#pansing around

[rookie-prodigy]

➜ Trans-scripts #1

TWs: suicidal ideations, religious themes (Christianity)

The single reason I'm not doing something really stupid rigth now, something millions of people have done before me – may their soul be at peace now – is because I don't want to be remembered as someone who I'll never be able to be.

I don't want to be remembered by a name that shreds my heart into pieces every time someone makes me remember is supposed to be mine. I'm supposed to be that name, and I'm not... I don't want people to look at me and form a version of me in their head that I could not stand farther from in reality.

I don't want my family to hate me because of who I really am beneath the oodles of layers of mischaracterization they burried me under in their minds. I want to shed all those layers like a butterfly but I can't, for they'll mistake me for a fly and kill me in an instant.

I don't want my family to hate me...

I don't want to be hated.

But I fear that's what must happen in order for me to be happy.

And oh man, how much I want to be happy! I'd never care about the spicy tongues of the wicked, no matter how bad they'd burn my skin. I'd relish in the looks of my scars – the marks of a warrior, a battle well-fought – I'd nurture every fresh wound as if I was God creating Adam, so delicately, so cautiosly as if one wrong move would be fatal.

And maybe after a while those hot wicked tongues would no longer be able to lend harm on my thick battle-worn skin. Just maybe... My happiness is higher of a priority for me than my fear of being hated. I know this, for a fact! I've known this.

Still I'm unable to take the first steps in this reality...

I want to be happy, I want to be a warrior, I want to be God and I want to be Adam, but some won't let me.

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

can you write blaise zabini with "i can see you"?? where him and reader only ever talk during social events outside of hogwarts (blaise's mom's multiple weddings, pureblood balls, formal parties and stuff) so during school year they basically ignore each other's existence and reader is sick of it. like, they're def not in a relationship or anything (yet) but blaise follows reader with his eyes all the time and everyone of his friends has noticed even tho he doesnt have the balls to admit to himself yet

(bonus if reader isnt exactly close to the slytherin gang but has casual conversations with each of them except for him)

i can see you // blaise zabini x fem slytherin reader

playlist: i can see you - taylor swift

summary: youve always been acquaintances with blaise zabini , just completely casual. so why does he always stare at you yet avoid speaking? you dont know why - and that frustrates you so much.

y/n used , fluff

tysm for this request its so good!! i hope you like it i tried my best <3

masterlist

"youre staring again." theodore stated simply , snapping blaise zabini besides him out of some sort of trance.

"what? staring at what?-" blaise stuttered.

"y/n of course , dont even bother denying it mate everyone with eyes can see you- even pansy and her eyesight is shit." theodore laughed as pansy smacked his arm and mumbled an argument.

blaise ignored the two and searched his whole brain for a way to deny and defend himself against the boys claims , he wasnt staring?! of course he wasnt why would he!

"and again , you just cant help yourself can you?" theodore chuckled as blaise was snapped out of another daydream. he hadnt even realised that his eyes had once again magnetised to you - at this point he did it so subconsciously even he didnt notice.

"why would i stare at-"

"y/n!" pansy said excitedly as you walked dangerously close past the group , pansys interruption having saved a flustered blaise the embarrassment of you hearing him.

"oh hi pansy!" you said with a small smile ,"what are you up to?"

blaises eyes darted everywhere but on you as you now stood infront of the group , he seemed to have a newly found interest in the floor.

well , of course blaise has talked to you before! youve talked at parties and gatherings outside of school but...in school blaise seemed to avoid you like the plague. and of course he hadnt noticed the amount of times you went to engage in conversation before he would run away.

"nothing much, lifes pretty boring when quidditch isnt on!" pansy said as you nodded in agreement , "but ill see you in herbology right- can you help me on my assignment?"

you nodded your head with a smile , "sure! i need to finish mine too."

"great , see you tomorrow then , bye y/n!" pansy smiled and waved and you began to walk away.

"bye panse! oh and bye theo , blaise!" you smiled and waved before blending in with the corridor crowd and you friend group.

blaise simply watched as you figure disappeared into the crowd , the only trace of your past presence being the blush that lit up his cheeks.

"see, simple as that. shes no saint blaise , you can communicate with the girl." pansy teased as blaise threw her a look.

"i do talk to her!"

"just not in school." theo added with a laugh.

"well-" blaises attempt to defend himself was cut short by his name being shouted down the corridor and the sound of pattering feet getting closer.

"blaise!" your voice called out , reappearing from the crowd.

the whole friend group gaped at you in surprise , coming up with no valid reason for you to be shouting the boys name and running over with such urgency.

"y-yeah?" blaise muttered once you were stood directly infront of him, breathing slightly heavily.

"i need to talk to you." you stated before grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the refuge of the nearest empty corridor.

whilst you pulled him the tall boy couldnt help his vulnerability and shyness , it always came naturally when he found himself around you in school. he didnt know why of course.

"blaise im just wondering if i did something?!" you let your words out like a long kept secret as you both stood in the silence of the hall , "i mean we talk at events and parties but you dont talk to me in school - you stare and then you stay silent! did i do something wrong because-?"

"no! no , merlin you never did a thing i just- i dont know i get....quiet." he muttered.

"quiet? blaise zabini you are far from a quiet person , i dont think there is a single moment in charms where you dont talk! its just-..its frustrating because i really like you!" your confession spilled out so quickly you caught yourself off guard, covering your mouth quickly.

blaise stared back in shock , studying your face for any hint of perjury in your words.

"im- im sorry...i dont do it intentionally! i think....that i like you too" he stuttered as you both blushed.

"well thank merlin for that because if you didnt id simply have to move schools." you laughed lightly as blaise smiled at you.

after a few moments of silence you tip toed up and kissed his cheek softly , making him smile.

"promise to talk more? maybe even go on a date?.." you asked hopefully.

"i think id have to be mad to remain mute when someone as perfect as you asked me not to." he smirked as you laughed , "a date sounds good - i promise to talk , but i cant promise not to stare, beautiful."

"wow a turn of events! i never thought my silent admirer could flirt so boldly!" you teased as his arms rested around your waist , pulling you closer.

"i can do more than flirt." he winked as you smacked his arm lightly , with a surprised giggle.

"sit with me at lunch?" you asked hopefully.

"sure , away from both our friends though." blaise added in annoyance making you laugh.

"oh 1000% the teasing would be relentless!" you added as blaise looked at you with slight shock.

"your friends tease you about me?!" he asked , you nod back.

"oh yeah , i think everyone saw you stare zabini, even me. i can see you yknow" you mocked , hinting to how you were all well aware of his constant fixation on you, blaise himself being the only person oblivious.

"shush." he said softly as you both laughed , his hand intertwining with yours before pulling you down the corridor and towards the great hall.

[arjunvib]

Boost your Career in Automotive Software!

Kpit Technologies

Speakers:

Omkar Panse, Vice President and Head, Middleware Solutions, KPIT

The global automotive software market stood at $18 billion in 2018 and is expected to register gains at over 15% by 20251 . Such a trajectory is propelled by considerable demand for future-ready vehicles2 , and increased impetus3 to design and developing the next- generation of connected, autonomous and electric vehicles. As the automotive world becomes more and more reliant on software, it seeks to involve those with a passion for cars, technology, research, engineering, and design. In this context, KPIT and Automotive World’s webinar on “How to boost your career in automotive software?” introduces the audience not just to the automotive ecosystem but also to how passion can lead to a career.

Evolution of Software in Cars

Vehicles have been around for over a hundred years with the earliest cars being mechanical, inefficient, and slow pieces of equipment. Post-1950, their successful mass production triggered rapid evolution. Today, cars are more than just a means of transport. With a multitude of software and electronic features, cars have transformed into software-defined vehicles that power driver-assist features, high tech navigation systems, Bluetooth and smartphone connectivity, more than humans.

Read more information on the following topics from the article published by KPIT Technologies

Key Technical Expertise Required to Realize the CASE trend in Automotive Software

How is KPIT is contributing to this?

Growth Path at KPIT

Click here to Discover expert tips and insights on how to enhance your career in automotive software from the article published by KPIT. Read our comprehensive guide and take the next step towards success.

[theggning]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Paladin Danse/Piper Wright Characters: Piper Wright, Paladin Danse (Fallout) Additional Tags: Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Rescue, Feelings Realization, Falling In Love, Light Dom/sub, Uniform Kink, Clothed Sex, Gentle Dom Danse, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Explicit Consent, Power Play, Quiet Sex, Pre-Blind Betrayal, Danse is a Gentleman, Piper the Incorrigible Smartass, Good for her, Whoops We Caught Feelings In Our Explicitly Platonic FWB Arrangement, My Curse is My Inability to Write PWP, Putting the Fun Back Into Dressing in Rivets and Leather Series: Part 3 of Bootycall of Steel

An exciting scoop turns into a petty standoff with the Brotherhood of Steel. A tiff with the Paladin turns into a spicy backroom tryst. And Piper's simple friends-with-benefits arrangement with Danse turns into something deeper.

Well, that wasn't supposed to happen.

Another wacky rarepair fiasco from GG! And it’s rated E for SPICE-E!

[aleclightwoodt]

[themoonsbeloved]

As someone who is bi and has been around the pan discourse, I just want to say that it may surprise you but the people who I talked to who were the most vocal about panse*uality not being valid ended up outed as terfs, there's a infamous artist too.

Okay so you want me to take your personal experience and account alone, over all my mutuals and ppl I followed for years who have been vocal that somehow are most likely undercover t*rfs, including those who are trans lol

[confidentweirdo]

The first thing Draco saw in the changing rooms before a quidditch practice was Harry bloody Potter drinking something from his water bottle.

“Prepared to lose, Potter?”

“Only in your dreams, Malfoy!”

Gryffindor team nonchalantly moved closer to Harry’s back, waiting for trouble to start.

“Oh yeah? And what do you dream about, Golden Boy? Being able to survive one quidditch practice without drama?” Draco scoffed and intentionally started speaking louder, feeling all the eyes in the room on him. “Oooh, no, dementors are coming! Oooh, dark lord has returned! Oooh, pity me, my destiny’s so hard!”

He saw Potter clenching his fists and smiled triumphally.

“Actually, no, Malfoy! I dream a lot about you: about you being my friend and offering me your hand once more, about you saying you’re in love with me, about your eyes that actually look god damn attractive when you smile for real, about your fingers when you play the piano, about your idiotic perfect hair, about you shoving me up against the wall, about your lips sometimes kissing mi…”

Harry clasped his hand on the mouth, making himself stop speaking, horrified. 

Draco felt dizzy, and for a moment he really though he was going to faint. He felt Pansy’s hand on his shoulder and even though he wanted to shrug it off, he couldn’t make any of his body parts move.

Draco looked around. Ron Weasley, who’s been standing right next to Potter, looked incredibly confused, like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem, probably thinking about whether he should laugh at his friend’s words or be concerned. Youngest Weasley girl was standing further away, looking like she was on the edge of tears. And then there were Weasley twins… both looking shocked and guilty as hell.

Potter was of course a few steps ahead of Draco in his deduction. Pale as death itself he turned to the twins.

“WHAT was in there?” he shook his water bottle right before their noses.

“Erm…” started Fred (or maybe it was George).

“You see, Harry…” tried to help out the other one.

“It was a new prototype of a love potion, works with the first person you see after you take it,” quickly interrupted the first one. “Sorry, mate, we did not think it would be this strong, our bad.”

Draco swallowed and finally found it in himself to speak up.

“That was low, even for you,” was the only thing he could manage to say. Immediately he turned around and headed away, trying not to start running.

Obviously, he was not going to practice today. Draco came back to the Slytherin common room, cursing himself for approaching Potter at all. He didn’t even have anything to say, he just wanted to pick up a fight! Well, what he picked up at the end was humiliation.

Pansy came in through the portrait half an hour later only to find the common room in ruins. In his rage Draco destroyed most of the books and furniture, he even managed to crack the fireplace, which was usually pretty indestructible to the charms.

“I have news for you!” Pansy sang mockingly, assessing the situation, and calmly putting the fire on the curtains down.

“I don’t WANT to hear anything you have to say,” screamed Draco and threw a book at her.

Pansy easily dodged, having years of practice, and made him sit down on the only armchair that wasn’t destroyed.

“What, you came here to make fun of me too?!”

“Sweetheart, you know I’m loyal to you, why would I do such a thing?”

Draco knew she was, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“Are they still laughing at my reaction?” finally said Draco, suddenly feeling exhausted. All the stuff-throwing and spells weren’t that easy if you think about it.

“They actually aren’t, at all. Potter’s enraged with the twins, and, same as you, is trying to destroy things.”

Draco hummed quietly.

“That makes two of us,” he said, finally feeling calm.

Pansy looked him up and down, nodded to her own thoughts and continued.

“Now that you’re ready to take in any kind of important information, I can say this: from the very start, I was concerned about one thing - the reaction of Weasley junior, the female one. Did you see she was crying?”

Draco nodded, but it didn’t seem like important information to him. Instead he stood up and started fixing all the damage he’s made, starting with Reparo-ing the cushions.

“Yeah, she run away the moment you left. So I followed her to the ladies bathroom and had a quick chit-chat with her. You know, one girl to another. You know why she was so upset?”

“No idea,” absentmindedly said Draco, levitating the books back to their places and not exactly listening.

“She was upset,” Pansy repeated patiently, “because it was her who asked the twins to experiment on our Golden Boy. You see, poor thing’s in love with Potter and wanted to know if he had feelings for her. So she asked her brothers to give him some Veritaserum, to ask the questions she wanted. Only she didn’t specify the time, and those idiots managed to do it in front of twenty people.”

Draco’s hand stopped in the middle of the spell.

“Veritaserum? But they said…”

“They lied, you moron! Golden Boy has got a reputation to protect.”

Draco blinked a few times and sat down. Potter was obliged to tell the truth! This whole time, all the things he said… Draco felt his face heating up.

“No, don’t you dare just sit here, you lazy ass! I practically did everything for you!” Pansy exclaimed and pushed him out of a chair. “The only thing you’re left with is going there and confessing your immortal love to him!”

Then she shrugged and smiled wickedly. “Or doing it without words!”

Draco stood up, still hearing blood rushing in his ears.

“I think I owe you one, Panse.”

“Oh, you definitely do! Now for the love of Merlin, go get him, tiger!”

[route22ny]

Yet another post about the retired City Hall subway station, this one suggested by previous posts of century-old views from the area.  The old station is very much a time capsule, and the favorite destination of New York Transit Museum members, who have the opportunity to attend periodic tours.  If you can't get tickets for the organized tour (they sell out very quickly), here's a way you can at least get a quick glance: if you stay on the downtown number 6 train past the Brooklyn Bridge terminus, the train uses the abandoned station to turn around and head back uptown. If the lights in the abandoned loop station are on, it's a great view. 

(Photos, top to bottom: Circa 1900 view of ticket booth from the Frank Pfuhler collection via nycsubway.org; circa 1900 similar view by Detroit Photographic Company via Library of Congress; August 1978 view of “control area”by David Sagarin/Historic American Engineering Record; July 1996 view of the entire length of the platform by Peter Dougherty via nycsubway.org; interior views by Richard Panse and Al Bennett Jr, respectively, from the October 14, 2004 station tour, via nycsubway.org; subway blueprint from nycsubway.org.)

[chaoswillfallrpg]

EVANGELINE SELWYN is TWENTY EIGHT YEARS OLD and a UNSPEAKABLE in THE HALL OF PROPHECY at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC.  She looks remarkably like KIKI LAYNE and considers herself NEUTRAL. She is currently TAKEN. 

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: abuse, death

Reserved and aloof, many have forsaken themselves trying to understand Evangeline Selwyn’s infuriating air of mystery. Dreams stolen by stars, they are the cold uncertain turn of the tide highlighted in the glittering silver of the moon. Born to callous people, the Selwyn’s cared less about their children and more about the legacy and image that they were leaving behind. Notorious for being volatile, it was only to be expected for a family that was rumored to hold the air loom of none other than Salazar Slytherin himself. Harbouring sinister secrets, happiness was never something found within the Selwyn manor. Growing up in Bedfordshire, England, there was no doubt in the Sacred Twenty-Eight community that the Selwyn’s were purists. Holding a snobbery towards muggles deeming them less than, no one could match their ranks and no one dared tried. One of the most powerful and noteworthy families in the country, the lineage was filled with atrocities better left as hidden secrets uttered by skeletons at the backs of locked closets. House elves tormented and repeatedly mistreated by their father, Eva was one of the few in their household that held empathy. Not seeing the world as strictly black and white, they saw the souls behind their father’s critiques and disgust. Creeping out of bed to offer a kind word to patch up the pain her father inflicted was common, among those was her brother EDRICK who was a frequent victim of their fathers abuse. 

Walking into the Selwyn manor was like walking into a viper pit. Each as manipulative and deadly as the next; the family were known for holding power in the ministry and using it to their advantage. With their father HARRELSON working in the International Confederation of Wizards, their mother SAFFRON acted as a crowning gem on his arm. Charming exteriors hid their calculating and deceitful natures, secretively pulling strings as if skilled puppeteers to turn the tide in their favor. Toying with those they deemed inferior, they thrived on the power held in belittling others. With bitter distaste for anyone challenging traditionalist views, the couple forced sorcerers to conform and bend under their whim; disposing discreetly of anyone who dared not comply. Eva turned a blind eye. Knowing it was better to be withdrawn than to partake in the nightmares she could only imagine her father created outside of the walls of their manor. Compared to her brother who grew to mimic their father’s behaviors, Eva grew inwardly. Typically a loner, Eva developed a distaste for people especially those among the Twenty-Eight who cared more for appearances than self discipline. With crystals and astronomy maps for company, they found friendship in their cousin ABIGAIL FERNSBY. While chastised for spending time with Abbie who is labeled the ‘black sheep of the family’, Abigail is the only person related to the Selwyn’s that holds compassion and love. Their friendship was filled with exchanging letters and prying eyes from parents. While their grandmother hoped having a ‘true’ Selwyn as an influence would benefit Abbie, in actuality the effects had been reversed; leaving Eva with a softer touch. 

Despite being in separate houses, Hogwarts offered a real chance to spend time in her cousin’s company. Opposites, Abigail held gentle mannerisms, lion hearted bravery and kindness in every ounce of her body. Eva was the opposite. Warn to a cold exterior from years of forceful opinions, she was an obstinate witch more concerned with safe guarding her heart than how her blunt comments could leave others with bruises. Excelling in divination and astronomy, her natural talents quickly shone through. Renowned around the halls for predicting disasters that came to fruition, many saw her as a bad omen. Avoided at all costs from fear and her family’s reputation, Eva was labeled an oddity by her peers. While her professor expressed their admiration and suspicion that Eva could be gifted with the inner eye, the notion of being a Seer hovered over her head like an unwanted shadow. Met with dismay, irritation and disregard, Eva buried the possibility to console her deepest fear that they could be right. Knowing her talents could lead to peril, she harbored them with dread of the repercussions should her father become aware. Holding niche interests in peculiarity, Eva never expected to find friends who shared similar interests in the unusual. Perched alone by the waterfall, her interest peaked when she heard the harrowing voices of sisters SAGE and ROWAN BOSWELL who sung into the night like sirens luring their pray. Accompanied by OPAL GREY, RIVER NORWOOD and NOVA MURRELL, the group were equally as strange and unlike many of the students passing in the halls. 

Over the years, the group began to feel like home. Marveling at hidden objects in the room of requirement, they shared tales with the tower ghosts and spent nights gazing at constellations. Thankfully their close bond continued after Hogwarts despite Eva’s family voicing rounds of objections to associating with half bloods and half breeds. The group became her sanity after graduating. While playing the idealistic product of a Twenty-Eight, she craved a moment of sanctum away from the snobbery. Escaping London, what had meant to be a two week holiday turned into a summer romance and the best four years of her life. Brought to Paris following Sage and Rowan’s band ‘Siren Call ’, Eva longed to find peace for her troubled soul; never did she imagine she’d find love instead. CLAUDETTE DELACOUR felt like coming up for air. A complex woman, Evangeline found herself quickly captivated by her. Meeting at the club ‘Siren Call’ was playing at, exchanged glances turned to drinking and dancing with the night ending wrapped under sheets in each other's arms. Encapsulated with one another, from that night they never spent a day apart. While Eva’s experience was more extreme, they both shared overbearing families and a displeasure in the pressure of continuing a lineage they held no interest in. They cherished one another and it wasn’t long before Eva had moved in with Claude and her best friend JACQUELINE LEJEUNE. Claude’s social circle became hers, with GABRIEL DUMONT and RAPHAEL FRANCOIS the five became extremely close. With her friends visiting from England when they could, Paris was idealist and offered a life Eva had only ever dreamed of.

Letters and howlers from home were burned on arrival in an attempt to distance herself from the Selwyn’s by any means necessary. The exception was Abigail, along with rare exchanged letters from Erik who consistently pleaded with her to see reason and return. Not heeding his warning, Eva was prepared to disown her family while Claudette held reservations to sacrifice the same. Left exasperated and hurt at being kept a secret from people that still meant so much to the french woman, the topic was a continuous sour point. With the desire to love openly and freely, they’d planned to flee Paris once Claude had visited home to gather personal belongs and to tell her siblings. Planning to leave a mere note for her parents before joining Eva so they could disappear into the night. Never did Eva consider their simple goodbye would be their last farewell. Hours and days past with no word, leading her to assume Claude had gotten cold feet and chosen her family rather than facing her again. Abandoned and left by the one person she’d truly loved, her heart ached with betrayal and broken promises. Inconsolable, despite efforts from Gabriel and Jacqueline to assure them there was no use. The rejection forged walls back around her heart, ashamed of believing her childish fantasies could ever become a reality. Plans to stay in Paris were quickly torn, with owls from Opal and Sage informing her that Nova had passed suddenly and under suspicious circumstances. While the Ministry tried to cover up the death, Evangeline can sense that River is holding reservations and the secrets of what really happened that night.

Devastated, Eva returned to England with a shattered heart, broken dreams and grief that was beyond comparison. Isolated in an attempt to numb her heart ache, despite efforts to be consoled by Rowan nothing seemed to ease her. Reluctantly, the Selwyn’s started to make more of an appearance in her life again. Leaning heavily on her brother, Edrick spoke of a new world where creatures didn’t have to live in fear or discrimination. Holding onto hope that life could be better for sorcerers like River, Eva is slowly turning towards the ideology that it could be the best way forward to help everyone. Influenced back into the grasp of their father, his fury upon her return could have burned the manor to the ground. Adamant she brought shame onto the family name, his ‘teachings’ had been ill in comparison to the torment she faced upon return. Long sleeves hiding scars from cursed quills, Eva fell back in line with the Selwyn’s. Distancing herself from her friends to prove loyalty to her family, she took a job within the Ministry under her father’s guidance that having sorcerers hold Ministry positions would come in useful when the time came. Taking the opportunity and using her status as an unspeakable as an advantage, Eva has been looking into Nova’s murder with the help of NOBREGAS THORNE. Though she is still skeptical about the world her family envision with THE DARK LORD, Evangeline is starting to grasp that being closer to the death eaters could mean safety. Security for the family, herself and friends when the new world comes to light, but she is keeping her head down and counting her plays in the mean time.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → She/Her

Identification → Cis Female 

Sexuality → Pansexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin)

Family →  Harrelson Selwyn (father), Saffron Selwyn (mother), Edrick Selwyn (brother), Abigail Fernsby (cousin/close friend)

Connections  → Sage Boswell (best friend), Rowan Boswell (best friend), Opal Grey (best friend), River Norwood (best friend), Claudette Delacour (ex-girlfriend/potential love interest), Jacqueline Lejeune (ex-housemate/friend), Gabriel Dumont (friend), Raphael Francois (friend), Alexandra Rosier (adversary), Nobregas Thorne (colleague/friend/potential love interest), Regina Rowle (colleague)

Future Information →  Future Member of The Death Eaters

EVANGELINE SELWYN  IS A LEVEL 6 WITCH.

[the-busy-ghost]

@margaretbeaufort​ said: I’d be happy to help out! I spend way to much time puzzling over headresses.

Thanks! Any insight at all would be a help- and it’s just a personal wondering thing not like an academic project or anything so an exact answer isn’t essential. Basically, I’ve been wondering what headdresses, specifically of normal noblewomen (lairdly to ducal level, less so royalty), might have looked like in late fifteenth and early sixteenth century Scotland (specifically between about 1430 and 1530, and aside from what little people have been able to extrapolate from the records about the rise of French hoods). Problem we have almost nothing to go on, especially artistically, since almost all Scottish painting from this period has been lost or destroyed, and the stuff that survives doesn’t tell you much about ordinary people (i.e., it’s royalty or biblical scenes where people are meant to look outlandish). And one tantalising quote from the Spanish ambassador Pedro de Ayala in 1498 where he claimed that, in his personal opinion, the headdress (as if there was only one which seems unlikely) in use in Scotland was particularly attractive:

“They dress much better than here (England), and especially as regards the head-dress, which is, I think, the handsomest in the world.” 

I suppose we could also scan the poetry of the period (Dunbar, Lindsay, e.t.c.) and see what they give us, like in Henryson’s (c.1460-1500) ‘Garmont of Gud Ladeis’:

“Of he honour suld be hir hud Upoun hir heid to weir. Garneist with govirnance so gud, Na demyng suld hir deir.” 

(”Of high honour should be her hood

Upon her head to wear

Garnished with governance so good,

No suspicion should harm her”)

and

“Hir belt suld be of benignitie Abowt hir middill meit, Hir mantill of humilitie To tholl bayth wind and weit. Hir hat suld be of fair having And hir tepat of trewth, Hir patelet of gud pansing, Hir hals ribbane of rewth.” 

(Her belt should be of kindness

About her middle meet,

Her mantle of humility

To withstand both wind and wet.

Her hat should be of fair bearing

And her tippet of truth

Her partlet of good thoughts,

Her neck ribbon of pity.” - Loose translations mine and not the best as done in a rush

And I know art is misleading anyway, but it’s sometimes the best way of visualising things. What we have is 1- the Trinity Altarpiece, from the 1470s, but that’s of a foreign queen (Margaret of Denmark) and it’s thought that the figures were painted in the Low Countries anyway and the faces made more accurate in Scotland; 2- for the years 1503-1541 paintings and copies of paintings of another foreign queen, the English Margaret Tudor (see page 9/301 in this article, and aside from this picture usually shown wearing French hoods in other, usually later copies of portaits,  the most famous being the seventeenth century portrait by Mytens, or depictions of her when she was young in England before 1503 (x)); and 3, later sixteenth century depictions of Scotswomen and French or English women in Scotland who show that court fashions in paintings at least seem to have kept pace with wider European fashion, but then court fashion is not exactly the ordinary person’s clothing. Nonetheless, even getting an idea of what court dress might have looked would be great, especially before 1530, since we have very little to go on. 

So I tried to think of any other ways we might be able to get an impression of how fashion might have looked, but, even though I know where to find sources as a Scottish history person, I wouldn’t necessarily be able to make head nor tail or those sources since I’m not well-up in fashion history- for example, I can read clothing and livery payments in the Treasurer’s accounts (one of the main surviving sources of royal expenditure) very easily since they’re in Scots and know something about what cloth might be favoured but I couldn’t put all the various pieces of what was purchased together in my head to form an idea of what it might look like without a lot of work.

 So I suppose there’s some early documentary sources like that- the Treasurer’s Accounts unfortunately does give an impression only for the elites, and are fragmentary, but we do have some clothing accounts for people like Margaret of Denmark (Queen of Scots, 1469-1486, the account is from 1473-4, but there’s only a few mentions relating to headdresses for things like kerchiefs in there), James III’s sister Margaret Stewart (lived quietly in Haddington), some of James IV’s mistresses like Janet Kennedy and Margaret Drummond and his illegitimate daughter Margaret Stewart, Lady Gordon (and her companions), ladies in waiting to Margaret Tudor (both her English ladies and Scotswomen who were given gifts of clothing when they attended on her) and other servants and women of the court. Most of the volumes of the Treasurer’s Accounts are available online for this period (x, x, x, x, x - thank you Victorian printing enthusiasts, and digitisation) as are the Exchequer Records, so I can always look them up whenever, and there’s also the occasional will or inventory or set of burgh or noble accounts for the period but they’re not always so accessible- the issue is that, while the Scots is easy enough to follow for me, I can’t always understand very well how the various pieces of clothing fit together- though main words used are generally ‘tippet’ and kerchief. (This may also be useful for obscure terms- the dictionary of old scots).

Either way they give quite an elite and partial view. Another way we might find images is in doodles at the side of important administrative documents and books (the Treasurer’s Accounts again has one or two), but it would take a long time to go through something like that.

 What I did wonder though is whether tomb effigies might be useful since we don’t have many paintings. I’m sure these could also be dodgy evidence, since they’re meant to present an Image to the viewer, and we don’t have many of them left either (and we have no monumental brasses of the period, which are such a great visual source in England) but they’re better than nothing.

Unfortunately not being in Scotland I can’t see many of them myself at the moment, and have to rely on sketches made by artists a century ago who seemed more interested in the men’s armour, but I did wonder about one (or several). Some, particularly of noblewomen who were married to lords of parliament and above, and especially those for the period 1200-1400 have headdresses that look very much like identifiable headdresses in use elsewhere in Europe. But some, for the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, and especially for women who were married to minor nobility and prominent townsmen, who were important in the regions, show a simpler piece of headgear like these:

John Houston- a Renfrewshire laird (not the same as a lord, but like minor landed gentry) who died around 1456- and his wife Agnes Campbell.

Gilbert Menzies of Pitfoddels (another laird) and his wife Marjory Liddel- Gilbert died c.1459). Were moved to St Nicholas Kirk, Aberdeen, so from the vicinity of the modern city.

Another one from St Nicholas Kirk, Aberdeen, John Collison (provost of the city c.1521) and his wife Margaret Setoun.

A slightly different but interesting one from Falkirk, a lord and lady callendar from the early sixteenth century. 

- Source for these

I can also remember seeing more in St Nicholas Kirk the one time I was there, with similar headdresses, a bit like this one of Elizabeth Keith on the Irvine of Drum tomb (c.1457) that someone has managed to get a picture of x, x, x.

SO! This long preamble aside (and my questions is more about these effigies, the preamble with literary and expenditure sources is just in case they might be useful), I’m wondering about this sort of simple headdress with the sort of padded ring and a veil underneath, and sometimes with this decorated stuff nearer the ears, if that’s what I’m seeing. It doesn’t look very unusual but it also isn’t what I’d really think of straight away when I think of late fifteenth century headgear- I’d have been thinking more stuff like this comparatively good example from Borthwick (mid-fifteenth century?), or this one of Beatrice Sinclair, Countess of Douglas (mid-fifteenth century- source), or even (for those at the highest end of society, countesses and queens and the like), something like what Margaret of Denmark is modelling in the Trinity Altarpiece, or one of those steep hennins and butterfly headdresses. But obviously these women are slightly lower on the social scale (though still important in their local areas and fit to associate with court if called to).

Firstly, is there ANY use at all in funeral effigies? Secondly, do you know of any good similar cases to these headdresses, since I’m assuming that something quite simple could have been in use among minor nobility and merchant classes across northern Europe? If not what kind of headdress would be worn by the wives of minor gentry and richer merchants in England, Scandinavia or the Low Countries, at least if they were dressed in their best clothes (i.e. for funeral monument, e.t.c.)? Thirdly, what would I call it (padded stuff and veil doesn’t really work)?  The first and last ones are also quite intriguing but the middle ones are more common among the ones I’ve seen. And lastly really, any other interesting insight you may have- I have to imagine they’re not particularly unique, but I’d like to know how widespread they would be and who would generally wear them (also if there are any images of them that aren’t worn away stone).

As I say though it’s quite a specific query but also not one I desperately need answered as it isn’t for like an academic reason, just my own ponderings. I’m going to need to start paying attention to merchants’ and minor gentry’s tombs and monumental brasses more outside of Scotland (though the ones I’ve seen in England so far are not like this and I can’t think of any I saw in the Netherlands, but they were generally of higher status figures).

Apologies for the long post, I think I needed to get it all off my chest. But as I say any knowledge (or if you just have related stuff you need to rant about and might be only tangentially related) would be much appreciated, no matter how small, if you have the time.

(Oh one last thing- if you happen to know what a tippet would look like when worn by a high-ranking late fifteenth century or sixteenth century noblewoman, I would love to know, because I’m thinking more thirteenth century liripipes worn by Robin Hood-esque yeomen every time it’s mentioned).

[rookie-prodigy]

✎﹏﹏﹏ INTRO ★!

✷ Hi! This is my blog where I post my writings. Not really poems, not really anything at all.

I'm too lazy to look up definitons to put labels on the type of things happening here!

✷ But anyway, here's what kind if topics I think I'll mainly be posting about:

The queer experience

Autistic struggles

Politics (?)

My opinion on certain things

✷ Warnings:

I might use offensive words in my writings in the future!

(ex.: the f-word, the t-word, or just generally offensive language → it depends on the topic)

I might also use religious themes!

✷ Tags:

Queer stuff → #pansing around

Autistic stuff → #this the tism

Politics → #es en ilyen vilagban elek (sorry, this one is long)

Opinions → #head not empty

Negative narrative → #blue is the sky

Positive narrative → #momentary bliss

Other → #echo

✷ My main is @eyeballs-in-my-head

A small amount of self promo ahead (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

That's my blog dedicated for visual art related stuff, I post my drawings (original art + fanart) and animations (mainly original art) there!

(there's not much there just yet tho...just like here lol ^^)

✷ A fun fact:

I've been here before but I deactivated out of impulse and I'm still getting used to posting again, bc I'm very embarrassed (feels like I'm a child who just threw a tantrum) ☹

[art-now-india]

The Music Party, Sonal Panse

'The Music Party' is an oil on canvas work, showing a musical family gathered around the kitchen table to perform an impromptu musical piece after dinner.

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-The-Music-Party/939/2743765/view

[anniesmuck-blog]

Fantasy RP Stud To His Bestie Aisha

It's all depends on whom my fantasy is aim at. u r my bestie n like i said there r rules for that now u turn out to be a woman. but i would have a great role play scenario when im fantasizing someone im attracted to. ie. Annie. but as u requested for a role play fantasy, im giving u one. i haven't even got to my 3some fantasy scenario between u me n Annie yet. this is just a taster of my sexual imagination.

I'm usually a gentleman as there r rules when come to a woman who's drunk. u know that i'm a huge fan of Law and Order, Special Victim Unit. 

Where if u have sex with a woman who's drunk it will be seen as rape/assault. But as this is a fantasy if my bestie is at least aware of what she's asking then i would comply as requested.

I guess the moment i know what u want is when u reach to unzip my pants to take out my semi-hard cock n put it in ur mouth to make it grow fully hard. 

Then i would proceed to fuck ur throat while reaching my hand to squeeze ur big tits. when i feel i'm about to cum i would stop u n make u take off every piece of ur cloth then make u turn around on all 4 so i can fuck u from behind with my down curved cock (which is perfect for doggystyle). by the time i made u cum with squirting i will pull out my cock n make u head down arse up n open up ur arse cheek so i can fuck ur arse just u most wished for. but i will make u beg 1st, until u couldn't stand the tease anymore then i will enter u.

After a few thrust i will switch back to ur pussy then back to ur arse after another few thrust. then back n forth. until i cum in ur arse as i know that will be the end of u.

I'm not done with u as i have not get my balls sucked yet.

So while u r on ur back shaking n pansing i will climb on top of u n move to ur face to tea bag u. 1st i will slap ur face with my still wet semi-hard cock to wake u from ur spasm. i will be saying:

"hey wakie wakie u cum dumpster, i'm not done with u yet! open your fucking mouth n suck my balls, take both of them in ur mouth, don't u dare let go of the suction! breathe through your nose! look at me while u sucking them! use one hand to stroke my cock! U r not good at this r u? no way near as good as ur cum slut lover Annie when come to sucking my big ball sack. but u will do for now."

Then when my cock is fully hard again i will stop u so i can lay on the bed n make u crawl to in between my legs n order u to lick my balls towards my dick n go up n down with no hands. then i will make u put ur nose n mouth right under my ball sack so all u can breathe is my ball sack, then i will make u tell me just how much u like down there smelling my balls.

I ask you: "so do u want the daily cum breakfast that was supposed to be Annie's u greedy whore?" u murmed with ur mouth n nose still covered under my big ball sack. Then u better work for it, lick the spot under my ball sack while u down then n stroke my cock with ur hand and show me with ur eyes just how much u want to please me so u can swallow the cum loads that is supposed to be ur lover's! 

Oh Annie's is gonna be so pissed at u for taking what's hers when she finds out that i'm all out of cum in the morning! 

You gonna have to make her do a full on lesbian show for me to get my balls build up with cum again if she desperate for her morning feed but then u two have suck me off so good and when i'm about to cum you'll just have to knee there n watch as Annie swallowing my every drop because that's the punishment for the greedy cum whore n a bad slut gf like u!

Then i will make u sit on top of my dick arse 1st then pussy until u squirt on it then i will make u lick clean every drop of ur own juice then make u concentrate on just my balls this time until i feel like cumming.

I will stand up n make u knee between my legs then i will make u deep throat me with no hands then when i'm about to cum i will push my cock right into ur throat so u will have a throat creampie which is what u deserved.

As u feel the force of my cumloads stream down ur throat u will feel like puking but i will hold ur head in position n pinch ur nose so no cum will cum back out, and as ur eyes started to water i would say to u:"Don’t u fucking dare puking out u cum slut! I thought this is what u want, didn't u? Answer me u whore with ur watery eyes!" u blinked with ur eyes in agreement as the hot cum r still streaming into ur throat. "Look what u make me do u fucking slut! u made me into a bad bad man and that makes u a very bad friend, and this is the punishment a bad friend deserve, am i right?" 

As i finished cumming u carefully moved your mouth off my cock n look at me for my next order like a sex slave waiting for her master's new order. I says "Now that's a good whore, did u get every drop?" u nodded. "Good whore, now lick clean my cock n balls n everything on my body that's still wet." 

You did as u ordered. after u finished cleaning me with ur tongue i said "u know this is all ur fault right? u were asking for it!" u nodded again. "You made me into a really bad man n that makes u a really bad friend, so u better tell Annie what a good man n good friend i was to u n u will make it so that she would suck me off more often because i was such a good friend to u, or this will never happen again u get me?" u nodded again. "Ok, that's good slut. now get the shower running so u can wash ur filthy hoe smell off me and hopefully Annie wont find out that u swallowed her share of cum breakfast." 

"Oh one last thing, if Annie finds out about this u need to tell her that it's all your fault, u were not drunk u were just pretending to be drunk because u know that i am a gentleman but u forced ur sluty mouth on to my cock n took her share of cum, u get it?" u nodded one more time. 

The End.

[theggning]

Current Fic Projects

For my own reference more than anything but I like making lists, so hey.

Bootyverse 4 (Title TBA) | Fallout 4 [Romance, Humor, Angst, Danse/Piper (Panse)] Danse and Piper's relationship develops as events intensify around them. IN PROGRESS!

Bootyverse 5 | Fallout 4 [Angst, Danse/Piper] Certain... game events occur. CONCEPTUALIZING!

Bring Me the Heart of Snow White (Working Title) | Fallout 4 [Mystery, Case Fic, Humor, Gen, Character Study] "Spiritual" prequel to AATW, another noir mystery starring Nick Valentine, 15 years before canon. IN PROGRESS! (very slowly)

AATW Followup | Fallout 4 Look, I have no idea what it will look like or what it will be, but I'd love to do another followup in the AATW/Canon-compliant 'verse. TOTALLY SPITBALLING

Untitled Nick/Nora thingy | Fallout 4 [GENRE UNKNOWN, but Nick/Nora] Flirty romantic noir with Nick and Nora (in which I establish my third FO4 ficciverse that has all my OTPs in it) CONCEPTUALIZING!

Beyond the Sea | Ace Attorney [Angst, Romance, Fluff, Diego/Mia (Miego)] Taking my crack at what happens to Godot after the end of T&T/in the timeskip. CONCEPTUALIZING!

Now comes the part where I have to like.... write. :(

[tincanspaceship]

13 for Millipa? (If it's not too much trouble of course.)

hey! it’s no trouble

13: I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.

rating: G

send me more milippa/mylvia prompts!

     Michael knocked on Philippa’s door, as quietly as she could. She chewed on her lip, clasping her hands behind her back tightly. A small shuffling sound emerged from behind the door.

     “Come in, Michael,” Philippa called. Michael carefully pressed her hand to the reader. The doors slid open. Philippa spun in her chair. “Hey, Michael, what can I do for you?” Michael shuffled forwards. She flinched as the doors closed.

     “I just…I don’t know…Philippa. Please, do you mind if i stay here? I don’t want to intrude,” Michael whispered, voice hoarse. Philippa‘s face contorted with worry.

     “Oh, Michael, of course! Do you need anything? Tea?” Philippa pulled herself out of her chair before Michael even had a chance to speak. “Make yourself comfortable.” Michael sat down on the emply couch, as though it were covered in sandpaper. She began to bite her lip again.

     “Philippa, I really don’t want to cause any trouble.” Philippa smiled, and handed Michael a steaming cup of tea. The soothing smell filled the quarters.

     “Michael, you are welcome to stop by at any time. Now, tell me what’s gotten you so concerned you came to me at two in the morning. I need my first officer at peak performance.” Philippa crossd her legs, loose panse lifting abover the tops of her socks. Her shirt was several sizes too big, imprinted with words that had long since faded out. Michael suddenly felt rather  plain, still in her uniform after a triple shift. She picked at her sleeve.

     “Philippa, I…had a nightmare,” she stated. Philippa reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Michael twisted in her seat.

      “Is that what this is about, Michael?” Philippa smiled subltly. She took sip of her tea. “You’re welcome to take tomorrow off.” Michael’s fingers tingled with heat.

     “Thank you, Captain,” Michael said, staring at her tea.

     “You’re bothered, Michael. Tell me what it is, I’ll do my best to help.” Michael blushed and shifted her gaze to Philippa’s socks.”Hm? Are your feet cold, Michael?” Michael’s cheeks went from pink to bright red.

     “No, Philippa, I…this was foolish, I should go.” Philippa scoffed.

     “Michael, don’t be silly. I don’t want you to be tired tomorrow.” She hopped over to Michael’s side and patted her knee. “You can tell me.” Michael set her mug on the table.

     “Do you have nightmares, Philippa? Bad ones.” Philippa placed a hand on Michael’s back.

     “Of course. Michael, if you ever need some help with them, I’m right here.” Michael shuffled a centimeter closer to Philippa.

     “Philippa, I saw you die. I can’t get it out of my head.” Michael shook with sobs. Philippa threw her arm around Michael’s shoulder.

     “I understand, Michael. I’ve had nightmares of that sort.” She squeezed Michael into her side. Michael reddened. “I find hugs to be rather effective. I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me. I swear.” She kissed Michael’s forehead.

     “Hm, Philippa,” Michael mumbled. She left a kiss on Philippa’s cheek, who returned the gesture.

     “I love you, Michael.” Philippa pulled a quilt over them. “Why don’t you sleep here tonight?” She let Michael burrow into her shoulder.

     “That sounds perfect.”

[hmhteen]

Cover (Re)Reveal: THE FOREST QUEEN by Betsy Cornwell

Check out the brand new look for the feminist Robin Hood retelling by New York Times bestselling author Betsy Cornwell! We absolutely love this look—it reminds us of epic YA fantasy like Marissa Meyer’s CINDER, or Tahereh Mafi’s SHATTER ME! Here’s what Betsy has to say about the new cover direction:

Seeing the cover of a new book for the first time is one of my very favorite parts of the publishing process. I feel very lucky that I got to experience that moment twice with The Forest Queen! I always try to guess how the designers will distil a story into one image - and I have to admit that I have never yet guessed right about which scene from one of my books will make it to the cover. I kept picturing my girl Robin Hood's face on the cover, but instead we have . . . her boot! A boot that I seriously wish I could pull out of the book and into my closet, by the way. What I love so much about this image is that it conveys a sense of action and practicality. Silvie, my Robin Hood character, goes from a sheltered girl with high ideals to a true activist, a rebel leader of a whole community that works to fight injustice. Her boots are made for walking (and maybe storing a few gold pieces she stole from the rich to give to the poor, too). The book's second tagline is ‘become your own hero,’ and the boot and arrow here look like a hero's uniform ready for the reader, as well as Silvie, to take up. I really, really dig that - and I hope you do, too.”

Check out an excerpt of THE FOREST QUEEN below!

***

CHAPTER ONE: Chasing the Hart

The huntswoman sounded her horn, and hounds rushed like water around our horses’ feet.

I leaned forward over my mare’s neck and let out a steady breath as we jumped the stream. She landed lightly, our speed barely breaking, and we plunged ahead with the rest of the party.

I heard a falcon’s cry and looked back just in time to see the great raptor spread its wings and push off from Bird’s leather-gloved hand. It flashed into the green ocean above us and its namesake grinned, tucking the falcon’s hood into his sleeve.

I felt the huge muscles under me tighten and I looked ahead to see the fallen tree my horse was about to jump. This time I wasn’t ready, and I had my breath knocked from me on her landing as my reward. One of her ears flicked back in reassurance or annoyance, and I felt a reminding tug on the reins I always kept as loose as I could. Pay attention, she was saying; you’re not sitting in any rocking chair, here.

Bowstrings sliced against my chest as I leaned forward again. I pressed my legs more firmly against the mare’s side and slid my hands into her mane. She felt my focus and began to run flat out.

Soon all I could see were flashing, flickering streaks of green and orange, the forest colors around us flaming toward autumn. The day was crisp, September-cool, but inside my wool riding habit I was beginning to sweat.

Scenthounds bayed just ahead of us. The riders gave out joyful whoops and warrior cries. Close behind me on his red-roan gelding, Bird was silent, but I could feel him, focused and determined, listening for the falcon that rode the wind above us, far beyond the shifting, murmuring canopy.

Then, with a shock like plunging into cold water, we left the forest shadows and entered a sunny clearing, an ex- panse of tall grass and daisies with a sheer cliff on the other side. There, trapped against the rock face, stood the hart we chased.

His antlers betrayed his age: no young buck he, but a great elder king of the forest, his horns twisting into a crown that nearly doubled his considerable height. He stomped and thrust those antlers bravely forward, menacing us, but he knew well that he was trapped.

He’d have to be old to be caught, I knew. Young and healthy quarry, whether hart or hare, fox or boar, almost always outran the hounds. I’d been on countless hunts, and only a handful of times had our day of riding and jumping and following the graceful calls of hound and horn yielded any actual meat for the Loughsley table.

But this day, it would. I sent up a heartfelt prayer for this animal’s quick, clean death, now that at last we had it cornered.

“Hold!”

The hounds hung back, corralled in an instant by the huntswoman’s calls. In the wild, the pack would have overwhelmed this beast in an instant, but a formal hunt is different.

I tugged my mare’s reins, even though she was already coming to a stop. Shifting the balance of my waist and hips in the sidesaddle, I straightened my spine as I pulled the bow from my back.

Prince Rioch moved for his crossbow. As the highest-ranking hunter, the prince had the honor of the first shot, but all of us would be ready to dispatch the animal quickly if his aim faltered. Any good hunter spares their prey needless pain.

He raised his arms and squared his shoulders, settling the heft of the crossbow in his hands. He squinted through the precisely carved notch at its center.

Beside him my brother, John, watched and nodded his encouragement. This was our young royal’s first time hunting without the king: he’d never had first shot before.

The prince’s arrow flew across the clearing.

I felt a familiar shadow pass over me, and without look- ing up I knew that Bird’s falcon circled us, and that she watched the arrow, too.

It pierced the hart’s hind leg.

He gave a guttural, frothy scream that turned into a panicked groan as he tried to run and found that he could not.

Hobbled, the great stag began a struggling limp toward the forest.

I raised my bow, taking in the long breath that would allow me, on the exhale, to shoot clean and true. Around me two dozen hunters did the same. All of us watched the huntswoman from the corners of our eyes; she would give the signal that would let us end the beast’s suffering, and she would not wait long to do it.

The huntswoman raised her horn. “Wait!” John called.

I stared at my brother in horror.

“It is the prince’s first quarry,” he said. “Let him try again.”

I looked back at the huntswoman. I was certain she wouldn’t let this stand; she was a clean and rigorous hunter, and I knew the worth she saw in each life her hunting par- ties took. She was Bird’s mother, for goodness’ sake!

But she moved the curved horn away from her tight-set lips and nodded.

Behind me I heard Bird’s strangled breath. Both he and the huntswoman were servants of Loughsley, and they could not contradict its young master; and even though I was its lady, as the younger sibling, I had no more authority to speak over my brother than they did. Besides, our visit- ing monarch had just named John sheriff; John had even more power now.

The prince took out another arrow. He fumbled at his crossbow with unpracticed hands.

After a long minute, John took the bow and reloaded for him. He handed the crossbow back to our prince with a dutiful nod.

“Thank you, Loughsley,” Rioch muttered, his color rising.

Don’t bother with thanks,  I thought. Just kill the  poor thing.

The prince’s second shot hit the stag in the neck. Too high to break his windpipe or open an artery, too low to pierce the spine and cease his pain.

The sound he made this time wasn’t panicked or even loud. It was mewling. Low. He leaned to one side, giving slow, panting, bubbling breaths. His tongue began to loll even while his eyes stayed open.

His punctured leg buckled, and with a faint snap, he fell.

Still the huntswoman watched my brother. “Once more, Your Highness,” John said.

The prince’s  face  was red.  “I’ll  reload myself,” he muttered.

In time ticked out by the wheezing clock of the hart’s wounded breaths, he did so.

A lean, brindled sighthound at the front of our party whined at the scent of blood. I heard the soft clashing of feathers behind me: the falcon came to rest on Bird’s arm again. The twenty or so humans all stayed as still as the animals, our hands cautious on bows, or tight on bridles or saddle horns.

None of them would speak against my brother, let alone the prince.

And the beast at the edge of the cliff lay trapped. Killed already, or as good as, but not yet dead, the animal panic in him not enough to numb his pain or mend his bones or carry him to safety.

I raised my bow again and shot him through the heart.

***

What a cliffhanger! Pre-order THE FOREST QUEEN today to see what happens to Silvie in her quest for justice. 

Amazon Barnes & Noble Books-a-MillionHudson IndieBound Powell’s