#originally written in 2022

[eccentricgrace]

Building The Resumé || IronDad

summary: tony invites peter to a stark industries event. nothing bad could ever possibly happen!

tags: sketchy npc character, banter, protective tony stark, peter parker pretends to be a stark intern, peter parker's ever-present battle with the 'is this a threat or am i having an anxiety attack' argument

wc: 2,372

cross-posted on wattpad under the same name!

It was two weeks ago when he asked.

"Whether you go or not," Tony reassured him slowly, his eyes somber, "you're still going to be counted as an intern. I'm just saying, if you're worried about going just because you want it to show on your resumes, or applications, or— or anything like that, don't be. Don't be worried."

Peter blinked several times, taking it all in, struggling to click the words Tony's saying into place. With the way he was acting, you'd think Tony was asking him offering a train for him to jump in front of.

"I'm not worried," Peter laughed breathlessly, his eyebrows furrowed. His laugh falters off. "I mean, are— are you worried? I don't need to go if you don't want me to."

"No! No— I mean," Tony exhaled stiffly, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose. "I have a complicated history with these sort of parties. That's all, kid. I just know you've been wanting some internship stuff to show on your record, so Pepper told me to offer this."

"So, it's like a business party?" Peter clarified. "I've been to those before. May's brought me to some for F.E.A.S.T., they aren't too bad."

"Lets just the people working at your aunt's charitable nonprofit is a little different than the crowd around S.I.," Tony said dryly. "Like I said, you're more than welcome to go. Or not go."

Funnily enough, this wasn't the first time Tony tried to bring his name's company in conversation. Key word to explain, tried. To be clear, Peter has never had any difficulties with the subject; but at some point he realized it was a sensitive subject for Tony, so it never comes up unless it's on his own terms.

This is as rare an occurrence as expected, but every time it has happened, Tony acts so entirely nervous that it can be confusing as to how Peter's supposed to respond. Every sentence always ends with a BUT, always making sure to add an easy escape plan for Peter to deny.

He isn't sure what to make of it. He's still learning.

Peter shrugged. "Well, yeah. I mean... it's just one party. It sounds exciting."

"Alright then. It's on the ninth. I'll pick you up."

"Okay," Tony set his jaw. He nodded once. "Sounds good."

So.

Two weeks later, and Peter is asking the entire drive there if there's anything specific he should know, anything he should be saying, anything he should not be saying, and Tony answers every one with an extraordinary amount of patience.

"Does my suit look okay?" Peter asks, and the elevator is going up, up, up, all the way to the rooftop. They're at some fancy building that Tony said he only uses for business events, or something. "I'm not underdressed, right? Or— is my tie straight? I feel like it's crooked, is it crooked?"

Through the tangible waves of his anxiety, Tony spares enough time to give him this fond, half-tilted look and shakes his head.

"It is now," he says, moving forward to brush Peter's fidgeting hands away from the tie. He straightens it properly, and pats it down. "You look fine, very professional. Good job, kid. They'll think you're the son of a very wealthy business major or something."

"Electrical engineering major?" Peter jokes. He immediately shuts his mouth, his ears going red.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at him. After a moment, he adds: "I also majored in physics."

They step through the doors, walking out onto a very busy balcony. The party seems to swell as people recognize who's just arrived, and people begin to make their way around just to catch a glimpse of the illustrious Stark.

The thing is, as it was explained to Peter earlier, the only reason Tony is even at the party is for appearances.

("Everyone knows Pepper is the one in charge," Tony rolls his eyes. "But nevertheless, they put my name on the invitation, and if I don't show up to at least one a month the stocks start tanking. This is basically just my homework.")

Even so, Tony blends in with the crowd of the party in a way Peter's never seen before. He's like an entirely different person, which is strange because— he's familiar, isn't he? This is the Tony Stark he grew up seeing in the news, isn't it? It's the one he's had talking in his ear everytime he did his homework until he was like, twelve.

Tony smiles at those around him, and it may pull at the lines of eyes but there's a distinct lack of light in them. He waves casually to everyone who nods a greeting at him, but his arm is tense, and his spine is rigid.

Peter trails along behind him, going wholly unnoticed. It sort of feels like walking through the hallways at school, only if he was friends with the most popular kid for once, and everyone who he was brushing into him wore stuffy business suits instead of backpacks.

It's would be funny watching the switch of personality Tony undergoes between stranger and known person, if it weren't so fascinating first and foremost. He's laughing at someone's bad joke, the kind that's hollow in his chest and forces a cheek-burning smile—and then Peter taps him on the shoulder to murmur how someone's purse looks more expensive than his Very Good Condition Han Solo-on-a-Tauntaun collectible figurine— and suddenly his eyes light up and his laugh sounds so much brighter, and Peter can't understand why nobody else can tell.

"The food here is so good," Peter says to him quietly, immensely pleased with his tenth hors d'oeuvre. He very politely tries to wipe his hands on a paper napkin. "Is all rich people food like this?"

Tony guffaws, but he looks so amused that Peter knows he's not offended. "Definitely not. One day I'll take you to try this one LA restaurant's escargot— cost an arm and a leg, gave me food poisoning for four days."

Peter grimaces, sticking a laugh.

Tony chuckles, pats him on the shoulder, gently tugs him around in that gruff, paternal way that Peter is still getting used to again. Then he's pulled into yet another conversation that Peter's never seen.

Nobody has really looked at Peter the entire party. Nobody has engaged him in any conversation, they don't really pay him any mind when he leans in to say something to Tony once in a while.

To reiterate, Peter's seamlessly blended into the background for generally the entire party.

This is why it is so obvious when he feels someone's eyes at the back of his neck.

Peter shifts, and his gaze falls over the man in question. He's on the far side of the roof, lingering close to the glass, and looking insanely shady. Cartoonishly so.

There's nothing specific sticking out that tells him something is wrong about the guy, other that the fact he keeps staring at Tony from across the party. Still, every time Peter tries to look away from the guy, even if for a moment, the familiar sense of dread and anxiety starts prickling again at the back of his skull, twitching in his hands.

He makes the call. He pulls at Tony's sleeve.

This is something they talked about, before. Peter's out. His 'get out of jail free' card.

Tony is in the middle of a sentence when Peter does it, and immediately he cuts it off. He doesn't even say an excuse to whoever he was speaking to. He turns around, his vigilant eyes make quick work of scanning Peter for any immediate distress.

("Okay, I'm going to say some important shit here," Tony said, spinning around in his chair. "Listen up."

"Listening," Peter said, quickly finishing the numbers on his page. He dropped the pencil and looked up, and immediately froze at the intensity of Tony's gaze. "Uh..."

"There's going to be a lot of people," tony explained seriously. "They might act polite, but they won't give two fucks about pushing you around or getting too close."

Right. So he was back on the event again. Peter frowned, and nodded at the warning, thinking that was it. It was not.

"In the event something happens, and your senses get out of wack, or you get uncomfortable, or you just want to leave, for any reason, you let me know," Tony continued, each word pointed and sharp in the way that a seatbelt would dig into your neck.

Peter opened his mouth. He closed it again.

"Don't hesitate to bug me, I'm serious. I don't like talking to these people anyways, you'll only be doing me a favor if you drag me from some conversation about investing in some shitty influencer pyramid scheme. We'll call it a 'get out of jail free' card, alright?"

"You..." Peter struggled for words. "You really are planning a lot for this."

He couldn't tell whether to be confused, impressed, or concerned.

Tony's eyes went grave. "I wish I had one of these plans when I was your age and going to these things against my will. Even if you want to go, I'm not personally putting any kid through this without one."

Peter decided then that the proper response was to be reasonably upset.)

"Are you okay?" Tony asks firmly, his voice low. He puts his trust in Peter's ability to hear him, which thankfully, he does.

Peter nods, then subtly tries to gesture to the guy at the other end of the balcony. "Do you see that guy over there?"

Tony nods casually, taking a glass from the serving plate of a passing waiter. "Yeah, started setting off red flags when he walked in." He smiles, fake, waving at another stranger. "He setting you off?"

Peter, for the sake of urgency, sidesteps Tony's ability to apparently know danger without a sixth sense, and instead nods. He's frowning. He can feel it on his face.

"Don't look worried," Tony sips at his drink. "Act normal, kid. You act like something's off, he's gonna know that you see him. Smile."

Peter smiles.

"That's a terrible smile, you look like you have a gun to your head."

Peter stops smiling.

Tony finishes his drink. "Here's the plan. I'll go talk to him, I'll try to lure him away from all these people, you're gonna keep a loose follow behind. When the time is right, we'll see what happens and either send him home or knock him out."

"You're gonna talk to him?" Peter whispers frantically.

"Yep." With that, Tony sets the empty glass on another tray and begins making his way through the crowd, leaving Peter no more time to argue.

So, what else is he to do except follow (loosely) behind Tony while he makes his way through the crowd.  The suspicious guy in question starts to widen his eyes as they corner him, and he makes their job far easier by booking it towards the exit.

Tony sighs. "Kid—"

"On it," Peter says, dodging and weaving through people to stay hot on the trail. Once he gets past the crowds, he's fast, and makes it to the door at the same time.

He feels suddenly very vulnerable without his mask, and realizes belatedly why Tony's previous plan worked the way it did. Either way, it wasn't going to work anymore, so instead Peter gets them both inside and holds onto his wrist.

The man struggles like a rat caught by the tail. "Let go! Let go of me!"

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Peter asks politely. "You're gonna wanna tell me before Mr. Stark finds them, I'll be nicer about it. Better be quick, I can hear him walking. One, two..."

"Knife!" The man splutters quickly. "There's a knife! On my waist, it's on my waist!"

Peter quickly finds it, pulls it off, chucks it to the floor. Tony slips through the door now, wearing his glasses— he starts looking the guy up and down.

"Alright, what is it?" Tony demands. He juts his chin sharply to the side. "You want something? Money? Endorsement?"

"No," the man says. Now that the initial shock has worn off, anger begins to bubble in his eyes. "None of that. You fired me. I want my damn job back."

Tony makes an uninterested noise. "I don't know why I fired you, but considering you've stalked me and my intern to a private event to do god-knows-what for your position back, I'm going to say it was the correct call."

"No," the man seethes. "No! It was my idea! You— you thief— I'll kill you! I'll kill you and the goddamn kid—"

The facade on Tony's face shudders into something dark. He folds his glasses and sticks them in his pocket, and steps close to the man's face. He looks at him with scrutiny, his lips curled in finely controlled ferocity. 

"Say it again."

The man pants, fighting against Peter's grip again. He snarls, keeping Tony's eyes. "I said I'll—"

Without so much of a twitch, Tony wrenches his fist back and drives it into the man's nose.

The man goes limp instantly, his eyes rolling back in his lolling head.

"Holy shit," Peter breathes, and after a moment of shock, drops the unconscious man to the ground. "That was insane. Are you okay?"

Tony grumbles, shaking his knuckles out. "Peachy. Hey, kid, how about we ditch this party? There's a Van Leeuwen ice-cream cone with your name on it."

"I—" Peter stares back down at the guy incredulously. He gives Tony a pointed, confused look. "—are we not gonna—?"

Tony taps the side of his glasses twice. Starts making his way toward the elevator. "Happens more than you think."

Peter scrambles to catch up with him, casting repeated looks back at the unconscious dude. Security have begun to come in from the balcony. "Why do you sound so annoyed? How often does this happen?"

"Jesus, doesn't it?" Tony scoffs. "Attempts on the life get annoying when you've been dealing with it your literal whole life."

"...Wow."

"Anyways, I've officially decided," Tony says. He enters the elevator, his face stern. "Next time, you're staying home."

[spider-xan]

I find it really interesting that all three of Utterson, Lanyon, and Jekyll are introduced in the context of wine and drinking in a way that says something about their individual characters.

Utterson enjoys wine, but drinks gin when alone to avoid indulging, and when he does drink wine in the company of friends, it brings out something more human and lively in his eyes, even if he remains quiet.

Lanyon is drinking wine by himself at dinner when Utterson visits him, so unlike his friend, he's perfectly fine with privately indulging in wine and isn't at all embarrassed or ashamed that Utterson walked in on him enjoying himself.

Jekyll is hosting a dinner party where everyone is a good judge of fine wines, painting him as a socialite who loves hosting and indulging in the company of others, where drinking is a social activity, and it goes along with how he seems to be the most free-spirited and self-indulgent of the three; it's also here where Utterson is given the opportunity to indulge in the company of friends, as per his personal habits; interestingly, the way Jekyll talks about his connection to Hyde also has overtones of addiction and alcoholism once he and Utterson are alone together afterwards.

[reki-of-the-valley]

Sweet as Sugar

It’s actually quite simple: the icing glues the whole things together and makes the house stand. The process of building a gingerbread house is pretty basic, really; it’s definitely a thousand times simpler than the complex boards Reki has built and perfected over the years. It’s so easy, and yet, he still can’t manage to make his little house hold together. Every time he tries to put two walls together, they just collapse over each other. And he’s tried putting more icing, less icing; he’s tried it all and still he fails. And in the odd event that he does manage to get two walls to hold up, the third one makes everything tumble over, leaving Reki groaning in annoyance. 

“I don’t see what’s the big deal with getting everything to hold. We’re gonna destroy is anyway.”

Reki side-eyes Langa as the boys pulls a chair next to him. He has to slap his hand away from the bowl of chocolate before he finishes it. Again. He’s already emptied two bowls of chocolate chips, and at this rate, there won’t be any left when comes time to actually decorate the gingerbread house.

It had been a mistake to bring out the cany decorations before they were needed. He now knows he should have left them sealed, stashed away from Langa, but it’s too late now. Even if Reki were to put them away, Langa knows of their existence. It would only be a matter of minutes before he’d find the open bags of sweets. And no matter what anyone said, Langa is anything but an airhead. That boy is sharp when he wants to be, and when he wants something, he will get it, no matter the cost. Anyway, Reki isn’t in the mood to fight with a sugar fiend or deal with a pouting 18-year-old.

“We are not going to destroy it, as you say.” He huffs as he narrows his eyes onto Langa, slapping his hand away yet again. “And isn’t this like a Canadian thing or something? Didn’t you make gingerbread houses as a kid?”

Langa shrugs as he drops a pinch of colorful sprinkles in his mouth. Reki sighs as he watches him, not bothering to stop him from the house’s eventual decorations; he’ll have to content himself with decorating it with only icing, it seems.

“The most we did were the gingerbread men. Never actually made a house. My mom always insisted we decorate them as a fun family activity, but my dad preferred them without the icing and as soon as I was in front of the cookies, I’d forget I was supposed to decorate them. So I’d end up just eating them like that and my mom gave up after a few years. So we didn’t really…”

Langa gestures at the mess of collapsed walls as he sticks of the tiny candy canes Reki had found at a market a few weeks ago. He seems so unbothered, but Reki is determined, a smile spreading across his cheeks.

“You’re a menace, dude.” He nudges Langa, causing him to drop a few of the sprinkles he had snatched yet again. “C’mon! Help me with this! It’ll be fun, I promise!”

Langa’s smile mirrors Reki’s as he leans into him. It’s instinctual, the intertwining of fingers under the table; they know they don’t have to hide their affection, but it’s become a habit. After months of having done it, it just feels natural there. It feels natural to pull Langa’s hand onto his lap. And with Langa this close, Reki can’t help but grin as that pretty smile is pressed to his cheek. He can’t help the giggles that break form his lips as Langa whispers into his skin.

“Anything with you is fun, Reki. You make everything fun.”

“Only because you’re also there.”

Both burst out laughing, foreheads pressed together. They giggle together, their noses brushing against one another. They smile at one another, smiles that are impossible to hide or supress – Reki knows that no matter what happens, even if their project is a complete failure, they’ll have enjoyed themselves trying. And just like the walls of the house Reki had tried building, the pair break down, laughing that uncontrollable laughter, that laughter caused by nothing more than a glance. They laugh until it’s hard to breathe, the air between them too heavy. An when it gets heavy like that, silence falls. Silence falls as does Reki.

“Reki?”

Reki hums, his eyes having fallen shut. He never really can keep his eyes open around Langa, not when they’re this close. He likes falling into a world of fantasies, one where he can kiss Langa without any worries. He likes that world where nothing really matters, nothing except the one he loves. He likes falling into that world, a world he finds against Langa’s lips.

“Reki.”

Reki sighs, but his eyes stay shut. He doesn’t want to leave this dreamland, not before he’s gotten his kiss. And with the pad of Langa’s thumb pressed to his bottom lip, Reki can’t help but want that kiss even more.

It feels so close; it feels like it’s right there. It’s not a kiss yet, but with Langa’s warm breath on Reki’s lips, it’s only a matter of moments before the distance is closed. It’s a matter of moments before he can feel those lips against his, the ocean of love crashing against him. It’s only a matter of moments before the tide washes him ashore, finding his paradise.

“Reki…”

Finally. Finally, a kiss. It’s chaste, nothing more than a quick peck to the lips, but it’s a kiss nonetheless. It’s a kiss and Reki is more than happy about it. He’s so happy as love spills against his lips, love like and overflowing, ever-flowing fountain. It tastes like their first kiss, the warmth of Langa’s breath, the cool of his lips. It tastes like their first kiss, quick but sweet. And as Langa presses another kiss to Reki’s lips, a kiss that lasts longer this time as he moves even closer, their knees bumping together under the table, it feels like time has slowed around them. When it’s just them, everything fades. When it’s just them, all that remains is the love that unites them.

“Reki?”

His eyes finally flutter open to find the ocean-blue of Langa’s eyes. Waves of emotion play in those eyes he loves so much, color that glistens under the kitchen lights. Langa really is the prettiest boy Reki has ever laid his eyes on; who could possibly be prettier than the boy in blue who saves his look of adoration just for Reki? Who could ever feel more like home than him?

“Reki? Don’t we have a house to build?”

“Our home.”

Langa’s breath hitches as Reki pulls him close, closing the distance with another kiss. Home is found in those lips. Home is found in those eyes that grow wide before being squeezed shut. Home is that skin that’s always so soft. Home is that silky hair that slips between Reki’s fingers. Home is Langa, all that he is and all that he will be.

“We’ll build a home.”

“A home as sweet as you, my Love. A home I’ll love more than even those sweets you refuse to let me eat. A home where everyone will know that I love you and only you.”

“A home where all I’ll do is love you. Because it’s you. You’re my home, Langa. You’re my home and I love you. And I promise to love you infinitely.”

One last kiss. One last kiss to seal the promise. One last kiss before more giggles break them apart. One last kiss before they turn back to their project: building a home out of gingerbread.

[caitas-cooing]

I think one of the things that gets me about the ending of persona 3 is, that realistically Minato/Makoto should have died immediately upon forming the seal because he used literally all of his HP to do that, but he didn't. He wanted so badly to keep his promise to his friends he managed to stay alive all the way until graduation day before finally letting go. That is kingdom hearts levels of going beyond the limits of what should be possible to help your friends, and it didn't come from a Sora like character it came from this guy

This emo haired boy who's most common dialogue option is some from of I don't care, but he does care, or at least has learned to care by the end of game. I think the fact that it's specifically a character who originally seems detached from people and the rest of world who ultimately not only dies to save it, but also pushes beyond his limits simply to keep the last promise he made with his friends that really puts the ending above and beyond for me

[kimodraw]

⭐ plein d'enfants de la pollution⭐

[quaranmine]

i think planes are magic because there's something about being trapped in a metal tube in the sky with no wifi that consistently forces me to make progress in writing

[cryingtulips]

Death Is In My Blood

A drabble written for my sbi-focused series. Originally I wrote this as a follow up on this fic and inspired by this fanart, but I lost motivation before I could finish it.

Found it again and figured it's decent as a drabble

---

His blood flows through you, and maybe that was the cause of it all, a curse gifted to you through birth.

Angel of Death, they call him. Creator of worlds and omen of death. One could say you got that from him too. 

You created a country for your friends and family, after all. You wanted to protect them from the dangers they could not see. It was your responsibility, and yours alone, to protect them.

But when your blood has been touched by the Angel of Death, how much can you protect when destruction rots your impression?

You’ve realized it too, haven’t you? It’s not creation that the Angel has blessed you with, but a disease.

Don’t you wonder, why someone who creates so much, has been given such a dreary title? Don’t you wonder, if you also hold this curse disguised as a blessing?

[oc-cafe]

Episode 3: The Man And The Minister

Once again, a BIG apology to everyone for the long hiatus. I will try to update consistently every Sunday, or Monday at the latest, and you'll be informed of any hiatuses I may take.

Once again, please check the trigger warnings before proceeding, since this story will probably have death, violence and angst and mentions of blood.

Cover Made with Canva; Read from the beginning here

Crossposted on AO3!

Veena liked to think that she was as easy to play as the stringed instrument she was named after. 

Which was to be said, not easy at all.

It wasn’t that she considered herself completely infallible. It was just that growing up with someone like Aditi for a sister, she had quickly adjusted herself to dodge any tricks or pranks the latter might pull, developing a mind sharper and more skeptical than most in the process. 

The woman was equal parts wary and weary. 

So could you blame her for being disbelieving when her sister came barging into her chambers at the first ray of sunlight, declaring that she had turned into some sort of monster the previous night? 

“You did? Strange, I didn’t hear any complaints from the cooks about late night kitchen raids from last night,” she answered, completely unruffled, and added with a twinge of annoyance, “Although, I wouldn’t know, seeing as they’re probably still asleep.” 

“I’m not joking, Veena,” The older woman answered, slightly miffed. 

“You expect me to believe that you turned into some sort of eldritch horror out of nowhere?” 

“It would be nice if you did.” 

“Go back to sleep, Aditi.” 

“No. Hear me out first.”

“Stop being annoying.” 

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll tell mother. I'll get her to confine you to your quarters or something.” 

"Oh no, I'm so scared," Aditi retorted sarcastically. 

"I'll tell her about your little excursions.”

Aditi narrowed her eyes. “How do you even know about that?”

Veena smiled smugly.

“I know a lot.” In actuality, she had been told by Rekha, who, in addition to being Aditi's companion and handmaiden, was also Veena's good friend. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“No?” Veena stuck a foot out of her bed threateningly. “Watch me.” 

Aditi glared, and turned on her heel to leave.

“This isn’t over!” She called out over her shoulder. Veena simply grunted and waited for her sister’s retreating footsteps to recede.

Once she was sure Aditi wouldn’t come back, she smirked triumphantly and immediately flopped down into her bed.

~~ 

Bhavin felt his skin prickle as he entered the dark, lair-like room. It was dimly lit, and he could see a man sharpening his sword. For a moment, the man ignored Bhavin's presence. And then, not lifting his head from his work, he spoke. 

“And what brings you here, Minister Bhavin?”

“The Maharaj and Maharani of Nelaghati plan to hand over the throne to their elder daughter, the crown princess, soon,your highness.”

The other man tilted his head slightly, but he did not turn to look at the minister. 

“So the Yuvrajnee will ascend the throne in her parents' lifetime? It is rare, but not unheard of. Is that all you wanted to say?”

The minister was now losing his patience. 

“Princess Aditi… she is much more powerful than her ageing parents,” He said testily. “Once she ascends the Nelaghati throne, she will only get more powerful.”

“What, exactly, am I supposed to do about that?”  

“Stop them.”

The man turned around. 

“Now, Minister Bhavin, do not be so senseless. Am I to stroll in and tell them to please put a hold on crowning Princess Aditi as the queen, because one of our ministers is scared of the power she may wield?”

“YOUR HIGHNESS-” 

“It would do you no good to raise your voice at me, minister,” The man cuts in. “The king may be extremely lenient with you, but I assure you, I subscribe to no such niceties.”

“My apologies, your highness. I meant stop them another way.”

“What other way?”

“Your highness, you know full well what I am talking about. ”

The man's eyes narrow.

“I'm afraid I do not. Enlighten me, Minister Bhavin. How exactly am I to stop Princess Aditi's coronation?”

“Kill Princess Aditi. Kill her before she can ascend the throne.”

“Minister Bhavin,” The man began coldly, “Do you wish Nelaghati to wage war upon us?”

“Maharaj Sagar and Maharani Arundhati can be easily stopped. They are old, and grow frailer by the day. If Princess Aditi becomes queen and decides to wage war upon us, she will defeat us with ease. We will stand no chance. This is for the good of Alinthi.”

“You forget that war is not fought by one or two people. Even if they cannot fight themselves, they certainly have displayed enough tactical skill in our previous tussles to have a fighting chance.”

“Your highness-”

“Even if, somehow, you're correct, why should I? Do you suddenly hold a higher rank than I, that I was not informed of?”

“No, your highness. These are his majesty's orders. You are to leave at once. I-I would have told you earlier but…”

The man froze, much to the minister's satisfaction. But when he spoke, his voice betrayed no hint of emotion. 

“Is that so? The King's orders?” He asked quietly. “Well, then, I had better get going. I'd do well to fulfill my elder brother's wishes as soon as possible, no?”

-

That evening, Aditi lay on her stomach on Veena's bed, idly sifting through the messages addressed to her. 

“Two suitors today,” She said, wrinkling her nose. “I must be getting rather popular.”

Rekha, who was braiding Veena's hair, clucked her tongue disapprovingly. 

"As if you needed any more boosts to your ego. Didn't you send out a public declaration that all suitors would be rejected?"

"Oh, yeah," Veena piped up. "You used lots of big words. I did not realise you knew that many."

Aditi stuck her tongue out at her younger sister. 

"You are not worth my time. Anyway, that announcement was last week, so this must've been sent before then. It's from the kingdom of Nethilor, and they're very far away."

"Are you going to write a reply?"

Aditi sighed. 

"I probably should. It's so annoying, writing the same thing again and again. My deepest apologies, but the prospect of romantic and sexual relationships does not intrigue me one bit, et cetera, et cetera."

She pauses for a second, considering something. 

"How come Veena never gets any suitors?" She asks,tilting her head. "She came of age months ago, and everyone keeps going on and on about her beautiful dark skin and her soulful black eyes and luscious curls and whatnot. Makes me wonder whether we're even looking at the same person."

Veena harrumphed. "What makes you think I don't have a stash of them hidden away in a drawer somewhere?"

Rekha did not look too excited about the prospect. 

"Well," She began, "Aside from the fact that the servants would've discovered it in a few minutes' time? You would've come running to rub it in our faces." 

"HA! Thank you, Rekha." Aditi grinned smugly at Veena. 

Veena ignored Aditi. "Are you jealous of my would-be suitors, Rekha dearest? Surely you do not want to whisk me away for yourself?"

Rekha laughed derisively, reddening slightly. 

"Of course not. If you ever find someone for yourself, I shall be cheering for you the loudest. But what about me?"

"What about you?"

Rekha stops braiding her hair and loops her hands around Veena's neck, grinning. 

"Your lover would whisk you away, and I would be left here alone without you. What am I to do then?"

A dark flush forms on Veena's cheeks. "I-"

"Then I would have to deal with Aditi myself. You wouldn't subject me to that, would you…" Still grinning impishly, she adds, "Dearest?"

Aditi makes a face at the duo, who were doubled over laughing. 

"Laugh at me all you want, neither of you will be the ruler of Nelaghati in a few months' time. I suppose you need your simple pleasures."

"Yeah, yeah. What're the rest of the messages?"

Aditi sifts through them once again. 

"Nothing I haven't dealt with already. I suppose I'm free to take another look at the book, then."

Rekha paled. "You still have it?" 

"Of course I still have it, Rekha. It's a magical book. I can't just give it to the very first person at our doorstep."

Veena looked unimpressed. "A magical book? Is this related to the monster you were talking about this morning?"

"In fact, it is."

"A monster?!" Rekha nearly screamed.

"Don't worry, Rekha, it's probably not even real."

It did make sense that Veena would not believe her, Aditi supposed. Magic was something limited to only a few kingdoms, and as far as anyone knew, Nelaghati and any of its surrounding territories did not qualify. 

This did lead to a lot more questions than she had bargained for the previous night. If she wanted to know more about this, she would have to do some digging around. 

She sighed and held her hands up in surrender. 

"I'll show you later, okay? Right now, I need to go."

"Where to?"

"To figure some things out."

Mod Tag: @stressedsnake @ne0npurplefantasies

Taglist (send an ask to be added or removed): @ghostdragoncookie @jewishdainix @ialmostdonothingnew @just-call-me-a-god @death-and-the-lady13 @fierreth-who @mister-finally-found-himself @coffeelovinggayidiot @pinkyy-promises @sassychaostrash @lesbiansayaishii @a-cloud-for-dreams @brkh96 @i-likestuff86 @redvelvetpdf @xx0yeet-everything0xx

[eccentricgrace]

Riled Pile-Up || IronDad

summary: a rough patrol leaves a very overwhelmed peter landing on tony's balcony, tired and bone-weary

tags: patrol, hurt/comfort, bamf peter parker, canon typical violence, mental illness, peter parker's struggle with responsibility, good mentor tony stark

wc: 2,939

cross-posted on wattpad under the same name!

Alright, sure. Maybe it wasn't Peter's best idea to take an entire drug trafficking ring down on his own, in a single night, when Tony was expecting him at the end of his patrol for a suit schematics check and some upgrades.

There's seventeen people knocked out on the ground, and more of them keep appearing– they're running through the doors in groups, waves of men in neon-orange vests making circles around him. As Peter side-steps another unconscious dude, he had to at least make the defense that this wasn't what he wanted to be doing tonight.

It really, honestly, truly, was supposed to be a standard patrol. And it had been, he'd just finished up some small-time burglary near 57th street, which is closer to Hell's Kitchen than Peter usually treads (due to some boundary agreements with some other guy he's only kinda terrified of, in the respectful way), and then it got... weird.

He thought it was just a dropoff, so got Karen to call it in quick, and then tailed the car to see where it went. It was only about eight pm, and the August sun was just barely peeking up over the horizon. He had time, he'd be able to get it done and then drop by the tower for his schematics check.

"Karen? Can you tell Mr. Stark I'll be a little late?" Peter asked quietly, observing from afar. "I have to wrap something up before I clock out."

"Of course, Peter. When should I tell him you'll be there?"

Peter looked over the warehouse very thoughtfully. He took into account the amount of exits, the amount of cars surrounding it– even the geographical location! He was thorough!

"The plan is maybe thirty minutes," Peter decided.

Well.

He forgot to account into his plan that, well, nothing ever goes according to his plans.

"How many of you even are there?!" Peter cried out, because seriously, he's tripping on people in an attempt to dodge the bullets they keep firing at him. He pulled some quick maneuvers to group some of them up on the wall with webs, but it was tricky to make sure none of them got shot in the process.

This must have been one of the bigger drug operations, because there were never this many people in one place. He couldn't tell where the boss was, but logically they wouldn't be out with all the defense. They're somewhere else in the building, surely, and maybe if Peter wrapped this up fast enough he could find the asshole before they escaped.

He didn't have a ton of experience with bigger-scale stuff. Or, at least– not all at once. He usually goes after the little operations at the bottom, one by one, and made his way up to the top. Get rid of the followers, then take care of the leader. This was not a little operations. This was stupid. This was monumentally stupid, and he should have gotten out of this mess before they all had clambered at him like rats.

But hindsight is 20-20, and he couldn't just leave now, because he knew that it would make them that much harder to find later. He just had to get it over with and power through.

In the chaos, someone managed to get the drop on him— he couldn't see their face but he knew they were yelling out like a soldier of war, and they ended up slamming the magazine of a bulky AK-47 right into the soft cartilage of his nose. Peter stumbled back, a hand jerking up to the blood that was already soaking his mask.

"Um, ouch!" Peter said pointedly. His voice came out weird with his nose all clogged up and wonked. "Not even a warning this time! Cool, no, that's great. It's not like I rely on my senses to keep my nose and other... various... parts from... breaking..."

He blocked through some other attempts of a similar attack, because obviously once the group of intelligent men saw Spidey get his ass kicked with the opposite side of a gun, they start formulating, like intelligent men do.

Peter leaped, kicked off the nearest wall and used as much force as he safely could to punch a row of armed guys down. They're webbed quickly, squirming around on the concrete to no avail, their faces red and puffy.

From across the room, someone fired another bullet. It whizzed across the room, its sound blending with the hundred other casings ringing like bells as they spin on the ground.

Peter's neck buzzed, and he yanked himself to the side just in time for the bullet to nick the span of his back. It singed the suit, it burned the skin– he hissed and cringed, his spine twisting as if he'll be able to stretch away from the pain.

"I just don't get paid enough for this," he gritted out.

He threw out his hand, and a web goes spinning forward. It gripped the gun, and Peter yanked his arm down, making the weapon and the connected man's skull hit the concrete. He doesn't have quite enough time to think about the implications of that before he's blocking another magazine, then grabbing another elbow, then sliding under another pair of ankles, and then—

The world just spun, on nights like these. He tried to explain it once to Ned, who had witnessed a morning-after moment where Peter had snapped (and quickly apologized) at him for complimenting the fight he saw on the news the night before.

("It's kind of like a rollercoaster with only the loops," Peter had said after a long bout of silence, his face pinched, his eyes shut tight and hidden behind his balled-up fists. "There's the adrenaline, and it feels kind of awesome to be moving that fast, at first, but then you're just– it keeps going, and it doesn't stop, and you just want the ride to be over.")

It's getting late. He wanted off the ride.

The waves were getting smaller, but the ground was nearly covered in unconscious men. Peter felt kind of sick, standing in an ocean of his own violence, and for some godforsaken reason, people were still finding the space and energy to shoot at him.

"Mr. Stark has sent you another message," Karen chimed in through his ear. "He is informing you that it's been nearly forty minutes, and is asking if you're okay. Shall I tell him you're being shot at and cannot respond?"

"No," Peter jolted. "Absolutely do not tell him that. Just— I need—"

A heavy guy ran head-first into his stomach, and Peter got the wind knocked out of him as he tumbled backwards.

"I need these guys to stop taking overtime," Peter wheezed out with a scowl, and shoved the guy off. He managed to scramble up from the floor, but not in time to block someone from the side presenting a nasty hit to his ribs. He heard a crack. He felt a crack.

Peter exhaled sharply. He grabbed the offender by the shirt. "Karen, turn the HUD off," he muttered.

The shiny displays go away. Everything goes brighter, sharper. In his vision, just the man, surrounded by more people who only want to hurt him. His heartbeat thudded angrily in his chest.

"I'm not scared of you," the man in his grasp spat, saliva dribbling from his lip. He wriggled, his hands tugging uselessly at Peter's hand. "Stupid fucking spider, I'll squash you like a bug."

Peter stared at him, just— just exhausted. Everything in his body hurt. He could taste his own blood in his mouth, the sharp tang of iron keeping his mind wired.

"Where's your boss?" He rasped.

The hair in his ears pricked, and he could hear someone staggering up behind them. He reached his other hand back and webbed them back to the wall. All the while, his gaze remained steady in front of him.

"I'm not telling you shit," the man shook. His eyes were wild with terror and something rabid. "You'd have to kill me first."

Around him, all had gone suspiciously quiet. Like any remaining people were holding their breath, waiting to see what happened next. Like they no longer believed they had a fighting chance, and were ready to bolt whenever the moment presented itself.

The lenses of Peter's mask narrowed.

"How much is your product worth?" He asked.

The man sputtered an indignant laugh. "What, you want in on the gig? I'm not sellin' to no fuckin' narc. Nothin' is worth that shit."

"All your men are going to be arrested," he said slowly. He watched the man's face twitch. "And you have a cell in Rykers with your name on it. Do you know why I'm telling you this?"

The man stared, gritting his teeth. After a second, he quickly shook his head.

Peter dragged the man closer, getting up in his face. He tilted his head to the side. The man shuddered in fear.

Then, clearly, succinctly, he said:

"Because that's what your worth is."

He dropped the man to the floor and webbed him stuck. He looked up, each movement feeling like a drag. His eyes carried tiredly around the room, to the remaining few. "Anyone else want to fight tonight?"

All of them seemed to jerk out of their stupor then, and made a panicked hurry towards the doors. Peter unclicked a small canister from his belt and tossed it at the door, watching it explode, and catching all of them in a net of webbing.

Peter watched them squirm. He sighed. "Karen, scan the building for life forms."

"...Scan completed," Karen said after a beat. "Everyone in the building is breathing and on this floor. And wall. And ceiling."

Peter snorted dryly, glancing around the warehouse. "Yeah. I'd have to agree with that. Tell Tony I'm on my way."

"Of course, Peter."

Peter hopped up the window at the top of the warehouse, shattered through from the bullet rain, and began his trek back.

On his way, he debated many things, like just telling Tony to temporarily shove it and going home for the night, or simply not saying anything and taking the subway home, almost drooling over the idea of letting the train lull him to sleep, drifting off and letting his aching body rest.

Of course, he didn't do any of these things. He landed on the designated balcony of the tower within twenty minutes and dragged himself in, peeling the mask off and cringing at the way it was stiff and folded in his dried blood.

Tony was waiting for him, sitting at the snack bar with his arms crossed. A half-empty water glass on the counter. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply, and his lips were pursed. Okay, so he was disappointed.

"I know. Gimme a second," Peter sighed. If he had to be scolded, he might as well fix his nose first. It'll only be worse later if he lets it finish healing wrong.

He shoved his mask in his mouth. Brought his hands up to his face and felt around his nose, where it was bent wrong. Then he inhaled deeply, held his breath, and jerked it into its proper spot. His jaw tightened, teeth clenching around the bloody fabric. A wave of nausea hit him, and he sat down in a heap on the floor.

"Jesus," Tony muttered. He scrubbed a hand over his face, keeping his eyes covered. "Kid, there's a safer way to do that. You might have just screwed it up more."

Irritation prickled under his skin. Peter didn't want to argue, was too tired to snap, so he just sighed again, and leaned back on the floor— as his spine relaxed, a series of crunches and pops sounded from the room. Tony winced in sympathy.

"Alright," Tony noted. He stood up, walking over. He looked down at him with calculating eyes, and Peter couldn't help but feel mocked. "Any other injuries I should know about?"

He let the question roll around in his mind.

"I'm tired," Peter answered, the energy rolling back and forth in his chest like a ship in a storm. He grit his teeth, then relaxed. Tried to let the nausea settle.

"Well, that makes sense when you're jumping around like a gymnast for several hours a night," Tony pointed out.

"No," Peter tossed an arm over his eyes. "I mean, yes, but— I'm talking about—"

His face felt hot, his cheeks burning with all the emotion threatening to blow out. A tea kettle whistling in his ears, the kind that's just been on the stove a touch too long, and the handle is red, and nobody wants to touch it, nobody wants to take it off the kettle for fear they'd burn their hands.

He shut his mouth, wrenched it tight. Inhaling deep through his nose, feeling the breath shake its way into his lungs.

There's a rustling of fabric, and then a struggling groan, and then Tony was sitting beside him on the floor. He didn't say anything. He was just there. Peter could hear the steadiness of his heartbeat, always a little faster than everybody else's, the careful in-out-in-out pattern of oxygen.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Peter started quietly. "I just get like this some nights."

Tony hummed. "Like what? What do you mean?"

Peter opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Like– most of the time, I'm fine, and I love doing this. I really love being Spider-Man, I do. You gotta know that."

"Of course I do," Tony said easily. His expression was patient in that guarded way that was specific to Tony— one that looked closed-off to someone who wouldn't know him, but to Peter, was easily recognizable as concentration. He was listening. He wanted to make sure he was getting every detail right.

"But, then there's the other times, like now, where I'm just..." Peter huffed. "My rib is sticking out, and my back hurts, and there's blood in my mouth, and I'm tired."

"Mm." Tony scratched at his chin. "Okay. Well, let's break that down, then."

The corner of Peter's mouth quirked up. Let's break that down. He always said that. Peter thought it was the mechanic in him, probably. And maybe Peter had rose-tinted glasses, but he didn't think there was any problem that Tony couldn't solve or at the least understand by breaking it down, finding out how the pieces work together.

"It's totally normal to feel like that, for one," Tony started off. "You get kicked around a lot. Nobody likes that. You may have the name of a saint and the patience of one, but nobody can endure all of that, all the time, and not get fed up with it."

"I want to," Peter argued. "I'm better than that. Than this."

"Kiddo," Tony marveled genuinely. "At sixteen years old, you already are miles better at all of this than I am, than all the Avengers, than anybody in the world. Sure, you can always be better, anyone can always be better, but that doesn't discount how good you are now."

Peter worried his tongue over his teeth silently.

"You can be mad," Tony said gently. "You can be tired. If anybody deserves it, it's you, Peter."

After a moment, Peter croaked out: "I don't like being mad, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled meaningfully at him and patted his leg. "I know. But anger isn't a negative emotion, you know. I'm still learning that, too, but... we're all just human. We're going to get mad. It's what we do with it that matters. Tonight, you were mad. What did you do with it?"

"I... I knocked out a lot of people."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "They were criminals, Pete. And they were shooting at you."

"Still knocked them out..." Peter mumbled.

"And after?"

"I went to you," Peter shrugged. "Basically passed out on your floor, and then started complaining at you."

"So, leaving the situation that made you mad, going to someone you trust, and then you talked about it," Tony listed. "Those are three healthy things you did to de-escalate, cool off. You still mad?"

"Not really?"

"Exactly," Tony nudged him with his foot. "I'm proud of you."

Then, he frowned. "Did you say your rib is sticking out?"

"Got hit hard by the boss," Peter confirmed, looking sheepish. "It hurt really bad. Probably dislocated it, but I'll be okay."

Tony sighed carefully. He took a few seconds, just staring at Peter. They did that, sometimes. A moment of silent communication, so seamless where it seemed like they were made of the same stuff. Tony looked at him, and his eyes were making a plan, and Peter looked back, and his eyes said 'thank you, I know you won't hurt me. Thank you.'

"Let's get you to the medbay," Tony said finally, his voice soft. "I'll get you some of my old clothes, I'm sure I've got something that'll fit. You can get some rest. We can do upgrades in the morning."

"...I have school."

"I'll take care of that. I'm sure May would agree we shouldn't send you to school with a healing dislocated rib," Tony said firmly. He stood up with another groan. "God, I'm getting old. Alright, kid, let's go. Do you want to run a movie marathon with me tomorrow? I've been wanting to rewatch some Hughes."

He took the segue for what it was, and when he dragged himself off the floor this time, it was with a tired smile.

[ahomeforwisters]

dark stars (falling) - rework [polaris ver.]

been going through and reworking some of my oldest pieces that i'm proud of, and this is one of them. thought i'd share it here :D

[reki-of-the-valley]

Reki can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he looks around. The energy fizzling in the air is as tense as always, but tonight, he’s nervous. It’s not out of the norm for him to want to win the races he’s put in, but this one means everything to Reki. This one will determine his future; this one will determine his future at S. This race will determine his future as a skateboarder, determine if he’s worthy of being a skater or not. Everything rides on this one race; Reki cannot lose tonight.

“You’re going to do amazing out there, Reki.”

The smile sent his way is kind as always and Langa’s blue eye shine under the spotlights all around. They’re as blue as the clear sky under which they usually skate and as beautiful as the most precious of sapphires. Langa’s eyes shine with that usual determination but there’s an edge to them, a shimmer Reki isn’t used to seeing. There’s a shimmer that seems new, that seems to be all for him.

“You’re going to win this race; I know you will.”

Langa’s confidence is contagious, though Reki isn’t quite as sure as him. He’s still got that spike of anxiety pulsing through him, but Langa’s presence calms him. And when Reki’s smile mirrors Langa’s, then all feels better. If Langa believes in him, then Reki can be a little more confident. If Langa thinks he’ll win, then maybe he really will win.

“I don’t know, dude, but—”

Reki feels his heart jump in his chest the moment Langa grabs his hand. His heart is going faster than it ever has. And Langa? Oh, Langa’s glowing as he grins. He’s glowing, more beautiful than the stars Reki knows are shining in the sky.

“You’re going to do amazing, Reki. You’re an amazing skater and you’ve been training for this for so long. You’re going to win this, no doubt about it.”

Reki’s never felt whatever’s burning his cheeks. He can’t quite name the feeling – it’s far too new, far too strong – but he knows Langa is the reason for the tightness in his chest and the lightness in his head. He knows Langa’s behind whatever’s making him blush this deeply, but he doesn’t want it to stop. He doesn’t want Langa’s warm hands to leave his; he doesn’t want Langa to leave him, ever.

“I… Aw, dude.” Reki rubs his nose with his free hand, glancing away. “Thanks, dude. Just a little worried, that’s all. But,” blue might as well be Reki’s favorite color now, now that it’s fixated on him and making his heart race faster than the fastest skateboarder, “thank you for believing in me.”

“I know you’re going to win. I’ve seen you skate; I know what you’re capable of. I know you’re one of the best skaters out there, even if you don’t think so. So,” Reki’s stomach drops like Langa’s voice, that sweet whisper all for him, “meet me at the bottom? When you’ll have won and proved to everyone how amazing you are?”

It’s a little hard to breathe when Langa’s looking at him like that through his lashes. It’s a little hard, so Reki just nods. And that has Langa squeezing his hand, the hand he still hasn’t let go of.

“Yeah.” Reki cringes internally at the pitchiness of his voice, at the scratchiness of it. “Yeah, I’ll see you at the bottom, man.”

“And when—”

“So, like, are they gonna kiss or something?”

Reki’s ears flare up at the sound of his little sister’s voice. He already doesn’t like that she’s here, but having her say that? Oh, Reki hates it. He absolutely hates it and he wants it to go away. And Miya? Oh, he doesn’t make it better one bit.

“They wanna kiss so bad, it’s disgusting.” Green eyes flicker up from a phone, narrowing onto Reki. “And cringe. They’re just cringe.”

If the earth could be kind enough to swallow him whole right now, that would be amazing, because if Reki has to hear one more comment from either Koyomi or Miya, he might just combust. If he has to hear them any longer, he might not even make it to his race. So he wiggles out of Langa’s grip, sending him one last quick and panicked smile before declaring he has to get to the starting line. Because he does! But mostly, he doesn’t need to think about kissing his best friend. Not now. Not when everything is on the line. But after… Maybe after this whole fiasco, he can maybe think about it just a little.

[see-arcane]

Welcome to Dracula Season 2025!

We're only a few weeks shy of May and our journey with Jonathan into the Carpathians. As we prepare for another helping of paprika hendl and ensuing horror, let's refresh with some of the Dracula-adjacent goodies that have accumulated over the last year...

1. Dracula Daily

The Substack that started it all. Dracula Daily was started by Matt Kirkland in 2021, though it took off in the Tumblr book club in 2022. Since then, we’ve turned Dracula Season, the period between May 3 and November 7, into a months-long undead extravaganza of memes, literary analysis, and overdue love for Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula as the fantastic gothic gift it is. With the simplified format of putting the book’s entries in chronological order, each one emailed out on the same date they were written, we’re forced to live on the same calendar and waiting game as the characters. Whether you’re a new reader or a returning bookworm, welcome to Castle Dracula!

Dracula Daily Substack: Link

2. The Holmwood Foundation

Fresh from crowdfunding and wrapping up production of its first season, The Holmwood Foundation, @theholmwoodfoundation on Tumblr, is an indie podcast coming around the corner with a genuinely unique take on a supernatural sequel to the events of Dracula…which didn’t end quite how Bram Stoker’s in-universe novel depicted. The first episode is out, featuring a pair of unlucky archivists—what horror podcast is complete without them?—the ghosts of Jonathan and Mina Harker, Dracula’s severed head, and a hiking trip across the moors to escape some shambling undead horrors. Give the preview and its miscellaneous teasers a listen if you want a taste of contemporary revenant scares (and to listen to the world’s most irate descendant of the Harkers pop a blood vessel).

The Holmwood Foundation homepage: Link

Podcast episodes and side content: Link

3. Dracula: 2004

Another indie audio drama trying to crowdfund its way out of the coffin! Not only an adaptation of Dracula, but one set just a short step into the 21st century, @starstrider-productions' Dracula: 2004 wants to tell the story of our beloved Victorian vampire targets-turned-slayers in an era of flip phones, Dictaphones, and found footage-tinted horror. To judge by the summary and extremely promising character bios for our refreshed cast, it’s going to be a one-of-a-kind listen. But only if we can get them to their goal! By the time I post this, they’ll have less than 20 days left to cover the production cost.

If you want to drag this beautiful undead carcass into the moonlight, please chip into their campaign if you can and share it with your fellow Dracula lovers and horror podcast enthusiasts! The smallest tier is £10 GBP, ($13 for my fellow ‘murricans), and every bit helps.  

Indiegogo crowdfunding page: Link

4. Re: Dracula, Re: Carmilla, (Coming Soon: Re: Frankenstein!)

Giving an undead rebirth to the original Dracula Daily format, the podcast Re: Dracula turns the same chronological date-by-date read of the novel an audio drama twist. It’s made of professional voice acting, soundscaping, and has its own soundtrack! This thing is also replete with many a meme and interview as the garlic garnish on top. Give it a listen if you haven’t already and check out their Tumblr, @re-dracula.

Likewise, you need to check out their most recent projects. Re: Carmilla, which gives Sheridan le Fanu’s Carmilla its own supple and sinuous sapphic treatment, and the upcoming Re: Frankenstein, currently on the hunt for voice actors to fill the roles of Mary Shelley’s gothic opus, Frankenstein. Everyone say thank you to this cast and crew for feeding us the overdue classic supernatural theatre feast we’ve been waiting on for actual centuries.

Re: Dracula: Link

Re: Carmilla: Link

Re: Frankenstein (Casting Call!): Link

5. The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk

You want the Drac Attack Pack (plus a surviving Quincey Morris) with the Harkers happily married and questionably human? You want Irene Norton née Adler treated with respect and allowed to actually have her chosen romance with Godfrey Norton that was half the damn point of “A Scandal in Bohemia,” along with appearances from a certain consulting detective and his doctorial companion? You want Dr. Jekyll as an upstanding scientist on the brink of some unsavory new changes? You want Wells’ Invisible Man being cantankerous and developing friendships against his will? You want sundry forces of mortal and supernatural peril roiling up from under the foundations of Victorian era literature like an eerie eldritch smoke? Then The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk is the comic for you!

An ongoing webcomic, fresh from its second story arc—a certain submarine, a bastard of a marksman, and an uncanny gothic villainess are involved—LXGF brings together a huge crossover cast of everyone’s favorite characters from the Classics section. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit that actually understands, acknowledges, and loves the books and their canons! What a concept! Alan.

Tumblr: Link

Comic: Link

Non-Canon Silliness: Link

Fanfiction: Link

6. Blood of My Blood (and Other Gorgeous Gothic Dramas of the Ibrithir-Was-Here Universe)

 I’ve made a lot of amazing friends since Dracula Season became my favorite time of the year (read: most of it). Many of those friends have been brain-meltingly talented and creative in the works they’ve made based in or inspired by Dracula and adjacent works. But one of the best in terms of artful storytelling has to be @ibrithir-was-here.

Me and other scribblers and spit-ballers tripped and fell into what began as a dark Dracula Bad Ending improv, everyone chasing after each other with ‘Yes, and—,’ additions to a vampiric domestic horror story. That’s turned into a full 100+ chapter tale with its concluding climax just now about to hit its zenith. That story is Blood of My Blood, an incredibly fun and fiendish gothic what-if? One in which we answer the questions:

What if things took a grim turn in the climax at Transylvania? What if half our heroes died and Mina turned, with a child already growing in her undead womb? What if Jonathan threw himself on the twisted ‘mercy’ of Dracula to protect his family, trading his servitude, sanity, blood, and participation in an intimately worrying series of mind games with his new master? What if young Quincey Harker was raised in this warped castle and then, at the cusp of manhood, was sent out into the world to learn the buried truths of his family? What if Dracula was none too thrilled about his adopted heir leaving the nest, and took grisly measures to bring him back..?

The answers have been written and lushly illustrated for the past year and change, ripe with romances, revenges, bloodshed, and one of the most gloriously fucked up family dynamics you’ve ever seen in a gothic drama.

…And if you’re in the mood for another flavor of the latter, Ibrithir has also cooked up a pile of sinister samples to indulge in.

(n)Ever Loved, a take on the origins of the ‘Weird Sisters’ before they were munching kids meals.

The Wretched Family, an AU in which Frankenstein’s Creature saved the little girl from the river a moment too late, and coerces Victor into reviving her drowned body as a Creature like himself.

A Cruel Love, giving a spotlight to a possible history of Countess Mircalla and how love played a part in her undeath and the demise of her first smitten paramour.

Second Stanza, a certain Opera Ghost returns to haunt Christine and Raoul’s son, supposedly as a guardian—whether the boy likes it or not.

Rosemary is for Remembrance, in which a young artist grapples with the bloody shadow of a man who shares her face. A long dead hedonist by the name of Dorian Gray…

Go give them all a read!

Blood of My Blood: Link

(n)Ever Loved: Link

The Wretched Family: Link 1, Link 2

A Cruel Love: Link 1, Link 2

Second Stanza: Link

Rosemary is for Remembrance: Link

7. Dracula’s Guest the Comic

Want a glimpse of what Jonathan Harker may have gotten up to prior to reaching Castle Dracula? Well, take a look at the comic adaptation of Stoker’s, “Dracula Guest,” by @isablooo! It features our good friend Mr. Harker, some sightseeing, and more than the usual bloodsuckers out for his neck.

Comic: Link

8. Dracula Beyond Stoker Press

Have you ever thought to yourself, “I wish I had an anthology dedicated entirely to stories about one or more specific characters of Dracula?” Me too! And Dracula Beyond Stoker Press is here to deliver. Their most recent issue coming out is about our good friend Jonathan Harker—already preordered my copy!—with Mina Harker’s issue accepting story and cover art submissions starting May 1, 2025. DBS Press already has an amazing store full of paperback zines and merch to go through for other characters and general Dracula-flavored goodies. Go give them and the submission guidelines a gander.   

Dracula Beyond Stoker Press: Link

9. Harker (and Other Arcane Horrors)

Harker is my work-in-progress, a novel expanding on the experiences of Jonathan Harker which we never get to see between his and the others’ journal entries in Dracula. It also adds some creative and menacing fleshing out for just how and why Jonathan Harker changed on October 3rd—and perhaps explains what exactly he changed into.

As of now, I am well over twenty chapters in, with over 750 pages written. In the draft, Mina is only just now about to read Jonathan’s journal for the first time. This thing is massive. And I’ve been releasing preview chapters since last Dracula Season! The latest of which is due to drop very soon.

Until then, there’s also an abundance of other horrors I’ve scribbled up in the interim. Some serial, some self-contained, and one in the form of a published novella, The Vampyres, which concerns some undead bastards of classic lit caught under the blade of a very practiced psychopomp. There are a couple preview chapters up to skim too!

Hope you enjoy the read.

Harker (Tumblr): Link

Harker (Substack): Link

Substack (General): Link

The Vampyres: eBook Paperback

[REDACTED – Surprise en route April 18th]

10. What Manner of Man (and Another Gothic Queer Nightmare)

@stjohnstarling has completed one tale of queer horror, romance, and erotica, and is hard at work on the next story. The first was What Manner of Man, a novel with some borrowed blood from Dracula and a wonderful twist on an intense relationship that forms between a priest and a vampire. This book is now completed on the Substack and as an eBook! His next work in progress: A Companion in Vice, building off the patchwork anatomy of Frankenstein.

What Manner of Man (Substack): Link

What Manner of Man (eBook): Link

A Companion in Vice (Summary): Link

11. Project Gutenberg

An online library of countless classic public domain works. Get on it, bookworms!

Dracula - Link

Carmilla - Link

Sheridan le Fanu collection - Link

12. The Internet Archive

As the name says, it’s an archive. It preserves damn near everything, including my favorite ballet…

Dracula Ballet by Michael Pink – Link

13. Romancing the Gothic - My Wild Heart Bleeds

Carmilla fans, storytellers, and scholars, this one is for you. My Wild Heart Bleeds is set to be an anthology dedicated entirely to Sheridan le Fanu’s Carmilla, including commentaries, original works, international and historic perspectives, discussions of adaptations and works inspired by the story… And you have the chance to contribute to it! Regarding submissions, the page says:

Abstracts of 3-400 words and a bio of 2-250 words should be sent to the editors Dr. Sam Hirst and Simon Bacon by June 30th 2025. Chapter of between 5-6000 words will be required by July 2026. We also welcome original creative pieces (artwork, short stories [up to 1,500 words], flash-fiction, poetry, etc) that are inspired by and/or critically engage with ‘Carmilla’ or themes mentioned above. Abstracts or queries should be set to: mywildheartbleeds@gmail.com

My Wild Heart Bleeds: Link

BONUS

@cry-ptidd – Blessed us with getting to see the Dracula cast in Hellsing style and showing us why Kohta Hirano didn’t dare to have them in the manga: The Harkers are simply too badass when canonical. (And the Suitors would be too stylish.)

@bluecatwriter – Expanding from Dracula fic to Carmilla fic. Smut abounds.

Poetry – For bonus gothic vampire reference material:

“Lenore” by Gottfried August Bürger, translated by Dante Gabriel Rossetti: Link

“Christabel” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Link

Libby the Library App (Sign Up! Support Your Libraries!) - Link

Dracula Season 2024

All the Dracula Season goodies compiled last year: Link

[jayblanc]

Chinese Censorship of the 2023 Hugo Award Nominations

Back before the 2023 Hugo Nominations were conducted, I noted that the Chengdu Worldcon Hugo committee had inserted a worrying clause indicating that local government officials could invalidate nominations for breaching the norms and standards of China. I suspected this would result in arbitrarily applied censorship to control the ballot. I am sad and unsurprised to discover I was correct.

The 2023 Hugo Nomination vote data has been published (https://www.thehugoawards.org/2024/01/2023-nominating-and-final-ballot-statistics-published/), and includes notation where nominations were excluded from the ballot. Those with normal reasons, such as being in the wrong category or not being published in 2022 are identified with their reasons for exclusion. This time there are a number of nominations that are merely marked at "Not eligible".

Here is the list of those nominations, that would otherwise have been placed on the final 2023 Hugo Award Ballot.

Babel - R.F. Kuang - Best Novel: Very likely excluded for referencing student revolution, and the use of language and translation as coercive tools of oppression. Color the World - Congyun "Mu Ming" Hu - Best Novellette : A story about perception of, aid of, and discrimination against disability. Congyun Hu has left China and now lives in New York. Fogong Temple Padoga - Hai Ya - Best Story : Either there is something in the original Chinese that was not translated, there's a taboo subject that elides my reading, or this otherwise innocent looking near future tale of cultural building restoration was written by the wrong person. The Art of Ghost of Tsushima: Dark Horse and Sucker Punch Games - Best Related Work : The video game Ghost of Tsushima was subject to directed social exclusion for it's depiction of the Mongol invasion of Japan. Sandman, Amazon Studios: Best Dramatic Presentation (Long and Short) - A diverse and divergent cast, includes subject matter and social issues that are currently taboo in China. Paul Weimer - Fan Writer: Publicly Critical of holding a Worldcon in China. Xiran Jay Zhao - Astounding Award: Qualifying work "Iron Widow" is reimagined story of Chinese Empress Wu during a fantasy/mechanical alien invasion.

This raises a lot of questions as to if this basically taints the process, and what can be done about it.

[svt-luna]

Omg please do a aftermath of let the world burn. It would be so cute!! 💕

𝜗℘ SHE WILL BE LOVED

❛ 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰���𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦— 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥. ❜

timeline: 2022

synopsis: Despite her injury, Luna takes the stage with unwavering grace, surrounded by the love and support of her fans and members, proving that no matter what, she will always be loved.

warnings: fluff, cursing, mentions of blood and stitches, injuries, protective!svt, established relationship, fluff, fluff, and more fluff, domestic!JeongNa (guys! ik i have written it but… I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE!)

due to popular demand, here is part two or the aftermath of my recent one-shot Let The World Burn. this is a short but sweet one-shot for you my lovelies!! enjoy and happy reading 💘

╰ ౨ৎ let the world burn

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna should have expected this.

She really, really should have seen this coming.

Luna wasn’t sure why she thought she would wake up the morning after her injury in peace, left to her own devices, allowed to exist in quiet recovery like any other grown adult.

That was never going to happen.

Not with the people in her life.

Not when she was surrounded by—

Hens.

Mother hens.

Thirteen of them.

And it all started with the original, the queen mother hen herself: Luna’s actual mother.

The second Luna cracked open her eyes that morning, still groggy from sleep and weighed down by the dull throb in her ear, her phone was already buzzing against the nightstand. She barely had time to sit up before she reached for it, still clumsy with sleep as she swiped to answer.

“Mom?” Her voice was hoarse, thick with sleep.

Her greeting barely made it through before her mother’s voice came barreling through the speakers.

“Jiyeonie-ah! Oh my god, finally! Why didn’t you answer last night? You manger told me everything that happened. Are you okay? Does it still hurt? Are you taking your medicine? Are you lying down? You shouldn’t be lying down too much! Have you eaten? You need to eat something. Wait, you need to drink something first! Hydrate, baby! Oh my god, is Jeonghannie there? He’s there, right? Tell him to make sure you—”

Luna groaned softly, pressing her forehead against her drawn-up knees, the phone balanced between her shoulder and her ear as her mother’s voice rattled off at rapid speed.

“Mom…” she mumbled, still half-asleep. “I’m okay…”

“You don’t sound okay! You sound tired— are you not sleeping enough? You need to rest! That’s the most important thing. And make sure you don’t touch your stitches! Did they give you extra gauze? They should’ve given you extra gauze. What if it gets wet? Do you know how dangerous that is? You—”

Luna yawned. “Mom…”

“What? I’m just worried! You scared me, you know that? When your manager explained everything to me, I almost fainted! You didn’t even call me to tell me you’re hurt— I had to find out from someone else! What if it was worse? What if—”

“Mom.” Luna sighed, shifting slightly against the pillows. “I’m okay. I promise. It doesn’t even hurt that much.”

That was a bit of a lie, her ear was throbbing— but she figured her mother didn’t need to know that.

“That’s what you always say! But then you run around like nothing happened and make it worse! You have to take care of yourself, baby. You can’t just—”

As Luna listened to her mother’s concerned rambling, her fingers idly traced patterns on the duvet. Next to her, Jeonghan was still lying down, his back to her, his face buried into his pillow as if he was still deep in sleep.

But Luna wasn’t stupid. She could see the way his eyes twitched, the barely-there shift of his fingers against the sheets.

He was awake.

More importantly— he was listening.

No, not just listening. He was memorizing.

Every single thing her mother rattled off— every concerned instruction, every reminder, every worried scolding— Jeonghan was filing them all away in his brain, silently taking notes without ever opening his eyes. He wasn’t even pretending to sleep for her benefit. He was pretending for her mother’s.

Luna narrowed her eyes at the back of his head.

Traitor.

She turned her attention back to her phone. “Mommy, I promise I’ll take care of myself,” she reassured, her voice softer now.

Her mother huffed. “You better. And tell Jeonghannie— he better make sure you do!”

At that, Jeonghan shifted slightly, still pretending to sleep, but now suspiciously closer to her. She felt the ghost of a smile twitch at her lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed. “I’ll tell him.”

And just like that, mother hen number one was handled.

But the second she hung up the call, she barely had a moment to breathe before mother hen number two took his place.

Jeonghan stretched lazily beside her, finally dropping the act as he turned onto his side, blinking up at her through still-heavy lids. His voice was rough with sleep when he murmured, “She’s right, you know.”

Luna groaned, letting her head fall back against the pillows. “Not you too…”

But of course, it was him too.

Mother hen number two was her boyfriend, after all.

And just like always, Jeonghan was careful not to overdo it. He knew how much Luna hated being fussed over, how easily she got annoyed when people hovered too much, so he did what he always did— he made it seem effortless.

After ordering room service for breakfast, he didn’t outright tell her to take her medicine. Instead, he placed the pills next to her orange juice, nudging them closer to her side of the table without a word.

When Luna pouted at him, he just raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to do it for you?” he asked, plucking the pills off the table and holding them up.

Luna rolled her eyes, snatching them from his fingers. “Fine.”

Jeonghan smirked. “Good girl.”

Luna glared at him as she downed them with a sip of juice.

After breakfast, as she got up to head to the bathroom, he reminded her, “Don’t get your stitches wet, Nana-ya.”

Luna sighed, already dragging a hand down her face. “Hannie, it’s my ear. How am I supposed to shower without getting it wet?”

“Easy,” Jeonghan said. “Just wash your body.”

She scrunched her face at that. “I’m not a caveman like you. I need to wash my hair.”

Jeonghan gave her a look, completely unfazed. “You’re saying that like my hair isn’t prettier than yours.”

Luna gawked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Mm.” Jeonghan leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “My hair’s silkier. Shinier. Probably smells better too.”

“Oh my god.” Luna groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Jeonghan just grinned, looking far too smug.

“Han, I’m being serious!” Luna whined. “I need to wash my hair!”

That was when Jeonghan’s expression softened just a little. He sighed, moving closer to cup the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her skin.

“Go wash your body first,” he murmured, voice softer now. “Don’t get your ear wet. After that, I’ll help you wash your hair.”

Luna frowned, eyes narrowing. “How?”

Jeonghan just patted her backside twice before waving her off toward the bathroom. “Don’t worry about it.”

Still confused, yet trusting, Luna did as he said. She showered like normal— except she only washed her body, carefully avoiding her ear, the stitches still covered by gauze from yesterday.

Once she was done, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped back into the room— only to find Jeonghan sprawled out on the bed, scrolling on his phone like he had all the time in the world.

“Now what?” Luna asked, tilting her head.

Jeonghan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his screen off, tossed it onto the bed, and rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie with the kind of lazy precision that should not have looked as good as it did. His eyes flicked toward her, a playful glint in them as he nodded toward the bathroom door.

Luna barely had time to process the moment before Jeonghan gently nudged her toward the bathroom, his fingers curling around her waist as he guided her. She held onto the towel wrapped securely around her body, her brows knitting together in confusion as she glanced back at him.

“Welcome to Salon Yoon,” he drawled, stepping past her to open the door with an exaggerated flourish. “Where we provide premium services for injured girlfriends who don’t know how to listen.”

Luna blinked at him. Then blinked again. “I— what?”

Jeonghan simply hummed, already moving toward the bathroom counter as if this were an entirely normal thing. He grabbed her shampoo and conditioner, setting them down with an air of professionalism that made her squint at him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she said, stepping inside, the tiles cool beneath her bare feet. “Are you actually serious?”

Jeonghan turned, giving her a look that was so deadpan she almost laughed. “Would I be wearing my professional stylist face if I wasn’t serious?”

“You don’t have a professional stylist face.”

“Exactly,” he shot back smoothly, already reaching for the sink. “Which is why you should be honored that I’m making an exception just for you.”

Luna rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further as he gestured for her to step closer. He was still acting as if he were running a real salon, adjusting the sink nozzle, twisting the water handle slightly, testing the temperature with practiced ease.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she muttered as she shuffled forward.

Jeonghan smirked, hands reaching for her shoulders as he gently turned her around and urged her to lean back against the large sink. “Salon Yoon prides itself on customer satisfaction.”

“Salon Yoon is about to get sued for fraud.”

Jeonghan ignored her, his fingers brushing against the nape of her neck as he carefully pulled out the hair tie keeping her damp locks in place. Her hair tumbled down, cascading over his hands, and he hummed in approval as he smoothed his fingers through it.

Then, just as nonchalantly as ever, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Luna blinked up at him, momentarily thrown off, her heart skipping a beat. Before she could react, he pulled away, his voice quieter this time as he murmured, “You’re so pretty.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and for a second, she forgot what she was supposed to be doing.

Then Jeonghan tapped her chin lightly. “Now lean back.”

Luna did as she was told, still slightly dazed, reclining against the sink as Jeonghan turned on the water. Warmth trickled down, and she let out a small sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

That was until the position started to feel off.

“Hannie,” she mumbled, shifting slightly. “This is… a little weird.”

“You’re fine,” he said absentmindedly, already lathering shampoo between his hands.

“No, I’m not— baby, my back.”

“I thought you were stronger than this,” he mused, fingers working gently through her hair.

Luna let out a short laugh, squirming. “Not when I’m bending backward like I’m in a horror movie! You could’ve at least given me a chair— ah!”

Jeonghan tsked as she nearly jerked up, his grip steadying her. “Stay still.”

“I am still—”

“You’re wiggling.”

“Because this is a stupid position,” she whined, squirming again.

Jeonghan sighed heavily, like she was the one being difficult, as if he wasn’t the one who decided this was a good idea. His fingers pressed lightly into her scalp, massaging in small circles, which was almost enough to make her forget the discomfort.

Almost.

“Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Hm?”

“My neck hurts.”

Jeonghan exhaled sharply through his nose, biting back a laugh as he continued working the shampoo into her hair. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re literally torturing me right now.”

“Oh? Should I stop then?”

“No,” Luna admitted, sinking further against him. Then she wrapped her arms around his torso, clinging onto him like a lifeline as she let out another giggle. “I need to hold onto something. This is ridiculous.”

Jeonghan, to his credit, barely faltered. He merely looked down at her, the corners of his lips twitching as he muttered, “You’re being so needy right now.”

Luna peeked up at him, grinning. “But you love me.”

A long pause.

“…Unfortunately.”

Luna gasped dramatically, smacking his side as he chuckled. “Take that back!”

“Nope,” Jeonghan said, still laughing, still diligently lathering the shampoo through her strands. “Now, stop moving before you make me mess up and I get shampoo in your stitches.”

Luna huffed, resting her forehead against his stomach. “You’re lucky this feels nice.”

“I know I am.”

She groaned, but there was no real bite behind it. Jeonghan, the absolute menace, was clearly trying not to laugh again, his fingers still gently carding through her hair.

And somehow, despite the weird position, despite the fact that she knew he was going to milk this for all it was worth later— Luna couldn’t help but smile.

Soon, the sound of water running over her hair gradually softened before stopping altogether.

Jeonghan’s fingers, which had been threading through her strands with the utmost care, gave one final pass before he reached for the faucet handle.

“And… done,” he announced, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You’ve officially survived the first— and last— session of Salon Yoon.”

Luna blinked up at him, her vision still slightly skewed from being in such an awkward position for so long. She tried shifting, but the second she attempted to lift herself up, a dull ache shot through her lower back, and her muscles refused to cooperate.

A slow, dreadful realization dawned on her.

“…Hannie,” she said, her voice small, lips curving into a pout.

He was already reaching for a towel when he hummed in response. “Hm?”

“I’m stuck.”

Jeonghan stilled.

Luna flailed her arms weakly. “I literally can’t get up.”

Silence.

Then, the corners of Jeonghan’s lips quirked as a knowing look crossed his face. Amusement twinkled in his eyes, but instead of teasing her immediately, he exhaled through his nose and softened, tilting his head.

“Ah, my poor baby,” he cooed, setting the towel down as he moved closer. His hand reached for the back of her neck, fingers warm and gentle as they curved around the delicate skin there. His other hand slid to the small of her back, applying just enough pressure to support her as he effortlessly lifted her upright, treating her like she was nothing more than a fragile newborn.

Luna let out a breath, her head falling forward to rest in the crook of his neck. The stiffness in her back and neck throbbed faintly as she adjusted to being upright again, but Jeonghan just held her there without a word.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, rubbing slow, soothing circles against the nape of her neck. His tone was teasing but filled with quiet affection, the kind that made warmth bloom in her chest. “Did my baby hurt herself again?”

Luna huffed against his skin, refusing to answer.

Jeonghan smiled, letting her stay nestled against him for as long as she needed. He didn’t even complain when her wet hair dampened his hoodie— he simply reached for a dry towel and began carefully patting her strands, drying them as gently as he had washed them.

For a moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in a comfortable silence.

Luna closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the feeling of his hands in her hair.

But before she could get too lost in the warmth, Jeonghan suddenly shifted.

“Alright,” he said, his tone light. Before she could process what was happening, his hands found her waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifted her onto the bathroom counter.

Luna blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What—?”

“It’s time to change your gauze,” Jeonghan said simply, reaching for the medical kit they had left on the counter the night before.

Luna let out a small groan, tilting her head back slightly. “Ugh. Already?”

“Doctor’s orders,” Jeonghan reminded her, opening the kit with ease. Then, his gaze flickered back to her, softer now. “Do you want me to do it, or do you want to do it yourself?”

His voice was gentle— no pressure, no assumptions. Just a quiet understanding of her independence.

Luna appreciated that about him.

She exhaled, considering for a moment before nodding. “You can do it.”

Jeonghan didn’t hesitate. The second she gave her approval, he was already gathering the gauze and antiseptic, his movements precise and steady. He worked in silence at first, carefully peeling away the old gauze just as they were instructed the day before.

Luna barely winced, but even the slightest flinch didn’t go unnoticed.

Jeonghan clicked his tongue, his free hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Shhh. Almost done.”

Luna pressed her lips together as he dabbed the antiseptic along the stitches, the sting mild but annoying. “It’s not that bad.”

Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. “Says the same person who just got stuck bending backward.”

Luna scowled. “That was your fault.”

He chuckled but didn’t argue, too focused on securing the new gauze properly. “You’re doing great,” he murmured absentmindedly, his voice dipping into something softer.

Luna found herself watching him closely.

He had always been like this— playful and mischievous in most cases, but when it truly mattered, when it came to taking care of the people he loved, there was no one gentler than Yoon Jeonghan.

A few more seconds passed before he finally gave a satisfied nod. “All done.”

Luna sighed in relief. “Thank you, Jeongie.”

Jeonghan smiled, leaning in to press a light kiss to her lips. “Of course.”

The kiss was brief, but it was enough to make her heartbeat stutter. She reached for him before he could pull away completely, her arms looping around his neck as she tugged him back in.

Jeonghan didn’t resist.

His hands found their way to the counter, resting on either side of her hips, effectively trapping her there. Their lips met again, this time slower, deeper, the familiar rhythm of their movements melting into something effortless.

Luna sighed into the kiss, fingers threading into his hair as she tilted her head slightly to deepen it. Jeonghan exhaled, his hands flexing against the counter before one of them lifted to rest against her thigh, his thumb brushing idly over her skin.

Soft, unhurried, lingering.

When they finally pulled away, Jeonghan smiled. “See? You did survive Salon Yoon.”

Luna let out a breathy laugh, resting her forehead against his. “Barely.”

He chuckled before stepping back, giving her room to hop off the counter. As she straightened up, he stretched, rolling out his shoulders.

“Well, I’m gonna shower. We need to leave soon,” he announced casually, shaking out his arms as if preparing for a marathon. Then, with a playful smirk, he threw her a look over his shoulder. “You should wash my hair next.”

Luna snorted, crossing her arms. “Not a chance.”

Jeonghan gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “What? After everything I did for you? This is the gratitude I get?”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “Did I ask for a salon appointment?”

“You needed it.”

“You forced me into it.”

Jeonghan sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Such a cruel, cruel girlfriend I have.”

Luna rolled her eyes, walking past him as she grabbed her clothes. “Salon Yoon is officially blacklisted.”

Jeonghan smirked. “Shame. I was gonna offer a full-body massage tonight.”

Luna paused mid-step, then slowly turned to look at him.

Jeonghan’s smirk widened.

“…Fine,” she muttered, pretending to think about it. “But only if I get to charge you next time.”

Jeonghan chuckled, already making his way toward the shower. “Oh, baby. You owe me for this.”

Luna groaned, throwing a towel at him before disappearing into the closet to change.

Jeonghan’s laughter echoed behind her.

Once Luna and Jeonghan were dressed and ready, it wasn’t long before their manager called out to them— it was time to go.

Stepping out of their room together, they barely made it a few steps down the hallway before Luna was immediately intercepted.

A flurry of movement surrounded her, and in the blink of an eye, Jeonghan found himself standing alone as his girlfriend was unceremoniously taken from his side by a group of very determined mother hens.

“Okay, that’s enough of you,” Seungkwan announced dramatically, stepping between Luna and Jeonghan like a bouncer separating two unruly patrons. “It’s our turn.”

Before Jeonghan could so much as blink, a force stronger than gravity itself— otherwise known as the collective will of SEVENTEEN— swept Luna into their embrace, effectively cutting him off.

Mingyu wasted no time gently slinging an arm over her shoulder as he walked with her toward the elevators, eyeing her with a look of exaggerated concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not dizzy? Nauseous? Seeing stars?”

“No,” Luna laughed, playfully rolling her eyes. “I feel fine.”

“Are you lying?” Joshua teased, nudging her gently as they walked. “Because you know we’ll find out.”

Luna let out an exasperated sigh, though the corners of her lips twitched with amusement. “I’m seriously okay, guys.”

“Good,” Dokyeom said, squeezing her other shoulder. “But just in case, you should hold onto me. I’m very strong.”

Jeonghan, who had been completely sidelined, raised an eyebrow at them from a few steps behind. “You guys do realize she has an actual boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, and she sees you all the time,” Hoshi waved him off dismissively, linking his arm with Luna’s other side. “She’s ours right now.”

Luna let out a laugh as she was guided into the elevator, the members practically barricading her in.

“You see her all the time too,” Jeonghan sighed in amusement, shaking his head as the doors closed on them.

The members were even more careful with Luna than usual as they made their way out of the hotel and toward their designated vans.

Joshua kept a firm but gentle hand on her back, ensuring no one accidentally bumped into her as they walked. Jun and Wonwoo walked slightly ahead, subtly making sure the path was clear. Even Dino, usually the one being mothered by her, was extra attentive, keeping an eye on her from the side.

Mingyu, still acting as her unofficial bodyguard, turned to their security detail with a completely serious face. “If you see anyone looking at her too hard, just… take them out.”

Luna snorted. “Gyu-Gyu.”

“What?” He shrugged. “You’re injured. You deserve extra protection.”

Despite the humor, she could feel the underlying care in their actions. Every touch was softer, every glance filled with quiet concern. They didn’t hover obnoxiously, but they were there— just in case.

By the time they arrived at the stadium, they naturally fell into their pre-show routine. Everyone went their separate ways to prepare— some warming up their voices, others stretching, a few sitting on the couches, simply lounging on theirs.

Luna, as always, took her time checking her equipment.

Her backup in-ears were waiting for her, neatly placed inside a small black case. Unlike her main ones, which had exploded during yesterday’s rehearsal, these were brand new— freshly made and double-checked by the staff.

Still, as she stared down at them, her fingers hesitated for a split second before picking them up.

She was lying if she said she wasn’t traumatized.

She knew logically that today’s soundcheck would be fine. The staff had reassured her multiple times that everything was double and triple-checked, that the malfunction had been an unfortunate freak accident.

But still.

The memory of the sudden pop, the sharp pain, the ringing in her ears— it wasn’t something she could just shake off overnight.

As if sensing her hesitation, Seungcheol appeared beside her, his presence grounding as he leaned down slightly to catch her gaze.

“They’re brand new,” he told her softly, motioning toward the in-ears. “I promise you, they’re safe.”

Luna exhaled slowly before nodding. “I know. I just…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

Seungcheol nodded in understanding, his voice gentle. “You’re allowed to feel nervous about it.”

Luna let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “It’s dumb.”

“It’s not,” he reassured her immediately. “It was scary. It makes sense that you’re still shaken up.”

She let out another breath, this time a little steadier.

“You only have to wear one, right?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, left ear only. Doctor’s orders.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol smiled. “Then let’s put it in together.”

He held out his hand, palm up. Luna stared at it for a moment before smiling softly and placing her in-ear in his palm. With careful precision, he helped her put on the device.

“There,” he said, voice warm. “See? All good.”

Luna smiled. “All good.”

Seungcheol grinned and gave her a gentle nudge. “You’re gonna do great as always.”

She met his gaze, feeling the warmth of his reassurance settle over her. “Thank you, Cheollie.”

“Anytime,” he said, patting her back before standing up. “Now let’s go kill soundcheck.”

Luna inhaled deeply, exhaled just as slow, then nodded.

“Let’s do it.”

The time had finally come.

Luna took a deep breath as she sat in front of the mirror, checking herself one last time before they stepped onto the stage for soundcheck. Her fingers instinctively reached for her hair, carefully pulling strands forward to drape over her right ear. She needed to keep it covered.

Not because she was ashamed or embarrassed, but because the last thing she wanted was for this to become an even bigger deal than it already was.

Their fans— Carats— were always so incredibly attentive, always noticing the smallest details. If they saw her without her right in-ear, if they saw even a glimpse of the gauze covering her injury, they would worry. And she didn’t want that.

Satisfied with how her hair fell naturally over the side of her face, she reached for her sunglasses, slipping them on gently.

The Bangkok sun was relentless, the heat pressing against the hotel windows all day, and she knew stepping onto that stage would be no different. But the glasses served another purpose too. Her eyes were still slightly puffy from crying yesterday. The pain had been one thing, but the sheer shock of what had happened—her in-ear exploding mid-rehearsal— had shaken her more than she let on. She could still hear the sharp ringing that had followed, the way the force had left her momentarily stunned, the warmth of the blood trickling down her ear before anyone even realized what had happened.

Luna inhaled deeply and let it out slowly.

It’s fine. She was fine.

Dressed casually in a black sleeveless vest and comfortable denim jeans, Luna stood up from her seat, stretching her arms as she turned to the others. The atmosphere in the waiting room was its usual pre-soundcheck mix of excitement and ease. Some members were doing last-minute vocal warm-ups, others were adjusting their own in-ear monitors or joking around to shake off any fatigue.

The familiar routine was comforting, grounding.

Soon, their manager peeked in, giving the signal.

It was time.

As they made their way to the stage, Luna adjusted her mic pack, careful not to tug at the wires too much. Jeonghan, who had been walking beside her, reached for her hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. A silent reassurance. He knew she was pushing through it, and he knew better than anyone when she needed quiet support rather than words. She gave him a small smile in return.

Then, the moment they stepped onto the stage, a wave of energy hit them.

The floor seat VIP ticket holders— who had been let in earlier than the general audience— were already waiting. The second the members appeared, the crowd erupted into cheers, waves of arms lifting phones into the air to capture the moment. Some fans waved frantically, while others simply stared in awe, taking in the sight of SEVENTEEN under the daylight, dressed down in their casual clothes, looking effortlessly cool even in their relaxed state.

Luna smiled, lifting her hand to wave as she followed the others onto the main stage. Soundcheck was always casual, a chance for them to run through a few songs, interact with the early audience, and test the equipment one last time before the actual concert.

The familiar opening beats of their first song played through the speakers, and immediately, they all fell into their natural rhythm, singing as they moved around the stage freely.

Everything was going smoothly.

Luna crouched near the edge of the stage, reaching down to interact with a fan holding a sign with her name on it, flashing a bright smile as she waved. The fan looked ecstatic, practically jumping in place.

Just as she was about to move, she heard loud laughter from behind her. Turning her head, she caught sight of Hoshi and Seungkwan sprinting across the stage, their voices ringing out in exaggerated yells as they chased each other.

She couldn’t help but laugh.

Shaking her head at their antics, she pushed herself up from her crouched position. And in that exact moment, the wind picked up.

Unbeknownst to her, the strands of hair she had so carefully placed to shield her injury were swept back, exposing her right ear. She had already turned away, walking back towards the others, completely unaware that a few fans had caught sight of what she had been trying to keep hidden.

The gauze was unmistakable.

At first, there was a flicker of confusion among the audience. Some fans turned to each other, whispering, their eyes darting between Luna and their phone screens, zooming in to confirm what they had just seen.

Then, voices began rising, overlapping in concern.

“Jiyeonie-ah, are you okay?”

“What happened to her ear?”

“Is she hurt?”

The murmurs grew, but the music was still playing, and the members were already waving their goodbyes, preparing to head backstage. Luna, still completely oblivious to the commotion, continued waving at the crowd before following the others offstage.

But the news spread fast.

The VIP fans who had been inside, the first to witness it, were already posting online. Tweets flooded in, accompanied by blurry screenshots and shaky videos from the soundcheck.

“Wait… I think Luna is injured?? She wasn’t wearing her right in-ear, and I swear I saw a bandage on her ear???”

“Omg I was there, she looked fine but her ear definitely had gauze on it…”

“WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS, IS SHE OKAY?!”

“I HOPE IT’S NOTHING SERIOUS, PLEASE SOMEONE CONFIRM???”

“I feel sick. What if she’s in pain and she’s just pushing through it… PLEDIS SAY SOMETHING.”

The conversation spread like wildfire. The fans outside the stadium— who had been waiting to enter— caught wind of it and immediately started discussing it amongst themselves. Fans at home, across the globe, who hadn’t even seen the soundcheck yet, were already trending Luna’s name, demanding answers.

It escalated so quickly that PLEDIS had no choice but to release an official statement.

Hello.

This is PLEDIS Entertainment.

We would like to inform you about SEVENTEEN member Luna’s current health status and her activities moving forward.

On September 30, Luna sustained an injury to her right ear due to a mechanical malfunction during rehearsals. The incident occurred when her in-ear monitor suffered an unexpected technical failure, resulting in a minor explosion. She was immediately attended to by the on-site medical staff and received prompt treatment.

Following thorough medical examinations, it has been confirmed that while she sustained an injury to the upper right ear, there is no damage to her hearing. Luna has been advised to wear protective covering over the affected area and will be using a backup in-ear monitor for her performances moving forward.

Despite the injury, Luna has expressed her strong desire to continue participating in the scheduled performances. After receiving medical clearance, she will be performing at today’s concert as planned. However, PLEDIS Entertainment and SEVENTEEN will be prioritizing her health, and adjustments may be made as necessary.

We sincerely thank the fans for their concern and support for Luna’s well-being. We will continue to monitor her condition and ensure she receives the necessary care.

Thank you.

The statement was meant to reassure fans, but it only fueled the discussion further. Theories, reactions, and messages of concern flooded social media. While some fans were relieved to hear that she was cleared to perform, others were frustrated that she was pushing through the injury at all. Debates sparked, some arguing that she should rest, while others trusted her decision to perform.

But one thing was certain— everyone was watching.

And that’s what everyone did— watch.

The members watched as Luna sat in front of the mirror, getting ready, their eyes subtly flicking toward her every few minutes. They watched as the makeup artist worked delicately around her face, avoiding any unnecessary movements that might jostle her injury. They watched as her hairstylist carefully sectioned her hair, keeping it loose enough to frame her face but firm enough to stay in place, ensuring that no accidental brush of fingers or tools would graze her ear.

They watched.

Luna felt it. She didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t tease them about it the way she usually would, but she felt it.

Their eyes, their concern, their restraint.

Even in the smallest actions— Jeonghan handing her a bottle of water without her needing to ask, Mingyu hovering close whenever she moved as if ready to steady her, Hoshi’s usual playful banter softened just a little, less teasing, more quiet support— they were watching.

She focused on the routine. Foundation, light but enough to cover any signs of exhaustion. Eyeshadow, a soft shimmer that caught the light just right. Lipstick, a natural pink shade that enhanced her smile. Every brushstroke was careful, every movement measured. Her stylist secured her in-ear monitor in her left ear, making sure the wire was tucked neatly behind her, while her right ear remained bare, hidden beneath the natural fall of her hair.

As if nothing had happened.

And when it was time— when the lights dimmed, the crowd’s screams rumbled through the stadium like thunder, and the members gathered in their final huddle before stepping on stage— they all knew the act would become reality.

The moment the music hit, the moment their feet touched the stage, everything else would fade.

And that’s exactly what happened.

The fans watched.

They watched as Luna emerged under the bright lights, her presence commanding, her energy unwavering. They watched as she moved, as she danced with the same precision and fire as always, as if nothing had happened. They watched as her voice rang through the stadium, clear and powerful, as if she hadn’t spent hours the day before wincing in pain.

They watched as the members gravitated toward her, as if by instinct.

How Jeonghan naturally positioned himself beside her during their line where he usually didn’t. How Seungcheol subtly glanced her way between lines, making sure she was keeping up without strain. How Joshua smiled at her every chance he got, quiet reassurance in the form of a familiar gaze. How Hoshi toned down his usual playful shoves, how Dino kept close whenever formations shifted, how even Vernon— who usually kept to himself— would linger nearby.

The fans watched.

They watched as Luna’s face appeared on the big screen, her smile lighting up the entire venue. The cheers were deafening, a mix of excitement and relief, because they knew. They knew she was hurt. They knew she wasn’t supposed to be resting, and yet here she was— dancing, singing, smiling, like nothing had happened.

And Luna, knowing that they knew, took a deep breath between songs, stepping toward the mic as the crowd quieted just enough to hear her.

“I’m okay. I promise.”

She chuckled softly, her voice light, reassuring. The fans screamed in response, some laughing, some yelling back, some probably scolding her in their own way. But she knew they understood. She wasn’t going to let them worry. Not tonight.

So they watched.

They watched as she continued, giving every move, every note, every moment her all.

101%, just like she always did.

Because that was where she belonged. On that stage, in front of them, giving everything she had.

And as they watched, they were simply glad.

Glad she was still there.

Glad she wasn’t too badly hurt.

Glad she was Luna— just as brilliant, just as unstoppable as ever.

Luna was just as glad.

Glad that she had them.

Glad that through all the pain, the exhaustion, the momentary fear of not knowing if she would even be able to stand on this stage tonight— she had made it.

And she wasn’t alone.

She felt it in the way the fans screamed her name, their voices layered with excitement, relief, and something deeper— an unspoken promise that they were with her, no matter what.

She saw it in the way their lightsticks waved in perfect synchronization, the entire stadium glowing like a sky full of stars, a constellation drawn just for them.

She read it in their signs, hastily written messages that said things like ‘Luna, we love you!’ and ‘Don’t push yourself too hard!’

They were worried, she knew. And yet, they were still here, still cheering, still supporting her like they always had.

She was glad she had them.

She was glad she wasn’t hurt worse. The pain was there— lingering, dull in some moments and sharp in others— but it wasn’t enough to break her. The wound on her ear throbbed beneath the gauze, a quiet reminder of what had happened, but she could still sing. She could still dance. She could still stand under these lights and give her all.

And she was glad she had them.

Her members. Her family.

She felt it in the way Seungcheol watched her out of the corner of his eye, in the way Jeonghan subtly brushed against her shoulder whenever they crossed paths on stage, as if to remind her he was there. She saw it in the way Joshua would smile at her just a second longer, in the way Mingyu offered his hand to help her down from a platform when she didn’t even need it.

She heard it in the way Seungkwan and Hoshi made an extra joke just to make her laugh, in the way Dokyeom sang to her a little louder when their voices harmonized, in the way Minghao and Jun still hyped her up between songs like nothing had changed.

She felt it in how Vernon, Wonwoo, and Woozi, usually quiet and reserved, made sure to linger near her during breaks. How Dino, the youngest, made sure to carry the energy just a little more, as if silently telling her that he would cover for her, just in case.

She was loved.

Not just by the fans who cheered for her. Not just by the members who watched over her. But by all of them, in ways both big and small, in ways that filled every corner of her heart.

Luna was glad.

Glad that through everything, no matter what, she had them.

Glad that she was loved by them.

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[libraford]

A local organization here has released a list of books that they feel are imperative to have in the time ahead. The list was not easily shareable, so I copy-pasted it here.

There is no need to read all of these, but one thing you can do that takes little effort is call your library and see if they have them in stock.

If you are moneyed, you can buy some copies and put them in little free libraries.

EDUCATING FOR ADVOCACY BOOK LIST

All books are written by authors from that culture

BOOKS FOR ADULTS

(2024) Be a Revolution: How Everyday People are Fighting Oppression and Changing the World - and How You Can, Too by Ijeoma Oluo

Each chapter discusses how someone is advocating for oppressed populations

and has examples of how others can do the same or similar.

(2024) The Message by Ta-Nehisi Coates

The author travels to Senegal, South Carolina and Palestine and grapples with deep questions and emotions.

(2023) Better Living Through Birding: Notes From a Black Man in the Natural World by Christian Cooper

A memoir of a Black man learning to claim space for himself and others like him.

(2022) Myth America: Historians Take On the Biggest Legends and Lies about Our Past Edited by Kevin M. Kruse and Julian E. Zelizer

The title explains it so well.

(2022) South to America: A Journey Below the Mason Dixon to Understand the Soul of a Nation by Imani Perry

History, rituals, and landscapes of the American South and why they must be understand it in order to understand America.

(2022) Memphis by Tara M. Stringfellow

Tells the story of 3 generations of a Southern Black family in Memphis.

(2021) How the Word is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America by Clint Smith

An exploration of important monuments and landmarks in the USA that show

how slavery has been foundational in the development and history of our country.

(2021) The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together by Heather McGhee

The title explains it.

(2021) The Seed Keeper by Diane Wilson

Historical fiction telling the story of several generations of a Dakota family

(2020) The Good Immigrant: 26 Writers Reflect on America edited by Nikesh Shukla and Chimene Suleyman

26 authors share their stories of living in the USA.

(2020) Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson

Examines the unspoken caste system that has shaped America and shows how we continue to be defined in this way..

(2020) This Is What America Looks Like: My Journey from Refugee to Congresswoman

by Ilhan Omar

This title explains it.

(2019) The 1619 Project: A New Origin Story by Nikole Hannah Jones (among others)

Reframes our understanding of American history by placing slavery and its continuing legacy at the center of our national narrative.

(2019) Things are Good Now by Djamila Ibrahim

Stories of how migrants sort out their lives in foreign lands.

(2018) So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

An examination of race in America.

(2018) I’m Still Here by Austin Channing Brown

A memoir telling her journey of learning to love her blackness while navigating America's racial divide.

(2018) If They Come for Us by Fatimah Asghar

Poetry that captures the experience of being a Pakistani Muslim woman in contemporary America, while exploring identity, violence, and healing.

(2016) Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of History of Racist Ideas in America by Ibram X. Kendi

Traces the history of Black America.

(2015) Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

A memoir, in the form of a letter to his young son, telling his personal experiences with racism and violence in the United States.

(2015) My Seneca Village by Marilyn Nelson

Poetry and information about Seneca Village – a multi-racial, multi-ethnic neighborhood in the center of Manhattan (Central Park ) that thrived in the mid-19th century.

(2014) An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz

Tells the 400+ years of US history, from the perspective of Indigenous peoples

(2013) Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Explores the place of plants and botany in both Indigenous and Western life.

(2010) The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration by Isabel Wilkerson

Follows the stories of three Black Americans’ migration journeys from Mississippi, Florida and Louisiana.

(2010) The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness

By Michelle Alexander

Explains how we haven’t ended, but have redesigned, the caste system in the U.S.

(1972) Lame Deer, Seeker of Visions by John (Fire) Lame Deer and Richard Erdoes

Told by Lame Deer, a Lakota medicine man, this memoir teaches the history of Indigenous people in the USA.

BOOKS FOR GRADES K-12

GRADES 7 - 12

(2021) Firekeeper’s Daughter by Angeline Boulley

The novel's main character is a young woman with a French mother and an Ojibwe father, who often feels torn between cultures.

(2021) The 1619 Project: Born on the Water by Nikole Hannah-Jones and Renée Watson

Illustrated by Nikkolas Smith

Tells the story and consequences of American slavery in verse.

(2020) Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi

Shorter and appropriate for middle and high schoolers.

(2020) All Boys Aren’t Blue by George M. Johnson

Series of personal essays about the author’s life growing up as a gay, black man.

(2020) Dictionary for a Better World: Poems, Quotes, and Anecdotes from A to Z by Irene Latham and Charles Waters Illustrated by Mehrdokt Amini

Explained in title.

(2020) Woke: A Young Poet’s Call to Justice by Mahogany L. Browne with Elizabeth Acevedo and Olivia Gatewood Illustrated by Theodore Taylor III

Poetry about fighting for racial justice through joy and passion.

(2020) Be Amazing: A History of Pride by Desmond Is Amazing Illustrated by Dylan Glynn

The history of Pride, with bold illustrations, focusing on the importance of embracing one’s own uniqueness and tuning out the haters.

(2020) Dear Justyce (Dear Martin #2) by Nic Stone

Continues the story of Justyce from Dear Martin in a series of flashbacks and letters.

(2020) Punching the Air by Ibi Zoboi and Yusef Salaam

A novel in verse about a boy who is wrongfully incarcerated.

(2019) Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobab

The author tells the story of life as a nonbinary person in graphic novel form.

(2019) An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States for Young People original book by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz adapted by Debbie Rees and Jean Mendoza

Shorter and appropriate for middle and high schoolers

(2017) Sea Prayer by Khalad Hosseini Illustrated by Dan Williams

Written as a poetic letter, from father to son, this is a story of the journey of refugees.

(2017) Dear Martin (Dear Martin #1) by Nic Stone

A story of the realities of a Black teen living in America.

(2015) All American Boys by Jason Reynolds and Brendan Kiely

From the perspective of two teenage boys, one Black and one White, a story is told with the realization that racism and prejudice are still alive and well.

(2015) Beyond Magenta: Transgender and Nonbinary Teens Speak Out by Susan Kuklin

The author interviewed six transgender for gender-neutral young adults and lets

them tell their story.

(2011) Heart and Soul: The Story of America and African Americans written and illustrated by Kadir Nelson

The title explains it well

GRADES 4 - 6

(2023) An American Story by Kwame Alexander illustrated by Dare Coulter

Tells the story, poetically and honestly, about American slavery

(2023) Step by Step!: How the Lincoln School Marchers Blazed a Trail to Justice

by Debbie Rigaud and Carlotta Penn illustrated by Nysha Pierce

Tells the story of a group of Black mothers and children and their two-year march to integrate an Ohio elementary school.

(2022) Say Their Names by Caroline Brewer illustrated by Adrian Brandon

A young Black girl leads a #BlackLivesMatter protest march.

(2021) Stamped (For Kids): Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi.

Shorter, more kid friendly version of Stamped from the Beginning.

(2021) Unspeakable: The Tulsa Race Massacre by Carole Boston Weatherford illustrated by Floyd Cooper

Traces the history of this African-American ‘Wall Street District’ and its destruction by White supremacists.

(2016). I Dissent: Ruth Bader Ginsburg Makes Her Mark by Debbie Levy illustrated by Elizabeth Baddeley

The life and work of RBG told in picture book form.

(2008) Silent Music: A Story of Baghdad written and illustrated by James Rumford

Ancient and recent history of Baghdad from the perspective of a young boy.

(2005) Show Way by Jacqueline Woodson illustrated by Hudson Talbott

Traces the history of the ‘show way’ quilt from slavery through freedom.

(2005) My Name is Bilal by Asma Mobin-Uddin illustrated by Barbara Kiwak

Muslim-American student experiencing religious prejudice.

(2005). Amelia to Zora: Twenty-Six Women Who Changed the World by Cynthia Chin-Lee Ilustrated by Megan Halsey and Sean Addy

An alphabet book that teaches about the extraordinary lives of 26 women.

(1978). The Other Way to Listen by Byrd Baylor and Peter Parnall

Helps children learn about indigenous cultures.

GRADES PRE-K - 3

(2023) These Olive Trees: A Palestinian Family’s Story written and illustrated by Aya Ghanameh

A story of a young girl and her family in Nablus, Palestine, 1967

(2020). Antiracist Baby by Ibram X. Kendi illustrated by Ashley Lukashvsky

Teaches young children how to be an antiracist.

(2016). When We Were Alone by David A. Robertson and Julie Flett

A young, indigenous girl learns about her grandmother’s experience in a

residential school.

(2013). A is for Activist by Innosanto Nagara (board book)

An ABC book that teaches children about being an activist.

[macaronirats]

The wwwy performance is so genius because in 2022 they took the concept of “when we were young” and used it to critique nostalgia culture and never pursuing new concepts in music. This time, though, I feel like Gerard went so much deeper with that concept and really looked at where he was mentally during the writing of the black parade, when he was young. Not only is that shown in the costume but in the entire set as well. The serenity prayer shows his struggles at the time with sobriety, both with being sober and remaining sober. The talk about knives before sleep I think really embodies the calculated, primal chaos lurking beneath the entire album but especially that song. Just the general rawness and emotion of the performance feels like they are embodying the mindset that they were in when making the album. Even the arrangement of cancer being played like it was originally instead of the piano version they had been playing for years serves as a call back to when the album was originally written. The costume is genius because it’s barely even a costume, just a return to that era in his life. This performance essentially did exactly what the 2022 performance did- it made the audience uncomfortable in a way that forced them/us to look at ourselves and also where the music we enjoy stems from. It makes us reexamine the entire album and how we listen to it. I don’t think I can ever experience the black parade the same way again. Absolutely genius performance.