#rhythm: the chariot

[tsunagite]

Rhythm gayming miscellaneous stuff

[alwayscorvus]

Forced Marriage

Forced Marriage

Jing Yuan x male reader, fluff;

This day has finally come. Day when you and Jing Yuan were going to get married and fulfill your parents' promise.

Several years had passed since signing the agreement as children. Your parents long gone from this world. You both have earned a good name for yourselves. But despite the huge period of time and all your achievements, you have forgotten about one and most important thing. Or you may have actually done it on purpose. You haven't built a bond expected for future partners. You haven't gotten to know each other. You haven't even met. Not counting a few important occasions, banquets or incidents, at which you never exchanged more than two sentences. You knew your current appearance only from paintings.

But now it was all about to change.

You adjusted the collar of your white shirt in the mirror and sent your reflection a hesitant glance.

Suddenly you heard a creak of an opening door. You turned rapidly and your eyes caught a glimpse of a figure of the man that you were supposed to marry in next few hours.

You swallowed a lump in your throat. Weirdly terrified. A feeling once completely unfamiliar to you.

You kept watching as Jing Yuan made his way down the grand, snowy white, marble staircase, positioned in the center of the room. He was moving with incredible elegance. His hips gently swayed from side to side in the rhythm of lions' tails that confidently hunted his prey.

Right behind your fiancé his butler followed. His movements were much more clumsy, struggling to keep up with his master.

-It's a honor.

Said Jing Yuan, bowing low as he finally managed to reach you.

-My pleasure.

You answered with a fake confidence. You weren't sure what to do with yourself. Should you shake his hand? Give him a hug? Confess for how long you had been looking forward to this meeting? After all, you were going to spend the rest of your lives together. Completely inseparable.

Jing Yuan, however, seemed cold and reserved. Completely different from the descriptions. Although his face didn't show much, man didn't fail to send you an unfriendly glance.

You rubbed your sweaty palms against the sides of your suit pants. You really can't remember the last time you were so nervous. Have you ever been this way? Even when handling the biggest contracts on which your family's good name depended, you weren't this worried. Today, however, was very different. As well as the entire last week for which you couldn't sleep.

-Misses Xiǎo Huì probably warned you that it's not gonna be anything big. Everyone will find out about our new status eventually, but I don't want to make a ceremony that shakes whole Xianzhou Luofu. I prefer to let this matter pass as quietly as possible. We came to the conclusion that my marriage... precisely this marriage, may not have the best impact on my position as Charioteer.

Ah, of course. Over those past years since Jing Yuan was a small child, he was able to completely turn around his family's luck and become a Charioteer. He chose a path completely different from his origins.

While you were enriching and expanding a company passed down from generation to generation, he was starting from an absolute scratch. Literally. Because at the time all his family had to offer were debts.

Although you admired his achievements and hard work, you probably would have preferred if he had remained as an ordinary, average Jing Yuan. Or at least if he hadn't been in charge of all citizens… That would have been much more simpler…

Ceremony passed quickly. Too quickly. Whole concept was so abstract to you that you weren't even able to recall whole time spent on all activities. At first you didn't want to interfere in the course of your wedding. You thought that you would let Jing Yuan take the lead and carry it out in any way he wished. However now, you regretted that deeply.

Before you knew it, you got your blessings from all the important figures in Xianzhou Luofu and beyond. While your hands grabbed brushes and signed all needed paperwork.

In the end, inspired by a foreign tradition, you exchanged rings. You needed something that at first glance symbolized and proved your relationship.

However, your movements were completely automatic and not tainted by any feeling. Deep in your soul you laughed bitterly at this.

-This is our shared bedroom - he announced, pointing at the room with a gentle nod.

You looked around in astonishment.

Huge, shadowed bedroom, without any natural light source. Only with candles alone. Candles that emitted a cozy warmth. In theory.

Major attention was focused on a large canopy bed placed in the center. Covered with thick layers of duvets in plum and burgundy colors. Whole place almost screamed with splendor. And was definitely different from a traditional bedroom in these regions. It was most likely a former guest room for high-ranked foreign heads, who felt uncomfortable in an unfamiliar environment.

And this suggested that Jing Yuan didn't want to sacrifice his private bedroom for your shared abode.

-Of course, only for now. Until public interest dies down. If something were to leak outside the gates of this building, we would probably prefer for it to not be an unfavourable gossip, right? -he asked almost cockily- I think that in a few months… Maybe a year or two. We will be able to split up and go our separate ways. I'll take one wing and you will take the other. We'll pretend that it's more convenient for our work. Although… I don't think we'll have to pretend.

You were stunned.

So this is how your marriage was supposed to look like…

-But isn't that better? I mean... you know, you don't even swing that way.

You had just finished venting about your worries over a bottle of soju, when your friend decided to bring you back to reality.

You looked at him dumbfounded. But still, you let him continue. Especially after he poured you another glass.

-Since he is not really interested and calls it just a deal, you can treat it like that too. Say that in the eyes of the public you will play a perfect, compatible marriage couple, and in your own four walls you will lead separate lives. You will find yourself some nice chick, flatter her a little bit and-

You growled in disappointment.

-First of all: fact that Jing Yuan is a man is actually the least of my problems. Secondly, I'm not a cheater. Even if for him it's just an arrangement, for me it's still a certified marriage signed by two fully aware people. Even if nothing happens between us I'm not planning to find anyone else.

Your friend just waved his hand at this and ordered another two bottles of drink from a passing by waitress.

-Do you want something more to eat? - he looked at you with expectation. You merely nodded. You didn't care about the food. You wanted to get back to looking for a solution to your problem as soon as possible - In that case I'll ask for another set of what we had before and maybe some more pork this time. Okay, cutie?

He gave a waitress a charming smile, and she, wholly covered in blush, curtsied and quickly ran off towards the kitchen. At the same time, you kept your focus on the slowly cooling grill that decorated the center of a table.

-Ahhh-… cause you always choose the path of this hopeless romantic. And where did that get you? -he pointed at you with disapproval- Look where you are now.

Your head collapsed on your hands, that were laying on the table. You started doubting the point of this meeting.

-Better tell me what to do to "get out of this place".

-I mean- you can wait, be patient. You can play the perfect and understanding partner, hoping that Jing Yuan will one day reciprocate your feelings. But that may take years, or worse, never even happen. And you-… just look at yourself. You are helpless. Lets be honest, you aren't patient. Or at least not anymore in that case. Especially after so many years of waiting. So we need to try a different approach.

-But what kind of?

-Well… -man smiled menacingly- Time for a shock therapy.

"If you are legalny his husband and if you want to be his husband just act as his husband. In the end he doesn't really care."

You weren't sure if this was the best advice you'd ever heard, but you still decided to get swept away.

Which led you to this very moment.

-I promise, I'm gonna be gentle.

Jing Yuan looked at you with suspicion.

-It's not like I'm gonna do anything bad to you - you said slightly devastated- We are partners, remember?

Jing Yuan only furrowed his eyebrows more. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight from leg to leg. Behind his back you could almost see an imaginary lion's tail that dangerously wagged in rhythm of Jing Yuan's excessive stomping. It wasn't hard to see that your husband was now seriously considering all the pros and cons. When you waited like on tenterhooks, clenching your thumbs tightly.

-Alright.

He decided dryly and without a long delay sat down on the edge of your shared bed. Probably out of all ideas and demands that you could come up with, this one was not the worst and relatively harmless.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, you took a seat right behind his back in the blink of an eye.

With shaking hands you grabbed the ribbon that kept his hair tied. You pulled on it gently. Ribbon untied itself smoothly and slipped onto a duvet, without much resistance. Hair, that had been pinned up for whole this time, gracefully spilled on all sides. Thrilled with admiration, you began to gently caress them. In touch they resembled a most expensive silk. They were so delicate that they were just slipping through your hands. You dipped deeper into the snow-white ocean, feeling so pleasant that you wished for it to never stop.

-Do you ever plan to start? -he asked without much patience.

Startled, you almost jumped up. You completely lost yourself in the pleasure, forgetting what you were actually supposed to do.

You grabbed a comb and separated a small part of Jing Yuan's hair.

-How many braids will be fine?

-Do as you wish.

He waved his hand as if shooing away an annoying bug. Jing Yuan probably wasn't aware of your capabilities and had already put himself in a losing position for today. You cheered deeply at that. Since you didn't get a limit you won't restrict yourself either. You will prolong the moment as much as possible.

As you brushed his hair, you also gently massaged his head, which apparently must have appealed to him. Because after a few minutes he forgot to hold back and kept bringing his head closer towards your hand, whenever it moved just a little bit away.

Maybe your ears were playing tricks on you, but you could have swear that in every few minutes you heard a quiet cat's purr.

But you didn't even dare to bring up this subject.

-Huì Fēn?

Jing Yuan's butler paused his hand on a doorknob and turned towards you surprised.

-May I have a question for you?

Trying to relax and focus your attention on something else you began to blindly sort through the papers that were lying on your desk.

-Of course, Sir. How can I help you?

He quickly straightened himself and clasped his hands behind his back.

-It's about Jing Yuan.

Butler's face instantly turned pale.

-I know you have been by his side for many years, you met while you were still in the army… He can always count on your and he has a great trust in you. He has surely entrusted you with more than one secret…

-What do you want to imply by this, Sir? -eventually, he was unable to endure your words. Although his voice was still flawlessly calm.

-Does-… does Jing Yuan have someone? Or-… had someone?

Butler looked at you slightly stunned.

-I can swear that if it's true I won't do any harm to any of them. I just-… I just want to know…

You threw your hands and slightly depressed, sank onto a wooden furniture. You knew that Huì Fēn was not on your side. That he could have told you anything. And lie without hesitation. Anything to avoid harming his rightful Master. And moreover, to help him as much as possible.

But slowly you were beginning to feel exhausted. Long weeks started to pass since your wedding.

Huì Fēn smiled at you with pity.

-If it's about that, I can certainly assure you that you don't need to worry, Sir. Master Jing Yuan has never opened his heart to anyone. And that's what may be your biggest problem, Sir…

Your friend was right. After all, you weren't into men.

Sure, because of a contract made by your parents, you never got yourself into a relationship with anyone. But if you were to hang your eyes on someone in the past, before meeting Jing Yuan, it were always the females. You never imagined yourself with a man before, but you understood that it was bound to happen. And the fact that this someone was your spouse made this act seem neither so distant nor so unpleasant. Slowly, you even began to convince yourself to it. And you weren't doing it against your will. Jing Yuan was actually starting to attract you, despite his flaws, despite his cold attitude towards your relationship. Your feelings were above such a mere things as gender.

You turned from side to side. You really couldn't fall asleep. At first, Jing Yuan stayed up late studying papers and defense plans spread all over the bed. Which actually was your fault, since you insisted on him not doing this in his office but beside you. And after, when he finally decided to go to sleep, your started to overthink.

You almost wanted to growl out of frustration.

However, time to put the next stage of your plan into action has come.

Recent events didn't really bring Jing Yuan close to you, even when there were a lot of them, especially at shared meals.

But you won't give up so easily.

Somewhat timidly you began to move towards your partner. Slowly testing the waters. At first it seemed that you would succeed without any difficulties. At the end, however, things took a different turn.

-Despite so many layers of sheets, you are going to pretend that you got cold?

His clear voice pierced through the entire bedroom and echoed in a silent night. Yet Jing Yuan didn't even budge by millimeter. He also didn't turn to face you.

-So that's why there are so many of them? You wanted to separate yourself from me by them?

Jing Yuan didn't respond to that.

Seeing no objection, you gently lifted your left hand and put it on the sheets where his waist was. Successfully moving a couple inches closer and snuggling your chest into his back.

-You're really hoping that I'll get used to your presence and that's how you'll make me fall in love with you?

He worked you out. And at the same time he was so calm.

-So you give in to the possibility of falling in love with me?

Jing Yuan didn't say anything more. Nor did he push off your hand or move away.

That's not the end of the story…

I will write a sequel someday, but for the time being I don't have a slightest idea when it will happen. So it may take a long time...

[hedgehog-moss]

Writers who use imitative harmony + the movement of their language to evoke meaning are so great to re-read once you’ve learnt this language, if you’ve read them in translation before, it feels like the best reward. I’m reading Annie Proulx in the original for the first time, and so much of her writing style was just not salvageable by French translators (< my condolences), because she intertwines sound with meaning so often, at least in Close Range, and French just doesn’t sound the same! so by translating the meaning you’ll sacrifice a lot of the style... It reminds me of a haunted house book in French that also made me think “haha RIP translators” because it made great use of sound—a lot of “u / eu / ou” to create a sort of sinister howling effect in some sentences, and one sentence about a closed door used “i” and “rr” sounds to give an ominous “creaking open” sensation without actually opening the door in the text...

This kind of thing always makes me reflect despairingly on how many authors I’ll never get to appreciate fully as I can’t read them in the original, but I’m glad to re-discover Annie Proulx at any rate! I mean compare the sound of a phrase like “a hundred dirt road shortcuts” to the French “des centaines de raccourcis, des routes de terre”... First of all the English phrase sounds clippety-cloppy, it sounds like hooves on a dirt road in a way that’s very hard to preserve in a language without syllable stress, but also the French language demands that you turn it into ‘a hundred of shortcurts of roads of dirt’, so it’s best to dilute it into two phrases, and you just lose the clippedness. It sounds less tight, more leisurely.

Same for the phrase “the tawny plain still grooved with pilgrim wagon ruts” vs. “la plaine fauve encore marquée des ornières laissées par les chariots des pèlerins.” That’s a 54% expansion ratio and once again you turn the tight clippedness of ‘grooved with pilgrim wagon ruts’ into ‘grooved with the ruts left by the wagons of the pilgrims.’ You just can’t avoid it, French words have to hold hands in a long procession rather than being stacked like pancakes on top of one another. And sometimes it makes for lovely stylistic effects too (*), but it doesn’t fit the style of a text like this one, which uses rhythm and sound in a very un-French way—rhythmicality in French tends to rely on long flowy phrasings rather than the potholed ruggedness this story demands. (I saw a NY Times article describe it as Annie Proulx “mining the ore of language out of a gritty Wyoming rockscape”)

The rhythm of this whole bit is so neat, you can snap your fingers along with it: “hard orange dawn, the world smoking, snaking dust devils on bare dirt, heat boiling out of the sun until the paint on the truck hood curled, ragged webs of dry rain that never hit the ground, through small-town traffic and stock on the road, band of horses in morning fog...”

The French version is not finger-snapping material but you can tell the translator did her very best to preserve the author’s intention by creating interesting rhythms in French as well. For “hard orange dawn” she could have kept close to the original with, say, “la dureté orange de l’aube” but instead she chose to turn ‘hard’ into a four-syllable adjective (éblouissante / blinding) to end up with a noticeable rhythm—“les aubes orange, éblouissantes,” one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four (and she made ‘dawn’ plural for the same reason.) She wasn’t able to preserve the g/r alliteration of “GRooved with pilGRim waGon Ruts” (although her translated phrase also has a lot of R’s) but she did preserve the ‘sss’ alliteration of “Smoking Snaking duSt” (“pouSSière Serpentant Sur le Sol”). Even with languages as close as French and English, for every stylistic effect you can save you have to sacrifice a few, or replace them with opposite effects which align better with your language’s notions of literary style (like with the orange dawn bit, doubling the length of a tight phrase so it can sound rhythmical).

You can tell all throughout the book that a lot of thought and care went into respecting Annie Proulx’s writing choices and you still end up with sentences that sound and move so differently. You get to see the limit of translation when authors fully lean on their language’s syntax and melody to help convey meaning, like poets do!

(*) Re: English stacking words and French linking them—this reminds me of an essay I read by an English translator of Proust who despaired of this difference in the opposite direction—saying some long, descriptive phrases in Proust with articles & prepositions linking words, and commas linking phrases with regularity, read like telling the beads of a rosary. And the sensation (or a lot of it) had to be sacrificed because English just does not use as many linking words as French, information is conveyed in a more economical way, so a lot of these sentences with a hypnotic rhythm like “the A, of the B, of the C, whereby the D, of the E, on an F” were often not achievable with English syntax or created redundancy (e.g. having to use ‘that’ or ‘which’ 5 times when French used different tool words). But he said he did try to form sentences that had this continuity, and meditative quality.

I don’t have a conclusion to this post other than to say something precious will be lost if human translation is replaced by AI translation, because literary translation involves creativity and ambiguity and aesthetic considerations and a dimension of instinctual feeling for your own language and the original style, and I don’t think any amount of data and processing power and artificial neural networks will yield the flavour of literary quality that emerges from human sensibility and care, from someone reading a sentence and thinking “this feels like hooves clippety-clopping down a dirt road” or “this feels like rolling the beads of a rosary” and starting from there...

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter six | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | mentions of death, Coriolanus, Dr. Gaul, some parts of this chapter are directly taken from the original book!

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Arachnes' funeral, Coriolanus and you bonding on the rooftop <3

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 hello! Chapter six!! This was finished quickly because some of the paragraphs and quotes are directly from the books and we're finally peeling the layers that reader has, how we feeling about that?

Beta read by the SUN @nowitsmissing

series masterlist | navigation

It was time for Arachnes' funeral. Although it was Saturday, the entire student body reported to homeroom before they assembled on the front steps of the Academy, divided neatly and alphabetically by class. By his assignment, Coriolanus and you found themselves in the front row with faculty and distinguished guests, first and foremost President Ravinstill.

The Academy and the surrounding buildings were festooned with funereal banners and sported Capitol flags in every window. Numerous cameras were positioned to record the event, and multiple Capitol TV reporters streamed live commentary. Coriolanus thought it was quite a display for Arachne, disproportionate to both her life and death, the latter of which could have been avoided if she’d refrained from being such an exhibitionist.

Both Coriolanus and you were wearing black suits with a symbol of Panem embroidered on the suit pocket. Coriolanus was made to sing in front of everyone. It was thanks to his grandma’am and her rules that he sailed through all the notes with a breeze. He received applause from the crowd and an approving nod from the president. He sat down again beside you.

Neither of you had spoken to each other other than the greetings. He hated to admit it but it made him jumpy. He wanted to hear you say something, anything, especially with the fact you had the upper hand with Dr. Gaul with the act you have planned for the funeral. It was impressive despite the initial horror he felt reading it. It was a strategy that would work perfectly with the times.

Now it was time for the show.

The president, who now took the podium, began, “Two days ago, Arachne Crane’s young and precious life was ended, and so we mourn another victim of the criminal rebellion that yet besieges us,” the president intoned. “Her death was as valiant as any on the battlefield, her loss more profound as we claim to be at peace. But no peace will exist while this disease eats away at all that is good and noble in our country. Today we honor her sacrifice with a reminder that while evil exists, it does not prevail. And once again, we bear witness as our great Capitol brings justice to Panem.”

The drums began a slow, deep boom, and the crowd turned as the funeral procession rounded a corner onto the street. Although not as wide as the Corso, Scholars Road easily held the honor guard of Peacekeepers, standing shoulder to shoulder, twenty wide and forty deep, that stepped in flawless uniformity to the rhythm of the drums.

Behind the Peacekeepers came a long flatbed truck with a crane affixed to it. High in the air, the bullet-ridden body of the District 10 girl, Brandy, dangled from its hook. Shackled to the truck bed, looking utterly filthy and defeated, were the remaining twenty-three tributes. The length of their restraints made it impossible to stand, so they either crouched or sat on the bare metal floor. This was just another chance to remind the districts that they were inferior and that there would be repercussions for their resistance.

Another battalion of Peacekeepers followed the tributes, paving the way for a quartet of horses. They were decked in garlands and pulled an ornate wagon with a pure white coffin draped in flowers. Behind the coffin came the Cranes, riding in a horse-drawn chariot. At least her family had the decency to look uncomfortable. The procession halted when the coffin drew up in front of the podium.

Dr. Gaul, who’d been sitting next to the president, approached the mic. Coriolanus thought it was a mistake to let her speak at such a moment, but she must have left the crazy lady and her pink snake bracelets at home because she spoke with a stern and intelligent clarity. “Arachne Crane, we, your fellow citizens of Panem, vow that your death will not be in vain. When one of ours is hit, we hit back twice as hard. The Hunger Games will go forward, with more energy and commitment than ever before, as we add your name to the long list of the innocent who died defending a righteous and just land. Your friends, family, and fellow citizens salute you and dedicate the Tenth Hunger Games to your memory.”

He hated how impressed he was about the fact all of this was your idea. How much he felt proud of you that you managed to spin this around for the Capitols' benefit. He turned to you, on the tip of his tongue a congratulations resting but you were looking down on the ground as if trying to keep yourself from getting sick. Coriolanus found himself shockingly concerned.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

“As good as I can be,” you seem to choke out before getting out of your seat and leaving the funeral early. Coriolanus looks around and realizes he won't be missed if he leaves either so he follows you inside the academy. You move around the hall without knowing he is trailing you. And then both of you soon reach the roof, forbidden but who cares? He doubted Dean Highbottom could give him any sort of punishment during a funeral, it wouldn't look good.

“What's wrong?” He asked, worried. His face was etched in a frown. What was there to be sad about? You made it pretty clear that you weren't mourning Arachne Cranes’ death. Was it something else?

“I didn't think she would do it,” you said, turning around to face him. Your eyes filled with tears. “It was a joke. A cruel joke of turning her into the rotten spectacle she always was. I didn't think- think-”

You were so contradicting. It was confusing to him. “But you said everything you wrote was for Panem,” he said, his confusion sweeping in his voice and his eyes.

You scoffed, “Would you rather have me admit it was because I wanted to be a bitch? Because… that was me being dramatic, I didn't expect it to be reality. It was disgusting. It was cruel. It came from my head.”

A sob escapes your lips and it makes Coriolanus frown harder, feeling irritated by you. He clenched his jaw before calming himself down. He walked towards you, standing right near you.

He said, “Real or not?” Because you were a performer, in a different way from Lucy Gray but a performer nonetheless. He needed to know if this was fake or not.

You furrow your eyebrows before realizing his question. You wiped away the tears that fell, trying to stop yourself from grinning. You failed, an amused snort leaving your lips.

“Not,” you answered, truthfully. “Let's just say I was practicing for the after-party.”

Coriolanus nodded, despite his mind being overwhelmed. Was it bad that he thought it was hot how easily you switched faces? And he loved how he could now see through your sweet persona and the real you, his soulmate. He couldn't blame you for being like a snake as he one himself, but he was stunned at how you had fooled him for the past eight years as well.

“Perhaps I should too,” he replied, now with a smile.

“Was that obvious?” You pouted, “I thought my acting had gotten better.”

Coriolanus chuckled, “Oh no. It was impeccable. But you said you were a performer after all. That's how I figured it out.”

You nod in reply. A comfortable silence falls as both of you look all over the Capitol. The sun was shining brightly over the roof and Coriolanus could feel the heat. He took his suit.

“I am glad,” you begin to speak, taking Coriolanus' attention away from the sky. “That you know when I am acting… it makes me feel better that at least you get a show. That you now know… when I am performing or not.”

Coriolanus Snow doesn't know how to reply to that, especially with how his heart skipped a beat from your words.

You grin at him, your shoulder nudging his shoulder. “I am glad to somewhat call you my first real friend, Coriolanus.”

“Why did you come to the roof?” He asked, instead, changing the topic. Too much was changing for him, too soon. He was your friend now? What a… He liked it. He lets himself admit that he liked being your first friend. You were different from your district blood, and you were better than most Academy students too.

“I needed a time out,” you said, “I can't believe they called Arachne a hero” You rolled your eyes, “If she's a hero, Dr. Gaul is a saint and Dean Highbottom is not high.”

He lets out a laugh at your words. “Maybe her gravestone could read, ‘Casualty of cheap laughs.’”

You laugh out loud too, and he wanted to bottle the sound, hide it from the world. Because who else was deserving of your laughter if not him?

“Come on,” he said, his hand holding your arm before it slid down to hold your hand. He barely hides the pathetic sound that escaped when you interlocked his fingers with yours. Both of you acknowledge something to each other.

“We need to head to the interview soon.”

NEXT PART

[simpingland]

Love is patient.//Aegon Targaryen II x wife!reader.

Moments before the coronation, Aegon's wife recalls her first memories with the Prince. Patience was key on this journey to make things right. And this patience let love to grow easily between them.

A/N: angst, Diane's assault does not happen here because It's the only way I can write this. TGC is the loveliest person ever, im(r)o.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

The first time you saw Aegon drunk was the first time you met him. And you knew from the start that the journey you were being forced into would not be an easy one. The prince was a little older, but a single word came out of his mouth, and you were the one who felt mature. The glory of the Targaryens, with their distinctive faces, their airs of divinity, did not show in any of Aegon's features. His mother scolded him for cutting his own hair on the very day your chariot pulled into the Red Keep. He gave you an awkward kiss on the hand and talked more to his brother Aemond than he did to you during the entire presentation dinner. The night was a disaster. You almost fell asleep in your own seat, with not a single charitable soul to speak to you.

"It's your duty," your father had told you over and over again. "You have a good chance of being queen."

"You don't need to scare her," your mother corrected him. She took your hand for the last time and said the words that were always echoing in your head. "He is a difficult man, and I understand that. But love can be many things, my dear. This love may be patience. Be patient and patient to welcome the good things with joy and to know how to overcome the bad things with peace of mind. Just...be patient."

Very few lords attended the wedding, and not even Rhaenyra and her family came to the ceremony. And you were glad to think that few were those who saw the humiliation of not receiving a single kiss from your now husband. When it was all over and the feast began, the music filled the room with joy, with Aemond and Helaena dancing, while your siblings found different partners to share the song. And all you had was Aegon beside you, who wouldn't let go of his cup for a second. From the corner of your eye, you could see that this drunkenness was unlike any you had seen before. He was faded, his eyes clear and glittering with sadness.

"Aegon," King Viserys trudged over to your seats, and you alone rose to pay him a courtesy. "Why don't you take your beautiful bride out dancing? By the gods, you'll bore her to death sitting here!"

You wanted to say you didn't have to, but contradicting the king was very wrong of you, and lying to yourself was also a bad habit. You really did want to dance, and you really did begin to die of boredom. When you looked at your groom, you saw him turn to look at you, his eyes still half closed, heavy with alcohol. Still, he stood up and offered you a hand. Your walk to the centre was full of applause.

"I warn you, I am not in my best powers of coordination, my lady," he warned you himself in a whisper.

"I hadn't noticed, my lord," you gave him a half smile, his hand dropping quite a bit into yours.

When the music began, the song was perhaps too lively for what you would have wished, and certainly for what Aegon would have wished as well. His steps were clumsy, and the rhythm of the music was too lively for what you might have wished. His steps were clumsy, and the pace was beginning to make him dizzy. He stepped over a few lords, and when he had to approach you, he would push you back by accident. Already bordering on embarrassment, you could see your parents blushing and looking at the scene with concern. And you could also see Alicent and Otto look at Aegon angrily. The old king looked confused.

"I can stop this," you whispered to him when you had him close.

"No," he replied. "I'm being a good husband."

Then he danced on. And soon what he was waiting for happened, Aegon fell to the ground. Everyone held back an exclamation, some of them hiding their laughter very badly. The prince was slumped on the floor, and before long he was vomiting up what was only wine. The sight was pitiful. One of your sisters approached you, as Ser Criston and Alicent approached Aegon. And when your sister tugged you away from the pool of wine, you broke free, moving closer to the prince who stirred slowly on the floor.

"My dear, you'll stain your dress," Alicent said.

"Let me help, Your Majesty." You replied.

With a handkerchief borrowed kindly from a nearby lord, you wiped Aegon's face and let him lean on you to slowly rise. His hands rested on your shoulders and yours on his arms. His face was red, and he seemed to regain some sense of shame.

"I think you should rest for a while," you said. He nodded.

And then Criston took over, putting the Prince's arm over his shoulder and leading him out of the room. Alicent walked behind, and as they walked away you could see Aegon turn his face to look at you. With a last glance at your family, you followed the Queen's path, straight to your husband's chambers.

"I asked only one thing of you, Aegon, just one," Alicent was saying to him on the way. She seemed to hold back quite a bit in your presence.

Criston left him sitting on the bed, and Aegon tried not to fall into it as his mother spoke to him.

"Tomorrow we will talk further." And then he turned to look at you. "I'm so sorry about this, love. I will tell the guests the bedding will be private."

"Oh, thank you, Your Majesty."

When Criston and Alicent left, they expected you to follow them as well, but you stood in the room.

"Have you not been shown to your rooms yet?" Alicent asked, quizzical.

"Yes, yes, I've located them... but I'd like to stay here a while longer. It's our wedding night, isn't it?" You sounded totally nervous but determined.

Alicent could only nod and force a smile before leaving with her knight. As the doors closed, you could hear Aegon finally collapse onto the bed.

"I wish to give you no offence... and the gods know I am the most willing man to do our duty that you will ever meet," Aegon said, and it was the sort of compliment you should learn to accept. "But tonight, I do not think I have the strength to achieve our goal," he said.

"I was not here for it, so I will take no offence."

Aegon turned his head to look at you, and he seemed much more alive than before.

"That's a pretty dress," he reached out to brush the fabric of the gown. "I'm sorry you got it stained with...my vomit."

"Don't worry, my prince. I could never wear it again."

You heard a laugh from him, which even startled you. But it was tender and unexpected, and it made you proud. Aegon repositioned himself better to give you a place on the bed and tapped his side, asking you to lie down beside him. Before you did, you picked up a tray of fruit and filled a glass of water. And before you lay down, you offered Aegon the water.

"The Maesters say that alcohol should be compensated with water." You watched as Aegon sat up so he could drink his glass without choking. And though he hesitated at first, he ended up drinking it whole and with need.

"I did not remember the taste of water..." he put the glass back in your hand. "And it's a disappointing taste."

When you finally lay down beside him, Aegon enjoyed the fruit on the tray, offering you some grapes.

"Is it always going to be like this?" You asked. He stopped chewing to look at you. "This humiliation. Are you going to be drunk every day of our lives?"

At your hurt tone, Aegon did not know what to answer, but he sounded remorseful, trying to compose an apology or some excuse. He swallowed his food before speaking.

"I have never had reason to be sober, my lady. No one has given them to me."

"Is your mother not worth it? Is your father not worth being proud of you?"

"What my father wants of me is very different from what my mother wants of me. I will never do well in their eyes."

"And at what point is it a much better option to wander around the castle blind with alcohol?"

"It's the only thing that makes me forget how useless I really am."

You couldn't help but run your hand over his face, trying to get him to look at you. His eyes were shining again, but they seemed much more alive than in the room.

"We all have our duty to do. And not all of us are good at it, but we all try."

"You seem like a person suited to this kind of life."

"I'm responsible. I like to think I am, at least. But don't you dare think that I don't wish I was somewhere else right now, with my horse and music nearby. I don't like to pour water to drunk men or stain my clothes with their vomits. But I do it because, somehow, It's now my duty. I will fulfil it for my family's name's sake. I would like to start a family and I will need your help to protect it. Just as you are going to need mine. It is what I believe is right."

You watched as Aegon nodded. He stroked your hand on his face and got out of bed to rummage through his wardrobe. You watched as he stumbled over his own mess but managed to pull out a long white shirt. He left it on the bed for you.

"This will do, so you can change into something clean." He stood expectantly.

"I already have clothes to change into in my rooms," you turned him down, but with a coy smile.

"Oh... all right," he looked disappointed. He looked sweeter than you had ever seen him, still dressed in his groom's robes. His suit was blue and gold, like his dragon Sunfyre. He went to pick up the shirt when you changed your mind, placing his hand on top of it, preventing him from pulling it away.

"Although...I don't trust my sense of direction around the castle in this darkness. Do you mind if I stay?"

"No..." You saw a soft smile appear on his lips. "Not at all... you are already my wife."

You changed in a dark corner of the room, and though Aegon said he would not spy on you, you caught a glimpse of him slyly rolling his eyes, trying to make out your figure in the gloom. The shirt made you look rather unattractive, in your opinion, but the loose hair and lack of tight fabrics made you feel so comfortable that you forgot all about your appearance. Aegon also shed the tight jacket and breeches and was left in a camisole similar to your own.

"Thank you for lifting me up in the hall..." he said after you had mocked the dreadful attire you had witnessed throughout the day. "It's not the first time I've fallen down. But it is the first time someone has helped me as tenderly as you have helped me."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry I humiliated you."

"I don't want your apology. I want you to promise me that you will try to change."

"And how can I change?" He sounded surrendered.

"With patience."

"I'm not patient, I'm afraid."

"Well, I am... I'll share some with you."

"Oh no... you're going to make an annoying wife, aren't you?" He joked, making you laugh. "You're going to ask me out dancing a lot. And I'm going to have to greet a lot of gentlemen and lie about how pretty their wives are..."

In the comfort of shirts and bed, a few hours passed as exhaustion begged you to sleep, not yet having consumed the marriage. You granted him a kiss on the lips. They were the taste of one and figs. After that night, it took you a long time to even set foot in your room.

The days passed more quietly, with Aegon showing you his favourite parts of King's Landing, trying to avoid the whorehouse, though you knew he had visited it a hundred times. You never reproached him, for since you were married, he had hardly left your side. In fact, he was the annoying husband. He asked you a thousand times to fly over Sunfyre. The only thing you insisted on was that he should not refill his wine glass during lunches and dinners. It was as simple as holding his hand fondly as he approached the decanter. The next day, you noticed that the lack of hangover manifested itself in long expeditions to which you went half-dragging. Soon, you understood what Aegon meant by his father's wishes and his mother's. Viserys enjoyed Aegon's Aegon. Viserys enjoyed the more talkative, joker, and absent side of him, the one who was a good spare heir behind Rhaenyra and her children. He barely paid him any mind, always reminiscing about his eldest daughter and his late wife. Then there was Alicent, and close behind her was Otto. The Hightower wanted in Aegon the malice that could reside in him, the malice that wanted more than to be a prince. They compared him incessantly to Rhaenyra and to Aemond, who was younger than he was, and therefore even more humiliating.

On nights when you returned from those uncomfortable dinners, Aegon would become extremely nervous, and you could not stop him from asking for a large flagon of wine. Your words did him no good, but you remembered your mother's advice. You had to welcome bad things with patience. And you watched him drink in front of the fire and asked a guard to watch him when he moved drunkenly around the castle. The next day, you helped him freshen up with a bath and get rid of the horrible headache.

On one of the nights when it happened again, you went to extreme measures before he ordered his alcohol.

"Perhaps a walk with Sunfyre will clear our heads, Aegon."

"'Our'?" He looked at you quizzically.

When you nodded, his face changed completely, and in the dead of night, he asked for his dragon to be prepared for a ride. Aegon was so pleased that he barely noticed that you were terrified. And you didn't say anything, of course, you liked seeing him so happy. Sunfyre was beautiful and quite a good boy, but that didn't take away your terror at the heights he could reach.

"Come on, wife, the tingling in the stomach is what makes it fun."

"I disagree."

As he laughed at you, he put your hands around his chest. He was quite a fit man, and over the past days and flirting, you found yourself more and more wanting to touch him and hold him close to you. Perhaps the dragon was a good idea, after all. Sunfyre led you to Kingswood, a place you mentioned you had never seen. And the whole flight was spent in places whose names Aegon made up to distract you, surprising you with the absurdity of the game. There was the odd surprise pirouette that he couldn't avoid, making you scream and squeeze him. But all in all, it was quite fun.

It was in the forest where you wandered, talking about unimportant things that kept your mind off all the crowns and iron chairs. It was that night when you consummated the marriage. You gave him the kiss that set it all on fire, the deepest kiss you had ever given each other. And he continued it with even more passion, clearly the more experienced of the two. He undresses you right there, and you undressed him as well. In the soft grass, only the moon could see you become one at last. You awoke at dawn and returned to the Red Keep with red faces and dishevelled hair.

"You're glowing," he whispered to you before he had to leave you to attend a meeting, pulling away your hair to give you a kiss on the neck.

All those memories flashed through your mind as Aegon leaned against the carriage window, on his way to be crowned King, his sister unbeknownst to their treason, his father recently dead, and war knocking at the door. They had dressed you too, and the thought of being queen made your stomach churn more than it already did.

"I'm afraid," Aegon suddenly confessed to you. "I'm not going to be good for this."

"I'm afraid too..." You took his hand. "We have to be smart, Aegon. We must protect ourselves."

"You should run while you can. I can order Ser Arryk to send you away... until all is safe again."

"No!" The thought horrified you. "I can't abandon you. We need you."

You brought your hand to your belly. You watched as Aegon's eyes widened with surprise.

"Gods..." he knelt before you, his head close to your knees, the din of the city seemed to hush inside the carriage. The light through the windows rattled on your skin, and the scene seemed like something out of Aegon's imagination.

"We must flee."

"It is too late now." Tears were falling, and your husband wiped them away, overwhelmed. "They won't let us scape this, you know that."

The carriage finally stopped, and Aegon had to bolt the door, which would only hold the guards for a second.

"Then, wife, I will do my true duty to protect our family. But as you said that day, I need your help...it is what I believe is right. Let us have hope. Never before I have felt this love for anything. Never before has anyone ever shown me as much love as you. I'll do everything in my hand to keep us safe. The only thing that matters to me is you and everything that involves you. My only friend is you."

Trying to regain your normal breathing, wiping your cheeks, you nodded as Aegon gave you a kiss on the forehead, another very soft, slow kiss on the cheek, which you couldn't help but drop your face to his touch and essence, and a kiss on the lips. Before removing the latch, he gave you a last kiss on your belly, making you giggle.

A look of complicity and a final sigh to enjoy a moment of peace before your heads held the crowns.

[jgoddesstarot]

Pick-A-Pile: Their Career: What Profession or Field is Your Future Spouse In?

👑Check out my masterlist to see all of my pick-a-card readings😊

✨ Visit my shops at Ko-fi.com or J.Goddess Tarot✨

🔮Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are based upon my intuitive interpretation of the cards and about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

🔮How I read: I use a mix of tarot cards, oracle cards, along with my intuitive abilities of claircognizance, clairaudience, and clairsentience.

🔮How this works: Close your eyes and take deep breaths, pick the pile you are most drawn to. If you aren’t drawn to any pile then that’s okay, these messages aren’t for you.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: 5 of Cups, The Lovers, The Hermit (in reverse), Queen of Cups, The Chariot

Ah, my sultry Pile 1's! Embark with me on an intoxicating voyage to uncover the career secrets of your elusive future love.

Picture a soul who's tasted the bittersweet symphony of life. They've endured setbacks, but here's the allure: instead of languishing in bygone disappointments, they've channeled these lessons, forging a path glowing with promise. Like a phoenix, they've taken their setbacks and used them as fuel, emerging brighter and more determined.

Now, imagine them weaving through a world where harmony and connections reign supreme. Their charm lies in the art of building bridges, mending fences, and orchestrating unions. Their profession thrums with the rhythm of relationships, be it in the hallways of legal battles, the nuanced dance of consultancy, or the embrace of human resources. Their every endeavor is painted with passion, fostering environments dripping with mutual respect.

But, the plot thickens. Rather than being an isolated genius, they thrive in the pulsating heart of collaborative arenas. Their days are painted with group dynamics, team brainstorming, and the infectious energy of collective creation. Every project, a harmonious dance of diverse minds.

In this riveting tale, their heart emerges as their compass—a wellspring of empathy, care, and intuition. Whether in the healing embrace of healthcare, the nurturing realms of social work, or the soulful corridors of counseling, their profession beckons to souls in need, offering solace and understanding.

And as our tale nears its climax, the essence of sheer willpower and ambition becomes palpable. This lover is destined to blaze trails, to dominate arenas with a fierce determination that sets the world alight. They are a force, a whirlwind of goals and victories, and their chosen field echoes with their triumphant strides.

To tie this enigmatic tale together, enchanting Pile 1's, your future lover’s career is an exhilarating blend of resilience, harmony, collaboration, empathy, and fierce ambition. This tantalizing mix promises a partner whose professional life mirrors a journey of challenges, triumphs, and heart. As Destiny weaves its tapestry, these revelations hint at the captivating tale of your shared future.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: 5 of Swords, 10 of Wands, 2 of Swords, Ace of Cups, 8 of Wands

My tantalizing Pile 2's, prepare to embark on a riveting journey, delving into the exhilarating career landscape of your enigmatic future love.

Visualize a realm teeming with cutthroat competition and exhilarating duels of wit. In this world, your future spouse emerges as a master strategist, a maven who thrives amidst the electric tension of challenges. Their arena? Perhaps the high stakes corridors of corporate warfare or the intricate dance of political maneuvering.

Yet, with power comes responsibility. They might be ensnared in a web of weighty expectations, but ah, they wear their burdens like a king wears a crown—regal and undeterred. Every decision, every responsibility is borne with a grace that makes you wonder if they were born for this.

Peering deeper, we find them at the crossroads of pivotal decisions, casting judgments that ripple through time. The gavel of authority, the responsibility of steering ships through turbulent waters, they're at the helm, orchestrating outcomes with a finesse that's nothing short of mesmerizing.

But what fuels this fire? An undying passion, a wellspring of love for their craft. They're not just chasing gold or accolades, but a deeper calling, a passion that lights up their soul. Their realm could be awash with colors on a canvas, the poetic dance of numbers, or the rhythm of heartfelt melodies.

And as the tale unfolds, a whirlwind of motion emerges. Envision them dashing through airports, or fervently connecting with souls across continents, weaving stories, striking deals, or capturing moments at the speed of light. The pulse of journalism? The adrenaline of sales? The world awaits their next move.

In wrapping up our delicious tale, my alluring Pile 2's, Destiny paints your future lover as a formidable force in a world of strategy, responsibility, passion, and ceaseless motion. Their journey promises thrills, challenges, and the sweet taste of fulfillment. As the stars align and tales intertwine, remain receptive, for destiny has its own rhythm, and your dance is just beginning.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: 10 of Pentacles, 3 of Pentacles (in reverse), 6 of Wands (in reverse), 10 of Swords, 3 of Swords

Ah, my alluring Pile 3's, immerse yourself as we journey into the opulent tapestry of your future lover's career. Let the tantalizing revelations unravel, revealing a narrative you'll surely find hard to resist.

First, picture a world awash with prosperity—a realm where luxury isn't just a fantasy, but an everyday reality. In this gilded domain, your future partner thrives, perhaps manipulating the strings of business empires, orchestrating the ballet of real estate, or mastering the cryptic language of finance. They've crafted an empire, not just of wealth, but of ambition realized and dreams manifested.

But ah, the plot thickens! Every gold thread in this tapestry was spun amidst trials. In their earlier days, shadows of doubt and walls of disregard might have threatened to eclipse their brilliance. Yet, with indomitable spirit, they emerged, carving a niche where their genius could no longer be overshadowed.

Despite the accolades and the tangible trophies of success, there's an enigmatic humility to them. They waltz through the corridors of achievement, not with boisterous fanfare, but with a quiet confidence. They let their masterpieces echo their tales, garnering silent respect from every corner.

As our tale takes a riveting turn, we find them at a crossroads—a dramatic shift that upended their world but paved the way to their destiny. A switch that might've tasted bitter initially, but ultimately led them to their passion, their true north.

And oh, the finale? A heart so vast, so tender. Their profession might echo with the soft murmurs of comforting words, the healing touch that mends broken spirits. Whether in the embrace of healthcare, the sanctuary of counseling, or the comforting realms of social work, their purpose is clear: to heal, to comfort, to uplift.

To wrap up our sumptuous saga, delectable Pile 3's, Destiny paints your future lover as a beacon of resilience, prosperity, humility, transformation, and boundless compassion. Their career is not just a job; it's a testament to a journey of trials turned triumphs. As fate weaves its stories, savor these revelations and remain enchanted by the cosmic dance of love and Destiny."

Other Resources:

Website: https://www.jgoddesstarot.com/

YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/JGoddessTarot

Tumblr Subscription: https://www.tumblr.com/jgoddesstarot/support

Exclusive Readings Subscription on Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/jgoddesstarot/tiers

Continual Improvement Survey: https://forms.gle/MYnBds9oZUHJ7VWa8

[attichaos]

Rune Meanings

These are a few keywords and themes for rune symbols along with their modern alphabet equivalents.

*longer read*

Ansuz - Message, A

God, Ancestors, Revelation, Signs, Visions, Insight, Message, Knowledge, Communication

Berkana - Birch, B

Earth Mother, Birth, Fertility, Growth, Renewal, New beginnings, Creation, New projects, Creativity

Kaunaz - Torch, C/K/Q

Fire, Knowledge, Enlightenment, Comprehension, Insight, Illumination, Calling, Purpose, Idea

Dagaz - Dawn, D

Intuition, Light Within, Day, Awakening, Consciousness, Clarity, Hope, Balance, Growth, New cycles

Ehwaz - Horse, E

Twin Gods, Relationships, Progress, Movement, Harmony, Trust, Loyalty, Friendship, Assistance, Duality, Animal instincts

Fehu - Wealth, F

Wealth, Mother Rune, Abundance, Luck, Hope, Prosperity, Fortune

Gebo - Gift, G

Divine Interaction, Generosity, Partnership, Gifts, Talents, Charity, Service, Assistance, Luck, Fortune

Hagalaz - Hail (as in the type of weather), H

Transformation, Egg of Life, Destruction, Natural wrath, Uncontrolled forces, Testing, Change, External input

Isa - Ice, I

Cosmic Coherence, Suspension, Delay, Stillness, Frustration, Blocks, Pause, Waiting

Jera - Harvest, J

Earth, Right Action, Year, conclusion, Life cycle, Endings and beginnings, Abundance, Learnings, Growth

Laguz - Lake, L

Fertilty, Living Renewal, Water, Intuition, Imagination, Healing, Dreams, Mysteries, Insight, Instinct, Knowing

Mannaz - Man, M

Divine Union Manifestation, Humanity, Collective, Mortality, Community, Relationships, Morals, Values

Nauthiz - Neccesity, N

Needs, Friction, Shadow, Restriction, Disagreements, Resistance, Survival, Lacking

Othila - Heritage, O

Genetics, Legacy, inheritance, Spiritual growth, Abundance, Values, Contribution

Peorth - Destiny, P

Divination, Luck, Primal law, Fate, Mysteries, Occult, Feminine fertility, Chance, Fortune, Mysticism, Unknown

Raido - Journey, R

Solar Chariot, Rhythm, Progress, Movement, Evolution, Perspective, Journey, Travel

Sowulo - Sun, S

Thunderbolt, Wheel of Power, Success, Vitality, Inspiration, Justice, Success, Joy, Happiness, Abundance

Teiwaz - Victory, T

Masculine Gods, Warrior Rune, Leadership, Rationality, Honour, Bravery, Courage, Strength, Perseverance, Endurance

Uruz - Power, U

Primal Creative Force, Gateway, Strength, Endurance, Health, Courage, Vigour, Vitality, Force, Perseverance

Wunjo - Joy, V/W

Kinship, Heritage, Joy, Pleasure, Feast, Celebration, Comfort, Belonging, Community, Success, Festivities

Thurisaz - Thor, X, th

Protection, Polarity, Regeneration, Defence, Challenge, Danger, Attack, Strength

Eiwaz - Yew, Y

Tree of Life, Dreaming, Magic, Connection, Inspiration, Endurance, Sacred knowledge, Protection, Life cycles, Divinity

Algiz - Elk, Z

Divine Protection, Sanctuary, Protection, Guardian, Awakening, Courage, Defence, Instincts

Inguz - Fertility, NG

True Love, Music, Harmony, Fertility, Virility, Inner growth, Virtue, Peace, Harmony

Merry meet,

Atti <3

[shanastoryteller]

Do you think you'll tackle Serene and Endymion in your Greek Myths? They are gorgeous btw. ;)

Not all titans were subdued. Not all were lost, or chained, or changed.

Some simply endured, too large and distant to be concerned with matters of titles and thrones.

Helios raged. Even bound within Tartarus, his sun burned brighter and angrier with each day, feeding off the hatred of the cursed titan. Seas turned to deserts as water was baked out of the earth. Apollo scooped up Helios’s chariot, bringing the sun to bear and returning a normal rhythm to the days and nights. Helios’s rage burns him even still, but the chariot has at least accepted its new master.

Artemis becomes associated with the moon because she is her brother’s other half in all things. But she constructs her chariot herself and it is used for races and to transport huntresses and little else.

The moon’s first goddess has never left. She has dragged the moon across the sky in her chariot of starlight uninterrupted for over a millennia.

The titan Selene did not join the fight of the new gods and the titans. She did not defend her brother nor did she attempt to save him.

But neither has she acknowledged the new pantheon. Zeus rules the sky and has demanded an audience with her many times, but she has never granted it. Zeus chases her chariot, but even riding lightning he can’t catch it when she unhooks the moon and no longer has its weight slowing her down.

Poseidon shakes his head and says, “Leave her be. I am the master of the sea and yet if I suddenly had to push forward every inch of the tide myself, I wouldn’t be left with much power to do anything else. All you’re doing is causing problems for the rest of us. Leave Selene to her work.”

Artemis agrees. If even Poseidon thinks bothering the moon titan is a bad idea, then they should listen. Usually he can’t be bothered to have opinions about anyone outside of his own wife, and even that’s rare.

Zeus gives up. Time passes, as it does, and no matter how the sun bucks and fights against her brother’s grip, sometimes going too quick and then too slow, the moon continues at the same steady pace.

Artemis grows stronger beneath moonlight. This must be because of her worshippers, or perhaps her brother’s. She never answers any prayers for tides or from people lost in the darkness, refusing every attempt to give her a power not her own, but her silence doesn’t seem to discourage anyone. Under the night sky her chariot moves impossibly fast and moonlight seems to always find her through the trees, which makes hunting difficult, but she doesn’t dare complain.

She does not want to earn Selene’s ire.

But despite her best efforts, Artemis does not manage to avoid her attention.

She is separated from her huntresses, spending the third night in a row tracking down a leopard that Demeter claims she drove mad on accident. Artemis doesn’t believe her, but the truth is irrelevant. This creature stalks and kills with Demeter’s blessing upon it, taking down all manor of creature and person.

Her temples have been filled with those begging for her aid. She’s blessed many spears, but her blessing doesn’t seem to be able to outweigh Demeter’s.

That irritates her enough that she’s seeing to this personally. She’s going to skin that damn leopard and wear it’s pelt to the next meeting of the pantheon.

One moment she’s skulking beneath a canopy of leaves, following several drops of blood she’s convinced will lead her to her prey, and the next the hair of her arms is standing on end and her heart is beating fast enough to make her light headed.

She swings around, spear raised, convinced that the damn leopard has found her first.

It’s not the leopard.

“You are the one they are praying too,” says a woman, her body soft with roundness and with the palest skin Artemis has seen on a living person. The extra skin beneath her chin gives her a perfectly circular face and the pockmarks across her face and body are a perfect echo of the moon’s many craters.

Selene tucks her ink black hair behind her ear and looks at her with equally dark eyes.

Artemis was born long after the war with the titans and she’s never ventured into Tartarus. She had assumed their presence felt much the same as other gods, that perhaps it was similar to the feeling of getting caught up in Hera’s rage.

It’s nothing like that.

Selene’s power is like a physical weight, as if they’re suddenly underwater and it’s surrounding them everywhere. Artemis lets it push her to her knees, bowing her head and trying to force her heart to calm. “Titan Selene. I swear that I did nothing to encourage them. I have not claimed any of your power.”

She should have done more than ignore them. She should have toppled temples and killed dissenters. She should have redirected their prayers. Anything to prevent what’s happening now.

“Would you like to?”

Artemis risks raising her head. Selene doesn’t sound angry and she doesn’t look it either. “I don’t understand.”

Selene gestures to the sky. “The moon is different from the sun. The sun pushes forward on its own and must be restrained and goaded in equal measure. Untethered, it will still rise and set. The moon must be pulled. It wants nothing more than to rest and unprompted it will stay motionless. If I step from my chariot for even a moment, the moon halts. It is unmoving now, as we speak.”

Artemis looks up. The moon always looks still to her. She wonders if the tides have noticed the difference.

“I have not been able to walk among earth for more than a few moments since I forged my chariot, lest all that follow the moon also go still and silent. They call you a moon goddess.”

“Please don’t make me take your place,” she says, not above begging. If the goddess traps her on her chariot, Artemis won’t have a choice.

Selene smiles, amusement making her eyes sparkle like distant stars. “You are young. You could not survive the chill or the weight for long. But perhaps you could endure for an hour or two.”

“I don’t understand,” she repeats, but some of her fear is starting to recede. Selene is not speaking like she’s going to strike her or curse her.

“There is a man,” she says, then pauses.

“Oh,” Artemis blinks, then, “Um, that’s not really my area. I could ask my brother?”

Selene laughs. “No, that is not necessary. I just need time. Will you steer my chariot each night so that I may walk across the earth unworried? Then you shall be a moon goddess in more than name.”

A titan, offering to share power for so little a reward? There has to be a catch. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll take too much?”

“I am not a goddess as you are a goddess,” she says, her derision light enough that Artemis can choose not to take offense to it. “My power neither grows nor dwindles based on the opinions of mortals. If you gain more, I do not have less.”

It shouldn’t be that surprising. All gods have some level of innate power. But not like this, not something that could alter the course of a planet, not this large and this terrifying.

Artemis decides then that Selene must be the most powerful of the titans. Anything else is too much to think about.

“I accept,” she says.

Selene reaches out, wrapping her thick fingers around her wrist, and then Artemis is somewhere else and she’s freezing.

“You get used to the cold,” Selene says, nudging her to the front of her chariot. The starlight glitters beneath her, driving home how her own silver chariot is nothing more than a pale imitation, no matter how it shines. “I drive the chariot forward with own will.”

Artemis’s works similarly. She focuses, and the chariot lurches forward, but then it jerks backwards. She glances behind, seeing the massive moon attached to the chariot with pulsing, heavy black chains. She tries again, slower, but no matter how much power she puts behind it, the moon won’t move forward a single inch.

“It’s alright,” Selene says. “I’ll help. You’ll grow stronger.”

She leans forward and spits out into space. Her saliva splits into two and then grows, until two massive, pearly white great wolves are standing at attention. Selene summons more of that strange black chain, looping it around the wolves’ chest and forming a hook to pull it through the front of the chariot before handing the ends to Artemis.

They’re heavy enough that she can feel the weight dragging her arms down. “What do I–”

Selene whistles and then wolves bound forward. For a moment they just strain against their chains, but then Artemis adds her own power to push the chariot, and then slowly, painfully, the moon is dragged forward.

“Good,” Selene says, the word settling into Artemis’s bones. “Stop when you must, but not before. I will feel the moon’s stillness and return.”

Her disappearance leaves the air surrounding Artemis even colder, but she refuses to shiver and instead urges the wolves faster with a snap of the celestial chains.

~

Endymion spends most of his nights on the tallest mountain within walking distance of the city, tracking the stars’ movements so that his fellow astronomers can check their equations against the realities of the heavens.

It takes him much longer than his colleagues and he blames it on an unsteady hand.

The truth is that his hands are perfectly steady. He has a one tablet of star positions and several rolls of linens with paintings of the moon. He’s not a very good artist, but something about it compels him, and so he spends hours each night determined to capture ever crevice and angle.

“Why are you always looking at me?”

He startles, dropping his brush, and turns on his heel to see who on earth is up here with him.

It’s a woman, with long black hair and a large body. There’s a puckered line along her cheek and he resists the urge to press his fingers against it, to follow it’s path until his fingers reach her lips. The soft pink of her plush mouth is the only bit of color on her.

Her question catches up with him and he sputters, “I’ve never seen you before!”

He would remember.

“You are always looking,” she insists, walking towards him. “What do you see?”

“I really haven’t seen you before,” he says, but doesn’t move away when she comes right up next to him. This close, he can see some faint color in her cheeks. He wonders if there are any other parts of her that tinge from pale to pink.

He feels heat rush to his own face at the thought. The bright moonlight that lets him see her so clearly is the same moonlight that’s going to give away his indecent thoughts.

But she doesn’t call him on it, instead pointing down at the crumpled linen. “Why?”

“Oh,” he flushes even more. “I don’t know. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? That’s reason enough.”

Endymion waits for her derision, the same that he’s received every time he’s gotten caught, but instead she curls her hands into the material of his shirt and says, “I agree,” and then she’s yanking him down to press her lips into his.

He tries to convince her to follow him home, but instead she disrobes right there and he can’t argue with that.

“Be here again tomorrow night,” she orders when the sweat is cooling on their bodies.

She likes to order him around. He doesn’t mind. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

“I will not answer questions that you already know the answer to,” she says, and then kisses him again before he can argue.

He means to walk down with her, to escort her home at least, but the moment he turns his back on her, she’s gone.

It takes him seven more nights with her for him to work up the courage to call her Selene.

She smiles and bites his shoulder, the imprints of her teeth a perfect circle.

gods and monsters series, part xxxiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

[judasofsuburbia]

to the ends of the earth, would you follow me? || hades/persephone firstprince au

rating: explicit || pairing: alex claremont-diaz/henry fox-mountchristen-windsor || word count: 6666 || read here

summary:

The large clock on the wall is ticking too fast. Henry can hear its rhythm like a pounding in his skull. With all the power he possesses, he cannot stop the incoming of spring. 

Today, a chariot from Olympus will come down to bring Alex back up to the land of the living for the next six months. This is how it has to be. The mortals deserve a harvest. Alex is the only god that can provide that. They deserve trees and flowers and to see their world in bloom. 

But Henry’s world is right here, sleeping soundly against his mattress.

or: henry, god of the underworld, isn't convinced that alex, god of spring, will return home to him come autumn. alex needs him to know how much he's worth coming home to.

shoutout @seths-rogens for being a stellar beta and bestie as always<3

[maverickscorner]

Faber suae fortunae

Or Maider's love story towards freedom.

Chapter 8

Maider swallowed.

She had stepped onto the tavern's stage, chitaràs in hand, ready to play.

Dozens of people stared at her in anticipation.

"They want to dance and have fun," Maider thought. "And here I am about to play a ballad. What if they lynch me?"

She looked past the crowd, towards Cala, Aura, Iris, the children, and... Tenax. He watched her without the slightest hint of fear.

Green eyes met blue eyes.

He believed in her.

She had to look away.

Maider wondered if she would ever be able to hold his gaze longer, gently caressing him and pressing her lips to his.

Someone in the audience cleared their throat.

This was not the time to daydream.

Maider smiled at the audience.

-Good evening, everyone, I'm Maider, but you probably already know that. Tonight, the last song will be something different. I hope you like it- she said, then added more quickly: -If not, please don't throw tomatoes, eggs, or, generally speaking, spoiled essentials at me. Thanks.

Cala and Aura laughed, as did the rest of the audience. Tenax put a hand over his face. It was the same old Maider.

Eventually, a timid smile of amusement appeared on his face, though no one seemed to notice.

Maider had already begun to pluck the chitaràs' strings. Reilo, having put away the drum, had taken up a lyre and was accompanying her from the back.

Cala looked at Tenax and was surprised to see him utterly captivated by her. She smiled to herself, as if she knew a secret.

And Maider began to sing.

-Stone cold, stone cold...

The lighthearted mood from before slowly faded into a heartfelt and attentive atmosphere.

The song spoke to each person about their own traumas and struggles. It reflected the yearning for redemption of people who had bowed their heads too many times without reason. The hearts of all Rome, within the dimly lit space of Tenax's tavern, beat to the rhythm of Maider's song, which transcended personal pain to become a universal experience.

Cala thought of when her children had been taken away from her, and how she had fought hard to get them back.

Aura and Iris, tightly holding each other, thought of the difficulties they had faced in their relationship, and how only being together had remedied everything.

The audience clung to their loved ones, appreciating their closeness as never before.

Tenax, in the corner, realized in that moment that he had been wrong.

Until now, he had believed that only brutal spectacles could move people, change opinions, and shape views.

And yet now, the girl with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard was enchanting dozens of people with the story of a shared suffering.

The crowd watched Maider with astonishment and emotion. The kind of admiration that a gladiator fight or a chariot race could never elicit. The kind of connection that forms from heart to heart. From soul to soul.

And for a moment, he saw himself as a child again: a black eye, a split lip, bruises all over, freshly abused by his master. How he would cling to Ursus, his only companion in that hell.

The thought of Ursus made him shiver.

His old friend had become a cold-blooded killer, whom he had later had to eliminate.

And he, Tenax? Could he say he was better than Ursus?

He looked around. His blue eyes settled on Cala, Aura, the children, his tavern. And then on Maider.

Yes.

Tenax was better than Ursus.

Because Ursus had lost himself.

And Tenax was still Quintus.

Maider finished singing.

There was a moment of stunned silence, then the crowd erupted into thunderous applause.

Maider searched for the eyes of her new family. When she met Tenax's gaze, he smiled at her.

Maider blushed to the tips of her ears, something she hid by standing and bowing to the audience.

-Encore! Encore! Encore!

She heard exclamations from all around. They wanted her to sing again.

She met Tenax's gaze: he gave his approval; then Reilo's, who was happy to keep playing.

So she sat back down.

And the tavern filled with music once more.

***

It was a little later than usual.

Maider and Tenax were on their way home.

The next day was Nundinae, and therefore a day of rest. The tavern would be closed, Maider free to relax, and Tenax to strengthen his relationships.

They were both still a little shaken by what had happened earlier.

Even after Maider had performed the encore, people had struggled to disperse, chanting her name and clapping to honor her. Only when she had told them to leave they did so.

This worried Tenax to death.

Not only people were beginning to recognize her on the street, but if her fame continued to grow so quickly, he would have to let her go.

And he would lose her.

And if, instead, he decided to keep her with him? Would he be considered greedy, or would people start to whisper that what he felt for her was more than just business interest?

-Tenax?

Maider shook him from his thoughts. Tenax turned to her and met her eyes. He had to look away.

-Yes?

-You're quiet... Is everything okay?

-You were quiet this morning too.

Maider shrugged.

-I was pretty upset this morning.

-And now you're not?

-No. I feel at peace. And I'm glad the song was so well received.

Tenax sighed.

-People love you.

Maider smiled to herself.

-Yes, I know. I never thought singing would become my way to redemption, but...

-Way to redemption?- Tenax frowned.

-Yes, from my condition. From slavery.

Tenax felt a bit hurt, but he could understand. She seemed to notice.

-Don't get me wrong- she said -I couldn't have wished for a better master than you. But I've never lost hope of regaining my freedom.

Tenax swallowed.

-Would you go back to Jerusalem?

She sighed. She really didn't know what to say. In Jerusalem, the Ben-Hur had been her only family for so long. Her father had always made his presence felt. But here... in Rome, she had truly felt like she had a real family. She finally felt useful, felt important.

-Maybe- she replied -I'd like to check on my father's condition and my adoptive family, and tell them that I'm okay.

-I can have a letter written to them. I have trusted people who would carry out the task with the utmost discretion.

They met each other's gaze. Then looked away.

-Thank you, Tenax, but... This morning you told me that you also experienced slavery. I imagine you can understand me.

Tenax stopped, looking into her eyes and lowering his voice. They were almost home.

-I had a master who abused me every night, Maider. I... I tried to be kind to you. If I failed, I...

She took his hands in hers. She squeezed them. Her eyes were holding back tears.

-You saved me, Tenax. I can never thank you enough for that. I would never want to hurt you. My respect for you...

-Respect?

Maider nodded.

-Yes. You were forced to build an armour around yourself for so long. But I know you have a good heart. And that is the most extraordinary thing I've seen here in Rome. To hell with the statues, the stadiums, the amphitheaters...

Tenax wanted so much to kiss her. There was no one on the street, but Rome had ears and eyes everywhere.

So he held her hand and led her inside the house.

-Come with me.

Maider nodded, her heart in her throat.

Tenax opened the door with his keys, not wanting to disturb Claudia.

He closed the door behind them and looked into her eyes. Maider felt undone: those large blue wells seemed to delve into her soul.

-No one has ever told me they had respect for me- he murmured -Because of my origins, I've always been regarded as nothing more than a sewer rat. I fought fiercely to become Aedile Ludi so that people would respect me. I've killed, Maider.

He shook his head.

-I've killed, and everything I've done haunts my dreams every night, which is why I can't sleep. I dream of that, and of what happened to me as a child. I tried to murder my true self because it would have been my greatest weakness if it had come out. I changed my name because my old one would have been erased from history. I thought I didn't care about anything or anyone, and then... and then you came along.

He gently brushed back a stray lock of hair and tucked it behind her ear. Maider's heart was pounding.

-You make me feel important. You passed through hell to get to Rome, and then I bought you as if you were a piece of meat. You should have hated me, and instead, all you've done is care for me. Care for everyone you've met. I'm not the most extraordinary thing here in Rome. You are. I...

Maider's lips were on his. Tenax responded to the kiss immediately, bringing a hand to her neck.

They kissed with necessity, passion, urgency, holding each other tight. They kissed for a long time, as if time, space, and even Rome had ceased to exist.

They only parted when Tenax leaned his forehead against hers, taking a deep breath. In their minds, celestial music. Explosions, epiphany. It was like a revelation.

-You’re free, Maider- he said, caressing her -You’re free. You don’t have to do this, if you don't want to.

-Don't you ever think that. Please. Shut up and kiss me.

Tenax obeyed gladly. Maider placed her hands on his cheeks while he held her close.

Claudia arrived in the room on tiptoe. Seeing the scene, she suppressed a squeal and went back to the kitchen.

They separated once again. She caressed his lips with hers. They laughed.

-Until this morning, I thought you hated me...- he murmured.

-You’re so bright, don’t say such nonsense.

He laughed and shook his head.

-What if I told you we’re doomed?

-We have to keep it a secret.

-Yes, absolutely. They could use you as a weapon to blackmail me. I won’t allow it.

-I trust you completely. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.

He stroked her hair.

-We need to think it through carefully. And anyway, I wasn’t rambling before. You’re free. I want whatever is between us to be...

Maider kissed him, her fingers tangled in his hair. Tenax kissed her back breathlessly.

-Is that enough of an answer for you?- she asked.

He nodded.

-Uh, yes. Got it.

-Good.

They looked into each other’s eyes.

-Tenax?

-Mmh?

-We could be the most unconventional couple in all Rome.

Tenax kissed her, smiling.

-Is that a threat or a promise?

-A deal.

He pulled her to him. Maider laughed.

-So be it.

-So be it.

***

They fell asleep in the main hall of Tenax's Esquiline villa, on one of the sofas.

In eachother's arms.

No nightmare disturbed their sleep that night.

***

Hi! Eli here. And they finally kissed ❤️ Loved writing that, but that's just the beginning ❤️ Let me know in the comments what you think.

Here the song's Maider's playing. I imagine her voice to be exactly like that.

Thank you ❤️

[tsunagite]

Cereris doodle

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 5: Salty Lips

Warnings: Tarot misinformation, penetrative vaginal sex, manipulation, fluff, smut, then angsty tears. 18+ Minors DNI.

Apparently I don't know how to schedule things so I am posting earlier than expected. Please file your complaints accordingly.

Word Count: 9.4 K

Summary: Becky has settled into the rhythm of life at Graceland over the first few days there, though she still has not had a full tour. Luckily, her hosts finally get it together to show her around. She goes to visit her sister, but encounters an unexpected guest. At least for her.

I need to first thank my alpha, @whositmcwhatsit for reading the first draft and giving me feedback as she corrected my grammar. Which is generally bad. Thanks Jade, I some how fooled you into hanging out with me and I would feel guilty for asking you to read my stuff, because it takes you away from your own writing which is necessary and needed for the good of the fandom. But you always make my work better so I cannot feel guilty at all. No, I selfishly will take every glance and glint and comment you give me.

Also thanks to my fellow Elvis sister wives for all their morale support and brilliance. Just being in your orbit is a gift: @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love

If you need to catch up first:

Chapter 4: Kaleidoscope

or start from the beginning: No One Walks Out On Big Daddy Masterlist

Chapter 5: Salty Lips  

11:45 a.m. Thursday, June 19, 1975

Graceland Estate, Memphis, TN

A cardinal twittered loudly, joined by a chickadee, and Becky was so ensconced in the bubble of idyllic life at Graceland that she wondered if this musical rendition wasn’t just for her benefit. Lisa gave an excited hum where she sat next to Becky on top of the picnic table by the pool and slapped down another tarot card.

“Alright, Becky, ‘Page of Swords’, what does this one mean?”

Becky looked closely at the drawing, closing one eye and squinting nearer for effect.

“Well, babt,” Becky mused, trying to stifle a grin and pronounce the girl’s fortune with complete confidence. “They all go together.” She set it next to the other cards they had drawn: Strength, The Chariot and The Moon. Becky was not sure how many cards you were supposed to put down when reading tarot, but four seemed like a good number.

”So?” Lisa slapped her hand on the table.

“Well, so, Page of Swords, as we can see here now, obviously means you are gonna live on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and you’ll have yellow tights, and a pretty pink dress, and a big ol’ sword that you’ll be very good at using,”

“I’m already pretty good with my daddy’s samurai sword, wanna see?”

“Hmmm, maybe later.”

Becky thought of her shooting lesson the other day and decided against more deadly weapons. Getting through the day without letting Lisa kill or be killed would count as a win for bonding with the kid of her new  - lover? fling? friend? - whatever Elvis was to her. She decided to go with fling. A short fling. They were two grown adults having a casual, fun, very short fling. Well, one rock star and one adult. 

Was she even an adult? She had spent most of the last three days playing with a seven year old until the late afternoon, and then playing with Elvis into the night. She felt like she had wandered into a strange, enchanted land where all the adults acted like children and all the children acted like adults. Water fights, target practice, ice cream for breakfast, and impulsive shopping sprees. 

Not having a schedule or others depending on her had been freeing at first, but now, on day four of life at Graceland, Becky had started to feel somewhat unmoored from reality away from the structure of her daily life back home.

She looked down at the table, where Lisa was tapping on the next card, and continued her tarot reading. 

“Ok, see here, Strength, that’s an angel with a lion. Of course, now, that is just symbolic. The angel is your conscience telling you the right thing to do, but you won’t have this moral confidence until you own a lion. They can be very difficult pets, I hear, I recommend getting an ice locker for all the gazelle meat you are going to need to feed it.”

“You’re silly, Becky, no one owns lions as pets.”

“No one yet, but hey baby, according to your fortune, you are gonna change all that. There’s nothing you can do. It’s in the cards. That means it has to happen.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, her lips betraying a smile. “Ok, what else?”

“Well, here, The Chariot, clearly one day you will go to Egypt and meet a prince -”

“And marry him?”

“Well, that depends. On whether you like him or wanna feed him to your lion?” Becky growled and gashed her teeth playfully as if she was going to eat Lisa’s shoulder. Just as Lisa shrieked and hit Becky, the back door slammed and they glanced over to see Elvis’ aunt Delta stagger out.

“Alright, Lisa Marie now, s’getting to be round lunch time. I just got Ma settled out in the rockin’ chair, so it’s time for you to come eat.” Delta looked Becky up and down as she spoke. 

“Whatcha y’all got goin on?” she said, and Becky noticed Lisa stiffen and gather up the cards.

“We’re just playing Old Maid, Aunt Delta.”

Becky raised her eyebrow at Lisa, who just shook her head with a crafty smile. Becky turned to the older woman. Hmmm, I guess these older ladies don’t approve of mystical practices. Or maybe they only let one resident here get away doing whatever he wanted. 

She thought of Elvis’ grandmother, who had turned to her after he had left the dinner table the night before, taken her arm and whispered low:

“I hope ya don’t break his heart, like all the rest. That young boy ova there has been through so much. Don’t know why he canna find a good woman. Guess they just don’t make us like they used ta.” Minnie Mae had then released Becky’s hand and spit part of her chew into the tea cup next to her dinner plate. 

Becky only had a moment to feel uneasy before Elvis swooped back in and pulled her into the den and onto his lap, where he cajoled Lisa to perform “Crocodile Rock” for the group on top of the coffee table. 

No, I reckon these good ole girls who sit around bemoaning the lack of any good women left would probably not go in for tarot cards, Becky thought, as she looked at Elvis’ aunt.

“How are you doing today, Ms. Presley?”

“Hmmm, it’s Biggs. And it’s Mrs. And never you mind, you can save it, I don’t care for you kissing up ta me. I know your kind.” 

Becky tightened her smile at Delta’s grimace, wondering if that was the faint odor of vodka wafting off the older woman. Just then, Delta weaved towards her and gripped a nearby chair to steady herself. Her eyes narrowed at Becky in judgment. 

“You are like all the others, waiting around for your payday. Out for all you can get. Bout as useful as gum on a boot heel. Humph.”

“Oh brother, here we go!” Lisa jumped up and walked past Delta. “C’mon, Becky Butt, let’s go get some chocolate cake.”

Becky smiled even wider at Delta as she followed Lisa, and watched the older woman scan the pool area, before tottering back to the house behind them.

“Chocolate cake? That doesn’t sound like a good lunch.”

“Oh, it’s the best lunch, don’t worry, I told Nancy before she left this morning, so it’s all ready.”

“They - they  let you have that for lunch”

“Let me?” Lisa grinned a devious grin and her eyes sparkled. “I’m the boss round here when Daddy’s asleep. If they ever give me any guff, I just lay down tha law an let ‘em know how it is, jack.”

“Oh? And how is it?”

“Get with the program or git!” Lisa held the door to the kitchen open for Becky, and grabbed the milk out of the fridge.

Sure enough, there in the middle of the counter was a tall, chocolate cake adorned with a circle of pink frosting rosettes. Lisa poured two tall glasses of milk  and carefully set out china plates with all the hospitality of a true, Southern hostess.

“Don’t worry, Becky, it’s vegetarian!” Lisa announced, grabbing the biggest knife Becky had ever seen, almost the length of the short, seven year old’s arm, as she proceeded to carve two large, unwieldy pieces from the beautiful dessert.

*********************************************************************

Becky was certain that her chocolate cake was about to make an encore appearance as the golf cart whipped around the bend. Grabbing the top of the seat, she looked over at Lisa as the little girl pushed her foot harder on the pedal and yelped with glee while she steered them down the grass behind the carport.

“I didn’t realize golf carts could go this fast.” Becky gripped her seat tighter, her knees jostling up and down against the metal bar at the front.

“Oh yeah, these are top o’ the line, Becky. Watch, I can get it to go even fast—” Becky put her hand up in protest.

“Nope, not necessary, this - this is great. Very refreshing in the heat.”

Lisa pushed her feet down a little further and Becky held on for dear life as the air whipped through her dark curls and reminded her very much that she was alive and wanted to keep it that way.

“Ok, so this is the stable,” Lisa pointed to a large white building coming up on their left side. “It’s called House of the Rising Sun, and most people think it's after a song, but actually, it's named after Daddy’s horse, Rising Sun. Though I always say he should be named Setting Sun, on account of the fact that the sun is usually setting before Papa gets up and goes riding.” Lisa slapped her thigh, as if making a rimshot on a drum set, and Becky realized this was her cue to laugh, so she let out a chuckle and rubbed Lisa’s hair.

“Yeah, that is a much better name. Or Sleeping Bear, hmmm?” Lisa giggled. 

“Or Grumpy Sleepy Bear.”

“That one sounds perfect, what do you think? We have time to paint a new sign?”

Lisa laughed as she drove them on, showing Becky the trailer where her daddy’s nurse, Tish lived, and the other where Billy, Jo and their kids lived, and they wound their way around the back of the paddock.

“That’s where Daddy likes to race his horses with the guys.”

“For special occasions? Or just for fun?”

“Oh, he does it to show off for the fans.” 

Becky snorted down a laugh and and attempted to catch her hair and pulled it back up as it escaped into the wind. 

“Um, ha - how do you know he does it for the fans? He tell you that?”

“No, my mama told me; he likes to race the horses round for no good reason, just to show off for the fans cuz he’s a big show off and he’ll never really be a true questrion.”

“Well, I don’t know, I mean your mom may not know —”

“Oh, she does, she knows everything. Daddy’s always saying my mama’s the biggest know-it-all you’ll ever meet. And hippo cat. Why would he call a woman a hippo and a cat?”

“Hmm.” Becky grabbed the side rail as the golf cart swerved back around towards the mansion, trying not to laugh at Lisa’s casual description of her parents. “I bet he meant something else and said it wrong, cuz you’re right, doesn’t make any sense.”

Lisa seemed to agree, nodding her head. And on to the next point of interest, her proud, confident tour guide voice explained that the house butted up to fence over there used to be her granddaddy’s. 

They drove past the throng of fans at the front gate near the bottom of the hill they were coming up and Lisa asked Becky if she needed any money or a new camera. Becky wasn’t sure exactly how this related to the crowd, but she had some suspicions as she looked over her shoulder at the people mulling aroun down at the gate. So, instead, she rubbed the sweat off her forehead and complained about the heat. 

Parking the golf cart back at the side of the house, Lisa led the way back inside, suggesting they cool down in the pool. Becky didn’t have a bathing suit, but jumped in wearing her tee shirt over underwear, letting her feet push off the rough, concrete bottom of the pool. She felt an almost instant sense of relief and rejuvenation as she sprung up weightlessly through the cool water and floated to the top, rubbing the chlorine out of her eyes. This was, of course, a futile exercise, as more chlorine water was in her face almost immediately, followed by the sounds of Lisa laughing from where she was splashing Becky a few feet away.

“Oh, you are gonna get it!”

Lisa’s screams ricocheted through the patio as Becky swam over, grabbed her and threw her playfully back into the water.

They raced each other like this for a bit, and then played catch in the water. Lisa particularly liked trying to aim directly in front of Becky, and shrieked with delight when Becky let the ball hit the water and then dramatically flustered about in the wake of the splash, uttering out a loud, affected:

“Now heyyyyy! That’s not fair!”

After a while, Mary brought them out some lemonade, and ham and cheese sandwiches, and they dangled their feet in the side of the pool, eating. Becky pulled the ham out of her sandwich, and Lisa opened her mouth, motioning for Becky to drop the cold cut in, chuckling.

“Hmmm, we make a good pair, huh?” 

Lisa nodded, speaking with a full mouth:

“Mmmm choww nuhff.” She swallowed, and took a sip of lemonade. “How’d you get to be such a good swimmer? You don’ all kinds of fancy moves out there, I never seen anyone swim sideways like that or stay underwater so long.”

“I was on my high school swim team. Then I used to lead canoe trips down the Cahaba, that’s the big river where I’m from, over in Birmingham.” She ruffled Lisa’s hair. “And I was a camp counselor for a while in Mississippi, we spent most of our summer in the pool. I reckon I was a fish in my past life, that’s what Helga used to say.

“Your nanny?”

“MMhmm. You have a good memory, kid, I can tell. You’re whip smart.”

Lisa giggled and splashed Becky with her foot. Water was violently flying up in the air as they commenced in an epic foot splash fight when a loud, deep ‘Ahem’ made their feet still. Lisa’s lips were pursed, emitting a nervous laugh and Becky met her eyes with frightened giddy trepidation as they turned in unison to see the tall, broad silhouette of Elvis behind them. Becky coughed nervously.

His thumbs hung down from the belt at his white trousers and he tilted his sunglasses down to look over them, adjusting his stance.

“MMMM what's - a -a - ahappenin’ ova round these parts, mhmmm?” Elvis tried unsuccessfully to keep his lip from quirking into a smile as his voice boomed out comically deep.

Lisa giggled, and pointed. “Becky started it!”

Gaping, Becky pushed her into the pool with a whispered, “Thanks a lot, Lisa Marie Benedict Arnold Presley!” Then jumped up to say hi to Elvis.

His face beamed with a grin but then, as she got closer, his lip tightened and his chin tilted out as he took in her swimsuit.

“Becky, what the hell are ya wearin’, girl?”

Becky pulled her shirt down, and Elvis went to grab her hands to stop her, as it just made her nipples more pronounced through the thin, wet fabric.

“Elvis, I don’t have a bathing suit, I didn’t think it was that big of a differe—”

“Honey, I can see your hair through your panties,” he whispered gruffly, wrapping Becky in the thick, white, suede jacket he’d been wearing. As part of his outfit. Outside. In June. In Memphis. Becky rolled her shoulders, trying to shirk it off, looking into his eyes imploringly.

“Elvis, I’m all wet, it will ruin this suede and get it all dirty. It’s so humid, too, I just th—”

“Becky, don’t worry about the jacket.” He pulled her in, unable to resist flicking her over her nipple imself as he scolded her to cover up. “Anyone could see you out here.”

“Baby, no one is out here.”

“But they could be, boy, they could be.. ‘Sides, think now what if a band of drugged-out commie burglars jumped the back fence, and I, I had to send you running to safety at that motel across the street? You don’t wanna be waiting for me and the boys and the police in public like this.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Elvis, that’s ridiculous - what is the likelihood tha—”

“Now, c’mon on, you never know, it’s getting rougher every day out there. These are the things ya gotta consider.”

Becky was about to argue with him further, that he was being paranoid, and where did he even come up with this stuff, commie drug dealer burglars? She thought of Elvis doing some of the karate moves he had taught her as a band of crazy-eyed youths scaled the back wall, and almost giggled. However, she was suddenly distracted by the fingers tracing over her hips, underneath the suede jacket, and she shivered as she felt goosebumps rise up on the back of her neck, still chilled from the water. Elvis leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes with a low gasp, feeling his belly press into hers.

“Good thing you got me around to think of every angle.” Elvis clicked his tongue and point to his head. ”Go on upstairs and get cleaned up, wanna give you a tour of Graceland.” He patted Becky on the butt as he turned her to the house.

Shuffling forward in the comfort of her new mobile suede sauna, Becky heard Lisa pull out of the water and ask her dad if they could have a bonfire tonight with hot dogs and baked potatoes and corn and s’mores and coconut cake and ice cream.

“Course, baby, jus let Mary and Charlie know how you want it.” 

Becky opened the door at the side of the house, she looked back to see Elvis kneeling and smiling as he wrapped Lisa in a towel. 

“You’re the boss, booger, I jus’ work here.”

Becky could feel the brightness radiating from Lisa’s broad smile as she went inside, and she shook her head as she mused to herself how sweet they were together. The way Elvis spoiled his daughter was charming when Becky pushed aside her own parenting philosophy, which she had always considered to be overly permissive until spending this last week at Graceland. 

She frowned at the prospect of having to parent with someone like him, and felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Priscilla, a woman whom Becky had always regarded as a bit of a cold Yankee. As if you could ever know what someone is like from reading gossip magazines, silly girl. 

Getting dressed, Becky chided herself for not telling Elvis about her earlier tour of the estate. It was just that he had looked so intent as he told her what they were doing, and the sound of his voice gently commanding her made her agree with whatever he said, take whatever he offered, do whatever he wanted to do. 

Yeah, a long term relationship with this man is trouble. Becky reflected on how relieved she had been when Lisa didn’t wake up and come get her until 10:30 that morning, instead of 8 a.m., like she had the first day, and felt a bit disgusted with herself. Ugh, Elvis’  lifestyle is warping your judgment. Sleep all day, play all night, and now I have to go pretend that I haven’t already seen the grounds of Graceland.

*********************************************************************

The dirt shifted under Becky’s Keds as she walked beside Elvis towards the stables, holding his hand as he squeezed it tightly and turned to look at her, eyes soft and bright as he spoke. Becky summoned a look of awe as if seeing the building for the first time.

“Right, now this is the House of the Rising Sun, on account of my horse, Rising Sun. Though I reckon I shoulda named him Setting Sun, because, ya know, that’s usually when I’m getting up.” Elvis looked at Becky expectantly, and she forced a giggle, leaning into him as they walked into the building.

The sound of horses’ snorting and whinnying greeted them, and Becky followed Elvis as he grabbed a handful of sugar cubes from the front counter and leaned against the white gate of the first stall, waggling his eyebrows at Becky as she cautiously stepped forward. He took her hand, unrolling her fingers and putting a piece of sugar in the middle, then clicking his tongue as the large palomino nuzzled into him, nickering and searching for treats.

“Now, go on, he won’t bite ya - much.” Elvis smirked, watching as Becky rolled her lips in and put out her hand, shrieking at the tickle of the horse’s chin hairs on her hand.

“Is this one yours?”

“MMhmmm, this is Rising Sun,” Elvis told her, turning to ruffle the blonde tuft of hair between the golden horse’s ears.

Becky cautiously stroked the white blaze down the middle of his face, stopping to rub his muzzle as he sniffed her hand for more sugar. She looked into Rising Sun’s large brown eyes, wondering how such a majestic creature could be tamed, and how quickly he would trample over her for more sugar.

“He’s beautiful. And terrifying.” She said, then looked up at Elvis. “Just like you, I suppose.”

Elvis’ fingers caressed over Becky’s dress, stopping at the small of her back to rub into her tenderly. 

“Oh now, don’t tell me ya afraid of me, now honey. Or these horsies, are ya Becky Butt?” He moved behind her, his hand trailing slowly over her arm, down from her shoulder, until it was over the back of her palm. He slowly guided her palm up to smooth over the side of Rising Sun’s face and cheek, leaning into whisper into her neck. “See, now, now, see? He’s a good boy, gentle and well trained as can be. Ain’t got nothin ta fear from hims.” 

Elvis kisses warmed her skin, and Becky shuddered as his lips crushed into her. Moaning, she dropped her hand and turned into him, biting her lip in anticipation as Elvis rolled back on his feet and then forward, pressing her into the white pole that separated the stalls. Rising Sun grunted at them and blew his nose, and Becky squealed at the feeling of his large, gummy mouth chewing at her hair. Elvis' mouth quirked into a smile, but his hand rubbed her side more intently, and a fierce, starved look animated his eyes.  

“Get now, silly horse, that ain’t hay.” He gently pushed Rising Sun away, and pulled Becky into him, gripping her tightly.

A tingle burned in Becky’s belly and she breathed out in hushed desire.

“Huh. How - how does my hair look?”

“Looks a a a, a whole lot better than it's gonna once I’m through wit ya.” Elvis said softly, through a high breathy giggle. Then he looked down, bashfully, his hand rubbing Becky’s waist up and down then pinching her on both sides. Becky giggled, pulling herself into his frame, her hand working up over his chest as she kissed his jaw. 

“Why, Elvis Presley, I declare, are you - are you trying to seduce me? In the barn?”

He shook his head, a goofy expression pushed his lips into a pout.

“Depends.”

Becky arched her eyebrow, her fingers toyed with the high blue collar of Elvis’ shirt. “Mmmmmm? Depends on what?”

Elvis withdrew, blushing, his jaw tightening, suddenly changing his mind from whatever he had been thinking about doing,  “Neva mind, baby. Here, let me introduce ya to the other horses.”

Becky followed him, brushing her hand over the top of his belt and sweeping along his back. 

“Ok darlin’, you’re the boss.” Pushing her hand around him, Becky leaned into Elvis, and he drew her tighter into his side, looking ahead to give a large, black horse a sugar cube.

“This here, now, this boy is special, this is Ebony’s Double, come from a real champion stud, Ebony Masterpiece.”

Becky put her hand up to the horse’s neck, feeling his muscles ripple under his silky black coat as she rolled her hand over him. Breathing in, her eyes locked with Elvis as she caught him looking down at her, and she thought about reaching up on her tiptoes to try and kiss him, but instead kissed his shoulder. It was easier, and she relished the way he squeezed her into him in response. His bottom lip dropped down with his chin, and his voice came out in a raspy croak.

“Hey there, lil’ girl.”

Becky nuzzled in, and shifted the rubber soles of her shoes to pivot and bring her closer into Elvis' chest.

“Hey,” she whispered into his armpit.

Elvis brought her chin up and leaned down, his hand moving to cradle her neck as she curled her fingers into his shirt. Gentle kisses became more fervent as his hands crept lower until they cupped her bottom and Elvis was holding Becky up. Notched above his tummy, Becky’s knees bumped up awkwardly against his elbows, and Elvis chuckled as he carried her towards the back of the barn, almost dropping her with a mild stumble. That would have been the end of the white suede suit. But he quickly recovered, grunting as he jostled Becky up and smiling at the sound of her breathy chuckles as she held onto his shoulders while they staggered to the back of the barn. Becky could hear the sound of horse’s hooves, grunts and neighs, but they were peripheral to the sound of the heartbeat pulsing through her ears.

Becky felt the edge of the workbench where Elvis placed her atop. They were at the back of the stables, next to a saddle presumably left for repair. Beckys legs hitched on either side of Elvis' body, and she dragged her thumb over his cheek, moaning out as his lips found that spot on her neck once more and his hands moved under her skirt, slowly, carefully, tugging on her underwear.

“Hey,” she murmured. Elvis cheeks reddened above a smirk as his dark blue eyes looked down at the ground.

“Hey,” he breathed out in a deep voice.

Becky fell back on the table, resting on her wrists.

“Hey.” she waggled her eyebrows and dangled her legs, then tightened them at his side.

He shook his head, unbuttoning his trousers and moving over her, his lips feathering above her as he whispered: “Heyyyyyyy.”

Becky gasped as she felt him thrust slowly upwards into her, moaning out into his mouth. 

“Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

She wrapped her legs around him, rocking her hips to meet him in the slow, gentle cadence of their love making. His eyes narrowed on hers as his movements became more deliberate, and his thumb found the slick over her clitoris, swirling in time to their needy rolls back and forth over the workbench. Heat coiled in her belly, and Becky leaned back as a guttural cry escaped her mouth.“Heeyyyyyy fucking ohmygod heyyyyyyYYYYYY GODDAMMMIT” as her climax overtook her.  

Elvis leaned forward, peppering kisses over her collarbone and burying his head in her bosom where he continued to slow move in and out of her until he came with a vehement grunt and remained there, head in her chest, panting through the final thrusts before stilling completely. 

Becky relished the weight of his body pressing down on her, insistent, immediate, she wanted it to crush her forever. His shaggy swath of black hair moved as Elvis’ chin protruded forward, and she met his blue eyes, looking up at her from his smug, boyish expression. She melted in the radiance of his smile. “Hey.” Elvis blushed, again, then grunted as he pulled himself up and grinned at Becky’s playfully shove.

“Hey is for horses, Presley,” she gasped, and he laughed as he zipped up, bending down to restore her panties to their rightful place.

She wondered if she had made the wrong first impression on the horses, as they ambled out of the stable and back toward the house.

“Hmmm, so that was the tour huh?”

“I think that’s all the tour I can manage right now, lil girl.”

“OK, well, Lisa already showed me the smokehouse, and I’m definitely not having sex in there.”

“Hmmm, well, figured you should know by now, telling me something isn’t gonna happen just about guarantees I havta try.” He slapped her bottom  and she shoved him away, only to have his arm instantly around her, drawing her into the warmth of his body as he kissed her head.

“Just so you know, Becky, I did not intend to get busy back there.”

Becky nestled into his shoulder as they walked. She could still hear the sounds of twenty horses behind them if she focused, joined by the sound of crickets and cars on the far off roads buzzing into the twilight of early evening. Above it all, she could feel the grain of Elvis' voice as it rumbling into her ear, heating the side of her neck with each word.

“I, I  - I just, well, suddenly couldn’t help myself. Don’t feel that way very often, honey, I think - ” He stopped talking abruptly and turned Becky in to face him.

“Honey, now stop walking already, I’m tryin’ to tell ya something.”

As he looked at her, he noticed that her hair really had come half out of the up twist she had styled it in that evening, and he paused to take out her hair pins, freeing her curls and arranging them over her shoulders.

“There, better.” He nodded with satisfaction. “What was I sayin’? Oh yeah. OK. Here it is. I think I’m starting to really fall for ya, baby. I think, well, I think you should move up here. Can’t bear ta think about taking you back to Jackson next week.”

“This week,” Becky muttered, crossing her arms. “Sunday.”

Suddenly the buzzing, post-coital glow disintegrated and she stood still trying to process what he had said.

He took her shoulders in his hands. “Think about it. Didn’t you say you have a sister here in Memphis?”

Becky nodded, her mind still swimming, wondering if there was any way in hell she could, would, should pursue this. Looking up into Elvis’ eyes was like diving into a sea of endless optimism where everything was possible.

“Hey, I got a business meeting I gotta handle tomorrow night, maybe you could go visit your sister? I was thinking you probably would want to while you're up here anyway. And you can think things over. How it would be, if I got you a place up here, come live with your lil girl in Memphis?”

Becky stood there, nodding again, looking back down at the house. Elvis started to walk.

“Don’t just stand there woman, get in here. The most handsome man in the world just asked if you’d be his baby, least you can do is give him some sugar and say thank you.”

Becky leaned back into Elvis' open arm and kissed his chest. “Hmmm, just took me by surprise is all. I, um, I need to think about it, that’s a big deal, Elvis, I , well, I feel strongly about you too.”

She tickled his side as they walked, and he jerked back with a, *Hey, now.*

“You’re right, though, I should try and see my sister. Tomorrow night, I guess.”

*********************************************************************

6:15 p.m. Friday, June 20th 1975

Still at Graceland, for now…

It was one of the new dresses Elvis had bought her that week, a purple, jersey halter dress, that Becky pulled over her head, before asking Lisa to help clasp the simple, diamond drop necklace around the back of her neck. Lisa jumped back, and put out her wrists for a spray of perfume as Becky doused herself and twirled around.

“How do I look?” Lisa put her hand to her chin, thinking carefully. 

“I think you need more eye make-up.”

“Ha, maybe, but trust me, my sister is the opposite of glamorous. She’s a judge. And I’m crashing a dinner party, so I think modest, simple, less-is-more sort of look is what I want.”

“Well,” Lisa sighed, ”you definitely nailed the less part. You’re hardly wearing any diamonds. Sure you don’t wanna borrow some of mine?”

Becky fidgeted with the ring she was wearing, the gift Elvis had given her that first night at Graceland. It was almost too large and gaudy for her style, let alone her sister Deborah’s taste. But it had come to be a comforting talisman, something she felt and twisted when she felt nervous or out of her element here with Elvis, doing whatever she thought she was doing. *Acting like an immature teenager who just discovered what sex is*, she thought to herself. 

Becky also sensed Elvis would be hurt if he saw her without the ring, because he’d mentioned how nice it looked on her several times, usually taking her hand and kissing the ring there before turning her palm and kissing the center of her hand. And pulling her in for a kiss. *Ughhh, these kisses*. Even the way his dry lips bumped over hers at first touch caused a burning electricity to electrify her face and she became instantly incapable of reason. 

Becky sighed, she had this impending sense of doom, her inner Cassandra, as Ida would say, always on high alert to call out trouble at the slightest provocation. Just trust him. This is fun. This feels right. Everything is ok. Wear the damn ring to Debbie’s dinner party.

Becky’s dress swished around her legs as she carefully walked down the staircase, trying not to trip in the orange platform heels Elvis had picked out at the boutique during a late night shopping spree on Wednesday. As she descended, she saw him whispering with Charlie, then the two men heard her and turned around, smiling in an eerie unison. Elvis was somewhat dressed up for his business meeting, in a dark red suit with a light blue dress shirt with a high, starched collar framing his face.

“There she is, Charlie. There’s the most beautiful gal in the world. And the smartest. And the funniest.”

Becky teetered on her platforms as she put her foot down another step.

“And the most graceful woman in the world.” He let out a low guffaw with out, and Becky narrowed her eyes at him

“Oh, keep laughing, Elvis Aaron Presley, I’mma get you for that. Buying me mile-high shoes an then laughing at how I walk in theses unnatural torture devices!”

Becky ran down the rest of the stairs and leapt onto his waist, ruffling his hair as Elvis chuckled.

“God, crazy woman, tryin’ ta kill me?” Becky kissed his forehead as he jostled her up and down, then placing her safely on the ground.

“Mhmmm. Just wanted to give you a kiss for good luck with your business dinner.”

Elvis kissed her back on the cheek as he ushered her and Charlie out of the door with a swat to the butt and a “See ya later, sweetheart.”

Charlie’s white Pontiac was waiting in front for them and they walked around, Charlie leading to open her door. Just as Becky was about to duck into the passenger seat, she saw the long, black snout of Elvis’ Stutz Blackhawk rolling up the driveway, Jerry at the steering wheel. Next to him sat the thin, blonde frame of Linda Thompson outlined against the dark, red leather interior. Jerry was a statue, stoic and serious as he pulled up and Linda burst out of the car to stride over.

“Charlie Hodge, you handsome man, where you runnin’ off to this evening? And who’s your friend?”

Charlie let out a shrill, high-pitched laugh, wondering to himself how Jerry had managed to arrive twenty minutes earlier than he had been told. Becky smiled awkwardly as she watched Linda give Charlie an air kiss on each side of his face, and then turned to Becky and her tight, wide forced cheerful smile.

Charlie stammered quickly, “Ugh, Linda, this is my cousin Becky, from Birmingham, come up to visit while her kid is at summer camp. I, ugh, well I -”

“He promised me I’d get to meet Elvis while I was here,” Becky gushed, summoning all of her energy to force her tongue to sound excited. She watched Jerry get out of the car and walk to join them. His lips were pursed, and his shoulders were stiff.

“Oh, well, it just dills my pickle to meet Charlie’s family, I feel like we’re practically family ourselves, seein’ how much time I spend with this good ole boy.”

Becky tried very hard not to tense up as Linda threw her arms around her to squeeze her tight. Linda wore a red, satin evening gown with cutouts along the side that emphasized her the curves of her sveltetorso and the wide hips below. Becky felt as though her tall, awkward fleshy figure and bust overwhelmed Linda’s body completely.

“Gosh, I just love that dress,” Linda exclaimed, adjusting the layers of Becky’s hair off her shoulder. “Though I don’t know if I could pull that color off, mhmmm, don’t know if that would be my choice, but it's so you, isn’t it?”

Becky smiled. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“So, Charlie, the old boy been behaving?” Linda winked at Becky, then whispered conspiratorially. “You know, Elvis is a good, Christian man, s’just that the devil is mighty powerful, hmmm, know what I mean?”

“MMMhmmmm.”

Becky nodded. It was like she was back in high school and one of the popular girls had waltzed up to her desk at the school newspaper, indirectly ordering her to do a story about the committee decorating the homecoming game bleachers. Ughhh.  Becky steeled herself, falling back on the niceties that she was well versed in.

“I can’t even imagine! Gosh, it’s so exciting to meet you, I’ve seen your pictures in the paper and, of course, Charlie has told us about you. But you are just more precious in person, you really are.”

Linda gave Becky another hug. “Well bless your heart, Becky. Aren’t *you* the sweetest.”

Jerry coughed. “Hm, yeah, we better get going.”

Linda shrugged her shoulders. “Ugh, I know, we got this Police Charity Dinner to go to, I flew in from LA just for this. I guess the Lord saw fit for me to make it. And meet you! I hope I get to see you again while you are visiting, are you staying here? With Charlie?”

“Oh God no.”—“No she aint!”

Charlie and Becky both answered together. Becky smiled big again, hugging Linda one more time. From the big, wide-eyed puppy dog look on her face, Becky felt she seemed to expect it. “No, no, I’m staying with my sis - sorority sister from college, who lives here, we’re actually just heading there now, for dinner. In fact, we better scoot, eh cuz?” Becky looked at Charlie, and sat into the car.

Charlie closed the door, a big  smile at Linda as Jerry led her up the steps into the house, and Linda waved goodbye. “I hope y’all have a the best night, see you again real soon!”

A tense feeling pushed up from Becky’s tummy and seized her shoulders in a tight anxious grip. It was one thing to know you were spending the week with a man who was seeing several women at once. It was another thing to come face to face with one and have to lie about who you were and what you were doing. Becky felt dirty, dirty and sick. She didn’t know how she could possibly face her perfect fucking sister, Deborah, and Debbie’s husband Steve, another lawyer, and the various lawyer professional type guests she expected to be at this dinner party. Charlie patted her thigh, seeming to intuit her thoughts, at least in part.

“Ya know, he’s not a bad guy, the boss man. He carries a heavy burden. And Linda’s moved out to LA to try and break into the movie biz. She had him buy her a home here in Memphis. It’s like they both know it’s over but neither one can bear to pull the trigger. And she knew how it was to date someone like him.”

Becky nodded, telling herself not to cry, and leaned against the window, hitting her head on the cool glass a few times as she swore under her breath at how stupid she was to be here. She muttered to herself in yiddish: 

“Ugh, whenever you have choices, oy vey, my sheyna maidel, boy oh boy do you somehow always manage to pick the worst. Your picker is broken, that’s what it is. When you go home, you are turning your love life over to Ida and her yenta brigade. There is a reason they used matchmakers in the old country. People are incapable of making good choices in men when left to their own devices. Stupid, foolish, idiot girl!” She hit her head on the window one last time, and then realized they had pulled up in front of Debbie’s house.

Charlie rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll be out here waiting when you’re ready. I - he - I - he’s gonna be dropping Linda off at the other house. It was, it is, all part of the plan. You see, her brother’s in the police force here. It, ugh, it just made sense that she would be his date for this big charity ball fundraiser for the cops.”

Becky nodded, half in a daze, trying to mentally prepare for her sister, for the dinner party, and for Elvis later.

“Hmmm, yeah, no, totally makes sense, absolutely.” She breathed in, then looked over at Charlie’s apologetic face. “Wait, you’re just gonna wait here?”

“Yeah, the boss, he, well, he wanted me to look after you. On account of all the druggies running wild these days.” Becky nodded. 

“Right. The drugged out commie burglars, those are clearly the biggest threat to my livelihood right now. Not Elvis Presley and his selfish manipulative ways. Not his powerful girlfriend, or her cop brother. Not my family and their judgment. No, no no, it’s the invisible commie drug criminals supposedly lurking everywhere. Well, thank god you’re here Charlie, I feel so much safer.” 

She slammed the car door, knowing it was unfair to take it out on Charlie, but the look on his face when she bent to the window made her heart sink even further before she uttered one word of apology. Because his goofy, winsome smile told her she was not the first woman to yell at him like this. Not only did he seem to expect it, he had mentally braced himself for it. Becky’s face softened apologetically. 

“I’m sorry, for that. I’ll try not to be more than an hour.”

“S’ok, we’re family now, cuz.” 

Becky knew that Charlie’s smile was meant to be reassuring, but it made her stomach drop even more as she turned and braced herself for a night at the Hoffman - Blumfeld’s (very intentionally hyphenated modern family of the 1970s) Dinner Party.

*********************************************************************

To say the night was uncomfortable and embarrassing would have been generous. Everyone else at the dinner party was dressed in jeans, khakis or linen pants and some sort of comfortable blouse or semi-casual shirt, and Becky felt she stood out like a Vegas showgirl at a library full of nerds. Which was probably the best way to describe Debbie, her husband Steve and their social circle. She was grateful it had been Debbie who opened the front door, so she could walk Becky into the side room and they could make their flustered hellos alone. 

Debbie wore a pair of sensible khakis and a tasteful floral button up top tucked in. As predicted, Debbie wore no make-up. And all judgment, though she tried to repress and be loose and fun.

Six years older than Becky, Debbie had always been half friend/half-parent to her, and this was a characteristic she inhabited calling out “Rebecca, please come in!” when she greeted Becky at the door.

Thank god for wine, the Hoffman-Blumfeld intentionally hyphenated household had some very good bottles of wine on offer and, after sipping one glass gracefully, and the another quickly in the kitchen, Becky was able to exhale and confront the evening with a blundering fort of confidence. She decided to pretend the meeting with Linda never happened, and stumbled confidently through her description of her relationship. She was dating a man who worked in the music business, after meeting him with Danny at a radio event fundraiser for the tornado in Mississippi. Was it serious? Well, sort of, he had invited her to Memphis for the week to meet his daughter, and he was trying to persuade her to move there. But her very successful life managing Saul and Ida’s store, and all her f.’

riends, made her reluctant to leave Jackson.

“I’m just taking a day at a time.” Becky winked and sipped her wine, before taking another mouthful of salmon.

After dessert, Debbie cornered her in the kitchen and asked if they could talk somewhere. Putting up her finger while she poured another glass of wine, Becky nodded and followed Deb to a bedroom, where she sat on a tasteful quilt blanket and had a tasteful restrained conversation about the impossibility of letting her father see Ruth secretly the next time she was in Birmingham.

“She is his only grandchild, Becks.”

“Well, they should have thought about that possibility when they kicked me out. Three months pregnant. Pronounced me a shonda, and disowned me.”

“Do you really want to have Ruth grow up without her grandparents?”

“I didn’t make that decision, Debbie, they did. Maybe, maybe, maybe if Papa was willing to admit how wrong they were, and stand up to Mama, and if he had any backbone at all and publicly welcomed me home for everyone to see, for Ruth to experience a true family, maybe.”

Debbie responded with a knowing look. “Well, I told Papa I was gonna see you when he called earlier, and I promised to ask, but I don’t blame you. I wish Ruth was here now, it’s been too long. And this guy, hmmm? Sounds promising. He wants you to move here?” Becky gulped her wine down first, rubbing her sister's arm. 

“Yup, yes, mhmmm. Oh yeah, finally, right? Everything’s coming up Becky. I can’t wait for you to meet him, because I’ll definitely be back up here with Ruth after she finishes camp. Ah, yes, mmhmmm.” She downed the last sip of wine, smiling so enthusiastically she almost laughed at how absurd the charade was. “I feel like, ugh, finally, right? I’m finally getting that happiness I searched for, for so long. ”

*********************************************************************

“You are never going to find happiness.” Becky said to the fork of coconut cake as she brought it to her mouth, letting the sweet, sticky crunchy sugar do its work comforting her momentarily as she chewed it and swallowed it down with some chocolate milk. The door to the kitchen opened, and she jerked her head up to see little Lisa Marie poke her head around.

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, late night cake?” Becky answered.

“Have you been crying?” Lisa asked as she stepped closer, getting herself a plate and a piece of cake.

“No, honey, no, it’s just been a long day.”

“Is it cuz of my daddy?”

Becky shook her head, too vigorously perhaps. “Npoooo no nononoo. No. It’s just been a long day.”

“You’re a bad liar, Becky Butt,” Lisa said, taking a big bite of cake, and then rubbing Becky’s shoulder. It broke her heart to see Lisa’s genuine look of pity staring up at her as she tried to comfort Becky. “Why is he like this? Mommy says he ruins every relationship and he’ll never truly be happy.”

Becky laughed at Lisa’s matter-of-fact statement. “Oh, my dear, I think your mama is very wise, but who knows what the future will bring. I do know your daddy loves you, that’s a relationship that makes him happy. Trust me, my parents never openly showed me love the way I see him show you. He’s a good man. There are just some things I might do differently if I were him.”

Lisa looked up at her. “Like what?”

“Well, for starters, I’d carry around less guns, I guess, that's dangerous. And maybe wear less jewelry, probably out there blinding people with all those dazzling gems and diamonds all over his person.”

Lisa laughed out loud as she finished her cake, and let Becky walk her up the stairs where she tucked Lisa back into bed and then returned to the kitchen.

Becky was down on her knees, looking through the drawers under the phone when she heard the door behind her slam shut. Glancing up, she saw Elvis’ broad figure swagger slowly toward her in the dimness of the kitchen lit only by one of the lights under a cabinet. He sighed and stopped, hands bracing the front of his hips, spread out fully extending his fingers as they tapped a little ditty over the sides of his belly. 

With his jacket pushed back at the hips, he looked even wider and more intimidating than usual. His lips were pursed in a frown at the sight of Becky in the jeans, converse and Destin tee shirt she had been wearing when she left Jackson the previous Sunday.

“Huh, hey.”

Becky turned back to look up at him. “Oh, hey!”

He adjusted his stance, pivoting his feet and twitching his left knee, his thumbs tapping over his belt.

“Watcha doin’?”

“You don’t know where the yellow pages are, do you? I’ve been looking for a phone book for the last fifteen minutes.”

Elvis sucked in a deep breath and adjusted his glasses. “Why, uh, why ya looking for the phone book?”

“Well, maybe you can help me.”

Becky returned her attention to the kitchen drawers in front of her, trying not to flinch as she heard the thud of Elvis boots walk closer and stop directly behind her. She chose not to twist back around and look at him, afraid she might cry or be dramatic, so she decided to speak directly into the drawers as she continued to look through them.

“You see, I’m trying to find a number for a local cab company, so I can get to the Greyhound station.”

“Mhmmm. I noticed your bag in the foyer.”

“Oh yeah, that,” Becky sighed, shutting one drawer and then opening another. “Well, you see, it just dills my pickle to be all prepared and ready to go when I call up a car to come get me. Although I had rather hoped I would have been gone before you got back, I didn’t want to bother you. But, since you’re here, maybe you can make yourself useful and help find the phone book?”

Elvis bent and leaned over the island that jutted out of the counter at the front of the kitchen.

“Honey, I have absolutely no intention a helpin’ you find a phone book.”

Becky stopped and fell back against the cupboard next to the set of drawers, her legs stretching out over the dark, burgundy carpet that covered the kitchen.She banged her hand back and closed her eyes.

“Why? Why can’t you just give me the phonebook?”

Elvis walked over and stood above Becky, his hand reaching down. “Cuz I don’t want you ta leave, honey. Not like this. C’mon, let’s talk. If you still wanna go home, why, I’ll drive you back to Jackson myself, like I promised.”

Becky glared up at his hand. “No.”

“What, you just gonna stay there on the ground?”

“Mhmmm.” She crossed her legs and her arms and tilted back into the cabinet. “Yup, yessiree. This is my home now, til I get a cab, I reckon.”

Elvis meandered over slowly and groaned as he lowered himself next to her on the floor. He moved his hand out to touch hers, only to be rebuked by their swift retreat back under her breasts in a huff of crossed arms and limbs. He rolled his neck to meet her gaze against the wooden cabinet.

“Honey, you are actin’ like a child. This is all one big misunderstanding. Now, c’mon.”

Elvis put his hand over her thigh, but Becky swatted it away, so he grabbed the foot she had criss crossed over her knee, and rolled into her shoulder as he scooted closer, squeezing her foot.

“Becky, look, you know I have other friends —”

“Girl friends, yes, I know about them, but apparently they don’t know about me. Do you have any idea how horrible that felt? Lying, looking at your beautiful beauty queen girlfriend, pretending to be Charlie’s cousin?” She pressed her face against the cupboard and let the tears come pouring out. “Ugh, I am so stupid, I know this isn’t me. I am not cut out to be the other woman.”

“Sssshhh.” Elvis put his arm around Becky’s shoulder, massaging her as he drew her body into his, bringing her head to nuzzle in his chest, where she gave up and grasped his shirt, letting the sobs come out as she cried into him. “Sshhhh. S’ok, s’ok.”

“No, s’not ok, ugh, I’m a horrible person, a traitor to my sex.” Her fist bumped tepidly into Elvis’ chest. She looked up at his chuckles. “What, why are you laughing at me?”

“Baby, you are too pretty to cry. Now, come on. Linda is not my wife, she knows it, I know it, things haven’t been going well and our relationship has been sorta peeterin’ out. But I have to do things my own way, ok? Her brother is on the police force, it made sense, right now, for me to take her as my date. But I swear, nothing happened. I’m here with you. At my house. Would I have a mistress at my house, where I lived, if I was keeping her a secret?”

Becky wiped her eyes. “You think she knows about me? She knew when she met me?”

Elvis sucked in his breath. “Honey, I don’t know, and frankly, right now I don’t care who knows. I-I, I didn’t wanna get into it tonight. But Linda knows well enough how it is with me. Look, I want to be with you, here, now. So let’s be together, and let’s go to bed.”

He said this with finality, and stood up, groaning slightly and steadying himself against the sink,  and Becky followed, exhaling loudly as she pulled herself up on his outstretched hand and walked with him out of the kitchen, still sniffling and wiping her eyes into his silk dress shirt.

“Ok, but only because the floor was starting to feel uncomfortable. And I couldn’t find the phone book.”

Elvis smiled and Becky watched his cheeks twitch above the pout of his mouth, and she couldn’t help it, she led herself into his embrace.

“There now, lil girl, why you go get yourself all worked up like that?”

Becky looked down, blushing trying to just calm herself and feel good about making peace, or whatever it was she was doing. Giving in. No, you are having fun, she told herself. It’s silly to be upset over Linda, and was the use of fighting? This is a short, fun, little fling. Somehow his logic made sense at the same time that it made no sense at all. Becky’s head ached trying to sort it out, she decided that she was tired and exhausted and still a little tipsy, and needed to stop fighting and let herself fall forward into Elvis’ pliant, warm belly. He took a silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and wiped her eyes, then softly pressed his lips to Becky’s mouth.

 “Mmmm, baby, those are some salty lips.” 

Elvis lifted his hand, thumbing over her lower lip slowly, it made Becky gasp and she watched him respond with a smirk. He leaned in slowly, and Becky shivered when he breathed on her, watching with anticipation as he  licked his own lip and hesitated with a wider smirk before pressing his mouth into hers. More forcefully this time, his hands soothing up her sides. 

“S’alright now, s’alright, no more cryin, ok, lil girl? Too pretty ta cry like this. Goin’ on and making my favorite lips all salty. "

taglist:

@woundmetender @powerofelvis @tacozebra051 @butlervol6 @ab4eva @richardslady121 @dkfixates @azzawrites @searchingforgravity @sharebearkk @18lkpeters @elvispresleywife @moonchild-daniella @bisexualwvtson @eliseinmemphis @avengen @father-of-2cats @j-v-9-2 @lillypink @notstefaniepresley @stylespresleyhearted @godlypresley @literally-just-elvis-fics @crash-and-cure @coolgirl462 @elvisabutler @beeandheroddobsessions @precious-little-scoundrel @misspresle @yanderereader @alqvarde @yynneessmons @kendralavon7 @daffieapple @louisejoy86 @flwrs4aust @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @leopardandstuds @burningloverdoll @fangirlaround @butler-trouble @butlersluvbot

Let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist. Thanks for reading!

[mirieru]

Stray Kids Next Comeback ⋆𐙚

Hello everyone, have a nice day, I got the idea to try to find out details about the upcoming comeback of Stray Kids.

Comeback theme ❘ 8 pentacles + 10 swords + 7 cups at the bottom of the deck

The theme of this comeback will be hard work and dedication, this comeback will be more mature and more complex, as it requires time and hard work. The 10 of swords represent suffering, which can refer to the struggle of making music, and the 7 of cups represent confusion and indecision. So the theme will be more mature, complex and hard-working, requiring more dedication, so expect something grand and ambitious. Overall theme is that of hard work and being persistent to achieve your dreams and goals. The theme will also be partly about self-love, confidence and acceptance, and participants will have a new look to reflect who they have become.

"What genre of music will the title song of the next comeback be?" ❘ queen of wands + priest + 3 pentacles at the bottom of the deck

The queen of wands represent excitement and passion which also implies speed, i can see a genre that is fast, fun with a catchy tune or beat and with the 3 pentacles at the bottom which indicate a hardwork in progress, i am seeing something like a hiphop. the song will be a powerful, confident and lively song, the priest suggests that it will have a little bit of spirituality to it, it will have lyrics that make people feel hopeful and inspired. The 3 pentacles show the hardwork and determination put into the song, the song will be very good and it will be something people will not forget easily. The song will be very lively with catchy rhythm and lyrics, also it will be easy to follow, as for the 3 pentacles that shows the message of the song will be about hard work and progress, the message of this comeback will motivate people to become better.

"What will be the visual theme for the title video?" ❘ page of swords + 2 wands + 7 cups at the bottom of the deck

The visual theme for the title video will be fun and youthful, it will show a group who is free and enjoys life to its fullest, there will be a lot of energy in the video, also people will be able recognize some of the members personalities through the theme. The cups indicates that this video will also have an emotional aspect to it, i sense that the viewers might get to see a more personal side of the members. I can see that the comeback will have a very strong, maybe mystical and powerful vibe, strong colors, with hints to black magic or possibly rituals. The two Wands and seven Cups indicate a lot of energy and power, the Wands is usually related to the power of life and death and the seven cups is related to emotions and possibly something related to romance. You should expect something very powerful for the visual theme of the comeback of Stray Kids. The music video will have a strong focus on dialogue, and strong visuals, with strong colors and imagery. There will be strong use of symbolism and the theme might also have a message of justice. There will be a strong focus on communication, and the theme might also involve some kind of message involving the concept of conflict and peace.

"Will the title song of the next comeback focus more on vocals or rap?" ❘ Ace of Pentacles + Page of Swords + 7 Swords at the bottom of the deck

According to the cards, the next Stray Kids Title song is going to be more centered around vocals, with rap parts also played a prominent role in the song. However, vocals will play a more significant role in the song compared to rap. The vocals are going to be powerful and emotional, with strong meanings and will have a strong impact on the overall song. The song will likely have some rap, but the focus will be on vocals. The song will have a powerful and energetic vibe in terms of rhythm, and a strong chorus.

"Will the next comeback be like any of the past?" ❘ chariot + 8 wands + 6 swords on the bottom of the deck

Stray Kids' next comeback will be unlike any of their past comebacks, it will have a unique sound and style and will showcase the members' growth and mature. The song will have a powerful and energetic rhythm, with a strong chorus and catchy lyrics. New terms of lyrics, sounds, visuals, concept, etc. The music itself will also feature new sounds and elements than what was heard before, making it something fresh and unique. Visuals and concept will also be new and unique.

"Which side of themselves will the members show the most? (like sexy or childish, etc.)" ❘ hermit + 10 pentacles + world at the bottom of the deck

This card combination indicates that the members will show a very mature and sophisticated side of themselves for this comeback, with a focus on emotional maturity. There will be a lot of focus on their inner strength, their own personal wisdom and experience. In terms of visuals, concepts and lyrics, there will be a mature and sophisticated vibe, with a touch of elegance. There will be a lot of focus on emotional maturity, so members will be shown as mature, wise and sophisticated. They will not be portrayed as sexy or childish, but rather as someone who has learned a lot from life and who has gained lots of wisdom.

THANK YOU FOR READING 🐰

*Based on tarot

[jadeseadragon]

Ashtamangala Mandalas

Ashtamangala - Eight Auspicious Symbols (ashta meaning eight and mangala meaning auspicious; Sanskrit अष्टमंगल Aṣṭamaṅgala):

The Endless Knot

The Treasure Vase

The Lotus Flower

Two Golden Fish

The Parasol

The Conch Shell

The Dharma Wheel

The Banner of Victory

"A suite of eight auspicious symbols revered for their sacredness in Hinduism, Jainism, Sikhism, and Buddhism. Originally they were used in India at ceremonies and coronations for a king, but over time they’ve become embedded within varying cultures, often seen as common motifs in households and in art.

The White Conch Shell represents the pervasive sound of dharma and is said to awaken disciples from the deep slumber of sleep that is veiled in ignorance, urging us to seek our own welfare and the welfare of others. In Buddhism, it represents the voice of Buddha and his sacred teachings, and in Indian epic literature, it is the hero’s trumpet. In Hinduism, the conch shell is a symbol of the Sudarshana Chakra.

The Endless Knot was originally a symbol of love, and it represents the ultimate unity within everything. The endless knot also symbolizes the great spirit of the Buddha, the interdependence of all things, as well as, enlightenment that arises from the union of compassion and wisdom.

The Two Goldfish originally represented two sacred rivers of India; the Ganges, and Yamuna, and is associated with the lunar and solar channels, said to originate in the nostrils, carrying alternating rhythms of breath and prana. In Buddhism, they represent the vision of the Buddha, as well as, aiding those along the spiritual path towards liberation without drowning in samsara.

The Lotus Flower symbolizes divine beauty and primordial purity, for its ability to float above muddy water, free from attachments and desires. Buddhas and Bodhisattvas are often represented sitting on lotus flowers, symbolizing divine language and the purification of the body, word, and spirit. Today, the lotus flower is mostly known for symbolizing the opening of our energy centers aka; chakras.

The Jewelled Parasol was originally an attribute of royalty in India, and in Buddhism it represents the head of the Buddha, offering protection against material and spiritual dangers such as illnesses, harmful forces, and the elements of the aether. It can also represent the canopy of heaven, the expansive firmament of the sky, and the unfolding of space.

The Treasure Vase represents material ease or prosperity in wealth, health or longevity, and spiritual benefits. In Buddhism, it represents the neck of the Buddha and his unlimited ability to teach the dharma, which never lessons or loses its value over time. In Vajrayāna anointing ceremonies it is the container of wisdom and can represent the vastness of space.

The Victory Banner represents the body of the Buddha and his victory over the four māras, or hindrances in the path of enlightenment… pride, desire, disturbing emotions, and the fear of death. In Tibetan Buddhism, there are eleven different forms of the banner, which represent eleven different methods for combating negative forces.

The Dharmachakra or “Wheel of the Law” is the most well know symbol throughout Buddhism, historically symbolizing a lunar or solar chariot, driven by royalty, called a Chakravartin. A Chakravartin is the one whose wheels turn without barriers, and as such, is a master of both land and sea aka; physical reality and akashic waters.

Meditation and contemplation upon these eight auspicious symbols is said to have the ability to bring us closer to understanding the divine nature of the Buddha and the divinity within each of us waiting to be self-realized."

© Written by Carrie Love

[weepingfoxfury]

The man on the radio has returned from who knows where doing who knows what to do his Thursday thang ... the chariots are on fire for a kick off. Weatherwise it's a case of clutching 'the umbrella' and keeping the water wings close at hand. The traffic lady says its all busy, busy, busy with temporary lights and tailbacks.

Today's groaner: Did you hear about the Swedish runner who couldn't complete the race? ... He stopped just before the Finnish line ;-D badoom tish ... here all week!!

A trip to the tip is today's task. Time to open up the 'big shed' and shove a load of recycling into the car boot. Can't be doing with the whole wheelie bin rip off scheme ... those multi coloured, filled to the brim 'sentinels' that line the road each week at rates that seem to roar up in cost at quite a pace. Not for me, no Siree! I'd rather drive to dump and see if there's any 'treasures' to pop in the boot once the rubbish has been removed. The magpie in me has a steely eye and one hell of an appetite ... no Swedish death cleaning for me ... not yet.

Thursday, Thursday, Thursday ... coffee, canines and cats ... the rhythm of the road before a weekend's hibernation ...

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

I just wanted to say thank you so, so much for the Wingmen recommendation 💖 I doubt if I would have found this book by accident and I loved it so much!! I have just finished the book and I am struggling to string a sentence together right now, still processing. So I thought I would ask you your thoughts on the book and why you like it so much!

Oh, I'm so glad you liked it!

While The Charioteer is probably my favorite novel ever, Wingmen is not far off from the top spot. As a historian, I always say good historical fiction can teach you a lot, and I did learn by reading Wingmen. The author clearly knew the stuff he was writing about: the aircraft, the dates, the battles, the Navy lifestyle, the whole war effort... It's all detailed and realistic, a really immersive experience. Even if the romance is the main draw, this is a true military fiction work.

And the romance. I love Fred and Jack. Case wanted to raise the bar for gay characters in the genre, and he achieved this. Notice that in spite of the period and the prejudices, this isn't a story about homophobia — it's a war story with a love affair. Yeah, Fred and Jack eventually suffer from prejudice, but the main point is that they are warriors. A warrior couple, as Eric Patterson described them, willing to sacrifice themselves for each other, and whose love was built around a strong sense of mutual respect.

Despite the realism, the plot isn't just a bunch of events following each other. It works in a carefully crafted crescendo, it has rhythm, and it's very satisfying to follow. The battle scenes are incredible; I remember being so tense when I was reading them for the first time! The author is also never dismissive towards women or Japanese people (despite some characters presenting period-typical takes), which is refreshing for a 1970s book of this kind. He was cautious when it comes to love scenes between the main characters, but that can be excused (particularly if you’re used to Mary Renault).

And I have to say I find Duane Higgins a fascinating character. Unlike Fred and Jack, you never really know what is going on inside his head (but I have some theories!).