#how andres survived this long is almost a mystery

[godstains]

it's the way that andres has very little combat skills but is constantly thrust out to fight otherworldly creatures that "disturb the [world's] balance" by the church. this is mainly because they dispatch exorcists for most of these jobs, but for the ones that cannot be resolved by those means, they send out andres and kind of. hope for the best, i guess.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Get Me To Church, I’ve Done So Many Bad Things It Hurts

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: you guys, idk what this is. I only know it’s not what I initially planned. Title is from Sinéad O’Connor’s song “Take Me To Church”, which hijacked this story’s initial plot. It reminds me of Wilhemina, and it’s a very good song <3

Word count: ~ 5 400

Your brain no longer was a brain but fucking mush. Mush that stunk and made one want to throw up at first sight. You had not been able to get a good night’s sleep since you had been sent to Outpost 3 a few months ago. You were running on a few hours of rest snatched here and there and on the disgusting, weird food cubes. At this point, when someone talked to you, you would gap at them until your brain suddenly gave a start and registered their words. Your body felt twice its weight. It was hard to concentrate, hard to think.

Days went by looking exactly alike. You would get out of bed, meet the others, try to have a talk, listen to the same song over and over again. “Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft”. Stare at a book maybe, open it, stare at a page, fail to understand a single sentence. You would wait for time to pass. Complain with Coco or Andre or that guy whose name you couldn’t remember even though you had been living together for months now. One day, Coco and you decided to exercise by running up and down a staircase, but you didn’t last more than five minutes before you dropped on the floor, panting. You didn’t try again. You lacked the motivation.

Sit at the table, eat your cube. “Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft”. Go to bed. You were going crazy. You could no longer tell what was real and what was a figment of your imagination.

In truth, there was one thing at least you knew was real. The butterflies in your stomach every time Venable – freaking Venable, of all people – so much as walked into the room you were in.

It was terrible. Why her, why you, you did not know. The only thing you knew was that you were falling hard for her, for that sadistic, mean, scary woman.

In typical mush-brain fashion, you couldn’t string two sentences together when she would ask you a question and her dark eyes would bore into you. You would laugh stupidly or give one-word answers. You would trip over your own feet when you passed her in a corridor.

So, really, it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that she hated you even more than she seemed to hate the others. For starters, she never looked at you. When she did, her eyes were as cold as the North Pole. Icy winds and all that. And when she talked to you, her voice was always so condescending, so sarcastic, as if she knew you were the most idiotic idiot at the Outpost. She probably wondered every minute of every day why you had been chosen to survive. It was a mystery to you, too.

But then – but this was part of your imagination. It must be. There was no rational explanation. For the wistful look on her face you had caught a glimpse of, once, when you had turned and shot her a glance. She had been staring at you. Or for the faint blush that had risen to her cheeks when you had accidentally – accidentally? – brushed past her, way too close to her, on your hurried way to the bathroom. Or for that one time, that blissful, ethereal time – but that had been a dream, it must have been, you had passed out from exhaustion and dreamed – when she, coming out of her room, and you of yours, had paused with her hand on the doorknob, and raised her head, met your eyes, and smiled. Not her mocking, cruel smile. But a fond, almost shy smile. A genuine smile, reflected in her eyes. This you were sure you had dreamed. Were you?  

You were falling for her. Love, intimacy, would make things more tolerable. You craved a strong, true connection with someone, and part of you was convinced you could have it with her.

In the past few evenings Venable had made a habit of joining you in the music room as you whiled the time away before bed. She wouldn’t say anything, merely sit and read a book. The first time she had done it, you and the others had exchanged half surprised, half worried looks. What was she doing? Studying you? Deciding which one of you she would cook for dinner? You didn’t know. Her presence had made you all uncomfortable at first, but now you were used to it. You ignored her, just as she ignored you.

She always, always sat facing you.

And you couldn’t help but steal glances at her. Marvel at the beauty and neatness of her. Your eyes would travel down her body and the butterflies in your stomach would go wild and your head fill with want. For. Her.

Her eyes never met yours, not even once.  

One evening as you sat brooding and she sat reading facing you, and the others chatted about some boring things, and the music, the music went “Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft”, you abruptly jumped on your feet to stretch your upper body. The sudden movement surprised Venable, who looked up at you. You met her eyes and gave her a goofy smile. She scowled.

“In your mind you have capacities,” you heard yourself sing to the music.

“But do you, Y/N?” Venable sneered.

That shut you up. You straightened up and glared at her. “Do you have, like, a problem with me?” you asked in an annoyed voice.

“Do you mean apart from your obvious lack of brain cells?”

“Why are you always so mean?” you heard yourself whine.

“Oh, boo hoo,” Venable cooed. “Poor you. Look at you, standing among the few who have been allowed to survive the Apocalypse. Do you really think I should feel sorry for you?”

You considered that. “No,” you grumbled.

“No, Ms Venable.”

You didn’t know what came over you then. Probably it was a mix of exhaustion, anger, frustration and want. Your hands clenched into fists. In what was both the bravest and stupidest moment of your life, you retorted, “Bite me.”

Someone in the room gasped, and then chuckled. Venable’s eyes went wide with shock. Heat flooded your cheeks.

You were dead meat, you knew that. So really you couldn’t make things worse by adding: “I’m sorry. I meant, bite me, Ms Venable.”

Impressive. You were a genius. Gosh, you needed sleep.

You couldn’t meet Venable’s eyes. Instead you stared at Andre, who was gawping at you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Coco give you a thumbs-up. You smiled shyly at her.

“Right,” you said. “Um. Goodnight.”

You hurried out of the room before someone could call you back. Your heart was beating too fast in your chest, but you couldn’t really understand why. You needed sleep.

You closed the door of your bedroom behind you and collapsed on your bed.

**

You couldn’t sleep.

It was always the same: you were exhausted all day, but the minute your head touched your pillow, your brain roared back into life. Someone in your head turned the light on. You were wide awake.

You groaned and turned on the bed. You didn’t have the slightest idea what time it was or how long you had lain under the sheet. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been a century. You turned again, forced yourself to close your eyes.

Bite me, Ms Venable. Damn it, you were such a fool when you were exhausted! You had survived the bloody Apocalypse and now you were about to die for something so, so stupid. Venable was probably plotting your death right now. She would order you out of the Outpost and condemn you to a horrible death among the repugnant creatures that haunted the nuclear winter outside. In your current state, you wouldn’t last a day. You’d trip over something and break your neck or get stabbed by the first hungry person you’d meet.

Fear clenched your stomach. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t feel like giving up on life yet. Even if the world as you had known it was gone, even if there was almost no hope of a bright, safe future. God, you wanted to live.

You sprang out of bed before you knew what you were doing and ran to the door. Locked it. Looked around the room for things to build a barricade with. The chair would do, and if you could move that huge chest of drawers –

You heard footsteps coming down the corridor towards you. And something else, unmistakable. The sound of a cane.

Shit. Your whole body froze with fear. Then your hand automatically reached for a decorative statuette close-by, that had sharp angles and that you could use as a weapon if need be. The footsteps grew louder and came to a halt at your door.

You waited, heart hammering in your chest. Venable must have a spare key, of course she must. You stared at the doorknob, expecting it to move, expecting the door to open, on Venable standing tall and threatening and radiating off anger and satisfaction. How so very beautiful she would look.

Nothing happened.

What was she doing? You couldn’t hear anything but the mad pounding of your heart. Had you imagined her footsteps? The sound of her cane? But you had been so sure –

One of your hands came up to press against the door. Fingers splayed out, palm pressing against the cold, hard surface. To try and feel her through the wood.

You waited. Your heartbeat was drumming against the wood. And it was slowing down, and your eyes were fluttering closed, for she was here – just behind the door, and you could almost see her, her eyes on the doorknob, the spare key in her hand, her lips slightly parted. It was as if your soul had connected with hers and now they were softly singing to each other.

There was a sound like a sigh. Before you knew it you had unlocked the door and opened it.

Venable stood in front of you with her left hand in the air, a few inches further to the left than yours had been. She met your eyes in surprise as her fingers curled up. She lowered her hand, and schooled her features.

You decided your safest option was to play it cool.

“I thought I heard a noise,” you said, assuming a casual expression.

“I was on my way to bed,” Venable answered. A pause. “I saw your light was on through the gap under your door.”

She didn’t sound particularly mad or threatening. Relief flooded your chest. Maybe she didn’t mean to kill you, after all. Maybe you’d been over-reacting.

Her eyes fell on the statuette you were still holding.

“What’s this?” she asked very slowly. Her eyes met yours again. They were dark, her eyes. The darkest eyes you had ever seen.

“What’s this?” she repeated, louder. You started.

“Oh, uh.” You raised the statuette to your chest and shrugged. Play it cool. “I don’t know why I’m holding this.” You tried to laugh. It came out nervous and foolish. “Must have been sleepwalking or something.”

Venable’s gaze was boring into you, piercing your skin, piercing your veins, piercing your bones. You felt too hot suddenly. You laughed again. Then it finally dawned on you.

“My light isn’t on,” you said.

You always kept one candle burning when you slept, but its light was very faint. There was no way Venable could have seen it from the lit corridor.

Her face didn’t change. “It’s not?” she said in a toneless voice.

You shook your head. “I’m afraid not.”

She straightened her shoulders, raised her chin. Her grip on her cane tightened just so.

“Were you planning on attacking someone with this?” she asked, nodding at the statuette.

“I’ve no idea what you mean,” you answered, holding her gaze.

“I cannot think of any other use you could have for it.”

“Well, maybe I was.”

“Has someone threatened you?”

You scoffed. Gave her a look as if to say the joke wasn’t good. She narrowed her eyes uncomprehendingly.  

“Um, let’s see.” You folded your arms as you pretended to think. The statuette dug in your chest. “Maybe I’ve gone just a little bit too far with someone who’s quite obsessed with hierarchy.”

A small, incredulous laugh escaped her.

“You thought I was going to –“She didn’t finish her sentence, her laugh lingering on her lips as the incredulity reached her eyes.    

“Well,” you retorted, leaning your hip against the doorframe, “you did have those two Greys shot the other day for making love.” You raised your eyebrows at her. “For breaking one of your rules. So excuse me if I’m not feeling particularly safe right now.”

The smile vanished from her face. She closed her mouth, stared at you. Your eyes shifted to her lips. Back up to her eyes. You licked your lips.

“I wouldn’t have you killed merely for being stupid,” she said after a short moment.

How were her cheekbones so sharp? Her eyes so dark? You swore whomever had made her was the most talented artist and the cruelest asshole in the whole goddamn universe. How many years it must have taken, how much sweat, how many skills, how much patience and love, to make her.

You cleared your throat. What had she just said? Called you stupid. Wouldn’t have you killed. Something like that. You couldn’t remember.

“My light wasn’t on,” you said mechanically, “so why did you stop at my door?”

If the question surprised or unsettled her, she didn’t show it.

“I thought it was on,” she answered without missing a beat. She paused. “You thought I was going to have you killed?”

“Um, maybe.”

Her eyes fell on the statuette again. When they met yours, you swore you saw something like sadness deep into the black. She blinked, and the sadness disappeared.

“It’s getting late,” she said. “You should go to bed.”

You realized you didn’t want her to go. What if you invited her to come in? What if you told her about your insomnia, and asked her to help you while the night away? Merely have a talk with her. Merely sit by her side, and watch her, and share secrets with her. Show her you weren’t as stupid as she must think you were. You could light dozens of candles and watch the light dance on her face. Have her relax, make her laugh. And maybe if things went well, at the break of dawn you could lay your head on her lap, and certainly then sleep would find you.

You assumed a nonchalant expression. “Well then, goodnight to you,” you said with a smile that hurt your mouth.

She nodded, turned and walked off.

You listened to her footsteps fade away. You let out a long, shaky breath, and closed your door.

For a very long time you stayed with your back against the door, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. The sadness you had seen in Venable’s eyes haunted you. You tried to think of something else. What you would do tomorrow. Boring. That summer holiday you had spent in Spain with your best-friend. Venable’s hair in the flickering light of the candles. Venable’s face. Venable’s eyes. How you absolutely adored the fact that she could stand up to anyone. Venable’s eyes. The sadness in her eyes.

You groaned. You had half a mind to bang your head on the door to knock yourself out and finally get some sleep. Perhaps you could go to Venable’s room and apologise. Tell her you hadn’t meant to question her authority. You’d like to see her again.

It was a stupid idea. Lack of sleep made you so, so stupid. She would be angry, would order you out, slam her door in your face, maybe hit you with her cane. You shouldn’t. You wouldn’t.

You tip-toed down the corridor till you reached her door. It was slightly ajar, which surprised you. Heart beating fast, you opened it just enough to peek into the room.

Venable was sitting on the floor by the dark fireplace, her head bent, her hands joined on her lap. What was she doing on the floor? Surely the position couldn’t be good for her back. Then you noticed that her lips were moving, forming silent words, as if she were praying. Her eyes were closed.

The flickering light from the candles threw shadows on her face. Patches of black and red and orange vacillating and oscillating. Touching her face, fleeing to the walls. You watched her in silence, at a loss for what to do or what to think. You heard her sniffle, saw her raise a hand to wipe her cheek.

There was something so fragile about the scene in front of you. To see this woman who was always so proud, and so strong, and so dominating, murmuring silent words to herself on the floor in the dead of night. Or maybe those words weren’t for herself. Maybe they were addressed to someone else, whoever would listen, whoever would take the time to stop and lend an ear. Was she asking for strength? For mercy? Salvation? Her back was leaning slightly forward just like the backs of worshippers you had seen in churches.

Her lips stopped moving for a moment. She opened her eyes to stare unseeingly at the wall in front of her. You saw her bite her lower lip, saw her take a shaky breath. The silent murmuring started again.

You scratched your arm nervously. You knew you should leave, and erase from your mind this private moment you had no right to witness. Part of you felt like a thief. But your legs seemed to be frozen. You could not move them.

So you watched her. At one point she coughed softly, and the next two words came out loud enough for you to hear them: “Let me...”

Was she praying? You didn’t think she was a religious person. Why should she be? She had helped bring on the Apocalypse and had not received so much as a word of complaint from God. You squinted at her in the dim light, your body instinctively leaning towards her, your hands coming up to grip at the doorframe. Your heart was pushing against your ribs as if it wished to burst free from your chest and wrap around her.

Venable paused, sighed, went on murmuring. Once again her words reached you. “…soothe and let it save me so she can think it acceptable to love me.”

Your clammy palm slipped on the doorframe, unbalancing you. You gasped in a breath. Venable’s head jerked to the side. Her eyes locked with yours.

You could have screamed. Surprise then anger then fear flashed across Venable’s face as you took a step back, your mouth opening and closing like a fish as you tried to find something to say but couldn’t come up with anything. For a moment there was only silence, and you and she holding each other’s gaze.

Venable’s face closed up. She stood up, supporting herself on her cane, so calm, so composed. It was impressive, the tight grip she kept on her emotions. Always so perfectly in control of herself.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a firm voice.  

“I –“you stuttered, “I – I’m sorry, I just – I, uh, saw your light was on.”

That was a risky answer, and you knew it. But today had been crazy, and any minute now Venable would unleash her wrath and it would destroy you. You had nothing left to lose. So you held her gaze, her inscrutable, unreadable gaze, admiring even now the flickers of candlelight that danced across the black.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you heard yourself say, your voice coming from far, far away. “I’ve not been able to sleep for quite a while. So I roam the corridors to try and distract myself, and I saw your light was on.” A pause. “What were you doing?”

Venable’s expression didn’t change. She took her time to answer, and you waited, waited for the inevitable anger, the inevitable punishment. You felt too distanced from yourself to be afraid.

“That is none of your business,” Venable said eventually. She turned away from you. “Go back to your room.”

That brought you back to yourself. Your soul crashed back into your body.

“Is that all?” you blurted out. “Go back to my room? Aren’t you going to, like,…” You didn’t finish your sentence, but she must have understood, because she turned to face you and shot you a somewhat outraged look.

“You seem so very certain I mean to hurt you,” she said sharply.

“Er, well.” You folded your arms on your chest and looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think. “In the last few hours I disrespected you and burst into your privacy. And, no offence, but you don’t strike me as a kitten kind of person.”

“Kitten?” she repeated.

“Yeah, you know.” You brought a nervous hand up to scratch your head. “Fluffy and cute, cuddly and helpless.”

She stared at you as if you were stupid. “Kittens scratch you for no reason.”

“Yeah, but...”You shook your head at yourself.”Never mind, don’t mind me. I’m too exhausted to think straight.”

Long seconds passed. None of you moved. You both held your ground, staring at each other. Waiting.

Your mouth opened again. “I don’t know whether I should run away from you or towards you.”  

She didn’t react. Didn’t answer. She kept staring at you.

“I can’t sleep,” you repeated. “May I stay here and sleep with you?”

Her expression did shatter at that. She blinked in surprise, then in consternation.

“Uh, I mean, not like that,” you stammered. “I mean sleep as in actually sleep. Uh, get some shuteye.”

Venable let out another one of her small, incredulous laughs. “No, you may not,” she answered sharply.

“Right, of course. Stupid me.” You tried to laugh, ended up choking on your own spit.”Sorry. Uh, forget about all this.” You quickly turned to go.

“You need to get a grip on yourself,” came Venable’s voice. You stopped.

“Gosh, I know,” you breathed.”I’m sorry.” You waited. No reply came, so you started to walk away.

“I may have a few sleeping pills, if you think they can help,” Venable called after you.

You turned on your heel and rushed back into her room. “Yes, please, I’d be very grateful. Thank you.”

Venable nodded, walked into the ensuite bathroom. You heard the sound of a drawer opening, some fumbling, and then she was back into the room holding a small pill box.

She dropped one pill in your extended hand. “Try this tonight. I can give you more tomorrow if it works.”

“Thank you,” you breathed. Your fingers curled around the pill as her eyes bore into yours. You almost reached out to touch her cheek. Almost.

But then your breath hitched. For that was it, wasn’t it? Her punishment. Her revenge. You glanced down at the pill in your hand. Poison. It had to be.

You glanced back up at her, and your thoughts must have shown on your face, for her eyes momentarily glazed over with the same sadness as before.  

“This is hydroxyzine,” she snapped.

“Right,” you mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Do you think some of my rules are too harsh?” she asked suddenly.

You blinked at her. “Well, I mean…” You paused a second, considering. You chose honesty.” Most of them are useful, I’ll give you that. But, Ms Venable, the copulation rule? People being shot for, what, loving each other? Finding comfort in each other?” You took one step towards her, growing irritated. “Those two Greys didn’t deserve death. They did nothing wrong. And what’s so bad about copulation, anyway? What’s so wrong with affection? Intimacy?”

You paused, waiting for her answer. Her eyes were very big and shining in the candlelight. They were different, now. It was that sadness again. She looked almost sad.

“Tell me, what’s wrong with this?” You reached out and laid the pad of your index on her right wrist. She tensed up, her hand tightening around the knob of her cane. Her eyes grew bigger still.

You swallowed, refusing to lower your gaze, as you slowly ran your finger down her hand, circled one of her knuckles, moved to the next. You could feel her shaking under your touch, her skin soft and hot.  

“This never hurt anyone,” you said softly. Her brow tightened, just so. She made as if to withdraw her hand from your touch. Your finger stuttered, your eyes questioning hers. Well, maybe affection had hurt her. Undoubtedly it had. You could read it in her eyes.  

You removed your hand, but she captured it in hers and brought it up close to her mouth.

“We cannot possibly take the risk of having to deal with a herd of babies, can we, Y/N?” she said very slowly. Her breath grazed your knuckles and sent a shiver down your spine. Her grip on your hand was strong.

“We can’t, Wilhemina,” you heard yourself say.

Wilhemina. How did you remember her Christian name? She had told it to you exactly once, on the day of your arrival at the Outpost. Months ago. And it wasn’t a very common name.

“But then again, Wilhemina,” you went on, “you and I would never have this problem.”

Venable brought your hand up to her mouth, her gaze burning into yours, and sank her teeth into your skin.

“Ow!” you yapped. “What the…”

She tightened her grip on your hand to hold it back. A smirk crept up her lips.

“Bite me,” she said, her mouth hot and damp against your skin. “That’s what you said. So, here.” She did let go of your hand, then. You held it protectively to your chest, smoothing it over your shirt. “Happy to oblige.” She turned away from you.

You watched her in consternation as she bent over her bed, apparently rearranging the pillows. Her teeth had left a row of white marks on your hand. A moment passed, until she straightened up and met your eyes.

“Well, goodnight,” she said, almost teasingly. And with that she sent you off.

**

“You’re still alive,” Coco said in surprise the morning after.

“You’re very observant,” you mumbled, slumping onto the chair next to her. You still felt a bit woolly because of the hydroxyzine. But at least you had slept.

“You’ve been observing our Earth”, sang the female voice from the radio.

“This song will drive me crazy,” you groaned. “Can’t we turn it off?”

“And we’d like to make a contact with you,” the voice retorted.

You straightened your shoulders as Venable walked into the room. Her gaze immediately fell on you. You held it, not sure what to think of the night before, her helping you, her biting you for God’s sake – mechanically you massaged the back of your hand where her teeth had sunk. And those words you had overhead. They had been addressed to someone else, but you couldn’t help but hope she had been talking about you.

You thought you saw something in her eyes, eagerness perhaps, as she walked towards you. She stopped in front of you and tapped her cane on the floor.

“Good-morning,” she said. You gave her a smile in answer, then lowered your eyes to study your nails. You could feel her gaze on your face.

“How did you sleep?” she went on in a casual voice that sounded just a tiny bit strained, as if she were uncomfortable or nervous.

You squinted at her, fighting back an amused smile. “I slept well, thank you.”

You were vaguely aware of the hush that had fallen upon the room. There was more to it, too, some sort of tension, expectant and apprehensive, a holding of one’s breath as one waits for something the nature of which one isn’t really certain of.

“We’ve been observing your Earth, and one night we’ll make a contact with you,” the robotic, distorted alien voice burst out.

“Good,” Venable answered. “I am glad to hear that.”

A pause. The pause stretched.

“Maybe now some of my brain cells will finally kick back into life, “you prompted.

Venable blinked. “We can only hope so,” she answered after a while.

The smile you had been holding back danced across your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Coco shoot you a perplexed look, saw her contort her face as if to ask, “what the hell is happening?”

Venable’s cane tapped on the floor. “Everyone, please,” she called, “I have an announcement to make. Some good news for you all.”

Excited whispers filled the room. You straightened in your seat. Venable waited until she had everyone’s attention, and then spoke with pride in her voice. “To renew with tradition and entertain you, we will now have board games nights. Whist, backgammon, chess.”

Was she… actually trying to be nice? Giving you all something to look forward to? A bit of fun, to help pass the time? You almost gawked at her.

She’s trying, a voice whispered in your head. What was it she had said? Make it acceptable to love her. You were vaguely aware of the tears that sprang to your eyes.

“Excuse me,” Coco blurted out, “I thought you’d said ‘good news’, not ‘you’re now officially living in a shitty Jane Austen novel’.”

Venable glared at her. You caught just a flash of pain in her eyes.  

“I think it’s a good idea,” you retorted before Venable had time to. “It’ll keep our minds distracted.”

“I don’t even know what whist and backgammon are,” said Andre. “And I’ve never played chess.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Venable sneered. “It will be the perfect opportunity to inject some knowledge into your vacuous brain.”

“Not as vacuous as that,” Andre retorted angrily, “seeing as you filled it with my boyfriend’s own brain.”

You had never seen Andre stand up to Venable before. Like the others, he had been too scared of her to dare contradict her. But now his voice was openly belligerent, his eyes shooting daggers at her, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair as if he were contemplating standing up. Something had changed, and it didn’t take you long to realize you were the cause. Or rather, Venable’s behavior to you. You had been insolent to her, and she had not punished you. She had not even verbally abused you.  

“What will it take,” Venable enunciated, “for you to finally understand me when I say that I did not feed you Stu?”

“Then where is he?” Andre growled, jumping to his feet, “And what was in the fucking stew?”

“Alright, okay, calm down,” you spoke, rising too, and holding out a hand in front of Andre. “I’ll teach you chess, okay? I know chess, I can teach you. Just, relax, man. Gosh.”

Andre glared at you. You raised your eyebrows at him. For a minute he stayed still, hands clenched into fists, and then he let out a breath and moved back to his chair.  

Coco threw her hands up in the air. “Board games nights it is,” she said sarcastically.

You turned to Venable. She was studying you, her expression strange, as if she could not quite decide between anger and gratefulness.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she said, her eyes locked with yours, “I do not need your help when it comes to dealing with idiots.”

You took your time to answer, to think of the right words to say. A smile crept up your lips again, and this time you let it.              

And you knew everyone in the room would be able to hear you. But you didn’t care. Blame it on the hydroxyzine. Blame it on the freaking interplanetary and most extraordinary occupants. The world had ended. You were exhausted. And you were falling for her.

When you spoke, your voice was a singsong, as insolent as it had been the evening before. “Why, fuck me, Ms Venable. I know that.”

[carewyncromwell]

Next Cinderella AU part ahoy! Time for the whole world to know who the owner of the mysterious slipper left at Florence’s ball -- King Cosimo’s one true love and savior -- truly is...

Makeup in the 17th century was rather limited, though in the later half of the century, rococo fashion brought very pale skin and red lips into vogue in the upper classes, so nobles took to putting on white face paint and powder, rouge, and finally bright red lip color. The closest thing to foundation in the 16th and 17th centuries was Venetian ceruse, an expensive skin whitener made of water, vinegar, and lead. Needless to say, given that last ingredient, it’s unsurprising that using a lot of it would result in hair loss and lead poisoning. People in the 17th century also took to wearing “beauty patches,” or pieces of velvet or silk cut into pretty shapes, to cover up scars or blemishes. 

“Lavender’s Blue” is a traditional folk song referenced in Disney’s live action adaptation of Cinderella. 

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Andre’s plan went into action first thing the next morning. He, KC, and Erika had stayed up all night finalizing their preparations. By the time the clock had struck nine AM, the entire country of Royaume was buzzing with the news that the King of Florence had miraculously survived an assassination plot at the Masquerade and now sought out the “mysterious princess” who had so thoroughly charmed him there so as to make her his queen.

As KC had predicted, soon everyone in the kingdom was preparing for Prince Andre’s arrival so that the eligible young women in their houses could try on the slipper so as to “prove” they were the maiden who had saved King Cosimo. One of those such homes ended up being the Cromwell estate.

Charles Cromwell had been furious to discover that Carewyn had mysteriously disappeared from the still locked tower room without a trace. He’d resolved to use all of his resources to track her down and drag her back home, once breakfast was through. One can imagine that Charles was even less pleased, however, when over that very breakfast he learned the news that Orion had survived the assassination attempt. When he’d seen the scar of Orion’s name appear on his forearm under those of Jacob and Carewyn’s the previous night, he’d thought that it meant that Malfoy and Rakepick were able to tie up the loose ends in his absence, just as he’d told them to. Now it seemed that Orion had just barely managed to survive a dance with Death unscathed...and so not only were his co-conspirators likely in custody, but peace between Florence and Royaume was now a foregone conclusion. 

But, it seemed, there was still one chance the Cromwell family could still get ahead. Charles was rather confident that Rakepick wouldn’t turn on him, and Lord Malfoy was unlikely to be believed by either King, given the position Charles had at King Henri’s side and the established friction between Malfoy and Orion. And even if Rakepick was foolish enough to try to betray him, it would be her word against his -- and he knew his word would win out with King Henri, in the end. And now, according to Andre’s decree, the person who could fit the mysterious slipper left at the ball would become the King of Florence’s bride...Queen of an entire country. It was an opportunity Charles knew he couldn’t be foolish enough to pass up -- and so he set about preparing Dahlia, Iris, and Heather for Andre’s arrival. 

“My intelligence informs me that the shoe is an unusual size,” Charles instructed them, “so we shall do our very best to ensure that one of you is able to wear it.”

And so the three of Claire’s daughters’ feet were bound in thick bandages under their stockings, compressing their toes so as to make their feet smaller. It was very painful -- all three young women were unable to fight back tears as they waited in the sitting room for Andre’s arrival. They weren’t in much state to walk, so their mother Claire fussed over them by fetching them sweets and peppering them with advice about how to play off their tears as being tears of joy at the thought that they’d see “their precious Cosimo” again.

At long last, after an entire morning and afternoon of trying the shoe on many hundreds of women, Andre arrived at the Cromwell estate, KC and Erika in tow. As planned, not one of the women could wear Carewyn’s shoe -- there were a few who managed to get it on, but were unable to keep it on for very long, whether because it fell off due to being too large or because it was too painfully tight. Andre had had to go out of his way to have the shoe cleaned multiple times throughout the day, so as to make sure it stayed in good condition. One woman had even gone so far as to cut her own toe off to try to make the shoe fit, and Andre had furiously put his foot down, refusing to let someone ruin his work of art with blood stains. 

Andre’s arrival at the Cromwell estate was strategically timed to be one of the very last homes with eligible maidens visited. And when Andre greeted Charles Cromwell, decked out in his finest purple and gold velvet tunic, he played it remarkably cool. 

“Your Highness,” Charles Cromwell said in a very demure voice. Although his children Blaise, Pearl, and Claire all bowed or curtseyed, he merely gave a respectful bow of his head. “We are truly humbled to welcome you to our home.”

Andre gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you, Lord Cromwell.”

His eyes flitted down to Charles’s right wrist, obscured by his long, flowing black sleeve, and then over at KC, whose eyes were slightly narrowed. 

“Father was a bit disappointed when you and your family left the ball so early,” said Andre smoothly. 

Charles gave something of a resigned sigh. “Yes, well, my grandson Tristan was up well past his bedtime -- Blaise is very meticulous in maintaining such things.”

His eyes then narrowed almost curiously upon Andre’s face. “Rest assured, had I known how the ball would end, I would have remained by your father’s side until the last.”

“I have no doubt of it,” said Andre, just barely managing to keep his voice level. “Your presence would’ve been very helpful, under the circumstances...”

“You mean in answering to the allegations thrown at Lord Cromwell’s feet?” said Erika in a rather blunt voice. 

Blaise, Pearl, and Claire all stiffened. Charles himself, however, didn’t react with any surprise -- instead he only raised his eyebrows. 

“‘Allegations?’” he repeated very coolly. 

Andre acted dismissive. “The magician captured for the attempt on King Cosimo’s life spun a tale of you having hired her to cast the dark spell on him.”

Charles feigned incredulity. “I, hire a magician? Whatever for?”

“She raved about you supposedly conspiring with a Florentine lord to assassinate King Cosimo and sabotage all chance for a proper peace treaty between him and Father,” Andre rambled on, almost the way he would talk to Carewyn about his upcoming fashion design projects. “Naturally, Father and Mother spoke for you and reassured his Majesty that you would never do such a thing.”

“But of course, your Highness,” said Charles. Despite the humility of his mask-like face, his blue eyes flickered with something like satisfaction. “It’s my and my family’s greatest privilege, to serve yours. Why would I ever harm a man who your family sees as a prospective friend and ally?”

“You see, Erika?” said Andre with a wry smile. “I told you Lord Cromwell would set the record straight.”

Erika crossed her arms, her brows high over her narrowed eyes. “Anyone can spout pretty words. That Florentine Lord spouted plenty of them, before the scar on his arm exposed his guilt.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Erika. 

“You doubt my loyalty to the Royaumanian Crown, Lady Rath?” he asked softly. 

“I don’t trust people who talk more than they act,” said Erika, perfectly undaunted. 

“A proper sentiment for a child who thinks so little that she has even less to say,” sneered Blaise. 

“Blaise,” Pearl hissed at him reproachfully.

Erika shot Blaise a very hard look. “You can’t be thinking that much, if you’re not taking your father being accused of treason seriously.”

“Erika,” Andre said sharply, as Pearl grabbed a hold of Blaise’s arm to stop him from striding forward and possibly retaliating. “Father has categorically stated that Lord Cromwell couldn’t have been involved with the plot to kill King Cosimo. And I agree with him -- no blood relation of Carewyn’s could possibly have been involved in something so cruel...”

The mention of Carewyn seemed to make all three of Charles’s children’s eyes darken. In Pearl’s was frustration; Claire’s, irritation; Blaise’s, resentment. 

“I agree,” KC said, her eyes drifting over to Charles thoughtfully. “Still, it might be good to set Erika’s mind at ease. Lord Cromwell, would you please show us your right forearm?”

There was a strange flicker in Charles’s eyes. “My arm? Whatever for?”

“All those involved with the casting of a dark spell show visible evidence of it,” said KC pleasantly. “The Florentine Lord and the magician both had it on their arms -- if you weren’t involved, then you wouldn’t have that same proof on yours.”

Charles gave a mild shrug. “Very well, then...”

He lifted his sleeve and held his arm aloft. 

The skin was ghostly pale and faintly wrinkled...and yet utterly devoid of any scarring or blood-red letters.

Andre, KC, and Erika all gave a visible start. Charles’s lips spread into a very cool smile. 

“There now,” he said as he lowered his arm and shook his sleeve back down into place, “I hope that has...put to rest your concerns.”

His diamond-like eyes shifted to Andre.

“Shall we move to the drawing room, your Highness? My granddaughters should be practicing their needlework there, should you wish them to try on that infamous slipper...”

Andre shot KC and Erika an slightly uneasy glance.

“...Yes,” said Andre at last. “Please, do lead on, Lord Cromwell.”

Charles’s cold smile broadened as he stepped aside to let them enter the manor house. Andre strolled forward, his eyes lingering on Charles’s sleeve as he went. 

This didn’t make any sense...Charles clearly had been involved. He couldn’t have hired another magician to cast an illusion on his arm, could he? 

But, Andre thought, if it were an illusion, then the injury would still be there, even if people couldn’t see it...just like a beauty patch or...

A thought congealing in his head, the Crown Prince of Royaume purposefully stumbled over his own two feet while crossing the threshold. In his fall, he latched onto Charles Cromwell’s right forearm, clutching it hard as he tried to catch himself in a crouched position. Despite himself, Charles couldn’t stop himself from letting out a bellow of pain. 

“Oh...my deepest apologies, Lord Cromwell,” said Andre, his eyes very sharp despite the pleasantry of his expression. 

He gave another few sharp clenches to Charles’s arm as he hoisted himself back up onto his feet. When he removed his hand from Charles’s, Andre could see some blood trailing out from under Charles’s sleeve, tinted with what looked like something powdery white. 

“Ceruse, Lord Cromwell?” Andre said in a very cool voice. “Hardly a suitable healing tonic, for an open wound.”

He shot Erika a significant look. Erika launched herself forward, grabbing onto Charles. All three of Charles’s children made as if to pull her off of him and Charles wrestled in her grip, but it was no use -- within seconds, she’d yanked Charles’s sleeve back up, to reveal a mess of powdery white ceruse stained with blood. Yanking out her handkerchief from the inside of her dress pocket, KC rubbed the residue away, to reveal the same three names that had scarred Patricia Rakepick’s arm. 

Jacob Cromwell.

Carewyn Cromwell.

King Cosimo Amari VII.

Blaise, Pearl, and Claire all recoiled.

“Father?” Claire said shakily. 

“That should be enough proof to corroborate Patricia Rakepick’s testimony,” said Andre, “both about the assassination plot and about what you did to Carewyn and her brother.”

All hints of pleasantry had left his face as he stared Charles down. 

“Lord Cromwell -- for high treason against the Crown of Royaume, I sentence you to be imprisoned immediately and executed at dawn. Erika -- lock him in irons, to be brought back to the palace.”

Charles’s face had become very pale and mask-like, his eyes very wide and dark with shock, rage, and terror. Pearl and Claire both looked horrified. Blaise -- as shocked as he was -- recovered first when Erika tried to drag his father away. He initially made as if to grab at Erika, but immediately pulled back, his hand clasping at mid-air. Instead he whirled on Andre, his eyes very wide with something oddly panic-stricken. 

“Your Highness -- please reconsider! My father is old, he’s not in the highest of faculties -- ”

“Everything he’s done suggests otherwise,” said KC rather coolly. 

“Please, your Highness,” Blaise plowed on regardless, “my father has always been loyal to the Crown -- he’s served your family faithfully for so many years, just like all of us have -- ”

“For his own benefit,” scoffed Erika. 

“Think of his family, your Highness!” Blaise said in a louder, even more forceful voice, almost trying to block Erika out. “Think of where we would be, without our patriarch! Don’t take him away from his children -- his grandchildren...I will take over all of his responsibilities, as head of our family, if you only release him to my custody...”

Andre wasn’t moved by Blaise’s pleas, but he considered the older man critically for a moment as Erika locked Charles onto the boot of the coach. 

“You will never sway me to spare your father, Master Cromwell,” the Prince of Royaume said sharply. “However...there might be one person who could. The mysterious princess who King Cosimo wishes to wed heard of the assassination plot your father has been implicated in and came to the ball in disguise to warn him.”

Pearl gave a start. “That girl...was there to protect him?”

Charles actually straightened up slightly on the boot of the coach. His face was still mask-like and his eyes were still very dark and hollow, but he was clearly listening intently.

“She not only won the King’s heart, but ultimately saved his life,” said Andre. “Even going so far as to shield him from the spell’s effects with her own body without a shred of hesitation. She’s a hero: one that soon all of Florence and Royaume will rightly celebrate as a champion of peace.”

Andre indicated Charles with an offhand incline of his head without taking his eyes off Blaise.

“Perhaps if your family contains King Cosimo’s savior as well as his prospective assassin...the first will be merciful enough to speak on behalf of the second.”

With the terms set, Blaise immediately escorted Andre to the drawing room where Heather, Iris, and Dahlia were waiting. All three of them were surprised, confused, and a bit intimidated when Blaise ordered all three of them to try on the shoe -- Blaise was much less composed than Charles, and his gaze much more openly volatile. Sure enough, though, even with how much all three girls tried to make the shoe fit, it was no use. Iris even managed to shove her foot into the shoe, but it was so narrow that it pinched her already injured feet too badly for her to even speak. When she opened her mouth, all she could do was cry -- and so Claire, distraught beyond reason, wrenched the shoe off of her middle daughter’s foot and cradled her in her arms as if she were a baby.

“It’s my slipper!” wailed Iris. “I swear it is! My feet are just swollen, from all the dancing we did last night -- ”

Andre crossed his arms, his eyes rather dull. “Iris, really -- after how long you stayed in the palace, you don’t think I know full well your feet wouldn’t have fit this shoe?”

Iris was so startled that her tears stilled in her wide eyes. 

“King Cosimo deserves better than a woman who would only treat him as an object she can use to her own advantage,” Andre said very coldly. “Just as Carewyn deserves better than being around someone who cowardly tears her down when she thinks no one else can hear her.”

Iris’s face lost all of its color. 

“Y...Your Highness -- ” she said shakily, but Andre had already turned his back on her.

“Speaking of Carewyn,” he said airily, “it seems she’s the only one left who could save your father now, Master Cromwell. I sincerely hope you haven’t damaged her feet the way you have your other nieces’...”

Blaise’s jaw clenched. 

“I’m afraid Winnie has...disappeared, your Highness,” he murmured. “Just last night, in fact.”

Andre raised his eyebrows coolly. “Really? Well, I can’t say I blame her, under the circumstances.”

He turned to KC and Erika. “Well then, if she’s not here to speak for Lord Cromwell, then there’s no sense in delaying. Let us be off for the palace -- Father will want to know we’ve captured the final culprit in the plot against King Cosimo and prepare the execution block...”

He swept out the door of the manor, Erika and KC behind him, perfectly ignoring how Blaise, Pearl, and Claire dashed after him.

“Your Highness, please -- ”

“We can more than pay any penalty -- please reconsider -- ”

“Please don’t do this -- ”

“I will only accept King Cosimo’s princess’s defense of Charles Cromwell,” Andre reiterated coldly without looking for them. “You clearly don’t have her under your roof, so this discussion is over.”

“But Winnie might still fit the shoe!” said Claire desperately. 

Pearl and Blaise shot her a thoroughly appalled look. 

“Claire, how dare you suggest such a thing!” snarled Blaise. “As if a low-bred girl like our Winnie could ever charm a King!”

Claire trembled, but actually managed to stand her ground for once. 

“B-but her feet are a strange size!” she whispered to her siblings desperately. “They’ve always been ugly and narrow and misshapen -- her shoes were always falling off! And...oh, Blaise, if she could fit the shoe, then at least Father won’t...won’t...”

She broke off, the last flicker of her courage having long been spent. 

Both Pearl and Blaise looked like they’d swallowed a lemon. One could wonder what horrified them more -- the thought of having to appeal to Carewyn for help in saving Charles’s life, or the thought that she might actually end up fitting the shoe and becoming Queen of Florence.

Despite the nausea in Pearl’s expression, she nonetheless seemed to come down on Claire’s side. As stupid as Claire could be...Andre himself had said Carewyn was their only hope now. 

“Just...just give us time to find Winnie, your Highness,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “She can’t have gotten too far...”

Andre crossed his arms. “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

“One.”

Everyone turned to look at Charles. He was sitting very still on the boot of the coach in chains. His eyes were so dark in how they glinted that his pale face resembled a skull with diamonds trapped behind his eye sockets.

“There is a boy under your employ called Bill Weasley who trespassed here a week or so ago with his brother, demanding to see my dear Winnie when she was too ill for visitors,” he said in a very cold, detached voice. “Perhaps you should ask him where he’s taken my granddaughter.”

Andre’s lips spread into a very pleased smile. They hadn’t visited the Weasleys’ home since the only single girl who lived there was eleven-year-old Ginny...but Bill and Charlie had planned to sneak Carewyn out that night with Talbott and Badeea, so even if she’d chosen to stay at Talbott or Badeea’s home or even somewhere else, they would undoubtedly know where she was staying. 

“You know the way to the Weasley family home, right, KC?” Andre asked over his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Very well -- perhaps they’ll have Carewyn’s new address, then.”

It took Andre’s royal entourage and the accompanying Cromwell coaches about two hours to migrate up the mountains that held the Weasley home. Blaise, Pearl, and Claire had all insisted on coming on behalf of Charles, and Blaise hated the thought of anyone besides him tending to Tristan, so soon the entire Cromwell clan had been piled into their family carriages. Dahlia, Iris, and Heather in particular had to be carried from the house into the carriages by their father, Arsen, and Kain, since their feet were still in too much pain for them to walk on them. 

Fred and George had spotted the approaching entourage first, from their spot dangling out of the nearby trees while picking apples with Ron and Percy. The four boys barreled back to the house to get Arthur and Molly, but it wasn’t long after they’d told their mother everything they saw that the sound of whinnying horses signaled their arrival. And as soon as Blaise opened the door of his white coach, he stiffened sharply at the sound of a familiar voice singing through an open upstairs window -- one that, when Andre opened his own gold coach, made the Prince beam from ear to ear. 

“I love to dance, dilly, dilly, I love to sing; When I am queen, dilly, dilly, you'll be my king. Who told me so, dilly, dilly, who told me so? I told myself, dilly, dilly, I told me so.”

It was Carewyn. For you see, when the Weasleys returned to the Burrow in the wee hours of the dawn after Orion’s coronation ball, they were delighted to find Bill sitting by the fire, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his arms wrapped around Charlie and Carewyn, both of whom were sleeping soundly with their heads resting against his chest. Bill had just barely managed to hush his younger siblings so as not to wake the two, and Molly immediately bustled around to fetch another couple of blankets to wrap around all three of them, as well as some pillows so as to make Bill more comfortable. In the morning, Carewyn had been pretty set on leaving to find her own place -- but as one might expect, all of the Weasleys shut that idea down, passionately insisting that she stay with them. 

“No, I can’t put you at that kind of risk,” Carewyn had said insistently. “My grandfather will be angry enough to know that I ran away -- if he knew Bill and Charlie had a hand in it, that you all were harboring me -- ”

Arthur took hold of Carewyn’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry about us, Carewyn. I don’t fear Charles Cromwell a ruddy bit, and that goes for Molly too.”

Molly nodded. “Definitely! And after the things we’ve heard, Carewyn...oh, dearie, there’s no way in the world we could ever let you go back to that...that...”

“Demon in human skin?” finished Charlie darkly. 

“Not the words I would have chosen, but yes,” sniffed Molly. 

Carewyn opened her mouth to argue further, but Bill leaned in to give her a light, chiding tap to her nose. 

“Don’t argue with them, Carey -- once Mum’s made up her mind, there’s no changing it.” He grinned. “She’s rather like you that way.”

Carewyn’s expression melted into a weaker, watery smile. 

“...Thank you,” she whispered. “All of you...thank you.”

And so now, at the moment that Andre and the Cromwells had arrived at the Burrow, Carewyn had been cleaning in the upstairs hallway, singing as she always did whenever she was working. 

Ginny, Molly, and Arthur rushed out of the house, greeting him, KC, and Erika with smiles and hugs. Erika in particular was very confused by the family’s almost aggressive amiability, but Andre responded in full, squeezing Ginny as if she were his own sister and clapping Arthur warmly on the back. It was not a welcome revelation for any of the Cromwells, to see the Prince on such good terms with the family of the people who they thought had stolen Carewyn away. And when Molly volunteered to go fetch Carewyn, she came down dressed in a modest teal dress (a hand-me-down from Molly, which Molly and Carewyn had managed to tailor enough to fit her), Bill and Charlie just behind her. 

“Carewyn!” 

Andre opened both of his arms and brought them around Carewyn in a warm embrace. 

“Andre, it’s so good to see you,” she murmured, closing her eyes to try to hold in her emotion. 

The Crown Prince pulled back enough to look her over. 

“That color is absolutely radiant on you,” he fawned over her. He glanced at the neatly tied bow in her ponytail. “Especially with your ribbon...a pale blue like that is a perfect shade to contrast your hair.”

Carewyn smiled wryly. “Well, light blue is my favorite color. My real one, I mean.”

Andre blinked, before his face broke out into an even broader smile. “Oh, that’s so much better than ash gray!”

Carewyn’s gaze was then caught by what was attached to the boot of Andre’s coach. The sight of Charles Cromwell locked up in chains, his diamond-like eyes boring into her with an endless, dark stare, made all traces of a smile fade from her face. 

Charlie, however, couldn’t fight back a huge, smug grin.

“Well, well,” the second-eldest Weasley spoke to Charles dryly, “if it isn’t Lord Cromwell. Not so high-and-mighty now, are you, you no-good feck?”

“Charlie,” said Bill, but his voice was hardly reproachful as he glared down at Charles. “Don’t waste your breath on the likes of him: he’s not worth it.”

“I do believe I made it clear that your family was to stay away from mine, Bill Weasley,” said Charles in a very low, dangerous voice. “You have a lot of nerve, to steal from me -- ”

“That’s just it, though, Lord Cromwell,” Bill cut him off, his voice growing a bit quieter and harder. He brought an arm around Carewyn, bringing her right up against his side protectively, the same way Jacob might have so long ago. “Carey is my family. So I intend to do whatever I have to make sure you and the rest of your lot never lay a foul hand on her again.”

Blaise’s eyes flashed dangerously. “How dare you -- !”

He raised a hand as if to try to strike Bill, but Carewyn stepped in his way. 

“Blaise,” she said in an unusually sharp voice, “the entire Cromwell family was slated to attend the masked ball hosted by the King of Florence...and yet I was not counted among you enough for Grandfather to even consider taking me with you. You can hardly expect me to be considered part of your family now.”

Blaise went sullenly silent. Carewyn looked up at Bill, her stoic expression unable to completely contain the gratitude and affection she felt toward her friend, before she turned to face Andre more seriously. 

“Andre...” she said slowly, “it’s not that I’m not glad to see you, but...what is all of this? Why did you bring them here?”

Andre’s eyes twinkled in amusement. 

“Last night at the masked ball,” the Prince of Royaume explained, “King Cosimo met a beautiful, mysterious woman dressed as a robin in a pair of shoes made of what looked like colored glass. He danced with this woman and no one else, before the two disappeared from the ballroom altogether. It was only just before midnight that they reemerged, with the woman dashing across the ballroom toward the front doors...the lovestruck King running after her, begging her not to go.”

Andre’s lips curled up in a wider smile. 

“This ‘mysterious princess,’ as everyone at the ball called her, had warned King Cosimo of a planned attempt on his life. Had she not come to the ball and danced with the King, it’s certain that he would’ve died, and that all hope for peace between Royaume and Florence would have died with him. Yet she fled the ball so quickly that she never got the recognition she deserved from either my father or King Cosimo for her courage. And because of the powerful illusion she disguised herself with, which made her look different to every single person at the ball, no one knows who she is.”

Andre swept over to the coach, picking up the beautiful hand-painted "stained glass” slipper he’d left on the seat. He cradled it in both hands as he showed it to those assembled. Carewyn’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon it.

“This glass slipper,” said Andre, his smile broadening enough to show his white teeth, “is the only thing she left behind that night, as any indicator of her identity...and whether because of some magic in the shoe or the talents of some incredibly talented master of fashion,” he waggled his eyebrows cheekily, “it has not fit any of the hundreds of women who have claimed to be its owner, seeking to earn King Cosimo’s hand in marriage.”

He beamed at Carewyn much more warmly. 

“I seem to recall, however...that you possess a set of feet that is very difficult to properly shoe.”

Carewyn looked from the slipper to up at Andre. Her face was very stoic, but her blue eyes rippled with something deeper. 

“I do believe I said that the Cromwells did not allow me to attend the ball, Andre.”

“Yes,” granted Andre. “But our mysterious princess didn’t come with the Cromwells.”

“This ‘princess’ also very clearly wanted no recognition for her ‘courage,’” said Carewyn, crossing her arms. “Why else would she wear such a thorough disguise? Why else would she run from the King before the stroke of midnight, when this illusion she supposedly wore would’ve worn off?”

Andre looked a bit embarrassed. “Well, perhaps...but for a woman so brave...well, it seems rather strange, to want to hide...to deny the best parts of herself: avoid a chance at true happiness, with someone who clearly loves her.”

Carewyn faltered. Andre smiled fondly. 

“Please,” he said, “won’t you just try the slipper on? I promise, I cleaned it on the way here.”

Carewyn had to suppress a giggle behind her hand. Her eyes slowly softened upon Andre’s face, before she finally relented and gave a nod. 

Charles, Blaise, Claire, Pearl, and the Cromwell cousins all sticking their heads out of their white coaches all watched as the Prince of Royaume bent down in front of his friend, letting her lift her skirt enough to expose her feet. Slipping one of her way-too-big brown shoes off, Carewyn then easily slid her foot into the stained glass slipper. 

Which, of course, fit like a glove. 

[shinyrockalaska]

Hogwarts Mystery characters as quotes from speak

The quotes are either a description or something they would say/think

MC: “If I ever form a clan, we'll be the anti-cheerleaders and walk under the bleacher forming mild acts of mayhem.”

Rowan: “Nothing is perfect. Flaws are interesting. Be the tree.”

Ben: “Sometimes I think high school is one long hazy activity- if you are tough enough to survive this, they'll let you become an adult. I hope it's worth it.”

Penny: “Rumors are spread by jealous people.”

Bill: “It's easier to floss with barbed wire than admit you like someone in middle school.”

Tonks: “CONJUGATE THIS- I cut class, you cut class, he, she, it cuts class. We cut class, they cut class. We all cut class. I cannot say this in Spanish because I did not go to Spanish today. Gracias a dios. Hasta luego.”

Tulip: “When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.”

Barnaby: “be aggressive, BE-BE Aggressive! B-E 

A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E.”

Andre: “You have to know what you stand for, not just what you stand against.”

Charlie: “I want to be in fifth grade again. Now, that is a deep dark secret, almost as big as the other one. Fifth grade was easy -- old enough to play outside without Mom, too young to go off the block. The perfect leash length.”

Liz: “The one good thing about being kind of shy is that nobody bugs you when you want to be left alone.”

Jae: “Homework is not an option. My bed is sending out serious nap rays. I can't help myself. The fluffy pillows and warm comforter are more powerful than I am. I have no choice but to snuggle under the covers.”

Badeea: “Art without emotion its like chocolate cake without sugar. It makes you gag.”

Diego: “Think about love, or hate, or joy, or pain- whatever makes you feel something, makes your palms sweat, or your toes curl. Focus on that feeling.”

Merula: “I need a new friend. I need a friend, period. Not a true friend, nothing close or share clothes or sleepover giggle giggle yak yak. Just a pseudo-friend, disposable friend. Friend as accessory. Just so I don't feel or look so stupid.”

Ismelda: “All that crap you hear on TV about communication and expressing feelings is a lie. Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say.”

Talbott: “Gym should be illegal. It's humiliating.”

Chiara: “Don't expect to make a difference unless you speak up for yourself.”

Leviosa kid: “I wonder how long it would take for anyone to notice if I just stopped talking.”

Beatrice: “I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So, how can I find my way? Is there a chain saw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?”

Jacob: “IT happened. There is no avoiding it, no forgetting. No running away, or flying, or burying, or hiding.”

Skye: “I am not going to think about it. It was ugly, but it’s over, and I’m not going to think about it.”

Murphy: “I see a girl caught in the remains of a holiday gone bad, with her flesh picked off day after day as the carcass dries out. The knife and fork are abviously middle-class sensibilities. The palm tree is a nice touch. A broken dream,perhaps? Plastic honeymoon, deserted island? Oh, If you put in a slice of pumpkin pie, it could be a desserted island!”

Orion: “This is where you can find your soul if you dare. Where you can touch that part of you that you've never dared look at before. Do not come here and ask me to show you how to draw a face. Ask me to help you find the wind.”

Face paint kid: “I am getting better at smiling when people expect it.”

[hphm-tanaka-chung]

HPHM Profile~ Rose Tanaka

I took most of the revised template that @hogwartsmysterystory​ created, but made a few changes to get right to the gist of everything. If anything needs clarifying, let me know and I’ll fix things up.

(image created by hufflepuffmystery on Instagram!)

Identity:

Name: Rose Tanaka

Gender: Female

Birth date: October 27, 1972

Age: 17 as of June 1, 1989

Blood Status: Half-Blood (mother was Muggleborn, father was a wizard)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Alignment: Neutral Good

Ethnicity: Japanese

Nationality: Japanese

Residence: Osaka, Japan

MBTI: INFP

Magic capability:

Wand: Poplar with unicorn hair, 12 inches, quite bendy

Animagus?: In the canon game, Rose is a falcon animagus.

Magical Abilities: In the canon game, Rose is a legilimens. 

Boggart/Riddikulus: Rose’s Boggart is not instantly visible, but she’s scared of the cold. She’s scared of the feeling of numbness within, and she’s scared of seeing even a little bit of frost spread over matter. In the Riddikulus form, the ice had dissolved into a swirling sparkling wind that gently lifted her hair and clothes, which, of course, made her laugh.

Mirror of Erised: The image that stares back at her is intriguing. She sees herself as an older woman with a broomstick in hand, wearing one of the Japanese Quidditch team uniforms--but at the same time she has a few books in her other hands that depicted titles that had nothing to do with Quiddtch...

Patronus: Rose’s Patronus in the game is a lop-eared bunny.

Patronus memory: Her Patronus memory would be of the time her grandmother took her to see the cherry blossoms when she was still very young--the time she spent with her grandmother was near and dear to her. 

Amortentia: Rose smells chrysanthemum tea, parchment, fresh mown grass, and something minty. Anyone who smells her scent would smell cherry blossoms, fresh parchment, hot chocolate, and something like...hair dye.

Appearance:

Faceclaim: Satomi Ishihara

Voiceclaim: Lea Salonga (may subject to change)

Game Appearance: 

Height: 5’6”

Weight: …?

Physique: Slim and fit, not a lot of muscle

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Black (dyed dark blue in year 5)

Skin Tone: Pale

Body Modifications: N/A

Scarring: N/A

Inventory: (what do they carry on them?)

-a hair comb

-a few spare quills

-a plain black headband

-a photo of her as a baby and her family

Fashion: Rose tends to wear shirts with collars, so don’t expect her to be out of her school uniform for too long. On occasion she’d wear a hoodie and jeans, or anything traditionally worn by English girls of the time. Hey, just because she’s Japanese doesn’t mean she can’t learn about the English culture. 

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: Horned Serpent

Affiliations/Organizations: 

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Ravenclaw)

Toyohashi Tengu -> Japanese National Quidditch team (Japan)

Professions: Quidditch player; Hogwarts Flying Instructor/Quidditch Referee

Hogwarts info:

Class proficiencies: Astronomy (A), Charms (O), Defence Against the dark Arts (E), Flying (E), Herbology (O), History of Magic (E), Potions (E), Transfiguration (E)

Electives: Care of Magical Creatures (E), Divination (A), Muggle Studies (E)

Quidditch: Ravenclaw Seeker (4th-7th year)

Extracurricular: N/A

Favourite professors: Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick

Least favourite professors: Professor Binns

Relationships

Best friends (canon): Rowan Khanna, Badeea Ali, Charlie Weasley, Ben Copper, Chiara Lobosca, Talbott Winger, Andre Egwu

Rivals: Merula Snyde

Enemy: R

Dormmates: Rowan Khanna, Badeea Ali, Tulip Karasu

Pets: Cat (Arisu)--a half-breed of cat and Kneazle

Love Interest: Torn between Ben Copper and Talbott Winger. Despite having gone out on 2 dates with Talbott, she still thinks of Ben Copper a lot, and reminisces back to their time at the Celestial Ball. 

Closest canon friends: listed above

Closest MC friends: Emmett Chung

Familial relations:

Mother: Melissa Tanaka (nee Feng)

Melissa was born and raised in China by strict parents Rose never got to see. A hard worker at school and in her family home, she eventually got herself a job as a bank manager. She moved to Japan in hopes of settling trade issues between China and Japan--it was there where she met Rose’s father. She is now working as a representative of the Chinese national bank, and her consistent travelling between the two countries resulted in a lack of bonding between her children.

Father: Ashina Tanaka

Before Ryotaro Tanaka stepped foot into Mahoutokoro, Ashina went first. He was a good student at Mahoutokoro, but not a face everyone remembered so well; he constantly kept to himself and buried himself in his work all the time. The few friends he did have, he rarely kept connections with after graduating. Still, he took delicate care in everything he did, and eventually opened a shop where he made crafts and learned the old Japanese arts upon graduating. 

Brother: Kyoru Tanaka

Kyoru Tanaka was Rose’s older brother who was first considered for Mahoutokoro but eventually chose to go to Hogwarts when his letter of acceptance arrived from that school. Despite the geographical distance he made the trips to and from King’s Cross work. Just like his father, Kyoru kept to himself a lot, and he made very few friends in his time there. Upon his imprisonment in the buried vault he thought nothing of the impact he left on the rest of his family.

Cousin: Cho Chang

Cho Chang is six years younger than Rose and aspires to be a good flier like her cousin. Though they never really met much she heard of her older cousin’s stories and eventually got sorted into Ravenclaw in her first year, when Rose was then made Head Girl.

Grandmother: Fei-Ying Tanaka

Rose was very close with her paternal grandmother who was just equally proud of her son and his achievements. When she was younger they would spend a lot of time together while Kyoru was in school, and from her grandmother she would learn how to read and write in Japanese, communicate and read and write in English, and understand more of her culture and her family history. 

Background/History:

Rose lived a rather detached sort of life within her family when she was younger. The one person she had a firm relationship with at the time was her grandmother, who always took her out on trips to the park while teaching her many different things. Her father was busy manning the shop soon after Kyoru started to attend school, and as for her mother she barely saw her around a lot either. During this time, though, Rose did learn a few useful things from her father as well as her grandmother--she soon mastered the ancient art of origami and ink drawings.

Eventually, Kyoru went missing in the summer of 1982, and two years later Rose began to attend Hogwarts. Before September 1 every year, she would move to her aunt’s place and live with her cousin, Cho.

Hogwarts Mystery unfolded.

Upon graduation, Rose went back to Japan and at first contemplated on using her talents to teach at Mahoutokoro, but the memories she had of the wizard in white robes ambushing her on R’s orders were enough to make her refuse her placement. Instead, she sought a position on one of the Japanese Quidditch teams. She eventually was placed in the substitute roster on the Toyohashi Tengu as Seeker, but her exceptional talents on the pitch eventually bumped her up to the starting roster. She was eventually admitted to the Japanese National Quidditch team, and represented her country in the 1994 Quidditch Cup. Although the team did not make it into the final, she still revelled in her glory.

Well, that was, until Talbott reached out to her while she was recovering from minor injuries from the matches. She was hesitant to reach out to him in return, but remembering her promise to him she eventually started a correspondence with him.

Rose fought along with her peers at the Battle of Hogwarts and survived. After Hogwarts was fully rebuilt, she took over as the Flying Coach at Hogwarts, and then the Quidditch referee certified by the British Ministry of Magic, when Madam Hooch eventually retired.

Rose did not consider marriage throughout this time, but eventually she reconnected with Talbott and the flame reignited. They got married in early 1999. Current legacies undetermined.

Personality: 

Rose is not at all like the rest of her family--much like her grandmother, she is understanding and patient with everyone she meets. Rowan was actually the first one to break through that shell the rest of her family had cast upon her, and she became much more open and friendly. She’s not afraid to get a little competitive at times with her peers, but it was all for fun in the end. Still, she knows well where her loyalties lie. She would snap shut if something upsets her, and break down if the situation bore too much pressure. Her way of venting involved making a lot of origami and writing in a small notebook--almost like a journal--or furiously writing essays that didn’t pertain to academics. 

Misc: 

Rose’s favourite colour is pink, but perhaps that came from the fact that she was literally named after a flower.

Rose and Tulip actually share a close kinship based on the fact that they were named after flowers. Admittedly, Rose was about to be named Blossom when she was born, but her father once surprised her mother with an elegantly painted origami rose which spurred the change of name before her birth.

Rose could make origami. She trained her patience through it.

Despite Rose not warming up to flying at first, she eventually became really good at it and so continued to foster her talents in that subject area.

More to come…?

[7-wonders]

Shatter pt. 5

Summary: The mysterious Langdon makes his intentions clear, causing panic to ripple throughout the residents of Outpost 3. Interviews are to be conducted, and you’re planning on turning the interviewer into the interviewee in order to figure out if he’s a missing link to your past.

Word Count: 2414

A/N: Hello my dudes, thank you for putting up with me. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter; as always, feedback is appreciated and my inbox is always open if you need to chat! And now, without further ado, let us esketit. 

Read Part One HERE | Read Part Two HERE | Read Part Three HERE | Read Part Four HERE

When Langdon’s eyes meet yours, you’re expecting them to widen in recognition. Surely this man, whom your subconscious recognized at once, would be sure to have some sort of reaction to seeing you? You can barely hide your disappointment when he looks away just as quickly as he looked at you.

“I won’t sugarcoat the situation: humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.” His voice lilts, smirking at the fear on everyone’s faces. He continues on, talking about the other compounds being overrun.

“Well, what happened to the people inside?” Timothy asks from beside you. Langdon takes his time focusing his attention on Timothy, who cowers in his seat.

“Massacred.” He says nonchalantly, almost as if he was asked what team won the Super Bowl. “The same fate that will befall almost all of you.”

“Almost all?” You don’t realize you’re the one that asked this until Langdon looks at you. His eyes twinkle, exactly the same way that the eyes in your dreams do whenever you say something he finds amusing.

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe-The Sanctuary.”

“The Sanctuary?” Coco retorts, rolling her eyes.

“The Sanctuary is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun.”

“Excuse me, sir, what measures? Why weren’t we given them?” Ms. Mead asks.

“That’s classified.” He says sharply, holding up a hand dismissively. “All that matters is that The Sanctuary will...survive, so the people populating it will survive, so humanity will survive.”

“Who are the people who are populating it?” Andre takes a break from his leering to ask.

“Also classified.” Langdon rolls his eyes before glaring at Andre. Langdon elaborates on the reason why he was sent to the Outpost: to conduct a series of interviews that will determine who is ‘worthy’ of making their way to The Sanctuary and who isn’t.

“What is this, The Hunger Games? This is bullshit. I paid my way in here, and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing.” Coco argues, and you can see from her expression that she thinks she’s so clever with her ‘comeback.’

“You don’t have to sit for questioning.” You stifle a chuckle at just how annoyed Langdon looks.

“What happens if we choose not to?” Andre asks.

“Then you say here and die.” Everyone’s silent for a moment, digesting the information that Langdon’s just provided.

“I volunteer to go first.” Gallant speaks up, raising his hand eagerly. You look at him from across the room in confusion, and he shrugs at you.

“While I admire your willingness to get your Cooperation over with, I have already determined the order in which I shall conduct the interviews.” Everybody waits, ready to hear the order in which your fates will be decided. Instead, he pulls out a bottle of pills, which he then explains can be used by those who don’t make the cut so they can die peacefully instead of being eaten alive by cannibals.

“I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” He makes eye contact with you once again, only looking away to make his departure. The spell of silence placed upon the room is suddenly broken with the closing of the doors behind Langdon, and everybody breaks out into excited chatter.

Like every conversation involving multiple Outpost residents, it eventually turns into an argument, but you can’t stop thinking about the mystery that surrounds Langdon.

Who is he? Why does something in you seem to know him? Does he know you, too? The sound of Ms. Venable’s cane hitting the floor is the wordless command that curfew’s coming up, and Timothy drags you up with he and Emily so you don’t get in trouble.

“Are you okay? You were spaced out there for a while.” He remarks.

“Yeah, I was just...thinking.”

“About your interview? Yeah, I’m pretty nervous too.” Emily smiles. You’re not nervous about the interview; in fact, you had forgotten about it completely, but you nod gratefully.

“It’ll all be okay, I’m sure. See you guys tomorrow?” From the way they’re both looking at each other, you can only assume that tonight is reserved for their one kiss of the week. You break away from the group when you see the platinum-blond head of your best friend a few feet away, already heading towards his room.

“Gal!” He turns around to look at you, purple-tinted sunglasses sliding down his nose. He grabs your hand, and you immediately know where you’re going.

There’s a secret hallways that only the Grays know about, and about a month into your stay Mallory showed you where it was so that you could hang out with her. As ‘assistants’ in the old world, you two had become rather close in the short amount of time that you each had your jobs. Since Grays were typically not permitted to speak to Purples, the only way you could see her without having to ask her to fetch you something is in secret. Gallant had eventually caught you going to meet Mallory, and the two of you decided to make this hallway your rendezvous spot as well. Although you get to see Gallant much more than Mallory, there’s still some things that can only be talked about when you’re absolutely sure that there’s no one listening.

“Okay, Langdon?” You throw out, settling on the cool cement ground next to Gallant.

“I know! Total hottie, right? I was getting serious gay-vibes off of him, too!” That’s not what you were planning on talking about, but leave it to Gal to use his ‘gaydar’ on everyone and everything.

“No, not that.”

“You didn’t think he was the finest piece of ass you’ve seen in the eighteen months we’ve been stuck down here?” He says in disbelief, clutching your arm as if hearing that hurts his very soul.

“No! I mean, yeah he’s kind of attractive, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Alright, spill the tea then.” He removes his sunglasses, fiddling with them before placing them on the outside of his shirt.

“You’re going to think that I’ve gone crazy, but just hear me out. I think...Langdon’s the man in my dreams.”

“Honey, he’s the man of all of our dreams.” You were expecting him to sigh, call you delusional or tell you that these dreams are getting to you more than he thought they were. He obviously has forgotten about the dreams that you’ve had nearly every night for almost three years, so wrapped up in his infatuation for the newest temporary resident.

“Gallant. I mean, he’s the guy I’ve been seeing in my dreams for as long as you’ve known me.” His face grows serious, but you’re just glad you’ve finally gotten through to him.

“Oh shit.” You giggle, rolling your eyes and playfully pushing him.

“Is that all you have to say about this?”

“Do you think it’s seriously him? How do you know?”

“His eyes. He looked kind of familiar before that, but when he looked at me I just...I’ve seen those eyes before. Those are the ones I see every night, I’m sure of it.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

You shrug. “Ask him, I guess?”

Gallant snorts. “‘Hey there, did you happen to know me before I lost all my memories?’” You laugh at his impression of you, his voice going up way farther than your own.

“Maybe not that outright, but I’ll have to mention it! If he knew me back then, maybe something he says can help me remember who I was before you found me.”

“Go for it, then. Really, what do you have to lose at this point?”

“(Y/N)!” A voice hisses, and you both startle at the unexpected intruder. Thankfully, it’s only Mallory, who looks just as scared as you feel right now. “Langdon wants to see you for your interview, Venable sent me to come and get you.”

You look at Gallant with wide eyes, but he returns it with an excited glint in his eyes. “Oh my God, now’s your chance! You’ve got this, you’re gonna kill that interview.”

“I wish he would have just let you go first.” You complain, standing up from your position on the floor.

“Oh, I’d much rather prefer it to be this way. The drama! The intrigue! I live for this shit!” After noticing the terrified look on your face, he pulls you into a hug. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay. It’s just an interview, that’s all. And if he ends up not knowing you, just tell him that it was an honest mistake.”

“(Y/N).” Mallory calls from behind you. Gallant nods and gives you a thumbs up before you disappear around the corner with the Gray.

You follow her in silence, not wanting to get her in trouble like the first time Venable caught you talking to her when she was supposed to be working. She pulls open the large doors to the office that once belonged to Ms. Venable, and you step inside. The doors close before you can get the chance to thank her, leaving you alone in the office with Langdon.

The man in question is already seated at the desk, looking over a manilla file filled with information that you presume is about you. He only glances up for a moment, beckoning you over with a wave of his hand. Taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk, you wait for him to speak. Instead, he just stares at you, and you smile nervously back at him. His gaze is piercing, as if he’s looking into your very soul, and you find yourself glancing around the room in a desperate attempt to not feel his eyes on you anymore.

“I won’t be telling you the criteria I’m using to grade you. Things you may feel are helpful may be hurtful, things you may feel will compel rejection may be exactly what I’m looking for. If you hedge, I will know. If you lie, I will know. And if you try to trick me, I will know, and this interview will be over. Are we clear?” He doesn’t raise his voice once, but that somehow makes it even more terrifying than it already is.

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.” You nod.

“Your file seems to be very...incomplete.” He starts, leaning back in his chair and looking at you. “Why?”

“I don’t know who I am, really. About three years ago, I woke up in an apartment that I didn’t recognize, with no memory of anything prior to that except for my name and the name of a friend.”

“Mr...Gallant.” He says with disdain.

“Yes. He took me in, gave me a job, basically helped me with anything and everything.”

“And you still don’t remember anything about your life prior to waking up in that apartment?”

“No. I’ve tried everything. Hypnotherapy, holistic remedies, just staring at a wall hoping I can remember something. None of it’s worked.” Your eyes track him as he stands from his chair, moving to sit on the desk so he can be closer to you.

“Tell me about your dreams.”

“My what?”

“Your dreams, the ones that you’ve been having consistently since you can remember?”

“H-how do you know about that?” He only smirks, tilting his head towards you.

“Answer the question, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

“Well, there’s three or so that are recurring, and then one major one that I usually have every night. Sometimes it’s these women, all dressed in black. I can’t see their faces, but I’m not scared of them; in fact, it feels like they might have been my family? There’s another one where I’m in a swamp, and so that leads me to believe I spent a lot of time in Louisiana. The other one is...scarier. I don’t ever actually see anything in that one, it’s all just blurry, but someone’s shooting a gun. People are screaming and crying, and I think I was hiding somewhere? I can’t be sure though.”

“And what about the last dream?” You blush, looking down at your hands instead of at Langdon’s face.

“It’s stupid.”

“All information may be pertinent to my final decision, regardless of whether you think it’s stupid or not.”

“Well...there’s a man. He has these beautiful blond curls, and we’re always touching each other in these dreams. Not like, in a sexual way, but we’re usually holding hands. I’ve never seen his face before, but sometimes I can just see a flash of his eyes. They’re shockingly blue, and the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Langdon stares at you for a long moment, and you flinch when his hand comes up to cup your face. The cool metal of his rings bites at your skin, and he grips your jaw to make you look up at him.

“Tell me who you are.” His voice is just barely above a whisper, and you find yourself straining to hear what he says.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. Somewhere, deep inside that pretty little head of yours, your true identity is just itching to reveal itself.”

“I want to leave.”

“Not until you remember who you are.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Your anger is only rising at this man, who acts like he knows everything when he truly knows nothing. You shouldn’t lash out, since it could very well spell the end for you, but you’re too pissed off to care right now. “What, do you know who I am, Langdon? Did you meet me before I lost my memory?”

He smirks at you, moving his face closer to yours. The atmosphere is tense, and some time passes before he speaks again.

“It’s getting late. We’ll continue this interview tomorrow.” The doors open without anybody behind them, and Langdon gracefully gets off of the desk, sitting back down in his seat like nothing happened.

You shakily stand up, making your way to the door quickly so that he doesn’t call you back in. The doors start to close again after you’ve exited, and you take a chance and look behind your shoulder. Langdon’s still staring at you, those damn blue eyes illuminated by the light of the fire. He definitely knows something, you think, and I’m going to find out what it is.

Tag List: @queencocoakimmie @sebastianshoe @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @lichellaw @nana15774 @sammythankyou @pastel-cloudz @ultragibbycentralworld @let-me-try-mom @uptosomeseriousfuckshit @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @alexcornerblog @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @dolceandchalamet @jimmlangdon @langdonsdemon @kahhlo @americanhorrorstudies (if I forgot anybody, please let me know!)

[kyliehorsegirl]

Snakes (Michael LangdonxReader)

Author’s Note*** Hello! This is my first Langdon fanfic I hope you like it. I felt inspired by everyone’s wonderful stories. I also took inspiration from my personal animals, so I hope you enjoy!

Michael Langdon x Reader: 2772 words

18 months. 18 months, Y/N was stuck, surrounded by obnoxious rich folk. She never grew up rich, she never lived in a mansion and this? This was not what she wanted. Why was she chosen to be here? What deemed her worthy enough to be here in this place. 

When the missile attacked she was far from any harm. Her family and wonderful creatures on the other hand didn’t make it. Part of her wished she could have stayed with her mother and animals. She didn’t know what kind of information they had on her to even consider allowing her a spot.

“We have been listening to the same song, for 18 fucking months.” Mr. Gallant dramatically fell into the velvet couch. A chorus of groans followed suit.

99% of the world’s population is gone, and these are the people I’m stuck with? Y/N thought to herself. 

With a deep sigh she excused herself from the sitting room, making way to the library. Despite the horrific apocalypse, literature was nothing short of a blessing. The Outpost’s library was full of almost any book you could think of. Y/N walked down the isles gliding her fingertips lightly along every book cover. Once she found herself in the occult section, she gently pulled out a Grimoire. 

Y/N was not a stranger to different beliefs, despite growing up in a rather christian household. Although she considered herself faithful, she was always curious about other religions and practices. Who knows how long she read for? There were no clocks or anything to give her a sense of time. She decided to take the book with her. 

As she retired to her room for the night she set the grimoire down while she stripped of her illustrious gown. The mandatory attire was not something Y/N would typically wear, but she was delighted to wear them nonetheless.

She put herself to bed wearing only a thin slip. She had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Something is changing. she thought as she let sleep take over her body.

The Following Morning

Sitting down at her spot at the dinner table, Y/N noticed something different. The disgusting cubes they deemed worthy of calling food, was cut in half. 

“This will be our last breakfast together.” Mrs. Venable stated. Expressionless features cast on her face.

“what????” The group was in distress, furious of the news.

“Mrs. Venable? We are already eating less than we need to survive. How are we supposed to live like this?” Y/N was not one for speaking out, but this is a line that should not be crossed.

“Effective measures have to be made. Our rations are low as it is.” Mrs. Venable said matter of fact.

“It’s just a dieting technique.” Evie noted. Groans across the table were vocalized.

“I’m not gonna have this! We are just waiting to die at this point.” Mr. Gallant said shoving himself out of his chair. He stood and threw his plate across the room. The large guard woman made quick work to attain him. In that moment however there was a perimeter breach. Red lights flashed and wailing sirens went off. Everyone rose from their seats and turning their heads to Mrs. Venable. 

“I will take care of this. Please see youselves to your rooms.” with that she made hast with Mrs. Meade elswhere.

“What the hell is even going on?” Andre huffed out. Y/N looked up the staircase with the return of the feeling from the pit of her stomach.

Something is definitely changing. She made way to her own room. 

She remained in her room until dinner. She placed the book down on her nightstand as she heard a scream in another room. She quickly made her way to the source of the scream and saw Mrs. Meade in Emily’s room. In her hands were snakes. 

“Looks like good eating tonight.” Mrs. Meade stated in a rather hick accent. 

At the dinner table covered soup bowls were placed in front of us. Y/N rolled her eyes thinking back to the “Stu” incident. 

“I have a strict rule against eating things with too many legs or no legs.” Coco twitched her nose in disgust.

“O but you had no issue eating something with two legs.” Andre said so melancholy. Speaking of Stu. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Eat it or don’t. No one is forcing you.” Meade stated. Everyone lifted the lids off the bowls when a strew of snakes slithered across the table. Phasing everyone other than Y/N. 

“Who is here? Who is the person in your room?” Emily boldly questioning Mrs. Venable with total disregard for the snake situation. Mrs. Venable stood in front of the fireplace preparing everyone for the strange intruder. A young man made his presence known as we glided through the hall. You could hear a pin drop. Y/N couldn’t even take a moment to appreciate the silence. Was this the feeling she’s been having? He was a beautiful creature Y/N could easily see that. Although, so could everyone else. It was repulsive how much everyone else was gawking at the intruder.

He was tall, not too tall, but just enough. He had carved cheeks with a strong jawline. His clothes were just as Victorian as the rest of The Outpost’s. 

“My name is Langdon and I represent the cooperative.” His voice floated through the room like silk. 

“I wont’ sugarcoat the situation. Humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here is crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth. The three other compounds in in Syracuse, New York, Beckley, West Virginia and San Angelo, Texas have been overrun and destroyed. We’ve had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they too, have been eliminated.” His hands are crossed behind his back. He stands tall and glances at every person in the room. Y/N looks him up and down as she allows herself a small smirk. Should she be afraid of him? Probably, but is she? No, what would be the point. She has been here this long. A change of pace is healthy, even if it means her life.

“There is hope,” this caught everyone’s attention.”there is another facility with enough food and supplies to last over a decade, a sanctuary if you will. I will be instrumental in choosing who will come with me. Those in sanctuary will play part in rebuilding this world.” His movements are so graceful and thought out as he speaks.

“Like who?” Mrs. Meade asks

“Classified.” he simply responds.

“Well what if we don’t want to be interviewed?” 

His eyes darken for a moment and he turns his head to the direction of the voice. His features relax in to a facade of calm. 

“O you don’t have to.” He pulls a vial out of his pocket full of pills. “stay here as the radiation and cancer eat away at your flesh. If hungry cannibals coming knocking, just pop one of these and you will be free of pain and suffering.” he grins. “ The interviews should only take a few days. I could take all of you or none of you.”

“What is this the hunger games.” Coco rebuttals snobbishly.

Langon pays her no mind as he continues “ I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” ending his gaze on me. Y/N holds her ground and doesn’t break eye contact. This makes him cock his head in a curious way. 

“I’ll go first.” Mr. Gallant says nonchalantly. Almost dragging his gaze away from hers he lazily looks to Gallant.

“And so you shall.” The mysterious Mr. Langdon retreats from the room.

Y/N brings back the grimoire to the library in search for a new book. When its time for her interview she will hold her ground. Be confident, elusive and a bit sexy. What does she have to lose? Sensing a presence behind her, she stays looking forward for a new book. There is a warm breath on the back of her neck. This sends chills down her spine. She turns her head slightly to see Langdon right behind her.

“If you are interested in the occult, maybe you’ll find this intriguing,” He reaches out in front of both of them and places a book in her hands. He glances down at her as she glances down at the book. Demonlology. He backs away from her. Y/N turns around and gives him a smirk. 

“Demonology? That’s an interesting topic. Have you had any experiences with demons Mr. Langdon?” She asks cautiously. She tilts her head to the side and looks up at him behind her lashes.

“Hmm, you could say I’ve experienced them personally.” He eyes her up and down soaking her in. 

“What are you suggesting? Are you a demon Mr. Langdon?” Y/N quickly darts her tongue out to wet her lips. This gesture does not go unnoticed. Rather than respond he smiles ever so slightly and turns to leave. 

“Meet me in my office for your interview Mrs. Y/L/N.” she watches every step he makes as he excited the room. 

The dress she’s is wearing is unlike anything the other choose to wear. It is the deepest shade of purple among all of them. The dress has a bolero style top that buckles in the front of her neck like a collar. Underneath is a flattering keyhole neckline that extenuates her collar bones. The arms are long that tighten at the wrist. From there, its a tight fitted dress with a slight flare to the bottom. Nothing obnoxious like Coco would wear.

Before she has a chance to knock he tells her “come in” odd how he knows she’s already there. He is seated at his desk, elbow on the armrest and hand holding his chin. He looks at her sinfully taking in her ensemble. 

“Have a seat.” she does so. “I will tell you how this is going to work. If you lie, I will know and if you try to trick me, I will know. Something you think could help, can be a hindrance and something you think is completely useless could be exactly what I’m looking for. Are we clear?” he leans forward

“Crystal.” Y/N Smirks and leans back her chair mimicking his movements, elbow on the armrest and hand on her chin. He squints at her and continues.

“Lets go straight for it. What do you miss most?” he now has both elbows on his desk resting his chin on top of his hands.

“Well, out of my family I miss my mother the most.”She pauses for a moment thinking of her mother.

“That’s not what you miss the most is it?” His eyes fixed on her.

““You seem to know everything about everyone. You tell me.” She tilts her head to look at him. Any remorseful feeling of her mother gone. He sighs and leans back.

“No, not your mother. Something else. Tell me.”

“My animals.” Y/N relaxes a bit lowering her shoulders, she didn’t realize were tense. 

“Your animals?” He strokes his chin. The hand is decorated with large silver rings.

“Yes. They gave me security. I turned to them when I felt upset. I’ve never liked people. I found happiness in my animals. I had all kinds of animals; horses, dogs and reptiles.” She smiles and eyes him closely. He raises an eye brow at ‘reptiles’ 

“Reptiles?” 

“Yes, of all my reptiles the snakes were my favorite.” She grins knowingly. He gives her a wicked smirk in exchange.

“Why?”

“Snakes are misunderstood. They are beautiful and elusive creatures that don’t deserve the hate they get. They are kind and gentle but, also not afraid to strike you in the face.” She licks her lips this time. Making it known what she’s doing. He stands up, walking around the table to lean against the desk. 

“Do you find me attractive.”  She is only slightly taken aback, making her to compose her self. She cockily runs a finger along her lips.

“Mr. Langdon, to say I didn’t find you attractive would mean there is something wrong with me. A blind man could appreciate your beauty. Of course I find you attractive. Even for someone with Sociopathic tenancies.” The look on his face shows that she caught him off guard. He makes his way to her chair placing hands on either side of the armrests, entrapping her. His gaze darkens.

“You think I’m a Sociopath?” 

“A sociopath manipulates people. They are just pawns to use and abuse. When they are no longer needed they are done away with. A sociopath is someone who doesn’t have feelings. Perhaps a few.” she stands out of her chair encouraging him to back up.”never remorse.” they back up “hatred” he is up against the desk. He places a gentle hand to caress her cheek. “pride” she leans into his warm touch.” lust” she takes his thumb into her mouth sensually. Her eyes big and bright. She gives a few swirls of her tongue before she removes her mouth from his thumb and her body away from his. 

He seems to be in a trance until he realizes she is no longer in front of him and walking away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Shock still apparent on his face. 

“Feel free to continue the interview.” She looks over her shoulder to wink at him and walks out.

Later in her room, Y/N drops her dress to her feet looking in her vanity. She spots and dark figure in the corner.

“Are you here to finish the interview?” She smirks in the direction of the dark figure. Langdon emerges from the shadows with a hungry look in his eye. He takes advantage of his long stride and grips her throat pinning her to the wall behind them. She makes a quick laugh to him.

“Who are you? I don’t know what you are. I have a weird feeling in my stomach. You are unlike anything I’ve experienced so far. You intrigue me.” He kisses the inside of her ear leaving a trail of lustful kisses along her neckline. Without knowing her own strength Y/N shoves him back. His eyes wide. She stalks him around the room like a cat hunting its prey. She takes light strides towards him. Y/N pushes him on the bed. He could stop her if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to.

“Tell my why you don’t want to be in control?” She crawls on top of him straddling his hips. Running her hands up his chest and down his arm. She whispers into his ear. “ Is it because you are always in control? Do you need release?” She licks the inside of his ear dragging her lips across his porcelain skin. Her kisses have a certain want to them. “You need someone to take over.” She grabs his throat in her small hand and pull down his jacket with the other. She kisses down to his shoulder and bites him leaving a mark where no one could see. He groans and takes a short breath as she licks the mark she made. 

Y/N rolls her hips forward against his groin just to hear him groan again. She returns to kissing his neck as she unbuttons his jacket. With more and more skin exposed she proceeds to kiss and massage every inch of his muscular torso. With his shirt off she takes a moment to admire him.

What the fuck am I doing. She thinks. The sliver of guilt she had melted away as he strokes her side with his large hands. 

“Please I need you.” Its now her turn to give a dark look. She take a glance at his arms and sees gashes up both forearms. Y/N gently runs her fingertip along the length of the cut as she does with the books in the library.. She bends down running her tongue along the cut lapping up any blood remaining. Langdon mews in the process. Exciting Y/N further. Brushing a stray hair out of his face lovingly she admires his face. He carefully reaches his own hand to touch her face. He slowly brings her face to his. Lips meet she holds his face in both hands while he caresses the back of her neck with one hand and pressing on her lower back with the other. Passionately the two kiss lips colliding and tongues intertwined. Breathlessly Y/N pulls away.

“Who are you.” hair falling into her face

“Michael, who are you?” he tucks the hair behind her ear.   

“Y/N.” 

******************************

I hope you liked it. I’m thinking to make it a series? Or maybe just add a smutty part. Sorry if some of the dialogue or timeline is not exact. A small snip it of this came to mind. It’s 2am because I am Michael Langdon trash. Let me know what you think since this was my first one. Series? Smut? Let me know <3

Ch.2 is out! 

[missnight0wl]

A night to remember

Summary: It’s finally time for the Winter Ball, and the whole curse-breaking gang is having fun. They deserved it.

Note: You can also read about Helena’s “Ups and downs” on the day when Charlie asked her to be his date.

Words: 2780

December 24, 1988

“Come on already, Helen!” called Andre, leaning on one of the chairs in the Ravenclaw Common Room. He was waiting for his friend for some time now. When he hoped she’s finally getting down, the girl decided she didn’t want to go to the ball at all.

“I feel stupid!” she whined.

“You’re overdramatic. I’m sure it’s fine.”

There was another moment of silence, and then Helena eventually appeared in the door, stepping a bit shakily. She was wearing a light blue dress made of tulle, finishing a little below the knee. Her hair was twisted in a bun with soft curls framing her face. She spread out her arms presenting herself.

“Lovely,” remarked Andre contently.

Helena stared at him sceptically. “For real, or you’re only saying that so I won’t cry and ruin my make-up?”

“It’s kind of both if I’m being honest,” he replied and thought for a second. “Just try not to frown so much, and keep your back straight…” he added, adjusting his own posture. “Oh no, why are you crying anyway? It’s really good, I’m telling you!”

The girl’s eyes indeed glistened with tears. She was breathing deeply in an attempt to hold them back. Andre approached her quickly and held her shoulders in a supportive gesture.

“It’s…” Helena stuttered out. “It’s just so normal, y’know…”

“What do you mean?”

“Just… just getting ready to a party, instead of curse-breaking…” Her voice started to tremble.

The fellow Ravenclaw seemed to be surprised by those words, but almost immediately this look was replaced by compassion. “Oh my. Oh… Come here,” he said, hugging his friend affectionately while also being careful to not wrinkle her outfit. After a while, he glanced again at her now slightly embarrassed face. He reached for a tissue to fix some mascara smears. “Tonight, you’re the most extraordinary normal girl at Hogwarts,” he continued comfortingly. “There will be no curses, no mysteries, and no tears, all right? We’re gonna have fun, I promise you.”

Helena sniffled. “Thanks, Andre,” she said quietly.

“Now, I believe you’re missing one more thing.”

The girl’s hand automatically went to her neck, as Helena was mostly worried that she could’ve forgotten her necklace. But grandma Queenie’s pearls were in their place. “What is it? I took everything you told me.”

Andre was watching her carefully. “I’m not sure… Like, one redhead by your side maybe,” he concluded, trying very hard to stay serious. Helena rolled her eyes, yet she couldn’t help but beam. “Really though, don’t hold him any longer. I believe most people went to the Entrance Hall by now.”

“What about you? Will you be ready in time?”

Andre threw his Pride of Portee scarf over the shoulder. “Darling, I’m always ready.”

“But you’re not going like that, right…?”

“Of course not. But don’t worry. I’m good at being fashionably late as well,” he said, winking at her. “Just go now! I’ll see you there.”

Helena embraced him once more and obediently left. Charlie was waiting for her on the fifth floor, near the staircase leading to the Ravenclaw Tower. They had decided to meet there so they wouldn’t have to search for each other in the crowd. The Seeker’s eyes were wandering around the corridor until he noticed her.

“I hope you didn’t wait much,” she greeted him.

He grinned instantly, his eyes twinkling. “You look amazing, Nell.”

“Why, thank you! And you look very handsome.”

Charlie blushed a little hearing the compliment, but then he apparently remembered something causing his enthusiasm. “Oh, check it out!” He turned around, glancing back over his shoulder. On his dark pewter robes, there was a silhouette of an icy blue dragon. The picture was glittering in the warm light of torches. “Isn’t it brilliant?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” Helena replied with a mysterious smile, focusing more on Charlie’s face than a dragon.

The redhead eyed her with the sudden understanding. “You did it, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps…”

“I thought that maybe it was Ben.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground. “But I just realised how well it matches your dress...”

“Ben helped, actually,” Helena hurried with an explanation. “And Badeea. She told me she’s not sure if it’s permanent because of the fabric, though it should survive the night.”

“Well, I love it anyway. And I love your dress,” he said, bringing back his excited expression. “Shall we now?” He approached nearer and bent his arm so his date could grab him.

By the time they went down the ground floor, the Front Hall was full of students in beautiful formal robes: boys looking around nervously, girls shrieking with laughter. Seeing that, Helena felt even happier that she already had her Gryffindor besides when they stepped among the people. The first pair they spotted was Penny and Ben. The Hufflepuff had decided that she’d rather spend that event with a friend, rejecting the same invitations from a good few boys she barely knew.

“We don’t have to dance, Ben, if you don’t want to,” they heard Penny saying when they got closer, still remaining unnoticed themselves.

The boy smiled diffidently. “Actually, I was taking some classes back in Muggle school. My teacher claimed I was quite good…”

“Really? You’ve never talked about it!” said surprised Penny. “I guess we all needed this ball, even if only to learn more about each other.”

They both cheered up even more, finally seeing Helena and Charlie. Their group was getting bigger and shortly after everyone gathered, the door to the Great Hall opened. The room looked really breath-taking, decorated in the winter theme. Frosty ornaments were shimmering thanks to many floating lanterns, and the centre of the Hall had been cleared to create a dance floor. Along one of the walls, there was a stage with the instruments ready for the band.

After Dumbledore’s short speech, it was time for the opening waltz. The musicians started to play a pleasant, quite ceremonial melody, and the first couples proceeded to step forward. Charlie turned out to be a better dancer than Helena expected. He was steering quite confidently, and even though his hand on her waist felt awkward for a very short moment, the girl could tell they both were becoming more comfortable with each song. She wondered if the Gryffindor looked more mature thanks to the formal outfit, or she simply missed that change in him recently.

When they had finally decided to rest, they found the table occupied by their four friends: Penny, Ben, Tonks, and Tulip. It wasn’t long before Andre also joined them.

“No way. You’re disappointing me,” he said dramatically, taking one of the chairs. “Did you really come here to sit?”

“Don’t worry, we’re only taking a break,” Penny explained on the group’s behalf.

Andre rolled his eyes jokingly. “We’ll have all the holidays for that, though. By the way, Penny. I hope you’re staying till the end of the ball.”

“Of course I am! I mean, I miss Bea terribly, but you all were so engaged in saving her that I couldn’t leave without spending this time with my friends. She’s safe, and we’ll still be together on Christmas Day…” The Hufflepuff paused abruptly because apparently, something near the entrance drew her attention. “Wait, is that Talbott? He told me he’s not coming!”

They all looked in the same direction, where indeed was standing the quietest Ravenclaw boy. He seemed to feel rather lost, yet he was very elegant. He was searching for familiar faces in the crowd and brightened up as soon as he saw their group. Helena might have something to do with his appearance, nevertheless, she kept it to herself.

“Would you mind if I go to him for a moment?” asked Penny. Not hearing any objections, she smiled at Ben and said before going away: “I’ll be right back.”

Andre decided that it’s a good moment to make the company move. “In that case, it’s time for me too. Tulip Karasu, will you do me an honour to accompany your fellow Ravenclaw?” he asked, reaching out to his classmate.

“Well, Andre Egwu, how could I say no to that?” replied the red-haired girl, taking his hand.

Tonks wasn’t exactly pleased with that. “Hey, and you’ll leave me alone?”

“You could dance with me,” Charlie suggested playfully.

“I don’t know, Weasley…”

“Oh, c’mon! You won’t dance with your best mate?”

“It’s nothing personal, Charlie. I’m just worried about your feet,” clarified the Metamorphmagus. “I don’t think you use them much in Quidditch, but I’d hate to damage Helen’s dance partner.”

The Seeker glanced at his companion, maybe making sure she’s fine with that, so she answered him with a grin. “I think I should be fine.”

“She’s not that terrible!” Tulip shouted over her shoulder before disappearing with Andre.

Charlie and Tonks stood up as well, the boy briefly touched Helena’s shoulder, and soon she was left alone with Ben. The Gryffindor appeared absent. Something was clearly on his mind.

“How’s it going, Benny?” she asked solicitously.

Her question woke him up. “I’m fine, actually. Really,” he added, seeing her worried expression. “I was just thinking how much has happened since I got to Hogwarts, how much has changed.”

“Like, you abandoned your hobbies?”

“Yeah, among other things,” he said with a pensive smile.

“Do you still feel you don’t belong here?”

“You mean at Hogwarts? I don’t know, maybe less often. A little. To this world though?” Ben pressed his lips and shook the head. “I don’t even know what I could do after school. Maybe I’ll stick to Astronomy…”

“Oh no, my dear, you’re not gonna waste your talents like that,” Helena stated with determination. “Come on, who did you want to be as a child?”

The boy frowned in the silence at first but quickly gave in. “I wanted to be a doctor,” he mumbled.

“Brilliant! You’d be a great healer!”

“Helen, I’m scared of blood…”

“Yeah, but you’ve proven me more than once that helping others is more important than your fears,” the Ravenclaw said cheerfully. “I mean, it’s just a suggestion, but maybe you’d like to think about it. Just… You can do whatever you want, Ben.”

“You know, Charlie told me pretty much the same thing some time ago.” He took a deep breath. “All right, I can think about it.”

“Well then, it’s a good place to end that serious talk,” the girl summed up. “So, are you going to invite me to dance now? For the sake of following the past passions,” she added encouragingly.

Ben blinked blankly. “Oh! Of course! Um… Shall we dance?”

Helena chuckled. “I’d like it very much.”

Even if Ben wouldn’t take her career advice, it was good to see him on the floor. He seemed way more relaxed, and actually self-assured. Before the girl noticed, though, Andre showed up nearby, asking politely for a change, and even later, Helena found herself in a pair with Barnaby. Finally, she switched with Rowan to dance with Bill while her best friend returned to her original partner. After one or two other pieces, Head Boy made a bow, so the girl tried to curtsey gracefully. She was expecting that Weasley would escort her to the table, however, he leant towards her instead.

“I think someone is missing you already,” he said, indicating direction behind her back.

She turned around. Charlie was sitting alone, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, though his red cheeks suggested he hadn’t spent there much time. He beamed when their eyes met. For the rest of the night, the two of them were inseparable.

They danced a lot, fooled around, and simply enjoyed themselves. Helena was grasping each moment of that, when she was looking in Charlie’s bright brown eyes, laughing at his jokes, smelling that unique scent of grass and honeysuckles – and something new - whenever they got closer during slower songs. And although the redhead was clearly giving her his full attention, his sense of duty overtook at some point – in a way, at least.

“Don’t you think they have a little too much fun?” the Seeker asked, embracing Helena after the spin. He actually looked quite amused himself.

“What now? Who are you talking about?” The girl followed his sight.

“The mischievous trio.”

At one of the tables, Tonks, Tulip, and Jae were having the time of their lives. They were also partially influencing Rowan and Barnaby sitting next to them. “I don’t know. Aren’t they always like that?”

Charlie drew nearer. “Wanna sit down for a bit?” he proposed, smiling softly. She nodded, intrigued by the situation.

When they approached their friends, Tulip was chatting with Rowan.

“You’re just so smart, and I’m proud you’re in our house, Rowan Khanna,” the first girl proclaimed. “We’re making a great intellectual duet, don’t you think?”

The other Ravenclaw exchanged looks with Helena, holding back a laugh. “Yes. Yes, we are, Tulip.”

“And you have such a great impact on Barnaby! He advanced so much with you!”

“I know, right?” Barnaby joined the conversation. “I could be a prefect if I met Rowan earlier.”

Rowan flushed with a shy grin. While Helena was thinking how adorable this short exchange was, Charlie apparently focused on something else.

“Hey guys, what are you drinking?” he asked, glancing at the glasses in front of his suspects. The three of them fell silent.

“Just drinks,” replied Tulip, regaining her focus.

“Oh yeah? Can I try some?”

Tonks jumped on her feet immediately. “Sure, I’ll bring you some! Do you want too, Helen?”

The girl didn’t get a chance to respond. “There’s no need, I’ll only take a sip,” the prefect interrupted.

“No, really, I’ll get some…” Nymphadora insisted.

“It’s alcohol, isn’t it?”

The Hufflepuff bit her lips and the Ravenclaw peeked nervously at her associates. The Gryffindor, however, tried to act cool.

“You can’t prove it,” he said with a serious face.

“Really, Jae?” Charlie leaned back, resting his hand on the back of Helena’s chair. “I was starting to have some hope for you.”

“Hey,” his roommate protested. “Why you assume I’m behind it?!”

Tulip chuckled, patting Jae’s shoulder as if she just heard a very good joke.

Tonks stared at Weasley with innocent eyes. “So are we in trouble?”

“No, you’re not. Yet,” he answered grimly, although his expression sort of ruined the effect. “Just, be responsible, okay? Do you know what this word means? And try to not be too happy about it around Bill.”

“Happy about what?” Head Boy emerged out of nowhere and took one of the seats. “Are you talking about booze?” He didn’t get any answer, so he went on. “Oh, I know about that. I keep an eye on Jae longer than you, brother.”

“Oi! Maybe it was the girls’ idea, huh?”

“Oi!” the girls barked at Kim, clearly not appreciating his suggestion.

The boy seemed to be defeated. “Great. So why I’m even hiding?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the teachers still don’t realise, so you know…” Bill put his finger to the lips.

Helena raised her eyebrows. “William! What happened to you? Have you been drinking yourself?”

“Of course not!” he replied with a weird gleam in his eye. “I’m simply in a good mood.”

“Is it because of that dance with Rakepick?” Charlie teased his sibling.

“She’s a great dancer if that’s what you’re asking about. Not as good as McGonagall, but still,” Bill said with a smug smirk. “Besides, I’m just glad to see my friends happy for a change. It’s like all the stress from the past months was left somewhere outside the castle. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning on changing that at least until the end of tomorrow.”

Bill often put into words what his fellow Curse-Breaker in the making had in mind. Yet at that point, the girl felt his words were especially accurate. Until the end of the event, Helena was watching all those people so important in her life. Rowan, Penny, and Chiara chatting at the table. Ben trying to stop Barnaby from making a deal with Jae. Badeea marvelling at the decorations and explaining something to Talbott. Tonks and Tulip acting suspiciously, surprisingly accompanied by Merula. The eldest Weasley looking conflicted after he noticed the said trio. Andre being very proud of the stylisations he had helped create. And… was it Diego dancing with Ismelda?

Penny was right, they all needed this ball. For one night, to forget their sorrows and worries. For one night, to just be teenagers.

Charlie perhaps needed it the most - just so he could finally steal Helena’s very first kiss.

[wutheringheightstillpendalhill]

Curious thoughts//  Chapter two

American Horror Story: Apocalypse

Micheal Langdon x (Cordelia’s daughter) Reader

Rating: small amount of fluff

I sat in front of my mirror, yet the reflection shown wasn’t of my own but of Michael Langdon as we spoke to one another in the safety of our privates rooms at the two schools.

“Why do you think we’re connected?” I asked after a while, he seemed stumped at my question. “I’m not sure which makes me feel uneasy about all of this” he answered truthfully as I thought over it all, “so you don’t want to talk to me then?” I quizzed him in a serious tone. It wasn’t that I disliked being able to see and talk to him on the contrary it made the time that I was on my own more enjoyable.

“I never said that, in fact your one of the most interesting people I’ve met so far in my life” he answered with a smirk as I scoffed rolling my eyes playfully at him, “sweet talking ain’t gonna get you anywhere Langdon” I grinned he chuckled in response to my words. “Should have thought of doing this ages ago, so much easier than appearing where ever you are” I commented remembering all the times I’d randomly appear in his grandmothers house just as I had fallen asleep in my own bed. “Do you remember anything from then?” He asked me his eyes held a look of concern, I paused for a moment allowing my mind to flick back to when I would appear wherever he was, I could only ever remember an elderly woman or being scared of him at times before begging him to send me home.

“I remember your grandmother, I remember you being sad because something happened and then as time went on when we would play, I would get scared of something and then beg for you to send me home” I recited to him as a distant look passed over his face, “what? What is it?” I asked worry dripping from my words. “Nothing... nothing promise me you’ll forget about it, you have to promise me Elisha”he demanded with a stern look which startled me, nodding furiously I swore to forget all about it.

“Tell me about your father?” He asked seemingly calm after his blowout on me, shaking my head slightly I shakily answered “who? Hank?”, he rolled his eyes at me, “no silly, your real father what was he like?” He told me. Smiling sadly I looked away over at the picture of my mother and I together on fourteenth birthday. “My mama called him an angel, said he was the kindest man she had ever met, he had this aura around him that was pure and clean she told me that every time she wa switch him it felt like a breath of fresh air..” I told him my eyes became blurry as I rubbed at them to get rid of any tears there, “he had to leave her just before she found out about me, said his father was calling for him to return home, he wanted to stay with her but it just wasn’t possible so he left leaving only a locket and me for my mama to remember him by” I finished looking back at Michael as he seemed saddened by the story, yet I could tell that the cogs in his brain where turning thinking over what I had just said.

“Their looking for me, they want for me to practise more” he suddenly said standing up quickly I followed swiftly after him, “just be careful please I know about the seven wonders, I’ve lost friends to them, I don’t want to lose you too” I admitted placing my hand on the glass that separated us. “I will besides I’ve still got a few days, will you be there?” He asked placing his hand against my own, “I will, your my friend Michael if you want me there then I will be” I told him smiling as he copied me.

I suddenly felt this weird sensation in my hand that I had against the glass as I saw it disappearing through the glass, I could feel Michael holding onto it as he lifted it up before placing a light kiss to my knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight” he smirked slyly at my shocked expression before letting go of my hand as he faded swiftly being replaced by my own reflection.

I sat there in silence listening to the crackling of the fire as we sat in the library. Everyone was on edge after this mornings incident with the snakes, my mind was racing trying to rationalise everything. I sat on the arm rest beside Emily, I had a hold on her hand she was still uneasy after finding the snakes in her room this morning when she woke up.

We then heard the sounds of footsteps approaching where we were. The sound echoing with each step closer, in my head I was trembling but my body seemed relieved by the arrival of the mysterious visitor.

I turned my head ever so slightly to see the man walk into the room with us, long blonde hair lay elegantly on top of a smart black evening outfit. He seemed to be studying us as he walked round the room to were Venable was standing in front of the fire, immediately I could tell he intended to ensure that he held the highest rank amongst us all just by how the split second interaction between both him and Venable went.

“My name is Langdon, and I represent The Cooperative...I won't sugarcoat the situation, Humanity is on the brink of failure, my arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth. The three other compounds In Syracuse, New York, Beckley, West Virginia, and San Angelo, Texas have been overrun and destroyed, we've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they, too, have been eliminated.” Langdon began to explain to us, I felt guilty for all those who were dead outside of these walls, I felt guilty for the fact I didn’t deserve a place here in the outpost that in fact there were so many brilliantly minded people who had deserved to live more than I did.

“What happened to the people inside?”

“Massacred....The same fate that will befall almost all of you.” Langdon answered bluntly before being cut off by Mallory’s bravery to speak up, “Almost all?”.

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe The Sanctuary.” He went to to explain before also being cut off by Coco,

“The Sanctuary?”

“The Sanctuary is unique.It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun.” He explained his eyes scanning the room, I tried to keep an open mind, since everything about him either scared me or made me want to run to his side and never leave it.

“Excuse me, sir. What measures? Why weren't we given them?” Ms Mead injected into the lecture that we were being given.

“That's classified.All that matters is that The Sanctuary will survive, so the people populating it will survive, so humanity will survive.”

“Who are the people who are populating it? “Also classified. However, I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us.” He stated as the whole room came to life as we all began mumbling to one another. “The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call "Cooperating.I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong.” He added to his dictations.

“What is this, The Hunger Games? This is bullshit.I paid my way in here, and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing.” Coco scoffed at the news of having to earn a place to safety.

“You don't have to sit for questioning.” Langdon replies to Coco’s remarks. “What happens if we choose not to?” Andre inquired curiously.

“Then you stay here and die.” Was the answer.

“I volunteer to go first.” Gallant finally spoke aloud, I glanced at him worriedly. “And so you shall.” Langdon patronised him before looking round at everyone. “The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won't be kept in suspense forever.For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost.If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking, down one of these.One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up.” He then went on filling everyone with dread and fear before taking his leave but not without saying, “I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” As he disappeared into the shadows of outpost three.

“Well, smooth move, asking to go first.” Coco retorted sarcastically, “There's an old actor's adage.Either go first or go last.” Evie remarked taking a sip of her drink.

“You're not going anywhere.” Coco fires back at the older woman. “Are you suggesting that he is going to pass me up?” Evie demanded, “You're ancient.” Was the argument.

“He's looking for people to repopulate the Earth, - not fill a bingo hall.” Coco backed up her previous statement.

“You know, for someone with the mental capacity of a three-year-old, I suppose 52 might seem ancient.” Evie snarkily commented waiting for Coco to fire back at her, “You were 52 when Elvis took his last shit.” I sighed shaking my head at their childish act, “That's enough!” Gallant demanded voicing a similar opinion to my own. EVIE: Oh, no.Let her spout.I remember a wonderful lunch that I had at Dan Tana's with Natalie Wood.Natalie turned to me and she said, "Evie, you are a survivor.You're gonna outlive us all” And dear Natalie She turned out to be right.Hmm.” Evie sighed dramatically, I quickly get up tired of their bickering and boring stories I swiftly left them room in search of something to do.

I allowed for my feet to carry me where ever they wanted, the idea being perhaps they may know somewhere better in this place than I already did, however I only ever found myself returning to the kitchens were I found Mallory giving me a questioning look as to why I was there.

“I’m bored”

[ink-logging]

More Superhero Comics, Revealing My Reactionary and Facile Engagement with Art as Little More Than the  Accrual of Social Capital, Benefiting Nobody But Myself, 4/7/19

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Vol. 4: The Tempest #5 (of 6), Alan Moore, Kevin O’Neill, Ben Dimagmaliw, Todd Klein: This is an often very funny issue, set up like a pasted-together UK edition of old US pre-Code horror and crime comics, which, in addition to being funny, plumps up the page count as the plot moves maybe two or three tics forward in advance of the very-last-issue-of-LoEG-ever. The conservative in me wonders why we’re being this digressive in the penultimate number of the entire saga, but then -- at least since “The Black Dossier” -- this project has been more about positioning various strands of fiction and their accrued cultural baggage against one another than telling a propulsive adventure story. Anyway: the realm of Faerie, having easily survived an attempted nuclear strike on the collective imagination by a military-corporate black ops fiction squad comprised entirely of various revamps of James Bond, has brought in every character from every game, comic, cartoon, TV show, movie and book reality with everything for a HUGE apocalypse! 

Scenes of bedlam involve: the life story of Victorian painter and murderer Richard Dadd; cameos by Stardust the Super Wizard and David Britton’s Lord Horror; the oeuvre of musician Warren Zevon, brought to terrifying life; a Corbenesque image of a nude muscleman’s massive dick flapping into battle in 3-D; Mick Anglo’s Captain Universe, presented by Moore in unmistakable evocation of his own Marvelman/Miracleman stories of decades ago; a ghost wearing the word CRIME on his head a la Charles Biro’s Mr. Crime, the greatest American comic book horror host; at least one figure from the annals of racist caricature firing powerful sound waves from his mouth; a monster named Demogorgon, the leviathan of Populism, which the heroes allegorically cross as a footbridge en route to a safehouse named the Character Ark; a page-long parody of Batman (via the forgotten UK superhero playboy character the Flash Avenger), describing his origin as motivated entirely by hatred of the poor; a text feature telling of UK comics artist Denis McLoughlin, who worked consistently since the end of WWII, never made enough money to retire, and spent decades as an elderly man drawing for survival on titles he hated, eventually taking his own life in his 80s; and the secret of what happened to all the British superhero characters after the midcentury, which is that they were all eaten by Capitalism, pretty much. I laughed a bunch, but if you think LoEG is tedious shit, this probably won’t turn you around.         

*

Savage Dragon #242, Erik Larsen, Ferran Delgado, Nikos Koutsis, Mike Toris: The latest installment of the longest-running Image comic written and drawn by one of the Image founders, now deeply dove into problematic network tv drama stuff. The Dragon’s relationship with his partner Maxine is still strained in the wake of her sexual assault, a video of which the Dragon viewed in the police archives; meanwhile, the mother of one of the Dragon’s young children has been telling them all the truth about their parentage, further disrupting the peace of the household. Also, a formerly aggressive sex robot has joined the gang, dressed as an anime maid. And, the Dragon reluctantly teams up with the mid-’00s-vintage sexy heroine character Ant (which Larsen purchased from creator Mario Gully a few years ago) to foil a scheme by elderly elites to project themselves into the bodies of mythic gods in order to provoke the Rapture. Most interesting to me, however, is a bonus segment in which Larsen presents newly-lettered pages of his preliminary solo work on “Spawn” #266 (Oct. 2016), which would later be filled out by contributions from Todd McFarlane, colorist FCO Plascenscia, and letterer Tom Orzechowski. 

As usual, I prefer the ‘unfinished’ version (top) to the official release product (bottom).

*

Superman Giant #9, Erika Rothberg, ed. 

&

Batman Giant #9, Robin Wildman, ed.

These are two of those 100-page DC superhero packages they sell for five bucks exclusively at Walmart (for now; later this year they’re gonna have them in comic book stores too), which marry one new 12-page story per issue with three full-length reprint comic books from elsewhere in the 21st century. I just wanted to know what was inside them. Here is what I found:

-The new Batman comic is written by Brian Michael Bendis as a very conspicuously all-ages prospect, where the story is about nothing more than what it’s about, and the title character is presented as a serious-minded but inquisitive and compassionate man of adventure. This issue -- just in time for the remix of “Old Town Road” featuring Billy Ray Cyrus -- Batman and Green Lantern travel back to the Old West, trade in their superhero outfits for cowboy clothes, and meet up with Jonah Hex. Nick Derington draws the heroes smooth and squinting with Swanian sincerity, and Dave Stewart colors it all bright and sunny. This is not my thing at all, but it’s confident to the point of acting like almost a rebuke to the rest of the book, where literally everything else is chapter whatever of a nighttime doom ballad drawn by either Jim Lee or something trying very hard to look like him. 

-Like:

I can spot the differences, sure - if nothing else, reading superhero comics trains you to spot differences in otherwise similar things. But, there is absolutely an aesthetic at work. The top page is from an issue of “Nightwing” that tied into the 2012 “Night of the Owls” crossover in the Batman titles, produced by a seven-person drawing and coloring team fronted by pencillers Eddy Barrows & Andres Guinaldo. The writer, Kyle Higgins, has Dick Grayson fight his semi-immortal great-grandfather, who is an assassin for the Court of Owls: one of the more popular recent Batman organizations of villainy, presented here as a fascist group mediating society’s function through murder from the gray space between social classes. The Graysons, therefore, are the Gray Sons, but Nightwing resists the pull of destiny by winning a big fight, slinging the villain over his shoulder, and walking away toward a better future of just beating the shit out of bad people instead of killing them, I think. The Batgirl story -- from 2011, written by Gail Simone -- is comparatively orthodox, finding the character gripped with uncertainty about the superhero life and going about some downtime character-building activities, though most of it’s a big fight with a villain with a tragic past. The penciller, Ardian Syaf, kind of has trouble blocking the action so that characters’ movements are clear; I think Syaf is best known for having his contract with Marvel terminated in 2017 for slipping what were widely interpreted as anti-Christian and antisemitic references to Indonesian politics into an X-Men comic. 

-There is a whole lot of Jeph Loeb among the reprints. He is not a writer who has been in critical fashion for much the past two decades, but he has undoubtedly sold a lot of comics for DC, and they probably feel he can do it again. The Batman book is serializing (deep breath) “Hush”, a 2002-03 storyline notable for its extraordinarily easy-to-solve central mystery, and generally being a taped-together excuse for Jim Lee to draw as many popular Batman characters as possible across 12 issues; it sold like hot cakes. The highlight of chapter 9 is probably a bit where a three person fight ends in one panel, and then one of the characters leaves, and then a second character wakes up from unconsciousness and also leaves, and then the first character comes back and nurses the third (also unconscious) character back to health, and then Batman arrives, all in the transition between the aforementioned panel and the next, which takes place in the same room; such is the befuddling desire to race ahead to more spectacle. Jim Lee (with Scott Williams and Alex Sinclair) is indeed Jim Lee (et al.) throughout, though at one point the team drops a howler of a swordfighting panel where Batman’s blade appears to grows to JRPG length due to what I think is the colorist filling two whoosh lines with the same hue as the swords.      

Meanwhile, the Superman book is serializing a 2004 storyline from “Superman/Batman” -- the series where Loeb has Superman describe the action on the page with his own Superman-branded captions, and Batman does the same with Bat-captions, and Superman says tomayto and Batman says tomahto -- in which the late Michael Turner, one of the rock star 2nd generation Image artists, illustrates a new introduction for Supergirl. But this isn’t quite the same comic that was originally published... can YOU spot the difference?

Is this like how Walmart won’t sell CDs that have an explicit content sticker, but with teen superhero g-strings? It’s hard to explain to younger readers how the low-rise/thong panties combo forever sealed the horniness of a generation of het male superhero artists into the late 1990s, and maybe DC doesn’t want to face that. Or, they’re just leery of how Turner slipping some peekaboo glimpse of Supergirl’s underpants or bare thighs into virtually every panel in which she is depicted below the waist might affect the marketability of the comic in 2019 - although I guess it could have happened in an earlier reprint somewhere too.

-The new Superman comic is a series of 12 splash pages depicting a race between Superman and the Flash. There is very little sense of speed, because Andy Kubert (inked by Sandra Hope, colored by Brad Anderson) draws the characters as frozen in time in a way that prioritizes muscular tension in the manner of contemporary superhero cover art; at one point the two characters part the sea with the force of their bodies, and it looks to me like they’re gesticulating in front of a theatrical backdrop. And, anyway, the story pulls back almost every other page to depict Batman standing on a ledge, or Lex Luthor in a sinister chair -- or some birds flying next to a building, or the Earth as viewed from space with streaks on it -- as the race occurs deep in the background or off to one side. The point is not excitement, but reflection, as imposed upon us by the between 13 and 21 narrative captions and/or dialogue balloons pasted atop all but the first page. 

The writer is Tom King, whose “Mister Miracle” (with artist Mitch Gerads) gets a double-page advertisement later in the book, festooned with breathless blurbs from major media outlets. His narrator here is a little girl who is literally chained in captivity, clutching a Superman doll, and delivering her soliloquy in a manner of a superhero-themed TED talk with handclap repetitions on the nature of contradiction. Being faster than a speeding bullet is a CONTRADICTION. Being as strong as a locomotive is a CONTRADICTION. Leaping tall buildings in a single bound is a CONTRADICTION. Superman is about to lose the race, but then he wins, because to beat the Fastest Man Alive is... a contradiction. No wonder the GQ entertainment desk was blown away. DC comics do this kind of thing a lot, where they just have the writer tell you how great the characters are, and since you’re still reading superhero comics in the 21st century, you’re expected to pump your fists in recognition, because you and the writer and everyone at DC are just big ol’ fans... but I am not, because I am Jesus Christ, the only son of God. 

-Elsewhere in the Superman book is an issue of “Green Lantern” from 2006, drawn by Ethan Van Sciver (inked with Prentis Rollins, colored by Moose Baumann), who is known today mostly as a conservative ‘personality’ online. He also netted more than half a million dollars last July in a crowdfunding campaign to make a 48-page comic book which he has not yet finished; funny to see an American right-winger on the French schedule. Funnier still to see the kind of people (mostly guys of a certain age) who mill around such personalities croaking about how diversity is ruining comics, because ALMOST EVERY FUCKING STORY IN BOTH OF THESE 100-PAGE BOOKS IS DRAWN BY EITHER SOME DUDE FROM THE 1990s OR SOMEBODY WORKING EXPLICITLY IN THAT STYLE, but - I guess when you’ve been pampered for so long, every paper cut feels like a ripped limb. Speaking of dismemberment, the writer here is Geoff Johns, who is often pegged as a superhero traditionalist, though he also has a grasp of gory pomp which occasionally pushes the comics he writes into a Venn diagram set with loud youth manga... at least in terms of how the action plays out, all broad and pained. So, needless to say, he’s currently writing “Doomsday Clock”, which is DC’s present attempt to extend the publication life of the valuable “Watchmen” property, so that they needn’t return it to the original creators, per the original writer, Alan Moore.  

-To hear Alan Moore say it, the America’s Best Comics line was done on a work-for-hire basis as a means of ensuring prompt payment of the various creators from Jim Lee’s WildStorm, the original publisher. WildStorm was then acquired by DC (Jim Lee is now their co-publisher and chief creative officer), and Moore -- who has been (fairly) criticized in the past for taking ethical stances that cause financial harm to his artistic collaborators, who are in a less economically flexible position than writers in the comic book field -- allowed the line to continue under DC’s ownership, as to cancel everything would disadvantage everyone working on the titles. One of those titles, “Tom Strong”, was written by Moore and pencilled by Chris Sprouse for a while, and then there was a long line of guest creators, and then Moore and Sprouse came back when the ABC line wrapped, so that the concept could reach its logical termination point in an apocalyptic manner... Moore does love an apocalypse. The final story in the Superman book is a very recent, late 2018 issue of “The Terrifics”, in which we find an attempt to revive the DC-owned Tom Strong characters as players in broader DC stories. Jeff Lemire & José Luís are the primary creators. Jack Cole’s Plastic Man is there, as well as the John Ostrander/Tom Mandrake version of Mister Terrific. It’s a lot of offbeat characters; we even see Moore’s own parody of Hoppy the Marvel Bunny, because, I mean, Alan Moore does a lot of riffs on preexisting characters too, right? It’s a big blob of cartoon whimsy, filled with available characters running around. If they’re available, you might as well roll ‘em out, off the new releases rack and into a supermarket reprint package stacked in a box next to squeeze toys and discount Pokémon merchandise, which I bought, because it was really cheap.

-Jog                   

[fantroll-purgatory]

@theo-theleo

Your name is PRAXIS AUTEUR and you have quite the interest in OLD TIMEY MOVIES your favorite being those that are SILENT. You have a large disdain for LOUD NOISES and would much rather keep things QUIET. If you aren’t watching movies you can be found in your INDOOR GARDEN caring for your various plants, your favorite of which contain powerful POISONS and SEDATIVES. You are very LETHARGIC and are tired more often then not, you’d much rather keep to yourself and drink a nice warm glass of HOMEMADE TEA. While you try to keep the peace and are fairly polite, loud noises set off you ANGER ISSUES, and you can get quite VIOLENT. Your weapon of choice if a lovely pair of HEDGE CLIPPERS from your garden, but you’d much rather not get them dirty. You have a QUIET way of speaking almost as if you where WHISPERING you never ever use caps and your sentences tend to TRAIL OFF…

——————————————————————

This guy is probably an alterian troll but I don’t think I’ve ever decided 100% (this takes place in an au without sburb but I will happily include sburb info!)

It’s all good! At this point we mostly ask for aspect/moon to assign an extended zodiac sign. At this point we’re not totally sold on only using Extended Zodiac symbols, but it’s fun to “type” a troll and try to modify their existing symbols to include elements of their sign.

Name- Praxis (derived from Zoopraxiscope an early device for playing moving pictures)

Auteur (straight up a word that means “a filmmaker whose personal influence and artistic control over a movie are so great that the filmmaker is regarded as the author of the movie” )

I think I’m gonna change both of these names because both “praxis” and “auteur” are words you hear in the English language, but I wanna keep the spirit of both names!

My suggestion is Monpon Andret, and I’ll explain my reasoning:

The zoopraxiscope was invented by Eadweard Muybridge, who definitely wins prizes for having the weirdest (weardeast?) goddamn spelling of Edward I’ve ever seen. Last name pronounced like “my bridge.” The oldest surviving silent film is Roundhay Garden Scene, filmed by French inventor Louis Le Prince.  So I took the phrase “my bridge” and translated it to French: mon pont.

Auteurism was popular with 40s French critics, based on the theories of Andre Bazin and Alexandre Astruc, and was dubbed “auteur theory” by Andrew Sarris. That’s a lot of Andres surrounding one theory! Seems like an appropriate way to reference it.

Age- 9 sweeps

Strife Specibus- Hedge Clippers

I like this! How would you feel about making his specibus clipperKind, especially to maintain the reference to early film editing that used literal clippers?

Fetch Modus- ‘Movie Titles’ a Modus in which every item is given a title similar in length based around their use and purpose, to withdraw an item one must flawlessly recite it’s title

example- the title ‘A small cylindrical utensil in which our protagonist or antagonist may use to transfer ink to a sheet of pressed plant mater to convey a written message or picture’ may be used to describe a pen

gfdlksjlsgj;h I fucking forgot troll movie titles were that long. Since he does silent films, what about this concept exactly but in a Charades modus? Like a solid 5 minutes of wild gesticulation just to get a fucking pen?

Blood color- Indigo Blood

Symbol and meaning- Stylized Film Reel (this character was designed before the extended zodiac and I’m 100% will to take feedback that would give him one of those symbols)

I gotcha! I think it’s a good symbol and I remember there’s a canon indigo sign that’s just a circle with an arrow, so this should be a simple adjustment!

Trolltag- animorphicLarkspur (animorphic being a film term talking about the purposeful distortion of film to make it fit the screen, a reference to how Praxis hides his anger issues to fit a calm picture. Larkspur being a blue flower that is poisonous a reference to Praxis’ work with deadly plants and his own toxic ways.)

Yeah, I’m a fan!

Quirk- All sentences trail off, no capitals (ex. i am quite positive that you are a major thorn in my side…)

I like it as a simple quirk. If I may suggest an alternate, maybe something based stylistically off intertitles? Only using brief descriptive bits to “set up” a scene, then enclosing stuff he actually wants to say in quotes. Mostly reacting to others’ actions? And keeping all messages brief, but in full sentences.

Example: On a dark and stormy night…

“Goodness! Did you see that fox jump over that dog?”

The mystery deepens…

Special Abilities (if any)- Praxis has no special abilities other than distain for loud noises

Lusus- An oversized praying mantis, Deadly but unassuming

So far we have seen two canon indigoblood lusii, and they are Arthour and Zebruh’s lusus which is…guess what: a zebra. A sample size of two means nothing, but it may be fun to play with the idea that all indigoblood lusii are horselike. Which is a perfect tie-back to your theme, actually, considering that Eadweard Muybridge’s first go with the zoopraxiscope was an animated horse. Maybe we can go a horse with like, way too many legs, like how it would look if you layered all the frames one atop the other?

Personality- Praxis tries to come off as a quiet calm and unassuming individual in a society full of violence. He very much keeps to himself and craves constant solitude, he is a film buff but even the sound of those can get to him at times, hence his overwhelming interest in silent films. He feels they fill the hole that the avoidance of others bring. He’s very slow moving and sleepy taking everything at his own gruelingly slow pace, he likes plants because they don’t go anywhere and are just as unmoving as him. He has anger issues and agressive outbursts that are often triggered by loud noises, he doesn’t want to be seen as ‘uncivil’ hence the avoidance of sound and those outbursts. He hates being seen as a ruthless high blood.

Ooooh I like it! Interesting angle to take, especially since he’s avoiding the broader highblood stereotype of violence while collapsing into the indigoblood stereotype of being like…WAY too into his hobbies.

Interests- Film, Gardening, Tea, Homemade remedies, and peace and quiet

Title: I haven’t picked one out and am 100% open to suggestions

I kind of think he might be a Knight of Hope? Like he’s drowning in his aspect in the sense that he keeps retreating to the limitless potential of film, but he’s also being a shut-in and reducing his own ability to get out there and live his life! Also ghosting Rage in the form of being a film critic. But he has the potential to step out of his house and bring his vision to others, to inspire!

Also, Hope players are known for their “black and white” thinking, which tickles me.

Land: again no idea

If he doesn’t play SBURB it’s not super relevant, but I like the idea of a Land of Slate and Bells. Full of greys and also he *needs* to make noise to progress through the planet. While the bells give off a nice, round, assonant tone, they also attract nearby monsters.

Dream Planet: Derse

Yep, I agree with that.

I think that makes him Sagirius, sign of the Bardic! I’ll see what I can do to incorporate that into your symbol!

So this gent didn’t need *too* much tweaking; as is the case sometimes, I mostly just wanted to sprite him for fun and for sport

Credits:

fan-troll for the horn base, the suspenders, and the shoes

naphal for the pants and initial bow tie

llemonlum for the glasses

you for the hair

Glasses - I don’t know what it is but a pair of glasses seems to be the difference between me conceiving this guy as a composer vs. a critic. llemonlum has a nice set that looks suitably Ebert-like, which I felt was a good tie-in.

Symbol - since Sagirius is just a horizontally bisected circle with an arrow coming off the top, it was pretty easy to incorporate into your existing symbol! I made my own stylized film reel, cut it in half, and slapped an arrow on. I also like the bisected reel because critics often come under fire for “tearing a movie apart.”

Color scheme - we’ve seen from existing trolls that indigobloods rep their color quite readily, so I changed them all to the canon indigoblood color. I also adjusted the shirt color because it’s a little too neon a blood color to work well with mid-tone greys.

And that’s it! I like this dude.

[barchiefanfiction]

Will We Ever

Summary:  Archie and Betty walk home from Pop's together. Alternate ending to 2x14.

Now that the show is back I finally got some inspiration to fill a prompt! Sorry it took so long!

Prompt:  (season two canon) Archie and Betty have a fight (with tons of sexual tension).

AO3 // ff.net

In a booth at Pop’s on Sunday night, smiling across the table at Archie, her hand over his, there’s a moment that Betty feels at peace. The four of them are okay. They’ve survived yet another traumatic experience, and the argument that had taken place seems long forgotten.

Veronica removes her hand first, pulling it out from under three other hands.

“We should all probably go home,” she says. It’s odd for Veronica to be the first one to want to go home, but Betty is kind of exhausted herself, so she nods in agreement. “I’ll have Andre drop you guys off.”

“You know what, V? It’s not that far, Jughead can walk me home,” Betty says. Her bags aren’t that heavy, and she’d rather take her time. The less time spent in that house with Chic, the better.

“Actually, why doesn’t Archie walk you home?” Jughead says. “You guys live next door to each other, it makes more sense. I’ll take you up on the lift home, Veronica.”

Betty frowns in confusion, but Jughead just pats her arm. Is this his way of trying to prove he’s completely cool about the kiss? Veronica turns to Archie.

“Archie?” she prompts.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Of course.”

They say goodnight to their respective partners, and Archie and Betty grab their bags from the car. They walk side by side in silence, letting the sounds from the night fill the empty air between them. The calm Betty had felt a moment ago, sitting in the warmth of Pop’s, has faded away. Her relief at being safe gives way to the anxiety she feels about having Chic around, her unease about whatever Veronica’s father is up to. She doesn’t want to fight with her friends, but she can’t deny Hiram is shady, and his purchase of the Register doesn’t look good.

They’re almost home before Archie finally speaks. Betty wonders when it became so hard to talk to him. Perhaps they’re both avoiding a topic of conversation that’s too hard to ignore when they’re alone together.

“Hey, about before…” Archie starts. “Before those guys came. I know it seems dumb now, but I hate fighting with you. So, I’m sorry.”

“Me too, Arch,” Betty says. They reach Betty’s front yard, and Archie walks her to the front door.

“You didn’t really mean all that stuff did you? What you said to Veronica?”

Betty hesitates. “No. Of course not.”

Archie looks relieved. “That’s what I thought,” he smiles. “I mean, I’m not wrapped around Veronica’s finger. Or other parts.”

Betty snorts, unable to hold back her laughter.

“What?” Archie says, a hesitant laugh on his lips.

“I mean… come on, Arch. That part was true,” she says. She immediately knows it was the wrong thing to say. Archie’s smile drops from his face completely.

“I can make my own decisions, Betty,” he snaps. He folds his arms across his broad chest. “I’m not some puppet doing whatever Veronica wants me to do.”

Betty lets out another snort, the humour from the situation gone now. “Whatever you say, Archie.”

“Like you can talk!” he scoffs. “Jughead breaks up with you for no reason, and as soon as he wants you back you go running back to him like nothing happened? It’s pathetic!”

“Pathetic?” Betty repeats, incredulous. “At least Jughead and I have a real connection! All you and Veronica do is have sex.”

“A real connection? The fact that you both like mysteries and books doesn’t mean you’re meant to be together.”

“So you think Jughead and I shouldn’t be together?” Betty says angrily. God, how did this argument become about their relationships? Why does she even care why he’s with Veronica, or whether or not he thinks she and Jughead belong together?

“So what if I do?” His jaw clenches.

“Why?” Betty pushes. When did he get so close? She swears she sees his eyes dart to her lips. Is he going to kiss her? Her heart beats erratically.

“Why didn’t you tell Jughead we kissed?”

“Why didn’t you?” She sways forward slightly, her body acting of its own accord. Which one of them will break first? Admit that it meant something? His eyes flick down to her lips again.

“Betty—”

The front door swings open. Betty whirls around to see her mother standing there in a robe, looking unimpressed.

“Betty, what are you two yelling about?” Alice scolds. “It’s almost midnight. Hurry up and get to bed, you’ve got school in the morning.”

“Yes, Mom,” Betty says quickly. “I’ll just be a minute.” She glances at Archie.

“Now, Betty,” Alice insists. “You can talk to Archie at school tomorrow.” Alice holds the door open and Betty reluctantly makes her way inside. She throws a look back over her shoulder at Archie. He swallows, watching her walk inside.

“Goodnight, Archie,” Alice says pointedly.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Cooper. Goodnight, Betty.”

Alice shuts the door.

[butcanyoujustimagine]

Once Upon a December PII Moana

Summary: Eleven Years Later, Moana still hasn’t regained her memory and an unsuspecting visitor shows up. 

Eleven years—that’s how long it had been since the day I was brought into foster care. Eleven years since I was found on the side of the road. Eleven years since my entire life probably changed for the worst. I wasn't always an orphan.

I looked down at the locket that had been hanging around my neck for those eleven years. Made of gold and encrusted in what was probably platinum and adorned with emeralds, sapphires, diamonds and pearls, I saw the words, ‘together in Paris’ engraved in elegant script in the metal.  I held it close to my chest and closed my eyes longingly. Someone was waiting for me there, hopefully. The only question was who. Who was waiting for me in Paris?

Looking up at the Soldier making a speech to the rededication of Honolulu, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him. Everybody clapped and I scoffed.

“They can call it Kalakauakulanakahale, but it’ll always be Honolulu! New name, same empty stomachs!” I groaned.

“You could be arrested for saying that, Moana,” Mrs Kim said. “You need to learn to watch your mouth.”

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. “They tell us times are better, but newsflash, they’re not. Can’t cook an empty promise in an empty pot! A brighter day is dawning, it’s almost at hand! The skies are blue, the walls have ears, and one who argues mysteriously disappears!”

Everyone chorused after me. “Hail our brave new land!”

I ducked out of sight when a Soldier came walking towards me. He had no doubt heard my outburst of sarcasm.

“Honolulu is lovely. A city on the rise.” Someone said.

“It’s really very friendly,” my brother Dmitry Romanov shout.

“If you don’t mind spies,” my other foster brother Dylan O’Connor said.

“We love to stand in bread lines, to get our mouldy bread!” A stranger added.

“We’re good and loyal comrades and our favourite colour’s red!” The people cheered.

I popped out from behind the wall. “Now everyone is equal, and professors push the brooms. Two dozen total strangers stuck into two small rooms. You hold a revolution and this shit’s the price you pay!” I scoffed.

“Mahalo iāʻoe no nā lono!” Someone shouted. (Thank you for the rumours!)

“Thank god for all the gossip that gets our asses through the day!” Another person added. I nodded my head in agreement.

“HAVE YOU HEARD!” a girl shouted running towards us, waving a flyer in her hand like it was a flag of some sort... “THERE’S A RUMOUR IN HONOLULU! HAVE YOU HEARD WHAT WHAT THEY'RE SAYING ON THE STREET?”

“What?” I asked.

“All though the King did not survive, his youngest child may be still alive.” She whispered.

“The Princess Auli’ilani?” I asked, in shock. I couldn’t believe it. It was probably just some rumour.

She shushed me. “But please do not repeat.”

“It’s a rumour, a legend, a mystery. Something whispered in an alleyway or through a crack. It’s a rumour, that’s part of Hawai’ian History,” Dmitry said.

Akea Ngata, a big buff Maori guy from New Zealand looked down at his phone. “It says he royal Grandmama will pay a royal some, to someone who can bring the princess back.”

I heard a man muttering something under his breath. He was old, had grey hair and a beard. His skin had sunken in from the lack of food. Stress had taken its toll on him. “Honolulu was lovely when the United States and Royalty were in. I called myself a Senator as I had been elected. I hobnobbed with the Royals and then a change of luck. The was dead, State and Federal Senators fled and now comrades now we’re stuck!” He walked off. Why did that man look familiar? Did I know him from somewhere?

“I’ll see you back at St Anne’s,” I said to them. My brothers nodded and we all went our separate ways.

“A dollar for this painting. It belonged to Royalty, I swear!”

“Count Akamai’s Pajamas, comrade buy the pair!” Another vendor hollered to tourists and locals alike.

“I found this in the Mansion, initialled, with an ‘A’ it could be Auli’ilani’s, now what will someone pay!” someone hollered.

Looking over, I saw a young man dressed in sunglasses and a hat turned away towards any sight of cameras.

“How much for that music box?” He asked. He was British, and yet his voice sounded so familiar to her. Where did she know him from?

“Tom, are you sure this going to work?” asked a much young younger voice. He was dressed in the same attire. A black polo shirt, khaki shorts, and a pair of nice shoes. Or what the rest of the world called sneakers, runners, or trainers.  

“There’s more to being a Princess than wearing a Tiara and a prop! How do you even know it’s the real bloody thing?” asked another guy. Why were they all dressed the same?

“Tom, we should get out of here. This isn’t a good idea to be here without security,” a much younger voice said. He had to be fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. “You know what mum’ll say.”

“I’m doing what the doctor said. If she really is an amnesiac, maybe this’ll help jog her memory,” the first one pointed out.

“We still don’t know if it’s real or not.” said the last one.

“The music box? It’s a genuine Kawananakoa, I could never part with it!” The vendor pleaded. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and it reminded me of an old foster kid I knew long ago.

“Two cans of beans, comrade?” asked the oldest boy.

“Here,” he said. Soon, there was a flock of people chasing after the Street Vendor.

Then, I heard a loud noise that reminded me of a gunshot. I screamed and cowered against a brick wall. “NO!” I cried out in horror. “No, please!”

The soldier who made the speech jumped out and helped me up. Looking into his brown eyes, they were filled with kindness and compassion. Something I had never seen from any soldier before. “It was just a truck backfiring, comrade. That’s all it was. Those days are over now, neighbour against neighbour. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Oh, god, you’re freezing. There’s a tea shop just around the corner, let me…”

I cut him off. Though his eyes might’ve been kind, growing up in foster care and on the streets of O’ahu had taught me one thing: DON’T TRUST SOLDIERS! They could be part of the Secret Police. “No thank you,” trying to push away, his muscular body stopped me from running.

“What’s your hurry?” He asked me, this time his tone a bit more serious.

I swallowed my fear. “I need to go home - my family’s waiting for me,” I said.

“Oh, then let me give you a ride!” He smiled. “It’ll be much quicker than walking.” He opened the door for me and we got in. “Where are you going?” He asked me as he started the car and drove through the streets of O’ahu.

“St Anne’s Home for Troubled Souls,” I responded.

He laughed. “You don’t have an accent!” He laughed. “I thought they were all foreigners and men!”

“I was born in Hawai’i and I’m the only girl,” I responded. At least, I assumed I was born in Hawaii.

Soon, after a bunch of awkward silence, we made it to St Anne’s. Towering over the beautiful landscape was a mansion all boarded up and in need of a paint job. The roof was probably caving in and so were the floorboards. It was very haunted by the ghosts of fallen Polynesian Warriors, a Kahuna who hated everyone who wasn’t Polynesian, dead nuns and priests, lunatic doctors who did terrible things to their patients, dead patients, and murder victims. But still, living here was better than being homeless.

The next day, I was looking out the window at the ocean. A cigarette in my hand, I didn’t care that it would give me lung cancer in the long run. I longed to sail on the ocean and go to worlds unknown. At least that would get me out of Hawaii.

“MOANA, В АВТОМОБИЛЕ В АВТОМОБИЛЕ!” I heard my foster brother Dmitry Romanov shout at the top of his lungs and my thoughts were pulled away from my unknown past and future. (MOANA, THERE’S A CAR IN THE DRIVEWAY!)

“Chết tiệt, đó là gia đình hoàng gia Anh!” My other brother Stanley Dai whispered. (Damn, it’s the British Royal Family!)

“De jeito nenhum!” Andre Carvalho cried. (No fucking way!)

I ran towards the door and saw my brothers bolt towards the one window that wasn't boarded up. If it were true, I had to fucking see this. I pushed my way through my brothers and saw a black limo parked in the driveway. A man with brown curly hair, dressed in khaki shorts and sunglasses came out. “Is that your cousin?” I heard Dylan O’Connor ask Dmitry.

“I think so,” Dmitry whispered.

We could hear what they were saying through the glass window. “Why would she live here, Mum? Here of all places?”

“Auli’i was fond of causing trouble,” Tom shrugged. “I remember that from when we were little?”

“Why does he seem so familiar?” I asked the boys.

“Because he’s been on the cover of every single bloody magazine to date,” Akea said in a ‘duh’ tone.

I rolled my eyes, but he was right. The Crowned-Prince Thomas and his little brothers Harry and Sam walked to the front door and rang the bell. Dmitry got up and opened it.

“Hello, St Anne’s Home for Troubled Souls, why is the Crowned Prince of Great Britain knocking on our door?” He asked. His thick Russian accent shining through. 

“I’m looking for someone,” Tom said. “Someone who’s supposed to live here. She doesn’t go by the name anymore, but her name is Auli’ilani. Everyone calls her Auli’i for short.”

Dmitry scoffed. “Up the hill, you can find the graves,” he began to shut the door.

“WAIT!” Tom hollered. “Wait! She might go by the name Moana.”

I perked up. All the eyes turned to me. Why did he want me? Me of all people. Hell, I considered smoking a past time, I worked for a crime family, I didn’t do well when it came to authority and I was a professional procrastinator. Why did he want me? I wasn’t cut-out to be a Princess—let alone a Queen.

I don’t know what came over me. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I walked over to the door, dressed in nothing but sweatpants, one of my brother’s hoodies, and miss-matching socks. “What do you want, Mas?” I asked.

“Did she just call you Mas?” asked the youngest boy who came flying out of the car and running up towards us.

“BE CAREFUL! YOU MIGHT TRIP!” I hollered. I couldn’t help myself. Having to raise me made me a compulsive caretaker.

“Why’d you call me Mas?” Tom asked, a bit in shock.

“I dunno, just felt right,” I said. I grabbed a cigarette from my hoodie’s pockets. “Want a smoke?”

“Happily,” Tom smiled. I handed him a cigarette and he lit his and mine with a lighter with his family crest engraved on it.  I had no doubt it was custom made. He was next-in-line for the Throne, he could afford stuff like that.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Now, why’d you just call me ‘Mas?’” Tom asked me. “I’ll only ask this once.”

“Sounds like you’re threatening me, but let me tell you one thing, Your Royal Pain in the Ass, I’ve met people a hell of a lot scarier than you,” I told him with a smirk on my face. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared of any of you.” I looked outside and saw one of the Royal Guards walking towards Kahuna Hill. “CAN’T YOU FUCKIN’ READ!? IT SAYS ‘KEEP OUT’ FOR A FUCKING REASON!”

“What do you remember?” asked the Queen of Great Britain, a bit shocked at my outburst at one of their guards. “What do you know?”

“Know of what?” I scoffed.  

“Your past,” Tom said. “What do you know of your past?”

I sighed and looked out at the ocean my ancestors had sailed thousands of years before. Everything felt like clouds of mist. Every time I close my eyes I try to remember, but nothing comes back to me.  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t even know my name.”

“How’d you not know your own name?” The young boy asked me. He seemed in shock, and he had every right to be. Not many people respond with ‘I don’t even know my own name.’

“The doctors gave me a name at the hospital...Moana. They told me I had amnesia and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.” I sighed.

“What do you remember?” Tom asked me. “Let’s start there.”

I sighed and stared off into the vast ocean once again. “Well, if you insist. They said I was found by the side of a road. There were tracks all around and for the first time in a hundred years, it had recently snowed. In the darkness and cold with the wind in the trees, laid a girl with no name and no memories but these. Rain against a window. Dirty sheets upon a bed. Terrified of the nurses that were whispering overhead. ‘He said to call the child Moana. Give the child a hat!’ I don’t know a thing before that.

Travelling the back roads. Sleeping in the woods. Taking what I needed and working when I could. Keeping up my courage and foolish as it seems, at night all alone in my dreams. In my dreams, shadows call. I see a light at the end of a hall. Then my dreams fade away. But I know it all will come back, one day.”

“Nossa irmã perdeu isso,” André whispered to someone. (Our sister’s lost it.)

“I dream of a city beyond all compare. Is it Paris? Paris. A beautiful river and a bridge by a square. And I hear someone whisper, ‘I’ll meet you right there.’ In Paris, Paris.” I snapped back into reality. No one wanted to hear the sob story. “You don’t know what it’s like,” I snapped. “Not to know who you are.” I felt tears come to my eyes. “To have lived in the shadows and travelled so far. I’ve seen flashes of fire, heard the echoes of screams but I still have this faith in the truth of my dreams. In my dreams, it’s all real and my heart has so much to reveal. And my dreams seem to say. Don’t be afraid to go on, don’t give up hope, come what may. I know it all will come back, one day!”

“Она потеряла его. Она ушла.” Dmitry said. (She’s lost it. She’s gone.)

“Those days are long over now.” I sighed, drying my eyes. “Go, have a nice day. Sorry, you came all the way out here for nothing. Enjoy searching for someone who’s dead.”

Tom then pulled out a music box. “This belonged to her,” Tom said. “Do you recognise it?”

“It’s a fake, Tom!” groaned Harry. “Give it a rest, Tom!”

It wasn’t the fact that it made with platinum, gold, silver, and diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds. It wasn’t the fact that it was in pristine condition. It was the fact that it had a little wave sticking up at the top that caught my eye. It was a keyhole it had on the side and an inscription.

Hui pū ma Paris. it said. That translated into: together in Paris—the same thing it said on my necklace. I carefully took the box from the Crowned Prince and placed my necklace into the hole. Turning it three times to the right, it opened. A song began playing. But I didn’t pay attention to that.

Looking up at the house where the Royal Family was slaughtered, I bolted out the door and ran upstairs.

The shouts and screams of my brothers could be heard from behind me, but I didn’t care. Going around Kahuna Hill and avoiding Murder’s Hideaway, I made my way to the old house. Pushing open the door, I felt a flood of memories come back to me.

I heard the music box still playing, the lyrics came back to me.

Dancing bears painted wings Things I almost remember And a song, someone sings Once upon a December Someone holds me safe and warm Horses prance through a thunderstorm Figures dancing gracefully across my memories

“Something’s not right.”

“Shut up, Moana. If they wanted to do something, they would have done it by now.”

“Sit on your mother’s lap. Akea, stand next to your father. Smile for the cameras.”

Far away, long ago Glowing dim as an ember Things that I used to know Things I used to remember And a song, someone sings Once upon a December

“Yeah, I don't know how I got to Hawaii, Your Majesties. All I know is that I’m here and these people are my family. I guess I’m related to you through Queen Victoria.” Dmitry explained. “MOANA! MOANA, IT’S NOT SAFE TO BE IN THERE!”

Before coming out, I pulled the bag of diamonds I had kept on me for years and kept it in my hand. “Okay, so I’ll humour you. If I really am the Princess, I’d be dead. The government would’ve already found me. I mean, I’m living here. How do I know this isn’t some prank set-up by Dmitry?”

“Ever since archeologists stated they didn’t find your body, we’d been looking for you. We managed to track you down through a bite mark…” the Queen said.

I cut her off. “That can be inaccurate,” I said. “In fact, one of the leading people in bitemark analysis stated that it isn’t accurate and shouldn’t be used as evidence in a court of law,” I pointed out. “A bite-mark analysis means jack-shit to me.”

“We know that,” Tom said. “From your many trips to the emergency room, they have your DNA on record from blood tests doctors have run on you…”

“Wow, isn’t your family Royal Stalkers,” I scoffed, gripping the bag of precious stones closer to me as if one of my brothers would come up and take it out of my hand. I sighed and looked over at the British Royal Family. “So go on after you hacked into my medical files. What did you learn?”

They were shocked by my outburst. I don’t think anyone has talked to them like that. “Well, uh, we learned that you have a specific type of anemia that ran within the Hawaiian Royal Family, hemolytic anemia?” Tom asked.

“It’s mild, I don’t need to take medication. The doctors presumed I had a bone marrow transplant sometime before I entered foster care,” I said. “I have the scar on my hip from an injection.”

“Your mother gave you the injection, your blood type is also RH-null,” Tom said. He was looking at his phone.

“Okay, Your Royal Creepiness, even if I am the long-lost princess, when the government finds out, I’d be dead faster than you can blink? How the hell am I not dead now?” I asked, a little shaken that he knew all that about me. I’d need to talk to their hackers, see if I could learn a few things from them.

“Because they don’t know about you or you have an ally in the government,” the Queen said. Her accent sounded posh and she was dressed in a fancy knee-length dress that wasn’t meant for running around the property. It had to be expensive too, though I didn’t have a degree in fashion. “They’re probably covering for you.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “Why are you really here? Is it for charity work?” I asked. I’d had enough of them trying to convince me that I was a dead person. She died along with her family, that needed to be accepted by people like me. “I can’t break an old woman’s heart for money. I can’t do that to the grandmother. I can’t do that to the extended Hawaiian Royal Family.”

“All of which agree that you’re her!” the youngest pointed out. He was jumping down excitedly. “You have to be. You have the same coloured eyes!”

“It’s called heterochromia,” I sighed. “It’s not life-threatening. It’s just cool.”  

“Please, Moana,” Tom pleaded with us. “Give us a chance. We’ll help you earn your memory back. You won’t have to go through life knowing something missing. You must wanna know who your parents are.”

“According to you, they’re ‘King Keanu Kawananakoa and Queen Ashley Kawananakoa,’” I scoffed.  

“Why are you so reluctant to believe?” Harry asked me.

“Because it’s completely BS! It sounds the plot of a shit romance novel! This is real life. I’m a poor girl from Hawai’i who grew up in foster care and was forced to raise herself. I’m a convicted criminal and a recovering opiate addict,” I snapped. I choked back my tears. “Even if I did go with you, how the hell will I get out? How will you get papers, not just for me, but for the rest of us? I’m not leaving them behind.”

“Go with them, Moana!” Dmitry blurted. “Go, it’ll be good for you!”

“Dmitry, are you nuts!” I snapped. “One word that the Princess has been found I’m floating in the Thames!” I felt tears starting to roll down my cheeks. “I just wanna live a normal life with my family or as normal as it’ll ever get for an amnesiac. I’ll be at the scrutiny of the media if I go with you. I’ll tarnish your reputation and make you lose public approval. Nobody wants a convicted criminal on the throne!” I dried my eyes and looked up at them. “I don’t wanna be the cause of your downfall. I already have enough grief on my conscious, I don’t need the downfall of an empire to be on it too.”

My cigarette was finished and I threw it to the ground. The weight of the world was slowly falling on my shoulders as reality hit me. I was being told that I was the long-lost Princess of Hawai’i who had gone into a fug state after I had witnessed the death of my entire family and escaped their massacre. Why me? “Can’t you prank somebody else!” I snapped.

“Look, Moana, I overheard some soldiers talking and soon they’ll be a warrant for your death issued. You leave with us or you die,” Tom said. He seemed in pain that he had to say that.

I stumbled back onto Akea who somehow managed to not fall back onto the ground. “You mean I’ll be dead soon?” I asked. “Oh, fuck. It’s only a matter of time until they find me in London.”

“That won't happen,” the Queen assured me. “We have the best security forces in the world.”

“In a matter of respect, Madam, the whole reason why I'm in Hawai’i is that of your Security forces,” Dmitry said. “It says so in my file.”

“Show it to me when we get back to the house,” the Queen ordered. Dmitry nodded his head.

“I don't wanna be in the public spotlight,” I responded. “I don't want my every fucking move scrutinised by the media. Look, Royal Pain, you can have anyone you want in the world. People would happily go on a date with you. Please, find someone else.”

Tom grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to him. Looking into his chestnut brown eyes, I felt myself getting lost in them. That wasn't a good sign. The prince had minty breath that smelt almost heavenly. I felt myself tensing up and not being able to look into his eyes like I should.

Fine,” I sighed. “Then I’ll go.”

[queerbenji]

Below is a lovingly compiled list of books about girls who love girls that have happy or hopeful endings! The list currently has 106 entries and spans multiple genres. It’s alphabetized by author, and links go to the books’ Goodreads pages. Recommendations are welcome! 

Sparks: The Epic, Completely True Blue, (Almost) Holy Quest of Debbie by S.J. Adams

A wonderfully refreshing, quirky, and genuinely funny tale of coming-out to your best friend–and long-time secret love.  Three chases, three declarations of love, two heartbreaks, a break-in, and one unforgettable quest.

Taijiku by Elizabeth Andre

Angela’s juvenile detention sentence on an alien underwater ship doesn’t seem very exciting until she encounters the fearsome Taijiku or meeting her crew mate Stella, leaving Angela unable to say which is the greater challenge: giant sea monsters or falling in love.

Poppy Jenkins by Clare Ashton

Poppy is the heart of Wells, a beautiful village in mid-Wales.  She has a doting family, an errant dog and a little sister with a nose for mischief, but as the only gay girl in the village, the chance of romance is rarer than a barking sheep. That is, until her ex-BFF roars back into her life…

The Music Box by Elaine Atwell

Berlin, 1942. Caroline Reed is a newly minted American spy, eager to prove herself on her first mission: to recover vital information from behind enemy lines. But she’s not the only one. Iris and Caroline come to trust each other, or perhaps it’s something more. But what does love matter when the fate of the world is at stake?

Valhalla by Ari Bach

In the year 2330 in Northern Scotland, war is obsolete and only brilliant minds are valued, Violet emerges into adulthood with more brawn than brains, branded from childhood as a useless barbarian. With the help of a group of outcasts just like her, Violet is about to learn the world needs her exactly as she is.  

Bluebell Hall by Kayla Bashe

Headstrong, impetuous Tansy Trilby can barely sit still, let alone read–but what she lacks in academic achievement, she makes up for in magical talent, and so she is accepted to be a boarder at Bluebell Hall. Tansy’s adventures lead her to discover: is love truly the greatest magic of all?

Screaming Down Splitsville by Kayla Bashe

In an alternate 1950s, two groups of people with magical powers fight for dominance. Flip thinks her healing powers are useless, while Emma has magic but is unable to speak. The two band together to escape a torturous lab.  As the women seek to evade their pursuers, their friendship rekindles, and they are forced to confront both enemies and insecurities.

Kaleidoscope Song by Fox Benwell

Fifteen year old Neo loves music. it punctuates her life in South Africa. A life in radio is all she’s ever wanted. When Umzi Radio broadcasts live in a nearby bar Neo can’t resist. She sneaks out to see them, and she falls in love, with music, and the night, but also with a girl: Tale has a voice like coffee poured into a bright steel mug, and she commands the stage.

Dissention by Stacey Berg

For 400 years, the remnants of humanity have struggled for survival in the last inhabited city. Echo Hunter 367 is exactly what the Church created her to be: loyal, obedient, lethal. But when Echo’s mission leads her to Lia, a rebel leader who has a secret of her own, Echo must choose between the woman she loves and the purpose she was born to fulfill.

Drum Roll, Please by Lisa Jenn Bigelow

Drum Roll, Please is a contemporary middle grade novel about a drummer named Melly, whose parents announce they’re getting a divorce the day before she leaves for rock camp. She has a life-changing summer at camp as she navigates confusing feelings, changing friendships, and her first crush on a girl, and learns to find her own beat.

Starting From Here by Lisa Jenn Bigelow

Colby’s heart has been broken too many times. Her mother has been dead for almost two years, her truck driver father is always away, her almost girlfriend just dumped her, and now she’s failing chemistry. But when a stray dog lands literally at her feet, bleeding and broken on a busy road, it knocks a chink in the walls she’s built around her heart.

How to Make a Wish by Ashley Herring Blake

All Grace wants is her own life.  Emotionally trapped by her unreliable mother, Maggie, and the tiny cape on which she lives, she focuses on her best friend, her upcoming audition for a top music school in New York, and surviving Maggie’s latest boyfriend. When Grace meets Eva, who has her own share of ghosts to outrun, both girls must figure out how to love and how to move on.

The Scorpion Rules by Erin Bow

Greta is a duchess and crown princess—and a hostage to peace. This is how the game is played: if you want to rule, you must give one of your children as a hostage. Go to war and your hostage dies. As nations tip closer to war, Greta becomes a target in a new kind of game that will end up killing every hostage—unless she can find a way to break all the rules.

The Swan Riders by Erin Bow

Sequel to The Scorpion Rules.

The Diviners by Libba Bray

Evie has been exiled from her boring old hometown and shipped off to her Uncle Will on the bustling streets of 1926 New York City. Evie worries he’ll discover her darkest secret: a supernatural power that has only brought her trouble so far. But when the police find a murdered girl branded with a cryptic symbol, Evie realizes her gift could help catch a serial killer.

Beauty Queens by Libba Bray

When a plane crash strands thirteen teen beauty contestants on a mysterious island, they struggle to survive, to get along with one another, to combat the island’s other diabolical occupants, and to learn their dance numbers in case they are rescued in time for the competition. Their story is told from many points of view, multiples of which are LGBT women.

First Position by Melissa Brayden

Anastasia Mikhelson is the rising star of the New York City Ballet. She’s sacrificed creature comforts, a social life, as well as her own physical well-being for perfection in dance. Even her reputation as The Ice Queen doesn’t faze her. Though Ana’s at the peak of her career, competition from a new and noteworthy dancer puts all she’s worked for in jeopardy.

How Sweet It Is by Melissa Brayden

After losing the love of her life four years prior in a plane crash, Molly thinks she’s ready to navigate the dicey dating waters once again. However, you can’t always pick who your heart latches on to. When Jordan, the beautiful younger sister of her lost love, returns to town, Molly finds her interest piqued in a manner she wasn’t prepared for.

Waiting in the Wings by Melissa Brayden

Jenna has spent her whole life training for the stage. At graduation, she’s stunned when a chance audition lands her a prime supporting role in the hottest Broadway touring production in the country. The one thing she didn’t prepare for, however, was her new costar Adrienne. Is Jenna ready to sacrifice what she’s worked so hard for in exchange for a shot at love?

 Georgia Peaches and Other Forbidden Fruit by Jaye Robin Brown

Joanna has been out and proud for years, but when her popular radio evangelist father remarries and decides to move all three of them to the more conservative Rome, Georgia, he asks Jo to do the impossible: to lie low for the rest of her senior year. Jo reluctantly agrees, but things get infinitely more complicated when she meets Mary.

Style by Chelsea M. Cameron

Kyle Blake likes plans. So far, they’re pretty simple: Finish her senior year of high school, head off to a good college, find a cute boyfriend, graduate, get a good job, get married, the whole heterosexual shebang. Nothing is going to stand in the way of that plan. Not even Stella Lewis.

Echo After Echo by Amy Rose Capetta

Debuting on the New York stage, Zara is unprepared—for Eli, the girl who makes the world glow; for Leopold, the director who wants perfection; and for death in the theater.  In heart-achingly beautiful prose, Capetta has spun a mystery and a love story into an impossible, inevitable whole —and cast light on two girls, finding each other on a stage set for tragedy. 

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

Somewhere within our crowded sky, a crew of wormhole builders hops from planet to planet, on their way to the job of a lifetime. To the galaxy at large, humanity is a minor species, and one patched-up construction vessel is a mere speck on the starchart.  But all voyages leave their mark, and even the most ordinary of people have stories worth telling.

Fat Angie by E.E. Charlton-Trujillo

Angie is broken—by her can’t-be-bothered mother, by her high-school tormenters, and by being the only one who thinks her varsity-athlete-turned-war-hero sister is still alive. She’s just trying to make it through each day. That is, until the arrival of KC Romance This darkly comic anti-romantic romance is a work of entertaining and meaningful fiction.

Debris Dreams by David Colby

Drusilla lives in the Hub, a space station used by the Chinese-American Alliance as a base to exploit Luna’s resources. When a terrorist group destroys the space elevator, space’s highway to Earth, suddenly Dru’s parents are dead and she is cut off from her girlfriend Sarah on Earth. Can Dru survive lunar terrorist attacks and find her way home to Sarah?

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst

Betrothed since childhood to the prince of Mynaria, Princess Dennaleia has always known what her future holds. But Denna has a secret. She possesses an Affinity for fire—a dangerous gift for the future queen of a kingdom where magic is forbidden. Now, Denna must learn the ways of her new home while trying to hide her growing magic.

Clancy of the Undertow by Christopher Currie

In a dead-end town like Barwen a girl has only got to be a little different to feel like a freak. And Clancy, a typical sixteen-year-old misfit with a moderately dysfunctional family, a genuine interest in Nature Club and a major crush on the local hot girl, is packing a capital F.

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova

Alex is a bruja, the most powerful witch in a generation…and she hates magic. At her Deathday celebration, Alex performs a spell to rid herself of her power, but it backfires. Her whole family vanishes into thin air. The only way to get her family back is to travel to Los Lagos, a land in-between, as dark as Limbo and as strange as Wonderland.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth

When Cameron Post’s parents die suddenly in a car crash, her shocking first thought is relief. Relief they’ll never know that, hours earlier, she had been kissing a girl. This book is a stunning and unforgettable literary debut about discovering who you are and finding the courage to live life according to your own rules.

The Caphenon by Fletcher DeLancey

On a summer night like any other, an emergency call sounds in the quarters of Andira Tal: not only is there other intelligent life in the universe, but it’s landing on the planet right now. Tal leads the first responding team and ends up rescuing aliens who have a frightening story to tell. They protected Alsea from a terrible fate—but the reprieve is only temporary.

The Dark Wife by Sarah Diemer

Persephone has everything a daughter of Zeus could want–except for freedom. When Persephone meets the enigmatic Hades, goddess of the underworld, she experiences something new: choice. Hades offers Persephone sanctuary in her land of the dead. But Persephone finds more than freedom in the underworld. She finds love, and herself.    

Twixt by Sarah Diemer

The people of Abeo City have forgotten their pasts, and they can trade locks of their hair to sinister women for an addictive drug. Nox will give you back a single memory–for a price. But when Lottie takes Nox, her memories remain a mystery, and the monsters who fill the sky at night refuse to snatch her. Soon, a dark truth begins to surface…

Big Big Sky by Kristyn Dunnion

Rustle is a young scout in a tight-knit female warrior group of five. They’re trained to be aggressive, quick thinking, and obedient.  But somehow the group is falling apart now. So when their StarPod is transported to the Living Lab, they all know that it’s time to make a run for it, or else they’ll be deplugged - finished, dead. 

Otherbound by Corinne Duyvis

Amara is never alone. Not when she’s protecting the cursed princess she unwillingly serves. Not when she’s punished, ordered around, or neglected. She can’t be alone, because a boy from another world experiences all that alongside her, looking through her eyes. They’ll have to work together to survive–and discover the truth about their connection.

Wildthorn by Jane Eagland

Louisa longs to break free from her respectable life as a Victorian doctor’s daughter. But then Louisa is sent to Wildthorn Hall, labeled a lunatic and even deprived of her real name. As she unravels the betrayals behind her incarceration, she realizes there are many kinds of prison. She must be honest with herself and others in order to be free. And love may be the key.

The Seafarer’s Kiss by Julia Ember

Having long-wondered what lives beyond the ice shelf, nineteen-year-old mermaid Ersel learns of the life she wants when she rescues and befriends Ragna, a shield-maiden stranded on the mermen’s glacier. But when Ersel’s childhood friend and suitor catches them together, he gives Ersel a choice: say goodbye to Ragna or face justice at the hands of the glacier’s brutal king.

Unicorn Tracks by Julia Ember

Mnemba has found a place in her cousins successful safari business, where she quickly excels as a guide. When she’s employed to guide Mr. Harving and his daughter, Kara, as they study unicorns, the young women are drawn to each other. During their research, they discover a conspiracy by a group of poachers to capture the Unicorns and use their supernatural strength to build a railway. Together, they must find a way to save the creatures Kara adores.

Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel by Sarah Farizan

Leila’s Persian heritage already makes her different from her classmates; if word got out that she liked girls, life would be twice as hard. But when a sophisticated, beautiful new girl, Saskia, shows up, Leila starts to take risks she never thought she would.  Gradually, Leila begins to see that almost all her classmates are more complicated than they first appear to be.

The Cursed Queen by Sarah Fine

Sequel to The Impostor Queen, which stars a bi woman. Cursed by an enemy queen, Ansa must fight against an invisible foe—the dark magic that has embedded itself deep in her bones. The more she seeks to hide it, the more dangerous it becomes. Ansa is torn between her loyalty to her people, her love for the cheiftain’s daughter, and her own survival instincts.

Honey Girl by Lisa Freeman

The year is 1972. Fifteen-year-old Haunani “Nani” Grace Nuuhiwa is transplanted from her home to California after her father’s fatal heart attack. Now the proverbial fish-out-of-water, Nani struggles to adjust to her new life with her alcoholic white (haole) mother and the lineup of mean girls who rule State Beach. But Nani is keeping several secrets that could ruin everything.

Noble Falling by Sara Gaines

When her convoy is attacked, Duchess Aleana Melora of Eniva, future queen of Halvaria is saved by her guard, only to discover her people have turned against her and joined forces with the kingdom of Dakmor, Halvaria’s greatest enemy. After a rescue by a woman marked as a criminal, Aleana struggles to survive long enough to crowned, though her heart has other priorities.

Annie On My Mind By Nancy Garden

This groundbreaking book, published in 1992, is the story of two teenage girls whose friendship blossoms into love and who, despite pressures from family and school that threaten their relationship, promise to be true to each other and their feelings. The book has been banned from many school libraries and publicly burned in Kansas City.

Good Moon Rising by Nancy Garden

Lambda Literary Award winner “Good Moon Rising” is about two young women who fall in love while rehearsing a school play, realize they’re gay, and resist a homophobic campaign against them. 

Nora and Liz by Nancy Garden

When her rental car has a flat tire, Liz Hardy stops at the Tillot farm for a car jack. Nora Tillot walks Liz out to the barn and, as they search for the jack, the two women begin a journey neither anticipated. As their friendship turns passionate, will their happiness be shattered by rumors?

Girl Mans Up by M-E Girard

All Pen wants is to be the kind of girl she’s always been. So why does everyone have a problem with it? They think the way she looks and acts shows disrespect. But respect and loyalty, Pen discovers, are empty words. Old-world parents, disintegrating friendships, and strong feelings for other girls drive Pen to see that to be who she truly wants to be, she’ll have to man up.

The Second Mango by Shira Glassman

Queen Shulamit never expected to inherit the throne of tropical Perach so young. At twenty, grief-stricken and fatherless, she’s also coping with being the only lesbian she knows after her sweetheart ran off for an unknown reason. Her search for a royal girlfriend quickly becomes a rescue mission after finding a temple full of women turned to stone by an evil sorcerer.

The Flywheel by Erin Gough

Seventeen-year-old Del drops out of high school when her romance with another girl goes horribly wrong. Preferring chaos to bullying, Del makes it her mission to save her dad’s crumbling café, the Flywheel, while he ‘finds himself’ overseas. This book is a heart-warming debut novel about queer romance, crap parents & finding your feet when life gets messy.

A Love Story Starring My Dead Best Friend by Emily Horner

When Cass’s best friend Julia is killed in a sudden car accident, and while Cass is still reeling from her death, Julia’s boyfriend and her other drama friends make it their mission to bring to fruition Julia’s nearly-completed secret project: a musical about an orphaned ninja princess entitled Totally Sweet Ninja Death Squad.

Eat Your Heart Out by Dayna Ingram

A breakneck tale of kick-ass, wise-ass, sexy-ass lesbians — and zombies.  The strip-mall calm of Nowhere, Ohio, is shattered by the sudden, simultaneous appearance of Renni Ramirez, hyper-competent star of the beloved Rising Evil B-movie franchise, and actual zombies, leaving Ashbee’s hapless staff and Renni trapped behind an automatic door they can’t lock.

That Inevitable Victorian Thing by E.K. Johnston

Set in a near-future world where the British Empire never fell and the United States never rose, That Inevitable Victorian Thing is a novel of love, duty, and the small moments that can change people and the world.

The Gallery of Unfinished Girls by Lauren Karcz

Mercedes is an artist. At least, she thinks she could be, but she hasn’t been able to paint anything worthwhile since her award-winning piece Food Poisoning #1 last year. Her lack of inspiration might be because her abuela is comatose in faraway Puerto Rico after a stroke. Or the fact that Mercedes is in love with her best friend, but is too afraid to admit her true feelings.

The Cybernetic Tea Shop by Meredith Katz

Clara is a highly-skilled technician specializing in the popular ‘Raise’ AI companions. She sticks around just long enough to replenish her funds before she moves on Sal is a fully autonomous robot, at best out of place in society and at worst hated. When Clara stops by Sal’s shop for lunch, she doesn’t expect to find a real robot there, let alone one who might need her help.

Ask the Passengers by A.S. King

Astrid desperately wants to confide in someone, but her feel like the last people she can trust. Instead, Astrid spends hours watching airplanes fly overhead. She doesn’t know the passengers inside, but they’re the only ones who won’t judge her when she asks them her most personal questions–like what it means that she’s falling in love with a girl.

Radical by E.M. Kokie

Preppers. Survivalists. Bex prefers to think of herself as a realist who plans to survive, but regardless of labels, they’re all sure of the same thing: a crisis is coming. And when it does, Bex will be ready. But Bex isn’t prepared for Lucy, who is soft and beautiful and hates guns. This gripping new novel questions our assumptions about family, trust, and what it really takes to survive.

Everything Leads to You by Nina LaCour

Emi is a film buff and a true romantic, but her real-life relationships are a mess. She has desperately gone back to the same girl too many times to mention. But then a mysterious letter from a silver screen legend leads Emi to Ava. Ava is unlike anyone Emi has ever met, and she is about to expand Emi’s understanding of family, acceptance, and true romance.

You Know Me Well by Nina Lacour and David Levithan

Mark and Kate have sat next to each other for an entire year, but their paths have never crossed. That is, until Kate spots Mark miles away from home, out in the city for a wild, unexpected night. Kate is lost, having just run away from finally meeting the girl she’s been in love with from afar. Mark, meanwhile, is in love with his best friend Ryan, who may or may not feel the same way.

And Playing the Role of Herself by K.E. Lane

Actress Caidence Harris is living her dreams after landing a leading role in a hot new police drama shot on location in glitzy LA. Her sometimes-costar Robyn Ward is magnetic, glamorous, and devastatingly beautiful, the quintessential A-List celebrity. Soon Caid sees that all is not as it appears, but can she take a chance and risk her heart when the outcome is so uncertain?

An Unstill Life by Kate Larkindale

Livvie feels like she’s losing everything: her two best friends have abandoned her for their boyfriends, her mother continues to ignore her, while her sister, Jules, is sick again and getting worse by the day. Her only escape is in the art room, where she discovers not only a refuge from her life, but also a kindred soul in Bianca, the school “freak”.

Not Your Sidekick by C.B. Lee

Welcome to Andover, where superpowers are common, but internships are complicated. Despite her heroic lineage, Jess is resigned to a life without superpowers when she stumbles upon the perfect internship—only it turns out to be for the town’s most heinous supervillain. On the upside, she gets to work with her secret crush, Abby, who Jess thinks may have a secret of her own.  

A&B by J.C. Lillis

Barrie dreams of a career in music. When her rival Ava ropes her into a secret collaboration, it sparks feelings neither girl expected.  Can love and ambition live side by side? Is happiness an art-killer? They’ll figure it out with the help of a blue guitar named Fernando, a keyboard named Rosalinda, and a few new friends who feel like home.

Ash by Malinda Lo

In this enchanting retelling of Cinderella, Ash must make a choice between fairy tale dreams and true love. Entrancing, empowering, and romantic, Ash is about the connection between life and love, and solitude and death, where transformation can come from even the deepest grief.

Huntress by Malinda Lo

Kaede and Taisin, two seventeen-year-old girls, are picked to go on a dangerous and unheard-of journey to Tanlili, the city of the Fairy Queen. The exciting adventure prequel to Malinda Lo’s highly acclaimed novel Ash is overflowing with lush Chinese influences and details inspired by the I Ching, and is filled with action and romance.

Complementary and Acute by Ella Lyons

Annabell is captain of the Number Ninjas, her senior year schedule is perfect, and her best friend Jacqueline is going to be right by her side for all of it. But on the first day back, Jac throws a wrench in Anabelle’s tidy plans. Not only has she rearranged her classes and dropped Number Ninjas, she’s joined the Girls who Like Girls Program, leaving Anabelle’s entire world in upheaval.

10 Things I Can See From Here by Carrie Mac

This is the poignant and uplifting story of Maeve, who is dealing with anxiety while falling in love with a girl who is not afraid of anything. Will she be able to navigate through all the chaos to be there for the people she loves?

Colorblind by Siera Maley

Harper has a secret, and it’s not that she likes girls. She has a gift: she can see how old other people will be when they pass away. Nothing she does changes this number, which becomes especially clear when her mother dies in a car crash. Then she falls for Chloe, whose number is 16, who’ll be dead by the end of summer. An uplifting book reminiscent of The Fault in Our Stars.

Dating Sarah Cooper by Siera Maley

When a misunderstanding leads to best friends Katie and Sarah being mistaken for a couple and Sarah uses the situation to her advantage, Katie finds herself on a roller coaster ride of ambiguous sexuality and confusing feelings. How far will Sarah go to keep up the charade, and why does kissing her make Katie feel more alive than kissing her ex-boyfriend ever did?

Taking Flight by Siera Maley

Lauren is a city girl at heart. When a judge deems her father unfit to be her guardian, she’s shipped to the rural mountains of northern Georgia, where David, a personal friend of the judge, lives. Lauren’s plan is simple: to have her best friend pick her up on the day she turns eighteen, and to be as difficult as possible until then.  But her plan doesn’t account for David’s daughter.

The Case of the Not-So-Nice Nurse by Mabel Maney

Follow Cherry, Jackie, and girl detective Nancy Clue on their gay adventures.  Mabel Maney’s camp classic The Case of the Not-So-Nice Nurse has been beloved by readers since it was first published in 1993. This sparkling parody of 1950s girl adventure stories will make you laugh out loud.

The Case of the Good-For-Nothing Girlfriend by Mabel Maney

Mabel Maney’s playful parody of 1950s girl adventure books continues in The Case of the Good-for-Nothing Girlfriend. This raucous sequel also stands on its own as a swell introduction to Cherry and her pals, and a food and fashion guide to the glamorous Eisenhower years.

Reign of the Fallen by Sarah Glenn Marsh

The first in an LGBT fantasy series that follows a talented necromancer who must face down a deadly nemesis who has learned how to turn her magic into a weapon. A lavish fantasy with a surprising and breathtaking romance at its core, Reign of the Fallen is a gutsy, unpredictable read that will grab readers by the throat and never let go.

Wherever the Dandelion Falls by Lily R. Mason

Riley Montgomery is a bartender, a lab assistant, and a sex worker – all in different lives. A seemingly innocuous conversation with a graduate school professor unravels Riley’s life into three separate strands. The three versions of Riley’s life are as separate as can be, yet have one common thread: falling in love with a beautiful and brave woman named Faye Nguyen. 

Parties in Congress by Colette Moody

Elated to secure her first paid political staff position, Bijal Rao is eager to focus her efforts on the election of her candidate to U.S. Congress. However, Bijal’s first unforeseen obstacle is her profound and unexpected attraction to their opponent—incumbent Congresswoman Colleen O'Bannon—who is outspoken, charismatic, and openly lesbian.

The Sublime and Spirited Voyage of Original Sin by Colette Moody

The Gulf of Mexico, 1702: When Gayle and the pirates of the square-rigger Original Sin steal ashore to abduct a doctor to tend to their wounded, they end up settling for the doctor’s attractive fiancée Celia, the town seamstress. The two forge a partnership born of necessity that Gayle soon hopes will veer away from insurmountable danger and instead detour directly to her bed.

Not Otherwise Specified by Hannah Moskowitz

Everywhere Etta turns, someone feels she’s too fringe for the fringe. Not gay enough for the Dykes, her ex-clique, thanks to a recent relationship with a boy; not tiny and white enough for ballet; and not sick enough to look anorexic (partially thanks to recovery). Etta doesn’t fit anywhere until she meets Bianca, the straight, white, Christian, and seriously sick girl in Etta’s therapy group.

Meg & Linus by Hanna Nowinski

Meg and Linus are best friends bound by a shared love of school, a coffee obsession, and being queer. It’s not always easy to be the nerdy lesbian or gay kid in a suburban town. But they have each other. And a few Star Trek boxed sets. They’re pretty happy. Meg & Linus is a fun story about two quirky teens who must learn to get out of their comfort zones and take risks.

A Story of Now by Emily O’Beirne

Claire knows she needs a life. And some new friends.  But brittle, beautiful, and just a little bit too sassy for her own good sometimes, she no longer makes friends easily. When Robbie and Mia walk into Claire’s work they seem the least likely people to help her find a life. But despite Claire’s initial attempts to alienate them, an unexpected new friendship develops.

Future Leaders of Nowhere by Emily O’Beirne

Finn and Willa have been picked as team leaders in the future leader camp game. Fierce, competitive Willa has shaken the usually confident Finn. Soon they both realize that the hardest thing of all is balancing their clashing ideals with their unexpected connection. And finding a way to win, of course.

Here’s the Thing by Emily O’Beirne

It’s only for a year. That’s what sixteen-year-old Zel keeps telling herself after moving to Sydney for her dad’s work. But Zel soon finds life in Sydney won’t let her hide. There’s her art teacher, who keeps forcing her to dig deeper. There’s the band of sweet, strange misfits her cousin has forced her to join for a Drama project. And then there’s the curiosity that is the always-late Stella.

Points of Departure by Emily O’Beirne

Best friends Kit and Liza have been looking forward to this trip forever. Five girls, five tickets overseas. It’s exactly what they all need after the final slog of high school. But when Kit’s suddenly forced to drop out, Liza’s left with three girls she barely knows, and they’re all learning that travel isn’t just about the places you go, but who you’re with at the time.

Because of Her by K.E. Payne

Forced to move to London thanks to her father’s new job, Seventeen-year-old Tabitha has to leave her friends, school, and, most importantly, her girlfriend Amy, far behind. To make matters worse, Tabby’s parents enroll her in the exclusive Queen Victoria Independent School for Girls, hoping that it will finally make a lady of her. But Tabby has other ideas.

Axiom by Rachel Marie Pearcy

The Assembly controls every citizen of Axiom. Everything is assigned, from their career and living quarters, to their spouse and reproduction. Ella never thought twice about it, until now. After meeting Carly, Ella realizes things aren’t as perfect as she thought. The two girls’ friendship slowly blossoms into something more, and as their love grows, so does the threat of punishment.

Keeping You a Secret by Julie Anne Peters

With a steady boyfriend, the position of Student Council President, and a chance to go to an Ivy League college, high school life is just fine for Holland. At least it seems to be. But when Cece Goddard comes to school, everything changes. Cece and Holland have undeniable feelings for each other, but how will others react to their developing relationship?

Lies My Girlfriend Told Me by Julie Anne Peters

When Alix’s girlfriend, Swanee, dies from sudden cardiac arrest, Alix is overcome with despair. Then she finds Swanee’s phone, pinging with texts from Liana, Swanee’s secret girlfriend. Brought together by Swanee’s lies, Alix and Liana become closer than they’d thought possible. But Alix is still hiding the truth from Liana. Will coming clean to Liana mean losing her, too?

Sing You Home by Jodi Picoult

One miscarriage too many spelled the end of Max and Zoe Baxter’s marriage. Zoe, for her part, finds healing relief in music therapy and the friendship, then romantic love with Vanessa, her counselor. After Zoe and Vanessa, now married, decide to have a baby, they realize that they must join battle with Max, who objects on both religious and financial grounds.

Like Water by Rebecca Podos

In Savannah Espinoza’s small New Mexico hometown, kids either flee after graduation or they’re trapped there forever. Vanni never planned to get stuck—but that was before her father was diagnosed with Huntington’s disease. Then she meets Leigh, who’s utterly unique. But caring about another person threatens to bring to the surface the questions she’s held under for so long.

Her Name in the Sky by Kelly Quindlen

Hannah wants to spend her senior year of high school going to football games and Mardi Gras parties with her tight-knit group of friends. The last thing she wants is to fall in love with a girl–especially when that girl is her best friend, Baker. And Baker might want to be with Hannah, too–if both girls can embrace that world-shaking, yet wondrous, possibility.

Noteworthy by Riley Redgate

Jordan’s low voice gets her shut out of the school musical, but a spot has opened up in the elite a cappella octet. Worshipped…revered…all male. Jordan dresses as a guy and  wins the audition. With her secret growing heavier every day, Jordan confronts what it means to be a girl (and a guy) in a male-dominated society, and—most importantly—what it means to be herself.

The Nowhere Girls by Amy Reed

Three misfits come together to avenge the rape of a fellow classmate and in the process trigger a change in the misogynist culture at their high school, transforming the lives of everyone around them in this story that will work its way into a special place in your heart. Told in alternating perspectives, one of whom is gay and Latina, another is autistic, and all are remarkable.

Juliet Takes a Breath by Gabby Rivera

Juliet just came out to her family and isn’t sure if her mom will ever speak to her again. But Juliet has a plan, sort of, one that’s going to help her figure out this whole “Puerto Rican lesbian” thing. She’s interning with the author of her favorite book: Harlowe Brisbane, the ultimate authority on feminism, women’s bodies, and other gay-sounding stuff. 

Cherry by Lindsey Rosin

In this honest, frank, and funny debut novel, four best friends make a pact during their senior year of high school to lose their virginities—and end up finding friendship, love, and self-discovery along the way. Will everything go according to plan? Probably not. But at least the girls have each other every hilarious, heart-warming, cringe-inducing step of the way.

Unspeakable by Abbie Rushton

Megan doesn’t speak. She hasn’t spoken in months. Pushing away the people she cares about is just a small price to pay. Because there are things locked inside Megan’s head - things that she cannot, must not, let out. Then Jasmine starts at school: bubbly, beautiful, talkative Jasmine. And for reasons Megan can’t quite understand, life starts to look a bit brighter.

Sword of the Guardian by Merry Shannon

The shocking assassination of her brother causes Princess Shasta’s father to appoint Shasta’s new savior as the Princess’s bodyguard. But what Shasta doesn’t know is that her new guardian has a very well-kept secret: he is actually a she. The two grow closer than anyone, especially her father, could have predicted. Will the truth change their relationship forever?

The Light of the World by Ellen Simpson

After her grandmother’s death, Eva finds diaries detailing the magical life of a girl in the Roaring Twenties. She cannot reconcile the young girl in these diaries with the miserable old woman she loved. Eva starts to investigate the puzzle  with the help of a local historian and his assistant Olivia, they find a forgotten labyrinth under the city. But they’re not the only ones down there…  

The Abyss Surrounds Us by Emily Skrustkie

For Cassandra Leung, bossing around sea monsters is just the family business. But when the pirate queen Santa Elena swoops in on Cas’s first solo mission and snatches her from the bloodstained decks, Cas’s dream of being a full-time trainer seems dead in the water. Cas has fought pirates her entire life. But can she survive living among them?

The Edge of the Abyss by Emily Skrutskie

Sequel to The Abyss Surrounds Us.

Starring Kitty by Keris Stainton

Kitty’s keeping secrets. Like how she’s struggling to cope with her mum’s illness. And how she’s falling for the girl with the purpley-red hair… A fun film competition with her friends Sunny and Hannah seems like the perfect distraction. But then Dylan wants to be more than Kitty’s secret. Is Kitty ready to let her two worlds meet, or will she risk losing Dylan forever?

Forgive Me If I’ve Told You This Before by Karelia Stetz-Waters

Shy, intellectual, and living in rural Oregon, Triinu just doesn’t fit in. She tries to hide behind her dyed hair and black wardrobe, but it’s hard to ignore the bullying, and it’s even harder to ignore the allure of other girls. As Triinu tumbles headlong into first love and teenage independence, she realizes that the differences that make her a target are also what can set her free.

Prom and Other Hazards by Jamie Sullivan

Frankly, prom is a ridiculous concept, and Sam wants nothing to do with it. Except for the tiny fact that she’s been in love with her best friend Tash since they were ten years old, and Tash dreams of a perfect, romantic prom. Sam had given up hope, until she spotted The Suit in a shop window. Surely the perfect suit is all she needs to finally admit to Tash how she feels.

Lies We Tell Ourselves by Robin Talley

In 1959 Virginia, the lives of two girls on opposite sides of the battle for civil rights will be changed forever. Forced to work together on a school project, Sarah and Linda must confront harsh truths about race, power and how they really feel about one another. This book is about finding truth amid the lies, and finding your voice even when others are determined to silence it.

Our Own Private Universe by Robin Talley

Fifteen-year-old Aki has a theory. And it’s mostly about sex. No, it isn’t that kind of theory. Aki already knows she’s bisexual. So far, Aki has dated only guys, and her best friend is the only person who knows she likes girls, too.  Actually, Aki’s theory is that she’s got only one shot at living an interesting life—and that means it’s time for her to actually do something. Or at least try.

The Summer I Wasn’t Me by Jessica Verdi

Lexi has a secret. She never meant for her mom to find out. And now she’s afraid that what’s left of her family is going to fall apart for good.  Lexi knows she can fix everything. She can change. She can learn to like boys. New Horizons summer camp has promised to transform her life, and all she wants is to start over. But sometimes love has its own path.

Afterworlds by Scott Westerfeld

Darcy Patel is afraid to believe all the hype. But it’s really happening - her teen novel is getting published. Instead of heading to college, she’s living in New York City, where she’s welcomed into the dazzling world of YA publishing. Told in alternating chapters is Darcy’s novel, the thrilling story of Lizzie, who wills her way into the afterworld to survive a deadly terrorist attack.

Queens of Geek by Jen Wilde

When BFFs Charlie, Taylor and Jamie go to SupaCon, they know it’s going to be a blast. What they don’t expect is for it to change their lives forever.  When Alyssa Huntington arrives as a surprise guest, it seems Charlie has a chance to confront her long-time crush . And in the magic of SupaCon, Taylor starts to rethink playing it safe when it comes to her secret crush on Jamie.

27 Hours by Tristina Wright

Rumor fears two things: hellhounds too strong for him to kill, and failure. Jude has two dreams: for humans to stop killing monsters, and for his strange abilities to vanish. But in no reality should a boy raised to love monsters fall for a boy raised to kill them. Nyx keeps two secrets: the moon speaks to her, and she’s in love with Dahlia, her best friend. This is the story of one 27-hour night.

Dirty London by Kelley York

All London wanted out of her senior year of high school was anonymity.  Then she discovers that Wade, one of the most popular guys in school, is gay like her, and their new-found closeness has half the student body convinced they’re hooking up. Rumors start flying, and London is pretty sure she’s developing a crush on the one girl who sees through it all.

The Gravity Between Us by Kristen Zimmer

At just 19, Kendall is Hollywood’s hottest young starlet—but behind the glamour is a girl who longs for normal. Payton is Kendall’s best friend, and the one person who reminds her of who she really is. But Payton has a secret that could make everything ten times worse. Because to her, Kendall is more than a best friend—she is the only girl that she has ever loved. 

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The Dravid effect in Nagarkoti’s road to recovery | Cricket News

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The Dravid effect in Nagarkoti’s road to recovery | Cricket News

JAIPUR: On the face of it, nothing has changed in the last two years for Kamlesh Nagarkoti. The pacer is as driven, as accurate and as lethal while playing in the IPL as he was two years back when he left everyone awestruck with his skill during the Under-19 World Cup in New Zealand. As he once again impressed with his bowling and athleticism playing for Kolkata Knight Riders (KKR) against Rajasthan Royals on Wednesday night, the world was yet again reminded of the talent that became almost anonymous after the World Cup outing.

Having completely recovered from the long-standing back injury, the right-arm bowler took two wickets and a couple of stunning catches joining other youngsters in the team to help cruise KKR to 37-run victory. It was his second game of the season and the tournament.

What everyone sees today is a result of the support system of which former India captain Rahul Dravid was an important part, and came to Nagarkoti’s rescue while he was struggling to come to terms with life while treading the long road to recovery.

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IPL 2020, Match 12: Kolkata Knight Riders vs Rajasthan Royals

Show Captions

India’s 2018 Under-19 World Cup-winning pace duo of Shivam Mavi and Kamlesh Nagarkoti led a clinical bowling display to help Kolkata Knight Riders register a comprehensive 37-run win over Rajasthan Royals in their IPL match on Wednesday. (BCCI/IPL/ANI Photo)

Mavi and Nagarkoti, who battled injuries in the last two seasons, claimed two wickets apiece, while Varun Chakravarthy also got two to restrict the Royals to 137/9 in 20 overs while chasing a target of 175. (BCCI/IPL/ANI Photo)

This was after star Australian pacer Pat Cummins (1/19 from 3 overs) dismissed Steve Smith (3) as the Royals crumbled on a tricky run chase to suffer their first defeat after two successive wins. The margin of defeat would have been much bigger but for Tom Curran who remained unbeaten on 54 (from 36 balls) for a lost cause. (BCCI/IPL/ANI Photo)

Jos Buttler and Smith started the proceedings looking to hit every ball in a 12-run first over off Sunil Narine. In-form Smith survived a dropped catch off Cummins but perished caught-behind taking an inside edge. (BCCI/IPL/PTI Photo)

Mavi (2/20 from 4 overs) then ended the dream run of Sanju Samson (8), executing a perfect bouncer, and followed it up by getting the dangerous-looking Jos Buttler (21 off 16) dismissed after power-play to have the Royals top-three out for 39. (BCCI/IPL/ANI Photo)

Nagarkoti (2/13 from 2 overs) then joined the party, picking the wickets of Robin Uthappa (2) and Riyan Parag (1) in the space of four balls in his first over. (BCCI/IPL/ANI Photo)

It was all over for the Royals after mystery spinner Varun Chakravarthy (2/25 from 4 overs) grabbed the wickets of their last match hero Rahul Tewatia (14) and Jofra Archer (6). (BCCI/IPL/PTI Photo)

Earlier, Archer (2/18) hit the deck hard and clocked the fastest delivery of the tournament (152.1 kph) in a fiery spell, taking two key wickets of KKR — in-form opener Shubman Gill (47 from 34 balls) and skipper Dinesh Karthik (1). (BCCI/IPL/PTI Photo)

Archer dismissed Gill three runs short of a second successive fifty. In his next over, Archer dismissed Karthik with a beauty, full of pace that went straight with a bit of inswing and the KKR skipper was forced to play, edging straight to Jos Buttler. (BCCI/IPL/ANI Photo)

Andre Russell was finally promoted up at No. 5 but the star Jamaican became victim of Ankit Rajpoot while trying to accelerate the scoring rate. Russell’s wicket meant KKR lost four wickets for 33 runs in the back-10 and with KKR playing with an extra bowler, it was left to Eoin Morgan (34 not out) to prop up the total. (BCCI/IPL/ANI Photo)

“It was Rahul Dravid who asked the BCCI to send Kamlesh to the UK for treatment. Moreover, every time they met while he was recuperating, Dravid used to motivate him, explaining how injuries are a part of a sportspersons’ life and one must learn from that experience and come out stronger,” said the 20-year-old fast bowler’s coach Surendra Rathore. Dravid who is currently the head of cricket at the National Cricket Academy (NCA) was the coach of the Under-19 team that won the World Cup.

01:57IPL 2020: Mavi, Nagarkoti shine as KKR beat RR by 37 runs

Not only India’s batting legend, but the IPL franchise KKR too showed faith in the young knight from Jaipur by retaining him in the team despite his unavailability due to the injury. The Kolkata-based team had shelled out 3.2 crore on Nagarkoti in 2018, but made his IPL debut this season against Sunrisers Hyderabad on September 26. After completing his rehab and during the lockdown period, Nagarkoti worked extensively on his food position and batting. “There were no major changes I suggested to him in his bowling. His action was getting a bit misaligned so we got that corrected. His landing foot was slightly across and his non-bowling arm was coming from inside. We worked on those. On alternate days he used to work on his batting as well where I used to set a target for him and gave throwdowns,” Nagarkoti’s coach said.

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The Mist - Film

09/09/20- offsite

Screen play written and directed by Frank Darabont

Sci-fi/Horror, rated R (18)

Plot summery by Kevin Awty: Project Arrowhead, a military experiment gone wrong has opened an interdimensional rift setting loose unthinkable creatures in the town of Maine. After a storm rips through Maine, a local Hollywood artist, his son Billy and their next door neighbour drive into town for supplies. Whilst at the supermarket, shoppers are alerted by the presence of military convoys, emergency vehicles and the town’s emergency siren. Shortly after, the town is engulfed by a thick mist; it becomes apparent that this is no ordinary fog. Barricaded in the supermarket for days on end, frightened shoppers fight for survival against the horrific creatures that lurk outside, unaware that perhaps the biggest monster is already amongst them. Based on the Stephen King novel, the director brings to life what King is famous for with an ending that will leave you mortified.

Main Cast: David Drayton - Thomas Jane, Billy Drayton - Nathen Gamble, Mrs. Carmody - Marcia Gay Harden, Amanda Dumfry - Laurie Holden, Brent Norton - Andre Braugher, Ollie Weeks - Toby Jones, Jim - William Sadler, Dan Miller - Jeffery DeMunn, Irene Reppler - Francis Sternhagen, Private Jessup - Sam Witwer, Sally - Alexa Davalos

Quotes: David Drayton: ‘Sure as long as the machines are working and you can dial 911. But take those things away, you throw people in the dark, you scare the sh*t out of them, no more rules. You’ll see how primitive they can get.’

Mrs. Carmody; ‘There’s no defence against the will of God. There’s no court of appeals in hell. The end times have come; not in flames, but in mist.

Ollie Weeks: ‘As a species we’re fundamentally insane. Put more than two of us in a room, we pick sides and start dreaming up reasons to kill one another. Why do you think we invented politics and religion?’

Ollie Weeks: ‘You can’t convince some people there’s fire even when their hair is burning. Denial is a powerful thing.’

Original Film Poster Analysis

The original photo used for the The Mist’s film poster shows the silhouette of a man holding a young child on his hip, facing, backlit by a large glass door and window showing a foggy outside setting.

Like The Mist’s original book cover, the colours used in the poster gradient inwards to white creating contrast and a halo effect around the central man and child, highlighting them as the poster’s most prominent and what the eye is drawn to first. As the main feature, we can assume that the man and child are the main characters of the film; the man holds the child closely in a seemingly protective manner indicating that they are in a vulnerable position. The main characters positioned this way hint that the genre of film is most likely that of a action, thriller or horror.

The photo for the poster has been taken a a slight upwards angle (camera lower to the ground), this technique is often used to allow the background to loom over the foreground, inferring that it is much bigger, more powerful or dangerous. In this instance, the angle was used to make the characters look small in front of the window before them, suggesting that the danger is beyond the window and they are avoiding at or are trapped inside. Further imagery of shopping trolleys besides the characters establishes scene is probably set in a supermarket; we can assume that a supermarket is where the film, or at least its most most prominent scene/s, takes place.

Colours that dominate the poster are black, white, green, red-orange and blue. The darker black edges to the piece further simulate the ‘trapped’ state the characters are in along with the aforementioned imagery. The blurred mix of the other colours layering outside of the window also suggest something abnormal or supernatural is happening. I believe these colours and value altering were added post-production through Photoshop with filters and washes made with the brush tool.

Cloud-like smoke has seeped through the door and surrounds the feet of the characters, this along with the title The Mist on the poster point to the biggest plot point of the film: the mist. Beside the colouring, vulnerable position of characters and additional imagery, the mist has a threatening insinuation.

Alternative Film Poster Designs 

This alternate film cover for The Mist features the silhouetted image of a truck and large, tentacle like form hovering above it composed centrally, instantly and simply making them the subject of the piece. This imagery, much like in many of The Mist’s covers is textured with a foggy wash of grey and black, representing the plotline’s namesake; the mist.

The completely monochrome palette used, along with the softened outlines of the imagery, give a tone of quiet mystery; contrasted with the eerie and unfamiliar tentacle, I would associate this cover with the thriller genre. This still shot of what appears to be the tentacle reaching for this truck (the truck itself almost being a stable of action movies itself) hints towards a scene of action, this tentacle now being seen as a treat to the truck and linking back the thriller genre, I can also assume that this film is apart of the horror genre also. 

The text for the title of the film, quote and information is also in a central position. The particular typeface used is strict serif but is quite simple and slim, this type has been represented in many different film genres but is most often associated with less easy-going themes such as in thrillers and horrors and sets a more melancholy tone to the poster for the audience to pick up on. Positioned at the very top of the poster is the movie’s tagline: ‘Fear changes everything’, in matching font. This tagline alone suggests the horror genre instantly, however I believe the line would be more impactful if it was more dominant on the cover, simply fixable with a larger font size, but I also understand the minimalistic approach needs to be considered also. I would assume the demographic worked towards for this poster to be adults whom the horror genre appeals to as the subdued text and colour palette plus the overall frightening imagery is not commonly appealing or targeted to children.

I believe this poster consists of an edited photograph; additional contrast, colour and tentacle added post-production. This style of creation is not one I wish to explore myself as I don’t believe I could utilise my particular skills or artistic interests this way but if I were to produce this poster I would first take the picture of the truck in this environment, change it to black and white and then adjust the contrast, along with smoke-like texture added with brushes here, to give the appropriate, natural lighting effect. I would add the tentacle to the poster latterly, first drawing it up and adjusting it’s colouring to simulate depth separately. Finally the text would be added, blended between layers of the imagery and highlighted with white to give the same effect.

I assume this to be the promotional poster for The Mist in Japan. We can see a slightly different artistic approach here, instead of a choreographed photograph as seen in the previous two posters, this poster features a splice of stills taken directly from the from the production of the movie with less dramatic contrasted editing. We can once again see the image of a man holding a child, indicating a vulnerable position, but now the lead actor’s face is in full view for the audience. allowing more context for emotion; the man appears unsure, anxious. Below this image, the audience cans see further members of the cast in a group looking out of a large window, once again appearing to be unsure and shocked. 

With the text (in a black, grungy typeface, setting a further horrific tone to the poster) of the information and title of the poster positioned more around the edges of it, the focus is pointed towards at the central figures displaying emotion. Focusing on the actors this way, instead of establishing the scene specifically could be a way of transcending the cultural barrier between America where the film is set, and Japan where this poster was promoted as it communicates directly to the audience that this is not a peaceful film and is more likely to be that of a thriller, horror or action without any complications due to cultural differences as any culture can understand emotion through facial expression. 

The palette of this poster ranges from dark grey and blue to white; a common scheme used of The Mist’s posters and book covers, however, instead of highlighting the main features with white in a halo effect, the images blend into white representing the mist consuming the scenes. The blue and grey suggest to the audience a more depressing to the tone to the film and with a lack of bright colours and typically fun imagery, we know this film is not targeted towards children. 

Japan is known as a pioneer in the horror movie genre with their influential kaiju monster films (e.g. Godzilla) and other iconic movies such as The Ring and The Grudge based off the works of Koji Suzuki. With this knowledge, the lack of typically frightening imagery and colours associated with horror (red, black etc.) leads me to believe that The Mist may not have been promoted as a horror movie and the monsters of the mist could have been left as a surprise to the preconditioned Japanese horror fandom to draw more interest instead of being the usual horror film they would expect.

This poster shows a much wider variety of imagery from differing scenes compared to the previous and original poster, however, it does follow the same colour palette and use of light blurred texture to represent the mist. This poster also includes the tag line of the film ‘fear changes everything’ and focuses on the central image of the main character. 

What stood out to me on this poster is how the artist incorporated the title: The Mist into the scene using appropriate typography to appear like the name of the supermarket in the background of the piece; where the majority of the film takes place.