#Catriona: Closet

[mermaidsirennikita]

Ok, so what are your top absolute favorite marriage of convenience books?

So, in terms of actual marriage of convenience books (which I personally view differently from arranged or forced marriage books; I also think a true marriage of convenience book needs it to happen in the first half of the book, like it's the main plot versus something that just kinds happens) my absolute favorites include:

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas--obvious but extremely good

Scandal's Bride--Catriona absolutely doesn't want to marry Richard, but she agrees because she may be pregnant with his baby (and Richard ain't gonna let any of his kids go without legitimacy) at that point and he's basically like "say yes and you and your family can keep your lands :)" which is kinda underhanded but she's equally underhanded, soooo

Possession by Adriana Anders--one of the few modern versions that works for me because it's a celebrity PR marriage; they marry shortly before the book but the whole arc is about it becoming a real marriage after he's discovered on tape with a woman who looks a looot like her (they agreed it being a marriage in name only so it's not actually cheating)

Fiona and the Enigmatic Earl by Grace Callaway--occurs early in the book, and they're both like, perfect aristos on the surface; but they hide their secret professions as spies/vigilantes. And there's voyeurism! It gives Mr. and Mrs. Smith vibes but with less angst.

The Recruit by Monica McCarty--they were being set up for an arranged marriage, but she pretended to be a maid and they hooked up, during which he told her he planned on keeping a mistress while he was married (he intended the mistress to be her lol); she then turns down the arrangement, but they have to have a marriage of convenience anyway when they run into each other a few months later and he realizes she's preeeegnaaaant

Wed to the Wild God by Ruby Dixon--this one is insane because he's a hedonistic god whose presence causes hedonism in humans, so they sleep together IMMEDIATELY; but she's normally brutally practical (and he's dreamy and... not....) so she agrees to a marriage of convenience for protection from his enemies; but oh my gosh, this book has one of the hottest scenes I've EVER read

When a Girl Loves an Earl by Elisa Braden--I mostly love this because SHE traps HIM, and it's only once they're married that she realizes that he's actually Scottish and ends up there; he's determined to not love her due to past trauma, and when he finally realizes he can't avoid it he's sooo sad lol

The Truth About Cads and Dukes by Elisa Braden--he marries her because his brother (non-sexually) compromised her and he's a stern, non-nonsense duke; another one where the hero is determined not to love, but he's obsessed with her hands so he's doomed on that front from the jump

When the Earl Met His Match by Stacy Reid--this is the Scottish one where she comes to him, having only been penpals with him, so that she can protect her unborn baby by another man from her parents; he agrees to marry her and claim the baby for her connections, and it's all extremely romantic with one of my favorite grovels

Wicked in Your Arms by Stacy Reid--the one where he deflowers her in a closet despite hating her, and they then immediately run into his mom in the hallway while she's crying and he's chasing her down... which prompts a shotgun wedding ASAP

A Caribbean Heiress in Paris by Adriana Herrera--I like this one where it's a true marriage of convenience, mutually beneficial, and it's supposed to basically be all business, as they plan on calling it off in a certain time frame... and then it's not

Lush Money by Angelina M. Lopez--another contemporary, but this is the one where he grudgingly agrees to marry her because he's the prince of a tiny country that needs a financial bailout from her, a billionaire; and she agrees to do it because she wants him to father her child lmao

The Viscount and The Vixen by Lorraine Heath--he marries her because she answered an ad for a wife from his crazy old dad, and he believes she's a con artist; so naturally he points out that the ad (which also promised a major payout if she doesn't get a husband) only said that the husband had to be a lord, not that it had to be his dad, so HE SHALL MARRY HER CHECK AND MATE. What he doesn't know is that she actually answered the ad because she's pregnant and trying to escape the father, so she feels very conflicted as they fall in looove.

Lord of Darkness by Elizabeth Hoyt--in this one they're kinda dealing with the aftereffects of the marriage, which happened because her brother sorta blackmailed the guy into marrying her because she was pregnant out of wedlock and the father died. Then she miscarried right after the wedding and went to live separately from the hero, but she's back in town DEMANDING that he put a baby in her (little does she know, he's a masked vigilante by night and a nerdy widower by day)

The Duchess Deal by Tessa Dare--the classic "he's a scarred duke whose fiancee bails on him, and she made the wedding dress and shows up wearing it demanding payment, so naturally he's like fine I need an heir let's get married instead"

The Duke I Tempted by Scarlett Peckham--the hero and heroine enter into a fairly conventional marriage of convenience, but she doesn't realize that he actually likes to submit

[gallium-spoon]

I haven't done this in a while and I'm bored but having trouble focusing on my current book despite it being very very good (Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett) so I'm hoping that giving myself a kinda reading order might help motivate me?

[the-butch-of-blaviken]

what's Keira's favourite thing about Lambert and what's Lambert's favourite thing about Keira?

Oh! That’s an interesting question!!

I think their favorite thing about each other is how much they surprise each other.

I've talked about this in passing in the tags of another post but a headcanon of mine is that when they first met, they both took one look at each other and, with a lifetime’s experience of two people for whom being able to rapidly get a general impression of what kind of person they have in front of them was sometimes a matter of survival, thought they had the other figured out. Keira pegged Lambert as a macho man with something to prove, daddy issues and a problem with authority. Lambert saw Keira as a vain and shallow woman with little concern for anyone except herself and an irritating need to always get the last word.

I'm thinking about this in the context of pre-Wild Hunt attack Kaer Morhen: Keira just arrived after Geralt suggested she took refuge in the Wolves' bastion and Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert are here to welcome her. Lambert and Keira, each thinking the other one is a dumbass, keep bickering and everyone else is like 🙄 please either stop being in the same room together or fuck it out because this is getting ridiculous

Then something happens — I haven’t decided what exactly. Maybe Lambert chances upon Keira’s notes for the cure of the Catriona plague and the alchemist in him is both intrigued and compelled, but the thought that Keira might be embarked on a humanitarian mission just isn't adding up with his preconceived idea of her, and now he needs to find out more about her. Or maybe Keira stumbles upon Lambert and the other wolf bros that night when they're shitfaced and raiding Yennefer's closet: she takes one look at him and immediately knows this isn't his first time wearing a dress, but she can't reconcile that idea with what she thought she knew of him. They're both behaving like they're standing at a conspiracy string board and have just been presented with a contradictory element, telling themselves they need to be Right about the other one and not realizing they're already strangely obsessed.

Fighting side by side and the tragic event that followed the Wild Hunt's attack bring them closer together and eventually they realize how wrong they were about each other — about the big things, obviously, but also about the little ones, like the fact that Lambert likes to sew (helps him keep his mind calm and focused), or that time Keira got so angry at a guy she punched him in the face, or those evenings where they get pleasantly drunk and talk shit about other people behind their backs. It's the small details they love most about each other, and the little ways in which they keep surprising each other

[sleepy-achilles]

The Michaels kids, Kids.

Generation three? Let's go! No. I am not doing generation four. If I ever do a doubled aged up family of destruction I'd just mention them in passing.

Because let's remember, Leon and cassie are supposed to be kids right now. They have been aged up for content purpose. Their original birth dates? 2000 and 2005. But these two were never meant to be kids, they are more interesting teens and adults. And also for the storyline, they have to be. I mean I've changed John's birthdate, and I'm always changing or avoiding Shawn and takers age 😅

John Cena Micheals and well his undisclosed partner (edit when revealed I guess)-

Willow Sky Michaels-

Willow is John's only child, but with the amount of cousins she has, she's basically not a only child. She's the oldest of the Michaels. She follows John strongly in the fact she loves music. She doesn't become a wrestler but sure loves making apparences in the business and has a spot on the wrestlers roster. She mainly makes entrance music for wrestlers.

She's childish and loves to mess around but just like John can be serious when necessary, and as the oldest grandchild, she tends to be the leader a lot. She also has her other parents bad temper and anger issues. But, she manages to control it with music.

Her base age, (the age she's designed to be, obviously ages change all the time in my stories.) Is 17. Her birthday is 12th of May.

Her favourite cousin is Athena but she's closet with Beau. Leon is her favourite uncle/auntie.

Nicknames- Will and songbird.

Leon Thomas Michaels and Drew Mcintyre-

Beau Zeppelin Michaels

Beau is a split of Leon. He has Leon's personality and attitude but Drews looks. Beau enjoys wrestling but it isn't his first love, just like Leon, he hates being the center of attention, but the issue is, just like Leon (lol), he's a natural at it which makes him a big deal. He's well known for his strong ring presence and skills in the ring.

Beau has a passion for art (drawing and photography), sports (dancing, basketball and wrestling) and skating. He's a class clown, a real asshole and trouble maker but he has one of the sweetest, purest souls out there. There's just a few walls to get through. He clashes with both drew and Leon but especially Leon because their so alike. But, because their so alike they get on the best aswell. They rarely fight but when they do, it's like a world war.

He definitely has his anger issues but will eventually learn a way to control it.

His base age is 15. His birthday is 9th of August. (Allow it fam. I need pieces of myself in all my ocs)

His favourite sibling is Ophelia. His favourite cousin is Willow. He's the closest to Willow and Athena, mostly because of their age. His favourite auntie/Uncle is John.

Nicknames- BB, Zep, Beaut, Punk and Mini Lee

Athena Esme Addams-Michaels

She's the child of Leon and Valentina. Leon offered to be a sperm donor for Val when the father dropped out when Athena was born. So Leon stepped up and now they share custody of her.

Athena is definitely a cliche popular girl and she loves it.

She's definitely Leon's most sassiest child. She's a drama queen and loves stirring up trouble to watch.

She ends up being the most like the Death Valley lot because neither of her parents have a pure soul.

She loves singing and acting. She does adventure into the wrestling world, but only as a manager as well she wants to focus on a acting or singing career more.

Her base age is 14. Her birthday is 1st of July.

Her favourite cousin is willow. Her favourite sibling is Beau. She's the closet with Beau and Ophelia. Her favourite uncle/aunt is Cassie.

Nicknames- Ena, queenie, Princess and Bee

Ophelia Catriona Michaels

Ophelia is definitely the quietest of the pack. She likes painting and drawing. Loves video games and cooking/baking. She hates sports. Her sketch book is basically surgerically attached to her. She loves reading. She also loves hiding away in Beau's room.

Ophelia also gets involved in wrestling but it's entirely behind the scenes. She's very into fashion and goes on to be a fashion designer, one of her side jobs is creating gear for the wrestlers, which she does for free.

She enjoys getting involved in Athenas trouble making by adding quiet little comments, then she'll just sit back and watch.

She's not entirely innocent. She loves bullying Caspian and Hunter. Especially caspian. Ophelia has a dry witty sense of humour and yes, sarcasm is a gene that runs strong in this family but Ophelia? She's the queen of it.

She's definitely the smartest of the pack.

Her base age is 11. Her birthday is 6th of December.

Her favourite sibling is Beau. Her favourite cousin is Jesse. She's closet with Caspian and Hunter. Her favourite aunt/Uncle is John.

Nicknames- O, Cat, baby girl and scout.

Caspian Kai Michaels

Caspian is a golden retriever puppy as a human. He's always needs to be doing something. He's hyper and loud. He loves running and he loves annoying his siblings.

He loves video games and he especially loves watching wrestling. He also loves practicing moves on hunter. He becomes a wrestler like Beau but is more known for his humour and mic skills than his in ring talent.

He struggles in school the most out of the kids but is the most well behaved one in school. He just struggles on focusing and staying on the task at hand.

Caspian has a love for building things aswell. The only reason he stays in school is for the wood work classes. He adores legos and anything DIY.

He goes on to grow a love for working on cars and bikes. It seems the only time he can focus is when building or fixing something.

Nicknames- Pup, Buddy, Cas and Pain.

His base age is 9, his birthday is the 15th of March.

His favourite sibling is Beau and Athena. His favourite cousin is Josh and Jesse. He's closet with Hunter. His favourite uncle/aunt is Cassie.

Hunter Michaels (Kang Hyun-Woo)

Hunter was taken in by the Michaels when he was 5. They saved him from a very shitty situation in which his parents left him in the valley. Which obviously isn't safe. He's very grateful for Leon and drew and even more grateful that they go out of their way to continue letting him explore his culture as well as theirs. He's also impressed by how good Leon's Korean is but also that the others go out of their way to learn it as he begins to learn English.

Hunter began his love for dance whilst watching Leon and Beau dancing in the gym one day and decided that was his calling. Leon, obviously knowing what it's like to dream of being a dancer, immediately signs him up for classes with Beau.

Hunter goes on to become a dancer, doing back up dancing for celebs but also running his own dance class. He adores dance and wouldn't trade it for the world.

He's also hyper like Caspian but is more on the quiet side. He loves playing with caspian and the pair are practically joined at the hip for most of their life.

His base age is 9, his birthday is the 15th of March.

His favourite sibling is Beau and Ophelia. His favourite cousin is Willow. He's closet with Caspian. His favourite uncle/aunt is Cassie.

Nicknames- Kiddo, H, Hyun.

Fake twins- Cas and H are the families fake twins. They both share the same birthday but also act a lot like twins. They clicked immediately and are basically inseparable. The wrestling community refer to them as the sunshine twins because of how bubbly and happy they are.

Cassidy Athena Michaels and Rhea Ripley-

They have Twin boys.

Jesse Leo Ripley and Joshua Theo Ripley (I have never struggled so much to find twins. So, they both look like him)

Jesse is definitely the trouble maker whilst Josh is the good kid. They have a Grumpy and sunshine dynamic.

Jesse is younger by 4 minutes.

Josh loves this and uses it to tease him.

Jesse loves engineering and josh loves having his photo taken. Both boys loves started at a young age and went on to develop and become more serious as life went on.

Jesse hates his photo taken and josh hates having to work on cars and normally gets his brother to deal with it.

Josh is very clumsy and Jesse is dyslexic, so both boys are always looking out for each other whether it be ready to catch josh or to read over Jesse's school work before it's handed in.

Even tho both boys are polar opposites they get on the best in the family. It has to be a twin thing.

Their favourite saying.

They also have a thing they do in which they'll perfectly copy each other, as if they were reading each others minds, and not even notice.

They hate twin stereotypes but that is the only one that applies to them.

The pair do become wrestlers and do the whole twin dynamic. But they have side hobbies that also become jobs.

Jesse goes on to design and sell motorbikes whilst Josh models.

Their base age is 5. Their birthday is the 3rd of January.

Well..their favourite sibling is well each other. Jesse's favourite cousin is Beau and Joshs is Willow. Jesse's favourite aunt/Uncle is Leon, Joshua is John.

Jesse's nicknames- J, Guy, Buster

Joshs nicknames- Josh, JT, Dude

[starsandsteelandbrokenglass]

April 2024 Reading Wrap Up

Well, the semester is wrapping up is wrapping up again, and a lot of my work will finish with it. Which should mean more time to devote to my dissertation. Key word being should. Regardless, April was a pretty good reading month for me with 15 books and about 4,800 pages finished. Here they are:

Leisure Reading:

The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell- 3.75/5 stars; some cliche elements, but genuinely very creepy in premise and execution

An Alchemy of Masques and Mirrors (The Risen Kingdoms #1)- 4.5/5 stars; I really liked the puzzle and mystery elements of this, and the world has a lot of really cool potential

Sisters of the Lost Nation by Nick Medina- 3.5/5 stars; this started sooooo spooky and then became more real-life horror, which was important but not quite as effective for me

The Fragile Threads of Power (Threads of Power #1)- 3.75/5 stars; definitely didn't like this as much as the original trilogy, mostly because I wasn't as into the new characters, but still good

Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers- 3.5/5 stars; nice romance but didn't super click for me in a lot of ways

The Haunting of Blackwood House by Darcy Coates- 4/5 stars; classic gothic vibes with one freaky twist I didn't fully see and another I did

Disoriental by Négar Djavadi- 4.75/5 stars; great cross-generational story with really well-drawn character portraits and another great look at some history I know nothing about

The Angel of the Crows by Katherine Addison- 4.75/5 stars; didn't realize this was a Sherlock Holmes retelling when I picked it up but it was a lot of fun!

The Last House on Needless Street by Catriona Ward- 3/5 stars; I appreciate what Ward was trying to do here and think it's fairly well executed, but didn't quite hit for me

Autobiography of Red (Red #1) by Anne Carson- 3/5 stars; very much felt like I Did Not Get It, but pretty much what I expected

There's Someone Inside Your House by Stephanie Perkins- 3/5 stars; this was a perfectly serviceable thriller but it did aggressively remind me that I am no longer in the YA target audience

Academic Reading:

Fairytale and Gothic Horror: Uncanny Transformations in Film by Laura Hubner

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror edited by Joe Vallese

The Horror Sensorium: Media and the Senses by Angela Ndalianis

Roles and Performances in Apuleius' Metamorphoses by Stavros Frangoulidis

My favorite books this month were Disoriental and The Angel of the Crows--two very different vibes, but both great!

Currently Reading: Affective Intensities and Evolving Horror Forms: From Found Footage to Virtual Reality by Adam Daniel and Empire of Sand (The Books of Ambha #1) by Tasha Suri

[bloededhoine]

Spare Lambert headcanons? Perhaps☠️ & ■ OwO

anon i've been wondering when i'd get to share my lambert hcs thank you

■ -  bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

☠️ - angry/violent headcanon

fresh headcanons here!

bedroom/house/living quarters

i wanna be nice but i also wanna be accurate...

yeah lambert's a pig. his room in kaer morhen has a desk and a closet and some storage, but he doesn't use them

he just throws his clothes on the floor and smell tests them to see if he can wear them

but the thing is... lambert's sense of smell is somewhat deadened? especially for a witcher. he's used to it. geralt and eskel are not

he keeps his bed somewhat clear, but usually sleeps on top of at least a few old pieces of clothes

his desk is completely unusable. if he needs a level surface he'll use a shared table, which the others hate because it just means the ~lambert~ will spread to another area

about half the dishware in kaer morhen is somewhere in lambert's room with something growing on it

when lambert leaves after the winter vesemir throws out almost everything in his room. he wants to seal the door and not open it, but lambert will come back eventually and vesemir would rather not discover a new species of mould when he does

deirdre even tried to let her wolves go in there to chase out the rats, but they both refused to go inside the door

these are wolves. actual wolves that eat two week old drowner corpses, then vomit, then eat the vomit. and they refuse to go near lambert's room.

keira is actually a really good influence on him

she doesn't allow any potential future disgustingness in her house, even though one of biggest advancements for the catriona vaccine was found on lambert's armor

lambert wanted to be recognized for his assistance in the creation of the vaccine that saved hundreds of thousands of lives, which keira surprisingly agreed to

well, "agreed" in her own way

lambert didn't quite know what this meant until he was looking for boobs in one of eskel's textbooks and stumbled across a passage that read "Keira Metz's discovery of the Yersinia lambert bacteria was instrumental in her later development of the vaccine for the Catriona plague"

angry/violence

lambert has an infamously short fuse

and horrible impulse control

and two swords

it's not a good combo

his reaction to anger is violence, which really sucks because his reaction to violence is anger

his father treated him with nothing but violence, which lambert since despises. but he never saw reactions to anger that weren't violent, so it became his default

when he gets angry there's usually less than two minutes before he starts swinging, which means there's less than one minute for geralt and eskel to grab him without making an inevitable fight even bigger

but that's a very rare occurance

more often lambert will fight whatever idiot that made him angry (and almost always win), until the guys friends show up...

then his options are to run, take out his swords and cause a massacre, or try and get a few hits in until they knock him out and break his ribs

he's never taken the first option, largely due to his pride and sense of vigilante justice

he did the second far too many times, but stopped when geralt mentioned he'd been attacked by an angry mob that wanted revenge on the witcher that killed half their village

geralt assumed it was a viper school witcher, and told his brothers the name of the town and to stay away from there. lambert couldn't bring himself to come clean, but he drank way too much that night and started punishing himself with option number three

consequences? from my actions? it's more likely than you think

he is trying, it's just a very long process (cue dick joke)

[surroundedbypearls]

No Longer Canon

Thanks for tagging me @quilloftheclouds, this is such a fun idea for a tag game! I decided to do this on The Wildfire King because it has the most big changes to canon by far since it's been in development for so long, soo~

A plotline involving Viktor and Kassandra going to Bal Crannog was added and gave them a chance to witness other faiths first-hand (and Viktor a change to get flirted with by a girl named Eliana) - this plotline has since been pushed from Book 1 to Book 2

Originally Arden was a closeted trans woman who came out later, but now she’s out the whole way through the story and her deadname is never mentioned

Little princess Celine was never going to go on the quest with Chantry, but I’m glad she’s coming now!

Speaking of Celine, her name used to be Arya. It is pure coincidence, but she’s a very similar age to Arya Stark, so once GOT got popular and I actually heard of it it was time to change the name lol (though I do believe I got the name from ‘The Inheritance Cycle’ originally)

Speaking of Celine again, there was never a subplot of her being a bastard child, nor was there ever an implication that Jerome was one too (though I have a vague memory of musing about it back in the early stages of brainstorming)

The royal family are funny in this series in general because they were some of the first characters I created but their roles were so minimal. Catriona who has a villainous role now, literally had nothing to do but exist before that

The whole Chantry, Adel, and Adren story was originally going to be introduced in Book 1, now it’s introduced in Book 2!

Charlotte and Allister being descendants of Deshi the brave wasn’t a thing because Deshi didn’t exist. Now that he’s a minor character in another WIP of mine, Golden Hands and Golden Fingers, it’s a neat little reference 

The scene where Serafine ran into the ghouls in Chenstown was originally going to happen to Kaia and Meredith. It changing to Serafine led to the characters Yara, Bira, and Jasy being invented. Bira has since been cut, RIP

One of Meredith’s friends, Barra, has also been cut. RIP

The Fosiáns were originally just merpeople who lived in an underwater kingdom and merpeople had always existed (there were even merpeople ruins at the bottom of the Sleeping Lake, indicating merpeople had lived there once). Now they’re a kingdom that was sunk beneath the surface during the Gods’ War. And sometimes they have feet!

Originally Kaia had a little sister as well and his family all died in some kind of vague accident/attack, rather than illness. The sister also no longer exists, double RIP

Quite late in development, Greae was changed from being Kaia’s father’s brother, who was jealous that his brother got to marry Nara and not him, to being Nara’s brother, who was jealous Nara was the wielder and not him, and also is a big creep, though he was always a big creep. This was changed very recently because it added a layer of questioning to the role of the king and the wielder as absolute leader of Fosiá, which is something Kaia struggles with

Hesira and Kaia’s marriage used to be much worse and the arrangement more one-sided, but she has more nuance as a character now and her and Kaia have their own alliance they’ve worked out

Kaia’s memory trip was originally something that happened all in his head via some weird spell Miriyan did on his head. Now it’s him going into a temple she built with her magic, because I like that better

Meredith used to have back pain because she was a faerie who had never grown her wings like she was supposed to. It was too similar to Serafine’s story, which is more important to her arc than Meredith’s. For Meredith it was just a thing that happened to her. Now she has back pain because of a childhood injury she suffered in an attack which Eira rescued her from on the outskirts of the village.

Seth originally didn’t exist, though there was some vague idea that Meredith had previously rejected romance in some way. He also has a larger part now than he may have in his original conception.

None of the Halberg stuff existed until I started Nano drafting

At the very start, the chaos realm (not yet named Nalaam), was in another dimension, much like the Twilight realm from Twilight Princess. This was changed very early on to be another continent or island across the sea that nobody could cross.

I think some of the original war conflicts have changed a bit, or at least they’ve become more refined/specific

Any woodland fae characters that might have been planned for this story (Book 1 at least) and been cut except Rowene. There are new Fae to appear in Book 2 but their role is very limited

There are a lot more but I wanted to keep this non-spoilery, and I have a lot of spoilery changes!

Tagging @cottonberryfinn, @celestialbunnistories, @radley-writes and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it, consider yourself tagged and feel free to tag me in your post! Let me know what's no longer canon in your WIP, and why this stuff might have changed!

More on The Wildfire King here

[kiraraneko]

One of my earliest memories of confusion was around the age of 10. I remember trying to explain to my dad that I didn't understand what attraction was - the kind of thing I saw in movies and tv. The specific words I used were "I don't know what the difference is between an ugly person and a pretty person". My dad's response was more or less him not believeing me mixed with learning when I'm older. In grade school leading into middle school, I hit more snags. My classmates took part in general girl talk, gossiping about what boy was cuter and specifically about attractive parts of the body like faces and shoulders and butts. As hilarious as it is, this stuck with me for a long time. I could never understand what was attractive about a butt. Try as I might to understand what they meant by "cute butt" I just plain didn't get it, and it made trying to join in with that kind of conversation foreign and awkward. Certainly I had experienced crushes before, but it was always with close friends. I wasn't able to just look at a person and judge whether their body was appealing or not.

High school is when things really became obvious that I just wasn't like other people. My parents said I was "shy", my friends called me "innocent", and I thought of myself as a "late bloomer" or even "stunted" at times. All of these titles to try and make peace with the fact that I had never kissed anyone, had never dated anyone, had never thought of another person as being hot or sexy, and certainly didn't feel any desire for that kind of intimacy. I always had lots of friends, and crushes came and went, but the thought of sex utterly horrified me. Was that really something people did? Was it really something people wanted to do? Why were there always these concerns of pregnancy or cheating, couldn't people just not have sex instead?

In senior year (12th grade) at 17 years old, I finally got my first boyfriend. My friends were laughably overprotective, because it was a running joke that I would never date until I was 50. But he was a long-time friend, and had also never dated before, so we were comfortable stumbling through the idea of a relationship and figuring it out as we went along. My parents were overly cautious - telling me he wasn't allowed on my bed and that I had to keep my bedroom door open at all times. I remember one time we were laying in bed watching a movie on my laptop, and my step-dad walked in and yelled at me for it. I'm sure they just didn't know what to expect, but it all seemed so ridiculous and theatrical. I had absolutely no desire to do whatever they were trying to prevent from happening, and it was frustrating to be policed as if I couldn't be trusted.

One night my boyfriend and I were talking, months into our relationship, and he mentioned that he did indeed find me attractive and would like to eventually have sex. This seems like a pretty obvious and natural escalation of events for someone in a relationship, but it honestly scared me to think about. I told my friend the next day what he had said, and their response was "Duh. Of course he wants to have sex with you. He's your boyfriend". It sounded so casual and expected. I honestly felt kind of stupid. Why did this bother me so much? No one was forcing me to do anything, but just the thought of maybe one day having sex with another person who I knew very well was still such a strange, scary, almost unreal idea. WHEN was I going to start being a normal f*ing person? WHEN was I going to stop being so stunted and reserved? WHEN was I going to actually start desiring intimacy like everyone else did? WHEN was I going to want to actually kiss or touch or be attracted to a person's body? Why did I have to be so disconnected and broken? Why couldn't I feel the urges that came naturally to everyone else? Sex is scary for anyone the first time, but God, at least other people actually wanted it. It was a terrible tug-of-war inside myself. I couldn't fathom how this was something other people actually desired, and at the same time, couldn't understand why I didn't desire it. Every piece of media, every movie, tv show, magazine and song, told me my whole life that sex is a natural progression of relationships. Told me that it's a natural thing everyone does. So if I didn't want it.. that clearly meant something was wrong with me, right? If I didn't find my boyfriend attractive, if I didn't want to kiss him, didn't want to touch his body, didn't want sex with him.. did that mean I didn't love him?

I first saw the word "Asexual" (being applied to a person) on tumblr in 2012 at 22 years of age. I remembered reading about the asexual-reproduction of corals in High School. Humans don't reproduce asexually, so that just seemed silly. But I looked into it, and I learned about it, and it really intrigued me. There was a single definition that I saw over and over and over again: "People who identify as Asexual do not feel sexual attraction". The more I read it, the less sense it made. I found myself asking, "But what is sexual attraction? How do you know if you feel it if you don't know what it is?". I remember getting increasingly frustrated just trying to understand this simple definition. In a hilarious moment of self-awareness, I eventually realized that not knowing what sexual attraction was probably meant that I didn't feel it, which probably meant that I was asexual. Genius.

For the first time in my life, there was suddenly a word for it. There was a definition, a reason behind my years of confusion and struggle and inability to relate. Suddenly I wasn't shy, reserved, stunted, or broken. I was just Asexual. And most importantly, suddenly I wasn't alone.

This is the reason we should talk about our Asexuality. This is the reason we should support it within the LGBT+ community. I wonder how many younger me's there are out there, who don't know themselves. I wonder how different my life may have been if I knew about asexuality sooner, if I knew that I've been whole and normal the whole time. I wonder what it might have been like if other people were educated and aware of asexuality, and could have helped me understand it, could have helped me learn that love is not dependant on sex, that there are other people, and that being this way is okay.

So this year, Catriona is flaunting her Pride a little bit more unabashedly.

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[the-beastslayers-queen]

A Dangerous Game: Chapter 10

Chapter 10 is here! Tagging: @queenofthearchitect @writtingrose @biforbecky2belts @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @theworldofotps @mox-made-me-do-it @sassyspacedust @afauss2009 @calwitch @sammyfireheartashryver @romans-babygirl-wwe @romansrgn @accidentalsethrollinsblog and @finnsauroraborealis Tag list is open, hit up my ask box. Enjoy!

Finn

It’s been getting harder and harder to keep Drew at arm’s length when it comes to Cat and Seth. Especially now that she’s pregnant with Seth’s baby. Cat had messaged me to let me know that she and Seth are now married, which now has put a target on both of their backs. I know that the second McIntyre finds out, he’ll put a bullet into Seth, forcing Cat to watch him suffer first, before granting her mercy with a bullet of her own. And that was what scared me more than anything. I love my sister to death, and if she were harmed even just a little, I would rain pure fiery hell and retribution onto whoever it is that has it coming.

“Hey Bálor,” I looked up to see Jordan coming into my office, “We have a visitor.”

“Let them in and close the door behind you, Jordan,” I told him as I sat up a little straighter in my chair.

Jordan nodded and waved in the visitor. Sure enough, it was Billie Kay and Peyton Royce. Those two were known as McIntyre’s sirens, or spies as I liked to them.

“Have a seat ladies,” I gestured to the armchairs set up across from my desk, “What brings you into my office?”

“We have vital information,” Peyton replied first.

“Yeah and it involves Cat and Seth,” Billie continued.

“What about my sister and Rollins,” I asked them.

“McIntyre knows that a certain Catriona Devitt and Colby Lopez are now married,” Peyton replied, “And he wants them both dead. He figured out that Lopez and Devitt are Cat and Seth. They’re in danger.”

“Who is McIntyre sending to track them down,” I asked, getting right to the point.

“McIntyre sent Lesnar to go after Rollins and Orton to snag Cat,” Billie answered, “Lesnar was ordered to capture Rollins alive, but if he killed him trying to take him that was fine. Orton was ordered not to harm a hair on Cat’s head when he grabs her.”

“Shit,” I propped my chin on my fist, “I have to get to them first. You ladies won’t be safe when McIntyre finds out you divulged this information to me. I’ll send you over to the Authority to protect you two. Thank you for letting me know what’s going on. If you’ll excuse me, I have some friends to call to help take the fight to McIntyre.”

The girls got up and left. Jordan poked his head in and I told him to have himself, Pete, and Tyler get the girls over to Hunter and Stephanie so they can bring them in the loop and get protection. I then proceeded to get out my phone and call up some old friends from Japan.

“What can I do for you, Prince Devitt,” the man on the other side answered.

“Matt,” I greeted him, “I need some help. How quickly can you and the Elite meet me in Davenport, Iowa?”

Cat

I had just gotten home from the grocery store with Karl and Luke when I saw that I had a message on the Bálor messenger. I set my bags down and I went over to my laptop to read it.

Cat, call me as soon as you get this. We have a situation.

“Shit,” I grumbled as I got to work setting up my burner phone to call Finn.

“Finn what the hell is going on,” I asked the second he answered.

“Royce and Kay came to see me today,” he replied, “McIntyre knows you and Seth got married. He’s sending out Orton and Lesnar to take the both of you. You need to get out of there and find a new place to lay low.”

“Finn I can’t just uproot us,” I told him, “With me being pregnant, I need to be monitored by a doctor I can trust. If we leave I may not find one and that could put the baby at risk.”

“God damn it Catriona,” Finn scolded me, “I have the Elite meeting up with me in Davenport. I’m getting to you before Orton and Lesnar can. I refuse to let you get hurt by McIntyre or his lackeys ever again.”

I was busy folding laundry when I heard the front door open and then something that sounded like a scuffle. I went to go downstairs, but my phone went off. I looked down and I saw a text. It was from Seth’s burner, but I could tell it wasn’t Seth sending it.

I got your little lover boy. McIntyre is going to have some words for you when you come home.

I paled. I fell to my knees in pure shock. I should have just done what Finn told me to and took off with Seth. Now he’s in trouble and it’s all my fault. Because I love him and I married him, McIntyre is sure to torture him and kill him.

I was snapped out of my guilt when I heard the scuffle travel up the stairs to just outside. I ran and hid inside the closet. I then heard more feet run up the stairs and a new fight ensued. I peeked out to see Finn fighting with Orton. I looked out a little further and saw that Gallows and Anderson were out cold.

Finn

I got upstairs into Seth and Cat’s safe house to find Gallows and Anderson out cold in the bedroom. I heard faint shuffling in the closet so I knew Cat was hiding in there. I got into it with Orton, throwing fists with him. I was going to fight hard to protect my sister.

“She’s mine, Bálor,” Orton taunted me as we paced around each other.

“Over my dead body, Orton,” I growled at him, feeling my inner demon stirring.

“That can be arranged,” he smirked before striking. He nailed me hard with a hard kick to my ribs. I could feel them cracking against his boot as I collapsed to the ground.

Orton then pounded away at my face, bloodying and breaking my nose. I left my lip split wide open, the blood pooling in my mouth.

“No,” I looked and I saw Cat grab at Orton. He pushed her back and she fell and bumped her head against the corner of the bed before hitting her back on the floor.

“Cat,” I shouted. Randy kicked me and sent my head spinning. I had to watch as he scooped up my sister’s limp body into his arms and left with her. Then my world went black.

“Fergie, wake up,” I felt someone shaking my shoulders. I opened my eyes to find Karl leaning over my body, “Man, Cat’s gone.”

“I know,” I groaned, “We have to go back to Orlando. I’m getting on the phone with Hunter and the Young Bucks to let them know what’s going on.”

“No need,” I sat up and saw Matt and Nick standing near the door, “We got here just as Ambrose and Reigns got here. We’ll join you in Orlando to get your sister back.”

“What about Rollins,” I asked, looking over at Ambrose and Reigns, “Did he get away from Lesnar?”

“No,” Dean replied somberly, “When we got there to protect him, Seth was hanging limp over Lesnar shoulder as he was taking him away from the shop. We came back as fast as we could to try to help with protecting Cat. Sorry Finn.”

“Let’s get Cat’s tech packed up so we can keep it safe with us,” I told them, “Then we’re all heading to Orlando. We’re ending McIntyre, once and for all.”

Seth

I woke up to find I was hanging from a wall. I looked up and groaned as I felt my wrists straining from dangling in chains attached to the concrete wall, my body weight weighing heavily on me. I felt blood on my cheek, and knew Lesnar had done quite the number on me with a wrench he must have found at the shop.

“Fucking asshole,” I groaned and gritted my teeth in pain, “Shit Catie. Fuck, where am I? Is she alright?”

I knew I was alone in this cell, but I was so damn worried about my wife. She was pregnant and I was taken from her. She isn’t safe alone. If they found me, there is no doubt in my mind that they found her too.

I looked up as the large metal door to my cell opened and I saw Corbin walk in. My face twisted into a scowl as I stared him down. All he did was smirk at me.

“Well what have we here,” Corbin smirked as he paced the room, “If it isn’t the young prince of The Authority. The Architect. Shame he couldn’t design the perfect way to hide off the grid away from old Drew McIntyre. We not only found you, but your little pregnant wife too.”

“You hurt her I’ll put a bullet right into your fucking skull,” I growled at him. Corbin replied with a stiff jab into my rib cage, surely cracking a rib or two.

“You’re not going to do shit, Rollins,” Corbin growled in my ear, “Because Drew is going to take pleasure in causing you pain for taking his promised bride away from him. He’s going to leave you begging for death, right in front of her. Then he’ll kill you both.”

A couple hours later, I was joined in my cell by McIntyre and Lesnar. I spat at McIntyre and it earned me a punch in the face from Lesnar that surely broke my nose and busted open my lip. I spat out the blood pooling into my mouth.

“Get him down,” McIntyre ordered Lesnar, “it’s time for us to begin the torment for Catriona.”

Lesnar nodded and came over and grabbed at my chains roughly. I gritted my teeth to stop myself from screaming out in pain from the chains digging into my wrists. Lesnar released my wrists and threw me over his shoulder. I fought against his hold as I was carried out of my cell. Before I knew it, I was taken upstairs and out to the empty dancefloor of Glasgow Kiss.

I looked around and I saw Cat, bound and gagged in a chair with Corbin and Ziggler standing behind her, Ziggler held a knife to her throat. I squirmed even harder to try to go to her. She looked absolutely terrified and worried. I saw that she was worse for wear, a gnarly black eye graced her left eye and she had a swollen and bruised cheek. Her lower lip was swollen and a deep shade of purple too.

Seeing Cat so beat up made my blood boil. How dare McIntyre and his goons lay a hand on her, she pregnant for fuck’s sake. I wanted to stain the walls of this club with their blood so bad. No one hurts my wife and gets away with it.

Lesnar tossed me down onto the floor in a heap and grabbed my shoulder and squeezed, stopping me from trying to get close to Cat. I looked over at her and I could see tears welling up in her eyes from both fear for her well-being and of our child and with concern for what might happen to me.

“You two little lovebirds just couldn’t help yourselves, could ya,” McIntyre sneered as he paced in between me and Cat, “You just had to fall in love with each other and ruin my engagement. You just had to be selfish and not think of your Club, Catriona. I would made a great husband for you. Instead, you have an affair with this fucker and end up pregnant with his love child. Then he marries you.”

“You raped her first,” I shouted at him. Drew closed the distance between us and swiped the knife he was hold across my shoulder.

“Because she wasn’t complying with my advances,” he sneered, “Because I needed to assert my control over her. I had to show her that she is mine and mine alone. Now I will have to find a way to erase your marriage ever happened to make her my bride. But even then, she still be yours. And if I kill you, Rollins, she’ll be your widow and still won’t be mine.”

“You’re damn right,” I growled at him.

“So if I can’t have her, no one can,” Drew smirked as he took his knife and waltzed over to Cat, “Lift her leg, Dolph.”

Dolph did as instructed and lifted Cat’s left leg. Drew then turned her leg before driving his knife into her leg, right into the gap between her tibia and fibula. He then tilted the knife with enough force I heard the loud snap of her leg breaking. Cat screamed out in sheer pain. I roared with anger as I shoved off Lesnar’s grip on my shoulder and charged at McIntyre.

As I got close, Dolph swept my legs out from under me and placed his boot on my throat. I struggled against him, trying to breathe as best I could. Drew came over and he dragged the knife over his coat sleeve to remove Cat’s blood from it. He then took the blade and dragged it against my cheek, cutting my skin harshly.

“You bastard,” I growled at him, “This means war.”

“Then bring the war,” Drew taunted before he drove his knife into my right shoulder just deep enough to tear my labrum, “Because I’m done sharing this city with Bálor Club and The Authority. I will gladly end your lives to get the city all to myself. Throw him back into his cell. And get Shawn here to fix her leg.”

[austennerdita2533]

Ah thank you! So I think going to go with Dark Matter by Blake Crouch it seems super interesting and a little bit out of my comfort zone which is a little bit of the point anyway. I’m not sure which month I’ll read it yet (I’m deciding at the start of each month to put it in a wheel and let fate decide) but when I do I will let you know my thoughts!! (I also plan to read Pride and Prejudice anyway this year so I didn’t want to cheat and put that on my list :) )

Oh gosh I feel like you’ve already read so many I’ve recommended (I mean you’re even reading Crescent City now which should totally count) but I will give you a few options to pick from too in case you want another haha

First and foremost I mean anything by Olivie Blake even if I haven’t read it yet I just know I will love it anyway (I have read La Petite Mort and Masters of Death but will be continuing with her backlist all year)

Birthday Girl by Penelope Douglas: I love this book to pieces and it has been a book that I have already reread a bunch of times and it’s such a comfort. The chemistry between the two characters is insane and I adore it. It is forbidden love as it’s ex-boyfriend’s father and it is age gap (19 year old and a 38 year old) and it's smutty! I do think it is Penelope’s best book so if you want to finally try her stuff I suggest this one the most (although my good friend Credence is a wild ride and if you want something just taboo and out there go for that one)

Meet Me in Another Life by Catriona Silvey: This is the one that deals with two people meeting in different lives and they have to figure out why they keep meeting. It’s kinda a contemporary sci fi mix and it is super unique. I loved how they kept bringing back certain elements and the idea of free will vs determinism. There isn’t a huge romance plot though which surprised me going into it but I didn’t really mind because I loved it

Twisted Love by Ana Huang: grumpy x sunshine, brother’s best friend, plot twists, smutty. Plus the series finishes out this year too!

Written in the Stars by Alexandria Bellefleur: If you want a really good and cute sapphic romance with some grumpy x sunshine, astrology, and super funny!! The second book Hang the Moon was also really cute.The third and final book also comes out Feb 1st with the last couple, which is also sapphic.

Love and Other Words by Christina Lauren: This is also a comfort read for me and I have reread it countless times. Neighbors/friends to lovers to strangers to lovers and it goes in alternating timelines so you get to watch them fall in love (in a closet turned into a library) as teenagers and then reconnecting. It is so so so good I finished it in like 2 days.

Okay I could probably go on but those are some of my favorites that I don’t think you’ve read yet sorry like all of them are romances that and fantasy are my two genres that I mostly read.

-ACOTAR anon

YAYAYAYAY! I hope you enjoy Dark Matter when you get around to it. I think Blake Crouch does a great job of building suspense and making all the sci-stuff seem plausible. I tore through this book so fast. It just--moves. I'm probably a little biased too because I love thinking about science-y things like quantum mechanics, string theory, superstring theory etc. so this book really vibed for me. (I'm such a nerd haha.)

As for me, I was already planning to read House of Earth and Blood this year so I'm not going to count that one. House of Sky and Breath comes out in February so I figured I might as well get book 1 off my tbr before book 2 drops.

I think I'm going to with either read Birthday Girl or Credence by Penelope Douglas. Maybe both. I love expanding my author/genre/kink roster so I'm down to dive into these.

(Honestly, I'm going to read all of the books you suggested at some point lol.)

Thanks for the recs! I'm excited. xx

[johnhughesendings]

american royalty

PUBLIC PERCEPTION: 

meet the mcalister clan – much like the kennedys with a dash of the obamas – are seen as the closest thing of what american can have as royalty, being known for being an east coast political dynasty. originally formed by scottish immigrants, they keep many of their traditions alive, such as often hosting cèlidhs for birthdays or celebrations.

fionnlagh mcalister and his wife sìneag arrived in new york in 1753, before moving upstate and placing their roots in the city of wellshade, new york. using the little money they had they invested in different types of business and thanks to fionnlagh’s hardwork and sìneag’s keen mind, they were able to flourish in american lands. their love for their new home was so big that fionnlagh fought in the american revolution against the british, while his wife was an important figure in their community, providing help to the people and asylum to those who needed.

with the end of the revolution and the founding of the nation, the mcalister family prospered, gaining a wealth they could have never imagined in their old scotland, and influence in their community due to their deeds during the war. as the years went by the mcalister name only became stronger in the state of new york due to their involvement with the community and politics, as their wealth grew with the country.

through the years the mcalister dynasty only grew stronger, now with a wealthy background due to their beginnings in construction (which evolved into architecture as well investiments in the stock market and techonology companies), the family has bred diplomats, ambassadors, lawyers and many different political positions for the democratic party. the clan currently has the family patriarch, callum mcalister, as the senator of new york.

AN INSIDE LOOK INTO THE FAMILY:

while being part of the democrat party and having progressive views and plans to the country, it doesn’t mean the family isn’t the lamb they are painted to be. for being a political dynasty they have their share of skeletons in the closet and hidden secrets, after all no family is perfect, and no political family is 100% pure and clean, and even the mcalister’s have gotten themselves dirty in order to achieve their goals. as progressive as they might be, and loving as they are as a family, the clan never had issues about using a family member in order to spin their politic platform, making all of the family members players and tools of the game.

the family is something like the kennedy family (with hints of the starks and weasleys), with the children all having been groomed for a public life, in a way or another. the parents are very loving to their kids, but due to their busy careers they tend to be very demanding of the children, having high expectations for them as they have to keep the legacy alive, and being a little absent from their lives. known for their many kids, all with red hair (in all different shades), their catholic faith and their love and loyalty for each other no matter what. the children were given very scottish names and middle names (having two middle names), the first names being more anglo-friendly in their spelling and understanding, while their middle names follow more the gaelic forms.

THE FAMILY TREE:

callum mcalister, 58, senator of new york, iain glen. (open under discussion) the second born who became the heir after his oldest brother’s death. ned stark + coach eric taylor + richard gilmore.

moira mcalister (nee murray), 56, human rights laywer for the UN, michelle fairley.  (open under discussion) originally from scotland, moved to america for her higher education and built her family here. catelyn stark + professor mcgonagall + emily gilmore.

finley lùcas eòghan mcalister, 36, sam heughan, the prince president who was promised, played by lys.

maeve eibhlin ailios mcalister, 34, kate mara, the runner-up, played by kt.

— mcalister, 28-32, open gender/fc (suggested: richard madden, rose leslie, alfie allen, holland roden), played by open.

— mcalister, 23-28, open gender/fc (suggested: cameron monaghan, eleanor tomlinson, finn jones, sophie turner), played by open.

catriona laire ainsley mcalister, 22, madelaine petsch, the drama queen, played by sarah.

isobel cairstine aoife mcalister, 22, kat mcnamara, the wild card, played by myah.

[aion-rsa]

Cover Reveal: Catriona Ward’s The Last House on Needless Street

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Catriona Ward‘s The Last House on Needless Street is one of the most anticipated books of the year, with Stephen King himself singing its praises. King said of the gothic tale: “The buzz building around Catriona Ward’s The Last House on Needless Street is real. I’ve read it and was blown away. It’s a true nerve-shredder that keeps its mind-blowing secrets to the very end. Haven’t read anything this exciting since Gone Girl.”

Marketed as a cross between Gone Girl and The Haunting of Hill House, the psychological horror tells the tale of “a boarded-up house on a dead-end street at the edge of the wild Washington woods [where] lives a family of three” from multiple, distinct perspectives (including a cat’s!). We have an exclusive first look at the gorgeous cover for The Last House on Needless Street (designed by Katie Klimowicz, and executed by artist Corey Brickley), as well as an exclusive excerpt from the book’s beginning. Check out the cover below…

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And here’s an excerpt from The Last House on Needless Street, showcasing the distinct voice of Ted, the book’s first narrator…

Ted Bannerman

Today is the anniversary of Little Girl With Popsicle. It happened by the lake, eleven years ago – she was there, and then she wasn’t. So it’s already a bad day when I discover that there is a Murderer among us.

Olivia lands heavily on my stomach first thing, making high- pitched sounds like clockwork. If there’s anything better than a cat on the bed, I don’t know about it. I fuss over her because when Lauren arrives later she will vanish. My daughter and my cat won’t be in the same room.

‘I’m up!’ I say. ‘It’s your turn to make breakfast.’ She looks at me with those yellow-green eyes then pads away. She finds a disc of sun, flings herself down and blinks in my direction. Cats don’t get jokes.

I fetch the newspaper from the front step. I like the local because it has a rare bird alert – you can write in if you see something spe- cial, like a northern flicker or a Siberian accentor. Even this early, the dim air is as warm as soup. The street feels even quieter than usual. Hushed, like it’s remembering.

When I see the front page my stomach goes into curls and knots.

There she is. I forgot it was today. I’m not so good with time.

They always use the same picture. Her eyes are big in the shadow of her hat brim, the fingers clenched on the stick as if she thinks someone might take it away from her. Her hair lies wet and sheeny on her skull, short as a boy’s. She has been swimming, but no one is wrapping her in a fluffy towel to dry her. I don’t like that. She might catch cold. They don’t print the other picture, the one of me. They got in big trouble for that. Though not big enough if you ask me.

She was six. Everyone was upset. We have a problem with that around here, especially by the lake, so things happened fast. The police searched the houses of everyone in the county who might hurt children.

I wasn’t allowed to wait inside while they did it, so I stood out on the steps. It was summer, bright and hot as the surface of a star. My skin burned slowly as the afternoon wore on. I listened as they pushed back the ugly blue rug in the living room, tore up the floorboards and knocked a hole in the wall in the back of my closet because they thought it sounded hollow. Dogs went all over my yard, my bedroom, everything. I knew what kind of dogs they were. They had the white trees of death in their eyes. A thin man with a camera came and took pictures as I stood there. I didn’t think to stop him.

‘No picture, no story,’ he said to me as he left. I didn’t know what that meant but he waved goodbye in a cheerful way so I waved back. ‘What is it, Mr Bannerman?’ The woman detective looked like possum. Very tired.

‘Nothing.’ I was shaking. Got to be quiet, Little Teddy. My teeth made little clicks like I was cold, but I was so hot.

‘You were yelling my name. And the word “green”, I believe.’ ‘I must have been thinking about this story I made up when I was a kid, about the lost boys who turned into green things, at the lake.’ She gave me a look. I knew it well. I get that look all the time. I held tight to the trunk of the little oak in the front yard. The tree lent me its strength. Was there something to tell? If so it hovered just over the edge of my thoughts.

‘Mr Bannerman, is this your only residence? No other property around here? No hunting cabin, nothing like that?’ She wiped sweat off her top lip. Care pressed down on her, like an anvil on her back. ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, no, no.’ She wouldn’t understand about the weekend place.

The police went away in the end. They had to, because I was at the 7-Eleven all afternoon and everyone says so. The security tape says so. What I used to do there was: I sat outside on the sidewalk by the sliding doors. When they parted with a whoosh and released people in a blast of cold air, I asked for candy. Sometimes if they had it they gave it to me, and sometimes they even bought it for me. Mommy would have been ashamed if she knew but I loved candy so much. I never went near the lake or Little Girl With Popsicle.

When they finally finished and let me back in the house I could smell them all over. Traces of cologne, sweat, squeaky rubber and chemicals. I was upset that they’d seen my precious things, like the picture of Mommy and Daddy. The photograph was fading even then, their features growing pale. They were leaving me, vanishing into white. Then there was the broken music box on the mantel – Mommy brought it from her faraway home. The music box didn’t play. I broke it the same day I smashed the Russian dolls, the day of the thing with the mouse. The little ballerina was snapped from her stem, felled and dead. Maybe I felt worst about her. (I call her Eloise. I don’t know why; she just looks like an Eloise.) I heard Mommy’s beautiful voice in my ear. You take everything from me, Theodore. Take, take, take. Those people had looked at all my stuff with their eyes and thoughts and the house didn’t feel like mine any more.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply to calm myself. When I opened them again the Russian doll smiled fatly back. Beside her sat the music box. Eloise the ballerina stood proud and upright, arms perfect and poised above her head. Mommy and Daddy smiled down from the photograph. My beautiful orange rug was like soft pills underfoot.

I felt better right away. Everything was OK. I was home. Olivia’s head butted my palm. I laughed and picked her up.

That made me feel even better. But overhead in the attic, the green boys stirred.

The next day I was in the newspaper. The headline was suspect’s house searched. And there I was, standing in front of the house. They searched other houses but the article made it sound like it was just mine and I guess those people were smart enough to cover their faces. No picture, no story. They put my photograph right alongside the one of Little Girl With Popsicle, which was a story in itself.

The picture didn’t show the name of the street but people must have recognised it, I guess. Rocks and bricks came through the windows. So many. As soon as I replaced a pane another rock came through. I felt like I was going crazy. It happened so many times that I gave up and nailed plywood over the windows. It slowedthem down. Not as much fun throwing rocks when there’s nothing to break. I stopped going out during the day. That was a bad time.

I put Little Girl With Popsicle – the newspaper with her picture in it, I mean – in the closet under the stairs. I bend down to put it at the bottom of the pile. It’s then that I see it on the shelf, half hidden behind the tower of newsprint – the tape recorder.

I recognise it immediately. It’s Mommy’s. I take the machine off the shelf. Touching it makes me feel strange, like someone’s whispering nearby, just below the level of my hearing.

There’s a tape already in the machine, part used – about half of one side has been recorded. It’s old, with a striped yellow-and- black label. Her faded formal handwriting. Notes.

I don’t listen to the tape. I know what’s on it. She always spoke her notes aloud. Her voice had a slight hitch around the consonants; she couldn’t quite get rid of it. You could hear the sea in her voice. She was born far away, Mommy, under a dark star.

I think, Just leave it there, forget I’ve seen it.

I ate a pickle and now I feel a lot better. After all, that stuff happened a long time ago. The light is growing and it’s going to be a beautiful day. The birds will be arriving. Each morning they pour out of the forest and descend on my back yard. Yellowthroats, kinglets, buntings, red crossbills, sparrows, blackbirds, city pigeons. It’s crowded and beautiful. I love to watch it. I made the peephole just the right size in just the right place in the ply- wood – I can see the whole back yard. I make sure the feeders are always full up and that there’s water. Birds can suffer in this hot weather.

I am about to look out like I do every day, when my stomach lurches. Sometimes my insides know things before my mind does. This is wrong. The morning is too quiet. I tell myself not to be weird, take a deep breath and put my eye to the hole.

I see the jay first. He lies in the dead centre of the lawn. His bright mess of feathers shine like an oil slick. Twitching. One long wing strokes the air, desperate for flight. They look weird when they’re grounded, birds. They’re not meant to stay put for long.

My hands shake as I turn the keys in the three big locks on the back door. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Even now I take a moment to lock it behind me. The birds lie all over the yard, scattered on the parched grass. They twitch, caught helpless on what looks like pieces of tan paper. Many are dead, maybe twenty. Some are not. I count seven hearts still beating. They gasp, their narrow black tongues stiff with pain.

My mind runs like ants, everywhere. It takes me three breaths to make sense of what I see. In the night someone went to each feeding place and put glue traps down, wrapped them around the wire cages, attached them to the balls that hang from string. When the birds came to feed in the dawn their feet and beaks stuck to the adhesive.

All I can think is, Murder, murder, murder … Who would do this to the birds? Then I think, I have to clean up. I can’t let Lauren see.

That stray tabby cat crouches in the ivy by the wire fence, amber eyes intent.

‘Go away!’ I shout. I throw the nearest thing to hand, which is an empty beer can. The can flies wide and hits the fence post with a noise like dunggg. She goes slowly, in her uneven clawless limp, as if it is her own idea.

I collect the living birds. They stick together in my hands, bound into a twitching mass. They look like a monster from my bad dreams, legs and eyes everywhere, beaks drinking the air. When I try to separate them, feathers part from flesh. The birds make no sound. Maybe that’s the worst part. Birds aren’t like people. Pain makes them quiet.

I take them inside and try all the things I can think of to dis- solve the glue. But it only takes a few tries with the solvent to see that I’m making it worse. The birds close their eyes and pant in the fumes. I don’t know what to do now. This kind of stuck is for ever. The birds can’t live but they’re not dead. I think about drowning them and then hitting them on the head with a hammer. Each idea makes me feel weirder. I think about unlocking the laptop cupboard. Maybe the internet has an idea. But I can’t figure out where to put the birds down. They stick to everything they touch.

Then I remember the thing I saw on TV. It is worth a try, and we have vinegar. Working with one hand, I cut a length of hose. I fetch a big Tupperware box, baking soda and the white vinegar from under the sink. I put the birds carefully in the box, seal it and pass the length of hose through the hole I pierce in the plastic lid. I mix the baking soda and vinegar in the bag and fasten it to the hose with a rubber band. Now it is a gas chamber. The air in the box begins to change, and the feathered twitching slows. I watch the whole thing, because death deserves a witness. Even a bird should have that. It doesn’t take long. They had half given up already, from the heat and the fear. A pigeon is the last to die; the rise and fall of its plump chest grows shallow, and then it falls still.

The Murderer has made me into a murderer too.

I put the corpses in the trash out back. Limp, still-warm bodies, soft to the touch. A lawnmower starts somewhere on the block. The scent of cut grass crawls through the air. People are waking up.

‘You OK, Ted?’ It is the man with hair the colour of orange juice.

He takes his big dog to the woods each day.

I say, ‘Oh sure, fine.’ The man is looking at my feet. I realise that I am not wearing shoes or socks. My feet are white and hairy. I cover one foot with the other but it doesn’t make me feel any better. The dog pants and grins at me. Pets are better than their owners in general. I feel bad for all those dogs and cats and rabbits and mice. They have to live with people but, worse, they have to love them. Now, Olivia is not a pet. She’s so much more than that. (I expect everyone feels this about their cat.)

When I think about a Murderer creeping around my house in the cold dark, laying traps in my yard – maybe even peering in, watching me, Lauren and Olivia with their dead beetle eyes – my heart stutters.

I come back. The Chihuahua lady is standing right up close. Her hand is on my shoulder. That’s unusual. People don’t like to touch me, as a rule. The dog under her arm trembles, stares about with bulging eyes.

I am standing in front of the Chihuahua lady’s house, which is yellow with green trim. I feel I have just forgotten something, or am just about to know it. Sharpen up, I tell myself. Don’t be weird. People notice weird. They remember.

‘… your poor foot,’ the woman is saying. ‘Where are your shoes?’ I know the tone. Small women want to take care of big men. It is a mystery. ‘You got to look after yourself, Ted,’ she says. ‘Your mother would be worried sick about you.’

I see that my foot is leaking – a dark red trickle across the concrete. I must have stepped on something. ‘I’m chasing that stray,’ I say. ‘I mean, I was chasing her. I don’t want her to get the birds in my yard.’ (I don’t always get tenses right. Everything always feels like it’s happening now and sometimes I forget it actually happened then.)

‘It’s a real shame, that cat,’ she says. Interest lights up her eyes. I have given her something else to feel. ‘The thing is a pest. The city should deal with stray cats like they do the other vermin.’

‘Oh, I agree,’ I say. ‘Sure.’

(I don’t recall names but I have my ways of judging and remembering people. The first one is: would they be kind to my cat? I would not let this woman near Olivia.)

‘Anyway, thanks,’ I say. ‘I feel better now.’

‘You bet,’ she says. ‘Come and have iced tea tomorrow. I’ll make cookies.’

‘I can’t tomorrow.’

‘Well, any time. We’re neighbours. We have to look out for each other.’

‘That’s what I always say.’ I am polite.

‘You’ve got a nice smile, Ted, you know? You should use it more often.’

I wave and grin and limp away, miming pain I don’t feel, favouring the bleeding foot until I am sure she has rounded the corner.

The Chihuahua lady didn’t notice that I was gone, which is good. I lost time but not too much, I think. The sidewalk is still warm underfoot, not hot. The lawnmower still buzzes somewhere on the block, the scent of cut grass is sticky and green on the air. Maybe a couple of minutes. But it should not have happened in the street. And I should have put shoes on before I left the house. That was a mistake.

I clean my cut foot with disinfectant from a green plastic bottle. I think it was meant for floors or countertops, not for skin. The foot looks much worse after; the skin is red and raw. Looks like it would really hurt if I could feel it. But at least the cut is clean now. I wrap my foot in gauze. I have a lot of gauze and bandages about the place. Accidents happen in our house.

My hands are still sticky after, as if something clings to them, like gum or death. I recall reading something somewhere that birds have lice. Or maybe that’s fish. I clean my hands with the floor stuff too. I am shaky. I take the pill that I should have taken a few hours ago.

Eleven years ago today Little Girl With Popsicle vanished. This morning someone killed my birds. Maybe these two things don’t have anything to do with each other. The world is full of stuff that doesn’t make sense. But maybe they are connected. How did the Murderer know that so many birds feed in my yard at dawn? Do they know the neighbourhood? These thoughts do not make me feel good.

I make a list. I write at the top: The Murderer. It is not a very long list.

Orange-Juice-Hair Man Chihuahua Lady A Stranger

I suck the end of my pencil. Trouble is, I don’t know the neighbours so well. Mommy did. That was her thing, charming people. But they walk in the other direction when they see me coming. I have seen them actually turn around and hurry away. So the Murderer could be out there right now, a couple of houses down, eating pizza or whatever and laughing at me. I add to the list:

The Otter man or His wife or their Children Men who live in Blue house together Lady who Smells like Doughnuts

That is almost all the people on the street.

I don’t really think any of them are the Murderer. Some, like the otter family, are on vacation right now.

Our street has a strange name. Sometimes people stop and take pictures of the dented street sign out front. Then they go away, because there’s nothing but the woods beyond.

Slowly I add another name to the list. Ted Bannerman. You never know.

I unlock the closet where I keep the art supplies, and I hide the list carefully under an old box of chalk that Lauren never uses.

I judge people two ways – on how they treat animals, and on what they like to eat. If their favourite food is some kind of salad, they are definitely a bad person. Anything with cheese, they are probably OK.

The Last House on Needless Street is out September 28th. You can pre-order it now.

The post Cover Reveal: Catriona Ward’s The Last House on Needless Street appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[heavyarethecrowns]

Prince Harry sauntered into Maud’s Cotswald Costumes, “around the corner” from his father’s Highgrove estate, looking for something fun to wear to his friend Harry Meade’s 22nd birthday party. The invitation hailed the party under the title of ‘Colonials and Natives,’ the theme being along the lines of colonialism. Guests could come dressed as either the colonial rulers or the oppressed native peoples. It was natural that Africa-loving Harry would set his mind on something to do with his favorite continent. His brother, Prince William, had similar instincts. Both princes, stepping together into the shop, wanted to find something related to Africa. Their friend Guy Pelly was actually bent on a costume that represented the ultimate symbol of imperial might—Her Majesty The Queen herself! Yet it was not something related to the British Empire that drew Harry’s eye in the store. Harry found himself buying a replica of the uniform of the German ‘Afrika Korps,’ the Third Reich expeditionary force led by Erwin ‘The Desert Fox’ Rommel, in its march across North Africa. The costume came complete with the swastika armband that members of the Afrika Korps had to wear in allegiance to their Führer. Harry was 20 years old and, except a few weeks building a fence and planting trees and bonding with orphans in Lesotho the previous spring, he had to date been insulated by the “Gloucestershire hunting set.” This is not to say that his young age or his naiveness is an excuse for wearing a symbol that, because of Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Party, has become one of the most blatant badges of racial and ethnic hatred in all of human history. But intent does count for something, and it is unbelievable that Harry had any intention of causing offense by his choice of costume. The very theme of the party is something only an extremely cloistered, spoiled aristocrat will find innocuously amusing. Let’s think about it like this: Harry was a kid in this upper-class, exclusive set, his friends the same ones he played with as a child. They were all white, Christian, and descended from the nobles who had fought for Crown and Empire in the First and Second World Wars. Harry’s fellow guests at Harry Meade’s party were not the descendants of Holocaust survivors. Concentration camps were a thing one had read about in the textbooks at Eton or Harrow, or whatever bastion of privilege had seen them through their A Level exams. It wasn’t like Harry expected to encounter any rabbis at the party. He certainly did not expect one of his privileged brethren to take a photo of him in his costume with a camera phone and sell it to The Sun. It must have been unthinkable to the boy Harry, who knew nothing of his future experience (seven years into the future) with iPhone pictures and the low ethical standards of Las Vegas, that someone in the closeted orbit of ‘Club H’ (the Highgrove basement party set that revolved around William and Harry) were would betray him like that. When your life is one of 20 years of having your every move guarded by a 24/7 police presence, and your friends are the very children of his parents’ friends, you come to rely on that inbred code of discretion. Guests at the party outright admitted that they were more shocked by the breech of trust than by Harry’s costume. Catriona Davies, a Telegraph reporter, argues that the partygoers should not have been so surprised. “That someone decided to risk being ostracised by their social circle by selling the pictures should have come as little surprise to the partygoers. According to Ken Lennox, a former picture editor of The Sun, there is no shortage of ‘friends’ willing to make money by embarrassing someone in the public eye.” Royal biographer Marcia Moody claims that Harry chose the Afrika Korps costume because it “complimented his colouring” and other SS uniforms in the shop were too small. If William had any reservations, either he was silent or Harry ignored him. It is unlikely, given the circumstantial evidence of their inner circle’s pervasive attitude about the matter, that William had any objection. What disturbed the so-called ‘Highgrove set’ was not that Harry wore a swastika to the party, but that someone had given the plebes a glimpse of their special world. A full-out witch hunt for the traitor ensued. As for the costume William bought, the reports are contradictory. Some say he went to the party dressed as a lion, yet another report mentions a “leopardskin” pattern and “Tarzan loin cloth.” Other reports are still more vague, hinting that the costume was something between a leopard and a lion. Spiegel actually said William “came as a mix of a lion and a tiger complete with stuffed paws.” We can make quaint jokes about William wanting to be the Lion King, or we can try to fit it in the context of the party’s theme. The lion is free, untamed by civilization. No one ever conquers a lion, do they? But what kind of a lion wears a loincloth? “Considering no one’s ever colonized a lion (unless you count Siegfried and Roy), his lion referred to the notion of the untamed, savage “native” (i.e. African).”

[silaskaine-blog]

two that happened, two that didn’t, and one that will ;

I.

TREES AND LIGHTS LIT UP every store front in Brooklyn, garland wrapped around the posts, New York City was dripping in Christmas cheer. At least, it looked that way. The cheer failed to reach Silas. Eleven years old, he was walking to a deli, wondering if he could manage to sneak onto a bus. It was cold outside, and Silas jerked the black fleece a little higher, an attempt to cover his ears. The wind cut through the too few layers, a testament to the scarce nature of money for things that people needed to live. He looked homeless, except he was clean, and in a lot of ways he really was homeless.

He paused outside a store before going in. Nimble fingers moved to shelves, tucking away food into his pockets, wishing it was something warm. He was contemplating on attempting to take something from the deli counter when he was grabbed by the back of his jacket. "Shit." Hauled into the manager's office he unloaded his pockets, watching as the food was taken away. The police were called. The officer showed up and glanced at him. It's Christmas, son. Shouldn't you be home, opening presents? Silas snorted, sticking out his hands to be cuffed.

At the station, he sat. He waited. The cop who took him was working the phones to get him picked up. Silas watched the cop's face, his eyes, pinpointing the exact moment he started to pity him. The rumble in his stomach was loud, but he'd be back on the streets before long, and he'd fix that. He hated that cramped house, the lumpy, too small bed, the smell of alcohol that seemed to drip off the walls, alcohol and cockroach pesticide that never really seemed to work. Suddenly, the cop shifted. He hung up the phone, glancing as another cop gave him a sandwich. You like onions? "I don't care." And he didn't. Without a second thought, the cop opened the sandwich and gave him half. You foster parents will be here soon. Eat. And he did.

II.

SILAS WAS GLANCING OVER THE MANUAL, and he held up a finger. "Stop badgering me, I can install this just fine." He flipped a page and nodded, before ducking into the water closet, a wrench in hand. Wires were the problem for the electric water heater. He heard Rose snort from the kitchen, Whatever you say. She was a sassy old lady, and he narrowed his eyes at her, before setting back to his job. Glancing to the wires and inputs he shrugged. It wasn't that complex. Barely needed to read the manual, he scoffed and set to installing it.

Roughly two seconds into rewiring the input, he yelped a sound that could have only been equated to a kicked dog. "Turns out you have to turn off the electricity!" He yelled to Rose, a small on his face despite nearly electrocuting himself. Oh, really, who would have thought that to install an electric water heater, you'd need electricity. "Right?!" Silas yelled back before moving to the breaker. He flicked it off. "Won't be long now." Did you burn your hand? "Just a little singed, just fine. Nothing like the time I nearly caught myself on fire with the stove." Rose swatted at him with a spoon and Silas laughed and scampered away to finish the task.

"By the way, Merry Christmas. Your son was nearly barbecued." I have no pity when he nearly dies from stupidity. Silas bellowed a laugh, shaking his head. "You'd miss me." He said, but just under the realm that was her hearing. When she popped up a few minutes later, he slammed his head on the door and hissed. "You gotta stop doing that." Also, I left you something on your bed. I know you're not fond of Christmas, but still. Just a little something. Her fingers latched around his neck and she pulled him in to kiss his cheek. "Ay, ay. We're Kaine's. No mushy shit." Every once and while, Silas.

III.

VANESSA'S BODY HIT HIS HARD, an attempt to knock the breath from him. Immediately, she started to nip at him, pressing her cold nose into his warm neck. Silas groaned. It was Christmas, he knew. He knew this because she was up at some God awful hour, despite the fact that they were at a party last night and only got home three hours ago. Their apartment was small, they could barely afford it. Silas was working two jobs and going to college full time, chasing that engineering degree, and trying to put food on the table. Vanessa was consumed with dancing. They had a couch, a bed, a television, but otherwise they were the picture of a struggling urban couple.

He chuckled as she rolled him over, kissing him awake. Get up, I have something for you. He groaned again, "I'm up, I'm up." You're not, your eyes are still closed. "Why do you always terrorize people on Christmas? We just want to sleep." Silas rubbed his face, scratching at his beard. He needed to shave before his shift tonight. Opening his eyes, he looked at her in the half light, and she scooted further down his lap so that he could lean against the headboard. Their apartment was too small to fit a tree, but she had a box beside her.

She was about to press the gift into his hands when he shook his head. "Me first." You got something? We agreed on no gifts. "And look how well that worked out." She snorted. "I got you two actually." Vanessa's eyebrows shot up. Silas hated Christmas, she knew that, everyone knew that. From between the headboard and the mattress he pulled out a small box. "I know we have a lot plans, and right now, they're not really coming to fruition--" Nice word. "I'm a relatively smart guy, baby, I know a few words." He shook his head, getting off track. "Anyway, there's no one else I'd rather struggle with, no one else I'd rather have holidays with, no one else I'd rather build my life with. So, will you marry me?"

IV.

THE SCENT OF PRIME RIB WAFTED THROUGH THE HOUSE, an impressive feat considering the size of home. His mother loved Christmas, and gifts had already been done, the morning giving away to a leisurely afternoon. Silas sat at the bar, watching his mother and father. His father laughed and scrunched his nose at the bitter taste of the cranberry sauce dressing she was using. His mother smeared a streak of the sauce on his nose in protest. And Silas just shook his head, and watched the snow fall a little harder.

His mother was the best at cooking prime rib. Hers was second to none, just as her fudge was the same way. He always ate too much food on Christmas, and then fell asleep on the couch watching reruns of old Christmas movies, his head in her lap. Her fingers would brush through his hair while his father read a book, the fireplace roaring and making the living room smell like nutmeg and warm cedar. From his half sleep, he could hear his father's voice, telling his mother about something interesting that he read. His father loved history, and usually prattled on about some factoid he had found interesting.

The midday nap would end, and then, as was every Christmas tradition, they would get dressed up and head to the alpha's home for a small dinner party. It was filled with laughter, too much eggnogg, his mother rolling her eyes at her two boys, given that Silas and his father usually teamed up to start a football game in the backyard. Or capture the flag. Silas was hoping for Capture the Flag this year.

V.

STANDING IN THE DRIVEWAY WITH HIS ARMS CROSSED, Silas immediately regretted the decision he had made. The way Catriona was looking at him was a pretty good indicator she was not pleased either. Worry etched over his face, as he watched Saoirse back the car out of the driveway for the first time. I can't believe you got them a car. "A car, singular, I'd like to point out. It's safe." It was not a luxury model, but for two teenagers who had just gotten their licenses days prior, it could have been a Ferrari. They'd have to share, mostly because he didn't want the driveway to look any more like a car park than it already did. You know they were hoping for the Camaro. They both looked at each other at the same time and said, "Over my dead body."

Glancing down the street again, Silas nudged Cat. "C'mon, it's fucking cold out here." You're only wearing your thermal. "Wolf blooded, babe." He could feel her eyes rolling. You feed the deer? "Yeah, at like six. They're getting fat, gonna need to lay off the corn a bit." Another eye roll and he laughed. He paused, tapping his knuckles on the counter. "They'll be fine, right?" Trust me, they need to get out of this damn house. Silas nodded, agreeing. He loved them, but every once and a while he wanted time without them. They'd be getting that, it seemed. He exhaled.

"Another successful Christmas," he said and leaned over to kiss Cat. "They're probably going to be gone for a while so..." You're saying Santa came and that-- "The most logical thing to come next is you, exactly what I'm saying. Read me like a book." She swatted at him before dragging him to the bedroom.

[pen-paper-ink]

Aphrodite Vignette

Another short story for my modern gods and godesses series.

Aphrodite exits the makeup store, a bag weighing down her arm. Her wallet is much lighter than when she entered. Men stare as she passes by, and she barely spares them a glance. It’s been awhile since their gaze had the power to unsettle her or compel her to cover herself. Her heels click as she strides down the streets of New York City, her mind on the new makeup designs she can do with her purchases. Her surroundings pass in a blur as she walks, tuning out everything around her until she reaches the street corner and her attention is wrested back into the world.

There is a girl, no more than seventeen, begging for money on the corner. People flow around her as though she is an inanimate road block, rather than a human being. Pausing a short distance away, Aphrodite studies her. She is beautiful, despite the grime and the gaunt desperation in her eyes. It takes less than a minute for her to decide this is one girl she can help save herself.

“Please, ma’am, I have no money and no home,” the girl says as Aphrodite approaches. She is so exhausted that no surprise registers in her gaze when Aphrodite crouches in front of her, careful not to unbalance in her heels.

“What’s your name?”

“Catriona”

“Have you ever considered being a model, Catriona,” Aphrodite asks, flashing her a radiant smile while handing her a business card. The girl stares at her, before snorting and rolling her eyes.

“Yeah of course, right after my dream of owning a flying car and speaking to animals.”

“It’s not so impossible. You have defined cheekbones, a graceful neck, and startling eyes.” Aphrodite cocks her head, appraising the girl from up close. Those same eyes turn towards her, the swirling mix of blue and green radiating disbelief.

“Are you off your rocker? I can’t even eat. How am I going to become a model?” The girl is mocking her at this point. She seems to have decided Aphrodite isn’t going to take pity on her and put money in the bowl sitting in front of her.

“Simple. You’re going to come with me. We are going to clean you off, get you some new clothes, and start training.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Why not? Are you so very attached to this corner?”

“You could be a serial killer.”

“A serial killer in hot pink heels?”

“Hey serial killers look like regular people right up until they gut you.” Aphrodite snorts at that, a very indelicate sound for a delicate looking woman.

“Well I suppose you’re going to have to make a decision. Does the risk of me being a serial killer outweigh the allure of a way out of your life?” The girl looks at her for a long moment, her eyes whirling with a storm of colors.

“I can’t be a model,” the girl says quietly. Her entire countenance has changed, the brash confidence turned meek.

“You are beautiful enough to be a model,” Aphrodite says gently. No matter how many girls she meets with self-confidence issues, it never fails to break her heart when their eyes fill with doubt. She has been alive for thousands of years and has yet to meet a truly ugly person.

“That’s not - I’m not,” the girl sputters, before finally finding her voice. “I can’t walk,” she says, false bravado emerging as she twitches the blanket she is sitting on the reveal her left leg, cut off mid-thigh.

“That’s not a problem.” Perhaps it’s the confidence in Aphrodite’s voice, but the girl eventually nods and stands. She leans against the building and slips a crude prosthetic limb on, strapping it to her thigh with what looks like an old belt.

“First things first,” Aphrodite says, offering the girl a hand, which is immediately brushed aside. “Let’s go visit my ex-husband.”

The shop is filled with prosthetic limbs. They hang from the ceiling, rest on shelves lining the wall, and spill out of drawers. There are some on the table, mixed in with wrenches, screwdrivers, and wires. Catriona’s eyes widen when she enters, and she stand in the doorway, as though she can’t bring herself to cross the threshold.

“Can I help you?” A man in a wheelchair emerges from the back room, rolling to a stop a few feet from the door. As soon as he stops, the detailing on the wheels become clear, revealing covers that look like old Greek shields. The entire chair has the feel of a Greek racing chariot, only turned backwards and missing the horses.

“Hephaestus,” Aphrodite exclaims, moving past Catriona to kiss the man on his cheeks. “I could use your help. This lovely young lady needs a leg.” She gestures back towards Catriona. “Her name is Catriona and her left leg ends at mid-thigh.”

“Cat,” Catriona says, finally stepping through the doorway. “Call me Cat.” The smile that graces her face could power the entire city for a week.

“Well, Cat,” Hephaestus says, “what kind of leg do you want?”

After marveling at the makeshift prosthetic Cat was wearing, Hephaestus takes her measurements and has her look through a catalog of what he could do.

“I can’t,” she says. “I don’t have any money, much less enough for one of these.”

“Nonsense,” Aphrodite says. “You are part of my agency now and I am paying for your leg. And don’t bother arguing about the money. I get the ex-wife discount.” She winks at her before turning Cat’s attention back to the catalog.

Cat flips through the pages reverently. She marks several pages that interest her, but she keeps flipping back to one specific page in particular. It is a leg made entirely of steel vines and roses, complete with leaves and thorns. It looks beautiful and deadly.

Aphrodite and Cat leave the shop three hours later. Cat is no longer wearing her makeshift leg, and instead sports an intricate one made up entirely of gears. The leg is temporary, one of the many legs of varying height Hephaestus keeps on hand for people to wear until their prosthetic is ready. Aphrodite smiles, knowing that this girl is going to do wonderfully. Her choice of prosthetic revealed much of her personal style, which fits her features and personality perfectly. The modelling world will adore her.

Back at Aphrodite’s apartment, Cat showers while Aphrodite ransacks her spare closet, searching for something for Cat to wear. She always keeps extra clothes in varying sizes on hand, so she knows somewhere in this closet is a shirt and pants that will fit Cat, despite her incredibly small waistline from being on the brink of starvation. Aphrodite eventually finds a pair of red pants with a cinch waist and a basic black top with a lace back.

She places the clothes in a neat pile outside the bathroom door and then goes to start dinner. Beef stew with carrots and celery is boiling on the stove when Cat emerges, her hair wet and skin slightly red from scrubbing. Her gaze zeros in on the pot on the stove before Aphrodite steers her to the table and places buttered bread in front of her.

“I’m sorry the food is quite basic. I don’t want to overwhelm your stomach all at once. Anything richer than this might not stay down. We can work up to more exciting food as you adjust to having regular meals again.” Aphrodite bustles back to the stove to check on the stew, and almost misses Catriona’s quiet reply.

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

Aphrodite sets the spoon down and turns to look at Cat. She looks so small at her kitchen table, the black top hanging off of her bony shoulders.

“I’ve found in my life that people are not always kind,” Aphrodite eventually responds. “But that doesn’t mean that they do not deserve kindness anyways. You have to put good back into the world if you want it to get better.” She pauses, searching for the right words. “I can’t help everyone. People have to save themselves for it to stick, I’ve found. I spent so long trying to save my ex-boyfriend from the cage fights. It hurt like hell when I finally realized that he had to want to stop fighting in order to work through his addiction. And he didn’t want to.”

“I’m sorry,” Cat says.

“It’s alright. It was an important lesson for me.” There is silence in the kitchen for a while, broken only by the sound of the stew bubbling on the stove.

“Why me?” Cat suddenly asks. “If you can’t save everyone, why me?”

“Because I can give you the tools to save yourself,” Aphrodite responds, her usually bubbly persona made solemn. “You willingly came with me, showing you want out. And I run a modelling agency, so I can employ you. Give you the opportunity to go somewhere.”

“But you didn’t have to,” Cat says, sounding frustrated. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, because I totally am. It’s just, why do it at all?”

“Because someone once saved me. I suppose this is me paying it forward.”

Aphrodite turns back to cooking, ignoring Cat’s eyes on her back. This is one conversation she won’t have with her. Far too complicated. Far too painful.

They eat in relative silence for a while, before Aphrodite begins filling Cat in on how her employment will work, how long training takes, and what kind of jobs she can expect at first. She makes it clear that it is Cat’s choice whether she lives in the agency’s dormitories or with Aphrodite.

The next morning, Cat signs an agency contract with Aphrodite’s notary present. She moves into the dormitories that afternoon, with a suitcase full of new clothes and the promise of a weekly allowance until she gets a temporary job. Aoife, one of the other models living in the dormitory, immediately befriends her. When Aphrodite leaves the agency that day, Cat is sitting in the common area with Aoife. Her laughter follows Aphrodite out the door.