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voidsteffy · 3 years

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Nancy Drew has the 10 typical cliche CW tropes but does it way better (ft. The Vampire Diaries)

Note: This is not exclusive bashing of TVD, I did like to binge watch it but it isn't a secret the development of its storylines is monumentally problematic and sometimes racist. This is a comparison between the common CW tropes that the creators of TVD and Nancy Drew have shown albeit with varying stages of maturity.

1. The dead parent(s) trope:

Both TVD and ND start with the protagonist, a young girl in the age range of 17-18 losing either one (Nancy- Kate) or both parents (Elena- Grayson & Miranda). In TVD, the effect of the loss is downplayed to purple prose/angsty monologues/an excuse to visit the cemetary. We see no actual emotional vulnerability of losing a parent shining through, nor any financial consequences. In ND, we see the death of her mother making Nancy's life reel back, making her do things she never thought she could do (despise with her dad and his grieving methods, tank her grades, ditch her plans for Columbia). We also see Carson trying to deal with the bills later on throughout season 1 and 2 and also the aftereffects of the grief with his rebellious daughter: side storylines that exists to maintain the reality that a loss isn't always an emotional but a financial and a mental one as well.

2. Person of colour treatment:

Bonnie Bennett is the resident witch of Mystic Falls, our favorite go-to for the residence of power. It was good that TVD creators 'gave' her that much power but it was barely consequential to the plot as her character plainly existed to be a magical power bank. Bonnie was undertreated, underrated, purposely given lines like "Can I say she's a tranny mess", made a supernatural racist (there's a difference between dislike for other supernatural species and constantly planning their demise because they are 'monsters'). Moreover, all black/brown people in TVD were either witchy sidekicks or killed inconsequentially. In ND, one of of the main characters is Nick whose storyline evolves to erase the myth of internal racism, the senseless 'I will judge you mercilessly because others judge me' trope. He is treated like any normal character, but the writers have been careful and true to the heritage by including plotlines that would make Nick stand out as (a) an individual character (b) a person of colour with the most heart touching and realistic behaviour. The same can be said about the Asian American character George Fan, who is a hero in her own right. Amanda Bobbsey is shown to have her own dreams out of the town and is currently in pursuit of them. Gil Bobbsey is a bad example, I know. The fact that he is stereotyped into all the preconceived notions about South Asian men is the only thing that irritates me. Fortunately, we're getting Tom Swift as the spinoff with Tian Richards playing the handsome lead.

3. Antagonists who turn out to be morally grey and wronged in their past

TVD creator and executive producer has, on many occasions, boasted her syntax of giving every villain a tragic backstory to redeem them. Katherine Pierce, Klaus Mikaelson, Esther, Rebekah, Sybil etc. Sorry to break it to you but a tragic backstory doesn't redeem all the horrible evil things they've done, it just makes them more human while STILL committing the wrongs. Writing an evil character to stay evil, but as a humanised evil, is established in ND with the Aglaeca who is actually the soul of a French heiress turned into a sea monster. Odette Lamar was wronged by her husband, her life taken aboard a ship in a very brutal sequence of events and her fortune hijacked by her sailor husband Captain Marvin. The writers made sure to distinguish between the supernatural evil Aglaeca that Odette had become versus the still grieving human anger of Odette's ghost.

4. Adoption storyline:

Elena Gilbert was John Gilbert and Isobel Flemming's daughter, raised by Grayson and Miranda Gilbert as their own after Isobel gave her up post partum. In TVD, Elena, once getting to know this news, doesn't express any humane emotion of being bereaved of an identity (which is the reaction expected). Though she tries to look for Isobel and vents on Damon when she gets to know of his relationship with her birth mother (still gross btw), she barely deals with it. The storyline would more or less remain the same if Elena wasn't Isobel and John's daughter (make Miranda a descendant of Katherine and boom). But in ND, Nancy finds out that she was adopted even when she doesn't ask for it. The fact doesn't come out of nowhere, the reasons and foreshadowing are laid out there like breadcrumbs from the moment the pilot's story begins. Nancy going through the loss of identity phase and the 'grieving someone I don't even know' phase is beautifully crafted. Nothing is added just for the drama, there is a meaning behind it.

5. Small towns, bonus- surrounded by woods:

Mystic Falls is supposed to be a souther small town larger than life, always hosting council parties that aspire to be the Virginian version of Gossip Girl. The writers just considered the town a backdrop but didn't venture at all into making it seem like a real-life community. In Horseshoe Bay, a coastal town in Maine that was filled with superstitions and gossip mongers, there is an effort to make some of the town events actually hold meaning to the plotline or to realize the image of the community itself - we have history buffs actually seen doing history research, archaeological digging, pageant queens having snobby rivalry, flower shops, cafes, indirect racism (which is more prevalent irl than you might think) etc. Even 3 season in, Horseshoe Bay of Nancy Drew is more fleshed out of a town than Mystic Falls ever was.

6. Toxic men:

Okay, big setback for all Damon and Delena stans, but canon!Damon was toxic af. He made decisions for Elena, killed people for her and pretended he did her a favour and let's not even talk about the sire bond or the cure hunt or the killing Jeremy storyline. Elena actually got an endgame with such a personality, which is a supremely bad example. Because though Damon had turned over a new leaf after season 6, he had still been horrible to Elena while she was still alive and not in the coma. In ND, Gil Bobbsey is the toxic man. Manipulative even with his sister, desperate for attention, ready to bereave Nancy of her friends just to get her for himself, that kind of toxic. And because of this, it is extremely satisfying to see the toxic man NOT get the girl for once. Nancy dumps his ass when she realizes the effect his gaslighting had on her life. Go Nancy!

7. The 'older men who want to show the girl all the world has to offer' trope:

There isn't a soul in the TVD fandom who hasn't smiled at Klaroline at least once. Klaus is the man who has lived longer than Caroline and exudes the wordly riches vibe. Caroline is a small town girl who dreams about all that the world has to offer. Klaus more than once propositions a getaway to all places like Paris to show her the taste of love and history and art. It would have been a good dynamic if only Klaus weren't a literal heart-wrenching, boyfriend-enslaving, mom-killing supernatural psychopath with anger and daddy issues. In ND, Nancy has Owen - a relatively older businessman (not too old, a human age gap) who enables Nancy's need to get away from her life in her town by offering her a trip to New York while they're dating. Owen's a pretty vanilla guy, and among his sole purposes was this.

8. No one dies and when they do, they don't:

Bonnie Bennett is crying from hysterics at this. We've seen her die so many times and every time, Julie went 'Ha no that was just a test speed bump, Bonnie is actually alive lol'. After the first three times, it became as overlooked as Dean's deaths in Mystery Spot. Elena died thrice, Damon and Stefan too. Alaric and Matt are cackling. The thing is, the writers can kill off their characters and revive them as long as it has some meaning. Sometimes not everything exists to further the plot, it also needs its own air to breathe as a concept. In ND, George dies because of an impalement. But Nancy, in her desperation to save her friend, revives her with the shroud. This is indeed consequential to the plot and also to George as a character when she is challenged to share her mental space with the trauma of being revived as well as now sharing her body with a French lady's ghost.

9. Vintage cars (and beaten down trucks):

Damon and Stefan, both, are proud owners of old classic cars (Chevy Camaro and Porsche respectively). I'm going to make a very specific joke here and say they love their cars on fire. Though we often see Damon's possessive side over his car, I find Ace's relationship with Florence nore endearing and calm. After seeing Dean Winchester loving Baby more than his dad, and Damon and Stefan leveraging towns over their own cars, Ace's sweet talks to Florence makes my heart to plop. Nancy also has her mother's blue Mustang (book classic). Both Matt Donovan (TVD) and Nick (ND) have the same type and colour of truck too but Nick's holds a bit higher canon significance (what with them dying in it and all)

10. Whole town under mysterious hypnotic influencing:

I'll write this comparison after ND 3x04 or 3x05 comes out but I'm somehow sure that they're going to do it better than TVD season 5 Silas

(I haven't mentioned sexual representation as a point because TVD didn't have much diversified sexual representation to begin with and though lesbian relationships are a big strp from that in ND, I do wish there was more differences in sexualities written into the show)

#the vampire diaries #cw tropes #cliche #analysis #nancy drew cw #damon was toxic okay?#julie plec #noga landau #kennedy mcmann #nina dobrev #person of colour treatment #ned nickerson will you marry me #George fan will you also marry me?#tropes #progress from 2009 to 2019 #10 years and we're working on flushing out the problematic stuff

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ornithomance · 3 years

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My top 10 (fiction) books of 2021 - in no particular order! I read 87 books this year, despite two wild semesters of grad school. That’s a full 30 more than last year ... but it somehow feels like I read less?

@the-z-part adapted an awesome Reading Superlatives list from BooksandLala’s annual list, which I am shamelessly copying. For the sake of diversifying the titles, I did not include my top tens or repeats! (This made for a very difficult task, and I had to cheat once.)

✨Superlatives:✨

Favorite 2021 release: The Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison

Favorite older title (5+ years): Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep by Philip K. DIck

Lived up to the hype: Black Water Sister by Zen Cho

Didn’t live up to the hype: Goldenhand by Garth Nix

Biggest reading accomplishment: The Haunting of Tram Car 015 by P. Djèlí Clark (an accomplish because I finally laid hands on it! My library doesn’t have it.)

Fav character: 💕✨ Keyne from Sistersong by Lucy Holland ✨💞🌟

Least fav character: Everyone but Sevro in Red Rising by Pierce Brown lol

Most surprising moment: The lovely end to Sergeant Jackrum’s story in Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

Best prose: Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

Book you’ll be recommending: The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune

Fav newly discovered author: Martha Wells! Martha Wells!

Fav cover: Beowulf: A New Translation by Maria Dahvana Headley

Made you cry: None, unless I cheat and say Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas (good tears)

Made you laugh: The Affair of the Mysterious Letter by Alexis Hall

Fav reread: El Ladrón del Rayo (The Lightning Thief) by Rick Riordan (do second language rereads count? It was my first Spanish audiobook!)

Most surprising 5 star: The Last True Poets of the Sea by Julia Drake (not my usual fave genre - but a fantastic book is a fantastic book!)

Least fav overall: The Dog Stars by Peter Heller

#books #booklist #book reviews #book recommendations #2021reads #toptenreads #young adult lit #young adult books #fantasy #ya fantasy #scifi #murderbot #reading

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mult1aes-moved · 25 days

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open, katherine pierce.

" better you die than i. "

#i. / open to mutuals only.#ii. / katherine pierce.#iv. / prose.

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ranjxtul · 5 years

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The Sky Bends Before it Breaks || Katherine Howard

tw for brief sexual abuse mentions and i’d totally add a read more option if i knew how, so i apologize for the long scroll

The sky bends before it falls. That phrase rang through Katherine’s head as she lay awake, it was from some song or poem she’d heard, but she couldn’t place it. That didn’t matter to her though, only those six words rang through her mind, devoid of any real meaning by now. Normally Katherine, or really any one of the queens would have thought about those words with reverence, especially Parr. Parr loved words and their meanings and connotations. She loved prose, stanzas, lines, and phrases that conveyed such emotion that. She loved words that signified a certain level of sorrow. Katherine always thought words were how she coped. The others, more or less cared about such intricacies, but not a one of them could deny the power of words.

Katherine had been executed because of the words in a law. She’d also been executed as a child, an eighteen year old child, who had men force themselves upon her from age thirteen until her death. She remembered her execution in vivid detail; everything from being dragged up onto the platform to the tears streaming down her face as the sharp metal blade connected with her neck piercing flesh and bone. Much to her satisfaction, there’d only been a minute amount of pain. She now knew that was because her spinal cord had been severed cutting off any nerve impulses, and therefore pain.

The pink haired girl had dreamt about her execution that night, and she awoke clutching her neck, a burning phantom pain spreading from the back to the front. Her eyes blurred with tears and her chest constricted. Try as she might, no oxygen found its way into her lungs and the dark of the night did not disappear. Frantically, her hands searched for a perforation of her skin, or something that would warrant the stinging on the back of her neck. Wide eyed and fighting to escape the immense terror ripping through her soul, Katherine Howard jerked up in bed hunching over her knees. Black spots clouded her vision, and subconsciously her hands tightened around her throat trying to stop the pain.

The ax had been right there piercing the soft flesh at the nape of her neck. She was still there. Every detail of that day flashed in her mind’s eye as panicked, reliving everything for not the first, but the second time that night. Somewhere in the back of her mind, where a semblance of cohesive thought still existed: she wondered if this would ever end. Finally as the ax went down, Katherine squeezed her eyes shut again.

Blackness, nothing but blackness remained painted behind her eyelids. Her lungs at once let go of the air they’d been holding in and a strangled gasp escaped the girl’s mouth. She covered her mouth with one hand so as to not wake up any of the other queens. The phantom pain in her neck slowly began to subside and through some involuntary action, she began to heave quick erratic breaths in and out of her air deprived body. The swirling panic and overwhelming sensation still engulfed her senses.

Just as blood coursed through her veins, the pain and fear brought about by her execution washed over every inch of her body. At least now Katherine was somewhat aware. She tried to remember anything Jane told her that could help her cope with things like this. She wished Jane were there, or that she could go get her, but she woke her up enough.

The perceptive blonde had been the first to notice Katherine’s weariness and anxiety. A previous lifetime filled with betrayal and abuse didn’t look favorably upon a new one. Of course the queens all had taken a considerable amount of time to warm up to each other, and the show helped them to do so, but Katherine found herself unspeakably uncertain even now sometimes when she adored every woman she lived with. Ever motherly, Jane noticed nearly right off the bat.

The first time Katherine had experienced a panic attack around Jane, she was ashamed. Vulnerability didn’t come easily at first. Thankfully, Jane had seen to it not to push and just be there as needed. Soon after, she’d asked Katherine about it and taught her a few ways to breathe and pull through these, and helped her breathe when she was there. Parr helped too, sometimes Anna. Now, when she was alone, she really needed their help but couldn’t get it because she felt paralyzed, and she couldn’t bring that knowledge to the forefront of her consciousness.

She did all she could in that moment, which was to let the terror of everything run its course. Katherine fought to keep air flowing in and out of her lungs as thoughts of Henry and her execution swirled. He hadn’t bothered to show up. He hadn’t even bothered to see her die after he so fervently wished it.

The heads of Culpeper and Dereham, two of the men who abused her, on spikes seemed to come alive at her execution, that day, and in reminsencense. She was a child. She made a show on the scaffolding like they all wanted, and thanked Henry for being gracious. She thanked him; she thanked him for her death.

With that thought, Katherine heaved out a deep breath which changed into a gut wrenching sob halfway through. None of it left her, and none of it ever would. She was grateful to be able to tell her story and correct history in the show. People needed to know that his story in the books wasn’t his wives’ stories. Each night however, she was reminded of every despicable man in her life by the lyrics of her song. Maybe it would get easier to remember these things, but as Katherine sat, shaking with sobs on her bed at four in the morning, she didn’t believe that.

When the tears dried themselves, she lay back against the pillows, only then noticing her hair, damp with sweat. Sleeping again would be futile, no matter how much exhaustion nagged at her mind, She could read maybe, Parr had lent her a few titles. In the dark, she glanced toward the desk near her bed, debating in her mind. Ultimately, exhaustion won out and she rolled over.

The numbers of the clock on the bedside table read 5:10. The sun would be coming up soon. Katherine could watch the sunrise perhaps. Despite all of its romantic and beautiful connotations, she’d never actually watched a sunrise. Mindless musings passed through the girls mind until one phrase stuck out. The sky bends before it breaks.

She repeated the sentence in her head several times wondering where it’d come from. Maybe one of Parr’s poems. Regardless, the sentence had left an impression in her mind. If it came from poetry, then it probably had some deeper meaning. Katherine assumed it meant a state of mind or something like that; she’d never bothered to ask. Regardless, as she watched the black begin to fade into greys, that phrase remained in her mind.

Much to her surprise, Katherine’s eyes started to droop closed. She wanted to fight sleep, but the more she tried to, the more it seemed inevitable. With little successful resistance, the girl found herself falling back into a state of unconscious.

Upon waking up next, it was sun flooding in the window that roused her instead of a night terror. She groaned under breath as she rolled over to look at the clock: 9:22. Katherine sat up and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand before pulling the covers off of her legs and swinging them over the bed to get up.

Katherine passed the mirror propped up on her dresser with little notice until a flash of red caught her eye. Stopping dead in her tracks, her mind began to spin. She stepped backward until she could see the in mirror again.

Angry red scratches sat scattered around her neck. Katherine frowned, the hazy memories of her night terror crystalized as she stared at the vicious red. A rush of tears threatened to fall as anxiety from the night and now the prospect of the other queens seeing the aftermath rushed through her veins. She shook her head trying to shake away the creeping anxiety. She’d be okay. If she looked upset when she walked into the kitchen then the others would take more notice, she reasoned.

Sucking in a wavering deep breath, Katherine adjusted her long black and pink locks so they fell in front of her shoulders, their width helping to obscure some of the red. Before she could ruminate on the situation and think herself further into a corner, Katherine exited her room.

By the looks of the rest of the rooms on the hallway, everyone was downstairs. Jane had probably made them all breakfast. The smell of cinnamon wafting up from the kitchen confirmed this as Katherine made her way downstairs. When she entered the kitchen the first sight that greeted her was Anne and Anna arguing about some tweet they saw with Aragon sitting in the middle of the two eating, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Parr sat at the barstool with one leg tucked underneath herself and a large mug of coffee sitting in front of her. Jane sat near her on a different barstool and looked up when Katherine came into the kitchen, “Morning love,” she greeted, “I left some in the microwave for you. It should still be hot.”

Katherine ducked her head, “Thanks.” She retrieved the thankfully still warm plate of french toast from the microwave and took a seat across from Anne squared and Aragon.

“No problem,” Jane shook her head with a smile.

Anna took a moment to pause her discussion with Boleyn to greet her girlfriend, “Morning,” she grinned leaning over to give Katherine a quick kiss on the cheek. Despite her best efforts not to, a pink blush crept up to her ears.

“Morning,” she mumbled back a grin of her own spreading across her face before she dug into the french toast on her plate. With that, Anna resumed talking to Boleyn over Aragon. Katherine nearly forgot feeling any anxiety as the normalcy of the situation settled in. Jane and Parr having a quiet conversation over at the barstools.

She ate quietly until she realized she’d never gotten anything to drink, “Hey, do we have any coffee left or do I have to make some?” She asked Parr who was the only to have a coffee mug out at that moment.

Parr looked up from her conversation, “Uh, yeah, I think so. I had to make a fresh pot for this one,” she said nodding toward her mug.

“Thanks,” Katherine nodded standing up from her seat and going to pour a mug of coffee, which she thankfully didn’t have to make. In the process of reaching up to get a mug, some of the hair she’d used to obscure the scratches on her neck fell out of place. As soon as she felt her hair falling over her back, she immediately put it back over her shoulder. Pouring her coffee, she glanced at Jane and Parr who were still talking and Anne and Anne who were still preoccupied. Aragon had her phone out, seemingly reading something, probably a bible app. Anne had showed her that once when she’d forgotten to bring her bible back from church one week and ever since then she’d taken to using the app.

Katherine sat back down with her coffee to finish eating only for Anna to be tapping her shoulder, “Hey, look at this. We found Luther characters as vines.” Katherine glanced over with a grin. Luther was the television show that the large majority of the queens discovered and loyally watched now. Only Katherine and Aragon didn’t watch it, but Katherine had seen enough snippets to be relatively familiar with it.

Katherine let out an earnest laugh with Anna when the video finished, “That was funny!”

“Yeah, and there’s more. We’ve been sending them to each other,” she explained nodding to Anne who nodded in confirmation.

“Send me the ones you think I’d understand, I liked that one.”

Anna grinned, “Yeah, will do, we--”

Jane cut her off, “I don’t mean to interrupt dears, but we have a matinee, and Kat isn’t ready,” she said with a sympathetic shrug.

Katherine glanced at the clock, “Oh, yeah, we don’t wanna be late. We can talk more on the way there,” Katherine promised Anna kissing her on the cheek before heading off to get ready.

Once she was gone, Aragon looked up, “Am I the only one that noticed her neck?” Almost immediately three pairs of eyes landed on Cleves, who held her hands up in defense.

“I swear I’m not responsible, besides I didn’t notice,” she protested. Jane raised an eyebrow in question. She saw Katherine as her daughter, so Aragon’s question set off alarms when Cleves claimed she hadn’t left any hickeys. Jane could handle the idea of Katherine ending up with a few marks from Anna as that was perfectly safe and done out of love.

Boleyn spoke up next, “Okay, I didn’t see either.” Parr shook her head in agreement and paused a second before she nodded toward Aragon cueing her to explain.

“When she went and got the coffee mug, her hair fell back and I couldn’t see too many details, but streaks of her neck were red and inflamed. They looked like scratches.”

Parr frowned, “Could it have been one of your dogs Anna?”

The German shook her head, “No, they were all up last night… should we ask her about it?”

Jane shook her head, “Not right now, and not all of us at once. She’d get overwhelmed by all of the questions. When we get to theatre Parr and I could talk to her? Since we share the dressing room with her?” The blonde suggested with shrug. Collectively, the other four in the kitchen agreed this was a solid plan. Boleyn opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it as Katherine made her way back into the kitchen. She wore casual clothing that consisted of leggings and a sweater, nothing out of the ordinary but her hair still lay over her shoulders.

“Are we ready to go?” the girl asked shifting her weight from one foot to the other. It had dawned on her while she was getting ready for the day she’d have to have her neck exposed to get ready for the show. She had her choker as part of her costume though. Ideally, that would cover the scratches, but at the thought of something wrapped tightly around her neck, the queen was filled with trepidation.

“Yeah, love. Let me get my bag.” Jane nodded standing up from her spot to get her purse from the living room. Aragon followed in suit to grab the small bag she carried and Parr reached for her wallet while Cleves and Boleyn joined her waiting at the door.

Cleves could sense anxiety emitting from the girl beside her. The rigid posture and the tight grip on her phone were external indicators of the feelings Katherine was fighting so hard to keep down. Anna wrapped an arm around Katherine loosely, “You look adorable in that sweater,” she complimented hoping to bring a genuine smile to the girl’s face.

Katherine nearly flinched away at the gentle contact, but as her peripheral confirmed that it was indeed Anna, she forced herself to stay relaxed. “Thanks,” she said smiling a brief smile in response to the compliment. That may not have been the response Anne was searching for, but at least it was something.

Katherine’s mind began to wander in the short lapse of silence. She barely heard Jane say they were ready to go, and on autopilot her legs moved toward the door. On the short walk to the theatre Katherine made no attempt to engage in conversation, which was in hindsight a telling move. Everyone noticed when the normally energetic Katherine Howard made no attempt to engage in conversation.

She was too busy arguing with herself about wearing the choker amidst seeing Dereham, Mannox, and Culpeper’s faces on the men they passed on the street. Logically, she could sort out everything, but the further and longer she thought, the more logic strayed from her consciousness.

Upon arriving at the theatre, the six parted ways to get ready for the show. Katherine gave Parr who held the dressing room door open for her a nod, “Thanks.”

Parr shook her head, “No problem kid.”

Katherine sat down at her station and stared into the mirror appraisingly. Some of the red was beginning to peak out, and Katherine wanted to grab hair and pull it over further to cover it, but that would make everything more noticable. Instead, she focused on her makeup.

Rather than calming her, the mundane motions of putting on makeup agitated her further. With nothing else to focus on, and no want to join in on Parr and Jane’s conversation, she was left alone to her thoughts of her execution and her dream. She’d been doing so well with night terrors, waking up less, and being able to handle them alone, but the previous night had ruined her streak. That frustrated her. Parr and Jane probably got sick of being woken up by them and it had been about a week and half since she’d had to get any either of them or go sleep with Anna.

“Kat,” Jane’s gentle voice drew her out of her haze, “you’re starting to shake. What’s wrong?” She hesitated before adding, “Does it have something to do with your neck?” By then, Jane and Parr had managed to get a better look at the red scratches lining Katherine’s throat. Both of them suspected the same: a night terror. Neither wanted to say it though, getting Katherine to admit it would make her feel more in control.

The girl froze and against her will nearly, a hand flew up to touch the side of her own neck as if to protect the two from viewing the damage. She recoiled at her own touch, feeling the phantom blade grazing her skin as her hand did. Her breaths began to speed up and she started to fidget with the ends of her pink hair with shaking hands. “I- Yes?” her admission came out meeker than she wanted to sound. “I had a bad dream last night of,” she paused biting down on her lip as the combination of consuming anxiety and speaking about everything caused tears to prick in the corners of her eyes.

“Of?” Parr prompted gently before glancing at Jane to watch her reactions. Clearly, whatever she dreamt had upset Katherine to the point of an anxiety attack, borderlining panic attack.

Katherine didn’t know if she wanted to panic or cry, or both. She wanted to tell the two women staring at her with their concerned eyes, but as she opened her mouth to do so, no sound came out and no breath came out. The breath which would have been used to speak remained trapped in her lungs. She fought to pull in another breviloquent breath so as to let out the air trapped in her lungs upon another chance at exhale.

Instead of a smooth breath out, a garbled gasp escaped her mouth along with the mumbled word, “Execution.” Jane and Parr hardly understood what she said, but they didn’t need her to repeat it. The scratches ringing her neck further affirmed that she’d dreamt of execution if they hadn’t fully understood what she said. Now, Katherine’s eyes were unfocused and one hand anxiously clenched and unclenched holding onto the edge of her sweater.

“Kat, can you hear me?” Jane asked moving to kneel in front of Katherine. The girl made no indication she’d heard her at all. “It’s just me, Jane,” she continued, gently placing a hand on her shoulder hoping to ground Katherine in the slightest.

Jane’s touch didn’t register as Jane’s touch, by now it was Henry, and then the guards. She still couldn’t flinch away though, with a buzzing mind and near complete inability to breathe any notion of wanting to move fell flat before she could attempt to act on it.

“Hey, try to focus on me. You aren’t there, you’re here, in the twenty first century. They can’t hurt you.”

No response.

“Katherine, I need you to try and breathe with me,” Jane tried taking on a firmer tone than before hoping to break whatever consumed Katherine’s mind. “Here, if you can hear me, follow my breaths,” Jane said beginning to over exaggerate her breathing so Katherine could imitate it.

A faint sound pierced the wall of panic clouding Katherine’s brain that she identified as Jane’s voice, telling her to breathe. She wanted nothing more than to breathe and get rid of the tightness in her chest and the insidious fog in her brain, but her body didn’t want to cooperate. Still, she tried to focus on Jane and what she was doing.

Finally, Katherine managed to exhale and relieve some of the pressure in her chest, which allowed her to transition from very few breaths to short quick breaths. Jane nodded, “Yeah, that’s it. That’s good. Keep focusing on me. Keep breathing,” Jane urged giving Katherine shoulder the faintest squeeze hoping then maybe it would help ground her.

Jane sat patiently breathing with Katherine and providing words of encouragement until Katherine’s eyes fully unfogged and she was able to take a couple deeper breaths successfully, “There, you did a such a good job. You’re safe here. Good girl.”

Katherine looked at Jane still kneeling beside her and another wave of stronger emotion hit her, not panic, but guilt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered beginning to fidget again. Jane took her hands to stop them from fidgeting and indulging anxiety.

“You don’t need to apologize, it’s okay,” she assured the girl. Katherine looked away tears threatening to fall again and Jane’s hands left hers for a split second, only to return shortly. When she looked back, Jane had moved her chair so she was sitting directly across from her instead of kneeling. “It’s okay,” she assured again.

Without warning, Katherine threw her arms around Jane as her tears began to fall freely, searching for any solace. The blonde didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Katherine tightly. She rubbed one hand up and down her back and Parr who’d watched the whole spectacle with concern, moved to kneel beside them. She put a hand on Katherine’s knee to let her know she was there.

Katherine tightened her grip on Jane the minute she felt Jane embrace her. The tears came from pent up upsetness and guilt. “I’m sorry,” Katherine mumbled again into Jane’s shoulder.

“Hey it’s okay, I promise,” Jane said giving her an extra squeeze. “Can I ask you something?” She felt Katherine nod, “Why didn’t you get in bed with Anna or come find me or Parr?”

Katherine sucked in a shaky breath, “I- I was panicking. That’s when I ended up hurting myself,” she paused referencing her neck, “and I didn’t want to bother you or her, and I didn’t want to sleep with Anna. I’m with her enough already, I don’t want her to think I’m too clingy or something.”

Jane frowned, “We’re never bothered to be there for you, love. And Anna would never think that. She adores you so much.”

Katherine emitted an audible sigh, “I just don’t ever want to be a nuisance, even if currently none of you think I am. I know I’m a lot and I have those dreams a lot, and off days, and I know I’m not the only one, so I just feel bad about it.” Katherine’s assertions came in rapid succession ending with her breaths once again speeding up.

Parr spoke up, “You went through hell in your last life, we understand, and just because we may have problems doesn’t mean you need to minimize yours.”

Jane pulled away just enough to look Katherine in the eyes, “Parr’s right, and any one of us would agree with that.”

“I just had a good streak going. I’d managed to go almost a week and a half without waking anyone up and my nightmares were getting worse then-” Katherine stopped herself debating on whether or not it was worth it to go into more detail on her dream, knowing it could send her on a spiral.

“Then what?” Parr prompted.

“It felt like I could feel the ax last night. Their heads were on spikes, and when I woke up it still felt like someone was trying to… cut my head off,” she forced out taking a breath before continuing, “then on the way here, I kept seeing men and they turned into them. I don’t know why, my dream didn’t even have to really do with them, but for some reason it happened,” Katherine explained beginning to sound defensive.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Parr said raising a brow.

Jane nodded in agreement, “We trust what you say. Right now worry about calming down and taking care of yourself,” she insisted moving to wipe away some of the stray tears on Katherine’s face. The girl nodded inhaling and counting through it and repeating the process through exhale.

Suddenly, Katherine became alert again, “The show! What time is it? I have to get ready I-”

Jane cut her off, “Kitty, it’s okay. We’re not out of time. Can you do the show?” Jane asked intending to double check with the girl.

She nodded, “I want to, I need to. My only thing is the choker with my costume. I’m not sure I can put something tight around my neck…” She admitted going from keyed up a more timid disposition in the process of her assertion.

“If you want to perform we can loosen the choker, and if it comes down to it, just don’t wear it today,” Parr said standing from her position kneeling and offering Katherine a reassuring smile, which to her delight, was returned in the form of a small smile. Undeniably, anxiety still simmered in Katherine’s eyes, but she seemed better than before.

“Okay,” she nodded.

In the end, Katherine forwent the choker, and the matinee went splendidly. She put on the stage bubbly persona with ease. It made her feel better in a way. She assumed it was because she was distracted. Thankfully, the group didn’t have a night performance because by the time Katherine got off stage she was ready to take a nap or at the very least rest.

“Great show guys!” called Parr walking into the dressing room. Jane and Katherine nodded appreciatively.

“I’m so glad we don’t have a show tonight,” Katherine admitted beginning to change clothes.

Jane nodded, “Me too. It’s been a long week.”

The walk home consisted of comfortable small talk and a very tired Katherine leaning into Cleves as they walked. Jane and Parr made special care to keep Katherine on the inside of the group so no men could stare or make eye contact with her, regardless of intentions.

“Anna, I want to take a nap. Come lay down with me?” Katherine asked looking at her girlfriend with pleading eyes once they entered their home.

The German nodded, “Of course. Couch or one of our rooms?”

“I don’t care, I’m just tired,” Katherine shrugged. Anna nodded and in a moment of spontaneity she picked Katherine up bridal style which caused the girl to let out a small gleeful shriek.

“Your room then, so you’ll be more comfortable,” Cleves decided starting up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Parr watched them go with a small smile before she made her way back into the living room where Boleyn had monopolized one of the couches and Aragon had curled into an armchair. Jane sat on the other sofa where Parr also ended up sitting.

“It seems like this week keeps getting longer,” Anne complained from her spot stretched out across the couch.

Aragon raised a brow, “This week is over, now.”

Anne turned her head to look at the other woman, “I know, but that doesn’t help my exhaustion or swelling ankles,” she proclaimed with a certain note of melodrama, “and I’m also starving,” she added as an afterthought.

“We could order pizza?” Jane suggested, “I don’t have any of what I’d need to cook or I would.”

Parr shrugged, “Pizza’s fine with me. Anyone have any objections?” Boleyn and Aragon shook their heads no. “Okay, I’ll go order it. I’m assuming the usual order?” She received a variety of affirmations before she slipped out of the room.

Aragon watched her go before turning her attention to Jane, “Did you guys talk to Katherine? She seemed less tense on the way home.” Boleyn perked up at the mention of her cousin. She propped herself up on her elbows to listen for Jane’s response.

“Yeah, I think she’s feeling better now.” Anne raised an eyebrow wanting more elaboration. Everyone had formed ideas on what might have been going on, but only Jane and Parr apparently knew. “And? What happened?”

Aragon shot Anne a look, presumably for her brashness. “She dreamt about her death last night, and woke up in a panic. She scratched her own neck raw in that whole process, and she didn’t want to wake anyone of us up.”

Anne frowned and Aragon for once beat Anne to the punch of speaking, “Poor thing.”

“Yeah,” Anne agreed with a nod, “usually doesn’t she wake up you or Parr or get in bed with Cleves?” she asked.

Jane nodded, “Mhm. She said she felt bad about waking us, thought we saw it as a bother, so last night she didn’t ask for any help.” That still irked Jane, the queens cared for each other greatly. They never saw helping each other out as an imposition. Of course she had to understand that Katherine’s anxiety played a large role in helping her form that conclusion, but something bothered her. It wasn’t the conclusion itself, but that she was at a loss for a way to help Katherine understand it wasn’t true.

Parr slid her desk chair back and closed her laptop. The pizza would arrive in about twenty five minutes if the website’s estimator was correct. She headed to exit her room and meet the queens downstairs, but as she passed the half open door to Katherine’s room she couldn’t resist peaking in. The sight that greeted her brought a smile to her face.

Katherine lay on her side curled into Cleves,very obviously wearing one of her hoodies with a blanket draped over her legs. Anna caught Parr’s gaze as she stood there, so Parr made her way in to let Anna know about the dinner plans. “She asleep?” Parr asked nodding her head toward Katherine in bed.

Cleves nodded, “Yeah. She dropped the minute she laid down.”

“Good, she needed to rest.”

“What happened exactly? I guessed she had a nightmare last night and hurt herself in the aftermath because she didn’t let herself go to anyone.” Cleves asked looking fully over at Parr.

“Yeah, basically the dream was of her death, and she tried to hold it in this morning too. She had a panic attack before the show,” Parr explained.

“Oh, that explains why she was so tired,” Anna frowned.

“Anxiety takes a lot out of someone,” Parr shrugged. Anna nodded in agreement looking back down at the sleeping figure curled so tightly up next to her. “Anyway, we ordered pizza for dinner. Jane didn’t feel like making any food. It should be here in about twenty minutes.”

She nodded, “Thanks, Parr. I’ll make sure we’re down there before it gets cold.”

The shorter woman nodded with a small smile, “Yeah, I’ll see you two then.”

Anna watched Parr make her way out of the room and then glanced back at Katherine who happened to stir just slightly so she could reposition her neck. The twenty minutes passed by quickly and soon enough, Anna found herself shaking Katherine awake, “Mm, no,” Katherine mumbled hardly opening her eyes before closing them again.

“Babe, you have to wake up. Parr order pizza and it should be here soon.” The prospect of food caught her attention and Katherine forced her eyes open.

“I”m hungry, but I’m also tired. Can you bring me food up here?” Cleves couldn’t help but to grin at her sleep deprived girlfriend. She was beautiful all the time, but a sleepy Katherine was adorable.

“We need to go eat with them, come on,” Cleves said, gently starting to move untangle herself from Katherine and get out of bed. For a moment more, Katherine lay there and watched Anna before forcing herself to sit up and get out of bed with a huff.

Anna stopped Katherine before she walked out to pull her into a tight hug. Katherine was surprised at the sudden bear hug, but she wasn’t complaining. Anna’s hugs were always warm and full of love, and this one was no different. “Hey, Kitty, I love you, and I’m here for you no matter what,” Anna said over her shoulder.

The declaration made a blush rise on the younger woman’s face. “I love you too,” she replied wrapping her arms around Anna even more tightly. The German stayed in the hug for a moment more before pulling away.

“Let’s go eat.” Katherine nodded in agreement conceding to walk down the stairs and join the other queens. As they walked, Katherine’s mind wandered for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, but for once it wasn’t in a bad way. Despite her insecurities and what anxiety told her, she could feel the love of the other queens in moments like these. She often wondered how this second chance at life had landed her in such a lucky position with these women.

Then, that phrase, the one she’d thought about that morning floated back into her mind. The sky bends before it breaks. That was true it did bend, and breaking was inevitable, but building it again wasn’t.

#six the musical #katherine howard #catherine parr #jane seymour #anne of cleves #anne boleyn

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rebeccaheyman · 2 years

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Spoiler Alert: It's Not About a Librarian

Review: The Woman in the Library by Sulari Gentill, aBook narr. Katherine Littrell (Poisoned Pen Press and Dreamscape Media, 9 June 2022)

If you like your mystery with a healthy dose of meta-narrative, The Woman in the Library is the book for you. I adored this smart, well-plotted, suspenseful story that is equal parts murder mystery, cultural commentary, and book-within-a-book. If that sounds complicated -- it is. But Sulari Gentill keeps this complex machine humming with incredible finesse.

Three-sentence summary: Four strangers strike up an unexpected friendship after a chilling scream pierces the quiet of the Boston Public Library. When a female journalist is discovered dead there the next day, the quartet decides to investigate, only to discover their connection to the killer is stronger than they realize. Meanwhile, the author of all their destinies finds herself trapped in the crosshairs of an admirer who will go to any length to show his loyalty to her cause.

This was a perfectly paced thriller that had me totally enthralled from the get-go. I actually ended up listening to the audio for this title after the book's release, and Katherine Littrell's narration added another layer of storytelling excellence to the narrative. Compelling characters, a logical but hard-to-solve mystery, and lovely prose -- The Woman in the Library was everything I could have asked for in a summer read.

#the woman in the library #sulari gentill #mystery books #suspense books #fiction #new release #poisoned pen press #dreamscape media #audiobooks #book review #book recommendation #five-star review

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ac1numarch · 10 months

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@sarcasticsnackpack required a one liner. katherine pierce.

kp. " you should know right now that i never stay put in one place. "

#sarcasticsnackpack #prose. : katherine pierce.#dyn. : stiles stilinski &. katherine pierce.#/ she says hi while waving around and says that like it's nothing.

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thesinglesjukebox · 6 years

Video

youtube

LAURA JEAN - GIRLS ON THE TV [8.27] Melbourne singer goes back to high school, discovers synths...

Jonathan Bradley: Laura Jean's self-titled album, her fourth -- it is now four years old -- is a skeletal folk record: it sounds like an Australia I don't often hear in pop song or mass media. It draws wintry charcoal sketches of Melbourne city parks and lonely stretches of national highways. The gothic domesticity acted like blotting paper, pressing against the natural rhythms of life and recording them in irrupted detail. Against this backdrop, "Girls on the TV" is a new single awash with astonishing colour: pastel synth swirls and a disco bass pulse pushing through the mix. Removed from context, this pop impulse might not be so unexpected, but I hear in Jean's airy, wavering tones an artist reinventing herself as the introspective rejoinder to the vivant throwback fervor of Betty Who or Catcall. And yet even in this new guise, Jean's bleak folk endures, with an anecdotal lyric that carefully and precisely narrates the drawn-out process of a girlhood destroyed. Ricky, who can "dance like the girls on the TV," is a childhood friend whose joy in the physical possibilities of her body is commodified and contaminated: by demanding teachers who ask her to perform feats she cannot, by cruel classmates who tease her for her weight, and by adult men who make sexual demands upon her. "Girls on the TV" is a sad song of youth that is made sadder by how keenly aware it is of the libertine and evanescent possibilities of the pop it embraces. [9]

Rebecca A. Gowns: "Girls on the TV" falls into that tricky vein of narrative pop songs; telling a full story can be hard to pull off without coming across as maudlin or pretentious or just clunky, but Laura Jean executes it perfectly. It's a story about a woman extending compassion to her sister -- or friend, or possibly even an old lover/crush -- but it tugs at me the most when I think of them as siblings. It's got to be, right? This kind of bittersweet, constant reminiscing reminds me of the pangs I get when I think about my little brother. We grew up so close. We're so different today. We keep reaching out to each other, grasping each other's hands through gaps in a wall that keeps building then falling down then building up again. But every time I see him, no matter the year, no matter the occasion, I'll think of the way we danced when we were kids, singing along to music videos, pulling faces, promising each other we'd be in a band together someday. "Someday" -- and then time flies, and people change -- but the memory remains. This is that feeling in a crystal bottle. [10]

Will Adams: "Girls on the TV" plays like a memory you visit while idly passing the time. The vault you access in your mind safe and warm, bordered by storybook clouds and soundtracked by dreamy synthpop. But, as always, the details that pierce through the most are the ones you want to remember the least: authority figures pressuring you to overexert yourself; peers excavating your every flaw and parading them about; parents imposing their austere lifestyle on you; abusers reducing you to a vessel for their pleasure; the eventual realization that everyone around you has moved forward, gotten hitched, settled down, while you remain stuck in place, feet swamped with the mud of an unkind youth. But those dancing girls are still there, as is the lingering promise that, one day, you could be one of them too. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: A tale of dashed female friendship akin to Who Will Run the Frog Hospital or Cat's Eye; what it loses in prose it gains in a kaleidoscopic, wistful arrangement. It fills its six minutes well; like memory itself, it's alternatingly immediate and almost photorealistic (that one deep synth around 0:30), then languid and ungraspable. [9]

Alfred Soto: The rare single whose insistence on taking its time pays off, "Girls on the TV" sparkles like distant stars, its synthesizers a platform instead of hoping to get noticed. The pace and arrangement suits Laura Jean's remarkable performance: a damaged meditation on loving someone you can see and hear but can't touch and all the better for it -- "Space Age Love Song" and "TVC 15" without the spritz. "She could always dance better than me," Jean repeats: a statement of fact, mild complaint, and prayer. [9]

Vikram Joseph: A languorously paced, well-written coming-of-age story about female friendship and crushed dreams. The airy, breathy pre-chorus is a particularly good showcase for Laura Jean's vocals. It's unlikely to get the blood racing -- sonically, it's undeniably a bit adult contemporary -- but it owns the middle of the road better than 95 per cent of the stuff you'd hear on drive-time radio. [7]

Julian Axelrod: An immersive, deeply felt meditation on ambition and destiny, sung with the resignation of a woman long since disillusioned with both. The longer I sit with it, the more its faults feel like strengths: Its leisurely runtime reflects time's slow and relentless march, while its dourness finds balance in its faint glimmers of hope. After living within it for a week, it already feels like I've carried this story with me my entire life. [9]

Peter Ryan: The languid quality is perfect misdirection, masking what's going on until the chords break open at the chorus. What emerges is an unflinching sketch of a web connecting childhood pain, coping attempts, and "contemporary adult life." There's no glib gesturing toward resilience, and instead of pity or judgment I hear an indictment of actual and would-be tormentors. Laura Jean brings a sibling's testimony, one that doesn't seek to bridge the gulf between shared upbringing and shared experience, and is all the more potent for it. The wrapping is more chiffon than velvet, but underneath is still an iron fist. [9]

Jonathan Bogart: A folkie's idea of dance music, muted and unflustered, with warm electric bass and polyrhythms played by actual hands rather than programming. Sweet, certainly, and the lyrics' sketch of childhood and adolescent friendship are well-observed and touching without being sentimental. Which is the trouble: the whole production is an exercise in keeping vulgarity, of which sentimentality is one expression, and actual dance music that makes you sweat another, at arm's length. [6]

Alex Clifton: Like if Belle & Sebastian's "Expectations" was twice as long with more disco. Laura Jean has the same gifts for both character and melody Stuart Murdoch has. The dreamy backing helps it go by as quickly as my teenage years did, and her falsetto for the chorus haunts the rest of the song like a memory. It's steeped in nostalgia, but is there any other way to write about adolescence? [7]

William John: Like half the Internet, I've been preoccupied with Hannah Gadsby's Nanette for the past few weeks: a subversive, quasi-TED Talk comedy special that blew my mind when I first saw it in a theatre late last year. Now on Netflix, Nanette is hard to distill succinctly, but central to its significance is its blunt presentation of the devastation rapacious men can effect on others. That devastation lingers in those victims and continues to humiliate them for years -- decades, even -- afterward. In "Girls on the TV", fellow Australian woman Laura Jean presents an unvarnished picture of friend Ricky, a bullied, vulnerable, talented tap dancer, and reminisces wistfully upon the relationship they formed as members of the high school concert band. In the fourth verse, a new character is introduced -- Jean's mother's boyfriend, a violent, young, and predatory 21 year old. In a line excised from the video edit of the song, Jean notes that after Ricky's encounter with this man, she felt like she "didn't know her, or how she got that way"; there is no explicit cause-and-effect drawn, but the implication for the listener is that this incident had extensive ramifications for Ricky, that included cocaine addiction and relationships with married men. It's a sad story that demonstrates the way the action of a third party can destabilise and dismantle a friendship, but it's told with a compelling breathiness by Jean that seems to gather more and more momentum with each passing second. I'm unaccustomed to hearing such brusque, direct, and yet tender third-person storytelling in modern synth-pop. The importance of storytelling is central to Gadsby's Nanette -- stories "hold our cure," she says, and have the power to forge connection. Jean's memories of sitting in front of rage on a Saturday morning when young serve as an access point into an important story that deserved to be recounted. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#laura jean #pop #pop music #music #music video #music writing #music reviews #australian music #new music

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melanoradrood · 6 years

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For the writer meme: #7

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

So this is from a fic called Only For You (here’s the AO3 link), and it was written over five years ago for the TVD Fandom for the Klaroline Ship, and it was one of the first smut fics I posted way back when on FF.net, and we were so civilized because we had all moved off of LJ lol…

Idk why but this one really sticks with me, and maybe it’s because in particular I can still hear the characters saying this in my head...

His voice was raspy as he finally spoke. “Caroline, you cannot just... you cannot just explore this and leave when you’re done. You cannot... I cannot... if you leave me...”

She jerked her arm out of his grasp, then smacked him. He dropped her other arm in response and looked down at her, so full of fire and passion. He didn’t know what had brought on that slap, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her in that moment.

“Take a chance, you said. You asked me to take a chance, to get to know you. And that’s why I’m here. Because I FEEL something for you. Because I like your art, and because I like when you make me laugh, and I like that you put me first. I want to take a chance to get to know you.”

Then she took a step back. Her entire body was shaking now. Her vampire senses were raging inside of her, all of the lust and passion and hatred and anger she felt overwhelming her. She had to get away from him before she said or did something she would regret, but she was already on a roll, so why stop now.

“And I know that there is a line that, if I cross it, you won’t let me go. If I cross the line, and I decide to leave, then I had better call up Katherine Pierce and ask to come hide with her, because you won’t ever allow me to leave. But we have danced around that line enough and we have never even kissed. And so help me god, Klaus, if you do not take a chance for once yourself... take a chance on ME. On THIS. Nothing in this life is a guarantee save for this moment, and if you want me, then KISS me.”

Ask me things!

#skitzofreak #Answered Ask #ask the author #about me

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austennerdita2533 · 7 years

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A/N: Okay, so...I'm not entirely sure what this is?? haha. I was hit with a truckload of Kalijah nostalgia during Katherine Pierce Appreciation Week recently and this 3k more or less tumbled out of me without much provocation, steamrolling into a lot of Elijah POV and prose I never thought I'd think about let alone expected to write?

As a result, I don’t know how I feel about it. But I hope you like it, anyway! *prayer hands*

xx Ashlee Bree

Summary: Elijah ends things between them abruptly in Mystic Falls. Katherine clings and chases him to New Orleans, refusing to let him off the hook without a fight because she's learned something that's changed the game. It's changed everything. Now, if only Elijah would get out of his own head long enough to listen...

(Canon Divergence + post-s4 of TVD + Mates)

(FF.net) (A03)

There Are Girls Who Will Tear You Apart With Their Lips

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries it demands it says that there is a chance.

it will not say “no.” —Love is a Dog from Hell, Charles Bukowski

Tantalized.

It’s what Elijah feels. It’s the first thing he thinks the moment he perceives her standing in the middle of the foyer, ensconced in lamplight, with her hip cocked to the left and her expression calculating, a little nefarious, an expensive bottle of Bordeaux peeking out of her handbag. Chestnut curls cascade down her back to bounce against the intricate lace of that little black dress she wears. It’s tapered slightly above the knee to hug her thighs, accentuating her lithe curves perfectly. Sinfully.

She’s the devil in kitten heels and Dior perfume, and she knows it. Flaunts it. She brandishes it at him like a whip that's headed straight for his Achilles heel.

Five hundred years of reserve, and constraint, and pain, fade away with the flicker of her curled black lashes to his face, her pert simper widening as imaginary strings pluck in time to the sashay of her hips when she glides past him into the sitting room; heels clicking against the hardwood. Brushing against his shoulder, she precedes to strut through the room with a newly-acquired familiarity. She allows her gaze to catalogue everything. As if she’s resorting it to memory.

Next, she pulls back the light feathery curtains to toss a perfunctory nod of approval at the streets below, humming something to herself unintelligibly. Then, after another moment, she opens the doors so the French Quarter humidity and musical commotion can billow in through from the courtyard. It seems she’s making herself at home—like she owns it. Or, like avarice is nothing to her but a wieldable commodity for him to nurture.

Elijah forgets to move.

The house somehow grows smaller with her in it. More claustrophobic.

It’s far too snug with these used bricks and cherry bookshelves caging them in on all sides, at every angle. It feels like the ceiling’s about to descend to crush every last gear still churning inside his head. What if it does? How will this chess game finally end?

The available space between their two bodies shrinks and shrinks until she’s a magnified map of history, half truths, and conflicting body language expanding before his eyes. She’s in every room or hallway, lurking around every corner; and before he knows it, he’s unable to look away from the tome of her he doesn’t want to read.

The sun trickles in from outside like yellow fire droplets. It sizzles against Elijah’s back so heat snakes down his spine like burnt cigarettes and nearly causes him to fall to his knees.

His whole body tingles and itches until everything around him blazes as red as that profane mark on his wrist, sucking out his well-preserved faculties like blood because he knows when he permits himself to move closer, he’ll be too weak to locate the door he needs. He knows he’ll never be able to sneak back behind it. No. He’ll never be able to find the strength to slam it shut between them again.

Also, were he to endeavor such an escape now, she’d never hesitate to strike from behind with her talons extended. She’d never pause to claim him like the prey he often was around her, and perhaps still could be—so he remains still. As formidable as stone.

“Good evening, Katerina,” he says stiffly, addressing her with a curt appraising nod. “To what do I owe this intrusion?”

“Missed me bad, have you?” she replies with a smirk.

“Not quite the phrasing I’d choose, no.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“And why’s that?”

She twines hair around her finger and says, “Because I’ve missed you terribly, ma chérie, and I’m here to collect what’s owed to me. What’s owed to us. Time’s up for you, I’m afraid. No more charades.”

Katherine’s an entire dictionary of words: a little bit of everything convoluted and picante:

Coquettish.

Possessive.

Calculating.

Indulgent.

Dangerous.

Stylish.

Sexy.

Lovely.

Too lovely.

The adjectives burn like cognac on Elijah’s tongue and he knows he needs to bury them. He needs to stop all those inexcusable words from flashing through his head, from sliding across his suddenly blunted teeth in want of describing her. But they’re delectable in all their disaster. Perfect in their crunch. Like blood dipped in roses or Debussy. Like a lovebite scarred on his neck in shades of faded red lipstick. Like hands leashed around his wrists. Like…

Clearly he’s tantalized by her yet.

The thought makes him want to crack her open like a book spine to study the language of her entrails, to find out where the pentameter cuts off and where the free verse of hell begins. The face of Athena, Aphrodite, and Hecate—her face—wears an underworld of dark and delicious secrets this spring evening; and they pulsate like veins beneath her hungry, inscrutable eyes like they always have. Like they probably always will.

Changed and unchanged in a multitude of ways, Katherine’s a chameleon with fangs who prowls from century to century. Haunting him. Seducing him with fingernails that claw into his back to mark love there, against his skin. Torturing him with too many questions he’ll never be able to answer: like why their hearts are forever tangled in manipulation, and lies, and ‘almosts’ that never come to fruition.

She’s a one-headed Medusa whose name still purrs in the reticent bones of his mind—Katerina, Katerina—and he cannot stop hearing it like a refrain. He knows he cannot. He knows because he’s covered his ears; he’s shut down his own heart too many times to count.

And tried.

“I’m disappointed. You don’t seem happy to see me,” Katherine says, breaking the ice with a tut and a pout.

“No,” Elijah replies as he glances at his Rolex. “No, I’d say I’m more surprised than anything.”

The smile she offers in return is thin. Terse.

“By the way you keep checking your watch, I’d wager you’re expecting a visitor of the female variety.”

“I am.”

It’s a lie. He’s not expecting anyone. Hayley’s long gone; he and his siblings ushered her out of the city after her wild, elaborate tales regarding Klaus and a magical child proved to be as fallacious as she was.

“Who is she?” Katherine demands tartly, swallowing back a snarl.

His answer is impassive. Stoic. “I fear that’s none of your concern.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

He dignifies this with nothing but silence.

“Okay. Have it your way, Elijah,” Katherine purrs. Her movements a little too casual and nonchalant, she waves him off only to pivot back around like a black swan ballerina. “But I bet she’s not as hot for you as I am.”

“In fact,” her teeth widen in smile; her voice sharpens, “I’d bet my heart on it.”

Elijah folds his hands. The barest hint of courtesy levels his voice into something flat and steady, “What do you want, Katerina?”

“You.”

“And how can I be of service?” he says with a blink.

Angling closer, Katherine narrows her eyes then unloads,

“Did you think you could get rid of me that easily? Me? A Petrova?” she laughs, but it comes out cutting. Sardonic. “Let me let you in on a little secret, baby: I survive; I never say die. So don’t you dare believe for one second there’s a world for you out there without me in it, because there’s not, because there never will be. Do you understand me?”

Elijah’s jaw ticks and he frowns, offering her a look ripe with skepticism.

“No, no,” she wiggles her finger at him as a wicked glint transforms her features, “you can’t run from this any longer. You’re done locking yourself off from me.”

Circling him in those tall, fancy heels, trailing a finger down his shirt almost like she’s marking territory or preparing to fillet her prey, Katherine stops to spread both hands against his chest before pulling him to her by the lapels. She pulls him until their faces are only inches apart. Until Elijah’s close enough to smell her last kill (a vodka-drinking attorney) on her breath.

“Did you really think I’d let you go after some vile, half-assed goodbye? Or that I wouldn’t follow you after I learned the truth? After I felt it literally brand into me, burning my muscles and bones?” she snickers again.

“In the five hundred years you’ve known me, have I once struck you as the kind of lover who wouldn’t scratch, fight, or scheme until the man I desired conceded? Until he swore he was mine?”

“It makes no difference. The point is settled. Moot.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Katherine spits out cruelly, challenging him. “It makes all the difference.”

A lump forms in his throat at her words, but he bites it back, too self-controlled for his own good. In any case, hope for them is gone. Dead. So he answers her cooly instead,

“I don’t care.”

“What a fool you are, Elijah,” Katherine sneers, malicious humor dripping from the edges of her mouth like rubies. “I warned you I wouldn’t let you off the hook again, and I won’t…now stop pushing me the hell out, you insufferable, pretentious ass!”

“No. You must stop pulling me in,” he fires back.

Zeal mixed with anger and perseverance turns her pupils into flames. It accentuates her Hadean beauty; it heightens her severity enough to strengthen it into something fixed and implacable, something almost ruthless.

“Sorry,” Katherine says without a hint of remorse, “but you should know this by now: I do as I damn well please.”

“This is madness!” Shaking, he grasps her by the shoulders and flashes them into the library. Pressing her hard against the nearest bookcase. “Desist with this nonsense, immediately! I beg of you.”

“No.”

“Why are you doing this? What for!?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Katherine whispers like a caress.

She simpers up at him knowingly when his sleeve slips up his wrist to expose the intricate ‘KP’ calligraphy engraved into the skin of his left hand. Which, despite being slightly obscured by his watch, looks as if it were elegantly cat-scratched against his veins—only it wasn’t.

“It was foolish of you to come here, Katerina,” Elijah says, drawing out a sigh. “This little act of yours will not alter my decision. I meant what I said to you before I left Mystic Falls. You and I have come to an impasse—we are not…I fear we cannot seem to…”

He clears his throat.

“This—this thing carved into my flesh is nothing but a superstitious trap, a compulsive trick of the mind some vengeful witch devised so that I would…so as to suggest that we are somehow…”

“Yes?”

He steps back. Hardening, he drags a hands down his face and clenches his jaw to add, “It’s not real, you understand. I’m certain it’s not real.”

“Liar,” she growls. There’s hunger in Katherine’s eyes now, and something else, too—something prickly and unnerving as hell because it crackles in the air around her like lightning: certainty. “Coward.”

“You feel the tug; you hear the call in the howl of your bones just as I do,” she says, “except you’re too afraid to let it course through you. You’re as stuck inside your own head as you ever were, Elijah, but I swear on my my precious-and-padded, about me life I won’t move until you let the only truth that matters consume you.”

She’s not entirely mistaken. He’s terrified.

Elijah’s terrified because they both know precisely what being ‘marked’ means…what it entails…how choice and providence each play a part in the official elevation from being ‘intended’ to ‘knotted.’ Soulmarks are embedded in any number of the myths and whisperings they’ve encountered throughout the centuries, and some offer convincing proof of their existence despite the proclaimed rareness among the Originals. And, yet…how many grimoire’s in his family’s possession state that perhaps—perhaps—

Elijah’s mind is so bleary all of a sudden. His heart is so thunderous and unrelenting against his ribcage, so burdensome with all these wretched, blaring sensations it thrums whenever it’s within her proximity, that he struggles for purchase. He feels himself spiraling and unraveling to the point that a door squeaks open inside of his head, just an inch, and that’s when the intolerable buzzing begins.

In an effort to compensate and correct, he stands taller and firmer. He pinches the bridge of his nose, more fatigued than he’s felt in a thousand years, and says,

“Please. Please, I can’t do this now.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t do it to me now,” Katherine says with a curl of her red mouth, “or ever again.”

“It’s over between us, Katerina.”

“The hell it is! I always get what I want, and I want you to let me in.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head and pushing her away with closed eyes and balled fists which he shoves into his pockets. “I-I won’t.”

“Fine then,” Katherine relents, but only for a second. “If that’s how you want to play it—” She rakes him over with a predatory gleam in her eyes, “Kiss me like it’s over and maybe I’ll believe you.”

“This isn’t a game, Katerina!”

“Maybe it is, E. Maybe it is. This could be the universe’s Most Dangerous Game, or perhaps you’ve failed to consider that?”

“I said no. It’s not real!”

“Yes. It is!” she hisses back with resolve heavy on her black lashes. “Believe.”

“You’re…you’re being impossible. This is indecent! Asinine! Absolute lunacy!”

She rolls her eyes.

“Like I want a vocabulary lesson when I know you want this, too.”

Suddenly, she’s tugging on his lapels again, and her hands are diving beneath his tailored jacket to tear at the designer fabric until it’s ripped from his shoulders, shimmied down his elbows, and discarded from his wrists into a ball behind his feet.

Katherine’s all around him in seconds. Visions, dreams, memories, flesh—she’s everywhere:

Her tiger-doe eyes…

That blood-and-Dior scent on her clothes, against her lips…

Those soft brown tresses falling to brush her chin, framing her face until they’re wreathed around his fingertips like a web, trapped and tangled as they tug along the back of her scalp, never to free themselves again…

The way she laughs, screams his name…

How the air bends into heat, and lust, and skin, as she bites into his neck to free him of constraint…

Her meowing heartbeat…

The perfect swivel of her hips when she wraps her limber legs around his waist and smashes back against the shelves, straddling him as if she’d ride him through every page of history only to proceed across the blankness of forever; determined to write their lovemaking across the epochs of eternity…

How she ties his intestines into knots with a look, with a single touch…

‘Mine, mine, mine’ kissing along each one of his ribs…

The feel of her teasing, scratching, goosebump-eliciting fingernails drawing initials into his back so they’ll never heal, never fade…

She’s everywhere—in everything. And there’s no way in hell to tell what’s real or how it’ll end. All he knows, all he feels, is this tantalizing magnetism in his veins pulling him forward. Into her arms.

“Sue me, but I told you this was the only way to call your bluff, Elijah. Kiss me more. Again,” Katherine both demands and pleads.

There’s a clock tick-ticking somewhere inside his head now, counting down the seconds until he’s entirely unlocked by the key of her mouth.

“Come on. Kiss me harder, ma chérie.”

Elijah gulps and steps back, but not far.

He barely smothers the temptation to lurch forward to take her—blood and lips, skin and sin, love so volcanic it could erupt—by reinforcing the knot of his tie and smoothing down his Armani sleeves until they’re as stiff as armor: determined to keep the world out. He’s resolved to knight himself up from head-to-toe to keep fate from bounding in. It shall not overtake him; it will not win. He’ll do almost anything to keep that word from snaking and coiling itself all the way through him like that soulmark on his wrist, like this girl with the pomegranate poison on her tongue, if he can.

If he can.

“Give me your mouthful of forevers,” she says. “Let me suck them from your lips.”

Katherine’s smile unravels into something sharp and cunning as she runs her thumb across his chin, teasing him by leaning in to nibble her way along the edge of his jaw and closed mouth until he’s forced to give up, give in. She’s daring him to try and resist the sweet and sour taste of her tongue—which he doesn’t because he never has. He never can. And now he never will again because the little minx has whittled him down until he’s transformed into the one thing he swore did not exist: Mate.

Elijah’s heart and mind sigh in conjunction with this epiphany. This is it. The end. He’s let her all the way in. The last walls of resistance wobble then crumble, receding into corners that fill him with a permanent sense of acceptance and warmth. Something akin to…well, heaven if it weren’t a myth.

“I don’t know about you,” Katherine purrs against his mouth, “but I say we continue this conversation upstairs. Yes?”

He cups her face in both hands.

“And, if I don’t care to venture that far? What then, hm?” he trails off with a pursed look. But it abruptly unwinds into a small smile.

Pulling back, Katherine considers him with a grin before she rips his shirt down the middle to send buttons skating across the floor and to pepper his exposed chest with kisses. The promise of more is eminent when she crashes them both atop a mountain of books and reaches for his belt, sliding it free with a deft tug,

“Then I suppose the desk will have to do,” she says.

#kalijah #kalijah drabbles #kalijah fanfiction #also @ my title: i am forever t r a s h for f scott fitzgerald #and his marvelous batch of perfect quotes #i mean; i diiiiiie #(just in case you wanted to know)#*okay; carry on*#*ignore me; honestly*#ashlee bree's writing endeavors

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ladyfantasist · 7 years

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Reread, Rewrite or Burn - Book Tag

This tag is very popular on Booktube and even though I’m not a booktuber it looked exciting so I just couldn’t help doing it myself on paper! I saw it first a few days ago on BooksWithEmilyFox’s channel so PLEASE go check out her videos on Youtube or her Goodreads page if you haven’t already she is a wonderful Booktuber and a total sweetheart – watching her videos always makes me happy.

I chose a lot of my favorite books to make this as hard for me as possible… prayers are welcome. I ended up doing a lot of rounds because it was ridiculous addicting. Most people do like three to six but I did twelve because I’m just beyond extra.

Also I am a total nerd and decided to add a difficultly level to each round! Next to each round you’ll see either Normal, Hard, or Brutal. Normal meaning it was fairly clear from first picking them out which one would be which, Hard meaning it was a challenge to decide, and Brutal meaning it was absolute agony to have to choose between those books. I added this aspect to my own rounds simply because I’m not doing this via video but on paper – whoever is reading this won’t be able to see my reactions and won’t really know the difficulty each round was for me or how much time it took me to decide.

THE RULES:

- Randomly choose 3 books (I wrote down a bunch on slips of paper and put them in a hat to pick from.)

- For each group, decide which book to burn, which one to rewrite, and which to reread.

- Repeat until you completed however many rounds you want to do!

If you do one of your own PLEASE tag me in them! I’d love to see what you picked!

ROUND 1 – Normal

Reread: Tower of Dawn by Sarah J. Maas. This was fairly simple, I LOVED this book and was already planning to reread it anyways. It was also the only five star book out of this round.

Rewrite: Ice Massacre by Tiana Warner. Wonderful novel but I didn’t fully enjoy the magical aspect of the town and would rewrite it to focus more on the romance because the romance is A+.

Burn: Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater. I enjoyed this book a lot but the last time I read it was around when it came out which is I believe around 2009. So, I was a freshman in high school and 14 years old. I have a pretty good feeling I would feel differently if I read it now – especially since I don’t like any of Stiefvater’s other novels I’ve read as an adult. I think about rereading it sometimes but I just don’t want to break the façade.

ROUND 2 – Normal

Reread: Wolfsong by T.J. Klune. I pulled out this one first and immediately put it here. Easy. This book is fecking magically wonderful and I could never ever do any wrong to it.

Rewrite: Dreams of Gods and Monsters by Laini Taylor. The books in this trilogy are some of my favorite books of all time. I have to say though, I would have to go back and add more backstory to some of the new elements we learned in this book because it just felt a little thrown in randomly.

Burn: Passenger by Alexandra Bracken. A good book but not nearly as good as the other choices. Can be a bit forgettable.

ROUND 3 – Normal

Reread: Saga Vol. 1 by Brian Vaughan. Saga is my favorite graphic novel series. I thought about putting this in rewrite but honestly there isn’t one thing I would change about it.

Rewrite: Paladin by Sally Slater. Great unknown author who deserves more attention. This novel was originally posted on Wattpad and I fell in love with it. I think I would rewrite it just to make the romance a little more believable.

Burn: My Lady Jane by Cynthia Hand. A feel good guilty pleasure book. Not enough love for this to replace the other options.

ROUND 4 – Hard

Reread: Carry the Ocean by Heidi Cullinan. This book is so damned dear to my heart. A lgbtq romance novel between two boys one of which has autism and the other has severe anxiety and depression issues who are just trying to get each other through each day and be there for each other, their friends, and their family. If you haven’t read this PLEASE READ THIS.

Rewrite: Red Winter by Annette Marie. Japanese influenced novels are my kryptonite. Especially well written ones and this is one of them. The only thing I would ever change is maybe add a little less arrogance to Emi the main character – she can come off a bit prissy sometimes.

Burn: Consider by Kristy Acevedo. A great book that really makes you think, “what would I do in this situation?”. It’s a book you’ll be telling everyone about. Unfortunately it simply just lost out to two books I love more.

ROUND 5 – Hard

Reread: The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden. My favorite book of 2016. Russian culture has always been fascinating to me and this book made that even stronger. This book is a damn masterpiece.

Rewrite: Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo. YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WOULD CHANGE, DON’T YOU DARE PRETEND YOU DON’T KNOW.

Burn: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling. I’ll probably get hate for this one and I’m probably the only person who has chosen this but I’m sorry, I love it, it’s just not as dear to my heart as it is for most.

ROUND 6 – Hard

Reread: Godsgrave by Jay Kristoff. Favorite novel of 2017 so far. There’s not a fecking chance I’m giving up Mia or rewriting one word of this book.

Rewrite: Scarlet by Marissa Meyer. My favorite character and pairing in the series is introduced in this book and I think I would rewrite it to be just a little less juvenile feeling in some places.

Burn: Uprooted by Naomi Novik. God I love this book I’m so sorry Uprooted… but as I was putting it in the rewrite slot at first I noticed how much I would actually change in this book and it was more than Scarlet, so it just had to be done.

ROUND 7 – Brutal

Reread: The Bird and the Sword by Amy Harmon. All the feels are coming back… gosh I really need to reread this one. Nothing I would change about little Lark or her story. Full of magic and love and loss.

Rewrite: Lady Midnight by Cassandra Clare. Emma and Julian’s relationship needs a little tweeking I think – make it a little less angsty and a little more real.

Burn: City of Heavenly Fire by Cassandra Clare. Okay I love this series and will to the end of my days. It’s awesome getting more to the story and seeing all the characters grow up even more and maturing… but, honestly I wouldn’t have been upset if the story had ended with City of Glass.

ROUND 8 – Normal

Reread: The Host by Stephenie Meyer. This was actually the first “adult” novel I ever read. I read it in one sitting and laughed and cried and cried… I just loved it. I still go back and reread THE Wanda and Ian scene. I need to give this another read and even if I don’t love it as much as I used to it’ll be worth it. Now when IN THE HELL are we getting The Seeker and The Soul, Stephenie?

Rewrite: Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor. In my opinion, it was an amazing novel but I think she went a BIT overboard with the “magical, airy, dreamy” prose. It’s beautiful and perfect in the Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy but in this I think I would rewrite just to tone that down a little.

Burn: Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo. Fecking Mal, I hate him. Useless boy. Alina x Darkling forever.

ROUND 9 – Brutal

Reread: Morning Star by Pierce Brown. I mean, this is the third book in my favorite trilogy of all time how could I not put this here? Darrow has been crushed into my heart for all time. If you haven’t read these books I’m not completely sure we can be friends.

Rewrite: The Door Within by Wayne Thomas Batson. Guys, this is it, this is the first novel in the series that single handedly turned me into a reader. Ten year old Lisa’s soul changed after reading this, not even slightly joking. This book is a big part of why I am who I am today. The only reason it’s in the rewrite is because it is a middle grade novel and it would be cool to see what it would be like if it was written for the age I am now.

Burn: Clockwork Princess by Cassandra Clare. Jem Carstairs don’t hate me, I’m so sorry Jem, you know I love you! I’m so sorry Will please forgive me. Cheers to the only great love triangle written, I’m so sorry all of you.

ROUND 10 – Hard

Reread: Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead. Look I know these books have their flaws but I don’t care I simply love them and grew up with them I can’t change them or burn them I just CAN’T.

Rewrite: Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer. I mean yes this needs to be rewritten to death but I don’t care how ridiculous it makes me I’m a Twi-hard for life I just can’t help myself.

Burn: Scythe by Neal Shusterman. I really enjoyed this book but it didn’t impact me enough to replace it with either of the other two that impacted me growing up.

ROUND 11 – Normal

Reread: A Court of Mist and Fury. I’ve already reread this book three times, it’s one of my all time favorites and Rhysand is my husband – I put this here before I even picked the other two out.

Rewrite: Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson. I’m just nitpicking with this one, these novels are damn amazing, there isn’t really anything I would change. If ANYTHING maybe make the high society balls and intrigue a little less present.

Burn: Bird Box by Josh Malerman. Just couldn’t live up to my current favorite YA novel and current favorite adult fantasy series.

ROUND 12 – Normal

Reread: Carry On by Rainbow Rowell. Just can’t get enough of these two honestly.

Rewrite: The Angel Experiment by James Patterson. Maximum Ride has a special place in my heart and I just SO BADLY would love it to be rewritten for my age group I want it so badly.

Burn: Reincarnation Blues by Michael Poore. A great novel but unfortunately the second half of this book is MUCH better than the first half.

#booktag #reread #rewrite #burn #books #fantasy #youngadult #scifi

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