#kentucky van life

[privateanxieties]

to the shadows, we return

Summary: When Frank goes to the woods of Kentucky in search of Gunner Henderson, you come along for the ride. And when the man you're looking for shoots an arrow at him, well— it isn't Frank that gets hit. Feelings ensue in the aftermath.

Words: 4.4K

Pairing: Frank Castle x f!Reader (no y/n); hurt/comfort, fluff, light angst, blood and injury, near death experiences, whumptober 2023

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You can tell the place is liable to be booby trapped all to hell before you've even gotten out of the van.

In a way, that's good. It means you're going to be of use and Frank didn't bring you here for nothing. In another, it's annoying, because you're going to be advancing at a snail's pace the whole way and the November sun is quick in its descent.

What you're here to provide is a one-woman navigation system, courtesy of your tactical training at Quantico. It's not that Frank didn't go through similar procedures; but he doesn't specialize in this type of operation, and he most definitely isn't used to extracting his way out of a predicament delicately. When it comes to these scenarios, he's the blunt object to your scalpel.

Gunner isn't someone you look forward to seeing again, but if you're to survive this whole ordeal, Frank needs to find answers. It sucks that this is what you're doing the first time you've left the bunker in weeks, but at this point you'll take a bear trap over listening to David Lieberman detailing any more Greek legends. Frank orders him to stay put— not that he'd have come with, anyway. Three's a crowd and all that. He seems content with his current level of involvement and you can't blame him for being reluctant to (very likely) get shot at. You're not very keen on it yourself, and knowing Gunner even as little as you do, it's something you worry about more than the traps themselves.

"Let's go before it gets any darker," you say, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. Frank nods, throwing another warning look at David.

The forest is barren this time of year, and an untrained eye might give into a false sense of security. Not a lot of places to hide traps, or at least not very well, a novice might think. Not the case. Gunner, from what you were able to intuit back in Kandahar, is the survivalist type. He's guaranteed to know his way around more than a few… creative snares.

It's not long into your trek inside the forest before you spot the black wire, but its placement is so obvious and exposed that it can't be more than an early-warning system for non-threats. No one looking for traps would trigger this one. It means you're getting close, but not quite close enough that you'd pose any real danger to his territory. Which means anything you encounter from now on will definitely try to take a finger with it. Though, if you're being honest— it's more like a limb or two.

Frank is quiet and cautious behind you, never closer than a three-step interval: the ideal distance for only one of you to get snared if you both happen upon a trap. It's a wonder he's letting you have the lead. If you've known Frank Castle to be anything, then that's a stubborn mule with absolutely no respect for safety. He'll take a bullet both out of stubbornness and sheer disregard for his life. He's old-fashioned like that. The fact that you're somewhat in charge in this particular instance means that he's laser-focused on getting to the bottom of Operation Cerberus. You know he wants the truth more than anything else. It's not just justice for what was done to his family, but for what he himself has done while on the covert task force.

Personally, your only goal is to avoid dying in the name of loose ends. It was somewhat of a miracle that you even survived the hit that made yours and Frank's paths cross again. Distantly, you think you can still feel the tingle in your knuckles from the right hook you served Carson Wolf. You appreciate Frank letting you have that after the fucker blew up your apartment.

Shaking off the chill of the biting November wind, you grit your teeth against the mounting stress of not having found any traps thus far. The place should be crawling with them, which means that if you don't see them, either you're not on the right path or Gunner's contraptions have been detected by others and swiftly removed. He could very well be dead out here and you'd have no idea. It's a grim thought; if that's the case, any information will have died with him.

"Over there," Frank calls in a hushed tone, stopping you in your tracks.

You follow his line of sight to a small shape in the middle distance, and even shielded by trees as it is, you can clearly distinguish the outline of a tiny cabin. Your first thought? You're uncomfortably close to it for no aggression to veer its head. You almost expect something to drop on both your heads from the clear skies, a cartoonish outcome if there ever was one. Before you can open your mouth and voice any of these concerns, however, Frank steps away from you.

"Hey—" you warn, tone sharp, but he only holds up a hand and motions for you to follow him.

You're forced to do so against your sharper instincts. Frank knows Gunner much better than you do. They were on the ground together in Afghanistan, while you did pre-mission recon under Cerberus. The only reason you ever talked to the guy was because you stuck your nose where it didn't belong. You looked for trouble and it found you, at the same time that you found unidentified crates of smuggled weapons, which was decidedly not how the military armed its personnel. Gunner was there. He'd already been onto something, and who knows what else he'd seen. Your piece of the puzzle might be nothing compared to his, and you desperately need it if you want your life back.

Frank, you've gathered, doesn't care much for his own. He moves through the woods carefully, though with an air of nonchalance that worries given the territory. Or maybe it's trust, you figure, because it doesn't take long for him to call out Gunner's name.

"Brother, I just wanna talk!"

The backpack is deposited on a pile of dry leaves, and you watch curiously as Frank also removes his weapon, placing it atop the bag. He motions for you to do the same, and the look you throw him is one of vehement defiance.

"No."

"He needs to see we don't want to hurt him," Frank argues.

"Then I'll wait over here," you return, a grim smile scrunching up your features.

It's not that you want to hurt Gunner, but you are not opposed to it whatsoever if that's the direction this will go.

"He'll think it's an ambush. C'mon, we—" he pauses, looking away and back at you with his mouth turned down. "We came this far. We need to talk to him. Leave the goddamn gun. He's got the advantage anyway," he pleads, though you sense an amount of command in that tone.

He's right that you're out here, exposed, while Gunner could shoot you both through the rickety door or one of the windows of the cabin. You're not comfortable being unarmed, though— you haven't been in years. Although, you suppose, some things are too great to get away from with just the use of a pistol. It sure as shit didn't help when you almost got blown all the way to hell four months ago. A deep sigh from Frank rattles your hesitation. The question in his eyes is tinged with desperation, and for a brief moment, he looks younger than you know he feels. He's not accustomed to asking people for anything, and the slightest doubt on the part of those he asks for help is enough to make him regret ever thinking of it in the first place.

You don't want him to doubt you. You also don't want to make him think you don't trust him, because you do. You woudn't have gotten this far with him and David if you didn't. Sure, you didn't seek them out; they found you and in the process saved your life. Back in the war, your unit relied on you before anyone else. The purpose of reconnaissance is simple: gather intel. Make sure that when you go in, you have a way out. You liked that job and you liked feeling unquestionably needed.

Despite recent revelations, the sting of what happened before you were abruptly sent home is still fresh somehow. It lingers on the surface of your days, waking or slumbering. For almost three years, you lived with the belief that you sent your unit into a death trap, and it took nearly dying for the record to be set straight. What happened in Kandahar, that last mission that killed more than half of the Cerberus unit— it wasn't on you. It wasn't on you, and yet guilt isn't easy to do away with.

It's the same kind of guilt you're witnessing in Frank right now, with his brows pulled so tight that a deep ridge has formed between them. He's restless and full of regret, and that's what makes your decision barrel into you. You simply don't want to add the fact of your company to that list for him. If you're going to be here, you might as well be the support he needs.

Nodding somewhat unconvincingly — because you're still dreading this — you copy his actions and discard your backpack and weapon next to his own, at once feeling more uneasy than you have in a long time. The gratitude you can sense in his relaxing posture is a little too much to bear, so you settle for diffusing the tension with a warning.

"If he shoots you, I will leave your ass here."

Frank bites back a reply you can guess almost word for word, but his face tells the story his lips won't: yeah, sure you will. It's comforting to know that he at least trusts you not to abandon him, at the same time that the thought feels heavy considering your history. You owe him in more than one regard, but that's not truly why you wouldn't leave him, even to save yourself. Frank is pretty much the only family you've got left. You didn't have many people in your life to begin with, and he's lost the most important ones to rogue government dealings. The only way you'll be removed from his side is if either he is dead or you are. It's funny, the way you grow attached to someone while living in a shithole bunker and hiding from men who want to kill you.

The sun inches lower as you approach the cabin, gaze firmly set on the windows. It's instinctive to watch them, though you aren't neglecting your surroundings either. Frank calls out towards the house again, taking cautious steps to close the distance. You follow in a mirror of your previous formation, no more than three steps behind him.

The place appears desolate, but the trail of smoke from a minuscule chimney is all the sign of life you need to confirm someone else's recent presence. You're now less than ten feet away from the door, and all of a sudden your muscles go stiff. You scan the trees around you for anything you might have missed, but they are free of threats and as barren as the furnishings you can glimpse inside the cabin when you turn to look over Frank's shoulder. The wet crunch of the leaves beneath your boots is dampened by Frank calling out again.

"C'mon Gunner, it's Frank!"

Once close enough, he takes a peek inside one of the smaller windows to the right, and you take your place at his side so that you both line the wall in the least vulnerable positions. Frank, however, is taking more chances than you think he ought to by looking so unabashedly through the windows on the left side.

"Gunner!"

"Hey—" you whisper, realizing immediately how stupid that is. It's not like you haven't announced your presence plenty. "Frank, get away from the goddamn windows."

"He's a good man. He's not going to shoot me. Right, Gunner?" he says in the same tone and volume, making you turn away so you can roll your eyes in privacy, knowing Frank has a bit of a sore spot for that. It's all you have time to do, anyway, because once you've widened your field of vision, you spot a shape that wasn't there just a minute ago.

It's funny how the body can respond to stimuli before the brain has even processed them, and it's even funnier how it chooses to do things without any input whatsoever from logic or reason. Self-preservation has no business here, is what your body seems to have decided is the working philosophy for today.

Consequently, you're pushing Frank down and out of the way before you even realize you've moved. The pain, for its part, is not without delay either. Your scream echoes through the woods and you register it as if it's not your own, but some distant sound — and then you're looking down at your shoulder and realizing exactly what hit you. It makes sense that it's a carbon arrow, you think, because anything else would've been snapped in two by the force of the compound bow now aimed at you both.

You cry out when Frank's arm winds around you and hauls you to your feet, dragging you behind the nearest wall and out of the line of fire, but not before another arrow embeds itself in the window frame next to his head. He sets you down with more care this time, and though you're a bit out of it, you don't miss the sheer emotion in his face. It goes hand in hand with the lightning-sharp pain filtering through your veins and making reason depart swiftly. It's why your fingers begin to grasp at the arrow's shaft, ready and willing to expel it from your body without hesitation. They're only stopped by Frank's own hand, gently but firmly guiding yours back down to rest on your stomach.

"Gunner, goddamn it—" Frank shouts, so close to you that you can feel the vibration of his rough tone. "You proud of yourself, huh? You just shot an unarmed woman!"

This time, the eye roll is in full view and you want him to see it.

And why is it that I'm unarmed, Frank?

You don't say that, though you want to. There's something in Frank's eyes that tells you his mental state right now is veering towards self-blame, and he's not the one responsible for this outcome. The guns, however— those are his fault.

You're both defenseless.

And just like that, you're suddenly scared. It doesn't creep up on you like usual, where you wait and wait until the signs are clear that the future will hold unpleasant things. This fear is cold and dense like the woods around you. The woods you might die in. A whimper flows past your lips as your eyes go wide.

Frank takes notice in an instant.

"Shh, hey— Look at me, right at me."

His palm has cupped the side of your face, warming it up against the surging chill of the forest and giving you something to fixate on to stave off the ensuing panic. It's too bad you close your eyes so you can fully focus on the texture of his skin, because the jolt that comes in response is none too gentle. Frank is shaking you awake.

"Hey! Don't you do that. You hear? Don't close your eyes. Keep 'em on me. Just focus on me, sweetheart."

You try for reassurance through touch, but this is a mistake, you soon realize. When your hand comes up to brush along Frank's cheek, it's with distant horror that you notice it's your right hand. You are moving your right hand, because that is the only one that you can move without blinding pain.

Which means the arrow has found a home in your left shoulder. Your left shoulder, not far above your heart.

"Frank—"

He can see you looking. He can probably see how terrified you've become.

And he, in turn, becomes terrifying.

The next time he calls out Gunner's name, you don't hear Frank Castle. You only witness his shadow being left behind as the Punisher comes forward. And then you get swallowed by your own shadows.

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It's a silly little dream— of that, you're certain. But it doesn't mean you can't enjoy the brush of the soft blanket under you or the gentle carding of fingers through your hair.

The warmth of the air borders on unpleasant, and you might be sweating a little more than you'd want in this scenario, but overall you wouldn't trade it for the world, being here with him. Calm. Unhurried. Ignorant of all discomfort, even as your arm has gone numb from lying on your side, gazing at the fire. Well, maybe occasionally at the fire. Mostly, you're just looking at him.

Tracing the contours of his face with your eyes and wishing your fingers could follow, you take everything in as a light euphoria settles over you. His skin is lit up by the wash of warmth from the fire, each imperfection softened— or perhaps that's your eyes' doing, wistfully hooded and completely unashamed in their observation. It feels like gazing upon him for the first and last time, like you're only truly seeing him now that he might disappear. There's a weight in your chest, neither pleasant nor concerning.

Then, his lips are on your cheek and reality slips away. You forget that this is just a dream the moment his mouth trails over your jaw and down the column of your neck, and your eyes fall blissfully closed. He's touching you everywhere, the reassuring press of his body to yours further melting every muscle and easing every current of something like pain travelling through your chest and down your arm. Absent any willpower, you lose grasp of words that aren't his name and thoughts not curved around this moment. You're as relaxed as you can be.

That's when the screaming begins.

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Curtis should really make some kind of declaration soon, or he's going to lose his goddamn mind.

He hasn't said anything the entire time he's been working and— Frank trusts him. He trusts Curt with his life. But it isn't his life on the line right now, and worst of all, it should've been. It should've been him taking that arrow to the chest and bearing it only an inch away from his heart. It should've been him, delirious with sepsis and burning from a killer fever. It always should've been just him in those woods. Only him.

It's his fault. It always is. People always die at his side or because of shit he's done. He always drags them to hell with him, and they never make the journey back together. Only he ever emerges from that blackened pit, crawling out on a bruised soul to fight another day, and the carnage left behind is made up of enemies and loved ones alike.

He's a fucking plague. He's—

"Frank. I need you to focus, brother."

His eyes are wide and gaze distant; he notices that immediately upon Curt's warning, but it's hard to bring his expression under control. It's equally hard to keep his eyes focused, because they will fix themselves upon the only thing in the room that matters and his thoughts will spiral soon thereafter.

Frank's never seen anyone look so frail. He's had comrades die out in the field. He's held onto Curt while the corpsman was in the worst pain of his life — his fucking fault, again — and he's witnessed the worst crimes of humanity against one another. He's perpetrated some of those crimes. Yet everything always happened in the blink of an eye. Everyone he's ever lost, he's lost quickly. In each of the worst moments he's ever lived through, there was none of this waiting, and the hands of the clock didn't spit and curse at him for daring to have hope.

She's been looking worse by the hour. Ever since Curt got here, the medic has had to restrain him from doing something stupid like calling an ambulance. It's a wonder Lieberman managed to make the tough decision and drive them all back here, instead of going to a hospital like Frank demanded. Threatened. Gently asked with his finger on the trigger.

But David was right— it would've been over for them all if they went to an ER. The people that want to kill them would encounter no problems taking out one of their targets while she's unconscious and defenseless in a hospital bed. Frank would be arrested, if not shot on sight. And David would soon follow after them both. So, they're here.

And Frank is still losing his mind as time drags forward and the blood keeps dripping. He keeps an eye on the line between her arm and Lieberman's, delivering the life-saving substance at a pace controlled by Curtis. David's a universal donor, a fact that almost makes Frank believe in some higher power. With odds this stacked against him, it's a miracle he gets this one kindness.

Don't let her die.

The thought startles him briefly, since he meant not to ask. The words manifested from seemingly nowhere, a little echo of them bouncing around his mind. Frank doesn't have any illusions of a higher power granting him leniency, even if one exited. If anything, his mere involvement here, the fact that he cares— might be enough to entice whoever's out there to just deal him another blow, no matter who gets swallowed up in the process.

Either God doesn't exist, or he does and is an asshole. No third way around it, in Frank's view.

An hour passes, then another. Lieberman is recovering on the cot at the edge of the bunker, now with almost a fifth less blood running through his veins. Frank says nothing about how if it was necessary, it could've been more than a fifth. Substantially more— all of it, even. He's not sure Curt would approve of this perspective… murdering a man with a family just so he doesn't lose his again. He'd do it. He would. He'd do anything, he decides on a quiet exhale.

When exactly his heart made the decision to latch on this tightly — both hands, it recalls — he isn't sure and he doesn't care. What's done is done, and boy was it done without his fucking approval. It terrifies more than comforts him, the fact that he is still able to feel like this after everything he's been through. It also frustrates him, despite his best efforts, because he can't seem to let it go. Part of him knows it's because he can't escape it or her, since they're in this together. There's nowhere for him to run, no place to crawl to and wait out these feelings; they're both stuck on the other side of lives they used to have, leaning on each other for support they never ever asked for.

And why in the goddamn hell did she—

A groan. Quiet, almost inaudible to anyone whose ears aren't listening for any sign of pain. His heart jumps, and he's on his feet in less than a second. On the other side of the room, Curt startles.

"Frank—"

He blinks down at her form, eyes flitting over the bandages and blood and fragile skin.

"Frank, come on—"

"Did you give her something?" he grunts, almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. It's rougher than even he is used to.

"What?" Curt asks, taking a few steps closer.

"For the pain. Did you give her anything for it?"

Curt's hesitation is all he needs to see red.

"Her body's working through a lot right now. Painkillers would get swallowed up by everything else running through her system, and we don't have morphine—"

Frank isn't too proud of the look he throws his friend.

"You should've told me. I would've gone—"

"I need you to calm down," Curtis tries, keeping calm for the both of them. Frank, however, isn't having it. He steps into the corpsman's space, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. His voice bellows.

"And what does she need? Huh, Curt? If she needs drugs, you tell me. If she needs surgery, you tell me. If I have to take her to a real goddamn doctor, I'll do that! So what is it? What do I gotta do?!"

Frank's rage only ever takes on two forms: the destructive, when he's capable of leveling an entire enemy squadron by himself, and the stifling, when he feels as helpless as humanly possible and will try anything he can to take back control.

Curtis, for his part, doesn't give in to Frank's rage. He holds himself in that same dignified way, eyes too knowing and too kind for the words that were just thrown at him. He's seen Frank in worse states, but back then there was a war raging all around them. This bunker, though dark and decrepit and reeking of blood, is not a war zone; but Curt knows it makes little difference in his friend's mind. He understands. For hours now, Frank has been too close to reliving his worst fear, and his worst fear has always been losing those he loves. A sigh blows past Curt's lips, and then he takes a deep breath.

"Listen—"

"…s'ole."

Both their heads turn to look at the source of the faint sound, though only one of the men crosses the room in two seconds flat, argument completely forgotten. Frank leans over the makeshift bed, shoulders tense as she displays early signs of consciousness. It's like he's restless and rigid at the same time, his body a taut wire about to snap. Curt sighs again. Watching Frank like this isn't easy, but it's also not the worst thing in the world. If only it would get him to realize what everyone else is seeing, but Curt knows his friend is too stubborn for that.

"What is it?" Frank whispers, lightly caressing her cheek with a trembling finger.

Curt sees her lips move, but no sound comes out.

"C'mon sweetheart, what's wrong?"

It's almost sweet, in a way. If her state weren't so delicate, it would be almost endearing — the small touches, his protective stance over her form. The way Frank leans closer, making sure she doesn't have to strain in order to get her message across.

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"… Asshole."

It's only quiet for a moment.

And then David laughs until Curtis is sure he hears something pop in the man's neck.

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A/N: This was supposed to be a short and sweet oneshot. It was, of course, never going to be that. I felt bad abandoning it, though, so here you go. Not my best work, but I do love this idea. Let me know if you'd like an update from her perspective regarding what happens after! Thank you for reading and please know that I always love to read your comments.

[harlynstein]

ALRIGHTY MORE LORE!

I’ll explain the background of these two since they actually come in a pair!

Pyronica and Kryptos originally were close friends that grew up together, they’ve known each other and for a while many believe these two were dating. At the time of meeting Bill they were both close friends and immediately welcomed him into the college. Excited for a new friend the three were close and even managed to move into the same dorm for the rest of their college years.

Pyronica was born to an immigrant family, with her parents being able to win the lottery they were able to live and provide their daughter a better life. With her eye condition, she always has trouble before winning all the cash! From there when moving to America she met Kurt, who was eating a pile of dirt to “become one with the Earth” (What a goof!)

Kurt has ended up losing his eyes due to an accident when he was younger. It was during surgery that they had wrongly destroyed his eyes in the process of his surgery, leading his family to win a huge lawsuit, and begin to move from state to state until they could settle for a home! Despite only living in a trailer park in Kentucky all his life, not that he was elsewhere with Nica, life was much better!

The two followed Bill where he went, help him with his projects and snuck out to buy their own inventions. Even after graduating they’ve followed him in their truck they all called “The Rojos Ojos” [Aka The Red Eyes] to hunt anomalies all over the country. They’ve collect so much evidence, however they all targeted Gravity falls in order to fulfill Bill’s dreams to get those damn answers! Upon reaching Oregon, they settles down and began to build when is now known as the Cipher’s Den. The den contained all their research, as well as their main vehicle, dirt bikes, a lab hidden behind the Juke Box, and their home connected within!

However, when it came to Bill meeting Ford and creating the portal they knew their lives were changing for a worst. Bill woke up delusional and confused, projects being destroyed with both growing concerned from his aggression. Evidently they still worked on the portal as he grew worse. So bad that by the time they realized he had done something wrong, Kurt had been temporarily sucked into the portal, Nica pulling him back, while Ford only continued to take over Bill’s body to shut them out. Traumatized by what Kurt saw and explained, the two left and couldn’t bother to watch bill descend to madness. Nica decided to pursue her career as a firefighter, while Kurt took to building trains/planes.

Years later, the two get together, get married, and had a child together named Haldi. Unfortunately, Kurt couldn’t handle what he’d seen, had gone mad, left Nica no choice but to leave her husband, and raise her kid. Kurt had gone back to Gravity Falls but remained a kook, all while Nica had been living in a van with her son. Soon enough she was reached out by REDACTED, who explained what the situation is, before she hesitantly came back to Gravity Falls. Witnessing the distress of REDACTED she decided that she’ll help with the portal, but to never bring it up in front of anyone, while REDACTED took Bill’s identity of what everyone now knows as The Cipher’s Den!

MORE TO COME SOON THIS IS HONESTLY SUPER FUN

[ladamedusoif]

Gentleman Cowboy

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Word count: 3500

Summary: A solo getaway. A fateful glass of whiskey. And a very charming cowboy, ready to explore the big city.

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Alcohol references and consumption; non-canon compliant as is right and proper because that man deserved better; oral sex (F receiving); safe PiV sex; little bit of strong language; no physical descriptions of Reader other than her blue dress and red lipstick; fluff; Jack-typical pet names (sugar, sweetheart, darlin’).

A/N: A belated birthday fic for @agentjackdaniels, who deserves all the nice things - including a certain, irresistible, (retired) secret agent turned ranch owner.

Follow my writing blog, @ladameecrit, and turn on notifications to keep up with my writing.

Charisma.

The jury’s out on whether you’re born with it or can acquire it. For some people, it’s just there. Natural, easy, instantaneous. Doesn’t mean they’re more attractive, necessarily, or more successful. Just… charismatic. 

Hard to explain, but you know it when you see it. And you’d seen it today, checking into the hotel for your solo birthday getaway. A staycation, of sorts - this is your home city, after all - but an escape nonetheless, a break from work, from stress, and a chance to mark another turn around the sun.

He was in the lobby while you were queuing to check in, sitting on one of the hotel’s chi-chi armchairs leafing through a city guidebook. By chance, you glanced in his direction at just the moment he raised his head.

He was all brown eyes, bright smile, dimple set in a tanned handsome face. More than that: he exuded charisma. 

He nodded. You nodded back. By the time you’d checked in and secured your room key, he was gone.

***

He’s been to this city many times before, but always for work. Never any time for sightseeing or getting to know the place. In retirement, he made it his business to return to those old stomping grounds he wished he’d seen more of, joyfully embracing the life of a tourist for a few days before returning to the horse-breeding ranch he owned and ran back home in Kentucky.

The hotel bar is elegant and modern, wooden accents and brushed metal fittings perfectly in line with his own taste. He’s settled in a cosy corner alone, whiskey tumbler in hand, when he sees her again. 

Her casual outfit from earlier has been replaced by a diaphanous, layered dress in midnight blue, printed with a pattern reminiscent of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He half-expects to see a companion, joining her for a post-prandial nightcap. But she’s on her own.

Just like him.

The bar is quiet. He can’t help but overhear her at the bar. “It’s my birthday,” she tells the bartender, grinning happily. “They said I could have a complimentary drink.”

The bartender smiles and nods. “Sure thing, ma’am. What would you like?”

Jack watches as she peruses the gleaming shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar, noting the adorable way she chews on her lower lip while she’s thinking. 

“I’ll make it a whiskey. A Gentleman Jack, please.”

His ears perk up in spite of himself.

Thing is, Jack’s pretty good at reading other human beings. Part of the job, after all, and pretty hard to let something like that slide when you’re no longer an active agent in the field. 

He knows, then, that it might be a bit much for him to launch a typical come-on attempt at the bar. You seem like the type to find that too heavy-handed, disconcerting - cheesy, even.

Not that Jack minds cheesy, as required.

He returns to his book and when he looks up again, you’re taking your Gentleman Jack over to a small table in the other part of the bar. He taps his glass to get your attention. 

“Hope you don’t mind me overhearing, miss, but I just wanted to wish you a very happy birthday,” he says, Southern drawl as warm and as authentic as the Bourbon in his glass. He raises the tumbler to you, and you reciprocate. 

”Enjoy that whiskey, now. Fine choice, if I may say.”

***

He’s definitely not flirting with you. Right? Right. Just a Southern gentleman of the kind that’s all “manners maketh man” and “yes ma’am” and opening doors for ladies. Probably illegal for him not to wish you a happy birthday. 

Just a gorgeous man with the twinkliest, kindest eyes you’ve ever seen in your life, dressed in a beautifully-tailored western-style shirt and perfect dark denims, wishing you a happy birthday. Move along, nothing to see here. 

You settle in with your birthday drink and your copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude, immersing yourself back in the world of the Buendia clan. Occasionally, you glance back in his direction, and sometimes, he’s looking over at you, too.

Coincidence. 

As the alcohol hits you, you adopt a more cliched “mysterious woman” approach, as befits the slick of vintage-style dark red lipstick you’re wearing for the occasion. Let’s see what happens. No more looking over again, just you, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Gentleman Jack. A good time to be had by all - handsome guy or not.

He’s gone the next time you raise your head. Empty seat. Empty glass. And your heart sinks, against your better judgment. 

“Fuck it. Another whiskey’s in order - for the room.”

You nod over to the bartender, ordering another of the same and asking for it to be put on your room bill. 

He returns swiftly with another crystal tumbler of the amber liquid and what looks like a business card. “Ma’am, the gentleman that was just here asked if he could pay for your next drink. Seeing as it’s your birthday. He just had one condition - that we pass this on.”

He hands you the business card, and it’s embossed on one side with a name:

Jack Daniels, Esq.

Some promotional thing, you assume, connected to the whiskey in your glass. But there’s something written in a clear, determined print on the rear of the card. 

A number - a room extension number - and a message.

Happy birthday, miss. If you want to say howdy, this is where you’ll find me - J.D.

You quirk an eyebrow. This seems…insane. Like a set-up waiting to be revealed. But you take the card and head to your room with the whiskey, half-expecting that the next time you look at the little business card it’ll be blank - the note gone, imagined, the product of your own febrile brain and the power of Gentleman Jack.

Still there. Still metaphorically winking at you, daring you to call.

***

One finger of whiskey down. Enough to give you the courage to dial that number. 

If it’s him, and he’s not a creep, just say thank you. That’s all you want, right? And he wouldn’t possibly want anything else.

He picks up almost immediately. “Well, hello there. Glad that barkeep gave you the card, miss.” His voice is low and honeyed over the line. 

You clench your thighs together involuntarily.

”I, uh…I wanted to say thank you. For the drink.”

He chuckles. Oh, fuck. That voice.

”Wouldn’t be any kind of gentleman if I didn’t buy a lady a birthday drink. Specially when she’s drinking one that bears his name.”

You pause for a second. This is…weird. Pinch yourself, once, twice.

”So that’s your actual name? Jack Daniels?”

”The one and same, at your service.”

The whiskey has emboldened you. “Ah, but are you a gentleman, Jack?”

You swear you can hear him inhale sharply. “Well, well. Guess you’d have to get to know me to find out.”

”Birthday or no birthday, Mr Daniels, I’m not in the business of inviting strange men into my hotel room.”

”Fine by me, sweet girl. How’s about I meet you in the lobby in five minutes? Might be cold but it’s a nice night for a walk. You know the city?”

”Lived here my whole life.”

He chuckles again. Oh, girl. You are in trouble.

”Now, ain’t that something. Perfect person to show a lonesome cowboy around. Grab your coat, sugar.”

***

He’s already waiting in the lobby when you walk out of the lift, wearing a black leather jacket with a corduroy-trimmed collar and a dark brown, felt broad-brimmed hat. Not quite a Stetson, but still perfect for a cowboy visiting the big city. His dark brown boots are impeccably polished, you notice.

”Well, hi there, birthday girl!” He grins, laughter lines around his eyes crinkling and emphasising the handsome contours of his face. “Guess we should introduce ourselves properly.” He extends his hand. “Jack Daniels.”

You introduce yourself and find yourself chuckling at the strange coincidence of his name. “Are you anything to the whiskey brand? I feel like I should know, just in case this is some insane promotional stunt.”

He laughs, a bright, genuine chuckle that makes your heart sing. “Sadly, I’m not the JD. But Whiskey was my…nickname. Once upon a time.”

”Makes sense,” you say, as he holds open the hotel door for you and you step out into the night. “Now, Jack Whiskey Daniels, where to?”

“I’ll leave that up to you, birthday girl. You’re the native and the expert. Happy to surrender myself to your capable hands. Only thing is…” He pauses, looking a little sheepish. “I’m hungry enough to eat a stable door. Mind if we pick up a little something on the way?”

You giggle, noticing the little flecks of grey among the dark hairs of his perfectly-trimmed moustache. “I’ve got just the thing, Jack. Come with me.”

***

”I cannot believe that delicious slice was two dollars. Two dollars! And they always say this city’s expensive.”

You swallow the last bite of your own pizza slice and laugh. “It is expensive, but the dollar slice still reigns supreme. Even if it’s two bucks these days.”

You wander companionably in the direction of the elevated garden walkway, your chosen destination for this stroll through your home city. “So this your first time here?”

Jack shakes his head. “Not quite. Been here a few times over the years, but…never got to see much. Always workin’, in and out of our headquarters. No time for just getting to know a place.”

You nod sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation, sometimes it’s harder to see the good in a city when you’re there all the time. So it’s nice for me to get to be a tourist tonight, too.” The two of you climb the stairs and emerge on the walkway, you pointing out key landmarks to Jack as you stroll along together.

”So are you on a break from work this time?”

He looks at you with a soft smile. “Retired. These days I spend my time on the ranch, down home in Kentucky.”

You clap your hands excitedly when he explains that it’s a horse-breeding ranch. “Oh, wow. I just love horses - truth be told, I think there’s a cowgirl streak in me somewhere. City girl or no city girl.”

He laughs that gorgeous, warm laugh, and you feel your heart skip a beat. “Always happy to welcome a city slicker cowgirl on a tour, sweet girl. You just say the word.”

***

As you walk, you realise just how attentively Jack is listening to you. He takes in every detail, every word that leaves your lips, whether it be about the city or about you. 

With a pang you realise that it had been a very long time since someone really and truly seemed to listen. To see you. 

Or maybe he’s just like that with everyone. You are equally rapt, revelling in the melodious rhythm and comforting timbre of his baritone as he tells you about his ranch, his favourite horses, his fascination with the city. 

You’d always assumed that you might be too overwhelmed in the presence of a man so incredibly handsome and charming to do more than just gape at his beautiful form. With Jack, though, you’d never felt more at ease. 

And, dare you say it - he seems pretty darn comfortable, too.

The wardens on the garden walkway announce that it’s about to close, and you find the nearest exit and return to street level. It’s almost imperceptible, but for an instant you swear you can feel his broad hand on your back as you cross the street, heading back to the hotel. 

“Now I’ve got a confession to make, Jack.”

He turns and raises his eyebrows.

”I’m hungry again. You want another slice?”

His smile feels bright enough to power half the city. “A two-buck pizza slice with the prettiest girl in town? Count me in, sugar.”

***

Your whole life, you’d assumed it was safer to wait until they made the first move. Helped avoid any embarrassing moments where you’d read the vibe wrong. Easier, too, to assume you would want someone more than they wanted you.

The electrical charge that’s crackling between you and Jack Daniels as you stand side by side in the hotel lift is a little too powerful for the “wait and see” approach. You look at him again, in side profile this time. 

Fuck. That is a beautiful man.

”Jack?”

He turns his head and smiles. Your hands find first his shoulders, then the light stubble on his jaw. He closes his eyes as you caress his face, dark lashes resting on his cheeks. You move closer, feeling his breath on your face, tilt your head, and lean in to find his lips in a slow, gentle kiss.

The lift pings as he pulls you tight to him, tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. His floor.

”I sure hope this ain’t too forward, sugar, but… would you like to come to my room?” 

You’re already walking out of the lift, holding his hand as you pull him down the corridor that leads to the guest rooms. 

“Thought you’d never ask, cowboy.”

***

No sooner have you got to the room than he’s pushing you against the wall, your hands hastily unbuttoning his shirt and jeans while his broad hands grope your tits through your favourite dress. 

“Goddammit, sweetheart, these are damn gorgeous,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the outline of your hard nipples under the light fabric. “You are damn gorgeous.”

”So are you, cowboy,” you purr, slipping your hand gently inside his boxer briefs as he moves you away from the wall and over to the king-size bed. Even half-hard, you are impressed by the feel of his cock in your hand - thick, heavy, and velvet-soft around the head.

He lays you down on the bed and quickly peels off his shirt, revealing a broad, tanned body clad in a white undervest that clings lasciviously to the muscles of his chest and back as well as the softness of his tummy. It’s a tantalising sight: Jack, his dark, silver-streaked hair slightly mussed and falling forward over his brow, propped up above you on the bed. You trace your fingertips over the pattern of freckles that peeks over the neckline of his vest.

”Can I taste you, pretty girl?”

You nod, throwing your head back and whining with pleasure as he gets to his knees at the edge of the bed and lifts up the skirts of your dress. He hums and moans contentedly as he buries his nose and mouth against your aching pussy, still wearing your panties.

”God-fuckin’-dammit. You’re gonna taste so sweet.”

With a swift tug your panties are off and his head is between your legs, stubble tickling deliciously over the sensitive skin on your inner thighs as his moustache presses against your wet folds.

”Taste me, Jack, please.”

The first long, slow, lick of his tongue up your slit is enough to have you moaning. 

“Fuck, sugar suits you. Sweet as fuckin’ sugar down here.”

Another long, slow lick, tongue flat against you, and then the tip finds your pussy, flicking over the hole and dipping in and out until you feel like he’s fucking you with it. His nose rubs against your swollen clit in time with the thrust of his tongue.

”You’re gonna make me come, Jack…keep doing that, that’s it.”

You focus on the sensation, the sounds that fill the hotel room: your gentle moans, Jack grunting against your pussy while his hand works his own cock, the lewd wetness of your soaking cunt as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm.

”C’mon, sweetheart, come for me - c’mon, good girl. Got you so nice and wet, darlin’, I know you’re close.”

He rests a hand on your tummy as your hips start to buck upwards, the orgasm building and building inside of you until, with a scream of his name, you come hard on his face.

”Think you enjoyed that, sweetheart.”

”Fuck, Jack, that was…fuck.” You sit up and he helps you out of your dress, eyes roaming over your body and settling on the curves of your tits inside the dark blue lace of your bra.

”Can I take this off, sugar?”

You nod, reaching for the hem of his undervest. “Sure, cowboy. But you have to be naked too.”

He is only too happy to oblige. Undervest discarded and boxers on the floor, Jack climbs onto the bed beside you and sits you up. He takes his time with your breasts, unhooking your bra and tossing it to one side before bringing his mouth to each nipple and lovingly kissing and sucking and caressing them in turn. 

“What do you want, baby?”

It’s a rhetorical question. You both know what you want. He breaks away and you lie back on the bed, spreading your legs, moaning delightedly as you feel his gorgeous weight settling on top of you. 

“Want you, Jack. Want you to fuck me until this whole city knows who’s having me.”

He flushes visibly and chuckles, standing up to retrieve his wash bag and returning with a packet of condoms in hand. “And there I was thinkin’ you were a shy little thing, sweet girl.” 

You laugh. “I’m shy until you get to know me, Jack Daniels. Shy, until…”

He positions himself back between your thighs, carefully rolling the condom over his impressively thick cock. 

“Until?” 

You pause for a moment to look into his eyes. “Until I feel like I’m safe with someone.”

He melts a little, leaning down to kiss you softly and slowly.

”That’s a heck of a compliment, sugar. A nice thing, to know you feel so safe with me.”

You smile and look up at him from under your lashes. “I think it’s your charm, cowboy. Not bad for two people who were strangers until a few hours ago.”

He hums happily and kisses you again. ”Not bad at all. Can I have you, sweetheart?”

”Yes fuckin’ please, Jack.” 

He takes you slowly, carefully, stretching you steadily until he’s fully sheathed inside you. He takes a moment, squeezing his eyes closed as he fights the urge to go straight to fucking you as hard as he wishes.

”Feel good, Jack?”

”Feels out of this world, baby. Perfect tight, wet pussy, perfect pretty girl.”

He pulls his hips back slowly before snapping back into position and you whine, wrapping your hands around his shoulders. 

“That feel good for you, baby?”

You nod frantically. “The best. Fuck me, Jack. Want to feel you.”

He builds up the pace slowly, steadily, taking you deeper and deeper before moving to take you harder and faster. Instinctively you hitch up your legs, finding your calves wrapping around his lower back as he starts to fuck you at just the right angle.

He babbles as he fucks you, praising you, promising you things you remind yourself not to see as anything more than sex talk. How he’ll bring you home with him someday, come back up to see you here, make you all his, how he wants to be all yours.

With a swift shift of his hand he finds your clit again. You come harder, again, crying out his name as he fucks and talks you through it. 

“Good, good girl, my good girl,” he murmurs, eyes locked on the place your bodies are joined as he watches you ride out your orgasm. “You’re so beautiful, you know that? Prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

His long fingers press hard into your hips and you can tell he’s about to come. For a brief, sudden, vivid instant you fantasise about throwing all caution to the wind and letting him finish inside you: filling you, claiming you for his, all his.

Jack comes hard, groaning and crying out your name. He rests on your shoulder for a moment, catching his breath, before pulling out and nuzzling in beside you. You turn to face him, fingers trailing through the dark, damp strands of wavy hair clinging to his brow.

”Good, darlin’?”

You kiss him. “Very, very, very good, Jack Daniels.”

He chuckles against your kiss. “And do you think I’m a gentleman now?”

You pull back and flit your eyes over his face, as if making an assessment. 

“Let’s see. Gentleman cowboy on the streets, gentlemanly demon in the sheets. Sounds perfect to me.”

***

You sleep soundly that night, nestled safely against Jack’s warm body. He wakes you with the gentlest of kisses to your forehead, and for a moment you can’t remember. 

And then those coffee-brown eyes, that smile, and you know you’re right where you’re meant to be.

[conradscrime]

The Twisted Crimes of Catholic Priest Hans Schmidt

January 28, 2024

Hans Schmidt was born in 1881 in a Bavarian town called Aschaffenburg. It was said that both of Hans' parents sides of the family had struggled with mental illness.

Hans was beaten by his father as a child and often watched his mother get beaten too. Hans also had a fascination with drinking blood and was interested in bisexuality. He was also fascinated with the death of animals, often watching farm animals die at the village slaughterhouse.

Hans was ordained as a Catholic priest on December 23, 1904 by Bishop Kirstein, despite many people believing he did not have the proper morals or mental capacity to do this kind of work.

Hans began molesting altar boys, was having affairs with various women, and was involved with sex workers. Many fellow priests complained to the Bishop about Hans, and eventually he had to move to the US in 1909, as they stopped giving him parish assignments due to the complaints.

He was assigned to St. John's Roman Catholic Church in Louisville, Kentucky, but was soon transfered to St. Boniface's Church in New York as he got into it with a senior pastor.

Hans met a woman named Anna Aumüller in New York in 1912. She was the housekeeper of the church and had emigrated from the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1910. Hans later claimed he had heard a "voice from God" telling him to love Anna. Anna originally turned down Hans, but eventually engaged in a sexual relationship with him.

In December 1912, Hans began a secret sexual relationship with a New York dentist named Ernest Muret. The two men began operating a counterfeiting ring together.

Hans was then transfered to another church in Harlem but it did not stop him from keeping his secret relationship with Anna. The two even got married secretly, a ceremony Hans performed.

During sex with Anna, Hans later said he received a command from God, telling him Anna needed to be sacrificed. Hans said it was very persistent so he told Anna and she called him crazy. Anna began pregnant shortly after this.

On September 2, 1913, Hans went to the apartment him and Anna had been pretending to live in as a married couple. Hans slit Anna's throat while she was sleeping and then drank her blood. He also raped her while she bled and dismembered her body, throwing pieces of it into the river.

Anna's torso washed up on Cliffside Park and Weehawken, New Jersey. Hans had used a pillowcase to wrap part of Anna's body and there was still a tag on it. This was traced to Hans, after he had bought the pillowcases on August 26, 1913 using the name A. Van Dyke.

Police staked out the apartment for three days, but Hans did not return so they broke into the apartment to search it. The floors had recently been scrubbed, but dried blood was found on the walls. A bloody knife was found in the kitchen. Men's clothing with the name A. Van Dyke sewn into the clothes were found, but letters in the apartment were addressed to Hans Schmidt.

Lots of the letters were sent from women in Germany, but most of them were sent from Anna. This led the police to the address Anna had provided, but she was not there. They traced everything back to Hans who had admitted immediately that he killed Anna.

Hans plead guilty by reason of insanity. Due to his family's history with mental illness many thought he was insane. However, many people who interacted with Hans did think he was sane. This led to a hung jury in December 1913.

The second trial began two weeks later and it was found that Hans had actually taken out a $5000 life insurance policy in a woman's name of Bertha Zech, who was posing as Anna.

On February 5, 1914, after three hours, the jury found Hans guilty of first degree murder. He was sentenced to death. In December 1914, Hans admitted he was faking being insane during the trials. He also accused Ernest, the dentist he was having an affair with of accidentally killing Anna while performing an abortion.

On February 18, 1916, Hans went in the electric chair at Sing Sing. In a muffled voice, his last words were saying goodbye to his mother. Hans' family wanted to ship his body to Germany, but because of World War I it was impossible to do so. Hans was buried in New York, but his family requested that the location be a secret.

Hans has been suspected in at least 4 other murders. He had been seen with a woman named Helen Green, who then disappeared. She was never found. Hans was also seen with a woman he claimed was his wife when he first moved to the US. This woman disappeared.

The apartment Hans lived in he was seen with a 5 year old boy in his living room by the owner of the building. Hans said the boy was his son, but he then disappeared. He told the owner his son's name was August Van Dyke.

Hans was a suspect in the murder of 9 year old Alma Kellner, whose body was found burned in the basement of St. John's Church in Louisville, Kentucky, which he worked. Her body had been burned and the killer attempted to dismember her.

It was eventually discovered that the church janitor, Joseph Wendling was responsible. He was sentenced to life in prison, but Alma's uncle requested for him to be pardoned and he was deported to France in 1935.

[riality-check]

b-sides for WIP Weekend!

Eddie, against all odds, managed to graduate high school. Chrissy, the wonderful, crazy bitch, managed to get them out to Los Angeles.

It was a hard life. For the first two weeks, the five of them - Eddie, Chrissy, Jeff, Gareth, and Archie - lived out of Eddie’s van. For the first few months, half their paychecks went toward roach killer. For the first year, they didn’t land any shows at all, having to compete with bigger bands and managers with more experience.

But damn near a year to the day they left Kentucky, Chrissy barged into their two-bedroom (okay, it was a one-bedroom but the living room was big enough for an air mattress) and declared that she got them a show tomorrow night.

Gareth kissed her then, finally.

The show was terrifying, but only to Eddie. After months of practicing wherever they could, writing whenever they had the time, scrimping and scraping by, the first shot at actually achieving their dream should be thrilling.

It isn’t because Eddie shouldn’t be here. Why the hell was he here? He was some nobody kid with a corpse for a mother and a felon for a father, someone who didn’t have a stable home until he was thirteen, someone who lived with junkies and decided he’d enable them for an extra buck.

He wasn’t talented. He wasn’t good. His songs were shit and his guitar was shit and his voice was shit and this whole thing was a fucking pipe dream, at best.

But he didn’t say anything about it. It wouldn’t be fair to put a damper on everyone else’s excitement.

They each took a shot before the show, to celebrate, to calm their nerves.

Eddie took two, back to back.

[morbidology]

Natasha Cornett was a distinctive figure in Betsy Lane, Kentucky, as she fully embraced the goth subculture. At the age of 17, she expressed her individuality by wearing a black dress and a dog collar during her short-lived marriage. Seeking a new chapter in her life, Cornett embarked on a fateful journey that would forever alter her path.

Accompanied by five friends, Cornett and her companions found themselves in New Orleans. However, on April 6, 1997, their lives took a shocking turn. At a rest stop near Bailyton, Tennessee, they encountered a Jehovah's Witnesses family consisting of Vidar, a 34-year-old man, his wife Delfina, 28 years old, and their two children, 6-year-old Tabitha and 2-year-old Peter.

Tragically, the teenagers kidnapped the entire family, leading them to a desolate road where they shot them. The parents lost their lives on the spot, while Tabitha succumbed to her injuries the following day at the hospital. Peter survived the horrific ordeal but was left blind in one eye and permanently disabled due to a spinal cord injury. The teenagers then attempted to flee to Mexico, stealing the family's van in the process, but their escape was short-lived as they were apprehended and arrested.

During her trial, Cornett made unsettling claims, asserting that she was the "daughter of Satan" and that he would aid her in evading a severe punishment. However, her hopes were shattered when she, along with her accomplices, received three life sentences each, condemning them to spend their remaining days behind bars.

[we-do-bones-bracket]

Who did bones the best?

here are the finalized brackets! the tournament will be split into two brackets. the finalists of both will go up against each other to determine the winner. characters who were the most popular during submissions will join in round 2

rules & guidelines

about spoilers

matches under cut!

Abraham "Brom Bones" van Brunt (Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story) vs. Skull (One Piece)

Laudna (Critical Role) vs. Sese Kitsugai (Len'en Project)

Benny (Halloweentown) vs. Enki Ankarian (Fear & Hunger)

Stalhorse (The Legend of Zelda) vs. Skeleton Horse (Minecraft)

Skeleton Mob (Minecraft) vs. Stallord (The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess)

Ryuk (Death Note) vs. Sam Day Break (Paradise Killer)

Adalman (That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime) vs. Hero's Shade/Hero's Spirit (The Legend of Zelda)

Sir Daniel Fortesque (MediEvil) vs. Skeletor (He-Man)

The Forgotten (Binding of Isaac) vs. Countess Ariadne de Winter (Til Death Do Us Bard)

Kel'thuzad (Warcraft) vs. Christopher Flores (Wayward Children)

The Lich King/Arthas Menethil (Warcraft) vs. Bones (Johannes Cabal the Necromancer)

Toro Muerto (The Book of Life) vs. Yodomi Arakawa (Skeleton Double)

Immortan Joe (Mad Max Fury Road) vs. Laika (Laika: Aged Through Blood)

Clinkz (DOTA 2) vs. Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck (Bleach)

Ianthe Tridantarius (The Locked Tomb) vs. Zenon Zogratis (Black Clover)

Palamedes Sextus (The Locked Tomb) vs. Ketheric Thorm (Baldur's Gate 3)

Ruth Fleming (Nerdy Prudes Must Die) vs. Dr. Bones Cookie (Cookie Run)

Misetani Box (Dai Dark) vs. Frank (Generation Loss)

Shimada Death (Dai Dark) vs. Bone (Warriors)

Kurloz Makara (Homestuck) vs. Mamà Imelda (Coco)

Jake English (Homestuck) vs. Hector (Coco)

SkullBaluchimon (Digimon) vs. Skullgreymon (Digimon)

SkullKnightmon (Digimon) vs. Jolly Roger

Cubone (Pokémon) vs. Ryme (Pokémon Scarlet and Violet)

Skeletal Dragon (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim) vs. Boneknapper (How to Train Your Dragon)

Shinnok (Mortal Kombat) vs. Hector (Castlevania)

Lady Micte (Maya and the Three) vs. Conway (Kentucky Route Zero)

Veralidaine "Daine" Sarrasi (The Immortal Quartet) vs. Pious Augustus (Eternal Darkness: Sanity's Requiem)

Zélie Adebola (Children of Blood and Bone) vs. SkekMal the Hunter (The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance)

The Hound (RWBY) vs. Nuckelavee (RWBY)

Nina Zenik (Six of Crows) vs. Undertaker (Black Butler)

Yorick (Hamlet) vs. Pale Rider (Persona)

Skelita Calaveras (Monster High) vs. Hell Biker (Persona)

Nico Di Angelo (Percy Jackson) vs. Bone Ravage (Fortnite)

Death (Discworld) vs. Mort (Hello from the Hallowoods)

Acererak (Dungeons & Dragons) vs. Skid (Spooky Month)

Boneyard (Dungeons & Dragons) vs. Lord Hater (Wonder Over Yonder)

Necrodeus (Kirby Mass Attack) vs. Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

Skelly (Hades) vs. Nagash (Warhammer Fantasy Battle)

Lady Bone Demon (Lego Monkie Kid) vs. Dry Bowser (Mario)

King (The Owl House) vs. Dry Bones (Mario)

Dyre Ode/Dyre Owed (Friends at the Table) vs. The Children of the Hydra's Teeth (Jason and the Argonauts (1963))

Qiu Congxue (Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know) vs. Death (The Arcana)

Kimimaro Kaguya (Naruto) vs. Gold Skull (The Sexy Brutale)

Death the Kid (Soul Eater) vs. Keyes (Fairy Tail)

Skull Knight (Berserk) vs. Director Bones (DC Comics) Bone (One Punch Man)

Lord Death Man (DC Comics) vs. Mister Bones (DC Comics)

Death (Horrible Histories) vs. Ebisu (Dorohedoro)

Skeleton (I Spy Spooky Mansion) vs. Skullomania/Saburo Nishikoyama (Street Fighter EX)

Skull Man (Mega Man) vs. SkullMan.exe (Mega Man)

A Real Magic Skeleton (OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes) vs. Skully (Scary Godmother)

Marquis (Parahumans) vs. Morgo (Little Misfortune)

Señor Huseo (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) vs. Brian Laborn/Grue (Parahumans)

Grim (The Grim Adventures) vs. Pluto (Library of Ruina)

Queen Rohaan (Watermelon) vs. Kamen Raider Genm/Kuroto Dan (Kamen Rider Ex-Aid)

Fone Bone (Bone) vs. Smiley Bone (Bone) vs. Phonciple P. "Phoney" Bone (Bone)

[lokielly]

you asked, so you shall receive. i have come up with these with my friend izzy since early april 2022. these are nonsensical and goofy because stede is a nonsensical and goofy man. they're also more of a "how would stede be like if he were a real person today"

best of tumblr user lokielly's ridiculous stede headcanons:

stede would LOVE the office

stede would LOVE alf

stede would fill his froyo cup with ALL of the toppings. it would be expensive as hell but what? he wasn't going to get the gummy worms and the chocolate rocks and the gummy sharks and the sprinkles and th

stede would be soo good at the "we're all in this together" dance from high school musical. i'd even go as far as to say he'd slay.

stede would find opossums very cute.

stede would make his kids make slime because he thinks kids like to make slime; really alma and louis don't care because he's too late to the trend. they don't want to make slime anymore. but he makes them because it must be fun.

stede would post minion memes on facebook. he would love those little yellow goggled guys.

stede would always get the pink drink from starbucks. after he finishes drinking it, he takes the lid off and eats those strange rehydrated strawberries.

stede would love those waffle cone bowls. you know, the ones that are waffle cone but... bowl shaped.

stede would get genuinely upset about that homophobic dog, whitney chewston. not because people are using her to be (jokingly) homophobic, but because he doesn't like that people are putting that image on an innocent dog.

stede would love the song butterfly by loona (he'd stream it illegally to support the boycott).

stede (and ed) would absolutely name a kitten marmalade. because he is (they are) gay.

stede would have SO many games on his phone. like an outlandish amount. most of his phone storage is pictures of him and ed and then just a metric ton of mobile games.

stede would host kentucky derby parties (strangest sporting event ever) and he'd be the only one watching it on the tv. no one else would care.

(pre-ed) stede would force mary and the kids to be van life tiktokers with him.

if you think of something silly stede would do please reblog/reply with anything you want to add! i also have a playlist of songs stede would like, if you want to uncover that go to my ask box and ask a number 1-31... i will answer with the song. i feel like that would be fun lol.

[apush-relevancy]

BBAJ, your thoughts?

Ben walker is so hot I love men

In all seriousness, I love the satirical retelling of Jackson's life. It's not completely accurate, but no musical truly is.

Starting strong with Populism, Yea Yea, it's a banger opening number and I love studying Manifest Destiny so yeah it's great. Populism technically wasn't counted til I think the later 1800s but Jackson would've been a populist if not a Jacksonian Democrat.

I'm Not That Guy--- 10/10 Vocal Stim, just singing "Immm not thattt guyyyyy" over and over because I can

Illness as a Metaphor confused me at first, but you really have to watch it to get the full effect. (I was not expecting the blood, I thought it was just gonna be metaphorical).

I'm So That Guy; I have an intense love for songs which overlap motifs from previous songs. And the beginning to this is actually amazing, especially with the repetition of "kill everyone"

Ten Little Indians, again it doesn't make sense unless you watch it. Some of the rhymes feel forced but it's pretty catchy despite depicting the Trail of Tears.

The Corrupt Bargain is my FAVORITE song from BBAJ!!! I go insane I will listen to this on loop all day every day. All the "do do do do do" and like the quick switches between Quincy Adams, Clay, and Calhoun. Fuck yeah

Rock Star. It's catchy, but the fact that the chorus doesn't rhyme makes me so pissed every time I listen to it. I love the song but I hate it so much yk?

The Great Compromise, I didn't like it much originally but it's definitely grown on me (along with the entire Rachel storyline). Very good if I do say so myself.

Public Life KILLED ME. Literally crying so much. And even before the song, when she's dead and the announcer is just like "haha Jackson won" but she's just dead. Completely took me out.

Crisis Averted is super catchy, idk why, and the storylines that take place between the verses are just hilarious tbh. Would recommend for anyone looking for the funniest song.

The Saddest Song, it isn't the saddest song imo, but it's catchy as fuck and another one I'll put on repeat constantly. Not a fan of the rhymes at the beginning but eh what can you do about it, it was 2010.

Second Nature. That's a song, I guess.

Hunters of Kentucky--- literally a remix of Jackson's campaign song and it's fire. Didn't expect it to have the same melody and verses and everything. And in the live musical, all the funny things that happen during the credits >>>

Also just love how they made Washington gay and Van Buren gayer.

Banger of a musical, Ben Walker is still hot, would recommend 10/10. Helped me in my APUSH class too.

On my phone so I don't have my format to follow but uh 7/10 US History Relevancy, highly unlikely that this ask will be used in a US history class.

[ausetkmt]

Her name was Julia Chinn, and her role in Richard Mentor Johnson’s life caused a furor when the Kentucky Democrat was chosen as Martin Van Buren’s running mate in 1836.

She was born enslaved and remained that way her entire life, even after she became Richard Mentor Johnson’s “bride.”

Johnson, a Kentucky congressman who eventually became the nation’s ninth vice president in 1837, couldn’t legally marry Julia Chinn. Instead the couple exchanged vows at a local church with a wedding celebration organized by the enslaved people at his family’s plantation in Great Crossing, according to Miriam Biskin, who wrote about Chinn decades ago.

Chinn died nearly four years before Johnson took office. But because of controversy over her, Johnson is the only vice president in American history who failed to receive enough electoral votes to be elected. The Senate voted him into office.

The couple’s story is complicated and fraught, historians say. As an enslaved woman, Chinn could not consent to a relationship, and there’s no record of how she regarded him. Though she wrote to Johnson during his lengthy absences from Kentucky, the letters didn’t survive.

Amrita Chakrabarti Myers, who is working on a book about Chinn, wrote about the hurdles in a blog post for the Association of Black Women Historians.

“While doing my research, I was struck by how Julia had been erased from the history books,” wrote Myers, a history professor at Indiana University. “Nobody knew who she was. The truth is that Julia (and Richard) are both victims of legacies of enslavement, interracial sex, and silence around black women’s histories.”

Johnson’s life is far better documented.

He was elected as a Democrat to the state legislature in 1802 and to Congress in 1806. The folksy, handsome Kentuckian gained a reputation as a champion of the common man.

Back home in Great Crossing, he fathered a child with a local seamstress, but didn’t marry her when his parents objected, according to the biography “The Life and Times of Colonel Richard M. Johnson of Kentucky.” Then, in about 1811, Johnson, 31, turned to Chinn, 21, who had been enslaved at Blue Spring Plantation since childhood.

Johnson called Chinn “my bride.” His “great pleasure was to sit by the fireplace and listen to Julia as she played on the pianoforte,” Biskin wrote in her account.

The couple soon had two daughters, Imogene and Adaline. Johnson gave his daughters his last name and openly raised them as his children.

Johnson became a national hero during the War of 1812. At the Battle of the Thames in Canada, he led a horseback attack on the British and their Native American allies. He was shot five times but kept fighting. During the battle, the Shawnee chief Tecumseh was killed.

In 1819, “Colonel Dick” was elected to the U.S. Senate. When he was away in Washington for long periods, he left Chinn in charge of the 2,000-acre plantation and told his White employees that they should “act with the same propriety as if I were home.”

Chinn’s status was unique.

While enslaved women wore simple cotton dresses, Chinn’s wardrobe “included fancy dresses that turned heads when Richard hosted parties,” Christina Snyder wrote in her book “Great Crossings: Indians, Settlers & Slaves in the Age of Jackson.”

In 1825, Chinn and Johnson hosted the Marquis de Lafayette during his return to America.

In the mid-1820s, Johnson opened on his plantation the Choctaw Academy, a federally funded boarding school for Native Americans. He hired a local Baptist minister as director. Chinn ran the academy’s medical ward.

“Julia is as good as one half the physicians, where the complaint is not dangerous,” Johnson wrote in a letter. He paid the academy’s director extra to educate their daughters “for a future as free women.”

Johnson tried to advance his daughters in local society, and both would later marry White men. But when he spoke at a local July Fourth celebration, the Lexington Observer reported, prominent White citizens wouldn’t let Adaline sit with them in the pavilion. Johnson sent his daughter to his carriage, rushed through his speech and then angrily drove away.

When Johnson’s father died, he willed ownership of Chinn to his son. He never freed his common-law wife.

“Whatever power Chinn had was dependent on the will and the whims of a White man who legally owned her,” Snyder wrote.

Then, in 1833, Chinn died of cholera. It’s unclear where she is buried.

Johnson went on to even greater national prominence.

In 1836, President Andrew Jackson backed Vice President Martin Van Buren as his successor. At Jackson’s urging, Van Buren — a fancy dresser who had never fought in war — picked war hero Johnson as his running mate. Nobody knew how the Shawnees’ chief was slain in the War of 1812, but Johnson’s campaign slogan was, “Rumpsey, Dumpsey. Johnson Killed Tecumseh.”

Johnson’s relationship with Chinn became a campaign issue. Southern newspapers denounced him as “the great Amalgamationist.” A mocking cartoon showed a distraught Johnson with a hand over his face bewailing “the scurrilous attacks on the Mother of my Children.”

This political cartoon was a racist attack on Johnson because of his relationship with Julia Chinn. (Library of Congress)

Van Buren won the election, but Johnson’s 147 electoral votes were one short of what he needed to be elected. Virginia’s electors refused to vote for him. It was the only time Congress chose a vice president.

When Van Buren ran for reelection in 1840, Democrats declined to nominate Johnson at their Baltimore convention. It is the only time a party didn’t pick any vice-presidential candidate. The spelling-challenged Jackson warned that Johnson would be a “dead wait” on the ticket.

“Old Dick” still ended up being the leading choice and campaigned around the country wearing his trademark red vest. But Van Buren lost to Johnson’s former commanding officer, Gen. William Henry Harrison.

Johnson never remarried, but he reportedly had sexual relationships with other enslaved women who couldn’t consent to them.

The former vice president won a final election to the Kentucky legislature in 1850, but died a short time later at the age of 70.

His brothers laid claim to his estate at the expense of his surviving daughter, Imogene, who was married to a White man named Daniel Pence.

“At some point in the early twentieth century,” Myers wrote, “perhaps because of heightened fears of racism during the Jim Crow era, members of Imogene Johnson Pence’s line, already living as white people, chose to stop telling their children that they were descended from Richard Mentor Johnson … and his black wife. It wasn’t until the late 20th century that younger Pences, by then already in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, began discovering the truth of their heritage.”

[littleguypumpkinsheep]

I expanded on Pilots lore some!

Adrien was adopted in Kentucky by Rebecca Ramirez and Victor Ramirez, a Mexican immigrant couple from Chihuahua. Victor, a transgender man, fled to America to start a fresh life and career with his wife to avoid being put in danger. They adopted Adrien, and moved to the secluded countryside to live off the grid as farmers. Adrien was homeschooled by his mother Rebecca, and her teachings on aircraft are what sparked his love for aviation. He left his home once old enough to search for work, and after a brief history of unemployment and debt, landed a mercenary job at Teufort. His plane, Sweetheart, was acquired some time between living at his childhood home and moving away.

Years later, Adrien found out his mother had fallen severely ill over a phone call from his father in Kentucky. His friend, Sniper, offered to drive him back to his hometown in his camper van to drop off emergency supplies provided by Medic. Since then, Adrien and Engineer have been working on making Sweetheart a more reliable plane to make travel easier in case of future emergencies.

Pilots words on Sweetheart are “…She’s a rickety old war horse. Can’t trust her to go over even Teufort without fallin to pieces.”

[avvy-lavvy]

The Photographer female!oc x Tom Kaulitz

Chapter 2 -The Beach-

Bill couldn't help but laugh "We wanted to surprise you as a welcome to the chaos gift. We kind of just hoped and prayed you like the beach." Prue couldn't help but smile. "Of course I like the beach! I actually love it!"

Tom grinned. "So I get a girl to make out with in the water?" The others gagged while Prue laughed. "Sure. If you can catch me."

The girl spoke before making a run for it as she kicked her shoes off. "Catch me if you can lover boy!" Tom was caught off guard but he quickly kicked his shoes off before he ran after her.

"You're quick despite your short legs!" He yelled towards her as she laughed running from him. "What can I say I'm prepared!" The girl spoke as she bobbed and weaved through some people and over towels. Prue finally tripped up and almost fell but Tom snatched her from her waist. "Got you!"

"No fair! I tripped!" Tom chuckles a bit. "Life isn't fair P. It's brutal. Sooooo I win!" Prue laughs and rolls her eyes. "Fine just this once, only cause I'm curious to know what you mean by make out in the water."

"Go get changed and I'll show you." He grinned like a child and Prue chuckled, going to her van to change.

Once she was back Tom picked her up throwing her over his shoulder without warning. "HEY-" She kicked around a bit trying to get out of his grasp but quickly realized she didn't want to eat sand.

"Don't worry, I won't drop you!" He ran to the water till he was about waist high. He carefully adjusted how he was holding Prue as he spoke. "Hold on and wrap your legs around me."

He was so gentle as he moved her, she did as asked and spoke to him. "You better not dunk me in the water." He couldn't help but laugh. "I did this to make out with a pretty girl, not drown her. I promise."

"Then start kissing. I'm getting impatient." Prue locked eyes with him as she spoke, that's when Tom locked their lips together. The two let themselves enjoy the session, their lips moved in sync. A couple "mm" and hum's coming from the two here and there. Tom let one arm rest around her waist while the other held her up under her butt.

Both of Prue's arms rested around Tom's neck while one of her hands messed with his hair.

The two just chilled like that for a while until they heard one of the band members yelling for them, Georg. "LOVE BIRDS IT'S LUNCH TIME!"

They slowly pulled back and Tom yelled to Georg. "We'll be over in a second!" He carefully made it way back to the sand. Gently setting Prue down once they were in it. After that they made their way to the others for lunch.

"There were people taking pictures of you." Bill spoke as he handed them plates of food.

"Yea I know, it's why I carried her and walked a specific way. I didn't know if she wanted her face public or not." He felt no one should be forced into the public eye, especially anyone working for or with the band.

"Thanks...means a lot cause I truly would like to avoid the public eye at least for now that is." He actually cared and that meant everything to her. He's more than a fuck boy. She knows it, she can feel it. Despite loving to take pictures she isn't one to be in them. Especially if they'd be public.

"I also don't want people from my hometown seeing me public yet. I didn't necessarily tell them I was leaving so they easily could send the police to retrieve me until I turn 18."

"....Tom. You're fucking a runaway." Bill spoke and Prue laughed nervously.

"In my defense I just wanted to travel. Living in a small town in Kentucky wasn't going to get me far. I like traveling and being able to fulfill my dream of being a photographer. I'm working for you guys and I'm not even 21. That's a BIG accomplishment. I'm proud of myself."

Tom couldn't help but smile, seeing her talk about her dreams and how they're coming true. "If you happen to be found we'll talk to them. Try and get your folks to understand. But that's probably a big IF we might not even cross paths with."

Prue smiles at Tom and the band as they all agreed with him. She hadn't even been there a week and they're already the family she never had.

The five sat talking and laughing for another hour or so as they ate. They truly got to know each other and found themselves saying things they'd never thought they'd say.

"Gotta know, is he actually good in bed or does he just brag?" One asked Prue and she makes eye contact with Tom as she answers.

"He's the best I've had but I'm sure there's better." She grins as she leans back in her seat.

He raised a brow as he responded back. "Give it another couple nights. We'll know each other's bodies plenty more." He spoke confidently as he leaned back and played with his piercing some.

Gustav finally spoke up. "Alright change subject I don't want to hear the deets"

They all laughed and got back to talking, even showing weird talents they have.

Eventually Tom dragged Prue back to the water; however instead of making out with him, she splashed him without warning. "Hey! Not fair, I wasn't looking!"

"Oops-" she gets surprised when he swam up under her and grabbed her ankle before he yanked her under water with him. Once they both surface again he grins. "You played dirty so I did the same~" he spoke as he moved his hands in a wave motion towards her.

She glared at him and attempted to tackle him but failed due to a few reasons. One of which being her size. "Oh really now?" Tom spoke as he lifted her up over his shoulder. She let out a small squeal as he tossed her into the water.

They all didn't head to the van until it was dark. Prue was shivering at that point. Without saying anything Tom wraps his towel around her. "I CALL DRIVING!" Tom grabbed Prue's keys before he dashed to the car.

"WELL I CALL SHOTGUN!" Prue yelled as she followed behind Tom before getting in the passenger side. The others got in the back while Prue turned on the radio.

They all sang along to the radio laughing and dancing in their seats as they screamed along. The drive back to the hotel was about an hour. They all stumbled inside as they laughed and joked around. "HEY- I'M NOT THAT SHORT-"

Bill dramatically gasped as he laughed. "She's got attitude! But believe what you want, pipsqueak." Prue glared at him as she spoke. "You're just a fucking giraffe-" She wasn't wrong, all the boys were just tall in general especially compared to her.

Eventually they're all to their respective rooms. Prue started to change out of her beach wear throwing on the shirt Tom let her wear the night before. "Like me that much?" He raised a brow towards the girl and her face went red.

"I- what- I'm just putting it on cause I'm tired and it's right here." she spoke as she took her shirt off followed by her shorts before she slipped into Tom's shirt. "Besides. I think you secretly like seeing me in your shirt." She grinned at the boy as she sat down.

"Who said it was a secret?" He asked the girl as he sat by her, he carefully pulled her onto his lap so she was straddled across him. He moved a piece of hair behind her ear. "I can happily admit you wearing my shirt is attractive. But maybe I'm biased, I just think you're cute." He spoke before he placed a tender kiss on her lower neck.

Prue felt his lips hum against her skin causing her to close her eyes. "See, now I can't really say anything. I enjoy being called pretty by you. It feels nice." She lifted his head just slightly before she kissed him softly. "However it's not getting you laid tonight." She carefully gets off his lap before laying down, leaving the boy wanting more.

"I- ok fair. You really got me good with that, going along then cutting me off." He laughed as he laid down by her carefully. Even if he ate her alive every time he looked at her he still respected her not wanting to sleep with him that night. Even if he continued to make jokes about it.

"But I will happily steal your warmth." Without warning she puts her bare hands on his chest, her hands were ice cold and that caught Tom off guard. He let out a squeal sounding a little bit like a girl.

"WOAH HEY- COLD- warn me next time, Jesus lady." Tom spoke as Prue just grinned. "You're the one who wanted me to stay here with you. Soooo accept my cold or no?"

He squinted his eyes at her before wrapping his arms around her. It mice despite also feeling weird. They aren't in a relationship or even plan to be. Yet they just naturally act like a couple. Tom knew there was no way he loved, not yet at least. So he let himself settle for just thinking he had a crush, that might turn into love one day.

Prue had a similar thought to it. Just a crush, not dating but might fall in love one day. There's no way to see the future so she decided to just live in the present. 'I'll cross that bridge when I come to it' she thought to herself as she got comfortable with Tom.

The two just lay together eventually starting to talk. "So what do all your tattoos mean?" Tom asked the girl, curious to know the answer.

"I'll tell you about the one on my finger. It was a matching tattoo with my twin brother Hiro. Both of my tattoos were technically matching with him." Tom looked at her for a moment. "Was?"

"He died on our 16th birthday. The day after that I left. It has permanently broken me but I'm slowly becoming myself again. I actually started photography because of him."

"Can I know that story?" Tom asked as he just listened to the girl as she nodded. "Sure, started with a picture I took when we were 12. He told me it'd be good with it, however much like myself disliked being on camera so after he died there weren't many pictures of him. So I started photographing everything, I want these memories to look back on through visual aids. As I travel and move thing to thing."

Tom smiled softly at Prue. "That's both a sweet and sad story. I'm sorry you had to go through losing your brother." He planted a small kiss on her head. "We should get some rest. I'm sure we'll need it for tomorrow since we actually have a ton of interviews."

Prue nodded before she rolled over, allowing herself to drift off to sleep for the night alongside Tom.

||Author’s note: if these get any traction I’ll post the next chapter.||

[rockislandadultreads]

National Library Lovers Month: Fiction

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig 

Somewhere out beyond the edge of the universe there is a library that contains an infinite number of books, each one the story of another reality. One tells the story of your life as it is, along with another book for the other life you could have lived if you had made a different choice at any point in your life. While we all wonder how our lives might have been, what if you had the chance to go to the library and see for yourself? Would any of these other lives truly be better?

In The Midnight Library, Matt Haig's enchanting blockbuster novel, Nora Seed finds herself faced with this decision. Faced with the possibility of changing her life for a new one, following a different career, undoing old breakups, realizing her dreams of becoming a glaciologist; she must search within herself as she travels through the Midnight Library to decide what is truly fulfilling in life, and what makes it worth living in the first place.

The Paris Library by Janet Skeslien Charles

Paris, 1939: Young and ambitious Odile Souchet seems to have the perfect life with her handsome police officer beau and a dream job at the American Library in Paris. When the Nazis march into the city, Odile stands to lose everything she holds dear, including her beloved library. Together with her fellow librarians, Odile joins the Resistance with the best weapons she has: books. But when the war finally ends, instead of freedom, Odile tastes the bitter sting of unspeakable betrayal.

Montana, 1983: Lily is a lonely teenager looking for adventure in small-town Montana. Her interest is piqued by her solitary, elderly neighbor. As Lily uncovers more about her neighbor’s mysterious past, she finds that they share a love of language, the same longings, and the same intense jealousy, never suspecting that a dark secret from the past connects them.

The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Barcelona, 1945 - just after the war, a great world city lies in shadow, nursing its wounds, and a boy named Daniel awakes on his eleventh birthday to find that he can no longer remember his mother’s face. To console his only child, Daniel’s widowed father, an antiquarian book dealer, initiates him into the secret of the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, a library tended by Barcelona’s guild of rare-book dealers as a repository for books forgotten by the world, waiting for someone who will care about them again. Daniel’s father coaxes him to choose a volume from the spiraling labyrinth of shelves, one that, it is said, will have a special meaning for him. And Daniel so loves the novel he selects, The Shadow of the Wind by one Julian Carax, that he sets out to find the rest of Carax’s work. To his shock, he discovers that someone has been systematically destroying every copy of every book this author has written. In fact, he may have the last one in existence. Before Daniel knows it his seemingly innocent quest has opened a door into one of Barcelona’s darkest secrets, an epic story of murder, magic, madness and doomed love. And before long he realizes that if he doesn’t find out the truth about Julian Carax, he and those closest to him will suffer horribly.

This is the first volume of the “The Cemetery of Forgotten Books” series. 

The Giver of Stars by Jojo Moyes

Alice Wright marries handsome American Bennett Van Cleve, hoping to escape her stifling life in England.  But small-town Kentucky quickly proves equally claustrophobic, especially living alongside her overbearing father-in-law. So when a call goes out for a team of women to deliver books as part of Eleanor Roosevelt’s new traveling library, Alice signs on enthusiastically. The leader, and soon Alice's greatest ally, is Margery, a smart-talking, self-sufficient woman who's never asked a man's permission for anything. They will be joined by three other singular women who become known as the Packhorse Librarians of Kentucky.

What happens to them - and to the men they love - becomes an unforgettable drama of loyalty, justice, humanity, and passion. These heroic women refuse to be cowed by men or by convention. And though they face all kinds of dangers in a landscape that is at times breathtakingly beautiful, at others brutal, they’re committed to their job: bringing books to people who have never had any, arming them with facts that will change their lives.

[theauthorsarchive]

Statement #12: Scarecrow

[CLICK]

Zaine

You know you don't have to come with. Your not apart of this i mea-

Stacy

Shut up, I'm not leaving you alone to deal with all of this eldritch nonsense. 

Zaine

I know but what about school and your future?

Stacy

I was failing my classes anyway, as for my future I don't think I had that anyway.

Zaine 

So what you just drop everything and run from demons with me in my van.

Stacy 

Yup sounds about right.

Zaine

Hehe it sounds like a shitty ripoff of Supernatural.

Stacy

I wanna be Dean.

Zaine

Hehe thanks Shrimp.

Stacy

Don't mention it…hey did you turn on the tap recorder?

Zaine

Uh no. 

Stacy

Weird. You want me to turn it off?

Zaine

No it's on for a reason, just got to figure out why.

Knock Knock Knock

Zaine

Did you invite anyone?

Stacy

No. 

Pat Pat Pat

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Zaine

I'm coming!...Wait…Sniff Sniff Sniff…it smells like rust.

PAT PAT PAT

Zaine

Stacy! We need to leave now!

Stacy

Got it, let's go!

PAT PAT PAT

Zaine

Get in the car.

Kachunk RRRRRRRR Vroom 

EERRRR

???

Hey buddy, what's the rush?

Zaine

Oh shit. 

???

I'm with the cable company you mind telling me if this is the residence of one Zaine Allgood? 

Zaine

No sorry man you got the wrong house.

???

Hehe you sure because i don't like liars so let me ask again. Is this the house of Zaine Allgood? And please answer truthfully.

Crack VROOOM

???

OW you son of a, GET HIM!

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Zaine

How are we doing?

Stacy

From what I can see nothing, no one suspicious cars. 

Zaine

Cool…cool…so what did you pack?

Stacy

I don't know some of this, some of that.

Rustle Rustle 

Stacy

Wanna smoke?

Zaine

No, I don't smoke.

Stacy

Suit yourself, you mind.

Zaine

No go ahead.

Stacy

Inhale fooosh so now what.

Zaine

Hehe, I feel like we've been saying that a lot lately. 

Stacy

Well it's been on our minds a lot recently.

Zaine

I guess we just go cross country finding ghosts, writing stories, and…and…and oh god.

Stacy

What?

Zaine

This is it isnt it?

Stacy

Huh? 

Zaine

I'm done with my life, this is it this is the rest of it.

EEERRRR

Stacy

Hey hey hey eyes on the road, you know what pullover, let me drive.

Zaine

yeah  i-i-i'm gonna get some sleep. Sorry Shrimp.

Stacy

For what?

Zaine

I don't know yet.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Stacy

Hey Zaine you started talking in your sleep i wanted to record it so show you.

Zaine

 -family is from a rural part of Kentucky. My grandparents own a farm up there, once in a while all of my family went down to visit. When I was twelve my family and I visited on Thanksgiving. It was my immediate family along with my uncle's family that decided to go. It started out normal with a lot of hugging and good food but soon things got weird. 

I was playing outside with my cousins when we all decided to play hide and seek in my grandparents corn field. I was the smallest so I always did the best. It started out normal with my cousins seeking and the rest of us hiding. I ran into the cornfield and crouched down. I could hear my cousins around me shifting the corn, playful shrieks could be heard as my cousins were found. But then silence.

I knew I was the last one to be found but something was wrong. The shifting of the corn had gotten heavier, like something bigger was walking around. My heart raced as I heard it getting closer, right as it was about to reach me it stopped. I paused and looked around seeing nothing but corn. Slowly I stood up and made my way to where the shifting had been. Weeding through the corn I could barely see until I ran into something. I looked and saw that it was a scarecrow.

I breathed a sigh of relief before really examining the scarecrow. It was way too tall for a scarecrow with its burlap sack head seemingly looking down at me. I walked away from it relieved. I found my cousins in the house, my parents called for dinner and apparently I hadn't noticed, it wasn't until later that I realized. A scarecrow couldn't have shifted the corn. 

At around nine me and my family decided that it was time to go. We said our goodbyes and walked to our cars when we tried to start them they sputtered out. My father and uncle looked at their cars and noticed they had been completely destroyed. With huge gashes along the engine with straw littered around the wounds. My father had deduced that an animal had gotten to it and that we had to spend the night with my grandparents.

I slept with my cousins in the living room, we wanted to build a fort, when all of a sudden i heard something. Like scratching against a screen door. I woke up my oldest cousin and we checked the back together. Outside it was dark out, the only light coming from the moon. We surveyed the area seeing nothing initially, but I spotted something shifting through the corn. My cousin, being the biggest, decided to investigate. He walked right into the cornfield where something grabbed him and pulled him in.

I screamed and instantly my uncle appeared with a shotgun. He saw my cousin's prints and screamed for him to come out. Then out came a scarecrow, the one I had seen earlier, it walked stiffly and awkwardly out of the corn, its weight shifting with each step. My uncle instantly took a shot. It hit the scarecrow right in the chest but it did nothing to stop it; its stride never broke. My uncle rang out shot after shot but yet nothing worked. Then the scarecrow was upon us. It reached a hand for my uncle grabbing his face. Straw burst from my uncle's skin, his screams growing muffled by the minute.

After it was done it reached for me but my mother had pulled me back pushing the scarecrow away. It grabbed my mothers hand. You could see straw moving under her skin reaching her face as straw burst from her eyes and mouth. My father came with a baseball bat but it did nothing to stop it. I saw my father crumple scratching his neck trying to get the straw underneath. I crumpled crying accepting my fate. It slowly trudged to me reaching towards me, my cousins screaming and crying behind me. Then i felt hot as i opened my eyes seeing the scarecrow on fire i turned around seeing my aunt with a spray can and lighter. It made no sound as it left walking past my dead relatives.

My aunt hurried us up the stairs with her phone in her hand. What happened next I don't remember. Apparently the cops showed up finding nothing except straw all over the place and four scarecrows dressed like my cousin, my mother, my father, and my uncle.

SNOOOOORE

Stacy

Guess you're done.

[CLICK]

[brookston]

Holidays 5.3

Holidays

Birthday of Spam E-mail

California Bookstore Day

Constitution Day (Poland)

Constitution Memorial Day (Japan)

Cross Day (El Salvador)

Day of the Revival of the Karachi People (Karachi-Cherkessia Republic)

Fan Palm Tree Day (French Republic)

Fox Day (UK)

Garden Meditation Day

Hugs From Holly Day

International Day of Forest Kindergarten

International Gilbert & Sullivan Day

International Leopard Day

International Rap Music Day

International Sun Day

International Wild Koala Day

James Brown Day (Georgia)

Kenpo Kinenbi (a.k.a. Constitution Day; Japan)

La Mancha Day (Castille, Spain)

Li-Fraumeni Syndrome Awareness Day

Lumpy Rug Day

National Bike to School Day

National Clarinet Day

National Day to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy

National Dickhead Day

National Grab a Boob Day

National Justice Day

National Montana Day

National New Bra Day (UK)

National Public Radio Day

National SAN Architect Day

National Specially-Abled Pets Day

National Textiles Day

National Two Different Colored Shoes Day

National Widow’s Day

Paranormal Day

Pregnancy Fitness Awareness Day

Public Radio Day

Semi-Pro Baseball Day

Sun Day

Togyu Taikai (Bull Sumo; Japan)

Turkism Day

Two Different Colored Shoes Day

World Labyrinth Day in Schools

Wordsmith Day

World Press Freedom Day (UN)

Write a Review Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Chocolate Custard Day

International Eat a Pitogyro Day

International Grab a Kebab Day

National Chocolate Custard Day

National Kiss a Tomato Day

National Raspberry Popover Day

Raspberry Tart Day

School Lunch Hero Day

1st Friday in May

Administrative Professionals Day (Australia) [1st Friday]

Bandcamp Friday [1st Friday]

Digital Wellness Day [1st Friday]

Flashback Friday [Every Friday]

Fry Day (Pastafarian; Fritism) [Every Friday]

International Pub Week begins (Australia) [1st Friday thru 2nd Monday]

National Flower Arranging Day (UK) [1st Friday]

International Sauvignon Blanc Day [1st Friday]

International Space Day [1st Friday]

International Tuba Day [1st Friday]

Kentucky Oaks Derby Day [Friday before 1st Saturday in May]

McDonogh Day (New Orleans) [1st Friday]

No Pants Day [1st Friday]

Potato Day (Alaska) [1st Friday]

Sauvignon Blanc Day [1st Friday]

School Lunch Hero Day [1st Friday]

Space Day (California) [1st Friday]

Toad Suck Daze begin (Conway, Arkansas) [1st Friday]

Weekly Holidays beginning May 3 (1st Week)

The Biggest Week in American Birding (thru 5.12)

World Dystonia Week (thru 5.11)

Independence & Related Days

Aswington (Declared; 2017) [unrecognized]

Constitution Day (Latvia)

Constitution Day (Święto Konstytucji Trzeciego Maja; Poland)

Constitution Memorial Day (Japan)

New Zealand (Proclaimed British Colony; 1841)

Festivals Beginning May 3, 2024

Alabama Strawberry festival (Cullman, Alabama) [thru 5.4]

Batabano Carnival (George Town, Cayman Islands) [thru 5.6]

BBQ on the Neuse (Kinston, North Carolina) [thru 5.4]

Beer Under Glass (Chicago, Illinois)

Bray Jazz Festival (Bray,, Ireland) [thru 5.5]

Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival (Breaux Bridge, Louisiana) [thru 5.5]

Brighton Fringe (Brighton, England) [thru 6.2]

Cape Town International Jazz Festival (Cape Town, South Africa) [thru 5.4]

Dandelion May Fest (Dover, Ohio) [thru 5.4]

festival Accès Asie (Montreal, Canada) [thru 6.2]

FurConNZ (Otaki, New Zealand) [thru 5.6]

Hiroshima Flower Festival (Hiroshima, Japan) [thru 5.5]

Illinois Craft Beer Week (Illinois) [thru 5.10]

Isle of Eight Flags Shrimp Festoval (Fernandina Beach, Florida) [thru 5.5]

La Habra Citrus Fair (La Habra, California) [thru 5.4]

Long Play Festival (Brooklyn, New York) [thru 5.5]

Lovin’ Life Music Fest (Charlotte, North Carolina) [thru 5.5]

Montello Fish-N-Fun (Montello, Washington) [thru 5.5]

National Film Awards (India)

New Jersey Wine & Food Festoval (Crystal Springs Resort, Sussex County, New Jersey) [thru 5.5]

Shaky Knees Music Festival (ATlanta, Georgia) [thru 5.5]

Spring Fest (Van Wert, Ohio) [thru 5.4]

Strawberry Festival (Roanoke, Virginia) [thru 5.4]

A Taste of Beaufort (Beaufort, South Carolina) [thru 5.4]

A World A’Fair (Xenia, Ohio) [thru 5.5]

Feast Days

Abhai (Syriac Orthodox Church)

Alexander I, Pope (Christian; Saint)

Alexander, Events, and Theodulus (Christian; Martyrs)

Antonia and Alexander (Christian; Saint)

Ben Elton (Writerism)

Bent Wand-Strightening Day (Shamanism)

Bill Sienkiewicz (Artology)

Bona Dia (Ancient Roman Women's Festival; Pagan)

Bubbly Spell for Happiness Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Deae Matres (Triple Mothers; Celtic Book of Days)

Dia de la Cruz (Day of the Holy Cross; Mexico, Latin America)

Discoflux (Discordian)

Feast of Our Lady of Czestochowa (Poland)

Feast of the Finding of the Cross (a.k.a. Roodmas)

Fiesta de las Cruces (Spain)

Finding of the Holy Cross

Florae (Ancient Rome)

Frank Zappa Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Holy Blood Procession (Bruges, Belgium)

Holy Cross Day (a.k.a. Invention of the Cross; Christian; Identified 326 CE)

James the Lesser (Christian; Saint)

Jesus of Muruhuay (Peru)

Juvenal of Narni (Christian; Saint)

The Most Holy Virgin Mary, Queen of Poland (Christian; Saint)

Moura (Coptic Church)

Niccolò Machiavelli (Writerism)

Philip the Apostle (a.k.a. of Zell; Christian; Saint)

Pirate Garb Day (Pastafarian)

Procession of the Holy Blood (Belgium)

Ptolomey Lagus (Positivist; Saint)

Pussy Appreciation Day (Pastafarian)

Robert De Niro Sr. (Artology)

Roodmas

Sait Maden (Artology)

Sarah the Martyr (Coptic Church)

Theodosius of Kiev (Eastern Orthodox Church)

Timothy and Maura (Christian; Martyrs)

Tommy (Muppetism)

Velorio de la Cruz de Mayo (Venezuela)

Orthodox Christian Liturgical Calendar Holidays

Friday before Easter  [Orthodox Christian] (a.k.a. …

Coptic Good Friday (Eritrea)

Good Friday

Great Friday (Serbia)

Holy Friday

Red Friday (Georgia)

Siklet (Ethiopia)

Vinerea Mare (Romania)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Dismal Day (Unlucky or Evil Day; Medieval Europe; 9 of 24)

Egyptian Day (Unlucky Day; Middle Ages Europe) [9 of 24]

Fatal Day (Pagan) [9 of 24]

Fortunate Day (Pagan) [18 of 53]

Lucky Day (Philippines) [26 of 71]

Sakimake (先負 Japan) [Bad luck in the morning, good luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

A-Hunting We Will Go (Betty Boop Cartoon; 1932)

All Things Considered (Radio Series; 1971)

The Amazing World of Gumball (Animated TV Series; 2011)

Back in My Arms Again, by The Supremes (Song; 1965)

Barb Wire (Film; 1996)

Beer Barrel Polka, recorded by The Andrews Sisters (Song; 1939)

Carrie Anne, recorded by The Hollies (Song; 1967)

The Collector, by John Fowles (Novel; 1963)

The Craft (Film; 1996)

Dead to Me (TV Series; 2019)

Fall Guy (Film; 2024)

Fantasticks (Off Broadway Musical; 1960)

The Fireman’s Bride (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1931)

The First Fast Mail (Hector Heathcote Cartoon; 1961)

From Under the Cork Tree, by Fall Out Boy (Album; 2005)

Going My Way (Film; 1944)

Gotcha! (Film; 1985)

The Hopkins Manuscript, by R.C. Sherriff (Novel; 1939)

Hugger Mugger, by Robert B. Parker (Novel; 2000)

Individualism and Economic Order, by Friedrich A. Hayek (Essays; 1948)

Iron Man 3 (Film; 2013)

The Laughing Policeman, by Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö (Novel; 1968)

Little Red Rodent Hood (WB MM Cartoon; 1952)

Long Shot (Film; 2019)

Mars Express (Animated Film; 2024)

Max & Ruby (Animated TV Series; 2002)

Modern Red Hood (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1935)

The Moose Hunt (Disney Cartoon; 1931)

The Mouse on the Moon, by Leonard Wibberley (Novel; 1962)

No Deals, Mr. Bond, by John Gardner (Novel; 1987)

The Hundred and One Dalmatians, by Dodie Smith (Children’’s Book; 1956)

Oops!… I Did It Again, by Britney Spears (Album; 2000)

The Picnic Panic (a.k.a. The Stupid Teapot; Rainbow Parade Cartoon; 1935)

Red Hot Rangers (MGM Cartoon; 1947)

Republic, by New Order (Album; 1993)

Romance for Harmonica, Strongs and Piano, by Ralph Vaughan Williams (Concertante Work; 1952)

The Second Sex Simone de Beauvoir (Philosophy Book; 1949)

Spider-Man (Film; 2002)

Stowaway Woody (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1963)

Throwing the Bull (Mighty Mouse Cartoon; 1946)

Trailer Thrills (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1937)

Truly Madly Deeply (Film; 1991)

Tweetie Pie (WB MM Cartoon; 1947)

When the Cat’s Away (Disney Cartoon; 1929)

The Wise Little Hen (Disney Silly Symphony Cartoon; 1934)

Woman on the Edge of Time, by Marge Piercy (Novel; 1976)

Wots All the Shootin’ Fer (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1940)

Today’s Name Days

Jakob, Philipp, Viola (Austria)

Aleksandar, Filip, Jakica, Jakov, Mladen (Croatia)

Alexej (Czech Republic)

Endel, Endo (Estonia)

Outi (Finland)

Ewen, Jacques, Philippe (France)

Alexander, Philipp, Viola (Germany)

Rodopi (Greece)

Irma, Tímea (Hungary)

Efisio, Filippo, Giacomo (Italy)

Gints, Jesika, Krustins, Uvis (Latvia)

Arvystas, Juvenalis, Kantvydė (Lithuania)

Gjermund, Gøril (Norway)

Aleksander, Antonina, Maria, Mariola, Świętosława (Poland)

Irodion, Mavra, Timotei (Romania)

Galina (Slovakia)

Cruz, Felipe, Santiago, Violeta (Spain)

Göta, Jane, John (Sweden)

Theodosey (Ukraine)

Joletta, Trey, Troy, Viola, Violet, Violetta, Yolanda (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 124 of 2024; 242 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of week 18 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Saille (Willow) [Day 20 of 28]

Chinese: Month 3 (Wu-Chen), Day 25 (Ding-Mao)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 25 Nisan 5784

Islamic: 24 Shawwal 1445

J Cal: 4 Magenta; Fourssday [4 of 30]

Julian: 20 April 2024

Moon: 26%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 12 Caesar (5th Month) [Philopoemen]

Runic Half Month: Lagu (Flowing Water) [Day 9 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 46 of 92)

Week: 1st Week of May

Zodiac: Taurus (Day 14 of 31)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 5.3

Holidays

Birthday of Spam E-mail

California Bookstore Day

Constitution Day (Poland)

Constitution Memorial Day (Japan)

Cross Day (El Salvador)

Day of the Revival of the Karachi People (Karachi-Cherkessia Republic)

Fan Palm Tree Day (French Republic)

Fox Day (UK)

Garden Meditation Day

Hugs From Holly Day

International Day of Forest Kindergarten

International Gilbert & Sullivan Day

International Leopard Day

International Rap Music Day

International Sun Day

International Wild Koala Day

James Brown Day (Georgia)

Kenpo Kinenbi (a.k.a. Constitution Day; Japan)

La Mancha Day (Castille, Spain)

Li-Fraumeni Syndrome Awareness Day

Lumpy Rug Day

National Bike to School Day

National Clarinet Day

National Day to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy

National Dickhead Day

National Grab a Boob Day

National Justice Day

National Montana Day

National New Bra Day (UK)

National Public Radio Day

National SAN Architect Day

National Specially-Abled Pets Day

National Textiles Day

National Two Different Colored Shoes Day

National Widow’s Day

Paranormal Day

Pregnancy Fitness Awareness Day

Public Radio Day

Semi-Pro Baseball Day

Sun Day

Togyu Taikai (Bull Sumo; Japan)

Turkism Day

Two Different Colored Shoes Day

World Labyrinth Day in Schools

Wordsmith Day

World Press Freedom Day (UN)

Write a Review Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Chocolate Custard Day

International Eat a Pitogyro Day

International Grab a Kebab Day

National Chocolate Custard Day

National Kiss a Tomato Day

National Raspberry Popover Day

Raspberry Tart Day

School Lunch Hero Day

1st Friday in May

Administrative Professionals Day (Australia) [1st Friday]

Bandcamp Friday [1st Friday]

Digital Wellness Day [1st Friday]

Flashback Friday [Every Friday]

Fry Day (Pastafarian; Fritism) [Every Friday]

International Pub Week begins (Australia) [1st Friday thru 2nd Monday]

National Flower Arranging Day (UK) [1st Friday]

International Sauvignon Blanc Day [1st Friday]

International Space Day [1st Friday]

International Tuba Day [1st Friday]

Kentucky Oaks Derby Day [Friday before 1st Saturday in May]

McDonogh Day (New Orleans) [1st Friday]

No Pants Day [1st Friday]

Potato Day (Alaska) [1st Friday]

Sauvignon Blanc Day [1st Friday]

School Lunch Hero Day [1st Friday]

Space Day (California) [1st Friday]

Toad Suck Daze begin (Conway, Arkansas) [1st Friday]

Weekly Holidays beginning May 3 (1st Week)

The Biggest Week in American Birding (thru 5.12)

World Dystonia Week (thru 5.11)

Independence & Related Days

Aswington (Declared; 2017) [unrecognized]

Constitution Day (Latvia)

Constitution Day (Święto Konstytucji Trzeciego Maja; Poland)

Constitution Memorial Day (Japan)

New Zealand (Proclaimed British Colony; 1841)

Festivals Beginning May 3, 2024

Alabama Strawberry festival (Cullman, Alabama) [thru 5.4]

Batabano Carnival (George Town, Cayman Islands) [thru 5.6]

BBQ on the Neuse (Kinston, North Carolina) [thru 5.4]

Beer Under Glass (Chicago, Illinois)

Bray Jazz Festival (Bray,, Ireland) [thru 5.5]

Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival (Breaux Bridge, Louisiana) [thru 5.5]

Brighton Fringe (Brighton, England) [thru 6.2]

Cape Town International Jazz Festival (Cape Town, South Africa) [thru 5.4]

Dandelion May Fest (Dover, Ohio) [thru 5.4]

festival Accès Asie (Montreal, Canada) [thru 6.2]

FurConNZ (Otaki, New Zealand) [thru 5.6]

Hiroshima Flower Festival (Hiroshima, Japan) [thru 5.5]

Illinois Craft Beer Week (Illinois) [thru 5.10]

Isle of Eight Flags Shrimp Festoval (Fernandina Beach, Florida) [thru 5.5]

La Habra Citrus Fair (La Habra, California) [thru 5.4]

Long Play Festival (Brooklyn, New York) [thru 5.5]

Lovin’ Life Music Fest (Charlotte, North Carolina) [thru 5.5]

Montello Fish-N-Fun (Montello, Washington) [thru 5.5]

National Film Awards (India)

New Jersey Wine & Food Festoval (Crystal Springs Resort, Sussex County, New Jersey) [thru 5.5]

Shaky Knees Music Festival (ATlanta, Georgia) [thru 5.5]

Spring Fest (Van Wert, Ohio) [thru 5.4]

Strawberry Festival (Roanoke, Virginia) [thru 5.4]

A Taste of Beaufort (Beaufort, South Carolina) [thru 5.4]

A World A’Fair (Xenia, Ohio) [thru 5.5]

Feast Days

Abhai (Syriac Orthodox Church)

Alexander I, Pope (Christian; Saint)

Alexander, Events, and Theodulus (Christian; Martyrs)

Antonia and Alexander (Christian; Saint)

Ben Elton (Writerism)

Bent Wand-Strightening Day (Shamanism)

Bill Sienkiewicz (Artology)

Bona Dia (Ancient Roman Women's Festival; Pagan)

Bubbly Spell for Happiness Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Deae Matres (Triple Mothers; Celtic Book of Days)

Dia de la Cruz (Day of the Holy Cross; Mexico, Latin America)

Discoflux (Discordian)

Feast of Our Lady of Czestochowa (Poland)

Feast of the Finding of the Cross (a.k.a. Roodmas)

Fiesta de las Cruces (Spain)

Finding of the Holy Cross

Florae (Ancient Rome)

Frank Zappa Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Holy Blood Procession (Bruges, Belgium)

Holy Cross Day (a.k.a. Invention of the Cross; Christian; Identified 326 CE)

James the Lesser (Christian; Saint)

Jesus of Muruhuay (Peru)

Juvenal of Narni (Christian; Saint)

The Most Holy Virgin Mary, Queen of Poland (Christian; Saint)

Moura (Coptic Church)

Niccolò Machiavelli (Writerism)

Philip the Apostle (a.k.a. of Zell; Christian; Saint)

Pirate Garb Day (Pastafarian)

Procession of the Holy Blood (Belgium)

Ptolomey Lagus (Positivist; Saint)

Pussy Appreciation Day (Pastafarian)

Robert De Niro Sr. (Artology)

Roodmas

Sait Maden (Artology)

Sarah the Martyr (Coptic Church)

Theodosius of Kiev (Eastern Orthodox Church)

Timothy and Maura (Christian; Martyrs)

Tommy (Muppetism)

Velorio de la Cruz de Mayo (Venezuela)

Orthodox Christian Liturgical Calendar Holidays

Friday before Easter  [Orthodox Christian] (a.k.a. …

Coptic Good Friday (Eritrea)

Good Friday

Great Friday (Serbia)

Holy Friday

Red Friday (Georgia)

Siklet (Ethiopia)

Vinerea Mare (Romania)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Dismal Day (Unlucky or Evil Day; Medieval Europe; 9 of 24)

Egyptian Day (Unlucky Day; Middle Ages Europe) [9 of 24]

Fatal Day (Pagan) [9 of 24]

Fortunate Day (Pagan) [18 of 53]

Lucky Day (Philippines) [26 of 71]

Sakimake (先負 Japan) [Bad luck in the morning, good luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

A-Hunting We Will Go (Betty Boop Cartoon; 1932)

All Things Considered (Radio Series; 1971)

The Amazing World of Gumball (Animated TV Series; 2011)

Back in My Arms Again, by The Supremes (Song; 1965)

Barb Wire (Film; 1996)

Beer Barrel Polka, recorded by The Andrews Sisters (Song; 1939)

Carrie Anne, recorded by The Hollies (Song; 1967)

The Collector, by John Fowles (Novel; 1963)

The Craft (Film; 1996)

Dead to Me (TV Series; 2019)

Fall Guy (Film; 2024)

Fantasticks (Off Broadway Musical; 1960)

The Fireman’s Bride (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1931)

The First Fast Mail (Hector Heathcote Cartoon; 1961)

From Under the Cork Tree, by Fall Out Boy (Album; 2005)

Going My Way (Film; 1944)

Gotcha! (Film; 1985)

The Hopkins Manuscript, by R.C. Sherriff (Novel; 1939)

Hugger Mugger, by Robert B. Parker (Novel; 2000)

Individualism and Economic Order, by Friedrich A. Hayek (Essays; 1948)

Iron Man 3 (Film; 2013)

The Laughing Policeman, by Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö (Novel; 1968)

Little Red Rodent Hood (WB MM Cartoon; 1952)

Long Shot (Film; 2019)

Mars Express (Animated Film; 2024)

Max & Ruby (Animated TV Series; 2002)

Modern Red Hood (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1935)

The Moose Hunt (Disney Cartoon; 1931)

The Mouse on the Moon, by Leonard Wibberley (Novel; 1962)

No Deals, Mr. Bond, by John Gardner (Novel; 1987)

The Hundred and One Dalmatians, by Dodie Smith (Children’’s Book; 1956)

Oops!… I Did It Again, by Britney Spears (Album; 2000)

The Picnic Panic (a.k.a. The Stupid Teapot; Rainbow Parade Cartoon; 1935)

Red Hot Rangers (MGM Cartoon; 1947)

Republic, by New Order (Album; 1993)

Romance for Harmonica, Strongs and Piano, by Ralph Vaughan Williams (Concertante Work; 1952)

The Second Sex Simone de Beauvoir (Philosophy Book; 1949)

Spider-Man (Film; 2002)

Stowaway Woody (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1963)

Throwing the Bull (Mighty Mouse Cartoon; 1946)

Trailer Thrills (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1937)

Truly Madly Deeply (Film; 1991)

Tweetie Pie (WB MM Cartoon; 1947)

When the Cat’s Away (Disney Cartoon; 1929)

The Wise Little Hen (Disney Silly Symphony Cartoon; 1934)

Woman on the Edge of Time, by Marge Piercy (Novel; 1976)

Wots All the Shootin’ Fer (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1940)

Today’s Name Days

Jakob, Philipp, Viola (Austria)

Aleksandar, Filip, Jakica, Jakov, Mladen (Croatia)

Alexej (Czech Republic)

Endel, Endo (Estonia)

Outi (Finland)

Ewen, Jacques, Philippe (France)

Alexander, Philipp, Viola (Germany)

Rodopi (Greece)

Irma, Tímea (Hungary)

Efisio, Filippo, Giacomo (Italy)

Gints, Jesika, Krustins, Uvis (Latvia)

Arvystas, Juvenalis, Kantvydė (Lithuania)

Gjermund, Gøril (Norway)

Aleksander, Antonina, Maria, Mariola, Świętosława (Poland)

Irodion, Mavra, Timotei (Romania)

Galina (Slovakia)

Cruz, Felipe, Santiago, Violeta (Spain)

Göta, Jane, John (Sweden)

Theodosey (Ukraine)

Joletta, Trey, Troy, Viola, Violet, Violetta, Yolanda (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 124 of 2024; 242 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of week 18 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Saille (Willow) [Day 20 of 28]

Chinese: Month 3 (Wu-Chen), Day 25 (Ding-Mao)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 25 Nisan 5784

Islamic: 24 Shawwal 1445

J Cal: 4 Magenta; Fourssday [4 of 30]

Julian: 20 April 2024

Moon: 26%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 12 Caesar (5th Month) [Philopoemen]

Runic Half Month: Lagu (Flowing Water) [Day 9 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 46 of 92)

Week: 1st Week of May

Zodiac: Taurus (Day 14 of 31)