Apr 4, 2024
RIP Charlie Bradbury, you would’ve loved hacking into JK Rowling’s bank accounts and donating her millions and millions of dollars to trans people and trans organizations
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seen from Japan
seen from China
seen from United States
RIP Charlie Bradbury, you would’ve loved hacking into JK Rowling’s bank accounts and donating her millions and millions of dollars to trans people and trans organizations
Isabelle Bryer, "Queen Of Moons", detail, oil on canvas, French artist.
Day 8 - Leather and Lace
The Queen of Moons is not a frilly, lacy princess.
No shade to frilly, lacy princesses of course, they’re powerful in their own right. The secrets that they collect could topple empires. But that’s not the Queen of Moons.
The Queen of Moons is not a subtle manipulator, not a spy, not someone particularly gentle or kind. The Queen of Moons is a warrior. The Queen of Moons is a strategist. The Queen of Moons is a protector.
Charlie loves being the Queen of Moons.
Sometimes the responsibility scares her, it’s true. She has an entire kingdom to take care of. She can’t fail her people.
But Charlie is lucky, because she straps on leather armor, buckles her sword at her hip, puts her crown away for safekeeping, and knows in her bones that she won’t.
The Queen of Moons will win the war, and Charlie Bradbury will find peace.
Imagine LARPing with Charlie
“Every queen needs a ruler to assist her, and I think you should be mine.” Charlie, currently playing the Queen of Moons, looked at you with a smirk.
“My queen, I mean no disrespect, but I’m not in a position of power or respect.” You looked at Charlie with love struck eyes. “I’m not by any means a king, queen, ruler, or anything of such nobility.”
The queen walked towards you and lifted up your chin. A smirk adorned her face as she leaned in until your lips nearly met.
“Says who?”
thinking about her
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Also, a new chapter of One More Slow Song coming tomorrow!
Suptober Day 3: Royalty
Link to the ficlet on AO3:Â https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202004
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Dean entered the Queen’s tent, the flaps closing behind him with a sigh, and sketched a deep bow before arising with a flourish and a cheerful grin.
“Your Highness! It is I, your trusty Handmaiden, and I have arrived to escort you to the pitch for the Battle of Kingdoms tournament, “ he managed to sputter out without laughing. Much.
Charlie rolled her eyes at his antics, the edges of her mouth creeping up into a grin.
“Very well, Handmaiden. Fetch my sword and shield,” she commanded, pointing to the items propped in the corner of the tent.
Dean bowed again, then ambled toward the items.
Charlie rose from her seat and, picking up her helm from the table, wrapped her long copper hair into a loose bun and tucked it inside the helm as she slid it onto her head.
Dean returned with the shield strapped to his arm, the sword held at guard in his other hand. Turning toward the mirror and assuming a fighting position, he says, “Damn. I make these look GOOD.”
A swish of fabric at the tent entrance. “Yeah, sure. Too bad you’re just a HANDMAIDEN,” Sam quipped. He turned to Charlie and smiled. “Your kingdom awaits, Your Highness,” he said, presenting the crook of his arm.
Charlie smiled back up at him and placed her hand lightly on the proffered arm. “Lead on, Sir Knight.”
She glanced back over her shoulder at Dean. “Coming, Handmaiden?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled, turning away from the mirror to follow. “But next Tournament, *I* get to be the Knight!”
Who do you choose?