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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

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The Man in his Castle

Warnings: noncon sex. Let’s not be fools here. You know what I write.

This is dark!Charles Blackwood and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A co-ed discovers that money is still king.

Note: Charles is fun because he’s already horrible. I know my summary sucks but I hope you all enjoy this. It takes place in the 1960s so keep that in mind and enjoy! But let me know what you think in reblog or reply and slap a like on there <3

There were more than a dozen girls squeezed into the windowless classroom in the basement of Victory Hall. The book club had grown quite a bit since your first week on campus. The Brownies, you called yourself. An ironic play upon a lifetime of ridicule.

Every Friday night you met in some abandoned room bartered off the registrar and set to discussing your most recent read. Sheila was the leader; bolder than you as she fostered your sprout of an idea. She was cooler, calmer, and by all means, more radical. And she was a senior.

The flock of freshmen looked up to her and the few other older girls in the group. She had brought along with her, Linda and Patty; the former with her stiff turtlenecks and the latter her faded beret. These were the types your mother had warned you against. Peddling their liberalism in the name of Kennedy and Kruschev.

That week, your group had chosen Miller’s famed play, The Crucible; still relevant despite a decade past. Though the red scare had faded to orange, there was still a breath of suspicion in the air. As people marched in the streets and sat-in at diners and cafes, the old breed was growing nervous. The world was about to change, with or without them.

You sat amid the circle with your worn copy against your knee. You took turns reading the lines and pausing to discuss the intricate and yet overt allusions made by the playwright. The furor of the blacklist which still lingered in the air. A paranoia much broader than years before. No longer just the Reds, but all who spoke of equality and freedom; no longer exclusive to a single group. The same tensions which kept you in the basement with the dingy old desks.

You couldn’t help but smile at the group of girls. When you’d arrived on campus, you were certain you’d be the same loner as before. Solitary nights spent barricaded in your dorm only to lose yourself in the crowd of the lecture hall.

But Sheila had changed that. She was in your elective Lit class, filling a void in her audit so that she could graduate on time. You had lost yourself in a discussion of Marx and the mounting tensions with the East; not that they ever really subsided.

Then she invited you to meet Linda and Patty for a drink. Your lack of ID didn’t keep you from the chance to make friends as she knew the doorman by name. That was when you mentioned the club. It was just you and your friend, Elsie. Not really a club, more so a pair of girls with nothing better to do. But Sheila liked it and the next week, she had six new girls to add to your duo.

Now, you were a full blown corps. The three seniors and at least fifteen freshmen, a few in between to fill out the circle.

Sheila snapped her book shut and declared the end of the night as she checked her watch.

“We’ll finish next week,” She chimed. “Granted we don’t devolve so easily again.”

The girls giggled and began to pack up. You stood and shoved your book into your leather bag. Sheila stood with Linda at the back of the circle and Patty offered a goodbye to each girl as they left. Most did so in pairs or trios. Safety in numbers.

Your dorm wasn’t far and so you would keep a brisk pace with your keys in hand. You turned and Sheila called to you before you could reach the door. You spun back and neared her and Linda.

“Hey, you need a walking partner?” She asked. “Me and Linda are head down the The Cask. We’ll be headed past yours.”

“If you’re headed that way,” You accepted eagerly.

You helped rearrange the chairs and desk with the three seniors. Patty left on her own as Sheila locked the door. You walked on her right as Linda kept to her left and made your way out of the depths of Victory Hall. The night was cool but not bitter. You pulled your collar up as you passed between the carefully trimmed hedges.

“You sure you don’t want to come for a drink?” Linda asked. “Seeing as Patty ditched us.”

“Oh, you know she has that boy waiting for her,” Sheila countered.

“Um, no, I have an early morning,” You replied. “But thanks.”

“What about next weekend?” Sheila asked.

“Next weekend?” You wondered.

“Wanna come to a party?”

“A… a senior party?” You glanced over at her as you tucked your hands in your pockets.

“Oh, no, it’s not on campus,” She trilled. “But I think you’d like it.”

“Off-campus?” You said surprised. “Really?”

“A bit of an older crowd but…” She lowered her voice, “Of a similar mind as us.”

Your eyes widened. You blinked at her and she laughed.

“Oh calm down, they’re no interlopers, merely open-minded,” She assured you. “You have to realize that this little club, that’s a children’s game. If you’re serious, these are the people you need to rub shoulders with.”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty seedy downtown and the last time--”

“Downtown?” She scoffed. “Oh, this is different from that hole in the wall.”

“Where--”

“Uptown, actually,” She preened. “You know, we do have allies with money. They hide among the enemy until we can truly act.”

“I don’t know. That sounds--”

“You worry too much. It’s not illegal to meet people who think like you do,” She said. “Otherwise us Brownies would be akin to the mob.”

You laughed at yourself and watched your scuffed shoes on the sidewalk. “I guess you’re right. Um, what kind of party is it, exactly?”

“Wear something nice,” She picked a thread from your jacket. “Fancy dress hides a humble heart.”

You nodded and gripped the strap of your bag. “Sure, why not?” You shrugged.

“I’ll see you in Lit,” She stopped just outside your gate. “I’ll give you the details then. You should ask Elsie to come with you.”

“Alright,” You breathed. “Yeah, I’ll ask her.”

“Have a good night,” She sang and Linda echoed her.

“You, too.” You smiled.

You turned and unlocked your gate as their heels continued down the pavement. You let yourself inside and listened until there was silence. You were happy to have friends, happier that you were so much alike, but the thought of a party had your stomach aflutter.

🏰

You found your only formal dress. Rather, your most formal dress. A long-sleeved black number that flared at the knee. You wore the simple silver chain your mother gifted you for your high school graduation and a pair of kitten heels. You hugged yourself with a red shawl and grabbed your purse.

Elsie waited just outside your dorm room. She looked as nervous as you felt. The lack of details gave both of you the jitters. You were two shy girls who found each other among the sea of students. You took comfort in knowing you weren’t the only one in over your head.

And Sheila would be there too. She could help you maneuver your way through this maze of etiquette and idealism.

You took a bus as far as you could but at the last stop, you were still three blocks away from the place. Blackwood Manor. Sheila’s loopy cursive marked it on the corner of paper. The house on the hill, she said, can’t miss it.

The gates towered over you as you approached. Tinted lanterns lit the walkway and you pressed the button over the small speaker box. A dull voice greeted you from the other side.

“Um, hello,” Elsie squeezed your arm as you bent to speak into the box. “We’re here for the party.”

“Par-ty?” The voice said.

“We’re friends of, uh, Sheila.” You replied nervously.

“Ah, yes, Miss Sheila.” The crackle died and the gate clicked.

You looked to Elsie and a man in grey neared from the other side. He pulled open the gate and removed his cap as he waited for you to enter. A car drove up, its bright headlights washed over you, as you walked up the drive and the gates man spoke with its occupants.

At the front door, you met with a man with grey hair and the same even tone that rose from the speaker. He took your shawl and Elsie’s coat and directed you to the next room. You detached Elsie from your arm and gave her a look. She smiled tensely and smoothed the front of her dress.

The sparkle of the chandelier drew your eyes first. The light refracted from the crystals and illuminated the large room. Men in suits stood around with drinks in hand and chattered. You heard the next guests enter behind you and stepped out of their way.

You spotted Sheila in the far corner, a broad pair of shoulders left her barely visible. There were several other girls you recognized; Linda. Darla and Colleen, two other Brownies, and even a couple girls from your Lit class. Every women in the room was barely that; they were all bright-eyed co-eds amid a conclave of stiff-lipped men.

You felt a chill crawl up your spine but resisted the shiver. You were just anxious about all these strangers. It was natural to be a little nervous.

Elsie followed you across the room and smiled at Sheila over the shoulder of the man she spoke to. She waved you over and the man turned to look at you. His blue eyes flicked from you to Elsie and back again. His expression was placid as he buttoned his jacket.

“Charles, these are my friends,” She introduced you and Elsie, “And this is Charles Blackwood, our host.”

He seemed to recall himself and shook your hand and then Elsie’s. His grip was firm and his expression unbreakable. He was entirely unimpressed by you and your plain black dress.

“You have a beautiful house,” You offered. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere so… grand.”

“It was my grandfather’s,” He said tersely as his eyes explored the room. “Sheila, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak with Gerald.”

“Of course,” She kissed his cheek and his lip curled before he walked away. “Sorry about him,” Sheila turned to you. “He’s a bit antsy, you know? Always is on nights like these.”

“I never…” You looked at Elsie as her eyes bounced around in wonder, “I never would think anyone who lived like this would you know, agree with us.”

“Oh, but we already know money isn’t everything,” She said. “You know, these men, they know that and they want to use their money for good. They want to make sure that students like us make it through college and go on to speak our truth to the world.”

She stopped a man passing by and took a wine glass from his tray. She offered you it and grabbed another for Elsie and herself. She batted her lashes at the waiter and returned her attention to you.

“Which is why you should loosen up and talk to some of these men,” She advised. “They are much preferable to the boys on campus and much more powerful. My second year, I had my tuition paid in full by one of Charles’ friends.”

“Wow,” Elsie gasped. “Really?”

“Consider it a grant,” Sheila explained. “Spread the wealth, right?”

“I suppose…” You uttered.

“Oh, there’s Patty,” Sheila perked up. “I knew she’d be the last one here. Pardon me a moment.”

“Alright,” You turned and watched her go as she waved over the heads to her friend.

You brought the glass to your lips and the alcohol burned your nostrils. Your stomach turned and you lowered the flute. Elsie drank deeply as you glanced around. A man with thick silver hair and a sharp aquiline nose stared at you from across the room.

You fidgeted and slipped behind Elsie to set your glass down.

“You should take it easy,” You warned her as she gulped down the wine.

🏰

The man with silver hair introduced himself as Harry. You weren’t fond of him as he talked of his new car and something about a cottage up north. You were confused. Sheila intimated that these people were like you; maybe not communists are heart, but left-leaning at least. They surely didn’t sound like it.

You glanced around for the umpteenth time and frowned. You didn’t see Sheila or Linda or Patty. Elsie was with a man in a striped suit, Darla and Colleen sipped from glasses as they listened to a pair of men banter, and you were stuck in the corner with this grey-haired boor.

You excused yourself, claiming to need the powder room, and walked along the wall as you searched the room. The seniors were gone. And something else caught your eye. The men drank from their stout tumblers and the women, more aptly girls, all held champagne flute. Yours was still on the table, untouched.

You neared Elsie and excused your interruption as you turned her away from her companion. You lowered your voice.

“Have you seen Sheila?” You asked.

She shook her head and wobbled. She giggled as she steadied herself with your arm. “Nope!”

“How much of that have you had?” You took her glass from her.

“This is only my…. Third,” She counted on her fingers.

“Well, I think three is enough,” You said. “Why don’t you come to the restroom with me? Splash some water on your face?”

“No, no,” She shrugged you off. “I’m talking to Gerald.” She turned back and smiled at the balding man. “He has a fellowship.”

“Elsie,” You drew her back. “Something’s… wrong.”

“What do you mean?” She hiccuped. “It’s all quite fine, isn’t it?”

“Just…” You peeked over your shoulder. “Wait here for me, okay? Don’t go anywhere else.”

She rolled her eyes and you sighed. You left her reluctantly and stopped a waiter as you neared the main archway. You asked him where the restroom was and ducked into the hallway. You passed by the foot of the staircase towards the next and paused.

You peered around the wall and pulled back. You slipped off your heels and looked back at the room that swirled with voices. You tiptoed to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. You searched for a mechanism but there was only the intricately wrought handle.

You went back to the stairs and listened to the buzz from the front room. You climbed a step at a time as your ears perked up at every creak and crack. You wondered what had happened to Sheila and the others. It was unlike them to leave early. And why was the door locked?

You found a window and carefully turned the latch. You shifted it up and cringed as the wood loudly rubbed together. You stuck your head out and stared down at the grass below. There was a tree not far from you, a few windows away.

“Can I help you?” The voice frightened you and you hit your head on the window as you reeled back. You turned to your host, Charles, as he leaned against the bannister.

“I was… looking for Sheila.” You lied.

“Oh, outside?” He wondered with a smirk.

“Well, no, I just needed a breath of fresh air so I thought…” Your voice trailed off as he stood straight.

“The party’s downstairs,” He said evenly. “I’m sure you just missed her.”

You stared at him. His eyes sparkled with mischief. Your heart dropped and your heels threatened to slip from your sweaty hand.

“She’s gone,” You said. His lips curved again and he chuckled. “What’s going on here?”

He inched forward as he pushed back his jacket and shoved a hand in his pocket.

“She did her job. Delivered what she promised.” He said coolly. “Can you blame her for cutting out?”

“What--” You backed up until you were against the window ledge. “I don’t understand.”

“You tried the front door, didn’t you?”

You blinked and your shoes fell from your grasp.

“You think you can get to that tree? Even if you moved a few windows to the left?” He got closer. “Or maybe… you think you can get past me.”

Your lips parted as his features hardened. His brow twitched as he held your gaze. He didn’t look away as he knelt and grabbed your shoe. He took your foot and shoved the kitten heel on. He did the other and stood.

“Let’s go back to the party,” He growled. “It’s only just getting started.”

🏰

You stood against the wall as the room spun. Your chest was filled with doom as you looked around at the girls in their sheath dresses and chunky heels. Many shared the same glazed look as Elsie. They swayed just a little, giggled airily, and their eyelashes drooped. They were barely awake on their feet.

The man who answered the door stood beside you. He squinted at you every now and then. Charles had told him to keep an eye on you. You watched the host of the event disappear through another doorway. You thought of the invisible lock and the tree just a few windows down.

It was that crushing sense of defeat when you knew loss was imminent but unavoidable. So you watched it slowly creep forward until finally you had to submit. You shivered and shook your head at yourself. Sheila had done this. Ensnared all these girls in whatever sick game this was.

Time dragged. You watched the servers offer their tainted champagne and the girls all too ignorant to realize that something was amiss. Your eyes stung and you gripped your purse tight. Whatever was planned, it couldn’t be good.

The clinking of metal on glass silenced the room. Your eyes were drawn with every other to the other side. The men exchanged knowing looks. The girls were confused but not suspicious. They looked to Charles as he relinquished the glass and knife to a server. He grinned at his rapt audience.

“Shall we commence with our evening?” He asked; the men nodded and mumbled in agreement. The girls frowned and wavered on their feet. “Very well. Girls…”

He waved an arm to his left and the waiters, now free of their trays, dispersed to herd the girls to the other side of the room. You were led along with them and stood in the row of drunken co-eds. For a moment, you wished you had drank the wine. That you could be as oblivious as the rest.

The girl at the head of the line was ushered forward to stand beside Charles. Her red hair hung in ringlets and her cheeks were rosy with alcohol. He asked her her name and she slurred “Carrie.” He repeated it for all to hear and shouted a number. Ten thousand.

A man raised his hand and Charles called eleven thousand. Another gestured and the number went up again. Again. Again. Carrie was visibly confused as she tried to keep up. She couldn’t. She was sold for twenty-five thousand and ushered into the arms of her buyer.

Elsie was next. She could barely stand as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Eighteen thousand for the mousy-haired girl. Colleen went for about the same and Darla was in tears as she was bartered for an even twenty.

You were near the end of the line. You marched up to the front and bit down as you stared at the bourgeois bastards. Harry was the first to bid for you. Your stomach flipped. Then another man you hadn’t even spoken to. You could see only his hand as he reached above the crowd.

The bids bounced back and forth, Harry cursed as he wondered who was so determined to have you. You sold for forty thousand to the faceless man. You were shown out the side door by a waiter as the last girl was brought up to stand by Charles.

You stood alone in a long dining room with a large table and more than a dozen chairs. You turned as the doors slid closed and faced the grey-haired man who had greeted you in his monotone at the door. You thought he was the help. You grimaced at him.

“You?” You sputtered.

“No,” He said blandly. “Not me.”

“Then…” You couldn’t finish as you were certain you knew the answer.

You swallowed and spun away from him. You gripped the back of a chair and placed your purse on the table. The furor from the other room reached a peak and then began to dwindle. The grey-haired man glanced at the doors.

“I must attend to the coats,” He announced. “Do not stray. He will be mad.”

You sighed as he slipped through the door. A hand kept them from closing and you watched the doorman rush away. Charles stepped through and shut the doors. He took a breath as he turned to you. He fixed his lapels as he stopped across the table from you.

“What?” You hissed as he stared at you.

“No… thanks?” He asked.

“Thanks?” You narrowed your eyes. “For what?”

“Don’t tell me you wanted to fuck one of those old men?”

You blanched at his language and your lip curled in revulsion. He laughed.

“Don’t worry. I only need… a maid.” He smirked.

“A maid?” You wondered.

“Cooking. Cleaning.” He tapped two fingers on the table as he spoke. “They ever write about that in your books?”

Your eyes were glossy as you gulped. You were furious, frightened, and frustrated.

“You girls think you know it all,” He scoffed. “There’s a lot they don’t put in books.”

“No, there are horror stories,” You assured him. “Of repulsive monsters and their nasty ways.”

He chuckled and rounded the table. He stopped just beside you as his hand closed over your purse. He slowly lifted the strap from your shoulders and batted your hand away before you could stop him.

“Trust me,” He said as he flipped it open and looked inside. “There is no monster like me.”

🏰

You were shown to a room with a barred window. It didn’t matter as it was in the basement and so narrow that you couldn’t hope to fit through it. The door was locked but even so, there was a man without. You could see his shadow under the door and hear him cough every now and again.

You didn’t sleep much. There was a blanket on the floor beside some dusty boxes. You sat against the wall and dozed in spurts. The night replayed in your head on a loop. Then all those moments you’d spent with Sheila. How she had lied so easily. Was she even a student?

Didn’t matter now. The sun rose slowly through the small window and the door opened shortly after. You were given a black dress, stockings, and a pair of black shoes. Nothing else. You were taken to a shower hidden in the cellar; the water was cold and you washed quickly in the closet-like restroom.

You dressed and contemplated turning your underwear inside out. They were too worn to re-use. You left them with the rest of your clothes and emerged in your uniform. The man in black who had spent his night outside your door was mute. You weren’t sure entirely if by choice.

Your first task was to clean the main room, still dirtied from the party. The grey-haired man, Albert, told you so and recited your list of chores. The kitchen would be next and then you were to sweep the upstairs corridors and check every room in case it needed dusting or new linens.

It took you hours to tidy up after the previous nights’ guests. When the glasses were cleaned, you stacked them in the cupboards and wiped the counters. Alone, you went to the back door. It was locked too. The windows on this floor only opened two inches. You cursed.

You climbed the stairs with a broom and pan and set to the endless tedium of sweeping every corner. That took another hour, if not more. You emptied the pan downstairs in the bin and returned with a duster.

You knocked on each door before you entered. Most were pristine and required only a touch up. When you reached the end of the next hallway, your rap was answered as the door opened from the other side.

Charles wore only an undershirt and pants as he looked you up and down. He waved you in wordlessly. You entered and set to dusting the mantle and all its ornaments. He moved around behind you and stopped in a doorway just left of the bed.

“I expect you to do more than dust in here,” He said. “Grab some fresh linen when you get the chance.”

He slipped through the door but left it open an inch. You huffed and continued on lazily. Call it spite or your fleeting mind. You tried the window. It opened but there was no way down. You closed it and turned away.

You went to find the sheets and when you had discovered the trove of pressed and folded cotton, you returned to the room. You could hear the soft ripple of water through the small doorway. You set the sheets down at the foot of the bed. You cleared the wrinkled clothing from the chair and dropped them in the hamper.

“Girl,” Charles’ deep timbre called sternly. “Girl.”

Your cheek twitched. He knew your name. You sneered and quickly wiped it away as you neared the door. You pushed it open hesitantly as you peered through.

“Towel,” He demanded.

He sat in the deep tub, his dark hair damp and his broad chest bare above the water. You tore your eyes away and grabbed the towel from its rack. As you faced him, he stood and the water dripped down his body shamelessly. You unfolded the towel and held it up so that you could not see all of him.

“Well,” He waved you closer and snatched it from you.

He stepped out onto the bathmat and fanned the towel around his body. You looked away quickly and a soft chuckle escaped him as he secured the towel at his waist. He passed you, his wet arm touched your sleeve and he neared the mirror as he admired his freshly shaved face.

“Did you make the bed?” He asked.

You shook your head and turned to return to the bedroom.

“Wait,” He stopped you. “That’s ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’.”

“No, sir,” You said bitterly.

“Then you better get to it,” He rebuffed.

You swept through and moved the new sheets to the chair before you stripped the mattress. He leaned in the doorway as he watched you. You could feel him as you moved around the bed and stretched the cotton over the corners. You spread out the top sheet and replaced the quilt over top. You changed the pillowcases and fluffed them.

Done, you bundled up the old bedding in your arm. He went to the bed and dragged his fingers along the quilt. He grasped the blankets and tore them from the mattress.

“Tuck in the edges,” He said. “Now, fix your mistake.”

“Yes,” You gritted. “Sir.”

You dropped the old sheets in the chair once more and set to redoing your work. He stood at the foot of the bed and when you slipped past him, you felt a brush across your ass. You ignored it, content to think it was natural friction, and carried on. You could feel the heat of his gaze upon you and as you faced him, it was confirmed.

“Very nice,” He commented. “You learn… quickly.”

“Quicker than the others?” You asked. “Huh? How many have you bought? What did you do to them?”

“Oh, you’re mistaken,” He said. “I’m not a buyer, I’m a seller… but well, I decided to indulge myself last night.”

Your mouth was dry. You turned and grabbed the linen again. As you backed up, you were stopped by a figure behind you. His arm stretched out around you and he held his towel out. Slowly, he released it and it flapped to the floor.

“You don’t learn that quick though,” He mused as his hand settled on your shoulder. “You think I would spend that much money on a maid.” His fingers crawled along your neck. He gripped your jaw as he pressed himself against you. You felt the prod of his arousal through your skirt. “But it was fun to watch you try.”

“Why me?” You breathed as he gripped your arms and pulled them away from the laundry. The bundle fell to the chair and drooped down onto the floor.

“Because you’re the first to figure it out,” He answered.

“Please,” You begged weakly as he pulled your arms back and rolled his hips so that he poked you.

“Get on the chair.” He ordered.

Your breath caught in your throat. You stood staring at the yellow wallpaper with its golden lilies. You turned slightly and he caught you.

“No, don’t turn around.” His voice sent a shiver through you.

Your lip trembled and you lifted a knee, then the other. His hands ran up your arms and around your back. He shoved you so you caught yourself against the back of the chair. You tensed as his hands fell to your hips and over your ass.

He squeezed and stepped between your ankles so that his legs were against the seat. He ran his hands down your thighs and kneaded through the skirt. He reached the hem and slowly raised it an inch at a time. When it was higher than your stockings, your hand flew back to stop him.

He grabbed your wrist and twisted until you cried out.

“If you scream, there’s no one here who will care,” He snarled. “And they certainly won’t help you.”

He pushed your hand away and tore your skirt up over your ass. He slapped you so hard you yelped. You could feel the heat of his palm across your ass even after it was gone. He bunched your skirts around your waist and hummed in approval.

“You look nice in black,” He said, “Better out of it.”

You kept your eyes forward. You couldn’t have looked at him if you wanted. This man, this stranger, was touching you like no one had before. And he meant to do more. Because he owned you.

His hand snaked around your hip and down your pelvis. He tickled the hair there and slid lower. You tried to press your thighs together but your ankles hit his legs. He tutted and leaned against you.

“I’m being nice,” He warned. “I don’t have to be.”

You grabbed his hand and shoved it away. He struck your ass again as he stood straight. He grasped the back of your neck and pushed your head down against the back of the chair. Your fingers clutched at the cushion beside your face as he held you there.

“I told you last night,” He pinched your thigh. “I can be the worst fiend you’ve ever known.”

He pushed his knees up on the chair between yours. His fingers crawled around your hip again and along your pelvis. He pushed two down along your folds. He rubbed your bud with his middle finger as he spread your lips. He flicked and teased until your hips bucked.

“Not so bad…” He purred. “Am I?”

“Stop,” You begged as his grip tightened on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t just let you go,” He said. “That’d be a poor investment. Even you could see that.”

He dipped his finger inside of you and you inhaled sharply. He drew it in and out and added another. Your thighs shook and your fingers bent against the cushion.

“You don’t realize how fucking lucky you got,” He pushed his palm to your clit as he rocked his hand. “Those other men; old men, they’d fuck you for two seconds before they blew. Leave you there, unsatisfied, discarded. The girls never last long.”

He curled his fingers and moved his hand faster.

“The men get bored. Naturally, they’re greedy,” His nose tickled your ear as his breath glossed over your cheek. “Or maybe the girl gets pregnant. No good. Send her away. Don’t care where, just don’t want to hear about her ever again.”

He nuzzled your hair as your breaths grew laboured. You found it hard to resist the heat that radiated from his touch. You shook as you tried to force the ripples back down.

“So, you keep me happy, girl,” He sneered. “And you might just last.”

You squealed as you came. You were ashamed and astounded. You’d never felt so… much. Never felt anything so deeply. You quivered around his hand and he slowly drew away and wiped his wet fingers on your bunched up skirt.

He reached between your thighs and you felt his length rub against your ass. He teased you and dragged his fingers along your ass. He pressed his tip to your skin and guided it down. He squeezed your neck and you whimpered. He pushed against your entrance and paused.

“You’re not…” He began and thrust inside of you all at once. “Well, it doesn’t really matter.”

Your walls ached as he filled you. The pain was nothing compared to relief that washed over you. You hadn’t realized how much you longed for that feeling. His hand slid from your neck and he gripped your shoulder. His other went to your hip and he rocked his hips.

You grunted as he thrust. You wanted it to end but you also didn’t want him to stop. He was relentless and impatient. You expected little else from the steely man. You quaked as his pelvis slapped against your ass. The noise echoed off the corners of the room, interspersed with his low groans and you pathetic mewls.

He moved your body against his as he plunged deeper and deeper. He sped up, driven by your helpless moans as you clawed at the upholstered chair. You wanted to get away as much as you just wanted to grab onto something steady. You turned your head back and forth as your nerves flared. You shook and gasped as you came again.

“St-st-stop,” You pleaded. “Stop. It’s too--”

He slammed into you so hard you shrieked. He didn’t let up as he crushed you against the back of the chair. He snaked his hand up in front of you and groped your tit as his other arm wrapped around your neck. His thick muscle choked you as he pounded into you and the chair creaked dangerously. You trembled as the ripples washed over you and you skin tingled with the heat of the man behind you.

His thrusts turned sharp and furious. His arm tightened around your neck as he pulled his other hand back. He pushed into as far as he could, holding himself there for just a second each time. His heavy breaths were like hungry growls in your ear.

He pulled out of you suddenly and you felt his knuckles against your ass as they moved frantically. A warmth spurted along your lower back and his hand slowed.

He sighed and unhooked his arm from around your neck. He climbed off the chair and smacked your ass again. It stung so much you were certain there was already a bruise.

“Clean yourself up.” He demanded as he sat on the bed heavily. “Then take that damn dress off.”

#charles blackwood #dark!charles blackwood #charles blackwood x reader #dark charles blackwood #we have always lived in the castle #au #fic #one shot #dark fic #dark!fic #read the warnings

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

The Crucible (part eight)

[Carrie AU; UK Tour]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Word count: 10,126

TW: None, for once lol

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

-Dreamer In Disguise-

“Tell us about the night of May 28th. Of the events leading up to the incident.”

Katherine grit her teeth tightly, then exhaled a sharp breath through her nose, releasing her mounting anger. Her eyes were stinging, like fire ants were infested in the sockets and wouldn’t come out no matter how hard she scratched. Her face was still blotchy and washed out from crying, but she held herself as confidently as always, not willing to give into the crime Mulaney so desperately wanted her to be a part of.

“It was meant to be a celebration.” Katherine said strongly. Her voice held no evidence that she had been crying just a few minutes ago. “It was supposed to be the biggest night of our high school lives. The ending of one chapter and the beginning of the next. If only--” Her words caught for a moment, but she would not break again. “If only--”

“If only what?” Mulaney urged.

“If only I hadn’t told Anna to go to prom with Joan!” Katherine exploded, slamming her palms on the table and making even Madeline jump and Mulaney look at her more warily. It pleased her, and she eased back down, steadying her sharpening breath. “Then maybe nobody would have died. But just because I should have done that, doesn’t mean I regret having her go.”

Mulaney’s eyes glinted and he leaned in, hungry for a confession.

“Anna sent me a picture.” Katherine said. She took out her phone and slid it over the tabletop. The screen showed an image of Anna and Joan, grinning brightly at the camera with two other kids, George Boleyn, Anne’s younger brother, and his girlfriend, Jane Parker. “Look at how happy she is… I’ve never seen her smile like that before. So carefree and peaceful…”

She put her phone back into her pocket and shook her head. She blew out a sigh from her nose.

“That’s why I don’t wish I didn’t have Anna ask her.” She said. “She was happy for the first time in her life. Truly happy. And who am I to take that away from her?”

Her eyes began to burn again. She fingered her shredded tissue, a whirlwind of emotions storming inside her skull. She wanted to release it on this skeptical detective before her and show him that she was innocent.

“I hope it was good for her. That prom. Before things went to hell.”

------

It was like a dream. An actual perfect dream.

The prom glimmered in droplets of amber and gold, sapphire and jade, obsidian and pearl. Fragments of gods and goddesses and mythical creatures prowled across the walls in detailed murals, capturing ancient battles in their canvases forever.

The gym had been morphed into a huge, vaulted space that hummed with activity. Intricately carved Greek pillars and spires and arches dotted the space, and green and silver drapes of silk dipped from the ceiling. White fairy lights were lit up everywhere, casting soft glows across various tapestries and weavings decorating the walls and architecture. Miniature recreations of temples acted as buffets for the hundreds of partygoers, bearing chips and cookies and cakes and other treats. There was even a large bowl-like piece that was shaped like the Great Theater of Epidaurus, holding salad condiments around the wide sides and lettuce in the middle. A chocolate fountain burbled on a nearby table, the most modern-looking piece of decor in there.

The food temples encircled a giant white fake-marble tree that the origins of were unknown to mostly everyone. The trunk was carved with intricate designs that looked like they had taken hours to scratch away, and the lush shrubbery it bore was braided with silver lights, making the entire decoration a beacon of sterling radiance. Transparent ice blue globes hung from the many reaching branches, lit up with fake candles inside of their hallowed out interior. They glowed like captured moons within the party.

The stage was set up to look like the Parthenon, with white pillars along the apron and wings, coiled by ivy and flowers. Golden and iridescent fabric braided the top, glistening in the fairy lights. A hired band was set up at the center, along with the DJ booth, which played most of the music. Behind them were the thrones for prom king and queen, all shiny and poised, ready for their royals.

Music catapulted around the high, canvas-covered walls like thread winding around and around the assembled students. The sound seemed to swallow Joan up, reverberating in her bones. Partygoers whirled together on the dance floor, the colors of their suits and dresses sparkling in bright tornadoes. They stomped and jumped and clapped in time to the beat of the music, a kaleidoscope of rainbow rhythm.

However, the highlight of the ball were the sculptures. There were at least ten different elaborate carvings sparkling importantly in the party space. Twisting spirals, weaving tendrils, and delicate beads mingled with glorious bells and vast shipwrecks, towering trees and clusters of griffon feathers. Joan wanted to run her hands over all of their smooth, bubbly surfaces.

“Anna.” Joan squeezed Anna’s arm tightly. “Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna--”

“Yeah?” Anna looked down at her.

“Look.” Joan pointed to the sculpture garden with her free hand.

“Wanna go look at them?”

Joan nodded vigorously. Anna chuckled. They both began to walk over, and Joan nearly dragged Anna when she leapt forward to look at the closest sculpture, a beautiful, branching ice tree with fat orbs of sugary fruit.

“It’s so pretty…” Joan murmured, her eyes sparkling.

“No wonder it’s so cold in here,” Anna observed. “They have to keep these from melting. Damn, this must have taken forever.”

“Yeah…” Joan nodded slowly, like she was taking in the secrets of the universe. “Ooh, look at that one!”

The two of them went over to a sculpture of roaring waves with captured pieces of poetry within their depths. Joan ogled at the ice with great interest, taking the time to read every piece of paper inside. Anna patiently let her, smiling at her look of awestruck wonderment. She was glad she was distracted so she didn’t notice all the stares they were getting.

But Joan did. She had picked up on it from the moment they stepped inside. It seemed like everyone in the entire gym was staring at her like she was an alien from outer space. She did her best to ignore all of them, but she could feel their eyes burning holes into her skin.

She’s never felt so exposed before, not even in the showers last Friday.

“Why, Anna von Cleves!”

A voice cut through the music and talking and laughter rebounding throughout the gym. Joan spun around and saw two people approaching them- a brunette boy with amber eyes, wearing a black tux, a silvery grey undershirt peeking out around the collar, and a blood red rose boutonniere, and a girl she didn’t recognize. She was taller than her date and had curled dirty blonde hair and grey-green eyes. Her dress was long and flowing, ebony black like the boy’s but dappled with silver specks like stars. The straps were thin and the bodice was gathered and fitted snugly against her bust.

“George!” Anna embraced the boy tightly in one of those “man hugs” men always seem to do, rapping his back so hard it sounded a little painful.

“You look good enough to eat, honey!” George whistled, looking Anna up and down.

“Some would say I am delicious.” Anna said.

“Okay, if you two knew how many people thought you were dating, you wouldn’t be joking about it.” The girl piped up, looking amused.

“Tell Anna to stop looking so goddamn queer!” George chortled.

“You know I always gotta look a little lesbo.” Anna said.

Then, George raised his fists and Joan flinched back a little. She flexed her powers, prepared to save Anna, but then Anna raised her fists, too, and began throwing playful jabs and poked at George’s stomach and chest. George did the same, and they began circling each other like two tuxedo-clad cats standing off against each other for a dead mouse. Joan realized that it was a game of sorts.

“Don’t let it bother you,” The girl said to Joan. “If they kill each other, I’ll dance with you.”

Joan couldn’t smother the smile that came to her lips. She looked down shyly for a moment, then lifted her head again to watch George’s and Anna’s sparring match. Anna tagged George twice, then got jabbed in the waist. They kept grunting and gobbling playful threats to each other.

“They’re too silly to kill,” Joan observed, tilting her head at them. “Like dinosaurs.”

The girl laughed and smiled, and Joan felt something warm flood through her.

Was this what delight felt like?

“Joan,” Anna said. She and George had stopped fighting and she now had an arm around his shoulders. “This is my best buddy, George Boleyn! And this is his girlfriend, Jane Parker. She goes to Chamberlain.”

She didn’t go to Kingston. So maybe that’s why she was being so friendly.

Joan liked it.

“George, Jane, this is Joan.” Anna continued.

“Joan, hi,” Jane smiled down at the girl.

“Joan!” George exclaimed. “Oh shit. Hey, can I just personally apologize for all my sister’s bullshit? I wish I could say she isn’t always like that, but…” He trailed off with a dry laugh.

“Wait…” Joan began to put the pieces together. “George Boleyn… You’re Anne’s brother?”

George laughed. “Yup. The youngest of the bunch. We have an older sister in college named Mary. She turned out pretty okay.”

“...I’m sorry.”

George burst out into even louder laughter. He shook Anna’s side, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Oh, Anna, I love this girl!” He said.

Joan blushed dark red, ducking her head. Anna grinned at her.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” She said.

There was a light touch on Joan’s shoulder, warm and soft, easy for her to shrug off if she wanted. She turned her head to see that it was Jane’s hand.

“I love your dress,” Jane said. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it.” Joan told her.

“Made it?” Jane gaped, looking the length of the sparkling silk gown up and down. “No shit!”

Joan blinked a few times, then echoed, “No shit.”

Jane laughed. Anna grinned even more. Joan felt like a sinful little rebel.

“You really made that?” George asked.

“Oh, now who’s queer?” Anna said, earning her a smack on the arm.

“I did.” Joan answered George. “I like to sew.”

“You have got to teach me sometime!” Anna said. “I tried before but it didn’t turn out so well. A sweater somehow became a snake warmer.”

They all laughed. Joan felt glee bubbling up inside of her the longer and longer she talked to Anna and her friends. It was so nice to be a part of conversations and share her talents with other people.

“Yeah, of course,” Joan said to Anna.

“Hey, ladies,” Said a heavily sneering voice. “And Anne’s brother.”

Maggie, Maria, and a boy came gliding over. Maggie was wearing a pure white toga with gold lace to fit the Greek theme, while the boy, tall and tired-looking, was in a maroon tux. Maria wore a bright tangerine orange dress that had no sleeves and was loaded with fake jewels to make her gown sparkle.

“Hello,” Anna said. There was a sort of warning in her voice, like she was daring the three of them to try something and see what happened.

“Joan!” Maggie exclaimed in a very forced friendly voice. “Wow. You look so...different!”

Joan struggled not to squirm. She didn’t like the way Maggie was looking at her, like she was being sized up. Jane stood tall beside her, a protector of sorts, narrowing her eyes at Maggie.

“Thanks,” Joan mumbled. The bedazzled gems encrusted on Maria’s dress caught her attention and she looked at her in wonder. “Wow… You’re so shiny.”

Maggie snorted. “Shiny?” She said. “Joan, what are you talking about?”

“You made The Human Tide,” Joan went on, ignoring her. She lifted one of Maria’s hands in her own, tracing the lines on her palms. “Passion and lust, envy and yearning, wrath and guilt…” She looked up at her, eyes shining. “Did you put some Sylvia Plath in there?”

“What?” Maggie said uneasily.

“I-I did,” Maria stammered in an oddly rapt way. “I didn’t think anyone would have noticed… Nobody ever understands my pieces.”

“I’m very observant,” Joan stated. “Charles Dickens and Edgar Allen Poe and lines from the Odyssey…”

“Okay, not you’re literally just saying random names.” Maggie said. She looked at the others. “What is going on?”

“Shh.” George shushed her, earning him an evil glare that he deftly dodged around Anna.

“It was very beautiful.” Joan said, releasing Maria’s hand.

“Thank you,” Maria said, wide-eyed. “That--that means a lot. Thank you.”

Joan smiled at her. She looked at Anna in a sort of glance of approval and Anna grinned back at her.

“This is so fucking weird,” Maggie hissed under her breath, the swept away into the crowd. Maria and her date lingered around.

“Oh, hey,” George suddenly said to the boy in the maroon tux. “I know you from...Trigonometry? You’re William, right?”

“Yeah,” The boy, William, nodded.

“Where’d you get your dress?” Maria asked Joan at the same time.

“She made it.” Jane said.

“I made it.”

Maria looked Joan up and down, sort of like Jane did, then said, “Shut up!”

Joan flinched slightly and bristled. “You shut up!”

Maria laughed. Anna set a hand on Joan’s shoulder to relax her, chuckling slightly.

“Really, you made that?” Maria asked.

Joan nodded. “It’s a really simple pattern. I also got the fabric really cheap.”

“Wow.” Maria said. “Give it a twirl!”

“What?”

“Twirl your dress!” Maria specified, then demonstrated, spinning in a shimmering circle of orange and silver. “Like that!”

“Oh--” Joan blinked. “Okay.” She twirled for them.

Maria gasped loudly. “LOOK AT YOUR ASS!!!”

Joan yelped and leapt backwards against Anna, eyes bulging. George burst into laughter. William leaned to the side slightly to get a look and nodded in approval.

“Now THAT’S queer!” George chortled.

“Okay, after seeing your ass, the whole ‘nun in street clothes’ thing is no longer acceptable.” Maria said to Joan.

Joan’s bewildered expression does not lessen. In fact, she looked even more confused and startled after hearing that. Jane leaned down to her and whispered, “It was a compliment.”

“You’re glowing,” Maria said. “You really do look great, Joan. So different!”

Joan blushed shyly. “Thank you.”

Someone gently took Joan’s arm. “Let’s go find our table.” Jane said, and began guiding Joan through the crowd. “Yikes. Why is everyone acting so weird around you?”

“I’m not--usually like this.” Joan said. “All nice and pretty and dressed up. I’m kinda weird…”

“I like weird.” Jane said. “It makes you special.”

Joan ducked her head to hide her bashful expression. Jane chuckled.

“Here we are!” They stop at an empty table that was coiled with ivy and violets. Three candles flickered on the tabletop. Anna and George caught up to them.

“They’re really trusting us with real candles?” George said, peering at the small flames. “Not the best decision they could have made.”

“How are you doing?” Anna asked, sitting down next to Joan. “Feeling alright? Need to go out and get some fresh air? I know parties like this can be a little much. With everyone packed together and whatnot.”

Joan’s heart fluttered in her chest. She’s never had someone be so worried about her before. Anna genuinely cared about how she was feeling.

“I’m okay,” She answered. “It’s a lot, though. I’ve never been to a place like this before. It’s amazing.”

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Jane put in.

Joan nodded. “I hope I’m doing okay. Again, this isn’t really my crowd, you know?”

“You’re doing great.” Anna told her. “Trust me.”

“Joan?” A voice called.

George leapt to his feet instantly and dragged Jane with him to go visit with another table, saluting Anna and Joan as he careened away. The remaining duo blinked, then realized what he was fleeing from.

It was Miss Aragon.

The gym coach appeared from the crowd in glistening swathes of gold, like an angel descending from heaven. Her dark brown hair was elegantly curled, framing her makeup-covered face perfectly. The dress she wore was smooth, with no wrinkles or frills, and had short sleeves so her muscles could be revealed to wandering eyes. A black pendant hung around her strong neck, glinting like polished onyx in the light.

“Oh, Miss Aragon!” A smile came to Joan’s face the moment she saw her favorite teacher. “You look incredible!”

“Thank you.” Miss Aragon said. “You look beautiful.”

Joan ducked her head humbly. “That’s very nice of you,” She said. “I know it isn’t true, but thank you anyway.”

Miss Aragon and Anna both ruffled slightly at that.

“Don’t be modest,” Miss Aragon said. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Joan blushed. “Thank you… Really, thank you.”

“Hey, Miss Aragon!” Anna said to the coach.

“Anna.”

Joan blinked and glanced back and forth between the two of them. Why did Miss Aragon look so threatening? Why did Anna look slightly nervous? Was there something going on that she didn’t know?

“You guys want some punch?” Anna said briskly, standing up. She smoothed out her tux and straightened her flower crown. “I heard Henry and Francis spiked it.” She snickered.

“Oh no,” Joan said in a woebegone voice. “Isn’t it dangerous to drink spikes? What if someone chokes?”

“Really?” Miss Aragon said to Anna at the same time.

Anna laughed, then noticed Miss Aragon’s unamused, deadpan expression. She stopped instantly.

“Uh-- No.” She said. “I’m joking.”

Miss Aragon’s expression did not change. Anna cleared her throat, then sidled off towards the food temples. Miss Aragon rolled her eyes and sat down next to Joan.

“So,” Miss Aragon smiled at her. “Is it everything you dreamed?”

“It’s nice.” Joan said.

Miss Aragon laughed. “Just nice?”

“It’s like being on Mars,” Joan admitted. “Now that I’m here, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”

“I remember my prom,” Miss Aragon mused. Joan tipped her head in interest. “I went with the captain of the basketball team. She was six foot seven inches tall!” They both laughed. “So, I went out and bought a pair of these Stiletto heels so the kiss goodnight would be less awkward. Anyway, we went in her pickup truck, which of course broke down, so we had to walk the last half mile to the prom.”

“Oh no!” Joan gasped.

“By the time we finally got there, my feet were so blistered that all I could do was just sit there. I was sure I ruined the night, I couldn’t dance, but you know what? We just sat there and talked for hours. And it turned out to be one of the best nights of my entire life.”

“Wow,” Joan said. “I’m so happy for you, Miss Aragon! I’m sorry you couldn’t dance, though.”

“Could have been worse,” Miss Aragon shrugged. “There was this one girl whose boyfriend brought a toy gun so he could pose like James Bond in the picture.”

“Oh,” Joan giggled, despite not knowing who James Bond was. “He sounds like fun.”

“Yeah,” Miss Aragon nodded. “He was arrested.”

Joan stopped giggling instantly. Miss Aragon chuckled.

“But it’s okay.” Miss Aragon said. “It’s just a dance. Not that special.”

Joan nodded. Her gaze began to slide back to the party around them, to the mass of writhing limbs that was the dance floor. Mostly everyone was dancing or talking, but she spotted a few people staring over at her and whispering to each other. Some glanced away when she noticed, pretending they weren’t gossiping about her, while others didn’t even try to make it seem like they weren’t talking behind her back. She turned her head towards them fully, unable to look away, and felt fear and shame bubbling back up inside of her.

(Mama was right Mama was right Mama was right Mama was right)

Miss Aragon smothered those thoughts for her.

“Are you excited for summer?” Her coach asked. Joan turned her head back to her, successfully pulling her attention away. “Then you’ll be in Year 12. One grade closer until graduation!”

“I don’t know,” Joan admitted. “Graduation makes me nervous. I don’t even know what I want to study.”

“That’s understandable,” Miss Aragon said, nodding. “I couldn’t wait to graduate.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Miss Aragon said. “I hated high school.”

“Oh, god.” Joan leaned in. “I do, too. I know you’re not supposed to say that, but I do. I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Preach it to the choir.” Miss Aragon said. “No offense.”

Joan smiled slightly. Miss Aragon took one of her hands and stroked the knuckles with her thumb.

“Just remember,” She said. “Nothing that has happened will matter after graduation. Nothing. Except, you know, things like good grades and studying. You take what you want and leave the rest behind. You don’t even have to see any of these people again if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” Miss Aragon said. “Oh, but I highly recommend the ten year reunion.”

“Why?” Joan asked eagerly.

“Everybody’s different. People will say, ‘Oh my god, so-and-so hasn’t changed a bit,’ but they’re LYING.” Miss Aragon told her, a devilish smirk twitching on her lips. “Everybody changes. And not always for the better.” She scanned the crowd, her smirk curving fully. She leaned into Joan, subtly nodding towards a trio of girls in insanely expensive dresses. “Like, those girls over there? Right now, they’re at their peak. They will never be more pretty or more popular, and in ten years, they’ll be fat.” She snickered. “And the fat girls, some of them will be thin, and the cute boys will be bald. The jocks will have beer bellies-- it’s fantastic!”

Joan dissolved into giggles and had to cover her mouth.

“And the ones who were miserable?”

Joan stopped giggling. She watched Miss Aragon nervously. Her hand was squeezed comfortingly.

“They turn out just fine.”

A grin came to Joan’s lips and she didn’t try to stamp it down.

(i’m okay i’ll be okay)

“They do,” Miss Aragon said, squeezing Joan’s hand again. “So enjoy yourself, and try not to take it too seriously. Everything is going to be okay.”

Joan vaulted into Miss Aragon’s arms, unable to hold herself back. Miss Aragon chuckled and hugged her back, cupping the back of her head to her chest with one hand and rubbing up and down her spine with the other.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Miss Aragon told her.

“Woah,” A voice said. “I better not catch you hugging any other girls like that!”

Joan and Miss Aragon parted as Anna set two cups on the table, grinning.

“Have a good talk?”

“Uh huh,” Joan nodded.

“We did.” Miss Aragon said. “And on that note- Anna. Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Sure.” Anna said, sounding slightly guarded.

Miss Aragon smiled at Joan and kissed the top of her head before standing up. She took Anna by the arm and guided her away, far out of earshot from Joan.

“Having fun?” Miss Aragon asked. Her voice wasn’t nearly as loud as the blasting music, but the biting words still cut smoothly through all the noise.

“Yeah,” Anna nodded. “Yeah, I am. I think Joan is having fun, too. She’s making a lot of progress!” She looked over her shoulder for a moment, seeing that Joan was pulled over to one of the desert tables by Jane and George. George put some whipped cream on a brownie, then handed it to Joan, who observed the canister seriously for a moment and then promptly sprayed herself in the face. She dropped the can with an alarmed screech and tottered backwards as laughter erupted around her. She was laughing, too.

“That’s good,” Miss Aragon said, smiling fondly at Joan as she was trying to wipe her face off. “I just thought you should know,” She turned her smile to Anna, “that if you show Joan anything less than the time of her life, I will personally see to it that you are expelled.”

Anna gaped at her, mouth hanging open slightly. All the color drained from her face. Miss Aragon narrowed her eyes dangerously, leaning in.

“Do you understand the words that just came out of my mouth?”

Anna swallowed hard and nodded. Miss Aragon smiled again.

“Very good.” The coach said, pleased. “Now go get back to her.” She caught Anna’s arm when she tried to walk away. “Oh, and wait for a slow song to dance with her to. She’ll look stupid dancing to anything fast.”

Anna nodded again and was released. She scampered back over to the table, glancing over her shoulder at the coach as she went.

“Everything okay?” Joan asked as Anna sat back down.

“Yeah!” Anna answered. “Yeah, don’t worry.” She looked up as a slower song by Billie Eilish began to play. “You wanna dance?”

“No.” Joan said instantly.

“Oh--” Anna blinked. “Alright.”

“Sorry…” Joan hunched her shoulders in. “Maybe later. But not right now, please? I still wanna get settled in completely.”

“Yeah, of course,” Anna said. “We can just talk, alright?”

“I like that idea.”

“So…” Anna shifted in her seat slightly. She looked Joan over, then plunged into a question she really hoped wouldn’t upset her date (and make her have to retake Year 13 when Miss Aragon found out), “If I may...how’d you get those scars on your hands?”

“Ah--” Joan coiled her scarred hands into her cowl, looking embarrassed. “Um-- It’s really stupid…”

“No, no, no--” Anna caught her before she could tuck herself back into the shell she was just starting to come out of. “Hey, why don’t I tell you one of my dumb scar stories?”

Joan looked up at her in interest.

“Okay, so--” Anna looked around like she was making sure no one was around, despite there being dozens of people all around them. “I have this little hole in my lower stomach because when I was eight, I put a pencil in my pants and it stabbed me when I went to pee.”

Joan instantly burst out into laughter. It was such a pleasant sound to hear coming out of her, slightly high pitched and adorable.

“Really?” She sputtered out.

“I swear to god!” Anna said, laughing with her. “You can’t really see it anymore, but you can feel the indent of where the hole is. I also have this bad boy,” She rolled her left pant leg up enough to reveal a giant, faded burn scar on her inner thigh. Joan ogled it.

“What happened?” The younger girl gaped.

“When I was 13, me, my younger sister, and my cousin were riding around in a golf cart. My cousin was driving, and he ended up turning in a cul-de-sac way too fast, flipping the entire golf cart on my side. I hit the asphalt and, since I was sitting next to my cousin in the front, that whole loaf fell onto me, breaking his fall and letting him come out completely unscathed. I, however, got this burn.”

“Wow…” Joan murmured. “Were you scared?”

“At the time, oh yeah,” Anna said. “My sister wasn’t moving at all. I thought she was dead. So we got a helicopter air lift to the hospital. That was pretty neat!”

“You aren’t...ashamed of it?” Joan asked softly. “Your scar?”

“I used to be,” Anna admitted. “But it’s a part of me, you know? It’ll only look worse if I try to get rid of it. Besides, it looks pretty cool, and it's not like anyone sees it that often anyway. It’s always too cold to wear shorts.”

Joan nodded. She unconsciously traced one of the webs of scar tissue lacing across her left hand. She looked up at Anna with courage in her eyes.

“I stuck my hands in fire.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Joan nodded. “I found a picture of my father and my Mama threw it into the fire. I tried to grab it and burned myself pretty badly in the process.” She splayed her hands open, revealing the entire spider web of burns to Anna’s eyes. They were white than her already-porcelain skin, like someone had tried to paint over them. “They used to look really bad. All red and peeling a lot. But they’re gotten better, I think.” She rubbed her rough palms together.

“Wow.” Anna said. “That’s pretty metal.”

Joan looked at her strangely. “They’re not metal? This is skin.” She looked down at the scars.

Anna laughed.

“So… Did you know him?”

“Hm?” Joan looked back up at her.

“Your father.” Anna clarified. “If I may. Did you know him?”

Joan shook her head. “No. He left when I was just a baby.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I have his eyes.”

“Oh,” Anna said. “I mean, I’m glad the rumors aren’t true. Not that him leaving is a good thing, it absolutely isn’t, but it’s better than people saying--”

“My Mama killed him?” Joan finished. She looked up at Anna thoughtfully. “I don’t think she did. But you still never know…” She shook her head and rubbed her palms against her dress. “Can we--go outside?”

“Need some air?” Anna asked.

“Yeah,” Beads of sweat were welling up on the crown of Joan’s head. “It’s getting kinda hot in here.”

“Come on.”

The two of them slipped out of the prom through the door that fed into the rest of the school. It was much cooler in that hallway and much quieter, with only dim storm lights turned on overhead. They walked a few paces down until they got to the entrance hall. They sat down on the huge main staircase.

“Are you okay?” Anna asked, gently touching Joan’s arm. There was worry in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Joan answered, nodding. “Trust me. I just need to get away from all that noise for a moment.”

“Gotcha.” Anna said. “It was getting pretty wild in there.”

Joan nodded again. She was staring forward, looking out the huge windows all along the entrance way of the school. The sky was completely black now, even with the layer of clouds, and sheets of drizzling rain could be seen sparkling in the outside lights.

“So…” Anna said, hoping to ease back into some small talk. “What do you want to study in college? I know you’re only in Year 11, but I’m curious.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Joan shrugged. “Is sewing an option?”

Anna laughed slightly. “I’m not sure.”

“What about you?”

“Something with agriculture,” Anna told her. “I kinda wanna be a game warden. I like animals. A park ranger would be cool, too. I could get an entire tower all to myself!”

“That sounds scary.” Joan said. “Being all alone in a tower in the middle of the woods...”

“Don’t put it like that! You’ll crush my dreams!�� Anna teased. “I actually thought about being a singer at one point, too. Can you believe that?” She snorted and shook her head.

“A singer?” Joan echoed. “Can you sing?”

“I like to think I can.”

“Can you show me?”

Anna blinked, slightly shy. “Right now?”

Joan nodded eagerly.

“What would I sing?”

“Your poem!”

“What?”

“Your poem, silly.” Joan said again. “It’s basically a song, you know. Just give it a rhythm!”

“Oh.” Anna blinked. “Right. Okay.” She cleared her throat meaningfully. “Let’s see…

An eagle's just another bird

Until he can spread his wings

A river's just a sheet of ice

Till winter turns to spring,”

Her voice came out husky and smooth, like molten caramel. Each word flicked languidly off of her tongue, dripping easily into open ears. Joan watched her in amazement and great interest and then, shockingly, began to sing the next few stanzas.

“And though the clouds may block the sun

Don't mean that it's left the sky,”

Joan’s voice was soft and slightly raspy, but higher pitched and easy on the ears. It was light and airy and pronounced each word with silky gentleness. Anna was so startled from hearing it that she faltered for a moment. Joan giggled at her bewildered expression.

“What?” She asked.

“You sing beautifully.” Anna blurted.

Joan blushed. “Thank you. I hope you don’t mind. Your poem was just so amazing that I sorta kinda memorized it… Sorry.”

Anna blinked at her in amazement. Nobody had ever been so interested in any of her writing pieces before, not even Katherine.

“No, no it’s okay!” She said quickly. “That’s so cool. That you like it that much. It means a lot to me.”

Joan smiled. “I’m glad.” She said. “Now, what was the next part?”

“Umm… Oh!” Anna cleared her throat again, then began singing once more,

“Just when you think you've seen it all

There's more than meets the eye,”

“Like, things I dream,”

“And things I feel,”

“There’s more to me,”

“Than I reveal,” The harmony they pulled off together was like nothing Anna had ever heard before. Her deep alto and Joan’s light soprano mixed together beautifully, sounding like liquid sugar in their ears.

“And cause I shine in quiet ways

I'm someone you don't recognize,” Joan sang, a smile twitching on her lips.

“I’m a diamond in the rough

A dreamer in disguise…”

They finished in another chilling harmony. Joan beamed at Anna. Anna smiled back at her brightly.

“That...was incredible.” Anna breathed.

“I know!” Joan exclaimed gleefully. “We sounded SO GOOD! I didn’t even know I could sing like that!”

Anna had never seen her so energetic before. Even Joan never felt this way before, so happy and at ease. She must have come out of her shell a lot more than she thought.

“You’re great, Joan.” Anna said. “We should really hang out more often! Are you free tomorrow by any chance? Katherine, George, Jane, and I were going to have an after party at my house. We have a pool!”

Joan looked absolutely thrilled to be invited. “I would love to go.” She said, eyes glowing. “Do you really mean it, Anna?”

“Of course!” Anna said. “We were also going to watch a few movies, too. Have you ever seen Star Wars?”

“No.”

Anna gaped at her in shock. “Really? You’ve never seen a single Star Wars movie before?”

“We don’t have a TV at my house.” Joan admitted. “What is Star Wars? Is it, like, World War I in outer space?”

Anna burst into laughter. Joan blinked at her in a delighted way.

“Now I REALLY have to show you!” Anna said, wiping an eye. “It’s a date!”

“Yeah,” Joan said excitedly.

They hung out on the main staircase for a little bit longer, discussing plans for the next day and Anna giving Joan permission to wear one of her bathing suits (since she didn’t have her own), then ventured back into the prom.

“I still can’t get over how pretty it is,” Joan said as they walked past a sculpture shaped like temple ruins. “It’s like a dream. A perfect dream.”

The plants were one her favorite parts by far. All around her there were glorious purple exploding star-shaped flowers, delicate pale orange orchids, clusters of petals the color of bananas, odd little orbs in ruby red and sapphire blue. Hanging moss and trailing vines and reaching willow were like curtain doorways to new parts of the prom in all shades of emerald green. And then, there was the tree glowing brightly among all the greenery.

It was so much more beautiful up close. Joan could see all the little details in the pure white trunk, which must have taken forever to get just right. The globes hanging from the branches were the same icy blue as her eyes, she realized, and she blinked at them in wonder. Was the color really that beautiful?

Looking closer, she noticed something in the hollow of the closest globe. A rolled up piece of paper! In fact, several of the globes had one or more, folded or rolled up to sit inside. There was also a small brown table next to the tree with pens and pieces of paper for anyone who wanted to write something. George was currently doing just that, looking very dutiful as he did so, while Jane waited by his side. She noticed Joan and Anna and perked up.

“There you guys are!” She said. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Sorry,” Anna said. “We just went out to get some air. What are you guys doing?”

“Making wishes,” Jane told her. “That’s what the tree is about. You’re supposed to write a wish or desire on a piece of paper and then put it into one of the fruit things.”

“So the decoration committee can laugh at you when they read all of them after prom,” George added as he was writing. “So don’t mark your name. And hope your handwriting doesn’t get recognized.”

“Wanna write one?” Jane asked.

Anna nodded, then nudged Joan questioningly.

“Sure,” Joan said.

They went over to the table George was hunched over at and each took a pen and piece of paper. Anna thought for just a moment, then began writing something, while Joan hesitated a little bit longer.

She had so many wishes that she thought about all the time. Being adopted into a nicer family, Mama loving her like a normal mother would, having friends, finding her father, getting a kitten… There were so many things to put down, and so little room, so, after a moment of deciding, she wrote, “I wish to always be happy like I am now.”

She rolled her paper up like a scroll and tucked it into an empty globe. Jane did the same, then Anna, and then, finally, George.

“So, what did you guys wish for?” George asked as they walked back over to their table. “Because I wished for something practical. Money.”

“I should have known,” Jane chuckled. “I wished for an easy, hopefully painless transition into college after summer is over.”

“Eternal love,” Anna said.

“A pet cat,” Joan lied, feeling too sappy to say her actual one.

“That’s a good wish, that’s a good wish,” George nodded in approval.

The four of them began to chat for several minutes, discussing summer plans and swapping funny stories. Joan didn’t have much to share, seeing as her life wasn’t exactly very easy to bring up in a lighthearted conversation, but Anna, Jane, and George each made sure she was included. She was perfectly happy with just listening quietly, but actually getting to partake in the talk felt like an honor she didn’t deserve.

“What about you, Joan?” George had been asking. “Got any embarrassing secrets?”

Joan thought for a moment, sifting out several way-too-dark things to share.

“I can’t swim,” She finally admitted.

“Woah, really?” George said. “I thought everyone learned how to swim.”

“Where? In school?” Anna snorted. She turned her head to Joan, eyebrows furrowed. “I guess that makes tomorrow’s pool party a little unfortunate, huh?”

“I still wanna come.” Joan said quickly, afraid the opportunity will be taken from her. “I agreed regardless, didn’t I? And I’ll be okay. I just had a bad experience with water one time, that’s all. It’s been years, anyway.”

(the tepid water and her wrinkled fingertips marked the end of her bubble bath. Mama just checked on her, but her patience had doubled since then. she called for Mama to help her out of the tub, but Mama did not respond. she tried twice more but she heard no returning calls. she decided that she did not really need Mama’s help; she was five and a big girl.

the slippery acrylic tub and her misplaced feet resulted in her arm roughly slicing on the sharp faucet. a metallic and unknown smell engulfed her. all she saw was red, just like candy apples. so much red falling from her arm and coloring the bathwater. unexplainable fear and pain overcame her. she started to cry and within seconds, Mama was standing at the door.

she had always been beautiful, but the flour smeared on her face and the stress lines present on her features did not do much for her. the sheer horror on her expression scared her further and transformed weak cries into wailing screams. Mama appeared white as a sheet as they stared at each other, motionless. the tub water was noticeably darker when she started to feel a painful sensation shooting down her arm. in a flash, Mama was carrying her onto the sink counter, swaddling her in a towel that turned crimson red almost instantly. Mama was wearing her special apron and bore a grim look on her face.

Mama left for just a moment, then returned with something gleaming.

there was no warning given before Mama started putting a needle and thread through her skin. it reminded her of sewing a dress together. she can only feel a light tugging, but it did not quiet her cries. Mama finally cut the thread after what felt like forever. the cuddles she got after that were like angel hugs. she thought she should hurt herself more often.)

“What happened?” George asked with great interest. Jane lightly whacked his arm.

“Don’t be pushy.” She chided him, then looked at Joan. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, hun.”

The pet name sent flickers of pink flames glowing on Joan’s ears. Her heart fluttered wildly inside of her chest, like a butterfly flapping its wings for the first time.

“Well--”

(the shower. the blood in the water like when she was five. her blood. girls all around her laughing, throwing things, humiliating her.)

“I was twelve, and I snuck away from home to this Christian summer camp because I wanted to make some friends,” She said. “That, of course, went south, and all the kids participated in a game where they would dunk me in the pool until I started drowning.”

Silence filled the table. Joan instantly felt guilty and lowered her head.

“Sorry…” She mumbled. “I-I shouldn’t have…”

“I’m so sorry, Joan.” Jane looked sympathetic and concerned. “That sounds awful.”

“Those kids are awful.” George corrected her. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Me too.” Anna nodded. She gently took one of Joan’s hands and squeezed it. “That’ll never happen ever again, I promise.”

Joan smiled at her. “Thank you.” She wanted to dive into Anna’s honey brown eyes and catch the reflected flames in there. She wanted to tell her and George and Jane how much this meant to her.

Suddenly, Anna’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, but kept her other hand holding Joan’s.

“Oh, it’s Kat!” She said to the other three. “She’s asking how the night is going.”

“Amazing!” George declared. “Really amazing! Isn’t this prom the GREATEST?”

Jane tipped her head at him and smiled, and Joan realized that THAT was what it looked like when someone was in love.

“It is amazing,” Jane agreed.

“Yeah,” Joan nodded.

“I’m gonna send a picture to her,” Anna said. “Come on, guys! Everyone get in!”

They all huddled together, even Joan, who got snugly sandwiched between Anna and Jane. Anna snapped a picture and then sent it to Katherine, along with a quick text telling her how things were going. By the time she finished, the music had changed into a slow, soothing song, and couples began to group together on the dance floor, including Jane and George.

“Oh--” Anna looked up with a smile. “It’s a slow song, Joan.”

Joan froze, her eyes widening. She began shaking her head, but Anna was already standing up and gently taking her hands. She pulled them back quickly.

“No, Anna, I can't--” Joan stammered nervously. She glanced at all the couples dancing, noting how smoothly they moved, and couldn’t possibly imagine herself swaying among them. She would be much too clumsy. “I’ve never danced before.”

“That’s okay,” Anna said dismissively.

“No, no, Anna--” Joan’s fear was mounting. This was where everything went wrong, this was where things got messed up, this was where her perfect night fell apart--

“Hey.” Anna knelt down in front of her. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just one little dance, and all we do is hold each other and sway. Just like everyone else is doing.”

Joan glanced at the dancers again. It didn’t look too hard…

“B-but what if--”

“Shh,” Anna carefully adjusted Joan’s flower crown so it would be straight again. “Everything is alright, Joan. Nothing bad will happen. Remember: if anyone laughs, I kick their ass.”

That got a tiny smile from Joan. Anna smiled back and lifted Joan to her feet, guiding her onto the dance floor.

“Okay, so you’re going to grab my hand like this. See?” Their right hands clasped together in the air. “And then set the other one on my shoulder.” Joan’s left hand rested on Anna’s shoulder, while Anna’s gently cupped her waist. “And then we sway…” They swayed. “See? It’s easy. You’re a natural!”

Joan smiled shyly up at Anna. She glanced around them, and realized mainly everyone was too absorbed in their partners to notice she was dancing with them.

“And...if you wanna get fancy with it…” Anna smirked. “We can do the Dancing With The Stars move.”

Joan had no idea what that was, but it still sent lightning bolts of anxiety shooting through her.

“N-no, Anna, no, I can’t--”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Anna hushed her gently. “Just trust me.” And then she stepped back slightly and spun around slowly so her arm would be draped across her torso and Joan would be pressed against her chest. Joan looked up at her with a mix between an amazed and deer-in-headlights look. “See? Easy! Wasn’t that fun?”

Joan nodded wordlessly, lost in her wonder. Her icy blue eyes were sparkling like starlight twinkling on fresh snow. Anna gently uncoiled her and they got back into position.

“You’re a good learner.” Anna told her partner.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered, ducking her head. “Can I spin you?”

Anna laughed. “Sure.”

Joan spun Anna, but ended up twisting their arms quite painfully before the full rotation could be complete, so they had to break away and come back together with unknotted muscles. They both laughed.

“Good first try!” Anna said.

Joan giggled.

A serene silence fell between the two of them as the music went on. They swayed together like a white and pink boat drifting on the quiet waves of the ocean at night. The rhythm they rocked to was conducted by years worth of longing and desire from Joan’s part, and now it was all blooming before her. Everything she’s ever wanted was happening. Friends, a fun night away from home, people who actually give a damn about her… She could feel tears of joy pricking in her eyes and she quickly blinked them back.

“Do you really have to be home by eleven?”

Anna’s voice, smooth and caring and not a bit cruel, cut though the singing playing from the large speakers set up. Joan looked up at her. It felt like she had just woken up from a nap, that the music had lulled her into sleep and she slipped away into a blissful dream. But it wasn’t a dream. This was real. The bodies rocking around her and the beautiful decorations and her perfect dress and Anna’s hand in her own--it was all real.

“Yes,” Joan said, processing what Anna had asked her. She frowned. “I’m sorry. I promised.”

“No, that’s okay!” Anna said quickly. “It’s just that after prom, a few of us were going to go to--”

“OKAY.” Joan said, pulling away and hugging her hands in close.

Anna blinked. “Um. What?”

“No, no, if you want to go off with your friends, I understand. I-I-I don’t want to spoil anything.” Joan sputtered out, feeling her heart sink back into the black abyss it had finally climbed out of for the first time in fifteen years.

“What I was going to say was,” Anna said, taking Joan’s hands again and pulling her back against her. She began to sway again. “If you’d like to, after prom, we could stop at the Blazer for awhile.”

Joan blinked. She suddenly felt embarrassed about how she had jumped to conclusions so easily, that just goes to show how much she truly trusted Anna, but Anna didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve never been there.” She said, unsurprisingly. She didn’t go to many places.

“They have the BEST fries!” Anna stated, grinning.

“I’d love to.” Joan said.

“Then it’s decided!”

A smile was starting to come to Joan’s lips, one that felt like it would stay there for the entire night no matter how hard she tried to smother it. After years of vicious bullying and constant teasing and unfriendly looks, she suddenly found herself wrapped in attention and warmth. Anna or Jane or George didn’t hate her or were afraid of her like Mama had said at all. More than that, they seemed to actually like her. They were talking to her and being nice to her and making her laugh, and none of it seemed forced in even the slightest way. They were making her forget, for all these hours, how miserable she had been and how miserable she truly was. The pain was numbed.

For once in her life, for the first time in fifteen years, she truly felt happy.

“Thank you.” Joan whispered, breaking another few peaceful seconds of silence between them.

“What for?” Anna asked, tilting her head slightly.

“For everything.” Joan clarified. “For taking me to prom. For the limo. For being so nice to me.” The tears were coming back, but she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to blink them back this time. “I know you don’t like me like that, and I know it’s only one night, but…” She looked up at Anna, her eyes sparkling. “I’m glad I got to be your date tonight.”

“Me too.” Anna said, taking Joan by surprise.

“R-really?”

For a moment, Anna frowned at her disbelief, but then she shook her head and chuckled slightly.

“Of course,” She said. “I’m having the best time with you.”

“B-but what about Katherine--” Joan stammered, her voice catching in her throat.

“Katherine isn’t here right now,” Anna said, wiping away the tear that rolled down Joan’s left cheek. “Tonight, you’re all that matters to me. I’m going to make sure this is the best night of your life. And the nights and days and everything else after that. You aren’t alone anymore, Joan.”

That’s what broke Joan.

The girl whimpered, bottom lip quivering, and a cascade of sparkling silver tears began pouring down her face. Anna cupped the back of her head and brought it to press into the crook of her neck for security. Joan cried steadily, thanking her over and over again through squeaking sobs.

“How about this?” Anna said when Joan began to quiet down and was able to pull her head back. Her makeup was slightly smeared, but Anna still thought she looked amazing. “We dance for a little longer, see what poor fools get elected as prom king and queen, and then head to the Blazers for a bite to eat. And I’ll have you home by eleven.” She smiled warmly. “How does that sound to you?”

Joan nodded.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Joan squeaked. “Maybe eleven-thirty…”

“Whatever you want.”

“Eleven-thirty.”

Anna smiled even more. “Wonderful.”

They fell into blissful silence as the song began to wrap up. Joan’s eyes were starting to sting, but she didn’t care. She tucked her head underneath Anna’s chin and rested her head on her chest, relaxing. Anna swayed them both gently, acting as a protective barrier that Joan never wanted to be away from.

The song soon ended and the two of them parted. George and Jane bounded over to them, with George grinning his head off and tapping his feet energetically. Jane rolled her eyes at him fondly, then smiled at Joan and Anna.

“I saw you guys dancing,” She said. “You were really good for your first time! This one,” She jerked her head at George, “tripped on MY FEET and dragged me to the ground when he fell the first time we danced together.”

Anna and Joan laughed. George was not fazed by his girlfriend spilling embarrassing things about him. In fact, he seemed a little proud.

“It’s going to be funny to tell our kids one day!” He said.

“Oh, you,” Jane rolled her eyes again and poked his nose. “Oh, Joan. Your makeup smeared.”

Joan blinked and lifted a hand to her face. “Oh dear,” She murmured in dismay.

“Not to worry!” Jane waved a hand. “I have some makeup in my car. I can help you fix it.”

“Really?” Joan said. “Thank you.”

“No problem, lovely!” Jane said. She gently took Joan by the arm. “Anna, I’m going to borrow your girl for a moment. George, don’t do anything dumb.”

“Yes sir!” George beamed. When Jane and Joan whisked through the crowd and out into the parking lot, he sighed lovingly, “I love her so much…”

Anna laughed and patted his back. “I can tell!”

Meanwhile, in Jane Parker’s blue Hummer, Jane was dutifully applying fresh makeup onto Joan’s youthful face and thinking back to some of the things she overheard Anne Boleyn saying about her when she was over at the Boleyn residence to hang out with George. The young girl before her didn’t look ugly at all, despite what Anne had said, nor did she look like a freak. Her eyes may be a strange color, but they were the most beautiful shade of blue Jane had ever seen before.

Jane suspected that, deep down, Joan actually enjoyed the kind of pampering she was giving her in the car, despite the distrust in her eyes as Jane drew near with a mascara wand. Not that she needed anything more, but still. Little Miss Five Minute Skincare had obviously missed out on a lot of the girly stuff that had saturated Jane’s existence since birth.

It made sense, though. From the rumors she heard and from everything Anne griped about, she didn’t have a normal upbringing like most people should have. Something much darker lurked beneath those silly stories.

Something terrible has happened to this girl.

And, judging by the “hideous” hand-made flannels Joan apparently wore quite often to school, her mother hadn't been much of a fashion mentor either.

Once Jane had achieved the smoky eye effect she wanted, she applied some gloss to Joan’s lips. The girl had quite an amazing tone to her mouth. Pity it was drooped in a sullen pout at that moment.

Jane leaned back to admire her handwork.

“Well?” She adjusted the rear view mirror down so Joan could see her reflection. “How does it look?”

“Pretty…” Joan murmured. “But it feels like I have dirt on my face.” She pouted adorably again.

Jane laughed. “Makeup has that effect, unfortunately.” She said. “But you look lovely. Now, come on, let’s get back inside.”

They journeyed back into the prom, chatting idly as they went. Joan was smiling again, but her hands kept twitching like she wanted to rub her eyes. This was probably the first time she’s ever worn mascara, Jane realized.

“Wow,” Anna murmured breathlessly when Jane and Joan got back to their table. Even George looked a little starstruck at the newer, better makeup applied to Joan’s face.

“Do I look alright?” Joan asked shyly.

“Better than alright!” George said.

“You look beautiful.” Anna added. “Gorgeous.”

Joan blushed bright red. “I’m glad.” She said. “Because this black stuff is making my eyes sticky. And itchy.”

“That’s mascara, sweetheart.” Jane corrected her.

“It’s AWFUL.” Joan said. “Do girls wearing makeup always have to feel this? How do they do that? I’d rather pluck all my eyelashes out!”

Jane, Anna, and George laugh. After a moment, Joan joined them, giggling.

“I’m going to go grab a drink,” Anna said, parting from the group and going over to the bufett temples.

“Excuse me?”

Anna spun around and found herself facing a young woman, maybe a Year 12 or Year 13, with tassels of red hair and striking smoky grey eyes. Her dress was scarlet, accenting her hair perfectly.

“Sorry,” She said, smiling slightly, “I just had to ask before I made a fool of myself. Are you two a couple?” She nodded in Joan’s direction.

“What? No!” Anna barked. The laugh came out more harshly-sounding than she meant, making her instantly guilty. But she was right- she wouldn’t date Joan. She was too young for one, and for another, she was already with Katherine.

The redhead was devouring Joan as the girl giggled over something George was saying, effortlessly adorable.

“No, we’re not a couple,” Anna found herself repeating as the redhead purred her appreciation. “But Joan” Anna couldn't resist. She really wanted Joan to open up to new people. “…Joan’s a total stud.”

God, that felt a lot weirder to say than she expected. She did NOT like that.

“Really?” The redhead’s gaze shot to Anna’s face and then back to her object of attraction. “Joan?” She teased the name with her tongue. “God, she's cute. Do you think I have a chance?”

Anna shrugged and sipped her drink to stifle a giggle. To be honest, she didn’t actually know. She had never ever seen Joan with anyone romantically before, making her believe she was a raging asexual or mother-superior-in-training.

The reality was that Joan was left tongue-tied by male and female nudity alike. Two years into high school gym, and Anne would say she STILL averted her eyes when changing out with other girls in the locker room. She was just hopelessly shy when it came to all matters sex-related.

“She may play hard-to-get.” Anna finally said.

“Ah,” The redhead nodded slowly. She chuckled. “Thank you.” Then, like that, she glided back off into the mass of writhing limbs that was the prom. Anna respectfully waited ten seconds after she left to snort her laughter.

“You’ve got some fans, Jo,” She said, walking back over her friends.

“What?” Joan blinked up at her innocently.

“I think someone has a crush on you.”

Joan’s face flamed red instantly. She stammered on a reply, but all her words came out squeaking.

“O-oh.” She choked. “Nice?”

Anna chuckled and patted her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it was nothing. And you can always say no.”

Joan nodded. A second later, the music switched to an upbeat Lady Gaga song. George began to bound excitedly.

“Oh, I LOVE this song!!” He yelled. “Let’s dance!”

Anna glanced at Joan, who appeared to be a little more confident at dancing. They all moved to an emptier spot on the dance floor and began to dance.

“Come on, Joan!” Jane encouraged, noticing that Joan was just bobbing her head to the beat of the song. “Shake that bony white ass!”

Joan was flabbergasted at that, but was motivated to get a little more into the song. Anna, Jane, and George all clapped and cheered for her as she did so.

Unbeknownst to them, Maggie watched on with Bessie at her side. Bessie’s amethyst purple dress went with her bleached white hair surprisingly well, but Maggie wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not, seeing as Bessie’s head was filled with quite a few moths. Anthony was somewhere in the crowd near the food temples, lost in the cluster of black tuxedos so much like his own, fetching drinks like Maggie had asked.

“God, just look at them.” Maggie sneered in disgust, watching Joan dance like an idiot and Anna, Anne’s younger brother, and Anne’s younger brother’s girlfriend actually make it seem like they liked her. “Couldn’t you just vomit?”

“I can’t believe Anne is missing this.” Bessie said, wide-eyed. Maggie definitely saw flickers of longing and jealousy in her dark brown eyes; she wasn’t exactly very subtle with her big gay crush on Anna von Cleves.

“Trust me, doll,” Maggie said dismissively. She shot a smirk at the stage. “She isn’t missing a thing.”

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sffortheculture · 3 years

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Running (SF/F)or the Culture, has been a dream come true for me, and I truly appreciate Queen Wahida for putting me in this space. Signing with a Black owned publishing house in and of itself was a big deal for me, it's such a rare and beautiful thing to be a part of. When I was asked to come on board and carry the banner ad Publisher/Editor for the sci-fi/fantasy imprint it was kinda like being invited to drive the Batmobile. Now it's my hope to be as universally cool, unapologetically Black, and a space for everyone willing to take the ride. To have started as an indie author, with a book and a dream, and to now find myself in this position ready to shake the literary world. Its almost like I'm living the trope in there coolest way. I feel like the proverbial farm boy meeting extraordinary circumstances in order to fulfil great destiny, and it's humbling.

I'm honored and elated that my series The Vanguard has been chosen to lead the way for the imprint, and I think it's a good banner for what we are trying to do. Just like The Vanguard, we see a blending of vibes, worlds and literary traditions to create sci-fi and fantasy that will scintillate and inspire. It's my goal that we amplify sci-fi and fantasy that fuel imaginations and inspire.

In Book I The Stand meets The Fires of Vengeance as diverse heroes battle the police state in a post collapse New England inner-city!

The Road to Resistance by Chase Bolling is probably one of the most BADASS books I’ve ever read.

-@courteneys_corner, Bookstagram

Okay. Even though dystopians/sci-fi/fantasies aren’t my top genre, let’s just say this book gave me LIFE in many ways.

-@BooksByJanee, Bookstagram

After weapons technology is mysteriously knocked back to the dark ages, America is plunged into chaos! Shades of the Black Wall Street Massacre, and the Trump Riots ensue when the president consigns everyone but the elite to mass incarceration, and forced labor! As martial law strikes a night of protests leads to riots, looting and revolution!

Chessed, an S.C.A loving ex-gang member, dons his armor, hefts his weapons, and declares war on corrupt cops, hate groups, and the nefarious powers of a hostile government! He and his allies must fight to survive if they are going to carve a post-apocalyptic Camelot from their embattled inner-city community!

Afrofuturism, epic fantasy, and dystopian science fiction combine for an unforgettable sword and soul thriller! Beautifully crafted world building brings us romance, conspiracy, and magic...blended with heart pounding action, as modern day knights of the round table arise from the crucible of poverty, police brutality, and street violence!

Inspired by books like The Red Knight and A Game of Thrones, The Road of Resistance Part 1 is a surefire hit for fans of Octavia Butler, Mark Lawrence, Milton Davis, and Brandon Sanderson! Read the novel hailed as 'Stirring, gritty, connected and epic. A great read!' by Christian Cameron today!

In Book II Power and Vikings meet The Hunger Games as the revolution continues with The Road of Resistance Part 2!

This book will have you turning pages all night. The fight scenes alone are so well choreographed they are breath-taking. I can see every sweep of the swords and axes and found myself wincing and jumping at the descriptions which evoked such vivid imagery.

The Road of Resistance is Black Lives Matter meets Vikings, but the Vikings are brothas, this time. And they are taking no prisoners.

-Audra, Between The Reads Podcast/Author of Blood Land

When Chessed set out to execute his SHTF plan with his homies, he never imagined that he would be walking the road to kingship. But with modern weapons extinct, and years of S.C.A. and historical African martial arts under their belt, he and his company of unlikely heroes find themselves at the helm of a fledgling nation called the Vanguard!

But as ultra-nationalists hate groups rise, building economies on human trafficking, and the governor wielding incredible new emergency powers sets his eyes on rebel cities; ridin' for the hood takes on an brand new meaning!

Chessed must unite survivors, refugees, and former street gangs into an army to stop this new onslaught of tyranny! Join the Vanguard and hold the line with a diverse cast of characters as the Vanguard marches to war!

Fans of Bernard Cornwell, Tochi Onyebuchi, Sarah J. Mass, and Marlon James, have a new favorite to add to their list! Bolling combines Afrofuturism with military science fiction and urban fantasy for a non-stop thrill ride!

In Book III some queens don't need a dragon to bring fire and blood!When weapons technologies were trapped in the dark ages, and a rogue American government turned on its own people, the Vanguard, a revolutionary, separatist kingdom, led by King Chessed of Bridgeport was born! But when Chessed is betrayed and presumed missing or dead, what will become of his fledgling kingdom?

In his absence, it's up to Khalise, first lady of the Vanguard, and mother of his children to take up her nation's banner, and don her crown! As she dispatches trusted bannermen to search for the king, she must overcome depression, loss, and anxiety to lead her people to victory! But a bloodthirsty occultist elite, and an onslaught of witches, wizards, psychics, and demonic forces make the task more dangerous than ever before in the afrofuturist, dark fantasy thriller The War We Make: The Vanguard 3!

As I work on The Vanguard V The Juneteenth Campaign I am excited to announce the Chronicle of the Unbroken is entering it's beta phase! Fresh off a jailbreak from a government black site in Sleepy Hollow, Chessed of the Vanguard is back in Chronicle of the Unbroken! While longing for a reunion with Khalise and his family, but first he must fight. Beside his fellow escapees Chessed must fight through a post-apocalyptic New York; ruled by a shadowy cabal of Federal High Constables, corrupt activist clergy, and a necromancy wielding special forces officer, in disguise as the leader of a terrifying street gang!

The secret origins of the rogue AI, AINI that stripped the world of modern weapons is revealed as Chessed must discover new allies if he has any hope of victory against insurmountable odds! Anybody interested in becoming a beta reader for my later project feel free to contact me on IG @Chase.Bolling.Author!

Just Battles, and Flawless Victories,

Chase of (SF/F)or the Culture

#fantasybooks #fantasy #fantasyfiction #blackfantasy #bookstagram #blackbookstagram #epicfantasy #afrofuturism #sciencefictionbooks #sffortheculture #blacksciencefiction #black authors #diverselit #diversebooks #letsreadownvoices #writingcommunity #black literature

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rote-less-traveled · 4 years

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Lately, my character has been buckling under the stress of what is happening around her, and has been having issues keeping her cool in situations that require it. She sometimes feels lost, and alone despite being in a room full of people. She has no idea what is ahead of her, and she fears she may get lost in the chaos of it all along the way. (True black deck, Celtic spread please! ♥)

You’ve seen what can be, and what needs to be done. And you know the test that’s coming has no room for weakness. Either accept your old wounds and move on, or resign yourself to failure. But know that you would be failing more than just yourself.

The Ace of Wands crossed by the Hierophant speaks of new beliefs, new communities, new roads to follow.

The 9 of Coins as your Goal is a sort of restrained luxury, the ability to enjoy fine things without descending into decadence.

The 3 of Swords as your Foundation was a time of pain, of loss, of heartbreak. Something was taken from you.

The Sun in your Past was a celebration of light and life, of warmth and joy. The darkness was cast back, and all could take the time to appreciate the glory that had revealed it.

The 8 of Swords in your Future is a crucible, a forge within which your iron will be tested. Will you become the blade, strong and sharp? Or will you shatter, to be thrown out with the rest of the slag?

You are the King of Wands, a charismatic leader when you have a cause to bear. Others flock to your voice, follow your torch, and set their hands to your work.

The Queen of Swords in your Environment is the removal of comforting illusions. There is no malice involved, but you are being forced to see the world as it truly is.

The 4 of Coins in your Emotions warns of self-centeredness, of pulling in to hoard what you have and stagnating as a result. All the riches in the world mean nothing if they are allowed to gather dust.

The 10 of Wands is a burden that crushes down on more than your body. But you are almost to the end, you just have to carry it a little further.

#tarot #true black #celtic cross #isuke-ejinn

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antoine-roquentin · 5 years

Link

That may be warranted, but it misses the larger picture. It’s not coincidental that Joker is set in the early 1980s, nor that it hews so closely to The King of Comedy. In portraying a performer whose affable act masks deep resentment and violence, Phillips’s movie reminds us that long before Trump, it was Ronald Reagan who first used television to launch a mass, reactionary social movement, and with terrifying success.

Though John F. Kennedy famously used television to great effect — most notably in a 1960 debate with a pale, gaunt Richard Nixon — it was Reagan who truly understood the medium’s potential.

Unlike Rupert Pupkin or Arthur Fleck, Reagan saw great success as an actor, appearing in dozens of films from the late 1930s into the early 1960s. While that included many dramatic parts earlier in his career, it would be Reagan’s more comic roles in the 1950s that would define his public, and eventually political, persona — from his most famous role as a professor teaching a chimpanzee in 1951’s Bedtime for Bonzo to his multi-year run as the amiable host of General Electric Theater. In fact, it was on his propagandistic, pro-capitalist speaking tours of GE plants that Reagan first learned how to deploy charm and comedy in pursuit of conservative causes.

By the time Reagan won the White House, it was widely acknowledged by supporters and critics alike that the Gipper had a knack for using comedy to his advantage. His quip to Nancy Reagan in the hospital room in 1981, after nearly being assassinated — “Honey, I forgot to duck” — immortalized him as the president with a sense of humor. Writing in 1984 on Reagan’s mastery of television, the New Republic’s Christopher J. Matthews observed that, “If times are tough, he can be cheerful. If critics are mean, he can be amiable. If his programs cannot sell themselves, he can apply the magic of the storyteller, the spell of the fantasist.”

It was this last dimension — the spell that Reagan could cast with a captivating performance — that The King of Comedy captured so well, and that is reflected in Joker (in one scene in the trailer, a curtain rises and we see Arthur, in his full Joker regalia, comfortably strike a goofy pose as the audience goes wild).

While Taxi Driver so famously evoked the naked, raging violence of post-Vietnam America, a society in the throes of stagflation, The King of Comedy shows the outcome of that period: one of charm and affability on the outside, masking the reactionary rage driving the country underneath. While wealthy whites could bask in “morning again in America,” the multiracial working class endured historic union busting and massive cuts to the social safety net. While Reagan smiled on television, he stole food stamps from a million people and oversaw a nearly 3-percentage-point rise in the child poverty rate.

And it was the combination of comedy, television, and celebrity that enabled this right-wing populist message to go down so easily. As the socialist economist Robert Lekachman famously quipped, “Ronald Reagan must be the nicest president who ever destroyed a union, tried to cut school lunch milk rations from six to four ounces, and compelled families in need of public help to first dispose of household goods in excess of $1,000 . . . If there is an authoritarian regime in the American future, Ronald Reagan is tailored to the image of a friendly fascist.”

The King of Comedy’s evocation of “friendly fascism” — quite literally, a violent populist who could get applause on a Johnny Carson–type show — was not missed in its time. Reflecting her publication’s class position, famed New Yorker critic Pauline Kael panned the film’s harsh spotlight on the ’80s by bemoaning the passing of “a time when there were idealistic heroes and heroines in movies, a time when there was the promise of sexual fulfilment.” Her contemporary, the critic David Ehrenstein, derided Kael’s paean for a lost, pure America as “Sounding for all the world like Ronald Reagan.”

As Ehrenstein observed in his own review, “The trouble is The King of Comedy’s Here and Now cuts too close to the bone for either large-scale mass audience approval or unanimous mainstream critical acclaim . . . At a time when the film world piles on simple-minded sentiment in thick gooey gobs, a picture like The King of Comedy appears a frontal assault. The triumph of the ‘little guy’ is revealed to be nothing more than lumpen neo-Fascist blood lust.”

But for as much as The King of Comedy so expertly pulled back the curtain on Reagan’s smiling, laughing cult of violence, Joker has the potential to even more aptly portray an amiable, right-wing populist leader.

In the 1985 preface to his book Friendly Fascism, political scientist Bertram Gross quoted media scholar Mark Crispin Miller’s description of Reagan: “Like a good TV commercial, Reagan’s image goes down easy, calming his audience with sweet inversions of the truth . . . He has learned to liven up his every televised appearance with frequent shifts in expression, constant movements of the head, lots of warm chuckles and ironic shrugs.”

These physical attributes bear more than a passing resemblance to Rupert Pupkin, and Joaquin Phoenix’s terrifyingly human version of the Joker. But, Miller reminds us, the appearance of moral depth should not detract us from what lies behind the mask: nothing, a void of uncaring, maniacal ego. “The best way to keep his real self hidden . . . is not to have one . . . Reagan’s mask and face are as one.” In the crucible of reactionary violence, the line between performer and performance evaporates.

There’s no doubt that Joker’s allusions to Reaganism are more subtle than its mirroring of contemporary far-right violence. But, by invoking the politics of The King of Comedy, Phillips’s film can serve as a powerful reminder that the use of comedy, performance, and celebrity by right-wing populists today is far from novel. Today’s jokers may frighten, but they are mere copycats of the original chuckling and smiling king.

truly, the original joker was ronald reagan

#jacobin has leaned heavy into crappy cultural critique recently #but this is alright

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segretecose · 4 years

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I noticed you are into drag and, at the same time, you seem to take interest in most feminist issues. So I was wondering--how do you conciliate the two? Because I've always struggled with that a bit, and maybe you can help me understand how I really feel about it? x

I am flattered that you consider me eloquent enough to reply to this, so I’ll try my very best. I’d like to start by saying that I haven’t read much material on the topic, but I can link you to some (in my opinion) interesting online articles—for example, I would suggest you read this one (takes about 10 minutes) which, I think, sums everything up pretty concisely and effectively — Is Drag Misogynistic? by M.K. Fain.

I believe the only way one can truly form an opinion is by reading A LOT of diverse takes and then adopting whatever ideas one personally finds relevant and relatable, and, even then, beliefs and opinions can (and should) change overtime. So I can give you my current point of view, but please bear in mind that, no matter what Tumblr tries to tell you, there isn’t one correct way of thinking.

I’m going to organize this into different points so that it’s easier to read and to navigate:

1. I believe there is a HUGE misogyny problem within the LGBTQ community, especially among gay men, who are often the very same people who perform as drag queens; so I’d be lying to you if I said that there aren’t any misogynist drag queens—there are, and a lot. And it’s a problem. However, I do not believe that drag is intrinsically misogynistic—drag queens are undoubtedly more prominent and successful, especially thanks to RuPaul’s Drag Race, but it is worth noting that drag kings are also a thing. Of course there’s a discrepancy there, being women the victims of the patriarchy, but I think the general and main idea of drag is just to deconstruct gender, which goes in all kinds of directions. Gay men are not the only ones who perform in drag—there are trans women and cis women and gender-nonconforming people who perform in drag. Drag is for everybody.  I genuinely believe that (most) drag queens’ intent is never to deride women, but rather to exorcise the expectations of femininity and to criticize the constraints of the patriarchy. - “Some argue that drag has nothing to do with the lived female experience. These queens can hang up their heels at the end of the night, an opportunity not afforded to women day to day. This will ring true for some, but there are plenty of drag queens who claim that it’s the amazing women in their lives that inspired them to do drag, that drag is rather a deconstruction and a parody of the ridiculous image women are supposed to achieve, and that drag, most certainly, is for women too.” (from: Are drag queens doing enough for feminism?, Michael Segalov for Dazed, 2 November 2015) - “There was a time when drag was considered misogynist. During the second wave of feminism, it was condemned as a phenomenon of men ridiculing women, their bodies, their sexuality. Unlike women, the thinking went, men could opt in or out of the crucible of femininity, exploiting it for profit and fame. But in an age of gender fluidity, drag has finally found its moment. Most queens—Hayhoe included—will tell you they’re deifying womanhood, not deriding it. “I think women are the most beautiful, inspiring, gorgeous creatures,” he says.” (from: The Queen B, Emily Landau for Toronto Life, 5 September 2019)Having said that, there are still a lot of issues that need discussing, like the fact that oftentimes drag ends up reinforcing more harmful stereotypes than it “exorcises the construct of femininity”—for example, the danger with the excessive padding, the fake boobs, the fashion and hairstyles, the acting catty and bitchy, is that it may end up suggesting to an uncritical and gullible audience that that is an accurate depiction of womanhood. There have also been some instances in which (some) drag queens have tried to divert the attention from the main victims of the patriarchy who are, of course, women, which is something we should in no way have to tolerate ever again.

2. RuPaul is also a problem (sometimes): - “Perhaps the most famous drag queen in the world, RuPaul has paved the way for whole new generations to enjoy and engage with the form. Along the way, though, he’s been very vocal about what, or who, he considers drag. In a controversial interview with the Guardian last year, RuPaul was asked about the inclusion of cisgender women on his show. In response, he said: “Drag loses its danger and sense of irony when it’s not men doing it, because at its core it’s a social statement and a big f-you to male-dominated culture. So for men to do it, it’s really punk rock, because it’s a real rejection of masculinity.”” (from: Does UK Drag Have a Misogyny Problem?, Ben Charlie Smoke for VICE, 6 June 2019) - “This is enraging. How can it be that only men have the privilege of irony and transgression when it comes to gender identity? The idea that the social critique of male patriarchy can only really work when it is enacted by men is nonsensical and offensive. Does RuPaul believe that counter-culture, as well as mass-culture, should privilege male voices? RuPaul’s claims disregard the wealth of talent coming from bio-queen communities: cisgender or non-binary, female-bodied performers exploring drag femininity.” (from: No, RuPaul, the drag queen world does not only belong to men – everyone can explore femininity, Amrou Al-Kadhi for The Independent, 4 March 2018)So, while we must recognize what RuPaul has done for the community, I think that we should also never hesitate to call him out on some of his stances because he is a human and he makes mistakes just like the rest of us. He is not a deity and he does not speak for everybody when he declares stuff like this. His (reductive) vision of drag is not reflective of reality.

3. As a result of his views, RuPaul’s Drag Race also contains its share of controversies. In particular, the TV show has actively excluded transgender and AFAB contestants in the past; which is utterly ridiculous and problematic, considering that the show finds its inspiration in ball culture, which was pretty much started and carried out by transgender and gender-nonconforming people (who were primarily black and latinx, may I add). And while in the last few season there have indeed been some transgender contestants (e.g. Gia Gunn, Sonique, Peppermint), the opportunity of appearing on the show continues to be precluded from AFAB performers—which is, in my opinion, UNACCEPTABLE. - “If drag is truly about creating a gender-free world, women should be not only welcome but leading it.” (from: Is Drag Misogynistic? by M.K. Fain)

4. Conclusions: I personally don’t think drag is inherently misogynistic, but there absolutely are some misogynistic aspects to it that must be A. recognized, and, B. eradicated. It is vital. All in all, there is A LOT to consider, and I am often questioning my own views on the matter. However, I am firmly convinced that one can enjoy something while still being aware and critical of some aspects of it: I enjoy watching RuPaul’s Drag Race because it is fun, and lighthearted, and gay; but I always try to keep a critical eye on it too. I personally try to follow and support only queens that I know are conscious of all this or that at least try to understand women’s plight and to help somehow. Although there might have been some missteps in their past (which I don’t think should be held against them forever), I trust queens like Katya Zamolodchikova, Trixie Mattel, Miz Cracker, Sasha Velour, Alaska Thunderfuck, etcetera, and I don’t see anything wrong with people like them performing femininity because their intent is never to harm women.

#ask #rupaul's drag race #rpdr

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mike5579-t3a · 5 years

Text

An open letter to Elsa and Anna.

SPOILER ALERT!

To my favorite Disney Queens, Elsa and Anna,

I want to take this opportunity to thank your creators Jennifer Lee, Chris Buck and Peter DelVechio for making the Frozen story so memorable and wonderful. They know how to tell your stories, as they stand as testimony to the struggles, heartaches, loneliness of thos 13 years separated to love, acceptance, reconciliation, and forgiveness, that we who are seeing it all take place begore our eyes are privileged, honored and thankful to see this wonderful story take place.

From Frozen 1, you both went through a short period of happiness until Elsa's accidental freezing of Anna. Anna was healed by Gran Pabbie, then made to forget Elsa's powers, resuting in a forced separation of you both. Elsa, made to "conceal, don't feel, don't let it show." All the while, Anna, locked out of Elsa's room for 10 years, never knowing why, but still loving her sister nonetheless. I won't go into anymore hurtful detail, you know it all too well. Shipwreck, parents King Agnarr, Queen Iduna, gone. 3 agonizing years on top of 10 previous. Elsa, the 24 hours of your Coronation Day turned everything around for you both! From that no-good Hans dating Anna, you running away after the secret of your powers was exposed, all the way to Hans betrayal of Anna, yet Anna gave the full measure of her waning life from another accidental frozen burst from you, this time, to her heart, to save you from a murdering Hans and his sword. That love, a greater love than even the "Loves first kiss" between Kristoff and Anna, giving one's own life for a beloved friend, or as in this case, Anna giving up her life for you Elsa, to thwart a murder named Hans. It thawed the ice dam around your own heart, and the raw emotion that flooded over you, washing away all 13 years of junk and fear, opening your heart to love. Anna, God, who is love, sent you back to your sister, Elsa, and gave you both that rare second chance to rebuild your love for each other and the deep, unbreakable bond that you have for one another. You both have been truly blessed!

Frozen Fever, Olaf's Frozen Adventure, etc, have brought us to Frozen 2.

Everything chronicled in Frozen 2 showed how both of you have grown into mature women, who have been put through a challenging adventure with hardships, pain, to exuberant joy and happiness as you both discovered your paths and callings in life.

Elsa, from the time you entered the woods, the expressions on your face had shown how everything started to click. Your smile is as bright as the morning sun! Yes, it would've been great to just keep things as they were. But life is all about changes, the only thing in life that doesn't change. You went into Ahtohallan alone and found your answers. Your powers were a gift, a blessing from the not only the spirits, but The Great Spirit. The Creator and sustainer of all earth, God. A reward for your mother Iduna's rescue of Agnarr during the fight at King Runeard's dam. Your mother is proud of her little Snow. Then you went too deep into Ahtohallan and froze solid. The sacrifice was worth it to find the truth of how Runeard used the dam to weaken the forest on the natives. Then the worst part, Runeard murdering the Northuldra leader in cold blood. You relayed the message to Anna before you froze. Anna did the rest.

Aaaand Anna. You came through in the clutch. Elsa sent you down the ice path in the canoe wisely. The danger she faced was above your "paygrade." Elsa froze. Olaf went away with the magic, and you were alone and greiving. You thought Elsa was dead and all was lost. Yet you had strength enough in your heart to pick yourself up, and do the next right thing. One step, another step, another step, another, and another. Keep moving forward. Then you left the cave with the knowledge Elsa sent you, and you knew what had to be done. Destroy the dam. Your smarts and leadership with Kristoff, Lt. Mattias and his troop, got the earth giants up and destroyed the dam. Curse, lifted. Sister, thawed out, riding to Arendelle's rescue before the wave could hit and flatten the village and Castle. All was made right. You saved your sister again, and both of you are now the bridge between Northuldra and Ahtohallan of nature and spirits, and Arendelle of the humans. Like Elsa said, "a bridge has two sides, and mother had two daughters." Two wonderful, loving daughters. Momma Iduna planted seeds of love in both of you, and my, how those seeds have flourished! Your bond was forged in the fires of those 13 years culminating at the fjord. Then it was refined in the crucible of the Enchanted Forest of Northuldra. You have both grown into two exceptional young mature women, each with your life's calling. Elsa is The Snow Queen of the North, who tames the four spirits and keeps the peace, with her own heartful of love for humans, animals, and spirits like Little Bruni. Anna showed her leadership, love, how she inspires people, all the traits to rule. Elsa made the wise call for you to be Queen of Arendelle, Anna.

Personal note. My headcanon was for an uncle figure to be there when you needed an older hand in life since papa and mama passed away. He'd love you both and be there with open ears and an open mind and a loving, open heart. He'd be like me, fighting the same mental issues, with more years and more grey hairs! I've been down that road, too.

To wrap this up, some sage advise.

Anna, my wish is that you rule Arendelle with the love and grace of your sister plus all of the qualities you possess. You have shown them in destroying your Grandfather's instrument of treachery, the dam, and ending the curse of the mist over the forest. Love your husband, Kristoff with all your heart and be a wise ruler. Seek God's face and his wisdom. Kristoff, take care of your new wife, or she'll give you her fist of steel while Elsa freezes your butt off! (Just kidding!) Both of you be good to each other.

Elsa, you have found the answers you needed, and have a joy and peace now few have found in this world. Look to the God of the Universe often for His wisdom in your doings. Love the Northuldrans and Arendellians, never neglect visiting your sister and brother-in-law and vice versa. Let Anna into the dome to see your mom's face again. When they have kids, let them know how special Aunt Elsa is and how much you love them.

God bless and continue in your strong love for each other.

Mike 5579-T3a

#frozen2 #snow queen elsa #snow sisters #queen anna of arendelle #open letter #meta

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gerbiloftriumph · 5 years

Photo

Captive Crown

(also on ao3)

Someone wanted the newly crowned King of Daventry and all his friends dead. Someone got close, once.

(warnings for the whole thing: kidnapping, bruising, starvation, nightmares, healthy dosage of angsty musing, sicfic, story-coherent vehicle for all my favorite ch2 headcanons)

~*~*~

7/7

(1: to steal)(2: to hide)(3: to seek)(4: to find)(5: to break)(6: to mend)(7: to heal, and to end)

~*~*~

Amaya flung open the door. “I didn’t know you were that sick! Why am I always the last person to know anything?” She stomped into the room and stopped. Graham was curled around his pillow, snoring softly and drooling slightly. He didn’t stir.

No1 was sitting in the rocking chair near the fire, helmet off, reading some report or other. He glanced up. “Good afternoon, Miss Blackstone. Can I help you?”

She gestured helplessly at the bed. “Well, I was…um. I guess yelling at a king isn’t a good idea anyway.”

“Generally, no, but it’s been an interesting week. I don’t think he’d mind, especially since he’s too drugged to hear you.” He glanced at the hourglass on the side table. “The dose should be wearing off soon. I’ve got to get some soup in him. If you stay, he should be awake presently.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Truth told, it’s not the most thrilling guard shift. He’s been asleep for hours. I’d be glad for some distraction from my distraction.” He flapped the paper he held. “Tourism report from Royal Guard Number Two. The man doesn’t know how to spell at all.” He paused, and added, “If you do stay and proceed with your original plan, perhaps keep your yelling brief? Nerves bit on edge all around, I think.”

Thunder growled beyond the castle walls as yet another storm billowed up over the mountains. They could barely hear it through the heavy stone, over the crackle of the fire. Graham mumbled something incomprehensible in his sleep and snuggled deeper in the blankets.

“I think that means he’s starting to rouse,” No1 said and went back to his paperwork. “Don’t shake him awake—he tends to flail if you do that, and he’s surprisingly good at landing blind punches.” Only then did Amaya notice the pale scrape on the guard’s cheekbone.

“While we’re waiting, what’s in that tourism report?”

“Well, you know the Fantastical Floating Island? Submersive Sunken Island, now? He’s got this idea…”

All told, it was another ten or so minutes before Graham opened his eyes, still fuzzed over with whatever drug Muriel had fed him. He struggled to sit up, but within a minute he was folding over with a ragged cough and a groan. No1 started to put down his report and come over to help, but with a meaningful glance at Amaya, leaned back again, flicking pages of the report without reading a word.

Amaya sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the mug of water someone had left on the bedside table. It looked like water, anyway. Not one of the wildly colorful concoctions the Hobblepots had whipped together. She passed it to Graham, who drained the mug in one go.

Only once it was empty did he look up and realize who was sitting there. He blinked, groggy and confused. “Amaya? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you.”

“Yeah, but, consider this: I asked first.” He grinned.

Amaya looked over the pile of bottles and crucibles and herbs and tissues and bandages and things crowding the side table. “I didn’t know you were so sick. You just sounded stuffy, before.”

“I didn’t know I was so sick, either. Kinda snuck up on me.” He cleared his throat and winced.

She frowned at him, and she seemed to be debating with herself about something. There was a terrifically long pause, but Graham was too drowsy to think of anything worth saying. It was something of a relief when she finally muttered, “Hey. Do you remember what you told me down there? Try killing them with kindness?”

“Yeah. That was—oh!” He froze, startled, as she grabbed him in a fierce, although stiff and rather awkward, hug. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, and it took a few seconds before he tentatively returned the embrace. When she kept holding it, he sagged gratefully into her arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his hair, eyes screwed up tight like that would distance what she was doing from herself. “I don’t think we would have made it without you.”

“It’s what a king is supposed to do, isn’t it?” he said. And then, after another hesitant pause, he mumbled, “Muriel thinks I’m probably contagious.”

“Ugh! Graham!” Amaya shoved him back into the pillows. Despite already wearing gloves, she scrubbed her hands on her skirt. “That’s the only physical sign of affection I’m authorized to give out for the year.”

“I understand. It’s a blanket ban,” he said, nodding seriously. “I won’t hug-gle with you over it.”

“I’m going to wait for Ken to turn his back,” Amaya said, “and then I’m going to thump you with this pillow.”

“Go ahead,” No1 called, not looking up from his report.

“What! No, come on. You’re supposed to be on my side! I pay you to be on my side!”

“Thump him hard, Amaya.”

“I bed Roberta would defend my honor.”

“Not this time she wouldn’t!” No3 trilled from the hall.

~*~*~*~

After a day or so, Muriel altered the doses so that he wasn’t always unconscious, although he still wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Graham tried reading to pass the time, but the small print tended to bring back his headache. Mostly he watched the flickering fireplace shadows move against the walls.

Once (more than once) he was adamant that the stone walls of the royal bedroom had been swapped for the stone walls of his goblin cell. He yelped for someone, anyone, to come, to help, and he clung to the guard that appeared first until the feverish delirium faded. With the Hobblepots and their tinctures close to hand, these distressing spells never lasted long, but they upset everyone.

Someone had the bright idea to let Triumph sit in the room with him to keep him grounded, and then the royal guards could breathe a little easier. Graham never figured out how they coaxed the gerbil up the steps—he tried it once or twice later, but Triumph never dared it again. Still, it worked this time. Triumph wandered around the royal bedroom, claws clicking on the wood. No1 looked at the gerbil with mild annoyance and said he was going to make another pot of honey tea to try and relax the king’s awful sounding wheeze. The moment Graham was alone, he leaned as far out of the bed as he could, clicking his tongue and snapping his fingers until Triumph nosed his huge face into Graham’s hand.

It wasn’t comfortable to lean out of bed for more than a minute or two, but he wanted Triumph close. So, he snapped his fingers over the mattress a few times, whispering random encouragements until Triumph, head cocked with considerably deep gerbil thought, backed up a pace or two and made a flying leap onto the mattress. The impact shot Graham up a few inches before he slammed back into the pillows.

Triumph padded over to Graham, chirped, and licked the king’s face. Then he paced in a tight circle, twining the blanket around his paws like spaghetti to make a lumpy sort of nest, before curling into a ball, chin on Graham’s stomach. His ears drooped low in contented sleep. Graham stroked Triumph’s cold nose. The fireplace crackled merrily, and the thunder purred, and the rain poured, and for the first time in a while he felt truly content and warm and safe.

The last thing Graham heard before sleep overtook him too was No1 huffing in irritation, teacup and pot on his tray rattling as he slammed it harder than necessary on the bedside table, muttering, “We’ll never get that fur out of those blankets. Whose idea was this. Gods. I warned them he’d do something like this. No one ever listens around here.”

But all told, he wasn’t to be kept in bed much longer. Muriel relented fairly soon after that and said he was as good as her enforced bedrest was going to make him. The royal guards weren’t allowed to barricade the door against him, so long as he promised not to wear himself out, and to wrap himself in a blanket, and to ask for help if he felt faint, of course.

He felt a touch suffocated, not faint, but he expected this was the way a kidnapped king was supposed to be treated upon rescue—coddled and treated like a doll.

He went for the courtyard. Someone set a chair beneath the overhang and stocked it with blankets and tea and reports that he almost certainly wouldn’t bother to read until next week. He snuggled deep into the cushions. The sharp tang of the brisk air made him feel even better, almost bright enough to go for a jog around the trail, but for the fact that his royal guards would probably tackle him and insist he wasn’t ready yet. Maybe tomorrow.

From behind, someone coughed—the sort of “I’m here, please notice me, but only if you want to” cough, not the sick sort—and Graham almost leapt out of his hair before realizing it was the Feys.

Wente was staggering beneath the weight of a perfectly ridiculous four tier cake, and Bramble was wavering at his side, ready to throw her hands out to help catch it should it slide. It was drowning in frosting flowers, and the words Thank You were so tightly embellished with so many little curls and flourishes Graham could scarcely read them.

“Wente?”

“Your Majesty, I’m so sorry I couldn’t visit earlier. Muriel said I wasn’t allowed, else I might sicken Bramble, and we couldn’t have that, could we, sweetums, honey bun, favored pie—” At this point he broke off and started whispering sugary sweet sentiments in her ear before realizing Graham was starting to laugh. “Sorry, sir.”

“No, you’re absolutely right,” Graham said, and then paused. “Uh, I don’t think I’m contagious anymore…?” He held the question tremulously, a little afraid of himself. A little afraid his friends’ smiles might melt away and—

“We cleared it with Muriel,” Bramble said, firm. “We wanted to make you something small to say thank you, but, ah,” she eyed the towering icing sugar construction with barely veiled alarm, “it got slightly out of control.”

“No point in baking small,” Wente said, a touch offended. “I don’t believe in those bitty samples. How do you know you’ll like something if you don’t get to try it from every angle?”

“True enough, dumpling.” Bramble bumped him lightly on the arm. Very lightly, so the cake didn’t topple over.

Wente and Bramble had planned on leaving cake and king alone, but Graham insisted that they share—four tiers, for stars’ sake. Plates and forks were found, and once the royal guards realized what the Feys were offering, they couldn’t be kept out of the courtyard with a stick. Somehow Chester got wind of it because it was free food and Chester had a nose for that sort of thing, and Muriel came with him like she always did. Amaya was dragged into it quickly after that: a royal guard had requested she double check the strength of the side doors’ security, just in case, and it was easy enough to pull her away from her work once cake was offered. Four tiers broke up in short order, with everyone nursing their slice and yammering away about this, that, and nothing at all, while the thunder rolled around the mountains and the rain danced in the leaves.

The tense atmosphere that had seemed to settle into the bones of the castle over the previous weeks (truly, months, ever since the hasty coronation) finally started to break apart. Everyone was safe, everyone was happy, and everyone was getting hyped up on tremendous amounts of sugar. Someone even dragged out a lute, which No2 was valiantly attempting to play. (Attempting being the word.)

“Matt, please. It’s key of C. Not undersea. Give it here.” No1 snatched the lute away and launched into a petulant sort of song before he warmed to it and settled into a decent rendition of Greensleeves.

Graham ended up with an enormous frosting rose on his plate, which he nibbled at in between conversations. He wandered away for a minute to watch the rain—it was gradually starting to break up, and he had the feeling monsoon season was reaching its end.

He still thought King Edward would have handled the whole goblin situation differently. He didn’t know how, but it wouldn’t have gone quite like it had. A proper king, Graham was reasonably sure, wouldn’t have gotten so frazzled and scared, and he’d certainly been frazzled and scared. But, after all, he hadn’t been born to kingship. He’d been given it. It had taken hard work and hope, and he had been entrusted with the crown. He was a different sort of leader. Different, but maybe an okay one after all.

Because, in the end, they had survived.

He watched the impromptu party for a minute, licking frosting from his fingers. So he wasn’t King Edward. Fine. He was going to have to be King Graham, as big and good as he could be. That, he thought, he could maybe do.

From out of the little crush of party folk, Bramble came and found him and took him by the hand to lead him back into the conversations—Whisper and Acorn had showed up too, and they were looking for him. He put down his empty plate and rejoined his citizens and his friends, ready to face whatever came next.

Preferably without any more mass kidnappings.

#the royal guards absolutely share names with the series creators lbr #King's Quest #kings quest #King Graham #goddessoftechnology #is the sweetest bun ever and thank you for being supportive~~#and now we're completely complete #ch2 #fic'ing

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chikaraspecial · 5 years

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The Creatures of the Deep are a quartet many members of the CHIKARMY believed were ready to overcome the entire roster. It may also be believed by many that they have yet to truly live up to their potential. With Oceanea largely absent and the rest of the Creatures able to hold down much momentum, King of Trios would be the perfect weekend for them to cement their legacy and begin their reign of dominance. Last year the Creatures were unable to make it past the opening round, but with Oceanea replacing Cajun Crawdad and back to lead her team, it is easy to argue their odds for success have increased.

The field for Trios is now half full!

King of Trios 2019 - October 4-6, 2019 - Reading, PA

1. Scott Steiner, Petey Williams & Jordynne Grace

2. The Four Nations (Mick Moretti, Adam Hoffman & Jack Bonza)

3. The Carnies (Nick Iggy, Kerry Awful & Tripp Cassidy)

4. The Embassy (Prince Nana, Jimmy Rave & Sal Rinauro)

5. The VeloCities (Mat Diamond, Jude London & Paris De Silva)

6. F.I.S.T. (Icarus, Travis Huckabee & Tony Deppen)

7. The Crucible (Ophidian, The Whisper & Lance Steel)

8. The Creatures of the Deep (Oceanea, Merlok & Hermit Crab)

#CHIKARA #Chikara Pro #King of Trios #King of Trios 2019 #Oceanea #Merlok #Hermit Crab #Creatures of the Deep

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pope-francis-quotes · 5 years

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14th April >> (@ZenitEnglish) #PopeFrancis #Pope Francis’ Homily during the celebration of Holy Mass for Palm Sunday: (Full Text) ‘Joyful Entrance into Jerusalem Followed by Humiliation’.

Pope Francis on 14th April 2019, celebrated Mass for Palm Sunday in St. Peter’s Square. An estimated 40,000 of the faithful joined in the service, which included the blessing of palms and reading of the Passion narrative from the Gospel of Luke.

Following is the Vatican-provided text of the Holy Father’s Homily:

Joyful acclamations at Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem, followed by his humiliation. Festive cries followed by brutal torture. This twofold mystery accompanies our entrance into Holy Week each year, as reflected in the two characteristic moments of today’s celebration: the initial procession with palm branches and the solemn reading of the Passion.

Let us enter into this movement, guided by the Holy Spirit, and thus obtain the grace we sought in our opening prayer: to follow in faith our Savior’s example of humility, to heed his lesson of patient suffering, and thus to merit a share in his victory over the spirit of evil.

Jesus shows us how to face moments of difficulty and the most insidious of temptations by preserving in our hearts a peace that is neither detachment nor superhuman impassivity, but confident abandonment to the Father and to his saving will, which bestows life and mercy. He shows us this kind of abandonment by spurning, at every point in his earthly ministry, the temptation to do things his way and not in complete obedience to the Father. From the experience of his forty days in the desert to the culmination of his Passion, Jesus rejects this temptation by his obedient trust in the Father.

Today, too, by his entrance into Jerusalem, he shows us the way. For in that event, the evil one, the prince of this world, had a card up his sleeve: the card of triumphalism. Yet the Lord responded by holding fast to his own way, the way of humility.

Triumphalism tries to make it to the goal by shortcuts and false compromises. It wants to jump onto the carriage of the winner. It lives off gestures and words that are not forged in the crucible of the cross; it grows by looking askance at others and constantly judging them inferior, wanting, failures… One subtle form of triumphalism is spiritual worldliness, which represents the greatest danger, the most treacherous temptation threatening the Church (De Lubac). Jesus destroyed triumphalism by his Passion.

The Lord truly rejoiced with the people, with those young people who shouted out his name and acclaimed him as King and Messiah. His heart was gladdened to see the enthusiasm and excitement of the poor of Israel. So much so, that, to those Pharisees who asked him to rebuke his disciples for their scandalous acclamations, he replied: “If these were silent, the very stones would cry out” (Lk 19:40). Humility does not mean denying reality: Jesus really is the Messiah, the King.

Yet at the same time the heart of Jesus was moving on another track, on the sacred path known to him and the Father alone: the path that leads from “the form of God” to “the form of a servant”, the path of self-abasement born of obedience “unto death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2:6-8). He knows that true triumph involves making room for God and that the only way to do that is by stripping oneself, by self-emptying. To remain silent, to pray, to accept humiliation. There is no negotiating with the cross: one either embraces it or rejects it. By his self-abasement, Jesus wanted to open up to us the path of faith and to precede us on that path.

The first to follow him on that path was his mother, Mary, the first disciple. The Blessed Virgin and the saints had to suffer in walking the path of faith and obedience to God’s will. Responding with faith to the harsh and painful events of life entails “a particular heaviness of heart (cf. Redemptoris Mater, 17). The night of faith. Yet only from that night do we see the dawn of the resurrection break forth. At the foot of the cross, Mary thought once more of the words that the angel had spoken about her Son: “He will be great… The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom, there will be no end” (Lk 1:32-33). On Golgotha, Mary faced the complete denial of that promise: her Son was dying on a cross like a criminal. In this way, triumphalism, destroyed by the abasement of Jesus, was likewise destroyed in the heart of his Mother. Both kept silent.

In the footsteps of Mary, countless holy men and women have followed Jesus on the path of humility and obedience. Today, World Youth Day, I would like to mention all those young saints, especially the saints “next door” to us, known only to God; sometimes he likes to surprise us with them. Dear young people, do not be ashamed to show your enthusiasm for Jesus, to shout out that he is alive and that he is your life. Yet at the same time, do not be afraid to follow him on the way of the cross. When you hear that he is asking you to renounce yourselves, to let yourselves be stripped of every security, and to entrust yourselves completely to our Father in heaven, then rejoice and exult! You are on the path of the kingdom of God.

Festive acclamations and brutal torture; the silence of Jesus throughout his Passion is profoundly impressive. He also overcomes the temptation to answer back, to act like a “superstar”. In moments of darkness and great tribulation, we need to keep silent, to find the courage not to speak, as long as our silence is meek and not full of anger. The meekness of silence will make us appear even weaker, more humble. Then the devil will take courage and come out into the open. We need to resist him in silence, “holding our position”, but with the same attitude as Jesus. He knows that the battle is between God and the prince of this world and that what is important is not putting our hand to the sword but remaining firm in faith. It is God’s hour. At the hour that God comes forth to fight, we have to let him take over. Our place of safety will be beneath the mantle of the holy Mother of God. As we wait for the Lord to come and calm the storm (cf. Mt 4:37-41), by our silent witness in prayer we give ourselves and others “an accounting for the hope that is within [us]” (1 Pet 3:15). This will help us to live in the sacred tension between the memory of the promises made, the suffering present in the cross, and the hope of the resurrection.

14th APRIL 2019 15:42PAPAL TEXTS

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paperanddice · 5 years

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Eala

My regular post from yesterday that went up on Wordpress and Twitter, but now you’ll be able to enjoy it here as well!

Eala are a fun little bird monster. Their fire breath might make you think for a moment that they’re elementals, but that is not the case actually. They are instead native to the Shadowfel (or just plane of Shadow if you’re not legally allowed to use names like Shadowfel in your published book). Their truly most distinctive feature is the metal feathers they grow, which are also razor sharp and useful as weapons.

Their fire breath is a way for the eala to consume the metal it needs to have metal wings. Melting soft metals such as gold, silver, lead, etc, they will drink down the molten result. The types of metal consumed by the eala influences the color and pattern of its feathers, with more dedicated diets creating specimen with a single color. The book contains its own hook related to this feature, noting that the Queen of Night and Magic, an arch fey, prizes jet black eala so much that she will grant a magic dagger and a title to any who bring her one.

So, since collecting an eala of a dedicated color is out as a plot hook for me to introduce, time to come up with 3 other options!

Eala that have established themselves in the material plane develop migratory patterns based on caravan routs. Many of these birds have a swirl of gold, silver and copper feathers from their raids upon merchants returning home laden with the results of their trade, igniting wagons full of coin and dining lavishly upon the results. Each year the flock grows larger and more caravans are attacked by the hungry birds.

The Queen of Night and Magic has gifted one of her prize jet eala to a mortal king. Now the lord is wracked by fear for what would happen if a bad fate befell the bird. The creature is dangerous enough that most of his regular servants are unable to handle it, and even experts brought in have no experience with eala. It constantly tries to roam the palace and has shown an insatiable hunger for gold that has left melted spots on many of the elaborate golden decorations. This has even caused a small but noticeable shift in some of the feathers, small golden streaks showing up against the otherwise uniform black. Was the bird truly a gift meant to help gain peace, or did the Queen provide it as part of some trick on the king?

A small flock of eala have settled in the rafters of a foundry. The staff have managed to placate them with crucibles of waste metal set well away from the main work areas, so that the monsters can eat these exotic meals without confronting people. These metals are not part of a typical eala’s diet however, and the iron and platinum that have been mixed in with the rest of the castoff are beginning to affect them. Their feathers are getting streaks of these new metals and their defenses and attacks are becoming more powerful. For now they are content to roost and avoid the workers, but it may only be a matter of time before they become dangerous.

#Kobold Press #Tome of Beasts #D&D #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #5th edition #D&D 5e #monster

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haleyfury · 5 years

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If you thought 2018 was filled with ALL the amazing new books (which it was), think again. 2019 is truly going to be an awesome year for YA book releases. Many of my all-time favorite authors are coming out with such exciting titles (helloooo Rainbow Rowell), so this reader definitely needs to be saving all of her bookstore gift cards from Christmas.

While this list does not include every single book I’m anticipating in 2019 (because your fingers would hate me from all of that scrolling and I’ve already recapped my most anticipated contemporary releases), today I’m going to be discussing the non- contemporary books I absolutely cannot wait to grace my bookshelves.

The Wicked King (The Folk of Air #2) by Holly Black (January 8)– I’ve cheated a little bit with The Wicked King, considering that I was fortunate enough to read an ARC in 2018. But let me tell you, I am so ready to reread this The Cruel Prince sequel already because it impressed me that much. And yes, I’ll be crying until The Queen of Nothing.

The Winter of the Witch (Winternight #3) by Katherine Arden (January 8)– I needed this book in October after I unexpectedly devoured The Girl in the Tower in less than two days. I’m really not ready for the Winternight trilogy to end, but I am ready to see what Katherine Arden has in store for Vasya and co.

Imprison the Sky (Elementae #2) by A.C. Gaughen (January 22)– Reign the Earth was one of my favorite books of 2018, totally entranced by its elemental magic system and world. Imprison the Sky follows a girl who can control wind and I cannot wait to see this world and series expand.

Someday We Will Fly by Rachel DeWoskin (January 22)– I love reading untold stories set during World War II and the Holocaust. Someday We Will Fly beings in 1940s Warsaw, where Lilia’s Jewish family decides to flee to Shanghai for their safety.

Lovely War by Julie Berry (March 5)– Julie Berry’s Lovely War sounds like another super unique historical fiction novel. It’s 1942 when immortals Ares and Aphrodite are caught by the latter’s jealous husband. Aphrodite must justify her actions, or face judgment on Mount Olympus. Aphrodite takes readers back to 1917, telling the story of four mortals whose lives entwined in the crucible of World War I,

All for One (Alex & Eliza #3) by Melissa de la Cruz (April 16)– Melissa de la Cruz’s Alex and Eliza trilogy is the perfect solution to the need for Hamilton content in my life.

Queen of Ruin (Grace and Fury #2) by Tracy Banghart (July 2)– Being that Grace and Fury was one of my favorite 2018 reads, I have a feeling Queen of Ruin will be an epic return back to this fantasy filled with sisterhood.

The Downstairs Girl by Stacey Lee (August 13)– The Downstairs Girl sounds so different from most historical fiction books that I’ve read. By day, seventeen-year old Jo serves as a lady’s maid for one of the cruel daughter of a wealthy Atalanta families. By night, she moonlights as the pseudonymous author of a newspaper advice column, challenging society’s ideas of race and gender.

Pumpkinheads by Rainbow Rowell & Faith Erin Hicks (August 27)– Pumpkinheads has been on my TBR since 2017. I cannot wait for this graphic novel following two best friends working in a pumpkin patch (can you sense the fall vibes already??) written by one of my all-time favorite authors.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (October 1)- Leigh Barudgo’s Ninth House is another book that has been sitting on my TBR since 2017, and it sounds so different, but obviously still amazing, than Leigh’s other books. The first book in this new series follows a Yale University student’s encounter with the school’s secret societies.

Wayward Son (Carry On #2) by Rainbow Rowell (TBD)– Not only are we being blessed with Pumpkinheads in 2019, but we’re getting Wayward Son one year earlier than expected. Although I was satisfied with Carry On’s ending, I’m really excited to see what Rainbow Rowell does with Wayward Son.

Untitled (Legend #4) by Marie Lu (TBD)– Some of the best bookish news of 2018 for this fangirl was that Marie Lu is coming out with a fourth book in her Legend series. Legend is one of my all-time favorite YA series, so I am very much excited for this unexpected sequel.

The World of Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas (TBD)– You know, I was starting to think I was ready to say goodbye to Throne of Glass when Kingdom of Ash came out… until KoA crushed my bookish soul and made me realize I’m not ready to let go of these characters. The most exciting aspect of The World of Throne of Glass is that it will feature the ToG cast ten years after KoA’s ending.

Kingdom of Back by Marie Lu (TBD)– There aren’t too many details about Kingdom of Back’s release, but Marie Lu’s book inspired by Mozart’s childhood sounds really unique.

No worries, there are even more 2019 books on my radar- be prepared for ALL the seasonal anticipated reads lists. What 2019 books are on your TBR? Share in the comments!

ALL THE BOOKS PLEASE: Most Anticipated 2019 Non-Contemporary Releases If you thought 2018 was filled with ALL the amazing new books (which it was), think again.

#2019 #YA

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callunavulgari · 5 years

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Scrapbook 2019 | Pt. I

Goals are: read one hundred books this year, finish five video games, write something novel-length and write something original. These last two goals CAN be combined.

MOVIES

January

(Kingsman: The Golden Circle)

Pitch Perfect 3

February

(Big Hero 6)

March

Geostorm

Captain Marvel

(Thor Ragnarok)

(Avengers: Infinity War)

(Pocahontas)

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

Venom

April

(Brave)

(Flipper)

(Spirited Away)

(Breakfast at Tiffany’s)

How To Train Your Dragon 3

Crazy Rich Asians

Matilda

The Death Cure

The Mummy (2017)

(Monster’s University)

Avengers: Endgame

May

Detective Pikachu

Bohemian Rhapsody

The Rim of the World

June

(Zombieland)

Rocketman

The Secret Life of Pets 2

Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse

July

Spiderman: Far From Home

Truth or Dare

(Coraline)

BOOKS

January

Ender’s Game | Orson Scott Card [Fin]

The Poppy War | R.F. Kuang [Fin]

Turtles All The Way Down | John Green [Fin]

Challenger Deep | Neal Shusterman [Fin]

The Bear and the Nightingale | Katherine Arden [Fin]

Shards of Honor | Lois Mcmaster Bujold [Fin]

(Throne of Jade | Naomi Novak) [Fin]

The Wicked King | Holly Black [Fin]

Vengeful | V.E. Schwab

Elantris | Brandon Sanderson

February

Vengeful | V.E. Schwab [Fin]

Elantris | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

(Black Powder War | Naomi Novak) [Fin]

(The Amulet of Samarkand | Jonathon Stroud) [Fin]

Once Upon a River | Diane Setterfield

(The Golem’s Eye | Jonathon Stroud) [Fin]

(Ptolemy’s Gate | Jonathon Stroud) [Fin]

The Screaming Staircase | Jonathon Stroud

March

Once Upon a River | Diane Setterfield [Fin]

The Screaming Staircase | Jonathon Stroud [Fin]

The Girl In the Tower | Katherine Arden [Fin]

The Whispering Skull | Jonathon Stroud

(Empire of Ivory | Naomi Novak) [Fin]

The Two Towers | J.R.R Tolkien

Winter of the Witch | Katherine Arden

Saga, Vol 1 | Brian Vaughn

Saga, Vol 2 | Brian Vaughn

Saga, Vol 3 | Brian Vaughn

Saga, Vol 4 | Brian Vaughn

Saga, Vol 5 | Brian Vaughn

Saga, Vol 6 | Brian Vaughn

April

The Whispering Skull | Jonathon Stroud [Fin]

The Slow Regard of Silent Things | Patrick Rothfuss [Fin]

The Two Towers | J.R.R Tolkien [Fin]

Winter of the Witch | Katherine Arden [Fin]

Forest of a Thousand Lanterns | Julie Dao [Fin]

King of Scars | Leigh Bardugo [Fin]

The Hollow Boy | Jonathon Stroud [Fin]

Mistborn | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

The Well of Ascension | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

The Creeping Shadow | Jonathon Stroud [Fin]

The Empty Grave | Jonathon Stroud [Fin]

May

Hero of Ages | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

Everything I Never Told You | Celeste Ng [Fin]

The Kiss Quotient | Helen Hoang [Fin]

The Two Towers | J.R.R. Tolkien [Fin]

The Near Witch | Victoria Schwab [Fin]

The Trials of Apollo | Rick Riordan [Fin]

Alloy of Law | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

The Gentlemen’s Guide to Vice and Virtue | Mackenzi Lee [Fin]

Shadows of Self | Brandon Sanderson

The Dark Prophecy | Rick Riordan

Sabriel | Garth Nix [Fin]

June

Shadows of Self | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

The Dark Prophecy | Rick Riordan [Fin]

(Victory of Eagles | Naomi Novak) [Fin]

Warbreaker | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

(Tongues of Serpents | Naomi Novak) [Fin]

The Bands of Mourning | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

What If It’s Us | Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera [Fin]

A Court of Thorns and Roses | Sarah J. Maas [Fin]

Carmilla | Kim Turrisi [Fin]

The Alchemist | Paulo Coelho

The Eye of the World | Robert Jordan

The Hundred-Foot Journey | Richard C. Morais

Three Dark Crowns | Kendare Blake

Mistborn: The Secret History | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

The Eleventh Metal | Brandon Sanderson [Fin]

July

The Alchemist | Paulo Coelho [Fin]

The Eye of the World | Robert Jordan

The Hundred-Foot Journey | Richard C. Morais [Fin]

Three Dark Crowns | Kendare Blake [Fin]

Saga Vol. 8 | Brian Vaughn [Fin]

Saga Vol. 9 | Brian Vaughn [Fin]

Codename Villanelle | Luke Jennings [Fin]

Borne | Jeff Vandermeer [Fin]

Crucible of Gold | Naomi Novak [Fin]

The Time Traveler’s Wife | Audrey Niffenegger [Fin]

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy | Mackenzi Lee [Fin]

The Wise and the Wicked | Rebecca Podos [Fins]

Sweetbitter | Stephanie Danler [Fin]

Blood of Tyrants | Naomi Novak [Fin]

PODCASTS

January

Adventure Zone Ep 1

EOS 10 s4 1-4

February

EOS 10 s4 4-7

March

The Penumbra Podcast

April

Adventure Zone Ep 2

May

Welcome to Night Vale Eps 30-54

The Bright Sessions -Bonus Eps-

June

Welcome to Night Vale Eps 54-59

The Penumbra Podcast (Second Citadel eps + last two Juno)

July

Welcome to Night Vale Eps 60-

The Magnus Archive Eps 1-11

TV SHOWS BY SEASON

January

Voltron s8

The Flash

Black Mirror: Bandersnatch

February

Happy

The Umbrella Academy

The Flash

Black Mirror

Russian Doll

March

The 90s

The 2000s

(Sailor Moon)

Maniac

The Dragon Prince

(Inuyasha)

American Gods

April

American Gods s2

Voltron s8

World’s Weirdest Homes

Game of Thrones s8

Brooklyn 99

The Bold Type

Cupcake Wars

May

Schitt’s Creek s1-3

Game of Thrones s8

June

Schitt’s Creek s4

Good Omens

The Terror

Chernobyl

Black Mirror s4

July

Rick & Morty s3

Stranger Things s3

Schitt’s Creek s4

VIDEO GAMES

January

Pokemon Go?

(Kingdom Hearts: DDD, 54 hrs) [Fin]

Pokemon Let’s Go Eevee

Detroit: Become Human [Fin]

Kingdom Hearts 3 - Monstropolis, 20 hrs

Life is Strange, Episode 2, 4 hrs

February

Kingdom Hearts 3, 56 hrs [Fin]

Pokemon Go

Life is Strange, Episode 5, 20 hrs [Fin]

Life is Strange -Before the Storm- Episode 1 complete, 5 hrs

God of War (3 hrs)

March

God of War (35 hrs) [Fin]

Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (40 hrs)

April

Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (43 hrs)

(Final Fantasy XIII)

Portal 2 [Fin]

Final Fantasy 15 - Episodes Prompto, Ignis, Gladio, and Ardyn [Fin]

May

Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (70 hrs)

Life Is Strange -Before the Storm- Episode 2 complete, 15 hours

June

Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (120 hrs) [Fin]

Rime (1 hr)

Final Fantasy XII: Zodiac Age (1 hr)

Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess HD (2 hrs)

July

Rime (25 hrs) [Fin]

Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess HD (35 hrs)

Witcher 3 DLC: Hearts of Stone [Fin]

Witcher 3 DLC: Blood and Wine (10 hrs)

DELIGHTFUL FIC

January

What Dreams May Come by Lenore | Crimson Peake | Edith/Thomas | 5k | Ghosts are real, and there are things that tie them to this world. Sometimes it's because they want to linger, and sometimes it's because they are trapped. Sometimes ghosts need the help of the living before they can be truly free.

and prove your body wrong by paperclipbitch | The Defenders | Matt Murdock/Jessica Jones | 1k | Neither of them can read minds, but they both fake it for their day jobs.

these roads will take you into your own country by notbecauseofvictories | American Gods | Shadow/Laura, Gen | 5k | Here’s a joke for you: a Muslim, a zombie, and a leprechaun walk into a bar in Misery, Indiana. No one stares, because no one in the puckered, shitty asshole of Misery, Indiana gives a fuck. The Colts are playing.“Fucking new gods,” the leprechaun mutters, hunching his shoulders almost up to his ears. “Gridiron and Pepsi commercials.”

Small Step For Man by Toft [archived by yuletide_archivist] | Greek Myth | Artemis/Apollo | 4k | "It's all right, sister," Apollo whispers, and his arm is warm around her shoulder. She forgets, he is her twin, he is her other half; he knows her almost as well as she knows herself. "We're still the same."

learning curve by Yuu_chi | Detroit | Hank/Connor | 15k | “While sexual activity is not my default purpose, I do possess the capability,” Connor says without so much as batting an eye, unaware that he’s completely shattered Hank’s world view in one single sentence.

machine learning by kriegersan | Detroit | Hank/Connor | 31k | “This kinda shit doesn’t go away overnight. It’s only been a few months, Connor. We’re only just starting to know what this is gonna look like.” Lt. Anderson throws back his beer.“You think I don’t know that?” He sounds defensive. He tempers his voice. “I’m simply processing.”

eighteen wheels on an uphill climb by blackeyedblonde | Detroit | Hank/Connor | 73k | Hank is going to die. He’s going to die right here in Kentucky, 53 years old, halfway to broke, and tragically sober. Survived only by a nine-year-old St. Bernard and the 31-year-old twink who delivered the fatal blow.

Fuck pride (pride only hurts, it never helps) by ImogenGotDrunk | Detroit | Nines/Gavin | 40k | What Gavin cannot deal with is Connor’s replica; two inches taller, blue-eyed, and with a mouth that Gavin doesn’t know whether to punch or take between his teeth. The RK900 model has been assigned as his partner for the foreseeable future.

linguistics, semantics by pseudoanalytics | DBH | Hankcon | 49k | "So, what? Cyberlife gave you a preference for ugly, old, washed-up bastards?" Connor intentionally allows himself to appear unamused. "Absolutely not." He waits for Hank to look at him again before delivering his punchline. "I believe I developed that for myself."

Skin Deep by bughnrahk | DBH | Hankcon | 50k | Hank is 53 years old. He's never had a soul mark, doesn't have a soul mate. And he's fine with that. He cheated the system once and it cost him everything he had. Never again.When August 2038 rolls around and the number '313 248 317 - 51' appears on his arm in perfect Cyberlife Sans font, exactly where a soul mark should be, Hank wants nothing to do with it.

Watch Me, Watch You by elefseus (oscillos) | DBH | Hank/Connor | 82k | WIP | "How do you go about living when everything you've ever known changes? Can you?"

the most formidable lies by fshep | DBH | Connor/Gavin | 15k | WIP | Gavin is given an ultimatum: agree to give his mother’s coworker’s son a chance, or introduce his family to his new boyfriend, Connor, who isn’t his boyfriend at all.

February

and we'll figure it out by consumptive_sphinx | Temeraire | Lawrence/Tharkay | 1.5k | Everyone is born with their soulmate's name written on their skin, somewhere. Laurence has two names. Neither of them are in a script he can read.

Propriety and Fate by esama | Temeraire | Lawrence/Tharkay | 3.5k | It isn't as if one can go and talk about such things

Watercast by Fishwrites | Voltron | Keith/Lance | 205k WIP, Chapter 15 | Shiro has been a Galra prisoner for over a year; with his flight feathers clipped and unable to fly. Desperate to escape, he jumps overboard while being transported to the capitol on a Galran ship. Lance is a merman who saves him from drowning. Keith thinks Shiro is about to become mermaid dinner. Hunk just wants Lance to stop going to the surface all the time, dammit!

Afterlife by jaegermighty | Haunting of Hill House | Gen, Luke-centric | 6k | Leigh and Steve name their daughter Eleanore, with an 'e' on the end which is more old-fashioned, they say. Eleanore Olivia Crain. Lots of dead people in that name; Luke's not a fan. Not that anyone asked his opinion.

in memoriam by oxymoronic | Bartimaeus | Gen | 1.5k | Kitty Jones has but a little strength left in her body, and she has decided on this lazy summer's night to spend it on the question which has plagued her for half a century.

March

Second Chances by rootbeer | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 2k | "A lot of times the ‘markings’ were common, simple things you said to strangers all the time. 'Excuse me'; 'thank you'; 'hello'. Some got extremely romantic things like 'it’s you isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you' or 'Wow you’re really pretty'. And they were always the first words their soulmate would ever say to them.Of course, having 'You are the fucking worst kind of person in the world' tattooed down your side, didn’t bode well.

have your cake and eat it too by keskasi | Naruto | Naruto/Sasuke | 7k | “What’s it like to give a blowjob?” Naruto asks.

Timing it Right by DragonBandit | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien | 14k | Damien's gold rises at Whitney. Mark tries to make things right.

April

and maybe you'll find a way to keep me a floating when i can't by LazyBaker | Stranger Things | 3k | Billie’s tough. Nothing but sharp edges with sharper teeth. She’s all bark and all bite.

A thousand by Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo) | Star Wars | Reylo | 3k | “I’m going to kill you, now.” The problem is—really, the crux of all of Rey’s problems at the moment—he actually thinks he means it.

He Who Is Made Of Iron by MayContainBlueberries | The Queen’s Thief | Gen, Costis centric | Tea reminds Costis of his childhood.

May

for my wild by vixleonard | GOT | Arya/Gendry | Set post 8x04, Arya tries to find out who Arya Stark is now.

Almost Cool by blacktofade | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Shane/Ryan | 30k | While filming the Yuma Territorial Prison episode, Shane gets bitten by what he thinks is a bat. Spoiler alert: it's not.

Two Worlds Collided by blacktofade | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Shane/Ryan | 10k | There's a new guy at work and Ryan belatedly realizes they've actually already met once before.

Keeping Out the Cold by blacktofade | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | After a strange ghostly encounter, Ryan and Shane begin sharing visions via a telepathic bond. AKA: the In Your Eyes AU that no one asked for.

Bringing Things Together by blacktofade | Buzzfeed Unsolved | 7k | “Look,” Shane says over the phone. “Mistakes were made.”

Pride by astolat | Game of Thrones | Jaime/Cersei/Brienne | 22k Jaime didn’t understand why Cersei suddenly insisted on trimming his hair and shaving his beard, but he also didn’t care to fight her on it, even though he’d just as soon have kept the beard: it was bitterly cold in the small tower room with its arrow-slits. At night, even curled together under the two blankets they’d been allotted, it took the better part of an hour before their bodies could warm the bed enough to sleep.

L'aura è tua messaggera by Rosyredlipstick | PJO | Nico/Will | 9k | Or, how the Stoll Brothers accidentally got Nico di Angelo and Will Solace together.

June

Competition by astolat | GoT | Jaime/Brienne | 11k | Almost the instant Brienne was out of earshot, Bronn turned to Podrick, jerked his head towards Jaime and asked, “Has he fucked her yet?”

Skin and Scales by Ernmark (M_Moonshade) | The Penumbra Podcast | Arum/Rilla/Damien | 17k | The man glares, and this time, Damien is certain it isn’t a trick of the light: those eyes are violet as amethyst. He wears disdain like a second skin–- or, perhaps, like the scales that he is missing.“Lord Arum?”

I will become yours and you will become mine by spiderwebsitar | DBH | Reed900 | 24k | After an argument with his new partner, Gavin Reed wakes up five years in the future married to an android who won’t stop making fucking waffles.

Numerology by Hth | Schitt’s Creek | Patrick/David, Sebastien/David | 20k | Still, it's true that Patrick can have his shy side. He likes to be a gentleman – Mr. Order Whatever You Want I'm Paying and Mr. Here Let Me Fix That For You and Mr. No David Not In the Backseat I Want It to Be Special – so David can't entirely rely on Patrick's willingness to charge forward for the greater good.

someone you like by caela | She-Ra | Adora/Catra | 5k | catwithabat u think ur so hipster but u just look like a lesbian 27m she_ra @catwithabat bc… i’m a lesbian. lmao 5m

Ugly Words and Pretty Things by Ias | The Terror | Crozier/Fitzjames | 4k | There are words for a man like that.

Sands of Time by tirsynni | LoZ | Link/Ganondorf | 97k | Link awakens in the desert with no idea how he got there, to encounter his worst enemy...except it was the King of the Gerudo, not the King of Evil, he faced.

death shall be no more by Ias | The Terror | Fitzjames/Crozier | 5k | "I'd rather we leave our tents behind and sleep two to a sack like the orphans we are, than to leave one man alone with last burdens."

and then redemption by spidermooned (softlyblue) | Marvel | Spiderman & Loki | 7k | "Kid," says Tony Stark wearily, "Please gimme a reason Loki's been spotted talking to Spiderman that isn't 'I wanted to be his friend'. Please. Tell me you can do that."

so many ways to talk about longing by lymricks | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 3.6k | Steve wakes up--in a pool lounger--to Billy Hargrove looming over him. Billy pushes his sunglasses down and Steve thinks sleepily that it must be so that Steve gets the full impact of Billy’s narrow-eyed glare. “Harrington,” Billy says. “We’re fucking closed.”

sun gutters by lymricks | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 5k | Steve can feel Billy’s eyes on him. “You should get here early,” Billy says, casually. “Tomorrow. At six.”

Finders Keepers by blacktofade | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 3k | Ryan wakes with a hangover and an empty bed, and only one of them he expects.

Back Room by forthegreatergood | Good Omens | Aziraphale/Crowley | 5.6k | Aziraphale actually does have quite an extensive collection of pornography in the bookshop. Like most of the questionable things in Aziraphale’s life, it’s Crowley’s fault.

killed with kindness by veterization | Persona 5 | Akechi/Akira | 52k | Goro can't quite figure out why so many people keep acting like they're his friend.

July

On mandated uniforms and workplace entertainment by Thei | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 2k | Robin loves this job. Besides an income, it also provides her with quality entertainment. Especially when she's working with Steve, and Billy Hargrove shows up.

paper thin by sarcasticfishes | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane/Sara | 9k | Shane’s new neighbors are a morning-sex kind of couple.

your love is three times better by sarcasticfishes | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane/Sara | 14k | Ryan grimaces as he types out the words, >It’s Valentine’s Day. Don’t you want to do romance stuff?

you, through half-shut eyes by brawlite | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 8k | Two parts sugary sweet summer vibes, one part snarky instagram stories, and three parts mutual pining.

damn.nation, now available on itunes by antistar_e (kaikamahine) | Good Omens | Crowley/Aziraphale | 11k | When lowly tempt-pusher Amphora (formerly of Stairwell 7B North, before she Fell,) gets the notice that end times are nigh, she gleefully quits her job and cancels her Netflix subscription and takes her place among the legions of hell.This, it turns out, was a bad plan.

The Dragon and Her Wolves by hapakitsune | Game of Thrones | Sansa/Dany/Jon | 60k | When the truth of Jon's birthright is revealed, control of the North and Daenerys's claim to the Iron Throne are both called into question. To preserve their tenuous alliance and secure her rule, Daenerys puts aside her personal feelings to arrange a marriage of political convenience between Jon and Sansa Stark.

Bonded by softestpunk | The Witcher | Emiel/Geralt | 13k | Regis is punished for Dettlaff's assumed death, Geralt comes to the rescue, and the two of them gain something neither of them would ever have dared hope for.

Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak by triedunture | Good Omens | Aziraphale/Crowley | 17k | "Yes, exactly. Retire." Aziraphale reaches for the last remaining tartlet brimming with summer berries. "Somewhere along the south coast, perhaps."

something happens and i'm by brawlite | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 10k | Billy loves his job as at the Hawkins Community Pool. It's even better now that Steve Harrington's a lifeguard, too.

break up with your girlfriend ('cause i'm bored) by thecopperkid | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 15k | @umissedconnections: Bambi eyes. m4m. i was rippin cigs in the sae p-lot. u made urself puke 2 make room 4 more beer. incredible? ur my hero PLS say ur into guys

I’m Gonna Keep You in Love with Me (for a While) by beethechange | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 22k | “Okay,” Shane says finally. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re just going to—we’re going to be married. The only way out is through.”“Um,” Ryan says, because this plan strikes him as counterproductive to their shared goal of not being married.

YELLOW SQUARE by dejavu (suggcest) | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 16k | “Since being the scene of those two, grisly double homicides in the early 1950’s, the Bringle House Bed and Breakfast has sat empty, waiting for the next couple stupid enough to try to stay all four nights.”

darling it's a faded notion by varnes | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 28k | Ryan and Shane get cursed by a ghost, and now they can't be not-touching. It's ... not great.

Things That Go Bump in the Night (and 7 till 12 at weekends) by HoopyFrood | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 4k | Shane works at a Haunted House. Ryan is Ryan. Things go about as well as you'd imagine.

Everything's Weird and We're Always in Danger by beethechange | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 15k | “It won’t go away,” Ryan says miserably. “I’ve been like this since we got here, basically, and it won’t fucking—”

Muscles Better and Nerves More by beethechange | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Shane/Ryan | 26k | “I’m serious,” Ryan says. “Don’t go fucking up my body. I want that shit back in the same condition I left it.”

DELIGHTFUL FANVIDS

January

(Marvel) Avengers | True North

A Sad Man With A Box

►Dance to 2018

Collab Parts (2016-2018)

just a machine? [Detroit: Become Human] *HBD Pteryx*

【Detroit｜Become Human】Way Down We Go

She-Ra AMV | I'm Just Your Problem (Catradora)

multifandom || 2018 (the way I remember it)

Detroit: Become Human || Paralyzed

in the end | connor & hank | detroit: become human

BELIEVER - Connor ( Detroit:Become Human ) GMV

who are you? | Connor | Detroit: Become Human

Detroit Become Human - Connor ~ Blood in the Water

Connor - I'm So Sorry by Imagine Dragons [Detroit: Become Human] GMV

» whatever it takes (connor; detroit become human gmv)

Detroit: Become Human / Connor and Hank / Uptown Funk

Would You Kill?| Connor RK800 [Detroit: Become Human]

Rude Boy | Connor | Detroit: Become Human

hold on | connor & hank | detroit: become human

Interstellar | STAY

sabrina spellman *:･ﾟ✧ [look what u made me do]

Stranger Things || Blood in the Water

February

(GoT) Margaery Tyrell || The Queen

Kingdom Hearts 3 EPIC AMV/GMV - Part of the Journey is the End

My Hero Academia AMV - The Greatest Show

Endgame | The Man Who Killed The Avengers

MARVEL || Not Today

March

Marvel/DC || FRICTION

Luke & Nell || There's no without

MARVEL || Blood On ME

What is a STORY?

TUA | Swallow Us

(SW) Obi-Wan Kenobi | Whispers of the Past

Quentin & Eliot || Beautiful nothing

queliot; peaches + plums

Way Down We Go | Red Dead Redemption 2

Marvel || Together

steve x bucky || answer

part to act on [Harry Potter]

April

marvel || supercharged

(Marvel) Avengers || The Big Three -- Iron Man/Thor /Captain America

Guardians of the Galaxy

CAOS || Welcome To The Jungle

Marvel || Rise or Fall

Avengers | Sacrifice [4K]

(Marvel) Tony Stark | I love you 3000

May

(Marvel) Captain America || I Stand Alone

(GoT) Daenerys Targaryen | See What I've Become

Ser Jaime Lannister

Arya & Sandor // Thank You [+8x05]

Kingdom hearts 3 |Dearly Beloved| AMV |

June

(GoT) Cersei Lannister || The Queen Of The Seven Kingdoms

(GoT) The Dragons || They're My Children

(GoT) Melisandre || A Champion Of Light And Life

Bioshock & Infinite - Never The End (Epic and Beautiful Fanmade Video)

Bioshock Infinite : Constants and Variables : Music video/Tribute

Crowley & Aziraphale ][ Don’t Stop Me Now || Good Omens

Crowley ][ Rebel Just For Kicks || Good Omens

i'm the bad guy | villanelle.

mission accomplished • connor RK800

The Haunting of Hill House || Empty hands

Mad World ✘ The Umbrella Academy

July

(GoT) Daenerys Targaryen || The Last Dragon

Steve Harrington [Burn The House Down]

max&eleven | my blood.

Billy Hargrove [Bury a Friend]

Max Mayfield [Rebel Just For Kicks]

billy hargrove | gasoline.

Stranger Things | Heroes

✥ STEVE HARRINGTON ✧･ﾟ: * HANDCLAP {+S3}

billy hargrove | lovely.

stranger things 3 | blood in the water.

Steve Harrington; I Need A Hero

Kilgrave ][ Bad Guy

billy&steve [harringrove] || a little death (+s3)

Avengers | Sacrifice [4K]

Stranger Things || Shelter

Kilgrave ][ Rule The World || Jessica Jones

Ben & Rey | What do you see?

Billy Hargrove - RIP to my YOUTH

a thing about life.

(SW) Obi-Wan Kenobi | Whispers of the Past

The Avengers | Unreachable Star

Steve Harrington || Another One Bites the Dust

DELIGHTFUL MUSIC

January

Dark Night - Kara | Philip Sheppard

Carousel - Kara | Phillip Sheppard

They All Look the Same - Connor | Nima Fakhrara

Curse of the I-5 Corridor | Neko Case

Way Down We Go | Kaleo

Gasoline | Halsey

Sleep All Summer | Neko Case

Hold On, Hold On | Neko Case

Dreaming at Daybreak | Ann Licater

Can’t Leave | Whiskey Charmers

Voodoo Mon Amour | Diablo Swing Orchestra

Undo - Transviolet

Xuanzang - Gareth Coker

Almost - Hozier

Movement - Hozier

Dancing in a Room - EZI

Snow Dancer - Antti Martikainen

Burned Out - Dodie

Epic (pt 2) - Anais Mitchell

Mercury - Honey and the Sting

February

Spanish Sahara - Foals

Obstacles - Syd Matters

If You Still Believe - SIE Sound Team

The Expanse - Through Juniper Vale

The Woods - San Fermin

Sophie - The Altogether

Tom Thumb - Bitter Ruin

Wolves of the Revolution - The Arcadian Wild

Mitchell: Epic III - Cast of Hadestown

Hamilton soundtrack

The Spine - Transistor soundtrack

Don’t Think Twice - Utada Hikaru

Face My Fears - Utada Hikaru

Take On Me - Hidden Citizens

Moonlight Sonata - Hidden Citizens

Waves - chloe moriondo

Alligator Teeth - Mother Falcon

We All Become - Darren Korb

Ashes - Bear McCreary

Journey and Transistor soundtracks

March

The Sailor Song - Autoheart

It’s Quiet Uptown - Kelly Clarkson

Fernando - Cher

Dinner & Diatribes - Hozier

The Fly By Night - Taktsugu Muramatsu

Wake Up, Moving On - Kevin Penkin

April

Austin Wintory Radio

Resurrections - Lena Raine

Fight For You - Hidden Citizens

Mine - BazziIn the Flame - Darren Korb

Paper Boats - Darren Korb

May

Thedas Love Them - Trevor Morris

The Dawn Will Come - Trevor Morris

King - Blue October

Lemonworld - Ocean Alley

Still Feel - Half Alive

Carry On - Kygo

Longshot - Catfish and the Bottlemen

Call Off Your Ghost - Dessa

Sucker - Jonas Brother

Power Over Me - Dermot Kennedy

A Hole In the Earth - Daughter

Lunatic Fringe - red Rider

June

Ummah Oum - Kaya Project

The Fortress - Kaya Project

Good Omens Opening Title - David Arnold

A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square - Tori Amos

A Future for the Krogan - Christopher Lennertz

Ганджу - brain tumor

last piece | Lykke Li

Bite - Charlie Cunningham

Wait For Me - Hadestown

Nightmare - Halsey

Kaya Project albums!!!

Birds - Imagine Dragons

Crazy - Patsy Cline

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis Presley

in waves playlist

July

in waves playlist

Rime soundtrack

2017 soundtrack

bury a friend - billie eilish

bored - billie eilish

the seed - aurora

how do you - elderbrook

quicksand - x ambassadors

what’s up danger - blackway

bad guy - billie eilish

sunflower - post malone

scared of the dark - lil wayne

elevate - dj khalil

be still, my tongue - snorri hallgrimsson

dark matter - les friction

must’ve been - chromeo

magnets - disclosure, lorde

secrets - the weeknd

feels like summer - childish gambino

the hunter’s mark - erutan

johanna in space - stephaen sondheim

POSTED FIC

January

N/A

February

children of dust and ash | Bartimaeus | Bartimaeus/Kitty(/Nathaniel) | 1,801 words | Kitty summons Bartimaeus on a chilly fall day in her thirty-eighth year.

March

sweet music playing in the dark | DBH | 1,102 words | “I noticed some time ago that you seem to have an appreciation for jazz.” Connor pauses, his fingers hesitating over an old Billie Holiday album. “I’d wondered if that meant you enjoyed dancing as well.”

April

N/A

May

Radio Ga Ga | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,143 words | There’s always another party in Hawkins, Indiana. It would be almost boring if it weren’t for Steve Harrington.

June

Sunlight | Marvel | Loki/Thor | 765 words | They aren’t quite out of the solar system when Loki appears at the arm of Thor’s chair, hair shorn short and a furious snarl on his face.

July

like the bough of a willow tree | Detroit Become Human | Hank/Connor | 1,214 words | There’s a human lost in his woods.

knocking on heaven's door | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,748 words | “Just, get in the fucking car. I’ll drive you home.” Billy looked at him, very seriously, and said, “What if I don’t want to go home?”

WIPS | UNPUBLISHED | ORIGINAL

January

like the bough of a willow tree | DBH | Hank/Connor | 1,286 words | There’s a human lost in his woods. Fae!Connor

hankcon valentine’s exchange fic | DBH | Hank/Connor | 985 words | slow dancing and kisses in the dark basically

February

N/A

March

N/A

April

Sunlight | Avengers | Loki/Thor | 746 words | They aren’t quite out of the solar system when Loki appears at the arm of Thor’s chair, hair shorn short and a furious snarl on his face.

May

N/A

June

Untitled Original | Ghost + rain | 817 words

July

Reverse BB | 5.6k

FANMIXES/GRAPHICS

January

N/A

February

N/A

March

June

in waves playlist

#heather says what #scrapbook

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