#bun reads the red riding quartet

[merrilark]

Surprising no one, I’m still hung up over the Red Riding Quartet. For all its grizzly violence and stomach-turning horror, I think now that I have had some time to stew in the finale, the quartet might actually be one of my favorites in terms of style. It surrealistic prose is ambitious, and at times doesn’t quite work, but overall it makes it a very memorable read. It’s the kind that haunts you for a long time after.

So, anyway, I stumbled across a few interviews with David Peace, who seems far less grim than his books, and this clip of him talking about Nineteen Seventy-Four, the first book in the series, is pretty interesting to me. You don’t often hear authors speak about their regrets.

It is a little bit funny that he calls the final book, Nineteen Eighty-Three, an “apology” when it is maybe the second darkest comparatively in the set, but I understand where he’s coming from. It’s fascinating to see an author grow and admit their growth in the middle of writing a series.

[rubyredsparks]

Blossoming Souls Ch. 4

Relationship(s): Romantic Logince, Moxiety; Platonic every other relationship

“Tags” for the whole story: morally grey!deceit, Deceit, Remus, Thomas as a character, Romance, Minor violence, someone’s potty mouth, Foul language, Minor homophobia (it’s not that bad), Miscommunication (this one is though), Friendship

Chapter Summary:  The four enter Eiehde. Logan makes a friend? Patton has a secret past? ‘Thomas’ is a nerd!?

The ride was quiet and slightly tense. Patton was not soothed by the beating tattoo of the horses’ hooves beating into the ground, matching his own racing heart.

The sun was starting to set, the pink and orange peeking through the clouds. A chilling breeze brushed past his cheek, and his hands tightened on the leather reins.

“Let’s turn left here,” Remy said, speaking up for the first time in two hours. “There’ll be an inn and town about ten minutes away. If we stop tonight and rest, we’ll make it to Eiehde in a couple hours tomorrow.”

Patton nodded his assent, and Roman agreed, “Let’s. We’ve been riding for too long so far. I’m getting rather saddle sore.”

“What? You can’t handle a few hours of riding, Princess?” Remy smirked at him, and Thomas only shook his head, rolling his eyes.

Patton steered the carriage toward a well worn road, sand and gravel morphing into cemented concrete. A sign caught his attention, swinging prominently in the open.

“‘Gett Inn,’” Patton read. “They’ve got a vacancy. How about we head there, kiddos?”

“Splendid idea!” Thomas said eagerly, “Then come early morn we shall depart for the palace.”

“Mm,” Remy hummed suspiciously, and Patton tilted his head at him. Remy noticed his gaze, “I’m not sure if it’s a good thing we found this place so easily. What with all the bandits and schemers lately…”

Remy trailed off, but Thomas waved off his concern, “All of that had been dealt with, and most of the bandits attack traveling parties. We’re just staying one night, the most they can do is cheat us of our coin.”

“Thomas is right, kiddo. It is just one night, though if it does make you feel better, I’ll keep an eye out,” Patton offered with a reassuring grin.

Remy shook his head, “I don’t know if that does make me feel better. C’mon, let’s go.”

They parked in the designated spots for horses and carriages, and Logan looked around in confusion, furrowing his eyebrows, “This is not the castle Eiehde.”

Patton shook his head, “No, it’s not Lo.”

“But-”

“We’ll only be staying for one night, Lo, we’ll make it to Eiehde by high morning,” Patton answered him.

He nodded in understanding, and the four of them walked into the inn.

The bell above the door jingled cheerily, and an attendant turned to the open door, a jovial smile on their face, “Welcome! How may I help you today?”

“Do you have two rooms with two beds vacant?” Remy asked, looking around the lobby, bored.

“Let me see…” they rifled through a notebook before a smile broadened on their face. “Ah! Here we are! There are two more rooms, though they might be a bit cramped. Is that alright?”

“Fine,” Remy dismissed, “we’re only here for the night anyway.”

The host’s smile wavered for a minute at the tone before coming back in full force, “So if the stay will be overnight, there’ll be a free breakfast in the foyer. How will you be paying?”

“I’ve got this, boys,” Thomas said. He pulled out a small bag of coins and paid the shocked host easily.

“Er- I-I- Your rooms are right this way,” the host stuttered faintly. They handed the keys over to Thomas and stepped out from behind the desk, leading the quartet down a corridor.

They gestured toward two doors, “These two are yours, sirs. Er- here are your keys.”

They handed the keys over to Thomas, who brought their hand to his lips and kissing the back of it.

“Thank you, kind one,” Thomas thanked with grandeur, grabbing the keys from the shellshocked host. The host blushed as Thomas smiled at them kindly. Patton stifled a giggle at the pleading look the host gave him.

“Er- it’s- uh no problem,” they said with a nervous chuckle before promptly fleeing.

“Well, thanks for scaring them off,” Remy said with a smirk.

Thomas scowled at him, shaking his head, “C’mon Remy, we’re rooming together.”

“As his Highness says,” Remy mocked, giving him an exaggerated bow. Thomas gave him an exasperated sigh, pulling him into the other room and closing the door.

Patton turned to Logan, who had been watching the proceedings with an increasing confusion, and smiled, “Well, kiddo, seems we’re gonna be roomies!”

“In-indeed,” he fixed his glasses. “They are an… eclectic pair, aren’t they?”

“Yep!” Patton said. He opened the door with a quiet click, letting Logan walk in first. Closing the door, he asked Logan, “Do you want the bathroom first?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Logan called as he set the bags down on the respective beds.

“Of course, Highness.”

“Patton,” Logan warned with a hidden grin.

“Oops! I mean, Logan.” He grinned sweetly at the Prince who only shook his head as a response.

“I’ll shower now, Patton,” Logan called, making his way toward the bathroom.

Patton gave him a hum of affirmation, and Logan left. Waiting until he heard the shower turn on, Patton sat down heavily on the bed, his head in his hands.

He knew that it was a risky move trusting two complete strangers to lead them toward the castle, but there was something telling him to trust the two.

Well, perhaps not Remy so much, but Thomas more so. There was something earnest in the loud man, as if he was unable to betray anyone even if he was forced.

Patton knew that it was an incredibly risky decision and was most likely wrong as well, but his heart and his instincts were telling him to trust Thomas.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. There was a headache forming in the front of his head, and he groaned at it.

“Babes, you alright?” Remy’s quiet voice drew him to look up and blinked, slightly disoriented, at the blond in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, bringing his hand up to massage his temples. The ache lessened slightly, but the throbbing only heightened as Remy stepped closer.

“You don’t look fine,” Remy started cautiously, raising his hand to either check Patton or put it reassuringly on his shoulder.

Patton leaned away, uncomfortable, and straightened up, looking at Remy, “How did you come in anyway? The door was locked. I should know, I locked it.”

“There’s a conjoining door over there,” Remy nodded toward the left, and lo and behold there was a door fixed in the wall. Patton blinked, wondering why he hadn’t noticed, slightly berating himself for it. He didn’t even hear the door open.

“You still don’t look fine in my opinion, but I won’t push. Where’s Logan?”

“Taking a shower,” Patton grunted, trying not to sound disgruntled at the man, but it was proving to be difficult. The high pitched worry of his voice was grating on his ears, and Patton wanted to curl up and fall asleep.

“Well, alright then,” Remy murmured. Patton heard this time as the door opened with a quiet click, and for a small inn, the hinges didn’t even creak.

There was something about Remy that warned him of the man, and he knew that he was being unfair. There was just- something in his attitude or his tone or his knowing eyes that made Patton want to take the Prince and run back to Aowhea.

Maybe it was the ease at which he handled the bandits, the firmness that he had shut down any attempts for further looting.

Maybe it was how he hid behind his sunglasses, never showing his eyes in or outdoors.

Maybe Patton was being too paranoid and should just be grateful that Remy saved them without any more deaths.

There was just something about Remy that he didn't quite understand. He just couldn't for the life of him figure out what.

Patton closed his eyes, laying down, and let the quiet night of the motel lull him to sleep.

----------------------------------------------------

Logan walked out of the shower, tousling his hair dry. He froze in the doorway when he saw Patton snoring softly on one of the beds.

He sighed, wrapping the towel around his shoulders. Wandering around the room, he trailed his finger listlessly over the bookshelf, eyes glancing over the titles.

His eyes lit up at one potential title, pulling it off the shelf eagerly, “‘The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes,’” he read, cracking open the spine of the novel.

The dust that puffed up made him sneeze quietly, and he blinked, rubbing his nose with one hand. He settled, eyes scanning the first line, immediately immersing himself into the world.

“Oh! This is one of my favourite novels!” a voice made Logan yelp, jumping and clutching the novel to his chest.

“Oh! I apologize,” Thomas’s likewise surprised face morphed into remorse, his face close to Logan’s own. “I didn’t mean to surprise you, I had thought that you had heard the door open.”

“It’s- I accept your apology,” Logan said, hushed. Thomas furrowed his brows, and Logan flitted his eyes to the still snoring Patton before Thomas nodded in understanding.

His red hair had been left untied from its previous bun, and instead was tied loosely at the base of his neck, allowing a few strands in his face. If Logan was another man, he would even say that he was attractive.

“Have you read this before, my Prince?” Thomas asked, voice lowered.

Logan shook his head before the words caught up to him, “How did you know that I was a prince?”

Thomas’s eyes widened, and Logan couldn’t decipher whether in guilt or surprise. Thomas shook his head, grabbing Logan’s wrist and dragging him through the dividing door.

Logan followed with minimal protest, his curiosity winning through his self-preservation. Thomas closed the door behind the two of them, and Logan couldn’t help the spike of his heart at being alone with virtually a stranger.

He looked around, noticing the similarities of the two rooms, though with a darker colour scheme. Noting two empty beds, Logan looked at Thomas, “Where is your companion?”

“Remy went out to the tavern or something of the sort, said that he wanted time to cool off. If I’m lucky I’ll find him passed out in a stall, if not, well locked in the stockades for a night isn’t so bad.”

Logan frowned, “That doesn’t sound very-”

“That’s just Remy’s thing,” Thomas dismissed easily, flapping a hand out. “He’s been doing this for as long as I’ve known him.”

“What an… unconventional friendship,” Logan said slowly, uneasily.

Thomas shrugged, “Well, he isn’t a hindrance. More like a duckling that had imprinted on me, and one I grew attached to as well.”

“As long as it works, I suppose,” Logan said stiffly. Thomas shrugged again, sitting down with his back against the headboard of the bed. He nodded toward the vacant bed next to him, and Logan sat, uneasily, down, unsure of what Thomas wanted.

“Well? How do you find the novel?” His body language suggested boredom, even apathy, but his eyes sparkled with a bright curiosity that Logan couldn’t help but indulge.

“I actually have not had the opportunity to have read this particular novel as of yet-”

“What!” Thomas shot up, body and face betraying his indignant features. Logan hid a snicker of amusement, only allowing one eyebrow to quirk up in question.

“What is the matter with not having read this?”

“How can you have not read this masterpiece!” Thomas’s voice raised an octave, and Logan winced at the pitch, eyes flitting to the door and hoping the walls weren’t as thin as he thought.

“Sorry, sorry,” Thomas repeated, catching his eyes, “but how can you have not read this? It is the best novelizations of our century!”

“Is it?” Logan asked, keeping his tone bored, and he delighted in the redness and frustration that seemed to bloom in Thomas’s face.

“Of course it is! The mystery, the struggle, the tension and adventure! What’s not to love about it?”

“Well, I would have no idea, since, as I have stated before, that I have not read it yet,” Logan said.

“Argh! Give me that!” Thomas yanked the book out of Logan’s startled hands. He flipped furiously through the pages. Until at last, he seemed to stop, finding something that seemed to satisfy him.

“Here,” he shoved the book back into Logan’s hands, and Logan looked down curiously at the title.

“I thought that stories best started in the beginning, not in the middle,” Logan said.

“Bah!” Thomas dismissed, waving a hand. “Stories have a beginning, middle and end, but they're not necessarily in that order.”

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows, frowning. “How can that be? Surely it would be more logical, not to mention more cohesive, to start at the beginning.”

“Alright, No-fun-ates,” Thomas drawled. “You don't have to read what I suggested, but I'm sure you'll find that if you did, you'll be thanking me.”

“For what?” Logan quirked his brow, “Having me start in the middle of a novel and having to reread the beginning to have any sort of sense of what's going on?”

Thomas squawked, a hand flying to his chest and the other flying to his forehead, “Well, I never- Look Mr Bore, what's that book called?”

Logan frowned, looking at the cover, “The Mem-”

“The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes!” Thomas exclaimed. “Meaning that it's more than one! Meaning that any fool could read any part of the novel and still wouldn't be confused.”

If anything, Thomas’s explanation made Logan's frown deepen. He opened his mouth to retort when Thomas yanked the book out of his hands again.

Scowling, Logan glared at the man in front of him, not liking the back and forth that continued to happen with the book.

“‘The Adventure of the Naval Treaty,” Thomas read aloud. He shifted slightly in an effort to get more comfortable and nodded for Logan to do the same.

Logan looked around, glancing at the vacant bed beside Thomas and gingerly sat down on it, crossing his legs and leaving his hands clasped upon his lap.

Thomas didn't say a word about his posture, instead choosing to continue to read aloud from the book.

Logan allowed himself to get lost in Thomas’s retelling. The deep voice made for a low, rumbling and calming tone that made Logan want to close his eyes and lose himself in it.

He was never much of an auditory person, much preferring to read and learn in the most common way of text and written work. However, Thomas’s voice was like smooth chocolate or sweet jam, and Logan was gone.

He found himself migrating toward Thomas, closer and closer to the intoxicating voice that made a detective and his companion all too real.

Closer and closer he went until Logan somehow found himself sitting on Thomas’s bed, next to him, and staring with wide eyes as his voice raised and emphasized certain parts, the fantasy almost coming to life under his steady storytelling.

He was enraptured, the storytelling a whole new experience that he learned and loved. Thomas had a way of capturing the tone and mood of the text, giving inflections and odd quirks to each other character.

Thomas’s own eyes were alight with amusement and enthusiasm as he regaled the story, his voice strong and steady.

Slowly, carefully, Logan felt his eyes drooping, his heart slowing to a steady beat, and knew that sleep was coming. He attempted to stay awake, wanting to find out exactly how Sherlock had figured out where the missing naval treaty was. But his need for sleep was winning, and he could feel his breaths coming out longer, his movements lethargic.

His head stooped down lower and lower, until his body rested on Thomas’s. If he were more awake, more attentive, he'd be jumping off the bed as if it had burned him.

Though he wasn't the only one, he had heard Thomas start to slur, his words coming out more in short, tired spurts. His head slumped down before righting himself, and the book had been sliding to lay flat on his chest.

The day's events were catching up to the both of them, and Logan closed his eyes, letting his breathing even out and falling into a deep slumber.

The last few things Logan heard was a small snore and the soft thud of the book falling on Thomas before he welcomed a blissful sleep.

A/N: Is romance blossoming within these two? Thanks for reading!

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[icecoldparadise]

Sheer Witch-foolery

Apparently I have no chill. “I’m gonna do a small funny April Fool’s day fic!” 2300 words later..... literally what happened with TaT. -___- anyways, I guess this is part of the “holiday” series that I intended to do in order (it was screaming to be done now though.) It’s also canon with my Tricks and Treats fic, Day with the Dragon Witch fic, and @sidewritings Say My Name fic (which, with their permission, is canon with DwtDW!) So without further adieu, here’s Sheer Witch-foolery. Pairings: moxiety and logince (I tried not to make it too.. much, as I know some of y’all find pairing them with each other not enjoyable.)

It was a seemingly ordinary spring day in the mindscape, and the four sides were lounging in the living room: Logan was curled up in the plush arm chair, nose deep in a book; Patton was sprawled on the couch with Roman gushing over Tangled; Virgil was perched on the window seat, relaxing as the warmth of the sun spilled over him. The serenity was disturbed when a black raven flew through the open window in the kitchen and dropped a letter in Virgil’s lap, startling him out of his reverie. The others gazed at him curiously as a small smile crossed his lips- the letter was sealed with a dragon stamp. After cracking it open delicately Virgil read the message, then stated, “Lavinia’s invited us to the cave for lunch.” Roman, who had been taking a drink of water, spit out his drink and sprayed the poor logical side in his line of fire. “WHAT?” Logan glared at the exuberant side, wiping his glasses off with a dry part of his polo. “I believe we have been invited to lunch, Roman.” He stated matter of fact, giving a slight huff as he willed his clothes to be dry. Patton jumped up excitedly, clapping his hands enthusiastically. “Well, what are we waiting for, kiddos?! LET’S GO!” Virgil jotted down a quick note saying they were on their way, hastily tying it with a black string and handing it to the raven waiting on a nearby bookshelf.

It swooshed out the window again, delivering the message to the Dragon Witch. She smirked as she read the confirmation. “Excellent. All is going according to plan.” While the quartet got ready and headed to the witch’s lair, she put the final touches on her little surprise. “They’ll regret not remembering the date, won’t they my pet?” She cooed to the raven, gently scratching under its beak. When the men arrived, the scent of warm soup and seasoned meat filled their nostrils, making their stomach growl. Virgil greeted the guards, who cheerfully returned the greeting and led them the rest of the way to the cavern. A large round table filled with food greeted them: creamy mashed potatoes, savory chicken noodle soup and broccoli soup all sat in ceramic bowls, roast beef and ham sandwiches cut in triangles made pyramids on a large platter, and a large crystal pitcher of fresh fruit punch stood in the center of it all. Roman whistled in amazement. “Where did you learn to make all this, Witch?” He asked fondly, making her smile proudly. “I had the villagers lend me some cookbooks, and used my guards as test subjects.” Some of the guards shuddered, remembering her first attempts at cooking. Virgil noticed and chuckled quietly, but turned a warm smile to his friend. “You really did an incredible job, Vinia.” A small pang of guilt shot through the woman as she remembered her plan, but it was too good a prank to let go to waste. She gave them all her brightest smile. “Thank you. It was really all for you guys. Come! Let’s eat- I heard your stomachs growl at the entrance from the back of my lair.”

They all ate, merrily conversating and sharing stories with each other until they were all full and content. Suddenly Patton sat upright, looking slightly ill. “What’s wrong Pa—” Logan began before he too sat up rigidly with a grimace. The other two felt it shortly after: a strange sensation crawled in their bellies, but not as if they were ill. It felt like… “Magic.” Roman whispered. Virgil shot a distressed glance at his friend, who looked quite pleased with herself. “Logan,” she began sweetly, “what’s today’s date?” The logical side responded instantly. “April first.” It clicked. “Lavinia, what did you do?!” Roman demanded. Before she could answer their bodies contorted, not feeling painful but incredibly bizarre and uncomfortable. When it finally stopped, the sides looked at each other in mild horror. Long hair cascaded identically down their now slender, curved backs. Their limbs were slender, hands smaller, hips wider… “We’re… We’re women!” Patton exclaimed, her voice unusually soft and bright. She gasped and covered her mouth, shocked. Logan turned to face the now hysterically-cackling dragon witch. “How long will this last?” She inquired, her own voice higher than usual, but still low and smooth. “Twenty-four hours, my friends. Oh, I forgot!” She said, too brightly. They looked at her warily. “You… Ladies… are expected at a lovely gala tonight! No pants for us ladies here in your creative world Roman.” Virgil gave an anxious whine, her eyes wide with terror. “Lavinia! I don’t know how to dance as a MAN, let alone as a woman in heels and a flouncy skirt!” Her voice came out as a soft, tremoring alto. Lavinia smirked, gently patting the anxious side’s head. “Don’t worry Verge, Roman said he could do anything, even in a pair of heels and a big flouncy skirt.” Everyone turned to Roman, whose heart-shaped face was bright red. “So? That doesn’t mean I actually CAN!” Her voice was still bold and loud, a sweet soprano. “Oh, you can. Don’t worry. I’m not THAT cruel my friends. I made special shoes for all of you that will help you dance when the need arises. Until then, you all are seriously in need of a trip to the Fairy Godmother. Off you go!” She flicked her hands and they teleported to Fairy Godmother’s fashion emporium. A content sigh escaped her lips as she considered the night’s festivities. “Tonight will be lots of fun!”

The Fairy Godmother had just finished reading her reminder from the Dragon Witch about the transformed sides when they knocked on her door. Smiling, she let them in. “Welcome gentlewomen! Roman, always a pleasure to see you.” Taking a good look at them, she chuckled. “It’s a good thing you didn’t make an Evil Queen, Ro, or she’d be after all four of you.” They all blushed; none of them considered themselves fair enough to be “fairest in all the land” but the compliment was still appreciated. “Now then! I have just the things for you ladies. Patton dear, let’s start with you!” One by one, the fairy transformed them from jeans-and-tee-shirt gals (“Nothing wrong with jeans and a good tee, but for a gala we must have flair!” as she put it) to drop dead beauties. Patton came out looking like the embodiment of life itself; a light sky-blue gown with tule off-the-shoulder sleeves swirled around her feet, long brown hair pinned loosely in a braid with flowers laced into the braid. Her make-up was done lightly, creating an ethereal glow about her that emphasized the warm chocolate hue of her eyes. A delicate silver chain with a butterfly pendent added the perfect touch. Logan retained her sophisticated aura, a simple dark blue cocktail dress gently accentuating her curves without being scandalous; her hair was pinned up in a smooth bun with well-placed sapphire hair pins, make-up also simple but elegant and a simple pearl necklace to accent the look. Roman, of course, was bold and dazzling to behold: a vibrant red full skirt ballgown complete with a flashy bejeweled necklace and half-pinned up hair, gold eyeshadow and red lips to match. Virgil took some convincing to come out, but when she did the others gasped in awe. She genuinely looked like a goth princess: her long hair was silky smooth and only partly pinned by a simple purple flower clip, make up done mostly light with her signature black eyeshadow and a touch of dark purple lip stick, and a layered purple and black gown that seemed to flutter slightly as if in a breeze with every step she took. A simple black choker finished the look. Patton’s jaw dropped noticeably at the sight, and while Logan could appreciate Virgil’s beauty found himself irresistibly drawn to the red flower of the group. After giving final look-over, the Fairy Godmother nodded, impressed with her handiwork. “Yes, you four are quite ready for the ball in an hour. Here,” she started, handing them each a square box, “the Dragon Witch left these for you. She said it would correct your ‘two left feet’.” Each box held a pair of shoes that morphed to match the wearer’s outfit. Once situated Roman gave them a quick lesson in walking in heels, and they clumsily tottered out to the carriage Lavinia had ordered for them.

The ride over was full of conversation and quick (sheepish) glances at each other; none of them could deny they made equally gorgeous women as they made men. Virgil couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from Patton’s warm, eye-crinkling smile while Roman couldn’t help but appreciate the calculated elegance Logan exuded. They had finally gotten used to the high, feminine voices (much to their dismay, Roman did in fact take advantage of this many times to burst out into female Disney songs.) When they arrived, they couldn’t help but stare in awe at the amount of colorfully adorned people they would be interacting with. Virgil instinctively hid behind Patton when they got out, who unconsciously offered her hand as comfort. She gladly took it, peering over the lively side’s shoulder in mild terror. It helped getting inside, as people spread out to various parts of the rather large castle. “Well, you men certainly do make lovely princesses.” A smooth voice stated in admiration, instantly causing them to turn and face Lavinia. She was also dressed elaborately, emerald green and black her main theme as the long slender skirt floated fairy-like at her ankles. “You look lovely, Vinia.” Virgil complimented softly, resulting in a warm smile from the dragon witch. “Well, now we can say we got to have a lovely girls’ night out together, yes? Let’s go dance!” Roman had opened her mouth to protest when everyone’s shoes made them move to the dance floor. Virgil and Patton gave a shriek while Roman and Logan managed to keep up with their shoes. A lovely waltz came on, and while a good amount of dashing young men offered to dance with them the quartet stuck together. Patton smiled cheekily and offered her hand to the gothic side. “May I have this dance, mi’lady?” Virgil couldn’t help but laugh, her voice ringing melodiously throughout the hall. “Yes, you may.” Patton’s laugh joined hers, both echoing harmoniously. Roman and Logan watched amused before Logan turned her nervous attention to the other. “R-Roman?” She began, nerves causing her usually smooth, controlled voice to tremor. The fiery side turned to see Logan’s wide eyes and timidly outstretched hand. She blushed slightly before taking it, managing a small curtsey before they began to glide rather successfully across the floor.

While they danced, a waltz both Virgil and Logan recognized began to play. They simultaneously exclaimed, “Oh! I know this one.” Patton looked up at the slightly-taller side, her brown eyes bright with excitement. “Really?! I didn’t know you liked waltz music.” Virgil blushed, avoiding her partner’s eyes. “I use them sometimes to help keep me calm when my anxiety is flaring up.” The emotional side nodded in understanding. “Virge, would you… Would you hum it while we dance?” The nervous side gulped but nodded, her sweet alto voice quietly joining the orchestra. Patton put her head on Virgil’s shoulder, entranced. Meanwhile with the other two had a similar conversation. “You like waltz music Lo?” Roman inquired, genuinely surprised. Logan gave her trademark knowledgeable expression. “Of course, the intricate yet repetitive pattern is quite soothing while I work out particularly pesky problems. This is one of my favorites.” Roman’s eyes lit up hopefully. “Would you sing with the music?” Logan quirked an eyebrow to hide her uncertainty. “I… I don’t particularly excel in song-making Ro.” The creative side pouted adorably, giving the logical side such big puppy eyes it melted her heart. “Oh, alright. I suppose it wouldn’t do much harm this once.”  She quietly hummed the tune, swirling around with Roman who was ecstatic to hear the normally reserved side actually humming (and doing so quite well.) The song ended much too soon, as did the night. Before they knew it the clock was striking midnight and the gala was ending. The Dragon Witch had joined them for quite a few dances, making sure to dance with each one before the night was through, so she was with them when it ended. She linked her arms with Roman and Patton. “Not bad for an April Fool’s prank, hmmm?” They all grudgingly agreed. “Yes, it was well played. However, we do need to get home and get some rest Lavinia.” Logan stated, right as Lavinia herself gave a huge yawn. She nodded. “Yes, I do believe it’s time to call it a night. You all will be back to your handsome selves when you wake up in the morning. Goodnight, ladies!” She cajoled before disappearing in a poof of green smoke. The four took similar suit, warping back to the mind palace and into pajamas. They piled into a blanket fort for the night and promptly fell asleep, exhausted from the day’s events.

When Virgil woke up the next morning, he was pleased to note that his body was back to its very masculine form, as were the others. He noticed Patton curled up next to his side and smiled, carefully putting an arm around the sleeping man. Patton stirred a little and peered up at him. “We’re men again.” The heart said sleepily. Virgil nodded. “Yep. Go back to sleep Pat.” Patton turned and cuddled into the anxious side before quietly asking, “Hey kiddo? Would… Would you hum that song from last night again?” A faint blush dusted Virgil’s cheeks, but he nodded again and began humming softly, tightening his arm protectively over Patton and pulling him in closer. Patton smiled and sighed contently, falling asleep to the deep baritone humming the soothing melody.

@storytellerofuntoldlegends

@justanotherpurplebutterfly

@ssides  @thelogicalloganipus @pirate-patton @thatsthat24 @tinysidestrashcaptain @sidewritings @i-love-word-association-games @fandomsandanythingelse

[merrilark]

          'You think I like being me? This body? Look at me! This isn't me.' He was on his knees, screwing up his star shirt. 'I'm not a puff. I'm a girl in here,' he screamed, leaping to his feet and tearing down one of the Karen Carpenter pin-ups, screwing it up in my face. 'She knows what it's like. He knows,' he said, turning and kicking the stereo, sending Ziggy scratching to a halt.

          Barry James Anderson fell to the floor by the record player and lay with his head buried, shaking. 'Barry knew.'

          I sat back down and then stood back up again. I went over to the crumpled boy in his silver star shirt and maroon trousers and picked him up, gently putting him down on the bed.

          'Barry knew,' he whimpered again.

Nineteen Seventy-Four by David Peace

[merrilark]

i couldn't bear waiting to know, so i sneaked a peek into nineteen eighty-three and bj does get a pov (!!!) but it looks like he's begun speaking (or at least thinking) primarily in third person. he's notably far less eloquent than he is even in nineteen seventy-seven, and seems to only use short, sometimes fragmented sentences.

my sweet darling. :c

this makes me think something else happened to him after the karachi club massacre and clare's murder, and he's snapped completely by the '80s, or there's always been a disconnect between his broken inner voice vs. how he speaks. i don't know how plausible the latter would be, i would think that if his speech pattern is childish or broken in his head, it would be childish or broken when he speaks. but. augh. aughhh, i'm not ready! this is going to hurt.

[merrilark]

there's something so funny about how differently jack and eddie view each other lmao. it's literally just this

jack:

eddie:

[merrilark]

Well.

That. Certainly was an ending.

I have no idea what I just read, but the ending wasn't at all like the films. Hope? Maybe, if you squint. But there's no hope for BJ, who gets his revenge fully on his mother and Laws (the latter I really wish that they had kept), but has sealed his fate by lifting a shotgun to a band of policemen.

Hazel? Dead. Piggott? Dead. BJ? Probably dead and if not gone to prison. Jobson? I have no idea. I don't understand what I read there but it sounds like he's dead too...?

Most questions are answered, which is why I initially wanted to read the novels, but there are still many things I don't understand simply because the writing style was so bizarre.

I'll write a review for this later like I did for the others, but as far as the big question goes "Are they worth reading?": After that ending, my gut reaction has to say "no". They're intriguing shots of adrenaline and clarify a lot that the films struggled to portray, but I don't think that four books of head-scratching are worth the payoff unless you're just that masochistic.

Fffffffuh, that was bleak. I have to move on to something happier and lighthearted now.

[merrilark]

Let’s play another game of Is The Prose Too Convoluted, Is That The Point™, Or Am I Just Stupid?

The deeper I go into Nineteen Eighty-Three, the less BJ’s timeline makes sense (or anyone’s timeline, but lbr he’s the only one I care about). I think all of the jumping back and forth between the ‘60s and early ‘70s with Jobson, the ‘80s with Piggott, and back to the ‘70s with BJ is rreeeeally starting to confuse me. It also doesn’t help that a lot of characters have the same first names and sometimes are only referred to by their first names. BJ’s narration is getting more and more jumbled, too. I can’t tell what is actually happening and what is him hallucinating or having a flashback.

Mainly, and the most annoying thing, is that I’m really struggling to understand how BJ ends up from point A to point B between chapters. It was fairly linear before Clare’s murder, but now I feel like I’m missing huge chunks of important detail. For instance, one chapter ends with BJ in hiding with an unknown man approaching him and calling him by name; the way it’s written makes this feel like a cliffhanger, like something important, or dangerous is about to happen... And then in the next chapter BJ is just... somewhere else? No mention of who the man was, or what happened? It’s like either we jumped way ahead in time, or we’re meant to assume something bad did happen, and BJ is blocking it out.

The latter would actually be a very interesting given that BJ’s narration style is already littered with signs of C-PTSD. Sometimes it reads like he’s regressing into childhood, or having a panic attack, or dissociating... b u t, me, the reader, would still like to know what is happening. So if BJ blocking things out is part of Peace’s experimental style, I... think that’s neat, but perhaps too ambitious. 

For all of the confusion in Nineteen Seventy-Seven, I think that I actually might understand this final book less. Seventy-Seven was at least enjoyable in its absurdity. This, though? It just makes me realize that I should have taken more notes, something that should be done for fun, not a requirement to understand what’s happening.

[merrilark]

Title: Nineteen Eighty Author: David Peace Genre: Fiction / Mystery Page Count: 376 Trigger Warnings: Murder, mentions of rape (somewhat explicit? a character talks about what happened to her to a detective; unlike Seventy-Four and Seventy-Seven, there are no actual rape scenes), brief mentions of miscarriages, and homophobia but not half as bad as in the previous novels. This novel is fairly “safe” by comparison.

The quartet is finally nearing an end with the third installment, Nineteen Eighty, following Detective Peter Hunter as its narrator. 

In contrast to the novels before it, Nineteen Eighty is a much more straightforward, cut and dry detective novel. Peace still likes to use repetition and a poetic, almost lyrical style here and there, but the content feels more substantial than Seventy-Four and far, far, far less surreal than Seventy-Seven. Unfortunately, though it’s easier to follow, it’s also quite a bit more boring than the previous novels. Detective Hunter leads several very interesting interviews, particularly with the now clinically insane Jack Whitehead, and the Ripper Tapes subplot was hair-raising, but overall it doesn’t really feel like he did much besides tell us things that we had already pieced together through Jack in Seventy-Seven. By the time we get to the final chapters and the Yorkshire Ripper (here Peter Williams, not the real-life Peter Sutcliffe), the novel has lost a lot of its momentum and the end feels... sudden? A little rushed? It’s almost as if Peace wrote himself into a corner and realized that Peter was just too nice to make the kind of discoveries that Eddie or Jack could.

That said, Peter Hunter is a refreshing main character. Likable, professional, kind, level-headed, and despite having been once unfaithful to his wife in the past, he’s actually a very good husband who treats his wife with respect and gentleness. If you haven’t read the other books, it’s probably worth saying that the bar for Red Riding’s married couples is extremely low. To get a character who seems to genuinely love his wife and want to be a better husband is sooo nice. A+, way to go Peter. 

Red Riding’s trademark use of animal and religious motifs or color as symbolism was somewhat lacking in this novel. What little it did have was somehow more confusing than in Nineteen Seventy-Seven, but there is a point at the end where Peter imagines himself sprouting huge black, rotting wings. I like to think that this is confirmation that the black birds in Eddie’s nightmares were symbols for the police, as well as maybe a manifestation of Peter’s hopelessness and guilt. He is meant to be one of the good guys, a “guardian angel” of sorts, but he’s in too far over his head. Too, he’s begun to realize how rotted the police force is and feels responsible as one of them, even though he isn’t corrupt himself. 

I wish that there was more to say about this novel, but there really isn’t. It’s good, and there were parts that I enjoyed, that got my heartrate going, but it was very middling most of the time for me, personally. 

[merrilark]

BJ having a mini breakdown in his apartment about Barry's death and potentially being trans, a secret which he believes only Barry understood, is both heartbreaking and maybe my favorite scene in the entire book so far.

[merrilark]

it took 214 pages but there he is!! my boy bj!!!!

the cops arriving for him just after he leaves is the most scared i've been for any character in this entire series. i know that he's there to be ✨ mysterious ✨ and he wouldn't work as the unwitting key to everything if he were a main character, but... i really wish he was the main character in at least one of the books.

crossing my fingers for a bj pov in nineteen eighty or nineteen eighty-three.

[merrilark]

Oh, Rev. Laws is a BIG big man. Tall and broad despite his age, with longer silver hair than his film counterpart, who keeps a close buzz and is only 5'8"... I can see why they made that change lol

Knowing he's the core of it all certainly makes his first appearance an interesting one. Because I can see how Peace has framed him as this pillar of the community, all kindness and piety (esp in contrast to basically everyone else in this miserable book series lol) but there are little glimmers of something not being quite right, even before we learn he's involved with whatever ghost is haunting Jack.

I'm very, very curious to see where this is leading. I have a hunch that whatever happened, whoever Carol is and why it weighs so heavily on our protagonist, will come back to bite him in the end...

[merrilark]

i think what's so fascinating and horrible about fraser is that even as he's doing all these horrible, horrible things, there are little snippets where it's clear he knows these things are wrong. he feels guilty, but not because he's hurting his wife with his infidelity, or his son, or that he's grossly abusing his power and taking advantage of civilians who he knows can't or won't fight back because xyz reason... he feels guilty because what if she finds out? what if someone sees? what if my reputation suffers?

and i think it's these fleeting moments of almost-clarity that make him a terrifying, perhaps more realistic anti-hero (villain?) rather than if he were just someone who wholly believed in what he was doing, evil for the sake of being evil.

boy, is it hard to read, but it's interesting.

[merrilark]

wow, just when i think that detective fraser can't get any lower, he grabs a shovel and digs a canyon wowowowow

the whole point is to show how corrupt, incompetent, and self-interested the yorkshire police is, determined to protect themselves before they protect civilian life, and probably a lot of it is commentary on how poorly they handled the ripper cases (just speculation; i don't know a lot about what the public thought of the police during that period)... but hoohh. it is. brand new levels of uncomfortable to be forced into the headspace of this man. every time the pov changes back to jack, i breathe such a sigh of relief.

it's a strange method, but i guess that is one way to get your reader to love one of your mcs. just make one so despicable that the other looks like a saint.

[merrilark]

Ohhh no. Nineteen Seventy-Seven switches POV between two main characters, Det. Bob Fraser and reporter Jack Fucking Whitehead, without warning. If they do this and start jumping around chronologically like the films do, I may lose my marbles lol :''D

On a more positive note, Jack, so far, is much more likable in tone and personality. He's a little grimy but he doesn't seem as angry as Eddie or scummy as Bob. The man laughs. Thank goodness. Don't disappoint me, Jack! I'm counting on you to be someone I can root for!

[merrilark]

I have to wonder why the film adaptations chose to make BJ speak almost primarily in third person. It makes sense, I suppose, psychologically, as a way to distance himself from himself and the things he's ashamed of doing or feeling, and it adds a lot of character interest, but it's still an odd choice.

Unless something changes beyond the first book, novel!BJ is pretty well-spoken and witty. He holds a misery and certain jarring childishness, but it isn't quite as obvious as his film counterpart.