Della Street



Ah, Della... What can I tell you about Della? - My pal, my confidante, my bosom buddy. Della and I have braved the Army together. Della and I used to eat Kelly's roast beef on the sandy beaches of Revere in awed silence, watching the seagulls chase after a dirty pair of underwear carried by the wind. Della is the person who wrote the first Conqueror story I will review.

Della is the person about whom, my bestest friend Brulee tells me, I need to stop manufacturing an imaginary friendship with. "It could land you behind bars!" Brulee said. Made me think about those big, tall, forceful guards with their long batons and powerful breasts straining against crisp uniforms, hair wrapped tight in a stern bun and yet I'd unravel it... Prison wasn't sounding so bad. And, besides, Della and I once had fun with a couple of Swedish twins, Della wouldn't pull a restraining order against me.

"You'd have no access to internet in Jail." Brulee said.

Xenalicious would like to state for the record in front of God and his mother and everyone else involved, that she has never met, nor has she ever attempted to meet (and eagerly denies ownership of long-range photographic equipment) Della Street, the author of such unequivocally unsurpassed masterpieces as... er... those stories she wrote. That said, let's proceed with the review.

A Conqueror story, when well-written, is by far one of the most enjoyable aspects of Xena fan fiction for yours truly. And, yes, I do love to hear all about all them high-powered attorneys, hobos, blind artists, Ordinary People Like You and I, and a slew of other characterizations that Ubers present us with, but - by the scrotum of all that's sacred - nothing can rile me up like a nice Conqueror piece. (Except maybe... Mmh. Right. Not within 50 yards. Right.)

So. Della can write 'em. Della, more importantly, *has* written them, and here I am to tell you all about it. "Resistance". Such a simple title. Short. Succinct. Four vowels. Ten letters. One truly magnificent Conqueror tale.

As is Della's style, this story does not only carry wonderfully drawn out characterizations, it bears a mark of her truly snort-inducing humor. Stamped all over the damned thing. The usual, blah-blah, yadda-yadda, heard all before Conqueror stuff applies here, and yet - there is nothing common, nothing ordinary, nothing predictable about this Conqueror story...

... Well, okay, so there is. Yeah, they fall in love, the greater good abounds and there is a plethora of mind-blowing sex (of the very non-explicit kind), but the fact that even though you know all the moves, you know the ending and you still can't stop until you've read the story through, should tell you something about the quality of this work (or the lack of social life of the reader in question, but that's a whooooole 'nother issue).

I've read this story a long time ago. I'm sure I've re-read it since then. And yet, though only looking for one or two things to refresh my mind before writing the review, I couldn't help but go through the whole thing again. You won't either. Trust me.


Brulee is a fictitious (I hope for her sake) name of a real person, but her friendship and her advice are a figment of my imagination. Of my very... eager…(wink-wink, nudge-nudge) imagination. (Hey, tell Ume to put the pitchfork down, I didn't mean it like that... Jeez!)