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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 month

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Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 14

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Implied smut, angst, attempted sexual assault - it's stopped, but there is non-consensual kissing and fondling. Misogyny and violence.

Word Count: 5,115

A/N: Here's Ch. 14, the penultimate chapter! I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

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Dean bounded up the stairs leading to his front door, two at a time. He needed to get in and out quickly. He was already running behind and he didn’t need to be waylaid by his family. He just needed to change for the show before going to pick up Y/N. He had a lot of clothes stashed away in her hotel wardrobe, but not his tuxedo.

Just the thought of Y/N made anger churn in his stomach again, but he pushed it aside. Thoughts of her had kept him distracted all afternoon, and it was affecting his work.

It was pointless to be angry, anyway; it didn’t matter enough to be angry. There had always been a fifty-fifty chance of her staying or going. Sure, maybe her decision to let him bed her the night before had confirmed for him that she meant to stay, but she obviously didn’t see it that way.

So that was the end of it.

He walked carefully through his front door, happy to find his home quiet; no one was around as he crossed the foyer to the wide staircase that led up to his bedroom. When he was halfway up, however, he heard Jessica call to him from the bottom.

“Dean! You’re here.”

He sighed. “Evidently.” He said as he stopped and turned back, trying for a smile as she climbed the staircase to join him.

“Why are you here?”

“Well, I do believe I live here.” He said sardonically.

She cocked her head and gave him a look that said she didn’t think he was funny. “You know what I mean. You’ve barely been around since we’ve been here. Or should I say,” she raised an eyebrow, “since Y/N’s been here.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “I’ve been busy with work. Which is why I’ve gotta get going now.” He pointed upstairs. “I’m late.”

Jessica frowned. “You’re late for work at,” she checked the grandfather clock on the landing. “at seven thirty in the evening?”

Dean sighed. “I’m taking potential business partners to The Manhattan, the vaudeville theater, for a show tonight. I’m just here to get dressed.”

He’d invited George Taskett and Simon Brighton, the owner of Clearwater Pulp and Paper to come to the show with them. He refused to believe the small voice in the back of his mind that told him he only did it so he wouldn’t be alone with Y/N all evening. He’d simply done it as an apology for being utterly distracted in their meetings earlier that afternoon.

He turned away from Jessica to start up the stairs again, but she reached out to grab his wrist.

“Wait. I…I wanted to talk to you.”

Dean sighed. “Sure. What is it?”

Jessica let go of his wrist to cross her arms over her waist, stepping up one stair so that she was on the same step as Dean, leveling their heights. It wasn’t often that Dean found himself standing nearly eye to eye with a woman, but Jess was very tall.

Perfect fit for Sam. Dean thought, even as the fierce look in her eye had him bracing for an onslaught.

“I was wondering what…what are your intentions with Y/N?”

Dean frowned darkly. “Excuse me?”

Jessica raised her chin. “You heard me. Y/N is a respectable woman.”

Dean’s voice was low and strained. “Have I ever insinuated that she isn’t?”

Jessica made a scoffing noise. “I know about the offer you made to her, and I believe that it was less than respectable.”

Dean’s jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly as he spoke. “My private affairs are no business of yours.” He said, turning away and starting back up the stairs.

“They are my business when they concern my governess, a respectable young woman that we’ve taken under our wing.”

She followed him up the stairs to the landing. “Someone we see as family!” She called out to him when he started up the second half of the stairs.

He turned back to her. “Y/N is a grown woman and is quite capable of making her own decisions. In fact, I doubt very much she’d appreciate this little conversation.”

Jessica stomped up the steps after him. “I know for a fact she doesn’t want me to talk to you, because she told me not to. But I thought…”

She reached his level again and stared at him for a moment. Then her shoulders deflated and she shook her head. “I thought I could get through to you. Make you understand that you’re throwing away a remarkable woman, kind and caring, beautiful, intelligent.”

Dean waved away her words, running up the rest of the stairs. “I’m well aware of Y/N’s attributes, thank you.”

“Then why wouldn’t you marry her? I mean my god, you love each other, that much is obvious, so I simply don’t understand your reasoning.”

Dean went deathly still, alarm bells screaming in his head. The same bells that had been going off for weeks now, maybe longer.

He looked back at Jessica and knew his anger was obvious. “That is absolutely not true and you have no idea what you’re talking about! I am not ‘in love’ with anyone, and I have absolutely no intention of ever being married!”

He took a breath and attempted to speak calmly, but his voice was still raised. “Now, since you seem to know all about my life anyway, I’ll tell you straight out that Y/N has refused my offer and will be returning home with you in a couple of days. Seems as though continuing on as a ‘respectable woman’ as you put it, has trumped being ‘in love’.” He spat the words out, his stomach bound in knots and the now familiar panic climbing in his chest.

He turned away from her again and Jessica chased after him. “I simply don’t understand you!” She shouted at him.

He spun back to face her. “You don’t have to understand me! You just have to mind your own damn business and stop-”

“Mommy?”

Lucy’s little voice interrupted Dean and he turned, still breathing heavily, to see Lucy standing in the doorway to her room, rubbing her eyes. She’d obviously already been in bed and their shouting had woken her up.

“What’s wrong?”

Jessica walked over to pick her up and give her a shaky smile. “Nothing, poppet. Uncle Dean and I were just…talking.”

Lucy pouted. “Loudly.”

Dean reached over to pinch her cheek lightly, trying hard to keep his voice level. “Sorry, kiddo. Didn’t mean to wake you. I’ve gotta go now anyway, so you go on back to sleep.”

He turned away quickly before Jessica had the chance to say anything more. He tried desperately to erase her words from his mind, but they summed up one of his worst nightmares and he had a hard time wiping them away.

***

Y/N was just starting to wonder whether Dean was simply not going to come, when she saw him appear on the other side of the garden doors, knocking gently.

She stood up from her chair and waved him in. He opened the doors and stepped through, bringing the scent of cold air with him.

He nodded at her and she smiled a false smile.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “I apologize for being late. Work went longer than I expected. But we made a lot of progress. I hope you don't mind but I've invited George Taskett and Simon Brighton to the show with us this evening. Just as a gesture of goodwill while negotiations are being finalized.”

Y/N nodded. “Of course. That's smart.”

He nodded back and an awkward silence sat between them for a few seconds before Dean picked up Y/N’s coat from the chair and held it open for her.

“Well, shall we?”

***

As they jostled along the New York streets, Y/N found herself getting more and more annoyed at the continuing silence between them. If this was how the rest of their time together was going to go, she didn't think she could take it.

She turned to look at his stiff profile; it was gorgeous like a marble statue, and just as unmoving.

She sighed. “Are we honestly not even going to talk about this?”

She saw his jaw tick. Movement at last! “Talk about what?” He asked, dully.

Y/N refused to answer such a ridiculous and redundant question, merely staring at him until he finally turned his head slightly to look at her briefly before rolling his eyes and looking forward again.

“What is there to talk about, Y/N?”

Y/N barked out a laugh without humor. “A lot, potentially.”

He growled slightly under his breath, and shifted in the seat so his torso faced her.

“Have you changed your mind? Hmm? Ready to accept my offer after all?”

Y/N's heart squeezed tight and she heard a voice in her mind shout a resounding “Yes!” But she shook her head sadly.

“No, but-”

“Then that's it, isn't it?! It’s finished. There's nothing else to discuss because we’ve already discussed it. So that's it, and we're done.”

Y/N felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. She knew he was referring to the discussion being over, but the words went much deeper than their current conversation and they both knew it.

She nodded slightly and turned to stare out the front of the carriage again. “Yes, fine.”

A few minutes later, they finally pulled up outside The Manhattan Theater, which was large and impressive. The lobby inside held a glittering chandelier and lively art on the walls; Y/N knew that under better circumstances she would have been excited and eager to be there. But the world seemed dim now, all of it lacking in color.

Then, afew minutes after arriving, her evening got much worse.

George Taskett was approaching them with a smile, and walking just behind him was Byron Temple; and he was smiling the way an alligator smiles, like he’s just waiting to swallow you whole.

The two men reached them and George held out his hand to Dean. “Good to see you Winchester and thanks again for the tickets. I don't get out very often when we come up to New York, so this is wonderful.”

He patted Byron on the shoulder. “Hope you don't mind, but Mr. Brighton sent word that he'd been called back to the mill on some urgent business and couldn't attend. So, not wanting the ticket to go to waste, I invited Byron along.”

Dean's smile wasn't echoed in his tone.

“Of course not. Good thinking.” He reached out a hand to Temple and the man shook it, his beady blue eyes calculating and cold.

Dean stepped back and put his hand on Y/N's lower back. “You both remember my companion, Miss Taylor?”

Y/N bowed her head towards the two men. Taskett smiled warmly. “Of course I remember. Couldn't forget such a lovely face.”

“Indeed.” Byron said, smiling again and making Y/N's skin crawl. “You seem to have bloomed even more since our last meeting.”

Despite everything going on between them, Y/N pressed herself into Dean's side and was immensely grateful when he slipped his hand around the side of her waist to hold her there.

The lobby lights dimmed briefly, letting them know the show was about to start, so they all filed into the theater. George and Byron were sitting a couple of rows behind them, so they parted ways and took their seats, agreeing to meet in the lobby afterwards.

Y/N was very glad to lose Byron Temple's uncomfortable presence. But as she and Dean sat down beside each other, she began to feel the tension grow between them once again.

The show began, and the first act was a dancing clown who did a lot more prat falling than dancing. Everyone else laughed and clapped at his antics, but even though Y/N clapped along, she couldn't force herself to laugh.

She smiled politely through the other acts; a man and a dog who performed tricks together, a comedian who told vaguely risque jokes that she wouldn't have understood a few months ago, a male and female dance act who were decidedly better than the clown, and many other interesting acts. Sometimes they were very talented, and sometimes just unusual.

But Y/N knew that a few days ago she would have loved them all. Now; however, her heart was simply too battered to enjoy any of it.

Then, just before the last act of the evening, Lillian Russell came on stage. Y/N knew her name; she knew she was a singer. But judging by the reaction of the crowd, she realized that she must be an incredibly popular singer. The audience cheered loudly, clapping for a full minute as Miss Russell stood on stage, graciously waving and curtsying to the crowd.

As the cheers finally quieted, the orchestra struck up and the soprano began to sing. Her voice was rich and sweet - certainly beautiful enough for Y/N to understand the reaction she’d received. She sang three songs, to the thunderous applause of the audience. But as she tried to leave the stage after the third, the crowd cheered for her to sing more.

Someone near the front shouted, “After the Ball!” And everyone around him picked up the cry, chanting for her to sing the popular song.

Y/N's stomach clenched as Miss Russell smiled indulgently and held out a hand towards the orchestra. “Alright, just the chorus through twice then, shall we?”

The familiar notes of the waltz began and Y/N felt tears come to her eyes, letting them fall as the soprano's beautiful voice gave heart wrenching power to the melancholic lyrics.

After the ball is over,

After the break of morn—

After the dancers' leaving;

After the stars are gone;

Many a heart is aching,

If you could read them all;

Many the hopes that have vanished,

After the ball.

As the orchestra played the closing notes and the crowd began to clap wildly, Y/N dipped her head towards Dean quickly.

“Excuse me.” She said, rising and making her way to the end of the aisle and then out into the lobby. Those lyrics had felt a little too relatable and the lilting melody brought back the memory of Dean waltzing with her around her hotel room.

Was that really only yesterday morning? Y/N thought. It felt like a lifetime ago.

She quickly made her way to the ladies room, incredibly grateful that it was empty while the rest of the audience watched the end of the show. She sat on one of the padded benches and tried to get ahold of herself. This whole evening had been a mistake. After their disastrous goodbye earlier, Y/N should have begged off.

As it turned out, pretending she was fine when her heart was splintering into tiny pieces was actually remarkably difficult.

After a minute or two, Y/N felt a little more in control, and splashed some cold water on her face at the sink, patting it dry with her handkerchief and then tucking it back in her purse. She took a big breath and walked back through the door, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the man waiting for her just outside.

“I saw you run this way.” Byron Temple said in a dark voice. “I thought I should come make sure you were alright.”

Y/N squeezed her hands into fists, immediately disliking the fact that the ladies room was tucked away under the stairs, hidden from the main lobby. She supposed it was designed to give ladies some privacy, but that was the last thing she wanted right now.

She licked her lips and tried to smile. “That's very kind. But I'm fine, thank you. Just powdering my nose. If you'll excuse me, Dean will be waiting for me.”

She tried to step past him, but he snagged her wrist and pushed her further under the stairs. She tugged against his hold, trying to break it, but he held firm.

“Don't know why you're running back to that bastard. I can see that he's made you cry.” He ran his thumb across her cheek and she slapped his hand away. He merely chuckled.

“I told you before, pet, to call on me when Winchester sets you aside. And I'm guessing by the tension between you two, and the tears staining your cheeks now, that it's either happened or is just about to happen.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Y/N said in a harsh whisper. “Now unhand me and leave me alone.”

“Don't be like that, pet. I promise that I can offer you a lot more than he can. I'll show you just how a woman like you should be treated.”

Y/N yanked on her wrist again, speaking quietly but angrily. “You are disgusting and vile and I want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? Now let go of me this instant, or I’ll tell Dean what you've said here and he’ll-”

Byron laughed. “No you won't, and if you did, so what? Do you honestly think he’d care when he’s done with you anyway? Do you really believe he's going to toss away the massive deal that’s been brokered between our companies, a deal that’s been six months in the making - just because I upset his little whore?”

Y/N clenched her jaw, embarrassment spreading through her at the degrading insult. But she had no doubt of her answer. “Yes. I know he would.”

But Byron ignored her, yanking her up against him and shaking his head. “I think what you really need is a taste of what you're missing out on.”

Before she could even squeal a protest he slammed his mouth over hers, shoving his tongue past her closed lips and making her gag. Acting completely on instinct, Y/N bit down on the slimy muscle invading her mouth, making Byron swear and rip his mouth away from hers.

She could taste the coppery blood he left behind in her mouth, and then he backhanded her and the sharp taste of her own blood mixed with his.

“Fucking bitch.” He growled at her with quiet rage, pushing her backwards until she was shoved up against the wall. “I would have treated you so nice. But I guess now I have to show you what a real man does with nasty whores.”

He slammed his hand over her mouth and nose, cutting off her air and making her panic instantly. He bent his head slightly, attaching his foul mouth to her neck, while his other hand was shoved up her skirts, grabbing at her thigh and pulling at the ties on her drawers as she struggled against him.

Then suddenly he was ripped away from her and she bent double, gasping air into her starved lungs.

She looked up in time to see Dean smashing his fist into Temple's face, a loud crunch indicating that his nose was now broken. The older man fell to the ground with a howl and Dean immediately jumped on him, pummeling him endlessly with left and right blows, as blood spewed over the marble floor beneath them.

Coming out of her stupor, Y/N ran to Dean, pulling on his arm, just as a crowd began to gather. George Taskett pushed his way through the crowd to pull on Dean’s other arm, just barely managing to pry him off.

“What on earth is going on here?” He shouted, obviously very confused.

Dean was breathing harshly, and his tuxedo was askew, but otherwise Temple hadn't managed to get in even a single blow.

“I'll tell you what's happening!” Dean shouted. “The goddamn deal is off.”

Both Y/N and George gave Dean wide-eyed, disbelieving looks.

“Dean, don't.” Y/N said softly, beginning to tremble.

“What are you talking about, Winchester? What has gone on here?” George asked again, looking down at his Vice President laying on the ground as Byron covered his bleeding, broken nose and, horribly, spat out a tooth.

“If you think for one minute I'm going to do business with scum like this, a man so lacking in moralality that he would-,” Dean cut himself off and then waved dismissively at Temple, “well, then you're crazy.”

He grabbed Y/N's hand and quickly hustled her out through the gathered crowd. Y/N looked back helplessly at George Taskett, who seemed to be completely knocked for a loop.

Dean quickly hailed a cab and helped Y/N up into it. “Rialto Hotel, quickly.” He told the driver as he climbed in behind her. The driver clicked his tongue at the horses and they sped away.

Dean tried to look at her more closely in the dim light of the carriage, pushing her disheveled hair off of her face. But Y/N was shaking too hard now, as the terror of the situation came crashing down upon her. She just shook her head and buried her face in Dean’s chest, weeping uncontrollably now that she was safe.

Dean gave up trying to see her face and just wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He lifted her out of the cab when they arrived, and refused to put her down until they were inside the room.

She stood in the middle of the floor, while he quickly lit all the lamps and closed the curtains. Then he returned to where she stood and gently peeled her coat off of her shoulders. He stayed behind her to take the pins out of her hair, pulling it back off her face while she inhaled deep, shuddery breaths, finally calming down enough to speak softly to him.

“Thank you.”

Dean just shook his head and turned her to face him, moving her into the light a little more and trying once again to see the damage. She watched his face contort with rage all over again as he saw her split lip and the angry bruise she could feel pulsing under the skin of her right cheekbone.

But he gritted his teeth and his voice was gentle as he kissed her forehead. “Just wait here, sweetheart.”

He moved off to the bathroom and she heard him running the bath. Tears began to fall again as he came back and led her into the warmly lit room, filled with the scent of lavender.

He removed her clothes gently, and then helped her step into the tub. She looked back at him as he held her hand.

“Will you hold onto me?”

Dean nodded and stripped away his clothes quickly, stepping in behind her and sitting them both down in the warm, fragrant water.

For a little while he simply held her as she’d asked, pressing soft kisses to her temple and along her hairline. Eventually he took one of the clean cloths and ran it under the cold water tap for a moment before pressing it to the side of her face that was still throbbing.

“Y/N, what happened?” He finally whispered to her.

So she told him. Her voice was quiet and halting at first, but she eventually told him everything, including what had happened at the poker game.

Dean clicked his tongue. “Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me that sooner? I would have ended things with that snake immediately.”

“Exactly.” Y/N said with conviction. “That's why I didn’t tell you. I knew how important that deal was, how hard you'd worked on it, and I didn't want you to have to end it simply because of some insults from a jackass.”

Dean shook his head. “That wasn't something you needed to worry about.”

Y/N shrugged. “Of course it was. It was important to you.”

“Yes, but not more-” Dean cut himself off and Y/N felt him tense before he continued

“You should have told me.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes, I should have.”

Dean was quiet for a minute before pulling the cloth away from her cheek and kissing her there gently. “Ready to get out?”

She nodded again and Dean stood up to help her out of the cooling water.

He dried her off and then combed gently through her hair before braiding it, pampering her in much the same way as he had that first night they’d spent in the hotel together. Y/N knew she would have started crying again, if she’d had any tears left to shed. But she'd finally cried herself out and now she was just exhausted.

Dean tucked her into bed and seemed to hesitate a moment before climbing in after her and pulling her back against his warm chest. Her heart hurt, and her head ached, but despite that, her tired mind slipped, fairly quickly, into a very restless sleep.

Some time in the middle of the night Y/N woke to find Dean wasn't beside her. She sat up quickly and sighed in relief when she saw him sitting in one of the green chairs. The light in the room was dim, just one lamp burning, and he was cast in shadows.

“What are you doing?” Y/N called to him softly.

Dean got up and came to sit on the bed facing her. “You punched me twice in your sleep, and I thought maybe I was making you have bad dreams, holding you the way I was.”

Y/N shook her head and shuddered. “No. You weren't the bad guy in my dreams.” She whispered.

Dean pushed her braid back off her shoulder. “I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry I brought him anywhere near your life.”

Y/N frowned. “But it isn't your fault. You couldn't have known. I'm just grateful for the rescue.” She took a deep breath. “You know…he's the reason - one of the reasons - I said no to your offer.”

Dean tensed. “Y/N…”

But she just continued. “Or, well, men just like him. He called me…” The word stuck in her throat and she cleared it. “He called me a whore, you know. And…he wouldn't be the only one. Most of the world would believe the same, if I stayed with you.”

Dean's jaw ticked, but he nodded. “Yes, I understand. And I’m sorry for that. The world can be an ugly, hypocritical place.”

He licked his lips. “But what I’ve offered you, Y/N, it's…it's all I can offer. I can't…I won't get married, and I won't love you.”

Y/N felt what was left of her heart shatter completely.

Dean spoke softly, shaking his head. “I can't, sweetheart. I won't.” He reiterated before taking a shaky breath. “But you and Jessica are right.”

Y/N frowned, trying hard to keep the ever present tears at bay. “Jessica?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed slightly, “she took me to task earlier tonight. Said I had no right to make an offer like that to a respectable lady.”

He shrugged and one corner of his mouth lifted. “And she was right. You deserve more out of life than to be ostracized by the world. You deserve to get what you always wanted, what you told me you wanted all those months ago.”

He smiled at her gently and ran his fingers along her jaw. “You deserve contentment, children, a respectable cottage and a…” He paused and cleared his throat, nodding as though he was answering a question in his own mind. “And a compatible husband.”

Y/N wanted to shout at him that he'd made those things impossible now, that she wouldn’t find contentment without him, that the compatible husband she'd always wanted was sitting right in front of her.

But she didn't say any of that; he'd made his feelings very clear, and she couldn't fault him for not loving her. It wasn't a given that just because she loved him with every fiber of her being, he was going to love her back.

“I won't love you.”

At least he wasn’t lying to her - trying to hold onto her under false pretenses.

She smiled at him now, through her brokenness. “Yes, I'll hope for those things, I guess. But…”

She swallowed hard and tugged on his hand. “Will you come back to bed, and do those things you do to me that make me forget everything else? Kiss me until the world fades away to nothing but you and me?”

As he leaned in to claim her mouth in a searing kiss, Dean's bright green eyes glittered like jewels and she knew in that moment, that emeralds would always make her cry.

***

Y/N woke late the next morning and she wasn’t surprised by the empty bed beside her. She'd felt Dean disappear from her before the sun had even broken over the horizon.

She sat up and saw the note that was tucked under her snow globe on the table. She wrapped the sheet around her and walked over to sit gingerly on the edge of the chair that was closest. She stared down at the folded piece of paper for a couple of minutes before picking it up and unfolding it.

Dean's neat, bold handwriting took up the whole page.

Y/N read over the short note several times, hoping to find something more than the words on the page, but that was it.

She folded it back up and let it flutter to the floor as she wound up her snow globe and set it down on the table, staring at it as she rested her chin on her folded arms. For a long time, as her tears flowed silently, she drank in the frozen scene of permanent joy that could never be hers.

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#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester au #dean winchester angst #dean winchester series #dean winchester au fan fic #dean winchester au fan fic series

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mediawhorefics · 6 months

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hi, i saw you recommended some lgbtq books a while ago but it's impossible to find anything from tumblr later on, so do you know any good fantasy/sci-fi/action/contemporary m/m books? like with actual plot instead of just romance and also with characters and (platonic) relationships other than the main couple. thanks!

hiiiii, sorry this is super late, but of course i can!

(apologies in advance cos some of these are prob books i’ve recced before 🤪✌🏻)

-> captive prince trilogy (cs pacat) | if you’re looking for something with actual plot, cp has a big political overarching plot that’s super compelling about the two princes of neighbouring enemy kingdoms trying to reclaim their respective thrones. there’s lots of triggering content so do look it up before… but while the romance is the main event, the political aspect of the book is really detailed and engaging.

-> dark rise trilogy (cs pacat) | 2 out of 3 books are out currently and the m/m romance is not the focus so far though it’s been well teased/a good slow start. the whole trilogy is a subversion of the classic medieval chosen one trope ft. an old world of magic being reawakened, a dark king’s return and an order of knights trying to prevent it. great found family vibes. ya historical fantasy.

-> hither page (cat sebastian) | a jaded spy and a shell-shocked country doctor team up to solve a murder in postwar england. historical murder mystery!

-> big bad wolf series (charlie adhara) | an ex fbi agent gets transferred to a secret agency dealing with werewolf crimes after being attacked by one of them. human and werewolf relations are tense and he ends up paired with a wolf agent from the wolf agency that echoes his to solve a series of brutal crimes. ok, i know this sounds like straight up werewolf porn, but i was really surprised by how engaging and well written the mysteries were in this series. i’m talking twists and shit, compelling/complex side characters…. this series completely took me by surprise.

-> seven summer nights (harper fox) | post war england, a shell-shocked archaeologist and a vicar fall in love while trying to uncover a small town’s archaeological mystery in the south downs.

-> the last binding series (freya markse) | edwardian magical mystery series, each book focuses on a different queer couple while following an overarching mystery/plot that threatens the welfare of magical britain. big found family vibes, lots of great side characters introduced in each book that then become leads in later books, beautiful writing.

-> a taste of gold and iron (alexandra rowland) | ottoman empire inspired fantasy world, a prince and his bodyguard must investigate a break in at one of their guilds, the results of which could save their queen’s reign.

-> the will darling adventures (kj charles) | 1920s mystery adventure series. great side characters, insp by 20s pulp novels. a wwi vet turned bookseller get swiped up in mystery and a spy he’s not sure he can trust. first one is a bit slower, but it picks up in book 2 & 3.

-> the kingdoms (natasha pulley) | 19th century alternate history mystery. an amnesiac journeys from london to a scottish lighthouse to try and unlock the mystery of his forgotten past. complex narrative and extremely immersive storytelling. the romance is central but subtle.

-> the binding (bridget collins) | 19th century historical fantasy. emmet is training to be a bookbinder in a world where books contain people’s memories and are highly controversial… eternal sunshine of the spotless mind vibes.

-> less (andrew sean greer) | arthur less is going on a worldwide literary tour to avoid going to his ex’s wedding. this book really took me by surprise, it was so delightful.

-> the house in the cerulean sea (tj klune) | linus baker, a case worker for the department in charge of magical youth, gets sent to an orphanage for so labelled 'dangerous' children in order to evaluate whether they're about/able to end the world and if the orphanage/the man in charge of it is best for them. big feel good book, really funny, great found family vibes, subtle love story, wonderful side characters.

-> the bedlam stacks (natasha pulley) | merrick tremayne is called upon by the india office to go on a dangerous expedition deep in peru to fetch quinine (essential for the treatment of malaria) despite the debilitating injury that almost cost him a leg. every expedition before his has yielded no results apart from dead bodies, but merrick has family history deep in the country so he goes against his better judgement. there, he meets raphael, a priest surrounded by strange stories of disappearances, cursed woods and living stones, and who might hold the key to his family’s past. really cool world building, really immersive writing, very subtle romance. more plot heavy than romance heavy, but it's still !!!!

-> salt magic, skin magic (lee welch) | lord thorny is cursed and can't leave his father's estate. trapped there for over a year now, he is slowly losing his mind. until industrial magical john blake arrives on the land to investigate an unrelated case involving witchcraft. soon enough the men get closer and must work together to figure out a way to break thorny's curse. historical fantasy, good mystery, fun twists. i haven't read this one in a while, but i remember really enjoying the mythology.

-> the watchmaker of filiigree street & sequel (natasha pulley) | telegraphist thaniel receives a mysterious watch on his birthday whose pre-set alarm saves him from a terrorist bombing on scotland yard. since the bomb was made with clockwork parts and only the bomber could have known when to set the alarm, thaniel is sent by a detective investigating the bombing to live with the suspected watchmaker to figure out what’s going on. sherlock holmes vibes. slow burn/subtle romance. delightful writing.

-> under the whispering door (tj klune) | an unpleasant and selfish man in life, wallace price meets his reaper at his near-empty funeral and gets taken to a whimsical tea shop where he meets hugo, the ferryman whose job it is to help him move on and crossover into the afterlife. a task that becomes complicated as wallace starts developing feelings for hugo. found family vibes.

#about me #books #book rec

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fictionadventurer · 1 year

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Imaginary Book Recs Cover Thoughts: Round One

Two Passengers on the Last Train by A.G. Benedict: Obscure English literary fiction from the 1920s. I read it as a Gutenberg ebook, but the original cover was one of those clothbound classics with silhouette images. Any modern-day reprints are by very small publishing houses that provide minimal, low-budget covers using old illustrations (something like this version of Manalive.)

Song of the Seafolk by Marjorie A. Penrose: American children's fantasy from 1954, with illustrated cover typical of the era. Has had rerelease covers in subsequent decades (including one very nice painted cover from the '90s).

Bright Folly by Glorya M. Hayers: 1930s comedy mystery. Most representative cover is the mass-market paperback that looks like the more cartoony covers of Wimsey novels (like the editions that contain this version of Gaudy Night), though with a bit more of a sunny Wodehouse twist.

On Eternity's Doorstep by Willa Aldecott: Classic autobiographical novel about WWI nursing. Several rereleases over the years, all involving variations of historical photographs or historical-nursing-items on a colored background. (The Hiding Place keeps coming to mind as a cover comp, except with more sepia-toned photos and gentle browns and neutrals as background colors.)

The Queens of Wintermoon by Jessica Wagner: 1980s (or '90s, I can't remember) adult fantasy with an illustrated cover. A 2010s attempt to repackage it as a YA series split the book into four covers that each featured the heraldic symbol of the House of each of the four sisters (Raven, Eagle, Falcon, and Firebird) on a different jewel-toned background (probably blue, green, orange or red, and violet or black).

Caroline by Maria Layton: 1820s classic novel. Anything that's been done for an Austen book is applicable here.

The Lands of Dorothon series by Barbara Lamley: Off-brand versions of Narnia.

The Autumn Queen’s Promise by Rose Rennow: 1990s children's historical fantasy. Illustrated cover that combines the fantastical autumn colors of An Enchantment of Ravens with the more straightforward historical imagery of a book like The Sign of the Beaver or The Witch of Blackbird Pond.)

Island in the Stars by Carolyn Taylor Harris: 1970s children's science fantasy, with the period-accurate slightly wonky cartoony style.

The Camille series by Annette Nowell: Anne of Green Gables covers but with more exotic settings as the background. Both Camille in the Alps and Camille in the Andes involve her climbing mountains in intrepid Edwardian girl-reporter wear.

The Lakeshore Plan by Louise Zajac: Something between Swallows and Amazons and The Penderwicks. Could go full-on painted summer scenery, but simple drawings and/or silhouettes are also valid options.

Ever Miss Eliza by Charlotte Koning: 1940s slice-of-life light fiction. Honestly, I just picture the cover of D.E. Stevenson's Charlotte Fairlie, except the illustration is a woman in front of a rural schoolbuilding.

The Ocean’s Revenge by Edward G. Whitmore: 1940s pulp fiction in all its glory. Cover features a striking painting of a futuristic submarine in the grasp of a huge squid-creature.

The Book of All Days by Harriet Street: Painting of a little girl peering at an old-fashioned book.

The Guardian of the Nest by Aurelia T. Noah: 1960s children's fantasy. Probably a cloth-bound cover with the images (fairy tale carved right into the cover the way they are in some old books.

The Thief’s Debut by M.J. Ponders: Very recent indie-published fairy tale retelling that is unfortunately saddled with the genre-typical "girl in a sparkly prom dress" cover that probably involves her wearing a mask and standing in front of a vaguely Venetian-looking building. In a better world, it would get a digital-painted cover more along the lines of The Electrical Menagerie, (though the subject matter would be something between The Princess Bride and The Lies of Locke Lamora).

The Interdimensional Book Carrier by Martin Kaspar: Modern-day bestseller. Cover comps coming to mind are The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry and Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore

#imaginary book recs #this is already long #and it's harder to gather up links for round two #so i'll stop here for now #but part 2 will be coming

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ohnoitstbskyen · 2 years

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youtube

Yorick's Best Skin: I am so weak to Undertaker Yorick's looks

Look, am I the easiest mark in the world for dark Victorian/Edwardian gothic horror inspired aesthetics that lean all the way in to complete penny dreadful pulp cheese? Yes. Is that the number one reason above all else that I think Undertaker Yorick is his best skin, better than both Pentakill skins and Arclight? No! Yes. Shut up. No you have spent too many hours trying on different outfits in Bloodborne, leave me alone!

Undertaker Yorick is a natural fit for Yorick for the rather obvious reason that he is already an undertaker. He already uses undead ghouls to attack, he already uses a spade as a weapon, he already carries a heavy religious symbol on his back symbolizing the burden of his craft tending to the dead. He already wears a light source around his neck to symbolize his own tenuous grasp on humanity and sanity.

Undertaker Yorick takes all of these things, dials them up to 11, explodes a Victorian wardrobe all over it, and gives him a scary dramatic bone-white mask with glowing red eyes and I don't know what the fuck else you want this skin is so fucking cool!

#tbskyen #league of legends #league of legends skins #yorick lol #yorick league of legends #undertaker yorick #Youtube

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believerindaydreams · 2 years

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One of these days I really need to sit down and interrogate whatever is wrong with my head that I find Edgar Rice Burroughs soothing to read and not, you know, a train crash of Everything Wrong With Edwardian Pulp

this girlboss he's writing is absolutely gaslighting tho and it's hilarious

#edgar rice burroughs

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a2lezread · 9 months

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Jan Lezread: Upright Women Wanted and Patience and Esther

For January, we're reading Sarah Gailey's Upright Women Wanted and the graphic novel Patience and Esther, by Sarah Winifred Searle. Scroll down for descriptions of each book. We'll plan to to have this meeting virtually!

=== Book Description: Upright Women Wanted, by Sarah Gailey

“That girl’s got more wrong notions than a barn owl’s got mean looks.”

Esther is a stowaway. She’s hidden herself away in the Librarian’s book wagon in an attempt to escape the marriage her father has arranged for her—a marriage to the man who was previously engaged to her best friend. Her best friend who she was in love with. Her best friend who was just executed for possession of resistance propaganda.

The future American Southwest is full of bandits, fascists, and queer librarian spies on horseback trying to do the right thing. They'll bring the fight to you.

In Upright Women Wanted, award-winning author Sarah Gailey reinvents the pulp Western with an explicitly antifascist, near-future story of queer identity. === Source: https://www.goodreads.com/.../45320365-upright-women-wanted ---- Book Description: Patience and Esther, by Sarah Winifred Searle

Patience is a kindhearted country girl, eking out a living in Edwardian England as tremors of social change rock the world around her. When she starts her employment in formal service on the grounds of an opulent country manor, she has no idea that her own personal revolution is about to begin.

Selfless, dutiful, and just a touch naive, she takes to both her place as a parlor maid and to her new roommate, the bookish and progressive lady’s maid, Esther. In another time, the two women would have kept one another’s company forever in their little attic bedroom, living out their days in the employ of a Lord. But it’s now the dawn of a new age. The expanding empire has brought with it not only plundered wealth, but worldliness and new ideas. Suffragists agitate in the street, idle-rich bohemians challenge sexual mores, and Patience and Esther slowly come to realize the world is wider and full of more adventure and opportunity than they ever imagined . . . so long as they find the will to seize it.

Sensual, sweet, and beautifully illustrated, PATIENCE & ESTHER is a steamy period romance and an inspirational erotic journey across the epic sweep of history, from the end of a gilded age to the start of an uncharted future. === Source: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53966531-patience-esther ---- About LezRead: LezRead is Ann Arbor’s premier book club for queer women. We are informally organized through the Jim Toy Community Center and meet on the fourth Sunday of the month. We have both virtual and in-person meetings. Please review the description for any schedule changes. *To support JTCC and its work, please regularly donate at jimtoycenter.org. * New members welcome! Email [email protected] to join the private Facebook group.

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cherryirne · 9 months

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@the-hole-he-dug & @vsirsa, my sweet ones, i wish you a merry christmas and the blessed yule!

last song: oasis - force of nature.

favourite colour: hm, i adore black, red and green, as gina the strong loves.

last movie: scott pilgrim vs. the world.

last tv show: the master and margarita.

spicy/savoury/sweet: sweet, but not too much.

last thing i googled: edgar alan poe the masque of the red death read online.

current obsessions: suede, blur, oasis, pulp, my book "the star bottom" and my edwardian britpop novel "the witch, the doctor and their misunderstanding".

tagging @sheree-says-stuff and @my-favorite-axe, love you!

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kehlana-wolhamonao3 · 1 year

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First of all, can I say that I hate the new Tumblr interface. They but "Ask" right next to "Report" and I was one tap from accidently reporting you.

Can they stop screwing with the control functions?!

Anyway, I digress ...

I was wondering if you'd give me a consult from one writer to another on something.

I've been planning and talking up a Mary/Matthew story for years - inspired by a lot of things but mostly "Last Night in Soho" - and the one thing I was puzzling is really fundamental to the story.

It's AU - sort of - in that I've built up a Downton Extended Universe for years and in a way its a continuation of that universe just set in the future, in fact I've been building the story up for a long time through foreshadowing in other stories since 2019.

However, I'm not sure how I want to open it.

See, the premise of the story is that there is an actress/singer/part-time Lingerie Model in a present/futuristic London named Mary - go figure - who is starting to have these vivid dreams of an Edwardian Great Lady's who looks exactly like her. In particular she is haunted by visions and memories of a handsome blonde gentleman of whom she's falling in love with. There is also a murder mystery surrounding the death of her main competition for the play they were both going out for based on a famous novel by " Lady Edith Pelham".

The plot is probably a bit more Doctor Who inspired than I'm sure the fandom would want in it - not aliens, but reincarnation and supernatural elements and so forth. Which is usual fair for me, but I haven't gotten a review in years, despite doing well in terms of reader count.

Anyway, I have the story series broken down into three. Mary's story is a detective story, Matthew's is a Pulp historical Adventure story, and the final one is a romance story that focuses on both of them coming together. With their descendent being the overarching protagonist and hero that holds it all together.

Finally! My question.

In your opinion, do you think I should open the entire thing on how Mary and Matthew ended up where they are and what happened to Downton Abbey in the past, or should I leave it off till the final story?

Cause part of the mystery of the story that gets brought up quite a bit is the folklore and famous legend of the disappearance of Downton Abbey and The County Grantham 100 years ago (or 70 years ago if I decide to set in the present) which has spawned - in universe - countless documentaries and reality shows, including a very famous ITV Show. But the only person who knows the truth of what happened are the mysterious and "Cracked" exiled heirs of the fallen House of Grantham that guard the secrets of Downton with their lives.

I don't know, I'm torn if I want to start off with a bang - a kick in the balls. Or if I should gradually feed in clues about what happened to Downton and her inhabitants the night that the House of Grantham fell.

As a reader of all things - well, most things, I imagine - Mary/Matthew and a writer of consistency and consequence, what do you think?

Tell'em from the start or tease it out?

Sorry for the long ask and if you don't want to read the wall up there, I understand ... it just you're the only active Mary/Matthew Downton fanfic writer that I know of and I've been mulling this over for days.

First of all let me tell you that I would totally read this story! I am also Doctor Who fan and love timey wimey types of plot. I also have read some pretty wild plots in the DA fandom (crossover with Doctor Who, ghosts, time travel and not just my own), so I think it would fit right in.

I think both approaches are valid and I understand why it is a dilemma which one to choose. I think I might have gone with hints and gradual reveal of the mystery, but in a similar case I just wrote two different versions of a chapter and checked which one I liked better. If you want, I can act as a beta and read them if you decide to go that way.

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kekwcomics · 2 years

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McCLURE'S MAGAZINE (S S McClure Co., 1909 - 1910)

Art: F X Leyendecker

#F X Leyendecker #pulp #pulps #pulp magazines #edwardian pulp #pulp illustration #gorgon #medusa #mythical creatures #greek mythology #mythology #greek heroes #perseus #pulp hero #pulp heroes #classics #ancient greece #greek myths

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soleminisanction · 1 year

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10 15 and 18 for the book ask if you’d like!

10. Do you have a guilty fav?

Not really, as I don't tend to feel bad about the things I like even if they're trash. I do feel a sense of sorrow when I think of how much I used to love the Harry Potter series though. I've let it go because it's absolutely not worth it with all of you-know-who's... everything, but it was a big part of my childhood, and foundational to a few friendships that also ended poorly and are now sore spots to look back on. So, guilty is the wrong word for that but... it's one of the things that I wouldn't be able to get back, if I had to live my life over again, y'know?

15. recommend and review a book

Might as well pick something a little lesser-known for this one... There's a Japanese revenge thriller novel called Confessions by Kanae Minato that honestly had me on the edge of my seat. Starts with the death of a 5-year-old child and just doesn't let up from there. You will not see the twists coming, it's brutal and it's fascinating, I really enjoyed it.

As a bonus one -- there's a YA novel called Gated by Amy Christine Parker that I always thought deserved way more attention. I had a special interest in cults when I was a teenager and that book is one of the most accurate and well-rendered depictions of one I've ever read, done at a perfect level for the age group. Highly recommended, damn good thriller.

18. do you like historical books? which time period?

There's not a particular time period of historical fiction I'm interested in. If I take an interest in a time period I'll mostly read books from that time period if I can, just to check some of the classics off my list. Otherwise, the time period of historical fiction I've read the most of is roughly the Victorian to the Edwardian eras, partially due to doing research for something of my own, partially because I've got a taste a certain series of pulp historical fantasy gay romances, and partially because it almost scratches the same itch left as my favorite dating sim.

Book meme!

#ask meme #ask me stuff #book meme

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 months

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Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 9

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major, brief oral (f. receiving)

Word Count: 4,208

A/N: Here's Ch. 9. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

As Dean walked up the winding garden path towards Y/N’s hotel suite, he felt his long day start to fall away from him. His meeting at lunch had not gone well.

He was attempting to put together a multi-layered deal between Winchester Shipping and Lumber, The Northern Rail and Freight Company, and Clearwater Pulp and Paper Mill in Maine. Ideally, if it worked, all three companies would benefit from a combination of lowered costs and guaranteed contracts.

His lunch meeting had been with the vice president of Northern Rail and Freight, Byron Temple. Temple wouldn’t budge on the overinflated prices they wanted from Winchester Lumber for transporting their lumber from North Carolina up to Maine.

Dean was trying to make it work, but Temple’s attitude and arrogance made Dean want to punch the guy in the mouth twice in the span of a single, hour and a half long meeting - didn't really bode well for a business partner. He was hoping the president and the board of the company would be more reasonable and less mulish.

But as he approached the garden doors, the anticipation of an evening with Y/N pushed the terrible meeting out of his mind. He opened the doors wide and walked through, only to pull up short as Y/N called to him from the bathroom across the suite.

“Dean? Close your eyes!”

Dean frowned and smiled at the same time. “What?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Please?”

He gave an indulgent sigh, and shut his eyes, covering them with his hand. “Alright. They're closed.”

He could hear the rustling of fabric and realized she must be wearing one of her new dresses. It made his smile deepen to know she was so excited to show it to him that she had him closing his eyes like a child at a birthday party.

The rustling settled and he heard her take in a big breath.

“Alright, you can open them.” She said quietly.

He dropped his hand and opened his eyes slowly. His indulgent smile dropped away too, and he was left staring, dumbfounded.

The dress she wore was a deep, sapphire blue, silk taffeta. There were tucks and ruffles all over, and all he could think was that she looked like a confection, like something sweet and iced, and delicious.

And though he didn't know very much about women's changing fashions, he could also see that the dress was stylish without being gaudy. It was draped perfectly on her naturally rounded curves, accentuating her soft figure. The dress enhanced her stunning beauty rather than overpowering it.

Lowen really did do extraordinary work.

He stared wordlessly, and his frown seemed to worry Y/N. She looked down at herself and smoothed her hand down the skirt of her dress.

“What's wrong?” She asked, turning slightly, clearly trying to work out the reason for his frown.

Dean felt bad, and smiled, shaking his head. “No, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Nothing's wrong. You're perfect.”

He took two strides forward to reach her, gripping her elbows and pulling her close. He lifted her chin with his knuckle and shook his head in wonder.

“You are never anything less than stunning, no matter what you're wearing, but…”

He stepped back an inch so he could study her from head to toe before cupping her cheek and pulling her back into the circle of his arms.

“But,” he continued, “you were made to be covered in satin and lace.”

He dropped his lips to hers, slotting his mouth against her and pulling a wholly satisfying whimper from her throat.

She breathed rapidly, shaking her head, as he broke the kiss. “I don't know if anyone was ‘made for satin and lace’, but the dress is very beautiful. So, thank you.“

He nuzzled his nose just behind her ear. “Mmm…” He moaned softly at the scent of jasmine and roses that hit him. His hands dropped to her waist and he pulled her tight against him, slightly crushing the taffeta of her skirt against his legs.

He rested his forehead on hers. “So, how badly do you want to go out this evening? I could just pull this beautiful dress off of you again and we could stay in.” He said, low and gruff.

Y/N giggled lightly, but shook her head and stepped out of his grasp making him moan again.

“Uh uh.” She said, wagging her finger at him. “I was promised a tour of New York, and Janet, our poor maid, spent almost an hour getting me into this dress and forcing my hair to look like this.”

She patted her hair, piled high with loops and curls. She nodded her head towards the plush green chair in the corner. “Had to be done just right so that I could properly wear that hat.”

Dean turned to see a truly enormous hat sitting on the cushion of the chair. Y/N picked it up and moved to the big wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room. Looking in the mirror, she began to position the hat on her head.

She had two long hat pins that she used to stab the hat into place. It looked like it was made of silk, with a fairly flat crown and a very wide brim. Both the crown and the brim were weighed down with big blue and green flowers and the whole hat was shot through with dark blue ribbon.

Y/N adjusted and readjusted the hat on her head before dropping her arms and snickering at the reflection that showed her drowning in the monstrosity.

She turned back to face Dean and held her hands up to frame her face. Her grin was wide, and an answering smile quickly spread across his face.

“What do you think?” She asked with laughter.

Dean shook his head. “I think Lowen is an excellent dressmaker, but he needs to hire a new milliner.”

She chuckled and reached up to take out the pins that held the hat in place, pulling it off her head.

She looked forlornly at the pathetic thing. “What should I do? I have two other hats, but they're just as bad.”

Dean grabbed the thing from her hand and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Oops, it blew away in the wind.”

Y/N’s laughter was rich and bright and Dean felt it in his whole body, like stepping into a patch of sunshine.

He lifted her pretty, creamy white, wool coat from the coat stand by the door, and helped her slip her arms into it before lifting it over her shoulders.

Y/N pulled on her gloves, and hooked her elbow around his arm. She threw him another bright smile.

“Alright, good sir. Lead the way to New York City.”

***

Y/N was having the time of her life. New York bustled and moved at a surprising pace, even in the late afternoon and into the evening.

For the first little while they simply walked up and down the busy sidewalks. Dean pointed out the store windows that were decorated for Christmas, and Y/N stopped to ooh and ahh over all of them.

Eventually they made their way to Pell Street for supper. As they stood outside the restaurant, Dean gave her an impish smile.

“So, I thought we could have Chinese food for dinner. I'm gonna guess you've never eaten it?”

Y/N's eyes grew large and she shook her head. “No, never.”

Dean held out his hand and pushed open the door. “Then it's an adventure.”

Y/N's head was on a swivel as they entered the warm space. Everything was decorated in gorgeous hues of red and gold, except for a large painting of a slinky green dragon adorning the far wall. On the other walls, hung beautifully framed pictures of strange, but intriguing shapes made from thick black ink.

Dean led them to a table in the corner and a young woman appeared beside the table almost instantly.

Her smile was warm as she gave a slight bow. Then she lifted her hand to indicate the menu that hung on the wall above a long counter.

“Please take your time to tell me what you would like.” Her voice was soft and her accent was one Y/N’d never heard before. It was lovely.

Y/N read over the menu and then smiled shyly, confessing to the woman. “I'm sorry, I'm not sure what to order.”

The young woman smiled back and gave another small bow. “Of course, Miss. I can please suggest the Chop Suey. Many Americans order this and enjoy.”

Y/N nodded, having no idea what that was, but she was on an adventure; she should be adventurous.

“Yes, thank you. That sounds wonderful.”

With a nod to Y/N their waitress turned her attention to Dean. He didn't bother to look at the menu when he ordered.

“I'll have the Char siu on rice, please. And a bottle of Baijiu for the table.”

The young woman gave another bow and left their table.

Y/N looked at Dean and shook her head. “You've been here before.”

Dean nodded. “A few times. The food is incredible, just wait.”

The girl was quickly back at their table with a brown crockery bottle and two small glasses.

Dean poured a small amount of the clear liquid into the bottom of the glasses and raised his for Y/N to clink against.

“To adventure.” He said with a wink.

“Adventure.” Y/N agreed. Before she could drink, though, Dean held out a hand towards her.

“Small sips. It's strong.”

Y/N was incredibly grateful for his warning when her itty-bitty sip still left her lips tingling and her throat burning.

The food came quickly and it was every bit as delicious as Dean had promised. The flavors were quite different from what she knew, but the blend of vegetables and spices was incredibly satisfying.

After dinner, they walked some more, looking around Chinatown for a little while before Dean hailed them a hansom cab back to 15th Street.

They got out of the cab in front of a massive five story building made out of beige stone. Ornate moldings and sculptures framed dozens of windows.

On the ground floor, the windows held displays of shining, sparkling jewelry along with gold and silver housewares, like large platters, goblets, place settings, and other very expensive accouterments.

Above the main doors, gold painted letters declared the name of their destination.

Tiffany & Co.

Y/N walked ahead of Dean through the front doors and her jaw dropped. The space was wide and open. Large display cases housed countless shelves filled with more glittering, shining things. Everywhere she looked was another priceless piece of handcrafted silver and gold, household decorations as well as fine porcelain and sets of china.

As they walked further into the room, Y/N could see the smaller, glass and cherrywood counters, displaying rows and rows of stunningly beautiful pieces of jewelry.

Emeralds, sapphires, rubies, opals, pearls, onyx and jade shone from every corner of the room. But more than anything else, there were diamonds. Large, small, rose cut, square cut, French cut, pear-shaped - the diamonds seemed never-ending.

Y/N snapped her jaw shut as a slim man in a finely tailored suit approached them and gave a practiced smile.

“Good evening, sir. Can I help you?”

Dean nodded. “Yes, thank you. I realize you're closing up shop soon, so we'll be brief.” He lifted a hand slightly, indicating Y/N. “I'm looking for something more to adorn this already beautiful lady with.”

The salesman nodded briskly. “And what are we hoping to adorn today? Neck, fingers, wrists, ears?”

Dean looked down at Y/N. “What do you think, sweetheart? Maybe a bracelet?”

But Y/N was shaking her head. “Dean, you can't buy me something from here.” She whispered quietly.

Dean raised an eyebrow and then turned back to the salesman. “Would you give us a moment, please?”

“Of course.” He said and moved off to busy himself elsewhere.

Dean looked back at her, but before he could even ask the question, Y/N was answering him.

“Because everything here looks like it costs a small fortune!” She swept a hand around the room. “It's too much.” She finished in a small voice.

Dean shook his head. “Do you see anything you like?”

Y/N gave him a look that said he was being ridiculous. “That is not the point.”

Dean shrugged. “Actually, it is the only point. So, a bracelet?”

When she didn't immediately object again, Dean called the employee back over.

“So, I do think we'll go with a bracelet.”

For the next thirty minutes they went through countless pieces. Y/N liked them all and couldn't make a decision, mostly because they all seemed far too extravagant to sit on her wrist.

But finally, not wanting to annoy or bother the salesman any longer, (though he was the picture of professional politeness) she chose a double strand diamond bracelet with a fairly large, teardrop ruby in the center.

They took her wrist measurement and got a sale slip ready.

“Do you have an account with us, sir?” The salesman asked.

“Yes.” Dean said with a nod. “Winchester.”

A light of recognition entered the young man's eyes and he smiled broadly. “Oh, yes, Mr. Winchester. I haven't had the pleasure of serving you, yet, but we're so happy to have your business once again.”

Dean nodded. “Of course.”

He passed Dean the slip to sign. “The bracelet will be sized and ready tomorrow. Where would you like it sent?”

Dean signed his swooping signature. “The invoice can be sent to my residence on Riverside. But the bracelet should be delivered to The Rialto on Devlin. Room 17.”

“Very good, sir.” The employee said as he gave a final smile which Dean acknowledged with a nod.

“Thank you.”

As they left the lavish store, Y/N's thoughts were very crowded in her mind.

I shouldn't have let him do that. What's going to happen if I don't stay? They didn't even say a price. I have no idea how much that bracelet cost. Why did they recognize Dean's name so quickly? Exactly how often is he buying women expensive jewelry?

Her thoughts were swirling like the soft snow that had started to fall.

Dean tucked her hand into his elbow and hailed another hack. “I have one more adventure to take you on before we head home. Think you can manage it?”

His smile was warm, and Y/N shoved the thoughts aside. Yes, adventure, boldness. That's what these two weeks were supposed to be about. Not worried thoughts and a racing mind.

She shot him a grin. “Absolutely.”

***

“Skating?” Y/N asked before biting her lip.

Dean raised his finger. “Not just skating, skating in Central Park.” He pulled her towards the wide expanse of ice.

He frowned. “Wait. You do know how to skate, right?”

Y/N shrugged delicately. “ A little. Not well. I haven't skated since I was a little girl.”

Dean gave her a wink. “Well, don't worry. I won't let you fall.”

He brought her over to a bench before walking off, calling back to her. “Wait here.”

He returned minutes later with two pairs of rented skates. Sinking to one knee in the snow, Dean lifted Y/N's foot, unlacing her boot and pulling it off before replacing it with her skate.

Y/N blushed, hoping her cheeks would just look rosy from the cold. There was something very intimate about Dean brushing his fingers over her leg and ankle, letting her feel their warmth through her very thin stockings. It felt especially intimate in this very public setting.

As always, of course, Dean noticed her reaction. He smiled at the way her breath hitched and she knew he was trailing his fingers down her calf so slowly, on purpose.

She squinted at him, accusing, but he just grinned and quickly laced her skate.

When they were both in their skates Dean stood up and took her hands as they stepped onto the ice. He held both of them, skating backwards as she tottered forward like a deer on new legs.

“Wonderful! You're a natural!” Dean teased as she gripped his fingers in a vice-like grip.

“Ha. Ha.” She said in humorless tones, though a smile curved her lips. Several times she nearly crashed to the ground, but Dean saved her every time.

She watched the other skaters enviously as they looped around them, gliding like graceful fairies with wings. But Dean pulled her focus back to him.

“Don't pay attention to them. You're improving every minute.”

That was a little bit true, the longer she was on the ice, the more steady she became, but she was still far from graceful. The two of them skated shakily for a little while, Dean spinning her around a few times, making her laugh dizzily.

As she slipped towards the ground for the fourth or fifth time, Dean caught her and lifted her a foot off of the ice, turning her into another dizzying circle, forcing a slightly undignified squeal from her throat. They ended the spin with her clutching his arms, as they wrapped around her waist, both of them laughing happily.

“Winchester!”

Dean's attention was caught and he looked up, searching for the person who'd called him.

About twenty feet ahead, Y/N noticed a plump man, a bit older than Dean, waving at him. She heard Dean's slight groan even as he lifted his hand in greeting and smiled unenthusiastically at him.

He spoke out of the side of his mouth to Y/N as he straightened up and tucked her arm modestly in his elbow.

“I'm so sorry. This could get very boring.”

The man approached them and Y/N could see he wasn't a lot more steady on his feet than she was. She wondered if Dean could catch them both if they fell.

“Winchester, funny seeing you here, of all places.”

Dean nodded and smiled much more convincingly than before.

“Bradford. Good to see you. What brings you out to the park this evening?”

Dean probably regretted asking the question when Bradford launched into a speech detailing his complete medical history. He talked non-stop for nearly ten minutes about his health over the last several months, including the fact that his doctor had prescribed him daily exercise.

He patted his rotund stomach. “Doctor Shefford says, best thing I could do would be to lose a pound or two. Or ten!” He said, chuckling happily at his own joke.

Dean smiled indulgently and that was when Bradford seemed to realize there was another person there, his gaze landing on Y/N with happy surprise.

“Oh, and might I enquire as to the name of your lovely companion?”

Y/N smiled at Bradford, liking the odd man in spite of herself.

“Yes, of course.” Dean said with a nod. “This is a friend of mine from out of town, Miss - Taylor.”

Dean stumbled ever so slightly on the false name. Bradford didn't seem to notice the hesitation at all as he tipped his small bowler hat slightly.

“A pleasure, Miss Taylor. I do hope you're enjoying your stay in New York.”

Y/N smiled pleasantly, trying not to dwell on the name. “Thank you, sir. Yes, I am very much.”

Dean seized upon the opportunity. “Though, I daresay the day's excursion is beginning to wear on you, is it not?” He looked back at Bradford. “If you'll excuse me, Bradford, I must escort Miss Taylor back to her hotel.”

Y/N sold the excuse with a delicate yawn behind her fingers. “Yes, please forgive me. It was so nice meeting you.”

Bradford waved away her worry. “Oh, of course. Nothing like some bracing exercise to tire one out. My doctor's told me so.” He reiterated.

“Yes, very true." Dean nodded. "Sound advice. Take care, Bradford. And Merry Christmas.”

“Yes, Merry Christmas!” Bradford shouted as Dean pushed Y/N forward on her skates, practically carrying her across the ice.

When they got to the bench again, Dean looked back to see Bradford skating away, hands behind his back as he glided off, a little shaky.

“He seems nice.” Y/N commented. “How do you know him?”

Dean shrugged. “We just belong to the same club. He is nice enough. But I can only take him in short intervals. He inherited his father's money a long time ago and I think he's just very bored.” He tossed her a smile. “If you really wanna keep skating, we could wait a few minutes and see if he's gotten his fill of exercise.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile soft. “No, it has been quite the excursion, we should probably head home. Or back…to the hotel, I mean.”

Dean just nodded and made quick work of divesting them of their skates and then leading them the short distance out of the park. He hailed them a final cab for the night and helped Y/N into the seat.

They rode quietly for a while, and Y/N couldn't pinpoint why she felt off. It had been an amazing evening, she should feel content and happy.

After a few minutes, Dean leaned close to her and spoke quietly. “Sorry, about the…uh, Miss Taylor. I wasn't sure…” He cleared his throat. “I mean I know nothing is…nothing is determined yet about your future. So, I wasn't sure if you'd want to use your real name. Or…but, I should have asked earlier.”

In reality, she was just a girl using a fake name to hide her shame, sitting beside a man who’d done all of this countless times before.

Y/N shrugged but admitted to herself that the clandestine nature of the fake name was what was throwing her a little. But It was also the expensive bracelet from a jewelry store that knew Dean by name from his many former visits.

Both things were sharp reminders that her happy little picture of domesticity with Dean was just a fabrication.

But she didn't want to examine these things. She wanted to pretend they weren't true. So, she tried to push the thoughts away and shook her head.

“No, that was smart. Quick thinking. It seems very unlikely that, if I…if I go home in ten days, that anyone from this life will have cause to seek me out, or to inquire about the name of your brother's governess. But all the same, it's probably best if they don't know my real name.”

Dean nodded and silence descended again for several blocks. Y/N kept trying to ignore the troublesome thoughts churning in her mind, but they were starting to make her stomach hurt. Finally, she looked up at Dean.

“Kiss me.” She demanded in a very small voice.

Dean didn't wait to be asked twice, pulling her against him, and then sinking deeper into the shadowed recesses of the jostling carriage.

He kissed her hard and deep, like he was stamping her, branding her with the scorching heat of his mouth. She whimpered and he swallowed it down whole, sucking on her tongue and consuming every moan he created.

His hands roamed over her, undoing the buttons on her coat to slip his hands inside. But he growled slightly as he met the barrier of her satin taffeta.

“You are wearing entirely too many clothes!”

Y/N gasped out her laughter just as the driver called to them.

“The Rialto.”

They sat up and Y/N tried to rebutton her coat and fix her slightly disheveled hair.

Thank god for a private entrance, she thought.

Dean paid the driver and then lifted her to the ground, pushing her forward even quicker than he had on the ice.

She was giggling and panting all the way down the garden path and through the French doors into her suite. With the doors barely closed, Dean immediately began littering her room with her strewn clothing, pulling it frantically from her body while she puffed out stern warnings not to destroy her brand new dress.

When he finally had her naked, he dropped to his knees in front of her, fully dressed, coat still buttoned; he didn't even pause to remove his leather gloves.

He simply pushed her thighs open and immediately began to feast on her. Almost instinctively, she lifted her leg over his shoulder; the fine, soft wool of his coat was smooth and sensual against the back of her leg.

A long time later they laid side-by-side on the floor, with Dean finally naked too. He'd simply yanked down the thick blanket from the bed to cover them. Y/N laid her cheek against his warm chest and sighed deeply.

She gripped his hair tightly as he pulled her apart with his mouth. When her legs got too weak to hold her up, he simply lowered her to the floor and continued.

Y/N's body was cushioned by the plush rug beneath her, but her back ended up slightly rug-burned from twisting and writhing on top of it as she cried out her ecstasy.

She was incredibly appreciative of Dean's ability to force all her churning thoughts and worries into the back of her mind. She squished them into a tiny closet there and left them alone - for the night at least.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

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Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

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@aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

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#dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester angst #dean winchester au fan fic #dean winchester fan fic series

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theelincolnshirepoacher-blog · 6 years

Photo

Selection of Covers from ‘The Boy's Own Paper’

Total Issues: 1767+744=2511

A morally uplifting boys' story paper concentrating on adventure, sport and public school life, it remains a byword to this day and ranks (along with Punch, The Strand Magazine and very little else) as one of the great British institutions of periodical publishing. Authors include W.H.G. Kingston, R.M. Ballantyne, Jules Verne, Talbot Baines Reed, Gordon Stables, G.A. Henty, etc, etc. Serials indexed in "Through the Years with the B.O.P." by Brian Doyle (Collector's Digest Annual, 1962). Further Reading: Take a Cold Tub, Sir!: The Story of the Boy's Own Paper by Jack Cox (Guildford, Surrey, Lutterworth Press, 1982), not an index but a history. Weekly issues were bound as monthly issues, and the monthly issues were bound as annuals. There are 63 Annuals from 1879-1941. http://www.philsp.com/data/data073.html

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mediawhorefics · 3 years

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do you have any lgbt+ book recs (with happy ending of course)? 👀

hum! so many !!!!! (i’ve def. recced these before sorry not sorry)

witchmark (cl polk): historical fantasy | mystery | lgbt | mlm | magic | sequel (stormsong) focusing on a wlw couple | in an Edwardian inspired fantasy world, aristocrats with magic control the world while the poor with the same gifts are demonized and institutionalised. mc is a doctor and a war vet running away from his family and hiding his gifts but a murdered patient threaten to expose the truth about his magic so he sets to solve the murder with a handsome stranger. | i don’t remember the ending very specifically so it might be more bittersweet than happy :/

captive prince series (cs pacat): fantasy | romance | enemies to lovers | mlm | bisexual protag | slow burn | allied princes | political intrigues | sword fights | when mc’s brother unlawfully takes over his throne and sends him as a slave to the prince of a neighbouring kingdom, he must navigate the foreign court without letting it out he’s actually the prince who killed the heir to their throne. esp. not to his new owner, the departed’s younger brother and new heir. | tw slavery, paedophilia, noncon

cemetery boys (aiden thomas): fantasy | ya | lgbt | mlm | trans rep | latinx rep | mc wants to prove himself as a ‘brujo’ and accidentally summons the spirits of a classmate who was murdered and whose body still hasn’t been found. together they try to solve the crime. | very very sweet ! not as serious as it sounds! tho there is talk of transphobia/family not fully understanding as well as talks of dead parents which can be triggering | happy ending

only mostly devasted (sophie gonzales): ya | coming of age | mlm | grease but make it queer | summer romance abruptly cut short gets a new wind when mc transfers school and moves to his vacation spot. only prob. his summer boyfriend is def. not out | tw: coming out/fear of coming out/talks of diseases & grief

call down the hawk (maggie stiefvater): ya | fantasy | mystery | sequel to the raven cycle which focuses on ronan aka the best character

hope that helps <333

#about me #book rec #Anonymous

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

Text

On Lord Hawthorne

A lot of what makes Lavender Jack special to me is the way it’s so masterfully able to create engaging, modern material out of it’s influences, and it’s creation of a genuinely timeless pulp icon that I think should serve as the ideal baseline for any and all creators who want to create stories based on pulp characters, old and new alike, in the future.

As I make my way through Season 2 and eagerly await Season 3 I’d like to take the time to talk a little about the often overlooked half of the villain duo of Season 1, Lord Hawthorne, and what I think is interesting about him. Out of the many ways pulp heroes have been reimagined into villains over the decades, Lord Hawthorne stands out to me as easily one of the best ones, as a thoughtful take on the Tarzan character.

Spoilers before the cut

The first thing everyone immediately picks about Lord Hawthorne is that he’s Tarzan, with hardly any ifs or buts about it. He’s Tarzan, and we quickly learn that he’s the villain, part of a villain duo with Lady Hawthorne, the real mastermind and kingpin in pearls behind the story’s events. Having Tarzan as the villain n a story that draws from pulp and Edwardian fiction is already an interesting start, as three of the most popular molds from which are pulp heroes are based on, three of the most popular characters as icons, are Tarzan, the Scarlet Pimpernel, and Sherlock Holmes, all three of which exist in some capacity in the world of Lavender Jack. The Gentleman Villain, The Great Detective, and The Wild Man.

Lavender Jack, as I’ve mentioned, is based on the Pimpernel, as well as other figures such as Spring-Heeled Jack and Bertie Wooster. Jack draws from icons that largely predate the pulp heroes because, in Schkade’s own reasoning, if you’re going to try and create an authentic pulp hero, it only makes sense to use as a base the characters that largely inspired them, and clearly that worked out very well. Jack is a Pimpernel remodeled and recontextualized into modern sensibilities, into an era of superheroes and webcomics.

In the Great Detective’s case, we have the figure of Madame Theresa Ferrier, who is called into the story by the Mayor to try and solve the mystery of Lavender Jack’s identity. Schkade describes Ferrier as a character that pulls from elements of detectives like Hercule Poirot and C.Auguste Dupin as well as Sherlock Holmes, in particular Jeremy Brett’s later year performances. As he describes:

In the series’ final years, Brett was getting older, sicker, hindered by bipolar medications that sapped his energy and caused him to gain weight, and he used it. His Holmes became a fading, melancholic shadow of his younger self, but with the spark of his brilliance showing through when it counted. I always found that so compelling

Ferrier is repeteadly described in-universe as “The Great Detective”, and she is both the oldest as well as the most brilliant character in the comic. Despite her age, despite her physical complications, and the tragedy that surrounds her love life, she is nonetheless incredibly skilled, strong and resourceful, able to unmask Jack and survive a confrontation with Lord Hawthorne and even nearly beat him. Ferrier draws from the Great Detectives of old, but this is a character that could never be mistaken for any of them. She’s not specifically based on any of them because, as Schkade puts it: “I wanted her to be someone I’d never get to draw in a leading role in most of my work-for-hire jobs”.

Her role in the comic ends up being one of mentorship to Jack, and despite her age being emphasized as well as the idea of her belonging to an older generation of great heroes that now gives way to the younger and hot-blooded Jack as well as Ferrier’s new partner in Honoria Crabb, Ferrier is very much another great example of where the old meets the new in Lavender Jack. Pulling from the great old archetypes but very much recognizable as her own thing.

Thing is, when it comes to Lord Hawthorne, we don’t really get that, because Lord Hawthorne isn’t really combining the idea of Tarzan with a splash of something new and outstanding and modern. He really is just Tarzan, and not a terribly layered character at that, for much of the story he’s largely just a voiceless bulldozer who exists to do the dirty work of Lady Hawthorne no matter how dirty. This isn’t at all a criticism, because I think Hawthorne being just Tarzan, with little to no bells and whistles and twists on it, is central to what makes him work not just as a great physical threat Jack must overcome (in a similar way to Bane as both a monstrous powerhouse and also having a strong connection to a powerful pulp hero), but also someone whose tragedy comes to light as we finally learn more about him. The fact that he is monosyllabic and largely devoid of any personal interests or life outside of being muscle for Lady Hawthorne is something deliberate, as outlined in a speech given by another character in Chapter 39

Her world's been changing for years, now. She's taking her place in a wider game. A more nuanced game. And you're still...Why, you're only good for one thing, aren't you? Well, maybe two, you old hound, you.

I know why you spend vast stretches of the year off in that jungle. It's not for sport, it's not to keep your edge...it's because when there's no need to fight, no struggle to win, no enemy...there's just...you.

And you know there's not really anything to you, underneath all those scars and muscles.

No dreams, no warmth, no depth. Nothing to love.

So you stay away...and that way, you can come when she calls you. You can sweep back to Gallery and show up all filthy and draw her into your powerful, savage embrace....and maintain your novelty.

All of this so you'll never have to endure a silent sunday afternoon where there's nothing to do, any no one to kill, and your lady simply...doesn't...need you.

You do know this word, don't you, Hawthorne, old fellow? "Novelty?"

And how does he respond?

Not with a denial, but an affirmation that this is ultimately all personhood amounts to, in his worldview. Just one more thing to be conquered and then used as a club to batter others with.

The very act of a character questioning their own worth and depth of personality usually tends to be a telling sign that they, in fact, have those things even if they are out of touch with them, but Hawthorne doesn’t particularly rebuff anything Van Lund’s saying. He just reaffirms his title as Lord while threatening him with violence, because violence is all he knows.

As we later learn, Lord Hawthorne isn’t, in fact, the real Lord Hawthorne, but instead he and his wife usurped the title from the real one as they escaped from the jungle, where he was only known as “the wild man”. A man who’s been forced his entire life to live in a kill-or-be-killed world, to live as an animal in constant conflict with humans, was then captured and then brutally tortured every day for over a month, and then found for the first time someone who treated him with something resembling affection, someone who ultimately turned him into a tool for her evil designs, and he readily accepts this because he has no life, no identity, outside of her. He doesn’t even know his own name.

In fact, for all we know, he might as well be John Clayton himself, except he was born in a world where being Tarzan is not the greatest thing ever and there was no Jane or ape mother to guide his malleable heart into something resembling good, and there was only Sarah to mold him into an instrument of murder at his lowest point.

I argue that Tarzan is a character that’s all about freedom and vitality, as a heroic take on an archetype that’s long been the missing link between superheroes and monsters, where the dual nature of mankind between person and ape acts not as a disorder or source of conflict but instead as the ultimate power fantasy in a character who gets the best of both with none of the downsides. Lord Hawthorne isn’t necessarily a return to form, because there is no dual nature to him. There is no gentleman, no Lord Greystoke descendant of nobility, romantic hero and great adventurer and leader of men and whatnot. There is only the ape, and what little façade has been grafted onto him by his master so he can pass off as a person, only long enough until he takes his shirt off and starts murdering people for her. While we get long extended close-ups of the icy cruelty in Lady Hawthorne’s eyes, there is none for Lord Hawthorne, because he is not cruel, he is an animal. He’s not a fighter, he’s a survivor. He lives to kill and serve the person who tells him who or what to kill.

Lord Hawthorne is what happens when you strip the Tarzan legend of the romanticism of fiction and you look at it for what it would likely result in: the tragic story of a child forced to grow in the jungle, where the concept of personhood and human decency are utterly meaningless and there is only survival, where his existence is at odds with the worlds of man and animal alike, and what happens when that sort of being receives a first contact with something resembling decency and love. Even if said first contact wasn’t with someone as evil as Lady Hawthorne, there was little chance Lord Hawthorne’s life was ever going to be anything other than just an extension of his life in the jungle, or end in anything other than tragedy, and ultimately even the characters start to pity the wild man.

Jack: All that power and stamina and fighting acumen, but yet all you seem to get to use it for is...this. Another laborious climb to another locked-room murder.

Ferrier: You've long passed the point where human lives hold any meaning. You are detached from our species, a...a stranger, loose among us. I thought the sight of you would stir distain in me, or even fear...but as I look at you now...I feel for you only the strangest sort of pity.

What I like most about Lord Hawthorne as a take on Tarzan is that, far too often, we see intended “deconstructions” or reinterpretations of the classic pulp heroes, or even superheroes, that largely just make them villainous by extrapolating the worst possible interpretations of the character’s traits or real-life circumstances around them to villainize them, or outright invent faults and problems that weren’t there in the source material, usually to put one character over the other. The entirety of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is built on this, as is a lot of Superman parodies built on getting the most graphically shocking results possible.

I'll admit it’s somewhat hypocritical of me to criticize this entirely, because it’s an impulse that I sadly admit I myself have fallen into in my own writings on characters not my own, as anyone who’s ever talked with me about Doc Savage, a character I do not like and cannot bring myself to like, can testify. I get why this happens, even if I understand why it’s shitty. Ultimately, the best “deconstructions” or reinterpretations will always come from people who are best familiar with the material they are using and know exactly the best ways to twist it, like with Mark Waid’s Irredeemable, an Evil Superman comic written by a huge Superman fan who knows exactly the absolute worst ways a Superman character can go sour, and was leagues ahead of works like The Boys and Brightburn who largely just take the “easy” pot shots.

With Lord Hawthorne, we get a character who’s an evil take on Tarzan, but whose evilness isn’t made from exaggerating or adding faults to the source material character, which could very easily be done. I never got the sense that the author hates Tarzan and wants everyone to hate Tarzan and is willingly to sacrifice immersion just to get across how much he hates Tarzan (again, something LOEG does way too often), in fact it really doesn’t matter how the author feels about Tarzan, because those feelings are irrevelant to what’s on the page.

Instead, Lord Hawthorne is an evil take on Tarzan whose characterization is largely based on just looking at the source material, the character’s origins, and extrapolating the circumstances in which that could go sour. What would a “wild man” forced to grow up and fight for survival every day in the jungle look like, what would that person look like when making it’s first contact with human affection, how could that person be twisted and manipulated into becoming a villain, what’s even left to that person outside of violent action scenes. How little it would take to twist a childhood hero into a brute that murders old women in their hospital beds, just by tweaking a few details about the context surrounding him.

He is not a caricature of Tarzan, he’s not a parody, he is just Tarzan, but no longer the power fantasy. No longer the center of fantastical adventures. No longer getting the best of both worlds, but instead having to contend with the worst of them. Ultimately only finding some dignity in death, with his nemesis expressing hope that, maybe somewhere else, he’s going to have better luck than what this world afforded him.

#lavender jack #pulp heroes #comics tag #lord hawthorne #dan schkade #far from my favorite thing about this comic but #that in itself should be a testament to just how amazing lavender jack is #please go read it

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