#lucy and joshua packs

[ericka1ynn]

🌸✨ The Whimsical World of Rom-Com Books ✨🌸

Hey lovely readers! 💕

Today, let's dive into the enchanting world of romantic comedies in literature. Rom-com books are a delightful escape, filled with laughter, love, and often a touch of magic. They offer a perfect blend of humor and heartwarming moments that leave you with a smile. Let's explore what makes these books so irresistibly charming!

📖✨ Why We Love Rom-Com Books ✨📖

1. Heartwarming Humor: Rom-com books are filled with witty banter and hilarious situations that make you laugh out loud. The light-hearted humor is a perfect antidote to a stressful day.

2. Relatable Characters: From quirky heroines to charming heroes, these characters often feel like friends. Their relatable flaws and endearing qualities make them easy to root for.

3. Feel-Good Vibes: These stories are a beacon of positivity, often set in idyllic locations with happy endings that leave you feeling uplifted and hopeful.

4. Unexpected Twists: While the destination is usually predictable, the journey is filled with delightful surprises and twists that keep you hooked from beginning to end.

5. Emotional Connection: The emotional ups and downs, the sweet moments, and the chemistry between characters create a deep connection that tugs at your heartstrings.

📚🌸 Must-Read Rom-Com Books 🌸📚

Here are some enchanting rom-com books that you absolutely must add to your TBR list:

1. "The Hating Game" by Sally Thorne

Enemies-to-lovers at its finest. The tension between Lucy and Joshua is palpable, and their witty exchanges are pure gold. This office romance will have you laughing and swooning in equal measure.

2. "Beach Read" by Emily Henry

A story about two writers with writer's block who swap genres for the summer. Set in a beach town, this book beautifully blends humor, romance, and deeper emotional themes.

3. "Red, White & Royal Blue" by Casey McQuiston

What happens when the First Son of the United States falls for the Prince of Wales? A charming and heartwarming story of forbidden love, packed with humor and political intrigue.

4. "The Flatshare" by Beth O'Leary

Two strangers share a flat and a bed, but they've never met. Communicating through sticky notes, Tiffy and Leon's quirky arrangement leads to a delightful and unexpected romance.

5. "Can You Keep a Secret?" by Sophie Kinsella

Emma Corrigan's life turns upside down when she accidentally spills all her secrets to a stranger on a plane—who turns out to be her new boss. Hilarity and romance ensue.

🌟✨ Creating the Perfect Rom-Com Reading Atmosphere ✨🌟

Transform your reading nook into a rom-com haven with these aesthetic touches:

1. Cozy Blankets and Pillows: Snuggle up with soft, fluffy blankets and decorative pillows to create a comfortable and inviting space.

2. Soft Lighting: Use fairy lights, candles, or a soft lamp to create a warm and magical ambiance perfect for romantic tales.

3. Scented Candles: Choose fragrances like vanilla, lavender, or rose to enhance the cozy atmosphere and immerse yourself in the story.

4. Delicious Snacks: Prepare some sweet treats like macarons, chocolate-covered strawberries, or a cup of hot cocoa to enjoy while you read.

5. Background Music: Play some gentle instrumental music or a playlist of love songs to set the mood. Think piano melodies, acoustic guitar, or soft jazz.

✨💕 Share the Love 💕✨

What are your favorite rom-com books? I'd love to hear your recommendations and what you love most about them. Let's create a community of rom-com enthusiasts and share the joy these books bring!

Feel free to reblog and add your own rom-com faves. Happy reading, lovely souls! 🌸📚💖

[abramsicon]

❥ the hating game — headers/pack

credits for twitter lilocobalt

like/reblog if saved © bookshedit

[fairyxicons]

The Hating Game pack

like or reblog if you save or use

[judeswords]

headers the hating game * jogo do amor / ódio

like or reblog if you save

© aaronIukov on twitter

[gooasis726twifics]

Canon Wolfpack Family Connections

Compiled information and family connections that literally took weeks for me to tie together correctly. All information/clues taken from The Twilight Saga: The Official Illustrated Guide.  It’s still kind of a mess, but that is literally SM’s fault lol. Ateara Line: *Jacob and Quil are 2nd cousins on the Ateara side - Jacob's mother was Sarah Wilde, Quil's father's first cousin. Quil Ateara II, of the previous wolf-pack, is their mutual great-grandfather. *Leah, Seth, and Emily are second cousins on the Ateara side. *Leah & Seth are second cousins with Brady (On the Clearwater and Black lines as well) and third cousins with Jacob and Quil on the Ateara side. (Brady is also third cousins with Jacob through the black and Clearwater lines) *Claire, Quil's imprint, is Emily's niece and therefore Quil's third cousin, once removed. *Quil and Bella are 2nd cousins (Quil's grandma is Charlie's great-aunt, Molly Swan, who was married to Quil III, aka Old Quil). This makes Quil V the mutual cousin of Jacob and Bella (and of course Renesmee and Claire). *Quil's great aunt, Amelia, is also Sue's grandmother. *If Jacob and Ness have kids, their children would be BOTH Quil's 2nd cousin, once removed, AND his third cousin, once removed. *Quil and Claire's children would also be their own second AND third cousins, once removed. Uley Line: *Leah and Sam - third cousins. *Leah is the mutual cousin of Sam and Emily. If Sam and Emily are related to each other, it is at least seven generations back. *Sue is Sam's 2nd cousin, once removed through the Uley side and her maiden name is Uley. She and Sam's father, Joshua Uley, share a set of great-grandparents. *Sue's great-grandfather, Caleb Uley, married Alice Huautah, who was the granddaughter of the First Jacob Black, Jacob's fourth great grandfather. *Paul is Leah, Seth, and Sam's third cousin on the Uley line but his blood connection to Jacob, Rachel, and Rebecca is seven or more generations back (Because, remember - everyone with the wolf-gene descends from Taha-Aki. They are ALL related, however distantly. *Paul and Rachel's children will be Leah and Seth's cousins three, four, possibly five times over with the Ateara, Black, Clearwater, Uley, AND Young family lines all combining together. They will also be siblings/cousins.

Black Line:

*Leah and Seth are third cousins with Jacob, Rachel, and Rebecca through the Black family line *Jared is Leah and Seth's third cousin once removed on the Uley side - He is fifth cousins with Leah, Seth, and Jacob on the Black side. *Collin is Jacob's first cousin through the Black, Clearwater, Young, and Ateara lines. He is third cousins with Leah and Seth through the Black lineage but his connection through the Littlesea/Clearwater lineage is unclear. (Harry’s mother was a Littlesea) *Jared is Fifth cousins with Jacob, Leah, Seth, and Collin through the Black and Clearwater lines, but is not part of the young line. *Billy and Sue are second cousins, once removed through the Black line, their common ancestor the first Jacob Black.

*Jacob is also part of the Young and Clearwater lines. Ephriam's wife was Martha Young, Jacob's great-grandmother. Ephriam's mother was Jane Clearwater. This makes Leah/Seth and Jacob/Rachel/Rebecca fourth cousins on the Clearwater side, though SM didn't provide the information to figure out the exact placement in the Young line. Emily's placement on the young line is in question as well but Emily does share at least one great-grandparent with Leah and Seth through the Ateara line. Her grandparent, however, remains unclear. It is either Daniel Clearwater OR Brady's great-grandmother, Lucy. *Sue and Harry have a mutual great-aunt by marriage, Jane Clearwater - This makes Billy their mutual cousin by both marriage and blood, creating yet another crossover in Jacob's lineage.

*Jared's imprint, Kim, is potentially the only imprint that is NOT already related to the rest of the wolfpack in some shape or form. Since we're never given her last name lineage, that's a big if lol.

[rockislandadultreads]

Read Alikes: It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover

You Made a Fool of Death With Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi

Feyi Adekola wants to learn how to be alive again. It’s been five years since the accident that killed the love of her life and she’s almost a new person now—an artist with her own studio, and sharing a brownstone apartment with her ride-or-die best friend, Joy, who insists it’s time for Feyi to ease back into the dating scene. Feyi isn’t ready for anything serious, but a steamy encounter at a rooftop party cascades into a whirlwind summer she could have never imagined: a luxury trip to a tropical island, decadent meals in the glamorous home of a celebrity chef, and a major curator who wants to launch her art career. She’s even started dating the perfect guy, but their new relationship might be sabotaged before it has a chance by the dangerous thrill Feyi feels every time she locks eyes with the one person in the house who is most definitely off-limits. This new life she asked for just got a lot more complicated, and Feyi must begin her search for real answers. Who is she ready to become? Can she release her past and honor her grief while still embracing her future? And, of course, there’s the biggest question of all—how far is she willing to go for a second chance at love?

The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

As a third-year Ph.D. candidate, Olive Smith doesn't believe in lasting romantic relationships - but her best friend does, and that's what got her into this situation. Convincing Anh that Olive is dating and well on her way to a happily ever after was always going to take more than hand-wavy Jedi mind tricks: Scientists require proof. So, like any self-respecting biologist, Olive panics and kisses the first man she sees. That man is none other than Adam Carlsen, a young hotshot professor--and well-known ass. Which is why Olive is positively floored when Stanford's reigning lab tyrant agrees to keep her charade a secret and be her fake boyfriend. But when a big science conference goes haywire, putting Olive's career on the Bunsen burner, Adam surprises her again with his unyielding support and even more unyielding... six-pack abs. Suddenly their little experiment feels dangerously close to combustion, and Olive discovers that the only thing more complicated than a hypothesis on love is putting her own heart under the microscope.

The Hating Game by Sally Thorne

Nemesis (n.) 1) An opponent or rival whom a person cannot best or overcome. 2) A person’s undoing 3) Joshua Templeman Lucy Hutton has always been certain that the nice girl can get the corner office. She’s charming and accommodating and prides herself on being loved by everyone at Bexley & Gamin. Everyone except for coldly efficient, impeccably attired, physically intimidating Joshua Templeman. And the feeling is mutual. Trapped in a shared office together 40 (OK, 50 or 60) hours a week, they’ve become entrenched in an addictive, ridiculous never-ending game of one-upmanship. There’s the Staring Game. The Mirror Game. The HR Game. Lucy can’t let Joshua beat her at anything—especially when a huge new promotion goes up for the taking. If Lucy wins this game, she’ll be Joshua’s boss. If she loses, she’ll resign. So why is she suddenly having steamy dreams about Joshua, and dressing for work like she’s got a hot date? After a perfectly innocent elevator ride ends with an earth shattering kiss, Lucy starts to wonder whether she’s got Joshua Templeman all wrong. Maybe Lucy Hutton doesn’t hate Joshua Templeman. And maybe, he doesn’t hate her either. Or maybe this is just another game.

The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas

Catalina Martín desperately needs a date to her sister’s wedding. Especially since her little white lie about her American boyfriend has spiraled out of control. Now everyone she knows - including her ex and his fiancée - will be there and eager to meet him. She only has four weeks to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic and aid in her deception. New York to Spain is no short flight and her raucous family won’t be easy to fool. Enter Aaron Blackford - her tall, handsome, condescending colleague - who surprisingly offers to step in. She’d rather refuse; never has there been a more aggravating, blood-boiling, and insufferable man. But Catalina is desperate, and as the wedding draws nearer, Aaron looks like her best option. And she begins to realize he might not be as terrible in the real world as he is at the office.

[thanksforthedinosaur]

may 2021

1. lil nas x - montero (call me by your name) 2. overspace - bloom 3. quickly, quickly - feel 4. tkay maidza - syrup 5. tony allen - stumbling down 6. kendra jae - seesaw 7. rakiyah - whoa 8. audrey nuna - space 9. queen naija - love language 10. kiera please - ghost in the shell 11. rosey7 - life still continues 12. bladee - drama 13. eevee - moonlight 14. jay squared - only one 15. wun two - supernovalover 16. omaure - through the mist 17. ocha - where the moon meets the ocean 18. yutaka hirasaka - glide 19. gonza - new era (lowfire) 20. mt. fujitive - yume 21. wun two - planet x 22. halima - wildflower 23. justin nozuka - no one but you 24. babygirl - easy 25. julia wolf - hydra (stripped) 26. the blossom - cloves 27. ali barter - twisted up 28. glades - vertigo 29. jordana - push me away 30. girl in red - you stupid bitch 31. city girl - pack it up boy 32. ayelle - options 33. llusion - yoga 34. charlie houston - honey 35. daya - montana 36. cehryl - laundry 37. billie marten - creature of mine 38. fog lake - catacombs 39. josé gonzález - visions 40. caoilfhionn rose - every waking minute 41. celeina ann - home 42. misty coast - ‘92 43. soft streak - always 44. eliza shaddad - heaven 45. amy shark - baby steps 46. luwten - standstill 47. crumb - balloon 48. lucy dacus - hot & heavy 49. ratboys - cacao to cacao 50. rosie tucker - for sale: ford pinto 51. chloe moriondo - i eat boys 52. wolf alice - smile 53. the crab apples - ghost 54. japanese breakfast - posing in bondage 55. spirit of the beehive - it might take some time 56. memoryhouse - not a second time 57. kero kero bonito - 21/04/20 58. porter robinson - do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do 59. hercelot - my nose to my tail 60. lucy gooch - rain's break 61. elsa hewitt - lavender 62. green-house - find home 63. sufjan stevens - revelation vi 64. joshua stoddard - magnetic morning 65. warmth - observatory - mixed 66. cœur de pirate - rivière-éternité 67. jeff rosenstock - ***ska 68. mannequin pussy - perfect 69. remember sports - pinky ring 70. big brave - abating the incarnation of matter 71. zao - transitions 72. monobody - atala 73. hylen - clematis 74. serph - strawberry 75. pleeg - be yourself 76. imeiden - shigre 77. nanobii - colours 78. mikazuki bigwave - never forget you 79. lucky kilimanjaro - 夜とシンセサイザー 80. chelmico - 飽きた 81. nyarons - how long will i love you 82. regal lily - 天国 83. laika day dream - musician 84. homecomings - herge 85. dsps - you'll see 86. inshow ha - 常温じゃない関係 (2020 tokyo mix) 87. bradio - ケツイ 88. yuma yamaguchi - 破く 89. wjsn - yalla 90. crystal kay - 楓 91. sara-j - how we gonna 92. transviolet - clean laundry 93. rosemary fairweather - february 94. elohim - bring me back 95. tiger goods - just you 96. dounia - lavender 97. tessa violet - games 98. zhu - only 99. chymes - death wish 100. yung bae - woman on the moon 101. hayley kiyoko - found my friends 102. shift k3y - love line 103. tezatalks - fangs 104. billie eilish - your power https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1ZOhsr6V0ApGBlZV0kmTKA?si=914db38a65054daa

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

bro if u have time would u consider big brother gabe hanging out with little cas and pranking the other angels or smth?

"...and he's been so much more annoying than usual," Gabriel waves his hands emphatically as he speaks. "So yeah. We've got to stick it to Michael. You know what I'm saying?" He ends his seventy-three-day rant with that - you see, time was weirder back then - because apparently that's something that's always been said at the end of rants.

Castiel looks up at his brother, from where he was looking up at a tree - wondering about how much prettier it'd be if there were tiny yellow moving-creatures amidst the leaves.

"Yes." He decides to go with, in response to Gabriel's rhetoric, since he hasn't actually been listening to him.

He just tends to agree when Gabriel offers to whisk him off to The Garden, in spite of the sixty-to-eighty day rant he's going to be subjected to, because he likes that everything around is of the color green.

And anyways, he trusts himself to wing it - get it? - if Gabriel asks any questions. Like right now.

Apparently it's the right thing to say again, because Gabriel smiles satisfiedly. "So before I tell you what we'll be doing, do you have any ideas, kiddo?"

The word 'kid' hadn't been thought of yet, so it was astonishing that Gabriel had already nickname-ified it, but then that's something he'd always been good at.

Castiel reasons that his answering-instincts telling him to say 'pink', for some reason, are wrong for like the first time, and hence he shakes his head.

"Well, too bad." Gabriel announces cheerfully in a voice which doesn't hold a single note of feeling bad, in any way at all. "Here's what we're doing, okay? You're going to pretend there's something wrong with your wings. Word's going to spread and Michael's going to come check, and while he's away, I'll just take something from him that seems important."

For a change, Castiel had been listening, so he had a question. "What's important to Michael?"

"I'm working on it." Said the golden-winged Archangel, who wasn't working on it at all.

He too, like the black-feathered fledgling, was going to wing it.

*

Castiel is dropped off at his to-be garrison - though right now, for they're yet to be 10,000, it functions as a nursery. Nobody seems overly excited that he's back - just as nobody had been concerned that he was gone.

Everyone knew Gabriel had a fondness for monologues and this particular little brother.

"Break a leg." Gabriel whispers to Castiel, who develops a squint at this. All 4367 of his eyes squint together and for a moment, it seems like they're wounds of battles, and not eyeslits.

"Wasn't I supposed to break a wing -"

But Gabriel is already gone.

Castiel shrugs, and keeps on walking for he wants to get as close to the Host as possible, so that he does come flying for sure when he hears Castiel - until he's pounced upon by another fledgling, the same height and number-of-eyes as him.

"Cassie!" Balthazar beams. "How did it go?"

"Gabriel doesn't like Lucifer, Raphael, or Michael." Castiel summarizes, and he thinks he's done a great job of it.

"Cool." Balthazar doesn't really care about it - he's just being polite to his friend. In fact, he hasn't cared much for Gabriel ever since the archangel singled out Castiel for the trips to The Garden. Once when Balthazar had offered his own name, Gabriel had declined, saying that Castiel was more interesting. In short, Balthazar couldn't wait to grow up and get a personality.

He was planning to hate a lot of stuffs.

(But he did like Castiel.)

"Do you know of any little, yellow-y creatures in Father's plan?" Castiel asks his friend, earnestly.

"Joshua might."

"I'm going to go ask him after I've informed Michael my wing hurts." Castiel declares happily, and resumes walking towards the Host.

Balthazar skips after him. "Your wing?"

"It's broken."

"Where?"

Castiel thinks about it. "I think it's the basal phalanx." He pays attention when Anna talks about wings, because he hopes to fly like Gabriel someday. Or better. But probably not, because however hard he may try, he's always going to be smaller.

(Hehe.)

"Why do you want to tell Michael?" Balthazar asks ahead, still not entirely convinced.

Castiel frowns. Why does he, indeed?

"He'll just make a huge deal of it and scold you for being careless." Balthazar says, and he's right. Castiel isn't doing the convincing anymore, as much as he's been getting convinced. "If it hurts, Anna's been developing healing grace." Balthazar adds, because he's nice like that.

"Okay." Castiel agrees. A fledgling of few words.

He was never too passionate about Gabriel's plan either - and he's sure Gabriel won't really care. He never does, and Castiel likes that about him. Plus, they need to go check on the status of small, ochre-yellow creatures.

"Let's get Uriel and we'll go to Joshua!" Balthazar grins, and they set off in the opposite direction from the Host.

(Eventually turns out that such creatures do exist - and are to be called Bees. Castiel's happy enough for the rest of the decade. Maybe 4367 eyes aren't a few too less for him to see that he's supposed to feel guilty for bailing on Gabriel.)

*

Meanwhile, Gabriel tiptoes dramatically into The Host from the side entrance - the back door is pseudo-eternally blocked by Lucifer, though no one knows what he does there, and only the archangels dare to joke amongst themselves that he's planning to rebel. Gabriel reaches Michael's room and before he can take in the very few items around, his eyes fall on his brother.

"What are you doing here, brother?" Michael asks calmly, because he likes to stay in character.

"I'm - looking for Luci." Gabriel blurts, blanking out.

Michael nods. "Did you check the back entrance?"

"Ahh." Gabriel sings, pretending to be mortified. "Silly me, you know what I'm saying? I'll be on my way, then." Gabriel claps his wings, to fly out of his brother's sight promptly. "See you later."

He reasons something went wrong for his little accomplice, until he picks him up for a six-to-eight decade talk again and Castiel confesses he'd been scared. Only smally mentions the bees.

"...but it's okay. I think I'm backing the right horse, still." Gabriel rolls his eyes, after he's done whining for about forty nine years. Again, horses haven't yet come into being, so idioms involving them haven't either, but Gabriel has his ways.

"I'm sorry." Castiel has the courtesy to mumble.

"You'll make me proud some other time." Gabriel beams at him cheerily, for a second time. "Or like, the very next time - and if you don't, I'm going to have to make Balthazar my favorite. Ever since he's founded the Harp-Hate club, I've just had high hopes for his future."

Castiel nods distractedly. He's picturing the bees.

"I don't have anything against harps, though. I mean, not my favorite - not when there's horns and kazoos around, but like, I can play a mean harp. So obviously, I like them."

Castiel continues to pretend he's been listening, and answers luckily with a, "Of course."

Gabriel goes on, completely satisfied.

*

Billions of years later, Gabriel's settled in front of the television with a pack of licorice, when a voice booms across Angel Radio.

"Dean Winchester is Saved!"

He smirks, and leans back on the couch, feeling proud of himself. The one thing he'd noticed on Michael's desk when searching for important things, had been a book - with calligraphic text on the cover.

The very first binder.

'The Righteous Man Plans (Vol. 1): How To Get Him To Say Yes.'

And now Castiel - clearly, Gabriel's apprentice, had gone and claimed his soul in Hell. It doesn't get more dramatic than that.

"Nicely done, kiddo."

[szopenhauer]

What was your last dream about? pamiętam tylko tyle, że M. powinna uważać na jej byłego

Would you like to build/design your own house? yes

Do you have a cherished childhood teddy bear? it’s not really a teddy but yeah

Are you psychic in any way? it seems

Are you a good dancer? meh

Are you a good singer? nooo

Are you a good cook? not the worst

Are you a good artist? maybe

Are you a good listener? try to be 

Are you a good public speaker? but don’t like to 

Are you a good babysitter? might be but hate that

Are you a good dresser? have my own style

Are you a good comedian? I’m funny :P

Are you a good cleaner? not good enough

Are you a good actor? I am

Are you a good writer? just like to write

Do you ever get chills & goosebumps when you listen to music? tell me about it...

What was the last song that had that effect on you? not sure which was last

Do you know what any of your siblings did over the weekend? I don’t care

Was the last book you read a hardback or paperback? paperback

What was the last thing you required the use of a spoon for? I was eating breakfast

The last time you ate something, was it in a bowl or on a plate? neither XD

Can you recall the last time you held hands with someone? I can

What was the last thing that made your heart melt? hmm...

Can you recall the last time you visited a bookshop? not the exact day but yep

Did you purchase anything? I don’t think so

Have you been wearing homemade masks or store-bought ones? both

Do you call yourself stupid a lot? sometimes

Are you listening to music right now? not rn

What is your newest favorite website? aliexpress?

Do you have a headache right now? had before today

What month is your birthday, and what month would u change it to if you could?  February and would like June, July or August that’s why I will spend my name day during summer instead of spring with my sister

Have you ever had to use an epi pen? not yet

Do you know the names of 3 of your neighbors? (list if you can): personal

What was the last grocery store you shopped at?

Do memories from your past come back to haunt you ? frequently

Have you ever seen an angel? or a ghost

Have you ever seen a demon? that time in a mirror?...

What color was the last sweatshirt you wore? grey

What was the last act of creativity you displayed? Vinnie’s tiny bird next to her signature?

Do you ever find yourself just writing/typing out your feelings? my tumblr is full of this shit

Whose house were you at last, besides your own? my current partner’s

Do you like your teeth? not really

Does piano music tend to calm you down? wouldn’t say so

What’s something you need to get done soon? ugh...

Is your best friend awake right now? they are

If I came to your house, could I find any kind of chocolate? ask my mother

Who was the last person to upload a picture with you in it? M.

Do you ever wear sleep masks when you sleep or shower caps when you shower? neither

Don’t tell me lies, so where’s your man? where’s Nat? XD

Have you ever had a best friend who was of the opposite sex? dad

Has anyone said they love you in the last week? yasss

Have you ever kissed under water? hell no

Have you kissed anyone whose name starts with a M? hahaha

Would you kiss the last person who texted you, on the lips? done and I hopefully will

Camping with a ton of friends or hotel with a few friends? hotel 

Could you go the rest of your life without a cigarette? absolutely

Have you ever wanted something you couldn’t have? like health

How is your boyfriend/girlfriend doing and where are they now? she’s angry, has a flu and she’s working

What was the last topic you read about? DID?

Do you prefer Windows or Mac? Windows

What’s the best amusement park ride you’ve ever been on? I’m not a fan of rides tbh

Would you know how to read a house blueprint? partially?

Do you keep notes on your phone? What sort of things do you write? used to on my old cell

Do you remember much from high school? tought so

Has anyone ever come out to you? yup

What was the last album you listened to in full? Red army choir or Anastasis?

Do you have Disney+? we don’t

Have you ever sent a package or letter to a foreign country? postcards

How many jobs do you have on your resume? 0

Are you comfortable with leaving the house without any makeup on?: I don’t wear makeup

Do you have any expensive hobbies?: if I had money...

What length do you like to keep your nails at?: short

Have you ever felt physical pain in a dream?: but not as much as Nat 

Have you ever had Christmas carolers come to your house and sing for you?: when I was a kid

What’s your favorite Studio Ghibli film?: Porco Rosso?

What did you learn from your last failed relationship?: can we not talk about it...

What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done?: I’m a huge procrastinator

Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it?: collages

What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)?: period, being able to get pregnant and have female kinds of cancer etc.

What movie has the best special effects?: I’m into practical special effects more than cgi but... there’s too many to name

When did you last have a vision test?: ages ago 

[lovemesomesurveys]

What's your favorite type of survey to take? Random, interesting questions that allow me to elaborate and vent/ramble as needed.

What was the last topic you read about? Chapter 1 in the book of Joshua.

Have you ever made a diorama?  Yeah.

Do you prefer Windows or Mac?  I’m an Apple/Mac gal.

What's the best amusement park ride you've ever been on?  Basically everything at Disneyland. A few new favorites I discovered the last time I went are Rise of the Resistance, the Cars ride, and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.

Where are you right now? Describe the room or place.  I’m in my room sitting on my bed. My room is small and full of stuff. Lots of giraffe stuffed animals/plushies and one that stands 4ft tall. Lots of other knickknacks and whatnot of my various other interests. My bed is full of pillows and a few stuffed animals, one being a Baby Yoda plushie. There’s some clothes. There’s also my laptop, notebook, Bible study book, pencil case, coloring book, two packs of colored pencils, my Nintendo Switch, phone, and remotes. If you couldn’t tell, my bed, my place of rest and where I spent most of my time, also serves as my desk and storage place.

Have you ever participated in a fundraising campaign?  Yeah, for the psych club I was in in community college. We did a lot of fundraising events.

Do you know how to knit? Nope.

What did you have for lunch today?  Nothing as of yet, it’s only 4 in the morning. I probably won’t even have lunch.

Name some of your favorite sitcoms.  Older ones like Roseanne, The Golden Girls, and I Love Lucy.

Who is the 7th contact in your phone and how did you meet them? I’m not checking that.

Would you know how to read a house blueprint?  I’ve never actually seen one.

Do you keep notes on your phone? What sort of things do you write?  Yeah, I have a lot of notes on my phone.

Have you ever used Duolingo to learn another language?  No, but my mom has been doing that for Spanish and I’ve been helping her out. It’s helping me practice/brush up on my Spanish. What was the last video game you played?  Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

Do you remember much from high school? Somewhat.

What's your favorite fruit to snack on? It’s been awhile since I’ve had any fruit... :X

Has anyone ever come out to you? Yeah.

Have you ever been part of a bridal or groom's party?  No.

Are there any rooms in your house that don't have windows?  The kitchen and bathrooms.

What's your go-to order from KFC? I don’t like KFC.

What was the last album you listened to in full?  Hm. I don’t recall.

Would you prefer cupcakes or a big cake for your birthday?  Cupcakes.

What emotion is strongest for you at the moment?  I’m feeling anxious.

Do you have Disney+?  Yep.

Have you ever sent a package or letter to a foreign country?  No.

How many jobs do you have on your resume? None.

Do you use pepper to season your food?  Black pepper on some things.

When was the last time you had a headache? Yesterday.

[funnynewsheadlines]

I Made These 80 Costumes Using Stuff I Had In My House

I'm a Philly-based comedian. I live alone with my cat, and I have not touched another person in eight weeks. But I have built a sense of community. When the quarantine started, I randomly posted online that if people sent me Halloween costume ideas, I would recreate them using just what I had in my house. Since then, I have posted at least one costume every day, and sometimes as many as four or five. I also integrate my cat, Scrappy, into my costumes whenever possible. She might have a stronger following than I do. The Instagram I started for the project,  and have an engaged following, also I have a steadily growing request queue.

More info: Instagram

#1 Cher

There’s even been some celebrity engagement. I did a costume of Justin Long in Dodgeball, and he left a clever emoji in the comment section. I’m also a big fan of Justin Long’s podcast, Life is Short with Justin Long, and the “shorties” in the podcast’s Facebook group have cheered me on as I tried to recreate some of Long’s more iconic characters. I portrayed the O.J. Simpson prosecutor and author, Marcia Clark, and she reposted the costume on her wall (where someone made a hurtful comment about my eyebrows, which are admittedly very distinctive). Fran Drescher’s nephew, Lyle, another comedian with roots in the Philly scene, texted her my Nanny costume, and she said it was really cute.

#2 Zoolander

#3 Eleven

Humor has always been my coping skill. I’m a goofball. With so much uncertainty in the world right now, it’s really exciting that I am able to add some levity to people’s days. A lot of people were putting up their Christmas decorations as a way to spread some cheer, and I thought, “I don’t have any Christmas stuff, but what if I made every day Halloween?” I’m a comedian, so brightening people’s days by being a goof is all I’ve ever wanted to do. A lot of my friends in both the Philly and Minneapolis comedy scenes have been supportive of the project. My family has been really into it too, and I like to send my costumes to our group text before I post them online, so they know they saw it first.

#4 Joe Exotic

#5 Harry Potter

For my 100th costume, I did a live Zoom show, where I created the costume in real-time, while viewers called in with guesses about what the costume would be. It was a lot of fun and gave me the fix I used to get from doing stand up for a crowd. Viewers were also able to donate to my Venmo. Even with all of the gigs I lost when the pandemic hit, that live show let me pay my rent this month. Many open mics and shows have moved to an online format, and it has actually been pretty fun to get to watch comedy from my bed, couch, or toilet. Navigating the online format was challenging, but my friends Joshua Machiz, Jordan Berger, and Johnny Hart volunteered to be my production team, so I only had to worry about the artistic elements of the show.

#6 Poison Ivy

#7 Rocky Balboa

I’m thinking of doing a live show every 50 costumes since it doesn’t look like I’ll be performing on stage for a packed house any time soon. I figure I can donate a portion of the proceeds to a different non-profit every month, and hopefully, my little 'quarantween' community can make a real difference that way.

#8 Marlon Brando

#9 Sarah Jessica Parker

#10 Barbara Holland

#11 Britney Spears

#12 Jack Sparrow

#13 Billie Eilish

#14 Weird Al

#15 Tommy Wiseau

#16 Jessica Rabbit

#17 Krumm

#18 Lydia

#19 Robbie Rotten

#20 Charlize Theron

#21 The Crow

#22 Sean Connery

#23 Adam Sandler

#24 Eevee

#25 The Undertaker

#26 Aang

#27 The Joker

#28 Tom Hanks

#29 Wednesday Addams

#30 Loki

#31 Cousin Itt

#32 Kylo Ren

#33 Lucy

#34 The Grinch

#35 Daria

#36 Abraham Lincoln

#37 Beetlejuice

#38 Yeon-Kyo

#39 Dr. Evil

#40 Kermit The Frog

#41 Charlie Chaplin

#42 Carmen Sandiego

#43 Velma

#44 Selene

#45 Pamela Anderson

#46 Momo

#47 Waluigi

#48 Audrey Horne

#49 The Hamburglar

#50 Ruby Rhod

#51 The Nanny

#52 Jimmy Neutron

#53 Yoshi

#54 Darla

#55 Trinity

#56 Tifa

#57 Belle

#58 Jared Leto

#59 Evil Willow

#60 Ripley

#61 The Jesus

#62 Man In The Iron Mask

#63 Leia

#64 The Dude

#65 Tina Belcher

#66 Dr. House

#67 Val Kilmer

#68 Benjamin Franklin

#69 Miss Frizzle

#70 Tusk

#71 Pee-Wee Herman

#72 Marla Singer

#73 Olive Oil

#74 Big Patty

#75 Count Von Count

#76 Princess Peach

#77 Carrie Bradshaw

#78 Judy Garland

#79 Joan Of Arc

#80 Leeloo

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[thisdayinfavrd]

November 9, 2009

Lucy's surgery was successful and she's resting. She now has a port on her stomach that you can blow into to play jug band music.   @thedayhascome (Josh Hopkins) – 87

It's not that I have to buy tampons. It's that I have to search for a specific level of flow control.   @scottsimpson (Scott Simpson) – 84

I remembered the milk and bread, but I completely forgot to do something with my life.   @baileygenine (Bailey Siewert) – 83

I've spent the whole day checking items off my task list. In retrospect, I probably should have used that time to complete tasks.   @badbanana (Tim Siedell) – 82

Your dire warning of "Everything will change now that you're married" says far more about your relationship than it ever could about mine   @CcSteff (Stephanie) – 73

I'm starting a band that only plays polka songs about Nostradamus's predictions. We'll call ourselves Accordion to Prophecy.   @tehawesome (Henry Birdseye) – 69

Sorry, but you wouldn't have slammed your face into the dashboard if you had studied physics, and if you weren't a cat.   @baileygenine (Bailey Siewert) – 68

It's as if Americans have forgotten that today is 9/11.   @lisarahmat (Lisa Rahmat) – 68

For the record, today is the anniversary of our first date, not of when we got married.  I don't know when that is.   @sween (Jason Sweeney) – 67

Depending on the situation, fanny packs are probably pretty useful DAMN YOU CARGO PANTS YOU ARE A GATEWAY DRUG.   @sween (Jason Sweeney) – 66

I can't tell if this commercial is for the Army or deoderant.   @scottsimpson (Scott Simpson) – 64

I wonder how much smaller Glenn Beck would get if someone rubbed him all over with Preparation H.   @plaid_lemur (Nick Alias Plemur) – 62

I clutch the live grenade in my sweaty, shaky hand. The meeting ends 57 minutes early!   @fireland (Joshua Allen) – 62

If there's a better way to commemorate the Berlin Wall falling than by letting my pants fall down on the bus, I'm all ears.   @badbanana (Tim Siedell) – 58

-Honey, did you come? -Yeah, like ten times!  Sargasm   @ttseco (Theo Tsecouras) – 56

Can't a guy read his favorite Nabokov novel out by the playground without getting a bunch of dirty looks? Sheesh.   @biorhythmist (matt) – 56

You know how I know you're gay? You watch The View with your pants on.   @SeoulBrother (SeoulBrother) – 55

"Grifting for Dummies" is expensive.   @sween (Jason Sweeney) – 55

Apparently, my super-power is holding onto the best woman in the world. Happy fourteen years, @damselesque!   @sween (Jason Sweeney) – 54

This whole meme is silly. We all know that you don't say words after sex. You just sob, right guys? Guys?   @kolchak (The Night Stalker) – 53

[deathbyvalentine]

Frankly Too Many Prompt Fills

Lucy -  Wedding Ring

She twisted it around her finger, a habit she had never truly grown out of when she was anxious. The bar was busy for a Wednesday night, full of business types either networking or celebrating. Suits were finely pressed and watches and phones glinted from every angle. It was a far cry from what the Aquinas Nether would call a social space.

But then, she was a far cry from what they would call a lady. Ridiculous dresses discarded, she was back to her soft jeans and smart jackets that had characterised much of her teenage years. There was still traditional touches - her jewels and the cut of her neckline, but she looked merely vintage rather than archaic. 

She was never fully at ease in the Mundane world, though she was a damn sight better than most. She took a breath and settled her hands in her lap, forcing calm. The meeting would be quick and painless. Joshua was a friend of Edwin’s, so could be counted on to be a good sort. He had a business venture he was seeking advice on - mostly how it would be viewed across the water in England. Predictably, she was now considered the family expert on all things English.

He arrived, a little out of breath, hair fluffy from the wind outside. “Lucy?” He queried, a bright smile appearing on his face when she stood and greeted him, barely reaching up to his shoulder. They shook hands and took their places at the table, him graciously buying her drink.

Joshua wasted no time in talking business. He was a passionate young man, his eyes glimmering with excitement and plans. She realised, with a jolt, she could not actually be very much older than him, and yet she felt as though she had lived a hundred lives more. She gave him the advice she could, advising him on how the English Nether lot handled their properties and what business moves they would see as unspeakably rude. 

When they had exhausted that topic, she found she was rather engaged with him. He seemed want to know everything about her, asking questions after her tastes in music and art. She was ashamed to admit she found herself quite pleased, responding demurely and with that high fluttering laugh she reserved solely for those she liked.

He at one point put his hand on her arm, and she looked down, cheeks heating up. If there was any doubt before, there was none now. The electric young man was flirting with her. This was no great revelation. She saw no point in false modesty. She was pretty and funny and men liked her. She was more surprised at how she appeared to be flirting back.

Until his eyes flickered down to her hand and saw the unobtrusive little ring sitting there, on her ring finger. Automatically she turned her hand over, taking a sip of wine with her other. “Oh, you’re married?”

She hesitated. Yes. She was married. She hadn’t signed any paperwork, hadn’t sent any letters to Tom, hadn’t done much else but packed her belongings and went home, scarcely a word passing between them. When she thought of him, a hundred emotions flitted through her head and so few of them were good.

And yet.

The thought of separating from him, of cutting his life from hers quite so decisively was as frightening to her as standing on the precipice of a cliff. He was hers, her husband and she did not want to admit that perhaps it wasn’t true. He was flawed and repressed and sometimes unkind, but he had glimmers in him. Memories of their teamwork, of his gentleness, of his arms around her could not be dislodged or forgotten. She would not take off the ring, because to do so would be admitting that he would never be in her life again, would never hold her, would never be that reassuring presence to her flighty one. Her throat tightened - she could hardly bear it. 

“Yes. I am.”

Adorable

It wasn’t that the term was inaccurate. It was that it wasn’t all she was. It tended to be all men saw. Their mistake. Humans had spent millennia learning that bright colours on snakes and toads and frogs did not mean they were safe. They should have learnt the same of little girls.

Her hair was blonde and pin straight. Her eyes were wide and bright blue. She was unusually short for her fourteen years and had delicate wrists. She wore bows in her hair, adored the colour pink and spoke in a high soft voice. Adults liked her nice manners and how clean she looked. 

Vanessa was not nice. Vanessa was not delicate. She was not innocent or soft or gentle, or anything people assumed from her appearance. The last of Vanessa’s soft edges had been filed off the moment she had realised something fatal - she was pretty. She had been looking at herself in the mirror, trying to connect herself with her body, that she existed, that this was all she was. The realisation hit her suddenly and with violence. It took her a few more years to realise that pretty could not only be an advantage. It could be a weapon.

She leaned over countertops on tip toes, whispering orders into floundering waiters ears. She crossed her legs in short skirts and bobbed her ankle in school, chewing on the end of her pencil and pretending not to feel her classmates eyes on her skin. Everything was engineered - every bubble popped, every thumb sucked, every heavy blink. 

Look all you like. But don’t touch. People learnt that lesson the same way they would a rattlesnake. 

The first instance was at a 7-11, when she was standing in a queue, phone clutched in one hand and a slushie in the other. A college boy who should have known better dared to brush his finger tips under the edge of her skirt. She turned as though burnt, slushie already lashing out to land fully in his face. It didn’t end there.

It ended with a car in a ditch, blood splattered against the steering wheel, window bent and cracked. It ended with him wheezing for air, no help immediately forthcoming. It ended with snapped breaks, with no clues.

Vanessa would not apologise for her nature.

‘Let’s Play At Being Slaves.’ I Whispered.

The room was dim and dark, lit only by the streetlights outside. The furniture in the room was painted in silhouette, shadows framed against the orange glow. I was crouched in front of the sofa, looking up at Sofia up on the cushions. Her eyes were wide, her black hair streaked with amber light. Her hands were tight on the edge, white knuckled. Upstairs, the adults were asleep. This was now our own private world. 

They didn’t know about the games girls played. The rituals we performed, the secrets we whispered. We were not sugar and spice. We were witches. We were scorpions. We were murderesses and orphans and ghosts. We scrabbled at each other with stubby nails, pretending to be lions ripping apart David. We poured every berry and leaf we found into water, mixed it with mud and sticks, called it a potion and dared each other to drink it. 

My favourite place in the whole world was the graveyard, with it’s stone and moss and solemnity not find it melancholy. I found it wild. I loved the birds singing with fierce joy, refusing to feel the shadow of death across their feathers. The insects didn’t care that they were meant to be respectful. 

Our dolls were our totems, our poppets, our souls. We cut their hair and painted their skin and made them both in our image and out of them. They died with frequency, drowned or hurled from kitchen countertop cliffs. And they were always, always reborn at the first break of day.

The Doctor's Day Off 

Tommy had only intended to pop home for two minutes to change before a date with Paris. He’d be back in Greece before nightfall. Jones was at the medical centre, unsurprisingly. If the sun was in the sky, that’s where she’d be. His chest was half covered by a clean shirt when the doorbell rang. He paused. Couldn’t be any of the bullshit club. None of them knocked, they just let themselves in. For similar reasons, it was unlikely to be anyone who wanted to kill him.

He padded down the stairs in his bare feet, yawning blearily. He had barely unlocked the door when a high shrieking assaulted his ears, quickly followed by a babble of a language he didn’t speak. He blinked, processing the scene in front of him. 

The fae with blue skin was pouring with purple blood and making a high pitched keening sound, held by the one with green skin who was also the one with an angry expression and an angrier voice, throwing words around in their native language. Tommy stepped aside to let them in, pointing them to the dining room where the table had never seen use as a food holder but had seen too much as an operating table. 

Of course they happened to arrive when Jones was at her normal job. Of course. He snapped on some plastic gloves, trying to get some sense out of the both of them. Soon they realised he only spoke english and switched to it, albeit begrudgingly. From what he could gather, there was something of a seelie/unseelie gang war occurring in the woods and it was no longer being contained to dawn or dusk. Tommy felt he deserved a medal for the amount of patience he showed through this interaction, managing to resist calling either of them idiots.

First job was the grossest. Rearranging the insides that had half slipped out of place when the gash in the abdomen had opened. Harder than it sounds, considering he had no real idea about fae anatomy. He figured the second heart would go behind the liver shaped thing, and the intestines would probably make something like a spiral pattern. He managed to avoid pulling faces when his hands were literally inside of their flesh. Just. 

Sewing them up was easy in comparison, even if he did end up needing to use a much thicker needle and a thread that didn’t blend so easily into purple blood. It wasn’t the most perfect stitching in the world, but it was better than bleeding out in a ditch. He gave them some dressings and sent them on their way.

He was five minutes into scrubbing his hands clean when the doorbell rang again. Distantly, he heard a shrieking coming from outside. He groaned and let his head his the bathroom mirror. Maybe he should just invite Paris here.

Harlequin

The easy thing to do would have been to blame it on him. To sign off her madness like she had signed off her last name, pushed it over to his camp, wash her hands of all responsibility. She might not even have been wrong to do so. His pushing and prodding and poking had definitely sped her way towards going off the deep end.

But she liked her madness being hers. She was proud of it. She had taken the seed and cultivated it until it bloomed into a nasty flower. She had tossed away the meekness and polite manners that had never fitted quite right. Shredded her beige pantyhose and grey dresses. Cut her hair unevenly and wore bright eyeshadow and lipstick at the same time. She talked to herself, saw insults and adoration where there was none and didn’t stop herself from biting when it was deserved.

Madness wasn’t all pretty, but it was freeing. She didn’t care about being pretty. Not anymore. She would no longer deny her worst impulses for fear of how it would make her look. She liked bared teeth more than her smile, her nails like talons instead of manicured. Watch out world. She was a madwoman now. Attics and asylums and hospitals would be her home and she would release any woman she came across trapped inside them.

UTS - Popular 

He couldn’t actually picture himself popular. So much would have to change. He would have to be rich, he would have to live on the right side of the tracks. His clothes would have to go - out the faded flannel and torn jeans, the home-done hair cut and repaired glasses. 

He could see glimpses of it sometimes, when he wore the clothes Wendy well meaningly shoved towards him, or Freddy’s jacket sat around his shoulders. He imagined waking up and going to school, surrounded by friends, not glancing over his shoulder. Getting invited to parties in houses with pools, drinking booze that cost more than a few quid, teachers smiling at him in corridors.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it. You couldn’t miss what you had never had. He wasn’t sure he could cope with the pressures of social perfection, if he could stand being quite that vapid, if maintenance of his personality was something he wanted to focus on. And the group that milled around in the halls, perfume and glitter pouring off them, he didn’t like a single one of them. Even the one he was fucking. 

What was it about popularity that made you into a grade A dick? Did you get a brain transplant as well as a stupid nickname? He hoped never to find out.

T67 - Scams 

She applied the glittering lipstick, admiring herself in the mirror. She looked like an utter daydream, baby pink hair curling down to her bare shoulders in fluffy clouds, big blue eyes framed with gold stars. Astrid was often unaware of her looks, but right now it was impossible to think she was anything but beautiful. She slipped the lipstick down her cleavage, and admired herself one last time. Then it was back into the rave.

The lights were flashing and blue, and occasionally ultraviolet, making Astrid’s nails and some flecks of her glitter light up. Heads turned. A small smile flickered on her face. She liked the attention. She drew it towards her as she made her way to the centre of the dancefloor. She loved dancing, and it showed, body moving to the thumping beat, feeling it through her feet. Her eyes drifted across the bar and she found her mark. He was wearing a suit, the tie looking like it was made of some tightly woven mesh, his cufflinks flickering through advertisements. His eyes dragged up her body and when they reached her eyes, she did not shy away. 

It was a slow game. One made of many dances, many glances and finally, a slight touch on her wrist. He had finally joined her, his chest against hers, his hands finding her waist. He leaned down towards her lips and she tilted her head so his lips made contact with her neck. She tangled her fingers with his, kissed his knuckles and after three songs, lead him from the dancefloor, catching the eye of Syn as she left.

The cloakroom was warm but blessedly quiet, and Astrid had to stand on tiptoes to finally kiss him. Her lips grazed his, his tongue flicking out to taste her. It took a few seconds for the effect to take place. His pupils widened, his breathing hitching a little. Another minute and he was asleep. Astrid loved her lipstick. Carefully she turned the gentleman over, hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve his credits and wallet, the watch around his wrists, his IDs. She left the cloak room, shutting it behind her and going to find Syn.

Imaginary Friends Tea Party

I don’t know why people think little girls’ imaginary friends are sweet. Mine never were. And now, with them all sitting around the table, I realised they still weren’t. Except now I was clever enough to be afraid of them. 

I raised the tea cup to my lips, ignoring the slight clatter when I placed it back down onto the plate. I hid my hands in my lap, not wishing for them to see my trembling. They looked like they smelt fear as clearly as blood. 

The First sat at the other end of the table and I wasn’t versed in etiquette enough to know if he was the head of the table or I was.  I avoided his eyes every time I glanced up, pretending to be fascinated by the silverware, the napkins. 

He was a brute, unreasonably huge. He was what I thought wolves looked like, informed only by picture books and my father’s imitation howling. There was a shock of grey fur, shot through with black, a muzzle that was disproportionately large. His teeth were sharp and his mouth was red red red. He was not delicate, shoving his nose into tea cups, slobbering all over the delicate saucers. He did not have a name. There was a noise I used to make to summon him, beyond words. 

Beside him, there was the one from when I was old enough to realise that I was a girl. She was doll like, tiny and short, golden curls hitting her tiny waist. Her eyes were a little too big for her face, her movements slow and measured. Her name was Grace and I loved her once. She was an idol, a mentor and a crush all at the same time. I wanted to be her and when I was a teenager I wanted to destroy her. The cracks showed now, up along her forearms, at her temples. Her mouth was red too, but gave the impression that the wrong touch would smear them.

There were more animal-like creatures dotted here and there, looking like nothing that actually existed but like an amalgamation of many. It wasn’t actually the mammal constructions that frightened me the most. It was the bird-like creatures, with sharp movements, beaks and talons. None of them were plain - all of the colours were eyewateringly bright. These tended to be from when I was younger, fascinated with the world around me. As I got older, they took on different shapes.

They were human shaped, all of them. Their eyes flickered to look at me constantly, adjusting their movements whenever I moved, like I was the sun around which they all orbited. In a way, I was. Lonely, frustrated, surrounded by depictions of love that seemed out of reach. So all of my imaginary friends built when I was a teenager had one thing in common - they adored me. 

Ailliana wanted to be my best friend. She thought I had the best advice and the best hair and the best sleepovers. Tate thought I was the most gorgeous thing to ever walk the earth, always wanted to hold my hand and stroke my hair when I slept. Ethan (as I got older, they nearly all became boys) featured mainly in the soft time before sleep, where I would dare to imagine his lips on mine, his body pressing me into the mattress. 

This meal had the feeling of an intervention to it, I realised. They wanted to know where I had been, what I had been doing. The reason given was curiosity but I saw the sidelong looks, the clenched fingers around cutlery. The accusation thar sat as heavy in the air as Grace’s perfume.

Why had I left them? Well, I had replaced them with flesh and blood. I had found that I rather enjoyed it when I didn’t know what someone was about to do. I loved looking over at my friend and trying to guess what they were thinking. People were entire worlds contained. My imagination was only a reflection of myself. And I didn’t always like my reflection.

But I wanted them to go even less.

The Fae Prince of Thorns

The stone walls had been carved to look as though they were not stone at all, but wood, growing naturally and strong. Unmoving marble leaves and ivy decorated each column, promising a breath of wind would shift them. False promises were woven into the fabric of this place. 

The throne looked rather plain in comparison to the surrounding hall. Flint, it looked like, pieced together to make the seat. A single beam of light from a hole in the far-away ceiling fell on it, letting in rain and sun alike. The reason became clear once you’d looked at the throne for a few moments. Inbetween the gaps of the flint, something grew. It curved around pieces of rock possessively, rooting it to the ground. The throne would be immovable. This place is where it lived and this place is where it would perish. It would outlast the monarchs that sat on its uncomfortable mantel. 

The Prince’s clothing (and to a lesser extent, skin) was covered in the small cuts and tears that told any passerby exactly where he had been sitting. It was an unofficial sign of office, less obvious than the crown of thorns that graced his head or the red rose that bloomed in his lapel, the only splash of colour in his otherwise monochrome outfit. 

When he sat on the throne, he did not flinch. He tossed his leg over the arm of the object as though he was lounging on a couch, his obsidian eyes trained intently on whoever had presented themselves to him that moment. Sometimes he would lean forward, placing an elbow on his knee and his chin in his palm, not concious at all of the small ripping sounds that would follow the forward motion. 

His title, it was rumoured, did not just come from the seat of the kingdom on which he sat. He looked soft at first glance - skin the dark blue of the royals, lips plush, hair pin straight, motions full of grace. It would be easy not to pay much heed to the fact he rarely smiles. But it is not his physical form that was thorny. His tongue and wit was known to destroy emissaries, reduce diplomatic relationships to tatters, break hearts. His appearance was the rose - it lured you in, so you didn’t notice the thorns.

The Heart of the Kraken

The deck was slick with blood, seawater and slime. Even the most seasoned sailors wrinkled their noses in disgust, stepping over the still twitching tentacles and broken planks alike to fetch more water to try and shift the viscera. It was half practical, half a method of avoiding looking at the scrum huddling over the body of the beast. 

It was Good Thomas who knelt closest, feeling for the dagger on his hip. The eye of the creature watched him with wary hatred. While it had dealt a fairly sizable blow to the ship, it had ultimately lost. Now it would pay for the loss with it’s life. Such was the way of things here. 

Good Thomas took the knife and as though gutting a pig, plunged it into the kraken and dragged it down, steadily. A cry of disgust went up as its insides spilled onto the deck, a stench following it shortly after. Thomas seemed oblivious to the reactions of his cohorts, rolling up a sleeve and plunging his arm inside the cavern he had created. Eyes closed, he felt around until he withdrew his hand.

His fist was closed around something. He gestured for a bucket, putting his fist inside it. Slowly, he washed whatever he was holding, until it was revealed. The green gem was sharp enough to cut his palm, scarlet mixing with the saltwater. There was a mass in the centre of it, darker than dark, looking like ink. Good Thomas held it up to the sunlight, watching it glitter. 

“Here it is lads.” He whispered, feeling his comrades lean in around him, no longer fascinated by the body of the monster and instead drawn in by the promise of treasure. “This is the start of it. We’re gonna be kings amongst men.” 

The Desert in His Heart & The Storm Rider

Once upon a time there was a beautiful king. His skin was as dark as the nights sky and his eyes sparkled like stars. He was just and noble and loyal, however, he was not perfect. He did not love easily or indeed at all. He was not unkind, but nor was he accustomed to softness. And because of this, he was accused of not truly understanding many of the struggles his people went through. He could trace back his troubles. As a child, he had been cursed by an old warlock to love like the desert until he found an oasis. Now, it was well known that the desert in which his kingdom resided, once you left the capital city by the river, the desert had no such oasis. And thus he was doomed to be lonely forever.

There were rumours however, that you could summon an oasis. But you had to call out to the son of the storm god, who would decide if you were worthy of rain or not. Not a single person had ever been judged worthy of his blessings so far. Entire caravans had perished for want of a single drop. 

The kings parents had been trying unsuccessfully for many years to find their son a marriage. He had refused all hands offered to him, stating that he would only marry for water or for love, and he had neither. However, it was becoming harder and harder to deny his parents. They argued that if he was never going to love anybody, what was the harm in marrying someone he simply liked?

They gave him a date - two weeks to find the oasis he sought, or he married the Princess of the Masonry Guild. She had been his best friend since birth, and though neither loved the other passionately, they enjoyed each other’s company. This seemed fair, if less than ideal, and he set out into the desert for one last attempt to find the oasis, and so his heart. 

On the first day, a mighty sandstorm blew across the rolling dunes. He continued walking, covering his eyes and mouth with a fine scarf that cost hundreds of pieces of gold to make. He walked for many miles before coming across an old man with eyes like emeralds coughing and spluttering. The king took off his scarf and gave it to the elder, and walked on without asking for compensation.

On the first night, when the sun sunk below the horizon, chill descended across the land. He set up a fire, and as he was getting ready to sleep, he saw a dog with eyes like green grass shivering not so far away. He brought him close to the fire, wrapped him in his cloak, and slept. When he awoke, the dog was gone along with his cloak.

On the second day, he saw a green rattlesnake trapped beneath a rock that would surely crush it. Despite the risk of poison, the king used his walking stick to free the creature, and when it curled around the staff, he decided to leave it rather than wrestle it from the tired animal.

On the second night, he was cooking some of the supplies he had brought with him. A child with eyes like seaglass watched hungrily from a nearby settlement. He gave the child half and when he was still hungry, gave him the rest too.

On the third day, he found himself further than he had ever walked before. He did not recognise the curve of the land or the whispers of the wind. He knew that before long, he would have to turn back or be lost to the sands forever. 

Between two dunes stood a young man who seemed as much a part of the desert as the grains beneath his sandaled feet. His eyes were like fresh mint and his sun-kissed skin shone with sweat. He was beautiful in a way that made the king suspect that he was seeing things, that nobody could be as perfect as this. But he approached nonetheless.

“Youth! Could you tell me where I could find an oasis?” “I could.” The young man looked him up and down, clearly deciding something. “But it would cost you all the jewels in your crown.” “Then the deal is done -” The king began to take the crown from his head when the youth caught his wrist, eyes wide in surprise. “But sir, you are the king. You could order me to tell you, or have me executed, or a million other punishments.” “I could.” The king reasoned. “But these jewels are not more valuable than the oasis I seek. And I seek the oasis to help my subjects. And you are one of my subjects, so I am bound to help you.”

As he spoke, clouds gathered above, darkening the sky that was a moment ago utterly clear. The green of the man’s eyes darkened until they resembled the depths of the ocean. The sky crackled and broke, and suddenly, between the dunes, rain began to fall, slowly, then faster and faster so water flowed down the dunes and began to form a pool.

The king watched, open mouthed and humbled, turning to the youth.

“It is you.” “It is me. I am the son of storms and I have been watching you, my liege. I was the old man, and the dog, and the snake, and the child. I wanted to be sure you were worthy of my blessings. I know you seek the oasis to seek your heart. But I see no lack of love in you. You are not lacking. Go with my blessing to your kingdom and rule it with the love you have shown here.”

The king fell to his knees and kissed the youths feet, thanking him both for the rain he had brought here and for the rain he felt filling his heart. He walked back to the palace, shoulders back, head held high.

He found his fiance, the daughter of stone, and told her what he had discovered. He told her off the journey, of the cold nights, of the beautiful youth. He also told her how he could think of nobody fairer to rule by his side and nobody cleverer to keep him in line. She could take any lovers she desired, if she desired any, love whoever she wished to love, but he still wished for her to be his partner, his friend and his queen. He would not love her as a poet, but he would love her like the sun.

Joyously, she agreed. She did not mourn the lack of carnal activities or romance (truth be told, she had always preferred women to men besides) and she celebrated the idea of being bound to her best friend. Silently, she said a prayer thanking the son of storms for making her friend see how little he was missing.

They were married and the kingdom had never seen better days. They lived to be old and of course, to be happy forever after. 

1970s Ghost Ship

There were no billowing sails here. No swinging ropes or creaking planks. The shape the mist was formed of metal and paint. And it was huge. It brought to mind the whales that moved beneath the waves, enormous silent shadows. The ship left no wake, made no sound. 

Inside, the corridors were lit by an eerie red light, occasionally flashing. An alarm had been set off and never put to rest, though the sound had long since burnt out. Every cabin is empty but the beds are in various states of disarray. Clothes linger on floors, ash remains in ash trays and in one case, a bottle of nail polish sits waiting to be used. 

 The bridge is the interesting bit. Only the light of the stars and moon filtered through the windows, but the control panel was still lit up in shades of green. The radar blinked, the small beeping sounding like cymbals in the silence of the ship. Inspect the display and it showed multiple foreign objects in the water around them. If you squinted, made sense out of the mist, there was nothing there. But still the radar beeped its warning to anybody that would listen.

Salmon Earrings

She hated them of course. They weren’t her at all. But what did he know of that? They were pink and pretty and therefore perfectly suited for his wife. They had been married for ten years. She crossed her ankles, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the small velvet box in her hands. She supposed she should still be grateful. That she had a husband that bought her presents for no reason at all. That kissed her cheek when he came home from work. That gave her money to hire nannies and cleaners and gardeners and anything else she liked. That loved her, for all intents and purposes.

Why did she loathe him so very much?

Was it his niceness? His utter lack of edges? His bland smile, his blue eyes? He was like the platonic ideal of a husband. But that was all he was. As a teenager she had dreamed of torrid affairs, of sex after tempestuous arguments, of love against all odds. What she had gotten wasn’t passion, wasn’t even love. It was tolerance. 

She snapped the box shut with a sharp snap that echoed around the perfectly tidied bedroom. 

Fundamentally, she was lazy. Of course she could pack her bags and leave. She could have an affair with a wild girl. She could scream and shout and smash every mirror in the place. But all of that was a lot of effort. And for all she despised him, she did enjoy the comfort of her life here. Her background was not moneyed - she had grown up in a house with cracked windows and no carpets. She did not want to go back to that life. She didn’t care if that wasn’t how this story was meant to go.

She prayed for an accident. For him to be hit by a car, a heart attack, lightning. To give her a reason to mourn publicly and loudly then move on. Then invite the wild girl into her house to be her mistress. To live her life free of strings and obligations. To be her own person, to be in control. She wondered what god she could pray to for that because the christian one didn’t seem to be particularly forthcoming.

Maybe she could be her own god. Make her own fate. She could lose her benevolence. Enact judgement. 

The Boy with the Pearl Earring

He lounged on the couch, shirt falling open. His eyes were half closed, hair tousled, cheeks flushed with either heat or wine. For some reason the artist’s eyes kept flickering to the pearl earring peeking through his ebony locks. Eroticism, the painter reasoned, was all in the details. The slight hint of blue at his wrist, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the ring on his finger. 

He had known the boy for a little while, though he had known him by sight for longer. He was in the same bar every evening, in the same seat, dark eyes watching the door for any likely clients. He was beautiful, and he was aware of it, and his business was swift and steady.

Gio wasn’t quite sure where he had managed to find the courage to ask him to model. Not that he had ever had any trouble before. Sex workers were used to such requests, no respectable noble willing to take their clothes off even in the name of art. He was however, the first man he had asked, and therefore the first there had been a spark of attraction with. The girls, he was friends with. They laughed and joked the entire time, stayed for dinner afterwards, teased him with promises of finding him a friend to settle down with. 

This was different. The air was charged. They hadn’t spoken much, the man just counting the coins and positioning himself on the couch, though he had been amiable to being told to make adjustments so the light from the wax candles fell on him perfectly. He was hyper aware of his own breath, every small movement he made, how he himself looked. It felt odd to feel he was the scrutinised one. He was usually safe behind the canvas. 

The boy opened his eyes and looked at him directly. He felt afire. His eyes were dark, impossible to discern pupil from iris. Gio swallowed, let his own eyes drop. For the first time, he was in the presence of the sublime.

It's a Sin to Tell a Lie 

They arranged themselves in a tableau, the blonde twins curled at the feet of Miss Anguila, Hermione and Elsie in the straight backed chairs they all loathed so much. Hermione’s hands were occupied with some embroidery, though if you inspected it closely you could see she was making rather a mess of it. Elsie had opted instead for paging through a book on the native birds of the land, seemingly utterly absorbed in it. Every white dress was spotless. Every cup of tea was steaming merrily. Even Arthur, the dog was well turned out and calm, snoozing by the empty fireplace.

They were thus arranged when the policemen knocked at the door. 

Miss Anguila gave each of the girls a warning look as she stood, smoothing her skirts. The twins sat up, looking less like smug cats and more like innocent children. Miss Anguila paused by the door, took a breath, arranged a smile then answered the door.

She let a surprised laugh escape, raising her hand to her chest. “Oh, gentlemen! To what do we owe the honour? Do come in, we’ve just brewed a fresh pot of tea -” 

The two men stepped inside, removing their helmets as they did so. They stood out, like foreigners fresh off the boat. They were men in a land designed for women. Every trinket was made for delicate fingers, everything decorated with fresh roses or frills or cherubs. They glanced at each other, biting their lips, trying not to touch anything they shouldn’t. The elder began to make demurring noises, but the younger nudged him and sat in the offered chair, on the very edge of the seat. After a moment, the elder followed. 

As the mistress poured the steaming tea into cups and saucers, Elliot (the younger) finally answered her question, turning his hat with anxious fingers. “Strictly procedural only miss. We shan’t take up much of your time.” “Oh, don’t be silly. It’s a pleasure, isn’t it girls?” A chorus of affirmative twitters and eager agreements came from behind her, colouring Elliot’s cheeks a alluring shade of pink. Edgar, the elder, frowned at his colleague and leaned forward, taking over the steer of the conversation. “You see miss, a man has gone missing. A Mr Samuel Thomas.” Miss Anguila arranged her skirts and took up her seat, one of the girls passing her cup to her. “Oh, I do recall him. He’s the horse merchant, is he not?” “That’s him miss. His wife hasn’t seen him since Friday night, and he isn’t in any of his usual spots, so we thought we’d do the rounds.” “At a girl’s finishing college?” She raised an arch eyebrow but Edgar didn’t quail as Elliot did. 

“Well, his wife said he sometimes had business here.” “He shoes the horses we own I suppose. But the groundskeeper would really know more about that. I try to keep my own contact with such masculine business minimal. It isn’t becoming for a lady to deal with money.” She cast an iron eye over her pupils who demurred softly.

“Of course not. We never meant to imply - “ Elliot began. “Water under the bridge. Now, my groundskeeper has Sundays off, but by all means return tomorrow, or I can pass along his home address. He doesn’t live too far away at all.” Edgar nodded. “That would be helpful.” He drained the last of his tea and stood, replacing the hat back on his head. Elliot followed, albeit reluctantly and with much less vigor, trying very hard to stop looking at Elsie. 

Anguila showed them to the door graciously, opening the door for them to take their leave. She gave a courtsey to each of the men, who each fumbled something resembling a bow. As he took a step out Elliot remarked on the freshness of the flower beds and the corresponding smell of spring.  “Nothing like a bit of fresh turned earth.” Miss Anguila smiled. “I quite agree.”

Albatross - HDM

The sky promised rain. The sea promised storms. Harry leaned on the rail, breathing in the salt air. His skin stung a little with the spray and the cold, but the tingling actually made him feel more alive, not less. He was made for this, the feeling of a heaving ship beneath his feet, his palms warm with rope burn, hair thick with salt. He knew this to be true. 

The confirmation had came when Kess had settled. He watched her now, her wing tips brushing the waves before she soared back up, as far as the bond would allow her to go. She was beautiful to watch, her huge wings responding to every updraft, every breeze. He could feel her joy, her freedom, and regretted only that his human half did not have wings to join her. Occasionally she fluttered back to affectionately nuzzle at his neck or gently peck at his fingers before once again throwing herself to the sea.

He wanted it to be like this, always. When he got too old to sail, he would find a house by the sea, as close as he could manage. He would leave the windows open wide to let her out and the sea in. He would live somewhere where rain and mist were common. Where the wildness of the the waves was so close he could hear it. 

When they dropped anchor, he had a ritual. He would strip his clothes off inch by inch, discarding them to the side. He would dive from the side of the boat, the water would drag every worry he did have from his skin. Kess would dive beside him, and it was the closest they would experience to being one body. It was the closest thing they had to heaven. 

[catalinda04]

Carried Away Chapter 43: What a January it’s Been

Masterlist 

Though Lucy had asked the drama club students to keep Henry’s involvement in their production quiet, once Tom got involved, the kids found that all but impossible. Lucy had expected it, so she wasn’t that disappointed in them. Friday Lucy made her way to the stage for rehearsal, and found no less than 20 additional students waiting there.

“Are you all here to volunteer?” Lucy asked them excitedly, knowing full well they were waiting for Henry to arrive.

The students looked at each other awkwardly. Lucy smiled. “Henry isn’t coming today guys. That was a one time thing. Now you’re all welcome to stay and watch rehearsal, but if you’re not here for drama club, you have to go. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” Lucy smiled at their disappointed faces as they turned to leave.

Rehearsal went the best it had gone up to that point. There were still some awkward spots, as the kids remembered the hints and tips that Henry and Tom had given them. Lucy had high hopes for the competition.

Lucy called Henry to tell him she would pick up a pizza on the way home. Over dinner Henry commented to Lucy, “Darling, I’m glad tomorrow is Saturday. You’ve been working too hard. We’re just going to relax together this weekend, right?”

“No, tomorrow night is the Movie Night fundraiser for my Travel Club, the group of students that I’m bringing to Europe this summer. You’re welcome to come, but you don’t have to.”

“Do you get to rest next weekend?” Henry asked concerned.

Lucy pulled up her calendar on her phone to show him her January events. “Next weekend is the dessert and drama fundraiser for the drama club, then the following weekend is competition. January is kind of a crazy month for me.”

Henry looked over the colorful phone screen. “Cupcake, when do you do anything for yourself?” he asked, concerned.

Lucy took a moment to think, “June. June is when I get to do stuff for me, except this June, because that’s when the student trip is. So maybe July this year.”

“This can’t be healthy, you need time to unwind.”

“This is how my winters go. I run myself ragged, doing 101 different events, until I inevitably get sick, then I’m forced to stop for a couple of days. But that can’t happen until the end of the month. We have our competition on the 31st. If we take first or second place, then we move on to the state level, so that will mean more rehearsal time, with a trip to the cities the following weekend.”

“Darling, that isn’t healthy. You need to take care of yourself.”

“It’s just January. February, you’re going to get sick of me being around all the time!” Lucy joked.

“I don’t think that could happen.” Henry smiled at her.

That night, Lucy fell asleep on the couch watching a movie. Henry carried her to bed, and tucked her in, before crawling in beside her. He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 10:02. “In bed by 10:00 on a Friday,” Henry thought to himself, “never thought I’d see the day.” He smiled to himself and pulled Lucy into his arms, before dropping into a deep sleep.

Lucy awoke Saturday morning, feeling refreshed. As she ambled to the bathroom, it occurred to her that she didn’t remember going to bed the night before. “It’s like I’m a kid again, fall asleep on the couch, wake-up in bed. Sweet.”

Deciding, she didn’t want to be up for the day yet, Lucy returned to the bedroom. Henry wasn’t awake yet, but a part of him was definitely “up”. She climbed back into the bed, and snuggled herself against Henry’s side. Kissing his shoulder, she stroked her hand over his chest. He smiled in his sleep. Lucy’s hand continued its exploration across his abs, while her lips sought out his nipple, hiding in his swirls of chest hair. Henry groaned in his sleep.

Lucy’s hand dipped lower across Henry’s torso, finally wrapping around his impressive manhood. Henry’s eyes popped open. “Good morning Darcy.” Lucy murmured, pressing another kiss to his chest, her hand slowly pumping up and down his length.

Henry groaned. “Good morning. This is quite a wake-up,” he sighed, working to not let the sensations overwhelm him.

Lucy smiled, “Well, I was awake, and so was he. I didn’t want to let it go to waste.” she explained, sliding her leg over his torso to straddle him, releasing twin sighs with Henry when she slid his length into her.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want to be wasteful.” Henry grinned sleepily at her, weaving his hands with hers he sat up, bringing their lips together. Henry drank in her mouth like a man in the desert. His hands caressed her back, gripping her bottom to bring her closer, his lips tracing patterns across her neck.

When he could take no more, he rolled Lucy under him, wrapping her legs around his arms, and leaned heavily into her, his hips rolling to caress every nerve she possessed. He watched her come apart in his arms, before increasing his pace for the last frantic thrusts that would send him over the edge after her. He collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing heavily.

When Henry made to roll off of Lucy, her arms tightened around him. “Stay. I like the weight. I like feeling you on top of me.” He stayed for several more beats, before rolling them to lay on their sides, face to face, her leg thrown over his hip. Lucy sighed contentedly. “This is what I pictured when I pictured us living together; lazy weekend mornings, waking up together.”

He leaned close, to kiss her. “It is a pretty spectacular way to spend a morning,” he agreed.

Lucy found Henry to be almost more of a hindrance than a help during her travel club’s movie night fundraiser. Many of her drama students were also in the travel club. They were so excited to talk to Henry, that Lucy had to shoo them away to do something productive, though she smiled wistfully from across the room watching him interact with her students. He was never impatient at their questions, and let them show him what needed to be done.

The rest of the weekend passed easily, though Lucy could tell Henry was starting to go a bit stir crazy. He needed a hobby.

Tuesday evening, Lucy arrived home to find every towel she had ever owned draped across just about every surface in her kitchen. “What happened‽” she asked, trying to find a dry place to set down her purse.

Henry looked sheepish. “Well, you know how the kitchen faucet has a drip, well I thought I could mend it. I watched several videos on youtube; it didn’t look very difficult. It’s harder than it looks.” Henry explained himself. Lucy bit her lip attempting not to laugh at the image in her head. “And is it fixed?” she asked turning to the sink, to see the faucet drip more than it did before. “I’m guessing not.”

“No, it isn’t. But tomorrow, I head to the DIY store, to buy a new faucet, which is apparently something I need to get, and your father is going to come assist me. So tonight, if you would, please go online and pick which faucet you’d like, so I know which one to buy.”

Lucy shook her head at the onslaught of information Henry had thrown at her. “You, and my dad, are going to do a plumbing project? And I won’t be here to film it? I should call in sick tomorrow, this could be funnier than anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My dad is very...precise in the way he works. Just do whatever he tells you, and you’ll be fine.”

Lucy showed Henry how to use the clothes dryer, so that they could use the towels the next day, should the plumbing decide to attack again. It wasn’t until later when they were watching something on TV, that Lucy remembered she had a question for Henry.

“Ryan and Andi want to know if we want to go curling with them on Friday.”

“Curling?” Henry asked confused.

“You know, the ice sport, with the brooms.” she made a sweeping motion with her arms.

“I know what it is, but I’ve never done it before.”

“Would you like to try? It’s one of the only winter sports I like, because it’s inside.”

“I think that would be fun. Plus it will keep you from falling asleep at 8:00 on a Friday night!”

“I’ll tell Ryan tomorrow then. I think you’ll like it.”

Friday, Lucy and Henry met Ryan, Andi, Emma, Joshua, and another teacher that Andi worked with and her husband, at the curling club for a quick bite before going to the ice. Henry proved to be a decent curler, especially for someone who had never done it before. The four couples went to a bar nearby after finishing their game for a few drinks. They didn’t close down the bar, but it was after 11 when they got back home. Henry had accepted a place on Ryan’s men’s league curling team. Lucy was happy to see her boyfriend and guy friend getting along.

“Darling, how far is Duluth?” Henry asked out of the blue Sunday morning. Lucy was grading a stack of papers and Henry was answering e-mails.

“It’s about an hour.” She called back, and was answered by a laugh from Henry. “What’s the laugh for?”

“Do you know you do that? I asked how far it was, and you told me how long it would take to get there.”

“Well, that’s what you really want to know isn’t it?” She called back logically.

“I guess you’re right.” Henry acquiesced, seeing the reason in her argument.

“What are you doing in Duluth?”

“Dany found a trainer for me to work with. I need to get back to the gym. The trainer is in Duluth. I’ll be going 4 days a week.”

“It’s not a horrible drive, unless it snows, then it could be miserable. When do you start?”

“Tuesday.”

“Well, at least it will give you something to do during the day. You’ve been prowling around this house for 2 weeks. I was afraid you were going to get cabin fever and go crazy!”

“No, I knew the training was coming, so I was just enjoying my time doing nothing. You may enjoy packing in historical sites on your vacation, but I like to do nothing.”

The day of the One Act Competition arrived. Lucy was nervous for her kids. They had worked so hard, but only the top 2 plays went on to the state competition. She knew, and they knew, statistically it was a long shot, but they were going to give it their all.

Lucy’s phone buzzed in her pocket while she was helping the kids with their costumes and makeup. She looked at her screen to find a message from Tom. It was a video message to the kids. She gathered them around to watch.

“Hello thespians. I know you have all worked incredibly hard, and put in countless hours to make this show as perfect as you can make it. I want to wish you luck, break a leg, and remember to have fun. Drama lets you live in someone else’s shoes for a time, do them proud.” He then kissed both of his hands, blew them at the group, and waved goodbye, before the video stopped.

“Well, guys, if nothing else comes of this, you’ll be able to say that you know Tom Hiddleston.” She glanced at the clock. “We’re almost up, everyone ready? Then let’s go.” She led the group out of the room they were using as their dressing room, and backstage. Henry caught-up with them just before they reached the stage door. He helped the group arrange their minimal set pieces, and went to find a seat in the auditorium. Lucy stayed backstage to watch, and help with a tricky costume change.

At the end of the day, the group finished third. They would not be moving on, but did receive a trophy for the case at school. Lucy snapped a picture of the whole group with the trophy for the school’s newspaper, and sent a copy to Tom.

“Ms. C? How could we not win?” Patricia asked dejected. “We had both Tom and Henry helping us!”

“Patricia. Honey. We finished third. Out of eight groups. Last year, we finished seventh out of seven. Don’t look at it as not winning. Look at how far you’ve come. The schools that won, those kids spend weeks every summer at drama camp. They eat, sleep, live, drama. And you guys almost beat them. I’m so proud of all of you. Though I was proud of you last year in seventh place too. You all set out to put on a play, and you did. And you did a great job at it too. Now, grab a pillow and let’s finish loading the van so we can go to our celebration dinner!”

After the competition, the whole group went out to dinner to celebrate their third place finish, finishing the play, and having their free time back. They invited Henry to come with. While they were eating Lucy handed out awards. There were the standard MVP, and Rookie of the Year awards, but there were also several funny awards, such as the Turtle Award, for Audrey, who was perpetually late to practice, and the Songbird award, to Jay who even last week had asked if they couldn't switch to a musical. When Lucy finished handing out awards, she sat to eat her dessert, and Audrey stood.

“Ms. C. We have a couple of things we’d like to say. I was chosen as the speaker for the group. First we’d like to thank Henry for his time and willingness to help.” She opened a bag Lucy hadn’t noticed before, and produced a hoodie with the school's logo emblazoned on the front . Henry’s eyes misted over as he accepted the sweatshirt from the kids. Lucy could barely see through the tears in her eyes. She was unaware of the gift the kids were presenting, but was so proud of them for the gesture. Audrey continued, “We also have one for Tom, if you would be willing to send it to him Ms. C.” Audrey produced a second hoodie and handed it to Lucy.

“I can take care of that, though I think you should all write a little note, and we’ll send it along with the hoodie. This is very sweet of you all to do this.” Lucy commended her group.

“We’re not done yet. We have something for you too.” Audrey stopped her. “Ms. C, our fearless leader. You’ve put up with a lot from us, but you’ve never stopped believing in us. This is just a small token of our thanks.” Audrey finished, producing an enormous, 5 lb. Hershey bar out of the bag. Lucy laughed through her tears.

“Thank you all. You’ve worked so hard this year, and though we aren’t moving on, please don’t let that diminish all that you’ve accomplished. Now let’s get the check and get out of here, it’s been a long day, and I want to go home!”

“The check has already been taken care of, dinner is on me tonight everyone.” Henry announced, standing. “Thank you for the sweatshirt, I will wear it proudly. I just hope that when you become famous actors and actresses, you remember to thank myself and Ms. Claussen in your acceptance speech.” Lucy couldn’t contain herself, she wrapped her arms around Henry and gave him a quick kiss, for being so sweet. Which earned a rousing “whoo” from the group.

Chapter 42             Chapter 44

[not-reddie]

Richie Tozier Must Die - Prologue.

Hi guys! So this idea popped into my head and I really couldn’t resist! I’m so pumped to write this fic!

I will still be posting Night Changes so don’t worry, but I really hope you like this. Of course it’s inspired by the movie “John Tucker Must Die” ! i’ll be changing it up a bit though!

Word count: 910.

Eddie backs away, but they keep coming forward, cornering him. He feels like prey, perhaps a small rabbit, and his predators are studying him closely, ready to pounce at any moment. He eventually hits the back wall of the classroom, and gulps upon the realisation that he has nowhere else to go.

The boy, who he can’t quite remember the name of, but he thinks is called Joshua, jerks his thumb at the desk next to them, and Eddie, knowing that his 3 against 1 chances aren’t looking too good for him, cautiously places his bag down before sitting.

“We’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, and we have a proposition for you,” Emily tells him, sounding bored, looking bored. She always has an aura about her, one that says, “I would literally rather be anywhere but here.” Eddie thinks that the feeling is mutual.

“We need you to date Richie Tozier,” Lucy speaks up, smacking gum in her mouth obnoxiously. Eddie can see that it’s been stained by her bright red, overbearing lipstick, and he internally cringes. If her top was cut any lower, Eddie’s positive her whole breast would be on display. Her mini skirt is only saved by the fact that she’s wearing thigh high boots.

“W-what? Why would I do that?” Eddie squeaks, his throat going dry, a blush tainting his cheeks. The pack of wolves are going to tear him to shreds. The predators have gone for the kill.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever met at this god-forsaken place that doesn’t seem to be affected by Richie Tozier’s charm. We need you to make him fall in love with you, and then rip his heart out of his chest and stamp on it, just like he did to us.”

“That’s crazy. Richie would never go for that. We've never even spoke! Besides, why would I help you?”

This seems to get Emily’s attention, and she turns to look him straight in the eyes. She smirks at him, and Eddie gulps down his nerves.

“You want valedictorian, right?”

“Um… yeah?”

“I can make sure that happens.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, but he knows she isn’t lying. Emily is the school's golden girl, and student body president. She plays a facade around the teachers as an innocent, hard working school girl, and she has them practically eating out of her manicured hands.

“You’re serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” She didn’t, Eddie noted. She really, really didn’t.

Eddie squirms in his seat, feeling so guilty for even considering it. It’s not right, and he knows it. But valedictorian? The one and only thing he’s ever dreamed of? Can he really pass it up?

“Well… don’t you think that maybe your plan is a little bit extreme? I mean, I know he’s an asshole but, don’t you think maybe you’re taking things a little bit too far?”

“He broke our hearts, don’t you think he deserves a taste of his own medicine? He’s too cocky for his own good, and we think it’s about time somebody taught him a lesson.” Eddie jumps in surprise when he hears the deep voice because he had forgotten that Josh was even here. He hadn’t really said much.

He looks to where Josh is sitting, towards the front of the classroom. He’s sat on one of the front-row desks, furthest away from the group. He’s taken off his shoes and propped his feet up on the desk in front of his own, and Eddie has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t end up lecturing Josh on how unsanitary that is. He figures it would be a waste of his breath anyway, because Josh doesn’t seem like the type to give a shit.

Eddie stares up at the three faces looking back at him, chewing on the inside of his lip anxiously as he ponders the offer in his head. The thing is, he really needs to be valedictorian if he has any hope of getting that scholarship. And Eddie really needs that scholarship. There’s absolutely no way he can afford to pay through college on his own.

Emily leans forward, bracing her palms on either side of the desk. Her eyebrow is raised in expectation, a half smirk hanging off her lips. She knows that she’s got Eddie interested. Eddie has seen first hand how much of a jerk Richie Tozier is, so maybe it’s not too bad after all.

“I don’t think he’d go for it. I’m not exactly…” Eddie sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. Is he really going to do this?

“I have no idea how to seduce people, okay? I have no idea what I’m doing. He might not even go for me.”

“That’s what we’re here for!” Lucy speaks out, and her face lights up like she’s come up with a ground-breaking idea. It only makes Eddie nervous.

“We’ll totally teach you! We’ll be your coaches, show you what to do. It’s like, super easy!” Every time Lucy says something, Eddie wants to cringe. She is the real life version of “dumb hot high school girl” clichés, and Eddie almost pity's her. Almost.

“With an ass like that, he’s definitely going to go for you,” Emily winks, reigning the conversation back into her control. Eddie ducks his head, blushing furiously.

Making a decision, despite the twisting of protest in his gut, Eddie looks back up and sighs, feeling defeated.

“Ok. I’ll do it.”

@richietoaster @reddie-to-go @edwardtheloser

[thedarkfuturerpg]

MWF by mods and members that aren’t cannon charries?

Here are all the females on the wanted connections page!

That may look like Amber Heard, Evan Rachel Wood, Eliza Taylor, Jessica Parker Kennedy, UTP but it’s actually HAYLEY MARSHALL’S crescent pack member. They’re 24-32 years old and a Werewolf. They’re on the side of the Resistance / their own.

That may look like Sarah Drew, UTP, but it’s actually HENRY MITCHELL JR’S biological mother DEBBIE RUE They’re 34 years old and a Human or recently turned Vampire. They’re on the side of UTP.

That may look like Ana de Armas, Maia Mitchell, Shay Mitchell, Linsday Morgan or Zoey Deutch but it’s actually JOSHUA WILLIAM’S childhood friend. They’re 25-28 years old and a Human. They’re on the side of UTP.

That may look like Lily Collins, Victoria Justice, Holland Roden, Shay Mitchell, UTP, but it’s actually KAT MITCHELL’S best friend that she once had a crush on. They’re 19+ years old and a UTP. They’re on the side of UTP.

That may look like Zendaya, UTP, but it’s actually NICOLAS SALVATORE’S best friend/ girlfriend / witch that brought him back. They’re 18-19 (200+) years old and a Witch. They’re on the side of UTP.

That may look like Crystal Reed, Poppy Drayton, Alexandra Daddario, Lucy Hale, Adelaide Kane, UTP anyone that can pass as a relation but it’s actually JOSHUA WILLIAM’S  younger sister or twin. They’re 26-28 years old and a Whitelighter. They’re on the side of the Wyatt.

That may look like Bianca Santos, Marlon Teixeira, any FC that looks like they could be related to her, but it’s actually KAILEY SILVA’S sibling. They’re 20-30 years old and a Vampire, Siren, Supernatural. They’re on the side of UTP.

That may look like Arden Cho, Jordan Connor, Vanessa Morgan, Cody Christian, Dylan O'Brien, Lily Collins, Any FC, but it’s actually TAMORA MITCHELL’S confidant/best friend. They’re UTP years old and a UTP. They’re on the side of UTP.

That may look like Harry Shum Jr., Logan Browning, UTP, but it’s actually KAT MITCHELL’S witch that has been training with her in Africa. They’re UTP years old and a Witch or Witch Hybrid of sorts. They’re on the side of UTP.

That may look like Theo James, Ana de Armas, Eliza Taylor, UTP, but it’s actually KAT MITCHELL’S ex that she dated in Africa. They’re UTP years old and a UTP. They’re on the side of UTP.

That may look like Daniel Sharman, Gabriella Wilde, Crystal Reed, Drew Roy, Maia Mitchell, UTP but it’s actually SERENA DELAFOSE’S  child she thought was dead. They’re 20+ years old and a ressurected Werewolf. They’re on the side of UTP.

Any to add players?