#ill never finish this holly mother

[complete-clownery]

Sonic the hedghog

The hero of Mobius doing my assigment for me

hes a true hero guys 🥺🥺

[pxmun]

It had been a long night for Boomer. After Wendell was freed and up to steam, the old engine had dragged the old man all over Sodor! So much had changed since Wendell had been locked away and the silly engine wanted to see everything. Boomer was stunned by Wendell’s magic. Without any trouble, the old American Narrow- gauge engine used his magic to create new tracks as well as resize the standard gauge line to fit him.  The silly engine was happily chuffing along as day broke, by now Boomer was beyond exhausted and felt like he was about to collapse. Wendell though caught him and brought the man to his face, thanking Boomer for once again setting him free. Being grateful, the engine offered to return the favor. Boomer’s attention was soon grabbed, he knew what to ask he old magic engine for. Boomer told Wendell everything, about Burnett, Tanya, and himself, their time on Sodor, Tanya’s illness, Lady’s refusal and lies, and Tanya’s passing. As he finished Boomer couldn’t help but shed a tear. Wendell was deeply sympathetic with the man; he knew all too well the pain and anger Boomer was going through. Wendell remembered his best friend Dinah and all the time they spent together adventuring and discovering magic. He remembered waking up that morning many years after, only to find that his friend had departed from this world. He remembered the feelings of agony, sadness, and remorse consuming him, the hallow empty feeling inside his boiler after. In those dark times Dinah’s husband Ethan had been the only spec of light in this post Dinah world. A trusted friend and confidant in such dark times, Ethan was the only one in existence that could understand the engine’s pain, the two helping each other through the loss of someone so precious to them. Sadly, the Grim Reaper would once again return and snuff out the fire that was once known as Ethan, and Wendell found himself plunging into a deeper hole. Wendell remembered the anger and betrayal he felt towards Sir Topham Hatt I and Mr. Conductor when they locked him away. The heartache Wendell felt was unbearable, he never could imagine that Dinah’s sweet little boys who would always run to him to play and ride in his cab could grow up to be such heartless adults. Hearing Boomer talk about Lady refusing to help save his friend infuriated Wendell, another deep betrayal. In all their lessons, Wendell always made sure to emphasize the importance of life to Lady, telling her that it was sacred to protect at any cost and he meant any. The poor engine just wished he had perfected his ultimate spell before Dinah had moved on. But now, Wendell had the chance to make it up as Boomer mentioned Sodor’s newest residence, the Cupper siblings along with a frequent visitor in the form of Holly. Wendell was very interested with the four newcomers, especially when Boomer mentioned the three siblings who lost their mother and Holly who had just overcome a horrible illness known as Cancer. Boomer spoke about how the four had bounded with the engines of the NWR and how they were now capable of using magic. Wendell knew this was his chance to make a difference, this time he would stop the Grim Reaper and spare those engines from the sorrow he has been suffering with for so long. With that, the two make a plan to stop Lady.

[kai-atlantis]

Wow. Okay. So I just finished chapter 11 of FY and I could've commented but I wanted to ask you instead. Apologies for anon. I am too shy. But, I really like how Holly was somewhat unlikable in the last chapters, like 9. It's something I don't see enough of, and I can see in your comments it caused a stir too. But then the way you handled her trauma at the end of 11 and how she recognizes her mistakes and feels sorry for them was really powerful. Did you intend for her to be like that? So good.

Hi hi hi! 🥺🥺👉🏼👈🏼 Thank youuu 🥺 I'm gonna cry lmao. ALSO GET OFF ANON WHY ARE YOU SHY THIS IS THE FOWLDOM HOW DARE-

AHHHH I'm really glad you brought this up, and thank you for doing so! I haven't talked about For You for a while.

From what I can remember, it was intentional, and when you get to Chap 12, you'll see it's kind of like Holly's main redeeming chapter for her behavior.

Even in canon, Holly is fucked up. She's an orphan with a loving memory of her family; She's constantly belittled and undermined at her job; Her father figure is blown to pieces in front of her, and she is blamed for his murder; Her (my HC) mother-figure/inspiring figure Vinyaya was ALSO killed in front of her; Holly herself was killed and felt every piece of it; and then she witnessed her best friend outwit her and take her place to then die in front of her eyes.

So, cut to my fanfic. Ch 1 we see tensions between Arty and Holly as friends, and we know from ch 1-4 (and Luna Minor story) that Holly and Artemis had some weird animosity while he's in space. Holly feels a lot of guilt for not being a 'better friend' and not being attentive or not taking Artemis' side on things. Cut to Ch 5, with that whole convo, she DEFINITELY feels responsible for him and his illness now. Tie in that Angeline has paid her to cure his mental illness. Tie in that he was just abandoned by his family, and Holly feels like, at this point, she's quite literally the root of all his trauma and issues (she also blames herself for his childhood trauma when he adventured with her). After Artemis' confession, Holly kinda breaks, but holds on strong, as we know her character to be.

This cracks her at the end of Ch 8. Obviously, Artemis and Holly are back to being tense and Holly loses Artemis as a friend and roommate. She has been taking care of him since 5, but no one has really taken care of her. Holly hasnt talked to anyone. She doesn't see a therapist. She carries alllll this burden, all of Artemis' burdens, herself. And when he leaves, she can't carry herself up anymore, so she crumbles.

She becomes destructive in 9. Mean and callous to Artemis (also jealous), cold and using Trouble, a total cunt to Lili, and of course this all blows over when she hates herself for her treatment of both Trouble and Lili and totally smashes Gronk Moss apart, not just in Lili's honor, but also Holly's outlet is to unleash all her bs on him. It kinda works, until she realizes in 11 that it didn't, and now with everyone and everything back in place, she can begin to recognize and process what she's done and said, her flaws, her mean side. It's all built up with no real outcome, and she folds under the pressure Angeline puts on her when she threatens she'll never see Artemis again unless she does exactly as Angeline says (Remember this for chapter 20 😬😬😬)

So, yeah! No idea if you'll read this all 😅 I went a lil off the wall.

BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH I FUCKING LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE ASK ABOUT MY FICS LIKE IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY SO THANK YOU 🥰🥰🥰💖

[ramblingromance]

Where Dreams Begin: Book Review

Hello, all! So, I actually finished this book on Sunday, but I'm just now getting the chance to write up my thoughts, feelings, and rambles on...

Zachary Bronson has built an empire of wealth and power. Now he is seeking a wife to help secure his position in the ton . . . as well as warm his bed in private. But not just any woman will do for one of London's most notorious rakes. When he meets Lady Holly Taylor, he surrenders to the temptation to take her in his arms and kiss her. Yet he's pleasantly surprised to discover her fierce passions match his own.

Lady Holly Taylor is destined to spend her life playing by society's rules even when they go against her bolder instincts. But Zachary's kiss arouses her, and though his shocking offer doesn't include marriage, she is compelled to risk everything for the most forbidden passion.

________________________________________________

I'm sitting here feeling as if I'm not sure what to write up about this novel. I didn't dislike it, but I never really found myself getting lost in the story either. I think part of the problem is that I just never felt as if I got to know the characters, and I'm not sure what I felt was missing, really. Whatever it was, I just never seemed to feel a deep connection, try as I might.

Lisa Kleypas' normal sense of humor didn't seem to be in this novel, but then, this is also one of her earliest stories I've ever read, so maybe that plays a part in it too. She normally always manages to make me laugh out loud at least once, but I didn't find myself doing that here.

Aside from that, I did enjoy the premise. Holly is a widow with a young daughter, and Zachary, an untitled but very wealthy man, propositions her: She needs to help teach him, his sister, and his mother the way of society. All she has to do is live under their roof for a year, teaching them manners and all sorts of things, and he'll pay her a hefty sum.

So yes, that aspect I did love, especially Zachary's mother and sister. Regardless of the premise, however, I still just found myself going through the motions where this novel was concerned. I wish I could have liked it better, especially since it's Kleypas, but as of right now, I just found it enjoyable but not very memorable.

_______________________________________________

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death, Mentions of illness, Mentions of Child Labor

Heat Level: 3/5

[fowlofprey]

“Where’s Mum?” Myles asks at breakfast while your father sets plates of pancakes in front of the twins and you’re mixing your coffee.

“Oh, ah, she’s just a bit under the weather,” says Artemis Sr, and you feel a chill run through your veins. “A couple days’ bed rest and she’ll be right as rain.”

“Mother is ill?” you try to keep your tone neutral, but you’re afraid the way your spoon clinks too loudly against the mug as you unintentionally drop it gives away your fear.

“Just a cold,” your father says, trying to be reassuring as he meets your gaze. “Really, Arty. She’s just got a common cold. Like I said, she’ll be better again before you even know it.”

“...Might I go see her?” you ask.

“Of course,” answers your father. “Go right on up and see her, you’ll see for yourself that she’s just fine. It’s not like...” last time, is what he doesn’t say, but you hear it anyway. Last time, when you had all thought she had simply caught a cold, which turned out to be a severe case of spelltropy, inflicted upon her by Opal Koboi thanks to your meddling with time travel in an attempt to cure her of that very same affliction. Last time, when you thought you would lose her again, for good this time. Last time, when you had manipulated Holly into helping you cure your mother, using the help she had offered years before against her to convince her that it was her own fault. You do not look upon last time fondly.

You just nod in response, and silently leave the kitchen to go and visit your mother.

“What’s wrong with Artemis?” you hear Beckett ask as you leave.

“Well, uh, when-- when you two were little, your Mum got very ill...” your father starts, and you don’t stick around to hear him finish.

“Come in,” Angeline Fowl calls as you knock on her bedroom door, and you do so. “Timmy, back already? Weren’t you going down to have breakfast with the boys?”

There’s that chill, again. Does she not recognize you? Surely, she can’t be that ill...

“Mother, it’s me, it’s Artemis. Don’t you recognize me?”

“No! Impostor! You’re not my little Arty, you must’ve done something to him! Where is he!? What have you done with my son!?”

“Moth-- Mum, it’s me--” you begin, trying to shake yourself out of the memory, and your mother cuts you off.

“Oh, Arty! I’m sorry, dear, it’s just that you look so much like your father. Looking out the corner of my eye, I thought you might have been him. Come on in, Arty, don’t be shy.”

You release the breath you’d unintentionally been holding as you step further into the room, closing the door behind you. Your mother does look sick, but not horribly so. Just a cold, you tell yourself. Just a cold.

She waves you over towards her. “Come on, come here, oh-- but not too close, of course, I’m contagious, after all.”

“I don’t mind getting a cold,” you say, but stop to sit at the foot of the bed at her behest.

“Of course you don’t; something so small would never keep my brave little Arty down for long.” She laughs, and you manage a weak smile. “And that’s all it is, Arty. Just a small cold. I’ll be better in no time.”

“That’s what Father said,” you reply, unsure what else to say.

“And isn’t he always right? ...Usually, at least,” she adds with another small laugh.

Seeing her like this, you can’t help but be taken back to age fourteen, helplessly watching her wither away before your eyes. She was so, so sick, and you knew it was your fault, even though your theory of the true cause had been incorrect at the time, either way, you were still the culprit.

This time, it’s not your fault, and you know that there’s no way it can be, and she’ll be fine, she said so herself, but... you can’t help but find reasons to blame yourself anyway. You should have washed your hands even more than you already do, you should have gotten sick instead, you should have, you should have...

“...temis? Arty? Are you with me?” your mother calls softly as you come back to yourself, feeling her hand around yours and horrid tears falling down your cheeks.

She’s sat up now, holding your hand and looking at you with extreme worry. You once again try to offer a weak smile, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I simply got lost in the past for a moment; that’s all.”

“Well, I’m here in the present, can you stay here with me?”

“...I can try, yes.”

[sophielovesbooks]

Mid Year Book Freakout Tag!

I’m a bit late to this party… but I wrote this a few days ago when I wasn’t feeling 100% after getting my second Covid vaccine and took the entire day off. So I finally had the time to write this :)

Let me pull up my Goodreads real quick and have a look at the 33 books I have so far this year.

1. The Best Book of the Year So Far

Hmm, let’s see. I feel like it’s fair to give two answers to this one, because on the one hand, there is the book that qualifies as “the best” from a literary perspective (at least in my opinion) and that would be CONVERSATIONS WITH FRIENDS by Sally Rooney. Definitely had its own style and felt… infused with a deeper meaning, at least to me. It was also very compelling. Personally, I couldn’t stop reading it. And I feel like it had a lot to say about modern-day relationships (romantic, platonic… all kinds really).

Then, there is the book that I personally enjoyed this most, and that was probably THE GIRLS ARE ALL SO NICE HERE by Laurie Elisabeth Flynn. It kind of felt like your standard thriller, but also not. While it was super suspenseful and fun to read, I also genuinely cared about the characters and loved the portrayal of toxic teen girls’ friendships and generally teenage cruelty in the context of wanting to be cool/to fit in. It made me reflect on a lot of things, so to me, it’s definitely more than a thriller that you forget right after reading it. And it also definitely qualifies as dark academia, and discovering a new DA book I love is always great! <3

2. Best Sequel of the Year So Far

Wow, I am NOT big on sequels. I have only read one this year, which is just further proof that I’m not very into book series and much prefer standalones. The only sequel I have read this year was also a very good one, though: MISTER IMPOSSIBLE by Maggie Stiefvater. Much anticipated by me and thankfully, I had a great time with it. :)

3. A New Release You Haven’t Read Yet But Want To

I’m going to go with MALIBU RISING by Taylor Jenkins Read! I was gifted this book by my boyfriend’s grandma for my birthday on June 29 (so sweet!) and I think I will read it next. I am very excited for this one!

4. Most Anticipated Release for Autumn/Winter

Two books I am VERY excited for are A LESSON IN VENGEANCE by Victoria Lee and IN MY DREAMS I HOLD A KNIFE by Ashley Winstead. I’m not even really sure why. I don’t know that much about either of them yet. But they just call to me, just like The Girls Are All So Nice Here did. And that one didn’t disappoint, so hopefully these two won’t either.

5. Your Biggest Disappointment of the Year So Far

Maybe THE GUEST LIST by Lucy Foley? I mean, it wasn’t awful. But I remember that I wasn’t impressed and had been expecting more somehow. Objectively the worst book I read this year would have to be THE SHARP EDGE OF A SNOWFLAKE by Sif Sigmarsdóttir, lol. But that one doesn’t count as the biggest disappointment, because I didn’t go in expecting that much. It was just an ebook that I bought for a low price at one point.

6. Your Biggest Surprise of the Year So Far

Definitely THE GIRLS I’VE BEEN by Tess Sharpe. I did not expect a YA thriller to be as intense and emotional and fun and just plain well-written as it was! Biggest positive surprise of the year so far, I think. :) I felt similarly surprised by  A GOOD GIRL’S GUIDE TO MURDER by Holly Jackson. Another YA thriller (or mystery, I guess?) that was so much better than I had expected! 

7. New Favourite Author

I’m going to have to say THE MOTHER by Tess Stimson. I was expecting it to be a semi-fun thriller without much depth to it, just easy entertainment, I suppose. I was extremely surprised by the emotional depth I encountered. The death at the heart of this story is that of an infant, but I was expecting the book to sort of gloss over how tragic that actually is. Instead, it leaned into the grief so much, I found myself absolutely shook? The book almost moved me to tears several times. The mystery was so intense, I kept guessing and guessing. At one point quite early on, I had the solution, but the author masterfully misdirected me from that again, so that the twist at the end came as the biggest shock! Yeah, I loved this so much more than I had ever expected! Well done, Tess Stimson!

8. Your Newest Favourite Character

I haven’t absolutely fallen in love with any new characters this year, but three that stand out to me (in the order I encountered them this year) are:

1) Pippa Fitz-Amobi from A GOOD GIRL’S GUIDE TO MURDER by Holly Jackson

2) Katrina Hawkins from THE STARLESS SEA by Erin Morgenstern

3) Nora O’Malley from THE GIRLS I’VE BEEN by Tess Sharpe

9. Your Newest Fictional Crush

Umm… absolutely nothing comes to mind lmfao. Fictional crushes have become so rare for me!

10. A Book that Has Made You Cry

THE MOTHER almost made me cry, I think. Not sure if there were actual tears. CONVERSATIONS WITH FRIENDS and NORMAL PEOPLE both (almost) moved me to tears several times. But I didn’t have any break-downs over books this year. At least not yet.

EDIT: Omg, omg, omg, I forgot A LITTLE LIFE! How the f did I forget about A LITTLE LIFE?! I broke down over this book several times. It was awful. Never before has a book made me suffer so much. I mean that. I didn’t just cry, the book also made me feel physically ill several times. Very well written, yes, but not one I can recommend in good conscience. This is not one of those instances of “You’ll cry, but you’ll love crying”, at least not for me. This is something I perhaps should have not put myself through. Because the experience overall was painful, first and foremost. Stay safe, kids. This one is… a lot.

11. A Book That Has Made You Happy

This is so sad to say, but none of the books I read this year gave me that warm, glowy feeling of pure comfort and happiness you get from books sometimes? Some passages of THE STARLESS SEA came the closest, I would say.

12. The Most Beautiful Book of the Year So Far

Again, I need to mention THE STARLESS SEA with the beautiful prose and imagery! <3 Also A LITTLE LIFE maybe? Beautifully written at times. Absolutely heart- and gut-wrenching at others.

13. Some Books You Need to Read Before 2021 Ends

Hahaha… so many. But I’ll pick out a few that I will likely finish until the year is over: MALIBU RISING, AN OCEAN OF MINUTES by Thea Lim (birthday present by a close friend! <3), THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS by Micah Nemerever (birthday present my dad gave me! <3) and THEY NEVER LEARN by Layne Fargo (bday present my godmother gave me! <3). You see, I am much more committed to reading books that were given to me rather than books I bought myself. So these have good chances of being finished in 2021. :)

14. Tag Two of Your Favourite Community Members

@books-and-cookies Have you answered these questions yet? And @augustinianseptember? Would REALLY love to read both of your answers! <3<3

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember Prompt # 28: Missing Out

Title: Unforgettable

Fandom: N/A

Based on this post as well as an ask box prompt. The prompt: “I’m currently dying for something set in a big house (any period) and the young master of the house has a party to attend but he feels awful and is trying to hide it and be a good host but keeps having to sneak off to cough/sneeze. Until maybe one guest notices and that’s how he meets his future wife.”

A young heir attends a Christmas party with his childhood friend as his date. They find themselves in an interesting position when he falls ill.

CW: Vomiting. 

(Author's note: Never written this time period before, but I would like to again in the future! I really enjoyed this prompt. And yes these two are definitely in love and will be married someday.)

The year is 1927, and two young men are seated in the back corner of a jazz club in New England, talking little as they sit, enjoying the music. As the band finishes their opening set and prepares to take a break, the older of the two men takes a deep drag from his cigarette, then glances at his companion.

"All ready for your parents' big Christmas shindig next weekend, Jesse?" 

Jesse rolled his eyes and scoffed, tapping a cigarette of his own out of the pack. "Sure John, of course. It's such a thrill to be a captive audience as they get smoked and strut around peacocking for their friends. Highlight of my whole year, that. Masquerade Ball, my ass. What drivel."

John chuckled, reclining back in his chair and taking another drag. "You're expected to bring a dame too, yeah?"

"Naturally. It'd be too bad for the heir of the Hamilton fortune to attend without a looker, wouldn't it? Shame all the women in this town are abhorrent."

John shook his head with another chuckle. "That attitude is why you're a perpetual bachelor, hombre. But I have some news that may interest you. Did you know Miss Greenwood is back in town?"

Jesse's interest was piqued in spite of himself. "Lillian Greenwood is back?"

"The very same. Home from university for the holidays."

Jesse leaned back in his chair, trying to look unbothered. "So what if she is. What's it to me?"

"Well I dunno, only that you might like to invite her to the Masq’. If memory serves, you never found her particularly abhorrent."

"We were kids!"

"You were damn near inseparable. You don't *have* to do anything, Jess. But as your oldest friend, I'm asking you to think on it. You'd enjoy the party more if you had company, and I'm sure she'd like to see her old stomping grounds again. Just something to consider is all."

Jesse made no reply as the band resumed the stage just then, but he did indeed think on it very hard.

***

John's information was proven true only a day later. Jesse was just exiting a drugstore he frequented with a fresh carton of cigarettes when he caught the eye of Lillian Greenwood, who was just about to enter the same store, and looking very fetching in a blue fitted coat and hat. Both their eyes widened in surprise upon seeing each other, and for a moment they were speechless. 

"Jesse?" Lillian finally said, a slow grin spreading over her face, so familiar to him. "It's been at least an age!" She seized his hands in hers, reaching up on tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. "How are you? I've missed you!"

"Lil!" He wrapped her in a hug. "I've missed you too! What are you doing back in this dump, accomplished University woman that you are now? I'm surprised you didn't run in the opposite direction from here a long time ago."

"Well I haven't graduated yet, silly. And I couldn't miss another Christmas at home. I missed everyone here so much. Oh Jesse, it's so good to see you!" She hugged him fiercely again. "You must tell me everything you've been up to! Come inside while I shop before we freeze."

He willingly followed her back in, looking fondly at the soft brown hair brushing across her shoulders. He was so sick of the horrid bobs all the girls were wearing, and he loved that Lillian was still wearing hers longer.

He trailed her through the whole store, gamely answering the barrage of questions she directed at him, but mostly content to enjoy her familiar presence. Eventually she stopped short, turning to face him.

"Are you all right? You're very quiet. You've hardly said anything."

"I'm sorry. Just worn out I guess. Been working extra before the holidays."

"You are looking a bit peaky. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jabber your ear off."

"No it's fine, honest. I'm just happy to see you."

"Likewise." She gave his hand a little squeeze, accompanied by a warm smile. Knowing he wasn't going to get a better opportunity, he took a deep breath.

"Lilli, do you remember that big bash my parents host every year for Christmas?"

"Oh yes!" she said, her eyes lighting up in pleasure. "It was my favorite part of the holidays!" 

"No kidding? Well anyway, they still throw it. The last few years they changed it to a Masquerade Ball, but otherwise it's still just like it was. It's a week from Saturday. I know you just got into town and all, and maybe you already have plans… but what do you think about going with me as my date?"

Lillian's grin was immediate, and she clasped her hands together joyfully. "Oh Jess, I'd love that! Just like old times."

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to smile. "Yeah, I guess. Same old dumb party. Like I said, if you're busy, don't worry about it. But you're welcome to come… if you want and all."

She looked confused and a little hurt at his abrupt backtracking. "Of course I want to come. I'll be there."

"Great. I better get going though. I'll call you in a few days to give you the details. It was great to see you, Lil." He pecked her on the cheek. "I'll see you around, kid."

He strode out of the store with hardly a backwards glance, leaving her shocked face in his wake. He hated himself for behaving that way, and he wasn't even sure why he did it. Perhaps it was because the "old times" she was referring to included the present he was stuck in, while she had clearly moved on. Perhaps it was the realization that he had resorted to asking his childhood best friend on a date rather than finding a real date to avoid the embarrassment of attending his parents' party unaccompanied. But whatever the reason, speaking to her had made him equal parts thrilled and miserable. Surprisingly, when he called her a few days later as promised, she again agreed to accompany him, despite his rude behavior in the drug store, and continued to insist she was excited for the party, despite his constant negativity towards it.

***

The Saturday before Christmas dawned bright and snowy, and the Hamilton estate was in an uproar all day with last-minute preparations. Every surface was bedecked for the holidays with ribbons and garlands and tinsel and wreaths and holly and candles. A Christmas tree stood in every room, making the whole house aromatic, each twinkling and topped with a star. When evening rolled in, so too did the guests, all as twinkling and bedecked as the house, filling every room in no time. The Masquerade Ball had begun.

Lillian arrived promptly. Jesse met her in the foyer. Even wearing a mask, she was easily recognizable. She looked stunning in a sparkling gown that accented her figure perfectly. Her eyes were a color that would be easier called unique than pretty, her nose a touch irregular, and her teeth a touch crooked, but Jesse had always found her beautiful. Yet he was in a foul temper, and had been the whole day, and seeing her gave him little pleasure. He noted she had pinned up her hair so it appeared “bobbed” like everyone else's, and even such a simple thing soured his mood further. Upon seeing her initially, he took her hand and kissed it, then gave a sarcastic bow. 

“Welcom, Lillian dear. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil

She curtsied daintily, smiling warmly. “The pleasure is all mine. You look very dashing and alluring in that mask.”

He chucked coldly. “You’re looking spiffy yourself, kid. Well, shall we get on with it?” He offered her his arm, which she took, almost hesitantly.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “You seem… not yourself.”

“Fine and dandy. Ready to cut a rug and show a girl a good time. Let’s not keep the evening waiting.” He didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his tone, but continued to tug her toward the dining room, albeit gently. She reluctantly followed, casting him worried glances. 

The young Master Hamilton performed his part admirably through the whole evening, however, donning the persona of the host as easily as he did his mask. He chatted and danced and flirted with the appropriate people, giving Lilli adequate attention as required as well. His mother must have been pleased, for the night was a smashing success, from the dinner to the dancing to the decor. Everyone was raving the whole evening about what a splendid party it was. The best one yet, everyone said, just as they said every year. 

Jesse, however, was utterly miserable. The bodies packing every room made him too warm, the lights were too bright, the music and din of talking made his head throb, the food smells turned his stomach, and the aroma of pine everywhere left him feeling on the verge of a sneeze all night, especially since his nose had been on the verge of dripping since he awoke. He could only nibble the rich supper. He was barely able to swallow even small sips of Christmas punch without feeling the urge to gag. 

In order to keep his sanity, whenever Lillian was occupied talking to someone and he wasn't otherwise engaged, he would duck into one of the unused side parlors. In this sanctuary, away from the lights and sounds and smells, he removed his mask and composed himself. He would first allow himself to sneeze unhindered, finally able to stop his incessant stifling and sniffling, each time surprising himself at how wet and messy and ill they sounded. Then, if he hadn't been gone too long, he would rest his face against the icy window pane, breathing slowly and deeply as a halo of condensation spread out from his hot forehead. Inevitably though, the time would come when he was forced to replace his mask and reenter the ball before he was missed. He counted down the hours desperately, willing himself to last until the end of the party.

The evening began to wind down, and Jesse found himself ducking away more and more frequently. His stomach was in knots and his nausea was gradually rising, so composure was getting harder to maintain. He always checked to ensure Lilli was involved in a conversation before he did so, however. Imagine his surprise then, when moments after he snuck into his sanctuary yet again, he heard the door open after him and Lillian appeared just as he had given over to a violent sneezing jag:

Hiihhh'GEHSSSH'ieeew! ESSSHH'yuuh! Hrrr'USH'IIEWW! Kuhh-hhiiih-ISSSHYUUH!"

"Bless you, Jesse! Heavens, that was a fit! Are you alright?" she asked, approaching him and removing her own mask. "Have you been sneezing like that all night? You keep disappearing."

He flashed the most winning smile he could muster even as he wiped the mess from his face. "I'm just ducky," he said, swallowing thickly as his stomach also decided to give a nasty lurch. "All the pine in the air gets me sneezing. Must be a bit allergic. Sorry for worrying you. Let's go back out before we're missed. I think I owe you a dance or two."

She ignored his rambling and came to stand directly in front of him with a searching look. She lifted a hand and brought the back of it to his sweaty forehead. She clucked softly.

"You're sick, aren't you? You're not feeling well at all."

The thin facade that was holding him together finally crumbled. He limply leaned against the wall, nodding mutely. 

"Why didn't you say something? You should be in bed. You look awful."

"I didn't want to spoil the evening," he mumbled. 

"Well we need to get you out of here. You look like you're about to collapse."

"I am about to collapse," he said ruefully.

"Come on then. No one will miss us anyway. Let's go up the servants' steps over here so we're not seen."

"I don't want you to miss out on the ball. You looked like you were having fun."

She caressed his cheek fondly. "I came here tonight to spend time with you. I'm not missing out on anything."

They shared a smile, his first genuine one of the night. Then she took him by the hand and led him expertly along the least conspicuous route to his bedroom. The pair of them had spent hours exploring every inch of this house from top to bottom as children, every cupboard, cranny, and corner. He hadn't forgotten those times, and clearly she hadn't either. 

It was strange bringing her back to his room. They had spent hours together here too during their growing-up years. He couldn't help but imagine it through her eyes--what was different, what was the same. He realized bitterly that the only thing that was really different was the lack of toys and games everywhere. His room was a reflection of his life--boring and stagnant.

If she was thinking along those lines, she gave no indication. Instead she led him to his bed with a hand at the small of his back, guiding him into a sitting position and helping him remove his jacket and tie. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, and heat rolled off of him in waves. The drier air up here made him begin to cough as soon as he sat, the sound hoarse and desperate. She made a sympathetic sound as she carded her fingers through his damp hair, then dug through his dresser, pulling out a set of his pajamas and tossing them over. 

"Make yourself more comfortable, and I'll do the same." She headed to his en suite bathroom. "I'll be right back. Try to relax, Jess." She gave him a little smile, which he attempted to return, a hand going to his sore stomach even as he did.

Once the bathroom door was closed behind her, he slowly changed into his pajama bottoms and managed to strip down to his undershirt. All at once, his stomach had had enough, and he knew he was going to vomit. With the bathroom occupied, the next available option was the balcony off of his room. He dashed outside to the railing, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground below, heaving until he had nothing left. As the spasms slowed, his vision began to go gray and wobbly. He sank to his knees weakly, unable to do anything else, clinging to the railing in the freezing cold, which at first felt pleasant on his fevered skin. 

He wasn't sure how long he knelt there, and it would have been even longer had Lillian not come out to find him. By the time she did, he was shivering so violently that his teeth rattled in his head. She was speaking to him, but he couldn't register what she was saying. Finally she pulled him bodily to his feet and helped him inside, her arm wrapped around his waist as she supported most of his weight. She again led him to his bed, making him lie down this time and bundling blankets over his icy cold skin while she sat at his side. His consciousness solidified and the world stopped spinning, and eventually he noticed that while she was still wearing her party dress, she had removed her makeup and unpinned her hair, looking more like her old self. The thought made him marginally warmer. 

"Let me go fetch some tea for you, and some medicine," she murmured, stroking his hair. She stood and tried to pull away, but he quickly grabbed her wrist, his grasp surprisingly strong. 

"Don't go," he rasped, choking back a cough. "I don't want tea or medicine. It'll only make me vomit again. Just stay."

"Stay…" she repeated. "Right. I suppose I could stay."

She went to pull a chair to his bedside, but he stopped her.

"No, come lie here with me."

"Jesse…" she began. "That's not--"

"Why shouldn't you? You were my date. It's what everyone is expecting anyway," he said, a glint of humor in his eye.

She laughed in spite of herself. "I suppose there is that." Against her better judgement, she crossed to the other side of his bed and slipped under the blankets, trying to be mindful of her dress as she got comfortable. He immediately rolled over and nestled against her, and she wrapped an arm around him and began to rub his back soothingly.

They passed the night exactly like that. He was exhausted and very ill, and was clearly miserable the whole night through. However, he refused to let her leave the bed to fetch him anything and only wanted to lie against her all night as he slipped in and out of sleep. She vaguely recalled him being the same way when they were young, but she certainly hadn't expected such behavior tonight. Then again, she hadn't expected to be sharing his bed either. 

He slept fitfully, his symptoms keeping him from true rest despite his weariness. Away from the pine trees his sneezing was less, but the congestion and coughing was worse. He was achy and nauseous and too hot or too cold. He also wanted to be touching her at all times, so she slept even less, for between his tossing and groaning and his sweltering fever heat, she could not get comfortable. Yet she knew he needed her this way tonight, and was glad to be able to help her oldest friend. 

The morning dawned gray and cold. Lillian lay awake still, while Jesse was at last sleeping beside her, his face tucked into her side. She was trying to decide how best to convince him to let her go home and change when an opportunity for escape presented itself in the form of his mother.

Lillian heard her well before she saw her, for her best shoes clattered loudly on the stairs, and her inebriated giggling and whispering was impossible to miss. It was almost certain she hadn't gone to bed after the party. Lillian quickly slipped out from under Jesse's arm and slid to the floor, ducking under the bed. Just because Jesse seemed to think she was expected to spend the night with him did not mean she wanted to be caught in it, especially by Mrs. Hamilton, regardless of what did or did not happen. 

Mrs. Hamilton attempted to be stealthy as she peeked into her son's room, but only his fever-induced slumber prevented him from waking. However, even while intoxicated, what they say about a mother's sense is true, for she apparently noted something amiss and crept closer to her son's bed. Lillian could only see her feet and legs, but she assumed she Mrs. Hamilton reached out to feel her son's forehead, for the elder woman made a little sound of dismay and began to shake him awake. 

"Jesse, you're burning up! Oh my, what happened? Are you sick? Did it start at the ball? How long have you not felt well? Oh you're so pale! And you're shivering! My poor baby! What can I do?..." It seemed she had no end of exclamations and questions. Lillian couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Meanwhile Jesse made sounds of waking, sounding very irritated and confused at first. He didn't realize what was happening initially, and Lillian heard him say her name more than once. Thankfully his mother did not notice over the sound of her own constant flow of verbalized concern. Eventually Jesse realized who was speaking to him and began to give appropriate answers, leaving Lillian out of most of it, which the young woman appreciated. 

Mrs. Hamilton didn't stop speaking the entire time she was in the room. Eventually though it became clear she intended to fetch a doctor, tea, medicine, and one hundred other things for her son's illness. Jesse spoke only as much as he had to, his voice weak and hoarse and congested. He did not argue with her about any of it, knowing it was futile. Finally the well-meaning woman left, still talking even as she shut the door behind herself. 

Lillian gingerly rolled out from under the bed, startling Jesse when she appeared beside him out of nowhere. However a grin split his face when their eyes met.

"I thought you left me without saying goodbye," he rasped. 

"Well now you see I haven't. I do need to leave now though, before your mother returns with an army of doctors and finds me here. I would also like to change my clothes at some point and freshen up. Perhaps take a bit of a nap."

He looked devastated at this, but perked up as she continued:

"I'll come back soon though, as a proper visitor. I don't fancy ducking under the bed whenever anyone comes up the stairs."

"All right," he sighed. "I'll be waiting for you, then." 

She approached him, pressing her lips to his hair as he hugged her fiercely. 

"Be well, Jess. I'll see you soon." She moved to the doorway, her eyes twinkling in a smile. "And thanks for a great night. That was a date I'll never forget."

[angelqueen04]

Hamliza Month, Day 26

@megpeggs @historysalt

Farm Offend Summary: Eliza and Liza have a talk after a difficult visitor. Note: A good deal of this is inspired by Stephanie Dray and Laura Kamoie’s version of events in their novel, My Dear Hamilton. I added some of my own thoughts and twists to it, but their version lays at its heart. All credit to them.

Eliza stood at the parlor window, her back straight as a board, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. This set of windows had a good view of the road leading away from the Grange, which provided her with an excellent view of the comings and goings of travelers as they sped by, on their way to Albany or New York, depending on their direction. The view it gave her at this particular moment was even more agreeable, however, as it allowed her to watch the gig[1] carrying James Monroe drive away from the house.

Good riddance, she thought with a measure of grim satisfaction. The Virginian had come here hoping that time had softened her, had made her amenable to accepting some well-turned little speech that he’d obviously planned out in his mind beforehand.[2] Well, he’d now learned otherwise.

“Mama?”

Eliza slowly turned from the window. Standing just inside the parlor door was her dear Liza, with good Mr. Holly and Eliza’s fifteen-year-old nephew, Alexander Malcolm. All three were staring at her, their eyes wide and full of shock, which was more than enough to tell her that they had all heard most, if not all, of her interview with the former President.

Eliza met their gazes head on, refusing to be cowed or chagrined by her behavior. Her words and actions toward Mr. Monroe might not have been within the bounds of societal convention – all right, they most certainly weren’t – but they were only the minimum of what he deserved from her. “Yes, dearest?” she asked her daughter.

Liza didn’t say anything else, clearly startled by her mother’s nonchalant attitude. Mr. Holly also seemed to have been astonished into silence. Young Alexander, however, managed to find his tongue.

“My goodness, Aunt!” he exclaimed, shocked enthusiasm filling his voice, “I did not expect to see or hear anything like this when I came to visit! You dressing down a former President of the United States like he was an errant schoolboy!” He glanced at his cousin and asked, “Does this sort of thing happen often, Cousin Liza? Perhaps I should come ‘round more often!”

Eliza saw her daughter and son-in-law exchange a meaningful look and, for a moment, a wave of sadness splashed over her. She had once had someone to exchange such glances with, but not for a long, long time now. She shook her head and held her chin high. Now was not the time for grief.

Off the look from his wife, Mr. Holly dropped a hand on young Alexander’s shoulder and said, “Come, cousin, let me show you the new fishing rods I purchased. I think you’ll enjoy them.” Without waiting for a response, he guided the boy out of the parlor and out the front door, leaving Eliza alone with her daughter.

Eliza turned from Liza’s gaze, intending to settle herself in a chair near the fireplace. Spring had come, but it was still quite chilly, and a fire was still necessary to keep the house warm. With a sigh, she sank into the seat, and waited for Liza to speak. Her daughter was by nature outspoken, a trait she came by honestly. How could she not be, with two such parents? Liza would have her say, no matter what.

She did not speak immediately, however. Instead, Liza crossed the room and took a seat in the other chair just across from the one Eliza had seated herself in. That chair had been Alexander’s once, Eliza thought wistfully. They’d sometimes sit together here in the parlor, late into the evening after the children had gone to bed, and just enjoy the silence and warmth of one another’s company.

She and Alexander had hoped to have many years to do such things, but that wretch, Burr, had had other plans. And so Eliza, more often than not, was left to sit by the fire in the Grange alone. Only rarely did any of her family or other visitors dare to sit in that chair.

“Was that wise, Mama?” Liza asked her, her tone soft. Her dark eyes, mirrors to Eliza’s own, were steady and thoughtful. “Mr. Monroe might no longer be President, but he likely still has influence. Given the positions some of your sons hold, surely it was ill-advised to offend him like that?”

A snort escaped Eliza before she could stop it. “He’ll do nothing to your brothers, you may rest easy on that score,” Eliza told her. “These Virginians pride themselves on their honor, and your brothers have nothing to do with why that man came here today. And besides,” she added in a colder tone, “he offended me first. Perhaps it is childish, but there it is.”

Liza stared at her. “He came here seeking a rapprochement with you, Mama. Is that so very bad?”

Eliza could feel the fire, the rage, rising in her, but she kept it contained. Liza did not deserve her fury. She shook her head. “He could claim he sought peace all he wanted, but what he really wanted was forgiveness. He wanted me to forgive him for making a mockery of my private pain, for humiliating me before all the world in his efforts to wage war on your father.”

Liza blinked, and confusion was soon writ all over her expression. Eliza sighed. “I suppose I never did tell you everything,” she admitted. Only once had she ever spoken to her daughter of that cursed pamphlet and of Alexander’s infidelity. It had not been a conversation that Eliza had relished, and so had kept it short and to the point. She suspected that her sons had likely told their sister more, but she did not know for certain. Even if they did, they did not know all of it.

“When government officials came to investigate your father for improper speculation, your father revealed the truth of the matter to them – that he was paying off the husband of his mistress.” Liza winced at the harsh phrasing, but didn’t interrupt. Eliza, long used to the tale, kept speaking without pause. “He exhorted them to keep quiet about this, as his private failings had no bearing on his public integrity. To this, they agreed, for they all knew that there was no improper conduct in the course of your father’s duties as President Washington’s Treasury Secretary.” That there was more than enough to say about his improper conduct as a private man went unsaid. “Your father also entrusted the proof of all of this to them, but he requested copies.”

Liza shook her head, a pained expression on her face. “Mama, what does this have to do with President Monroe?”

Eliza gave her a chiding look for her impatience. “Everything, dear. Mr. Monroe was the leader of that little delegation of investigators. It was to him that your father gave the papers – Maria Reynolds’ letters, James Reynolds’ blackmail, the record of the payments, all of it. When your father requested copies, he assumed that Mr. Monroe would make the copies himself, in keeping with his promise to keep the knowledge of it as contained as possible.” She could not help the sneer crossing her face. “But Mr. Monroe decided that this was not worth a hand cramp, and so entrusted the task to a clerk within the House of Representatives. Mr. Monroe later claimed that this clerk made copies for himself as well.” She shook her head. “In any case, Mr. Monroe decided that he would ‘entrust’ the papers to a ‘trusted friend in Virginia’, who would theoretically keep them under lock and key, particularly when Mr. Monroe was out of the country.”

Her daughter was not a fool. She stiffened, catching on very quickly. “President Jefferson.”

Eliza nodded, her fingers gripping the armrest in a vicelike grip. “’Tis like trusting a fox to behave himself in a henhouse. Later, when it proved most advantageous to them, the papers were given to a vile newspaperman, who did not hesitate to print them and use them against your father. Of course, the focus of that odious man’s accusations was, again, in leveling the charge of speculation. Your father’s response was to call upon the three men who had cleared him of that charge, asking them to reiterate that they had been satisfied in their investigation. Two of them agreed without hesitation, but the third…” she trailed off. The memory still hurt, even now.

“Mr. Monroe would not,” Liza finished for her, her voice soft.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Eliza confirmed, the bitterness settling in the back of her throat like bile, burning. “He declared that him getting involved would only cause more chaos than there already was.” She sniffed. “He was already involved, as he was the one who handed the papers off to the very man who saw to their release into the public consciousness. But the fact that he himself had not done so was enough for Mr. Monroe to split hairs and to claim and declare that he was not in any way responsible, and that your father should just leave it be.” Of course, Alexander could not leave anything be. That was not his way. He had to meet every accusation, every attack, head on.

“So Papa wrote that pamphlet.”

“Yes.” One terrible word, one terrible truth. “James Monroe knew your father very well, despite them being political opponents. He knew Alexander would react to preserve his political reputation, for the sake of the country’s existence. If the public believed that the founder of the country’s credit, its wealth and prestige, was corrupt, it would shake apart for good. He knew Alexander would fall on his sword, would admit his private sins for the sake of the public’s greater good – and that’s exactly what he and his friends wanted. Alexander Hamilton would preserve the nation from the crisis they had invoked, but at the cost of all his credibility. He would cease to be a threat to their ambitions.” And that was what had happened. Alexander’s reputation suffered for his confessions, and only once after that did he wield any real semblance of power – when he stood at the head of the army he had begun to build, and that had been ripped away when Mr. Adams made peace with France and declared that the United States needed no army. The fool.

“But in getting what he wanted, Mr. Monroe had sullied his honor,” Eliza continued resentfully. “He knew it. I knew it. And Virginians are very prickly about their honor. He had sworn to not reveal those documents to anyone, which Alexander asked him to do for my sake and that of our family. But he broke that promise, and opened the door for his own allies to attack me, someone he considered an innocent party.” Some of those infernal newspaper headlines still stung.

“That is what he wanted, Liza,” she said. “James Monroe wanted me to clear the mud off his honor. His health is in serious decline. His wife has passed, and he’s not long in following her, I think. He wants to die with his conscience clear, and that I will not give him. I will not forgive the man. Not because he humiliated me, mind you. But because he and his friends, most specifically that reptile now mouldering in his grave at Monticello, set out to destroy your father, a man they viewed as unworthy of anything he touched because he was not like them, not born here, not born to inherit some Godforsaken speck of land. Your father earned all he gained, and that they could not abide.”

Liza leaned back in the chair. “And I thought all men were created equal here,” she murmured.

Eliza snorted again. She seemed to be doing that quite often these days. Her mother would be appalled. “Oh no,” she said, “They talk prettily, but in the minds of many people, there is still a hierarchy, where people ought to ‘know their place.’” She paused, her eyes turning from Eliza to the fire. She stared into the flames, could feel its heat seeping under her dress to her feet. “Your papa was a good man, if a very flawed one. He believed in the promise that this country holds, and in those very words that Mr. Jefferson put to paper. Whatever his shortcomings, of which he would have been the first to admit that he had many, he did not deserve the slander they threw upon him.” She looked up again. “So no, I will most emphatically not pat James Monroe on the head and tell him all is well and forgiven. Not when he showed himself as having no remorse for his actions.

“Perhaps that makes me self-righteous,” Eliza admitted. “Perhaps the good Lord will frown upon my unkindness. But I am no saint, no angel. There are limits to what I can give, my dear, and we just found what those limits are. Justice shall be done to the memory of my dear Hamilton, and that justice will not come in coddling the men who sought to erase every trace of him.”[3]

Liza nodded, and they both fell into silence. They sat together for some time, until Mr. Holly and young Alexander finally returned.

[cheemerthelizard]

Nothing Else Like it: Chapter 1

“So, Jojo really got himself in trouble this time, huh, Mom?” a young girl asked.

“Yes, he did,” Holly answered the girl, who had long, jet black hair, a short stature, and a school uniform on. “He’s in jail this time.”

“I thought the day would come soon,” the girl sighed. “I mean, I still feel bad for him, kind of, but at this point, he kind of deserves it.”

“Don’t say that!” Holly scolded. “He’s your brother, and he’s protected you from bullies before!”

“I don’t need his protection,” the girl answered nonchalantly. “I can survive on my own. And it’s his fault for beating up anyone who looks at him the wrong way.”

The two of them stayed silent for the rest of the car ride, until they got to the police station.

“Yes, Jotaro is definitely my son,” Holly told the police officers.

“And who’s this beside you?” one of the officers asked.

“This is Jotaro’s twin sister,” Holly answered, “Yo-”

“Thank you, Mom, but I can speak for myself,” the girl told Holly, bowing to show she meant no ill will with that statement. “My name is Yorokobi. Yorokobi Kujo.”

“Yorokobi, huh?” the officer said as they walked down the dark hallway. “Have you ever seen Jotaro get in fights before?”

“Oh, plenty of times,” Yorokobi chuckled. “I’m surprised it took this long for him to get in jail.”

“And what about you? Have you been in any fights?”

“Only if I’m provoked,” Yorokobi answered. “The police have arrived at some fights I’ve been in before, but all of them have been out of self-defense, so I haven’t been charged with anything.”

“You don’t look like the type to be able to beat someone up,” the other officer said.

“Don’t underestimate me just because I’m a girl,” Yorokobi growled.

“Anyway, your son is right down this corridor, and he’s free to go, since this was also in self-defense,” one of the officers told Holly. As soon as he said that, she dashed down to Jotaro’s cell, calling his name.

“Shut up!” Jotaro yelled. “You’re so annoying!”

“Okay!” Holly chimed.

After her answer, Jotaro laid back down on his bed and closed his eyes.

“Hey! Wake up, Jojo!” Yorokobi yelled. “The police are letting you out of jail. Let’s go home, alright?”

Jotaro looked over at Yorokobi, then looked away again. “Mom, Yorokobi, you’d best go home. I’m not leaving this cell for a while. I’ve been possessed by an evil spirit.”

Yorokobi paused, and took some time to comprehend what Jotaro had just said. When it finally settled in, she burst out in laughter. “That’s the worst joke anyone has ever told me!” she exclaimed. “Come on, just get out of there already.”

“You think I’m joking?” Jotaro asked. “It took all of my power to stop the spirit in that fight. I’m not letting it anywhere near you two.”

Yorokobi’s laughing got a little less hysterical, but she was still in tears. “You’re so awful at making jokes,” she wheezed. “It’s so bad that it’s funny.”

“Fine. If you don’t believe me, I’ll just have to show you.” Jotaro walked up to the cell bars, tossing his hat to the side. Yorokobi’s laughter halted completely.

“O… okay, Jojo, the joke has gone too far now,” she nervously chuckled. “It wasn’t funny, so just let it rest.”

Jotaro continued walking up to the bars, and stuck his hand out. From his hand, another purple, transparent hand extended further. It grabbed the gun from one of the officer’s holsters, and brought it to him.

“Jojo, y-you’re scaring me,” Yorokobi shivered. She grabbed onto Holly’s shirt.

“Good,” Jotaro replied. “Maybe you’ll take this spirit seriously, then.” He cocked the gun, and put it to his head.

“Jojo, stop!”

He fired the gun, but when it was pulled away, he was completely fine. The spirit dropped the bullet to the ground, and returned the gun to the officer.

“Like I said, there’s an evil spirit possessing me,” Jotaro said. “I’m not getting out of this cell until it leaves.”

Yorokobi looked to her mom, who was just as lost about what to do as her. They both slowly walked out of the cell room.

“What are we going to do?” Yorokobi asked her mother.

“I’m going to call your granddad for help,” Holly answered.

The next morning, Yorokobi and Holly went to the airport.

“Papa!” Holly called. She ran over to a burly man, with a thick, white beard and a brown coat.

“Holly!” he yelled. Both of them ran over to each other, and Yorokobi followed.

“Granddad!” she exclaimed. Both of them enveloped each other in a big hug.

“Hey there, Yorokobi!” Joseph laughed. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” Yorokobi replied as she buried her face in his shoulder.

After their cheerful greetings, Joseph calmed down and lowered his voice. “So, you said Jotaro has been possessed by a ghost? And you could see the ghost?”

At those words, Holly broke down in tears again. “Oh, my poor, poor Jotaro. Yes. The officers said they couldn’t see it, but I clearly saw a separate hand.”

“And what about you, Yorokobi?”

“Yes, I saw it, too,” Yorokobi answered. “When he shot a gun towards his head, the spirit caught the bullet before it could hurt him.”

“But nothing has happened to either of you?”

Both girls shook their heads.

Joseph sighed. “Thank goodness. Well, don’t you worry about Jotaro. I’ll get him out of jail in no time.”

Holly insisted that Yorokobi stay home while she and Joseph went to try coaxing Jotaro out of his cell, much to her dismay. Instead, she was given the mundane task of watching over the house. Something about Jotaro’s spirit being “too dangerous” and she “might get in the crossfire between it and Avdol’s spirit.” A bunch of baloney that basically meant they were afraid she was faint of heart and would hate to see her dearest brother get beaten half to death.

No matter. She would just have to do some chores around the house. After all, there was a guest, and her mother would be very unhappy if the house was in its current state when he arrived to spend the night.

“I should make some food tonight, too,” Yorokobi said to herself. “I think some soup would be good.”

Before she knew it, everyone had arrived back home, including Jotaro, who was literally burned in some places.

“Did someone actually put up a fight against you, Jojo?” Yorokobi taunted. “Is your perfect win streak ruined now?” Jotaro and her had their fair share of sibling fights, but even she couldn’t beat him. It was nice to see him actually harmed for once.

“No, it was a draw,” Avdol answered. “I didn’t want to kill him, I just wanted to get him out of that cell.”

“And what about that ‘evil spirit’?” Yorokobi asked.

“It’s still there,” Jotaro shrugged. “Although it’s not an evil spirit, just a ‘Stand’ or whatever the old man called it.”

“Oh,” Yorokobi said. “Well, I made everyone some dinner while I was cooped up in the house instead of watching Jojo and Mr. Avdol fight,” she added, almost snarkily. “Eat up!”

Everyone grabbed a bowl, and started eating in silence.

“So, I’ve decided to tell you all right now, so Yorokobi will hear it, too,” Joseph said. “You see, there’s a reason why Jotaro’s Stand has appeared so suddenly. It has to do with some events that happened 100 years ago.”

He then proceeded to tell Holly, Jotaro, and Yorokobi all about his grandfather, Jonathan Joestar, his adopted brother, Dio Brando, the stone mask, the star birthmark, and Jonathan and Dio’s fight that would continue down for generations of Joestars to come.

“And now, Dio has taken over Jonathan’s body, using it as his own!” Joseph exclaimed. “And he won’t stop tormenting us until he’s defeated every last Joestar!”

Yorokobi nodded. “And how do we stop him?”

“Are you serious?” Jotaro asked. “I’m not going on a long trip just to find this guy, and you’re not either. We’ll let him come to us, if he’s that persistent on killing us.” He took another bite of soup, using his Stand to bring the spoon up to his mouth.

“Good idea,” Yorokobi replied.

After her input, the table went back to the sounds of chewing.

“You like it, don’t you?” Yorokobi asked Jotaro.

“I never said that.”

“But you haven’t criticized it at all, either,” she smirked. “The more you like what I make, the less you criticize every little detail. When you’re completely silent, it means you love it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you had a degree in not minding your own business,” Jotaro retorted. “Let me eat my food in peace.”

Yorokobi hmphed, but did nothing more.

“Not you too, Yorokobi!” Joseph whined. “You and your mother need to have more of a spine and stand up to Jotaro!”

“Oh, I’m not finished standing up to him,” Yorokobi shrugged. “I just have different ways of fighting back. I knew he was going to say something like that to me tonight, so I snuck a little surprise into his bowl.”

“Something spicy?” Joseph asked.

“Something electrifying,” Yorokobi grinned.

Suddenly, the soup in Jotaro’s bowl started to make a huge bubble right in the middle. Around it was an electric yellow glow. When the bubble completely fit in the bowl, it popped, spewing soup all over Jotaro’s face. Yorokobi doubled over in laughter.

“Serves you right!” she cackled.

Joseph stood back in awe. “Yorokobi… how did you do that?” He had a feeling he knew what it was, but he wanted to make sure.

“I don’t know, really,” she answered through small giggles. “I’ve just had this power since I was little.” Yorokobi sent a little spark through her arm. “Mom said you had it, too.”

Joseph started giving a hearty laugh, and hugged Yorokobi tightly. “My granddaughter is a Hamon user!” he exclaimed. “I thought I was the last one.”

“Yeah, and she’s used it to inconvenience me for the majority of her life,” Jotaro mumbled.

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t punch me for it!” Yorokobi snapped.

“I’ll punch you right now for splattering me with soup!”

“Jotaro! Yorokobi!” Holly exclaimed. “Settle down!”

“Yes, Mom,” Yorokobi muttered. Her shoulders slumped. Jotaro huffed and snapped his head away from Yorokobi, but did nothing more. Both went to their rooms and closed the door.

“They’re actually really sweet most of the time, I promise,” Holly told Joseph and Avdol. “They love each other very much. It’s just… you know how siblings are.”

Both men nodded. “Well,” Joseph shrugged, “they have a point about not pursuing Dio. After all, if he wants us dead that much, he’d either give us a reason to hunt him down or come hunt us down.”

“I think we should stay here, just in case Dio has any plans to do either of those,” Avdol advised.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Joseph smiled. “Well, Holly, if you need anything, we’ll be in the guest room, wherever it is.”

Then, after a couple of hours, the house was dark, and everything was quiet.

Except for Yorokobi tossing and turning in her bed.

“Out of all nights, it had to be tonight,” she whispered to herself. “I have a test in the morning, too.”

“Hey.”

Yorokobi jumped. “Jojo? What are you doing in my room?”

“With my new Stand, it’s easy for me to hear when your insomnia is really bad,” he murmured. “You know you have medicine for that.”

“I’m on the medicine,” Yorokobi grumbled. “It’s not working. Again.”

Jotaro sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to stay with you until you fall asleep.”

Yorokobi gave him a knowing smile.

“If anyone figures out about this, I’ll kill you.”

“I got it, I got it,” Yorokobi chuckled. “Wouldn’t want anyone figuring out that Jotaro Kujo actually has a soft spot, or anything.” She paused for a moment, then continued talking. “So, what are you going to do about…” she waved her hands in his general direction, “that guy?”

“Ignore him, probably,” Jotaro shrugged. “It seems like he’s only good for fighting, and last time he helped me, I went to jail, so I should probably not use him.”

“You should give him a name.”

“What a dumb, childish idea. No.”

“I’m not referring to him as ‘that guy’, or ‘my brother’s Stand’. If you don’t give him a name, I will.”

“If I give it a name, I’ll grow attached. I don’t want this thing.”

“Then I’ll grow attached for you. Hi there, Toto!”

“Toto? Like the band? That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, what name ideas do you have?”

Jotaro remained silent for a while, then grumbled, “I’m not naming him anything.”

“Then Toto it is.”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Wait!”

Jotaro stopped walking away.

“Please.”

“No.” He continued going back to his room. “Plus, you’re actually starting to look tired. I don’t want to keep you up even longer.”

Jotaro was right. . Yorokobi was finally settling down. Her eyes were getting droopy, and she couldn’t focus on talking as much as when she was awake.

“Goodnight, Yorokobi.”

“Night, Jojo.”

[artemis20]

Artemis Fowl’s hideous movie: A firey review

Today I’ve decided to see the nefandous movie known as “Artemis Fowl”, just because my aim is to completely destroy that movie as that movie destroyed the book series. Caution for there will be spoiler from both books and movie. You can read my first impressions from the trailer here, and I can say that they did not change.

First thing: Disney decided to “unite” the first two books from the Artemis Fowl’s series in one movie, which is not a good idea at the core, but they failed completely, not only because of the alteration of the plot that such a cut requires, but also because the movie fails as a stand-alone, since it ends without the defeat of the villain, thus opening for a sequel, BUT IF YOU NEED A SEQUEL YOU COULD HAVE DONE ONE MOVIE FOR THE FIRST BOOK AND ONE FOR THE SECOND AS IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN.

So now I’ll list the pro and the cons of the movie.

Pro (very few):

The Ireland is as always wonderful, I longed to see the green shores, visually it didn’t disappoint at that point. Fowl’s Manor was also ok, I liked the setting, less the colours of the building.

The graphic was actually great, I loved the representation of the LEP technology and the City of Haven. In general, all the movie was a pleasure for the eyes and a knife in the heart and brain for the story.

I actually didn’t mind the cast, since the beginning. I had no problem with a black Butler, or Juliet, and to me Holly didn’t seem too young, actually she was as I imagined her. Female Root didn’t bother me, because the change of sex didn’t affect the character, so kudos to that. The actors also I think they did a good job; the problem is the writing for some of them as I’ll show later.

I was so happy to see Foaly, I was really scared that they would have cut him. We’ve seen him very little, but he didn’t seem OOC.

The Haven part was okayish? I mean the plot of the LEP instability was from the second book and it was mixed with the Mulch-Holly encounter which was from the first book. The whole scene in the end kinda works, and it is one of the two watchable scenes of the movie.

The launch from E7 with the lava vamp was very impressive, I really liked it.

The kidnapping scene until the beginning of the Fowl Manor scene when Holly wakes up was actually good, can we pretend it’s the only scene from the movie?

The battle with the troll at the Manor was also okay, a little bit different from the book but not too much except for one thing: Artemis that shoots and jumps, and he doesn’t fail doing that. That character is not Artemis Fowl II, not in a million years. In the later books Artemis is forced to move a little to save his life, but he remains unable to perform notable physical task, he’s at best as able as us couch potatoes.

End of pros of the movie, total watchable time: ten minutes at most.

Cons (very long list)

The movie has problems since the beginning, the first scene is the abduction of Artemis Fowl I, so it seems okay, but then we see THE HUMANS ARRESTING MULCH DIGGUMS. That is NOT possible, the existence of the People is concealed and it remains concealed, if Mulch is arrested, half of the premise of the series, the reason why the LEP acts in the first, the third and the fifth book (which is stopping mud people from learning that fairies exist) is cancelled. I understand that they wanted to preserve the narration technique from the books, which is that the author is Artemis’s biographer, but it doesn’t work this way. Mulch can work as a narrator, but you can’t have him narrating it to humans. In later books, there’s a character who would’ve worked very good as the role of the listener, and is Dr. Argon, who works in a clinic in Haven, and he actually has this role in the last book.

Since the beginning the entire movie revolves around the search of this “Aculos”, which is the source of People’s magic. This thing doesn’t exist in the books, but the real problem is how it is used in the movie. It works as a deus-ex-machina at the end to resolve the father’s abduction, because they finished the time screen, but they still had to save him. So no mission on the Artic, no learning to become a team, just magical teletransport (which doesn’t exist but ok).

Artemis in the first scene is surfing. Book description of Artemis Fowl II: “Riding was the only form of exercise that Artemis had taken to. This was mainly because the horse did most of the work.” He’s also described as having “two left feet”, he is not the perfect specimen of humanity, he is the greatest genius that isn’t able to jump a rope.

The scene with the psychiatric seemed great (ignoring the reference listed in the following point), but it was completely ruined at the end: Artemis would’ve never stormed off that way, he is not a normal teenager, he is practically an adult in a teen body. He’s controlled, he doesn’t externalize emotion to people, he controls them perfectly and is capable of acting and disguise his true character if necessary, and he’s able to play the emotions of the people he has in front.

Angeline Fowl is dead in the movie. That completely cancels the reason that triggers Artemis’s redemption. At the end of the first book he gives back half of the gold obtained by the people for his mother’s health, and in this book his family is pretty much the only thing he cares about besides his goal. Until the fourth book almost all his good actions are triggered by guilty conscience, caused by thinking of what his mother would’ve wished he would be. Angeline is the first positive force in Artemis’s life, and her worsened health is one of the reasons that we see such an evil Artemis in the first book.

The worst part of the movie is the fact that Artemis Fowl Senior knows about the People and works to protect them. Oh boy, I cannot even begin to list how much every word of that sentence is wrong. First: the Fowls were never protector, only criminals (yeah in the movie we are told they are, but they are justified by their motives, in the books they are criminals who care only for themselves). Second: Artemis Fowl discovers the Fairy People all by himself, it is the first time that the readers understands how clever he is, Artemis begins from zero (or only with the tales and legends) and he discovers the existence of the People, he manages to have a Book and have it copied, he decodes it and learns the language and the rules and exploits them for his plans. The Artemis in the movie doesn’t do that, he has everything already prepared by his father (to the point that I actually was led to believe that Book! Artemis was the father, but not such luck unfortunately). He is not a genius, he��s a normal teenager. I repeat: THAT. CHARACTER. IS. NOT. ARTEMIS. I will call him Orion from now on, since calling him Artemis is an insult.

Mulch mentions Butler’s name. OH. MY. GOD. His name is SECRET! Only his family and his dojo master know it, and he reveals it to Artemis in the third book because he’s in a death-or-live situation. There is no way that Mulch knows his name.

Artemis Fowl Senior was not abducted by Fairies, it was the Russian Mafia. People don’t usually mess with humans, it’s Artemis II that goes and start the interaction by kidnapping Holly.

Opal Koboi (who doesn’t even appear in the first book) is revealed to be the villain almost at the end of the second book, in a twist similar to the Bellweather’s one in Zootopia. Revealing it at the beginning takes away the twist.

After the call, Orion doesn’t deduce anything about the kidnapper and makes no plan, which Book! Artemis would’ve never done, but we are in front of his dumber twin soo…

Why put the plot that Mulch is a giant dwarf? He is not so much taller than other dwarfs in the books, I don’t see the point of this plotline.

Another invented plotline: Holly’s father. Holly has a parent who died heroically but it’s her mother, and she died because of mud people. This, in the books, is another reason why Holly doesn’t trust Artemis the early books, but in the movie is the reason why Holly trusts him, because their fathers worked together, exactly the opposite. At the end of the book, Holly relates to Artemis’s pain of having an ill parent, but it is pity, not trust.

Again, Orion does nothing but follow instructions, ok, let’s move on.

Juliet is too young; also, why did they make her Butler’s niece instead of his sister I don’t know.

This point deserves a standalone post, however I will start mentioning it here: I’m Italian, I’m fed up with the stereotypical representation of my country. It’s racist Disney, stop it.

Because of the Book’s rules Fairies cannot enter in a human building without permission. If they do, they feel ill, vomit and on the long run they might lose their magic. In the movie Orion invites Holly in the Manor but she was not affected by the rule at all. Also, this is the reason why the LEP recruited Mulch, he entered in so many human houses to steal things that he lost his magic, so that rule doesn’t apply to him anymore.

I only noticed when it happened that Orion changed in a suit after half of the movie. Artemis had to be forced to wear jeans from his mother.

The scene where Butler defends the Manor is also in the books but here Orion fights, I mean he’s not Artemis, who would have observed from a window

Why Opal claim to act for the People? Opal doesn’t care at all about the others, she just wants the powers for herself.

Why are Orion and Holly bonding? It’s too soon, they literally have no reason to trust each other at this point. Also of course Orion is so stupid that Holly manages to make him take off his sunglasses, he’s lucky that she was not book! Holly, because she would’ve knocked him down.

Mulch enters the Manor and tries to open a safe, and Orion declares that’s “exactly what he wanted”. Since I still hoped that that character was Artemis, I thought that either the safe was a test to prove Mulch’s ability before recruiting him or a trap. No, instead it was the fact that Orion isn’t able to open a safe inside his own house. How am I supposed to believe that this person is a criminal mastermind? He’s just a normal heroish-movie teenager.

Holly isn’t able to heal Butler just to create drama, also the almost death scene is supposed to be in the third book.

Artemis’s mastermind plan to overcome the People technology: not present

At the end they are all friends, even if they actually needed four books for that.

As I said before the magical resolution that they use to save the father does not work. There is no tension, no scene, no action for something that it was constructed at the beginning of the movie. The reason of everything is resolved in a magical PUFF.

Now that I see him more Artemis Fowl Senior is too kind and invested in his son since the beginning. He is supposed to be rigid in his education until he’s saved (one of the reasons why Artemis is also so stern).

They changed everything but they cut some of the best scenes: the beginning in Ho Chi Minh, Mulch that knocks out Butler, Holly’s escapade…

Artic mission (and therefore the evolution of characters that happens there which is a lot): not present

Goblin’s riot (and the plan to put out Opal Koboi): not present

This movie has the characters named after the ones in the books, it has the setting and the technology, but it has nothing to do with Artemis Fowl II’s history. They did the absolute worst they could have done plot wise, firstly because Orion says that he’s a criminal mastermind but he’s not even clever and the only criminal act that he does is the kidnapping (but we know from the beginning that it’s for the good of his father and the world, where in the books we discover later that he wants to save his father). As I already said the beauty of this series is that it shows Artemis redemption, from villain to hero, it’s a long road and it’s done gradually.

Second: if you want to make a stand-alone movie of Artemis Fowl, you could just adapt the first book. Opal is of course the most important and interesting villain of the series, but each book works also as a standalone itself. Even without a sequel, ending the movie with the victory of Artemis against the People works well.

If you did want to adapt the first two book in one movie, there was only one way to do it well, and it’s Zootopia. Really that movie is a more faithful adaption of the first two books.

In the end they only managed to make a movie without not only a good plot, but also an ending. As I said at the beginning, the movie ends with Opal still on the loose, so congratulations: you achieved nothing at all.

[wideeyedhazel]

✦ WAKEEMA HOLLIS, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER ✦ HAZEL ROBSON the THIRTY year old has been in Manchester for ALL HER LIFE. The PERSONAL ASSISTANT is said to be LOYAL but also SUPERFICIAL but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

(triggers below: drug mention, abandonment )

▼ STATISTICS

Name: Hazel Marie Robson

Age: 30

Birthday: February 14, 1990 

Relationship status: Single

Sexuality: Questionable

Occupation: Personal Assistant.

Illnesses/Allergies:  Pineapples and bee stings

Star sign: Aquarius

▼ BACKGROUND

Hazel was born to a single mother who was a drug addict in London. It was very clear that she had no intention of trying to mother the child and abandoned Hazel as soon as she was able to leave the hospital. Neither Hazel or the woman who birthed her have tried to get in contact with one another. She has no desire to meet the woman.

A month after she was born, Hazel was adopted by a couple from Manchester. They raised her as if she was their own and despite the obvious differences between them, Hazel never questioned if they were her real family or not. 

She has one older sibling (a brother) and two younger siblings. She would give her life for any three of them and is ready to fight anyone who might try to hurt them.

Hazel is a very artsy person. She always excelled in it, however when given the chance to pursue it for a career, she turned down the opportunity. She wanted to continue to enjoy it and thought that if it became how she made her money she would begin to hate it.

She was scouted to become a model but decided against it. She does, however, bring this up in conversations whenever possible.

She has a masters in public relations and while she could have gone down that career path, when she finished school, she became a personal assistant.

Hazel worked as a PA for a social media influencer for nearly three years. They were close and while it was very easy for them to work with each other, Hazel eventually left as she felt their relationship was better off as being friends and not working with one another.

She has only began working for Franky very recently and while she’s usually good at her job, feels like she might have her hands full with him.

Hazel is a horrible flirt (but who isn’t?). And not in the sense that she cannot flirt. She just flirts with anyone and everyone. But that doesn’t mean she is going to date someone.

[papermoonloveslucy]

THE CHRISTMAS CARDS

December 16, 1950

“The Christmas Cards” (aka “Christmas Card Pictures”) is episode #110 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on December 16, 1950.

This was the 12th episode of the third season of MY FAVORITE HUSBAND. There were 31 new episodes, with the season ending on March 31, 1951.  

Synopsis ~  Liz and George have their pictures taken for their Christmas cards, but then can't agree on which shot to use.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

MAIN CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his  roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz, a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) and Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) do not appear in this episode, although Liz does have a phone conversation with Iris where her voice is not heard by the listeners. 

GUEST CAST

Jay Novello (Professor Sergei Pagolovsy) would appear on “I Love Lucy” as superstitious Mr. Merriweather in “The Seance” (ILL S1;E7), nervous Mr. Beecher in “The Sublease” (ILL S3;E31), and Mario the gondolier in “The Visitor from Italy” (ILL S6;E5). He also appeared on two episodes of “The Lucy Show,” but dapper Novello is probably best remembered for playing Mayor Lugatto on “McHale’s Navy” in 1965.

Professor Sergei Pagolovsky is a professional photographer, who also goes door to door selling his services. Novello generally plays Mr. Nagy, the Sheridan Falls Postman in love with Katie.  

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers this evening, George is sitting in the living room reading the paper, when Liz makes an announcement.”

Liz announces that this is the night they must pick our their Christmas cards.  Turns out, Liz is selling Kris Kringle Christmas Cards this year. So far, she only has three orders - including theirs. Card #14 reads...

LIZ: “This is the season of holly and spruce, So Merry Christmas to you, Uncle Bruce!”

Or, if you don’t have an Uncle Bruce, #14A...

LIZ: “This is the season of spruce and holly,  So Merry Christmas to you, Uncle Jolly!” 

George says his only Uncle’s name is Uncle Gilhooley.

LIZ: “This is the season that we know as Yule-y,  so Merry Christmas to you, Uncle Gilhooley.”

When George finds out he has to pay retail, and doesn’t get a discount from his own wife, he insists they be printed from “George Cooper and Friend.”  To get her name on the card she foregoes her commission. 

She tries to sell cards to Katie, the Maid. But it turns out Katie is also working for Kris Kringle Christmas Card Company. Katie’s only sale was to herself. Liz quickly phones Iris Atterbury to make a sale, but same thing.Iris is a Kris Kringle Card vendor, too!  

The doorbell rings and it is a special delivery letter from George’s mother. It says that she can’t come for Christmas this year, but would like a photo of them. Liz reads where her mother-in-law tells George to stand apart from Liz so that she can cut her out later! Liz decides to make their Christmas Cards themselves!

Announcer Bob LeMond does a Jell-O commercial, giving a quick holiday recipe. 

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers once again it is two days later.  Two days that Liz has spent diligently carving a linoleum block to hand-print their Christmas cards.” 

Liz reveals the finished product but Katie can’t read the message because Liz didn’t carve the letters backward so that they come out the right way. As it is it says “REPOOC EGROEG dna ZIL morf SAMTSIRHC YRREM”! 

Linocut (also known as lino print, lino printing, or linoleum art) is a printmaking technique, a variant of woodcut in which a sheet of linoleum is used for a relief surface. The linoleum sheet is then inked with a roller and then impressed onto paper or fabric.

The doorbell rings and it is a salesman (Jay Novello). His product?  Personalized photo Christmas cards from the Pagolovsky Studio of Photographic Arts. Liz orders before the salesman has even finished his spiel.  Professor Sergei Pagolovsky himself will take the photos this afternoon. Liz immediately realizes that her mother-in-law will get a photo after all. 

That afternoon George and Liz report to the photo studio. Turns out the salesman is Professor Pagolovsky himself!  Liz does everything to make sure she is as close to George as possible. They take a photo with their heads together. 

Later, George brings home the developed photographs for Liz to see. They cannot decide on which one to use. The photos that Liz likes, George doesn’t. The photos the George likes, Liz doesn’t!  They go back and forth until they settle on one where they both look lousy!  

Lucy Ricardo also had trouble picking a good photo of herself when applying for a passport in “Staten Island Ferry” (ILL S5;E12) in 1956. 

Liz goes down to the photographic studio to change the photo. Reviewing the proofs, she chooses one she says will make George look good - but actually favors her.  A short time later, George also visits the studio to make a change. He picks a photo that he says will flatter Liz, but actually favors himself!  

When the cards arrive, Liz warns George that the Professor may have printed the wrong photo on their card - knowing she has changed it.  Opening the cards, she is surprised to see the photo that favors George!  She cries, refusing to send the cards.  She throws them in the fireplace. 

George tells her to go right out in the snow and buy some replacement cards. When he goes to the closet to get her coat, he comes back with some surprising news.  She doesn’t have to go out and get new cards because they have three boxes of fully stamped and addressed cards in the closet. He forgot to mail last year’s cards!  

In the live Jell-O commercial, Lucille Ball is Professor Dorothea Theodora, a famous lady archeologist in Egypt. LeMond is interviewing her for the Scientific Gazette. 

LEMOND / INTERVIEWER: “I’d like to ask you a question.” LUCY / DOROTHEA: “Well, shoot the query, dearie.”

He asks her to read Egyptian hieroglyphics, which she translates into a description of Jell-O desserts. 

Ooops!  LeMond also translates the hieroglyphics and trips over the word ‘delectable’ at first saying ‘detectable’. Lucy, as Dorothea Theodora, ad libs “You can’t even read English”! 

END OF EPISODE

[theohollis]

self para ✘ falling again

trigger warnings to be aware of before reading on: mentions of death, cancer/illness, anxiety, prostitution

the deferral form had been sitting open on theo’s laptop for days. he’d started filling it out on the off chance that he’d decide to stay in lake wisteria until the new year. he thought that a break from the city was what he needed -- time with his friends and family, miles and cj, was more important than fast-tracking his master’s degree. the form had once been a beacon of hope, in a way. but now, it felt like a confirmation of everything theo didn’t want to face.

after delilah and brandon broke the news to him and miles about their mother’s cancer, theo had fallen into a whirlwind, but memories of the few hours afterwards were blurry. he remembers rushing out of the room, out of the house to the front yard, where the tears had finally made their descent down his cheeks. 

why why why why why.

the next thing he knew he was in his car, driving, heading away from the town that held so much good, yet so many devastating memories for the young man. he was only twenty two and had already experienced so much loss and pain, been broken down by the world over and over again. and here he was, faced with the fact that he could possibly lose the woman who he called mom for the past fifteen years. he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take before he was too broken beyond repair.

at some point, he pulled off to the side of the road ( most likely about ten miles outside of town ). his tears were blurring his vision, making it too difficult to see the road in front of him. balled fists pounded against the steering wheel and sobs racked theo’s shoulders for hours, it felt like. he was so sad, so frustrated, with everything the universe kept throwing at him. he had been so young when he lost his mother, at an age when the trauma of losing the only family you had ever known was internalized because even the child psychologists believed it hadn’t affected his young brain at the time. but the trauma came later. 

it came when he found himself crying over a pathetic family tree in the sixth grade, where all he could include was himself, sofia, miles, brandon, and delilah. he was encouraged to include the rest of the hollis family, but it didn’t feel right. they weren’t his family.

it came when theo watched ezra cope with the death of his own mother, realizing that there were so many stages of grief that he had never gone through himself. when he’d sneak into ezra’s room in the middle of the night just to hold him and tell him it was okay, he’d let his own grief-filled tears stain pillowcases -- not only for ezra’s mother, but for his own.

it came when he’d woken up next to a prominent editor with only blurry memories to piece together what had happened. the first thought that came to mind was his mother. what would she think of him, waking up next to someone who’d so clearly taken advantage of him and would continue to do so for years?

it came during his first therapy session in new york, when he was asked about his family health history -- unknown. he couldn’t tell his therapist whether or not his mother had battled depression or if his father was medicated for anxiety because he just didn’t know. he would never know the answer to those questions.

and it was coming now, the underlying trauma rooted in the premature death of his mother shaking him to his core as he tried to grapple with the fact that delilah had been diagnosed with breast cancer. it was almost two hours of an uninterrupted anxiety attack before theo was able to pull himself together and drive home.

unbeknownst to him at the time, he would spend the next few days hidden away in his room, unable to fully bring himself to the level of functioning that he’d managed to adhere to since coming back home. his phone would lay abandoned on his night stand, with the occasional buzz of the group chat. he’d respond every now and then, ensuring no one had any reason to worry -- even send out individual texts to cj and august, explaining away his absence in the past few days. emails about his potential book contract would pile up in his inbox, wondering where the first few poem drafts were and why he hadn’t submitted them by the deadline the day before. the pages full of potential poems he could send to his editor lay abandoned on his desk next to his laptop, where the deferral form glared at him in bright led light. calls from new york would go unanswered, voicemails filling his phone, each one angrier than the last, wondering why he wasn’t responding and threatening to pull the plug on his career that was so deeply rooted in circumstances theo could hardly think about.

in the first few days of his reclusiveness, delilah tried to talk to theo, about her diagnosis, about how it didn’t mean the worst for her, about the options she had to beat it. but theo would just lay in bed, his back to her, not responding. to acknowledge the fact that delilah was sick was to acknowledge that he could lose her. and he couldn’t lose another mom, the emotional toll would be too much.

every so often there would be a knock on theo’s door and he knew right away that it was miles. each knock would be followed up with a text from his brother, never anything that would be classified as substantial to anyone outside of the two boys, but it meant a lot to theo. it was his older brother letting him know that he was there for him, the simple texts and mugs of tea left outside his door. every time he was reminded of the fact that he wasn’t going through any of this alone, that his feelings probably weren’t unique to just him. delilah was miles’s mom too, even more so than she was theo’s. and if things were this bad for him, he could only imagine what miles was going through. it seemed like neither of them could escape the weight of the world around them, no matter how hard they tried to shove it off.

the fighting in the group chat had been the last straw for theo. he couldn’t bear to watch all of his friends, people he loved, constantly bicker all the time because of stupid shit when there were more important things going on. so he’d left the group chat, the one he created with the hopes of creating a feeling of nostalgia for his friends -- though it only seemed to bring negative feelings for everyone, including himself.

that night, theo sat down at his laptop and finished filling out the deferral form. with one click of the touch pad, the email was sent and he just had to wait for approval before he would text one of his friends in the city that he would need them to water his plants for a few more months.

on the line that asked for the reason for the deferral request, theo wrote simply: wanting to spend more time with the people he loved.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Fulcrum

They say that the old crone on the hill is a witch, and hides her devil’s bite under her hair. They say that she steals life from the town and sickens the fields with her evil. They say that the reason there’s no gate in her fence is because it’s not a fence for her house; it’s a fence of holly wood with silver nails, built to keep her in. And they say that if you cross that fence uninvited, you don’t come back out – or at least, not all of you does. In payment of your trespass, you leave something behind.

“I heard,” my friend Samael whispered to me as we picked the midsummer apples, “that she steals babies’ hair and spins it into thread that takes away their life force. Then she trades the thread to rich foreigners for food and luxuries. You’d better keep an eye on your sister.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I sniffed. “Somebody’s been making a fool of you.”

“No, really! How else would she stay alive, up there all alone? She can’t be growing enough food for herself, and what about when she gets sick, or needs firewood? She never comes to town!”

“If she never comes to town,” Marcus pointed out, “how would she get the babies’ hair? Think, Samael. Everyone knows she curses the town with the smoke from her chimney, and the curses will get you if you don’t say your prayers to protect yourself.”

“You’re both wrong,” I said. “I heard that she sneaks into town in the dead of night and trades secrets for her goods, because the holy sunlight burns her during the day.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Samael said. “If sunlight burns her, why has her house got windows? Huh? And who’s selling to her? She’s not buying tools off my dad!”

“She’s an old woman! How often would she need to buy tools?”

“Hey, you two?” Marcus held out an apple. “Look at this.” He split it with his hands, and we stared.

The entire core was a black, slimy mess. Once it was opened, the smell of rot was unmistakeable.

I split the apple in my hands. Rotten.

“Get your papa,” I told Marcus.

An inspection was called. Three quarters of the harvest was infected. The rest looked clean, but there could be no chances taken with the rot. There would be no apples this year.

The apples were an important part of our food supply, especially with most of last year’s wheat harvest taken by the beetles, but we had enough stores to last until the new wheat came in. We were a very resilient town, and had always taken care to store well.

It would be a lean year, though.

It was decided that we children would finish harvesting the apples, then in autumn compost them on the wheat fields over the river, where they could not re-infect the orchard while they broke down. The next year, the apple blossoms would be trimmed before they could develop – two years without apples – and that should remove the blight’s hold. Chasing thoughts of fresh apple pie from my mind, I returned to the harvest.

“She did this,” Samael grumbled. “Beetles, then apple blight? That’s not normal bad luck.”

“I have an idea,” Marcus said.

And that’s how the three of us ended up lugging sacks of rotten apples up the hill at sunset.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked.

“The holly and silver fence will hold her in,” Samael said.

“No, she can get out at night,” Marcus insisted. “She comes into town when the sun’s down to – ”

“This was your idea, Marcus!”

“I know. I’m just saying.”

The sacks were heavy. It was fully dark by the time we made it to the crone’s hut. Moonlight gleamed off the ungated fence, the clay roof, the overgrown garden.

Marcus reached into his sack, grabbed an apple, and hurled it at the hut. It splattered against the wall, smearing foul-smelling rot everywhere. Samael’s apple followed, smacking onto the roof. I pulled one out of my bag and took aim.

“Why hello, children.”

A shape I’d taken to be a particularly sickly tree in the woman’s garden stepped forward. The two boys screamed and bolted. I tried to follow, but I couldn’t move. Why couldn’t I move? I stood there, willing myself to back away from the witch coming closer, but every muscle was stiff as death. She came right up to the fence.

“Oh, how kind! You’ve brought me some old apples to fertilise my garden? It’s lovely when people think to help each other. I certainly have some vegetables that could use a bit of fertiliser. Do lift the bags over the fence, would you? I’m afraid my old bones just aren’t up to the task any more.”

Come on. I could run away. It shouldn’t be hard. The buys had managed it! Just turn and run!

“Oh, is it too heavy for you too, dear? Never mind; I have just the thing for that.” She picked up a long plank of wood and laid it over the fence, one end sticking up like a seesaw. “Do you know how to use a lever and fulcrum, dear? It’s very simple. Just put one of the sacks on the end there, would you?”

I found myself obeying. Was she doing something to me? Making me obey her with her evil magic?

“Now, the real secret of leverage is this – you have to put in as much effort as you’re going to get out.” She leaned down on her side of the plank, lifting my side (with the sack) up high. When it was low enough, she stood on her end, and reached to drag the sack down the plank towards her. “You get out what you put in, the trick is to direct it properly. See? Now the second bag.”

Soon, we had all three bags over the fence, and nothing horrible had happened to me. The old woman grinned. “Do come in for a cup of tea, dear.”

Finally, my legs let me back away. “It’s, uh, late. I should get going.”

“But you came all this way, bringing such a nice gift! It’s hardly going to get darker than it is already. Do come in and rest yourself and warm up a little.”

I knew the stories – cross the fence uninvited, and you don’t come out. But I was invited, wasn’t I? That meant it was safe, right?

Inside the cottage, the floors were swept and the table wiped, but cobwebs hung thick across the ceiling and a rat glowered at me from the corner. Things a frail old lady would have difficulty keeping up with, living on her own.

She put the kettle on and I found a broom to clear the cobwebs. The broom was old and falling apart; the table and chairs wobbled with loose joints. The only well-maintained item in the house was a spinning wheel in the corner, and its distaff, loaded with flax.

The tea was well steeped, but a little sour. The kettle needed cleaning.

The next day, after we finished harvesting the first of three apple orchards, I went to visit the crone with fresh nails for the chairs and vinegar for the kettle. She span flax in the corner, humming quietly to herself, and then we went outside together to dig rotten apples into the starving soil of the vegetable garden.

“Where do you get the flax?” I asked her as we worked.

“I buy it, like anybody else.”

“Where? You never come to the marketplace.”

The crone laughed. “There are many different types of trade in this world, my dear.”

The next day, I brought poison for the rats, and the crone span straw (she’d run out of flax) while I scrubbed the floor. I didn’t know that straw could even be spun, but under her fingers it twisted into a fine, supple cord. She caught me staring and wove the thread into a short length of ribbon, which she pressed into my hands. “A gift,” she said.

I thought of the old stories of princesses who wove straw into gold. I thought of the hour it had taken her to painstakingly weave the ribbon with stiff hands.

“I can’t,” I said.

So she tied it into her own hair and sent me home with vegetable stew for my mother, that she might make good milk for  my baby sister, who had a fever.

“You should be careful,” Marcus warned me as we started on the second orchard. “I bet she poisoned that stew.”

“Why would she poison anyone?”

“She’s right,” Samael said, “witches don’t need to use poison. They can curse people with sickness, just like she did to these apples.”

“She’s not a witch! She’s just an old lady with no one to help her. Maybe if you actually talked to her instead of spreading gossip, you’d learn something.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Like what herbs to add to a mother’s tea to protect her child from fever, which the crone showed me the next day. Like which cobwebs to leave undisturbed, because some spiders protected the house from other pests. Like how to grow enormous turnips, and how a frail old lady could use leverage to move quite heavy furniture.

“You have to put in the energy you want to get out,” she explained again as she used a wooden post to easily lift a heavy oak cabinet and sweep under it. “It’s all about directing that energy.”

The next day, she made a mistake in directing that energy. I arrived at the cottage to find her cradling a badly sprained wrist.

“You’re lucky it’s not broken,” I chided her as I wrapped it up. “At your age you need to be careful.”

“What a waste of luck,” was her rueful reply.

“You can’t waste luck.”

“My dear, when you get to my age, every breath you draw is lucky. You tend to get quite stingy with it.”

I put the kettle on and cleaned out the larder while the crone rested her hand. I missed the sound of her humming melody and the whirr of her spinning wheel that normally accompanied my indoor work.

The herbs worked on my sister. She grew strong and healthy and the days grew long and dry, and we finished the apple harvest and the men brought in the wheat, and the crone’s cottage was clean and in good repair. Her wrist healed, and soon I was pickling vegetables to the whir of her wheel and her melody.

And my sister fell ill again that very day.

Through the night, her little lungs coughed weakly and rasped as she breathed. And the rasp entered my dreams as the whirr of a spinning wheel.

“She’s going to kill your sister,” Samael told me.

“No,” I said. “We all get sick. And we all survive.”

We did. We were a resilient people; illness and misfortune had plagued our town for a hundred years, but we were strong and prepared and we always pulled through. My sister was strong, too. She would survive her cold. We would survive the lack of apples and the rapidly drying town. And a old woman taking to her spinning wheel being blamed for such misfortunes… well, that was just a story made up by silly children.

Still, I stopped visiting the crone. I was too busy, caring for my sister, and my mother who had caught her cold, and helping bring in the last of the wheat, and spinning new thread for my mother’s loom. Watching the crone had taught me to spin faster, smoother thread than ever before, and I caught myself humming her melody as I worked. I kept myself busy, and I told myself that that was why I stayed away. Until the morning I smelled the smoke.

The winds were hot and dry; the wildfire was distant, but moving quickly. While everyone got to work protecting the town, Marcus and Samael and I climbed the hill.

“It’s her spinning wheel,” I explained. “She calls misfortune down by spinning.”

“Then we destroy it,” Marcus said, drawing his father’s hammer from his belt.

The boy’s hesitated at the fence – they say that if you go in uninvited, you don’t come out – but I leapt over it, and they followed, not wanting to show more fear than a girl. I could hear her humming and spinning as the smell of smoke became stronger. I pushed through the door.

The house was once again cobwebbed and dusty in places difficult for an old woman to reach. But it was hard to see that, under the balls of thread littered about the floor. Every surface was piled in thread of every thickness and colour and material, from fine dark wool to rough bark. The crone stood from behind her wheel, and tossed a ball to me.

“Good. You’re here. Grab as much as you can, and take it down to the town. Boys, you look strong; I’m sure you can carry a lot.” She tossed a ball to Marcus, who dropped the hammer to catch it.

“Your thread?” I asked, baffled.

“Not mine. The town’s. I just wind it up and keep it safe.” She wound a length of freshly spun cord around my wrist, again and again. “”But now it is needed, and you must take it. Go!”

“What is – ”

“No time! Go!”

We scooped up armloads of thread and raced back down the hill, letting gravity and the weight of our loads speed us along. The smoke was thick enough to be visible, now, a haze on the horizon, and I felt the thread around my wrist burn, leaking something into me, as my feet missed every stick and stone and stumbling block and found the quickest path down the hill. Marcus stopped to toss balls of thread over trees and storage sheds where it hung like ropey cobwebs; Samael and I split up, heading for opposite ends of town.

The wind was the strongest I’d ever experienced. It snatched string from my arms, and I knew there was no time to stop to pick it up. I dashed to the river. At the edge of the nearly dry bed, most of the village stood, clubs and water buckets at the ready to try to stop the fire from spreading to the fields on the other side. Behind them, mothers lay their children in the shallow muddy stream that still flowed, a last-ditch effort if the fire couldn’t be held back.

“Take it!” I shouted, throwing balls of thread at them. “Take this, and hold onto it! Wind it around yourselves! It’ll protect you!”

It was a ridiculous claim. But the thread around my wrist burned, and they heard the urgency and certainty in my voice, and people took the string, handed it to each other, wound it around themselves and their children and their clubs, and behind me the wind picked up even more and pushed me over.

I took a club and took up a position on the line, but we all knew it was hopeless already. The scent of smoke carried a story; I smelled not just wood, but meat and grease and lanolin and a hint of alcohol… the stores, the sheep, perhaps even my friends… and then the hot air was burning my eyes and embers were raining down and the fierce flames were in front of us and there was no choice but to retreat, sprinting for the muddy water and flinging ourselves down.

I threw myself over my sister, holding her tiny face just above the water and using my body to shield her from the fire and debris raining over us. Something burned my arm; not the fire, but the cord wrapped around it, glowing brightly and disintegrating to dust and leaving the arm underneath unmarked despite the pain. The wool coccooning my sister glowed too, as bright as the fire; I had to look away, up into the sky, and saw burning leaves carry clear over the river to land on the other side among the wheat fields, where it burned through unharvested straw. And then it was gone, and as one, we stood, brushing away ash that had once been string. I checked my sister for injuries – none.  We walked back to town, putting out little fires with our clubs on the way.

The town was in surprisingly good shape. There was damage, of course, but the wind had pulled the fire through too fast to destroy everything. A lot of thatching needed repair, and we’d lost some of our stores, but enough had survived. The town would survive.

Everyone started cleaning up, and I climbed the hill to the old crone’s hut.

Most of the hut itself was intact, although the garden had been badly damaged. Part of the fence had burned away entirely, leaving a space just wide enough, perhaps, to install a gate.

Inside the house, not a ball of thread remained. Everything was coated in that strange ash, and I walked past the crone, sitting at her table, to fetch the broom. She didn’t look up at me. She didn’t move at all.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

She did not move. Did not breathe.

I closed her eyelids, took her hands to cross them over her chest. Something dropped into my hand from hers; a short length of ribbon. One I’d watched her weave months ago from straw. It looked a lot shorter now.

I tied it into my hair, and once again tallied my tasks. I would have to sit with her for the three nights’ vigil, because nobody else would. I would have to sell something to get two coppers for the gravedigger, because nobody else would. And I would have to help repair the town, help the wounded, tally our stores, do all of those little things that would tide us over between this disaster and the next. Resilient people like us have to be careful where we direct our energy. Today had been very lucky, and now we had little luck to spare; but it would not be long before the town would need to be lucky again. There was always another disaster.

The ribbon felt hot in my hair. It burned against my head, like something was boring into my skull. I ignored it.

I sat at the wheel, and started to spin.

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

This story is set in the Curse Words universe: https://havenstory975986403.wordpress.com/

[collecting-stories]

Just Pretend | Enid

Hey, I'm not sure if you would want to write this imagine. So I'm just gonna ask. So Enid x reader were reader is dating Enid in season 9 and is with Carol and D when they find them?? And just like how she copes with it. Like super angesty. If you don't feel like it I completely understand. Love you 🖤🖤🖤

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And I hate to make this all about me,                                                           Who am I supposed to talk to, if there’s no you? - Soon You’ll Get Better, Taylor Swift

It was gift-wrapped, left on the table inside your trailer with old newspaper secured around it. You already had a good idea what it was that Maggie had left for you but you didn’t open it, letting the package sit neglected while you pulled the covers further over your head and sunk down in the darkness of the room. The trailer walls were thinner than you would’ve liked and you could hear people outside milling about. Soon someone would be knocking on your door, the same routine as always. Asking if you were okay. You would pretend they weren’t there.

The first time you met Enid she was following Maggie into the safety of Hilltop, convinced by some subconscious force that she had to stay close to the young woman who’d become both her mother and her older sister in the relatively short time they’d known each other. You’d been a resident of Hilltop since the outbreak. When they evacuated your neighbourhood it was there that the army truck had sent you and your little brother.  

Enid, like most in this new version of the world, was managing her way through the muck of loss. Her parents, most of Alexandria, Ron (even if she didn’t like him), Glenn. Her family felt like it was getting smaller and she clung to the only people she really had left, Maggie and Carl. No one in this new world was without loss, a notion you were too familiar with. Only a year into living together the Hilltop had been hit with a virus.  

“We had one too, not at Alexandria, but down in Georgia.” Carl had commented when you told him about the virus that took your younger brother. The truck had separated you from your parents and the virus had left you all alone.  

“That shit was horrible.” You replied, “as crazy as it sounds, getting attacked by a walker is expected but getting sick like that...still seems like it shouldn’t happen.”  

“I know, it feels surreal.” Carl agreed. It was later in the evening than most people were awake and a lantern between the two of you kept enough light that you could see each other.  

Maybe it was because you didn’t know Enid well enough yet or maybe it was just Carl but there was never any ill-feeling toward him. When you thought about it now you knew it was Carl, he was as enigmatic as his dad. Rick Grimes was some sort of post-apocalyptic celebrity and his son had managed to take some of that limelight for himself as well. He didn’t just live in his dad’s shadow, he was as skilled at survival as the best of them. But the fanfare wasn’t all there was to him.  

The first time you met Carl he had come to Hilltop with Enid. She introduced him as her boyfriend and a faint blush ran over her face, an uncharacteristic embarrassment or maybe the word just felt so silly to use these days. At the time Enid was nothing more than a friend, the only other person in Hilltop around your age. Carl was a welcome addition to your limited group. While you and Enid had a lot in common as far as circumstance was concerned it was Carl who you seemed to mesh with the most.  

And maybe that was why it never occurred to either of you.

Enid was with Carl and you were happy for both of them. Happy to be a friend and happy to misinterpret your own feelings as those of someone convinced there are a limited number of people your age left on the earth. You weren’t confused, per say. You knew pretty much in third grade when you sat behind Holly Carlisle in chorus that you definitely had a thing for girls. The thing was not defunct since the world ended either, in fact the moment you saw Enid you couldn’t help thinking that she pretty. More than pretty maybe but there was already a lot on your plate and dealing with a post-apocalyptic unrequited crush on a straight girl wasn’t exactly in your cards. So pretty it was. The same thing Carl thought when he saw her, though he’d clearly had a better shot at the time. One he took. You couldn’t fault him for that.  

“Did you like Georgia better?” You asked, passing the bottle of bourbon you’d found in Gregory’s closet to Carl. It had been because you liked Enid so much that you first tried to get along with Carl. But he was nice and easy to talk to and you had a lot in common (not including that you both liked his girlfriend). Now spending time with Carl when he came to Hilltop was second nature, a change from the ordinary and sometimes mundane that you readily looked forward to. Enid had already gone to sleep because of an early shift in the gardens but you had stayed up with Carl at the advice of Jesus who suggested the two of you ‘act a little more like teenagers’. Sneaking alcohol and staying up till the morning constituted that request in your opinion.  

“I guess. It’s hard to fit in anywhere. It was hard at the prison and at Alexandria, doesn’t matter what state we’re in.” Carl was more travelled than you. It was only in recent months that you’d been trained to go further outside of the compound.  

“Guess so,” you agreed. You had little authority to argue.  

While you liked Carl and the visits he managed to Hilltop you were always a little gleeful when he left. A fact that brought on an unmatched level of guilt when he died. How many times had you wished he was gone just so Enid would pay a little more attention to you? And what a cruel thing to think about such a good friend. The bourbon bottle from that night still sat in your trailer, on the table with a collection of wildflowers in it.  

When word came down that he’d died you had sat in the darkness of your trailer with the bottle in your lap and cried. It felt like hours but it was nearly two days of mourning the loss of such a good friend, someone you just thought would always be there, someone far too skilled to die the way he did. You didn’t get the opportunity to say goodbye but you kept the bottle so you would never forget him. His memory would always be close to you.  

After his death you pulled away from Enid the slightest bit. You knew it was cruel but as she leaned on you for comfort you couldn’t help worrying that she was mistaking her grief with the vulnerability of new feelings and you didn’t want her to change her mind once she was okay with Carl’s absence. It was a fight worth having you supposed.

“I don’t want to talk about this here.” Though possibly the setting could have been better.  

You were wading through muddy forest floors trying to remember exactly where Daryl and Jesus had told you all the traps were set. You should have listened better, something you definitely heard in Daryl’s voice somewhere in the back of your mind. Enid had followed you passed the gates and decided that out here in the woods where walkers had the uncanny ability of popping up frequently was the best place to talk.  

“You’re avoiding me and don’t say you aren’t! I know you are!” Enid was never overly emotional. Usually her emotional response was to get defensive and right now she was definitely on the defense.  

“It’s just been,” You shrugged, how cliche could you sound? “Complicated.”  

Not the word you wanted to use but still the one that came out of your mouth. It summed up much of what you wanted to say. Your feelings were, the situation was, her feelings were. However stupid it sounded coming out of your mouth.  

“Complicated? Are you kidding me? Carl died and the only person that I wanted to talk to about it is acting like I don’t exist all of the sudden!” She wasn’t quiet in her anger.

You were sure you heard the ominous beginnings of a moan from somewhere in the distance but you ignored the sound, focusing on the dead rabbit in the trap. “Look Enid, I’m trying to do this,” you waved the rabbit for her to see, “so could we talk later?”

“Every time you say that we don’t talk later. You just use it as an excuse to ignore me.” Enid took the bowie knife out of her belt, holding it as the groans of the distant walker grew closer.  

“Great. Now we have to deal with that.” You muttered, standing up and pulling your own machete free.  

“I know you lost a friend too but I feel like I lost both of you.” Enid commented, moving in closer to you and holding a defensive stance. Even with a couple walkers on the prowl she wasn’t giving up this damned conversation.  

“It’s not that.” You would never be over Carl’s death but that wasn’t the thing that was keeping you from letting your friend in. You loved Enid, more than anything. More than a friend and not like a sister. But your best friend had just died and she was his girlfriend and you felt like you were taking advantage of a bad situation because you were selfish and you didn’t want to be selfish. You wanted her but not at the expense of a guilty conscience. Not at the expense of betraying your friend’s memory.  

“Then what is it?” The first one came and Enid drove her knife through it’s skull with more force than necessary. Both because she was pissed at you and because how close must this have been to what happened to Carl? Why did he have to help anyone, why did he always have to be the good person?  

You caught the next one. Not so angry. “I don’t know what to do.” You explained. Was your voice really so tired sounding?  

“What?” Enid turned your way as you finished off the last of the dead threesome. At least it was only three. There was annoyance in her voice, she was pissed and she had every right to be. Her boyfriend was dead, her best friend was acting like an absolute bitch to her, and they were in this fucking forest with walkers. You tried to walk away but she grabbed the bag slung across your body. The strap caught and tugged you back.  

“Get off!”  

“Tell me! I’m not letting go until you tell me!” She insisted, her grip on the bag tightening. You yanked anyway, trying to pull away from her. You’d been successfully dodging her for weeks since Carl died.  

“Let go of me!”  

“No.”

“I don’t want to talk about this Enid, not here! So just let go.” You gave a final and forceful tug, yanking the bag from her hand hard enough to cause a friction burn. She clenched her fist and then pressed her palm to her stomach to put pressure on the burn as you instantly looked remorseful. “Enid I-”

“Forget it.” She snapped, turning and heading back to the Hilltop.  

You walked back, trailing behind her in silence. You felt guilty now, she sounded so upset and you knew you’d pushed her there. She was already dealing with so much, trying to be there for Maggie, Carl dying, trying to fit into the Hilltop and pull her own weight here. Jesus let the both of you back through the gate and you walked to your trailer alone, laying down in your bed and looking over to the empty bottle on the table. Damn Carl for dying. It wasn’t his fault that you couldn’t explain to Enid why you were afraid to talk to her but you really wanted it to be. Because you were selfish and without a boyfriend you thought maybe you could take that place for her. If there weren’t too many people left in the world maybe you could be that person for her.  

It was three more weeks before you finally decided that the silence was killing you too. In the short time that you had known Enid she had become your favorite person to talk to and you were torturing yourself just as much as you were hurting her by staying away. All you wanted was to be there with her, be there for her when she was sad or happy or angry. You didn’t want to be the one who made her angry. So you swallowed your pride and you walked yourself to her trailer to talk.  

“You have to let me say this and you can’t interrupt until I'm done.” You explained immediately when the door opened. Behind Enid, Maggie stood up and declared that she was going to see if anyone needed help.  

“What?” Her voice was sharp and angry, even after three weeks apart the anger hadn’t cooled.  

“I didn’t want to talk to you because I like you. Not as a friend, like like the way you and Carl like each other. I want that with you and I can’t talk to you because I feel so guilty over it. Carl was my best friend and here I am some desperate girl pinning after his girlfriend and then he dies? And what I can’t talk to you. I can’t tell you that. I can’t comfort you without wanting more from this relationship.” You explained, “I don’t know if you’ll ever feel that way about me. Maybe we’ll always be friends and I want to try to be friends if that’s all you want but I just...I’m sorry, I want more than that.”

Enid took a deep breath, still standing there in the doorway. In all honesty she’d never even thought about it. She knew that sounded dumb and childish and not very progressive but she hadn’t even thought that you were anything but straight. And always just a friend.  

“I don’t-” Enid started to say, unable to wrap her mind around what you were saying.  

“It’s fine, I just...you wanted to know and I felt like I should be honest with you. You’re my best friend first and I’ve been a terrible friend and I’m sorry for that.” You apologized.  

And that time you walked away. Less time passed between you. It only took Enid three days before she showed up on your doorstep, prepared to talk it out with you. In the three days that had passed she let herself think about what you had said. She was still grieving Carl and could barely fathom a day when she might not be any longer. But if that day did come she though, you had always been such a good friend and maybe it could be more than that. She didn’t want to think too much about what it meant all she knew was that you were her best friend and she missed you and loved you and she wanted to keep you in her life.  

She knocked on the door of your trailer and started out the same way you had, diving into a speech without giving the other person the chance to say anything. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in a week or a month or whatever, I just know that you’re my friend and I care about you. I want to talk to you and I don’t know if someday when it doesn’t hurt to think about Carl, something could happen between us. I wouldn’t be opposed to that. But please, don’t shut me out.”

You opened the door wider and stepped to the side, letting her into your trailer and sitting down on your bed with her. There was a lot to talk about.  

It was on that bed, in the exact same position, two months later, that she kissed you. What you’d said to her was always there in the back of her mind, whenever she spent time with you. The words played over and over and she during those two months of mourning and rebuilding a friendship she had begun to think that wouldn’t it be nice to be loved by you. She would always have a connection to Carl but he wasn’t here anymore and she didn’t want to fill that void with just anyone. She didn’t want meaningless connections in this new world and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking that it would be so nice to be with you.  

So after dinner, two months after the two of you had mended your friendship, sitting in the trailer talking, she leaned over and kissed you. It was innocent and loving and a little unsure. She didn’t know if your feelings were the same as they had been when you confessed to her two months prior but she was willing to take a chance on them.  

“Sorry,” she apologized when she pulled away, tucking a piece of her long hair behind her ear and smiling at you in a way that suggested she wasn’t sorry at all.  

“No worries,” you replied, your own dazed look assuring her that you were unbothered by her actions. You leaned forward, tilting your head just slightly and kissing her again. You hadn’t kissed anyone since before the dead started walking but you didn’t spend too much time thinking about technique as you shuffled closer to her on the bed.  

-

“I’m not staying back.” You protested, following after Enid and trying to pull on your hiking boots at the same time. Up ahead you could see Tara.  

“Please, it’ll be okay.” Enid insisted though you both knew that there was no guarantee of okay these days.  

The conversation played back in your head as you laid there in the dark of the trailer, overthinking every single moment in your mind. If you had just urged her to stay behind and not be so strong willed for once in her life. Or if you had just gone with her. You would have rather died than been here, alone in your stupid trailer with a bottle that wouldn’t bring back your best friend and a painting from Maggie that you couldn’t even stand to look at. You rolled over to face the wall as you heard the familiar knocking begin.  

“I love you.” You held her face in your hands and kissed her, foreheads leaning against each other as if you were back in the privacy of your trailer and not in the open of Hilltop.  

“I love you too,” she replied, another kiss, “I’ll be back.”

What could you throw at the door to make them go away? There might be some books scattered in the small space but getting up from this bed was like pulling yourself to the surface of a lake when there was cement weighing down your feet. You couldn’t imagine getting up. What would you even say if you did. That you were fine? That you weren’t? That you just wanted peace and quiet and nothingness?

You climbed the hill after Carol and the sound of her crying reached your ears as if it was a distant whisper, some white noise playing in the background as you stood there on the hill, wind whipping at your body. Pushing you off your balance. Of all the last images to remember a person by. You’d been lucky with Carl, you could always remember him the way he was in your trailer drinking late at night. You didn’t have to remember the way he looked as he died. But now, as you closed your eyes and tried to think of the way it felt to lay there with Enid for the last time all you could see was her head on a stake, mouth still moving and hair blowing in the wind. You couldn’t keep the image from creeping into your mind no matter how many times you tried to think of all the good things.  

Rolling onto your back you reached for the ground and found a book just beneath the bed, the one Enid had been reading. You threw it at the door as the knock sounded once more. Daryl holding Carol back as you stood there in shock, unmoving, drinking in the sight of your dead girlfriend, played in your mind and you crawled off the bed, dragging your feet to pick up the book. Another knock and you opened the door, light flooding into the trailer and forcing your eyes shut. Standing there against the backdrop of the bright morning sun was Jesus, looking sad but trying not to.  

“Please go away.” You begged, clutching the book to your chest. Even with your eyes open you could see her.

“I just wanted to see if you needed someone to talk to.”  

“Enid.” You concluded and let the door swing shut on him.  

-

A/N: I don’t even know if this is what you asked for and I totally hijacked it for my own purposes which I apologize for. Anyway, hope this is good?

taglist: @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee  @queenmissfit @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @absentmindeduniverse @his-paradox @medievalfangirl 

[chuffyfan87]

Growing Pains. Part 15b (NSFW)

It wasn't long before all that was left of the cake was a few crumbs and the bottle of wine was almost empty.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered.

"And you're very handsome and charming."

“I try to be.” His hand ran up her dress. “That dress will look better on my bedroom floor.” He whispered.

"You mean there's room on the floor for it?" She hiccuped, giggling.

“Yes.” He ran his tongue over her earlobe.

"Lead the way handsome." She held out her hand.

He took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

"Clean sheets and everything! You really did go to a lot of effort."

“Of course I did, it’s your birthday.” He kissed her gently.

She slid off her shoes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

His hands rested against her hips, pulling her closer to him.

"I love you so much Peter."

“I love you too. I never thought I would fall in love again,” He admitted.

"I'm just glad we got everything sorted out."

“Me too.” He lay down on the bed and pulled her on top of him.

"Its made me realise something though..."

“What’s that?” He asked his hands running up her sides.

"I do want kids. Not yet though." She smiled. "I'd like us to have a house together and be married first."

His eyes widened and he didn’t say anything.

"Sorry, that probably sounds really freaky given we've only been together a few months but after everything that happened with Sarah..." The wine she'd drank was starting to make her babble.

“No. Not at all. I...” He smiled brightly, “I want the same Holly. I want me and you to have a house, to get married, to have babies.”

"You do? I'd thought you would have been put off the idea."

“No.”

"I'm glad." She smiled and kissed him.

He smiled and returned the kiss.

She moved her fingers to unbutton his shirt.

He pulled her dress off over her head, his hands groping her breasts.

She let out a giggly moan as she heard the dress hit the floor.

“Much better.” He whispered.

"You're overdressed now though!"

“But your body’s much more gorgeous than mine.”

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of trust me." She whispered, running her finger up his bare chest.

He moved Holly onto his stomach as he wriggled out of his trousers, “You really are so beautiful!”

"I can see that you think so!"

Peter laughed softly as he reached around and undid Holly’s bra.

"That's one area where you have no reason to be shy!"

“That’s reassuring to know.” He reached up to kiss each breast.

"Like you weren't already well aware of that!" She giggled between moans.

“No.” He chuckled as he continued to kiss her breasts, his tongue eventually making contact with her nipples.

Her moans got louder as his tongue moved across her skin.

He grabbed her breast and began to suck hard against her nipple.

Her moans encouraged him on.

He moved to suck against the other breast. His erection pressing against her bum. He was getting so horny!

"I want you now!" She moaned.

He shifted her so he could enter her.

She closed her eyes as she savoured the feel of their bodies connecting.

He moaned loudly as they became one.

Their lovemaking was sensual despite them being mildly intoxicated.

As he climaxed, he reached up and kissed her passionately.

They continued to kiss for several minutes.

“We should do this more often.” He whispered against her lips.

"We should." She smiled, settling into his arms, the duvet wrapped around them both.

“I love you gorgeous.”

"I love you too. Thank you for the best birthday."

“Every birthday is going to be the best birthday, I promise.”

"That sounds perfect."

“You deserve it.” He kissed the top of her head, “Night night gorgeous.”

"Night." She replied before falling into a deep slumber.

It took him a little while longer but soon Peter was asleep too.

Holly was up early the next morning so decided to make them both breakfast that she brought back through to the bedroom.

Peter sat up in bed, “Shouldn't I be the one making you breakfast in bed?”

"Its ok, I was awake anyway." She smiled.

“You’re not a great sleeper, are you babe?”

"I've just always been an early riser."

“Not like me that can sleep the day away.”

"Yeh, I've never understood how you can do that!"

“I like the peace and quiet.” He laughed gently.

She giggled as they tucked into their breakfast.

He watched her over breakfast as they ate together.

After she finished eating she hesitated slightly before speaking. "Can I ask you something?"

“Of course you can.”

"Are you sad that it's not your baby?" She asked nervously. It was something that had eating away at her ever since he'd told her about his mother's discovery.

He didn’t answer for a minute, “Is it wrong that I only feel relief?”

"No. That's how I felt."

“I was worried a stupid mistake when drunk would always be there.” He sighed, “I didn’t want a baby with Sarah.”

"But there was a time when you did?"

“When I was a kid. When I thought I knew what I wanted."

"But it wasn't?"

He shook his head.

"I wanted to be a marine biologist when I was a kid so it's probably a good thing that we're not held to our childhood ideas."

“I thought I knew everything there was to know about life. Didn’t understand how you could possibly love more than one person.”

"That's one thing I miss about being a teenager is knowing everything!" She giggled.

He laughed gently.

"It'll be fun to see when your sisters realise that."

“Tilly’s mum. And mum does know everything so...” He shrugged with a giggle.

"I still can't believe she told everyone that your mum was pregnant though."

“That’s really not funny.”

"Yeh, bit poor taste when your mum ain't well..."

“I don’t think the twins know about mum being ill.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Wait, shit!”

"What?!"

“You don’t think she’s making herself throw up, do you?”

"You said she's anorexic. Anorexics don't make themselves sick..."

“No but those with bulimia do!”

"Is it even possible to have both?"

“I think so. You can cross over, have traits of both eating disorders.”

"Is she in a treatment program?"

“She was when I was a teen but not recently.”

"Hopefully she'll go back to it."

“I hope so too.”

"Maybe we should pay them a visit?"

“Yeah, maybe we should.” Peter agreed.

"We can say we've come to check on the kittens to see how they're settling in?" Holly suggested.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

It was late morning before they arrived at Charlie and Duffy's house.

Peter knocked on the door.

The sound of someone fumbling with the lock could be heard from the other side along with the familiar giggles of Peter's youngest brothers.

“They’re so cute.” Peter commented referring to his younger brothers.

Finally the door opened. "Peter!! Holly!!" The boys yelled excitedly.

“Hello troublesome pair” Peter and Holly replied.

Charlie entered the hallway to see what all the commotion was about. "Well this is a nice surprise!" He declared.

“We came to check on the kittens.” Holly explained with a smile.

"They're in the dining room with the girls."

Holly and Peter moved into the dining room.

Holly grinned as she watched the twins attempting to teach the kittens tricks. They were completely uninterested of course! "So have you given them names yet?" She asked.

“Simba and Shadow.” Lottie replied as she looked up at Holly.

"I'm guessing Simba is the ginger cat and Shadow is the black cat?"

“That’s right.” Tilly grinned.

"Did you have a nice birthday Holly?" Emily asked.

“It was lovely thanks, I really loved the drawings on the cards I got from you.” Holly replied.

Emily grinned, a slight blush colouring her cheeks. "I'm glad."

Holly sat at the table and began to talk to the girls, whilst Peter pulled his dad into the living room. “Dad?”

"Everything OK son?" Charlie asked, a little confused.

“Is mum ok?”

"She will be." Charlie sighed.