We've got a delicious update loaded with goodies (though, tragically, not of the Candy Land variety!).

TWO new stretch goals!

The results of your poll for Door #2!

AND the next part in our intriguing Bluebeard Choose-Your-Own Adventure story!

What was behind Door #2?

You enthusiastically yielded to your curiosity, and though this was our closest vote yet, you picked Pop-Up End Papers on the hardcovers AND a BTS discussion about Bluebeard with Jenny and Katee for your second stretch goal!

I'll just be over here scheming how to get Gothic Candy Land on the next one...

This time, you've got TWO doors tempting you with two more stretch goals!


Door#3 Challenge: Help us to get the word out about the project! If we get 100 reposts on our most recent Instagram post, you'll unlock this door and get to vote on another goal!



Door #4 Challenge: Beat Season 3: The Black Rose Auction's $554,575 record to become our biggest campaign ever! We're so close!


Bluebeard Choose-Your-Own Adventure Part 3:

If you've just joined us, we've been collectively creating our own version of a Bluebeard story. You can always catch up to this point here!

Your suggestions on the last one were SO GOOD! Here's what you chose to do...and the consequences of that choice:

The Ball

You’ve come this far–it’s too late to go back now. You descend the curving staircase, your heart in your throat, to approach the tall table with an assortment of masks. Everyone is dressed so extravagantly, with ballgowns and suits and everything in between. You stand out in your jeans and T-shirt, but you gamely pick a mask from the pile. It’s a gorgeous piece that will cover the top half of your face, with a stylized beak and golden feathers meant to obscure your features further.

As you place it against your face and fasten the ties, a strange sensation tingles against your skin, reminding you of gently misting rain. You go to take a step forward and stop short as the sudden weight against your legs. When you look down, it’s to discover your clothing has morphed into an iridescent gown that swishes around you with every movement. As you bring your hand to your hair, you find another change–it’s coiffed and pinned back from your face. 

You’ve been transformed.

“Would you like to dance?”

You startle as a deep voice breaks through your surprise. You know this voice–you spoke just a short time ago when he brought you to your room. Bluebeard.

He’s changed in this place, too. You didn’t realize how dulled he was earlier until he stands before you now, utterly resplendent. There’s a power to him, a thread of danger that draws forth a confusion reaction. You don’t know if you want to put more distance between you and this man…or if you want to be closer.

Belatedly, you realize he’s asked you a question. You don’t know the dance that sends the others swirling about the room, but if you beg off, surely he’ll be suspicious. Did he see you descend the staircase, trespass in this place you’re not supposed to be? You’re so tangled up in your thoughts, you can only watch in shock as your hand rises to set gently into his. You didn’t make the decision to move, did you? You’re nearly certain you didn’t.

He tugs you onto the dance floor, though you can’t really see any delineation, and into his arms. His free hand comes up to rest against the curve of your waist. Your dress is structured enough that you shouldn’t feel the heat of his palm against the fabric, but you do all the same. It feels like his touch is imprinted upon your skin. You’re not sure you like it. You’re also not sure you don’t.

“You look lovely,” he says as you move through steps you most certainly don’t know. Your body hasn’t gotten the memo, though. Once again, it moves without your input, taking you through the motions in time with Bluebeard, as if you’ve been dancing all your life. He spins you out and easily draws you back. “You’re not a regular attendee.”

Maybe he didn’t see you arrive. Relief threatens to make you dizzy. You didn’t think there was an overt threat to his warning to stay in your room, but this night has gotten stranger with each passing minute. If there is a secret ball, with…magic? What other dangers might hide in this strange house? 

You lick your lips, suddenly aware of the way he follows the movement. “My first time.”

“Then I have claimed your first dance.” Even his voice is different in this place, deeper and seeming to roll through me without any particular effort on his part.

A thousand questions press for answers. What is this place? Who are these people? Who is he to them? You can’t ask a single one of them. If you do, he’ll know that you aren’t supposed to be here. “So you have.”

You circle the room, feeling like you’re flying. You’ve never danced like this, and you’re suddenly certain that you never will again. The thought feels bittersweet enough to reach your face. Bluebeard tugs you a tiny bit closer. “Is there a problem?”

“This is my first time, and I already want to experience it again.”

His lips curve. Gods, he’s handsome. You noticed that before, but it feels so different now. Intentional, almost. “I can appreciate your greed, little bird.”

You almost ask him why he called you that before you remember the mask you wear. “I suppose we all share it, seeing as how we’re all here.”

“Even so.” He spins you away again, keeping a careful hold on your hand, and then brings you back to him. “It is not meant to be a permanent thing. There is beauty in the transient moments, more so because you know you may never experience it again.” 

You can see the truth of his words, no matter how little you like them. Before you can think of anything else to say, the song eases and he releases you. “Enjoy your night, little bird. Perhaps I’ll claim another dance from you before the end.”

You’re still trying to decide if you want to ask for one right now when he melts into the crowd. The moment you lose sight of him, the space becomes disorienting. The laughing animal faces of the nearby people seem to follow you as you move, as if they’re laughing at you. Everything is so bright and glittering and the movement never stops.

You stumble to the nearest wall in an effort to ground yourself. Leaning against it helps, if only a little. You’ve never done drugs, but surely this is what it feels like, the world gone twisting and strange? As you look around, searching for something to steady yourself, you see a woman.

There are many women here, of course, but this one is different. She looks…normal. She has no mask, for one. For another, she’s not in a gown at all, but something much closer to what you had on when you came down the stairs. She also doesn’t look fully coherent, her head lolling as she’s half-carried between two party-goers to a set of double doors not far from where you stand. They disappear through the doors without anyone around appearing to notice.

The dose of reality in the midst of a dreamlike scene is a bucket of cold water in your face. Something isn’t right here, hasn’t been right since you arrived earlier today. You might be able to write off the whole experience as being too tired–maybe you’re still in your bed, safe and sound–but that woman…She doesn’t fit the same way you don’t fit, except she is bare of your disguise.

You follow. Of course you follow. You’ve come too far to go back now, and she clearly needs help. Nothing good comes from an inebriated or drugged woman being escorted, seemingly against her will, to a private location.

The doors lead to yet another hallway, this one remarkably mundane and nearly identical to the one you wandered down just a short time ago. You pad silently in slippered feet, following the sound of footsteps to a cracked door. Peeking inside, you see the woman has been laid on a chaise, one of the people standing by her head, the other crouched next to her and examining her fingertips. “Good nails, good skin, good hair.”

“Good dreams, good nightmares, good fears,” the standing one replies in an identical distracted tone. “She will do nicely.”

You don’t know what’s going on, but this is wrong. You have to help this woman…but how? These two seem distracted. Maybe you should rush them? Or search the other rooms for a weapon? Would going back to the party even be worth the effort when you’re just as likely to find enemies instead of help?

Comment to tell us what you'll do next, and remember to upvote your favorites!

Y'all did it!!! You let your curiosity win, and we all win as a result! Now, it's time to vote for what you find behind the second door...

Option 1:
Make Katee Write a Bluebeard Candy Land short. Will it be spicy? Will it be horror? Will it be spicy horror? Only one way to find out!

Option 2:
Upgrade the sticker pack by added foil accents. Make it SHINY!

Option 3:
Katee and Jenny (and friends!) will film a one-shot playing the Bluebeard's Bride RPG.

Option 4:
Upgrade the hardcover books to include pop-ups in their endpages, and a behind-the-scenes podcast episode diving into all things Bluebeard.

As with the first stretch goal, the option with the second-most votes will also be on the poll for Door #3. In this case, we combined options two and three because we're deeply excited about both.

How does Door #3 unlock? Well, you'll just have to wait and see...

Have you voted yet to decide what happens next in the story?? If we reach 1k votes before it closes, we’ll unlock the next door and you’ll get to pick another stretch goal.

We’re so close! Can you help to unlock it?

If you missed the next part of the story and the detailed options, you can find them here!

It's time to vote again! And, this time, your participation unlocks the next stretch goal! If we can get 1,000 votes on this poll, Door #2 will unlock!

Now, for our options. Choose carefully...

Option 1: Return to your room to change
You can't attend a ball wearing these clothes. When you return to your room, however, it's to find a beautiful ballgown laid out for you. If that isn't an invitation, you don't know what is.

Option 2: Watch from the shadows
You're not ready to dive into the crowd below, so you stick to the shadows. Surely no one will see you...

Option 3: Take a mask and enter the party
You descend the staircase and accept a mask. As soon as it settles on your face, your clothing magically changes into a gorgeous gown.

Option 4: Retreat to your room for the night
You know a trap when you see one, even if you don't understand how this is happening. You retreat to your room, lock your door, and wait for dawn.

Also! Several folks have asked us about content warnings for the books. You can now find them in the FAQ, as well as here.

Your enthusiasm has been…intoxicating. You’re opening doors faster than we’d imagined, and the story is already taking on a life of its own. 

We return now to our Bluebeard tale, but first…

A reward, naturally. We’d never punish your curiosity…

You unlocked a set of stickers with Finn Frei’s hauntingly beautiful cover art! 

The sticker set will be automatically included in all one-click boxes for no additional cost. And for those who just can’t help themselves… they’re now available to add to your pledge!

But every unlocked door leads to another.

Your next stretch goal arrives on Thursday, April 16th–along with the poll for what happens next in the story.

But this time, it won’t be measured in dollars. Only in what you’re willing to do to unlock it…

If you’re just joining us, you can find the first part of the story under the Choose Your Own Adventure tab.  

At that turning point, you thought about following the rules…you considered slipping into a hot bath and pretending none of this was quite so…bizarre. But in the end, you had no choice but to go and retrieve your book from the car. It had nothing to do with your curiosity.

You forgot your book. You stand in front of your bed, which now contains every single item from your suitcase…except your book. You knew this to be the truth before you dumped it out, but part of you couldn’t believe it without seeing for yourself. No book. 

You turn a slow circle and survey the room. It’s still early, for all that full dark has fallen outside your window. You tend to be a night owl, and the hours stretching between now and when you’ll finally fall asleep feel unforgivably boring. You’ll be climbing the walls within thirty minutes without something to distract you, and there isn’t even a television in this room to keep you occupied. 

Bluebeard told you to stay put after dark, but he doesn’t have to know you’re ducking out for a quick run to your car. You map the route in your head–down the long, meandering hallway, descend the staircase, through the foyer and front door. Your car is right there once you leave the house. 

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab your keys, slip them into your pocket to ensure they don’t betray you by jingling, and crack open your bedroom door. You hold your breath, and then feel a bit silly for doing so. You’re a grown ass adult. You’re more than capable of navigating a house in the dark. And Bluebeard is far too polite to do something as creepy as stand guard outside your door to ensure you obey the rules.

Sure enough, no one appears to chastise you. Not as you open your door fully, not as you step into the hallway and pad on bare feet toward the stairs. 

You’ve spent plenty of time living alone over the years and so you’re more than familiar with what an empty apartment feels like. This house has a similar sensation, except it’s more pronounced. As if this house isn’t merely slumbering, but has reached its final resting place alongside your mysterious uncle.

You pause again at the stairs, peering down to the first floor as best you can. Despite your intentions to get through this journey as quickly as possible, your gaze tracks to the stairs up. They seem deeper in shadow than the ones down, the darkness thick enough to obscure the landing. You shiver. This place didn’t seem so sinister in the daylight.

It truly only takes a few minutes to hurry down the stairs and out into the night. You pause on the front step and take a deep breath, the scent of pine heavy in the air. The tight spot between your shoulder blades relaxes a little in response to the sound of frogs croaking at each other, and various night insects moving about their existence. “See. Not so bad,” you murmur. 

You have a moment to regret not pulling on shoes as you pick your way across the gravel to your car, but a brief discomfort is worth it to move silently in the house. Your book is right where you left it–in a tote bag with various snacks and drinks from the trip here. You grab the whole thing, pause to lock your car, and move quickly back to the house. 

Part of you half expects the front door to be locked against your re-entry, but the handle turns easily against your palm. The door doesn’t even creak as you swing it open and slip back into the house. You pause there in the foyer, letting your eyes adjust to the dimness. There’s nothing to fear. It’s just an old house in the middle of the woods. Yes, your childhood fairy tales warned you of such things, but the small amount of risk is worth the reward waiting for you on the other side of the temporary trial.

The ascent back to the second floor is just as smooth as your escape. You glance at the steps leading to the third floor. You can’t help it. There’s something so odd about how the light doesn’t penetrate. It pulls at you, even as it repels you.

As you turn toward your room, you register a faint sound. You hadn’t realized exactly how silent this place is until it’s penetrated by a mournful cello. Your head snaps up. That’s definitely coming from the third floor. It must be Bluebeard playing, though you didn’t think he was the musical type based on your brief interaction. 

But then a violin joins the cello, and a faint thrum of a drum. That doesn’t make sense. There’s no one else here but you and Bluebeard; you’re sure of it. You stand there in confusion as more and more instruments come together until it sounds almost like there’s a small orchestra. The music changes, too, moving from so devastatingly sad you think your heart might break to something that feels like a hand reaching down to grasp your chin, to tug your attention away from the stairs down and toward the third floor.

You shouldn’t. You’re already breaking the rules, but at least you had a good reason to do so. If Bluebeard catches you, he’ll… What? Give you a stern talking to? You shake your head, trying to focus. This is all so strange. It has been since you received the notice in the mail about your long lost uncle, but that at least you could explain away. This moment feels different.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pivot and walk up the stairs to the third floor. You don’t make a sound, but with each step, your skin prickles as if sensing eyes on you. That’s impossible, though; there are no windows in this part of the stairs and it’s almost too dark to see anything at all.

You reach the third floor landing without a problem. The music is louder here, but only barely. It sounds as if it’s coming from a great distance, perhaps down the hallway stretched out at your feet. 

Now is the time to turn back, to retreat to the relative safety of your room. You have your book, after all, and that’s what you broke the rules to accomplish. But the music is in your bones, and curiosity sparks in your chest. You’re certain it’s not a recording, which means there are more people here than Bluebeard. You want to know who they are and why they’re in the house of a dead man, playing such a lively tune.

Your shoulder aches from the weight of your tote bag, but you barely notice it as you move quietly down the third floor hallway. It’s nearly identical to the second floor, but much darker, lacking the windows to allow the moonlight in. There are dozens of doors, each made of dark wood and standing slightly too tall and too wide. 

The source of the music quickly becomes clear when you reach the end of the hallway. You thought it stopped with a blank wall, but that was another illusion from shadows. Instead, it’s a great archway. 

You hesitate, but you’ve come this far. You won’t be able to sleep if you don’t see this through. With a fortifying breath, you propel yourself forward through the arch and into the shadows. They seem to part around you with each step, revealing a balcony overlooking a ballroom. The space doesn’t make sense with what you saw of the exterior of the house, but it’s possible you got turned around somewhere along the way.

It’s also not empty.

You expected Bluebeard, expected some kind of explanation to the music. You get both, but he’s not alone. The ballroom is filled with people in gowns and tuxedos, moving through a dance that looks like something out of the historical movies you enjoy so much. Every single one of them is wearing a mask–gold and silver and feathers and sequins arranged in vaguely animalistic features–to hide their faces.

All except Bluebeard, who stands next to the small band, looking like a different man entirely. Oh, his features are identical to the man you met earlier today, but that polite gentleman is nowhere in evidence. His entire energy is different, bigger, more dangerous. It sends a thrill of something– fear, attraction, or some combination of both–through you. 

The music pulls at you, an invitation you shouldn’t accept. But there’s a staircase leading down to the ballroom, and a small table filled with masks arranged at the bottom, there for the taking.

It’s not too late, though. Bluebeard hasn’t seen you, doesn’t know your trespass. You could slip away through the shadows and return to the room with him none the wiser…

***

The next step of our story is in your hands…