#they have been letting women write books for AT LEAST 50 years

[st-just]

So the obvious answer is 'everyone involved in the conversation is 16' but there's this sense I get of, like, media representation discourse where people act like they only started making movies/books/games/etc that weren't a sea of straight white dudes (with occasional helpless ingenue sexy lamp/femme fatale and/or blatant racist caricatures) in, like, 2010, and any exceptions are heroic examples of outsider art or w/e.

Which is, like, kind of true for queer representation specifically. But, like, you can say that black people are underrepresented in major films without making it sound like the Lethal Weapon series or Blade or w/e were unappreciated works of the avant garde. Will Smith did pretty okay!

(Yes I'm perfectly aware how utterly useless complaining about people on the internet being histrionic and overbroad with their arguments is. But it's my blog and I'm allowed to seethe a bit).

#if anything it feels like the marvelfication of blockbusters has led to worse representation then #like #trashy buddy cop movies with terrible politics #relatedly #they have been letting women write books for AT LEAST 50 years #some of them are pretty good! #vagueposting #ranting

[joannechocolat]

On Power, and on Powering Through, and Why They’re Really Not the Same

I don’t pay much attention to personal attacks in reviews. It comes as the flipside of success; an attempt by the critic to puncture what they see as too much success. But I still remember one review, just after the film of Chocolat, when two of my novels happened to be in the Top 5 at the same time, in which a (male) newspaper critic referred to me dismissively as a premenopausal woman writer. I was a little taken aback. Clearly, it was meant to disparage, but I was only 35, ten years away from the perimenopause. What exactly did he mean? It wasn’t a comment about the book (which I doubt he had even read). The obvious misogyny aside, it seemed to express resentment, not of my books, but of me, myself, my right to take up space in his world. That word – premenopausal – was at the same time a comment on my age, my looks, my value, and a strong suggestion that someone like me shouldn’t be this successful, shouldn’t be writing bestsellers, shouldn’t be so – visible.

I don’t recall the name of the man, or the paper for which he was writing. He was far from being the only journalist who felt I didn’t deserve success. I shrugged off the unpleasant comment, but he’d meant it to hurt, and it did. I still wonder why he – and his editor - thought that was appropriate. I also wonder why, 20 years on, women are still dealing with this kind of thing. It’s still not enough for a woman to be successful in her chosen field. Whatever her achievements, you can be pretty sure that at some point, some man in his 50s or 60s – maybe an Oxbridge graduate, author of an unpublished novel or two - will offer his opinion on her desirability, either in the national Press, or most likely nowadays, by means of social media. The subtext is clear: women who don’t conform to societal values of what a woman should be are asking for this kind of treatment; especially those who dare to achieve more than their detractors.

10 years after that nasty review, I finally began the journey into perimenopause. No-one told me it was happening. No-one in the media was talking about it at the time. Even my doctor never thought to mention that my symptoms – the insomnia, headaches, mood swings, anxiety, depression, sleep paralysis, hair loss, brown patches on my skin – might have a single origin. I began to feel I was losing my mind: as if I were starting to disappear. I started to doubt my own senses. I blamed it all on the stress from my job. My mother had powered through menopause – or so she led me to believe – and made no secret of her contempt for modern women who complained, or treated the symptoms as anything more than a minor inconvenience.

And so I did the same. I powered through; and when at last I began to experience the classic symptoms of menopause - irregular bleeding, hot flushes, exhaustion, night sweats so bad that I would awake in sheets that were wringing wet – it did not occur to me to seek help. After over a year of this, I finally went to my doctor, who took a few tests, cheerfully announced I was menopausal, and when I inquired after HRT, advised me to power through – that phrase again - and let Mother Nature take her course. The internet was slightly more helpful. I took up running, lost weight, cut down on alcohol, downed supplements and sleeping pills and vitamin D, and felt a little better. Then, breast cancer came to call, and by the time my treatment was done, the symptoms had more or less disappeared, or at least had been superseded by the symptoms of chemo. I congratulated myself at having powered through cancer as well as surviving menopause.

But two years later, I feel old. I look that way, too. I’ve aged ten years. Some of that’s the cancer, of course. I was quite open about my treatment when I was powering through it – partly in order to pre-empt any questions about my hair loss or any of the all-too visible effects of three courses of chemo. Not that it stopped the comments, though. Even at my lowest ebb, a sector of social media made it clear that my only concern should be to look young and feminine to anonymous men on Twitter.

Right now, I don’t feel either. My hair has gone grey and very thin. My skin, too, seems thinner; both physically and mentally. At a recent publishing event, several acquaintances failed to recognize me; others just looked through me as if I had become invisible. Invisibility would be a relief; I find myself dressing for camouflage. I tend to wear baggy black outfits. I got my OBE last week. Photographs in the Press show me talking to Prince William. I’m wearing a boxy black trouser suit, flat shoes and a red fedora. I think I look nice. Not glamorous, but comfortable; quirky; unpretentious.

On a thread of largely supportive messages, one Twitter user pops up to say: Jesus, who’d accept an honour looking like that middle-aged disaster? @Joannechocolat thought she’d make an impact? She needs a stylist. If you look in the dictionary for the definition of “dowdy”, it features this photo.

It’s not the same man who belittled me over 20 years ago. But the sentiment hasn’t changed. Regardless of your achievements, as a woman, you’ll always be judged on your age and fuckability. I ought to be used to this by now. But somehow, that comment got to me. Going through menopause isn’t just a series of physical symptoms. It’s how other people make you feel; old, unattractive, and strangely ashamed.

I think of the Glass Delusion, a mental disorder common between the 14th and 17th centuries, characterized by the belief that the sufferer was made of glass. King Charles VI of France famously suffered from this delusion, and so did Princess Alexandra Amélie, daughter of Ludwig 1st of Bavaria. The condition affected mostly high-profile individuals; writers, royals, intellectuals. The physician to Philip II of Spain writes of an unnamed royal who believed he was a glass vase, which made him terribly fragile, and able to disappear at will. It seems to have been a reaction to feelings of social anxiety, fear of change and the unknown, a feeling both of vulnerability and invisibility.

I can relate. Since the menopause, I’ve felt increasingly broken. I don’t believe I’m a glass vase, and yet I know what it feels like to want to be wrapped in a protective duvet all day. I’ve started buying cushions. I feel both transparent, and under the lens, as if the light might consume me. On social media, I’ve learnt to block the people who make mean comments. To make myself invisible. To hide myself in plain sight. I power through, but sometimes I think: why do women power through? And who told them that powering through meant suffering in silence?

Fortunately, some things have changed since I went through the menopause. Over the past few years, we’ve seen more people talking about their experiences. Menopause is likely to affect half the population. We should be talking about it. If men experienced half these symptoms, you bet they’d be discussing it. Because power isn’t silence. You’d think that, as writer, I would have worked that out sooner. Words are power. Sharing is strength. Communication breaks down barriers. And sometimes, power means speaking up for those less able to speak for themselves.

I look at myself in the mirror. I see my mother’s mouth; my father’s eyes. I see the woman I used to be; the woman I will one day become. I see the woman my husband loves, a woman he still finds attractive. A woman with a grown-up child who makes her proud every single day. A menopausal woman. A cancer survivor. A woman who writes books that make other people sit up and think. A woman who doesn’t need the approval of some man she’s never met to be happy. She can be happy now. I can. And finally, I understand.  Powering through isn’t about learning to be invisible. It isn’t about acceptance, or shame, or letting Nature take its course, or lying about feeling broken. It’s looking beyond your reflection. It’s seeing yourself, not through the lens of other people’s expectations, but as yourself. The sum of everything you’ve been; of everyone who loves you. Of claiming your right to be more than glass, or your reflection in it. The right to be valued. The right to shine, regardless of age or reproductive status. Men seldom question their own right to these things. But women have to fight for them. That’s why it’s so exhausting.

This morning, instead of putting on my usual baggy black sweatshirt, I chose a bright yellow pullover. I looked at myself in the mirror. It’s not a great colour on me now, but it feels like dressing in sunshine. My husband came into the bathroom. You look –

My husband rarely gives compliments. I can’t remember the last time he commented on how I was dressed. I wondered what he was going to say. Dowdy, perhaps? Inappropriate? Like a menopausal woman in dire need of a stylist?

At last, he said: When you smile like that, you look like a friendly assassin.

A friendly assassin. I’ll take that.  

Shining like the sun. That’s me.

#menopause #cancer

[jeanjauthor]

This is kind of important for writers to understand (and artists, I suppose). If you have a very fitted bodice (for men's garments as well as women's, etc), and a standard armhole seam for your sleeves, you are not going to be able to lift your arm very far.

This lady (who has decades of experience designing patterns for Simplicity, how cool is that?? yes I'm a sewing geek, so what??) demonstrates not only the issues involved, but three ways how to get around them.

Writers, if you're going to use a fitted fashion for your story cultures, yet you still want your characters to be able to fight, you're going to have to consider how the standard garments would need to be adjusted for fighting.

In the Assassin's Creed series, if there was anyone running around in the Regency Era (early 1800s Europe), fashionable garments were tightly fitted for men of means, to the point that they had to have help getting into their clothes, and couldn't do any labor. Riding outfits would be modified so that they could move, but your typical evening wear would barely let you dance with the ladies, and brawling was right out.

Thirty or forty years earlier, in the late 1700s, corsets with stiff boning and skirts with big-ass panniers were all the rage for women. And while you could probably literally sneak in a couple of assassins under your skirts (if you practiced coordinating your movements), you wouldn't be able to fight because 1. all that boning and so forth restricted your movements, and 2. it was heavy, ranging anywhere from 30-50 pounds / 13-23 kilograms (between the actual structural materials, being metal, wood, and literal whale bones, and the petticoats, etc), which would also limit your movement and your stamina.

(Also later on in the Victorian era, all those hoop skirts might have been a little lighter, but they were still weighing down those women with layers of petticoats and metal and whalebone, and there are tales of women drowning after being blown off the edge of a dock when a strong wind gusted across their sail-like clothing.)

But anyway, back to sleeves. If you're writing a kick-ass hero or heroine and they're living in a culture where fitted tops & sleeves are the norm, and they don't have stretchy fabrics, then you're probably going to have to mention how they've had their clothing modified so they can stay kick-ass. (There are ways to "cut on the bias" or arrange things so the threads are going diagonally across the body rather than vertically & horisontally, but that only provides a modest amount of flexibility compared to a knit, and the very finely woven level of a spandex knit is very very much a modern mid to late 20th century invention, so adjusting the fabric qualities can be a bit problematic, depending on what level of tech you have going.)

This can either be done directly, aka the character is doing the modifications themselves, or discussing it with the tailor / seamstress, or it can be done indirectly, aka thinking "thank goodness I had my sleeves altered at the armholes!" as they're mid-fight...orrrrr, you can have someone else notice the modifications to their gown, comment on it, and have your hero/ine have to quickly come up with a believable excuse as to why they altered The Fashionable Garment Of The Year in such a manner.

(An excellent excuse could be, "It annoyed me, so I had it altered." Or if they're known to be bookish, "I couldn't reach for my favorite books off the top shelves, so I ordered my maid/valet to alter it." Or "Because I'm cleverer than you, obviously." Or even just, "It's a new variation, very daring, isn't it?" to make your character look like they're at the forefront of fashion.)

For the record, if you're worried about the gusset adjustment being "out of period", it actually goes back several hundred years to at least the transitional era between T-construction and more fitted garments. In the turn of the 1300s, in the reign of Edward I, men's gardecorps (tunics) were often designed with a diamond square sown into the armpit so that it formed a diamond shape and thus flexed on the bias when they lifted their arms. (This was the era of Braveheart so there was a lot of fighting going on, and being able to lift your arms over your head was kinda important for that whole combat thing. Also, prosperity was on the rise, so a little later on, people wanted to show off that they could afford to waste fabric by cutting curves into it to make it more fitted...which restricted movement, so they had to adjust that stuff if they wanted to be able to move again.)

Also for the record, there are things you need to do to the gusset / crotch seam of pants to allow better movement...and one of those things genuinely is to insert a cat's eye shaped gusset! This is done for pantyhose & leggings, and is larger for dancers than it is for the general populace.

#fashion #sleeves #altering clothing for combat #combat in tight fighting clothing #writing realistically #writing #things to think about when writing combat scenes #Youtube

[javier-pena]

virtus

Part 2 of Triumvirate

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader x Katie

Word Count: 14.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Ever since you and Javi invited a third person into your bed, you're happier than you ever were before in your life. Still you can't help but feel that something is missing.

Warnings: mention of food | so many feelings!!! this is 50:50 on feelings and smut | smoking | power dynamics | a lot of bi panic | threesome (f/f/m) | Javi is in charge (as a treat) | the oral fixation in this is … a lot | oral (f and m receiving) | size kink | brief hand job | cum eating | a bit of dirty talk | praise kink | fingering | voyeurism | masturbation (m) | spanking | (unprotected) p in v sex

Notes: I am so sorry for the delay, first for making you guys wait for more than a year for an update and then not posting the update when I said I would post it. But it's finally here: Triumvirate Part 2! I can't believe it took me almost a year to write this, but I hope it was worth the wait. As ever, this fic wouldn't exist without its co-author Dani @adricnchase​ who probably spent just as many hours working on this as I did. And I want to thank all of you who patiently waited for an update for such a long time and didn't give up on this story. You guys are amazing!

***

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

You had a deal.

Javi would get to live out his fantasy; granted, it was on your terms, but he would get to have two women in his bed, he would get to fuck them both.

And you would get a friend.

In a way, this is exactly what happened. Javi had changed since then, and not in a bad way. Since you had let him have this one thing, this encounter that had been making regular appearances whenever he had taken care of himself, he had become more open with you. Not less, as a small part of you had feared. He is a man, after all, and you know men – you know how they see women as vessels for their own pleasure, how they often forget about their partners’ needs. But this isn’t like that at all. Yes, Javi had a sexual fantasy that most men have at least once in their lives. So no, seeing it fulfilled didn’t make him into someone you were afraid he might become.

The first time you talked to Katie after the events of that night was when she called you to ask if you were free to have coffee with her. She had a short hour between two meetings and you both had talked about getting to know each other better, as she reminded you in a small voice, one that was either timid on purpose to show you she wasn’t a threat or one that showed you a side of her you hadn’t seen yet – one that was scared of rejection. The first time you saw Katie after the events of that night was awkward. You both didn’t quite know what to say to each other until you found common ground – Javi. And with him came all the other things you could talk about.

With Javi, things changed on a physical level. He sees you differently now, and he asks for different things, too. He asks to restrain you with his handcuffs (late one night, his voice so low you think you’ve misunderstood him at first), he asks you to wear a particularly revealing dress out to dinner one night (one you hadn’t worn in public before), he asks for you in the middle of the night with hungry kisses and urgent touches. And he gives, he gives so much that you feel like you’re floating most of the time. And it’s not just sex, either. It’s presents and date nights and surprise visits during lunch break. He doesn’t just do it to show how grateful he is. He does it because something has changed.

With Katie, things changed on an emotional level. You think of her as a friend now, and once you’ve gotten past the initial awkwardness you realize how much you two have in common. You talk about books and music, you talk about your dreams and aspirations, you talk about your families back home, the boyfriends you’ve loved and lost, the places you still want to see. You talk about work, too, and sometimes about Javi. But when you’re with her, there is so much else that fills your mind, so many curious questions you want to ask and funny stories you want to share that you don’t need to talk about Javi to keep the conversation going. And coffee with Katie becomes a regular occurrence.

And sometimes, those two halves that make you whole collide. Sometimes Javi gets home and says, “So Katie was telling me today that you don’t like my menudo,” to which you reply, “Oh, that little –” but before you can finish the sentence, Javi has caught you in his arms and kissed you. Sometimes, Katie sits down opposite you in your favorite coffee place, a slight flush dusting her cheeks because she hurried to get to you despite the Colombian heat, and she says, “You really think my blouse from the other day looked nice on me?” And then it’s your turn to feel the heat on your face as you mumble, “It made your eyes shine,” all the while making a mental note to remind Javi about how your private conversations are supposed to remain just that – private.

You feel happier than you have in months, hell, in years. You’re the happiest you’ve been since you arrived in Colombia. For the first time you feel like your life is whole, that you have a place, a home. And it should be enough. You have a loving boyfriend, you have a friend you can share everything with – that’s more than most of your friends back home can claim for themselves. And yet sometimes when you hear Katie laugh because of something funny you said or when you feel Javi’s breath against your hot skin as he slowly takes you apart with hard thrusts and whispered praises you feel … incomplete. But you never examine that feeling too closely.

You don’t dare to.

You are terrified of what you might find once you do. You’re terrified of what it might mean, this ache you feel in those moments. Because what you have is good. What you have is better than anything you dreamed of for yourself. And you have no right to feel incomplete, none at all.

After all, it was supposed to be a one-time thing.

_______

You look forward to meeting up with Katie because you love hearing about her work. It is the same as Javi’s but she sees it with different eyes, and she talks about it with an air of lightness. Javi doesn’t love what he does, he sees it as a necessity and he’s good at it, maybe even the best, but he doesn’t talk about his work when he’s at home. This hasn’t changed since Katie. But she indulges you, she tells you about her daily tasks, about fun colleagues and stupid bosses, about all the paperwork she has to do. And she always has an exciting story or two to tell when you meet up.

There is always a slight nervousness you feel when you wait for her in that coffee place. Today is no different. As you watch the brooding sky outside, foreboding with dark-gray clouds, you ask yourself if you should tell her. But tell her what? You don’t know yourself, even though it’s been one and a half months since she was lying under you, touching you, while Javi was behind you, and … You shift in your seat, uncomfortably aware of the hot weather. What’s there to tell? Hi Katie, I liked having you in our bed. Could we do that again? You laugh at how silly this sounds, even just in your head. And how would you react if Katie rejected you? You don’t think she has a boyfriend, she would’ve mentioned him to you, but it was supposed to be one time, one fucking time, and just because you can’t stop thinking about it doesn’t mean she can’t either. Just because you’re greedy and selfish doesn’t mean she’s the same.

And you’re terrified of her rejection, and you’re terrified of the possibility that she might not want to see you again afterwards.

But then you spot her outside the big window and all the tension leaves your body. It doesn’t matter if you tell her or not, all that matters is that she’s your friend and you get to have these coffee dates with her.

And then you spot him behind her, almost like a shadow – Javi.

Your heart leaps to your throat as you watch him hold open the door for her and lead her inside, his other hand on the small of her back. Maybe you should be jealous – any other woman would be – but you’re not. It’s the first time all of you are in a room together since that morning, and all the conflicting feelings you’ve been feeling are suddenly pushed aside. All you can think about is how good they look together … and that they’re both here for you.

You stand up, hitting your knee on the table leg. Javi’s stern face lights up with a small smile as he leans down to kiss you. He tastes like cigarettes.

“Hi, baby,” he says, one of his big hands squeezing your side.

You squirm at the sensation.

Neither you nor Javi care for keeping time, but you’ve been together for a while now, and still every time he touches you, you feel a flicker low in your stomach. He is always overwhelming yet safe, dangerous yet protective. You raise your hand to squeeze his arm through the sleeve of his tight-fitting suit, but before you can, he turns away from you to pull out a chair for Katie.

She smiles up at him as she sits down, and then she smiles at you. “Hi,” she says.

You let yourself fall back into your own chair and take a steadying breath. “Hi,” you echo, your heart beating so loudly you don’t hear the sounds your mouth emits.

“Javi wanted to come along,” Katie explains, as an apologetic gaze flashes across her face. “He wanted to know what,” she drops her voice, “you girls get up to when I’m not around.”

Javi smirks as he sits down himself, between you and Katie. “That doesn’t mean I wanted to come along,” he explains. “I was just asking.”

“You’re free to leave anytime,” Katie remarks.

“Now that you’ve dragged me all the way across town, I’m staying.” Javi crosses his legs and his arms, the fabric of his suit straining.

Katie mirrors him. “For the record, no one is keeping you here.”

“No, they’re not,” Javi agrees. “But I’m taking this opportunity to find out what you girls say about me when I’m not around.”

“What makes you think we’re talking about you?” Katie asks.

“What else would you be talking about?” Javi teases.

He teases. You sit up straighter, your gaze wandering between the two of them and you wonder if they’re always like this, even at work. You don’t think they are because it wouldn’t be professional, but you also wonder … maybe it’s not just you. Maybe Javi is thinking about her, too. Maybe they are already … no, they wouldn’t. You refuse to believe the two people you care about so much would hurt you in any way.

“Oh, we have plenty to talk about,” Katie answers him with a small laugh. “Clothes, makeup, boys …”

“Don’t I fall into the ‘boys’ category?” Javi wants to know, a challenging smirk on his lips.

For a moment you think Katie will push him further, you see this mischievous gleam in her eyes she always gets when she’s about to overstep a line. But then she leans forward, looks at you briefly, and drops her voice. “You’re much more than a boy, Javier.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine – excitement, thrill, arousal. You push it aside; this is neither the place nor the time to be feeling any of this. But when you look to Javi and see your feelings reflected on his face, your efforts turn into a losing battle.

Fuck.

“Should we order?” you ask, your voice deliberately calm. “You two probably don’t have much time.”

They both turn to you. And now you see guilt on Javi’s face and the challenge on Katie’s and your face burns hot with emotions you can’t place. Luckily, a young waitress comes to take your order right then and you’re spared from a deeper analysis of the shift that has occurred between the three of you.

“So.” You clear your throat and straighten the fabric of your trousers by running both palms over the smooth material. There is not a single wrinkle on it, but the movement grounds you. “How are things at the office?” It’s probably a futile attempt since you never discuss work with Javi and only sometimes with Katie, but you have to try.

Katie laughs, a warm, happy sound that makes your hands tingle. “I thought we were going to discuss All the Pretty Horses.”

Yes, you were. Last week, you had both gone to a bookshop not far from here and picked out a book to read, a new one, one neither of you had read before. You had been looking forward to the lunch date for a few days because you need to share some of your observations with Katie, and you are keen on hearing her opinion. Your already battered copy rests in your bag that is slung over your chair, nested somewhere between an old notebook and your house keys. But now, under these changed circumstances …

“Oh, Javi hasn’t read it,” you answer with a small shrug, looking past your boyfriend at Katie. “I don’t want him to be bored.” It’s only half the truth. The whole one is that you’re not sure how to act around Katie when Javi is there with you, who to be around her now you’re all together in one place again. The nervous jitter in your leg surprises you, as does your rapidly beating heart and your inability to look at either of them directly.

“I didn’t bring him along so he can ruin our lunch.” If another person had said it, anyone else, it would have sounded mean, hostile even. But when Katie says it, it sounds like an inside joke, jovial, amiable. “He can listen.” She narrows her eyes at you. “Or are you trying to hide something? Haven’t you read it? Is that it?”

“No, I’ve read it.” You almost stumble across the words in your haste to get them out. “It’s just …”

“Please don’t let yourself be distracted by me.” Now Javi has re-entered the conversation you can no longer ignore him. The mischievous glint in his eyes tells you to relax. And then there suddenly is a hand on your thigh, just above your knee, stopping the trembling. It’s warm and strong and careful, the steadying grip calming your nerves and muscles. “I’m more than happy to listen.”

“See?” Katie says with a nod at Javi.

You shake your head to get rid of the residue of tension in your neck and shoulders, then agree with an, “Oh, fine.”

Katie immediately lunges into an in-depth analysis of the main character and his motivations, while you listen and nod, agreeing with her until you don’t and you both end up in a heated discussion, Javi all but forgotten if not for his palm pressing into your leg, his fingers gripping your thigh. He doesn’t interrupt you, but he also doesn’t ignore your conversation. He listens intently, his gaze wandering between the two of you, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted – he always looks like this when someone catches his interest beyond a brief stimulation. When Katie challenges you with a, “No, that’s simply not true. Do you know anything about young men from Texas?” he looks at you with a look that says, “Well, do you?” and it makes you smile so broadly you’re unable to answer her. Later, when you say, “Well, then let’s agree to disagree,” and Katie says, “You’re only saying that because you know you’re wrong,” Javi stares at her in mock offense, a comical rendering of the very real feeling dancing across your features.

And despite Javi not being a part of the conversation, you couldn’t imagine it without him. You wouldn’t want it any other way. He’s more than happy to listen to you, giving you both the space you need, allowing you to be yourselves despite his presence. He never interrupts, never tries to stir the conversation into a direction that will let him allow to join in.

When your order finally arrives, he uses his cup of coffee to hide a smile as he listens to your discussion. Part of you wishes he had read the book and you could ask him for his opinion, but you’re not sure he’d be on your side, so it is better you’re fighting this battle one on one. And Katie does make compelling arguments, you’re prepared to admit that, but this is a matter of principle. You can’t let her win, not in front of Javi.

Katie, who ordered a pionono with her coffee, lets you ramble on about how Alejandra should have accepted John Grady’s marriage proposal, while she eats the treat slowly, careful not to spill anything onto her blouse. But when you call Alejandra a coward and it makes Javi snort into his cup with laughter, Katie glances at him and spills some of the dulce de leche onto her chin.

“Oh!” she exclaims in surprise, followed by a soft chuckle. “These things always get so messy.”

Your brain isn’t processing what she’s saying. You’re transfixed by the milk jam clinging to the corner of her mouth, to the tip of her chin, on the verge of dripping down onto her pretty clothes. A tremble runs through your body as you fight the urge to lean forward and clean her up, as your mind runs hot with endless possibilities.

Your hand, holding a napkin, softly dabbing at the corner of her mouth.

Your finger swiping up the cream, feeding it to her from its tip.

Your tongue licking her clean.

You know you’re staring but you couldn’t care less, not when that urge to fuss over her turns into something sexual you’re too weak to push away. You remember an image from six weeks ago – Katie between Javi’s legs, how sweetly clumsy she was, clumsy but determined. It made you want to care for her back then too, but now, with both those images in your mind, forming something so delicious, your breathing becomes shallow. Heat rises up to your cheeks as you imagine taking things further, cleaning her up after Javi comes down her throat …

Javi.

He’s watching you, his eyes narrow with observant curiosity. That breaks the spell, and you turn away from Katie as she gathers the cream on her fingers and licks them clean. She doesn’t know what you’re thinking, she’s completely oblivious – all she wants is to enjoy her lunch break in peace. And you’re not about to spill the thoughts you just had, let them both in on what goes through your mind, but you become quiet, so quiet Katie asks you if you’re all right.

You nod, laugh it off, pretend you just realized the argument on the book you were about to make doesn’t make any sense, and you just noticed how Katie was right all along. That makes her shout out an excited, “Ha!” before she turns to Javi to seek out his approval.

But Javi still has his eyes on you, quietly observant. You can’t hold his gaze.

He’s going to want to talk about this tonight.

_______

You don’t. He’s called away into the office before you finish cooking dinner, and even though he asks you to stay, you’re fast asleep by the time he gets back. He curls up behind you, pressing you against his chest, and buries his face in your neck, breathing in your scent. You, in a state between waking and dreaming, hold onto his arm as sleep overtakes you again.

Then there are two days where you don’t see each other at all. Javi has to travel – he doesn’t tell you where he’s going, he never does, and you don’t ask. Both of you believe it’s better not to, out of some old superstitious belief that he might not come back if you discuss the mission beforehand. He does come back though, lets himself into your flat late at night, and is on you immediately, barely finds time to undress himself. You never ask about the things he sees when he’s away, just let him take what he needs when he gets back, let him find comfort in your warmth and your embrace.

He's gentler than usual tonight, and afterwards he stays in bed next to you, offers you a cigarette and lights it for you before he lights his own. And then he says, “We should talk.”

You learned to dread those three words a long time ago, know they can never be the bearers of good news, only of disappointment and heartbreak. But this is Javi, and he would never play games like that, not after what you just did, after you clung to him and he held you until you were so overwhelmed you couldn’t stop the tears from falling and he kissed every single one away. Not after he cleaned you up with a warm cloth and brought you a glass of water before even thinking about his own needs. This isn’t a man who is about to break your heart.

“Sure,” you say, pushing down the rising dread.

“We said it would be a one-time thing …,” He hesitates, and you’ve never seen him hesitate like that. Maybe he is about to break your heart because there is only one way this could go. He saw the way you looked at Katie and is about to remind you of your deal. Maybe he’s even going to ask you to stop seeing her.

That thought is impossible to bear.

“Javi, I am so sorry.” Maybe he’ll be more forgiving if you show true remorse.

Javi, about to take a drag from his cigarette, stops his hand halfway up to his parted lips. “What are you sorry for?” The surprise on his face would have made you laugh under different circumstances.

It also allows you to open up, hoping you might have misinterpreted the direction your talk is going in. “I saw you looking at us in the coffee shop the other day.” There is no reaction from Javi, none. Nothing that tells you if this is what he wants to talk about. “I know we said it would be a one-time thing, but …” You have to take a deep breath, steel yourself for what you are about to say, and then get it out before you can stop yourself. If you don’t say this now, you never will, and you’ll carry that regret around with you as a heaviness that will weigh you down. “I wouldn’t mind if we invited her back.”

“Oh.”

Fuck. You got this all wrong. “I’m so sorry.” The words are tumbling out of your mouth. “You don’t have to say yes. I just thought …”

He doesn’t allow you to finish, instead taking the cigarette from you and carelessly discarding it in the ashtray next to your bed. Then he pulls you down by your hips until you’re lying pressed into the mattress. He’s on top of you before you can process what is happening, kissing you possessively. “Yes, fuck. Of course I want her to come back.”

“Of course?” you echo, not quite sure if you’re saying this in surprise, relief, or mock offense.

“I know we said it would be a one-time thing but I …,” he kisses you again, slower, with more care, but despite his gentleness you can feel him growing hard against your thigh, “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I’ve been thinking about her a lot.”

This isn’t at all how you thought this conversation would go, not when he announced there was something you needed to talk about. You weren’t expecting such a positive turn of events and your mind is spinning with the endless possibilities this opens up for you. You hadn’t realized it before, but every time you missed her in bed beside you, every time you thought about her with anything but feelings of friendship, you felt guilty about it. His confession erases that guilt in one broad swipe, and makes you feel nothing but joy and relief.

You nod encouragingly, eager for him to continue.

“I am attracted to her.” Javi doesn’t look away or hide his face when he confesses this. His gaze is on you. He’s not presenting a challenge or an ultimatum, he’s just stating a simple fact, one that is as certain as the sun rising in the morning. Maybe this confession should hurt, but it doesn’t. It just encourages you in your own attraction to her, the one you’ve been careful not to examine too closely. “And to you.” It’s not an afterthought, not something he says to dampen the pain. It’s just another indisputable fact, one that he follows up with a scorching kiss. “And seeing you two together again …”

He doesn’t finish that sentence, but he doesn’t have to. You immediately think about the implications of seeing you two together, think about how this isn’t about his own sexual gratification, at least not entirely. Yes, he will definitely get off on watching you two, a thought that makes you press into his thigh involuntarily, but that also means he’s confident enough to let you explore your own attraction to her.

“I …” You want to tell him, talk about what this means to you, to get this freedom, to have him say yes to a repeat of one of the best nights of your life, but you can’t. You can’t tell him you’re attracted to her too because you’re not yet sure yourself. Yes, you feel something for her, but it’s not ready to be discussed with anyone, not even with him. And admitting it is different for you anyway because you’re not a man. The implications are unconventional and you’re not ready to delve into that yet. But you can give him something else. “I’d love it if she came back. I like her a lot and we had so much fun last time.” That much is true, and it’s something you’re confident enough to share with him.

It barely scratches the surface of what you could say, but he understands you. The look he gives you is full of warmth and comprehension, and even though he can’t quite grasp the full scope of things, he gets it in some part. And that’s enough. It’s enough for the both of you. He doesn’t have to hear you say it to understand.

When he speaks again, he moves the conversation back onto familiar ground, ground that you can both handle, that doesn’t make you feel like you’re drowning in unspoken things. “I have rules though.” The smile he gives you is impish.

“Oh?” you make, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Two rules,” he clarifies. “I want you to ask her.”

You agree without a moment’s hesitation. “Yes, sure.” It can’t be a problem, right? You’re very good friends, after all, and you should be able to talk to her openly about this. It’s no big deal.

His next demand makes you clench around nothing. “And I want to be in charge this time.”

You try to hide how flustered you are behind a teasing, “You do, do you?”

He pins you down with his entire body, traps you beneath his broad shoulders. “I have some ideas …”

Your mind is running wild with the endless possibilities that lie behind those four words. They make you think about him wanting to see you and Katie together, and that thought turns you on so much he has no trouble working two of his fingers into you. You welcome them, welcome the slight burning sensation, the feeling of being filled by him, while you think about his beautiful brown eyes on you as you do the same to Katie.

Later, he fucks you, finishing with a low, satisfied grunt.

_______

Katie is in a very good mood today. She hasn’t stopped giggling since she sat down, and it’s only been getting more exuberant with every sip of coffee she’s had. The other patrons are a constant source of joy for her, and she keeps pointing things out about them on the quiet. Under different circumstances you would’ve joined in gladly, would have encouraged her in her funny observations but today you are dying a slow and painful death.

Your hands are resting in your lap, the coffee in front of you barely touched. Your heart is such a tight knot in your chest that you can barely get out a sentence, let alone this complicated, intricate demand you were tasked to present her with. Shouldn’t this be easy? Isn’t it supposed to be easy? You agreed to this so readily because it’s supposed to be the easiest thing in the world. Then why is this so fucking hard?

It's because she could reject you. And if she does, things between you and her will be unbearably awkward.

Katie notices something is up, of course she does. “You’re so quiet today. Is everything all right?”

Is it? “Yes, sure,” you answer, then take a sip of your coffee, trying to hide how much your hand is shaking. If only your heart would stop racing so you could form a coherent thought.

Katie narrows her eyes. “You do realize I’ve been trained to tell when someone is lying, right?” But then her demeanor changes completely, from the DEA agent to your friend. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel panic spread from your heart into every corner of your body, terrible, unbearable panic. She’s offering you the ideal gateway, but you have absolutely no idea what to say to make sure you don’t ruin this. You’re so fucking terrified.

Finally, you shake your head.

Katie nods once. “Well, if you’re sure … but you can always talk to me about everything.”

You know this. If there’s anything that has become obvious over the course of the last six weeks it’s how much you can rely on Katie. She is always going to be there for you. And that’s what is keeping you from just coming out with it … what if you lose her when you tell her what is on your mind?

“Is there something I could do that would make you not want to see me ever again?” The second the last syllable leaves your mouth you regret asking the question. It gives too much away.

There is a big question mark on Katie’s face. Yes, she might have been trained to read other people, but she is an open book when it comes to her own emotions. “Nothing comes to me off the top of my head,” she answers after hesitating only briefly. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

You know she’s only joking because she sees you could use a laugh, but somehow it feels like she’s making light of the situation. It only occurs to you that this assessment is unfair after the thought has crossed your mind – after all, you haven’t told her what’s up. She has no way of knowing what she’s making light of.

Finally, you answer, “Yes.”

“Oh, okay.” She sounds slightly worried now, shifts in her chair to sit up straighter. Her arms are resting against the tabletop, forming a wall between your body and her chest.

You don’t say anything.

“Well, aren’t you going to tell me?” There is an undercurrent of impatience there, one you wish you could ignore, but now that you’ve heard it, it burrows itself deep into your mind, takes over every impulse, makes it impossible to come up with a way out of this situation.

You open your mouth, close it again without letting out a single sound. Your stupid heart is in your throat, choking you, working like a stopper to keep down the words.

Then she smiles at you softly. “I don’t think you could ever do something that would make me want to stop seeing you. Unless you kill my entire family, which I doubt you will.”

It makes you smile too, despite the panic and the trepidation and the dread. “Okay, yes,” you grant, “but what about doing something that would make things between us so awkward you wouldn’t be able to stand being around me?”

Her face falls slightly, and worry begins to cloud her soft gaze again. “You’re starting to worry me now.”

“God, fuck, I know.” You bury your face in your hands, so you don’t have to see the worry on her face. This isn’t at all going like you wanted it to go. “I’m so sorry.”

Katie touches your arm, strokes it encouragingly. “Hey, it’s okay.” Your initial reaction is to flinch away from her and it’s only the paralyzing fear you feel that stops you. But the longer you feel her fingers against your skin, the calmer you become. “Just take a deep breath, okay? It’s going to be fine.”

The understanding and compassion she has for you make you feel like you could cry, but that is definitely the wrong thing to do in this situation. The right thing to do would be to get it over with, just put it out there and let her decide what to do next. “I …,” you start, raising your head, “we …”

The words won’t come, no matter how hard you fight the feelings holding you back. You hate yourself for agreeing to be the one to ask Katie. And you begin to understand why it took Javi so long the last time.

“Hey,” Katie says again, “I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

“How do you know?” You don’t mean for it to sound so accusatory, but your breathy voice makes it sound like you’re confronting her.

“Well, you said you’re worried I wouldn’t want to see you again,” Katie explains, “so you’re not about to tell me you want to end this friendship. That’s pretty much the worst thing I can think of.”

She’s serious – you can tell by the look in her eyes. And you’re suddenly sure, surer than you’ve ever felt, that no matter what her reaction to your proposition is going to be, your friendship will survive this.

“No,” you say, “I don’t want to end our friendship. I want …” Are you starting this sentence right? Is this about something you want? “Javi and I were wondering …” The longer you talk, the quieter your voice becomes. You cannot look directly at her for what you are about to say next. “We would like you to come back.”

When you do risk a glance in her direction, you find her face a neutral mask. There is no way to tell if she understood you.

You take another deep breath. “We would like you to … be with us again.” You’re not sure if you’re making any sense – you probably aren’t – but you already feel relieved. You mastered the worst part of it – getting out the words.

“You mean like …,” Katie starts.

You quickly interrupt her. “If you want to, of course. No worries if you don’t.”

There is disbelief in the look Katie gives you. But you don’t allow yourself to panic, not yet anyway.

“You want me to come back and have sex with you two again?” Her voice is steady, like she is asking you to clarify a work order you’ve given her. You admire her for it, for the way her voice doesn’t break, for how she doesn’t lower it. You wish you were only half as brave as her.

You just look around you nervously, anxious that someone could overhear. “Yes …” You should say more than that, shouldn’t you? “We really … I would really like you to.”

She’s sizing you up, scanning your face, your body language. What she finds there remains a mystery to you. All you know is that this isn’t the total disaster you were expecting, that she hasn’t thrown her coffee in your face yet and stormed out. And that’s good enough for you.

Then she licks her lips. “Yes, okay.”

Your heart stops. “You sure?”

She laughs lightly. “Yes, of course I’m sure. And I’m very happy you asked … it’s not like I haven’t thought about it.”

It probably shouldn’t surprise you that she has since you have thought about little else, but her admission still makes your heart race – for a very different reason this time. “You have?”

The look she gives you is so gentle it makes your palms grow sweaty with a need you can’t quite place. “I think about you constantly.”

You have no idea what to say to that, so you change the subject. It’s easier than facing whatever she’s making you feel right now. “He wants to be in charge this time.”

“Oh?” Her brief hesitation at hearing this is followed by fiery sparks lighting up her eyes. “That should be interesting.”

_______

The sunshine lights up Javi’s entire flat, fills it with warmth and light. Katie has only ever seen it during the night, the one time she’s been here, and you watch as her gaze wanders around the living room, taking in all the details, from the worn-out couch and leather chairs to the fading art the previous owner left hanging on the wall.

You don’t talk about it, and yet you three always find yourself in the living room first, on neutral ground. Going straight into the bedroom would be too big of a step, you need to pretend that this is a normal visit first. You find yourself brimming with excitement though – you watch with restless eyes and on restless feet as Javi and Katie sit down next to each other on the couch. Is this really necessary? You already established the rules the last time, there is no need for friendly chit-chat.

Although you did break one of the rules right away.

“Do you want something to drink?” you ask, looking for a way to make yourself useful and pass the time until Javi decides it is time to start.

“Some water would be nice, thanks,” Katie answers.

Javi just nods.

You make your way to the kitchen, aiming for a casual stroll that turns into something a bit too fast. You get two bottles of water from the fridge and pour them into two glasses. Some of it spills onto the counter because your hand is trembling.

There is no reason to be nervous – after all, you’ve done this before, and it turned out to be one of the greatest experiences of your life. And you’re not that nervous anyway, more tense really. Javi wanting to be in charge this time takes a lot of the pressure you felt away, makes you excited to find out what he has in store for you. But still, after all the time you spent with Katie and despite all the love you feel for Javi, some nervousness is lingering, making your feet grow cold and your heart pick up speed.

Why did you agree to do this in broad daylight where everyone can see the insecurities in your eyes and there are no shadows to hide you from the scrutiny of others?

Carrying the glasses in both hands, you make your way back to the living room where you’re met with the sight of Katie straddling Javi’s lap, their tongues buried deep in each other’s mouths. The trembling stops at that sight, your body freezing up in response to it. Not because you feel betrayed, overlooked by them, but because you weren’t expecting them to make it so easy for you. No awkward small talk, no negotiations, just picking up where you left off.

The glasses in your hands make your skin grow damp and clammy as you watch them, watch Javi watch her with a concentrated frown, heat flickering in his eyes. His hands are placed on her hips in a conveniently neutral position, but you can see them twitch as if he wants to grab her harder and in different spots, pull her close and kiss her senseless. You wish he would because you crave the sounds Katie makes when she’s turned on, when she finds pleasure with someone. And she is quiet right now, apart from the occasional airy huff, the occasional intake of breath.

But then Javi does raise one hand to tangle it in her hair and pull her closer. Encouraged, she lifts her hips and starts to grind down on him, a slow, rolling motion that draws a quiet growl from him. It’s so quiet in the room you can hear her throaty pants, even hear her underwear brush against his tight jeans if you focus hard enough. Your knuckles on the glasses are turning white.

Katie shifts again to adjust the pencil skirt she’s wearing, pulls it up higher so the fabric doesn’t stretch so much and she can spread her legs more. Both you and Javi watch as more of her legs are exposed, muscles flexing under her skin every time she grinds against the growing bulge in Javi’s pants. It would be so easy to walk over there and take Javi’s cock out, make Katie take it, hear her whimpers as she tries to take him all in, hear her hiss when he adjusts himself, see her ... but no, this isn’t the right time. Despite how much you enjoy seeing them together like this, hearing the moans and sighs they pull from each other, you’re not ready to cross that line.

Carefully, you put down the glasses on the couch table, making sure not to spill anything, before walking around it to Javi and Katie. They both don’t acknowledge your presence with words, but you see Katie’s shoulders shift and you feel Javi’s eyes on you. Heart pounding, you lean down, pushing yourself between Katie and Javi, blocking her. He doesn’t let go of the back of her head until you capture his lip between your teeth and bite down, not hard but firm enough for him to let out a surprised huff. He kisses you back immediately, tongue in your mouth, the hand that was just in Katie’s hair on your cheek, and you’re sure you’re imagining it, but you can taste a certain sweetness on his lips that you don’t usually find there. You could get lost in this kiss, forget where you are and for how long you’ve been there, were it not for Katie’s body right next to you, her sweet, soft perfume clouding your senses that are usually focused on Javi’s strong smell. Javi’s cigarettes and sweat are mixed with something more feminine, something that sets your nerves on fire and makes you itch all over. You want them both so much it feels overwhelming.

Katie, refusing to be put on the sideline, shifts once more, and your gaze lands on her, on her eyebrows that are raised in a challenging question. That look ignites a fire at the base of your spine and you feel your pussy clench in anticipation. A small growl from Javi, demanding your attention, only piles onto that burning desire between your legs. Holding Katie’s gaze, you both agree: This time should be about Javi and his desires. The nonverbal dialogue happening between the two of you goes unnoticed by him, who is shackled by the sight of Katie sinking to her knees in front of him. A smug smile darts across your lips at his wide eyes and flushed cheeks, at the way his mouth hangs slightly open as he watches Katie unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans.

A part of you would like to watch and see how this all plays out, but instead you kneel on the couch beside him and kiss his neck, long, deep kisses, worrying his skin between your teeth, licking at it when he gasps at the sensation, enjoying how the tendons jump beneath your lips. If you pause for long enough, you can feel his pulse, hard and fast, accompanied by bursts of air tickling the top of your head. You kiss lower, move lower with your whole body, kissing his chest as you unbutton his shirt, slowly, lavishing attention on every bit of newly exposed skin. He rewards you with deep rumbles and breathless sighs, while he watches you and Katie working on taking him apart.

Once his shirt hangs open, you lean back to look at his exposed chest, the light freckles and hard nipples, content with your work. Now you can watch his ribcage rise and fall, watch how fast his breath is coming, watch how the muscles in his belly tremble in anticipation. And then you lower your gaze further to where Katie is kneeling in front of him, pushing his jeans down to his ankles, and you see his hard cock, already leaking, resting against his lower abdomen. A small moan, a sigh’s cousin, escapes you, and his gaze is immediately on you, smugness beneath his lust-dazed expression. Katie is looking at you too, up from where her naked knees press into the hard floor, a question in her eyes.

You nod, giving her permission.

Careful fingers close around the base of Javi’s cock, lifting him up. He likes it when you’re rough with him, but Katie is still so new at this that he doesn’t ask for what he needs. Instead, he watches her in awe as her lips close around the tip of his cock and she hollows her cheeks, pulling a strangled moan from him. You’ve seen them like this before, but not in broad daylight, and you’re transfixed by the sight in front of you, by the angry, red flush spreading on his chest and neck, by her furrowed brow as she tries to take more of him in. He’s holding back, hands balled into fists, resting on the couch next to his thighs. You know how much he’d like to grab the back of her head and thrust into her warm mouth, and how much self-restraint it takes him not to. He’s determined to give her time to get used to his size, even though he might not get as much pleasure from it as he could if he just took from her. And even though his consideration makes your heart grow big with love for him, a tiny part of you wishes he would just let go and fuck Katie’s mouth and throat until there were tears streaming down her face.

Before you can examine that thought too closely, you glide down on the floor next to Katie, wanting to help with the task at hand. While she’s still busy with his tip, trying to take as much of him in her mouth as she can, you carefully untangle her fingers from the base of Javi’s cock and then lick up his length until you’re almost touching Katie’s lips with your tongue. Javi hisses when you do it, and grabs your shoulder in a hard grip, so you do it again, with a little more pressure this time. An encouraging squeeze is your reward.

You leave small kisses up and down his length, hot little marks that make his cock twitch. It’s only when he gives you a strangled, “More,” that you go back to licking him, eager, fast, moving further up with each swipe of your tongue, until you’re almost at the tip, almost at the spot where Katie’s lips hold him. Your tongue runs across her bottom lip and then you’re both there, kissing his tip, kissing each other, hungrily, with Javi’s cock between you.

You grab Katie’s chin to pull her off him, to kiss her more, feel her whimpers against your fingers and cheek. She follows you willingly, leaning into you, a hand finding your thigh to hold onto you. And while you kiss her like a starving woman, like her lips and mouth and tongue are the only things that will keep you from a painful death, you keep your hold on Javi, jerk him off hard and fast. The living room is full of wet sounds, the sounds of your kisses, the sounds of your hand on Javi’s cock, wet, ragged bursts of breath from all three of you. And once your hunger has been sated at least for a little while, you lead Katie back between Javi’s legs and push her mouth down, a hand at the back of her head, tangled in her hair, refusing to let her back up again until you hear him groan deeply.

His chest is vibrating with pleasure, and he lets his eyes fall shut, trusting the both of you to take care of him. His head falls back while his legs open wider, and you see the tiny thrusts he’s allowing himself now, not much, but definitely there, up into Katie’s mouth. That sight is almost too much for you and you shift, wishing there was something between your own legs to grind on. The realization of just how aroused you are hits you unexpectedly as you clench around nothing in time with Javi’s thrusts, whimpering desperately. For a second, you think about touching yourself to bring you some kind of relief, but you want to focus on Katie instead.

Her skirt is bunched up around her hips, and you see her underwear peeking out from beneath the hem, dark, lacy panties that don’t cover up much. While still holding on to Javi’s cock with your right hand, you start to stroke along her thigh with your left, appreciating how her skin immediately responds to your touch with goosebumps. She tries to move away yet closer to you, as if unable to decide if she welcomes or curses the touch, but then you push two fingers between her legs. Her responding moan is so loud and deep, you’re sure Javi can feel the vibration along his length.

Javi’s eyes snap open. “Don’t make her come, baby.” His voice is so deliciously deep and ragged, and you’re so aroused you could come just from hearing him talk.

“Don’t worry,” you assure him, your voice less breathless than you would expect, “her first orgasm is yours.”

You press down harder against Katie, giving her just enough time for a small whimper in response to your promise. You roll her clothed clit between your fingers, and are rewarded with more addictive moans and a little twitch of her hips that sends a pleasant tingling down your spine. Javi keeps a watchful eye on you as you play with Katie, his fingers digging into your shoulder. In response, you tighten your grip around the base of his cock and increase the pressure between Katie’s legs once more, so she pushes herself up onto her knees, chasing the friction. You feel how wet she is through her panties, and it sparks a different kind of hunger in you, a desire to taste her on your tongue again. She’s losing some control, becomes distracted, sloppy, and it’s just how Javi likes it.

He comes, accompanied by unrestrained pants, spilling down Katie’s throat. In response, you feel a gush of arousal on your fingers as she shifts to catch it all on her tongue, eager for his taste, too turned on to think about concepts such as dignity or restraint. But it’s too much for her, she can’t handle it all – some spills onto her chest and neck as she does her best, and you watch Javi coat her skin, his hand now covering yours, squeezing himself.

You’re taken back to a few days ago when you were meeting at the coffee shop, and Katie spilled some of the cream from the cake she was eating onto her chest and fingers. You remember the feeling of wanting to lean in and help her clean up, to swipe a finger through the mess or use your tongue to lick at the sweet cream and her even sweeter skin. How so many factors – internal and external – were holding you back and you watched her laugh it off and clean herself with a napkin. The tremble that goes through you now at the memory is one of longing.

Javi, observant as he is, noticed your struggle back at the coffee shop, and he notices it now, too. “You wanna help her, baby?” he asks, leaning back comfortably against the couch, his voice deep, fucked out, yet unbearably soft. “Go on, help her.”

You lean forward and give a small rope of cum along her neck an experimental lick, just to feel her quick pulse beneath your tongue. You suck at the spot and hold her in place with a hand at the nape of her neck, then move lower to where Javi spilled some at the top of her cleavage. Carefully, you cup her breast to push it up a little, so you have better access, relishing how her nipple hardens immediately under your touch. Her soft skin is so hot beneath your tongue, and she tastes so sweet that your head starts to spin. Javi’s taste is much harder, but you love it all the same, and you’re so eager for more of the both of them.

While you make your way back up her neck to her jaw, Javi, in his soft voice, whispers, “You did so well, Katie.” He swallows hard, then continues. “You looked so pretty with my cock in your mouth, and you took me so well.”

She shivers beneath your touch, her eyes closed, taking in his praise and your soft licks. You nibble at her jaw, at her earlobe, then kiss her cheek all the way to her mouth to lick at the last bit of Javi’s release there. The licks turn into a breath-stealing kiss, one that makes her lean into you and grab Javi’s leg for support.

“You’re such a good girl, Katie,” Javi adds somewhere above you.

She breaks the kiss and looks up at him. “Thank you, sir.”

The glance they exchange, the unfolding power dynamic between them makes you shiver. It feels like there is more to this, like Katie is taunting him, maybe even disrespecting him in a way she could never do at work, and the desire to see this unfold turns you on even more. You, too, look up at Javi, a question in your eyes, waiting for him to decide what the next move is going to be, hoping for something that will scratch that infernal itch inside of you.

Slowly, he toes off his shoes and steps out of his jeans. They form a heap between you and Katie, a heap that grows when he adds his shirt to it. He’s naked, and confidently so. A smirk dances across his face as he stands up and watches you and Katie ogle him – how could you not? How could you not stare at his skin, still flushed from his recent orgasm, at the flexing muscles in his thighs, at his broad shoulders when he extends you each a hand, at his straining arms as he pulls both of you up.

His hand is warm and softly calloused, and you close your fingers around it, welcoming his steadying grip. On his other side, Katie is trapped beneath Javi’s arm that slings around her shoulders, a heavy weight against her small frame. She doesn’t hold onto his hand but slings an arm around his middle, her fingers brushing your side as she does. Linked like this, Javi leads you into the bedroom.

Once there, he positions you both in front of him, then cups your cheek and presses a gentle kiss against your lips, one that ends with a small nip and an apologetic lick. Both draw a gasp from you. His hand still warm against your cheek, he leans over to Katie and kisses her too, rougher, her fingers scraping his scalp. He growls against her hungrily and you see her break into a proud smile.

“Undress,” he says to no one in particular, swallowing hard.

You don’t hesitate for a single second. Pushing Katie by her shoulder until her back connects with the wall, trapping her in an open-mouthed kiss, you start to unbutton her blouse, the blue one you love so much. Katie only takes a second or two to catch on and immediately gets to work on the zipper of your pants, pushing back against you with a sigh. Your knuckles brush against her hard nipple and you can’t resist the urge to roll it under the pad of your thumb – her faltering breath is your reward. She gets you back by running her finger along the hem of your underwear, then just beneath it, making you gasp and widen your stance, impatient for her to go lower.

“Eager,” she comments, removing her hand.

“Katie, please.” You sound so desperate that it makes pride sparkle in her eyes.

She leans in close until her mouth is against your ear, tickling you, when she whispers, “Oh no, you don’t get to ask for anything, not after what you did back there.”

You’re breathless when you retort, “What exactly did I do?”

She unzips her skirt and steps out of it before roughly grabbing your wrist and pushing your hand into her panties. You groan when you’re met with heat and wetness, when you feel how soaked she is, when you run your fingers over her clit, between her folds. She rocks against you, chases friction, lets her head fall against your shoulder. A shaking hand finds its way under your shirt, and she cups your breast, squeezing hard. You lean into her touch, pressing her against the wall, trapping her.

“This isn’t just him, you know,” she whispers, then sighs when one of your fingers slips into her. “This is also you.” She swallows hard. “I want … I want …”

Before she can finish the sentence, a broad hand closes around your wrist and pulls. Katie makes a sound akin to a sob at the loss but doesn’t fight it.

“I said undress,” Javi presses, making you take a step back.

You pull your shirt over your head, then drop it to the floor.

“Good,” he observes with a nod.

Katie unhooks her bra and lets it fall, which earns her an appreciative glance from Javi. “Can I touch her?” she asks.

Javi cocks his head to the side, considering her request, but then shakes his head. “No, there will be enough time for that later. Go lie on the bed next to each other.”

You both take your time undressing, you with unsure hands while your thoughts race in every possible direction this could go in. Katie, her chin raised in defiance, steals a glance at you whenever she can, heat in her eyes, and you want her to know how much she turns you on, how much you want her, but you don’t dare defy Javi again. He’s right … there will be enough time for that later.

You lie down on the right side of the bed, Katie on the left. It’s so bright in the bedroom (was it always so bright?), and you toy with the thought of covering yourself up because you feel too much on display, too vulnerable. But then you look to your left at Katie, and see how she looks at you, eyes roaming over your naked form, over every blemish, every wrinkle. And you allow yourself to look at her, at her firm breasts (so much firmer than yours), at her taut belly, at the way her chest rises and falls fast, every breath full of longing and desire and desperation. Her flushed cheek rests against the cool bedspread, her right hand against your left side.

“Good,” Javi says from somewhere above you.

You look at him then, watch him run a hand up and down your thigh, toward your center, teasing you. You lift your hips slightly, impatiently, and he removes his hand in response, but just to kneel down between Katie and you. And then he’s fast, towering above you, pushing two fingers into you, burying them deep inside, stroking that spot that makes you see stars. You clench around him, hard, fast, desperate, fighting to keep him inside of you. He draws moans from you, deep ones, loud ones that make your ears ring.

“Baby, you’re soaked.” You barely register that Javi is talking to you because your body is so busy processing the onslaught of pleasure he’s inflicting on you. “Did it turn you on that much to watch her get me off?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. How do you even answer that?

“I think it turned her on to be watched by you,” Javi goes on. “Didn’t it, Katie? Or was it both – having my cock in your mouth and her fingers on your clit?”

Katie groans and thrusts her hips so hard you feel the bed shake. You lift your head and realize that he also has two fingers deep inside her, allowing her to fuck herself on them while he fucks you. Her eyes are shut tightly, and her legs are trembling so much she collapses back onto the bed. Javi takes over right away, fucks her, a sight that makes your limbs tingle, that makes pressure build at the base of your spine.

“It turned me on to clean her up after you were done with her,” you say.

Your answer surprises all three of you – both their heads snap in your direction, Javi’s gaze full of heat, Katie’s aroused, lust-clouded look mixed with a tinge of disbelief. He rewards you with a particularly deep, hard thrust that pushes you further up the bed.

“I liked being watched by her,” you hear Katie’s voice through a thick cloud of sharp arousal. “I liked the weight of you on … on my tongue …” She groans, and you know that Javi just crooked his fingers inside of her. “And I-, I-,” she stammers, arching her back, a strangled, high moan interrupting her.

“You what, Katie?” Javi asks, playful condescension in his tone.

Katie swallows down another onslaught of voiced pleasure before she answers. “And I loved how she toyed with me.”

You clench down hard on Javi’s fingers, two times, and you know what’s about to happen next.

“Javi,” you warn, gripping his wrist tightly.

Then his fingers are gone, leaving you empty and aching, pulsing with need. You groan in frustration, ready to complain. But before you can form the words, you see Javi push his fingers, the ones that were just in your cunt, into Katie’s mouth. She closes a hand around his wrist in response, holds him there, and you watch as her throat moves, as she sucks eagerly, lewd sounds accompanying it, her eyes closed in pure bliss. You blink a few times in disbelief as she arches her back, rolls her hips to push more of Javi’s fingers into her, sucks and sucks and sucks, licking his digits hungrily, tongue swirling around the tips, making the sweetest sighs and moans.

Javi’s pupils are blown wide as he watches her. His chest is rising and falling with deep breaths while he tries to work up a steady rhythm. Experimentally, he presses down against Katie’s tongue and gets a choked moan as a response, so he does it again and her eyes fly open just as her legs start to tremble uncontrollably.

Javi looks at you then. “Do you think she can handle a third?”

You watch her briefly, the utter desperation in her eyes, the small, eager nod she gives you, the way her fist at her side grips at the bedspread. “Yes,” you say, your voice hoarse, sure you could come untouched if this goes on for much longer.

Javi adds a third finger at both ends, and her eager, thankful moan, muffled by the weight on her tongue, turns into a series of pants, groans, and eager cries. She’s trembling hard as she comes and Javi holds her like this, the fingers in her mouth stilling, the ones in her cunt pumping in and out of her fast. You feel your face heat up at that sight, a delicious, uncontrollable heat that makes you ache all over with desire. It’s not until Javi turns his attention back to you that you realize you’ve been rolling your hips in tight circles, begging for some kind of friction to release the unbearable, burning pressure you feel everywhere.

Before Katie has recovered, before she has even stopped shaking, Javi pulls his fingers out of her cunt with a wet sound and immediately pushes them past your lips into your mouth. You don’t wait for him to tell you what it is he wants you to do because there is nothing you want more in this world right now. Your licks are eager and fast as you try to catch every bit of Katie’s release on your tongue, both of your hands around Javi’s wrist to keep him in place. Unable to keep your eyes open, you give in to desire, overwhelmed by Katie’s taste, one you’ve been unable to forget, one you’ve longed to savor again. Licking it off Javi’s strong, thick fingers like this is so overwhelming you don’t register that he has three fingers inside you at first. You also don’t register Katie groping for your hand.

It’s only when she gasps as you dig your nails into her, when the pressure between your legs becomes so unbearable it snaps that you become aware of the other two being there for you. Your orgasm hits you hard, slams into you with rapid relief, breaking something that has been building up steadily for too long. You know you’re leaving dents in Katie’s skin, you know Javi can feel your desperation as every wave of pleasure grips his fingers tighter, and you want them to know. You want them to know how good they make you feel, how much you want them to see what they do to you, how much you trust them. Katie’s taste in your mouth only spurs you on – they both worked together to give you this much bliss and they both deserve to know it.

Once Javi is satisfied, once you’ve stopped writhing beneath him, and once Katie is the one holding your hand instead of the other way around, Javi presses a kiss to your lips, growling possessively at the unfamiliar taste there, then leans over to kiss Katie, letting her nip on his jaw afterwards.

"You both did so good,” he mumbles into Katie’s hair before leaning over to stroke your arm from your shoulder down to your hand, intertwining your fingers. “Let me get you cleaned up.”

He squeezes your hand then lets go, pushing himself off the bed. You watch him disappear into the bathroom, then let yourself fall back with a happy sigh.

Katie is immediately there next to you, pressing her torso against yours, cupping your cheek. She kisses you lazily, like she has all the time in the world, like she could do this for hours. You kiss her back, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to just feel. Your body is still humming with pleasure, and even though you felt satisfied a minute ago, you now realize that your desire runs much deeper.

Katie shifts so she’s on top of you, pressing one thigh between your legs. You push down, immediately seeking contact; that familiar tingling at the back of your spine urging you on. An encouraging sigh is your reward, one that turns into a throaty moan when Katie feels how wet you still are.

“You look so pretty when you come,” she mumbles between kisses. “Have I ever told you that?”

You don’t know – you don’t remember. But if she were to ask you your own name right now, you also wouldn’t know the answer to that question.

“Can I touch you?”

Now this is a question you know how to answer. It feels like your body has been set on fire, deep desire making your blood boil, anticipation making you shiver.

“Yes, please,” you reply with an eager nod, opening your legs to give her better access.

“You’re always so polite,” Katie observes, kissing down your neck. “I wonder what you are like when you let go, when you ask for what you want instead of wait for it to be offered to you.”

You could tell her exactly what you’re like when you ask – after all, didn’t you ask for this? Javi wasn’t the one to admit he wanted to repeat this … it was you. You long to tell Katie that, see the response on her face, surprise her. But then her hand brushes up against your folds, your swollen clit, and you hiss, still tender from earlier.

Katie drops down next to you and nods toward the bathroom door. “Look at him,” she mumbles into your neck, “I think he likes to watch us.”

You turn into the same direction and see Javi standing in the doorframe. One hand is holding a washcloth, the one he got to clean you up. With the other hand, he’s slowly fisting his cock. His mouth hangs slightly open, but he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t tell you what to do, he just watches. Being seen by him like this turns you on so much you push up into Katie’s touch and she rewards you by slipping the tip of her index finger into you.

When you asked Javi if you could invite Katie back, you had your suspicions. Your hopes. Him wanting to watch Katie and you together was something you wanted him to want but hadn’t dared to ask him for because it had felt like you would be revealing too much of your deepest desires, the ones you can’t yet label yourself, the ones that are still so new you haven’t had time to properly examine them yourself. But you get it now – after all, you know what he feels right now. You felt this too when you wanted him to take from Katie, when you wanted to watch them fuck each other. That image alone is enough to draw a moan from somewhere deep inside your chest. Yes, this is complex and complicated and something the two (or even three) of you need to have a conversation about, but right now you only want to give him what he wants.

You begin to roll your hips, pressing your clit against Katie’s palm, and she obliges by increasing the pressure. Her gaze wanders between you and Javi, and she has a small, beautiful smile on her face, one of contentment. You whimper as a jolt of pleasure shoots through you, and her eyes land on you, not cloudy with desire, but scorching with it instead – her pupils are blown wide, yes, but she looks at you with steely determination and defiance.

“Let’s put on a little show for him,” she whispers so quietly only you can hear it.

And then she does.

She kisses your neck, devoting a lot of attention to the spot behind your ear that, when nipped, draws a sharp breath from you. She kisses your shoulders, kisses the top of your breasts, sucks one of your nipples into her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. The sensation makes you arch your back, makes your body beg for more. There is still that slightly bitter aftertaste on your tongue, left there by her words, by calling this a show, because it doesn’t feel like one. It feels like she’s not doing this for him, she’s doing this to pleasure you, and, by extension, herself. The nagging thoughts make you lose focus, and you sigh in frustration, angry with yourself for letting this get to you so much. Katie doesn’t notice as she kisses across your stomach, your sides, your lower abdomen.

Then she’s suddenly there, with her tongue, licking against your clit, and you snap right back into the moment, grabbing handfuls of the bedspread to keep you grounded. She’s so much softer than Javi, much more careful with you, not yet sure how you like it. And you don’t tell her how close you suddenly are, how seeing her between your legs, looking up at you curiously while she licks through your desire, coating her chin and lips and the tip of her nose in it, pushes you right toward the edge.

“Katie.”

It’s a warning, leaving no room for discussion. When you look toward Javi, you see he has stopped touching himself and is just watching you now, fingers flexing while he has to hold back from stepping in. And suddenly, unexpectedly, it hits you how much you love him. There is this man who asked you to allow someone else into your bedroom, this man who let you set all the rules, who makes this about you and Katie wherever he can, who makes you feel wanted and desired even with another woman there, a woman who is younger, firmer, prettier than you. It’s all so much, the love you feel for him, and suddenly all you want is to have him inside of you.

Katie, however, has different plans. With Javi watching you like he’s about to rush over and pull her up from between your legs, and her tongue licking into you, her mouth sucking on your clit, taking everything you give her, you don’t last long. There is no slow buildup, no way to prepare or warn either of them. Vaguely, from the edge of your consciousness, you hear Javi urge, “Katie, don’t you dare make her come,” but it’s too late.

Your release coats Katie’s tongue, smears all over her chin as she licks you through it. She moans when she feels you pulse against her, pulls you close by your hips to devour more of you. It’s impossible to lose yourself entirely in her when you hear Javi growl, a mixture between possessiveness and interest. That’s what you were missing earlier, what you were suspecting was going on between Javi and Katie, what you longed to watch play out – Katie needs to disrespect Javi’s authority, and the only place she can do that is here, in the safety of his bedroom. Here, she can ignore his orders, fight him on them, rile him up. And he is willing to fight her, to make her follow him, in a way he could never do at work.

But the realization that gets you most, that makes you clench, immediately makes you hungry for a third orgasm, is that it’s you they’re fighting over. Katie is using you to get to Javi, not because you’re conveniently there, but because she enjoys having sex with you. And Javi wants to be the one in charge so he can look after you, make you feel good, fuck you until you can’t walk properly. He hadn’t counted on the woman he asked to join you to have such an effect on you, and it brings out his possessive side, a side that makes you want him even more.

You just don’t know how to talk to them about it yet.

But before you can get lost in your thoughts, Javi pulls Katie off you roughly and holds her pressed against his chest, one arm slung around her middle, the other one around her neck and shoulders. Her eyes are blown wide in surprise, and you allow yourself to look at her, to look at the tightly curled hair between her legs that is slick with arousal, at her nipples, hard with anticipation, at the way the sun falling in through the window onto her makes the sweat on her skin glisten.

“Lie down,” Javi orders her, holding her tighter against his body, pressing his hard erection into her soft skin. She gasps and nods slightly, his grip not allowing for more movement. When he lets go of her, she hurries to comply, lying down on the bed next to you, propped up on her elbows to watch him.

“And you.” Javi hovers above you, solid, imposing, filling almost your entire field of vision. He leans down, and then he kisses you, oh so softly, a tender caress that makes you whimper into his mouth. “Are you okay?”

He makes you feel so loved you feel too overwhelmed to answer him with words. All you can do is nod slowly because yes, you’re very much all right.

He caresses your cheek, cups it in his strong hand. “What do you need?”

That is a question easily answered. “I want you inside of me.”

“Yes.” He sounds so breathless. “Anything for you, baby …” His eyes flicker to Katie’s for a second, then they’re back on you, and you can see an idea forming behind them, can see the little cogs in his brain turning. “Do you want to teach her a lesson?”

Yes, fuck, you do. You want to get back at her for making you feel so vulnerable, you want to help Javi take back some of the control he had to surrender to her. But mostly you want him to come inside of you, to mark you as his.

Javi tells you to get up on your hands and knees above Katie, trapping her between your limbs. You hurry to comply, your heart pumping blood so fast through your veins you hear it rush in your ears.

“Watch what happens when you disrespect me,” Javi tells Katie, and then his open palm lands against your exposed ass with a loud slap, making you sway forward.

Katie’s mouth falls open and you can feel the desperation radiate off her body. Javi does it again, and you moan, relishing how your skin stings where his hand landed. You hope he’s leaving a mark, one you can admire tomorrow morning and remind you of how much you’re wanted. The third slap is harder, and you fold, lowering yourself onto your elbows, your face an inch from Katie’s. All the confusing feelings are gone. You’re grounded, you know exactly what you want, and you feel so good it makes your head spin. This is what you wanted – what you needed all along, and you’re set on enjoying whatever Javi and Katie have in store for you.

You push back to taunt him, push against his erection with your ass, until he grips your hips to still you. “Go on, Katie,” he says, and you can hear the permission in his voice, the voice of a man who is used to people listening to him, “see how much she’s enjoying herself.”

You groan when Katie presses her palm and fingers against your soaked folds, the heel of her hand against your clit, the tip of three digits pressing into you with the slightest of pressure.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, and you don’t need her to tell you what she found because you know only too well, but you want her to say it. And she does. “She’s soaked.” The way Katie says that word, with breathless surprise verging on the edge of desire has you press your cunt against her hand and your lips against hers.

Before Katie can slip her fingers into you, Javi pulls you back by your hips, his grip hard as steel, unrelenting, impossible to escape. You feel the head of his thick, full cock against your folds for only a second and then he fills you, stretches you, pushes and pushes until you’re shaking so hard it becomes almost impossible to hold yourself upright. Sensing your predicament, he grabs the back of your head and presses you down, right between Katie’s legs.

You didn’t know how much you were starving until you taste her again, feel her soft, wet folds on your tongue, get to bury half your face in her sweet cunt. You drink her up like a parched woman, lick into her, roll your tongue over her clit, breathe her in. And with every thrust Javi gives you from behind, he pushes you up against her, making this so much easier for you. You sling one arm around Katie’s thigh, rest the other against her stomach, holding on to her when Javi starts to fuck you harder.

“Hold down her head.” His voice is so strained you can tell he’s holding back. “You can be rough with her, she can take it.”

Katie’s hand lands on the back of your head, her grip soft and testing. This isn’t enough, and definitely not what Javi had in mind. You struggle against her, trying to lift your head, and she puts more force into her hold, pushing you down against her cunt, and then holding you there so there’s nothing left for you to do than lick and suck and moan into her softness.

“Yeah, like that, that’s it.”

Javi picks up speed, slams into you with quick snaps, and you realize you’re clenching around him, pulsing with desire kindled by the feeling of Katie holding down your head, rolling her hips against your tongue, by Javi fucking you from behind with such force you feel each push deep in the pit of your stomach. You’re trapped. They’re both just taking from you, chasing their own pleasure, using you as a means to an end. You’ve never been more turned on in your life, more eager to give, desperate to be used.

Javi stretches you open, buries himself deep inside of you with each thrust, holds you in place with both hands on your hips. The stretch from this angle is burning, bordering on painful – a pinch of pain in a sea of pleasure. It would be overwhelming for you if it was only you and him, but the feeling of Katie’s soaked folds on your tongue, of her hand holding you in place, of her nails digging into your neck with each thrust Javi gives you makes you forget everything but them. You don’t even care where this ends for you, just as long as the other two find pleasure and completion in your body.

Then Javi’s finger presses against your clit and your world begins to tilt. You moan his name loudly, muffled by Katie’s cunt, but you know they both understand you perfectly. Javi groans behind you, increases the pressure on your clit, and Katie …

She’s coming, pushing herself up into your mouth so you can feel every pulse on your tongue. Her steady moans turn into desperate little sobs and whines, and when you open your eyes to look up at her, you find her watching you, letting herself be watched by you, showing you every detail of her orgasm on her beautiful face. You drink up every last drop that she gives you, clean her eagerly, savoring her taste, committing every nuance to memory.  

Once Katie shivers and pushes you away, you lift your head, only to feel how Javi is pulling out of you. Your protesting sound turns into one of surprise when he flips you onto your back next to her and guides himself back into your warmth, burying himself deeply in your pussy and your neck. Warmth floods you and you hold him, run your fingers through his hair, as he rocks into you gently with a steady roll of his hips. It’s so intimate you almost forget she’s there, but then she presses into your side. Soft kisses land on your neck while she plays with one of your nipples, pinching it to make you gasp, then stroking it with feather-like touches.

When she speaks her voice is so quiet Javi can’t hear her. “It’s never just for show.”

Something expands inside of you at that admission, and the last echo of a nagging voice dies down. This is just as meaningful to her as it is to you, and a tiny sob of relief escapes you, lands somewhere behind Javi’s ear as a tickling burst of breath. He lifts his head and kisses you so very, very softly, like he’s putting all the love and tenderness he feels for you into that one brush of lips.

“Come for me, baby.”

You can’t deny him, and when you do, he joins you, spilling into you while he guides you through the crashing waves of pleasure. It’s only when he’s satisfied with his work, when your whimpers against his neck turn into deep breaths, that he rolls off you and pushes himself between Katie and you.

Your hand immediately seeks out the warm skin of his stomach, caressing it, feeling how he breathes in and out slowly, satisfied. Katie’s hand joins yours and you tangle your fingers together, hold onto each other. You rest your head against Javi’s shoulder and sigh happily.

“I love you, Javi.”

He kisses your forehead. “I love you, too.”

You squeeze Katie’s hand, a poor substitute for all the things you want to tell her. There is so much you need to say but you don’t yet know how. You don’t even know what it is you’re feeling yet but being with her makes you happy. She makes you happy. But that’s something you need to examine for yourself first before you can tell anyone about it. You don’t yet understand what it means.

Javi kisses your forehead again, then Katie’s. Then he pulls you both close. “My good girls.”

Katie squeezes your hand, glancing at you across Javi’s chest. And you wonder if she feels the same.

triumvirate taglist: @1andthesame | @acdeaky | @batdarkladyvampir | @beskarprincessjenny | @darksber | @darnitdraco | @deliriouslybewitching | @desir-ae | @dobbyjen | @doin-stuff | @fireproofmarta | @floraandfrost | @for-my-satisfaction | @highsviolets | @itssmashedavo | @jettia | @justanotherblonde23 | @kesskirata | @knivesareout | @lavenderluna10 | @lawfulgranola | @leannawithacapitala | @letaliabane | @lovesbiggerthanpride | @MSWarriorBabe80 | @nicks-nelson | @noctiscorvus | @omgreally | @pedropascalsx | @pedrostories | @phoenixhalliwell | @pilothusband | @practicalghost | @rebel-fanfare | @redcrvette | @reluctantlyresponsibleadult | @silksaddle | @skyshipper | @softpedropascal | @spacenerdpascal | @sweetgirlray | @tacticalsparkles | @tanzthompson | @the-blind-assassin-12 | @theorganasolo | @thesmutslut | @vanemando15

javier pena taglist: @pookipedia​

permanent taglist: @adricnchase​ | @amneris21​ | @aurelacmoon​ | @chronic-nosebleed​ | @din-jarhead​ | @harriedandharassed​ | @jazzelsaur​ | @lestradeslover​ | @martellthemandalor​ | @nyfeeer​ | @nobodys-baby-now​ | @pedrorascal​ | @radiowallet​  

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña #agent peña x reader #agent peña x you #javier peña x reader x katie #javier peña x you x katie #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #about a million years late but it's finally here!!!!!!!!!!

[flower-biter]

18-24 March, 2024

on the diagonal

How is March almost over already. I am not ready for summer.

Still reading The Shining. It’s fine, I guess. I read (almost exclusively) books written by women, and work in an office of just women, and spend most of my time in women’s online spaces, and have gotten used to the way women experience and discuss and write about the world. And there’s just Something about the way men write (and especially about the way men write the interiority of women) that feels…off to me. I’m trying to just enjoy the horror aspect of the story, and let that be part of it.

Took photos for my friend’s pregnancy announcement. It’s so weird being there for this phase of life for my oldest childhood friend, but I’m so happy for her and excited to be part of the village for her kids (plural, because it's twins! We are all freaking out).

Had an eye exam at last; I can finally reorder contacts, and might also get updated glasses if I find frames I like (why is it so hard)

Butterball has been sweet as ever, but so mischievous. He got into his food container in the middle of the night, overate, and then was sick all over my room at five in the morning. The little hellion sure is lucky he’s cute. God I’m never having a human baby. At least I can shut the cat out of my room if he’s being annoying.

The weather is so beautiful I should be allowed to play outside all day. Nap in the sun like the cat. Wander in the woods and look at all the birds and flowers. Not this grey cubicle bullshit 😭

Finally caught up with my friend who’s undergoing cancer treatment. He’s doing a lot better than the last time I saw him, and his doc is optimistic about his outcome. It’s good to see him doing well, gaining weight and eating again. I think we’ll plan a celebratory trip for his 30th birthday now that it’s looking more certain he’ll make it.

Found out that a former manager from an old job who got fired from said job for sexual harassment (as he should have; he made outrageously inappropriate comments about customers to me when we were alone in the optical lab together, and he inappropriately touched the youngest girl on our staff) went on to sue the company for “wrongful termination” (bullshit) and won a half million dollar settlement. Disgusting. We were a staff of three young women (two Black, one white; two of us are queer) and a disabled queer man with this guy (50s, white, cishet, well off) as manager; we managed to get him fired for his actions and comments and we were better off for it, but he still came out of it all basically rewarded for his gross behavior. I’m so angry but also sad and honestly wish I hadn’t found this out. Ignorance was indeed bliss when I could believe that he’d gotten what he deserved.

I have so many photos to edit from my last two Charleston trips but I just don’t want to stare at a screen when I get home. But I’ve been putting them off for way too long and will have to do them this weekend.

Switched out my nose piercing from a stud to a ring. I’ve never worn a ring for more than a day or two due to the Sensations™ so we’ll see how long I keep it. I had been a little worried about wearing more noticeable facial piercing jewelry at work, but I realized my manager wears an even bigger nose stud and has more visible tattoos, so I think I’ll be okay. It’s a generally conservative industry (finance/business consultants) but a pretty laid back office - thankfully I’m not client facing, and can get away with all my ear piercings and buzzed hair.

I have already bought uhhhhh too many books this year. Whoops. Most recently a biography of Artemisia Gentileschi that I’m looking forward to reading.

Mum wants me to teach her to crochet; I’m giving it a try but it feels like the blind leading the blind and I’ve told her the wrong thing several times, whoops. But it’s a fun relaxing thing we can do together, and her mum crochets a lot too so it feels like a fitting tradition to carry on. I’ve finished the body of the bag I’m working on and now have to figure out the strap; when that gets frustrating I just go add a few rows to my sister’s throw blanket. The red is so rich and the yarn is so soft, and it’s just simple single crochet all the way, perfect for zoning out with a show in the background (I’ve been re-watching the x files and remembering that Gillian Anderson was indeed an Awakening for me)

It’s a cool, sunny morning with birds singing and the cat dozing next to me. Laundry is done, just needs to be folded. I’ve got my coffee and a whole stack of books I’m behind on reading. Going to savor this restful day.

last week

#catalog of little joys #and frustrations #the rage is real but also. i am too tired for it

[mercerislandbooks]

A Double Dose of 50 Years of Island Books: Rachel Linden / Martha Brockenbrough

Rachel Linden is a novelist and international aid worker whose adventures in over fifty countries around the world provide excellent grist for her writing. She is the author of The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie, The Enlightenment of Bees, Becoming the Talbot Sisters, and Ascension of Larks. Currently Rachel lives with her family on a sweet little island near Seattle, WA where she enjoys creating stories about strong women facing big challenges, travel, food, and second chances at love. She promises her readers a happy, or at least very hopeful, ending and infuses each of her stories with a touch of magical realism. Her newest novel, Recipe for a Charmed Life, comes out in early 2024.

Miriam: Welcome, Rachel. Let's start with your first visit to Island Books. Where were you in your career then, and what stood out about the store?

Rachel: When I think of Island Books, I feel I can sum it up best in the word "inviting". I first visited Island Books when my second novel, Becoming the Talbot Sisters, was about to release. If I remember correctly, I came bearing homemade cookies my husband and son had made, and an advanced reader copy of my new book. I was hoping to meet some of the staff and see if they'd be interested in stocking my book. I was instantly charmed by the special Island Books vibe. I love independent bookstores and feel so fortunate that we have so many in our area. Island Books has always been one of my very favorites because of the wonderful, friendly and knowledgeable staff (with fabulous owner Laurie at the helm), the inviting places to sit and stay awhile, and such an excellent and extensive selection of books. They were so warm and welcoming to me on my first visit, and I continue to greatly enjoy and appreciate their enthusiastic support and care for local authors like me! I love every chance I get to be at Island Books because I always feel so welcomed. It's an inviting, enjoyable space with true book lovers, and for a bookworm like me, that's basically my definition of paradise!

Miriam: Rachel, you can't drop a teaser about bringing cookies to Island Books and not share the specific recipe. When many of us think of you, we think, foodie book club, mmmm.....Will you share which cookies you brought to that first event here on the blog? We can make them official "Rachel-Linden's-Take-a-Trip-to-Island-Books cookies" or something. 

Rachel: Absolutely! I can't remember exactly which cookies I brought the first time I visited Island Books, to be honest! But here's a recipe for some amazing lemon bars that I know I brought along with an advanced reader copy of The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie!  These delicious lemon bars are super easy and super yummy! I enjoy this recipe from one of my favorite baking sites, Sally's Baking Addiction! I amended it slightly, but mostly it is her recipe. 

Rachel-Linden's-Take-a-Trip-to-Island-Books-Luscious-Lemon-Bars

Ingredients

SHORTBREAD CRUST

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 cups + 2 Tablespoons all-purpose flour 

optional: you can add a bit of the zest of the lemon to the crust for added lemon flavor

LEMON FILLING

2 cups granulated sugar

6 Tablespoons all-purpose flour

6 large eggs

1 cup lemon juice (about 4-5 large lemons)

powdered sugar for dusting over the top of the bars when cooked and cooled

optional: add a bit of the zest of the lemon to the filling for an added kick of lemony flavor 

Instructions

Preheat your oven to 325°F. Carefully line the bottom and sides of a 9×13 glass baking pan (do not use metal for these bars) with parchment paper, leaving the paper hanging over the sides so you can easily lift the finished bars out. This is an important step and makes cutting the bars much easier!). 

Make the crust: Mix the melted butter, sugar, vanilla extract, and salt together in a large bowl. Add the flour and stir to completely combine. The dough will be quite thick. Press firmly into your prepared pan, making sure the layer of crust is nice and even with no holes. Bake for 20-22 minutes or until you see the edges of the crust are lightly browned. Remove from the oven. Using a fork, poke holes all over the top of the warm crust (careful not to poke all the way through the crust). This helps the filling stick and holds the crust in place. Set crust aside.

Make the filling: Sift the sugar and flour together in a large bowl. Whisk in the eggs, and then add the lemon juice (and zest if using) and stir until completely combined.

Pour filling over the warm crust. Bake the bars for 22-26 minutes or until the center is relatively set and no longer jiggles. (You can give the pan a light tap with an oven mitt to test that the filling is set.) Remove bars from the oven and cool completely at room temperature. It is recomemnded to cool them for about 2 hours at room temperature, then stick in the refrigerator for 1-2 more hours until fairly chilled. 

Once cool, lift the parchment paper out of the pan using the overhang on the sides. Dust the bars with confectioners’ sugar and cut into squares before serving. Enjoy! 

Miriam: Thank you! Okay, one last question, now that I'm thinking about The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie. One of the big messages in that book is that instead of looking backward, we should make the best of things and focus on the road ahead. With that theme in mind, as we head toward our store's 50th anniversary, what do you think the road ahead looks like for indie bookstores?

Rachel: Looking forward, I believe indie bookstores will continue to thrive because of the amazing connections they provide between people and great stories. In an increasingly digital world, to walk into an independent bookstore, talk to smart, book loving booksellers, and walk out with amazing stories in our hands...that personal experience cannot be replaced. For authors, independent bookstores offer wonderful opportunities for us to make personal connections with book lovers—both bookselling professionals and readers. I think Island Books does this so beautifully, and what they offer will continue to be valued by readers and authors alike. 

Miriam: Thanks so much for stopping by our blog, Rachel. We always love hearing from you.

To our community—if you make Rachel's Lemon Bars, send us a picture! In the next installment of Island Books, I'll be talking to...

50 Years of Island Books: Martha Brockenbrough

Martha Brockenbrough (rhymes with broken toe) is the author of Frank and the Masked Cat and more than twenty books for young readers, including YA fiction and nonfiction, picture books, a middle grade mystery, and a chapter book series. Her next nonfiction book for teens, Future Tense, will hit shelves in 2024.

A faculty member at Vermont College of Fine Arts, she's also the founder of National Grammar Day (every March 4), and she's written game questions for Cranium and Trivial Pursuit.

The former editor of MSN.com, Martha has interviewed lots of celebrities, including the Jonas Brothers and Slash. Her work has been published in a variety of places, including The New York Times. She also wrote an educational humor column for the online encyclopedia Encarta for nine years. 

She lives in Seattle with her family. Her favorite kind of food is Indian, although Thai runs a close second. Besides writing, she likes dogs, cats, cooking, weight-lifting, and laughing.

Miriam: I'm so excited to have you here, Martha, especially because my 10-year-old twins LOVED To Catch a Thief and we are big fans of yours. Let's start with your first visit to Island Books. Where were you in your career then, and what stood out about the store?

Martha: That makes my day! The book is set in a slightly distressed Seabrook—if you ever go, the kids will recognize some of the sights!

Meanwhile, I can’t even remember the first time I went into Island Books. I’m a Bellevue native and only a few years older than the store. So let’s just say I have no memories of life without Island Books. As an author, though, I think one of the first events I attended was for the wonderful Jennifer Longo debut novel, Six Feet Over It, inspired in part by her life growing up at a cemetery. My first event with Island Books was a King County Library fundraiser—Garth Nix and I were in conversation with each other. I really love his writing and it was so much fun learning more about how he thinks about storytelling. 

I led here with the people, because in truth the writing and reading life isn’t lived only on the page. I love Laurie (and we share appreciation for a good Old Fashioned). I’ve known Lillian and Caitlin for years and through other stores, and I so appreciate people who make a life out of literature. The store itself is an absolute treat. It’s exquisitely edited and I find something I didn’t know I needed every time I go in. It’s also a place I love to shop for gifts, and not just books—the whole store is full of beautiful and joyful objects.

Miriam: We've been to Seabrook and yes they did recognize the sights, funny you mention that. I think that's half the fun of reading local authors who write about the Pacific Northwest! These are great memories, and for us it's all about the people too, so we love that. Tell me, I know we've offered special pre-orders of signed copies of your books over the years. Do you have any special memories of signing in the store?

Martha: Coming to Island Books is like a visit with old friends. Seeing Lillian and Caitlin at Island Books gathers all of those fond memories from other stores in one place—and it’s a testament to the deep knowledge that the stores booksellers have. They are in this work for life. I was a reader first, and truly I always will be. So to have my reader heart in such good hands means the world to me. 

Miriam: Thanks, Martha. We're so grateful for to have you and your books in our lives too.

To our Island Books community: In the next 50 Years of Island Books installment, I’ll be talking to author Elise Hooper about how she crashed a staff party the first time she visited our store, and why her underdog stories have a special appeal at Island Books.

—Miriam

#miriam landis #island books #Rachel linden #the enlightenment of bees #lemon bar recipe #lemon bars #The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie #Martha Brockenbrough #Frank and the Masked Cat #50 years of island books

[jaanusbooktalk]

Tell Me How You Really Feel by Aminah Mae Safi - Book Review

9.5/10 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌟

TWs: car accident, cursing, sexism, panic attacks, abandonment

(TWs are ranked in order of severity, please take them seriously!)

Summary

“The first time Sana Khan asked out a girl-Rachel Recht--it went so badly that she never did it again. Rachel is a film buff and aspiring director, and she's seen Carrie enough times to learn you can never trust cheerleaders (and beautiful people). Rachel was furious that Sana tried to prank her by asking her on a date.

But when it comes time for Rachel to cast her senior project, she realizes that there's no more perfect lead than Sana--the girl she's sneered at in the halls for the past three years. And poor Sana--she says yes. She never did really get over that first crush, even if Rachel can barely stand to be in the same room as her.

Told in alternative viewpoints and set against the backdrop of Los Angeles in the springtime, when the rainy season rolls in and the Santa Ana's can still blow--these two girls are about to learn that in the city of dreams, anything is possible--even love.”

TL;DR Tell Me How You Really Feel is an ode to romantic comedies, following two girls on opposite sides of the social scale as they work together to make a movie and try very hard not to fall in love. Cheerleader meets film nerd, enemies to lovers.

I found this book through one of those tik tok videos where someone is flinging books off a pile at light speed under a caption “queer SA (South Asian) books you need to read”. I absolutely love those videos, even though they test my screenshotting abilities.

It’s been a while since I updated this blog(?) and that’s because I’ve been very busy finishing out the school year and reading every gay book I could get my hands on over the course of pride month. I will be posting reviews of those books soon, but in a quick review so far this month I’ve read:

• Last Night At The Telegraph Club

• Unearthed (graphic novel)

• Café con Leche

• Eighty Days (graphic novel)

• Tell Me How You Really Feel (this review!)

• The Raven Cycle (yes all 4 books, no I will not be reviewing)

Honorable mention: All 50 episodes of The Untamed (SUCH a good cdrama) & Season 1 of Stranger Things

I’ve realized over the course of this book binge that I prefer my enemies to lovers to have good reasoning - or at least understandable reasoning on both sides. My favorite part is seeing how that can morph into love without either realizing until it’s too late *cue evil laughter*

Tell Me How You Really Feel does that perfectly. I especially loved how it was written - the characters were flawed, raw and dynamic, and the writing style reminded me of books by Nicola Yoon (The Sun is Also a Star, Everything Everything). The romance isn’t necessarily the focus - it’s shoved in on the shelf along with everything else happening in the characters lives. The story simply starts (ish) and ends with the life of their romance within that.

And because this is a gay high school romance between a cheerleader and a film nerd, of course there are a million movie references, from Pakeezah to Pretty in Pink.

Meena Kumari 😩🧎🏽‍♀️

But real quick, let’s talk

Representation

Sana Khan and Rachel Recht, the main characters, are both into women. Although their sexualities aren’t explicitly stated, this part is made very clear.

Sana is desi, and Persian and Indian if I remember correctly? Her family is very mixed and has a lot of languages (Bengali, Urdu, Arabic, Persian, French, etc). She is second-gen American, while I’m pretty sure Rachel is first-gen (at least on her mom’s side).

Rachel is Mexican and Jewish, and her family consists of just her and her father (and their larger community) in comparison to Sana’s many cousins and aunties/uncles. Her full name is Rachel Consuela Recht, which I’m guessing is to show her mixed cultures.

For Sana I can somewhat call this an own voices review on representation, but please keep in mind the Indian (and larger desi community) is not a monolith & we won’t all agree on my own interpretation.

What I really liked about representation for Sana and her family was it is very women-centric. Her grandmother, Mamani, is very clearly the matriarch, and Farrah, Sana’s mom, is a single mother working in the film industry. In western literature desi culture is typically portrayed as oppressing women, especially in Muslim households, but this stereotype is flipped on its head by Sana’s family. It also showed how within a religion certain family members can be more religious than others - Sana & her Mamani are more religious (praying regularly, not drinking, etc) while Farrah is less so - and there’s no negative connotation on it.

Rachel and Sana both engage in religious holidays over the course of the book (Norwuz for Sana, Passover for Rachel). Since I’m neither Muslim or Jewish, it was interesting to learn more about the holidays and how they’re celebrated.

Single parenting rep (Rachel raised by her dad, Sana raised by her mom) was also really good. As someone being raised by a single mom & at one point a single dad, the struggle is portrayed really well.

Finally, I love that Sana fills the character of pretty perfect Gilmore-girls-esque cheerleader. Brown women don’t often get to be portrayed as lovely and soft and also raw and real at the same time. It really hit my heart 💗 Sana’s features are seen as beautiful by everyone around her - like a commonly accepted fact. She’s the official “pretty girl” of her school - and so much more beneath that.

What I Loved:

Aside from the good rep, the way the book is written is just ✨ poetic ✨

“Sana smiled, and suddenly Rachel understood every stupid love poem comparing the beloved to the sun.”

HOW DO I RECOVER??

Mainly though, I think this book came at the right time for me. Sana’s situation was really relatable to me, and her storyline actually helped me figure out some stuff in my own life (no spoilers!)

If you’re worried about the future, or planning to become a doctor or lawyer - read this book.

I’m also a sucker for big movie style gestures so this was a plus. I could see how the book was going to end generally way before the end, and that made it more of a comfort read than an “intellectual” read. I loved the character development as well - some serious words of wisdom in there!

As someone who wants to go to college in LA, and can’t afford to visit, this is as close as it gets to seeing what life there is like for me 😂 I’m curious to see what those Santa Anas feel like!

Why I couldn’t give it a 10:

I wasn’t the biggest fan of Rachel’s character to be honest. She hated Sana so much at the beginning, for something that had happened in their freshman year (the story takes place in their senior year). I could understand animosity, but it was another level. It made me think Rachel had anger issues - she seemed really self pitying and insecure. Which would have been fine - I’m all for character development - if she had realized that. But Rachel never seemed to come to terms with the fact that she had treated Sana like sh*t at every turn for nearly 4 years. It’s not that they don’t fall in love (this is a love story) but she doesn’t really feel remorseful for how she acted.

On set, when she’s directing the crew, the way she treated them reminded me of Michael Scott from the Office 😭

I also wish there had been more focus on the other characters in the book. Farrah, Sana’s mom, and Daniel, Rachel’s dad, kind of felt like glorified plot devices, especially near the end. Same goes for Diesel, Sana’s so-called best friend. We don’t actually see a lot of their relationship aside from Diesel giving her rides from school and then playing video games with her. In the end, his purpose was also a little plot device-y, a little serving the main ship, etc.

I liked that Diesel subverted the dumb insensitive jock trope, but I would have loved to see more of him and Maddie (another cheerleader)!

^unrelated but I love this scene (very scary cheerleader)

Overall, the book was a satisfying beach read (as in, I literally read it on the beach). Feel good, decent character development (on Sana’s part), and it gave me something I’d really been searching for: an enemies to lovers story between queer women of color in high school. Like babe- this is my niche!!

And yes, I cried at the end.

I sincerely recommend to fans of:

The Sun is Also A Star

Everything Everything

Movies (if you’re a movie nerd, you’re going to get wayy more of these references than I did)

But I’m A Cheerleader (movie)

Sense 8 (show) especially if you like the wlw couple

Most of my reviews for this month are going to be LGBTQ+ stories between PoC 🏳️‍🌈 so stay tuned!

#book review #bipocbookstagram #poc books #booklr #diverse reads #lgbtq books #tell me how you really feel #aminah mae safi #lets go lesbians #everything everything #the sun is also a star #queer enemies to lovers #enemiestolovers #cheerleader #film nerd #happy pride 🌈 #queer bipoc #queer desi

[trulymedievalstuff]

Book Review:

I'm on a book buying ban for the next month, so I went to the library to find stuff to read. I picked up "A Sword for His Lady" by Mary Wine for some shits & giggles. It's...meh. It's not anything special but it's not the worst either. The characters are pretty tolerable. I do like the main female character, Lady Isabel of Camoys for the most part, though I wish the author didn't make her horny on main just at seeing the male lead. At least it wasn't love at first sight. Lust at first sight is acceptable in my view, so at least the book has that going for it.

What I don't like is the cover art and some the 'historical' details. I know, I know. It's a romance book that's worth less than $10. It's not supposed to be groundbreaking or historically accurate, however I'm allowed to be bothered by the inaccuracies if I feel like they're too much of a distraction for me.

Book Cover (some of these have nothing to do with historicity and are just personal peeves of mine)

I hate that the female model is wearing a Medieval-inspired dress with no smock or chemise underneath. Even if it's not accurate to the period, at least let her wear something so it doesn't chafe

I hate the cut of the gown and the slit up the leg. For a romance novel directed to a female audience, I don't understand why the female model is the on showing a tremendous amount of skin. Not that women can't be sexy, I just think it's an odd choice for a romance novel cover to have the female model showing the most skin

I don't like the mid-2010's hair style of her. The character in the book is described wearing her hair in a braid. Does that look like a braid to you?

Speaking of which, I dislike modern-looking shirt he's wearing. He's mostly hidden anyway. Why bother tugging the shirt off his shoulder if he's mostly covered by the other model? At least put him in armor if you're going to use a male model on your cover

What kind of sword is that? That looks like a cutlass. Why not grab a longsword? Like they used in 12th century

Book Content (things I noticed that distracted me from the story)

The story supposedly takes place in 1189. We even have King Richard Lionheart. Why is the author describing plate armor which doesn't come about until the 15th century in Europe. During the Third Crusade, European soldiers likely wore padded armor and chainmail.

There are some French names, but the nobility seems stereotypically English in language and culture. Meanwhile, in history, the first king whose native tongue was English was Henry IV, 210 years later

Why is the author afraid to write shifts and gowns? She describes clothes as under robes and outer robes instead of what they are. When I think of robes, I think of robes, not 12th century gowns

Why is the male lead, Ramon de Segrave, insulted by the fact that Isabel knows how to use a falcon to hunt for mice? Women didn't do the majority of hunting, but we do know that elite women did do some hunting and falconry for sport. It wouldn't be so out of the ordinary

Why are the only women who wear head coverings the servants and old women? It would have been considered unseemly for a married woman or a widow to go bareheaded. Wimples were worn by this time but by nuns and older women. Isabel should be wearing a barbette with her hair in a net.

Why is the other confusing a wimple for a barbette? Why does she describe the wimple as a cap? A wimple was just a piece of starched cloth folded to cover the neck and the head. To my knowledge, it does not involve a cap as described in the book

Other Annoying Things

I don't like how long the chapters are. The first "chapter" was 50 pages long, the equivalent of 5 chapters. The long chapters just makes everything slog through. I've found myself daydreaming while trying to read this book because I found the chapters too long

As much as I like the main character, I don't agree that Isabel has to change her views on men but little is shown for Ramon to change his views on women. We're told through the narrative that Isabel can't hold a grudge against men because he first husband was an ass, but Ramon is free to keep his beliefs about women. That makes him a hypocritical ass.

Isabel doesn't lick his boots, and he finds that hot, but not enough to rethink his values. He's more sexually attracted to her because he likes the chase but it has nothing to do with Isabel's intelligence, business acumen, and prudence. Qualities, I'm sure, would still be valued even in the Middle Ages.

Am I enjoying the book? Yeah, I guess. Would I recommend this book? Probably not. It's not terribly written, but my grievances with so many details makes it difficult for me to think about rereading it later or recommending it. It's a cheap "historical" romance with some pretty run of the mill steaminess. I've certainly read worse. If you just want to read something to pass the time, I guess this is okay.

#book review #romance #historical romance #“historical” #medieval romance

[anythingstephenking]

Disney Princess Metaphors Galore

It’s been over a year since I picked up a King novel. Over the course of that year, I sat with Sleeping Beauties on my coffee table, bookmark neatly tucked in at around the 200 page mark, daring me to pick it up, mocking me as I didn’t. 

Sleeping Beauties was a slog, to put it nicely. I didn’t dislike it per-se, but having to literally force yourself to pick up a book after a year on the sidelines is never a great start. 

Co-penned by King and his son Owen, this novel has all the fixings for a strong King. We’ve got a small town. They’re isolated. There’s lots of characters of varying degrees of badness. A mysterious illness and force has infiltrated this small town and shit goes sideways. If these fixings of dough, sauce, meat and cheese came together to make a pizza in The Stand and Under The Dome, in Sleeping Beauties, these ingredients make a calzone. Not bad, just not pizza. And unless you’re Ben Wyatt, pizza is better than a calzone.

I’m on a diet, can you tell?

Alright, let’s get into it. Steve and Owen decided to write a novel together, which is fun if your dad is Stephen King. I believe it was the pretty standard collab of “I write some then your write some”, rinse and repeat until there’s over 700 pages for The Constant Reader. The cast of players is bulleted out on the pages before you get started, and man, is the list long. Really only 4 or 5 folks are of any consequence to the story though, which is a great example of calzone-not-pizza happening here.

So women across the world are falling asleep and once they are out, their faces and bodies grow cocoons. They’re still breathing and seem fine, just catching some ZZ’s. The unidentified growth is nicknamed Aurora, for the titular character in Disney’s Sleeping Beauty. We know we’re in a King story though, because these gals don’t need a prince’s kiss. In fact, if you tear open their sheaths, they will literally bite your head off. Many men die early trying to awake their maidens, not realizing they are in an episode of The Walking Dead, not in a 50s cartoon.

It’s not an uninteresting premise, and I do understand where they were going with it. It’s a gender study for the 21st century, using metaphor after metaphor from women’s movements over the centuries. I get it. Perhaps I am struggling because it was written by two men. Side question; what does Naomi King do? The rest of the family are all writers; I might feel better if she wrote this with her dad. Mental note to google her.

Because in Sleeping Beauties, men BAD, women GOOD. As a staunch feminist, this shouldn’t bother me? It does. I feel like Steve and Owen swung the pendulum too far in favor of the female sex. Listen, I am one. We’re not always a walk in the park. Just sayin.

The women are primarily pretty saintly here. The town sheriff, Lila, stays awake as long as she can, protecting her town, as do other female policewomen, mothers and prison guards. Cause yes, our little town is home to, of all things, a women’s prison. 

As women fall asleep, the world erupts into pure chaos. This I believe. Men riot, burn shit, there’s rumors of nuclear explosions, the whole 9 yards. It takes like literally 48 hours for the world to go to hell in a hand basket. Who’s going to cook food and wash laundry?? Better storm the Capital. (The irony of Jan 6th happening after this book was written is not lost on me).

Lila’s husband Clint is the least-worst of all the dudes. The on-staff shrink at the prison, he is trying to keep the prison from erupting into chaos (spoiler it doesn’t, because its a women’s prison, and women GOOD) and keeping an eye on their new prisoner, Eve, who, after killing 2 meth heads (men), is sent to a holding cell. Here Eve sleeps without cocooning, and talks to rats, and sometimes hundreds of moths fly out her mouth? Cool.

Aside from Clint, there are some real shitheads here. Men who burn their wives, men who try to rape cocooned women, men who make jokes like “What is this, the worlds worst PMS?” and say shit like “women are either sluts or frigid”. Cool. I’m not gunna talk about any of the supporting players of douchery, because for the most part they end up dead. Men BAD.

About halfway through, we learn when the women sleep in our world, they have awoken in some kind of bizarro-world. It’s their town of Dooling, but time is different (faster) and it’s pretty post apocalyptic. But because women GOOD, they console each other, consider their circumstances together, and then get the fuck to work. While only a few days have passed in the real world, in Women’s World months pass. The women rebuild society together, with very few obstacles to overcome. I mean in theory, if you told me I could go to sleep and awaken in a women’s-only Upside Down, I’d be very tempted to escape there. But I don’t think I’d expect a utopia. I mean I’ve watched the first season of Yellowjackets at least 3 times now; I’m not sure it would be so easy.

Women’s World just seems too easy. Sure it’s post-apocalyptic there, but there’s vegetables, roaming deer, and at least the remains of an infrastructure for the women to start from. They get the electric going thanks to solar panels, water flowing again thanks to a broken down but fixable water plant, stuff like that. The obstacles are small in Women’s World, for example, they have very bad coffee there. I would never survive. But the women thrive without men. Men decidedly do not thrive without women. The most literal extreme in both places.

Eve is the puppet pulling the strings here, and the story is much more interesting when she is around. Unfortunately she’s not around enough for my liking. And while she survives act 3’s assault, she loses her cause when the women of Dooling choose to return to the real world, leaving behind utopia for the boys back at home.

The final chapter or two are ultimately the most interesting. The women have returned and life is “back to normal” although nothing is normal ever again. Have women regained the upper hand, knowing that the globe’s male population now understands their importance? Seemingly hopeful ending? My cynical self says give it a generation or two and Eve may be back to try her experiment again.

If anything, this book left me pondering not its outcome, but reminding me that I am due for a rewatch of The Leftovers.

6/10

First Line: Ree asked Jeanette if she ever watched the square of light from the window.

Last Line: A moth flutters from the branch of the old oak tree and settles on her hand.

Adaptations:

There has been a part or two of a comic adaptation released. AMC owns the TV rights, purchased in 2019, although I couldn’t find any movement on an actual pilot. In COVID and #MeToo times, I would think this gender based plague-esque story would be ripe for picking, but per usual, no one asked my opinion. 

More Holly Gibbney next in The Outsider, and an HBO series I’ve been sitting on for two and a half years. Yay!

[lorei-writes]

Basic Guide on How Not To: Slavic Characters

Well, as most of you have probably realised by now, I’m Polish. Truthfully, I am quite upset now. I generally tend to avoid most content involving Slavic people, because well, stereotypes are plentiful and I have only one stomach - there is only so much anger I can fit inside of it. However, this time I was merrily watching an episode of a series, for goodnight sleep, and got smacked in the face with just that... So, I suppose, let’s use my anger towards something - hopefully - productive. This is a very hard post for me to write. It may be closer to my personal experience, although I did try to be more general.

Contents:

Where Do I Even Begin or Sad Slav Filter

Common Stereotypes - Professions & Jobs

Common Stereotypes - Characteristics

Few basic issues with languages & names

Where Do I Even Begin or Sad Slav Filter

Grey buildings, empty plazas, ominous blocks of flats with walls up to the very sky. Snow. Gloom faces. Dark nights. Red. Gold.

To start with, be aware that this sort of image is oftentimes not only written into stories or presented in picture-based media, but that I had the displeasure of seeing it being used for cover art for several books.

What I jokingly call sad Slav filter is presenting the reality of Eastern Europe* through, well, pessimistic glasses. The architecture speaks of terror, of being post-communist state, of never having recovered. The streets portrayed in such fashion are gloom, unwelcoming, threatening in a way. Winter is oftentimes the season of choice, to add an extra layer of depressive atmosphere and cold. Nobody smiles. One may say that usage of gold and red brightens the image - however, those connect directly to the communist flag, thus locking the entire space in a rather obvious context.

The reality?

Yes, old blocks of flats built in 60s or so still exist. Some are even grey and in dire need of being re-painted! However... Many are not in such a state. In Poland, the common colours for elevation of such buildings are white, pastel orange, pastel yellow and pastel green, oftentimes put together in combination of stripes or other geometric shapes. What also should be noted is that such estates were designed with plenty trees and other plants around them in mind, as to accommodate for a development of a community - especially for older blocks of flats, those are most likely situated nearby a primary school and a kindergarten, not to mention stores and other services. It is not uncommon for playgrounds to be present as well. You could also expect small flower gardens.

Parks exist here. Architecture does not begin and end at the blocks of flats, especially not in the major cities - most, if not all, have old towns or historical representative streets. Buildings dating back to medieval still do exist in plenty of places. Churches & Tserkovs - those are oftentimes tourists sites for a reason! 

It may happen that the side of a building will be decorated with a mural. It is not very common, but does happen. Here are some examples (from Poland). The designs sometimes relate to other works of art, or to some forms of traditional art.

mural by NeSpoon, a street artist who incorporates motives of koronka ludowa [a type of lace] into her artwork

Overall, I come from a poorer region of Poland, from a small town to add to that. The one thing I would list about it? Flower gardens. All of my neighbours had flower gardens in front of their houses. In the recent years, I’ve seen plenty of new houses being built, plenty of renovations being made. Especially in spring and summer, it is all far from grey. Some major cities started investing in fields of wild flowers, as to aid pollinators. And winters? Well, the way it should be (as climate change shows and I have not seen a proper winter in a while), they should be snowy. Yes, it may involve a rather depressing image, at least in places where snow cannot just rest over the ground and glitter... But I do think it may be the case in plenty parts of Europe, as winter days are overall shorter as well, which hardly helps :”) Eastern Europe as a region is not locked in an eternal winter.

People may not be smiling, but they are not frowning either - it is the... Neutral resting face.

*- that being said, Eastern Europe is not inhabited only by Slavic people, even if it is often presented like so

Common Stereotypes - Professions & Jobs

List of common stereotypical jobs/professions usually performed by characters of Slavic descent:

a member of a mafia (Russian mafia)

a drug dealer

a spy

a prostitute

a maid / a cleaner

As you can see, nearly all of those involve crime, the only exception being a maid / a cleaner (which, I’d argue, speaks of a lower socio-economic status). If you do not plan to have more than one Slavic character in your work, I advise you to avoid those - especially if you wanted to make your character Russian. I do not think I have to explain why representing a group of people nearly exclusively as criminals is hurtful. 

Certain stereotypes exist in media. They do influence the reality. I have seen covers of books about spy programs (non-fiction, referencing an issue from 2000s) which involved clear references to communism (+ used the most hideous Sad Slav Filter I have ever seen). The title suggested all Russians are spies. This is not okay.

If you want to have a character who is performing any of the above, and want to make them Slavic, but then never have their heritage influence anything about them - ask yourself why.

EDIT: Do allow me to also add that being a sex-worker may not be a choice for all Slavic women. Sex-trafficking of Eastern Europeans is a real issue. You should be mindful of that when writing a story - even more so as it affects some countries more than others. Research is due.

Common Stereotypes - Characteristics

Common hurtful characteristics in depicting slavic characters:

uneducated or otherwise stupid

rude, loud, uncultured, violent

an alcoholic / addicted to drugs

extremely conservative / religious

Do I have to explain it? Yes, alcoholism is a social issue, same as addiction to drugs. Yes, some people are conservative and / or religious. However! We are not a monolith! Social issues are not the general rule! 

Scale of conservativeness and religiousness also differs greatly by age group and region. In Poland we have an entire category of practising atheists - non-believers, usually from smaller communities, who appear in church once or twice a year, despite not believing. Due to social pressure. What religion? This differs greatly too! Roman catholic, Greek orthodox, Muslim? Slavic people are not a monolith.

(about women specifically):

beautiful (must put plenty effort in her physical appearance)

looks for a rich (western) husband

submissive

obedient 

Well. This ties into the greater issue of objectification and sexualisation of Slavic and Eastern European women. Admittedly, such portrayal [including all of those] is more so present in online spaces, if you turn a few wrong corners down the roads of the internet :) It is dehumanising.

If your Slavic character happens to be a woman and must be extremely sexy femme fatal spy - this reeks of stereotypes.

Few basic issues with languages & names

As I’ve hinted already, it appears that oftentimes Slavic = Russian. This, however, is not true, both language-wise and culture-wise. Despite sharing some common elements, Slavic cultures do differ. Polish characters, unless they are 50+ years old, won’t generally speak Russian. Czech and Ukrainian are different. Ukrainian is not just another version of Russian.

I decided to single out this paragraph for one reason: authors oftentimes do not bother to check for appropriate names and just use whatever seems right. If you want to write a Slavic character, do make some research. 

The common mess-ups I’ve seen:

inappropriate form of the surname (about Russian surnames in particular; giving a woman a male version of the surname, giving a man the female version of the surname - Slavic languages are heavily gendered!)

claiming a character is of nationality B, while giving them a surname which is most definitely speaking of nationality A (e.g: Polish character with a clearly Hungarian name & surname)

wrong spelling

using very rare forms of names for all the characters written into the story (it sounds very unnatural - in one particular case it seemed to have been done on purpose, as I’ve had to google whether some names were even names. They were used as code names for few organisations during WWII. That sort of uncommon).

nicknames derived from the actual names that would not work at all (Żegota -> Zeg; It just would not work like this. It would be literally more likely for a character named Żegota to be nicknamed/renamed Staszek than for somebody to call him Zeg. It does not only not include the ż sound, but it also ends with g - which a Polish person would simplify to k when speaking. In other words Zeg -> zek. This, meanwhile, is not only not exactly pleasant to say, but it also sounds like a grammatical form of another word, albeit pronounced with a heavy lisp - “river”; It is possible to find appropriate nicknames online).

Also, unless you want for some character to be a dick, do not make them purposefully mispronounce the name of a Slavic character or have them name them after an object/thing. (Calling “Maciej” by “Magic” because they can’t be bothered to learn to pronounce the name or at least try to get it close is not nice).

#lorei spoke #honestly i had to take a couple breaks while writing this #because some of those affected my family living abroad directly and </3 #i was completely not in a mood for any stereotypes today </3

[alluringjae]

au cours de l’été - jjh

⤑ translation: over the summer

⤑ summary: this is a story of an exhausted painter who needed a breather from the hectic city life. so aside from moving to the countryside, the needed air in your lungs also came in the form of a person. this summer meant for pure relaxation, perhaps your heart may dive into him too.

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

⤑ word count: 15.2k (so much for saying that i’ll be writing shorter stories)

⤑ genre: fluff, romance, smut | author!jaehyun, painter!reader, strangers to lovers!au, 50s-60s!au, summer love in france!au

⤑ warnings: me inserting some french phrases because I want to practice (feel free to correct me if I made mistakes, i’ll appreciate them), fictional interpretations of real-life people, explicit language, jaehyun being such a romantic pls im in tears, mentions and scenes of burnout (the worst)

⤑ playlist: everybody loves somebody by dean martin | c’est si bon by eartha kitt | it’s always you by chet baker | les yeux ouverts by emilie-claire barlow | a sunday kind of love by etta james | the most beautiful thing by bruno major | try again by jaehyun and d.ear (duh) | free love (dream edit) by honne | petite fleur by jill barber | plus je t’embrasse by blossom dearie | so this is love by ilene woods and mike douglas

⤑ author’s note: this was an idea that just came to me after pinterest kept recommending me poetic beauty/try again jaehyun, so here we are! i intended to write less than 5k words but sometimes plans don’t go as planned once you really invest in the story yet i’m really happy how this turned out!

the romantic exhilaration in my bones are off the charts because this is jaehyun we’re talking about lol enjoy!

⤑ masterlist

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

3 juin 1957

The city life overstimulated your entire system, losing your brainpower and inspiration. Another exhibition that’ll feature your works with other influential painters was happening at the end of the year, and you had nothing prepared so far. You’ve crashed to the deep end of creative fatigue.

So you needed to get away again; somewhere quieter and surrounded by nature.

That’s why you ended up in the countryside down south, somewhere within Provence. It’s purely just for the summer, but extensions were okay as long you get back at least a month before the show. Filing that leave of absence at the studio you worked at was worth it.

You rented an apartment overlooking the marketplace, where the heart of the village was. After arranging things from your boxes and luggage the entire day, you found out that you lacked in the food department.  

So the succeeding day, the entire morning was spent on grocery shopping downstairs then stocking them inside your refrigerator, freezer, and pantry. Right after changing out of your pajamas into a flowy floral dress and sandals, you decided to bike to the bakery that locals suggested. A must-go place for newcomers, they all raved.

“Café des Étoiles Perdues.” (Café of Lost Stars.)

The clear chimes of the bell resounded through the small, cottage-like lobby as you entered inside. An old woman, whom you assumed was the owner, welcomed you openly.

“Oh la la, vous êtes belle! Vous vous appelez (Y/N), la nouvelle venue, n'est-ce pas?” (Oh la la, you’re beautiful. Your name is (Y/N), the newcomer, right?)

She complimented, making you shyly mutter your answer. Wiping off the flour from her apron, she introduced herself kindly.

“Je m’appelle Camille. Mes spécialités sont les macarons pisctaches et des croissants avec des amandes. Autre chose que tu aimes?” (I’m Camille. My specialties are the pistachio macarons and croissants with almonds. Is there anything else you like?)

“J'aime tout ce que vous suggères, Madame.” (I’d like anything that you suggest, Madame.)

A younger man, who went by Jaemin, was a part-timer barista who asked for your coffee order. As he directed you to the best seat of the café, which was outside overlooking the garden of blooming sunflowers, you pulled out your sketch pad so you could capture this dreamy view. It was nothing like you’ve ever seen in your life.

You’ve decided on a theme already for your exhibit thanks to your conversations with locals yesterday, which was related to freedom. After being chained to cities for so-called better living and financial standards, it’s actually how your inspiration to create squeezed the life out of you like a lemon. Although it was fun at first to see those tourist spots, it eventually got tiring.

Another matchstick to graze intensity through your bones was what you prayed for.

While you’re engaged in a rough sketch of the scenery, the dandy presence of a young man entered the café with his books. White shirt, red trousers with a matching beret, he sported freckles on his pale face. Despite visiting his favorite café numerously, Camille was overjoyed to see him and his serene smiles.

“Jaehyun! What brings you here?”

“Bonjour, Madame! I’m starving for your croissants because I ran out back home.”

“Not to worry! I’ll pack up some so you’re on your way.” She lightened him up like one of her kids, taking one of the bigger paper bags.

“No rush though, Madame. I’ll be reading and working here for a bit here.” Jaehyun affirmed, bringing it out his wallet and called out for Jaemin.

“Un café crème, s’il vous plait.” (One cup of cappuccino, please.)

Jaehyun’s usual chair was by the large window, overseeing the wide garden planted by the citizens of the village way before he was born. It was places like this he missed after moving to the city for his education and work’s sake. 

That’s the thing when you’re coming from a rich family; you don’t have much of say with what your parents order you to do. However, his recent request to stay in his childhood home (or mansion) again was fulfilled because he couldn’t search for what he needed in the cities anymore.

Jaehyun was a sucker for romance; an old romantic others would say. A lot of women mistook his kindness as flirting on many occasions, but ironically he just wasn’t looking for anyone yet. 

Starting as a novelist in the said genre based on real-life stories of people he met in Paris, Barcelona, London, and more, his stories were popular hits especially to young adults who aspire to find love one day.

However, traveling to the known places no longer felt fun as he got older. The stories he gathered were very similar, just in different languages. It took an enthusiastic dinner with his family, specifically his only older sister Krystal retelling fond stories from their younger years to get the idea of moving back for a bit. So consumed with the city life, he wanted to see things from another perspective.

What was the difference between a love story formed in the countryside than in the city?

It’s been a month since he arrived, but he didn’t hurry himself to do his research. He’s been reading books in his family library, revisiting monumental places, exploring around the village, and reconnecting with old friends as if he never left. 

Readjusting to his former life would make writing easier when he’s motivated enough to do it again. Besides, his books were profiting well enough to his taste; good enough for the next 10 years according to his personal accountant, Kim Jungwoo.

Jaehyun resumed reading this book his mother recommended him before he left. Entitled “Réessaye”, which was about a young man who reunites with his childhood sweetheart after his arranged marriage failed. After what she put her through, he’s hesitant whether to try again or let her go.

Jaehyun enjoyed reading books with realistic outlooks on love because he found them more meaningful, enlightening how exactly it makes you feel and do. Even if he enjoyed reading sappy, fairytale-like stories from time to time, he always returned to the real ones as they only displayed the truth.

That love isn’t always rainbows and sunshine, but something that can also break you especially if you go after the wrong person. This kind of mindset was how he toiled on his stories, which gained him a status outside of his unavoidable labels such as “the only striking son of the Jeong family” or “Valentine Boy”.

He diligently browsed through the climax, where the main male character confessed all his constrained emotions to his sweetheart. But it was until Jaemin pressed the bag of croissants in front of his face after placing down his childhood friend’s drink to disturb his peace.

“Reading again?” He taunted, snatching his book away and throwing the bag on Jaehyun’s lap. “When are you writing that book already? Everyone is practically dying for you to release something new again!”

Jaehyun flatly shook his head, drinking his coffee quietly. It’s not the first time anyone asked (or pressured) him about his next release, and it’s the last thing he wanted to think about. “Not in the mood right now, Jaemin. Now off to work before Madame Camille scolds you again.”

“You’re just stalling because you have nothing to write, don’t you?” Jaemin cunningly expressed, raising a brow. He’s known to catch onto the people’s bs easily; the last person you’d want to say your secrets too and Jaehyun realized too late. Though lucky for him, Jaemin shut the topic down right away so he wouldn’t pop a vein.

“Sais-tu de la nouvelle venue dans le village, d'ailleurs?” (Do you know about the newcomer in the village, by the way?)

“Une nouvelle venue?” (A newcomer?)

Being stuck at his mansion recently, news about village affairs were now late to him. Jaemin’s finger discreetly pointed outside the window, pertaining to a young woman sat outside painting her view in front of her.

That would be you, shading all the flowers in bright colors.

Seeing a new face amazed Jaehyun, especially when she was almost someone right out of a book. In a neat bun with white daisies printed in her dress, she crossed her legs whilst continuing her movements. She bit her lower lip, frustrated over an accidental smudge she made and trying to fix it by blending it with another color. When she accomplished it, she swapped brushes. A thinner one, to outline the shapes of the flower. Her lips curved to a smile after finishing another one perfectly with the rest.

“Jaehyun?”

Jaemin snapped his fingers to his distracted friend, zoning out the window. Still something he hasn’t stop doing, he pondered. With a final snap, Jaehyun broke away from falling hard from his abstract. Jaemin calculated the problem so quickly, analyzing his friend breezily like his medical school requirements.

“Elle est splendide, n'est-ce pas?” (She’s gorgeous, right?)

“Elle ressemble à une personne décente.” (She looks like a decent person.)

Jaehyun pushed it aside, flipping back to the page where he stopped reading. Before Jaemin responded, the door chimed open again to alarm him that a new customer came in. He excused himself to his friend, warning him that this wasn’t the last time he’ll talk about the newcomer too.

Jaehyun nodded along, not taking his friend’s cheeky words so seriously. However, the final result you attempted to create tickled his curiosity, so he slyly peeked from his book to the window.

You’ve freed your hair down, victorious to have started your collection this early in your break. A fantastic start, you let the paint dry first and munch on the croissant that served as your reward. However, you ‘re quick to notice a manly figure glancing through the window. From the side, his brown eyes appeared lively even if his entire face was hidden by the book.

Réessaye by Mark Lee; he must be a romantic. Every person in your studio read it, excluding yourself. Painfully beautiful, they’d summarize it.

Daring to meet more people, you locked eye contact with him. He didn’t expect it, almost flipping from his chair. Bashfully, you waved him a hello to somewhat break the ice. However, it broke his composure, and suddenly, he scurried off with his things from the café.

Now, you got quite worried. You checked your tiny mirror if he saw anything unpleasant with you, but you’d say you look relatively fine. Oh, maybe you could redeem yourself the next time you saw him. After bidding goodbye to Camille and Jaemin, the latter chased after you when you prepared yourself on your bike.

“By any chance, did you say hi to a guy with brown eyes and a red beret?”

“Well, more like I waved at him, then he zoomed out. Did I do something wrong?” You questioned with concern, putting your hands on the handles.

“That’s my friend, who’s quite reserved with strangers. I’m sorry on his behalf.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You brushed it off politely. “See you again soon, Jaemin!”

Peddling away, letting the cool breeze fan you, your mind reverted its thoughts to that strange man. Maybe you’ll give it some time; you had a lot of it.

“Shucks, he was pretty cute.”

12 juin 1957

The world must really be on your side with these good decisions because you crossed paths with the strange man again in the café a week later. But instead of running away, he asked nicely if he could sit across your free chair in front of your table outside. It was a Saturday, and the place was packed.

“Joignez-moi, s’il vous plait.” (Join me, please.)

You insisted, giving yourself time to subtly observe his physique a lot more. Freckles dotted under his eyes like a constellation, bushy eyebrows, pink cheeks to match his pale complexion, and wearing a fuzzy knit sweater that meshed well with his green beret. He had some sort of necklace too; there was a heart pendant.

“Vous êtes une artiste.” (You’re an artist.) The small wooden palette of paint beside your small sketch pad was exposed, finding it as a great icebreaker.

“Une peintre, spécifiquement. Franchement, les visuels ici sont trés captivants qu'à Paris.” (A painter, to be specific. Frankly, the visuals here are more captivating than in Paris.)

“Je suis d’accord,” (I agree,) Jaehyun leaned against his chair, taking a better look at you with the remaining light from the descending sun.

“Oh, vous êtes comme moi. J’habite à Paris aussi.” (Oh, you’re like me. I live in Paris too.)

“Bon, je suis née à Londres. Puis, j’ai déménagé où je voulais en Europe depuis j'avais 18 ans. Mais oui, j’habite définitivement à Paris maintenant.” (Well, I was born in London then moved wherever I wanted in Europe for inspiration since I was 18. But yes, I live permanently in Paris now.)

You clarified, beginning to enjoy his comforting company. Initiating conversations with people you’re not acquainted with wasn’t in your range of skills, though he didn’t have an intimidating vibe. He looked too youthful to act like that.

“Je m’appelle (Y/N), d'ailleurs.” (I’m (Y/N), by the way.) You stuck out your hand as a sign of respect, which he enthusiastically obliged.

“Salut, (Y/N). Je m’appelle Jaehyun.” [Hi, (Y/N). I’m Jaehyun.]

He kissed it in a gentleman fashion, applying the manners he’s been taught since he was a child. Should you have been flustered, but no.  It’s been a long time since anyone greeted you like that, specifically back home.

Throughout your talk, you learned more about who he was, his job, and what his life in the countryside is like. He was an author of romance novels, yet you’ve never heard about him prior. Heavily prioritizing your work, you don’t keep up with the new releases or trends at all. Though after mentioning his last name, it piqued your interest.

“Jeong? As in the business, Jeong Tea Inc.?”

“Correct.”

His family was one of the most affluent families in Parisian society. Old money immigrants from South Korea, they brought their tea business to France and it boomed successfully. You’re quite sure you’ve seen his parents in past exhibits, but never did you approach them because you were a rookie then. But he reassured you that it was fine, and to just treat him like you’d treat your friends. Plus, it came to your knowledge that he was the same age as you too.

He opened up how this village was where he lived his childhood, so he asked his parents if he could hand over their mansion for a while for rest. It then shocked both of you at how identical your reasons were for staying in the countryside.

“I’m burnt out from the city, so I’m trying to regain my spirit here hopefully. Besides, I needed a change of scenery after living there for 3 years. My longest stay yet outside of London!”

“I need new ideas for my books. The cities don’t charm me anymore, so I returned here for peace and quiet. Maybe let these ideas come to me rather than me going after them.”

From a bigger lens, people would conclude your interaction as a sight of two artists who passionately talk about their art. But to you, you’d interpret it as two relaxed, young adults in their twenties who simply wanted to run away from the pressures of their art and enjoy the summer as every young adult should.

Not cooped up in the studio or office, but innocently waltzing around with your youth while it’s still there.

début de juillet 1957

“Dépêche-toi, (Y/N)!” [Hurry up, (Y/N)!]

Jaehyun yelled at your open balcony from downstairs, parking his mini car beside your bike. He planned on taking you somewhere a little farther this time; to absolutely feel like one of the locals.

The countryside urged you to wear more dresses and flat shoes, so you took out a turquoise dress with a white scarf to wrap on top of your head. Like your relaxed fit, your mindset too was calm. Upon meeting him, he wore his round spectacles with a red knit sweater over a white turtleneck long-sleeved top. His fingers were adorned with silver rings, then around his neck was a thin black ribbon. He curled some of his hair again, a style you really liked of his.

You can’t lie, but this man could pull any trend or style and still look extra pretty.

Out of all the locals you’ve befriended in your stay, Jaehyun was always your companion. He took you to varying places that those locals don’t visit nor tourists acknowledge in their reviews for the past few weeks. For someone who hasn’t been in the village for a long time, his memory didn’t disappoint. His childhood was only filled with cheerful moments.

Today, he was taking you to a peaceful district of shops in the farther part of the village. It’s where he’d buy sweets, journals, and accessories with his mother, Krystal, and one of his housemaids every other weekend.

All the stores there were currently bombarded with blooming flowers along their alley, bringing more enticement to those who were roaming around. There was so much life here; the head waiter of one restaurant smiling at every passing customer, one florist handing a free flower to anyone who asks, and a young lady showcasing her jewelry collection to a bunch of women who looked like tourists.

“Cette librairie vendent des livres enveloppés dans du papier. Ma mère m'a offerte l'un d'eux pour mon anniversaire tous les ans comme une surprise.” (This bookstore sells books wrapped in paper. My mother gifted me one of them on my birthday every year as a surprise.)

He trained his attention at a rustic shop with open wooden windows giving a glimpse of their shelves.

“Avez-vous fini les lisant?” (Have you finished reading them?)

“Du début à la fin.” (From cover to cover.)

He took you to this rooftop restaurant overlooking the entire plaza. Since he didn’t arrange a reservation yet didn’t get rejected, he must know the owner. Especially how a lot of the staff gave casual hellos and high fives.

Speaking of the owner, he walked out of his kitchen to introduce himself to you. He went by the name Moon Taeil, another one of Jaehyun’s childhood friends whom he used to play at his house whenever his parents came along.

Gobbling up in the appetizing food Taeil prepared beforehand, Jaehyun brought up your painting exhibition again. He loved hearing artists talk about their works, wanting to know more about their driven mindset and what their imagination is like. After all, it does vary for everyone.

“So far,” You poked your fork through the chicken, taking a bite of it. “I’ve produced 3 paintings. The garden of flowers outside Café des Étoiles Perdues, the kids playing hopscotch in the alley, and the peach tree outside your house.”

“Woah, you’re on a roll.” Jaehyun clapped across you, pouring you another glass of water. He recalled the nights you ranted not having any clue what to do for the exhibit. Then after taking you to more places, he’s rewarded to see you be creatively active again. “How many artworks do you left to make?”

“Around 3-4 left. I have ideas already, but I’m still brainstorming.” You internally rejoiced, loving how much progress you’ve made. “How about you, Jaehyun? How’s your progress?”

Unlike you, Jaehyun still felt stuck. Although he did find couples around the village, none of them intrigued him as much as his past stories. But he won’t give up easily; that’s not in his work ethic.

“Still searching, but I’ll get there.”

Recently, you got ahold of some of Jaehyun’s books from him personally since they weren’t sold in the village. You wanted to understand how he became so well known outside the labels people put him under. Reading his first novel entitled “Des Papillons” (Butterflies), it was about a couple separated during World War II without contact or knowledge about their well-being. Yet whenever they saw butterflies on the day they parted, they took it as a sign that the other was alive wherever they were.

You’re always hanging on the cliff when the scenes revert back and forth to the main male lead getting stuck in intense war scenarios, rooting for him to get out alive each time. In the end, it took 7 years before they were reunited and wed.

Jaehyun had a wonderful way with his words and descriptions, managing to enwrap you in as if you’re also a character in the book. Like how you rooted for that male lead, you’re rooting for him to find his spark again.

Following this uplifting conversation, Jaehyun finally took to your greatly anticipated spot. It was the main viewpoint of Gordes, one of the most beautiful hilltop villages in the country. The sunset was about to hit, and the lights from the city across you slowly turned on like a bunch of dominos.

As you marveled at its aesthetics, Jaehyun leaned against the hood of his car. He sensed how in awe you were, more than you ever were in the city he assumed. So used to the city that being surrounded with nature became foreign to you.

He took out his polaroid camera from his trunk and captured a photo of you from behind. The shutter sounds were obvious, turning your back at the commotion. Jaehyun fanned the freshly printed photo to dry, giving a mischievous smile.

“What can I say? While you’re fawning over the view, mine was more enamoring.”

Although Jaehyun felt overwhelmed the first time he locked eyes with you, he can’t resist the power of his developing feelings for you. The more time he took you around, the more his heart found different details about you to admire. After listening to all those love stories in the past, the people he spoke to shared how there will be some distinct moment where your heart decides who they’re longing for.

That exact view of you by the cliff, he already knew.

He’s infatuated by you.

“Tu es très ringard, Jaehyun.” (You’re so cheesy, Jaehyun.) You scoffed sassily, with a hand on your waist.

“Un gentleman ne ment jamais, (Y/N). Allez, il fait nuit maintenant.” [A gentleman never lies, (Y/N). Come on, it’s night already.]

He cleverly responded, grabbing his car keys from his pocket. The trip back to the village was energizing, putting down the roof of his car to relish the chill breeze of the night weather. You even raised your arms in the air, losing your scarf even from the speed Jaehyun went at!

The two of you belted along to the songs on the radio when the fields were the only ones surrounding you, no neighbors to shout at your rambunctiousness.

The late-night hours drew by so quickly almost like dinner with more of Jaehyun’s friends didn’t happen. Arriving at the front doors of your apartment complex, Jaehyun raced over to your side to open your door. Always maintained proper observation of manners, you appreciated that side of him. Rarely anyone in Paris that you’ve encountered treated you that way because you were a foreigner.

“Bonsoir, (Y/N).” [Goodnight, (Y/N).]

“Bonsoir, Jaehyun. Quand est-ce que je te revois?” (Goodnight, Jaehyun. When can I see you again?)

“Demain et après-demain. Appelle-moi quand tu es libre.” (Tomorrow, and the day after that. Just give me a call when you’re free.)

With a short wave, you entered your building and marched up to the stairs. A good day only meant being tired to the core, ready to crash and fall in your soft bed. Opening your wide windows to let more of the cool breeze in, your eyes easily caught Jaehyun’s classy car still there. As for the owner, he didn’t move an inch from his leaning position.

“Rentre à la maison, Jaehyun! C’est tard!” (Go home, Jaehyun! It’s late!) You shrieked, peeking side to side to make sure none of the neighbors scold you.

Jaehyun laughed wholeheartedly, not budging at all. “La nuit ne fait que commencer, ma chérie.” (The night has just begun, my darling.)

“Comment tu m'as appelé?” (What did you call me?)

Either your ears were fooling you or he addressed you by a divine pet name. The gasp you swallowed, as your entire body tingled with exhilaration. Your mind would simply disregard it like his former teasing words, but your heart begged to differ.

Rather than responding with words, Jaehyun’s voice serenaded you with a wondrous song, C’est Si Bon by Eartha Kitt, that played on the radio earlier. Out of the blue, a random guitar accompaniment followed his baritone vocals.

“En voyant notre mine ravie,”

Against the railing of your wired balcony, your body shifted forward to watch him better.

“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient,”

Your hand perched on your cheek, admiring his talent.

“C'est si bon de guetter dans ses yeux,”

It was like a lullaby, and here you were drowning in its peacefulness. Sensing the passion he gives off in his singing, your heart couldn’t refrain the strings inside from being swayed and tugged.

This was your moment of realization: that you too were smitten.

“Un espoir merveilleux, qui donne le frisson…”

À la mi-juillet de 1957

“Hello, nature!” You greeted brightly as your legs raced the huge garden in his manor. It was the first time he invited you over, too lazy to go out of the city. His social battery needed a recharge for the weekend, so a picnic within his home would do the trick. Additionally, it was an excuse to bring you over after the numerous times you’ve begged him to.

Jaehyun merely shook his head, enjoying the rush of childlike fun in your veins while you squealed and grazed your hands through the flowers.

He carried a wooden basket full of treats his family maids cooked, taking his time to venture through the rows of flowers. They were growing healthily and phenomenally these days, sometimes riding his bike to personally water them since he became busy with writing again. Lately, he found inspiration again, and so he wrote day and night to set them free.

“Voila!” You yanked out a sunflower, sniffing it a little. “Come on, Jaehyun! Pick up a few for our lunch!”

He followed your order, picking out some he found ideal. But just for fun, he put down the basket and carried you from behind out of the blue. You tried kicking him away, but his muscular arms can’t compete with your soft ones.

“What are you doing?”

“You said to pick up a flower, so I did. The prettiest of them all.”

His flirtatious words were never serious, yet you took it as a compliment. That’s how high your confidence is. Only we define our own worth, not others. The two of you chatted more about your lives until the first rain of the season poured down, chilling down from the raging heat. None of you had an umbrella; the weather was too unpredictable.

Deciding to just run for it, he gave you the wooden basket to protect yourself whilst he used the blanket you’ve sat on. Running with laughter to return to his mansion in the muddy dirt, the cool drops shivered your figure yet felt fantastic.

If you were in the city, you’d panic because it’d mess your appearance and your boss would be infuriated by your unprofessionalism. But in the countryside, it didn’t matter at all. The condition of the rain wasn’t budging to improve, getting stronger by the minute. His entire house even lost power, his housemaids having to bring candles to his bedroom and your assigned one once night dawned.

It was hopeless to return home for you, plus it’s dangerous to drive in in the dark, narrow streets too. Jaehyun handed you some of his fresh clothes so you’d be free from flinching from cold dress sticking to your body.

“Get dressed and some sleep, (Y/N).”

Nodding, you excused yourself to find the bathroom. You’d assume it’d be easy, but this was your first time in his house; a mansion even. Doors from left to right, long corridors that seemed never-ending, no maids were within the vicinity whom you can ask for guidance.

Resorting to return to Jaehyun’s chamber for help, you were taken aback by what your eyes laid on. In front of his full mirror, he discarded his now-dried shirt. Even with the dim lighting, you could make out that he was fit by the transparent view of his abdomen. Peeping like this was wrong, yet you couldn’t turn away just yet. The heat in your cheeks was inevitable, finding composure in such an unholy sight.

Though a gear in you suddenly twisted; a gear that straightened your nerves. You’re taking a bold move on the chessboard of your feelings. Wholly opening his bedroom door again, you leisurely sauntered inside without warning.

“Oh, (Y/N)! Ne peux pas trouver la salle de bain?” (Oh, (Y/N)! Can’t find the bathroom?)

Unbothered as he stood shirtless, you on the other hand silently dropped his clothes on the floor. Holding intense eye contact, your fingers graciously unzipped the side of your dress. Inch by inch, the tension built up like the strong tiny flames lit on the candles around you two. Joining the pile of clothes, all that remained were your white lace undergarments. Unplanned for the get-go, it’s the ideal set for your earlier outfit at the picnic.

“Je me suis perdue, mais je pense avoir trouvé quelque chose de mieux.” (I got lost, but I think I found something better.)

Your fingers grazed your arm up to your collarbones, faking your naivety. From your lust-filled stare, the glint in Jaehyun’s eyes darkened. He gulped at the revealing sight of you, brushing his hair back to restrain himself.

None of you could utter a single word, only the vivacious rain being the only sounds ringing around you. Thus, you allowed your actions to pursue precisely what you desired to do.

Taking baby steps towards him to test the waters, he met you right in the center and closed the leftover space. His hands cradled your face, whilst yours clung to his chest. His lips tasted like red wine, watching him pour in a glass for himself earlier. He did offer, yet you declined.

Your tongue darted his lower lip, gaining access after. Sensing the edge of his bed, you plopped yourself down the cushion. His knee urged your legs to widen, letting his body slide in. From your face, his fingers lowered to the back of your bra, snapping the clasps open.

“It takes skill to accomplish that in one try, Jaehyun.”

“I lived in Paris too, ma chérie. You out of all people would understand and have the experience.”

His palms massaged your freed breasts, throwing your head back even more to his pillows as his lips ravaged down from your stomach until the fabric of your not-so pure panties.

“Call me that again, please.”

“Ma chérie, seras-tu mienne?” (My darling, will you be mine?) He kissed and licked the tiny ribbon in front repeatedly, where your now-swollen clit laid. It electrified your bones, pulling on to his ruffled hair.

“Tu peux m'avoir.” (You can have me.)

Sex in the form of one-night stands were all you’ve invested; upcoming artists like you weren’t capable to maintain long-term relationships. Les plans à trois even if you’re extra freaky or drunk from the afterparties of your events. All that these occurrences had in common were not seeing those men ever again after sneaking out of their apartments in the morning.

This time, it’s different.

When they said that doing the deed with someone you’re romantically entangled with was more special, they didn’t bluff. You could plan bits of your life, but it can sometimes change aspects of it when you least expect it. Sometimes for the best or the worst, but right now, it went beyond your expectations.

It’s rewarding that the man you’ve slowly fallen for within your stay returned your affections.

Around late 3 am that night, your brain jolted with artistic ideas that awoken your sonorous rest. There are no hopes of sleeping them off because they tend to bother you for hours until you do something about it. But you’re already so cozy having Jaehyun’s arms around you, skin to skin under the duvet. His lips daunted right above your forehead, recalling his endless kisses there that helped you fall asleep.

Well, these ideas don’t work themselves unless you do. Untangling him tactfully, you stepped out of the blanket and wore one of his long white shirts he gave you earlier before pulling out your sketchpad and palette of oil paints.

Luckily, there was still one available candle to use as the rest have melted indefinitely. You slid the matchstick again to the sand surface, boring a flame from the friction which you placed on top of the wick.

All your ideas that night leaned towards one thing, or person rather: Jaehyun.

You spent a few minutes retracing how he vividly looked at the picnic, leaning back from the chair of his work desk. His outfit of a turquoise turtleneck underneath a white button-top with trousers matching the said turtleneck looked good together, how his ears tingled red after you complimented his newfound inspiration for his book, and the prominent veins in his arms when he rolled his sleeves due to the heat.

The thin brush you held defined the shape of his face, then paying attention to the messy strands of his hair. Stroking in a circular way to outline his eyelids, a hoarse grunt disturbed the peaceful silence.

“Get back in bed, ma chérie.” His eyes drowsily opened, lying on his side. The moment he no longer felt your warmth, he worried something happened. Instead, you’re working late at night after quite a rough yet romantic night.

“Shush,” You shunned him down with your index finger. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“Perhaps, are you painting me?” He hunched from the covers. “Your eyes looking back and forth would never lie to me, would they?”

“Maybe…” You teased, batting your eyes at him without any risky intentions. Or not?

He deeply chuckled, sluggishly removing himself under the covers. In his pure nudity, he advanced himself towards you. You shrieked, covering yourself with your free hand.

“Jaehyun, stay back! I told you I’ll be there soon!”

Not listening, he carried your bridal style, making you drop your precious palette to the fur rug. Laying you carefully, he popped each button open. By the sight of his cock hardening again, you knew you were in for another round with him.

“Wet again, ma chérie? Oh, this will be fun.”

Fin de juillet 1957

So this kind of summer romance concept that everyone fantasized about… it became your present.

Together you’d stroll in the smaller streets and immerse yourselves in the unique culture of the village. Whenever anyone saw you together, holding hands, biking, or what-not, they’d praise in the name of love for bringing you both together. A romance like yours in the countryside was a lively sight.

Remember how extensions were a possibility if your search for inspiration wasn’t found? Well, it’s not a question that you’d make one, except inspiration found you instead. And he had one arm around you as he slow danced with you in the open grounds of the village, listening to the live band covering song classics.

In particular, Chet Baker. He was Jaehyun’s favorite artist at the moment.

There was an ongoing week-long festival dedicated to summer, giving more plants their bloom and spreading gratitude to the hardworking people. Especially the students, off on their break.

The faint radiance from the post lights as Jaehyun swayed you around, making you laugh as he tried to mumble the lyrics of the song. All those glasses of wine he tried earlier with you from the bartender offering it for free had its effects, and you weren’t off the hook from them either.

Blisters started to form from your ankles, adjusting to the new pair of heels Jaehyun gave (or insisted to buy) you a while ago after staring at them like lasers. You’ve always provided things for yourself that being spoiled by someone else felt weird to you.

“If there’s anything you want me to buy for you, just tell me.”

“How can I buy you if you’re already mine?”

His smooth talk often made you punch his shoulder, but it’s just a mechanism to hide the exhilaration.

Under each other’s spells in your dance, you laid your head on Jaehyun’s chest. Feeling the strong beat of his heart, you were reminded of how much life he’s filled with. And you became a part of it, in the same way he crossed yours.

Jaehyun’s lips sank to the top of your head, pecking it affectionately. The first-ever summer where he wasn’t stuck at his desk working or drinking his life away with his rich friends in their Parisian homes, it couldn’t get better than this.

“Oiii! Flirtez ailleurs!” (Oiii! Flirt somewhere else!) The distinct voice of Jaemin, handing out pastries to passersby, shouted at the both of you, making you flip your middle finger at him.

“Trouve une copine d’abord, d’accord?!” (Find a girlfriend first, alright?!) You shouted back jokingly, almost falling due to the ache of your feet. Your immodest behavior was censored by Jaehyun’s large palms, not wanting the kids around to see it. Whispering closely to your ear,

“Tu es ivre. Laisse-moi te ramener chez toi.” (You’re drunk. Let me take you home.)

You changed back into your sandals as Jaehyun led you through the different alleys. Your vision was too hazy to navigate, so he had one arm wrapped around your shoulders. The weather grew cold too, shivering your bones so he draped you in his blazer.

“Wait,” You stopped, making him do the same. But before he could ask for your reason, your hands yanked him by his suspenders and your legs walked backward to reach the brick wall. Standing in his 5’11 glory, you were overpowered.

Yet your lips captured his effortlessly, raising to your toes to press yourself closer to him. He moved fast, one arm hugging your waist while the other hoisted your leg up. Tangling around his waist, the urge to move your hips against his crotch couldn’t be contained any longer.

Everyone was probably still out at this time or sleeping. The sloppy sounds you’ve produced were beyond suitable for any audience. Not to mention, the nasty words Jaehyun’s pretty mouth spoke in your ears desired you to fall to your knees.

“Not afraid of getting caught, ma chérie? You want me to ruin you right here, right now?”

“God, Jaehyun,” Your hands tugged his belt forward, the friction it gave to your core twitched the naughty side out of you. “Do it, please.”

The idea of public sex thrilled your mind into overdrive, yet you’ve never done it. In Paris, a city where several people started to know your name, you didn’t need a scandal to be plastered in your resume yet.

Jaehyun himself included, and still opted not to give it to you.

“Another time, ma chérie. Your apartment, now.”

The moment you unlocked your apartment door, Jaehyun was far from gentle like in the mansion. Ripping you out of your frilly dress didn’t take long, so was unbuttoning his trousers down to the floor.

On your knees, his hand gave you a makeshift ponytail as your tongue flicked the slit of his cock. Then slowly taking him inch by inch on your mouth, you’d let out a loud pop when you needed to breathe. Your hands fondling his balls, he groaned from the edge of your bed and tightened his hold on you. Tears formulated in your eyes as you got to swallow him whole, uncontrollably bobbing your head.

He felt like putty when he released, your throat taking the salty base. You hastily unhooked your bra in front of him when suddenly, his hand flicked on the fabric of your panties, cueing you to stop your motion.

“Keep them on when you ride me.”

Straddling on his lap, his head laid against the headboard of his bed. His arms roaming around your back to stabilize you, your fingers pushed your panties to the side as you pushed yourself down his protected length. Your moans became shaky. Up and down, you bounced while bracing on his shoulders.

Against his ear, your moans were harmonious. His hips moved against your beat, hitting your g-spot like the sexual ace he is. His thumb rubbing your clit, you shuttered your eyes at the impending high approaching you like a bus.

“I’m close.” You choked out, the overstimulation overwhelming your nerves.

“Fuck, me too.” He grunted, slapping your butt that made you shriek.

Soon enough, everything hit you both all at once. The knot snapped, and so did your body falling on his chest after a single scream. Panting, Jaehyun pecked on your temple as his cock softened up. Once you returned to your senses, you lifted yourself from his length, laying bare beside him.

His eyes started to fall, but before they did, he muttered huskily. “Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

It was the first time he’s said those words in the way they meant, and he’s more than certain that it’s what he felt with you. Sure, it started as mutual infatuation, but now, it can’t leave. Not on his watch.

Love was a concept unfamiliar to you, but Jaehyun slowly taught you what it was and how it felt like. Books and films may give sneak peeks, but to personally give and receive it back was made possible by him.

From this moment on, you could conclude that yes, you reciprocated it.

“Je t’aime aussi, Jaehyun.”

16 octobre 1957

Autumn made its way to the countryside.

The leaves switched into red-brown shades, the weather in the south was warmer, and the wine harvest was highly anticipated. Jaehyun’s camera was a common item in your outings, taking as many photos as he could so the two of you had something to look back on.

Planned and candid, his range was wide. These were moments that proved that your youth was as happy as you wished it to be. You wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Painting in his mansion was a regular thing, having new canvases prepared at his patio. There were so many items that amused you there like you could base your entire collection on his home. It’s not like Jaehyun could argue; it meant more time with you whenever you came over.

“Jaehyun, if you smudge paint on me, so help me Go-” He refused to listen to your “threats”, smearing black paint on your cheek.

“You were saying?” He cockily pestered, showcasing his paint-filled fingers. You dipped one of your brushes into the new paint and chased after him without hesitation. The entire evening became a paint war, a laugh fit even after seeing your reflections in the mirror. But before you could clean yourself, Jaehyun’s camera was by your face and he pressed the button.

“Still breathtaking.”

But the middle of the season arrived, that’s where your planned extension you’ve reached its end. The exhibit was next month, getting calls from your boss regarding your return and the paintings you’ll present. You informed her that you already had them mailed to your studio way back, so there’s nothing much to worry about.

All your bags were packed in the private car Jaehyun rented. Here, you’re bidding your goodbyes to every friend you’ve made outside the doors of your apartment complex, saving your last words with Jaehyun.

The night before, he stayed over and helped you pack your last items in luggage bags. He even brought extra clothes for you so you wouldn’t work extra. You’ve talked it out the whole evening through what happens next to ease your worries. In your bed, he opened the wide windows and pulled you under the sheets.

“Write to me.”

“Call me when you’re free, or whenever you feel like it.”

Leaning against the railing of the stairs, watched the sorrow in your face over this parting. He sensed how bittersweet everything was, but he wouldn’t change anything about it. He’s positive that your story won’t end here, not right now.

Sauntering to him, you sighed whilst taking your bag he held the whole time from him. His touch was tighter as the two of you hugged tenderly, nuzzling his head on your shoulder. The scent of his citrus cologne that implanted in your brain felt comforting, despite the uncertainty of everything between you.

You hinted a minty taste from the menthol candies from his home as his lips brushed yours, colliding it timely. He waited when everyone left, relishing these last seconds.

Stepping inside the vehicle, you waved your summer love farewell one more time before the driver hit the pedal. Your eyes couldn’t stray away from looking back, the distance between him and your former apartment widening. Only when he was no longer in the frame, you shifted your focus back in front.

Your fingers fiddled with the charm bracelet he gifted you from the market. It was custom-made by a jeweler who was great friends with his mother in his younger years. There were two pendants chained on it: a paintbrush and the sun.

“A paintbrush to remind you of your passion, and the sun to remind you of the summer we first met.”

The man was like one of his romance books, in human form. He knew how to catch your breath effortlessly.

Your stay, for now, may have concluded, but there was always next summer. And the ones after that. The village felt like a second home, one you can’t neglect like the other places you’ve lived. Then having Jaehyun here, the more reasons to return.

Undoubtedly the best vacation you’ve ever been in your adult years, one that didn’t sacrifice for your art so you could compete with other artists. The weight on your chest poofed into thin air, and you felt ready for what the next steps as a painter were.

Appreciating the greenery you passed by, you peeked over the side mirror of the car only to find Jaehyun quickly biking in your direction.

Now, what was he up to?

You instantly requested the driver to slow down his pace, rolling down the window of the car. Not caring about the strong winds, “You fool, what are you doing?!”

Although he trusted your last words, he had the greed to see your face again. It would be a long time until he’ll see you in person again. So he pedaled as fast he could to still reach you. Oh, the things you do when you’re in love.

“Mon cœur bat la chamade pour toi, (Y/N)!” [My heart beats loudly for you, (Y/N)!]

You giggled at his silliness, throwing out flying kisses.

“Je reviendrai bientôt, Jaehyun!” (I’ll come back soon, Jaehyun!)

21 octobre 1957

Only your friends at the studio gave you a warm welcome back, receiving comments like “get back to work” from your first encounter with your boss. Popping a champagne glass open after work hours on the rooftop of your studio, they interrogated you with all the questions they could think of.

“So this village in Provence…. was it beautiful as the tourists said?” Ten, who moved from his home in Thailand to Paris at a young age, expressed his curiosity whilst leaning against the railing overlooking the Eiffel Tower.

“Beautiful is an understatement, Ten. I miss it dearly!” You heaved a sigh, twirling your glass.

“So this inspiration you were looking for…” Amélie, your dear friend since your university days, created some tension as she prolonged her last word. Playfulness twinkled in her eyes, crossing her legs. “Was a person involved by any chance?”

For a moment, your throat almost gagged on the sizzling alcohol going down.

“What do you mean?” You acted clueless, pouring your now empty glass with more booze. But the moment Ten gave you the troublesome look coordinating with Amélie, you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. These two were such gossips in and out of the studio.

Ten took the seat across you on the table and leaked all his pent-up information.

“So you know Seo Youngho, the only son of the Seo family. Rich, socialite, a total hotshot… yeah, all that jazz.” He dived in, seeing you nod over knowing that man. Someone in the past you’ve slept with, but that’s another story. “Well, Amelie and I attended one of his parties at his large penthouse. He had his usual crowd there; Kim Doyoung, Lee Taeyong, Nakamoto Yuta, and Lee Minhyung. But fun fact: there’s another member in that friend group who doesn’t go to these kinds of events.”

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” Amélie excitedly took off like the pipelette (chatterbox) she is. “Youngho, who was talking to us for a bit, asked where you’ve run off. Poor him, he must’ve missed you in his bed but anyway! We told him that you went down south somewhere in Provence for a break. Oddly enough, he mentioned how the mentioned member moved back there for the same reason.”

Ten and Amélie gave each other another frisky look, merely to piss you off. So predictable of them.

“Get to the point please!” You screeched.

“Jeong Jaehyun, ever heard of him?” Amélie imitated your tone of voice. “I mean, you should since you made a whole painting of him.”

“H-How,” Speechless, that’s what you were. Ten went on a fit of giggles, signaling the build-up of his intoxication.

“Youngho visited the studio to find a specific painting for his home, and we helped him in choosing. Then when your deliveries of paintings arrived that day and were unwrapped, the look on his face when he saw Jaehyun’s painting was priceless. Things started to add up, especially when he told us that he called up Jaehyun prior, he said that Jaehyun was seeing a girl during his stay there.”

“A young, burnt-out painter from Paris, to be specific.”

They’ve put you on the edge of the cliff, and it was too close to call it a coincidence. Of all things to be revealed, this had to be the first.

“Well, I was waiting for another time to tell you guys about him though.”

Their gasps of joy could give you guys a noise complaint by the neighbors, telling all about your escapades of him and you. During it, the more you missed seeing him daily either on his bike or his car. It was stuck in your routine, but now it’s reverted to your old one.

Could the next summer come any faster?

14 février 1958

Perhaps your newest collection at the Louvre was your most successful one yet.

Entitled “Inspirez, Expirez” (Breathe In, Breathe Out), your sceneries during your stay in the village varied. An old couple slow dancing under the night sky, and the quiet district of shops Jaehyun took you, those were some of your last additions.

A multitude of positive reviews on the newspapers and art magazines came in, commending on taking on a fresher, brighter outlook for a change whilst finding your spark again. As fulfilling it was, what you longed the most was the one responsible for it.

Lately, it’s been tough to contact him. His maids always answered the calls, informing you that he was busy with work or family matters. It’s so rare for him to act like this. Whatever it was, it wasn’t grand or serious hopefully.

Back to your collection, tonight was the last night of it. Just in time for Valentine’s day, where numerous socialite lovers embarked on this event, but you’re more fixated that it was also Jaehyun’s birthday. A boy full of love born on the day dedicated for it, things made more sense. In case, you’ve sent your birthday wishes to him through letter and passing the message to one of his maids. Even on his special day, he hasn’t reached out to you.

But to momentarily forget about that, there was a closing ceremony held for this exhibit with the other artists involved, and it was your turn to give your final remarks. More esteemed socialites and journalists were present, which didn’t halt your nerves the slightest. You were a professional after all, holding pride in your craft as you stood in front of the microphone wearing your new favorite custom-made gown.

There are perks when you have close friends in the fashion industry, specifically Kim “Key” Kibum from the House of Key. After defending him from a disrespectful client when you were picking up a dress for your boss during your internship years, not only did you earn his respect, but an invite to his shows and first claiming of new items from his collections. Dining in expensive restaurants in the metro was a plus, catching up on your lives. Sometimes calling each other out for your sexcapades too.

Speaking of him, he was in the crowd that night, ordering every photographer to take photos of your gorgeous self in one of his dresses. Or in your opinion, bribing some by how he stuffed a few thick stacks of Euro bills down their pockets.

Only one of it ever made. A dark green satin v-neck off-the-shoulder gown, where diamonds adorned your neck and ears and white stilettos kept your perfect balance. Also courtesy of Key.

Because it’s the winter season, he gifted you a limited edition white fur coat every socialite tried getting their hands on. Your hair was styled in a bun, emphasizing your dark tinted lips from this new lipstick Amelie insisted you buy.

Most people would get the first impression that you were one of the socialites, a child from one of the affluent families even. But you were a lot more remarkable than that, having inborn talent in the arts that you specialized over your youth and rising to the top without any parental help.

“Thank you to everyone for their endless support towards the magnificent collections of each artist present. As for mine, I am grateful to rechannel my creative side by taking a break. Rather than romanticizing overworking our bones to the core, there’s nothing wrong with taking a step back from the pressure. Being alive is a blessing, realizing further how our youth won’t stay with us forever. Being away from the boisterous cities, I found relaxation in the countryside of Provence.”

Your lips quirked into a grin as every single memory during that time reeled in your head like a movie. “The beauty of Provence cannot be simply put in words. The muses I’ve encountered were more than lovely, especially the man behind the Poetic Rose. With that, I sincerely thank everyone from my bottom of my heart and I hope to continue to support me in the years to come.”

The applause roared once you stepped down the platform, shaking hands with every esteemed guest with more gratitude as they praised you. These days, socializing with them was a lot easier. You’ve even taken more initiative to greet people first before they do, conversing with them easily about anything.

Key definitely noticed that as you toured him around your section, holding his nth glass of wine for the night.

“You, Madame (Y/N), transformed into a social butterfly.” He nudged your shoulder, smirking once he got a better view of his favorite painting from you. “I guess that’s the thing when you’re in love.”

“I beg your pardon?”

With this free hand, he motioned it up and down at the painting in front of you. “The Poetic Rose is none other than the youngest son of the Jeong family, whom I’ve met through his older sister, Krystal.”

“Am I really the only one who doesn’t know him?!” You stressed, jokingly. Key was elated to capture you in his trap, the changes of your personality too evident in his eyes. Figuring it out that it was love took a while, but being acquainted with Krystal, she’s the one who told him that her younger brother was in love with a painter in Provence. Do the math.

“I’ve met him through his older sister, one of my highly favored clients. He’s not much of a socialite like her, so I don’t really blame you for that.”

Searching for a waiter to refill your wine glasses, a surprise emerged the both of you.

“Madame Krystal, you’re absolutely stunning.”  Key complimented her, giving the engaged heiress of Jeong Tea Inc. kisses on the cheek as respect. Her recent engagement to Kim Donghyun, her childhood sweetheart and also the heir of Kim Couture, was the talk of the town.

They arrived at the event together, drawing the attention of everyone in the room earlier. Now, he was speaking to a few influential socialites he made a deal with this week about the art collections present.

“Key, you never fail to look fantastic,” She remarked positively, poking his necktie before placing her undivided attention on you. “So you must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’re beyond bewildering in that gown.”

“Flattered to hear that, Madame Krystal. Such a pleasure to meet you.”

The three of you chatted as if you were the only people there. From art, passion, and love, pride filled in your chest when you toured your collection. It was like walking down memory lane for her, adding out how she used to climb the peach tree with her younger brother during their childhood. Once her eyes laid on Poetic Rose, she took her time admiring it.

“My younger brother grew up well. That’s all I could ever hope for as his only older sister.” She paused, noticing how silent you became when you stared at the painting along with her. She observed the passion lit in your eyes, yet there was longing behind it by the way your lips pouted briefly. “You must really love him, do you?”

“I do, truly. After meeting him, not only was I boosted with so much ideas, but my heart embraced him for what and who he is in this universe.” You professed confidently, earning an approving smile from Krystal.

“If that’s how you feel, why not tell him that yourself?”

Her fingers gestured you to turn around. Stood in a grey suit with his brown hair slicked back, it was like seeing a completely new person. A handsome one though. His fashion in the countryside heavily differed from his fashion in the cities. So sophisticated and refined, he looked like a prince straight out of a fairytale.

Your fairytale.

“Jaehyun.”

It’s like everything stopped once he sprinted towards you, pulling you off your feet for a snug hug. Your arms threw themselves on his neck by instinct, not wasting a single second in his grasp. Your nose inhaled the woody scent of his cologne, something more formal than his usual fruity scent.

The smell of aftershave in his jaw couldn’t go ignored either, assuming that he must have had plans to go out tonight. Nonetheless, you squealed as if you were back in Provence, giggling at his boldness. Once he put you down, neither of you could get your hands off each other.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you’d be in Paris!” Clutching your waist, you gazed at him with doe-like eyes, instilling confusion.

“J’ai voulu te surprendre, my chérie.” (I wanted to surprise you, my darling.)

He chuckled, pushing some straying strands of your hair behind your ear. His eyes evoked so much endearment towards this elegant look you prepared, making his heart race as if he were in the gardens of his manor again.

Hearing his petname for you again attacked your heart every time no matter how much time passed, he lifted your chin high. Jaehyun urged himself to kiss you senseless right there, leaning lower. And yes, you anticipated it by how your eyes instantly closed.

Only if it weren’t for Krystal to clear her throat, obviously ruining the mood. Flinching away from your sensual lover, you rubbed the nape of your neck. Towards an heiress like her, it must’ve been unprofessional.

“Couldn’t you at least wait until I left, younger brother?” Her fingers flicked Jaehyun’s forehead, a teasing trick they used to do as kids. Even if she was a lot shorter now, it didn’t mean the impact was weak. He cursed under his breath, covering his forehead.

Stifling your laughter was a failure, crinkling your eyes to unleash your emotions. So this is what their sibling dynamic was like?

“Now excuse me, older sister. You didn’t tell me you were visiting the exhibit after my birthday dinner with our parents?” He crossed his arms, exchanging a judgmental look. For his sake, he wanted to maintain his pride. “All you said after dinner was that you were going straight home with your fiancé after all the alcohol mother gave you because it made you lightheaded.”

“Well, you know Key and his persuasiveness. He insisted I attend this event last minute because all the collections were amazing.” She explained, shedding a subtle glance at you. “Plus, it’s an excuse to finally meet this lovely girl you raved so much through your letters.”

Jaehyun kept his family life private, so this piece of information was new to you. The unpredicted way the fluttering feeling drew in your stomach, all you could do was smile from the flattery.

“He spoke about me to you?”

“More than speak, my dear. He practically professed his love for you, asking me advice on how to court a girl, make them smile, etcetera. You’re the first girl he’s been this affectionate with, and I completely understand now.” She patted your shoulder, hopeful. She had such a strong older sister vibe, reminding you of your older siblings back home. “You’re a clever, talented woman. I look forward to seeing you more often.”

As you nodded in approval, she turned towards her brother with her recurring teasing look. “Yah, Jaehyun. You better take care of her. If she ever sheds a tear because of you, I’m hunting you down in the gardens.”

“Harsh of you, Krystal.” He planted his hand on his chest, feigning pain. “But no worries. Having you and mother around me kept me well-mannered towards women growing up.”

Playfulness aside, Krystal felt honored towards her younger brother. Men these days maintained their sexist beliefs and rudeness, especially those who doubted her high position in the family business once her father stepped down. Nowadays, it’s men like Jaehyun who could really challenge the patriarchy and make women pursue a lot more than being limited as a housewife.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now please excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

Krystal waltzed her way out without tripping from her slight intoxication, which Jaehyun worried about earlier. But anyway, that left him alone with you. Filled with so many questions, you didn’t know where to start.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Paris? Why didn’t you acknowledge my birthday wishes to you? Why aren’t you answering my calls and letters?” You blurted without wasting a breath, weren’t trying to come off as needy, but it became peculiar when he was contacting you like usual.

You pushed off thinking of the worst scenarios, not wanting it to ruin your drive and your emotions either. Yet you trusted Jaehyun enough to know he wasn’t the type of person either.

“Okay slow down, ma chérie.” His hands maneuvered for you to stop for a bit. “Ask me one by one and I’ll give you a solid answer for each while we roam around.”

He arrived in Paris last week, which was initially for work. Then his birthday clashing was a coincidence. It would be too lonely to go home and celebrate his special day alone, so he extended. But again, it’s his work that caused his abrupt contact.

When you were too busy delving into the success of recovering your inspiration, he also found his spur to write again too. Day and night, his mind kept him tedious with an endless trail of thoughts and words. Overall, he finalized it then brought the end product to the same publishing house where his books in the past went through.

In fact, he decided to publish them specifically today on his birthday. The only day in his itinerary he planned, where after publishing, he’d hang out with his friends, have dinner with his family then run off to reunite with you.

“I didn’t intend to make you feel like a second choice, so please forgive me for that, ma chérie.”

“All is forgiven, Jaehyun.” You held both his hands, kissing them tenderly out of habit. “I’m overjoyed that you rekindled your creative side again.”

You were so understanding and empathetic, and Jaehyun aimed to act that way too. He learned so much from you as his friend before being his lover. Quickly enough, you’re both back to his portrait in the center. Like a critic, he narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose. Tapping his chin with his finger,

“This man in Poetic Rose, he’s quite dashing.” He commented with conceit, walking closer to it to view it better. “His freckles are on point, his dimples and dazzling eyes too. Why exactly is he described as a Poetic Rose?”

“Well sir,” You stood beside him, imitating his actions. “This man here always spoke so eloquently, like he had a very poetic approach on life. He reminded me also of a rose by his rosy tinted cheeks and his beauty. He was alluring inside and out.”

“Is he your favorite muse?”

“I never quoted him as a muse because he’s more than that. Muses can be replaced once they no longer serve purpose towards the artist. Though with him, he’s the never-ending flame that I want to keep for the rest of time."

You held on to his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. The apparent reddening of his ears proved that he was flustered, yet you spoke no lies.

“Joyeux anniversaire, ma flamme.” (Happy birthday, my flame.)

“Merci beaucoup, ma chérie.” (Thank you, my darling.)

Something about his new release piqued your attention so you brought it up again.

“So tell me about your new book.”

“Let me show you instead.” Inside the blazer, there was an inner pocket that sealed a small hardbound book. Taking it out, he handed it over to you. “This is your copy.”

The cover of the book had an illustration of two young adults running down the fields under the bright sun, with the title written in cursive and placed in the center.

“L’Été de 1957.” (The Summer of 1957.)

Like a child who received a new gift in the mail, you flipped the book open. Seeing the table of contents and credits to other important people involved in the process, there was a detailed dedication right before the starting chapter. It’s an unexpected page, noticing that he never put anything like this in his last works.

“Pour ma chérie, qui a peint les couleurs manquantes de ma vie.” (For my darling, who painted the missing colors of my life.)

Although Jaehyun planned to write about the couples he met in the countryside, he chose to change his perspective. Instead, he based this new book on your summer romance, installing more original characters who made your romance blossom more.

“I was once so engaged in listening to people’s love stories, hung up on what they felt.” He expounded, pacing around the floor whilst you skimmed through the pages. There were black and white photos from your adventures too to wrap the reader further in the story.

“While I was struggling to find the next story, I realized late that my story with you was a perfect choice. When I fell in love with you, it’s like I didn’t have to fret anymore about anything. Everything slowly yet surely aligned into place for me. Like how we found inspiration in each other.”

A poetic speaker meant having a poetic, wise mind. You kept an open mind whenever Jaehyun shared his thoughts on life with you, an intimate time that didn’t require using your bodies. Whether you were stargazing or drinking wine by his patio, his soulful personality never changed.

“So I recapped every single memory we had and compiled them,” He resumed, taking a closer step towards yours. His warm hands grasped your waist again, catching a glimpse of your astonished face. Mostly, towards your lips that he missed feeling against his.

“This book expressed my own take on love this time, the one I want to grow in.”

You’d care less if you dropped the book and your coat right there, your major desire to kiss him again was driving your senses to the edge of a cliff. Nothing could’ve braced yourself the second you fervently collided your lips with his. It didn’t feel like you were in this exhibit, but somewhere back in his mansion engulfed in each other’s presence.

Your legs almost melted by your daring move, if it weren’t for Jaehyun’s arm moving upwards to your back to stabilize you more. Your body tingled with goosebumps due to his relaxing fingers all over your body. His tongue caved in your lips, and you couldn’t ban its access.

Such an explicit sight, it felt forbidden as you were inches away from the public crowd. Yet it was the least of your worries if they made a big fuss over it. Jaehyun was here again with you, and that was more valuable to you. He savored every trace of your touches, taking his delicate time with you. No past birthday could defeat this, especially when it’s the first one to celebrate with you. The first of many.

As much you wanted to keep this up for hours, your lungs started feeling constricted of air so your lips timidly let go. Though your hands couldn’t, your overwhelmed eyes couldn’t shift away from the heart-stopping view of your lover. Wherein even after such a fearless session, his eyes fused with love and need with his plumper lips.

“Everything about Provence, especially you, that’s the life I want.” You confessed this concealed secret that’s revolved your head for a while now. Yet its certainty was true.

“Are you sure, ma chérie? What about work?” As an artist, he believed you should stay where everything is accessible. Yet as his woman, he wanted you to follow your heart. Jaehyun didn’t want you to choose or struggle.

“I’ve grown out from the idea that the city life was the only life meant of an artist like me.” You replied, confident enough to discuss it after deep thought. “Cities like Paris hold exciting, vigorous flames that will have you clinging on to them. But then, they’ll eventually die the longer you stay. You get burned in the process too. However, I stand by what I said earlier. I found an endless flame when I met and began loving you, Jaehyun. It doesn’t sting at all; it illuminates strongly every living day.”

Urging him to lower his stance with your fingers, you stated one last phrase. “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

“If that’s the case,” Jaehyun acknowledged, sticking his arm out for you. “Let’s get out of here.”

Astounded expressions crowded the socialites in the event as they watched the both of you exit together. If the news of Krystal and Donghyun weren’t crazy enough, some journalists figured the mysterious man behind The Poetic Rose and spread it like wildfire.

How was the youngest son of the Jeong family turned renowned romance novel author connected to the impressive, up-and-coming painter from London?

What really went down in Provence?

“How can you miss out on the signs? Did you not see them share a kiss earlier?” Key protested to those who weren’t approving whatever relationship you guys had. He loved his tea but hated those who simply were money hungry. Wanting a chance to be a part of the rich family, only to fish them out of their riches sooner or later.

Meanwhile, the winter season didn’t stop any of you from roaming the streets of Paris. Moments like these were a preview of the future you’ve envisioned with Jaehyun. Youthful, free, and fiery, a love between two artists created more magic not just in their crafts but to those around them.

Promenading a street overlooking the Seine River, Jaehyun took out a smaller instant camera from his pocket and took a candid shot of you. Stunned, you slapped his chest with your bag.

“Hey! Just how many more things are hidden in your blazer?”

“Just my wallet and a few condoms. Why’d you ask?” He raised a suggestive brow, feigning good intentions.

You hummed, faking your deep thought mindset. “At this rate, I don’t think we’ll make it back to my apartment alive.”

Jaehyun tugged you by your coat, his lips hovering your ear to whisper. “If we call a cab right now, I can finger you in the backseat.”

You chuckled at his vulgar idea, but it seemed ideal. You loved the thrill of getting caught or having someone overhearing you two, just like him. Besides, his fingers don’t match up to yours when you touch yourself alone in your apartment. You bat your eyelashes, giving in.

“Deal.”

6 ans plus tard (1964)

Summer returned, the sun strongly smiling down to the plentiful flowers at your family garden. By the patio of your home, your canvas was already laid by the easel stand. Shades of yellow were applied first to symbolize the brightness of the day, following the outline of your desired scenery for this piece.

Dipping the brush in water to change colors, you took another glance at the breezy sky. Light blue with clouds resembling soft pillows, you inhaled gently as your brush faintly stroked the canvas again.

Your hair was tied in a bun, meaning that you’re in for a busy session. But a more soothing one as the jazz music flowed from the vinyl player inside. Stress was the last thing you needed right now.

“What’s madame artiste up to right now?” Your husband piped in from behind, placing down a tray of tea and crackers. With some top buttons of his white top left unattended, you glimpsed on his toned chest when he leaned down. But you mustn’t pry whilst working, even when temptation was calling your name repeatedly.

“The summer sunshine healed me of my discomfort, so I think it’s about time I painted again.” You chewed on the snack, looking back and forth to the view. As enchanting as all the flowers you and him planted over the years grew, you’re more amused by a little boy strolling around it with his magnifying glass and tiny wooden basket with his furry puppy by his side.

His tiny legs often troubled the two of you because he enjoyed spending time with nature. Only God knows what he found in the garden this time.

“Adrien est explorer encore. Devrais-je lui dire qu’il change de place, ma chérie?” (Adrien is exploring again. Should I tell him to change places, my darling?) Jaehyun cautiously asked, not wanting his 3 year old son to impair your perspective.

“Non,” (No,) You held on to his hand, kissing it sweetly. Although you peeved any unnecessary details found in your scenery in the past, Adrien was an exception. As his mother, it’s hard to say no to him unless necessary.

“Il est un garçon curieux, alors il devrait explorer et flâner où il veut.” (He’s a curious boy, so he should explore and wander wherever he wants.)

Life ever since you returned to the countryside shifted into something more precious than you imagined. From moving places constantly, you found a home to settle in for good. A home with overflowing love and inspiration. A home within Jeong Jaehyun.

Recently, you halted your work-related activities in Paris and came home because you were heavily homesick. It even affected your health as a whole. So you made adjustments with your schedules, postponing appearances to events to next year.

On the plus side, you could be more active as a mother to Adrien. It felt like you burdened Jaehyun to take care of Adrien most of the time because he mainly worked from home, wherein important people who wanted to meet him would have to fly out to the countryside.

Back and forth to Paris, your presence towards Adrien often lacked. Here came your biggest fear, which was Adrien forgetting you. But Jaehyun told you over and over again that it wasn’t the case. As he listened to every wrenching thought you had, but he’d combat it with heartfelt words of reassurance so you wouldn’t overanalyze things.

He vowed to love and take care of you when times get hard, and he will continue doing so.

Remember when you said how his mansion felt too big?

It no longer did after getting married.

It gave more room to grow and breathe more life into it. When Adrien was born, he was the prime reflection of your and Jaehyun’s love. He mirrored his father’s physical traits but with a daring personality like yours. A perfect mixture, the world worked amazingly to bring a boy like him into your life.

“Maman! Papa!” Adrien bolted to where you and Jaehyun stood. From the clothes he wore, it’s very much clear that his father was in charge of it whilst you slept in the entire morning. Suspenders, capri shorts, a white shirt, and a red beret, he deserved his title as Jaehyun’s mini-me.

Jaehyun swelled with pride and love for his only son, peeking over what he brought to show and tell you both. “Oh Adrien, what do you have for us today?”

In his basket, there were 3 sunflowers stuck out from the edge. It’s been a while since you’ve seen some in full bloom, lowering your stance to get a more vivid view. He took them out to hand them to you and your husband.

One flower for Jaehyun and two for you. You let out a gasp, scrunching your brows to the center. He always gave one of each item to you and Jaehyun, never more or less.

“Ooh, deux fleurs pour Maman. Pourquoi, Rien?” (Ooh, two flowers for Mama. Why, Rien?) Jaehyun let his nickname out for his lips while you grasped his small hand.

“Well, I heard from Olivier next door that on his birthday, he gave extra flowers to his mother so he could have another sibling. And it worked!” He spoke so innocently, yet it hitched a choke from Jaehyun’s chest. Your eyes widened from disbelief. The information he collected due to his curiosity, no boundaries truly.

“Le mois prochain, c’est mon anniversaire. Je me demandais si je peux avoir un frère ou sœur comme Olivier? Tu es toujours occupée, comme Papa. Je ne veux plus être seul, alors je veux une amie aussi.” (It’s my birthday next month, and I was wondering if I can have a sibling like Olivier? You are always busy, like Papa. I don’t want to be alone anymore, so I want a friend too.)

You exchanged looks with Jaehyun, not knowing how exactly to respond. Although you and Jaehyun did agree that you wanted more than one child when you were younger, neither of you brought it up again since your careers were always loaded with plans.

Adrien was a surprise child actually, conceived on the night where you and Jaehyun celebrated after L’Été de 1957 was announced to be the best-selling romance novel of the decade in the country.

In Paris at his family home, where his parents brought out all their prized liquor, the two of you drank the entire night away to the point Krystal and Donghyun had to push you away from each other from your public affections because their children were present.

But it didn’t stop you two once you reached his bedroom, far away from everything and everyone. And you’ll never change it.

“Oh, Rien,” You eased in, consoling him. “Je suis désolé. Mais c’est franchement une grande demande, n'est-ce pas?” (I am sorry. But that’s quite a big request, right?)

“Mom and I will think about it first, okay? Another kid is a big responsibility, and you’ll be their older brother. That’s another important job, can you do it well?”

“Yes, I can, Papa!” He beamed with glee, his covered head patted by his father after. As you placed the sunflowers beside your palette, Adrien then proceeded to ask you if he could paint with you like old times.

Never you refuse especially with his sparkling round eyes and chubby face that makes you want to squish every time.

As you lifted his light body to sit on your lap, you placed your brush between his stubby fingers and carefully aimed in whatever angle seemed fit so the painting process would run smoothly and perfectly. He let out sounds of amazement when the strokes get bigger, jumping slightly too because the picture became more vivid. You’d smile and coo at him, commending whenever he followed instructions well. As his mother, you only encouraged your child in whatever they want to excel in.

Adrien was the child of two artists, so it was only natural that he had an artistic side in his veins.

Too caught up in your fun, hearing the automatic shutter of the camera from your side was delayed. The source was none other than Jaehyun hiding behind his camera. Jaehyun’s heart soared at the heavenly view of the most important people in his life, wanting to treasure the moment as a lovely memory.

“Hey!” You shouted, placing down the messy brush by the palette. “Je suis très laid!” (I am very ugly!)

“Shh! Tu est rayonnant, ma chérie. Papa est juste, Rien?” (Shh! You are glowing, my darling. Papa is right, Rien?)

Jaehyun politely quizzed the peppy boy, nodding excitedly. His dimples deeply showed up, the main trait he claimed from his father.

“Oui, papa! Maman est toujours belle!” (Yes, papa! Mama is always beautiful!)

He exclaimed, pecking your cheek numerously. You squealed, attacking him with tickles and kisses back. His shouts of delight, then he was suddenly carried by your tall husband in the air like he was flying in the sky. Adrien enjoyed that motion highly, ending up on Jaehyun’s shoulders shortly after to play by the garden again.

“Go paint. I’ll take care of him now.” Jaehyun persuaded, roaming through the long rows of flowers in full bloom. Though seconds after adding some strokes to your piece, you let down your hair, put a hat and sandals on, and ran to the cute duo to join them.

And that’s how your family spent the entire afternoon. By the garden, running around and taking photos and short videos from Jaehyun’s camera. Freezing these valuable memories, this was truly the life you loved so much.

After your break, you could convince the company you worked at that you’d prefer fewer trips to Paris and stay in the countryside longer. How badly you’ve wanted to hold your exhibits here instead. Plus like Jaehyun, let influential people visit you. You’ve already made a big name for yourself now, so that should be valid enough.

Dinner time passed by quickly too, eventually putting Adrien to a smooth slumber as you massaged the roots of his soft hair while Jaehyun sang him a lullaby. This was your joint parenting technique with him since he was a newborn, and it worked quickly as lightning.

You redressed into your silk nightgown after bringing your canvas to the master bedroom, opening the balcony doors to invite the cool breeze in. You tweaked some bits of your painting, including a silhouette of your small family. Regarding where to place it, probably by the living room as it matched the theme.

“What a spectacular day, don’t you think, ma chérie?” Jaehyun conversed, admiring the calm movements of your brush. He noticed a quirky smile grace your lips.

“It’s been a long time since we had quality time like that with Rien. He’s a feisty ball of energy these days.” You replied with a nostalgic daze. “It’s so crazy how one day, he was still crawling to us. Now, he could outrun the both of us.”

“Comme le temps passe vite, hmm?” (How time flies fast, hmm?) Nodding, nothing braced for what your husband had in mind. You almost dropped your brush mid-way. Jaehyun’s lips impatiently devoured your neck, his huge hands fondling your breasts. Violently throwing your head back against his chest, a needy moan parted your lips.

“Jae-” His touches reaching south to where you desired him highly, dampening hastily as your legs naturally spread apart. Rushed exhales, “À quoi tu penses maintenant?” (What are you thinking about right now?)

“Rien se sent seul,” (Rien feels alone,) His hot breath whispered against your ear, his fingers dangerously trailing your thin panties up and down. With your hands tightly clutching on his bicep,

“Alors, donnons-lui une amie.” (We should give him a friend.)

Ever since Adrien mentioned such a daring topic, it hasn’t left Jaehyun’s mind the whole day. After seeing you in utter bliss with your son earlier, he found you so majestic and radiant. It’s a different kind of happiness, especially for parents.

Now you went on hiatus, he thought that it was the right time to have another. He enjoyed his younger years with Krystal, and he wanted Adrien to experience it too. 3 years was quite a wait, and it seemed ideal to try again.

From his nude chest, you flipped around to intensely clash his lips with yours. Draping your arms behind his neck, Jaehyun lifted your entire figure from the chair. His hands gripping on your butt, he delicately lowered you down your bed.

Drowning into his sensual kisses with his hands all over you, this could prolong for hours. Reddening love marks started to resurface whilst your fingers tugged on the drawstring of his pajama pants. Jaehyun’s fingers dove under the fabric of your panties, his index finger rubbing figure 8s the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You struggled to swallow your moans, not wanting Rien to hear it. You wouldn’t want to repeat history, covering it as Jaehyun massaging you after a hard day.

“I know you want one too, ma chérie.” His fingers began to drape down the straps of your gown, presenting your breasts in its full, perky view. But before his lips could suck on your erect nipples, you parted momentarily from him and got up on your feet. Pulling up your straps again, Jaehyun simply laid down but he wasn’t pleased from how you left him hanging.

“Où vas-tu, ma chérie?” (Where are you going, sweetheart?)

He was growing impatient. You were never to interrupt such a sexy atmosphere ever.

From one of your drawers in your vanity table, an important, half-opened envelope was hidden. You were supposed to give it tomorrow but now seemed like a perfect time. Reading it as soon one of the maids handed it to you gave you the jitters, but in a positive way. Sitting back down on the edge of your bed, you exhilaratingly passed it to your husband.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” (What is this?)

“Ouvre-le.” (Open it.)

Jaehyun slowly opened the edges and once he took out the contents. Reading it thoroughly, he couldn’t believe it as his jaw dropped, pacing from the letter and you back and forth.

“Vraiment, ma chérie?” (Really, my darling?)

It was from a doctor you visited in Paris a few days before you left, who confirmed just exactly what caused your health to go feeble suddenly. You already had one certain suspicion, which you addressed in your leave of absence letter. Amelié, who finally got the position as the head, couldn’t believe her ears and insisted you take all the time off you needed.

“On dirait que Adrien a reçu son cadeau d'anniversaire en avance.” (It looks like Adrien received his birthday gift early.)

Overall, it turned out the headaches and repeated vomiting you mistook as motion sickness from traveling was a surprise hello to your second child.

A girl specifically, thanks to the blood test she recommended.

“Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

“Montre moi combien tu m’aimes, Jaehyun.” (Show me how much you love me, Jaehyun.)

The whole night through, the two of you vigorously celebrated with the moonlight from the windows and a few scented candles set in the room. Wet kisses left on your collarbone, words of devotion exchanged, holding his hand as he groaned from heartily thrusting in you, the number of moans from your lips overlapped with the vinyl playing in the room. The intimacy between you two increased, almost as if you made love for the first time again all those years ago.

Excluding being drenched from the rain.

Once the two of you grew tired, Jaehyun lied down beside you. Wrapping one arm around, one hand trailed down your naked skin again. His wedding band flashed your eyes, reminding you of the commitment you promised each other. For better, and for worse.

Jaehyun promised to love you endlessly as a woman and his wife, and it didn’t cease when you became the mother of his children. He respected how strong you are, physically and mentally. He helped you in any way he could as you endured the struggling process.

At the end of the day, his family was his biggest priority. More than ever now, you needed him as you go through the pregnancy phases again. Specifically, his index finger lingered on your stomach. There was no bump or other signs of showing, except for that glow he complimented you earlier on.

“We met and fell in love over the summer, got married in summer, had Adrien mid-summer, and now found out about our daughter at the start of summer.” He smiled, blessed at all the good he’s received during this time.

“The summer gods must adore us.” Your vacant hand with your wedding band topped his. To love and to cherish. “Ils m'ont amené à toi.” (They brought me to you.)

His power on you was simply addicting, as if your early twenties revisited you. You straddled himself once again, your fingers caressing his face sweetly. When it reached his lips, he placed longing kisses there and pulled you closer again for another kiss on your lips. In between, you mumbled in a silvery tone,

“Then they led us to say I do. Pour toujours et à jamais.”

copyright © 2021 by alluringjae.

#nct #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 au #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #nct jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun imagines

[smalltownfae]

Top five problematic tropes from your favorite authors you'd want shot ala Old Yeller-style?

I don't know the name of many tropes so I will just describe what is common to happen and that I dislike. I am fine with most things and the problematic aspects depend more of the way something is presented than that element in itself.

1 - Paedophiles presented in a good light. This goes for Robin Hobb and her male adult characters that end up with minors way younger than they are. This is especially true for the character named Reyn, but Hobb uses this so much. Liveship Traders and Rain Wild Chronicles are the worst offenders. I also think "Fledgling" by Octavia E. Butler is going the same way, but I haven't finished yet. The excuse given is that this vampire that has the body of a 10 year old is actually 50 something so it's alright if full grown adults have sex with her (no, it's not. Not for me and I wish I didn't make movies in my head while reading). Honestly Butler has problematic content in her other works but so far it has always been well addressed so this one so far is really disappointing. "Daughter of the Forest" by Marillier also has a minor/adult relationship and so does "Fire and Hemlock" by Diana Wynne Jones. It's way too common especially in fantasy and I am begging authors to stop this bullshit.

2 - Consent is not sexy. Another Hobb one, but I like to think she got a little better at it given the character of Alise. A lot of female characters seem to not like men that actually care about consent. Althea is the main one that comes to mind for her reaction to Grag being careful compared to Brashen and their awful first time together that she apparently liked and it was so messed up. But, besides female characters there is also the shady situation of how Sedric's relationship with Carson started. Sedric did say yes, but I am not sure that counts as consent given that he had just attempted suicide and was in a vulnerable state, you know? The Xenogenesis trilogy by Butler also has a lot of consent issues but given the alien perspective and that the humans keep addressing the issue I don't find it as problematic there.

3 - No women left single/Everyone must pair up until the end of their lives. Hobb has this issue once again. Let women be single! Sometimes it doesn’t make sense for them to end up with the ones they end up with. This is especially bothersome and obvious in the Rain Wild Chronicles. There is also the fact that Fitz never seems to move on from Molly, ignoring the message of wiser characters like Kettle. The first love is forever is a really tiresome trope in fiction given how unrealistic it is in real life. Juliet Marillier absolutely has this problem too, but she writes romance and I think it happens even more often in those books. It’s not enough that the main characters have to end up with a man, their sister also needs to have some. Both often use the same love interest forever and ever and if something happens that separates them, they mourn their loss until the end of their lives and never fall in love again (unless first love interest was evil then it’s ok to be together with someone else).

4 - Queer/Queer-coded characters are evil. Look, I like a well dressed gay villain, but it’s a problematic trope. Why must the good guys be identified by wearing potato sacks? Hobb often makes her well-dressed characters evil and they are often queer-coded at least (Regal, Illistore, Dwalia, Hest, Kennit...). There are a few exceptions, but often if it’s noted that someone wears perfume and spends time caring about their clothes and hair they will turn out to be evil or at least not very nice at first (Malta, Sedric). This can include Terez from First Law because even if everyone in that world is pretty shitty, Terez often gets the worst end of the stick because not enough time was given for readers to understand her and she is just see as the men-hating lesbian. Meanwhile, the fans are still worshipping a mass murderer and a torturer. Then there are also people thinking Leo is the worst ever for what he did (even if that is on the fandom, but it’s still bothersome that 2 of the most hated characters in the fandom are gay). I can also include that one character from “Parable of the Talents” by Octavia E. Butler, even if he isn’t the main evil.

5 - Men and women can’t be just friends. If there is a deep friendship between opposite sexes it will more often than not lead to romance. I am not saying this doesn’t happen, but it doesn’t happen as often as fiction makes us think. I always had male friends. This makes me appreciate Rin and Kitay’s relationship in the Poppy War so much more because authors often refuse to let men and women be just friends. On the other hand, characters of the same sex can’t be in love. Are you joking? They have this deep bond because it’s the extreme power of friendship and nothing else. Who cares if that relationship is the most developed? Who cares if they are the first in each others’ minds? There is a character of the opposite sex waiting for boring interactions. I really had enough with this shit. Authors either learn to make characters of the opposite sex interesting and have a great dynamic with the love interest or just stop trying to force a character to be heterosexual, especially when it doesn’t make any sense that they are still hung up on a character they seldom see in their lives.

#asks #problematic tropes

[this-is-spn20]

FLUFF ALPHABET! Sam Winchester!

A/N: Here’s Sammy boy! My small adorable baby! Let me know what you guys think about this! 

-Marissa

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A ctivities- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam is a pretty laid-back man. When he sees a chance at relaxing with you, he snatches as quickly as possible. Whether it’s just walking or driving around towns, going to the local library (cause God knows the only book they have at the bunker are the Wizard of Oz books, and the men of letters’ books.), to looking up fun recipes to try with you. The man will always keep you occupied!

B eauty- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam likes that despite you being very soft-spoken, you’re nowhere near dumb. You’re also very confident. Of course, you’ll still ask Sam what he thinks if you piece together a somewhat bold outfit. But you might as well call him Bruno Mars cause- well you know.

 I feel like if you are an artist of some sort, he might decide to pick up your art of choice as a hobby for when he has no research or hunts. Maybe if you draw, he’ll buy both of you sketchbooks and pencils. Or if you use a tablet he might buy you a better one. He’ll try doing simple drawings to start off with a tree or two. An eye here and there. He struggling and he’s probably gonna get a bit upset with himself if his skills don’t pick up like yours. But he’s trying really hard! If you like making music, he might ask you to play guitar. He might even ask you to teach him how to sing! But be patient, he can barely carry a tune but he’s so happy to learn! Might take him almost a year to get the hang of it, but once he does, he is an absolute Beast with some strings!

C omfort- How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Sam has anxiety himself so he knows the signs when one is coming on. He’s been around stressful things/people/events all his life. His father was abusive throughout his and Dean’s childhood. When he ran away to go to college, he had to learn to interact with new environments and people. In conclusion, the man KNOWS what anxiety is. And how to handle it. He’ll have you sit down and close your eyes. He won’t touch you just in case it makes you more nervous. He’ll breathe slowly with you, serving as a guide to get your bearings. Once you’ve slowed your breathing he knows you can’t hold anything so he gets you a glass of water with a straw and holds the glass for you. He knows you probably won’t want to eat anything so he just picks you up when you say he can, and brings you to bed, and reads you to sleep while holding you close. 

D reams- How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Sam knows for sure he wants to marry you. He also wants kids with you but the risk of being raised in the life he kept him up at night. Now don’t get him wrong, he knows that whatever happens, family will take care of it. They always do. But he’s not sure if that’s a risk worth taking. He just wants to have the apple pie life. He’d kill every monster with his bare hands just to have that with you. 

E qual- Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Sam is quite dominant in the relationship. He always takes care of everything for you. He doesn't buy into the stereotype that women should be doing everything for their partners. He tries to help you out with everything and he doesn't take no for an answer. You've known for a while that Sam's love language is Acts of Service. All he's done all his life is help people, so it just seeps into the relationship. Sure he believes that a relationship should be a healthy balance of 50\50, but at the same time, he can't help take over and take care of you. This man is just precious. 

F ight- Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Depending on what the fight was about Sam would be pretty open to forgiving you pretty quickly. However sweet Sam can be, if he believes that he has even a pinky toe to stand on in the fight, he’ll stick to it. It’s only when the shouting has gotten too much for you that you walk away that he may see where you’re coming from. Give him a or two. That way you both had time to cool down. You’ll spend the rest of the day talking it through, seeing each other’s perspectives. Even if you guys can’t agree with each other, you’ll know how to better handle the situation next time. 

G ratitude- How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Even though he mostly does mundane things for you, you try to help out as much as he’ll let you. For example, if you noticed that he has a lot of research to do, while he’s sleeping or is on a supply run, you’ll continue his research so that he’ll have more time to relax and let loose a bit more. You think he doesn’t notice but he does, and he appreciates it. It makes him feel like he hasn’t been ‘slacking off’, or that he hasn’t wasted too much time doing other things. Sometimes you’ll even finish the research and he’ll have nothing much to do for a while. Except relaxing with you of course!

H onesty- Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Sam doesn’t have to hide much from you. You’re a damn good hunter. He would even go as far as to say you were better than him and Dean. He knows damn well you can take care of yourself and that you don’t like being babied often. He knows your secrets as well as you know his. It takes a big weight off his shoulders, knowing he doesn’t have to hide who he is with you. 

I nspiration- Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You were always an adventurous and carefree person. You always had a hard time balancing fun and work. Sometimes it got you into trouble. Sam noticed this when you two first met and as your relationship got more serious and tried to help you with the balence. By all means you aren’t magically better, but you’re learning. Sam on the other hand, had the same issue. The work and fun balance is a tricky one to master. You help Sam have more fun, like you he’s getting better at having more fun. But again it’s not going to happen overnight. Oh and you eat a salad of two once a month now!

J ealousy- Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

On the rare occasion the Sam gets extremely jealous, it's usually when someone tries to touch. Regardless of whether you let it happen (for fun) or not, he can’t help himself. He wants you all to himself. No Sharing!!

K iss- Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Sam is a very good kisser. He always kisses you like he hasn’t seen you in years. Most of the time his kisses are very rough but intimate. The first kiss was after four dates. Yes that’s a long time but you wanted to make sure you did this right with Sam. Plus he reassured you that he’d wait as long as you wanted to. You were sitting next to Sam in the Library doing some light research since most of it had gotten done earlier that week. The tension had been building up all week, you were finally ready to kiss Sam. Despite this not being your first kiss, you hadn’t kissed many people so understandably, you were nervous. You reached your arm over his and gently closed his laptop and angled your body toward his. You leaned over to him slowly, creeping your hand to his shoulder and finally your lips connected. Sam’s hand softly grabbed your hand on his shoulder and you both stayed like that until you both needed air. That was one of, if not, the most intimate moment you’ve had with Sam so far.

L ove Confession- How would they confess to their s/o?

Sam would be a bundle of nerves when he tries to confess. He’s tried to do it at least three times but each time he either got too nervous or something would interrupt him. Eventually settled for being simple, yet intimate. He had invited you to come to the library with him to sit and read for a while. It was about an hour and a half of you both being immersed in your own books that he told you he was going to the coffee shop in the bookstore to get a coffee. He got you your favorite drink. He had the barista give him a sharpie before they made your drink, then he wrote his message to you and bought you the drink when the order was done. You could see Sam was shaking and fidgeting but you couldn’t tell why.You figured you’d let him tell you when he’s ready. If only you know. You were only a few sips into your drink when you noticed some writing on the cup. Curious, you read the message which read; 

(Y/n), I have loved you from the best of times to the worst. Would you do the honor of going on a date with me?

-Sam

You sat up, a bit stunned. You looked at Sam to see him smiling shyly at you. You couldn’t do much but giggle and nod at the giant softie. 

M arriage- Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Marriage is something Sam and you have talked a lot about it. You two know you definitely want to get married but the question was when. You want to do it sooner rather than later. While Sam agrees, he also feels like that it should be a sign of both of you leaving life for good. Sam is a very nostalgic person, which means he’ll most likely recreate him asking you out and your first date. At the end of the night he’d get down on one knee and before he gets to say one word you burst into tears. When he finishes his speech, you of course say yes and the night continues...elsewhere. 

N icknames- What do they call their s/o?

Sugar is used more often than not. Baby and babygirl are pretty prevalent. Honey Bunch is used less but when he does call you that usually puppy dog eyes are shortly behind. 

O n Cloud Nine- What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When Sam is in love it’s less obvious to everyone, but if they know Sam, they’ll notice the little things. Things like Sam now has permanent smile lines and his shoulders don’t hold so much tension anymore. If you didn’t come on a hunt with him and Dean he always has Dean stop off to get a bouquet of flowers. Of course he gets shit from Dean but he still does it everytime cause he is a good big brother.

P DA- Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

While Sam will let anyone know that you’re together (if need be), he’s pretty subtle about it. There is the subtle hand on your thigh or around your waist. Maybe a little quick forehead kiss but other than that unless they knew you, someone wouldn’t be able to guess you two are together. 

Q uirk- Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Sam has this really deep, rich, raspy type of voice. That makes him the BEST narrator ever! He often reads you to sleep when you two spend a lazy night in or if you have a nightmare. He’s there with a book you’ve been reading and he reads you a chapter or two before you’re out like a light. 

R omance- How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Sam is the KING of romance. When he plans something for you, he goes all out! When it comes to making you happy, he’ll do whatever it takes. There are almost no limits to his love. He lives by the term “Happy Wife, Happy Life.”. Sam is pretty nostalgic so he’ll be cliche, but he’ll be creative and add his own twist to it! So you could say he’s pretty creative. 

S upport- Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Sam loves learning about your goals and helping you achieve them. If you have 5 different goals, he's all there for you, helping you learn ways to achieve them quicker. If you want to. If you feel like those goals are impossible to reach, he’s there to help you see nothing’s impossible.

T hrill- Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

While Sam likes to have a solid routine, he tries to keep things *spicy* when it comes to your relationship. Whether it's something mundane or outrageous, you and Sam try your best to keep things fun for the both of you. 

U nderstanding- How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

You and Sam know each other so well it's gotten to the point where if you or him need something, you know what’s needed and how much before the other even opened their mouth. When this happens, Dean just kinda stares at the both of you with a “what the actual fuck?’ look. 

Sam: *sees you walking into the kitchen* Hey babe we-

Y/N: We need to get some milk today. You wanna leave at 11?

Sam: *goes back to drinking his coffee* Yep.

Dean: *freaking the fuck out*

V alue- How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Sam knew from the first date that his life would be in your hands. He trusts you with everything he has. What’s your relationship worth to him? More than any diamonds, jewels, or power. Nothing can ever be worth more than you. 

W ild Card-  A random Fluff Headcanon.

Sam took you to an event at a bar one night for a date. The theme that night was ‘50’s and 60’s dance night!’ He bought you a dress that would be worn in that era and he wore his brand new tux he bought, just for tonight. Just for you. Your feet were screaming in your heels but you and Sam were having too much fun to leave the dance floor. When you guys got home that night Sam gave you the BEST foot rub ever. 

X OXO- Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In private, Sam will smother you with kisses and cuddles. The man can almost never let you go. The poor touch starved baby.

Y earning- How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Sam likes to log in to your Spotify, he knows most likely wherever you are, you’re listening to your music. He likes to listen to your playlists with you. It makes him feel closer to you. 

(He’ll never admit it but you have better taste in music than him.) 

Z eal- Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

It’ll be a close call but if he had to choose to save Dean or you, he’d choose you. It’d break him for a while, but he knows his brother wants him to have the apple pie life with you. And in the end, he’d always do it. No matter how hard it’d be for him and you every time, he wouldn’t change a thing. 

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

A/N: Thank you guys for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Requests are always open!

Spread Love!

-Marissa

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #dean winchester #supernatural imagines #supernatural

[firelxdykatara]

You’re doing a LoK rewrite, correct? Would be really interested in hearing how you plan on fixing Suyin’s character and the Lin-Suyin conflict because……. oh boy. Man there’s a lot to unpack there. This is what happens when we don’t let Toph just raise her fucking kids for the sake of pushing a stupid as hell narrative about working women and single motherhood.

I am indeed!

In... you know, the way I'm doing most of my big potential projects, in that I have a folder with some documents that have plot notes and... some day I may actually get full, finished fics out of them (h2o AU is in there, as is my voltron!atla fusion AU, and uhhhh my book 3 atla rewrite, and a few other things), so... but I will say that the docs I have for my LoK rewrite so far amount to roughly 4.2k words of just Plot and Character Notes, which may some day turn into words of Story, hopefully.

ANYWAY, POINT IS: yes, this exists, and I have Many Many Thoughts.

Including how the Gaang kids would shake out! Cause I know I'm doing Zutara, and maybe Tokka???? Although I don't wanna just leave Suki out either... maybe a throuple??? Or Sukka having an amicable breakup before Sokka and Toph get together--maybe she already has Lin by then, and Sokka helps support her through the grief of losing Kanto???? Idk honestly, I haven't actually figured any of that out definitively yet except that Aang was perfectly happy to settle down with an Air Acolyte from one of the rebuilt temples because he grew up and out of his crush on Katara pretty easily once he hit puberty and matured a bit.

UHHH none of which is actually an answer to your question, because it's a valid one! Which is why I've been sitting on this a while (10 days I'm so sorry) bc I haven't made any solid decisions but I've been letting it percolate around my head a bit. And the more I think about it, the more I really like the Sukka -> Tokka idea (and I don't want to kill off Suki since the kids all deserve their awesome Kyoshi warrior auntie in their lives, and also I want a Sukka kid to be besties with Iara [zuko and katara's youngest] so maybe she gets with someone else after she and Sokka split? I could be talked into Ty Lee/Suki actually, the more I think about it....), but obviously having a stable father figure and a Toph who is... not what LoK made her out to be will dramatically change the Beifong family dynamic.

That said, I think I actually have a solution. (I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do.) Toph has Lin with Kanto--and he passes away when Lin is two or three, which is why she has very few memories of her father. (Although none of this 'she doesn't even know his name until she's 50+ cause Toph didn't tell her daughters about their fathers' bullshit.) Sokka is there for her through it all (all of the gaang is, of course, but you know that it sometimes just hits different when it's someone you're also starting to fall in love with, especially when there are older and much more deeply buried feelings there that are now resurfacing, because at least in my version Toph was deeply in love with Sokka when they were teenagers, but he was in love with Suki and she also loved Suki so she didn't want to mess up anything about their family or the group dynamics by making her feelings anyone else's problem), they fall in love, get married and have Suyin.

(Sokka may jokingly refer to it as a shotgun wedding, but the truth is he wanted to propose well before he found out she was pregnant, his attempts just kept getting messed up in increasingly comedic fashion.)

Throughout all of this, Republic City has been established, Sokka is Chancellor, Toph is something of a defacto police chief--mostly because, at the time, no one else was willing to volunteer, and she jokingly offered to whip the law enforcement, but unfortunately everyone else at the meeting took her seriously. However, she is also the founder of the probending league, and basically her feelings about law enforcement are complicated and she actively discouraged her kids from joining the force which is part of why Lin did. How else do you have a teen rebel phase with a parent like Toph? (Which, in this instance, means tough and firm but fair, with a 'you break it, it's up to you to fix it' attitude and very little desire to actually control her daughters and their behavior.)

Ah, but here's the rub.

Suyin is ten years old when Sokka dies, and Lin is sixteen. I'm not sure how he's killed--maybe by Yakone, to tie it into my plans for Amon and book 1. (Note that I'm not sure when the Yakone bloodbending trial happened in canon, but it doesn't matter. The timeline I'm gonna build will be completely different post-comet, and I'll eventually write it all down so that I can keep things straight.) Which would incidentally provide excellent means of having Katara have a very personal stake in the Amon conflict, and perhaps color the fight between him and Iara, but I'm getting off track. And I think Sokka being killed by Yakone, and Toph being unable to protect or save him, or deliver her own brand of justice to avenge him (because Aang is there to stop her and.... shit probably got ugly, I suspect she didn't talk to Aang for at least twenty years after Sokka's death--and this isn't to say I think Toph is particularly violent or murderous, but in that moment, she absolutely wanted to kill the man with her bare hands, and however much she may have regretted it afterwards, she took a very long time to forgive Aang for stopping her in the first place), is what results in Toph stepping down as police chief.

She didn't withdraw from her daughters or fuck off into the swamp or anything (words cannot express how much I hate that part of her canon history), but she did grieve for a very long time. Lin, meanwhile, felt like it was up to her to keep her family together, while also feeling a desperate need to... prove herself, I think. And because her mother was so adamant that she not join the police force, that's exactly what she does. I think Lin completely misread Toph's intentions, too, and believed that the discouragement was because her mother didn't think she had what it takes, when in reality I think Toph was scared of Lin losing herself in the job like she herself had begun to, and eventually coming up on something she couldn't change or fix and making the same mistakes she had.

(I think Toph and Lin have communication issues largely because they are both headstrong and willful, but where Toph thought she was giving her daughters the room they would need to make their own way, what Lin desperately craved was direction and she felt like that was something her mother simply couldn't understand.)

Suyin, on the other hand, fell in with a bad crowd like in canon. I think that what she desperately needed was attention, similar to Lin craving direction, and Toph was trying so hard not to be her own parents that she went a little too far in the other direction and Suyin began to feel like it didn't matter what she did, her mom wouldn't care, or get angry, or discipline her, or anything. Lin and Suyin butted heads a lot growing up, too, especially after Sokka's death, because Lin tried to rein in her sister's behavior and this was met with resistance and derision because Suyin felt like Lin was trying to be both mom and dad and she was neither but her big sister would never admit to being just as lost as she was and it made her furious.

So when Suyin is sixteen, and Lin is twenty-two and new to the force, The Big Rift happens. Lin catches Suyin and her gang, tries to apprehend her, gets a scar on her face in the ensuing conflict. But instead of abusing her power and sending her problem child off to her mother before fucking off to the swamp to avoid the consequences of her actions, Toph tries to actually fix things. Suyin cools her heels in prison for a while, because she was paralyzed by guilt at the time when she hurt her sister (a few inches lower and she could have slit her throat), and was still there when Lin's backup arrived.

Uhhhhhhhhhhh..... I'm so sorry I rambled for so long, BUT THE UPSHOT IS: I think Suyin learned a bit about culpability and taking responsibility for her own actions, Toph realized that her daughters had different needs than she did at their age (and I think a lot of the problem was that grief clouded her own ability to connect with her daughters, and in trying to not be her own parents she lost sight of how to be the parent her own daughters needed), and Lin, I think, had to realize that she had never fully processed the loss of not one but two fathers and had turned to her job in order to avoid actually confronting the grief that had overshadowed her childhood.

However, she did not forgive Suyin, at least not right away--and she wasn't forced or expected to. Suyin understood that she crossed a serious line, she took her lumps and did her time, and no one shamed Lin for her anger. I think, as a result, she had less reason to hold onto that bitterness, and perhaps by the time the story actually begins, she and Suyin are on much better terms, though I haven't worked it out exactly yet.

UHHH yeah I went on for days lmao. All of this is subject to change, too, depending on the needs of the story whenever I get around to actually writing it all down, BUT these are my initial thoughts, at least.

#atla #lin beifong #toph beifong #suyin beifong #tokka #lok rewrite #lok rewrite notes #precious-metal-girl #asked

[manchesterau]

my thoughts after reading my policeman: SPOILERSS of course!! (ignore spelling or grammar mistakes) (this is very ramble-y and not as in depth as it could have been sorrryyy lol, if you want specifics send me an ask after reading this)

okay...so i read the book in 3 days....which....im very proud of myself bc it takes me so long to finish books but that’s not why you are reading this.

im not going to lie to you...i liked the book. i love angst, and this had plenty of it and i liked it. if you like books such as: harry potter, six of crows, red queen, red white and royal blue you will not like this book. i know many people found it boring, which yeah i can see that, but i didn't find it boring at all. but mostly because i love boring books but that's beside the point. 

the book flowed easily, there isn't a bunch of raunchy sex scenes that ive seen people say it has (i...the things ive read idk what book they even read????) and Tom does has backward views on marriage and what it means to be a wife. but he is not overtly sexist or misogynist or abusive, or subvertly those things either. to be frank he's a scared gay man in the 50s trying to not get caught and thrown in jail. that's literally it. (ill go more into detail on him later). but if you want to read this book i recommend you go in knowing that there will be homophobia (the word queer is used as a slur....3 times or 4 but no more than 5), expect outing, expect not supportive characters, and remember to have some compassion (more on this later).

next i want to go into characters: starting with tom, then Marion, then Patrick, and then the other characters. so if you are planning on reading this book or just dont want to be spoiled them....don't read the next bit.

Tom:

I'm going to get this out of the way.........Tom (who we never get to know outside of the two-point of views we are presented with, and who is being played by Harry) is a police officer in the 50s UK. to be frank when the rumors first went around I was mad like a lot of people were, which is funny because when we got those pictures of harry reading the book before all the speculation we were....happy, that he was reading a book about a gay man. now...I don't care honestly. I could call out the hypocrites (i won't) and honestly I'm hypocritical myself. I use to watch shows like svu (if you were to turn it on right now I wouldn't turn it off) and I enjoyed watching svu. I know and have seen a lot of mutuals, people on my dash enjoy cop shows like b99, or who like actors who have played the character of police before. so it would be hypocritical of me to be mad at him (this is just my single black opinion) and then go and turn on svu (which I don't do anymore). 

I'm not saying that no one can be mad, I'm not saying that the anger people have at him playing this role is bad or not needed or valid. all I'm saying is.....is that I don't care. I got angry over this months ago, and all that anger I felt I don't have anymore, and I can't tell you why. Harry is playing an abusive demented husband who traps his wife in a simulation, and then he will play a gay policeman trying not to face persecution..........and that's that. nothing I can say will reach him, he's playing these roles and there is nothing I can do. will I watch them (pirating of course) yes.

anyways let's get back to tom's character (do not use my opinion to silence other black people I will find you....don't do that shit weirdo): tom is......tom?? like I literally was expecting the worst when I read this because of what other people had to say. but as I'm reading him through the eyes of Marion (his wife) and through the eyes of Patrick (his...true love, fuck the 50s I hate the 50s) one word came to mind constantly: scared. Tom is very scared that he will be found out and his life will be ruined. His family knows about him, which is why I think his father (more on him later) pushed him to be in the national service (where he was a cook, which disappointed him). you don't realize his family knows and then his sister says something and then you go 'wait....THEY KNEW???' and then you will go 'oh so that's why-' 

tom does have old fashion views that you would expect of any man at that time (gay or not it's the 50s and gay men are still capable of saying sexist shit). when asked by Patrick if women should still work after having a kid he said no it's the men's job to provide, Marion said she would like to keep working, he said no when they do have a baby (they literally never did, and idk why he thought he could be intimate with her for that long to produce a baby lol). that's....the most sexist thing he said in the whole book (there maybe some small things im forgetting but nothing that really stood out). that's it. I know it's not small and that was a legitimate issue in the 50s but yeah. Just in case you were apprehensive about Tom's character being a raging woman-hater, no,....he just wasn't a true feminist yet (???? I don't know that's like..the most this book says about an issue women were facing at this time). It's still bad what he said (you'll see how Marion justifies it in the book and both Patrick and her don't agree and try and challenge him on his view).

i dont want to go too in depth but it is very obvious from the beginning he has no and i mean ZEROOOO interest in her at all (you can tell when it hits him that he needs a wife and he starts to act a littleee different but it's not romantic at alll). 

i feel like my review on tom is shit but like!! we don't really get to know him without bias from Patrick and Marion. I think Harry will play a wonderful Tom (even tho he doesn't not fit the description for Tom...at all....like at alllll).

To summarize Tom: very scared gay man from the 50s who is trying to do everything he can to not be found out. his family knows, even he knew at a young age, and yes he does quit being a police officer but it doesn't happen as soon as id like but then again he wasn't one for that long if you pay attention to the years.

Marion:

😑 

i just...if yall could see the notes i made on her.....

To summarize Marion: SHE IS LIVING IN LALA LAND, TOM LITERALLY SHOWS HER NO ROMANTIC INTEREST AT ALLL, AND WHEN SHE METS PATRICK FOR THE FIRST TIME SHE FREAKING NOTICES THAT HE'S ALL BLUSH-Y AND SHIT LIKE...GIRL.....

this is a note i wrote that sums up her and tom's relationship (which is more like friends then anything romantic i mean god their honeymoon was horrible and he proposed to her....nvm 😑)

listen...i can't lie and say i didn't feel sorry for her up until the end when she (spoilers: she outs patrick to his employer which ends up with him getting arrested). after that...ive never hated a character more in my fucking LIFEEEE like oh my god i was pissed

all she does is have fantasies about him being romantic with her (holding hands, hugging, etc) and none of them come true...BECAUSE HES GAYYYYYY i really....the author could have done a better job because there were so many damn red flags.

she's fucking annoying and whiny and yeah it sucked to be a woman in the 50s but you literally outed someone your husband was in love with and thought that you could just go back to being married like he's not devastated and instead of telling what you did you stayed unhappy and made your husband thing that at any point they were coming for him too.......*****

Patrick:

PATRICKKKKK

Patrick and tom deserved a fighting fucking chance i hate the fuck 50s fuck you 50s!!!! I absolutely LOVEDDD his pov and seeing Tom through his pov like it was just so damn refreshing seeing the world through his eyes and how he navigates his queerness in the society they live in. (the dichotomy between a proud gay man and a scared maybe proud but fear overrules that (talking about Tom here) gay man).

There was a lot more to say on how gay men were being persecuted at this time than how women were treated in this particular book. There were some little things here and there about what was expected of Marion as a wife and of a girl/woman at that time but it wasn't the focus.

I loved seeing the way Patrick navigated through his world of art and creativity. And how Tom seemed to fit right in with him.

I hate the things the author made Patrick go through (outed, sent to prison, stripped of his job, and later on in the present day he has had 2 strokes in his 70s). it felt a bit much but it's not too distracting (Patricks pov takes place in the past as he writes in his journal). 

Patrick and Julia (more on her later) are my two favorites in the whole book (Tom is third bc he's a very multi-facted character, Marion is not even on the list) and I wish we got a lot more of Patrick's pov.

Other characters!! (speed round bc this is wayyy too long):

Syvlie (Tom's sister): SYVLIEEE IM MAD AT YOUU I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU WHYY WHYYY

Julia: JULIAAAAA QUEEENNN (you'll see why i love her at the end) 

Tom's parents: his father is abusive point-blank. or at least i think he's abusive (verbally). as im writing this i am now realizing that the way Tom's mom reacts to him (sometimes crying) is bc they knew he was gay omg wow.

tom's dad is very much a man's man guy?? Picture a sexist man from the 50s....now picture him with a gay son.....yeah, I'm not surprised Tom went into national service then to the police force. you can tell he didn't want anyone to find out about Tom so he pushed him to do what he thought best and Tom went with it, scared. 

overall: please do not go into this book expected things to be all flowers and rainbows...this is a book about two gay men in the 50s yall.....

there is something to be said about the tragedy that is in a lot of queer stories, I'm more interested in how white these stories are (that's a rant for another time). but I don't mind my policeman, and i think stories like this should be told. because this actually happened (here is a link to em forster's story where the author takes inspiration from, he really had an affair with a policeman!!! who had a wife!!!).

the ending is bittersweet, and i couldn't help but curse for what could have been. Marion could have not outed Patrick (which she instantly regretted), she could have gotten a divorce (she even contemplated it), they could have been more secretive, Julia could have not said what she said. I think Patrick and Tom were sadly doomed from the start, I just wish they had more time together because I loved seeing their love (the little glimpse we got) bloom into something bigger than them.

thank you for reading!! here are random screenshots of my notes as i read this lol enjoy!!

can’t*

#* #my policeman #godd this book...i cant wait for the movie #mp

[maxwell-grant]

OK, I know this will probably be painful, and I may be a bad mutual for asking but...would you be willing to identify what, in your opinion are the bottom five worst Shadow adaptations, and give a detailed breakdown of why they were so lousy?

Oh christ, okay. I don't think you're gonna get as much of a detailed breakdown for these compared to some of the others, because I take more issue with adaptations that do have good qualities but also big or deep problems to talk about.

For example, I can't include Garth Ennis's Shadow in this list because the comic has a lot of strong points to it, despite a deeply, deeply detestable take on The Shadow's character, where as the rest of the Dynamite run doesn't reach neither the lows or highs of his run. Likewise, Andy Helfer's run has a couple or a couple dozen moments every issue that make me want to tear something to shreds in frustration, but it's also at many points a really good comic with great art and some occasionally very inspired writing. Really, I'd just be repeating myself talking about what I hate in those.

But, fine, let's list some of the others.

I think I'm just gonna have to get the elephant in the room out of the way here, and address that I won't be including Si Spurrier's 2017 Dynamite mini in this list, and I think at least some of you might be angry it's not Number 1 by default. I'm doing this because I intend to one day really revisit it, think about it and it's reception and what it was trying to do, and talk about it on it's own, now that it's been 5 years and everyone has moved on and we can maybe talk about it without kneejerk hatred driving everyone nuts (your mileage may vary on how warranted it was).

I'm also not going to be talking about James Patterson's new novel, because I haven't read it. It seems to be considered a forgettable potboiler by mainstream critics and a resounding failure by everyone who likes the character whether they've read the book or not, and frankly I don't have it in me to learn what the fuzz was about anytime soon, I got my hands way too full as is.

And I won't be including the Batman x Shadow crossovers here, because again, they do have a lot of virtues that put them far ahead of some of the really worst Shadow media, and I've talked enough about how badly I think they mangled The Shadow, which is really the big problem I have with them (well, that and Tim Sale blatantly copying a Michael Kaluta cover, that was really shitty). I don't really hate them anymore, I just get tired and frustrated thinking about parts of them, I said my piece as is. Really, my frustration over this comic is what inspired me to start writing about The Shadow here, so I guess in a way I do owe it at least that much.

5: Archie Comics's Shadow

I think some of you might be wondering why this isn't ranked higher, but to be honest, I don't actually harbor any hatred towards this. I mean, I have to include it, but I find it kinda silly that some people even today actually care about the existence of this comic enough to hate it.

For fans back then? Oh yeah, obviously, but this dropped to such instantaneous backlash that it never really got to live past 6 issues. Really, everything wrong about it can be understood immediately from the covers, and I've actually read the comic in it's entirety to see if there was anything worth taking. I found only a couple of things of note but, no, this really is just a painfully mediocre superhero comic that happens to have a couple of Shadow names in it. If anything, it gets too much credit.

The actual contents of what it is are never going to justify it's reputation, but the existence of it and the disproportionate response to it is the funniest and most enduring legacy it could ever ask for. This whole comic is The Shadow's version of Spongebob's embarassing Christmas photo.

4: David Liss's The Shadow Now

This is another "The Shadow as an immortal in modern times" comic and I think you may have noticed the pattern with those by now. I may revisit this eventually and I do have some moments from it saved for reference, but overall: It sucks, and it doesn't even suck in a way that lets me talk much about it, it's a diet version of Chaykin's Shadow. If Archie's Shadow is a generic mediocre superhero comic wearing The Shadow's name, this is a generic crime story playing beats from movie. The Shadow is an asshole and not even a grandiose or sinister one, he just feels like a sleazy douche in a costume. The art is a 50/50 coin toss between appropriately moody and "Google images with a filter on them", I don't remember anything about the plot other than Khan had a bomb again and he had a daughter, and there were new versions of the agents and the Harry stand-in turned evil and Lamont shacked up with Margo's descendant which, uh, no. I don't really hate this but I really have nothing nice to say about this comic other than Colton Worley's art is nice sometimes. I can't really muster anything else to say here.

3: Invisible Avenger

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

ZZZZZZZZZZ...

...uuh, wha-

Yeah, I remember nothing about this one other than it's painfully boring and nothing about it, nothing at all, works in the slightest and I drift off to sleep even now trying to give this a rewatch. To be honest pretty much every other Shadow serial not starred by Victor Jory sucks and I don't really have anything to say about them, this one is just the worst of the lot. I dearly wish there was a good Shadow tv series but, if it was going to be like this pilot? Good riddance.

2: Harlan Ellison's The New York Review of Bird

This isn't really a Shadow story as much as it's a Harlan Ellison story that happens to feature The Shadow, but man am I glad that Ellison's "Dragon Shadows" was canned, because holy shit what a goddamn nightmare Harlan Ellison writing The Shadow for real could have been, going purely by the one time he ever touched the character. New York Review of Bird is a purely farcical parody story that wears real, real thin even before "Uncle Kent" shows up, and we get to see in it what is by far the most detestable and irredeemable take on The Shadow ever put on print, and not even in a critique or deconstructive way or anything that could be remotely worth discussing.

I don't hold any particular affection for Harlan Ellison and his writing (despite liking some of it) and I've come to notice the major red flag that is finding someone who looks up to Harlan Ellison in any capacity as a person, and this story in particular really feels like Ellison aggressively trying to channel his jackass tendencies through every line, just him being nasty because he built a personal brand on being nasty. The only reason this isn't Number One is because it's a very short story that saw zero influence or reputation, and thus it only exists as a brief mention in The Shadow wiki, and a brief mention is all it really calls for.

1: Howard Chaykin's Blood & Judgment

I'm guessing most of you already knew this one was in the top spot before I started writing.

I would actually rather not write a big piece on Blood & Judgment, because I think (or at least I hope) it's influence on The Shadow has waned a lot over the years and I would prefer to draw it the least amount of attention possible, but if I HAVE to talk about this, I guess I'd rather just vomit this out of my circuits now instead of giving it it's own post.

I would prefer to use a less unpleasant image on my blog, but if I'm going to talk about this comic, there's no image to better convey it than this drawing of macho asshole Cranston holding a sexualized mannequin at gunpoint. By leaps and bounds, Blood & Judgment is the most misogynistic Shadow story I've ever read. It's ironic that Chaykin justified the rampant misogyny he gave The Shadow with the idea that this is just a man from the 30s would act like, when he admits in the same breath that he never even touched the stories, and he wrote a story more sexist and demeaning to it's female characters than anything, literally anything, written in the Shadow pulps. It's almost impressive even.

I'll paste some segments from Randy Raynaldo's review

In Flagg, he intended to present his own point of view on American society while keeping his work tongue in cheek and acessible. But this vision dimmed, and Flagg had become a vehicle by which Chaykin could play out fetishes and portray gratuitous and stylish violence.

In The Shadow, stripped of the political and social veneer which was supposed to make Flagg unique, Chaykin's sensibilities and excesses become disturbingly apparent. For all of his liberal posturing, Chaykin's work demonstrates zero difference from the same kind of mentality exploited and made popular by similarly violent popular culture icons like Dirty Harry and Death Wish.

More than half a dozen individuals are indiscriminately and violently murdered in the first issue. Although the victims are characters who played major roles in the myth of The Shadow, we feel little sympathy for them, even for those of us who knew these characters at the outset. Who dies is unimportant, it's how they die that is the fascination.

Chaykin uses sexual decadence as a means by which to establish villains, and undercuts this device by making the protagonists as promiscuous as the villains. For all of Chaykin's seemingly liberal leanings, he demonstrates very little sensitivity in his portrayal of women.

Because everything works on rules of three, this comic also follows the pattern with other works mentioned here, as this isn't Howard Chaykin writing The Shadow: it's The Shadow reimagined as a Howard Chaykin character. He looks and acts exactly like Reuben Flagg and the typical macho protagonist of Chaykin's other works, he's a cynical sleaze with an entirely new origin who half-assedly dons a garb to machine gun people, and I already wrote a separate piece on why the machineguns are kind of emblematic of everything wrong with this take.

I understand that Chaykin has, or used to have, a big following of sorts, and I've tried to wrap my head around this for years, but I genuinely still don't get why Shadow fans stomach this comic unless they happen to be Chaykin fans first and foremost, I really don't. Everything, fucking everything Shadow fans hate about modern depictions of the character can be traced right back to this. The parts that stuck and changed the character for the worse, like him being defined as an immortal, bloodthirsty warmonger who got all his skills and powers from a magic city in Tibet, or Lamont Cranston being a coward who fears and hates the Shadow, or his agents being expendable slaves, stuff that has been ingrained into the mythos through this and the Alec Baldwin movie and other comics, to the point that people now think of it as the norm, that it's the baseline of what The Shadow is, and I hate it, I genuinely fucking hate it,

I hate it so much that it's a big part of the reason why I created this blog and why I want so badly to get to write The Shadow, because I plainly couldn't stand not having ways to tell people that this is all wrong, that this is actively shooting down the character's odds for success, and that they are missing out on something really great, because the well has been tainted with garbage that won't go away and everytime I read the words Shambala in a Shadow comic, even an otherwise good or great one, I get just a wee bit cross.

The only semi-redeeming aspects I can think of for this comic is one or two cool moments, like when The Shadow hijacks a concert using his Devil's Whisper or when he tames dogs with a stare. Just breadcrumbs of "not garbage" amidst an ocean of anything but. I hate that talking about why I hate this comic in-length can almost feel like I'm still enticing people to check it out of curiosity, but if you wanna do that, fine, just know this: The worst part of Blood & Judgment, even if you don't care at all about what it did to The Shadow, is that it's boring.

It is a deeply boring comic. If you like Howard Chaykin to begin with, you'll probably like this okay (although even Chaykin fans told me that this is his weakest work and that even he seems to agree). If you don't, I plain don't see what you could get out of this.

The comic itself is just nothing. It's the comic book equivalent of a pre-schooler trying to get a reaction by swearing. It has nothing whatsoever other than half-assed attempts at shock value. The plot isn't there, the ideas are stale, the dialogue is needlessly oblique and comprised entirely of unfinished sentences, interrupted conversations and one-liners without build-up. The characters are all unlikable and uninteresting stooges with no personality, or joyless cartoons. There's no heart or emotion or logic, and it isn't even funny enough to succeed as just an outrageous exercise in 80s excess. There's nothing in here.

I get "why" it was popular enough at the time, a rising star creator penning a modern revival of an old character based on controversy that pissed off the old fans, it's an old story that still gets repeated today. But manufactured controversy is not a replacement for storytelling and it rarely ever exists to benefit the people who actually want to enjoy the stories, it only benefits those for the crude benefit of those who want to sell you something out of the controversy.

I guess they got their money's worth back then.

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

Phew, okay, I did it, I finally vomited out a piece on Blood & Judgment and some others, allright, let's put this piece of negativity behind us now.

#replies tag #the shadow #pulp heroes #shadow comics #shadow films #dc comics