#but alas it is SO so horribly easy for me to grow fond of a person it is SO so horribly hard to claw my way out of that

[thebirdandhersong]

:'))))))

[bunnydoobles]

Heh... *Twirls my hair* tell me more abt Skipper

AAAAAAAAAA!! why thank you for asking about him...

Here is his lore, complete with some small crappy doodles!!

Skipper is a rabbit who used to work for Petey in his earlier years of doing crime and causing mayhem. His origins are unknown but he's like any other rabbit; meek, soft— obedient. Being new to the city wasn't the easiest for Skipper, having to work odd jobs to get around.

Soon enough, one day he found himself stumbling upon a secret laboratory! Completely by accident! And ran into some strange cat working on a machine? While realizing he was trespassing, Skipper tried to make a quick escape but was caught up being asked to do something.

"Could you hand me that wrench?" And reluctantly he did.

"Hold this." He did as he was told.

"Ah... There we go! Thank you, assistant! Wait... I DONT HAVE AN ASSISTANT!!!"

After being scolded and threatened for entering Petey's totally secret lab, he eventually proved himself to be weak enough to obey Petey and landed himself a new job. One that doesn't pay, but hey! It gives him something to do in the day and someone to talk to! Or more so... listen to-

Of course, Skipper wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. He made lots of careless mistakes... Lots.

Despite being the evilest cat in the world, Skipper found himself grow fond of Petey in their time spent together. Petey hardly acknowledged Skipper (and when he did it was because Skipper was being inefficient), but that didn't stop Skipper from being exceedingly fascinated with Petey!

To be honest, he admired him. His intelligence and wits! He was really quite an evily smart cat. He might've been a terrible boss, but he was his terrible boss.

But alas....

After awhile of their cycle; Petey giving Skipper something to do, Skipper messing up horribly, Petey yelling at him... Petey had his last straw. He grew tired and irritated from having to deal with this incompetent bunny! And so, he fired him!

Skipper was left out on his own... This wasn't his first time getting fired by Petey, far from it. But he was so used to going back and begging Petey for his job back! But Petey wasn't having it. This was it. His final chance was blown.

Petey wasn't too keen on continuing to waste his time with Skipper. As easy as he was to sway to order, he was too slow to get anything done right!

Skipper had almost nothing left... Working at the lab with Petey was his life for awhile in this city! He knew nothing else! So he went off on his own to make a name for himself... What did he do next? That's to be continued...

[shirtlesssammy]

1x02: Wendigo

Then:

No Chick Flick Moments

Now:

In Blackwater Ridge, Colorado, three dudes enjoy the wilderness by gaming inside their tent. Something stalks their campsite from the shadows but the unattended fire that’s dangerously close to their flammable homes must be keeping it at bay, right? Erm, well, one dude heads out to the little boy’s room (a nearby tree) and gets snatched. 

Another one pops his head out the tent door and gets snatched as well. The third dude kills his light and watches the shadow of a very fast creature circle his tent until it slashes the side and snatches him as well. 

Palo Alto, California

Sam’s visiting Jessica’s grave. It really didn’t affect me the first time I watched this. It’s devastating to watch now though. Knowing Sam now --knowing how he doesn’t let people in, knowing how he didn’t even really let Jess in but loved her and wanted this world he could never have with her. Knowing that it’s fifteen years later and he’s had no one to really be with (Amelia was a construct of his damaged brain when forced to face the supernatural without Dean or Cas. I will not be taking questions at this time.) (But I guess he gets a blurry wife so ALLS GOOD FOR SAMMY.) He tells Jessica, “I should have protected you. I should have told you the truth.” Gah. Nothing could have saved her, and he has to go another fifteen years before he realizes this for good. 

Psych! He was actually dreaming, but I hold firm with my thoughts on the dream scene. 

Dean asks if Sam is okay. 

Sam says yes and clears his throat. Classic! Then Dean asks if Sam wants to drive for a while. GAH. Like, Dean’s looking out for his little bro in the only way he knows right now --letting him drive. 

They discuss leaving Palo Alto, and Dean points out that if they’re going to find the thing that killed Jess, they have to find their dad. He’s sending them to Colorado. Specifically to a National Forest in Lost Creek, Colorado. 

They get to the warden’s station and introduce themselves as Environmental Study majors from UC-Boulder. “Recycle, man.” Bbys. The ranger sees right through their bullshit though. He asks if they’re friends with “that Hailey girl.” Dean sees his chance to learn more and leans into it. Hayley apparently has a brother that’s on Blackwater Ridge. He isn’t technically missing but she knows something is up. 

Dean gets the brother’s camping permit. And now I need to process the next couple of lines. Sam asks if Dean wants a hook up with Hailey. Like, fuck you Sam for not knowing your brother at all, but also I guess you’re forgiven because your brother does do everything in his power to project that kind of energy. However, Dean is working the case and wants to know what they’re dealing with on this mountain. 

Dean and Sam head over to Hailey’s to ask her about her brother, Tommy. They say they’re rangers.

Hailey gets on Dean’s good side by complementing his car. Hailey tells the brothers that she feels something is wrong because Tommy checks in every day via his cell and satellite phone. Hailey’s heading out first thing in the morning to try and find him. 

Later at a bar, Sam “NERD” Winchester pulls out his extensive research on the area. People disappear on the ridge every 23 years. There was one survivor in 1959. They go to interview him. He tries to stick to the grizzly bear story, but eventually admits that they won’t believe him since no one else ever did. He said it moved fast and came into their cabin. It took his parents and left him with a horrible scar. 

The next morning, Sam and Dean meet up with Hayley, her brother Ben, and the guide, Roy. The guide is skeptical but Dean just wants to help find her brother. 

Cut to Tommy tied up in a cave. He wakes just in time to watch one of his friends get chomped to pieces by the monster. 

Dean and Roy try to out alpha each other. Roy finds a bear trap and saves Dean from a nasty injury. I’m over here wondering wtf that’s doing in the middle of a national forest. 

Hayley calls Dean out on their lack of provisions and wants to know who they are. He comes clean and tells her that they’re brothers looking for their father. But also, uh, Dean wearing jeans and boots is way more practical than SHORTS when hiking. Who wants to fuck around with ticks and poison ivy? All these years we thought Dean was just posturing about shorts when he was actually being a practical son of a bitch. 

They reach the ridge and hear absolutely nothing. Roy decides he’s going to wander off alone. Solid choice, dude. The rest stick together. Soon they hear Roy call for Hailey. They run to him. They find her brother’s destroyed campsite. They find tracks of where the bodies were dragged and Tommy’s destroyed phone.

They explore the campsite, which is torn to absolute bits. Dean tracks the struggle to just outside of the campsite, where the trail quickly grows cold. Everyone gets lured further into the woods by desperate cries for help but it gets them nowhere. When they return to the destroyed camp, Sam pulls out their dad’s journal and they use it to pinpoint the monster: it’s a wendigo. 

They hunker down for the night at the camp, and Dean protects them with Anasazi symbols drawn in the dirt. Soooooooooo in one breath you’re telling me that wendigo are found around the upper midwest / Canada, and in the next you’re telling me that the Anasazi (Southwestern/Western US) created widely-established protections against the wendigo? STARES DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA. The timelines! The geographic areas! Sigh...Supernatural ain’t ever had that good of a track record.

Dean tries to unpack Sam’s gourd. Sam doesn’t want to waste time hunting a wendigo when he can find their dad and hunt for what killed Jess instead. Dean holds out John Winchester’s journal like it’s a friggin’ (gags a little) bible and delivers the now-iconic line: “I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business.”

Sam wants to know why John doesn’t just call his boys and give them an update - “It makes no sense.” OMG RIGHT, SAM? #JohnWinchester’sA+Parenting 

Dean tells Sam that helping other people and other families is what helps him make it through each day. We cry in Dean’s face a little, even when he immediately attempts to mask his empathy in his very next (also iconic) line: “Let me tell you what else helps. Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.”

Pleas for help start to echo through the woods again. Roy fires indiscriminately into the trees and races after his prey, sight unseen. Hands grab him by the head and haul him up into the trees. Everyone else makes it through the night safely and Roy’s demise reminds us that toxic masculinity KILLS.

The next morning, Sam’s moodily staring at their dad’s journal while Dean chats with Haley about the hunt. 

For LOOK AT THIS BEAN Science:

We get info-dumped a truly mixed bag of lore, attributing wendigo tales to the Cree people (right region, at least!) and saying that wendigo are created by cannibalistic acts gone into overdrive. The implication here is that cannibalism equals power but alas, it also turns one into a monster. Wendigo like to squirrel away humans like nuts, so Haley’s brother might be alive and trapped for later snacking. And they can kill it! Kill it with fire. 

Cut to Dean striding through the woods with a molotov cocktail in hand. THAT’S MY BOY. They follow an easy trail of bloody claw marks along the trees. Too late, Sam realizes it was TOO EASY.  Roy’s body drops from the canopy and the group splinters as they flee. Dean and Haley get nabbed, leaving Sam and Ben to find their missing siblings. Ben finally gets some lines, alerting Sam to Dean’s breadcrumb trail of peanut M&Ms.

They head into a defunct mine. (Speak friend and enter?) Growls echo through the darkened tunnels, but Sam and Ben discover the body storage by accident when they fall through floor boards into a lower level. They discover Haley and Dean trussed up and free them. Tommy’s there too! And still alive! 

Dean finds some flare guns and they make their way out of the tunnels. Dean tries to lure the wendigo away from the siblings and Sam. All his attempts are for naught, because the wendigo tries to attack Sam, and the three siblings. It’s okay, though! Dean fires a flare gun right into its gut and it burns into embers.

Later at the ranger’s station, they spin tales to the cops about a grizzly. 

Haley thanks Dean with a gentle kiss, and Dean watches the siblings leave with a fond and wistful expression. JENSEN ACKLES YOUR FACE IS A MENACE!

The Winchesters hit the road, Sam behind the wheel of the Impala. Time to hunt some evil sons of bitches and play some classic rock!

Oh sweetheart, I don’t do quotes:

Recycle, man

Nobody likes a skeptic

I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business

Man, I hate camping

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[jakattax]

I was a lucky kid growing up, my family were largely bohemian and didn’t really pressure me at all to fall into a particular crowd or scene. For the most part I was left to decide my own hobbies and interests, which I feel as a working class northerner is an oddity. I was largely uninterested with anything considered the norm, I found the perception of normality to be terribly boring. I lived in my own mind, fuelled by my still present wild and colourful imagination, and nothing fuelled my imagination more than the idea of magic. Films like the ‘Wizard of Oz’ and ‘Excalibur’ were Bible to me, any media with witches, wizards and sorcerers utterly enamoured thing. I believe this fundamental obsession revolves around the concept of power, that these mystical men and women could achieve the impossible and bend reality by possessing a power that no hero-knight or any other could possess. The wizard or witch was a solitary creature, usually ostracised or eccentric, both qualities I possessed as a child. And so it was a common pastime for me to find the best stick that would act as my staff and to jump around the woods pretending to be Gandalf. I knew that magic could only ever exist in my own imagination and I stuck to this falsehood for many years. After a trip to the goth haven of Whitby with my grandparents, I realised that magic was very much real and was not limited to book, screen or my own closed mind. I bought a hazel wand (inscribed with ‘Blessed Be’ in futhark) from a Wicca supply shop and my first book of magic. This book of shadows was my prized object, with only the media portrayal of magic at my disposal I knew that every enchanter possessed their own book of spells, while mine wasn’t bound in human skin and written in odd runes, it was magic, real magic. Another very vivid memory was that a bought a handsome besom from the same shop, a gorgeous birch broomstick wrapped in colour silk, and so on our trip to the north York moors I placed the broom between my legs and jumped up and down over the heather. Alas I did not fly. Only in my mind.

Wicca was truly my gateway into my magical studies, even though I was very young I had absolute conviction that magic was very much real and tangible, I even recall having a particular fondness for a rain spell which seemed to work without fail. Naturally my new obsession with real magic just pushed me further from the grain of normality, thank God. Yet the older I got I started to become disenchanted. Like all teenagers I went through a period of abandoning childhood fantasies to focus on my image or popularity. Who I socialised with and how I looked over-rided any past passions. It is something I feel remarkably ashamed over, yet adolescence is a period in life in which one wears many masks for the sake of an easy time, even though I was bullied none the less for my bookish and overall weak disposition. But no-one could know I use to dress up in a pointy hat and make it rain. I killed that part of my childhood. This abandonment of magic continued until I was 16.

I was now in college and was the worst sycophant to a particular friend who I followed blindly. He was the coolest kid in college, a Casanova, I was discovering my own sexuality and realised too that I was deeply in love with him. Again I was sacrificing my core personality, but not for long. I was a theatre kid, and bloody good at it too, our first year assessment was based on the performance of a classical monologue. Know I don’t know exactly how I decided on it, or how I even knew of it, but I settled on Marlowe’s ‘Doctor Faustus’ to perform. I was a committed and serious young actor, finally in s subject that I cared for and excelled in so I conducted research into how i wanted to stage the piece. In my mind I wanted the stage littered in books and scraps of paper all bearing occult symbols, yet I didn’t know any. I didn’t want to cheapen the performance by having blank scraps of paper, they needed to be Faustus’ magical and alchemical work, so I used the library computer to find some.

And the gates opened.

Like a child again I was reading about magic, real magic again but this time I found a new mindset. In my research looking up Occult symbols to litter my set with, I came across a name, a name steeped in controversy to this day, the wickedest man in the world; Aleister Crowley. Reading up on Crowley and MacGregor Mathers brought me to a new and dangerous form of magic, the magic of the ceremonial magician. While indeed Wiccans and witches take their art and practise very seriously, there was something about the strict Methodology and science like nature of ceremonial magic that appealed to me more. Changing the weather was great and all but demon conjuration? Intricate magic circles and glyphs? Spirit evocation? Yes please, this was the magic that I wanted. And so I purchased my first Grimoire of ceremonial magic, the Ars Goetia.

This was a book I carried with pride, it was a conversation starter, I was the kid who studied demons. My image had changed after my then best friend moved to university, gone was the preppy and popular false Jack, now was the time for a brooding, dark clothed Jack who read Shelley, Byron and books of demon summoning in his spare time. To be frank it’s not a phase I’ve quite broken yet either.

As enamoured as I was by the Ars Goetia, I was no fool, I knew that in terms of practicality it was something I could not attempt, yet. The magic was complex, the tools seemed impossible to acquire and so I sat on my grand schemes of being a conjured per excellence, yet the flames in my mind were raging.

Three years later I moved to Nottingham for my university education, wonderful city. for the first time in my life I was with strangers who had no preconceived notions about me. I could wear a new mask. Yet I chose the hard path, I was at university so one should act as a university don should, I bought tweed suits from charity shops, wore a bow tie and started to smoke a pipe. I found rebellion by not being normal, fuck normality, the new Jack would never bow down to popularity again. I call my university years some of the darkest of my life, not only because of the daily cocktails of alcohol, drugs and severe bouts of depression but because these were the years in which I honed my craft as a goete.

I had the good fortune of renting flats with basements and because my flatmates were dull football types brainwashed by heteronormative coding, they were naturally scared of it and didn’t go down there. And as horribly cliched and Hollywood as it is, I began conjuring demons in the basement. Even though I had been studying the Goetia for a few years now, I still lacked pretty much everything needed, other than my own conviction. I used chalk for my circle and triangle of art, candles for mood lighting and some sticks of incense and began conversing to the shadows. The crazy thing is, the shadows spoke back. I knew that I had the crossed a threshold in which there was no return, while I had achieved magic with fairly simple effects, now I had truly pierced the veil and was openly seeing, speaking and listening to demons. The glass of reality had cracked, I was in a new world in which magic was the only truth. I had demon spirits perform many many tasks for me, some failed, some excelled. I tried to hone in my skills, realise mistakes and amend them. Then I started branching out, with my knowledge increasing I came into contact with more books, more new information and magic to discover; the Verum, the Cyprian texts, Agrippa, Abra-Melin etc. Etc.

Yet this was closeted. While I was unashamedly eccentric, I had too much against me as a gay man and an oddity. I suffered extreme bullying again and thanks to my depression made a suicide attempt, if anyone knew I was in the basement ordering demons to attack those who wronged me, it would be fatal to me. Or so I thought. The layman perceives magic as nonsense, Harry Potter glitter Magic that simply isn’t real and if you believe in it you either have too many cats or are just delusional. They do not understand that magic and only magic is the highest form of science there is, the microscope or telescope can see hidden things that the eye cannot yet so can a scrying ball. For all the wonders that science can perform and demonstrate, it cannot lift the eyelids on the falsehoods of reality, only through magic can we truly see between the lines and realise that the mundane world is shrouded in mysteries that only magic can answer. And so due to this fear of being stigmatised, I kept my magic a secret.

For the best part of a decade I studied and practised Ceremonial magic in private. Whenever my parents or housemates we’re out I’d grab my tools and begin my work. My library was growing, my collection of magical tools too, I was growing and flowering into a proficient 21st century Magus. Then two years ago I decided fuck it. I was tired of keeping a fundamental part of my spiritual beliefs and occult practises silent and so I outed myself as a ceremonial magician. Not to much fanfare however, everyone seemed largely indifferent, probably just another one of jack’s eccentricities. But no, magic is no hobby, no idle pastime or frivolity to me, magic is in my Veins and every breath, it is my true calling in life to study, explore and understand my place in this world through the Occult sciences. I am a magician who can charm you or tear you to pieces just as easily, I live in a demimonde of illusion, I achieve the impossible.

When you sit before the scrying glass and see a spirit looking into your eyes, you must reject all notions of a normal reality and accept wholeheartedly that magic is real.

[charlotte-bane-blog]

Challenge 1: Charlotte Bane

I didn’t edit this so I am truly and deeply sorry for all the mistakes and typos, but I hope whoever reads this that they enjoy it :) People mentioned: @berklee-boyer @alinaschreave @domschreave @princepercyschreave @princesslillianschreave

———————————————————

It’s easy to let your guard down. It’s easy to make mistakes. But five sets the record.

I was used to attending formal events growing up, but not as an invited guest. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was completely terrified and insecure. Being a six in a room full of ones and twos was enough to knock down my ego a few pegs.

As my maids proceeded to set my hair and apply my makeup, I couldn’t help but think of the recently eliminated. There were girls sent home that I never imagined I’d make it further than. The process made me feel special but terrified. I felt that I could be thrown out at a moment’s notice.

“I’m not okay,” Berk exclaims as she swings open the door, effectively interrupting my thoughts.

My poor maid, startled, dropped her brush and glared at my blonde friend. “Berklee! What?”

“I don’t know! Something about my hair doesn’t seem right!”

I examined her hair to try to figure out what her issue was. “What about it?”

Berklee looked at me as if I was stupid before her faced formed into one of thought. “I don’t know. Like it looks amazing. Maybe I’m just nervous. Like what do you even do at a ball?”

I chuckled at her rambling. “Your hair is definitely gorgeous. And does it look like I would know? Aren’t you the know it all three,” I grinned.

“Stop,” she rolled her eyes. “But do I look okay?”

I let out a sigh. “You look beautiful, trust me.”

“Girl, you look so much better.”

I smiled a bit to myself. It was nice to be complemented once in awhile. With my former profession, I was used to being the one to offer my praise. This all felt so new, yet amazing. “I’m not even fully dressed,” I retorted, gesturing to my robe.

Berk gave me a flat look. “Whatever. Hurry up.”

“Just a second,” I hushed. “I have to finish up my hair. How is it by the way?”

“I love it! The twists are super cute,” she grinned.

I smiled and nodded at her before walking into my closet with my maid. She helped me into the gown since there was no possible way of me getting it on or off single handedly. Once the job was done, I stepped out to show Berk. “Here, how’s this?”

“Oh my god. That’s amazing! It’s so pretty! It’s so you!” The dress was a gorgeous emerald color that reached the floor. There was a 90% chance I’d end up tripping over it at least once tonight.

“Thanks, Berk,” I said awkwardly. “We should probably head over now. Wouldn’t want to be late.”

With that said, Berk and I made our way out of the room and down to the ball. I was met with beautiful decorations and a striking wave of anxiety. I took a deep breath and walked towards the Bitch Squad for a small photo session with the press. I smiled at them and spoke to them for a bit before leaving the group. I still have no clue why I left. I probably should’ve stayed with a friend to help my nerves. But, alas, I had made the first mistake of the night.

I glanced around the room before deciding to busy myself with a few refreshments. I noticed a guard eyeing me closely, so I grabbed a drink, hoping it would discourage him from starting a conversation with me. This plan did not work.

“Hey, princess, how are you,” the guard smirked.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye uneasily. “I'm… uh… okay.”

He inched closer to me. “Wanna dance?”

I stepped back. “I don’t think so…”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

The guard leaned back. “Alright, but find me when you change your mind. Because you will.”

I cringed. “Okay…” I definitely wasn’t going to change my mind. I stepped away from him quickly and looked around for an easy exit or distraction. I was definitely distracted as I saw Evan and Kat talking. Percy had mentioned before of his thoughts toward the pair. He said he felt his brother was a bit hypocritical. Evan must’ve thought the same thing since he seemed to leave Kat quite suddenly. Huh, I thought.

I found a comfortable area to sit in as I watched the ball go on. I was kicking myself for not enjoying this ordeal like all the other Selected seemed to. This could be your life, I scolded myself. You have to get a grip.

Pulling me out of my thoughts, an older woman strutted towards me regally. “Is there something wrong, darling, or are you just not a party person?”

I looked up a bit startled. It was Princess Lillian, Percy’s mom. This should be fun. “Everything’s fine,” I smiled weakly. “This is just a bit new for me.”

Lillian sneered down her nose as if she thought she was better than everyone else. She probably did. “Well, you’d better get used to it if you ever hope to join the royal family.”

Though what she had said was true and something I had already told myself, I wasn’t comfortable with the way she spoke to me. To be honest, it sounded like my own mother.

“Guess you’re right. My apologies, your highness,” I said, gritting my teeth. “I didn’t mean to offend you so greatly.” I didn’t sound sincere at all.

“Of course you didn’t.” Do you not understand sarcasm, Mrs. Schreave? Lillian eyed me more carefully. Part of me was worried she could read my mind. “Which one are you again?”

Should I say someone else’s name, I asked myself. Nope, definitely not. That would end very badly. “Charlotte, ma'am.”

Her eyes flashed with recognition. “Ahh, you’re the one my youngest is so obsessed with.”

Youngest? “Callie? Funny. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her yet.”

“No, I mean Percy of course.” Poor, ignored Callie.

“Right, Percy. I’m not sure I follow.”

Lillian pinched the bridge of her nose. “What don’t you follow dear girl? It’s not that complicated.”

My patience was definitely running out with this woman. Whatever I had drunken earlier wasn’t helping my control at all. “I don’t follow,” I began slowly, “why you would choose the word ‘obsessed’. It’s not that complicated,” I mocked.

“You’re all he talks about. You’re all the media talks about in regards to him. Seems like an obsession to me.” This woman didn’t seem too fond of this realization.

I shrugged. “I prefer the word ‘interested’, don’t you? Sounds less crazy. You wouldn’t want people thinking your son was crazy.”

“My son is crazy, darling. Both of them are, in their own ways. The trick is just learning to accept it.”

Don’t say it, Charlotte. Don’t say it.

“Did you also accept yourself?”

Why? Why did I do that? This would be the second mistake of the night.

“Excuse me,” Lillian blurted.

Shoot. I have to fix this. “Just that if your sons are both crazy, in lovable ways I assume, wouldn’t you say you are too?” Total B.S.

Lillian look absolutely appalled. “No, of course I am not! How dare you accuse me as such,” she exclaimed.

“I didn’t accuse you of anything. I simply asked a question.”

“Mmhmm. A question insinuating that I am, in fact, crazy. Which I am clearly not.” Yeah…

I simply nodded. “Clearly.”

Lillian crossed her arms. “Well, is there anything else or are you able to enjoy my party now?” Oh yes, I’m just having a grand time.

“I’m enjoying it immensely,” I grit out. “Thanks for asking.” There wasn’t a genuine bone in my body in that moment.

“Excellent. Have a nice rest of your evening,” she responded before turning to leave. When she finally walked away, I let out a deep sigh. Lillian was the mother of Evan, Percy, and Callie. I haven’t met Callie or Evan personally but I knew they weren’t awful. And Percy… he wasn’t too bad.

I forced myself to stand up. I may not have been having the best of times, but I might as well try to be social for a bit. If I was feeling miserable after trying, I’d leave. Simple as that.

I spotted Berklee and decided to make some conversation. “Hey, Berk. Enjoying yourself?”

She turned around and smiled at me. “Yeah expect that my feet are killing me. You?”

“Horrible. I just got done having a lovely conversation with Princess Lillian.”

“What happened,” she asked concerned.

“I was already feeling pretty awkward and she wasn’t really happy about that. But, she said her youngest was obsessed with me. I’ve never even met Callie. She did correct herself and say Percy, but whatever. You’ve spoken to Callie, right,” I rambled.

“Yes I have. She’s the cutest,” Berklee grinned. She really seemed to love that girl. “She’s right over there if you want to talk to her.” She pointed over to a little girl with blondish hair.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Berklee grabbed my hand and led me over to the youngest royal. Callie was a whirlwind of energy. She was pretty funny for a little kid. Though the moment she mentioned that I seemed to be the topic of conversation quite frequently. “Oh!! YOU’RE Charlotte!!” Callie exclaimed after I was introduced by Berklee.

“I’M Charlotte?”

Callie grinned. “Yeah. I keep hearing your name, but didn’t know what you looked like.” This little girl seemed to have a mischievous glint in her eye. She acted innocent, but I had a feeling she knew exactly what she was talking about.

Berklee and I shot her a questioning glance. “You keep hearing her name,” Berk asked.

“Yeah. Dom and Percy talk about her a lot.” I flushed at her response. I hoped it wasn’t anything too awful. It probably wasn’t bad at all. Percy and Dom were interesting guys, but I doubted they were the type to gossip. I think.

Callie continued to ramble about her silly antics and never fail to embarrass me with talk about her brother and cousin. She was a good kid.

Berk and I said our goodbyes as she left to enjoy more of the ball. I stood there for a moment thinking about what else I could do to pass the time and maybe actually have fun there.

“Hey there, angel,” someone whispered from behind me, sliding their arms around me.

I jumped away from the person and whipped around. “Jeez, what is wrong with you!? You scared me half to death,” I yelled at Percy.

He simply laughed. “Sorry, I thought it was funny.”

“I’m sure you did.” I retorted sarcastically. “What are you doing over here?”

“Just… came to check in on things. How are you feeling about being at your first ’royal ball’,” he said with raised brows and finger quotes.

“Not… well to be honest. Lots of anxiety in me at the moment,” I sighed and offered him a small smile.

“Why? Just cause I scared you,” he teased.

“No.” I rolled my eyes. “Because I’m not used to this. It’s stressful doing new things, I’ve come to learn.”

Percy shrugged. “Yeah, I get that. But seriously, there’s nothing to worry about here. It’s just the Selected and my family. No big deal. It’s not like you need to worry about the Czar of Russia showing up or anything.”

“But I do need to worry about Illean Royalty being here,” I pointed out.

“Nah, we’re not as special as people think. Really, just be yourself and you’ll be fine. Or just ignore them. That works too,” he joked. Percy looked around the room. “Listen, I have to be seen talking to more than one person, but if you can survive the rest of this ball, I’ll save the last dance of the night for you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Not okay. I really didn’t want to left by myself. I didn’t want him to leave.

Percy gave me an encouraging smile before walking away. I watched his retreating figure and say him turn towards the direction of Aricia. My chest tightened.

I never considered myself an overly emotional person. Everything I felt, I usually kept inside, and I was not about to let it all out. I needed to get out of there.

I stalked towards the exit and say Alina by the door. I figured I’d at least greet her. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love Alina. But what I did next shone that moment in a negative light. “Oh… Hey Alina.”

“Charlotte,” she exclaimed, drink in hand. “Where are you going?”

I wracked my mind for an excuse. “Just thought I’d take an early night.”

“Noooo! What happened?” She was clearly drunk.

“Nothing,” I glanced towards the dancing couple. “This just isn’t really my scene. I just haven’t gotten used to all this yet.”

“Well that’s because you haven’t had anything to drink!” Alina looked at me as if I was crazy. “Come on, let’s find out what you like!”

“I don’t know, Alina… “ I’ve never had a real drink before. I wasn’t sure if I could even hold my liquor. Percy and Aricia weren’t worth getting drunk over. I looked over towards them again and practically threw my last thought out the window. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll try those pink drinks.” And that was the third mistake.

“Hell yeah you will!” Alina dragged me towards the refreshment table and grabbed me a glass.

I took a sip of the blushed liquid. I burned a bit but had a fruity aftertaste. “It’s not that bad, I guess.”

“It’ll get worse if you keep sipping it like that! Chug!” Wait, what? I wanted to say no. I should’ve said no. I didn’t say no.

I took a deep breath and drank a large gulp. “Oh my God, what’s in this?”

“Keep going,” Alina encouraged and ignored my question. “You can’t get drunk off one glass, so you better chug faster.”

Stupidly, I followed suit. I finished the drink and pressed my palm to my forehead. I still wasn’t feeling it. By then, I wanted to. I wanted it to distract me. “Give me another.”

It took about three drinks to really get to me. It really got to me. “I think we’re done now,” Alina giggled.

I was beginning to why people drank and also why they didn’t. “The room is spinning, oh God,” I stumbled. “This night sucks. Like super sucks.”

“Why?!”

“People. People suck.” He sucks. “You know what, I wanna dance. I’m going to dance.” Before Alina could even get a word in, I stormed onto the dance floor. I needed a dance partner. Maybe that creep of a guard from earlier. Yeah, he’d work. I search the room for him, trying my best to clear my blurred mind. I spotted a tall guy with brown hair and figured it was him. Even if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter. I just needed someone. “We should dance.” I grabbed the guard before recognizing him as someone else. “Oh wait… uh. You’re not the guard from earlier…”

Prince Dominic Schreave. Of course.

That was my fourth mistake of the night.

“Well, hello there, Charlotte.” Dom smirked.

“Your highness… I’d curtsy, but I don’t think it’s possible in this position.” Dom and I were a dancing form. I was trying my best to act ‘not drunk’. I’m pretty sure I was failing. I was sure he could smell the alcohol in my breath. Just great.

“No need to curtsy. Are you feeling okay? You seem a little… high-strung.” He glanced at me worriedly.

“It’s just really hot in here. Do you think it’s hot in here?”

“I don’t know. Hmm… maybe it’s just you,” he winked.

I let out an overly loud laugh. Yeah, that’s not obvious at all. “You’re so funny! Who knew you were so funny? Wow.”

“Yeah, I am pretty funny… Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Is ‘no’ an acceptable answer?” I grinned.

Dom raised his eyebrows. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Probably not, I thought. That’s what the drinks were for.

“Tell me what’s in the pink drinks they’ve been serving here?”

“The Amarula Sunsets? Please tell me you didn’t drink one…” Dom looked actually freaked out now. How sweet. He wasn’t the one I wanted to worry.

“I didn’t drink one. I drank three,” I giggled.

Dom’s eyes widened. “Holy… Charlotte, those things are filled with vodka! And I’m guessing you haven’t had much of a chance to drink in the past, so you haven’t built up any tolerance… maybe someone should take you back to your room…”

“No, no I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” I stumbled. “I’m so sorry. This is really embarrassing…” I looked over towards Percy, hoping he didn’t see that, but didn’t spot him at all. Where was he?

“Charlotte, are you okay,” ran over and asked frantically. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled.

Percy glared at me. “You don’t look fine.” He looked over to Dom. “What happened?”

I hated he looked at me that way. I hated that it bothered me at all. I didn’t want my emotions to get out, yet I let them get the best of me. I drank to make myself forget them, but lost control of them altogether.

“She drank too many of those Sunsets,” he replied.

Percy ran a hand through his hair. “Char, why would you do something so stupid?”

“I didn’t realize what was in them,” I bit. I may not have known what type of alcohol was in those drinks, but I knew what I was doing. In the back of my mind I knew I was being stupid. “You’re stupid.”

Dom nodded towards Percy and stepped away, seeing he could handle this.

“Why am I stupid, angel? You’re the one drinking things when you don’t know what they are.” I knew.

“Th-they were pretty.” I stumbled again and fell into Percy. God, this was embarrassing. I was so pissed off. And for what? A guy? What would my mother think…

Percy catches me. “Maybe I should take you to your room…”

“Don’t flirt with me,” I slurred into his shirt.

He let out a laugh. “For once, I’m not trying to. Come on,” he said as he led me towards the doors.

From that point, I can only remember mumbling random things to Percy. As we got closer to my room, a strong wave of nausea hit me. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

Percy groaned. “Ok, let’s hurry this up.” He picked me up bridal style and raced me into my room.

“Percy, I swear to God if you drop me…”

He grinned wickedly. “Never.”

“Put me down anyway,” I scolded. “You have to leave. I’m going to be sick. Why the hell do people drink?” I knew why I did at least.

“No, I gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke. And I don’t have any clue why people drink. I guess to make themselves seem more interesting. I’ve never had any interest though,” he responded as he carried me into my bathroom and set me down.

“You’re already interesting.” I dropped to the toilet and leaned over to breathe. Percy gathered my hair up and held it back.

“Exactly why I don’t need to drink. And neither do you.”

It was quiet for a little while as I steadied my breathing. The feeling of throwing up was beginning to leave. “I think I’m fine. Nausea passed.”

Percy rubbed my back. For the second time that night, my chest tightened. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“This was the worst night ever,” I said lowly.

He chuckled. “It absolutely was not the worst night ever. I have had SO much worse.”

“Did you make a complete fool of yourself in front of someone you’re supposed to try to impress,” I retorted.

“You ever heard of strip poker?”

“You’ve played strip poker? You’re 17.” Sure, I was one to talk. I was getting drunk at 17.

“Yeah. Word of advice, never play it when an African King is in the next room over. And you’re playing against his daughter.”

“Of course. His daughter,” I muttered and rolled my eyes.

“Yeah… being a little drunk in front of a few minor royals is nothing compared to that… You should’ve seen Uncle Jameson’s face,” Percy laughed humorlessly and shook his head slightly.

“Are you okay?” I actually worried about Percy. I wasn’t exactly sober but I wasn’t fully drunk either. I wanted him to talk to me.

“Yeah, just… I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes in my life… Well, I think you need to get to bed. Sleep off the embarrassment and hope you don’t wake up with a wicked hangover.”

The room became quiet. “You never danced with me.”

Percy looked at me nervously. “Are you…,” he cleared his throat to continue. “Are you feeling well enough for a dance?”

I looked looked up hesitantly. “Are you asking me to dance?”

Percy stared at me for a moment. I couldn’t make out the look on his face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Then I feel well enough.”

Percy smiled softly. “Well, okay then.” He pulled me closer to him and let me rest my head on his shoulder as we began to sway slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Percy tightened his hold on me. “What are you sorry for, angel?”

“For being an idiot,” I started. “For getting jealous and not thinking.”

Percy jerked in surprise. “Jealous? Of what?”

I glanced up at him and shook my head quickly. “N-nothing. It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me… Please.” The look on his face and in his eyes told me I couldn’t lie or refuse him. I wanted to.

I dropped my head. “You… other girls… her.”

Percy let out a breath. “You know I have to dance with other girls if they ask, right?”

I looked away quickly. “I know. Of course I know that.”

“Then why’d you let yourself get so drunk? I know it wasn’t entirely an accident. You’re too smart for that.”

“That’s the thing, Percy. I’m not smart. I’m a six. I’m a stupid maid. I can’t be some princess or three,” I pointed out. I knew I wasn’t exactly his type. I knew there was no point to what I’d done tonight. There was no point to any of this. I was a pastime for him. I wasn’t a real prospect. I was just me.

Percy stared at me. “You were smart enough not to trust me at first.”

“I wasn’t smart enough to not let myself get hurt so easily by trivial things that… that shouldn’t even concern me.” I ran my hand through my hair. It was a while before we said anything.

“Everyone has their limitations, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I scoffed at his joke. “Anyway, you really should be getting some sleep…”

“Maybe I should…” Percy made no move to leave. “I’m still in my dress.”

He grinned. “Do you need help getting out of it?”

I looked down quickly. “Actually, yes.”

Percy flushed and I strangely loved the sight. “Oh, um…. What do you normally sleep in?”

“Whatever is given to me. Usually a night gown. They’re in the closet over there,” I gestured.

Percy nodded and walked to the closet. He ruffled through the hangers before pulling out a skimpy nightgown. He turned around with a questioning look and his signature smirk.

“Definitely not. Grab the white one,” I said flatly.

He chuckled and pulled it out. “I see. So you’re going for the pure, virginal one.” Nothing wrong with that.

“You don’t call me angel for nothing.”

He smiled slightly. “Alright, turn around.” I followed suit. “Hold onto your dress.” I grabbed the front and held it to my chest. Percy slowly pulled down the zipper of my dress. The whole ordeal felt very intimate. Time seemed to slow down and everything faded away. Every problem outside my top was silenced.

When the zipper reached its final point, Percy stilled for a moment. He began to speak but his voices cracked. I smiled to myself. “Ok I’m going to put the nightgown over your head,” he instructed. “So now you can drop the dress.”

“Okay,” I responded quietly. I dropped my dress and tugged the nightgown down fully. I turned around slowly. “Thanks, Percy.”

“You’re welcome, Char,” he replied sincerely. “Alright.” Percy put his hands under my knees and lifted me up. “Let’s get you to bed.” He carried me over and gently set me onto my bed, lifted the covers, and tucked me in. He stood back up to leave.

“Percy, wait.”

“What?”

I hesitated before reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re a good guy.”

He stared at me with wide eyes and let out a small laugh. “I know, but people never seem to realize it…” He looked at me seriously. “Are you going to be okay now, angel?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I’ll be okay.”

He took my hand in his and squeezed it before letting it go. “Good night, Char.” Percy walked to the door but hesitated like he was nervous to leave. With one last glance, he stepped out of the room.

That was my fifth and final mistake of the evening– letting him.