Suki59's Fanfiction

Gone with the Passing Wind

Sookie is caught in the sweeping saga of the fall of the South in the Civil War era. She tries to maintain her dignity as she faces adversity, but like the innocence of a time and place ravaged by war, it may be gone with the passing wind. A Dead Pan entry. Rated: M – Parody/Humor – Chapters: 1 – Words: 2,676 – Published: 6-14-10

Thank you to Thyra10, my super-beta.

Charlaine Harris owns the characters. Somebody else owns Gone with the Wind.

My tale began with a picture of me sitting in a too-tight frock surrounded by adoring beaus at a barbeque at Eleven and a Half Oaks, the plantation of the Compton family. (Apparently, one oak was damaged by a storm or something, so they had to change the name). Every man in the county was in love with me, including a set of twins who looked nothing alike. After eating two bites of barbeque, flirting my corset off, and declaring myself quite full, I went upstairs to nap with the other women while the men had cigars and brandy downstairs. I found the gender separation to be ridiculous even though words like sexism and feminism hadn’t even been coined yet, so I sneaked down the stairs and found Bill Compton in the library.

I declared my true love to him, but he babbled on about honor and marrying his cousin (ew) before scurrying out of the room. I threw a priceless porcelain figurine that he’d bought on ebay across the room and as it smashed on the wall, I heard a whistle and saw a tall handsome man appear from behind the sofa. That was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on Eric Northman. He was the handsomest man I’d ever seen—tall and blond with a booty to die for, but I still insulted him and acted like a shrew like I always do. What can I say? I was a spoiled brat—a metaphor for the seemingly innocent and yet slave-owning South before it was ravaged by war.

Within minutes, war was declared and I watched as all my beaus jumped on their horses and kissed their cousins goodbye, wondering when I’d get to see Bill again.

Bill married his cousin, Portia Bellefleur, so I married her brother, Andy, in a quick double ceremony just before the boys left. Andy was killed in battle right away, so I moved in with Portia and her family. That way, I figured I could be waiting for Bill just like a spider when he came home on a weekend pass. Portia designed an entire uniform for Bill and sewed it by hand. She knitted his underwear and forged the steel of his new sword while I managed to cut a rectangle out of felt and present it to Bill when he was home on leave. No, I wasn’t the domestic goddess that Portia was, but I had better boobs, and I hoped that counted for something.

I attended a charity ball one night in Atlanta and was dying to dance even though I was in mourning and had to wear a big old black dress. Eric Northman was there and just tacky enough to bid on me so he could ask me to dance. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the dancing. He was just so charming and handsome and I was really too young to be a widow.

Unfortunately, I was stuck in Atlanta because Portia was expecting a baby, so we couldn’t travel home to my family’s plantation, Fangtasia. (Yes, it’s an odd name for a plantation, but my parents were Irish.) I spent my time volunteering at the hospital to show that I wasn’t a complete bitch, but it sickened me to have to help with amputations without anesthesia. Plus, I ran into John Quinn, a beau of my sister’s, and he had some kind of weird barnacles growing in his beard. I got pretty grossed out and went home.

Walking the streets, I ran into my old friend and our former family slave, Big Sam Merlotte. He was on his way to dig graves for the soldiers. It was nice to see him, but our reunion was brief, so I figured he must have some significant part coming up in a future scene or something.

I finally made it home safely to Portia even though the city was being bombed. And wouldn’t you know it, on the very night that Portia decided to give birth, that’s the night the Yankees picked to burn Atlanta to the ground. Talk about bad timing. I sent for Eric because I knew he’d help me in spite of the fact that I had always abused him shamelessly to his face. Sure enough, he showed up (fresh from a whore house, thank you) and stole a horse and buggy to help me and Portia and the baby get to Fangtasia. But just like the scoundrel he is, he up and abandoned me in my hour of need to join the Confederate army in their final pathetic hour. I was so mad, but still let him kiss me. What can I say? The man has lips. And, yes, I am that shallow.

I got back to Fangtasia after an arduous journey only to find my mother dead, my father gone mad, and the house a complete mess. All the slaves had run away except for my faithful friend, Amelia, who had been with my family for generations, even though technically, that’s not really possible (unless she’s a vampire).

I had to suck it up and try to get Fangtasia back on its feet. My mean sisters and I picked cotton until our hands bled. My poor father was killed chasing carpet-baggers off our land. I shot a deserter in the face and had to see a naked Portia while she mopped up the blood with her nightie. Things were never dull-that’s for sure.

Finally, the war ended and Bill dragged his butt home to us while Amelia boiled the lice out of a bunch of soldiers’ uniforms. Talk about a strange hobby. I tried to get Bill to make out with me out by the tool shed and run away, but he was too big of a coward. We were finally getting Fangtasia back on its feet when we found out we needed three thousand dollars to pay the taxes. Nobody had three thousand dollars except one man that I knew of and that man was Eric Northman.

I knew that Eric was being held in a horse jail in New Orleans. I told Amelia to pull down the drapes and rip up the wall-to-wall carpet and sew me a new frock. It was a little itchy because of the polyester in the carpet, but I looked like a million bucks when I went to beg for the money to pay the taxes on Fangtasia. I said a lot of things like fiddle-dee-dee and batted my eyelashes. Plus I offered surefire poontang. Eric just laughed at me though and said his money was tied up in a 401K and couldn’t be touched without a major tax penalty. I called him a scoundrel and a varmint and a scallywag (I didn’t even know what that meant, but it was fun to say.) like I always did, and stormed out of there looking for another man to marry me.

I ran into John Quinn from back home. Sure, he was my sister’s beau, but I could see he had a successful business and figured that was almost as good as true love, so I stuck my hand in his pocket to feel around and before I knew it, I was signing my checks Mrs. Sookie Stackhouse Quinn. Thanks to Amelia, I knew for certain that he was lice-free, and that’s not nothing. Plus those weird facial barnacles had cleared up.

I paid the taxes on Fangtasia, and moved to New Orleans to live with Quinn. We ran our saw mill by using prison labor and when I saw that in the script, I knew something bad was bound to happen to us, because that’s just wrong. Sure enough, one day I was riding in my buggy alone in the woods like a hussy and was attacked by some renegades. Fortunately, my former slave, Big Sam Merlotte, came along just in the nick of time and got me out of there. I figured that was the end of that and everything was fine again. That is until the night Eric brought a drunk Bill home and told me that Quinn had been killed at a political meeting after cleaning out those woods. I didn’t really see the significance of clearing brush while talking politics, but whatever. The bottom line was that I was a widow and I wasn’t really sure if I could still fit into my widow’s outfits. I cried a lot and drank a lot until the day Eric showed up and placed a new bonnet on my head upside down. Then he kissed me like a woman should be kissed and asked me to marry him.

I’d never liked being married before—once to a boy and once to an old man. It simply wasn’t my idea of a good time. But getting my hands on Eric was actually pretty fun. He was sexy and hot and rich and we were kind of happy there for a few minutes. At least the sex was good. Soon, I found myself pregnant and had a darling little baby girl. Portia must have been a little tipsy when she declared her name to be Bonnie Baby-bell Mini-bell Mini-gouda Blue Northman. Whatever. I just called her Bonnie.

Suddenly, Eric became the model citizen, kissing the butts of all the society ladies and starting a college fund for Bonnie. He really embraced fatherhood. Some old bitty saw me touching heads with Bill down at the saw mill one day though, and Eric had a cow. He said I had to go to Bills’ birthday party in a red dress to prove that…well…I’m not sure exactly what I was supposed to be proving, but I did look great in that dress.

Eric and I were doing a pretty good job acting like good upstanding parents and having fun together. But then one day, he caught me drooling and licking a framed glamour shot of Bill and declared that he wouldn’t be sleeping with me any more. I was fairly disappointed since that had really been the part of our marriage that was the most fun up to that point and vibrators hadn’t even been invented yet. Bummer.

He left me alone except for one night when he’d had too much to drink. He squished my head with his hands and threatened to kill me, but apparently my head was like an erogenous zone for us because the next thing I knew, he was sweeping me off my feet and carrying me up the stairs and I thought to myself, “I’ll bet this looks pretty cool and will become a classic scene in the future when things like films and TV shows are invented.”

Eric boinked me good and I was pretty happy about that until the following morning when he said it would never happen again and he was going away. Talk about fickle!

Eric took Bonnie to London, promising to knock the bridge down if she wanted. Way to spoil a child, Eric. But eventually she missed me and wanted to come home. I’d had just enough time to gestate at home and was looking forward to telling Eric that we might be able to save our marriage with a new baby and a few appearances on Dr. Phil.

Unfortunately, he had a really bad case of jetlag and was super grumpy and told me a cat was a better mother than I was. I didn’t really get that because as far as I could tell, cats made excellent mothers, always licking their little babies and carrying them around by the backs of their necks. I broke the good news to him about our little bun in the oven and he said some awful thing which sent me tumbling down the stairs, and let’s face it, no woman ever landed at the bottom of a staircase still pregnant in the movies. I didn’t even need to read the rest of the script to know my fate in that scene.

I recovered, but couldn’t wear blush for a few days so I had that pale, wan look. Eric apologized and I was thinking of forgiving him until Bonnie took a tumble off her horse and broke her neck. How was I supposed to just let something like that go? I had to hate him for at least a few scenes. We were horrible to each other in our grief and then Portia came over to try and get Eric to plan the funeral for Bonnie, but then she fainted, which is a sure sign of pregnancy in a movie. Sure enough, Portia was preggers and too frail to be in such a condition and soon enough, she was on her death bed too.

I hadn’t even had time to get over my own kid’s death when I had to do a big emotional farewell scene with Portia. Suddenly, I realized that I loved her like a sister even though I’d treated her like poop all my life. I promised Bill that I’d buy his kid a pony and get him educated, and suddenly Bill started to look like a big old wuss to me standing there fingering Portia’s glove and babbling to himself. And just like that, it dawned on me: I love Eric! He’s always been the one to boink me senseless when I needed it. He’s got the lips and the hot bod that I craved. What was I thinking chasing after an old fruit like Bill? Eric’s the man!

I had a new mission in life and ran all the way home, which really wasn’t that far but seemed like it because of all the fog. I took the stairs two at a time and found Eric in his bedroom packing his bags. I explained that Portia had died and I’d promised to watch over her little boy and husband that I had coveted since I’d first hit puberty. Eric completely misunderstood and thought I still wanted Bill. He just wasn’t listening.

I trailed after Eric as he went down to the front door, begging him to stay and declaring my true love to him (even though I’d been telling him he smelled funny for years). Well, I guess he’d finally had just about enough of my shenanigans and told me to take a hike, but he worded it much better. He used the d-word, much to my utter shock, as he turned and disappeared into the mist. I sat down on the steps and had a little meltdown, but for some reason, came to the conclusion that going home to Fangtasia was the answer I needed. I raised my head up and found my key light before declaring that tomorrow was another day, which seemed pretty obvious, but whatever. It seemed to make me feel better and gave the audience some hope before a big old “the end” appeared on the screen.

I was thinking a better bet was to check all the whore houses in town and tell Eric to get his butt home to service his wife like a real man was supposed to. That sounded more like the happily ever after that we were suited for. So, yeah, now you can roll the credits and play that sweeping music and rest assured that Eric and I will be just fine. After all, tomorrow is another day.


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