#there's probably novels of her after rebels but listen I would like to See her. I want pretty art.

[myxinidaes]

Finally finished the jasmine throne!! Its only been... what, a year? man! I miss when I could knock out books without losing focus overnight. I was struggling to stay interested during the middle section as it wandered over to a more romantic focus, and the extensive timeline my readthrough took place over definitely hindered my ability to connect all the small players, but the end! was very exciting! during the middle bit I was like damn these lesbians are too hinged :/ and then the book ended with Malini strongarming her brother into burning several hundred troops alive and then lighting the first fire and I was like DAMN OK!

Poetic justice of a woman who grew up under constant threat and bearing witness to women like her being ritually cleansed through burning at the stake. And Bhumika killing her husband after giving him so many chances to listen to her and be safe, but he kept getting in her way so! oh well. Very, very excited to see Malini facing Chandra, and absolutely fascinated by the possibilities of where Bhumika takes the Aharyani rebels.

I do think, however, priya was..... boring. She's cool! I guess. But she makes a very standard YA love interest (derogatory) in a novel that would probably have benefitted her being cut out entirely and replaced with bhumika. imo.

I'll read the next book in the trilogy, but I dont have high hopes for any of Priya's sections. Dunno if I would recommend this book to anyone.... its solidly a 7/8 out of ten

Up next: she who became the sun

[hanascrisis]

A REVIEW: Fake Slackers (Mu Gua Huang)

I. GENERAL OVERVIEW

LENGTH: 112 Chapters and 3 Extras

GENRE: (BL) Slice of Life, High School Romance

MAIN COUPLE:  He Zhao and Xie Yu

BRIEF SUMMARY: Xie Yu, a repressed genius playing dumb in school (2nd last place) and kicking ass otherwise, becomes desk mates with another famed rebel He Yu, who has grades that are dead last in ranking. The two navigate high school in an elaborate game of imposter, fooling their peers, their teachers, and each other, only to develop a romantic relationship through their solidarity. 

LINK: https://fake-slackers.carrd.co/

II. CATEGORICAL RANKING & BREAKDOWN

I read this novel fairly recently, after reading multiple with historical settings, including the famed Dumb Husky and his White Cat Shizun (2ha), so this was definitely a breath of fresh air. The novel itself reads like a slice of life story set in high school, with small snippets of life and no “proper plot with an end goal”. The only real development throughout the book is that of the relationship between He Zhao and Xie Yu, their ever evolving closeness with their classmates, and He Zhao/Xie Yu’s ongoing battle to keep their secret identity as geniuses from everyone around them. Because of this, the book is quite “nostalgic” and reminiscent of what its like living life in high school and falling in love over the accumulation of small gestures and connections. While I ended up laughing my ass off over some parts, overall, reading the book made me feel how listening to “Mystery of Love” Sufjan Stevens makes me feel, which is probably the best way to describe it. 

1. CHARACTERIZATION ~ Rated 10/10

I greatly adore the characterization of every character in the book, from the teachers, the ridiculous classmates, Xie Yu’s “found family” in Black Water Street, to the two main characters themselves. The characters in the book all have their own distinct personalities and motivations that might otherwise clash, but all the relationships in the book demonstrate how they can fit together rather harmoniously due to circumstance. By the end, the friend group He Zhao and Xie Yu created included people who usually would have no relation to each other, but their bond was built over the years they had spent “suffering” through thick and thin together within the four walls that was their classroom. You could really label their friendships as “unlikely” ones, but the author really displays how meaningful each of these interactions between the characters are, especially during times of adversity where one or more are struggling. Its really sweet and heartwarming to read. 

With the two main characters, both are characterized at the beginning to be “rebels” who behave badly, with low grades and picking fights every other day. They both garnered a reputation within the school as two rivals who rule their respected “half of the territory”, intimidating all students and frankly becoming inapproachable. But being in the same class together as deskmates, on the contrary to everyone’s preconceived notions, they get along extremely well. This leads the people around them to see both of them in a different light, and befriend them as two classmates who are subject to the exact same school related struggles. The dynamic between the two characters and the development in their relationship just feels so natural and smooth, with small gestures building up to a very straightforward, non-chalant confession, to then dating. Its quite nice and mellow, in comparison to a lot more grandiose and overdramatic confessions and love stories we see commonly in the romance genre. Its also quite refreshing to see two people who are both shameless in their affection, not easily flustered. Their relationship is sweet, in the way that warm water with lemon and honey is sweet; gentle and warm, but not tooth-rotting. 

2. WORLD BUILDING ~ Rated 9/10

Because it is a slice of life, there is not really the necessity for there to be intricate world building like in the case of any xianxia genre novel. However, in terms of the ability for the author to create a world in which has a bidirectional relationship of influence with the main characters, the author does this very well. The author is able to create a clear juxtaposition between Xie Yu’s previous life in the poorer Black Water district, and his life as the second son of a wealthy business man, and how his environment ultimately plays into his relationships, characterization, and some of the major decisions he makes such as hiding his true abilities. Because of this type of juxtaposition, the book is also able to touch on more heavy, “angsty” themes, such as classism and the portrayal of people divided between classes, as can be seen from the relationship between Xie Yu’s mom and the people from Black Water Street who were with her when her and Xie Yu were hiding from debt. While the themes prevalent tend to be more serious, the author maintains a balance and still adheres to the bright and warm “slice of life” style, making the book really easy to follow, and frankly quite relaxing to read. 

3. PLOT DEVELOPMENT ~ Rated 8/10

The direction the story takes is fairly obvious from the first few arcs of the book, which generally makes the plot development quite predictable, but this is NOT A BAD THING. While I knew what was going to happen anyway, the suspense and tension created prior to the “big reveal” was done so well I was basically screaming and laughing for those 6 or so chapters. It made me giggle, and also slam my fist into the table. I loved the interesting concept and how their two lives were able to intertwine by a shared secret common to both of them. The game of “cat and mouse” as they attempted to fool each other and everyone around them that they were indeed the two worst students personally gave me a death note-esque vibe, without the unnecessary drama and a more mundane goal. Hence, I found the plot EXTREMELY ENJOYABLE to say the least. The book was more comedic situationally, but it was definitely the type of book that makes your face hurt from smiling too much. 

III. FINAL THOUGHTS

RECOMMENDATION: I DEFINITELY recommended this book, especially to people who are looking for an enjoyable, sweet slice of life book with a high school romance. One of the “selling points” of this book, if you will is how the arrogant and flamboyant + aloof and distant combination of high school boys falling in love feels so natural, as if they are really just two people who get along really well as best friends, with the added depth of intimacy. It feels “normal”, like a partnership that is just deepened over time, and I love it very much. Reading this book both filled my heart and also left a gaping hole in it (out of jealously because me, when?). I do really recommend this book if you are looking for one with limited angst, filled with nostalgia and subtle, slow burn, high school love. 

[kaypeace21]

Rebel Robin podcast (ep 3 &4 analysis)

For those who haven’t read them yet. Here’s the analysis for podcast ep 1&2. Analysis of Rebel Robin book-here. And eastereggs from rebel robin novel- here.

So the main things I noticed in ep 3 was how Robin spying was shown as a huge NEGATIVE-and Mr Hauser got upset over her doing so. Robin listens to mr. Hauser’s phone call (like Karen with Mike in s3/ us gov spying on calls in s1) & on a different occasion Robin also eavesdrops on a private convo he is having with someone else in his classroom ( like El spying on Mike talking to Lucas in s3). And when he finds out about this he tells her how wrong it was to spy on other people like that. In the past, I also talked about how the theme of spying is shown for many other st characters ( in the show) and how it  isn’t romanticized like people think it is- here .

Anyways , Ep 3 ends with a call from a h*mophobic teen( Dash) telling Robin to “stay away” from Mr. Hauser cause he’s “dangerous”. Why he thinks he’s dangerous is solely for the fact he’s gay.I think this theme may come into play in s4 Hawkins (in relation to the satanic panic). In ep 4 Robin jokes to (gay) Mr. Hauser  : “ So what are you into... satanism?” (Sadly most queer people have been told over and over we’re going to hell for being gay/lgbt+. it’s sadly an almost universal experience.) For those unaware- the ‘satanic panic’ was a right wing christian movement in the 80′s that WRONGLY associated certain things with supposed satanism.  Just some of the many things they demonized : rock music , stephen king , wearing black,  horror/fantasy media, and of course queer people and d&d (hellfire club - the name is a a xmen ref but in the show it’s probably an inside joke about the satanic panic and people being scared of d&d). We see foreshadowing of the satanic panic hinted in s3 (in relation to d&d)- on tv the narrator asks if “satanism” (pans to d&d set) is to blame for the odd occurrances in Hawkins. And given how the s4 el-trailer had the clock say 3:00am for the “witching hour” also called “the devil’s hour” since it’s supposed to be a subversion of jesus dy*ing at 3:00 pm. And the possibility s4 may take place around Easter.  I think we’ll see that religious (Christian) extre*sm  causes many people in Hawkins to interpret the supernatural as ‘satanic’. And no , I’m obviously not talking poorly about all religious/christian people).

After this Mr. Hauser jokes how Hawkins is like “lord of the flies” and how he “worries” what would happen if teens were left to their own devices-like in the book. The themes in the book mostly focus on the dangers of ‘mob mentality’ and how human beings can become v*olent and turn on each other- if the safety of civilization disappears...

This I believe is foreshadowing - i mentioned in a post a while back (here). How movies on the s4 list had the theme of :  a supernatural event indirectly causing towns people to act irrationally and turn on eachother v*olently. Despite literal monsters attacking them from outside (they chose to turn on eachother instead). In the end some townspeople become the real monsters via mob mentality/v*oence/false witch hunts (the mist, the birds, etc). In ‘the birds’ (while people are hidding in a store)- they wrongly  blame certain characters for the supernatural chaos. Similarly, in ‘the mist’ (crowd of townspeople are trapped in a store) and some  start interpreting the monsters as being sent as punishment by god- some town’s people start quoting the bible and saying the only way to stop the punishment is to start “sacrificing the s*nners and nonbelievers”. BIG YIKES.ST references mapple street (where the wheelers and sinclairs live). It’s based on the twilight zone ep of the same name “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street” .The ‘monsters’ of that episode -were the townspeople turning on eachother because they incorrectly think their own neighbors are part of an invading supernatural army. The enemy was actually the paranoia/mob mentality-not the supernatural force they feared.  And yes i do think this concept is linked with 80s satanic panic and will cause some town division/obstacles for our heroes to deal with . **I also think the s4 bts of the Hawkins blood clinic-may be used to show h*mophobia (linked to satanic panic) in the town. Like in one s4 movie “paradise lost”the punk rock boys who were into black clothes, rock music , horror/stephen king books- were accused by the town’s people of being gay AND have demonic powers that are k*lling fellow town’s people.

Mr Hauser says he thinks steve Harrington is Ralph from lord of the flies. And Robin disagrees saying he’s Jack. Personally- since this was when Robin didn’t know/hated Steve. I think Mr hauser is right that Steve is Ralph (one of the oldest boys) who’s “commitment to civilization and morality is strong”. But Jack  (perhaps the popular s4 kid Jake?) and his savage crew take control of the group and start trying to attack Ralph and his friends (steve’s crew- over satanic panic?). How this begins is -

 Jack, torments Ralph and others. And some kids begin to develop savage personalities, after someone claims to have seen a Beast (demongorgan?) in the woods. This creates fear among the boys, which allows Jack to access more power.Ralph gets into an argument with Jack, who splits from the tribe. Many of the other boys follow Jack, who uses fear to manipulate the boys into leaving Ralph. And Jack’s crew begin attacking Ralph and his friends.

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

Ok, next topic of ep 4- the sentimental part of my brain got emotional when hearing how upset Robin was. And than Mr Hauser-telling her she’s wrong and she’s not “broken” or “rotten” and “nothing about her needs to be fixed’” (got me right in the feels) . As a queer person- I feel like every lgbt+ kid/teen needs to hear what Mr. Hauser said to Robin. 

However,  the analytical part of my brain -did notice some easterggs/ series parallels.

The convo starts with them talking about music Mr hauser likes (such as Bowie). And transitions to Mr Haauser asking about things she likes, whether she’s being bullied, and he later tells her “ DON’T let other people’s small mindedness make you fell bad about yourself. you don’t need to change yourself-no matter what anyone else says” . And Mr Hauser than says him calling her the “weirdest girl in Hawkins” was a compliment (not an insult-like she initially assumed). 

This is remarkably similar to certain scenes in s1/2. In s1, Jonathan mentions musicians he likes such as Bowie, asks Will about what he likes,  and tells Will “don't like things cause people tell you you’re supposed to-especially not him (their dad who called him h*mophobic names)” . In s2, Jonathan tries to cheer Will up after asking if he's being being bullied. And calls Will  “a freak” (and says it’s a good thing) and he should be content with being a “freak “ and compares Will to Bowie ( who was openly queer since the 70s) . 

In ep 4, Robin also mentions how sad she is that her parents won’t let her ride her bike anymore cause their paranoid about her safety  (like what happened to Will in s2).

Robin (before Mr. Hauser comforts her) says she feels like she has a “rot” inside her  . This is a s2 eastergg that could be linked to either Will or El. Will says his now-memories are “growing”, spreading”, and killing.” Later Kali says the emotional pain caused by her father  caused a “wound” to “spread”. Later allusion-Brenner tells El she has a “terrible wound “ (“a rot”) that Will “grow, spread, and kill.”

The reason Robin rants about feeling like she has a “rot” inside her is because she’s being bullied, and  lost all her Hawkins friends and says  “maybe I’m broken maybe there is just something about me that drives people away? I’m the only common denominator-there’s something wrong with me! There’s something inside of me that’s just rotten and there’s nothing i can do to fix it”. Which 1)-poor Robin. 2) I feel like could easily be How Will feels in s4(who will be the same age as Robin is here in the podcast)- his dad abandoned him, all his hawkins friends are gone , the st s4 movies have h*mophobic bullying in them (and he was bullied in the past). In a interview Noah said Will in s4 “doesn’t really get along with people-it’s just him and Mike.”  I think it fits more so with Will than El . But they may feel similar:  it’s implied in s4 audition tapes she’ll be bullied too,  she moved away from her friends,  and her father (Hopper) fake “passed away.” It could easily be how both Will and El feel in s4- that there is  something “broken”/ “rotten” about them . In fact, in the rebel Robin novel there is even a character named Sheena. Sheena reminds me a bit of a mix between Will and el . She is very quiet, queercoded, and is often bullied. And she finds mean notes and other things stuffed  in her locker- placed there by bullies. A bit like how Will found the zombie-boy note in his locker. A teacher doesn’t stop her bullying just blames her and says “ This wouldn’t happen if you made it just a smidgen easier for PEOPLE to understand you.”(sort of reminding me of that Noah quote about s4 Will not getting along with most people/Jonathan saying not to change himself cause “people” say to). But sheena can be another name for Jane (there was also a 80s show character named Sheena who was psychic) so ...maybe foreshadowing of el/jane being bullied in highschool? Along with Will?

*It’s not a eastergg/parallel...just speculation. Unlike the rebel robin book... in the podcast (in multiple episodes) almost every time she opens up to Mr Hauser about her problems she says it’s ok for him to do the same and she’ll be supportive and listen. However, Mr Hauser (so far) always rejects her offer-much to her hurt/frustration. In ep 4, she asks if he has someone his “own age” he can talk to about his problems-which he says he does. Now... since in ep 4 Mr hauser is paralleled to Jonathan maybe Jonathan will have someone his own age to talk to about his problems (maybe his new friend Argyle?) We see similar to Mr Hauser giving advice/pep talks to (gay) Robin. Jonathan is always giving advice/peptalks to our (gay-coded) Will. But so far- Jonathan has no one he really emotionally leaned on in the same way (Will does with Jonathan). I also wonder if Will in s4 starts gets tired of how he always confides in Jonathan (but Jonathan never does the same with Will  in return)? Like Robin with Mr. Hauser?

[spn-romantica]

So I watched SPN for years, right up until the end of S11, when they brought back Mary. I heard that S15 would be the last season, and I was like ‘oh ok I’ll rewatch (for like the 8th time) and finish SPN then’ BUT THEN 15x18 happened and I was violently pulled back into the SPN fandom. I still haven’t caught up fully watching yet, but I’ve read so much discourse now...and I have thoughts. Hypotheses currently. I’ll wait to finish the whole show for real to call any of this theories but, I wanted to record my thoughts.

They’re about Chuck. As a villain. Which weirds me out. As an antagonist? Sure. As evil? No. Can’t envision it. I just finished my rewatch of S5 and, damn, but if Chuck is the ultimate villain, S5 reads very differently. :0

But I recently saw a post comparing Dean’s reaction in 1x18 (I believe) to his in 10x05 (for sure) about when someone mentions his mother’s death. In 1x18, it’s Sam when they were children and Dean gets angry. In 10x05, it’s a group of high school girls and Dean just bops his head along to the song. The post was framing it as 10x05 not understanding Dean’s thoughts about his mother, but I think that both episodes understand Dean. When Dean is a child, the trauma over his mother’s murder is still fresh. By 10x05, the event is 70 years in the past. Of course it still affects Dean. Of course. You never really get over something like that. But I’d argue that after 70 years, Dean has moved through the stages of grief to acceptance. It still hurts, but like an old ache, not a fresh, still-bleeding wound.

Interestingly, 10x05 is when we see Chuck, after a long absence. He’s watching the play, probably happy that someone loves his work enough to even make a musical, but he is also watching the Winchesters. The actual episodes of the show, aka the books Chuck writes, are what Chuck knows/cares about regarding the Winchesters. Despite being God, I’d argue he doesn’t pay attention to every second and all the little minutia of the boys’ lives. So, here in 10x05, we have confirmation that Chuck is around to see that Dean has healed from his mother’s death.

Later, in S11, Dean acts as therapist/life counsellor to Chuck/God, regarding Amara and Lucifer. And it works! Dean teaches God about family and about healing. Why does God listen to Dean Winchester, a random human? Perhaps it is because of S1-5. Perhaps it is because Dean and Sam were part of God’s test, as God himself describes it in 5x22.

What was the test? Was it God’s experiment about choice and free will? About freedom vs peace? Or, perhaps, was God trying to understand sibling relationships? He and Amara are two faces of the same coin. They are siblings, but with very different outlooks and it caused a rift between them, caused Chuck to seal Amara away before she could destroy his creations. Chuck regretted this, but saw it as a necessary betrayal. But then, some time later, Chuck’s angelic children experience their own betrayal and sibling rift. Lucifer tries to turn the angels against God, rebel and reject God. He makes demons, for sure, and maybe even Hell. But why? God figures that Lucifer was maybe jealous of the new baby (humans) like others in the show postulates. Or maybe Lucifer had beef specifically with Michael, because humans are little more than amoebas from an angelic perspective. Aside from Castiel, Anna and a handful of other angels, angels consistently view humans as humans might view dust mites. Maybe humans were the cause of the rift between Michael and Lucifer, but it was Michael and Lucifer’s relationship that needed fixing in the end, regardless.

So God is left with the sad conclusion that maybe close siblings will inevitably betray each other and be unable to forgive and heal. He wants to heal with Amara. But he also wants Michael and Lucifer to be able to heal. (It doesn’t occur to God that maybe Lucifer’s problem was never with humanity or Michael; it was with God.)

So God has research to do, to see if it’s possible for siblings to experience such deep betrayal and still heal. He turns to his little hairless apes, the only sentient species on Earth with potential to parallel the angels. He starts testing siblings. Cain and Abel are first up. Needless to say, but the betrayal was too strong and left no room for healing. But on down the line of Cain, God continues testing. Eventually, we come to Sam and Dean.

God has scheduled Michael and Lucifer’s family counselling session for 2010. All the data up to this point says it can only end badly. Maybe it’ll half-kill the Earth, but it’s finally time for Michael and Lucifer to meet and for one of them to die. God isn’t happy about this conclusion, but it’s what the data says. So, finally, the last test subjects, the last in the line who will be the vessels for Michael and Lucifer’s showdown, arrive. Sam and Dean Winchester are to be the last sibling test. The conclusion seems foregone at this point, but there is no point in cancelling the last bit of the test after so long, so it continues. God watches. And Sam and Dean surprise God. Siblings after siblings had failed for millennia to heal. Betrayals too strong, healing too little, too late. But Sam and Dean. no matter how badly they hurt each other, find a way to come back together and heal. They don’t give up on each other, despite millennia of data to the contrary. Still, the angels and demons push and push at Sam and Dean until their rift is as wide and as deep as Michael and Lucifer’s, as God’s and Amara’s (in late S4). It seems, despite the brothers’ best efforts earlier on, it’s all for naught.

But there is a further element of randomness, something God couldn’t foresee. Castiel. God hasn’t had occasion for romantic love in his own experience, so he is entirely blind to what choices Castiel is likely to make. He provides an element of randomness to the experiment, an essential part that gives Dean the ultimate chance to go back to Sam and begin to heal (4x22).

Throughout S5, Sam and Dean heal. There is hurt, still, of course, but they love each other and forgive each other. By 5x22, they’ve surprised everyone. Even the angels have given up on turning them against each other, and have shrugged and settled for using Nick and Adam as the vessels for the showdown. Sam and Dean passed their test. They were siblings who betrayed each other and healed from it. God reconsiders how family counselling will go with Michael and Lucifer. He figured it would be the Apocalypse, the end of the problems between Michael and Lucifer, as one of them dies, as had always happened before. But, Sam and Dean showed God, that though it is rare, it is possible to heal. So God gives Sam and Dean an out. He gives Sam the strength to seize back control from Lucifer, should things go south.

Finally, the showdown arrives. Michael and Lucifer meet. They talk things out. To God’s surprise, Lucifer reveals that he never had a problem with Michael. He had forgiven Michael long ago. But Michael couldn’t forgive Lucifer. He had to be a ‘good son’ and do what he thought God wanted him to do. But Michael didn’t realise, that God doesn’t give orders. Free will all the way, baby! But the whole thing comes as a surprise. Apparently, all this time, the problem relationship wasn’t siblings, it was parents.

Oops.

Good thing God had a back-up plan.

Sam throws himself and Lucifer (and Michael and Adam) into the Cage. Michael and Lucifer have an eternity to figure things out between each other now. But that’s beside the point. The point is, now, that God has to start testing all over again. Not how to fix sibling relationships, but how to fix parent-child relationships.

God restores Castiel, perhaps for a few reasons because God exists outside of time, but originally it may have been just for one. He likes Castiel. He is impressed that Castiel invented free will for himself, broke free of angelic programming (multiple times over), and did it all for love. It’s novel. It’s interesting. God might even think it’s sweet. But God has had time later, and thought about it, and he has a plan. And Castiel is essential.

But Dean Winchester is the key.

Sam and Dean’s relationship with their own father has been strained, but both boys find a way to forgive John his flaws and failings, and love him. Whenever they do get a chance to see him again, post his death, they don’t hate him. They’ve healed. John’s relationship with Sam and Dean is one point of data, Abraham and Isaac another. There are many data points that God can reflect back on and consider.

But as S6 through S10 roll on, God watches Sam and Dean and Castiel. He even watches Crowley and Rowena for another data point. Dean is his main focus, however. (This is a little meta, but as the story focuses more on Dean than Sam post S5, it ties in. Prior to S6, both Sam and Dean were essential - the sibling test. Now, post S5, the parent test, Dean is the most essential. Of course, Sam and Castiel are important too. But Dean is key.)

Dean is a good father. He was a good father to Sam, even when he was only 6 years old himself. He was a good father to Ben. He was willing to die for Bobby John. He’s always good with kids. Not only that, but Dean is blunt enough, brave enough, and crazy enough to tell God to God’s face what he thinks. God needs Dean’s advice, his perspective and opinion on family relationships, but he also needs to see what Dean would do if he were in God’s shoes.

[Edit (1/04/21): After seeing Michael and Lucifer (mostly) heal, and after seeing Sam and Dean heal their relationship, God finally has hope for him and Amara. So God logically wants to retrieve Amara from her prison. But how? Well, he could just wander on up to Cain and do it himself, but what would Amara say? “So I see you’ve come crawling back, eh, Chucky?” She wouldn’t be impressed with God. She wouldn’t understand, because she’s hopeless too. SO how to give her hope? How to make her see that she and God can be okay again? Why, stick her near Dean Winchester, of course! So God sets things up for Dean to get and lose the Mark of Cain, thereby ensuring that Amara will feel a connection to Dean and stick around him/keep him alive long enough for Dean to work his life-coach magic.]

In S11, God and Amara heal their relationship because of the hope Sam and Dean gave God, and also the direct advice Dean gives God. God and Lucifer, not so much.

God needs more data. He needs to see what Dean would do. In comes Castiel’s relevance. God sets things up so that Lucifer can have a son. A nephil. Jack. And God points Castiel in Jack’s direction, trusting Castiel’s ability for unconditional love to keep Jack alive long enough for the experiment. Castiel becomes Jack’s father. But Castiel will never betray Jack, the way God betrayed Lucifer. And, besides, Castiel isn’t the target of this experiment. But it is Castiel’s relationship with Dean Winchester that provides the link needed to get the experiment rolling.

Because Jack is Castiel’s son, he is therefore Sam and Dean’s nephew. Except, God has been watching Castiel and Dean. And, frankly, their romantic love for each other is so obvious even God cannot miss it. Through Castiel, Dean sees Jack as his son too. He loves Jack, exactly like a son. In this way, Dean parallels God, and Jack parallels Lucifer.

But God knows Dean would not easily turn on any child, let alone his own child. So God had a plan for that too. One that Amara helped him with.

They brought back Mary Winchester.

Mary is the one person in existence whose loss would hurt Dean enough to spur him to action. So, she was brought back to die. It was a matter of only a few years of gentle prodding to get everything in position. Jack causes Mary’s death. Dean is faced with a horrible decision. If Jack can kill Mary, what’s to say that Sam and Castiel wouldn’t be next? Mary’s death is like everything beginning all over again for Dean as well. Her first death set off a chain reaction, a series of unfortunate events that spanned decades and nearly caused the ruination of not only Dean’s life, but Sam’s and John’s and even the world. That scar, which had healed as well as it could after 70 years, that God saw was healed in 10x05, has been violently opened up again. It’s the only thing that could force Dean’s hand, that could get him to betray Jack and try to kill him. If Jack had killed Sam or Castiel, it wouldn’t have had the same effect. Both Sam and Castiel had died and come back so many times, and while it would hurt Dean and make him doubt Jack, their deaths would be a sacrifice that Dean would feel obligated to respect, to give Jack a second chance like they would both want. (And God has been laying the groundwork for Dean, convincing him that Jack is evil, will be evil like Lucifer, can’t be allowed to live. All things God has thought about Lucifer over time. Was Lucifer inherently evil? Was their rift inevitable?)

So, here it is. The big test. Will Dean kill Jack? Will he betray Jack and cause an unhealable rift? Or will he find a way to heal, like he did with Sam against all the odds?

And, once again, Dean impresses God. He refuses to kill Jack.

But now we’re in the endgame. Sam, Dean and Castiel are aware that Jack’s life was only on the line because of God. It’s not something they can forgive, or understand. They’re all God’s guinea pigs, and while he loves his guinea pigs, he knows he’s hurt them in the name of science, of knowledge. or healing, and God can’t undo what he’s done. Free will is linear, after all. So it is time for the Winchesters, Castiel and Jack included, to be done with God. God is done with them, too. It’s time for them to be free and at peace. The experiments are done. God has decided not to kill Lucifer. He has decided to try to heal. He can get Lucifer out of the Empty and talk and try to fix things. He has forever to fix things, now that he knows he can. (The last element of this, Jack forgiving Dean for trying to kill him, is something I have limited knowledge of, but I am under the impression happens so... To be added in the edit once I finish the series.)

But the only way the Winchesters will be able to rest, is if they think God, the last and greatest villain, is out of the way. They know they’ve been manipulated their whole lives, first towards the sibling experiment and now the parent experiment, so they need to think God is gone so they can feel secure in their free will once more. Truthfully, God never took their free will. He set them up in situations, maybe even gave a bio-chemical nudge of anger (Dean) or attraction (Sam and Eileen) every now and then. But the choices were always theirs. Still, God knows they won’t see it that way. So he sets things up so that they can defeat him.

He lets them win. He wants them to win. They cannot defeat God, after all. It’s not God’s time, and Death is the only one who can claim God in the end, as the two embrace as friends and walk to the next existence. But the Winchesters need this, and so God allows it. A last gift, to the beings who have been such help, hope and inspiration to him.

With an eye for an eventual S16, 15x20 is written to be ‘an ending’ but also one that could easily be reframed as a bad dream.

For example...

Unfortunately, after Jack, suped up on a extra Grace God lent him, restores the Earth and expends all the Grace (”giving up the mantle of God so that their is no God, no plans, only Free Will”), and Dean, Sam and Jack head back to the Bunker to regroup and gather the ingredients to do the spell to rescue Castiel from the Empty, they’re jumped by monsters who are angry with how much God has fucked with them on behalf of the Winchesters. 15x20 is all a djinn dream Dean is trapped in.

16x01 is Dean waking himself up from the djinn dream, Sam and Jack escaping their own monsters, and then the end of 16x01 is Dean saying something about waking Castiel up from his own dreams in the Empty. The rest of S16 sees the boys save Castiel, reunite with Eileen, start a monster-hunting Bobby Singer/Men of Letters-esque organisation, Dean and Castiel getting together and getting married on Valentine’s Day, Jack getting to live a normal life, going to school, making friends, etc.

If their is no S16 ever (which would be criminal), then 15x20 makes no sense, unless it is plainly a recount of an old, hopeless ending written by God. However you spin it, 15x20 is not the way it seems (like owls).

All things being said, God is an antagonist, but he’s not evil. He’s an asshole, sure, but he never once worked against the Winchesters, never bet against them, never tried to erase or end them. He wanted them to win. He wanted to see the fruits of free will be love, second chances, hope, forgiveness, healing, and happiness, not just betrayal, pain, selfishness, jealousy, disappointment, and hopelessness.

Why is the ending he shows Becky ‘hopeless’? Because God is. He has spent his long existence losing his most loved family members. Amara, Lucifer. How can things end well for God, when they can’t even end well for humans? But Sam and Dean defy the script, again and again. They surprise God, defying the statistics, defying the hypotheses, throwing the experiment into disarray. Giving God hope. Sam and Dean were okay. Dean and Jack were okay. If God had a romantic love, he would find hope from Dean and Castiel being okay. But when God wrote the book he showed Becky, he was writing what he thought would happen. In the end, surely, not even Dean can be enough to hold Sam and Cas and Jack together. But in the end, as we see, as God sees, he is proven wrong and he’s happy to be wrong. He’s hopeful. And he can leave Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack, and all the angels and all the humans, to rule the Earth and the Heavens. He doesn’t need to learn anything more from them, so he heads to the Empty, with Amara, with Lucifer, with Death (Billie or not, Death is there for God in the end), and they can all depart for a better existence of their own.

If you read all of this, thanks! I eagerly anticipate watching the remaining 10 seasons so I can come back and edit the heck outta this, but until then, if y’all have any thoughts, I’d be interested to hear them~

TLDR: God is a morally bankrupt scientist and the Winchesters are his guinea pigs, but he’s not evil and he does love his guinea pigs, even if he could really treat them nicer.

[inky-duchess]

History Bites Special: The Six Queens

This is the first in a long line of posts where I pick the best moments of history and the antics historical figures in order to give you inspiration for your WIP. Think of History Bites like prompts, only juicer and 90% accurate (results may vary) as I regale you with interesting tidbits about

On this day, Henry VIII died. Unlike last year, I won't be remembering Henry. We will be remembering the Queens and their achievements.

Katherine of Aragon was the daughter of Isabella of Castile, a power Queen Regnant. She lived to see the fall of the Moorish Empire in Spain and the treasures of the East Indies brought back by Christopher Columbus.

Katherine was almost wrecked at sea in her first journey to England. They fleet turned back and the second journey got her safely to England. The first thing she did was attend mass. During her journey, the King, Henry VII decided to go visit her early actually bursting into her chambers to see her.

After her first husband died, Katherine was proposed as a wife to his brother Henry. Her father refused to pay out her dowry, so the wedding was put off for years and years leaving Katherine in poverty as the King of Aragon and King of England basically had a pissing contest. Katherine sold off jewels in order to eat.

When Henry VIII went off to fight in France (another male ego pissing contest that achieved nothing), Katherine handed Scotland its biggest defeat in history. She led troops at Flodden, winning a battle where the Scottish King died. When she wrote to Henry as well as sending him the Scottish king's coat and banners, she mentioned that she had wanted to send the body of the king but the nobles were being pussies and said no. It may have been the shadiest letter of all the Tudor period.

Henry was actually terrified of what Katherine could do. When yelling at one of his advisers, he admitted that Katherine had a chance of beating him in battle. Katherine never did don armour and trample Henry in battle. A shame.

Anne Boleyn was two. Anne was raised abroad in the courts of France and the Netherlands. In the Netherlands, she served the shrewd Margaret of Austria who was fond of her. When Anne returned to English court, she was considered a catch because she was so clever and worldly.

Anne did catch the eye of another man, Henry Percy the son of the Duke of Northumberland. The two were deeply in love and it was rumoured that Percy was going to put aside his father's choice and marry Anne. Cardinal Wolsey broke it up and Anne was banished.

Anne was rather a deft hand at creating catchy and shady mottos. Her first was "Ainsi sera, groigne qui groigne,” which means “Grumble all you like, this is how it’s going to be".

Anne was quite sharp at times. She had her aunt, sister and the King's best friend banished from court. She wore yellow after hearing that Katherine of Aragon was dead, in a mockery of the Spanish mourning tradition. She ordered that the Princess Mary be stripped of her title and serve her own daughter as a maid.

Anne as quite determined. She held Henry off for seven years before agreeing to sleep with him, she stood up to him and the powerful men of the kingdom whenever they went against her and she saw the foundations of the Church of England being laid down due to her influence.

Anne also had a dog named Purkoy, who she adored. When the dog died, Henry had to tell her himself and she was distraught.

Jane Seymour was next. Jane is really debased as being pliant and rather dull when compared to Anne but Jane could be just just as bitchy. On the day Anne walked the scaffold to her death, Jane picked out her wedding clothes.

Jane reconciled Princess Mary and Henry. She acted as a catalyst in bringing them together. Henry yelled at her but in the end she had her way.

Jane begged for mercy for the rebels in the Pilgrimage of Grace. It was rather a ballsy move but she stuck to her guns until Henry reminded her of Anne's execution.

Anne of Cleves was four. Anne grew up in the Duchy of Cleves, her brother being the Duke and a member of the Protestant League. Anne was Henry's last choice of bride as he wanted a French Princess but they told him fuck off so his advisor Cromwell sent Hans Holbein, the court painter to paint the infamous portrait. Henry saw the picture and decided to marry her.

Like his father, Henry couldn't wait to see the bride. Dressing in disguise, Henry went to see Anne. He pressed a kiss on her and she recoiled. She hadn't a clue who he was. Henry left rather wounded, yelling that she looked like a horse and smelled bad.

Anne was oblivious that Henry was working against their marriage from day one. When speaking to her ladies, it became clear that nothing went down in the bedchamber. When she was sent away for her health, she was utterly flummoxed by a letter stating that their marriage was at an end. Anne wept but then picked herself up and took Henry to the cleaners. She got estate after estate from him and became the richest woman in England.

She survived all the Queens and Henry, living to see Mary I's ascension even riding in the coronation procession. She was particularly fond of Princess Elizabeth, even teaching her how to make pancakes so Elizabeth could care for herself.

Catherine Howard was five. She was just a child when Henry decided to chase her. He was not the first old sack of shit to molest (yes, it was. He and M*nnox were fucking wrong. Don't gimme that shit about the times.) Catherine was maid in waiting to Anne of Cleves when she was noticed by Henry. See a pattern here? And Catherine was Anne Boleyn's cousin to boot.

Catherine is usually portrayed as a flighty woman but in reality, Catherine could be quite kind. When hearing that old Countess Pole was in a draughty cell in the Tower, Catherine paid for clothes to be made for her to keep her warm.

When Catherine was in the Tower, she asked for the block to be brought to her so she could practice her execution. Before the axe fell, Catherine was rumoured to cry out, "I die a queen but I would rather die the wife if Culpepper," who was her alleged lover. It is probably myth but one can't help but wish she said it as a last fuck you to Henry.

Kathryn Parr was the last and certainly not least. She had been wed twice before Henry, her last husband dying only a few months before Henry began making eyes at her. Kathryn wanted to marry Thomas Seymour but out of duty married the King.

Kathryn ruled as Regent when Henry went off to France for ego reasons. She brought all the royal children together, mothering Elizabeth and Edward and acting as ally to Mary. She managed to convince Henry to reinstate the Princesses to the succession making them princesses again.

Kathryn was a reformer and scholar. She penned the first novel published by a woman in England. She studied theology, listening to sermons by the controversial preacher Anne Askew. Henry didn't like Kathryn questioning his opinions and drew up a warrant for her arrest. The warrant somehow found its way to Kathryn and she immediately went to Henry and began to repent all her "offenses" (her having an opinion). Henry forgave her. Kathryn was the only queen to survive Henry's displeasure and cling on to her position.

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 2.3.8 ‘Unpleasantness of putting up a pauper who might just be rich’

The Thenardiers really are society here in all it’s harshest aspects: the way they find ways to make the poor pay for being poor; the division between the children’s scorn for Cosette’s poverty and Cosette’s envy of their comforts; the way a rich man’s whims to have a child play are law and a poor man’s wish for the same is an absurd imposition. It’s all here in microcosm.

And once again, Valjean baffles society’s efforts at categorization.

I was struck last chapter by Cosette’s resilience and fearlessness in Valjean’s presence. This chapter, she’s cowering again, and we get a long description of the horror of her misery and fear. Once again it’s close to transforming her.

The expression in the eyes of this eight-year-old child was normally so forlorn and sometimes so tragic that it seemed, at certain moments, that she was in the process of turning into an idiot or a demon.

So far she’s staving off that transformation, as we saw in the woods, but it’s still encroaching. She needs to be out of here.

[Cut because this got long. Also, child abuse.]

I hadn’t previously caught how hard it is for Valjean to speak up on Cosette’s behalf. I’d pictured him in my memory as in control of this scene, and he’s actually only managing to bring himself to argue because of the harm about to be done to Cosette.

“Madame,” he said, smiling with an almost frightened look, “Bah! Let her play!”

Which makes perfect sense. This is society in microcosm, and it isn’t in him to outwardly rebel anymore--or even outwardly act like he deserves to be in society. Like Boulatruelle, his deference is suspicious.

Hugo doesn’t cast blame on the Thenardier girls. They’re just children, acting like children, and they’re lovely for it.

In the animal symbolism of the novel, Eponine’s play-acting sounds Significant.

“See, sister, this doll is more fun than the other one. It moves, it cries, it’s nice and warm. See, sister, let’s play with it. It will be my little girl. I’ll be a lady. I’ll come to see you and you’ll look at it. Little by little you’ll see its whiskers and you’ll get a shock. And then you’ll see its ears and then you’ll see its tail and you’ll get a shock. And you’ll say to me: ‘Oh, my God!’ And I’ll say to you: ‘Yes, Madame, that’s my little girl and she’s like that. Little girls are like that these days.’”

I never know exactly what to do with cats. They’re positive in this text, but what do they mean? I suppose they’re something that’s both harmless and not exactly tame like dogs are, capable of catching mice to fix God’s errors--a symbol of revolution--and capable, in a pinch, of transforming into lions. The people of Paris were cats in 1817 and presumably still are.

The child-that-is-secretly-a-cat also has, at least visually, some echoes of Little Red Riding Hood for me (”What big ears you have, Grandma!”) It’s a cat, not a wolf, but still. That story seems relevant to the story we’ve just come from, where our young werewolf child met a stranger in the woods and brought him home.

I just looked up whether Little Red Riding Hood would have been a cultural touchstone here, and of course it was--Perrault wrote it down in 1697.

Wikipedia also recorded this quote from Perrault about its moral:

From this story one learns that children, especially young lasses, pretty, courteous and well-bred, do very wrong to listen to strangers, And it is not an unheard thing if the Wolf is thereby provided with his dinner. I say Wolf, for all wolves are not of the same sort; there is one kind with an amenable disposition – neither noisy, nor hateful, nor angry, but tame, obliging and gentle, following the young maids in the streets, even into their homes. Alas! Who does not know that these gentle wolves are of all such creatures the most dangerous!

Little Red Riding Hood may not really be something the text has in mind right now, but that sure sounds relevant to what’s just happened. A littler girl went into the woods alone amid talk of wolves, met a stranger, and took him home. (It also applies well to Fantine, alas. But Valjean is a very different kind of gentled wolf.)

Hugo has some thoughts to share about women and I don’t like them at all. I’m skipping them, I don’t feel like fighting with Hugo right now.

Cosette “vaguely listening” and picking up “a few words here and there” as Mme Thenardier insults her and says her mother abandoned her is more heartbreaking than if she’d been listening intently. It gives a sense that either there’s nothing particularly new in these statements, or else Cosette doesn’t feel invested in them because they don’t contain the information that really matters to her, which is whether or not to expect imminent physical violence.

Or.... nope. I definitely read that wrong.

By “vaguely listening” Hugo meant “dissociating.”

Because the scene that follows is:

Meanwhile the drinkers, all three-quarters sozzled, were singing their dirty song again, jollier than ever. It was an off-colour story in very bad taste in which the Holy Virgin and the Infant Jesus both featured. Mother Thénardier had wandered off to join in the outburts of hilarity. Cosette, under the table, was watching the fire, which was reflected in her staring eyes; she had again begun to rock the sort of swaddled doll she had made, and while she rocked it, she sang in a low voice: “My mother is dead! My mother is dead! My mother is dead!”

The only versions of holy motherly love that have trickled down to her are corrupted into near unrecognizeability. Her eyes are full of flames, another hint of that demonic transformation under duress that she’s still skirting the edges of.

There are a couple of ways to read “my mother is dead.” I kind of suspect that Cosette, like last time transformation threatened, is grimly hanging on to her sense of herself and the dim bright side: her mother wasn’t a bad woman who abandoned her, the only reason she is isn’t here is because she’s dead. Cosette claimed to Valjean not to have a mother, but it’s clear she has complex feelings on the subject that she can’t articulate. These lines feel like such an act of faith, actually: It’s Cosette believing, against all evidence, that her mother’s love for her is real, that she would still come if she could.

And she follows that with an act of such courage and hope and defiance: she steals the doll and is enraptured by it for a quarter of an hour. She stays human. She isn’t beaten yet.

She must know she’s going to pay for this--but she would pay worse for giving up hope, too, or for giving in to the thing that’s trying to turn her demonic.

Fuck, she’s fighting so fucking hard. Valjean is beaten down by society’s expectations of him, but Cosette isn’t. Holy hell, I love her so much.

The retribution of society in the person of the Thenardiess rains down on her, of course. It says she sobs, which is one more way in which she isn’t Valjean in the bagne--she can still cry when she’s sad.

And Valjean is also near tears. We know he wept when he was being shackled fo the bagne the first time, and we know he hadn’t wept any time between then and the bishop’s mercy. I’m not sure we’ve seen him weep any time since.

There’s so MUCH in the fact that he’s watched all this happen. He was worse off than she was when he showed up here--beaten down, hopeless, almost like he was after leaving the bagne the first time.

We never hear directly what the bagne did to him the second time--but we can see it. And it’s a lot like what it did the first time.

And instead of being saved by the bishop, he’s being saved by Cosette. We watch him becoming a parent over the course of this chapter.

Cosette doesn’t touch the doll. Valjean puts the doll’s hand in hers.

And that thing about Cosette being irrepressible--as soon as someone is kind, she becomes a kid again, like she’s been waiting for it all along. Because, she probably has. Shoujo Cosette isn’t wrong about the way she seems to have been waiting all along for her mother to come for her.

“I’ll call her Catherine.” Oh, my heart. Unlike post-bagne Valjean, she’s so very ready to be saved.

Valjean after sitting still a long time rises up suddenly in a sentence structure that feels like his sudden decision making at the bishop’s. Once again, he looks down at sleeping people, this time on Cosette.

She left her shoe out, because she still believes the good fairy will come. And Valjean does come.

I didn’t expect this to feel like Valjean at the bishop’s, but it IS. The transformation Cosette is resisting is one he’s more or less suffered again.

She saves him the way the bishop did.

I love them.

[auxiliarydetective]

📚?

Oooooh, nice! This is actually a pretty loose plot idea with multiple options, but I hope you still like it:

The general idea is: What happens with the Heroes after the war? Yes, this would be a Vicky/Newkirk story. I love them, sue me. The two consistent things across the three options are:

1. They're getting married because it's the 1940s and because it would be a major punch in the face to classicism and especially Vicky's parents who are so stuck-up about being upper-class and have tried to keep her from anything below upper middle class for all her life until the war.

2. They'll have kids. Why? Vicky loves kids and I feel like Newkirk also likes them, whether he admits it or not. Emphasis on the s of kids because Newkirk would be very adamant about the importance of siblings and Vicky probably also wanted a sibling as a child but never got to have one. Also, it would just be fun to write. I mean, think about it, these kids would be little demons. They're the child of a pickpocket/conman/magician/criminal/generally-a-rebel and a spy/counterfeiter/generally-a-sly-devil. Imagine the kind of danger you get when you combine Vicky's upper-class manners and being able to completely hide her true intentions with Newkirk's utter aggression and affinity for risk.

For the actual plot of the story, I have three options:

Option 1: Newkirk and Vicky settle down in London and Newkirk picks his career at the Palladium as a stage magician back up. Vicky might be a housewife while their kids are still young, but she's definitely getting a job once she feels like she can leave them alone without it ending in disaster (which might take a while, considering who their father is). In general, a pretty peaceful, middle-class life. Might be the most boring option, but it's perfect for fluff.

Option 2: A travelling circus. We all know how much Newkirk loves the circus and Vicky loves nothing more than to watch him perform. It's a pretty obvious choice for them to make. And it would be nice for their children too. They get to see the world, learn whatever circus-y thing they want to learn that they might not be able to learn otherwise... And Vicky and Newkirk are very relaxed parents. If they don't want to stay with the circus, no problem. You can stay with Uncle Louis in Paris. Or maybe you want to go overseas and visit the American part of the family? Completely fine, you'll be in good hands! Let me also take this time to say that the other Heroes would be great uncles. And don't get me started on Grandpa Schultz. In all three of these options, he would send the kids toys and chocolate and all kinds of gifts.

Option 3: Bonnie and Clyde. Sort of. Listen, ever since I saw that "serial killer dating a writer" post, I've been in love and then YouTube had to recommend me a smiliar video and dug the idea even deeper into my skull. I'm not creative enough to write a story like that as a standalone from any fandom, even though I'd like to try. So, for now, my favourite criminal pair of lovers has to stand in. In this story, Newkirk becomes a full-time criminal. He's gotten way too used to it. Vicky doesn't mind. She lives a normal life and since Newkirk has gotten so sneaky during his time in Stalag 13, nobody knows her husband is one of London's most wanted criminals. Maybe their children know, maybe they don't, but they sure as hell won't tell. So while Newkirk goes around playing Robin Hood and stealing whatever he thinks looks shiny enough, Vicky sits at home, takes care of their children and writes crime novels about the stories her husband tells her when he comes back after a day of work.

Want to know about another idea I have swirling through my mind that I haven't actually written down yet? Send me an ask with your favourite book emoji and I'll open the gates to the mess that is my mind?

[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - CH03

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: There’s sweet fluff in this.

WC: 2738

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​ <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

They enjoy their glass of wine in silence before her stomach starts to growl. It growls the loudest she’s ever heard. Maybe it’s because she hasn't had anything to eat since this morning, and her stomach rebels against the wine as it’s  the only thing in there. She should have known better.

Dean must have heard it because he starts to chuckle, “What toppings do you like? I thought we could share one.” 

“Sure, but don’t judge, please?” She says as she stands up, sees Dean’s eyes on her and feels the urge to cover up. He gets up from his chair and takes the towel she brought out with her, holds it up for her to cover herself.

When he looks at her again, he has one eyebrow cocked, “Why should I judge?”

 “Uh, because I quite like pineapples on pizza,” 

“I don’t judge,” Dean scoffs, and adds, “But I really think that should be illegal,” He laughs, but he doesn’t say anything more, and goes in to order their pizza. 

Y/N slips in while he’s on the phone and goes straight to her room, and changes into something comfortable. Now that she’s seen that he wears sweats, she’s happy to match him. It’s actually pretty weird seeing Dean like this because the only clothes she ever saw him in are suits, it makes her think that he even sleeps in them. She wonders if he has other clothes at all.

When the pizza arrives, Dean moves the glasses and bottle into the living room and asks her what movie she wants to watch, but she really doesn’t mind so she lets him choose. Dean zaps through Netflix and settles on Bird Box. 

While the movie starts, he hands her some napkins, and she’s wondering if that’s enough, because she’d hate to ruin the nice couch. He must have sensed her hesitation because he’s smirking, “It’s okay, you don’t wanna know what I managed to spill on this couch already,”

“Ewww,” She mocks, cringes her nose and he snorts out a laugh.

It’s easy, she thinks. It’s easy to let herself go. It’s easy to be here with him and just talk about anything outside of work. She comes to the conclusion that Dean’s not such an asshole after all. In fact, he’s a real gentleman. And that’s not really good, is it? It makes her feel things she shouldn’t feel.

She shakes the thought out of her head and takes a slice of pizza out of the box. It’s then  that she realizes that the whole pizza is riddled with pineapples. She frowns, “I thought you didn’t like pineapples on pizza?”

“I don’t,” Dean shrugs, takes a bite and pretends to wrinkle his nose before he grins with his mouth full and continues to eat. 

Y/N doesn’t think she makes it far into the movie because her eyelids are getting heavy halfway through. It’s the most illogical, most boring thing she’s ever seen, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings so she tries to watch it. 

Last thing she remembers, though, is that she’s half leaning against Dean before she fell asleep. 

 ***

 Y/N wakes up in a bed. It’s clearly not hers. It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize that she’s in Dean’s apartment and that she’s in her bedroom. 

Oh no, she remembers eating pizza with Dean, remembers falling asleep to the stupid movie. He must have carried her to her bed. 

Her own fucking boss had to carry her to bed! If that’s not embarrassing she doesn’t know what is. 

She scans the room and her eyes settle on the clock on her nightstand. It’s already past 8am. She slept like a baby through her alarm but in her defense, the bed is so fucking comfortable, more comfortable than her own, and it’s only a fucking guest room. She wonders how comfortable Dean’s bed must be. How he can even wake up and get out of it every morning astounds her.

And then, the thought of being late for work crosses her mind before she realizes that she doesn’t have to go in. Realizes that she didn’t sleep through her alarm because she didn’t set one in the first place.

Grabbing her phone, she sees that there’s a text from Ruby.

 R: How was your first night? Did you consummate your fake marriage? *wink wink* 

 Then a text ten minutes later.

 R: Oh my god, it should have been a joke but you did, didn’t you? He’s in a remarkably good mood. Didn’t bitch about the coffee I brought him at all!

 Ah, Dean’s already at work then. He’s usually there before she turns up, and now she knows why. It’s only about a ten minutes walk from his apartment. 

 Y/N: Relax, nothing happened.

R: Ah, there she is.

Y/N: I slept in. The bed is so comfortable!

R: His bed I’d hope!

 She snorts out a laugh. 

 Y/N: No, I have my own room that’s bigger than my apartment.

R: Ugh, maybe I can come see you? Wanna see how the most not eligible bachelor lives. Or send me pics! Oh shit, he called out for me. I need to go. But I swear, whatever you’ve done to him. Do it again! I like to work for him when he’s not constantly yelling at people.

 She chuckles at that. She doesn’t answer Ruby though, instead she sends a text to Jack, telling him that she’s got another job that would secure him his degree and that everything’s okay.

Climbing out of bed, she decides to get coffee. It’s weird not having to go to work and she kind of misses it a little. 

Y/N walks out into the kitchen where there’s still a faint smell of his cologne and coffee in the air. A deadly combination for her brain apparently, because it makes her insides tingle in all the right places. She looks around and immediately spots a yellow sticky note left on the machine. 

It’s Dean’s handwriting. She knows it from all the scribblings he leaves on her desk when he already shut off his laptop and thinks about something that she must do for him the next day. 

 The machine is easy to handle. On, off. That’s it. I’m sorry I made you watch that movie. If you want to know, it didn’t get better after you fell asleep. Two hours of our lives, wasted. I’ll see you tonight, maybe we can watch something else — D

 She’s smirking. He really took his time this morning to write her a fucking novel. It really baffles her that he goes out of his way for her and it really seems like he genuinely cares to make her stay with him as comfortable as he can. Well, it does benefit him too, come to think of it.

 *

 After another round on the massage comforter, she walks into her room to find a message from Jack. 

 J: I hope you don’t sell yourself for my benefit. But I trust you. Miss you x

 She has to smirk and immediately types an answer back.

 Y/N: Just stay in college and make me proud, alright?

 Just when she’s about to put her phone away, it lights up with a call.

Dean.

“Hello?” She says, wondering if she should add sir to it at first but decides to drop it.

“Hey, you slept alright?”

She smiles, “Yeah, thanks. It’s the most comfortable bed.” She bites on her tongue so as to not ask him about him carrying her back to said bed.

There’s a light chuckle on the other end, “Good. Listen, I went over my schedule today because Ruby didn’t do it for me, and saw that I can’t have a movie night this evening like I wrote on the note,” He pauses to think, “You found the note, right?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“So, you maybe did know this because you arranged the invitation and you put it into my calendar, but I didn’t until about twenty minutes ago,”

She thinks hard about his schedule, remembers that there was something. An event. Some kind of gala. 

“But instead of watching a movie, what would you say to me taking you out?” He says, “I called them and managed to do a last minute adjustment to my invitation.”

“Oh,” She huffs out, knowing where Dean wants to go with that.

“Thought it’d be a good opportunity to show them my wife. Are you in?”

He still asks, even if he actually doesn’t have to? Because yeah, she obviously can’t be a fake wife in private. The world needs to see it. Amara needs to see it.

“I guess,” She mutters. She is actually not really sure if she can pull that off. Her heart beats faster just thinking about walking on a red carpet.

“Y/N, you don’t have to, you know,” It’s as if he senses her dread, “I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, but we should at least try to look like a happily married couple and we can’t pretend if you don’t want to.”

“No— I mean, it’s okay, I’ll do it,” Her voice is more firm this time. She wants to. Wants to show him that she can do it. 

It shouldn’t be hard, right? She’s been with a man before. She knows all that hand holding stuff. And Dean’s paying her double for god’s sake. What’s an evening of being flirty with him? It’s not like he is an old greasy man. Well, maybe that would be better? Maybe then she will not risk falling for him? Because that’s what is going to happen if she’s not careful, she just knows it. And then she’ll get her heart broken. Even though a broken heart is a little price to pay if it means that Jack can finally start his own future, come to think of it.

“Okay,” There’s a huff of breath, he’s smiling, she can hear it, “Good. I’ll get Gabe to drop off my card, you can go shopping for a dress. The card has no limit, just buy whatever you want, alright?”

She grins smugly, “I need shoes, too.”

“Buy all the things you want.”

“Alright, sir.”

“Y/N, stop calling me that. Unless,” He pauses and there’s a playfulness in his voice, “That’s what you like.”

She’s glad it’s not a video call, so he isn’t able to see that her face is burning up. She doesn’t say anything and Dean takes the hint.

“Right, I have another meeting, I’ll see you around 7pm. The gala starts at 8pm.”

“K, bye Dean.”

“Have fun.”

*

 Y/N’s standing in her room as she waits for Dean to come back. He’ll probably need to shower and get dressed too. 

Gabe came by to drop off Dean’s Centurion card and he walked straight into Dean’s bedroom to drop off Dean’s tux onto his bed. She never had such a card in her hands, it feels heavy, made of platinum, not like her cheap plastic one that she only uses once in a blue moon.

At first she didn’t know where to go because she hadn't been dress shopping for a gala before. She wondered if H&M would be a good choice but then thinks that it probably wouldn’t. While she was out shopping she looked into shop windows and came across a beautiful long sleeved sequin pattern dress in gold. 

She never knew gold would look good on her but the shop assistant was so nice, even though she knows it’s that woman’s job, she felt really good in the dress and it wasn’t over the top with the price so Dean should be okay with it. She couldn’t resist buying matching shoes, too. 

Later, she splashed out some money for lingerie that she could wear under it and hoped that Dean wouldn’t mind. He told her to buy whatever she likes, so.

And now, she’s nervously pacing around her room. Her pacing only stops when she hears footsteps approaching.

There’s a knock at her door, “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah,” She manages to say.

“Good, sorry I’m a little late, had to pick up something on the way. I’ll shower and get dressed. Meet you in the living room in thirty minutes?”

“Sure,”

She hears him opening the door to his room.

Thirty minutes. Ugh. She hasn’t even applied makeup yet. She’s so nervous.

After a last check in the mirror, she walks out into the living area, her heels clicking on the marble flooring. She’s not used to wearing such high heels, and prays  that she won’t stumble and fall flat on her face. 

As she rounds the corner into the living area, she sees Dean already waiting for her, dressed in a fitting tux and smelling so fucking delicious. He looks like he’s just stepped out of a glossy magazine spread and that’s not fair. She can already see the press giving them a caption for their picture together. It reads, DEAN WINCHESTER COULD DO SO MUCH BETTER. 

Y/N can feel Dean’s eyes on her. They’re wide and his lips part slightly before they curve up into a smile. It’s bright and white. She’s smiling too, can’t not smile when he’s looking at her like that. Looking at her like she’s the only one that matters. She’s not used to it at all.

“Wow,” Dean breathes out, “You look beautiful.”

She was already blushing before but now her cheeks heat up a little more, “Thank you. You’re not bad yourself.”

Dean has to chuckle and then all of a sudden, he runs back to his room, “I’ll be right back,”

After about a minute Dean reappears clutching things in his hand. One of them is a pocket square. He went in and picked out a color that matches her dress. She has to grin at that.

He places it inside his jacket but he seems to struggle, “Can you help me, I—”

“Of course,” She grins, and steps closer to him, arranging the pocket square so that I’d look nice. Patting his pocket, she leaves her hand on his chest when she’s done, feels his heartbeat underneath her palm. She can swear it beats a little faster than usual, not that she knows his resting heart rate. “All set.” She says and Dean grins at her. 

“Okay, now my turn,” Dean licks his lips and clears his throat, and she can’t help but wonder what he means by his turn.

She doesn’t have to wait long, because Dean opens up the little box he was still clutching and she can see the princess cut diamond engagement ring with a matching wedding band. 

“Dean, no.”

“Why, Dean, yes.” He chuckles, takes them out, and takes her left hand in his. “Y/N, will you give me the honor of being my fake wife for real now?” 

Y/N has to giggle at that, “Yeah, of course,”

He smiles, slips the ring onto her ring finger and to her surprise, they fit perfectly. She looks at Dean, raises her eyebrow, “Let me guess, Ruby?”

“Yeah,” Dean smirks, and then he shows her his left hand, “I have one, too. So, you ready?”

“Not really?” 

“That’s the spirit,” Dean places his hand around her waist, pulls her close and kisses her cheek softly. 

It does nothing to calm her down because she’s even more nervous now. 

“You gotta try to keep me from falling, okay?,” She says as he moves his hand to the small of her back, and guides her to the door. 

“I would never let you fall,” Dean shows her a small smile and they step into the elevator. 

In there, she eyes him up again, can’t quite take her eyes off him. He looks so good with the slight scruff and the freckles, the crinkles around his eyes deepen the longer she stares at him. 

“What?” He asks her, raises an eyebrow.

“You look good, Mr. Winchester,” She says with a smile.

“You too, Mrs. Winchester. Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And I’m not lying.” He leans in, places another kiss on her heated cheeks before the elevator comes to a halt. 

He helps her get out and Gabriel’s already waiting, holding the limousine door open for them.

CH04

[deafblindshorty]

Poe and Rey’s Underrated Friendship

I noticed that not a lot has been said about Poe and Rey’s friendship in TROS and related EU materials. That’s probably because it’s not the main focus, which I sort of understand. There are a lot of subtle moments of their friendship (even some hints towards a romantic relationship). Some of these points come from @greysmartwolf’s tumblr, others come from a discord server.

Disclaimer: I am not diminishing or minimalizing Finn’s importance to both Rey and Poe, but if it seems like it, then I’m sorry. That’s not my intent.

Let’s start from the beginning: Rey and Poe have a LOT of parallels throughout the trilogy (some of the same scenes, the same lines, they both face their past in TROS, they both blame themselves for the Resistance dying at Exegol, they almost gave up but two Rebel veterans gave them pep talks, etc). So, they have quite a bit in common including their love for flying and droids.

Also, about the age difference, age really doesn’t matter in Star Wars. Han and Leia are 13 years apart, Wedge is about ten years younger than Norra, and Snap is 16 years older than his wife Kare (He could be her father!). Huge age differences exist in other fictional materials set on our Earth- Brooke Taylor and her late husband from Legally Blonde are 34 years apart, Remus and Tonks from Harry Potter are 13 years apart, an old soap opera supercouple (Doug and Julie Williams from Days of Our Lives) are 20 years apart. As for friends, Will from Glee is in his 30s and is friends with a few 19-20 year olds and Sue who is in her 50s is besties with a 19/20 year old, 30 year old Launchpad from Ducktales is friends with 10 year old Dewey. So, 19/20 year old Rey being friends or dating 32/33 year old Poe isn’t that crazy or farfetched.

According to the TROS Visual Dictionary, Poe left BB-8 with Rey so she won’t feel lonely (and that’s probably also why BB-8 is with Rey on Tatooine). 

Poe was the first man Rey met whom she didn’t physically attack upon meeting him, and also smiled when they introduced each other. I don’t recall her smiling that wide whenever she was with Finn or Kylo.

They get along well in Poe Dameron #26-27. Poe was even a bit flirty with Rey.

It was Poe’s idea to build a Jedi training course for Rey in Star Wars Adventures, so Poe understands the importance of Rey’s Jedi training.

Rey understands what Poe went through with Kylo ( Poe also calls them ”Torture buddies!”).

When Poe, Finn, and Chewie return from the Fortress of Hothitude (I can’t remember what that planet is called. lol), Poe was so happy to see Rey. The way he walked up to Rey, his smile and his hands on hips. He badly wants to impress Rey. Alpha male!

And right after that, they have their only argument throughout the entire film. Poe and Rey quarrel in TROS was because they both didn’t listen to each other. They really only fight over the Falcon and BB-8. They both care about each other a lot, don’t blame each other in anything (except the Falcon being on fire and BB-8 missing a disc) and admit when one of them was right in argue (but prefer not to tell about that). Then Rey ends up smiling at him and Poe ends the argument by complimenting Rey (”You’re the best fighter we have. We need you.”). Also, Poe is the only one whom Rey talks to with sarcastic smile. Also, also, that argument is meant to parallel Han and Leia’s many arguments. Han and Leia argued every five minutes throughout the entire Original Trilogy, and they ended up together!

After sinking in the sand tunnels, Poe catches Rey and holds her bridal-style for a sec to steady her and was worried about her.

“He thought of protesting, of asking how Rey could possibly know which equally unremarkable direction was the right one. But Poe had learned that when Rey said things that way, her face determined, her voice unwavering, a fellow ought to just follow.” -TROS novel Poe knows Rey well. He knows when he must just shut up and do what she says. It kind of reminds me of Anakin telling Padme “Don’t worry. I’ve given up trying to argue with you.”

Poe taking the dagger from Rey in the novel and it felt like a weight has been lifted from Rey’s shoulders. It’s almost like he knew that would help.

The sand snake- I’ve never seen Poe so scared. But he is not afraid of that snake, he’s ready to combat it. I mean, he piloted the Falcon without fear into the mouth of a giant worm! Poe is afraid that snake could hurt or kill Rey. Poe wants to shoot that snake and pull Rey back, and he almost does that. And Rey amazes him again! And Poe sighs in relief when the snake calms down and slithers away.

In the novel, Poe didn’t scream “Nooo!” or “What have you done?!” when Rey “killed” Chewie. Poe knows there is no scenario in which Rey would harm her friends consciously. He most likely knows about her dark visions (Rey tells BB-8 everything, who obviously tells Poe all important stuff). Poe is not mad at Rey and doesn’t make her explain how that happened. And honestly, if he did do that, then he’d be a huge hypocrite, since he accidentally caused the deaths of the bombers in TLJ and the soldiers on Crait, which is why Poe was gentle with her. Rey understands Poe. His usual anger. They both have a huge responsibility. The Resistance on Poe and Jedi legacy on Rey. And she was ready to hear his anger, but he didn’t even plan to lay into her.

Rey likes that Poe can steal speeders and she finds his past interesting. Rey was really interested in Poe and Zorii’s past connection and Poe felt a bit smug when Rey was able to beat Zorii (He said “Don’t Dja’kanka” because he was afraid Rey would slice Zorii in half before she could help them). According to some audio book excerpts, when Rey was thinking about Poe’s past or his criminal skills, her voice was mysterious and nonjudgmental. Finn wasn’t happy to find out Poe was a spice runner, while Rey was completely fine with that, it seems she even liked that

After the Spice Runner reveal, as they traveled a snowy passageway, Poe glanced over at Rey, who was silent and frowning, lost in her own thoughts. Or maybe she was focused. Sensing something. 

When Rey rushed off to look for the dagger on Kylo’s star destroyer, Poe didn’t stop her and trusted her feelings. Poe knows when he must just follow her instincts. He learned to read her.

Look at pain in Poe’s eyes after Finn’s words. Poe wants to be closer to Rey, he wants Rey to trust him more. But Finn and Leia were still closer to Rey than Poe was. “Perhaps, she didn’t want to put the rest of the team in danger, but they had already signed up for that by joining the Resistance.” (TROS junior novel, Poe)

"She’s out there, heading toward the Death Star. Her skimmer keeps tipping over – it’s damaged. What the heck is she thinking?” (TROS junior novel, Poe) Poe is so worried here. And angry. Now he’s mad at Rey, but later he will be angry with himself for losing her.

“Rey’s nobility masked an impulsiveness that might doom them all – and as highest-ranking member of the team, Poe felt responsible for not curbing it. He had flunked the leadership test yet again.” (TROS junior novel) Poe blames himself, not Rey.

“Maybe there was something the general could do. During the battles of D'Qar and Crait she and Rey had shared beacons. Maybe there was a way she could reach out to Rey or Rey could reach out to her.” (TROS junior novel) Poe planned to find Rey!

So, Poe doesn’t think Rey abandoned them and doesn’t resent her for leaving. If he did, he’d be a big hypocrite here, too, since he abandoned his father, who was dying from a poisonous Lurker bite in Free Fall for the Spice Runners.

Poe trusts Rey and knows she can take care of herself. That’s why he didn’t rush after her like Finn did.

“Poe didn’t have his usual pre-battle swagger. He seemed distress. “What’s waiting for her out there?” he asked Finn.” (TROS junior novel) Poe worried about Rey so much! That she’s somewhere alone and they won’t be with her there.

Poe was incredibly relieved when Rey was revealed to be alive (and he was also worried about Rey when he found out the Emperor wanted her alive).

The way Poe takes Rey’s hand is special, it’s pure tenderness, and the way he rubs his thumb over her knuckles tells everything. Poe loves Rey more than friend. Also, Rey pinches Poe’s elbow with a hope, like she tries to reach him. And when Poe does the same, she happily closes her eyes and pinches him again.

Poe and Rey also acted so jealous of Finn and Zorii respectively. Poe kept asking Finn what he was gonna tell Rey when they were sinking in the sand. On Kijimi, Rey couldn’t stop thinking about what Poe’s past with Zorii was.

So, usually, men tend to date women who remind them of their mothers (Take Harry Potter for example! Ginny looks a lot like Lily Potter.). Rey and Shara Bey (Poe’s mom) look similar and they’re both brave, adventurous, and great pilots.

Men also tend to date women who remind them of their exes. Rey also looks similar to Zorii, plus they are both cagey, kept secrets, both love to argue with Poe, but they care about him, and are extremely loyal.

TL:DR. My point is that Poe and Rey are actually good friends and would be a great couple. Disney/LF were just a bit more subtle about their relationship. 

[crowdvscritic]

round up // NOVEMBER 20

Hi, I’m tired. Actually, my friend Celeste created a piece of art that puts the emphasis needed on that sentiment:

I’m very tired. November felt like it was three years and also felt like it went by in a blink and also I’m not sure where October ended and November began—how does time work like that? (I’ve yet to see Tenet, but maybe that will explain it.) But like Michael Scott, somehow I manage, and lately it’s been like this:

Late-night Etsy scrolling. Browsing beautiful, non-big-box-store artwork is very calming just before I go to bed. I’d recommend Etsy stores like Celeste’s chr paperie shop, which I know from experience is full of great Christmas gift ideas. 

Taking a day off of work to do laundry. I’m not sure if it’s more #adulting that I did that or that I was excited to do that.

Eating Ghiradelli chocolate chips straight from the bag. I actually don’t recommend this as a healthy option, but this is also not a health blog.

Watching lots and lots of ‘80s movies. One day I’ll ask a therapist why this decade of films is so comforting for me despite its many flaws, but for now I’m just rolling with it.

Reading. Have you heard of this? It’s a form of entertainment but doesn’t require screens—wild!

Memes. All good Pippin “Fool of a” Took jokes are welcome here.

Leaning into the Christmas spirit by ordering that Starbucks peppermint mocha, making plans to watch everything in that TCM Christmas book I haven’t seen, and keeping the lights on my hot pink tinsel tree on all day as I work from home.

This month’s Round Up is full of stuff that made me smile and stuff that sucked me into its world—I think they’ll do the same for you, too.

November Crowd-Pleasers

Sister Act (1992)

If in four years you aren’t in an emotional state to watch election results roll in, I recommend watching Whoopi Goldberg pretend to be a nun for 100 minutes. (Though, incidentally, if you want to watch that clip edited to specifically depict how the results came in this year, you’ll need to watch Sister Act 2.) This musical-comedy is about as feel-good as it gets, meaning there’s no reason you should wait four more years to watch it. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7.5/10

Nevada Memes

Speaking of election results, Nevada memes. That’s it—that’s the tweet. Vulture has a round up of some of the best.

SNL Round Up

Laugh and enjoy!

“Cinema Classics: The Birds” (4605 with John Mulaney)

“Uncle Ben” (4606 with Dave Chappelle)

RoboCop (1987)

I’m not surprised I liked RoboCop, but I am surprised at why I liked RoboCop. Not only is this a boss action blockbuster, it’s an investigation into consumerism and the commodification of the human body. It’s also a critique of institutions that treat crime like statistics instead of actions done by people that impact people. That said, it’s also movie about a guy who’s fused with a robot and melts another guy’s face off with toxic sludge, so there’s a reason I’m not listing this under the Critic section. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8/10

Double Feature – ‘80s Comedies: National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983) + Major League (1989)

The ‘80s-palooza is in full swing! In Vacation (Crowd: 9.5/10 // Critic: 8/10), Chevy Chase just wants to spend time with his family on a vacation to Wally World, but wouldn’t you know it, Murphy’s Law kicks into gear as soon as the Griswold family shifts from out of Park. The brilliance of the movie is that every one of these terrible things is plausible, but the Griswolds create the biggest problems themselves. In Major League (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 6.5/10), Tom Berenger, Charlie Sheen, and Wesley Snipes are Cleveland’s last hope for a winning baseball team. Like the Griswolds, mishaps and hijinks ensue in their attempt to prevent their greedy owner from moving the Indians to Miami, but the real win is this movie totally gets baseball fans. Like most ‘80s movies, not everything in this pair has aged well, but they brought some laughs when I needed them most.

This Time Next Year by Sophie Cousens (2020)

They’re born a minute apart in the same hospital, but they don’t meet until their 30th birthday on New Year’s Day. So, yes, it’s a little bit Serendipity, and it’s a little bit sappy, but those are both marks in this book’s favor. This Time Next Year is a time-hopping rom-com with lots of almost-meet-cutes that will have you laughing, believing in romantic twists of fate, and finding hope for the new year.

Double Feature – ‘80s Angsty Teens: Teen Wolf (1985) + Uncle Buck (1989)

In the ‘80s, Hollywood finally understood the angsty teen, and this pair of comedies isn’t interested in the melodrama earlier movies like Rebel Without a Cause were depicting. (I’d recommend Rebel, but not if you want to look back on your teen years with any sense of humor.) In Teen Wolf (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 5/10), Michael J. Fox discovers he’s a werewolf.one that looks more like the kid in Jumanji than any other portrayal of a werewolf you’ve seen. It’s a plot so ‘80s and so bizarre you won’t believe this movie was greenlit.

In Uncle Buck (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7.5/10), John Candy is attempting to connect with the nieces and nephew he hasn’t seen in years, including one moody high schooler. (Plus, baby Gaby Hoffman and pre-Home Alone Macauley Culkin!) This is my second pick from one of my all-time fave filmmakers, John Hughes (along with National Lampoon’s Vacation, above), and it’s one more entry that balances heart and humor in a way only he could do. You can see where I rank this movie in Hughes’s pantheon on Letterboxd.

Lord of the Rings memes

This month on SO IT’S A SHOW?, Kyla and I revisited The Lord of the Rings, a trilogy we love almost as much as we love Gilmore Girls. You can listen to our episode about the series on your fave podcast app, and you can laugh through hundreds of memes like I did for “research” on Twitter.

Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson (2019)

Most adults are afraid of children’s temper tantrums, but can you imagine how terrified you’d be if they caught on fire in their fits of rage? That’s the premise of this novel, which begins when an aimless twentysomething becomes the nanny of a Tennessee politician’s twins who burst into flames when they get emotional. The book is filled with laugh-out-loud moments but never leaves behind the human emotion you need to make a magical realistic story.

An Officer and a Gentlemen (1982)

Speaking of aimless twentysomethings and emotion, feel free to laugh, cry, and swoon through this melodrama in the ‘80s canon. Richard Gere meanders his way into the Navy when he has nowhere else to go, and he tries to survive basic training, work through his family issues, and figure out his future as he also falls in love with Debra Winger. So, yeah, it’s a schamltzier version of Top Gun, but it’s schmaltz at its finest. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7.5/10

November Critic Picks

Double Feature – ‘40s Amensia Romances: Random Harvest (1942) + The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)

Speaking of schmaltz at its finest, let me share a few more titles fitting that description. In Random Harvest (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10), Greer Garson falls in love with a veteran who can’t remember his life before he left for war. In The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10), Gene Tierney discovers a ghost played by a crotchety Rex Harrison in her new home. Mild spoiler: Both feature amnesiac plot developments, and while amnesia has become a cliché in the long history of romance films, Harvest is moving enough and Mr. Muir is charming enough that you won’t roll your eyes. You can see these and more romances complicated by forced forgetfulness in this Letterboxd round up.

The African Queen (1951)

It’s Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn directed by John Huston—I mean, I don’t feel like I need to explain why this is a winner. Bogart (in his Oscar-winning role) and Hepburn star in a two-hander script, dominating the screen time except for a select few scenes with supporting cast. The pair fight for survival while cruising on a small boat called The African Queen during World War I (in Africa, natch), and the two make this small story feel grand and epic. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10

Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)

A young man’s (Dennis Price) mother is disowned from their wealthy family because she marries for love. After her death, he seeks vengeance by killing all of the family members ahead of him in line to be the Duke D'Ascoyne. The twist? All of his victims are played by Sir Alec Guinness! Almost every character in this black comedy is a terrible person, so you won’t be too sorry to see them go—you can just enjoy the creative “accidents” he stages and stay in suspense on whether our “hero” gets his comeuppance. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife (1937)

What would you do if you found out you were to be someone’s eighth wife? Well, it’s probably not what Claudette Colbert does in this screwball comedy that reminds me a bit of Love Crazy. This isn’t the first time I’ve recommended Colbert, Gary Cooper, or Ernst Lubitsch films, so it’s no surprise these stars and this director can make magic together in this hilarious battle of the wills. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

The Red Shoes (1948)

I love stories about the competition between your life and your art, and The Red Shoes makes that competition literal. Moira Shearer plays a ballerina who feels life is meaningless without dancing—then she falls in love. That’s an oversimplification of a rich character study and some of the most beautiful ballet on film, but I can’t do it justice in a short paragraph. Just watch (perhaps while you’re putting up your hot pink tinsel tree?) and soak in all the goodness. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 10/10

The Third Man (1949)

Everybody loves to talk about Citizen Kane, and with the release of Mank on Netflix, it’s newsworthy again. But don’t miss this other ‘40s team up of Joseph Cotten and Orson Welles. Cotten is a writer digging for the truth of his friend’s (Welles) death in a mysterious car accident. Eyewitness accounts differ on what happened, and who was the third man at the scene only one witness remembers? 71 years later, this movie is still tense, and this actor pairing is still electric. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10

The Untouchables (1987)

At the end of October, we lost Sean Connery. I looked back on his career first by writing a remembrance for ZekeFilm and then by watching The Untouchables. (In a perfect world I would’ve reversed that order, but c’est la vie.) In my last selection from the ‘80s, Connery and Kevin Costner attempt to convict Robert De Niro’s Al Capone of anything that will stick and end his reign of crime in Chicago. Directed by Brian De Palma and set to an Ennio Morricone soundtrack, this film is both an exciting action flick and an artistic achievement that we literally discussed in one of my college film classes. Connery won his Oscar, and K. Cos is giving one of the best of his career, too. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 9.5/10

Remember the Night (1940)

Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck in my favorite team up yet! Double Indemnity may be the bona fide classic in the canon, but this Christmas story—with MacMurray as a district attorney prosecuting shoplifter Stanwyck— is a charmer. I’ve added it to my list of must-watch Christmas movies—watch for some holiday cheer and rom-com feels. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

Photo credits: chr paperie. Books my own. All others IMDb.com.

[hawkinshellfire]

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 2 - Forever and Always 

Were you just kidding?

'Cause it seems to me, this thing is breaking down

We almost never speak

I don't feel welcome anymore

Hopper slips two cigarettes out of the package in his pocket and wordlessly passes one to Joyce. She accepts and leans towards him so he can light it with the lighter he has pressed in the palm of his hand. On her first inhale, she coughs and sputters which causes him to laugh. 

“What the hell Hop, these are terrible.”

“I like them,” he grins, taking a long, coughless, drag of his own cigarette. 

The two of them were sitting on a bench in the park near Joyce’s house, and had been sharing random stories about their respective days over cigarettes. Joyce used up the final cigarette in her pack as soon as they arrived, and was now stuck complaining about having to smoke Hopper’s cigarettes. 

“You’re going to destroy your lungs,” she lectures. Leaning back against the wooden park bench, she pulls the zipper higher on her leather jacket and crosses one jean-clad leg over the other. 

“I think we’re both doing that.”

“Keep smoking those and you’ll get there alot faster than I will.” Joyce takes another drag, scrunching her facial features as she braces herself for the sharp inhale, but she’s surprised to find it less harsh this time. 

“You’ll never guess who was waiting near my locker after third period,” Hopper beams. 

“Oh?” she remarks, she stares over at him and places the cigarette between her lips. 

“Aren’t you going to guess?”

“You just said that I’d never guess. Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“You know that senior on the cheerleading squad? Tall, blonde…”

“Brainless,” Joyce finishes for him with a wide smirk. 

“She’s not brainless. Her name is Chrissy.”

“And why was Chrissy waiting for you?” She doesn’t even attempt to hide the disinterest in her voice, instead she plays into it and uses it to make her remark sound sarcastic. 

“She wanted to compliment me on the game the other night.” 

“And she couldn’t do that after the actual game?” 

Her comment bites, and it takes his visible excitement down a notch. 

“What do you care what she thinks anyway?” Joyce shrugs. 

“She’s a senior. A senior who’s a hot cheerleader. Of course I care what she thinks.”

She notices he’s sitting tall with his chest puffed out slightly more than usual and she realizes he’s trying to brag about Chrissy flirting with him. She isn’t sure what type of reaction he’s hoping for from her, but she does her best to be supportive and dryly states that she’s happy to “see him making friends” before asking if he can walk her home so she can get started on her homework. 

It isn’t jealousy, she tells herself. She didn’t care if Chrissy flirted with Hopper. He was single and free to be excited by any girl that flirted with him. The only reason the mention of Chrissy irritated her was because she hated cheerleaders. 

Nothing to do with Hopper. At all. 

He walks her to the end of her street, where she insists that she’s fine the rest of the way. He tells her he’ll meet her at the library for their study session on Sunday and waves goodbye as she begins down the path to her house. 

Part of her wishes she’d chosen to hang out with Hopper longer, but she felt she had to ask him to walk her home before she was forced to explain her non-existent jealousy over Chrissy. Since she didn’t really have homework to do and she had no plans, despite it being a Friday night, she decides she’ll spend the evening lost in the fictional realm of her latest novel. This way, she could avoid her father when he inevitably came home drunk and looking for a reason to yell at her. 

.

.

Late Sunday afternoon, Joyce finds herself sprawled out at one of the tables in the far corner of the Hawkins Public Library. Sitting beneath the window, she scribbles down notes on a legal pad while basking in the early evening glow that was illuminating the table and providing the illusion of warmth.

With her hair pinned back and the glasses she hardly ever wears sitting on the bridge of her nose, she knows she looks completely different from how she does when she walks the halls of Hawkins High. At school, she liked to maintain her rebel attitude, but here within the stacks of books where she’s supposed to be meeting Hopper, she feels like a different person. She embodies a version of herself that adores reading, that would never cut class (though she actually cut class often) and that wouldn’t be caught dead walking around with the usual version of herself. 

She liked that she got to play both parts. The girl who no one dared to mess with because they deemed her unpredictable, and the girl who enjoyed spending her Sunday afternoon reading in the library. 

Hopper was supposed to meet her after his morning practice, and based on the way the sun drips behind the afternoon clouds, she begins to wonder if maybe practice ran late or he got a flat tire on his way to meet her. With no way to call him, she continues working while she waits, coming up with various jokes about his tardiness to use when he eventually arrives. 

She realizes he probably isn’t coming when the sun begins to fade and she needs to turn on the desk lamp to continue working. She should pack up and head home for dinner, but it wasn’t like Hopper to forget about their plans, so she decides to wait a while longer in case something happened and he’s just running (really) late. 

The librarian approaches her while she has her nose buried in her book and taps on her shoulder to let her know they’ll be closing shortly. With a heavy sigh she packs up her book bag and walks back home. It wasn’t like Hopper to not show up or find a way to tell her he had to cancel, and worry consumes her on her walk. 

What if he got hurt at practice? Or worse, what if he got hurt driving home? She contemplates walking past his house to check on him, but convinces herself that a phone call will suffice and goes for the receiver the moment she steps foot in her kitchen. She turns the dial and rings him, but there's no answer. Joyce brings her book bag into her room and kicks it to the side before storming back into the kitchen and furiously dialing the number for the Hopper’s. 

Jim’s father answers the phone on the third ring and Joyce releases a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. 

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Hopper. I was just wondering if Jim was home?”

“He’s not, can I take a message?”

“Do you know if he’s alright?” she asks weakly. 

“As far as I know?” his father responds, confused. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave a message?”

Before Joyce can answer, the front door swings open, announcing her fathers return from his weekly poker game. She hangs up the phone before responding to Mr. Hopper and scampers towards the sink where she gets to work scrubbing the plates that had been left over the past few days. 

“Have you just been bumming around all day?” her father asks as he stumbles into the kitchen. She can smell the scotch on his breath from across the room, and remains still. 

“I went to the library to study.”

“Such a smart girl,” he grins wickedly, continuing through the house towards his bedroom. 

Once the dishes are clean, Joyce makes herself a sandwich and retreats to her room where she curls up beneath her covers and wonders why Hopper forgot about their plans. 

.

.

The following morning, Joyce searches the halls for Hopper so she can confront him and demand he explain why he stood her up, but she doesn’t see him anywhere. He wasn’t exactly hard to spot in a crowd, being incredibly tall, and she wonders where he could be. 

The warning bell rings and Joyce gives up on her search and heads to the locker room to prepare for gym class. She knows she’ll see him in science and she plans on cornering him after class and lecturing him for scaring the crap out of her. 

In the locker room, she selects her usual spot in the corner, away from her fellow classmates and changes into the required sweatpants and grey cotton t-shirt. Placing her own clothes into her locker, she overhears two girls giggling on the other side of the lockers and the sound of Hopper’s name grabs her attention. She steps towards the blue metal cage and stills her breathing so she can focus on what’s being said. 

From the other side of the locker room, she hears a girl laugh and say “C’mon Chrissy. You have to tell us more.”

Feeling daring, Joyce peers around the side of the lockers into the adjacent aisle and immediately recognizes the two seniors she can hear. Chrissy Carpenter and her best friends, Melina and Teresa. Chrissy is standing with her back to Joyce wearing nothing but a pale pink pair of panties and a matching bra, while her friends have already changed into their gym clothes. Before they have a chance to spot her, Joyce shrinks herself back into the corner where she’s invisible to them. She knows she shouldn’t be listening in on them, but she can’t help herself. 

“Where did he take you?” she hears one of the girls ask. 

“We went to one of those drive-in movies,” Chrissy replies. Both of her friends squeal. 

“And? What happened?” 

“Sorry ladies, I don’t kiss and tell.” 

Though she can’t see, Joyce can hear the smirk in Chrissy’s voice and she cringes. 

“But I’m also not one to get past first base and shut up. He’s a really good kisser,” Chrissy gushes. This time she’s met with even more squealing and giggling. 

Joyce can feel her pulse racing and she doesn’t need to look into a mirror to know her cheeks are the colour of tomatoes. After the girls leave the locker room, she splashes her face with cold water and grips at the edges of the sink to steady herself. She stares at her own reflection and swallows hard. He stood her up for a date and she was livid. 

.

.

Hopper had been on a handful of dates. He’d never had a serious relationship, but the news of him dating wasn’t a shock to Joyce. He dated frequently, he kissed girls in their class at parties and on occasion he admitted he went further. It never bothered her. He was entitled to live his life without her judgements, but what didn’t sit right with Joyce was the fact that he blew her off for a girl he just met. 

Worse than that, he hadn’t even called her to apologize afterwards. 

Joyce blows off first and second period and by time she gets to science class, she’s absolutely livid with Hopper. She claims her seat without glancing in his direction, and when he calls her name she looks the other way. Lucky for her, Mr. Benson begins the lesson and Hopper is forced to stop trying to attract her attention. She notices him staring at her out of the corner of her eye, but keeps her eyes glued on the blackboard. 

When class is dismissed, he’s immediately in front of her desk, staring down at her with pleading eyes. “Joyce,” he says, demanding her attention, “is everything alright?”

Figures, she thinks to herself. He doesn’t even realize he’s done something wrong. With a huff, she balances her books on her arm, looks him dead in the eye and simply smiles, “I missed you at the library yesterday.”

Satisfied with the sarcastic way the remark falls off her tongue, she turns swiftly on her heel and walks towards the exit. 

“Oh shit,” he blubbers. “Joyce. I am so so sorry!” He reaches for her arm and forces her to stop and face him. 

Desperate to keep herself composed, Joyce rolls her shoulders back and tilts her head. “I assume you had something more important to do? And that all the phones died so you couldn’t call and apologize. I mean, that is the only logical explanation as to why you stood me up and then never called to explain why.”

He pales and fiddles with his thumbs. Though he towers over her, he feels much smaller than her and he stutters as he attempts to speak. 

“I’m so sorry! I never meant to stand you up, it’s just… my dad,” he pauses and gulps before he continues speaking, “he needed a hand with some chores and I completely lost track of time.” 

Joyce raises her eyebrow at him but he only nods, as if he’s convincing himself of his own story. 

“That’s funny. I didn’t know your dad was a seventeen year old blonde cheerleader,” she deadpans. 

She watches as his jaw falls open and then flops closed before opening again, a fish out of water. 

“Who told you about Chrissy?” 

“Does it really matter?” she exclaims. No longer able to contain her anger, Joyce storms out of the classroom and off to her locker. With shaky hands, she turns the dial and enters the combination, slams her textbook onto the metal shelf and reaches for her pack of cigarettes, which she stuffs into the back pocket of her jeans. 

“Joyce!” Hopper's voice echoes through the hallway and a few people turn around to stare. 

He reaches her locker and barks at the bystanders on-looking before reaching for her hand and cautiously covering it with his own palm. 

“Joyce, please listen to me,” he pleads. His voice cracks and Joyce can see tears forming so she nods and let’s him continue. 

“I didn’t mean to stand you up, I just forgot,” he admits in a quick breath. 

“You just lied to me!”

“I know and I’m…”

“In all the time that we have known each other, you’ve never once lied to me,” she whispers. She sounds broken and defeated and it breaks something in Hopper, who reaches down and wraps his arms around her shoulders. He rests his chin on her head and waits until her breathing normalizes. 

“I didn’t want to lie to you Joyce.” He tells her when he releases his hold on her. 

“Then why did you?” 

“I’m not sure I’m going to see her again and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he admits. 

“Why wouldn’t you see her again? Sounds to me like she had a great time.”

“She told you?”

“I overheard,”Joyce shrugs sheepishly. She didn’t want to admit that she’d been listening. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I didn’t want you to tell me not to go.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“Yes, you would have. You made the way you feel about her crystal clear the last time I brought her up and I didn’t want you to convince me that I shouldn’t go.”

“You don’t always have to listen to me you know,” she chuckles, a smile finally replacing her scowl. 

“I care about what you think, Joyce.” 

“And I want to see you happy, Hop.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I swear, I’ll never lie to you again.”

“You better not because next time I’ll have to kick your ass,” she laughs, playfully nudging into him. 

They begin to walk towards the cafeteria, and just like any other time they’d fought, they’re quick to move on and it’s as if the entire dramatic scene in the hall never happened. Only, unlike their precious fights, this one still weighs on Joyce’s shoulders. 

“Hey Joyce,” Hopper says. “I want you to know that even if I do see Chrissy again, I promise it won’t change anything between us.”

But it already had begun to change things and she had a feeling that the changes were only going to snowball in the weeks to come. 

That afternoon at lunch, instead of losing herself in a world of fiction, she finds herself lost in a web of her own feelings. Was she angry with Hopper because he bailed on her for Chrissy, because he lied about it? Or was her anger rooted in the fact that he was becoming romantically involved and she feared that this one wouldn’t be as short lived as the others. 

.

.

Just as Joyce feared, as Hopper began to spend more time with Chrissy, he spent less time with her. On two separate occasions, he cancelled plans with Joyce to spend time with his new “not” girlfriend (as he insisted when Joyce asked if they were an item yet). She was disappointed when he cancelled, but she figures it’s a passing phase and she would only have to share Hopper temporarily, so she decides to put on a brave face and act like it doesn’t bother her. The silver lining was that he was always honest about why he was bailing on their plans, and she truly believed that he would never lie to her again, which brought her some sense of comfort. 

On Thursday, Joyce notices that Chrissy has secured herself a seat at Hopper’s usual lunch table and she rolls her eyes to herself. She’s sitting at her typical table with Eli and Josie, who are engaged in an animated discussion about string theory and its applications that Joyce tuned out of a long time ago. 

She and Hopper never had lunch together. It wasn’t as though they couldn’t sit together, but she knew he enjoyed spending the lunch period with his friends and she preferred spending time with him when they were away from the prying eyes of their classmates. Joyce knew he enjoyed the mindless conversations and bonding that having lunch with his teammates offered, but there Chrissy was, seated right next to him, pretending to be interested in whatever story is being told. 

Hopper must hate having her practically glued to his side. He was such an individual that loved independence, surely he would tell Chrissy he enjoyed eating lunch with his friends, but Chrissy is right back in the seat next to him the next day, stealing french fries off his plate and causing Joyce to scowl from across the cafeteria. 

After school on Friday, Joyce finds Hopper waiting for her at her locker. 

“Hey,” he smiles. 

“Hey,” she replies. She busies herself by filling her book bag and preparing to head home so that she doesn’t have to look at him. He’d been avoiding her all week; cancelling plans, rushing out of science so he could meet Chrissy for lunch, skipping out on their conversations at her locker before class, so she’s surprised to find him waiting. 

“Look, I’m sorry we haven’t seen much of each other this week. I was wondering if you wanted to come with us to the diner tonight?”

“Us?”

“Yeah, Benny, Chrissy, a few of the other guys…”

“Sorry. I have plans tonight,” she lies. 

He doesn’t seem to buy it but he also doesn’t push. 

“Well, if you change your mind, that’s where we’ll be.” He walks off without uttering another word and Joyce angrily stuffs her pencil case into her bag. 

It’s not lost on her that he doesn’t take the blame for them not having seen each other, and her anger makes her cheeks hot. She didn’t have any plans. She knew it and she knew Hopper knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to sit at a table across from him and Chrissy and watch them moon over one another. It was bad enough she had to witness it at school, she didn’t need to go out of her way to feel uncomfortable as well. 

She wanted to be happy for Hopper. But something about Chrissy rubbed her the wrong way and she hated seeing them together. The thought made her stomach curl into knots and she knows that things can’t keep going on like this because if they did, she risked losing her favourite person. 

On her walk home, Joyce promises herself that she’ll try harder to be happy for him. She could muster up the courage to plaster a fake smile on her face and comment on what a cute couple they made, at least until Hopper got bored of her and things could go back to normal. 

When Joyce arrives at home, she finds a note on the fridge explaining that both of her parents will be out for the evening. She prepares dinner for herself and takes the plate into her room. Once she’s finished eating, she wraps a blanket around her shoulders and slouches back against the wall with her sketchpad. Joyce flips to a fresh page and removes a charcoal pencil from her sack before beginning to draw on the blank sheet. She’s not sure what it is when she begins, but she channels her emotions and allows her hand to move with how she feels. Sketching was not something she did often, but when she did find time to sit down and work, her pieces reflected some of her innermost thoughts. 

She continues to draw, black lines stretching across the sheet in various directions, until the sun fades in the window and the evening air chills her room. She could have gone to the diner instead of spending the night alone in her tiny room, but then she would have to face him, and facing him meant facing them, and facing them meant facing feelings she was afraid to confront. 

Her pencil falls to the side, the drawing now complete and she finds herself face to face with an eye, only it’s not just any eye, it’s Hoppers. It was wise, yet fragile, and her fingers hover over the still piece of art as she processes what it all means. 

She wishes she was at the diner with Hopper, that Chrissy never came into the picture. What surprises her the most is that she finds herself wishing she was in Chrissy’s position. She wants to be there with Hopper. It hits her like a freight train and she’s winded and drowning at the same time that she’s flying. With Hopper. 

She repeats the realization over in her head and turns the drawing over in her hands. Of course she was jealous of him spending more time with someone else, that was something all friends experience, but what she feels, this gnawing feeling in her gut, was not the type of jealousy experienced by abandoned friends. This was the type that roared its ugly head at inconvenient times and reminded her that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to completely forget the way she felt about him.  

Unlike every other time she had this thought and forced herself to dismiss it, she leans into the feeling and finds herself going down the rabbit hole of “what-ifs.” What if she told him that she might have feelings for him? Would he feel the same way, or would it ruin their friendship and leave her with nothing? What if she told him and he wanted nothing to do with her? Or worse, what if he felt the same way but then things inevitably fell apart and left them with nothing. 

What if she admitted to herself that it wasn’t “might” have feelings for him but rather she did. That the question wasn’t; what if she told him she might have feelings for him, but was; what if she told him she had feelings for him?

Woah, she thinks to herself, sitting up and letting herself become consumed by the headrush. 

She had feelings for Hopper. 

Romantic feelings. The can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of feelings. 

Joyce climbs out of bed and drags herself into the shower, where she remains lost in the confounds of her own mind. At one point, she wonders if she should tell Hopper about her feelings, since they told each other everything, but she decides that it would be pointless to tell him. He was with Chrissy now and there was no way he felt the same way. He saw her as a friend, and lately, she was questioning even that. 

.

.

Saturday afternoon, Hopper shows up at Joyce’s house at quarter past twelve so they can head to the library. Joyce, who assumed Hopper would bail on her to spend the weekend with Chrissy, hadn’t thought about how awkward she would feel after her late night revelation. She climbs into the front of the car and squeaks an awkward hello, keeping her gaze directed out the passenger side window. 

“So, what did you get up to last night?” he asks.

“I had some homework to catch up on,” she lies.

“When are you ever behind on homework?”

“It was a busy week,” she replies. She offers no further explanation, and they both suffer in silence for a few minutes.

“I missed you last night. At the diner.”

“You did?”

“Of course,” he grins, “who else will make fun of me for ordering extra fries but then still help me eat them?”

“I’ll come next time,” she says. It’s a lie. 

She’s still waiting for him to address the elephant in the room when they arrive at the library, and she realizes he isn’t going to. 

They claim their usual table in the back corner. It’s busier today than it was last weekend when Joyce studied alone, and a few of their classmates wave to Hopper as they wind through the book stacks and cubicles. 

The pair fall into a comfortable routine in no time, Hopper teasing Joyce because she refuses to fold down the corner pages of her books, and Joyce claiming only mad men would ruin a perfectly good book. For a while, she forgets about the strain the past week had put on their friendship. Everything is simple, easy and them. Just Joyce and Hopper, teasing one another the way best friends do. It’s almost too easy to forget about all of the things plaguing her conscious when she’s with him. He made her feel at home, which made it even harder to face the fact that it felt like he was slipping away.

Joyce chooses to forget about that for the moment and to just enjoy spending time with Hopper. As pathetic as it sounded, she was willing to take what she could get. 

“What do you think about driving up to the quarry this week?” she asks him. 

He’s leaning with his elbows propped up on the table, his textbook still sealed shut and he’s staring at a table across the way. “Huh?” he mumbles, turning back towards Joyce. 

She follows his prior gaze and can’t resist the urge to roll her eyes when her own eyes settle on a blonde, sitting with two of her friends, giggling. 

“The quarry, this week?” she repeats. Irritation rings through her voice as she watches Hopper return his attention to the blonde while responding to the question she knows he wasn’t listening to. “Sure.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Joyce asks. 

“Of course I am,” he replies. He gives her his undivided attention for the next few moments while she discusses their potential plans for the week ahead, but it’s tugged away the moment Chrissy saunters over and perches herself on the side of the table next to Hopper. 

“Hi James,” she smirks, her hand lingering on his bicep. 

Joyce cringes when she calls him James, but does her best to remain unphased by Chrissy’s presence. 

“Chrissy, you know Joyce, right?” Hopper introduces them.

With an intimidating smile, Chrissy extends her palm to Joyce and limply shakes her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Joyce mutters beneath her breath. 

“The girls and I were just talking about that thing you said at lunch the other day,” Chrissy laughs, her hand roaming up Hopper’s arm.

Joyce resists the urge to gag and roll her eyes, instead watching Hopper who clearly doesn’t know how to react to Chrissy’s display of PDA. 

“We were also discussing our final project for home economics and I suggested we make that grilled cheese sandwich you made for me. Isn’t he just the best?” she turns to Joyce and gushes. “I swear, he makes the world's greatest grilled cheese. You should get him to make it for you sometime.”

Of course, Joyce had had Hopper’s grilled cheese plenty of times and she knew that Chrissy knew this. She and Hopper may enjoy their lunch period with separate crowds, but it was no secret to their classmates that they were long time friends and Joyce knew that Chrissy’s statement was meant to mark her territory. She was trying to tell Joyce that she and Hopper communicated in a way that he and Joyce didn’t, by demonstrating that she knew personal details about him. 

Joyce considers making a snarky comment back, and is surprised when Hopper speaks up before she has a chance to. 

“Oh, Joyce has had it before. Who do you think taught me how to make it?” he proudly brags while remaining completely oblivious to the stand-off that was occurring. 

“How cute,” Chrissy remarks. “Anyways, I just came over here to see if I could steal Jim away for a bit. I’m struggling with an assignment and he promised he would help me. You don’t mind, do you Joyce?” 

Hopper looks from Chrissy, to Joyce and back, unsure of whether he should speak. 

Not wanting to give Chrissy any type of satisfaction, Joyce smiles up at her and replies, “Of course not. Some of us need a little more help than others.”

The comment goes over Chrissy’s head, but Hopper catches it and frowns. 

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be right over,” he tells Chrissy who hops down off the table and sashays back to her friends. 

“Really Joyce?” he scolds. 

“What?” 

“That wasn’t very nice and you know it.”

She wants to scream at him and tell him that Chrissy was the one who insisted on coming over to their table to prove some type of point to her; that the entire conversation they just had was a backhanded way of warning Joyce to back off, but she can’t. She can tell that he’s infatuated with this girl, and that she makes him happy. As badly as she wants to say something, she cares too much about Hopper to hurt him purposefully, so she bottles up her anger and swallows her pride. 

“Ya well, I guess I’m not very nice sometimes,” she snaps. She packs up her books and storms out of the library. Chrissy watches with a satisfied smirk while Hopper simply stares after her and sighs while he wonders; What the hell had gotten into her? 

Frustrated, Joyce begins her long walk home where she curses at Chrissy beneath her breath for ruining the first afternoon she had all week alone with Hopper.  Couldn’t Hopper see that being with Chrissy was driving a wedge between them? 

.

.

Midway through the walk back to her house, it begins to pour rain. Rather than run the rest of the way, Joyce looks up at the sky, arms outstretched and closes her eyes, feeling each individual bead of rain that collides with her skin and rolls down her cheeks. How the hell did she get here? Walking home alone in the rain because Hopper abandoned her for someone else. Was she out of line when she insulted Chrissy, she doubted it. Was she jealous because she wanted to be the girl Hopper was interested in? Yes, but this was something else entirely. She was angry with Hopper for putting someone else before her when he promised he would always be there. 

Looking up at the sky, she takes a moment to appreciate the sarcastic irony that was her life this past week, when everything came down to nothing. She pinches her eyes closed, enjoying the cold feel of the rain soaking through her clothes as her mind flashes back to the first time he promised her he would always be there. 

…………..

Sitting on Hopper’s porch, watching as the storm rolled through the town, Joyce buried her face in Hopper’s shoulder and sobbed. She was aware of the stain she was leaving on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rubs his hands over her back and tries to calm her, but she shakes like the wind from the storm and clings to his arm like her life depends on it. Hardly ten years old, she and Hopper had been friends for a few years, but today was the first time Joyce told him about her home life. 

It started when he came over to ask if she wanted to go to the park with him and he interrupted one of her fathers fits. He was screaming at her mother about something in the kitchen, and Joyce meekly accepted Hopper’s offer, embarrassed that he heard her parents fighting and followed him back to his house. The two played in his yard as if nothing happened, but soon the storm clouds rolled in and Hopper’s mother insisted they either come inside or stay on the porch. 

For the first time ever, she addressed what happened back at her house and admitted that she hated it at home. Unsure of what to do, Hopper hugged her while she cried and rubbed her back like his mother always did to him when he was upset. When she finally calmed down, he helped her wipe away her tears and he took her hand in his. 

“Don’t worry Joyce. No matter what it’s going to be okay because you’ll always have me.”

“I will?”

“I promise,” he extends his pinky and wraps it around hers. “Always.”

…………..

And now she was walking home alone in the rain because apparently she and Hopper had different definitions of always. 

.

.

“Hey,” Hopper beams as Joyce stumbles into the diner and towards their usual table. 

“Hey,” she says softly. “You wanted to talk?”

When Hopper had called last night after she got home from the library, he caught her off guard. He asked if they could meet up for lunch at the diner, and against her better judgement, Joyce agreed. She assumed that maybe he wanted to apologize for everything that happened between them the past week, but she told herself not to get her hopes up as she made her way across town to the local hangout spot. 

“Yeah, I have something to tell you,” he says. He’s nervously fidgeting with his fingers and Joyce notices that he refuses to look her in the eye, which does nothing to calm her nerves. 

“What can I get you kids?” a waitress interrupts. 

“Two chocolate milkshakes please,” Hopper orders, “do you want anything else?” 

His question is directed at Joyce, who shakes her head and says she’s fine with the milkshake. 

Once the waitress is out of ear shot, Joyce leans towards Hopper and urges him to tell her whatever it was he needed to. 

“So, you um… have to tell me something?”

Things between them had never been this awkward. They shared everything with one another and there was hardly ever anything that was too difficult or personal to share. But this was different. Awkward silence fills the space between them as Hopper runs his thumb over his chin and stalls. He opens his mouth to speak twice, but promptly closes it and stutters instead of speaking. 

“Hop? You’re scaring me a bit,” she chuckles, desperately trying to lighten the mood. 

The waitress returns and slides two milkshakes between them. Joyce thanks her and immediately reaches for her so she can take a long sip; something to focus on. 

“I- I asked Chrissy to go to prom with me,” he finally admits. The sentence tumbles out in a single breath, and he too reaches for his shake so that he doesn’t have to keep speaking. 

“Oh,” she whispers. 

She knows it’s ridiculous, but after their last conversation about the dance, part of her was hoping that he would ask her to prom, even if it meant going as friends. The other night at the lake he was insistent that she consider going, which manifested itself into the crazy notion that he may ask her so she would be forced to attend and have fun. 

She wanted him to ask her, and not as strictly friends. But she couldn’t tell him that now without it coming off as jealous and some pathetic excuse as to why he shouldn’t take Chrissy Carpenter to prom, so Joyce smiles, takes a sip of her milkshake and pretends like her heart hasn’t just been shattered. 

“I still want you to come, Joyce. It won’t be the same without you.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun without me.”

“Joyce,” he sighs.

“It’s fine, Hop. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend.”

He closes his eyes and gulps. “I really hope I see you there.” With that, he rises from the booth and looks down at her, “do you want a ride home?”

“I think I’ll stick around for a while, thanks.”

Hopper nods and heads out to his car. It’s the first time he doesn’t correct Joyce when she refers to Chrissy as his girlfriend and it cuts like a knife. 

Joyce excuses herself from the otherwise empty table and heads to the ladies room, where she splashes her face with warm water and succumbs to the tears that begin to form. She was a fool trice. First, because she thought he was going to apologize, secondly because she thought he’d realized how little effort he’d been putting into their relationship lately and finally, because a small part of her was hoping he’d ask her to the prom. 

Looking at herself in the mirror, she realizes she looks pathetic. Joyce Horowitz didn’t cry over boys, and she certainly shouldn’t cry over one she believed would never hurt her. Before anyone can see her, Joyce wipes away her tears with the back of her hand and sniffles. He was just like the rest of them, selfish and capable of breaking her heart. 

As Joyce is preparing to leave, the door swings open and Josie walks in. 

“Joyce? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Joyce sniffles. 

“You’re crying,” Joise points out. 

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” She dries her eyes and does her best to step back into her tough girl persona, but Josie’s worried eyes cause something in her to shatter and another tear slips down her cheek. 

“Why don’t we go order something to eat?” the girl suggests. Silently, Joyce nods, cleans her face for the second time and follows Josie out to a new table near the window of the diner. 

The pair orders a plate of fries and they eat in silence. Joyce appreciates what Josie is doing, but she isn’t sure she’s ready to open up to someone she hardly knows. Instead of asking about it, Josie begins to tell a story about a show she saw on television the night before, and before she knows it, Joyce finds herself smiling. 

“Feeling better?”

“I am. Thank you.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Josie says, “but we can if you want to. Tomorrow at lunch we can pretend like this never happened.”

Intrigued by the offer to get all of her feelings out there but then resume their normal day-to-day routine, Joyce spends the next hour telling Josie everything. She begins with the first time Hopper blew her off to spend time with Chrissy and details their fight after he lied about it. She then goes on to explain that Hopper had started changing, and how she came to realize she “might” have feelings for him. She doesn’t dare admit that she does have them, because telling Josie made it real and she wasn’t ready for that yet. She finishes by talking about what happened in the library, how she came to meet Hopper assuming he was going to apologize only to discover he was taking Chrissy to prom. 

She leaves out the part about wanting to go to prom with him, but she does tell Josie that Hopper asked her to consider attending. 

“Screw him,” Josie remarks when Joyce finally finishes her rant. “You’re better off without him.”

Joyce knows that isn’t true, but she appreciates Josie’s spirited attempts to support her. 

“You know what we should do?”

“What?”

“We should go to prom together and just have a total blast, really rub his nose in the fact that you can have fun without him.” 

“I don’t know… I’m not a fan of dances.”

“Neither am I. I hate the entire idea.”

“Then why would you want to go?”

“Well you can’t go alone now, can you.”

“Josie, you don’t have to…”

Josie holds up her palm to stop Joyce, “I want to. It’ll be fun! What do you say?”

“What the hell, let’s do it.”

.

.

The week that passes between the afternoon at the diner and the date of Junior prom is the longest week of Joyce’s life. Between class work, finding a dress suitable for the dance and actively avoiding Hopper, she hardly has a moment to herself but the time passes extremely slow. It also marks the longest she’d ever gone without talking to Hopper. 

Avoiding him began as a way to prevent having to have any awkward conversations, but when he made no effort to reach out, her anger towards him grew and she had a second reason to avoid him. She saw him every day in science class, but they avoided looking at one another and she always bolted out of the classroom the moment the dismissal bell rang. 

The only positive thing that came out of the mess with Hopper, was her new found friendship with Josie. The girls discussed their plans for the dance during the lunch period on Monday and on Wednesday Joyce went over to Josie’s house after school to borrow a dress. 

She selects a simple black dress with thin shoulder straps that hugs her hips in a flattering way, while Josie settles on a powder blue gown with a puffy skirt. The girls get ready together at Josie’s house on Friday afternoon. They sneak a few shots from Josie’s parents liquor cabinet, and Joyce let’s Josie pin her hair back using a fancy clip. She does a simple makeup look, smoky eyes and a red lip and she finishes the look with her everyday black Converse. 

Josie tries to convince Joyce to wear heels, but she’s hard headed and insists that she feels better wearing the sneakers. Josie’s mom snaps a polaroid of the two girls and drops them off outside the gym, which has a hand-painted banner hanging out front that reads “Hawkins High, Junior Prom ‘59.” 

The gymnasium is coloured in silver and blue streamers and balloons, and is the most horrific thing Joyce has ever laid eyes on. In the center, a band is set up and playing, while several of her classmates swarm the dance floor. She doesn’t see anyone she recognizes, and wraps her arms around herself while she follows Josie through the crowd and towards a vacant table. 

“Well, what do you think?” Josie asks. 

“I think this is the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Joyce laughs.

“Isn’t it awful?!” Josie giggles, “C’mon, I hear that someone always spikes the punch, let’s make this evening more fun.” 

While retrieving punch, a blonde boy Joyce doesn’t recognize approaches Josie. 

“Want to dance?” he asks her before even introducing himself.

“I’m with my friend, but thanks,” Josie politely declines. 

“C’mon,” he insists, his hand settling on her wrist, he tugs on it, “one dance.”

“She said no. Now beat it before I make you regret ever coming over here,” Joyce barks at him. Terrified, the kid backs off and vanishes into the crowd.

“Thanks,” Josie smiles. 

“Anytime.”

.

.

Across the gym, Hopper arrives with Chrissy, who’s dressed in a bright pink dress, on his arm and hands two tickets to the kid sitting at the ticket table. He recognizes Bob, a nerdy AV kid who was usually setting up speakers at things like this. Hopper always felt bad, watching as he set things up at dances. As one of the only members of the Hawkins AV club, he probably never had a chance to enjoy things like dances. Then again, Bob was one of the nerdiest kids Hopper had ever met, he doubted he would want to attend dances, 

Thanking Bob, Hopper leads Chrissy into the gym where they begin mingling with a group of guys from his football team. He was nervous to ask Chrissy to the junior prom. She was a popular senior and he wasn’t sure this was her scene, but she seemed to be fitting in just fine. After greeting some more friends, he asks if she wants to dance and leads her to the dance floor, which is where he first spots her. Standing near the punch bowl wearing a flattering black dress, her hair pinned back showing off her high cheekbones and red lips, was Joyce. 

He does a double take and his hand slips from Chrissy’s shoulder. 

.

.

Joyce notices Hopper the moment he enters. As if his height and powder blue suit weren’t enough, it was like the energy in the room shifted when he arrived. He was surrounded by a few of his teammates, and eventually he ended up on the dance floor holding Chrissy, that was where she first noticed him staring at her. 

She realizes that she can let his presence bother her, linger on the way his date wraps herself around him and call it a night, but she doesn’t want to do that. She came out to have fun, and he didn’t get to take that away from her, not when she’d come this far. 

After Josie excuses herself to say hello to a few friends, Joyce finds herself standing alone at the edge of the dance floor, awkwardly tapping her foot. She looks out at her classmates, all having a blast jumping around to the music. Part of her envies them. They all seemed so care-free. She told herself that she would make an effort to relax more, and coming tonight was the first step. 

She was proud of herself for actually putting on a dress and going through with it. It didn’t matter that Hopper was here with Chrissy, or that the blonde was all over him, she came to the dance for herself. That’s why, when a boy she recognizes from her english class approaches her and introduces himself as Lonnie Byers, she agrees to dance with him. 

She shyly follows Lonnie onto the dance floor and laughs when their hands collide as they reach for one another. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she relaxes into his touch and allows him to sway them. They make small talk while they move and it’s pleasant and peaceful until she spots Hopper off to the side. 

She shouldn’t be staring at him. She should focus on the nice boy who asked her to dance, the man whose arms are wrapped around her center. Instead, she’s focused on the man looming on the opposite side of the gym. 

Joyce is aware he’s watching and maybe she doesn’t care but maybe she’s putting on a show that she wants him to watch. And judging by the way he’s grinding down on his molars, maybe it’s working. This childish game he's trapped her into playing. Because she wasn’t staring, until she noticed him staring, and now they’re stealing glances of one another from opposite sides of a school gym covered in pale blue balloons and pathetic streamers, and she can’t bring herself to look away. 

When Lonnie leans in to tell her she looks beautiful, she realizes how ridiculous she’s being. Here she was in the arms of a perfectly nice boy and she was wasting time thinking about someone who she wasn’t romantically involved with, someone that was here with someone else. 

She didn’t care that he was here with Chrissy. She didn’t care that they’d been spending less and less time together. She certainly didn’t care about the way he looked in his suit. 

But, he looked handsome and she couldn’t help herself from staring. From wondering what it would feel like if she was in his arms and not Lonnie’s.

She catches him staring and lets Lonnie hold her closer. 

.

.

If Hopper’s eyes could, they would be boring holes into the back of Lonnie Byers head from across the room. With Chrissy off fetching them some punch, Hopper has nothing to do besides watch as Lonnie, a scrawny kid who was in his gym class, held Joyce by the waist and whispered in her ear. 

He has half a mind to storm across the gym and deck the kid, but Joyce appears to be enjoying it and that’s what eats away at him the most. He’s never experienced a feeling like this before; this cold, on edge feeling that has his hands balled into fists and his cheeks flushed. He doesn’t recognize that he’s jealous, because why would he be? He and Joyce were friends. He was here with Chrissy. Hot. Blonde. Cheerleading, Chrissy. 

But why did the thought of Lonnie Byers palm pressed to the small of Joyce’s back drive him fucking mad. 

He unclenches his fists and stretches out his fingers, staring down at them so he can avoid looking at them. He feels Chrissy’s perfectly manicured hand slide into his and she emerges at his side with a glass of punch. 

Following his gaze across the room, she notices what he’s looking at; Joyce. 

“I thought you said Joyce wasn’t coming,” Chrissy remarks, nestling into Hopper’s side, her arm possessively wrapped around his middle. 

“I didn’t think she was. That’s the thing about Joyce, she’s unpredictable,” he smiles. Chrissy tugs on his hand and leads him towards the dance floor. As he takes her in his arms, he steals a glance of Joyce from over Chrissy’s head. The dance has ended and she’s standing with a girl he recognizes from her photography club and laughing. Her crimson red lips are curved into a real smile and she looks radiant. Her dress is simple, black; a very Joyce colour, and the sneakers she’s wearing force his own lips into a smile. 

Joyce Horowitz was one hell of an unpredictable woman. It was one of the things he loved about her. 

And it rains in your bedroom

Everything is wrong

[libertyreads]

Best and Worst Books of 2020

This has been a mess of a year for everyone, but I actually managed to get a lot of books read. I decided to repeat this post from last year because I enjoyed going back through all the things I read and remembering how I felt about them.

I’ll try to avoid any repeats, but I’m sure it’ll happen at some point. If you want more info about my feelings on these books, check out my ratings and reviews on GoodReads.

Best Sci-Fi: This one was such an easy pick for me. All Systems Red by Martha Wells. This whole series just knocks it out of the park. The Murderbot Diaries is a series about a Security Bot who hacks their governor module so they can just watch their shows all day. Too bad the humans they’re assigned to protect are getting into trouble left and right. Worst Sci-Fi: Starstruck by Brenda Hiatt. I remember this being a free e-book that I picked up this year. I explained it to my husband as a sci-fi version of Twilight. You get a small town nerdy girl with few friends who suddenly becomes important when this alien boy pays attention to her. It was definitely a book of its time. Best Fantasy: A Fantasy that I really enjoyed this year was Fable by Adrienne Young. It is about a girl whose pirate father leaves her stranded on a deserted island after her mother dies. If she can survive, she can find her way back to him and receive her inheritance. It goes in depth about family and friendship. Plus found families. Am I right? Worst Fantasy: The Magicians by Lev Grossman. Oh boy. How do I get into it with this one without regurgitating my review? I had a problem with the author taking all of the best known magical stories of all time and twisting them throughout this dense book in order to point out that magic is a problem to be dealt with and not all unicorns and rainbows--just to rip that point out of the reader’s hands in the last four pages of the novel. Please read my review I go so in depth there. Best Contemporary: Second Chance Summer by Morgan Matson. I think this was mostly just that I read this book at the right time. This book is about a family who is going through a hard time when the father is diagnosed with terminal cancer. They decide to spend one final summer at their cabin on the lake before he passes. I distinctly remember crying my eyes out at the end of this one and it hitting me so hard. Worst Contemporary: Girls in the Moon by Janet McNally. This was a Book of the Month pick for me at a time when they had less variety in their options. I felt like I couldn’t keep pushing back my picks every month. It’s a story about this rock band family who divorced in the late 90s and the fall out for their two children while one moves to New York to pursue a music career. A lot of fluff and almost no substance. Best Mystery: This is the year I realized that I like YA Mystery novels and not a lot else in the mystery genre. I had a three way tie for best Mystery and they call came from the YA Age Range. The Hand on the Wall by Maureen Johnson, In the Hall with the Knife by Diana Peterfreund, and The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes. These were all done so well and all taking the things I love about mysteries and twisting them. Worst Mystery: In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware. I had heard so many amazing things about this book, but it fell so flat for me. I hate unreliable narrators. Why are they necessary in this genre? I feel like if you need an unreliable narrator to write a good mystery then you’re a bad mystery author. Best YA: Traitor to the Throne by Alwyn Hamilton. This is book 2 in the Rebel of the Sands series. It’s a desert Fantasy that is written so well. The world building is fantastic. We have a rebellion, magic, and some amazing characters. In book two we see Amani thrust into court politics. I marathoned this whole series in a couple of weeks and loved the adventure. Worst YA: The worst YA book I read this year was Wink Poppy Midnight by April Genevieve Tucholke. I felt like the story went no where and the writing was overly flowery. I’m sure it does good things for some people but it’s the polar opposite of what I love in books. Best Adult: For this one we have a two way tie. The first book is House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) by Sarah J. Maas. Is this the next great American novel? Of course not. But I had an amazing time reading this book. I felt so many feelings and the world building was fantastic. The second book is In A Holidaze by Christina Lauren. I read an ARC of this for my Christmas in July and enjoyed it so much I had to read it again right before Christmas. It was perfect for getting in the Christmas spirit.  Worst Adult: This category is also a two way tie. I read The Broken Girls by Simone St. James and thoroughly disliked the mystery aspect of the story. I felt like it was left too open ended and it completely put me off. The second is a book of poetry called Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur. It felt like a lot of these poems were incomplete thoughts. Maybe it’s how open it is too interpretation again, but I really did not like this at all. Best New Release: This feels like the hardest category to pick from. If we’re going based on ratings, Check, Please! Volume #2: Sticks and Scones is the highest rated new release that I read this year. But I also have a couple of YA Mystery novels that I read this year that I loved and that stuck with me throughout the year. The first is The Hand on the Wall by Maureen Johnson which is the third book in the Truly Devious series and finishes out that mystery arc. The second is The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes which I have been raving about since I read it this fall. The Inheritances games is the first book in a new series that is like a combination of Knives Out and Clue plus puzzles minus a few murders. It’s just so good. So, a top three for this category I guess. Worst New Release: The Bookweaver’s Daughter by Malavika Kannan. This one was easy to pick hands down. I felt like this book brushed over some major events that happened. As well, there’s a major lack of world building in this novel. I think with some polishing it could have made for a good middle grade novel but was sold as a YA novel. Best Backlist: The City of Brass by S.A. Chakraborty. I’m normally not huge into Adult Fantasy, but I feel like the author does a good job of making the world accessible to the reader even though it’s vast with a lot of political machinations. Probably one of the best series I read start to finish this year. Worst Backlist: The Cruelty by Scott Bergstrom. I was going to put in Wink Poppy Midnight here again, but technically I gave The Cruelty the same rating and I wanted to avoid repeats. For this one, I gave a LENGTHY review about my problems with the book. I wanted to like it, but the author’s internalized ableism and misogyny really ruined the party here. Best 2021 ARC: This was a two way tie between “You Have a Match” by Emma Lord and “Shipped” by Angie Hockman. I had no idea I enjoyed these equally because they’re such different books. Both are contemporaries but “You Have A Match” is YA Contemporary about families and secrets while “Shipped” is an Adult Contemporary about a hate to love romance and work/life balance. Worst 2021 ARC: “The Castle School (for Troubled Girls)” by Alyssa B. Sheinmel. This one is more of a problem about what the publishers sold the book as. Because the book summary wasn’t correct when it came to the whole point of the book. So I went in with completely incorrect expectations. I think because of the plot twist I would have still rated it lower than the other 2021 ARCs I read, but it would have been a closer contest. Best Standalone: I Hope You’re Listening by Tom Ryan. This is a YA Mystery that came out this Fall that I really enjoyed. It’s about a girl who is present when her friend gets taken from the woods. Years later she still has trouble dealing with being the child left behind so she starts a podcast to help people solve missing persons cases. It also had a surprise cult element that I wasn’t expecting and really enjoyed. Worst Standalone: Meet Me at Fir Tree Lodge by Rachel Dove. This one is a bit blurred in my brain. I think that really speaks to how I feel about this one. It is about a girl whose life falls apart after a skiing accident and how she tries to put it back together. But it involves a romance with an Alpha Male character which everyone hates at this point. I wanted it to be sweeter and softer and more heart wrenching than it was. Best Book in a Series: All Systems Red by Martha Wells. I scoured my spreadsheets to try to find a book I hadn’t already gushed over, but there’s a reason this one is in the top of so many categories. I love Murderbot and following all of their misadventures. The Murderbot Diaries is a series about a Security Bot who has hijacked their Governor Module and just wants to watch their serials all day. But those pesky human’s they’re hired to protect keep getting themselves in trouble. Worst Book in a Series: I found the book in a series that I gave the worst rating to and I had to go over my review to try to remember what it’s even about. I read Legacy of Ash by Matthew Ward which is the first book in the Legacy Trilogy. And I still don’t remember much about it. I remember it being dense and hard to read without getting a lot out of the book in reward for my effort. It was a hard slog and clearly not great if I can’t remember what it’s about less than 9 months after I read it.

[dragonstoravens]

Trinity: First Appearance

Since I haven’t posted many longer excerpts from Rebel Blue, I thought I’d post this short story introducing my boy Trinity and his complicated relationship with the crew of Rebel Blue-- specifically Periwinkle.

A bit of background-- Trinity was originally intended to be a one-off or minor character, and actually started off as a sort of pseudo-villain, working for Fate (the series’ main villain.) This is the first piece I wrote for him, edited and updated to fit his character now.

Trinity now features in Babylon, a several-novels-length offshoot of Rebel Blue’s main story written by myself and @charlottedotexe. His eventual slow-burn romance with Azure was a total surprise, and has lead to me developing this one-off villain into someone I really love! While Trinity still takes some time to be a truly good person, he was always meant to draw the line somewhere, and I think this piece illustrates that really well.

READ ON WATTPAD HERE!

“So… I guess I’ve just seen her around here a couple of times, and I wanted to let her know that I… even exist?” Trinity chuckled self deprecatingly, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed look on his face. Felicia cooed and wiggled around slightly from her position on his lap, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

“Awww, look at little Ty growing up. You’ve been coming here for years, and a pretty girl finally caught your eye? I’m almost jealous.” She giggled as he playfully smacked her hand away. “Tell me about her, then.”

“Well…” Trinity paused, casting his thoughts back to the woman he’d seen in the security footage. He had, in fact, seen her here at Absolute Zero before, but never close enough to describe. All he knew about her was that she usually sat up near the front, always by herself, or chatting with the bartender or even the owner rather than other patrons. Still, the auburn hair and striking height were hard to forget, and really the only reasons he’d recognized her on that recording. The fact she knew the workers here was good, but she was so often alone. It worried him, if he was being honest. Anyone in his position knew loners were the easiest targets. But Felicia was still waiting for him to answer. He let his eyes go a bit far away and misty as he leaned back in the plush booth, a lovestruck smile coloring his face. “She’s real tall. And pretty. Her hair’s long and wavy, it’s… brown? Maybe red. She always dresses so nice. She sounds like maybe she’s British, or from one of their colony planets. I’ve seen her a couple times, but… I never worked up the courage to buy her a drink.”

Beneath his field of vision, Felicia’s eyes narrowed for just a moment. Only a moment, though, and then she returned to her teasing smile, eyes flashing mischievously. “Sounds like someone’s smitten. Why don’t you go talk to her yourself, lover boy? Put that pretty face to good use. If she says no to that, she clearly doesn’t deserve you.” She leaned into him, adding a bit of real encouragement into her tone and ignoring the urge to mix pronouns and risk tipping Ty off that she knew his target as more than just another patron. She wanted his guard down, for one thing, and on the off chance he was telling the truth, maybe she could get him to prove it and actually talk to her in person. But he shook his head, and despite that bashful look on his face as he did it, Felicia’s suspicions were back full force.

“Nah, I can’t do that. What if she’d rather be alone? I don’t wanna force her into anything. I was thinking you girls could get her a note, buy her a drink on me next time she comes in? The ball’s in her court that way.” He shrugs. “If she ignores it, at least I tried, huh?”

As if anyone could force that person into anything. That alone proved he was lying… or that he honestly knew nothing about the person of which he spoke. But there was protocol to follow here, and Felicia was a professional before all else. Sure, Ty had never been anything but respectful and sweet, but almost everyone working here had learned the hard way that sweet things hid poison better than sour.

“Such a dear.” She ruffled his hair, and slid languidly off his lap, trailing her fingers down his neck and shoulder as she pulled away. “Alright, but you know I’ll tell the other girls. Your reputation as a hot-shot lady killer is in danger.” Her voice remained light and flirty, but the warning was real. Unless he changed his tune now, this was going straight to the top.

Trinity laughed, waving a hand at her. “Ah, go ahead. You all call me ‘little Ty’ anyway, it’s not like my reputation here was tough-as-nails in the first place.” Unconsciously, he rubbed a hand along his thigh, feeling for the tiny cybernetic attachment he already knew was there. He’d been around the block enough to know what this bar really was, and to notice that subtle warning from Felicia. That little note of his wouldn’t be staying secret for long, and they both knew it. In an establishment like this, information trade always passed through the top of the pyramid before being sent along to its target. He didn’t know much about the manager here, but he did know it was dangerous to pass information this way, especially in his position. Who knew what his boss would do to him if he found out about this interference. Still, Trinity couldn’t let this slide. He had to warn that poor woman, without doing anything to actively help her. This was the best chance he had.

Felicia giggled, using the charade to cover a disappointed sigh. Well, his loss. “You could at least pretend to be upset. You’re abandoning us for romance, Etta’s gonna be crushed.” She gave him one of her patented cute pouts, to which he responded with a good natured eye roll. “Well, I’m gonna go see some customers that aren’t too distracted by their mystery girl to appreciate me. You know where to send that note of yours, yeah?” 

“Course I do. Thanks, ‘Licia.” Trinity’s eyes trailed her as she made her way back up to the bar. When she disappeared through a door behind the counter, he leaned forward in his booth, pulling the displaced table back towards him and resting his elbows on it. He let the casual, goofy persona of “Ty” slip away, face turning serious as he considered his task. How did you warn a woman about one of the world’s most dangerous men-- without drawing his attention yourself?

~~~

    “You can stop laughing now.”

    A few moments passed as the person Siren was calling caught their breath, letting out an almost musical falling sigh. Their posh, accented voice, something like old Terran British, was still tinged with laughter. “Sorry, darling, but this one really takes the cake, I think. Either he somehow hired someone with a conscience, or this is his worst plan yet.” A second voice on the same end of the voice call broke its silence with a snort.

    “Yeah, Si. I don’t want to make light of another one of these attempts, but… they happen almost every time we go planetside. And I’m not gonna lie, this one was pretty funny.”

    “Stalking is quite the word for it, though,” the first mused. “I think my favorite part is when he insinuates I should leave the planet to avoid this ‘stalker.’ For my own safety, of course, nothing to do with the job I’m working on. What do you think, Cadet?” 

    Before the second person could respond, Siren interrupted with a soft clearing of her throat. “Perry--”

    “I know.” The humor had disappeared from his voice. “I take this sort of thing very seriously, especially considering he’s gotten your operation involved this time. Is everyone cleared out?”

    “Nearly. We don’t want to make the patrons too suspicious, so the rest will report to secure locations after the mole has left. I’m sending an agent out with him, one of his favorites, so it’s nothing unusual for either of them. She can probably hold him on her own, although--”

    “I’ll go,” Cadet interjected, beating Siren to the punch. “No need for Perry to get too close to the creep, that way.” Perry sighed.

    “I suppose it doesn’t matter if I say that’s unnecessary?” 

    “Look, I know you could take him down, but all his boss’ tricks are focused on you. They won’t work as well on me or Si’s agent, and that way you’re free to focus on questioning him. It’s why we’re in a team, Per.” She added a bit of teasing to her tone, and Perry responded with a slightly begrudging hum of assent. Hearing that, Siren continued.

    “Alright, if you’re both set, I’ll ready my agent and wait for your signal. We have two hours. Be safe.” The weight of the last two words seemed somehow directed at both her listeners at once, but with a different meaning for each. Cadet echoed Siren’s unspoken message to her, pressing her fingers to her lips for a moment in a gesture she knew her wife would mimic without even needing to see her. 

    “Love you too, Si.”

    Perry said nothing. Siren’s meaning for her was something she already knew. They also knew they’d disregard it in a second if it meant keeping that bar standing. With a click, the line disconnected, and the clock began to tick.

~~~

    Trinity hoped he was hiding his nervousness alright. He still hadn’t heard anything back from the woman about his message, but today his sensor had picked up new security footage of her. Recent footage, from just hours ago. His boss definitely had it by now, and it meant she definitely hadn’t left the planet. In fact, she seemed to have moved in even closer. So even though there was a chance it’d get him caught, Trinity was back at Absolute Zero. Felicia had even bent the rules a bit and bought him a drink, although he’d been careful to filter out the alcohol through his cybernetics as he drank. He couldn’t afford to be compromised. He tried to pay attention to Felicia’s attempts to cheer him up, but her reassurance that he could talk to his “mystery girl” in person next time she came in didn’t help much. What would he say if she did? And if she didn’t, would he just have to give up? Maybe it wasn’t any of his business, anyway.

    “What’s that?”

    Felicia’s voice jerked him out of his thoughts, and he realized he’d muttered that last bit aloud. “Oh… I mean, I just don’t know if I should get involved in her business anyway. I did say she could ignore me if she wanted. Why can’t I just get over it?” He let his arms slide down across the table in front of him, laying his head on them pitifully. 

    “Aw, Ty. It’s not even for sure yet, and you’re getting all heartbroken?” A flicker of blue registered in the corner of Felicia’s vision, and she surreptitiously glanced down at her right hand where it rested on Trinity’s back, firmly out his sight. Sure enough, the tiny chip embedded in her thumbnail flashed once, twice, and then faded. She tapped the nail twice with her forefinger-- message received-- then slapped Trinity on the back playfully and stood up. “Alright, that’s enough alcohol and self pity for you, babe. We’re going for a walk.”

“Really, now? But--” 

“It’s my job to cheer you up, and that’s not gonna happen if you’re just sitting around here moping. Come on, I know you love Andromeda Park this time of night, we haven’t been in days since you’ve been pining like this.” She leaned in, tucking her arm through his and pulling him out of his chair with strength that would have been surprising if he hadn’t seen it in action so many times before. With a sigh, he allowed her to lead him through the bar and out into the mild night air. They walked slowly, turning down familiar alleys towards the park. Trinity let Felicia’s arm slip from his as he walked, turning a contemplative gaze up to the sky. The slight wind against his face did seem to clear his head a bit. Perhaps she was right, and this really would give him some time to think things through--

Without warning, his right arm was twisted behind his back. Just as he started to struggle, a second pair of hands, these ones gloved, grabbed his other arm and the back of his head in a steely grip, pushing him to his knees and holding his head forward so he couldn’t see his attackers. Trinity swore, cursing himself for being so distracted. Even his cybernetics were no help if he didn’t have line of sight, or at least a hand free to activate the taser function from the port on his thigh. He knew better than to try and speak, let alone yell for help, given the almost unnaturally strong fingers pressing into the base of his skull right where it met his neck. Held like this, he could do nothing but stare down the shadowed stone alley in front of him, waiting to see what would become of him.

A shadow moved at the end of the alley. Moonlight flashed off of a cascade of shining red fabric, shifting to reveal a smooth expanse of pale thigh… and the matte black hilt of a knife, placed just so it would remain concealed beneath the fabric until the wielder chose to reveal it. As the figure took one more slow step forward, new details revealed themselves to Trinity one by one, his brain registering each as if in slow motion. His eyes traced up from the knife… a long way up. The curve of a hip, clad in red. Wrists and neck free of jewelry or adornment, save a thin black metal band tight around one wrist, leaving nothing that could be caught or grabbed. And finally, a curl of auburn hair caught the moonlight like silk, tumbling loose over one bare shoulder. 

“Fuck.” It came out as almost a whisper, his voice cracking a bit, and he cleared his throat. It was an affectation, of course. It was safest to keep trying to sound like Ty, well meaning if a touch dim, though it was tempting to drop character and coldly insist to be allowed to explain himself. “Guess I didn’t need to worry after all.”

Trinity’s mystery woman chuckled slightly, but there was no humor in the sound. She kept her face obscured in shadow— honestly a good move on her part, since with a clear view Trinity could at least try to activate his eye— and tossed her hair back almost contemptuously. “Please. I know why you’re really here. Do you?”

“Do I— of course I know why I’m here!” Because you’re too soft to survive, his brain supplied, unhelpfully. Whenever he was in danger like this, that internal voice sounded uncomfortably like the velvety tones of his employer. You’ll walk right into a death trap if you think you’re defending a defenseless woman from assault, it whispered, but he ignored it, setting his jaw. Defenseless or not, he still stood by his original plan. No one had the defenses to stand up to Fate— the addition of the Jericho company had only made that fact more stark in his mind. He gave up on keeping character. It was easier to be convincing if he truly wasn’t lying to her. He relaxed slightly despite the arms holding him down. Ty might struggle when outnumbered, but Trinity knew better. His words were his most powerful weapon. “Look.” His voice was more even than before, his word choice more eloquent. “I don’t know who you are, and I’ll be the first to admit that I underestimated you, but please at least hear me out. The man I’m talking about is… truly dangerous. It isn’t this job alone, he’s—“

“So you’re one of those.” She smirked slightly, lowering her voice for a moment. “Azzy owes me 10 cred, she thought you were one of the less stupid ones. You really think you’re the one who came up with this plan?”

Trinity opened his mouth to tell her that in fact, he had, but the woman held out a finger and the hand on the back of his neck tightened almost imperceptibly. He closed it again. 

“Let’s see if I can predict this story. You’re new still, so you’re trailing his footsteps like a little puppy, trying to learn all you can. He can do anything, after all, open and shut. You want that kind of power, so you do whatever he says. Until suddenly a simple job starts dragging on far longer than it should.” She tapped a finger to her lips in a gesture of vaguely mocking consternation. “How can this be? It doesn’t make sense, until one day he just so happens to let something slip to you. An accident, of course. A bit of footage, or a location, or maybe some sad poetry fragment he’s written on the back of a lipstick stained napkin.” Her words grew more and more sarcastic. “You, being the charitable type of power hungry pup, are worried for this poor unknown woman’s safety.” The oddly bitter emphasis on the word woman threw him for a moment, but she moved on before he could puzzle it out. “So you track her down, leaving a sweet little trail of breadcrumbs along with your warning— but it’s alright, it’s all behind his back! And you can go back home to your war profiteering and dirty money, content in your own altruism. Does that sound about right?”

Trinity just gaped at her for a moment before pulling his thoughts together. “Listen to me. I truly don’t enjoy seeing a woman in danger—” She frowned, cutting him off.

“Not a woman, but continue. I’m curious to hear your side.” The tone was biting, and the odd emphasis before suddenly made a lot more sense.

“Oh. My apologies, I assumed.”

“I noticed. Most do. Continue.”

“Right.” He pursed his lips. “Well. Moving past the sheer amount of sarcastic bullshit in your little story, I believe you have the bones of the issue. I won’t argue with you on your assessment of my character, but there’s one thing you’ve missed.”

“And what is that?” To his surprise, they sounded genuinely interested. He filed away that tidbit for later.

“He didn’t ‘let something slip’ to me. I don’t act on things I’ve simply stumbled upon.”

“Please. You think you’re the first to believe you got your information on me genuinely? Of your own merit? With the amount of stock you seem to put in his abilities, that seems rather conceited of you.” They sighed, almost seeming to deflate a bit from that perfectly poised stance. “He knows you’re here, and he knows I’m here. And if that establishment is destroyed tonight along with the livelihood of all who work there, it’s on you.”

Trinity flinched slightly at the accusation, but kept his gaze level. “He does not know that I’m here. I swear that.”

The figure pinched the bridge of their nose. “After all of this, that’s the hill you’re dying on?”

A rough sigh came from Trinity’s left side, and the hand on his neck tightened again as one of his captors finally spoke in a low, slightly gravelly voice he didn’t recognize. “We can’t keep dragging this out, Per. Two minutes, then you gotta call it.”

“I know.” They ran the hand that had been pinching their nose back through their hair, and took a half step forward. “Ok, then. What makes you so sure?”

Trinity bit the inside of his lip, the way he did when he didn’t want people to see him sweat. This was getting dangerous, in more ways than one. The longer this went on, the more likely it became that his boss would find out somehow, and this person was right— anything that happened would be on him. If he didn’t say something soon to convince them, he had no doubt they could have him killed or detained as quickly as they had subdued him in the first place. But the only way to prove what he knew was true was to reveal something he’d managed to keep secret for four years, now. Two minutes. It’d probably be less if the hand on his neck had anything to say about it, so he didn’t exactly have much time to come up with a better plan. Fuck it, if he was dead either way he might as well die knowing he was in the right.

“I’m sure because the way I saw it was with my cybernetic eye that two people in the entire galaxy even knew existed... until just now. It’s one of a kind. You were right, I have been watching him. It’s the best way to learn. So I planted my sensor in his office, and watched him creep on security footage of you alone in there for hours when he thought no one could see. That’s no convenient slip up.” He didn’t bother to disguise the disgust in his voice. He respected the man, but this was one thing he couldn’t abide.

“Cybernetics…” They lifted their wrist to their mouth to speak. That black band must be some kind of communication device. “Azure. Is that possible?”

There was a pause as they listened to some response Trinity couldn’t hear, then their gaze slowly panned back to him, staring him down like a hawk to a rabbit.

“Secret, one of a kind cybernetics. An interesting story, but not an easy one to make up on the fly. Either you’re a far better liar than you seem and have been completely in on his plans from the beginning, or…”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Oh. So that’s where Felicia has gotten to. In the heat of the moment he hadn’t really thought about that until he heard her voice from his right side— his other captor. Wonderful.

“You know about this?”

“I knew his eye was cybernetic. He played it like a fancy prosthetic, but that’d make sense if it’s one of a kind. What he’s saying isn’t impossible, and he’s a regular. I know when he’s lying.” The red clad figure nodded slowly, processing Felicia’s endorsement.

“I trust you to do your job.” Even while they spoke with Felicia, they still hadn’t broken that piercing gaze, focusing on Trinity. “Well. I suppose you’re a first, then. In that case, take this advice.” Their weight shifted slightly, and Trinity could almost feel the danger radiating from them. The energy was spine-chillingly similar to the danger that Fate projected just by entering a room, a mirrored twin. “Know that I know far more about your employer and his abilities than you do. I can’t stop you from going back to him, and you can’t stop me from ruining this lovely, easy job you’re trying to finish up.” They spoke with perfect confidence, without a hint of conceit. “He and his other lap dogs will continue to pull this kind of shite, it’s a given. But if you ever try to track me down again, you will die. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Trinity narrowed his eyes. “And so we’re clear on one more thing— I’d never bring harm to this place. It’s been as much a home to me as anywhere.”

“People like you never do, intentionally. That’s why you’re less trustworthy than the ones who do intend harm.” The low light of the alley caught a hint of a bitter smirk as it crossed her lips. “At least you know where they stand. Cadet, let’s go.”

The grip on his left arm and neck loosened, and he felt his unknown captor shift to stand next to him. “Four, hold him till we give the all clear. Then Siren says protocol’s down to your discretion.”

“Got it.” Felicia took over the grapple, pushing him further to the ground. His cheek pressed up against the pavement, the craned position of his head and neck keeping him from seeing anything but a sliver of wall in front of him. He sighed, listening to the thud of two sets of heavy boots as they faded down the alley and into the sounds of the night.

“...Four, huh?”

“You’ve been a regular long enough. In your line of business, you suspected. Just like I suspected ‘Ty’ was a front.” Felicia’s voice was much more matter of fact than he was used to. “It’s a useful place, and you can play all sides, but there’s always priority one.”

“I get it. I could’ve put the place in danger.”

“It’s home for a lot more than you.”

“I know. I was telling the truth, but if I can’t come back—“

“That’s up to me.” Felicia glanced down at her thumbnail as the tiny chip flashed again. All clear. She lightly moved off of him, releasing his arm from the position she’d held it in twisted behind his back, and Trinity could see a compact blaster in her palm. She flicked her wrist, and it disappeared. “I say you can, if you can take it for what it is.”

“Just a bar. People gossip and flirt and trade information. It’s a good place to land at the end of a day.” He shrugged, rubbing his shoulder. “You could have dislocated that, you know?” 

“Fair enough.” She ignored his last comment, and tapped her nail twice to acknowledge. “Maybe I’ll see you again then, Ty.” The name was a promise in its own way— he could keep his cover if she could keep hers. “Stay out of trouble.” 

With that, she turned and began walking purposefully back towards Absolute Zero, leaving Trinity alone in the alley to nurse his bruised shoulder and pride.

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 22 - Finale

This is the second part of a double update. Well, we've done it, we've arrived at the finale. I have some notes at the end.

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

It is terribly late. The last of the troop maneuvers in the latest campaign to the west have been settled and the war room is emptying. Several of Demacia’s allies have been all but abandoned, there is no better time to strike. Unfortunately, I had to sacrifice theatre night to achieve it. I sigh and put my hand into my inner coat pocket, feeling to make sure the small box is still there. Relief washes over me, the way this day is going I wouldn’t be stunned if I’d lost it.

I stalk out into the corridor. At least she should still be awake when I return. “Finally finished?”

I look up, startled to find Kat lounging across a bench. One of those dreadful Piltovan novels she adores in her hands, her uniform collar fetchingly undone. “Yes, but why are you still here?”

She tucks the book back into a small satchel and stands up to stretch. “Intelligence reports. I got your note and thought I’d actually stay and get them finished for once. So now we can walk home together.” Her face lights up with that small genuine smile that has become so dear to me.

I lean in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before anyone can see and offer her my arm. “It is very much appreciated.” Especially since, like everything else in our relationship, I have done nothing to deserve this gesture. It seems I have returned to old patterns of thought. I do not know why she came home, why she decided I could be forgiven, and I’m too fearful to ask. Although I had been determined to begin to make amends for my past behavior. Tonight was supposed to be the first step on that journey. Exiting the great wooden doors of the Bastion, we begin the trek home. I ignore the curious glances of the Trifarian guards on the stairs as we walk by arm in arm. The little display of tenderness is for them a small spectacle when it is between the two of us.

“Are you really determined to keep walking every day?” Her voice shakes me from contemplation.

“Of course. I’m not going to hide in fear that assassins could be lurking at every turn.” Is it bravery or bravado? I’m not sure, but either way, as Grand General I can’t be seen to be cowed. “Besides there’s one in my bed every night and that seems to work out fine for me.” I smirk at her.

She grumbles with exasperation. “If you really insist, but I’m putting my disagreement on the official record.”

We’ve gotten far enough away from the fortress to be lost in the general bustling of the city and she leans up to seal her disapproval with a soft kiss that leaves me clinging to her. “If I keep being disagreeable what will it provoke you to?”

A small laugh escapes her despite the glare she tries to give me and she leans her head against my shoulder as we continue on. The gesture has a wonderful familiarity to it, the best of us distilled into a moment. I’m struck again by the feeling that I have not earned this, her soft affections are woefully misplaced, and the box in my pocket is too little too late. I hadn’t even been able to give it to her because the Empire needed to come first, and it always will. I should let her go, surely it would only lead her to more happiness.

Walking along she lets out an unprovoked sigh. “It just occurred to me that dinner is cold by now since you probably didn’t think to send word home.” She’s not wrong and I pointedly look away from her accusing eyes. It had entirely slipped my mind. “The things I do for love.”

It’s meant in jest, but it only further drags down my confidence. How come I can never do right, even when I’m trying? “Kat, are you sure this is what you want?” My eyes widen, the words tumbled out without much thought behind them.

She gazes back up at me. “Yes, I would enjoy dinner and maybe a hot bath.”

We’ve come to a dead stop. Why did I start this while we were so publicly exposed? “No, I meant us. Are you sure you want ‘us’?

“Why? Are you having doubts?” A small bit of hurt creeps into her tone. Wonderful.

“Of course not, love.” I give her hand a squeeze and we continue walking.

We don’t speak much the rest of the way home. It feels like I’ve erred again even bringing it up. This is what I was trying to tell her, I’m not fit to be a husband to her. I invariably bring things between us to ruin. I should never have asked her to stay that night. It was weakness, not for loving her, but for putting that over her best interest.

Moira greets us as we enter, her attitude toward Kat has taken a dramatic turn lately. “Good Evening. I’ll see what Cress can do about dinner straight away.”

“Well, that’s not surprising.” She crosses her arms and stares me down.

Normally I’d indulge her playful needling, but right now I brush it aside. It is time to face what must be done. “That’s fine, we’ll be in the study.” Kat gives me a confused look but I guide her along, shutting the door behind us as soon as the lamps are lit. “We need to talk about something.”

She inhales deeply and before I can utter a sound words pour forth from her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about resigning the additional post in Intelligence. I hate overseeing the War Masons and I’ve been overwhelmed helping with the efforts to track down the conspirators. Mostly though I need to focus on the Guild and salvaging it after Inara nearly destroyed it.”

She finally pauses for a breath as I stand there trying to absorb it all. It was entirely unexpected. “That’s fine. I was not aware you had resigned.” Her eyes widen. “But I will not stand against it if that is what you feel is best.” I hurry to add.

Her relief is visible. “I thought you’d be upset. You seemed so proud of what I was doing.” More of my failings on display.

I reach up and cup her cheek. She is truly the best thing to ever happen to me. “Kat you are infinitely fearless, intelligent, determined, and capable. I cannot help but be proud of you. And I don’t want you doing something that makes you miserable.” I sink into the chair behind me and, wrapping my hands around her hips, draw her down to me.

Arms around her waist, I lay my head on her chest. Silence overtakes us as I listen to the steady beating of her heart. If this is to be the end I want one more soft, beautiful memory to carry with me for the rest of my life. I try to fix in my mind the way she feels in my arms, the scent of her hair, how perfectly she fits in my lap. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Her voice is soft as she gently runs her fingers through my hair.

No more running from it. “Kat...I think we should separate.” I keep my head against her and my eyes locked on the floor. Gods, I truly am a coward.

“You just said you wanted this!” She snaps, unwrapping herself from me. “Look at me.” I finally dare to raise my head and find her furious. “So now you don’t want it?” She crosses her arms and scowls at me.

“I do but Kat-” I cast about unsure how to say it, “have you considered that I can never put you first?” She needs to see this is for the best.

Her expression softens. “I know, ‘Empire above all’. I can handle that.”

“And I’m miserable at this. I know I will only continue my history of poor behavior. I am a terrible husband and you will be happier without me.” There, it has been said.

“No.” She uncrosses her arms.

“But…” She puts them back around me, holding me tightly. I’m caught off guard and my resolve begins to crack.

“You are no longer allowed to make all my decisions. I love you and I will not be moved from your side.” She leans down lips pressing to mine, as passionate as ever. “Understood?”

“I just want you to be happy.” I close my eyes for a moment, lost in the feeling of her.

“I am happy, right here, with you.” She speaks with that characteristic fierceness of hers that I can’t help but be enthralled by.

I yield, there is no dissuading her, and I should have known that. “You are the most obstinate creature in all of the world.”

She giggles and kisses my temple. “One of the many reasons you love me.”

“Obviously.” If we’re going to do this, it may as well be proper. “There’s something I want to give you. Close your eyes.” I fumble about for the box in my pocket. I’d had it made while I was on campaign against the rebels to help make up for the sham of a wedding I put her through. It’d come to Moira then and she’d held it until Kat returned. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop regretting not giving it to her when I came home. My hand trembles ever so slightly as I open it, nervousness is not something I’m used to it. “You’ll have to forgive me not getting down on one knee.”

She opens her eyes and lets out a small gasp. A black diamond sits in a swirling nest of gold, two deep red rubies complimenting it on either side. “Jericho.” Her face lights up with pure bliss.

“Katarina, I love you. Would you do me the honor of marrying me again? I want to do things properly this time.” I can’t breathe, even though I’m sure of her answer.

“Fuck you, I hate crying.” Her voice cracks and I see her eyes misted over with tears. “Yes, yes, absolutely.” I fetch it out of the box and slip it on her proffered right finger, recalling her word from that day so many months ago. So we match. Those simple words that betokened the love that was always there, invisible to me in my stubbornness. “I’ll need my wedding ring back.”

“Of course my love.” I pull her tighter against me, my heart feeling as though it will burst. I’d been waiting for those words, that promise she was home for good. “I do not believe I have ever known happiness so great as at this moment.”

“Get used to it. I’m going to make you happy forever, husband.” She says the last word with her characteristic little purr.

“As you command, my wife.” I kiss the top of her head. Perhaps I have not earned the love she so wondrously gives to me but I can repay it in kind. “I love you, Kitten.”

Hello, Lovelies.

I hope you enjoyed the ending! Thank you again for bearing with my slow updates and for reading my little passion project.

I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who left me a comment or a like. I've appreciated them so much, they kept me writing even when I had rough times.

I’m a bit more active on Twitter you can find me  @tragedybunny. I don't know what I'll take on next - but I hope you will still love it.

[tazzytypes]

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 1

EDIT (6/10/2020): I know this is unprofessional as hell, but I added more because the ending didn’t sit right with me. Was too excited too hurry up and post and forgot there was a reason I plotted things out in a certain way. Hope you all can forgive me.

Finally! Chapter 1! I hope you guys enjoy it. I loved reading your comments and every kudos made me more excited to keep writing. Also, I apologize for the weird spacing throughout the post. I had to copy it from scrivener to AO3 to here and it just made things messy, but it’s 1AM rn and I’m tired.

Read on AO3 or Fanfiction.net! 

click here for: Prologue |

Emily shifted in her seat, head rebelling after spending a week in the dim light of candles which cast everything in an orange hue and made the shadows dance on the walls. Even her large circular glasses did nothing to ease her sight… it was a wonder she wasn’t already legally blind. Either way, she had the mother of all headaches. 

 The constant fires always left E uncomfortably hot and the layers upon layers they were forced to dress didn’t help. First thing the wardens did when they arrived was strip her down and burn every shred of fabric… her favorite shirt nothing but ash. Clothing standards were non-negotiable. Evening wear on the left side of the armoire. Don’t mistake it for your daily clothes or you won’t receive dinner. Cocktails before-hand at 6:30 sharp. Lucky for Emily, she was always early for everything and had yet to find out what the punishment was for that particular faux-pas. She wished nothing but to grab the t-shirt and shorts she had arrived in just to find some relief.

  “Be careful what you wish for,”  Her mother had always told her. 

 At first, she had been relieved when the others arrived. Now she had to wonder if she would have been better off on her own… the supplies she had counted in storage would certainly have lasted longer. Small little cubes with all the nutrients they needed. They probably would have been better with non-perishables, but she doubted the wardens would risk a venture outside to hunt for some… not like they would be able to eat it, anyway.

 Another stabbing pain pulsed at her temples, hands going to smooth it out as she listened to the chattering around her that sounded more like white noise than coherent sentences. Waiting out the apocalypse in solidarity would have driven her insane, humans being the social creatures they were. However, she doubted any of them would survive the end of the world with their sanity intact. 

 Not that one could guess it was the end of the world by the conversations of her fellow residents, most of them rich and most of the snobby. Gallant and Coco were thick as thieves… their personalities almost comically matching that of Regina George from Mean Girls. Evie, Gallant’s washed-up film star of a grandmother was almost repulsively republican — so homophobic and racist that most of the residents hoped she’d have a heart attack and die. The Stevens, a mother and son pair along with the son’s boyfriend, were tolerable. Andre liked to throw shade, but he was balanced by his witty counterpart, Stu. 

 She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she thought of their earlier conversation.

   “It’s like Satan’s Spotify playlist,” Stu had joked in response to Gallants endless complaining, making Andre nearly choke on the water he had been drinking. 

  “For the amount of times I’ve been told I’m in league with the devil, I’d have expected him to have better taste.” Emily had joked in return. 

Stu laughed and Andre only sighed, “don’t even get me started on the clothes.”

  “Well at least you don’t have to wear a corset,” Coco had snipped, hand going up to pat at her hair in an attempt to keep it in place.

  Emily tugged at her own, something poking her in her stomach, “These are not historically accurate.”

  “Let me guess,” Stu said, gesturing to her glasses, “history major?”

  “Insomniac.”

  The pounding returned to her head and she leaned on the table, pressing at her temples with the hope of some relief. Maybe she could ask a Grey to get her some ice… she doubted Venable had a stash of ibuprofen in the reserves. 

 It had been 14 days since they had gotten here. 3 of which she had spent on her own, wandering the halls with a candelabra like a damsel from a Victorian novel. She tugged at the high collar of her shirt. Whoever designed this hole in the ground was determined to have them living in a corset-laced wet dream. 

 “Are you okay?” The girl beside her asked, a gentle hand placed on Emily’s arm. She had just arrived at the outpost, 2 weeks after the bombs dropped, with a boy around the same age. They had barely been able to introduce themselves before Venable cut in, ringing a bell obnoxiously to usher them to dinner. 

 The few words the pair had said still haunted her. 

   “It’s all gone,” The brown-haired boy had told them at Gallant’s insistence, lips pressed into a thin line as he tried not the let the emotions that came with those words to overwhelm him.

  “Everything,” The girl echoed, voice hollow.

  Gallant fell back as if he had been shot, panic threatening to overtake his lungs after it was done squeezing the life out of his heart.

  “What…” Emily had stuttered out, trying to calm herself, “What did it look like?”

  Andre’s voice had cracked and spat out like venom, “who cares about what it looks like?”

  Stu had placed a hand on his lover's shoulder. His brows were furrowed and there was a slight shake that came over his body. Andre curled into him, Stu wrapping his arms around him as if he could somehow shield the man from the world. 

  Her anxiety spread through her like a wildfire, the attempted facade of strength cracking, “It matters because it could tell us how fucked we are!” 

  “We’re well past fucked!” Coco had snapped.

  The girl with ebony hair focused on Emily, eyes welling with emotion she all too well understood. 

  “No sun…” She said, forcing the words from her mouth, “just green… smog.”

  “Does that mean anything to you?” Stu had asked her, eyes betraying his own fears.

  “Hiroshima happened in the… 50s? Chernobyl happened in the 80s,” Emily began to say, too in her thoughts to notice the side-eyed stares of her companions, “and that was still radioactive before it was radioactive… again.”

  The comment seemed to stir something in the new girl’s head, “I heard about that… people were able to take trips last year… once in a lifetime opportunity.”

  Coco scoffed, “so is dying.”

  “Wait, so like… this can go away?” Gallant asked.

  The girl looked to Emily, “People were living on Hiroshima before all this.”

  “Possibly,” Emily mused, “Then again, we’d have to multiply that incident by… well, a lot.”

  “We’d have to find out where and how many bombs were dropped.” The girl added, “as well as the area affected by it.”

  Coco frowned, still more focused on her hair than the literal end of the world, “could you stop talking like that? You’re seriously freaking me out.”

  “We’re all freaking out,” Dinah snipped.

  “Just tired,” Emily reassured the girl, leaning back in her chair. She realized she had yet to ask the girl her name, but the Grey’s entered with their meal before she could — one Grey for each purple at the table. The large black plates were almost amusingly large in comparison to the singular small cube that sat at its center. 

 A full table-set was spread out before them, silver soup spoons, teaspoons, knives, and a salad fork mocking them every day. They stood out against the dark wood and reminded them that they were doomed to a life of tasteless jello for the rest of their lives. Emily finally understood how her pets felt, fed the same food day in and day out… at least she had bothered to change up the flavor. Her body rebelled against her after the third day, gagging whenever she brought the cube anywhere near her mouth. A few days of starvation quickly rectified the situation and greatly amused her jailer who was all too happy to put the food back from whence it came.

 Venable chose the seating arrangements, naturally. Emily was sat beside the two new arrivals, positioned as far from the woman as possible. It was an arrangement neither of them minded. Emily didn’t hold her tongue in moments such as these and she didn’t like placing her wellbeing in the hands of another. Venable expected complete and total control over her residents, enforcing strict standards of order that were almost as tight as her hair, tightly pulled together in a double french twist at the back of her head. Emily was the stray hair that wouldn’t lay flat no matter what she did. 

 The new arrivals stared at their plates as the Greys placed the cubes before them, sending each other confused glances and waiting to see what the rest of them did. It hardly looked appetizing, brown and having a texture reminiscent of a health-nut’s chia-seed protein bar.

Emily poked at her own food for good measure, feeling her throat clench at the mere thought of eating again. It didn’t listen no matter how many times she tried to reason with it. You’d think the body would behave and finally realize that this was as good as things would get.

 Gallant turned towards the girl to his left, “Don’t be too disappointed.”

 “Darling,” Evie sighed from the other side of the table, spreading a napkin across her lap, “You don’t know what disappointment is until you’ve slept with Yul Brynner.”

 The mere thought of the old woman having sex was enough to make Emily’s lips curl in disgust… maybe she didn’t need to eat after all. For once Dinah was amused by the old crone, chuckling as she cut apart her cube like it was a five-course meal instead of the science project of Elon Musk. 

 “I want to die,” She could hear Gallant mutter a few seats over, head in his hands as he contemplated his decision to bring his nana along on whatever this adventure was. 

 Dinah was quick to explain the cubes to the new pair, “The cube on your plate contains every vitamin our body needs…”

 Across from Emily, Coco ungracefully shoved the entire cube into her mouth with one fell swoop, cheeks puffing out. Dinah continued to speak, pretending to have not seen Coco, words coming out rushed, “…or so they tell us.”

 “Whether or not it aids in our caloric intake is up in the air,” Emily added, following the woman’s lead and gently cutting into the cube. 

 “The fewer calories the better!” Evie proclaimed from down the table, waving her fork in the air to accentuate her statement.

 “Until you become a skeleton.”

 Emily had learned from Dinah’s example to take small bites, savor it. She hoped it would fool her body into thinking it was eating more. Either way, her stomach still growled and she was grateful to her handler for taking her to Chick-Fil-A on their way to the Outpost. The mere thought of that last meal made her mouth water.

 Coco’s silverware clattered onto her plate as she closed her eyes and whined, “I’m still hungry… I am so tired of the hunger.”

 A fist to the table made Emily jump, dropping her own silverware in turn. The girl next to her looked to the other residents as Coco stood up abruptly, letting her chair screech against the floor as it was thrown back. She looked to Emily and all she could do was offer a half-hearted shrug that said,  “same shit as usual.”

 … God, she missed John Mulaney. 

 “Fuck! This! Bullshit!” Coco continued, “With all the thought that went into this they don’t have a  single  bag of  Pirate’s Booty  in the pantry?”

 Evie sat back as if watching a soap opera while the rest of the residents braced themselves for another tantrum. Coco raved on, unaware of the sudden looming figures coming up behind her, “For a hundred  million   dollars a ticket, I expect goddamn Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen cooking us   real  food!”

 Then she stopped, a tap of a cane on the floor signaling the arrival of Venable, Miss Mead on her heels like an obedient dog. They braced themselves for another, self riotous lecture on appreciating what they had as if none of them mourned for what was. Slowly, head bowed and aware of her impending doom, Coco turned. 

 The slap rang in everyone’s ears, causing a collective gasp to fill the room. The brown-haired boy beside Coco caught her as she fell back, her hand going instantly to her cheek. As she stood once more she took it away and examined it. Emily could see the barest hint of blood on the blonde’s fingers. A growl threatened to rise in her throat and her lips curled in a disgusted snarl.

 It was hard to keep calm as she addressed the woman donned in black, “we’re all adults here. We can use our words… I hope. At least  some  of us have mastered that much.”

 Venable turned to her. The black-haired girl beside her shifted uncomfortably. One could cut the tension between the two women with a knife. 

 Finally, Venable pulled her eyes away and turned her focus to the spoiled girl before her, her hand resting back on the cane she always carried, “Let me be very clear so there will be no misunderstanding. We have enough nutrition to last for the next   18 months  and if our situation doesn’t improve, you can count on less and less.”

 Slowly, Coco sat. Shaking hands pulled away from her cheek as she reached for the chair. She was so scared that her movements were stiff. Yes, she had been yelled at before. God knows she was a stubborn woman with a temper, but no one had ever slapped her before.

 Venable retreated into the only exit of the room, slithering back into the shadows. Venable’s tone bordered on the overly-theatric, playing the part of a woman burdened by knowledge she dare not speak lest it disrupts the peace. 

 “You could have told us that from the very beginning.” Emily blurted out.

 The woman didn’t even bother to look at her as her lips curled into a mocking smile. When she finally turned to Emily, her tone was thick with condescension, “and cause  unnecessary  panic?”

 “You know what they say about communication and relationships.” 

 “ Situation ?” Gallant asked, waving a hand to get their attention, “What is our   situation ?”

 Miss Mead looked to her boss whose face glimmered with uncertainty and surprise, but only for a moment. Venable was debating whether or not to tell the truth or keep them in the constant state of unknowing, easy to control. If she were still in college, Emily could have written an essay on the ways Venable reminded her of the worst sort of people in their history books. 

 “We had a perimeter alert this morning,” She finally told them, less than pleased with the fact the words were leaving her mouth at all, “Something penetrated the grounds. It was a carrier pigeon delivering a message from our benefactors.”

 Coco gasped, “Wait! A pigeon! Can we eat it?”

 Emily sighed and leaned on the table, resisting the urge to hand her head in her hands. This place was going to be migraine city the moment she tapered off her medication.

 Miss Mead’s tone echoed her feelings, brows scrunching at the pure idiocy of the question.

 “It was  contaminated   by the   fallout .”

 Her response didn’t phase Evie, who made it abundantly clear she had never made a meal for herself in her entire life, “Can we  boil  it?”

 Venable reached into her pockets and pulled out a small sliver of paper and began to read, “There are no more governments. Only rotting mounds of corpses, too many to bury.”

 Emily’s hands fell to her lap and curled into fists until she could feel her fingernails embed themselves into the flesh of her palms. All she could hear were the voice-mails, each and every last plead for life. She could still hear her brother’s voice, cracking in a way she hadn’t heard since their grandmother’s funeral. It was etched into her brain to the last breath. To his last breath, he took his role as an older sibling seriously, trying to soothe her fears instead of his own.

   “I don’t want to die. God, I don’t want to—”

  Venable continued reading, “Starving people kill for a piece of bread.”

   “I love you… I… You were… are a good sister.”

  “Three outposts have been overrun.” Venable’s voice droned on, voice cracking ever slightly as she reached the end of the letter, “We are the last vestiges of civilized life on the planet.”

   “I… I know you would have made a difference… I wish I could have seen the life you would have created.”

  Venable looked to them all as she read the last line, “be vigilant.”

 Emily was pulled from her thoughts by a squeeze to her hand, instinctively pulling it back until she realized a hand covering her own. When Emily met the ebony-haired girl’s gaze she offered a reassuring smile, Emily nodded in a small message of thanks before brushing away the single tear which had begun to roll down her cheeks. 

 “Everything we know is gone,” Mead summarized, eyes blank. It was nice to see that even the Warden and Venable felt fear. Made them feel… human.

 “In  two     weeks ?”, Andre shook his head, staring blankly at his hands, “That’s all it took?”

 In a rare show of empathy, Gallant reached out and squeezed the man’s hands. Emily noted the way Stu watched the interaction, eyes watching the hands as if it were a snake slithering in his direction.

 “They made you think the system was a rock,” Mead explained, standing at attention with her hands locked together in front of her, “It was a water balloon. One prick of the needle and —”

 She made a popping noise, “that’s all it took.”

 It wasn’t as if Emily was surprised. One of the first things she learned in a college psychology class was that the only reason the world didn’t fall into chaos was due to people putting faith in a system that would protect them… conventional. The bombs had scattered them, left them weak to the chaos that ensued. It reminded her of the way roaches scattered when sprayed with Raid. Lawlessness was the antithesis of reason, mob mentality was evidence enough of that. It was textbook horror.

 “We will only survive if we follow the rules,” Venable emphasized.

 Emily scoffed. Some of Venable’s rules she understood while others were a blatant overreaching of power. She could understand the “no sex” rule to a degree. Copulation could result in the creation of new life which they had no means to sustain, but even the Victorians had condoms and you couldn’t walk into a 7-Eleven without finding a rack of Plan B. Not to mention half the residents were gay which made her rules pointless. 

 “Rules are the basis of order,” Venable said, clearly addressing her despite staring at the wall above them, “unless you find yourself to be above the rules? Too   special  for them to apply?”

 She hadn’t a moment to voice her thoughts, quickly distracted by the army of wardens that quickly began to fill the room. They all watched with bated breath as The Fist bent down to whisper in Mead’s ear, her lip twitching and eyes flitting to the ground as she gave the other woman her full attention.

 “There’s a problem.”

 Those 3 words were enough to break Venable’s gloating, head snapping to the side like Coco’s had a moment ago. They all watched the pair, unsure of who to keep a better watch on — Venable or Mead.

 “We’ve detected a spike in the background radiation, centered in this room,” Mead informed her boss.

 Gallant was quick to point fingers to the new pair, whatever empathy he had shown with Andre gone like the wind as he moved from them as if they had the plague, “It’s them! They just came from the outside!”

 “No!” The girl exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously and sitting forward in her chair, knuckles white around the wooden arms, “No! We were checked when we got here! We’re clean!”

 She looked to Emily for aid, brown eyes wide and pupils dilated. Her eyes glimmered with confusion and panic, searching for an unspoken question. Emily’s brows knitted and she bit her lip, eyes flickering between the girl before her and the wardens preparing a device that looked like a microphone attached to a larger box.

 “No,” the boy echoed, “we went through decontamination.”

 His eyes also went to Emily as he continued to speak, begging for her to understand, “we were cleared.”

 Emily opened her mouth but could find nothing to reassure them. Mead addressed the room before Emily could utter a word. “Place your hands on the table… and don’t.  Move .”

 Shaking her head at the girl, Emily did as she was told. This hadn’t happened before. She didn’t know what to expect. As the device clicked from her left, she edged her pinky towards her knife. It wasn’t sharp. It didn’t have to be sharp to cut through jello. With enough pressure, it could cut through skin. The rest of the room faded away as she kept her eyes on The Fists' hands, a second device in her hands as well. Emily’s heart hammered with each step closer.

 “Radioactive contamination,” Mead spoke, devices crinkling like static as they hovered over each person, “is a grave risk to our  entire  community.”

 The Fist, a giant of a woman with blonde hair pulled back from her face, towered above Emily when she was standing. Sitting down made her feel like a child in the presence of a giant. She held her breath as she felt the device get closer, clicking sounds falling silent as soon as it came above her hand. The Fist repeated the motion a few times more, making Emily’s heart go haywire in her chest, before moving on to the new arrival next to her, the clicking resuming once more.

 “The clean rule is there to protect all of us,” Mead continued, now going over the boy who sat stiff as a board, eyes following the woman’s every move, “A  single stray gamma particle can cause skin lesions. Your DNA breaks apart, your body disintegrates. You’ll   wish  you died in the blast.”

 The residents weren’t sure what to make of her speech. It wasn’t as if any of them graduated with a degree in radiology. They had learned it in high-school, sure, but that was ages ago… before there was colored TV for some of them. 

 “But someone here decided,” Mead went on, circling the table for a second round of testing, “that their  individual needs  were more important.”

 Emily tensed once more as the stick was waved around her, Mead pausing momentarily to look down at the box she held in her hand to see if it had somehow turned off. Finding nothing, she continued. “Someone went outside. Touched something  dirty .”

 The room was holding their breaths. They all knew they were innocent, but didn’t trust their companions as far as they could throw them. Their gaze followed the device, then to the person next to them, then to the person in front of them. They searched for a sign of guilt. It was easier to point fingers when someone looked shifty. 

 “Makes me sick to think that this person,” Mead spit as she made it to gallant, “to risk contaminating all—”

 A wild crackling filled the room. They all jumped in their seats, eyes focusing on the hairdresser. Emily’s heart leapt into her throat, paralyzed as the vultures began circling, donned in leather and stronger than any of them could hope to be.

 “No,” The man said after a moment, shaking his finger as he looked to the Wardens, “nononono. That’s a mistake because the  only  thing I’ve touched is Coco’s hair.”

 The Fist stood over Coco and shook her head. Mead gave the final order, voice lacking any pity, “she’s clean. You’re dirty.

 The wardens grabbed at Gallant, claws latching onto him as he began to struggle.

 “No!” He cried, “this is impossible! That machine is wrong!”

 Fingers dug into his shoulder and Gallant cried out in pain, dragged to his feet and across the floor. The warden closest to him placed him in a choke-hold, Gallant letting out a fearful sob as he clawed at the man’s arm. Evie stood, chair screeching across the floor as she reached out towards her grandson with trembling hands.

 “This is outrageous! Stop! Please, stop! Bring him back!”

 Coco gasped and let out a cry, hands moving to cover her face as her eyes welled with tears. The girl beside Emily looked between herself and the boy in front of her, chest rising and falling rapidly as she began to hyperventilate.

 Gallant scream pierced the air, “Evie!”

 The crackling filled the room once more. In their panic, they had failed to realize Mead making her way towards Andre and Stu. The couple could only stare at each other, the seconds dragging on like hours.

 “No way!” Stu chanted, refusing to look away from Andre, “No! No way!”

 “No,” Andre sobbed, reaching out towards the man and trying to pry him from the grasp of the warden pulling him away. He was thrown away with a shove.

 “Get your hands off me!” Stu screamed, another warden now going to carry him by his feet.

 Mead’s voice rang out from the chaos, followed swiftly by the marching of footsteps.

 “Take them to the decontamination room!”

 They could hear the groans of their fellow residents echoing down the hall. The sounds resonated long after the steel doors had closed.

Emily reached out for the hand of the girl next to her. Her face was frozen in a gasp, eyes wide with terror. Her hand rested on hers which still sat on the table. She squeezed back and held on for dear life.

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

  For once the saloon was quiet. Evie had gone to bed. Emily currently sat next to a crying Andre, Dinah opposite her. He hadn’t been able to stop crying since dinner, now unable to do more than hiccup.

 “How could he have been contaminated,” He sobbed, a horrible epiphany crossing his mind as he turned to Emily, “do you think they—?

 Emily gave him a look, “Did you forget Gallant’s little hand-squeeze during dinner? He was coming on to you, not Stu.”

 Andre had a fleeting smile before anxiety overtook him once more.

 “What we need to do now,” Dinah said, running a hand up and down her son’s back, “is make sure Stu comes back safe.”

 Her words were less than comforting, Andre shoving away her arm and staring at her with an emotion Emily couldn’t quite place… somewhere between distress and anger.

 “Why wouldn’t he be safe?” he demanded, looking to the brunette when his mother offered no response. Emily opened her mouth, hoping something would pop into her head, but she was at a loss for words. She couldn’t reassure him of anything. It would be a lie.

 The man scoffed, stepping back and shaking his head, “I can’t believe you.”

 He turned on his heels, breath hitching once more as another fit of sobs threatened to take over him. Why Stu? Why not them? Of all the residents Stu was the least deserving of—

 Emily rose, hand held out to stop him, “Andre—”

 A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder. Dinah took a step around her, hand trailing down her purple-clothed arm until she held her hand, the other coming to rest on top of it.

 “Let me talk to him,” the woman tried to reassure, the events clearly have shaken her as much as Stu. 

 Emily pressed her lips together and nodded, pulling back and watching the woman hurry towards her son, heels clicking down the hall. The door clanged shut behind her and silence filled the room.

 … but only for a moment.

 “What’s going to happen to me if they find out Gallant is —” Coco started to ramble, “I mean I  was  the only reason he was here in the first place.”

 “You were clean,” The brown-haired boy pointed out, face twisting in confusion.

 “Well, I know that!” Coco exclaimed, turning on the couch to face him, “but who’s to say there won’t be a  second investigation. I mean there had to be a   reason   they were tainted.”

 She went quiet for a moment, hands held out in front of her as if she was having a revelation, “oh my gosh! If they kill Gallant who’s going to do my hair?”

 Emily sighed and sat next to the new girl who was wringing her hands and staring into the fire. 

 “I never did ask your names,” Emily noted, looking to the girl and the boy.

 “Timothy,” He said with a nod of his head.

 The girl was pulled from her thoughts, turning from the fire and to the people behind her, “Emily.”

 Emily chuckled, “You’re joking.”

 “What?”

 “It’s the end of the world and I can’ escape the fate of having a basic girl name.”

 A smile curled at the other Emily’s lips, then a laugh, “really?”

 Emily extended a hand, “Hi, Emily. I’m Emily.”

 “There’s two of you now?” Coco groaned.

 “I was named after my grandmother,” The other Emily said, taking her hand and giving it a shake, “you?”

 “My parents looked in a baby book and picked a ‘less common’ girl name. 21 years later and there’s at least three Emily’s in each one of my classes.” 

 “God, this is going to be confusing,” Coco sighed, pressing her fingers to her nose in a praying motion, “Oh! I know! Emily 1 and Emily 2… no... That’s too wordy.”

 “Middle names?” Timothy asked.

 “No way in hell,” The two replied.

 “I can always go by ‘Em’,” she said, “god knows I’m used to it by now.”

 “M?” Coco asked, “that’s original.”

 “Well, we can’t all be named after a brand of cereal.”

 “I was named after Coco Chanel!” she snapped, turning to Timothy with crocodile tears, “You get it, right?”

 “…yeah?” he answered, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion, “The clothing brand.”

 He looked to the two Emily’s as he spoke like he was part of some hidden camera show. The two could only laugh and shake their heads as he was quickly rounded into another one of Coco’s monologues.

 “My parents named me Coco because they knew I was destined to make it big. So it was only natural that I…”

 Timothy looked ready to face nuclear winter. His guilt over the previous dinner altercations made him feel guilty for wanting to run away, but the boy always had a hard time saying, “no.” The Emily’s watched on, sparing him pity-filled glances when he looked to them for help.

 “So did you pay your way in here or are you here for your  superior  genetics?” Emily asked. 

 “Genetics,” Emily… Em replied, “I was supposed to be on the east coast but someone paid for me to be transported all the way out here.”

 “Who?”

 She shrugged, “no idea. Some rich snob wanted their dog to go with them… at least that’s what Venable tells me.”

 “I’d hardly call her a  trustful  resource.”

 Em laughed, “That we can agree on.”

 “How long do you think we’ll be here?”

 “More than we have rations for,” Em sighed, reaching for a glass of water, “Fallout could last up to five years and we’ve talked about Chernobyl… but nothing on this scale has ever been recorded.”

 Emily stared blankly ahead and nodded, trying to recall all she had learned about the matter in school, “we could be here for 30 years… maybe more.”

 “Sorry,” Em offered, “anyone here can tell you — I’m not one to speak to for optimism or reassurance.”

 “No,” The other girl shook her head, “I’d rather blatant honestly than pretty lies.”

 “If we had anything more than water I’d toast to that.”

 Emily laughed and shook her head. She reached for a glass of her own and held it up.

 “Let’s toast anyway.”

 Em smiled and leaned her glass forward, a dull clinking sound filling the air. 

 “What were you doing?” Em asked, leaning back and taking a sip of water, “before the bombs hit?”

 “Protesting. It sounds minuscule now… climate change, minimum wage.”

 “Everything is minuscule in the presence of death.”

 “Poetic.”

 “I sure hope so,” Em jested, “or all the money I wasted on an English Major was worthless.”

 Emily laughed, “Is that what you were doing before the bomb’s dropped?”

 “Nah… I was at home… enjoying summer. I was working on our campus’ literary magazine and selling art prints online as a side-hustle.”

 Em shook her head, silence sitting for a moment before Emily spoke.

 “I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

 “I don’t think any of us do, but at least we’re not alone.”

 “I wouldn’t call this particularly good company,” Emily admitted.

 “It’s not,” Em blatantly admitted, earning a short laugh from her companion, “but you and timothy seem alright.”

 “And you?”

 “Well…” Em said, side eying Coco who was still avidly speaking without a sign of ever stopping, “I’m no influencer.”

 Emily snorted and shook her head, “that may be for the best.”

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

“All I’m saying is Stu was boring and using up our food, and that lesions won’t work with my complexion.”

Em rolled her eyes and looked to Emily who once again sat beside her as Coco’s tirade went on. The blond-haired woman once again was patting at her hair like she was on the red carpet. They looked to Timothy across from them who just sat looking blankly ahead of him. Em smiled at shook her head, not able to blame the man for pretending he was anywhere else but here. If not for the mandatory cocktail hour and communal meals, Em would have stayed as far away from the others as possible.

Days had passed since Gallant and Stu had been forced into decontamination. Gallant refused to speak of the incident and… well… they knew where it got Stu. One would have liked to have said that Coco had shown some respect for the deceased, but the farthest she got was initial shock followed by contempt towards their fallen comrade.

“Fuck you,” Andre spat, murder in his eyes, “I hope they come for you next.”

“If they don’t,” Em noted, Coco’s eyes glaring into her own, “I will.”

She gaped at her, nose curling as her expression turned into one of disgust, “Is that a threat?”

“A promise.”

Emily gave her a look like a mother trying to get their child to behave among strangers.

It’s not worth it!” She hissed under her breath. Em was far too annoyed to pay her any mind. She could forgive selfishness and vanity, but her complete lack of sympathy for those in pain? It didn’t matter if it was genuine. All she had to do was shut up, give Andre space to grieve. 

Lucky for Coco, their jail-keepers arrived at the table before Em could follow out her threat. Venable’s cane sounded like the tik of a clock with each step she took, reminding the brunette of a horror story her friends and herself would tell around Halloween. 

“Nobody is coming for anyone,” Mead told them as they both rounded the table to their respective seats at the head of the table, “unless you break the rules.”

She looked to Em, “which includes murder.”

Em paused as she took a sip of water, raising a brow at Coco, “I never said anything about murder.”

The older woman looked into her lap and shook her head, trying to hide the amused smile threatening to show on her face. Coco scoffed.

“This is harassment!”

“This is a difficult time for everyone,” Venable spoke, failing to address Coco’s claims, “as a small consolation, we have a special treat.”

Em could smell the food before she could see it, the salt and the meat, she could taste it in her mouth without even touching it. She felt like a dog, smelling things with such detail she had never been able to notice before. It was incredible what desperation could do to the body. The whole table buzzed with excitement, grins brightening faces and hands going to silverware before the food could be set on the table.

Emily was unable to hide her shock, “no cubes tonight?”

Venable’s lips curled into a smile, the expression doing nothing to ease the woman’s continuously angry expression, “enjoy the bonne bouche.”

Bowls clinked together, the Greys hurrying to place food on the table. 

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Yes,” Emily sighed beside her, looking over to Em with an expression of relieved joy. 

The brunette didn’t care. If she was being honest, she hadn’t exactly paid much attention to the woman’s words after she saw the soup on the food trolley. It was much like a cat seeing a bird at the window, green eyes widening and pupils dilating as if Em had found her true love. While her companions were much more graceful, at least attempting some decorum, Em quickly dug into the meal.

Her mother used to chide her for this as a child, sitting next to her brother at the dinner table and seeing who could finish first. She couldn't explain to the woman that she had to eat fast or else her brother would steal her dessert. Such things didn’t make sense to an adult, but a child’s reasoning was elaborate and honest. For a life so short, every little detail mattered.

Usually, she wasn’t a fan of stew. Something about the floating meat and murky broth didn’t sit right with her. Now she wondered why she didn’t enjoy the delicacy more often. The meat fell apart like well-buttered bread in her mouth, the broth warmed her from the inside out. She could feel it burning down her throat like a shot of Bourbon, somewhat painful but none the less satisfying. 

“You think bribing us with a hot meal’s just gonna’ to make everything okay?” Andre asked, voice sore with grief. A white handkerchief flourished with the wave of his hand. It had been somewhere on his person since Stu was pronounced dead. Em was too caught up in her hunger to realize the weight of his words or the sudden stillness of the girl beside her, an unspoken conversation between herself and Timothy. She would take the bribe happily if it meant being spared from the tasteless cube she had become accustomed to. It wouldn’t win her over, but only a fool refused something readily given with no strings attached.

By the time Emily swatted at Em’s arm the brunette had already finished most of the stew, the bottom of her bowl visible through the broth. She sent Emily an irritated glare, gesturing with her hands as she swallowed her last bite.

“What?” she hissed.

Emily only rose her brows and sent a pointed glance towards Timothy. Turning towards him she was meant with an equally suspicious gaze and a shake of the head. With a sigh, she sat back in her chair, looking between the two and waiting for an explanation. 

“I think my mouth just had an orgasm,” Coco moaned with a full mouth, quickly shoving more food into her mouth in fear it would turn out to be a cruel mirage. Em looked at her and embarrassment made her flush a pale pink. Is that what she had looked like?

“Andre,” Venable sighed, settling in her seat and arranging her silverware before she took a single bite, “We’re not trying to bribe anyone, but there is something we all need to understand.”

With a thud of her cane on the floor, the residents turned to her like raccoons being caught in a garbage can. Em prepared herself for a show of saintly-hood the uptight woman so adored.

“There is no ‘us’ and ‘them,’ We are in this together,” Venable proclaimed, “No individual is greater than the group. We did what we had to do. This is, quite simply, a tragedy.”

Em held her tongue for once. While Stu and herself hadn’t been close, she respected him more than she respected most of her fellow purples. The old world may have died, but the power games still presided — a strongman was still a strongman even when draped in fine clothes and laced in a corset. 

It wasn’t as if any of them were paying her any mind, too enthralled in the smell of salt and meat like Hansel and Gretal in the witch’s house. Dinah sighed as she took another bite.

“Where have you been hiding the meat?” 

Venable’s pause waved over Em like a bucket of cold water, the slight twitch of her lip as she looked down at her plate louder and more illuminating than any sermon she had given them. “We have resources… for special occasions.”

Em could only stare at her as she ate, trying to work at the puzzle which was Miss Venable. There were moments where she swore the woman showed regret or perhaps anxiety, but they were small and fleeting. Everyone had a tell, even the most stoic of society. Em just couldn’t figure it out and it drove her up a wall. It felt like she was staring at a brick wall, waiting for it to crumble.

Gallant pulled something out from his mouth, cringing as his teeth dig into something hard. It was white and square, but he couldn’t tell what it was? Gristle? Bone? 

“I’ve never tasted anything like it.” He murmured, examining the object further as he twisted it in the light.

“It’s chicken,” Mead told him a bit too insistently. 

“That’s not a chicken bone,” Timothy spoke, looking from his untouched bowl to the object the hairdresser was holding. His lips pressed into a thin line. Venable took a spoonful to her lips, then another, and then another.

Andre spoke from the other end of the table, voice wavering as he stared at yet another hard piece which had made his teeth hurt, “tell me this doesn’t look like a finger.”

Em looked to her plate, stomach twisting as she poked at the remains of her meal. A piece of white glimmered to the surface. Damning polite behavior, she reached in with her hand and pulled it out. Her mind went blank as she stared at it, rectangular with two prongs reaching outward from the body. It was a tooth. There was no doubt. Chicken didn’t have teeth. A frog gathered at the back of her throat, threatening to leap from her mouth.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Andre sputtered out, breath coming out in wheezing gasps as he flew back from the table shrieking, “The stew is Stu!”

The table erupted in panic. Gallant spit out whatever was in his mouth, leaving a dripping dark stain on the tablecloth. Andre wailed and Coco shrieked to a Grey named Mallory to make her throw up. Em could only stare at the near-empty bowl in front of her, the reality not quite sitting with her. Morbid questions filled her mind. It had tasted like… she didn’t know what it tasted like other than meat. Salty, maybe? Sweet? 

A firm hand squeezed her own, Emily once again there to pull her from a spiral. 

“You didn’t know.”

Amongst the screaming, the gagging, and the retching Venable sat, unmoved by the fires of fear rising around her. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t show any reaction at all.

“For heaven’s sake,” she spoke with the same amount of annoyance she always addressed them with, a touch of boredom in her tone “Don’t be ridiculous. There are lines which can never be crossed.”

Something was glinting in Venable’s eyes, something that Em had seen many times before but could never properly place. The woman looked to Mead, “not eating people is off the first rank.”

Em’s voice sounded hollow as it left her, “Yet it is always the first taboo to be broken among the desperate.”

The thought of cannibalism wasn’t what alarmed Em. Cannibalism was deeply ingrained in human history — from burial rituals to a final stand against starvation. No. What frightened her was realizing she would do it again in an instant if it meant her survival. A fire burned in her as she looked to Venable, sitting there with a smug glow of victory. She had hated Venable before, but this made her blood boil at the sight of her. A revelation she did not want had been forced upon her and Venable’s eyes glinted as they met her own. 

Her message was clear: Don’t rebel or you’ll be next.