#harmony and horror danny

[cherrychan-0110]

Doomed Moonlight au doodles

[shanxpennywise]

My Favourite Villains Part 1 - 7 Art Dump (Old Art.)

Villains~

Pennywise (1990)

Pennywise (2017)

Slappy (Goosebumps)

Dr Kamikazi (Robotboy)

Chucky (Child's Play)

Fats (Magic)

Billy (Dead Silence)

N-Gin (Crash Bandicoot)

Hypno (Creepypasta)

King Dice (Cuphead)

Baldi (Baldi's Basics in Education and Learning.)

Zander (Dinosaur King)

Gideon (Gravity Falls)

Sideshow Bob (The Simpsons)

Penguin (The Batman: Animated Series)

Dr Doofenshmirtz (Phineas and Ferb)

Mad Mod (Teen Titans)

Defoe (Huntik: Seekers and Secrets)

Little Ogre (Soul Eater)

Dr Phineus Phibes (Shaggy and Scooby Doo Get a Clue)

Dr Calico (Bolt)

Purple Guy (Five Nights At Freddy's)

Mandark (Dexter's Laboratory)

Evil Rick (Rick and Morty)

Mad Hatter (Batman: Animated Series)

The Major (Hellsing Ultimate)

Danzo (Naruto Shippuden)

Vector (Despicable Me)

Archibald Snatcher (The Boxtrolls)

Frollo (Hunchback of Notredame)

Cedric (Sofia the First)

King Candy (Wreck it Ralph)

Gallaxhar (Monsters VS Aliens)

Jack Spicer (Xaolin Showdown)

Jeffery Hawk (Dead by Daylight)

Akainu (One Piece)

Dr.Maniac (Goosebumps.)

Unwanted House Guest (Creepypasta/Meme.)

Jareth the Goblin King (Labyrinth.)

Dr Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs.)

Syndrome (The Incredibles.)

Dr Eggman (Sonic the Hedgehog.)

Maxie (Pokemon.)

Captain (Armando) Salazzar (Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man Tells No Tales.)

The Look-See (Crypt TV's The Look-See.)

Kureo Mado (Tokyo Ghoul.)

Drei (Hiiro No Kakera.)

W.D. Gaster (Undertale.)

Freddy Krueger (Nightmare on Elm Street.)

Drago Bludvist (How to Train Your Dragon.)

Claude Faustus (Black Butler.)

Stefano Valentini (Evil Within 2.)

John Bacchus (Future Diary.)

Kisame Hoshigaki (Naruto Shippuden.)

Mayuri Kurotsuchi (Bleach.)

Hisoka (Hunter x Hunter.)

Tighten (Megamind.)

2nd Dimension Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz (Phineas and Ferb: The Movie.)

Dr.Octopus (Spiderman 2.)

Squilliam (Spongebob Squarepants.)

Mr.Chuckle Teeth (The X-Files.)

Laughing Jack (Creepypasta.)

Weevil Underwood (YU-GI-OH!)

Dr.Herman Carter (Dead By Daylight.)

Babadook (The Babadook.)

The Child Catcher (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.)

Colonel Muska (Studio Ghibli's Laputa Castle.)

Ghetsis (Pokemon.)

The Crooked Man (The Conjuring 2.)

Crocodile (One Piece.)

Danny Dickens (Angels Of Death.)

Kabuto (Naruto Shippuden.)

Yami Marik (YU-GI-OH!)

Byakuran Katekyo (Hitman Reborn.)

Jason The Toymaker (Creepypasta.)

Slenderman (Slenderman: The Movie.)

Igor Neuhaus (Blue Exorcist.)

Captain Kuro (One Piece.)

Guzma (Pokemon.)

Mr.Wood (Goosebumps.)

Professor Venomous (OK K.O. Let's Be Heroes.)

Lyle Tiberius Rourke (Atlantis.)

Faba (Pokemon.)

Petrel (Pokemon.)

Cyrus (Pokemon.)

Lysandre (Pokemon.)

Arlo (Pokemon.)

Evil Dr Phibes (Shaggy and Scooby Doo Get a Clue.)

Papillon (Buso Renkin.)

The Joker (Batman: Animated Series.)

Mr X (Resident Evil.)

Foolscap (Dinosaur King.)

Giovanni (Pokemon.)

Tamatoa (Moana.)

The Toymaker (Harmony & Horror.)

Jean-Louise Bonaparte (Yu-Gi-Oh! GX.)

Benson (Toy Story 4.)

Ed (Dinosaur King.)

Mr Burns (The Simpsons.)

Victor (Boruto.)

Beppi The Clown (Cuphead.)

Scud (Yu-Gi-Oh! The Movie: Pyramid Of Light.)

Sordward (Pokemon SWSH.)

Sheildbert (Pokemon SWSH.)

Sakutaro Morishige (Corpse Party.)

Mr Hook (MAR.)

Malvolio (Twelfth Night Manga.)

Captain Hook (Peter Pan.)

John Ratcliffe (Pocahontas.)

Fagin (BBC's Oliver Twist.)

Jack Randall (Outlander.)

Waluigi (Mario.)

The Toad (Flushed Away.)

Gnauss Wisden (NiNoKuni.)

Orochimaru (Naruto.)

Braz D. Blood (Blood Lad.)

Douman Ashiya (Tokyo Ravens.)

Shidou Dairenji (Tokyo Ravens.)

Dr. Yung (Pokemon: The Mastermind Of The Mirage Pokemon.)

Mr Big (Michael Jackson's Moonwalker.)

Grings Kodai (Pokemon: Zoroark: Master Of Illusions.)

Dick Dastardly (Scooby Doo Movie.)

Greed (Fullmetal Alchemist.)

Hidan (Naruto Shippuden.)

Mandrake (Earwig And The Witch.)

Murder The Clown (Goosebumps.)

Kai Chisaki (My Hero Academia.)

The Grabber (The Black Phone.)

The Gold Watcher (Dark Deception.)

Miroku Yukihiko (Get Backers.)

Sartorius Kumar (Yu-Gi-Oh! GX.)

Schneizel El Britannia (Code Geass.)

Chairman Rose (Pokemon SWSH.)

Koichi Shidou (Highschool Of The Dead.)

The Riddler (Assault On Arkham.)

Sugou Nobuyuki (Sword Art Online.)

The Handsome Young Man (A Tale Dark & Grimm.)

The Pied Piper (Shrek 4.)

Aizen Sosuke (Bleach.)

Demiurge (Overlord.)

I plan on drawing more of my favourite villains at some point.

[schnuffel-danny]

I wondered if i asked before, but i'm curious about what your DP x MLP FIM crossover AU you mentioned a few times is about?

DID YOU TELEPATHICALLY DEDUCE I'VE BEEN PLAGUED BY THE PONY PHANTOM AU?????!!!!

It's an AU where the events of Danny Phantom take place between g4-g5 of My Little Pony, with all the characters being ponies and creatures from MLP:FiM lore (except for the ghosts... those are a whole new wacky species) It takes place some time after the passing of Twilight's friends, but before Twilight rids Equestria of magic. Twilight is the last remaining princess and she's become a recluse and would be presumed dead if it wasn't for her controlling the sun and the moon still. The world is starting to fall apart at the seams, with older generations recognizing their belief in "the magic of friendship" to be a lie, focusing more on taking care of themselves than others, and technological advancement to protect their way of life (that's there to explain why the characters suddenly went from whatever FiM had going on to 'teh interwebs')

Here's an older thing I had to say on how ghosts work in this AU:

Ghosts, if they appear as ponies, do not have cutiemarks, which is what makes Phantom (who does have one) special to Jack and Maddie and why they take such keen interest in him

Amity Park is located nearby an ancient ghost portal, one that has long been inactive, it gives AP a strange aura that draws in a lot of creatures all over the land, so AP has an unusually high mixed species population! Fun fact!

As this is a MLP AU, the main theme of it is friendship, the true meaning of magic, and family. So Vlad is the main villain and the biggest threat, his goal being to activate the ancient portal and unleash it's evil upon the land, finally forcing Jack and Maddie to witness the ultimate form of the horrors they've forced him to suffer through by activating that blasted proto-portal right in his face. Danny believes in the legends of Princess Twilight and the Elements of Harmony. While Vlad has seen what unrest that's come from the loss Twilight has gone through, and believes "The Princess of Friendship" to be the victim of a horrible curse who has been used as the unwilling vessel forced to carry out the wishes of "friends" that have selfishly made her suffer through their own mortality.

I got a lot of little tidbits, pony/species assignments for characters, backgrounds etc. etc. I think about this AU a normal amount xD

Hopefully I will get to drawing all those darned comics soon!!!!

[jgroffdaily]

Broadway’s biggest names and brightest talents, both onstage and behind the scenes, are set to celebrate six weeks of dedicated fundraising with songs, skits and dance at the return of Red Bucket Follies, produced by and benefiting Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS.

The heartwarming homecoming of the annual fall event, which has been on a pandemic hiatus since 2019, takes place at 4:30 pm on Monday, December 4, and at 2 pm Tuesday, December 5.

The heartwarming homecoming of the annual fall event, which has been on a pandemic hiatus since 2019, takes place at 4:30 pm on Monday, December 4, and at 2 pm Tuesday, December 5.

A limited number of tickets, starting at $40, are still available for the exhilarating insider event. They can be purchased at Click Here.

Red Bucket Follies (#redbucketfollies) will feature guest appearances by Roger Bart (Back to the Future: The Musical); Corbin Bleu (Little Shop of Horrors); Sierra Boggess, Danny Kornfeld, Zal Owen and Chip Zien (Harmony); Alex Brightman (The Shark is Broken, Spamalot); Victoria Clark and Justin Cooley (Kimberly Akimbo); Lorna Courtney (& Juliet); Danny DeVito (I Need That); Jonathan Groff (Merrily We Roll Along); Leslie Odom Jr. and Kara Young (Purlie Victorious); and Patrick Page (All the Devils Are Here).

Broadway shows represented in Red Bucket Follies include Back to the Future: The Musical, Forbidden Sondheim, Hadestown, Hamilton, Harmony, Here Lies Love, Here We Are, Kimberly Akimbo, The Lion King, Some Like it Hot and Sweeney Todd, as well as Grammy Award-winning choir Broadway Inspirational Voices.

This year’s show also will feature special performances by Maria Bilbao, Sierra Boggess, Danny Burstein, Jessica Hecht, Rachel Bay Jones, Andrea Martin, Bonnie Milligan, Christine Pedi, Marc Shaiman and Lillias White.

[harmonytre-reblogs]

Heyo, my name is HarmonyTRE, and you can call me Harmony!

I create fanart, fanfiction, and animations.

She/It, Asexual, Autistic, Christian, Furry, 23, BA in Art and Honors.

ART BLOG HERE

Enjoy HLVRAI? CHECK OUT @thexenden FOR A DISCORD SERVER!

This account will be for reblogging others' content, including pokemon, half-life vr but the ai is self-aware, Mob Psycho 100, Indigo Park, Half-Life Alyx: Gnome Edition, Wreck-It Ralph, trolls, wild kratts, undertale/deltarune, the owl house, danny phantom, original content, and more! (For my own posts, search the tag "HarmonyTRE".)

Never be afraid to send an ask for me to tag a post a certain way!!! I may reblog things involving guns, blood, body horror, swearing, and bright colors, and tag each of those properly, but I may miss something. I try to stay away from anything lewd or sexual (for my own comfort as well). If anything, it'd be minorly suggestive.

Fandoms

Current Events:

Fanart Requests: 100 Expressions (multi-fandom) OPEN!

HLVRAI MAP: Open and always accepting backups until finished!

HLVRAI Fanart Requests: OPEN!!!

[tafadhali]

Yuletide recs, part 1

Cross-posting this from DW. I have >50 works bookmarked on Pinboard so far, but here are 24 favorites.

Asteroid City I hadn't thought to seek out fic for this movie, but I thought both of these captured the Wes Anderson style brilliantly and developed characters and a relationship we only see a glimpse of in the film in interesting (and very different) ways: 

Things That Won't Be Here Tomorrow (Conrad/Jones, 6k)

windows broken and dreaming (Conrad/Jones, 4k)

Bottoms So Bomb (PJ/Hazel, PJ & Josie, 1k) — "Josie helps PJ be a better girlfriend to Hazel"; hysterical

Casablanca The Sentimentalists (Rick/Ilsa, Ilsa/Victor, Rick/Ilsa/Victor, 9k) — post-canon, Rick runs into Ilsa and Victor in Lisbon

Dimension 20

In our midnight world (Leiland/Markus, 5k) — really captures the silliness of Escape from the Bloodkeep and I love all the appearances by the other characters

it doesn't hurt; there's nothing to it(Hob/Rue, 4k)— love them and love them trying to ~*~communicate~*~; hot and sweet first time

Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves Perception Check (Roll for Romance) (Xenk/Edgin, 6k) —

"I bet Xenk fucks like a metronome, too. You know." Holga makes a highly suggestive, repetitive gesture. "In, out. In, out. No variation. Same exact rhythm every time. Boring." Edgin stares at her, torn between horror and fascination. "You've really thought about this, huh?" (So has he. Unfortunately.)

Frederica - Georgette Heyer A Series of Notable Events (Frederica/Alverstoke, 13k) — "What it says on the tin: a series of notable events in the lives of Frederica and Alverstoke, post-canon."

Goblin Emperor A Private Room (gen, 5k) — Maia learns of a scandal brewing from Csethiro, but she is quite able to manage things

An Unexpected Letter (gen, 1k) — Thara gets a letter from the Emperor after Grief of Stones and I have several feelings

The Good Place The Real Actual Human Life of Michael Realman (gen, 1k) — what it says in the title! cute and fun

Hercule Poirot

The Case of the Distracted Detective (Hastings/Poirot, 2k) — I can honestly say I've never read this particular misunderstanding before, and itw as charming and funny!

The Eye of a Needle (gen, 4k) — a neat little casefic with a daemon AU twist

High School Musical Stick to the Status Quo (Reprise) (Chad/Ryan, 17k) — I was totally charmed by this "didn't know they were dating" classic

Jeeves & Wooster Supporting Partner's Suit (Jeeves/Wooster, Honoria/OFC, 6k) — "Never let it be said that Bertie Wooster will abandon a pal in need, even if that pal is a woman who is temporarily in possession of his body and he doesn’t fully understand what’s going on"

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Fool Proof (Harry/Perry/Harmony, 7k) — this is extremely hot and very funny; captures the tone of the movie perfectly

The Matrix if you'll believe in me (gen, 7k) — "Trinity thinks about anger. Bugs thinks about choices. Both of them think about the future." Interesting fic that picks up mid-Resurrections

Nine Worlds a key that winds through secret wards (gen, 11k) — Kip in the aftermath of the Emerald Conspiracy; a really interesting look into an unexplored part of canon

Ocean's 11 pulse and swing (baby do your thing) (Danny/Rusty, 3k) — fixit for O8 involves Danny doing thief PT and re-figuring out his and Rusty's relationship

somebody else's wallet (Danny/Rusty, 1k) — nicely structured ficlet about Danny and Rusty becoming DannyandRusty

Oz the skin you're in (Dorothy/Ozma, 6k) — "'If we learn magic, you could maybe change your body to be like your old one. You weren’t ever given the choice to keep that boy’s body, were you?' asked Dorothy.

Keep it? The idea jolted Ozma a little bit. Why, how does a person keep another body? You only had the one, right?"

Singin' in the Rain Working Honeymoon (Don/Cosmo/Kathy, 4k) — somehow Cosmo finds himself coming along for the ride on Don and Kathy's honeymoon

Sports Night First Chill of Fall (Dan/Casey, 3k) — all I ever want for Yuletide is more Dan/Casey... this one is set post-s2 and features a slightly oblivious Dan

The Sting the last train to wherever you need to be (Henry/Johnny, 3k) — against their better interests, Johnny and Henry keep running into each other post-movie

[moorheadthanyoucanhandle]

UNBELIEVABLE

Opening in theaters this weekend:

The Exorcist: Believer--Two 13-year-old girls go missing one day after school. Their panicked parents, single Dad Victor (Leslie Odom, Jr.) and evangelical couple Miranda (Jennifer Nettles) and Tony (Norbert Leo Butz) frantically search their Georgia suburb, but three days later the girls turn up alive.

These early scenes of this sixth Exorcist follow-up are tense and gripping, convincingly dramatizing a dread familiar to parents, but also deploying a few well-executed cheap scares. Soon after the girls reappear, they start showing unmistakable signs of demonic possesion. The nonbelieving Victor is skeptical at first, but before long he has enlisted the aid of Chris McNeil (the radiant Ellen Burstyn), who went through a similar experience with her daughter Regan up in Georgetown half a century earlier.

Act Two of Believer is mostly devoted to a rather ecumenical exorcism, with Catholics, Evangelicals and what appear to be Voodoo practicioners all participating, among others. This section falls flat. We get all the obligatory stuff--levitation, projectile tummy trouble--but none of the elliptical yet grueling intensity that the late William Friedkin brought to the 1973 film. Put simply, the second half of the movie just isn't very scary.

Part of what made the first film so potent was its harsh, judgy small-c conservative Catholicism. It seemed to suggest that Chris McNeil's wordly career and single life left the door open for the devil to take her daughter. The new film almost gets this right; it implies that Victor's daughter's yearning to communicate with her dead mom gives the demon a foothold, as Regan playing with a Ouija board invited in "Captain Howdy" back in the original.

But the kum-ba-yah sensibility of Believer's interfaith exorcism weakens this blood-and-thunder atmosphere. Don't misunderstand; I agree, on the whole, with the sentiments expressed in this movie's mild little homilies about faith and community and hope. But I don't think they're the most effective way to scare an audience. Decades ago I had a girlfiend, a lapsed Catholic, who found the original Exorcist so terrifying that she could barely stand to have it mentioned (I used to tease her by imitating the demon's voice).

The new film lacks the ruthlessness that could create that sort of reaction. Nor did I really find it plausible that these staunch traditionalist faiths could practice this archaic rite in harmony. As soon as anything went wrong, wouldn't they start blaming each other?

The director, David Gordon Green, works from a script that he wrote with several hands including Danny McBride. They were the team behind 2021's Halloween Kills, another honorable but unsuccesful revival of a classic horror franchise. The cast here is capable, with one standout--that splendid, always reliable warhorse Ann Dowd as a nurse with a relevant past who befriends Victor.

This much more, if little else, can be said for Believer: although the insolently absurd yet imaginative spectacle of John Boorman's 1977 Exorcist 2: The Heretic has its fascinations, Believer can probably still claim to be the best of the Exorcist sequels. But that's a low bar.

[dilesxpressions]

Xiaomin Yu

1. Name, Year, Major, and Hometown

Xiaomin Yu, 2nd Year Biochemistry and Molecular Biology Major, San Francisco

2. What’s your roman empire?

How I am a college student attending UC Davis.

3. What is the best compliment you have ever received?

Whenever someone tells me that they like the keychains on my backpack. 

4. If your life was a movie what genre would it be (comedy, horror, drama, etc.) and what actor would play you?

My life would definitely be a horror movie (they are the most stupidly written and funny movies) and the actor that I would want to play me is Danny DeVito because we look exactly the same.

5. What is something on your college bucket list?

Something on my college bucket list is to visit every single building on campus.

6. What’s your guilty pleasure? (song, movie, food etc.)

My guilty pleasure is eating cake whenever I feel sad.

7. What are your bad habits?

One of my bad habits is always dropping my phone and accidentally leaving it behind everywhere. 

8. What are your favorite song lyrics?

Take away, away the pain

Love's running through our veins

Hold my hand we'll find a way

Let's break free from all the chains

Dance in the pouring rain

Baby, we gon' fly away

9. Defend your unpopular opinion/ hot take

The book will always be better than the movie no matter what.

10. Describe a time where you had to step up and be a leader?

In the city of Davis, where cows roamed the streets alongside us humans, I, Xiaomin, found myself facing an utterly absurd challenge. The city's Cow Carnival, a long-standing tradition, had descended into udder chaos. The cows had gone on strike, demanding better pasture and extra hay. As someone who had always felt a special connection to animals and had, coincidentally, honed the skill of communicating with cows (thank you, YouTube), I decided to step up and be a leader. I formed the "Cow Communication Crew," an eclectic team of cow whisperers, comedians, and grass aficionados. Together, we talked to the cows, cracking jokes and assuring them that their demands would be met. We arranged for a Cow Comedy Night, where stand-up comedians performed for the cows, and introduced the "Cow-Concerto," in which cows got to pick the tunes for the Carnival. Under my leadership, Davis's Cow Carnival was back in full swing. The cows danced to the moosic (yes, they insisted it be spelled that way), enjoyed their upgraded pastures, and, most importantly, smiled with their big, bovine grins. At the Carnival's closing ceremony, I gave a heartfelt speech, thanking both the cows and my Cow Communication Crew. The cows responded with a collective "moo" of approval, which, according to my translations, meant they were delighted. My leadership brought hilarity and harmony back to Davis, reminding everyone that even in a city with a sense of humor as unique as our cows, a leader with a knack for communication could turn chaos into comedy.  -chatGPT

[lasting-through-the-feels]

Yo tumblr gimme some youtube to watch

[wastefulreverie]

stranger to fiction

Taking Creative Writing class was not Danny’s idea. Initially, Sam had pushed for them to take the class together Senior year because it was during a period they both had space for electives. So, on her word Danny signed up for Creative Writing.

Then first week of senior year, Sam switched from Calculus to AP Statistics and he was stuck in Creative Writing alone.

Most of the work was easy assignments. You didn’t have to be an expert writer, and it was definitely a breeze compared to Lancer’s Lit class. Hell, most of his classmates in Creative Writing were Freshmen. All except two other Seniors... Star Evans and Paulina Sanchez.

Danny’s week had been going fine until he was paired with Paulina for peer revisions for their short fiction story. Danny wasn’t too worried about Paulina reading his writing. It was a short horror piece about an astronaut slowly realizing that his copilots were not all human. In the end, though, it’s revealed that the copilots were all human and it was the astronaut who was the alien all along.

May or may not be inspired by events from Danny’s own life, but hey, no one had to know that much.

Danny opened his laptop opposite Paulina’s. She seemed fascinated with her nails, cubicles perfect as always, not bothering to look up at him.

He cleared his throat. “Your school email is your first initial, last name?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’ll share my doc with you too.”

Danny jammed the refresh button until the new document appeared.

His heart dropped into his stomach.

Phantom Love: a Tale of Ghostly Romance

Oh, fuck him.

He couldn’t read this. No, wouldn’t read this.

Not if it was anywhere close to what he assumed it was.

Maybe once upon a time he had feelings for Paulina, back in Freshman year, but he’d long outgrown his crush on the Head Cheerleader. These days, she was more infatuated with him than him with her. Not that she’d know it. Given, all of her affections were to Phantom, not Fenton.

“Is there a problem?” Paulina raised a brow.

“N—no. Uh, I mean, isn’t it supposed to be a fiction story? Isn’t it like, against the rules to write about Phantom?”

“Well, this hasn’t happened so right now it’s fiction.”

Right now.

“I uh, alright.”

Hesitantly, he clicked on the document.

My name is Luciana Cortes, heiress to my mama’s fashion empire. I wouldn’t look it, but I’m not like other girls. Dark curly hair framing my face and pearlescent teal orbs that glow in the reflection of my phone. I’m outgoing at school and put on face to be like all the other girls, but that’s all a facade. The real me is a bashful, yet hopeless romantic. And I have a secret.

I’m in love with the Ghost Boy.

Danny almost snorted. In what world was that a secret?

The next few paragraphs gave some context, describing Phantom’s feats over his ghostly foes and how he fought to protect the people of ‘Harmony Park.’ Though, he could do with less physical description of his ghost form.

Phantom has wind-swept white hair that reminds me of pearls in the sand. His hair always seems to float, like he’s underwater, except he’s not. His skin is tan, tinted green like moss crawling up an old building, giving the impression that even though he’s a ghost, he’s still human all the same. His eyes are a lurid green that shine like emeralds under a lamp, shining no matter the direction you stare at them, seemingly luminescent themselves. His eyes have the depth of a planet, infinite, and I could stay lost in them for the rest of my life. His smile is tantalizing and makes me feel like I can fly too. And his build is thin, yet durable, a strong body that reminds me of the old pine trees by my estate that I’d lean against in winter. If I ran my hands across his chest, I’d imagine that his abs would be—

And that’s as far as Danny got reading before he had to switch tabs on his laptop and pretend he wasn’t blushing into his hand.

The plot of the story then progressed into Paulina—sorry, Luciana—winning Phantom’s affections with her kind heart. After a particularly bad ghost fight, she brought him back to her estate and patched him up. Apparently, Luciana learned how to do stitches watching her mother sew because she’s from a family of fashion designers or something. Then she and Phantom had a heart to heart, then later a mouth to mouth. Thankfully, it stopped at kissing or Danny might have accidentally frozen the inside of his laptop. It had only happened once, and even then Tucker had barely been able to save his computer.

Still, the story wasn’t finished.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” I told Phantom. He looked at me longingly and then frowned, depressed.

His green eyes dripped with disappointment. “I cannot do so, Luciana. I’m a ghost, and you’re a human. Such a thing is dangerous, and I don’t want to hurt you. Especially since...”

“Since?”

“One day you may die,” he told me gravely.

“Well, what if I become like you!” I suggested. “I want to be a ghost!”

Danny blinked, the words still on the screen. No. Paulina wouldn’t write the story in that direction, would she? She couldn’t think that was an option?

Several paragraphs later, Danny shut the laptop with a slam.

Phantom, my love, disapproved. But still, I knew that becoming like him was the only way to preserve, to immortalize our bond. Our love.

As Juliet once did, I brought the knife to my chest. A violent death would make a strong ghost, I’d heard the experts say. I hoped that in the afterlife, the beyond, I would find Phantom again.

The pain only lasted a moment and then I knew nothing.

“Woah, Fenton?” Paulina looked from Danny to his laptop. “You good?”

He couldn’t think straight. That wasn’t—that wasn’t what she thought, right? That death was just some spur-of-the-moment, painless decision? That death was some passive, romantic gesture?

Danny died once. It fucking hurt.

“Do you think death is a joke?”

Paulina froze. She looked like she was deciding if his question was a joke or not.

“Uh, no? Death is bad, duh. Luciana kills herself because it’s a story, though. Nothing deeper than that, Fenton. It’s just fiction.”

“Fiction about a real person. And you romanticize your character killing herself so she can be a ghost with him.”

“Yeah, and? It’s fiction, Fenton. It’s not like I’m going to do that.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you?”

“No! I’m not insane! I mean, yeah, it’d be nice to be with Phantom that way, but I’m not going to risk my life. Not until a few dates, of course.”

Before he could speak again, she cut him off. “I’m kidding! Kidding! That was a joke, jeez.”

“It’s just concerning when what you write is about a real person.” He thought about his own story, with the astronaut grappling with his own inhumanity. “Sometimes fiction isn’t that detached from reality.”

“Well,” Paulina tapped on the lid to his laptop, “sometimes it is. Sometimes fiction is just a story. Maybe other stories are more rooted in truth, but mine isn’t. It doesn’t need to be. I can get Phantom to love me without me being dead, excuse you.”

“Eh, you might be pushing your luck there. I’ve heard Phantom has higher standards.”

Her eyes widened. “What did you say to me, loser! Oh, you’re one to talk!”

He sure hoped that her story was only a story.

[liang-rexy]

I drew something about my alternate universe "Wings of the Ravens".

DO NOT REPOST OR USE. 😠

Last time I mainly talked about lines with the same thickness (@liangrexy 's 6th post), and this time I used more lines with different thickness. I basically drew lines with ink painting, calligraphy and pen drawing methods. You can see the strokes pretty clearly I suppose. Some ends of the lines, which were where I stop moving the pencil, look obvious, because I was imitating how I paint and write on actual paper. Although I don't paint very often and I really need to improve my skills, I know how it works and what I probably want. The brush I mainly used was the felt-tip pen tool, and honestly the lines has something to do with how hard I pressed the pencil against the device. When painting with an actual brush, I can hang the brush and let the tip of the brush stay on the end of a line for a little bit longer so that the water and ink can leave a pattern on the paper (to draw some lines I also need to rotate my brush). And I need to write strokes as well. As for the lineart in this post, I used techniques that are usually seen in landscape paintings. For example I drew dot leaves (pine tree needles here), which are groups of lines, to represent hair and other stuff, and I used tree branches and fabric wrinkles to draw shapes and outlines. Usually I don't colour my line drawings, so it will be nice if the lines are smooth and well-organized. If I want to colour my lineart, I can draw rougher lines theoretically (I don't really enjoy colouring my lineart now! ! ! ). 😂😂😂

I did colour something. Most of the colours I used were low-saturated. The bottom right Danny is in blue while the whole scene is basically in a red tone, so in order to achieve colour harmony, the saturation of the blue colours had to drop. The same goes for the bottom left little Dark Danny. I used the oil painting brush tool (I guess), the felt-tip pen tool, the eraser tool, and some other brushes. I drew the colours with methods of oil painting, watercolour and acrylic painting, and I didn't use that many lines. I left some brushstrokes and drew different kinds of edges because of my personal preference. Last year I often used the magic wand tool to draw this kind of art but now I realize that I can draw more quickly with brushes, although the bottom right Danny with a background still took me over two hours to draw. 😂😂😂 I think the coloured ones kind of look like prints and paper cuttings.

All plants in the picture are fictional. I just wanted to test something. I designed foliage's shapes and decorated them with branches. I have observed Cinnamomum camphora, Ficus microcarpa and some other species, and drawn a few line drawings. So I remembered something about how the branches grow, but sadly I didn't draw things very accurately. I will draw real species later I guess. 😂😂😂 SunnyTP (Lofter and Twitter) said that the dark red bushes were too saturated when we talked about colours, so I changed the bushes' colours.

The bottom left Danny's sketch doesn't have blood, and when I was colouring, I realized that I wanted to draw blood and a crying child again. I released feelings and it was cool. The blood is Dark Danny's, and I did use some horror stuff elements but I drew things in a mild way since the point was not showing something actually scary. I mix the features of several materials like hair/ fur, fire, liquid (water), clouds/ mist, plant textures and some other things together to design Danny's hair. So I can make his hair look convincing and at the same time it's clear that the character is fictional. Drawing the colourful smoke were interesting, too. One side of a wisp of smoke could have some twists while the other side could be drawn smoother.

The middle left Dannys: @suekis-stuff said my AU Dannys can lick each other and I thought that would be fine to draw so I drew the boys being friendly (or maybe not really).

There will be a few coloured chapters in the AU's comic, so I need to find proper ways to colour.

And here's one more piece of art: something about the Far Frozen people.

@liang-rexy 嘅第130篇原创文章。

于2021年9月24日发布。

[cherrychan-0110]

Doodles.

[moribundanchor]

The Pelle/Dani Receipts: Post One, Introduction

Hello and welcome to Rimanez and AnonLady present: Midsommar: The Pelle/Dani Receipts. 

Are you sitting comfortably? Got your tea with special properties, rune-stitched white linen solstice clothing, and flower crown? Then let’s begin. Skål!

We are going to step you through the film more-or-less chronologically, detailing evidence supporting the Pelle/Dani ship in dialogue and behavior, cinematography, costuming, set design, and artwork featured throughout the film. This will include not just the signs that Pelle loves Dani--compelling, but low-hanging fruit when discussing this ship--but that Dani has feelings for Pelle, that their onscreen intimacy indicates a friendship, at least, that is independent of their individual relationships to Christian, and that Dani and Pelle are destined for each other. We should note that Ari Aster is meticulous, so meticulous, and it’s possible there are still things we have missed and perhaps some of our interpretations you may disagree with. That’s fine! We’ve got a lot to work with here. Additionally, while we will touch on elements relating to Dani’s destiny as May Queen, we will concentrate on those elements that pertain to her destiny with Pelle specifically.

There will be 12 individual posts, which Rimanez and I will be posting over the course of the next week or so as we get them ready, two at a time, with each post hyperlinked to the succeeding post, and then at the end, we’ll have a convenient table of hyperlinks.

All gifs and high quality images have been wrangled by @amy-amell. Rune expertise will be provided by @daydreamers.

Before we get into specific evidence, a brief word about general motifs to be aware of in Midsommar. These are not things that directly speak to the Pelle/Dani romance, but will feature in scenes we discuss and contribute to their meaning. These include:

The color yellow. Yellow generally relates to Dani’s journey, her yellow brick road. For example: the prevalence of the color in the Ardor house, particularly in pictures of Dani and the flower arrangement over the bedside picture of her; the hose that Terri uses to pipe the gas fumes into the upstairs is yellow; the path through the woods to Hårga features a thickening carpet of yellow flowers; the yonic sun gate to Hårga is yellow; Dani’s flower crown during the competition is mainly yellow; the Fire Temple, of course, is bright yellow.

The sun. While they’re not sun worshipers, per se, the sun is the ultimate symbol of Hårgan belief in the Great Cycle. It also effectively doubles as a symbol for Dani’s destiny to join the family at the end, folding in the significance of the color yellow. Also note that in Old Norse myth, the sun is female and the moon is male, as opposed to Western traditions, which makes sense since, while it’s not explicitly stated, Hårga seems to be a matriarchy, with Siv as head honcho and the May Queen ultimately given the power of life and death in the Fire Temple ceremony.

The color blue. Blue generally relates to the Hårgans. You will notice it in their special solstice clothes’ embroidery, but also in sneakier places, like the lit trees behind Christian as he approaches Dani’s apartment to, sigh, sorta hold her in the beginning.

Flowers and plants. Flowers, plants everywhere. Not just real ones, but design elements, too, everywhere from Dani’s parents’ room to Hårga. Flowers, of course, have their own subtle language -- brilliantly and comprehensively explored in this post -- not unlike the Hårgans, but you will notice their presence waxes as Dani comes home to Hårga. In addition to the individual meanings of certain plants and flowers, note their generic connotations of sex, nature, growth, and balance. As Pelle muses in the meadow, “Nature just knows instinctually how to stay in harmony.” And that’s the essence of Dani’s journey: finding the harmony and balance she lacks.

Mirrors. Mirrors indicate something going on beneath the surface. We first see Dani’s parents, apparently sleeping, reflected in their bedroom mirror as Dani’s call goes to voicemail, only to learn they were actually dead. Christian’s lies to Dani, his friends, and himself are reflected in mirrors at Dani’s apartment and his own. Dani has her terrifying glimpse of Terri in the bathroom mirror. We first meet Maja primping in a mirror, and we soon learn she’s not just primping but primping for a plot. And most importantly for this piece, we see Pelle reflected in a mirror while sketching the newly-crowned May Queen, but of course, even in that idyllic moment, he is still plotting to get Christian out of the way. Mirrors = look again.

OK, with those principal motifs set to one side, let’s look at general underlying evidence of Pelle and Dani destiny, shall we?

Names. Dani Ardor. Ardor means love or passion and it comes from the Latin word ardere: to burn. Her first name, like sister Terri’s, is a male-sounding female name, a time-honored convention for Final Girls in horror movies. It also recalls Danny from The Shining (1980), a film that is referenced visually in the soaring overhead shots of the journey to Hårga, but also in the design of Dani’s bedsheet in the Hårgan Youth House.  

It’s also worth noting that Dani is a common short form of Danielle, which literally means “God is my judge.” Taken alongside Dani’s ultimate judging of Christian, that’s...pretty suggestive. (Big thanks to @henrys-side-blog​ for pointing this out!)

Pelle is a name on its own and a pet form of Per, both Swedish forms of Peter, from the Greek petros, stone or rock, i.e. the foundation. It brings to mind the Ättestupa, the ultimate symbol of Hårgan unity, and the way that Pelle offers himself as a support for Dani, too. There’s also the association with Peter, the disciple who denied Christ. I mean...his romantic rival’s name is Christian, although Ari Aster says there are lots of ways to read Christian’s naming...which he won’t tell us. “He is thrown to the lions, so to speak.”

Lastly, this may just be a coincidence, but Dani has unique pronunciations of both Pelle and Christian that differ from the way the rest of the cast pronounces their names. (OK, I think Mark says Pell-ay once.) This is in spite of Florence Pugh’s flawless American accent, and it’s not replicated with any characters that aren’t Dani’s love interests. It’s just weird.

Dani and Pelle’s Costuming. After arriving, Pelle initially only dons a Hårgan shirt while retaining the rest of his outsider clothing. Dani dons a Hårgan apron initially before changing into full Hårgan costume for the maypole dance. Their costuming throughout the movie, as with many of their movements and behaviors, show a continuous synchrony that also charts Dani’s assimilation into the family. It’s worth noting that Pelle doesn’t kiss her until they are both in full Hårgan dress.

Runes are another big underlying source of meaning, but frankly, they are so complex and multivalent, including elements that we only really discovered while working on this post, they are going to get their own section at the end, where all of our contextual evidence will help guide interpretation.

OK, let’s crack the film open and find us a love story.

The Pelle/Dani Receipts Masterpost

[photolover82]

The Masked Singer Season 6 Costume Reveals (Predictions and Rankings) Part 2!

Hello everyone! Welcome (or welcome back) to Ana’s Masked Singer, where I, Ana, recap every single episode of The Masked Singer, including when they reveal our beloved costumes, which is what I am doing here! Actually, this is part 2 of this revealing costumes saga, so if you wanna see part 1, link is below ⬇️

So yeah, go see that post for the first 10 costumes that were revealed with my thoughts, some predictions/dream casting action, and how I rank them… and now let’s get started with the costumes and more of that action! (Preface= I still don’t know how many costumes are in total, so by the end of this post, I may have a better idea, I’m still not too sure).

* Also, in between this part and the last one, the sneak peak episode was revealed and we got to see the first clues so I will be putting them down for these costumes and updating them for the previous ones!

1. Skunk 🦨

Thoughts: I really like this costume, it is very reminiscent of flapper girls and I feel like someone older & a legendary celebrity is under that mask because it's so poised and elegant kind of like flower from season 2 or bee from season 1.

Predictions: Again, I am gonna predict that this is a legend in the music world, perhaps older & female, similar to Bee (Gladys Knight), Flower (Patti LaBelle), and Mouse (Dionne Warwick). So, for dream casting, I'm going to go between Liza Minelli, Tina Turner, or Diana Ross.

First Clue: Elvis Presley (maybe someone related to him or who knew him or sang one of his songs famously or is also from Memphis)

Ranking: 8/10

2. Caterpillar 🐛

Thoughts: It’s a super cute costume, reminds me a bit of the llama, if it were cuter tbh. The colors are super cute, very nostalgic to like toys from the 90s or early 2000s which I really like. It’s adorable, it has braces and everything, I really like it. Some people say there are 2 people under there, but I don’t think so.

Predictions: I think this might be a male actor, singer, or Broadway performer…. From the first clue provided, I am gonna dream cast a guess here and it would be Todrick Hall (this is not an official guess just a dream cast one… I haven’t heard it sing just yet)

First Clue: Taylor Swift knows him!

Ranking: 8/10

3. Jester 🃏

Thoughts: This one is probably my least favorite costume of the bunch. I get what they were going with it, like a Joker from a deck of cards, but it is really weird and creepy looking. It also looks like the belly is just a pillow under there, it doesn’t look super thought out, similar to Raccoon from last season. I’m also not a big of fan of like horror movies so it just doesn’t speak to me honestly.

Predictions: I think this might be a male actor or based on the clue, my mind went to someone from the Bachelor. Also, half of me thinks it might be an action star like Danny Trejo last season. Dream cast I would say I would like to see Bruce Willis (since his daughter was on the first season), Arnold Schwarzenegger, or Danny DeVito.

First Clue: A bouquet of roses 🌹

Ranking: 2/10

4. Pepper 🌶

Thoughts: This one reminds me of the Jalapeño from Quien es la Mascara (which is the Mexican version of The Masked Singer) but it’s a female version of it instead, which I kinda like. It is a little haphazard because the head doesn’t go super well with the dress but maybe it’s because I cannot stop thinking about the Mexican male version. Nevertheless, it’s a cool costume, super spicy (ugh now I am doing the pun thing… I promise I’m done)

Predictions: Idk about this one since there weren’t any first clues for her… but I am gonna go off the cuff again and say maybe a YouTuber or another type of influencer, like dream cast wise a Liza Koshy, Maddie Ziegler, or Rosanna Pansino.

Ranking: 9/10

5. Pufferfish 🐡

Thoughts: Woah… I legit just saw this one in the most recent preview for the show. It looks really funny with the lips, like puffer fish, but the lips puff out, I see what you are doing there Masked Singer. I like it though, it is very cartoon like but I think that’s the look they were going for. The arms are a bit weird tho, I can’t tell tho because it spun around and for a split second we saw the costume (this was a screenshot I took of that split second lol).

Predictions: I think this one might be female, for some reason a younger person comes to mind, similar to like Jellyfish or Kitty from previous seasons, someone younger whether it be an influencer, athlete, or artist of some kind (actor or musician or dancer) idk…. they didn’t give us any clues about this costume, but from this photo with them taking a lot of photos of her makes me think influencer or model specifically so that’s where I am gonna go when dream casting. So, dream cast wise, I am gonna go between Gigi Hadid, Bella Hadid, or Kendall Jenner.

Ranking: 8/10

6. Mother Nature 🌬

Thoughts: Ooh, this one is super cool, they just revealed this one too after the preview. I like it a lot, it’s very realistic looking but also elegant at the same time. Even though the face is a tiny bit scary, the rest looks really cool and I like the idea of a Mother Nature costume.

Predictions: I am gonna go singer for this one, female is my guess. So, dream casting over here, I would like to see Alesia Cara, Jennifer Hudson, or maybe one of the girls from Little Mix/one of the former members of Fifth Harmony.

Ranking: 9/10

So, that's it! The total for contestants this season is 16 costumes! So, yeah, the premiere is on September 22 and 23 which is about 8 days away, so I will see you guys there! Comment below your favorite (and maybe even least favorite) costume and what you are most excited for this upcoming season! Bye guys, see you in a bit over a week.

[sophfandoms53]

What are some similar characteristics that skye, chase and danny have with webby and dewey

Skye

Impulsive (Dewey)

Thrill for something new (Dewey)

Loves bows (Webby)

Innocence (Webby)

Full of secrets (Dewey)

Lack of fear (Dewey)

Stubborn (Dewey)

Not too keen on romance, at first (Dewey)

Oblivious to her own feelings (Webby)

Solving dark and emotional mysteries about her dad (Dewey)

Chase

Middle Child Syndrome (Dewey, but not as bad)

Sweet and sensitive (Dewey)

A little too trusting (Webby)

Building boards (Webby)

Conspiracy theories (Dewey)

Takes care of his hair (Dewey)

Has a natural talent of making friends (Webby)

Understands Ancient Aramaic and other historical languages (Webby)

Books (Webby)

Horror movies and all the things they teach him (Webby)

Danny

Hair zooshing (Dewey)

Naive (Webby)

Moonwalking (Dewey)

Talk shows (Dewey)

Flips and kicks (Webby)

Danger (Both, but mainly Dewey)

Sugar and candy (Webby)

Looks on the brightside (Webby)

Sneaking around (Webby)

Harmonies (Both)

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Crucible (part ten; finale)

[UK Tour; Carrie AU]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Word count: 8463

TW: Blood and gore, mentions of rape

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

-Don’t Waste The Moon-

  “When did you first realize something was wrong?”

  “When I heard the sirens.”

Katherine remembered all her fears coming true when dozens of police sirens, fire truck sirens, ambulance sirens began to blare so loudly in unison that she could hear them from her neighborhood. She had ripped open her front door, Isabel hovering right behind her, and stared in horror at the golden-orange light illuminating the night sky from miles away.

  “And then the fire.”

  “And when was the last time you saw Joan Seymour alive?” Mulaney asked.

Katherine looked at him skeptically. “At school on Friday. Before the prom.”

  “You told Sheriff Doyle you saw her after the prom. Right before the Shell blew up.”

Katherine bit her tongue, remembering that interaction. She had just sped down in her car to get to the mayhem, but stopped at a gas station that was swarmed with police cars. When she launched herself out of the driver’s seat, she heard one of the officers saying into his radio how a fuel tank had just “went up” and the “gymnasium was gone.” She asked him what happened at the gym, and he told her to go home, that there was nothing she could do. But she didn’t listen, instead swerving around the gas pumps to get a better look at the school, which was completely engulfed in flames on one side.

That was when she heard the explosions. And saw the bursting pillars of fire in the distance. And noticed that the telephone poles lining the road were starting to rattle and rock. 

And Joan Seymour emerged from the smoke and fog rolling down the street.

  “It was dark,” Katherine said. “I saw a girl in a dress.”

  “You said you saw Joan Seymour.”

  “I was wrong.”

But she wasn’t. She knew it was Joan.

Joan, covered in a slick of blood.

Katherine had tried to call out to her, but Joan didn’t answer or even look in her direction. She just kept walking, arms flat at her side, fingers splayed open, eyes wide and shiny and blank.

The Shell gas station blew shortly after. Something had wormed into the gasoline deposit and ignited the entire thing, sending the pumps into a blaze. Katherine’s ears didn’t stop ringing for a few hours.

  “What’s it matter, anyway?” Katherine said. “Joan is dead.”

I would know...

------

The sound of frantic knocking on Anne’s front door and the sound of her cousin shouting interrupted the heated makeout session between Anne and Cathy. She had been trying to ease her girlfriend up, who has looked sick ever since the blood dump, and it was just starting to work when the panicked banging and yelling started. Rolling her eyes and groaning in annoyance, Anne peeled herself from the couch (nobody was home, so they had the house to themselves, making this interruption even more irritating) and walked to the front door.

  “What?” She growled at Thomas. “What’s your problem?”

  “Oxford.” Thomas gasped out, clearly out of breath. His eyes were round holes of horror, like he had witnessed something awful. “It’s burning up, Anne.”

On the couch, Cathy shot up from her reclined position instantly and began to put her shirt back on, much to Anne’s dismay. 

  “Whole damn city,” Thomas went on, breathless. “The school’s gutted.”

  “What?” Cathy stood up and hurried over beside Anne. Regret, guilt, and terror was twisted all over her face.

  “They said people at the prom were trapped.” Thomas continued. He wore the same expression as Cathy, realizing that this alleged destruction was partially because of him. “Only, like, eleven of them got out. The rest were cooked.”

Anne and Cathy exchange looks. Cathy looked ill all over again. She began to pace back and forth with her hands to her head, fingers knotted in her hair.

  “Anne,” Thomas whispered, shuddering. “The ones that got out told the police something about a prank.”

Anne pressed her tongue against the inside of her lip, feeling embers of anger flicker through her. She shook them off for now and stepped closer to Thomas, noting the way he flinched away from her slightly. She placed her hands on his shoulders.

  “Go home.” She said. “Don’t talk to anybody.”

Thomas took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. He hurried down the driveway and back to his car. Anne closed the front door after he drove off into the night.

  “And what are we going to do?” Cathy asked. She sounded like she was close to tears.

Anne turned to her with a thin smile.

  “We’re going to go into town and watch the fires.”

------

The street is thick with mangled cars and billowing smoke. All around, the cries of the dying form brief, unsettling harmonies with the cracks and booms of exploding pavement.

A red double-decker bus tilted over at an alarming angle, tires punctured, emergency exit door hanging open. Its driver laid slumped across the steering wheel, sightless eyes staring ahead to a junction he would never reach. The limbs of luckless late night passengers trail from broken windows.

A water main has ruptured. Its flow was tainted with blood; dark swirls in a new river that headed for the oblivion of black drains. Soon those drains will fill beyond capacity and the street will begin to flood with the remnants of the dead and broken.

It’s the most magical place on earth, and everyone seemed to have it all there—the drugs, the drama, the unabashed violence, and the harm it’s done to Joan and everyone she’s ever loved.

This old, mysterious city lured her in a long time ago and numbed her with a fix for her every desire. Against this landscape, she’s carved out a prosperous career as the resident freak. Through the sheer force of her will, the city had molded and bent before her very eyes, covering everyone’s every potential insecurity with false confidence and gaudy excess.

In return, the city has jaded her, stripped her of her humanity, and warped her into an unrecognizable shell of noir-esque dysphoria, washed up on the filthy banks of the city’s canals. It has brought her to this very moment, shambling down one of the streets like a zombie, coated in coagulate blood and guts, leading a path of utter destruction in her wake.

The air around her was crackling. Every step she took broke the asphalt beneath her feet. Pillars of fire roared out of the ground behind her, spewing chunks of fiery rocks into the sky, which then landed with tremendous explosive force.

She was wrecking this city the way it wrecked her.

And every sinner who ever hurt her or wronged her was going to perish in her act of purification.

Rapture was nigh, and Judgement was upon them all.

Joan slowly continued down the road. The earth began to shake without stopping, a continuous tremor that jarred her teeth in her head and made her feel as though the ground was about to drop out beneath her. Another fountain of fire shot out into open air and the asphalt melted into magma, slithering slowly down the pavement alongside Joan like a benevolent bituminous companion.

A big black truck rattle up a side street, swaying into the other lane and jerking back over and over again. Music was blasting from the open windows and the stench of alcohol and weed could be smelled even from where Joan stopped. She watched the truck screech to a halt and the passengers peer over at her curiously, slurring among themselves. Then, they’re getting out and walking over.

  “Damn girl,” One said, noticing the blood all over her. He stumbled when he walked and kept mixing his words together. A brown bottle was clutched tightly in his right hand. “You look FUCKED!”

His three friends, all red-faced and either drunk or high out of their minds like he was, roar into loud peals of laughter. Joan stared at them blankly.

  “What’s with all the pyrotechnics?” Another asked. “You a performer?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” A third nodded. “What kind of show is this? ‘S not even close to Halloween!”

  “I’d still go down on ‘er, though,” Piped up the fourth with a lusty smile.

(dogs)

Joan continued to stare at them absently as comments about the blood all over her and the fire burning around them were bounced off each of the men. What they don’t realize is that she’s sending her powers through the ground and into their bodies, and by the time they do realize, it’s too late.

A shrieking fit of screaming broke out when the fourth man’s head suddenly popped like a balloon, spewing shards of blood and bone and brains all over the place. One of them got a chunk of stringy tissue caught in their mouth and he immediately doubled over, gagging and vomiting. The other two continued to howl like babies.

  “WHAT THE FUCK?!” The first yelped. 

  “WH-WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?!” The second added.

  “HE’S FUCKING DEAD, MAN!!” The first cried.

The second whirled around to Joan, pointing and blubbering.

  “You-you fucking did this, didn’t you?” He stammered.

  “How?!” The first said.

  “I-I don’t know! But she killed Danny!”

The second man bent down and grabbed a long, thin shard of glass that had been broken when all the bottles of alcohol had been dropped. He swung it at Joan, and she was much too dazed to properly react.

  “What...what the fuck…” He backed away from Joan, who had the shard now pierced through her cheeks. It entered through the right and came out from the left, wedged in place by her flesh. When she opened her mouth, the brown glass could be seen glistening in the firelight. Blood dripped over her bottom lip.

  “What...what are you…?” The first whispered.

Joan flicked her tongue and felt the piece of glass in her mouth. It was cold and slick, but the blood it drew was hot and sticky. She didn’t like the taste.

She jerked her head and the man who had stabbed her went flying. His spine snapped loudly against a telephone pole, his body folding like a bent card upon impact. He slumped to the ground, lifeless.

  “Oh fuck! Oh god!” The first man panicked. He grabbed his other friend’s arms, who had gone into shock. “Fuck! Jack, let's go!! We need to go!”

They didn’t get very far.

The ground below the men exploded into towering flames, incinerating them. The smell of burned flesh filled the air. Charred body fell to the asphalt, blackened and indescribable.

Joan moved on in silence.

She passed the plaza where she had been harassed by those college kids just a few days ago. She remembered the way nobody had done anything to help her and ignited the pavilion into a golden-orange blaze.

The fish and chips shop went next. She stomped her foot and a crack shot across the earth. A giant chunk of rock ripped through the building, turning it to rubble. She turned to the hair salon next.

No matter what time of day she went there, "Cut and Colour" was full of women who talked too loudly. The exact composition of the group changes from hour to hour but there were always familiar faces, and their tone is consistent: they know better.

At first, by day, she thought the locals were waiting for a haircut. Then, she noticed that it never seemed to be their turn. Finally, she realized that what they liked was a warm room to hang out in, with free magazines and a captive audience. It was a sort of day care center for bigots which also offered haircuts.

Vidal Sassoon supposedly said that with a small pair of scissors, he could make a woman cry for a week. Imagine what Joan could do with telekinetic powers.

She decided to blow the salon right out of the ground. It went flying through the air like a burning asteroid and burst apart when it hit the ground. When it was just mere pieces across the fiery pavilion, Joan was left a lot less satisfied than she thought she would be. She moved on slowly.

As she walked, she began to think. So many years wasted to torment. So many years she could have exacted her revenge and been treated like a normal person. So many years thinking she was just a useless, scarred waste of skin, as her peers in school had spent six years of her life reminding her.

She still heard them all the time, their voices in her head telling her how wretched, hideous, and scary she was. She tried to drown them out by concentrating on school work and prayers, but the smallest thing could bring them crashing back in. Just the thought of the shower incident—how familiar it all felt—brought on a fresh wave of memories of poisoned words and scornful laughter.

It all started when she was ten. Year 6. She had brought a Bible to school and prayed with it in the cafeteria during lunch. Everyone thought it was hilarious and she couldn’t live it down for the rest of Primary School.

And then she was eleven and in Year 7. Secondary School. And up until that school year, she was mainly ignored by her peers or picked on simply because of the whole Bible incident. But then gym class and changing in front of other girls became a thing, and they all saw the way her ribs would weirdly press out against her skin and how her stomach was sunken too far in for her skinny hips. That was the day she learned what the word “emaciated” meant. It also kickstarted hell on earth for the next five years of her life.

The rest of Year 7 was spent with her being bombarded by food and the constant question of if she was hungry. She even started being called anorexic when a few of the kids figured out what that meant and would be asked if she needed someone to jam their fingers down their throat whenever she would go to the bathroom. She also distinctly remembered a boy giving her a tub of rotten meat with maggots in it one day.

Year 8 rolled around. Mama said that the bullying would go away after the break, but when Joan turned up to the school when she was twelve, she was only met with familiar evil faces and fresh bouts of teasing. The anorexic jokes became more extreme, but those were probably the least awful things she was met with because her peers grew enough balls over the break to start getting physical with her. That school year quickly became the year of being tripped, shoved, and slammed against walls. She had even been pushed down one of the staircases when she was going to get a drink of water and broke her arm. She still remembered how horrified and sick the culprits had looked when they heard the awful crunching and cracking sounds of her bones breaking, like they hadn't meant to do that much damage. Instead of helping her, they left her in the stairwell, where she cried on the floor for an hour, immobilized by pain, until class ended and she was found by dozens of students. She finished that year with a cast that got slurs written on it when bullies would pin her down and forcefully write whatever they wanted.

When she turned thirteen, she begged her mother to take her out of school before Year 9 started, but Mama refused and Joan had to live through another year of ridicule and harassment. That was the first time she got her head dunked in a toilet and fingers smashed in a door.

Year 10 was the worst, in her opinion. High school. On the second day, her so-called friends abandoned her and scribbled on her homeroom desk statements such as “Go home”, “Drop dead”, and “Freak”. All her peers seemed to spread the news of her weirdness like wildfire to the higher grades, turning people she didn’t even know against her. Older kids and kids her age alike would beat her and threaten her with knives they would sneak to school just so they could snatch whatever snack she bought from the cafeteria and turn anyone she may have befriended against her. Students in her class would beg the teacher to let them be with someone else if they were partnered with her, always making sure to do so in earshot of her. They would laugh at her during presentations and throw things at her and make fun of her when she messed up. They mimicked her stutter and nervous ticks, held her down and dripped hot glue on her skin, put staples in her ears and fingernails, and poised sharp objects too close to her eyeballs just to hear how loud she would squeal. And the entire time, no adults did anything. They all turned a blind eye to her treatment, even when she had the burns and scars and bruises to prove what had been happening to her.

She soon realized that it wasn’t that they didn’t see what was going on.

They just didn’t care.

Nobody ever cared.

She turned fifteen at a summer camp she hadn’t been allowed to go to, but sneaked off to, anyway. The break had been lonely and dreary- Joan wanted friends so badly that she dared to go against her mother’s wishes and ran off to the camp to try and be with kids that would mock her.

But, like everyone else in her life, they did.

When she cheerily told them that it was her birthday, they called her a witch instead of singing to her. A large group of the cruelest campers, some being seventeen, some being only nine, dragged her out to the nearby river and repeatedly dunked her in the water until she began to drown, all while they chanted “Drown the witch! Drown the witch! Drown the witch!” over and over and over again. It still echoed in her ears to this day.

Her mother punished her severely when she got home and didn’t even care when Joan cried to her about what the kids did to her, saying that she deserved it.

Joan became deathly afraid of water after that.

And then, there was Year 11. The cycle of abuse and torture and torment continued. The shower incident happened. Seemingly all was lost.

But not anymore.

Never again will she cower beneath them. Any of them.

She was an angel of wrath, and she would spread her fury unto them all.

A black G-Wagen stopped at a red light up ahead. Even from the distance between the two, Joan could tell who the driver was.

The car roared forward, not waiting for the overhead light to turn green. Joan lumbered slowly, while the car sped at her full speed. She could see Anne Boleyn, now, her face twisted with rage. Next to her, a dark skinned woman Joan didn’t know was yelling something in a panic. Joan twitched her head to the side and the dark skinned woman’s neck snapped to the side. Anne screamed and lost control of the car in shock. Joan gave it a gentle nudge and sent it tumbling across the street in a cacophony of cracks and crashes and shatters. 

Joan stopped and watched the car roll wildly before finally coming to a halt in front of her. Every side of the vehicle was crumpled and crushed, metal scraped and folded, black paint streaked with silver slashes. One of the doors was dangling open and barely hanging onto its hinges. Anne was sprawled out beside it after she had been thrown from the open door in the crash. She jarred awake from a momentary dip of unconsciousness and gasped sharply, looking around wildly. 

  “Cathy?” She croaked. She looked up and saw the dark-skinned woman slumped in the passenger’s seat. She was very, very dead, if not by her neck wrung backwards, then by the gaping red horror opened up in her chest cavity. “CATHY!!”

Anne tried to get up and run to the woman, Cathy, to try and rouse her despite her injuries, to beg her to wake up, but couldn’t.

Because she was missing the entire lower half of her body.

Anne choked on a scream when she looked back and realized her legs were no longer attached to the rest of her. She may have vomited if her stomach hadn’t been ruptured; Joan could see the contents, mainly alcohol-mixed bile and chunks of a hamburger she had for lunch earlier that day, drooling out from a slice in the lining that was opened up like a ziplock bag.

During the crash, when Anne had been thrown out of the car, the open door rolled over her midsection, cleanly cutting her in half. Dark red intestines are stretched across the pavement like dying snakes. Stringy tendons dangled from the curve of her back, frayed and numb, no longer connected to any bone. Her spine was sticking out into the open air, bright white against all the blood. Organs poured out of the maw of the wound, shimmering in sheens of pink and scarlet. The shirt she’s wearing may have originally been dark green, but it was currently swamped by a flood of glistening gore. Her legs were a few feet away, bleeding heavily.

Joan sidled around the girl slowly and stepped into her field of vision. Anne looked up at her, gasping and spitting up blood. Tears were streaming from her eyes.

  “Y-you--” She choked on her words.

Joan tilted her head like a confused puppy. Anne continued to sputter and wheeze below her.

  “J-Joan--”

Anne barely managed to move her arms and grappled onto Joan’s right ankle. With whatever strength and feeling she had left in her body, she pulled herself forward to Joan. Her intestines slither and slide across the ground, leaving streaks of blood. She coughed up another bout of red.

  “Joan--”

What did she want? Mercy?

Joan reached up and slowly pulled out the glass that was still stuck in her cheeks, then stuck it underneath Anne’s jaw. Anne gasped and spewed blood all over her legs.

  “Y-you bi--” The glass pierced her tongue. She wasn’t going to be able to talk very well. Or do anything anymore, really. “Y-you--f-fucking--mon--monst--er.”

Joan stood up straight, turned around, and continued her walk down the street. Anne tried to follow her, crawl after her, but her head fell heavily and the shard of glass was jammed up further into her head when her chin connected with the ground. She frothed and foamed at the mouth helplessly, struggling to stay conscious.

Joan wondered how long she lived. She wondered if it was quick or if she suffered. 

She hoped she did.

Joan’s jaw began to ache. She could now feel the thin cuts in her cheek and felt like she was gulping down tiny pieces of glass whenever she swallowed. Awareness was slowly returning to her the closer and closer she got to her house.

She wanted her Mama.

Withered brown leaves rustled in the ghostly wind. The night was almost silent, if not for the wailing gust, the crackle of fronds, and the wailing of sirens in the distance. Bloodied shoes trampled over the dead blades of branches, the crunching of their filaments accompanying Joan’s every step. A frigid breeze cut across her face like a frozen knife, drawing red to her sallow cheeks. She shivered. The blood coating her body had gone cold.

She really, really needed her Mama right now.

Joan hobbled into her neighborhood, passing house after house, so much nicer than her own, until she finally came to the Seymour bungalow. Something inside of her fluttered and she staggered towards it as fast as her weak legs could take her, hands doing desperate grabby hands.

  “Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy--” She sobbed over and over again.

She stumbled through the front door, nearly tripping on the rug, and careened into the den. Everything was as she left it- completely trashed. Crosses were hanging at angles, the couch was tipped over, chairs and tables and lamps were strewn all across the floor. The only thing that was still in its original place was Mama’s velvet throne chair in the living room.

But where was Mama?

  “Mama?” Joan called out. “M-Mama?”

No answer.

Joan stepped forward, and all the furniture and items on the floor pulled away from her, as if they were offended by her dirty presence.

  “Mama? Mommy?”

Nothing.

Where was her Mama?

She remembered that Mama had left the house earlier that evening. What if she never came back?

Tears filled Joan’s eyes. She couldn’t be alone. Not after what happened tonight. She desperately needed her Mama.

She walked up the stairs, falling to her hands and knees halfway up and continuing the climb like a blood soaked animal that barely managed to get away from a hunter. She looked around the upstairs part of the house, crawling to Mama’s bedroom and peeking inside, leaving streaks of red across the hardwood floor. Mama’s bed was made, but she thought the blankets looked a little wrinkled on one side.

  “Mama?” She called out again, a brief expression of hope flitting across her face.

No reply.

Joan’s bottom lip began to quiver. The movement hurt her cheeks even more and she whimpered sharply. The smell of rancid blood wafting around her was starting to make her stomach churn.

  “Mommy?” She tried one more time, and when she got no answer, she retrieved fresh clothes from her bedroom and then locked herself in the bathroom.

An unseen force cranked the hot water nozzle on the faucet, filling the tub up with steaming water. Joan could barely lift her own arms, so she used her telekinesis to worm the dress off of her for her. It was a clumsy process, but she eventually was free from the bloody fabric. When she looked down, she saw that the blood had soaked all the way into her bra and underwear and even her pale skin, streaking down her chest and belly and arms and legs in dark red stripes. She quickly got into the bathtub.

The water was way too hot, but she didn’t bother turning the cold nozzle, even though she easily could with just a simple flex of her mind. She melted into the heat, sucking in a sharp breath and easing her lungs. When she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, she saw that the water around her was tainted a light red color. She splashed her face, thinking maybe she was just seeing things, but then she looked down at her hands and saw how stained they were.

She had been hoping it wasn’t real, that it was just all in her imagination, but something about seeing the blood now wet on her hands cemented it all as true.

It was true.

It all really happened.

Joan’s breathing began to pick up to the point where her lungs begged for air. She turned her hands over, staring at the palms and then the backs. Blood trailed lazily over the scars.

  “No--” She gasped. She splashed her face again, wetting the blood and making it run down into her eyes and over her cheeks. “No, no, no--”

She splashed and splashed and splashed, then began to scrub and scrub and scrub when she realized just how stained her shoulders and chest were. Her hands smeared the blood into awful shapes, so she hooked her nails into claws and began scratching viciously until even more blood was drawn out. The entire process was messy and clumsy and had her weeping out loud like a lamb that had lost its mother. 

Where was her mother?

Joan dunked her head under the water and held it there, clawing her nails through her hair. The locks were stiff and dried with blood and released clouds of red through the bathtub when scoured so roughly. The natural platinum blonde color doesn’t come back easily and she nearly drowned herself trying to get all the blood out.

(o Mama Mama where are you i need you o Mama please come back)

Joan hugged her knees and rocked back and forth, sloshing the red water around her. Her skin stung from the heat, but she didn’t care. She found that she wasn’t caring about a lot of things at that moment.

The room was dark, blue shadows leaked out of the cracks between the tiles. Maybe it’s mold, maybe it’s just a fancy design; they’ve been there for as long as Joan can remember. Ghostly whispers flooded her ears. She slid down the smooth, spattered ceramic and held her breath until her eardrums were about to burst; this is a coping mechanism of sorts, she thinks. She might fall asleep underwater one day, peaceful and careless.

(Mama)

A thick, soapy wave splashes out of the tub as Joan sat up, gasping and hyperventilating, slapping her palms against the surface. She’s angry all of a sudden, she barely suppressed her scream as the shelf with all the shampoos and shower gels comes crashing down, bottles scatter across the floor.

At first, Joan thought that the devil was finally coming for her soul. Then, she thinks that it was an earthquake; the water was sloshing around the bathtub like a reddened poison. But, when Joan wiped the foam off her face, she realized that she’s the only one that’s quivering.

There’s a vibration racking through her body, muscles tensed, and wet hair full of electricity as if she’s about to cause a short circuit.

The shelf is lying on the tiles now, broken in two.

Joan whimpered. She leaned her temple against the edge of the bathtub and wept. Glittering silver tears dripped silently into bloody water. The smell of blood began to permeate through the air again. Joan dragged her body out of the water eventually, shivering and sniffling.

The house was eerily silent when Joan hobbled out of the bathroom. She’s dressed in a plain white nightgown and her hair is dripping freely all over her back and chest. It’s still slightly tinted red.

  “Mama?” She whispered.

Like all the other times, there was no reply.

(please please please)

  “Mama?” Louder this time.

(please please please please)

A creak in the floorboards.

Joan whirled around.

And there was her Mama, like an angel in the hallway, illuminated by a flickering red candle. Her hair was neatly combed and she was dressed in a dark blue dress she had sewn herself. Her golden brown eyes were warm and tender, sucking Joan in with their soft gaze, and Joan couldn’t help but burst into a fresh set of tears.

  “Mama?” Joan squeaked weakly.

  “Oh, my girl,” Mama murmured. “My sweet, sweet girl…”

  “Mama, you were right!” Joan sobbed. “They all laughed at me!” The tears were falling faster, now. She could hear the laughter echoing loudly in her ears.

  “Oh my poor angel…”

Joan nearly choked on a sob, feeling her throat constrict. She raised her arms, doing desperate grabby hands at her mother.

  “Mama, please hold me,” She begged.

Mama obliged, sweeping her up into her warm, strong arms that made Joan melt upon contact. Her weak little body crumpled, knees buckling together, and Mama carefully lowered her to the ground, not letting go for even a second.

  “Shh, shh,” Mama murmured, stroking her wet hair. “It’s okay… I’m here. I’m here now, your Mama’s here.”

  “They all laughed at me,” Joan wept. She smothered her face in her mother’s chest, clinging like a drowning woman to the back of her dress. She couldn’t handle being let go right now. She just wanted to curl up in Mama’s arms and stay there forever.

  “I knew they’d hurt my little girl.” Mama growled lowly.

Joan replied with a whimpering sob. She didn’t have enough air to properly answer, so she just continued to cry and cry, shaking like a newborn baby goat in her Mama’s embrace. 

Several minutes of silence, aside from Joan’s crying, passed. Joan realized that she couldn’t hear any sirens anymore. Maybe things had finally calmed down and would be okay again, like they were before the blood.

  “I should have killed myself when he put it in me.”

Joan tensed up like she had just been struck by lightning.

  “We slept in the same bed,” Mama went on, “Lived together sinlessly.” Her strong hand was rubbing firmly against Joan’s upper back, near the nape of her neck. “And then, one night, I saw him look at me in that way and we got down on our knees and prayed for strength. And that’s when he took me.”

  “No, Mama--” Joan whimpered. She didn’t want to hear this. Not right now. Not after everything that has happened. “No, Mama, I don’t want to hear it--”

Mama leaned Joan back and stroked her tear stained face. “And I liked it.”

  “No, Mama, no--” Joan shook her head, fresh tears pouring out of her eyes.

  “I should have given you to God when you were born.” Mama said. “But I was weak. And I loved you so much.”

A smile twitched on Joan’s lip, weak and thin and shaky, but real. Those words sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach.

  “And I said, ‘God, let me keep my little girl. Let me keep her.’” Mama said, and Joan’s smile became a little bit bigger. Maybe things would be okay after all. “Let us pray.”

Joan nodded, almost eagerly. “Yes, Mama,” She said, craving Mama’s soothing touch and silky words. “Yes, we’ll pray.” She nuzzled in closer to Mama’s warmth, breathing out a soft sigh of relief.

  “I’ll be the preacher,” Mama said, “you be my congregation.”

Joan nodded again, smiling giddily. She closed her eyes and murmured along with Mama when she began to recite the prayer.

  “Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy Name, 

thy kingdom come, 

thy will be done, 

on earth as it is in heaven.”

Mama’s voice was like honey, slithering warmly from her lips. Joan was drawn to it no matter what happened, no matter what Mama did. Because Mama, despite her actions and flaws, loved her.

  “Give us this day our daily bread. 

And forgive us our trespasses, 

as we forgive those

who trespass against us.”

And wanted her.

  “And lead us not into temptation, 

but deliver us from evil.”

And needed her.

  “For thine is the kingdom, 

and the power, and the glory, 

for ever and ever. Amen.”

And--

And there was a sharp pain.

Joan’s eyes popped open wide and she gasped as all the air rushed out from her lungs. There was a sharp pain in her back, below her left shoulder, and then a rush of warmth across her nightgown. She looked up with a whimper and saw that Mama’s eyes were solemnly cold and crackling, like embers flickering in a winter wind. Her arm was reached around Joan, holding something in place, and Joan realized she had a knife in her back.

  “Mama--” She croaked, blood dripping from her lips.

Something around the two of them crackled, like the air was charged with electricity, and they burst apart from each other like the similar charges of a magnet. Mama went flying down into the hallway, while Joan ricocheted off the staircase railing and then tumbled down the stairs, hitting the back wall with a magnificent splattering of blood before teetering over the remaining few steps. There on the ground, gasping for breath, she lay sprawled like a broken doll. Her jaw ached fiercely with every sharp intake of oxygen she took, while her back felt as though a bruise had just been slashed open and now all her tendons were being pulled out one by one. She whimpered at the pain, barely able to move her arm without it feeling like it was being torn off.

The staircase creaked; Mama was there, holding the stained butcher knife and primed for blood.

Joan scrambled backwards. Her body crumpled almost instantly, crushed by the weight of her wound, so she had to drag herself with one arm across the floor. Mama advanced on her slowly, menacingly, like a lioness stalking its injured prey.

  “N-no, Mama--” Joan begged. “Mama, no, please-- Please no--”

  “This isn’t your fault, Joan,” Mama said. “It’s mine.”  

  “Mommy, this isn’t right--”

  “Don’t you know that the Devil never dies?” Mama went on. Her eyes were shining and she was drooling slightly, lost in her daze. “So you have to keep killing them. Over--”

  “No, no--”

  “--and over again.”

Mama stabbed the knife down.

Joan rolled away just in time. A lock of hair got caught under the blade and tore free with a burning sensation across her scalp, but she could hardly care. She rolled over onto her stomach and tried to get up, and then crawl away when she wasn’t able to stand. Mama pursued her, grabbing her by the leg and slashing the back of her ankle. Joan screamed in pain and jerked onto her back. The stab wound throbbed, but she barely felt it through the rush of adrenaline spurting through her. She barely jerked her head in time before she was stabbed.

Her fingers, so spindly and bony, wrapped around Mama’s on the hilt of the knife and she wrestled with her over the weapon. Mama was bigger and much stronger, easily ripping her hands free from her grasp. She cut Joan across the arm when she shielded her face from another blow.

  “Stop it, Mama!” Joan cried. She wiggled beneath her mother and managed to get one leg free. She kicked Mama in the stomach and took the chance to scamper away when Mama recoiled backwards in pain.

  “YOU DEVIL!!” Mama roared.

Joan heard the uneven shuffling of footsteps behind her, then felt the sharp pain of the tip of the knife pricking her in the leg. She kicked again, only to have the blade streak across her exposed belly and make her howl in agony.

  “No, Mama!” Joan shrieked. Her head was starting to become fuzzy. She felt so tired all of a sudden. “No, no!!”

Mama practically pounced on her, looking hungry. Joan struggled wildly beneath her like a captured animal. Her little body was slippery with blood and Mama had a hard time getting a good grip, so she gave up after a moment and cleaved the knife down on Joan’s head with a bellowing battlecry.

But that was the one blow Joan didn’t feel.

Joan looked up, gasping for air, and saw that the knife was hovering mere inches away from her face. Mama’s hand was frozen, ensnared by a telekinetic force much stronger than she was. Joan flexed her mind and suspended Mama in the air, then called upon every possible sharp object in the house- knives and needles, shattered glass and broken chair legs, box cutters and scissors. They all hovered around Mama, poised and waiting.

  “Joan…” Mama whispered in horror, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” Joan whimpered.

  “JOAN!!!”

Joan wailed and sent the object upon her mother.

The butcher’s knife pierced Mama’s heart and sent her flying backwards against the wall. A pair of wickedly sharp meat shears pinned one hand against the plaster, while a seam ripper wedged itself in the flesh of the other. Dozens of knives stabbed themselves into her stomach. A boxcutter smashed into her shoulder and a screwdriver embedded itself deep into her waist. She took a shard of glass to the thigh and a ruler to the torso and a ice pick to the collarbone, and Joan commanded them all to do so, watching with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Mama, stretched out like Jesus on the wall, stopped moaning and groaning after a moment and her head slumped forward. Joan blinked her glassy eyes and tilted her head like a confused puppy.

  “M-Mama?” She squeaked.

Like when she first got into the house that night, there was no answer.

Joan weakly crawled across the blood-spattered floor and shook one of Mama’s legs.

  “Mommy?”

No answer.

Joan’s bottom lip began to quiver. She shook Mama’s leg harder, then wrapped her arms around it, looking up at Mama with big, shining eyes.

  “Mommy, please answer me,” She begged.

Her Mommy did not.

Joan stood up and nearly blacked out from blood loss. Her head spun and she tottered on her feet, feeling sharp starbursts of pain exploding from the slash on her ankle, then steadied herself. She grasped onto Mama’s body and began to pull out all the sharp objects, whimpering out apologies as she did so.

First the ruler in her torso, then the meat shears, then the seap ripper. Mama’s body, no longer held up by anything, came crashing down and nearly crushed Joan. She clumsily fell to the ground, stumbling with Mama slumped in her arms.

  “Mama?” She nudged Mama, who lay sprawled in her lap, motionless and bleeding. “I’m sorry, Mama… I’m so, so sorry…”

She felt selfish for crying. No closure comes, only more misery. An unfathomable weight on her chest pressed down on her lungs until they nearly burst. The dam that long protected her heart ruptured at the pressure and a whimper bubbled to her lips, morphing into a full-throated outcry of grief.

A cry for the life she’ll never get back. For her Mama in her arms. For all the lives she ruined. For the fates of the people at the prom.

Only the unfeeling moon slipping in through a window attended her outburst. She knew that it wouldn't lament her in her time of sorrow, only spotlighting her lost soul under a cold and tyrannical white light. 

------

Katherine entered a bloody scene that would haunt her forever.

She found her in the ruined living room, under a beam of silver moonlight, like heaven itself was spotlighting her sinfulness. She was holding Jane Seymour’s corpse in her arms, rocking back and forth and sobbing. Katherine could see streaks of blood all over her tattered nightgown. She was hurt.

  “Joan?” She called softly.

Joan’s head snapped up. Her eyes were as pale and wide as the moon outside.

  “Let me help you, Joan,” Katherine approached slowly, as if she were actually trying to corner a scared stray kitten.

Joan bared her teeth for a moment, then looked down at her mother again and burst into a fresh set of tears. Her entire little body shook with the weight of her sobs.

  “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?” She said, her voice nasally and wavering from crying. “N-none of this would have happened if you hadn’t… M-my Mama…” She uttered a long, keening whine that was reminiscent of a dying puppy.

  “I—” Katherine faltered. “I’m sorry.”

Joan’s body shuddered and she grit her teeth. An unseen force coiled around Katherine’s body and suspended her in the air tightly. Her breath hitched in shock and she couldn’t breathe. It felt as if the atmosphere was crushing her.

  “Look what you turned me into.” Joan whispered.

  “P-please don’t hurt me,” Katherine begged.

  “Why not?” Joan asked, and a pained smile tugged on her bloody lips. Tears start to roll down her cheeks again. “I’ve been hurt my whole life.”

Katherine stared at her in horror, realizing it was true. The girl before her had been hurt more than she ever had been in her entire eighteen years of life.

How has Joan lived with so much pain inflicted on her tiny little body?

Joan released Katherine from whatever had been holding her, then bent over her mother and whimpered against her bloody shirt. She kept nuzzling into her chest, keening softly, and then looking up at her mother’s face, as if she was hoping her affection and presence would wake her up. When it didn’t work, she tried again and again and again, and it was the saddest thing Katherine had ever seen in her entire life.

  “I killed my mama,” Joan whispered. “I want her back!”

It was awful to see a child bound to such a witch of a woman. Katherine knew this lady had hurt Joan severely, and yet Joan still loved her. 

A crack suddenly zigzagged through the wall. Katherine jerked her head around to see several other cobwebs of crevices splinter through the walls around them. The wood holding up the house creaked and then began to shake ominously like an erupting volcano.

  “Joan!” Katherine cried. “We need to leave!”

  “No.” Joan held firmly to her mother’s corpse, curling against it loyally. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Joan, please!” Katherine begged. “I can’t lose you, too!”

That made Joan look up.

For just a moment, Katherine felt a glimmer of hope when Joan sat up slightly, but then she looked back down at the corpse and her body covered in blood and crumpled right back into a fetal position. Katherine then realized that she didn’t just want to stay with her dead mother—she was immobilized by pain and grief and trauma.

Joan wanted to die.

And there was nothing Katherine could do to stop her.

Except--

Katherine took a small step forward. The entire house rumbled. The walls were starting to break themselves into tiny pieces. Chunks of the ceiling were falling loose and Katherine barely managed to duck away before some rubble smashed into her skull.

  “Joan--”

She grabbed Joan and scooped her into her arms. 

Joan jolted and then screeched in a fit of outrage instantly. She kicked and squirmed and clawed at Katherine's face, but she was much too little and much too weak to get free. Katherine ran outside with the screaming girl as the house began to crumble.

The walls folded inwards like a collapsed tower of cards, and then the roof came crashing down. The earth shifted and opened into a wide sinkhole that swallowed the house, devouring the walls and the floors and the furniture and all those awful crucifixes Katherine had seen hanging up until there was nothing left to mourn. Dirt and rubble poured down into the abyss, sending a tidal wave of dust crashing into Katherine and Joan.

  “MAMA!!!!” Joan shrieked. She fought Katherine even harder, sending them both toppling to the grass. She tried to scramble forward and nearly got caught in a piece of sinking debris, but Katherine grappled onto her dress and yanked her back into her arms. “MAMA! MAMA, NO!!”

She squirmed and struggled, reaching one arm out to the destruction. Her movements were starting to slow down, but her screaming and crying did not seize.

  “I’m scared!” Joan wailed. She looked up at Katherine, eye shimmering with tears, and she suddenly looked a lot younger. “I-I hurt! I want my Mama!”

  “Shh, shh,” Katherine pulled her closer and rocked her gently, like you would a fussy baby. “It’s going to be okay, Joan. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Joan opened her mouth again, and Katherine expected her to scream once more, but all that came out was a moan. It was only then that Katherine realized just how badly she was wounded.

  “Oh god, Joan…”

There was a cut across her right arm and up her stomach, as well as one on her left ankle, a small prick on her back, and slits in her cheeks, but the worst injury was the stab wound in her back, which was still gushing out blood. Katherine ripped off her jacket and pressed it to the injury on her back, which elicited a flinched and a whimper of pain.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Katherine murmured, holding Joan’s head close to her chest. She gently stroked her unruly hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Hurts…” Joan mumbled. Her eyes were suddenly very cloudy and rapidly losing focus. “Mama…?”

  “No, Joan.” Katherine said. “It’s Katherine. Katherine Howard. I’m going to help you, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

But Joan’s body was slowly depleting itself of strength and becoming limp in Katherine’s arms. She was losing too much blood.

  “Mama.” Joan decided and sluggishly snuggled her head closer to Katherine. Her face was twisted in pain and she was still crying, but Katherine swore she looked just a little happy being held in someone’s arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Joan,” Katherine whispered. “Oh, sweetie… I’m so sorry.”

Joan was much too dazed to answer, although her mouth was half open like she wanted to. Her eyes were glazed over, distant, and looked like glass orbs in their sockets, leaking out jewel drops of silver tears. Katherine got choked up just looking at her.

  “It’s going to be okay, it’s all going to be okay,” She wept, pressing her head against Joan’s and rocking her back and forth again. “I promise, sweetie. It’s going to be okay soon.”

Joan’s head lolled and Katherine kept it firmly in place, even as the rest of her body when limp and cold. Still, she cradled the little girl, crying into the night, lying to Joan and herself over and over again because nothing would ever be okay ever again.

And then, a blindingly bright beam of light hit her and she flinched. The body in her arms was cold and then burning hot and then not there at all. Everything around her melted into nothingness.

  “Name, please.”

  “...”

  “State your full name.”

  “You already know my name, it's Katherine! Katherine Howard. Can you turn down that light? I can't see.”

  “Tell us about the night of May 28th. About the occurrences that led up to the alleged event.”

  “Alleged event? Why are you asking me the same thing over and over again? Are you trying to catch me in a lie? Is that it?”

  “We want the truth.”

  “I've already told you the truth! How many times do we have to go through this?”

  “Until we understand.”

  “What you need to understand is that we were just kids! Kids trying to do our best. We were kids...who made a mistake.”

Nineteen year old Katherine Howard leaned back in her chair, arms crossed firmly over her chest, eyes set on the detective in front of her. She was a sharply dressed woman named Victoria Green, with hawk-like facial features, pinned back strawberry blonde hair, and mossy green eyes. Like all adults nowadays, she looked at Katherine like she wanted to open up her brain and read through all her thoughts and memories.

Katherine finally came full circle into an ever-repeating loop of nightmares.

  “What can you tell me about Joan Seymour?”