotten it, either. “If I recall correctly, some people experience sexual attraction differently than most. As in, some might not experience it at all, while others do but only occasionally, or under very specific circumstances. I’m not saying that might be your case, but I believe it could be something worth looking into, should you feel like you want to.”

For the longest of moments, Arthur stands stock still, turning the idea over and over in his mind. “Wow,” he exhales at length. “That’s just – wow. Thank you, Douglas.”

Before he knows it, he finds himself with an armful of Arthur, looking for all the world like he’s out on a mission to put the ‘bear’ into ‘bear hug’.

“Oh dear,” Carolyn’s voice makes itself heard from where she’s only just materialised in the doorway, clearly debating whether or not she has the energy to deal with whatever nonsense is going on in there. “Please tell me it’s not Hug Your Pilot Day, again.”

“That’s not even a thing,” Douglas protests, only to think better of it. It’s Arthur they’re talking about, after all.

“Don’t be silly, Mum,” Arthur grins, unrepentant. “That’s not until May.”

“Someone give me strength,” Carolyn huffs under her breath, even as her son plants a quick peck on her cheek and dashes off, only narrowly avoiding knocking Nigel – who appears to have finally found his way back to the Portakabin – over in the process.

“This is going to be a long day,” Nigel announces philosophically to no one in particular, and resumes his usual place behind his desk.

Favorite books of 2020

So....about five months ago now, I drafted a list of my favorite books of 2020, and then I, uh, didn’t finish it. It languished in a draft gathering dust and I forgot that it existed.

But now it’s done! It’s hideously late and also out of date, because I’d change many of the rankings now (see below), but I decided to keep them in the original order to reflect how I felt when I actually meant to post this.

Gideon the Ninth- What can I say about this book that hasn’t already been said? It’s like nothing else I’ve read before, in the most unabashed, off-the-walls, grandiose way possible. It’s incredibly complex, well-written, goth, and full of memes. There are, indeed, lesbian necromancers in space.

Harrow the Ninth- I read this 500+ page book in one day and didn’t notice an earthquake while doing so, if you consider that an endorsement. There’s so much going on here it almost feels like it shouldn’t work, and yet it does, brilliantly—it’s so intricately plotted you’ll want to reread it immediately because there’s no way to pick up on everything your first time through.

The Starless Sea- This is just a magical delight of a story, with prose that flows like honey: slow, sweet, and delicious. The story unfolds like a series of wonders nested one inside the other, with each section adding another layer of whimsy and metafiction. It’s half a dream, and half a maze.

Young Miles (The Warrior’s Apprentice/The Vor Game)- The Miles books (the early ones, especially) are wild and unrepentant romps through outer space, and reading them was one of the highlights of 2020 for me. When I finished the Young Miles omnibus, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken such pure delight in a book. Even the heavier, more thoughtful moments were part of a well-told, enjoyable story.

The Stone Sky- Speaking of heavy and thoughtful books…The Broken Earth Trilogy is definitely not a light undertaking, but it’s just a masterpiece of world- and character-building. The Stone Sky is the final installment, and it does not pull a single punch in delivering what the previous books have been building towards.

This Is How You Lose the Time War- I keep instinctively wanting to call this a novel in verse, although I think it’s technically an epistolary novel with prose-poem tendencies. In any case, the writing is lovely—lush, vivid, sensual, romantic. I recommend reading this one with your poetry glasses on.

Cordelia’s Honor (Shards of Honor/Barrayar)- I tried to limit myself to one book per author on this list, but I didn’t succeed here. I loved the Vorkosigan saga too much, and I had to include the omnibus about Miles’s mother, Cordelia, whose life and personality could easily be the focus of another half-dozen volumes. (And if you’re looking for a well-developed m/f romance, you’ve found it here)

An Unkindness of Ghosts- I think this is the book that kicked off my sudden interest in sci-fi last year. It’s dark and beautiful, definitely character-driven, and everyone is truly strange in ways that protagonists rarely get to be. It’s also got one of the loveliest, most satisfying endings I can imagine.  

Code Name Verity- An incredibly intense YA book that delves deep into one of my favorite fictional themes, Morality. It’s a rollicking spy adventure novel that focuses on a close friendship rather than romance (although you can read it as sapphic if you want), with descriptions of flying over England at sunset that made my heart ache.

The Raven Tower- I enjoyed this story for reasons probably particular to me—I like long digressions into abstract questions like “How do we exert power over the world?” and “Where does the meaning of words exist?”, and entire sections of The Raven Tower are devoted to the inner meditations of a very contemplative rock. It’s also a retelling of Hamlet, if that’s more your speed.

Network Effect (and Murderbot novellas)- I’m going to quote my immediately-after-finishing review: “Murderbot always gives me feels. I would love to give a more literary summary, but I’m still overwhelmed by the tentative vulnerability of two bots being best friends and watching TV together after [redacted].” The first Murderbot novel definitely did not disappoint.

The Monster of Elendhaven- Decadent, blood-soaked, and morally depraved, it’s kind of like The Picture of Dorian Gray by way of Hannibal (NBC), with probable influences from a dozen other macabre works and no restraint whatsoever. Reading it felt very self-indulgently delightful.

Before Mars- A deliciously unsettling sci-fi thriller with a refreshingly blunt, unsentimental female protagonist. Also definitely an …interesting book to read at the end of March 2020, but explaining why would definitely be a spoiler. Suffice it to say that the book goes dark places not advertised on the tin, and it made me cry.

Orange World- Karen Russell is one of those writers who make you wonder “how did they come up with this?” Every one of her stories is a totally original marriage between two wildly different concepts (like a Bog Maiden and high school romance, or new motherhood and the devil), and they’re a nice blend of literary and fantasy that I love.

Something That May Shock and Discredit You- It’s so hard to rank this one, because its two primary concerns are Christianity and transness, one of which means very little to me and one of which is breathtakingly important. I couldn’t justify putting it any lower, because it made me feel an ungodly number of feelings, but I couldn’t really justify putting it higher when a solid third of the book went right over my head.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January- A truly wondrous novel, one that fully immerses you in the delight of storytelling and imagination, and the power of escaping to other worlds. It’s very much in the tradition of “books that pay tribute to the love of books,” and an homage to a hundred portal fantasies before it.

Braiding Sweetgrass- I’ve got such a fondness for nature writing that doesn’t even try to be scientifically detached, and instead leaves you with the feeling that the trees and fields around you are bustling with (nonhuman) people.* Kimmerer’s writing is steeped in indigenous ways of knowing, and emphasizes the respect and reciprocity we can hold for the natural world. It’s lovely writing, and I can’t recommend the book highly enough.

Call Down the Hawk- Full of all the ingredients you expect from a Maggie Stiefvater book: fast cars, ancient magic, questions of art and truth, and borderline overuse of the word “cunning.” Every time I read one of her books I want to start taking notes, because she’s got such a signature style that’s both poetic and readable.  

The Unspoken Name- For some reason I wasn’t much into epic fantasy last year, but I’m glad I gave this one a try. I love morally grey characters, of which there are plenty, and the plot took a number of refreshing twists and turns.  

A Memory Called Empire- Not a fast-moving read, but perfect if you like your sci-fi novels poetic, complex, and intellectual. The worldbuilding is incredibly immersive, in a way that reminded me a bit of Ursula K. Le Guin, and I remember this stuck with me for weeks after I finished it.

*Let me be a nerdy weirdo for a second: Most of the time Kimmerer is writing about New England, an area I’m not really familiar with, but “The Sound of Silverbells” is set on a mountain somewhere in the South, and I adored it. Suddenly she was writing about dogwoods and redbuds and poplars, and I was sitting there going “!!! Those are my friends! My friends are in a book!”

Changes I’d make now:

Bump The Starless Sea down a couple pegs, maybe to #6

Swap out Cordelia’s Honor and Young Miles

Bump The Raven Tower way down to #16 and bump A Memory Called Empire a few spots higher, maybe to #17

Braiding Sweetgrass can go up where The Raven Tower was

Tommy doesn’t know who Queen is and Steve goes on a quest to get Tommy to listen to all different types of music. Billy gets dragged into the shenanigans. The three of them start hanging out together when Steve falls asleep, but he has a super bad nightmare. (I think they were probably drinking or smoking weed or both before. Which made the nightmare worse.) Then comes cuddling with Tommy choosing the music and light teasing.

i love this so much. they’re all musically ignorant in one way or another anyway. lemme just sprint with this now :)

---

He was just trying to get his history books, it wasn't his fault that their lockers were right next to each other. Or that Tommy was apparently living under a heavy rock.  

“I’ve never heard of Queen, unless you’re talking about the Queen of England or some shit. Other than that, I’m at a loss.” Tommy was yapping to one of Carol’s friends. Sarah? Betty? They all looked the same honestly. 

“What do you mean you’ve never heard of Queen?” Steve hadn’t actually really meant to just start abruptly start speaking to Tommy again, but here they were. In the hallway. Around nosey onlookers. And Sarah-Betty who was definitely staring and definitely not happy for the intrusion. 

Tommy grinned boyishly, “Talkin’ to me again, Harrington?”

Steve didn’t let up, “You haven’t heard of Queen? Freddie Mercury? Brian May? They’ve been all over the radio for years, man.” Tommy died down a little with the snarky attitude, but the flare was still there through the dilution. 

“I don’t know, Harrington. Guess I have too many people around to pay attention to the radio much anymore.” Tommy crossed his arms and Steve almost gave up as the bilious emotions started up towards the boy again. 

Steve shook his head, “Meet me at my house tonight at 6. I’ll order in and I’ll show you myself what Queen is. ‘Kay, Tom?” Now that really took the other aback.

“It’s been, what, a year?” Hands on his hips just as Steve was doing, “All of a sudden you’re interested again?”

Steve looked him in the eye and nodded, “Six o’clock on the dot, Tommy. Be there!” he pivoted on his heel and blended in the crowd.

He had the pizza box and the stereo up and ready to jam long before the bell rung. Only three minutes late. It was honestly a record for Tommy, Steve knew for a fact that Tommy had the worst time management skills. Which also made Steve a little on edge as he opened the door. He wasn’t actually that surprised to find Billy Hargrove right there beside Tommy. Both grinning in their own devilish manners. 

Steve vamped them with the most unimpressed look he could produce and traveled back inside, “Well, come on!” he ordered impatiently. 

Billy spoke up first as they entered the living area, “Nice place, very...” he seemed to contemplate a moment as he examined the vacant side tables and mantle, “Modern.”

“Tell me about it,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ll go get beer,” he started making his way towards the kitchen. “Pizza’s on the coffee table, don’t make a mess.”

When he returned there wasn’t any mess on the floors or furniture, but Tommy had enough sauce on the corners of his mouth and cheeks to slather a whole slice itself.

“Oh, Tommy,” he sighed and grabbed a napkin to clean the sauce before it dried. Billy and Tommy stared like owls but Steve ignored them and instead focused on putting the first cassette in. “Now listen, no one gets to speak.” He pointed to the table, “You have free food and drinks, so indulge me,” he took his own seat on the floor between them. A Night at the Opera. 

“Well this is eerie,” Tommy griminced and bit into another slice. His face lifted a moment later as the song changed gears, “Oh wait, no I change my mind, this is cool.”

“Have you found a new toy to replace me? Can you face me? But now you can kiss my ass goodbye Feel good, are you satisfied?”

Steve looked at Tommy and found him already looking back. 

Billy coughed, “Next, Pretty Boy?”

“Bicycling on every Wednesday evening Thursday, I go waltzing to the zoo”

Tommy swayed with the steady smoothness, “I like this one, I like it a lot.” Billy’s thigh brushed and planted against Steve’s shoulder as they watched Tommy tap along. The touch sizzled excitingly. 

“I'm in love with my car Got a feel for my automobile Get a grip on my boy-racer rollbar Such a thrill when your radials squeal“

Tommy’s face pinched just a little, nose wrinkled cutely, ”I don’t know about this one. Sounds like a song Billy might appreciate a bit more. WIth Margo and all that.” 

Tommy smiled at Billy and Steve felt something churn in is tummy, “Margo?” he tilted his head back so it rested on Billy’s knee in order to look at him.

Billy sighed and tilted his own head back to take a sip of the beer can he'd been working on, “It’s my car’s name, after my dog when I was a kid.” Steve shifted back so he was facing the stereo again after nodding once. 

“Oh, you're the first one when things turn out bad You know I'll never be lonely You're my only one And I love the things I really love the things that you do“

Tommy immediately smiled at the opening and his foot made its way from nudging him happily to resting in Steve’s lap, “This one is my favorite.”

“Really?” Steve and Billy asked simultaneously. Steve turned his head painfully fast and they stared in mutual shock. They were quick to get over it though and both went back to waiting for Tommy’s decisive nod. His eyes were closed and calm in enjoyment. So, Steve forcefully settled whatever Billy had stirred and did the same, back rested against both boy’s shins comfortably. 

“My sweet lady Though it seems like we wait forever Stay sweet, baby Believe and we've got everything we need“

“That one was...interesting,” Tommy commented.

Billy snorted as Steve smiled, “I’d say.”

“I feel like dancing in the rain Can I have a volunteer? Just keep right on dancing What a damn jolly good idea“

Tommy smiled sweetly through the that one, Steve felt as though he didn’t need to ask why.

“I dreamed I saw on a moonlit stair Spreading his hands on the multitude there A man who cried for a love gone stale And ice cold hearts of charity bare“

“How come they are so short and so long at random? It’s weird,” Tommy leaned forward and grabbed another beer, condensation dripping onto Steve’s bare knee.

“Sometimes things are more difficult to interpret,” Billy answered. Steve leaned a little more into them as he felt his hips settle. 

“Oh, back, hurry back Please bring it back home to me Because you don't know what it means to me Love of my life“

“That was kinda sad,” Billy was the one to say something between the track then. 

Steve agreed, “Yeah, a little.” He felt eyes on his head but gazed instead on the slight glow to the stereo. 

“Take good care of what you've got My father said to me As he puffed his pipe and baby B. He dandled on his knee Don't fool with fools who'll turn away Keep all good company“

Steve felt a leg press firmer into his shoulder and he laid his head on it, above him Billy sighed just above being silent, “How was that one, Tom?”

Tommy didn’t answer for a moment, “I’m not sure. It sounded good.” The feet in Steve’s lap crossed themselves jitteringly. 

“Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see, I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low“

“That one was freaky,” Tommy sat forward in awe, “But it was also awesome.” Eventually the last cord divvied out, all of them lazy with alcohol and sleepy with muddled calm that none of them had felt in a while. Although, Steve already was sleep on Billy’s knee. He didn’t get the chance to regret the beer he’d consumed before he was overrun with horrific, viney tunnels and humongous monsters. Screams of people he knew and cared for. Dustin, Nancy, his parents, Johnathon, El, Lucas. But what had him waking up in a bolt, yelping and screaming, was the one’s from Billy and Tommy. The pain those ones harbored, the ones that made Steve tremble too much to bare. 

Heavy hands grasped his shoulders and softer ones held his face when he came to. He closed his mouth and the wailing stopped just as it had reached his ears.

“Steve! Steve- sh, it’s alright, Stevie,” Tommy’s voice filtered in subtly and he thought he heard a breeze from behind. 

“We should get him to bed,” Billy said and the warmth from behind Steve was suddenly gone. He didn’t know what he must of done, was too out of it, but suddenly he was in someone's arms and being coddled.

“It’s okay, Pretty Boy, we’re still here.”

And then they were in a bed, and his room by the looks of the plaid and blue walls. He had two bodies on either side, and while the comfort he felt was something he couldn’t recognize. It was something new and he felt he should feel overwhelmed by all the sudden figures beside him. But instead he felt relieved and willingly open to allow these two boys in with limited hesitation. What a change in events. Truly. 

“Talk to us, Stevie,” Tommy whispered in his ear. 

“Have you heard of Blondie?” he whispered a bit hoarsely. 

“No. Unless that’s Billy.”

“Add that to the list of things Tommy needs to learn about.” He got a slight tickle above his ribs in response from Billy. Steve held in his laugh as best he could but Billy didn’t stop the movement until he finally coughed out a yelp in protest. He tried his best to portray a steady glare in return but it didn’t quite work. “What about The Smiths?”

“Nadda.”

“Tears for Fears?”

“Mmm,” Tommy finally came into clear vision for Steve to see, even in the dark, “Maybe, maybe not.” He was grinning like the dumbass Steve knew he was. And then he was gone.

“Wah-?” he almost whined. Almost. 

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” there was a clicking sound, “I’m just trying to culture you up a bit. Gotta keep you calm so we can actually get so sleep.” He laughed loudly when he seemingly found something. Tree branch arms coiled around Steve’s waist and he couldn’t be bothered to tell Billy off as the warmth radiated into his skin and heart. 

Tommy came back while the Eurythmics, of all people, made some sort of soft noise through the room. And Tommy’s own hands somehow managed to sneak their way past Billy’s and just barely grazed his ass. The blanket bundled them all together and Steve felt as though he finally had the loves of his life in sight. That definite path made for him. Finally and just maybe. 

send me headcannons!<3

Below is not my fic, but one raisin anon wrote for me and sent piecemeal in asks because they would rather not reveal their identity.  It also happens to be 1.5k of fluffy carraville perfection, featuring family, cats, and dogs! all for your enjoyment  💖

~*~

“Please, dad. Can we?” 

“Charlie”

“She was so sweet and perfect and they said probably no one will pick her and she'll stay there forever”

“Charlie” 

“You wouldn't want her to live her whole life without a family, would you?” 

“Charlie” 

“And it'll be a whole year since Dexter died next week, it'll be the perfect way to remember him.”

“With replacing him with a new dog ?” 

“The mourning period in Tonga for close family is a year” 

“If you look out the window, buddy, I think you'll find that we live in the north of England” 

“Daaad, please. You miss having a dog too.”

In fairness, his son wasn't wrong. Dexter had been with them for almost as long as the twins had, and Gary did miss the comforting warmth of their German Shepard curled up at his feet whenever he sat still for more than fifteen minutes. He looked up from where he was preparing a salad to go with their quiche for dinner to the youngest half of the set of twins he and Jamie had adopted almost thirteen years ago. 

Charlie was sat on the kitchen island swinging his legs back and forth, contently watching his father make dinner whilst advertising for a six year old Anatolian Shepard rescue, that had arrived at the shelter a few weeks back. Maybe fifteen was a bit too old to sit on the kitchen counter doing nothing, but it happened so rarely these days that the boys would sit still and just chat away like they used to do, that Gary didn't have it in him to scold him for it. 

“Pa said yes, by the way,” Charlie said, and Gary had to smile. 

“Did he now?”

“Mhm, he's all for it. He misses having a dog too.” 

“So if I go upstairs to the laundry room now I won’t find your brother trying to persuade him just like you're trying to do to me at the minute”

Charlie just made a face, but didn't answer, which gave Gary all the answer he needed really.

“We'll discuss it over dinner.”

He walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a stack of plates before holding it up in front of the lad. 

“Go on, then. Help set the table if you want to heighten your chances.” 

Charlie hopped off the counter and grabbed the plates with an eagerness Gary had never seen before. The table was set in a matter of minutes, and before Gary had even had the chance to pull the quiche and the garlic bread out of the oven Charlie had gone out into the hallway and shouted dinner was ready up the stairs. 

Jamie came walking into the kitchen soon after with Joey following close at his heels. Gary saw the look the brothers shot at each other which basically confirmed his suspicions. The plan had been to butter each dad up separately so that none of them would be the too critical voice of reason when the topic was brought up with all of them present. 

“Heard you agreed to go get the dog, love,” Jamie said as he sat down, left side of the table, chair closest to the window. Charlie settled just opposite him, Joey on his right, which left Gary next to Charlie. No one had explicitly ever stated that a specific spot was theirs, but Gary had a feeling the whole universe would be thrown of its balance if they sat anywhere else.

“Funny, I heard the same about you.” 

“Oh, really. I know your hearing is starting to get bad, but I would hope mine was still fairly intact.” 

“Well, that is the only explanation. It could not possibly be that our sons lied to us.”

“No, never!” 

Joey rolled his eyes at their theatrics. Charlie shoved a piece of garlic bread in his mouth.

“Can we, though? Get the dog ?” 

“Didn't your da's ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?” Jamie asked him. 

“One of them is Scouse so it's wasn't a huge part of our childhood,” Charlie retorted. Gary huffed a laugh at that and piled some salad on Charlie plate with a pointed look. 

“But seriously – ” Joey piped up, taking over his brothers question. 

“We already know what it is like to have a dog, we know how much responsibility it is, and she's six years old already, so it's not like it'll be for a fifteen year commitment. And Dexter would be so happy looking down at us to see we got another one to use his food bowl.” 

All valid points. Gary had to give him that. Although – 

“Sarafina might not be too happy.” 

The undisputed princess of the house, a five year old Ragdoll known as Sarafina, had heard her family settling in for dinner and had thus paraded from her favourite spot in the windowsill to her food bowl in the corner. 

“‘Fina won’t care. She's the chillest cat there has ever been.” 

Gary met Jamie's eyes over the table. In fairness, had they not needed to play the role of responsible fathers who didn't jump to decisions without thinking them through first, they would've gotten a dog months ago. But as it happened the boys weren't quite ready to forget Dexter so soon, and now that they were gunning for a new one, Gary felt as though they needed to learn to think things through at least twice before making a decision.

“You promise to help walk her everyday ?” 

“Promise.” 

“No moaning when we can't go away for long holiday's without her?” 

“Never.” 

“And you can keep your rooms clean and tidy for more than ten minutes at the time?” that one came from Jamie.

“What's that got to do with getting a dog?” Charlie asked. 

“Responsibility, lad. And wishful thinking.” 

“We'll clean them every day,” Joey said seriously. 

Gary doubted it, but he hadn't been much better at fifteen to be fair so he really didn't have a leg to stand on. He shared a look with Jamie again, held a silent conversation and gave him a half smile. He did really want a dog as well, and he knew Jamie was no different. 

“We'll go to the shelter after we pick you up from school tomorrow.” 

Much later that night Gary was sat up in bed reading his book, glasses perched on his nose and listening to Jamie making the last round of the house before turning in for the night. Turning off all lights, double checking the coffee maker was off, looking in on the boys, giving a pat to Sarafina, that sort of thing. He hadn't been able to keep his mind of Dexter's old dog bed that used to be in their room ever since dinner time. Maybe he had missed having a dog more than he thought. 

“All good?” he asked Jamie when his husband entered the room and crawled under the covers.  

“Yeah. Boys sleeping, coffee machine off, all good,” he answered around a yawn and settled down under the duvet, snuggling his head close to Gary’s side. Automatically Gary's hand fell on top of his head and started to stroke his hair.

“Tired, love?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Insomnia acting up again?” 

“Just a little bit last night.” 

“Why didn't you wake me?” 

“You look cute when you're asleep.” 

“James.”

“Gareth.” 

Jamie opened his eyes and looked up at him with a teasing smile. Gary looked back, torn between scolding him for not waking him up (like they had agreed on dammit) and kissing the idiotic man. He settled on the last, in no mood to end the day on a half bad note.

“I'm really excited to get a dog” Jamie said as they parted, and instead of sitting back up and continue reading, Gary settled down on his pillow also, pulling Jamie to his chest in the process. 

“Hm, me too.” 

“Maybe the sleeping will get better.” 

“Yeah. Dexter helped didn't he?” 

“Yeah. Helped a lot.” 

Gary had no idea how a dog could help with insomnia, but Dexter had. Jamie's tendency for midnight wanderings had increased after the old dog passed away, which was sort of why Gary had demanded Jamie to wake him up, because he used to be woken by Dexter's licking his hand to say that his husband had gone downstairs, but the old dog wasn't there to do it now. 

He ran his fingers though Jamie's every greying hair and gave him a peck on the forehead. 

“Sleep now, love. I got you. And wake me up if you need to.” 

Jamie hummed in response, halfway off to dreamland apparently. Gary smiled to himself. Thought of the dog bed in the attic that would soon belong to someone again, his wonderful husband who would maybe get some more sleep soon, his perfect boys right down the hall excited for tomorrow, the fuzzball of a princess  downstairs who loved Gary the most because he was the one to brush her fur daily. 

This family had to be the best one in all of the world.

Roundup - September 2021

This month: Saving Fish From Drowning, Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass, Anne Boleyn, Cruella, The Chair

Reading

Saving Fish from Drowning (Amy Tan) - I've always enjoyed Tan's work (particularly The Joy Luck Club, both the book and film) - Fish is somewhat of a departure, following a group of American tourists in Myanmar, narrated by their recently deceased friend Bibi Chen. The novel begins with a preface in which Tan explains she drew inspiration for the novel based on real events chronicled by a San Franciscan psychic's "automatic writing" channeling Chen's spirit (in truth a complete invention on Tan’s part, both literary device and metaphor).

Bibi is a compelling narrator, full of wry commentary of her friends as they bumble their way through their trip, the tone of the novel quite light despite some of the dark subject matter around the political situation in Myanmar (the novel was written in 2005 and set several years earlier) and the nature of intervention - the title referring to fisherman who "save fish from drowning" by netting them. It was at times difficult to keep track of all twelve (!) of the main characters and who was who outside of the few who get the most attention of the narrative.

An interesting read, about the stories we tell ourselves and others, and the fictions we believe for comfort and hope.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there (Lewis Carroll) - I've been making more of an effort to work on my novel lately, which makes some reference to these works so thought it was due for a re-read. It seems impossible to consider these separate novels given how conflated they have become in pop culture - even the Disney film takes elements from both - they act as either a duology, or alternatively a single story told in two parts.

I personally much prefer Looking Glass, perhaps because I imprinted on the 1985 miniseries as a child (which adapts both novels, but we only had the second part on tape) - best known for it's celebrity cameos in silly costumes - including Sammy Davis Jnr, Donald O'Connor, Ringo Starr, and Carol Channing, among others, and the danger of the Jabberwocky as a manifestation of Alice's fears quite a nice idea that isn't found in the original text.

Perhaps Looking Glass, while remaining absurdist, is more cohesive than Wonderland with the chess motif and central motive for Alice to reach the Eighth Square and become a queen. I do however find the constant poetry tedious, and wonder whether both Wonderland and Looking Glass are better remembered for the concepts rather than the actual text.

Watching

Anne Boleyn (episodes 1-3) - I didn't think we needed another film/show about Anne, but I was always going to watch it. This series relies upon familiarity with history as it begins with Anne's final, doomed pregnancy - opening with the haunting words “Anne is the most powerful woman in England - she has just five months to live.”

There's nothing especially new here; rather a mood and character piece as Anne's isolation and desperation grows. It is of course built around the central, compelling performance of Jodie Turner-Smith, in every single scene and not afraid to shy away from Anne's sharper edges while remaining profoundly sympathetic, surrounded by a court of whispers, her existence on a knife's edge. We know only what Anne knows, and we see the smaller, heartbreaking moments usually passed over in other adaptations - in her grief following the stillbirth, Anne sits up in bed almost catatonic, milk leaking from her breasts, her attempt to walk back the infamous “dead man's shoes” comment, and the long days of her imprisonment.

Then there’s the beautiful costumes - in a court of dark furs, Anne wears bold primary colours and velvets that catch the light, that them become more subdued prints once she is in the Tower.

The other notable feature is the casting - described as "identity conscious" rather than colour-blind, representative of the othering of Anne and her relatives. Another standout is Thalissa Teixeira as Anne's cousin Madge Shelton, fleshed out as her confidant and the only one who remains true to her. It's a fresh perspective and a worthwhile watch, particularly for Turner-Smith's performance.

Cruella (dir. Craig Gillespie) - Spoilers. I wasn’t planning on bothering with this, but my sister wanted to watch it and I’d been told by several people that it was actually quite good. Look, I'm not saying they lied, I just think they were able to look past things that I was not.

Because actually, the core story has potential and the film has enjoyable elements (notably Emma Thompson), but simply falters every time they try and shoehorn references to the source material, and there are some truly egregious attempts - Roger is the Baroness’s lawyer for some reason? And writes the familiar Cruella De Vil song about how awful she is when she's just given him a puppy?

It doesn’t work as a prequel, or villain origin story, or even a reboot, since Cruella’s character journey is over by the end of the film (I have no idea what the purported sequel is going to be about) - in fact "Cruella" is just a persona Stone's Estella adopts (complete with a terrible affected accent), and there is no conceivable way for her to become the wannabe puppy murderer we know from the book or any of the film adaptations. Oh, and Pongo and Perdita are siblings! Well done, Disney. Slow clap for you.

Also, with a runtime of 2 hours 16 minutes it is Interminable and the whole thing is saddled with a terrible, unnecessary voiceover. Seriously, they should show this in film class to demonstrate when v/o hinders not helps.

They were likely going for a Maleficent-style re-imagining, but where that succeeded (somewhat) in a completely new retelling right down to a different ending to the source material, this wants to have it's cake and eat it too - it wants to have the Cruella aesthetic (the car, the hair, Hell Hall, the camp accent) but doesn't ever let her be a villain, or even the beginnings of a villain, but that's that's reason she's so memorable in the first place. It puts all the pieces in place for the story we know, and yet that story simply cannot happen with this version of Cruella.

In the end, it's a story of a fundamentally decent person who maybe goes a bit overboard in retaliating to bullies, and swindles a sociopath to reclaim what's rightfully hers. Cruella De Vil! I just couldn't get over this fundamental misapplication of the source material.

In many ways, it almost feels as if this was pitched as a sequel, with Cruella in the Baroness role. It would have fit a lot better with the aesthetic, the time period, and the concept of punk disruption of classic fashion. Or, it was a completely unrelated story of a plucky orphan who rises in the fashion world, that at some point was grafted onto the Dalmatians property. Either one would have worked better, frankly.

I am probably being overly harsh. If you switch off your brain and enjoy the clothes it’s fine. But honestly, if you want your live action Cruella fix, just watch the Glenn Close version, because it is superior in every way.

The Chair (season 1) - I watched this for Sandra Oh, and I was not disappointed, because I got to watch Sandra Oh. On the other hand...it's not that I didn't like it, I just...wish it had been better?

The story revolves around Ji-Yoon Kim, the first woman (let alone woman of colour) to become Chair of English at a "minor Ivy" university, as she tries to juggle the clash of old style academia and new, raise her daughter as a single mother, and deal with a series of controversies caused by one of her professors (and love interest). It's the latter I feel sucked up way too much time and was ultimately unsatisfying - particularly the end, which was played like a moral victory but really rubbed me the wrong way. If this gets a season 2, I hope they dump Jay Duplass' fuckup sadsack because hoo boy, am I sick of that kind of male character.

But Sandra Oh is wonderful.

Writing

The Lady of the Lake - chapter 5 posted, 4215 words (10,261)

Against the Dying of the Light 1954 words (11,976)

Here I Go Again - 414 words (12,948)

Novel - 1039 words (1484)

Total this month: 7,622

Total this year: 48,435

Insane ⎯ John Shelby One-shot

Pairings: John Shelby x Solomons!FEM!Reader Fandom: Peaky Blinders MASTERLIST Word Count: 1.7k (ish) Warnings: Cursing, drinking, description of puking  SUMMARY: When you and your best friend go out for a drink at an unfamiliar pub, you run into John Shelby. A man who you just happen to “hate”.  Request from @encounterthepast​: If requests are still open could I go for John with "He’s driving me crazy” and “Have you totally lost your mind?” ... ? Thank you!! (Also I'm loving your social media AU)

A/N Hi! Thank you for requesting!!! It means a lot & I’m glad you’re enjoying SBE <33 I’m really proud of this? I actually thought about what I was going to do b e f o r e writing it... which is new to be quite frank. Y/F/N means “Your friend’s name” & Y/F/E/C means “your friend’s eye color.” I tried to keep them gender neutral since I made the reader female :D, enjoy!

Y/N Solomons was a name many knew. It was one many feared, except for John Shelby, of course. That sarcastic little fuck was always flirting and trying to hook up with Alfie Solomons’ sister. The fear that surrounded her, was due to her brash and no-nonsense attitude. Y/N, apparently wasn’t that way when she was young, she was sweet and wholesome. The war changed her, many say. But Alfie and John knew otherwise.

The fact that they were in the war beside (not literally) her, gave them a perspective many didn’t have. Alfie hadn’t wanted his little sister to be a war medic, but she was adamant about helping. The war didn’t change her, for say, it just caused her to grow up at an alarming rate. She went from the ripe age of twenty-four to practically forty in those long four years during the war. Being in your twenties usually meant partying and doing illegal things.

For Y/N, it was quite the opposite. She went through so much, trying to save so many lives, and losing so many due to the lack of supplies. It was hard, but she made it through by becoming numb to it all. And John Shelby seemed to be the only bloke able to get through her stoic surface. Managing to make her irritated with a smirk or snarky compliment. 

“Look, it’s that angry woman.” John would sometimes say, or he’d say something that held a double meaning. “I bet you like being in control everywhere, love.” The pet names were annoying enough as it was. Y/N hated and loved the attention in a strange way. She never got the attention of men anymore, it surprised the younger Shelby boy. Y/N’s beautiful, everyone knew that.

Everyone also knew that she was Alfie’s sister and that often scared men away. But not John, John’s adamant. He’s insistent that Y/N has feelings for him too. So he tries, for months he tries to woo her in any way possible. Little does he know that it is in fact working. Y/N took a long time to master appearing unamused and uninterested. It was hard work, but holding her angry resting face became a habit, a mask… hell, even protection.

Showing no emotions gave her an advantage. When all others showed everything with their faces and body language, she was left to read them like books. John Shelby was one of those people, he was young and she knew that. Along with reading him like a story, she could tell that he wasn’t pulling her leg. That he actually found her to be interesting and he wasn’t interested in forming a contract between them too. One to mutually benefit the Solomons’ and the Shelbys. 

Y/N wouldn’t lie, he intrigued her. How he blatantly flirts with her even with Alfie present. It entertained her, watching Alfie lose his shit over harmless flirting. “I don’t like that boy one bit.” Alfie often spat out while stroking his beard thoughtfully. 

—

 “He’s driving me crazy,” You mumbled while holding your head in your hands. Y/F/N and you were out drinking, it had been a long day with Alfie moaning and complaining about everything under the sun so Y/F/N thought it’d be nice to forget it all for one night.

Y/F/N turned to you, a drink in hand, and raised an eyebrow, “Alfie?” You chuckled, that was a reasonable question. All damn day, your brother had been cursing up a storm and complaining about everything in sight. 

“No, John fucking Shelby,” The annoyance in your voice was clear as their eyes widened. You haven’t ever openly complained about John’s pestering, perhaps it was the alcohol pushing your thoughts out. You picked up the full glass– it was whiskey, Irish, your favorite –and downed it in one go. “Always askin’ me out and fucking flirting with me… it’s annoying as fuck.”

“Maybe if you sleep with him, he’ll stop?” The slap you sent to Y/F/N’s arm startled them, your eyes were cold and hard.

"Y/N Solomons doesn’t lie with any man, especially not a fucking Shelby.” You spat your words out bitterly, tapping your glass on the counter to let the barman know you’re empty. The bar that the two of you sat in, wasn’t the usual place you chose to forget in. It was dark and kind of gross. But that didn’t matter, the alcohol was making your brain fuzzy, that was what mattered. All that mattered was that John’s taunting was forgotten.

But it seemed like the original plan was stunted, the many memories of John giving you a cheeky grin or saying something obscene surfacing in the presence of the shitty alcohol. “Now that’s not a very nice way to talk about me.” Immediately, at the sound of hearing the bastard’s voice, you groaned loudly. 

“Just my fuckin’ luck. Where are we Y/F/N?” Their Y/F/E/C eyes looked toward the floor sheepishly, they planned this. “Of course.” The sound of your voice made your best friend flinch, expecting an outburst. John Shelby stood behind your chair, you could feel his presence easily. Since he often made an appearance during the meetings between Alfie and Tom, you saw John frequently. It was annoying, not enjoyable. 

You turned in your chair at the feeling of John’s hand on the back of it, raising an eyebrow in question. “Why, you’re at The Garrison, love. Best dam pub in Small Heath.”

“That’s debatable.” Y/F/N muttered under their breath. John calling you love was a normal occurrence, something he often did. You never paid any mind to the flirtatious comments that often left his lips. For some reason, tonight, the name caused heat to spread throughout your body. Your nose, ears, and cheeks felt warm. The thought of John seeing the blush oddly worried you. As if seeing you react would only entice more flirting. 

The pub was growing hot and you suddenly felt the urge to vomit. You quickly grabbed your purse and practically ran from John and Y/F/N, clutching a hand over your mouth on your way out. Thankfully the night air of Small Heath was cold and bitter. It helped you as you nursed the vomit from your bowels violently. It felt like you puked for hours before you walked away from the bush and leaned on the brick wall in an alleyway. 

—

“Jesus.” John’s voice brought you from your thoughts, why was he here? “Are you alright, love?” That stupid nickname… you cursed under your breath as John took a swig from a flask. He held the silver flask out to you and you gladly took it. The taste of vomit making your stomach churn even though puking now would only cause pain.

The alcohol burned your throat, but you welcomed the pain since it tasted better than the puke. “I’m fine.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, itching to get away from the young man. It wasn’t that he disgusted you or made you want to punch him (although he often did). It was the feeling that your lack of sobriety made you feel with him standing there, with that shit-eating grin like he knew what you were thinking without even knowing.

John wasn’t ugly, you knew that, he even knew it. He annoyed you to no end, constantly flirting and trying to gain a reaction from you. The pet names, the jokes, the sinful glances… it wasn’t like you didn’t secretly crave the attention. You were beyond touch starved and you knew it was your fault. From being a blatant bitch to downright turning men down, soon they stopped trying. Add being Alfie Solomons’ sister to the mix and you’ve got the potential for a natural disaster.

Shelby’s and Solomons’ don’t mix. Everyone (not everyone. Those in the Peaky Blinders and Alfie’s boys knew)  in both Camden Town and Small Heath were aware of the icy slopes that the businesses were on. That any rock in the boat could shoot everyone off-board and into the murky water of the cut. These thoughts are the reason why you hesitated when John fucking Shelby kissed you with enough force that you had to grab the lapel of his suit coat. 

It was why your eyebrows screwed in confusion before you realized what was happening, right before you melted into his touch, you pushed him back harshly. John’s breath was ragged and fast, like he’d just been underwater. “Have you totally lost your mind?” You spoke over one another, “That was amazing.” 

John caught onto your words, his pale blond eyebrows also furrowing. “What–” 

“This would never work.” Your voice was stoic, John sighed as he realized that you retreated back into yourself. He saw the real you for only a moment it felt like, but it was a wonderful moment. When your hands held onto his suit and pulled him in. How heavenly your lips felt against his own. 

He nodded, jaw twitching, “We could make it work, Y/N. You and I– we’d be the most powerful couple in all of England.” You scoffed dryly, of course, he was thinking of business.

“And here I thought you actually liked me–”

“What? I do! No– that’s not what I meant, I meant that nothing could stand in our way, we’d be dynamite.” A laugh forced its way through your rouge lips, how hilarious… you thought to yourself. He was worried about his image and not how he truly felt. John’s cheeks were surprisingly red as he rubbed the back of his neck, this was an odd sight to see. The flirtatious Shelby boy… all meek and shy.

It made you feel powerful, like you held the strings that controlled him. You knew it wasn’t true but it was quite the sight to see, him blushing before you. All because you tripped him up with your confidence, so you did the one thing you’ve been forcing yourself to not imagine for the past few months. You grabbed the lapel once more, only this time, you were initiating the contact. 

John replied immediately by holding your cheek and neck lovingly as you two kissed passionately in the dark alleyway. The feeling was strangely euphoric, the adrenaline rush high, and your hands moving across one another’s bodies. Trying to feel every part of them. Soon though, you had to break apart for precious air. Your hair felt a mess and John’s cheeks were even redder than before, if possible. He had a smile on his face and you had half the mind to smack it off.

“You’re insane, John Shelby.” You whispered into the night, enjoying the feeling of his embrace.

“Says the Solomons girl.” John quipped back.

“Ouch.”

For @cynicalrainbows. Sending lots of love and hope for better times your way. 

Productivity had always been important to Catherine Parr. She definitely preferred spending her time producing something she could use to prove she spent her time well over doing nothing, and most of the time, she found this fairly enjoyable. Being able to look at the end result of her hard work was always satisfying, and she never felt more successful than when she was proud of the work she had done.

In her old life, being productive was an expectation. She had grown up with the expectation that she would get married and be a good wife for her husband, so she had learned many skills that would prove her worth to any potential man that could support her in society and allow her to survive. In society’s view, she was only productive when she took care of her husband and potential family, and over time, she got pretty good at that. Good enough, at least, that she had four husbands.

This form of productivity, however, was not nearly as satisfying as she had hoped, so she began to spend any free time she had being productive in a way that was much more appealing to her. Writing allowed her to see the things she accomplished grow and become solid in front of her eyes, and above all, it was just enjoyable. She created a name for herself as more than a wife or a Queen, but as a writer, and that became her legacy. Her purpose and her most important form of productivity.

---

Being productive stayed just as satisfying in Cathy’s second life. When everything was so uncertain and unfamiliar, being able to do something productive was a way to retain any sort of stability. It also gave her a purpose in the world she felt so out of place in.

When united with the five other Queens, she soon learned that her legacy had carried on into history and was what set her apart from the others. Each of them had an expectation that was laid on them in reincarnation and writing was hers.

In all honesty, this excited her. With all the new freedom, tools, and knowledge, she could write more, about more, and for more, than ever before. 

In the beginning, she wrote as much as she could, for her own sheer pleasure. When she wasn’t writing, she was reading, exploring, and researching. The others were adapting to the world and contributing to their new lives in their own way, and they appreciated her work, which made it all the more better.

Recently, though, something had changed. Writing was no longer pleasurable. In fact, it felt more like a chore, but as hard as she tried to contribute to housework or errands, she had discovered that this was the way she had to be productive, and so she carried on.

Soon enough, she would be done with this infernal, horrifying script and she could move on, back to being as productive as she knew she needed to be.

At least that’s what Cathy told herself as she leaned over her desk, and lowered her head into her sore hands, sighing.

Even as she shut her eyes, the piercing light from her laptop invaded her vision and she cringed. She had been sitting in this chair for hours now, making absolutely no progress on the script that she promised the others would be ready by the end of the week.

It had been almost a month since Anna proposed the idea of telling their own versions of their stories on the stage and at first, Cathy had jumped at the opportunity. In her time in this century, she and the others had gotten quite the introduction to modern theatre through small productions that were put on just down the street, and their fascination grew from there.

Anne and Kitty had immediately volunteered to work on the songs, but when Catalina pointed out that they would need dialogue and an actual script, all eyes turned to Cathy, and she had no choice but to accept.

She was the writer of the group, after all, and she knew it would be cruel to make any of the others spend any more time than they had to reflect on their past traumas. When it came down to it, she was the obvious choice for the job, but that didn’t make it any easier.

The other Queens had been quick to reassure her that they didn’t expect a final draft during the first read-through, but the cousins had finished writing and composing the songs days ago, and they were all counting on her.

As such, the sixth Queen had spent day and night for the past week at her desk, trying to clunk through the script. It had been going fairly well, actually, until she finished Kitty’s section and reached her own.

It wasn’t a big deal, she told herself. She was expected to produce a script, and a script she would produce, but she could feel herself sinking into the world of uselessness, and that would never do. She was Catherine Parr, Queen of England and famous writer. This is what she is supposed to do.

Rubbing at her eyes, she tried to pull her brain to the blurring screen in front of her, but the light that was starting to seep through the curtains made her recoil and she flinched, then glanced at the clock: nearly 6am.

Sighing, she decided to treat herself with another mug of coffee, and began to stumble downstairs towards the kitchen, trying her best to remain silent for the five sleeping women in the house.

Or, apparently, the four, because a door creaked open behind her as she descended the first flight of stairs. 

When Cathy reached the kitchen and the coffee maker, she saw Anna blearlily appear out of the corner of her eye, and tried her best to give a polite smile.

“You’re up early,” the fourth Queen commented, then paused and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the younger woman, “or, more accurately, really, really late.”

“I was just working on the script, I’ll go to bed soon.” Cathy mumbled, to which Anna smiled.

“How’s that going, by the way?”

“Oh, errr....” Cathy quickly turned her attention back to the slowly filling mug. It was so hard to lie to Anna.

“Cathy? Is something wrong?” Anna looked suddenly concerned, and stepped toward her slowly. “We don’t expect it to be perfect, you know. It’d be completely understandable if you wanted a second pair of eyes, or third or fourth or... just to help out.”

“I got it, Anna.” Cathy mumbled under her breath, willing the coffee to drip faster. 

“You sure? I’m always free to help if you...”

“I said-” Cathy cut her off suddenly, swinging her mug away and turning on the taller woman- “I got it. Wouldn’t want to tear you away from your Netflix and horror films, would we?”

“Whoa, Cathy, what-” Anna started, but it was too late. The sixth Queen had disappeared up the steps, leaving droplets of spilled coffee in her wake, with Anna reeling from her sudden tenacity and words.

---

Cathy collapsed into her desk chair just in time to bury her face in her hands, willing the tears to hold back. The moment she snapped at Anna, she felt horrible, but she didn’t exactly regret what she said. It was true- the Queen did spend an awful lot of time relaxing in the living room. 

The interesting part, though, was that Cathy didn’t find herself angry at her for it. More... jealous.

Jealous that she was able to stop and breathe and not worry about creating something, jealous that the other Queens didn’t seem to mind her lack of productivity, jealous that she didn’t hate herself whenever she had a second of calm.

Shaking her head, she tried to clear these thoughts. Anna and Cathy were just built different, she reasoned. She was made to create things and Anna was made to... do whatever she did, which she was always somehow amazing at. 

Cathy often hated herself for how jealous she was of the others when they sat down to watch a movie or go out to lunch, when she knew she needed to retreat back to her room to work. Logically, she knew she could easily join them, that it wouldn’t be the end of the world, and that she couldn’t be expected to be productive all day every day, but the instinct was so deeply ingrained in her from life in the 1500s that it was nearly impossible to shake.

As she turned back to the laptop, the rough draft of her introduction to her song that Anne had drafted with her a week ago (which, now that she thought about it, was about the same time things began to go downhill) glared back at her. 

Before the draft, Anne and her had had a long conversation about Thomas and how she would tell her story, and the two eventually came to an agreement that the truth could be told through a different angle to make the whole story of the show flow better.

That didn’t make it hurt any less.

Writing these things about her life had forced her to reflect on things she never wanted to have to think about again, at least not at this depth.

In times that she was clear headed enough to examine her own thoughts and emotions, which were rare, she knew that there was trauma associated with her past, and that while she was still reeling from reincarnation, she was trying to write something that could communicate her experience, which was still all too real, to unassuming audience. 

In those moments, she knew this was part of the struggle she was having. It was part of the reason that she had taken the burden of the script, to relieve this pain from the other Queens, and to find productivity and purpose in her skills.

When she wasn’t clear headed, though, there was no such self-awareness. 

Now, she was just staring at her work in silence, willing herself to write something, anything, before she lost all energy and collapsed.

Closing her eyes, she clenched her fists and took a deep breath, before exhaling slowly and bringing her shaking fingers to the keyboard.

As she opened her eyes, the words on the screen were still out of focus, but she began typing anyway, with only a vague idea of what she was writing.

---

After twenty-minutes or so, Cathy had written a page, but she didn’t have the guts to reread it and see if it said what she wanted it to say.

Resigning herself to continue this pattern until she was able to return to her usual standard, she forged on, but before she could type more than a few words, a knock on the door broke through the haze in her mind.

Her heart dropped as she initially thought it must be Anna, but the voice that echoed through the door negated that idea, and after the instinctual relief, she realized that this was probably worse.

“Mija? Cathy?” 

The sixth Queen could do nothing but sigh and lower her head to the desk in defeat at the sound of her godmother’s voice. 

“Querida, I know you’re in there. I could hear you typing.”

Cathy held her breath, as if that would drive the first Queen away, but to no luck.

“I talked to Anna.”

A sharp inhale, and within moments, Cathy slid her wheeled chair to the door and turned the lock sharply.

Catalina waited a moment, then slowly turned the doorknob and peeked her head inside to see her goddaughter slumped over in the desk chair in the middle of the room.

“Catherine, are you alright?” The first Queen slipped through the barely open door and crossed the distance between them in a stride, kneeling down in front of her goddaughter, only to see her eyes tightly shut.

“How mad is Anna?” Cathy muttered, not opening her eyes. Catalina frowned.

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t mean to say that to Anna.”

“Oh...” Lina nodded slowly, “You mean when you insinuated she was lazy?”

Cathy cringed immediately, pulling her hands away from where her godmother was holding them gently. 

“I swear I didn’t mean-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. Anna isn’t mad, mija. She’s just concerned.” Catalina hurried to correct herself, immediately regretting her words. 

“Concerned for what?” Cathy peered up at Lina, who sighed.

“You, of course. We all know you’ve been overworking herself on the script and Anna told me what happened when I came downstairs for breakfast.”

“I’m really sorry, I should never have said that to her. I was just... you know...”

“No, I don’t.” Catalina shook her head, shifting to sit on the floor in front of the chair. Cathy bit her lip, then slid out of the chair and sat across from her godmother, leaning against the bed. “Tell me, mija.”

“I guess I was just a little jealous,” Cathy admitted quietly, blushing furiously. “It’s so stupid, I know, but I haven’t really been thinking very clearly recently.”

“Jealous of... of Anna?” Catalina questioned, only to receive a small nod. “Of what exactly?”

“You know, her... the way she... she’s so chill and relaxed all the time, and I... I’m... not.”

“Alright....” Catalina began, tilting her head as she tried to examine the sixth Queen’s expression. “I’m sorry, querida, I don’t think I quite get it. Are you saying you want to be more, uh, ‘chill’?”

“No, no, I... I just want to...” Cathy stumbled over her words for a moment, before closing her eyes and leaning back against the bed in defeat. “I just want to relax.”

“Oh.” Lina whispered quietly, the pieces in her mind falling into place. “Oh, oh pobrecita.” 

“Please don’t.” Cathy cringed. “I know what you’re going to say and I don’t need to hear it. I’ll take a break when I’m done with the script, but I really just need to finish it.”

Catalina nodded slowly, processing her words, before asking simply: “Why?”

“What?” Cathy was caught off-guard.

“Why?” The eldest Queen simply repeated, shrugging softly. 

“You... they... it just needs to be done.”

“Well, yes, eventually that would be nice, but why does it have to be you?”

“I’m the writer. I volunteered and I should follow through,” Cathy explained simply.

“Alright... then what’s stopping you?”

“....”

“What was that, mija?” Catalina leaned forward, ducking her head to try and make eye contact. 

“I can’t. I just... I can’t.”

“Okay.... what’s the difficult part?”

The question was meant with silence, so Lina hoisted herself to her knees and peered at the still shining laptop for a moment, before humming softly.

“I know the rest of us aren’t nearly good with words as you are, but would you accept our help? At least with this part?” Catalina offered, trying to sound as casually as she could. Cathy shook her head.

“I can do it. I would... I need...”

“Mija, honey... I, I don’t know how to explain this to you, but you’re not obligated to write this, especially not now.”

“I know that, I do, but I-” Cathy started, then suddenly furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean, ‘not now’?”

“You’re hurting.”

“No, I’m-”

“Yes you are,” Catalina quickly cut her off. “We all are. And we are all coping with reincarnation and the effects of our past trauma differently. I’m really sorry we didn’t see it sooner, we... we thought writing was your way of healing.”

“It is!” Cathy exclaimed, heartfelt. “Or at least it was... I.. I don’t know what happened.”

“Cathy... Catherine... you’re allowed to take time for yourself, especially when you’ve been through something like this. There’s no need to be productive, to have a purpose all the time. You can rest, honey. You should rest.”

There were a few minutes of silence after this, as Cathy stared at the carpet and Catalina fidgeted to keep herself from speaking, before the younger woman lifted her head slowly. 

“I don’t think I can finish the script, Catalina. Not right now.”

Catalina beamed, then quickly schooled her expression and nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to the others and see if we can figure something out, and then you can approve it when you’ve rested.’

“Thank you. They won’t... they won’t be mad, right.”

“Of course not, querida. We all know all too well how it feels to be a little messed up, or a lot messed up, and how important rest is because of it. You’re more than allowed to take time for yourself to recover. Alright?”

“...yeah.” Cathy nodded slowly. “Alright.”

Catalina smiled widely once more. “I’m very proud of you, mija. Please rest.”

Cathy simply nodded, feeling the exhaustion of the past few weeks finally catching up to her. As she allowed herself to relax fully into the bed behind her and her eyes to fall shut, she exhaled slowly, feeling for the first time in the week that she could breathe again.