#|| It felt good to get a title like peace bringer

[hcadlesshuntcr]

THE JOURNEY TO MOONRISE - Peace Bringer

[essiekuko]

the pieces of jennifer's body

i told them, it was all a ruse to get them closer to me so i can learn their secrets. i'd know their secrets to be able to have something to use against them in the future if they were to cross me....like they would ever cross me, right? literally immature and petty behaviour coming from year 9 me. and the year after i was so desperate for close friendships ha. anyway, yeah. did i finish explaining the beef between harold and jewel? probably not. okay, so with harold and jewel, i told harold what jewel said abt him (that she thinks he's using our friend group for popularity) and he wanted to take it to the counsellor's. like omfg. what is everyone's obsession with taking shit to the counsellor's. anyway, we took it to the counsellor's and i was being so fake and shit. harold and i met up with the counsellor beforehand, and she sent me to go fetch jewel from class. i went to go get jewel from class to come to our meeting, and i didn't answer any of her questions the whole time we walked there. so jewel and harold talked it out, and i thinkkkk jewel they did work things out but they obviously still have their suspicions about each other. so that was beef...! little miss world wanted to be the drama starter so bad, she just went about ruining friendships and lives and what not just to cause some drama for her own entertainment. at least thats what she told herself, she just wanted to feel powerful is all. like that one scene where regina george finishes spreading the burn book pages all across school, and she stands amidst the chaos with her arms crossed and a smug little smile on her face, i used to idolise that scene heavy and attempted to recreate that feeling, the power and control i could have over others. in year 8, the start of being miss world until her untimely demise in year 9 (courtesy of lockdown), i broke up a couple by being the middle girl once again. i hear both parties gossiping about one another, and then as the messenger and supposed 'peace bringer' cause i'm on good terms with both parties, i have the uppermost hand and im able to manipulate the situation however i want it to go. one of my best friends, leila, was dating yasin. she asked him out first, but later on in their relationship yasin told me that he felt pressured to accept her love confession, and was pretty much desperate for a new relationship after his previous failed one, so he accepted her love confession and began dating leila even without the love, just for the image of them two being together. and there's thing funny thing little about love. theres all kinds of love, and the love yasin had for leila was like the love a singer would have for their fans. the singer only loves the fans because they love the singer, its like a narcissistic thing. i told leila, and i was coming from a good place yk, i love leila and shes a dear friend, i didnt want to just stand idly by while i knew their relationship was built on one-sided love, and that yasin just wants to be admired by her. they broke it off, and i guess i was to blame??? for good reason....rightttt??? idk, maybe i shouldnt have said anything. i got them to talk it over at least. like, so they dont end things off on a sour note. the next year the girls and i (older girl friend group) were discussing love and crushes and shit, and i found it hard to relate, so i took the discussion as an opportunity to further fuel my little miss world title, looking ruthless and cutthroat and what not. i lied to my girls that i broke up leila and yasin because i secretly liked yasin and was jealous of leila's relationship with him. yeah. i said that. those words exited my mouth. see this is why i look back at my younger years with such annoyance. anyway, i've made my peace with all though. i don't regret many things in life, and i try not to have regrets, because i believe everything u do in life all contributes to ur overall growth as a person. i just realised the aliases i came up with for yasin and leila sound just like yasu and reira from nana. and they were like a toxic little couple as well…!!

summary of this post:

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART SIX - A Rogue One Fanfiction

This is a shorter installment, and maybe pointless… maybe I’m dragging this out too long… But also, who cares, I’m doing this for fun. I just love playing with them!

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Six

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some coarse language. References to wounds. And… Cuddling?

Words: 1,720

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The Death Star had come for them.

Again.

But Jyn couldn’t bring herself to care. It did seem a little strange to have been spared the last time only to probably be destroyed this time, barely a week later. But either way, it was the end to her life she now knew to be her fate, or whatever. It just felt right. It just was. Not the Death Star specifically, but,

Jyn Erso would die in Cassian Andor’s arms.

Whether it should’ve been on Scarif. Or it was here on Yavin 4. Or the next day. Or thousands of days in the future.

And there was a sort of peace in knowing that. One that allowed her to climb into his bed, slide her arms around him, and bury her face in his shoulder. He stirred and her heart skipped a beat. It was easier when he was unconscious, to consider how she felt about him, how she’d been attracted to men before, even had something akin to a relationship with one or two, but it had never felt like this.

“Jyn…?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re on the base on Yavin 4. Safe. In your quarters.” It was easier to preempt any confusion or alarm Cassian experienced when he woke from his heavy, partially drugged, mostly just exhausted from his body’s healing, sleep.

“How long?” he asked, then realized there were static-laden voices broadcasting over the basewide intercom. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours,” Jyn said, moving closer and partially on top of him to prevent him from trying to get up in a rush and falling flat on his face. Also, she was admittedly afraid on some level, afraid to be alone and facing death. When he was near her, when they were physically entwined in some way, she felt like everything would be okay. Even if she died, if it was in Cassian’s arms, then everything would be okay. Irrational, yes. But that didn’t make it any less her truth.

“The Death Star is here,” she said, once she could tell he was awake enough to understand, not muddled by pain meds. “The Alliance is scrambling their forces to engage. They’re leaving the comms open, since you know…”

“We’re all dead if they fail.”

His arms wrapped around her and engulfed her in his warm embrace. Cassian Andor, a man who, she didn’t think she was wrong to guess, hadn’t received much at all in the way of affection in his life, somehow was so good at holding a person he made the pain of the universe go away, made the entire universe fade away except for his hands on her body, gentle and undemanding but also firm and reassuring, his breath hot on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his body beneath hers, so strong despite his injuries.

“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering the physical state of him.

“Mmm… Yes.” His hands tightened their grip on her side and shoulder, reflexively, a gentle squeeze as he murmured into her neck. “Feels good.”

He probably meant he felt fine, but oh, yes, it did feel good. Or maybe he was still quite medicated?

“My weight isn’t putting pressure on your injuries?” Jyn asked. “Maybe I should…”

“No.” Somehow he managed to pull her further into him, her breasts flattening against his chest, her hip practically fusing to his, her breath hitching momentarily and then joining the rhythm of his own breaths...in and out… in and out… in and out...

Cassian sighed, made a frustrated, growling sound.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” he said, loosening his grip on her.

Jyn rolled off from him, swung her legs around to sit on the side of the cot and waited to see if Cassian could manage to stand. He slid to sit on the edge of the bed next to her and took a moment. She didn’t press him, though an instinct inside of her wanted to offer assistance, wanted to take care of him, wanted to ease the pain and struggle his recovery was.

He stood, again pausing for a moment, then walked slowly across the small room to his private refresher facilities. Apparently, it was one of very few benefits to his officer’s rank, for the small quarters were nothing more than a glorified closet. But she supposed it spared him from having to sleep in a large barracks with a bunch of others, not that it would’ve deterred Jyn in the least from crawling into his bed.

Part of her felt like she shouldn’t watch his laborious movements, out of respect, but she couldn’t look away. What if he needed her?

Force, what if he didn’t need her? Not like she needed him? Aw, fuck. She needed him.

She watched the muscles in his naked back twitch, stiff from inactivity and injury. But her eyes were inevitably drawn to the perfectly uniform lines of small circular marks running down his spine. She knew there was a matching sort of trail along his ribs. Injections of some sort of bacta cocktail meant to speed the fusing of the fractures in his vertebrae and ribs, injections straight into the bone. How painful would that have been if he’d been conscious, she couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but want to wrap her smaller body around as much of Cassian as she could, run her hands gently over his scars, old and new, make sure his wounds were healing and his bruises fading, hear him sigh contentedly against her skin, hold him forever.

As he disappeared into the ‘fresher, Jyn realized she was hopeless.

Cassian Andor had taught her about hope. And had made her absolutely hopeless at the same time.

But why fret about it? What did it matter?

Jyn was used to dealing with life moment by moment, day by day. And she might not have many more moments, anyway.

The loud, static-laden voices crackling over the basewide intercom announced the launch of yet another squadron of fighters, then abruptly switched over to some ship’s communication officer announcing visual confirmation of the target. The Death Star.

Looming on the horizon like a moon, a harbinger of death, bringer of eternal night. Cold, austere, which made it somehow more terrifying, somehow worse than staring down an angry brute about to put a knife in you. It was just so inevitable, indomitable. Made her feel so small, insignificant, so alone.

“Do you mind if I turn this off?”

Jyn startled. How had she not noticed Cassian reappear in the small room? He pointed at the comm, which was broadcasting the prelims of a battle to determine all their fates.

She didn’t want to listen to it either.

“Please do,” she said, already feeling less… alone.

She watched Cassian lean over to switch the speaker off, wincing in sympathy with him as he straightened again, taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and shifted the muscles beneath his skin, mesmerizing her more than a little. His mostly naked body preoccupied far too many of her thoughts.

But what else had she been supposed to do? She’d woken up drenched in sweat that first night in his quarters, had to strip out of the heavy infirmary clothes, found Cassian tossing in his sleep, nearly feverish, removed the sweltering clothes from his body, as well. Little did she know, how enthralling she’d find his lean muscles, the shape of his body, the feel of his bare skin, his-

His hands cupped her face and Jyn looked up at Cassian Andor, his kriffing gorgeous dark eyes fixed on her. His fingers swept some stray hair from her forehead, tucked it behind her ear, returned to swipe gently over the nearly-healed scar above her eyebrow, in her hairline.

“Are you okay?” A knot formed in her throat. Cassian was a good man, despite every questionable thing he’d done and tortured himself over. Of course he would care about her wellbeing. It didn’t mean-

“Ow!”

“Your blaster wound still hurts?” His fingers feathered over her shoulder, not touching the freshly healed injury this time.

“It does when you jab your finger in it.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, throwing him off balance so that he fell into her and she managed to catch him and ease him onto the bed, right where she wanted him.

A chuckle escaped him and he smiled, making something flutter inside of her. And then he was reaching for her, pulling her close.

His embrace was everything she’d never known she’d wanted. His hands stroked her back and he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling a sensitive spot just behind and below her ear.

She sighed, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying the fingers of her other hand in his messy, soft hair. She pressed gently as she massaged his scalp down to his nape, eliciting a hum of pleasure from him that vibrated against her bare skin and into her flesh.

If this was to be her last moment, Jyn held no regrets. It was a good moment.

“Jyn?” His voice had a lethargic but happy edge to it, thick and low and sleepy. She could sympathize.

“Yes?” She twisted her finger in a lock of hair curling about his neck.

“Please don’t let me sleep so long this time.” His whisper tickled her ear. “No more than 10 hours. Okay? Please?”

He wanted her to wake him up in 10 hours… Like there wasn’t a battle raging in space nearby… Like he didn’t believe they were quite probably going to die soon, incinerated by a weapon her own father helped design. Like he didn’t believe they were going to lose, after all. Somehow, he believed they would be there, together, ten hours from this moment.

Hope.

Such a man as Cassian… The most unexpected thing she’d discovered about him was his belief in hope. That he possessed any at all after all he had done, all he had seen. And then he’d given it to her.

And again, it warmed her, deep inside, that small seed of hope. She snuggled closer to the man, hoping for something she couldn’t even begin to conceive of. But yearned for it, with every fiber of her being.

[trekkiehood]

New Dream Week Day 1 - Sun and Moon

Title: Sun and Moon

Ship: New Dream

Words: 759

I tried a new style and I’m not sure how it turned out so please let me know what you think!

She was the sun and he was the moon. 

The sun shone bright during the day. She worked hard. Worked nonstop. And when night came she was able to sleep.  The harder she worked during the day, the less likely she was to have nightmares at night. So she worked hard.

She was the sun and he was the moon.

The moon accompanied the night.  He rarely slept. There were far too many things on his mind. While he would do nothing but watch the sun during the day, when night came, there was no light to shine over the dark shadows of his past. So he rarely slept.

She was the sun and he was the moon. 

The sun was loved by all. She was the bringer of light to even the most dismal day. Even those who thought she was too bright or was out too long respected the light she gave. After all, what is a kingdom without light? 

She was the sun and he was the moon.

The moon was loved by only some. He took away the sunlight, or so some said. Many blamed him for the inevitable darkness, not knowing that without him she would be nothing. But those who loved him, loved him more than can be transcribed. After all, what good is a light if there is no darkness?

She was the sun and he was the moon. 

The sun was pure light. She illuminated all that came into her path. She shone and she burned so bright that all who saw her knew who she was. She radiated energy and love. Her very existence brought love and light to all.

She was the sun and he was the moon.

The moon was a reflection of light. He may even argue that he wasn't light, but it only took one glance to see the truth. He was light. He was her light. She shone in him. His presence brought comfort to her and in turn, her light reflected off of him. He was just as much light as the sun and in the darkest times he shone for all.

She was the sun and he was the moon.

The sun was seen by all. People felt joy when she appeared. People lived and laughed and danced in her light. Many long nights were spent wishing for her arrival. Many of her disappearances were mourned. All waited for her to be seen in the horizon. It was impossible not to notice her. She was the light of all waking hours. 

She was the sun and he was the moon 

The moon was seen by few. When he appeared many did not notice. His presence was not valued by all. But those who did notice, those who valued him, they valued him with all they had. It is not hard to love the sun, but to love the moon, oh, to love the moon fills the heart with peace. For none are quite as loyal as he. He was light to those willing to see him. 

She was the sun and he was the moon. 

The sun brought warmth. Her brilliant rays breaking the ice in the hearts of many. Her love and comfort providing heat in the midst of winter and stealing the mournful chill with nothing but her smile.

She was the sun and he was the moon.

The moon cooled the heat. Not all love heat and he knows this. The sun can leave a burn when left unattended, so he brings the cool of night. He tempers the heat, not allowing her to get out of hand. He cools the heat with his very presence. 

She was the sun and he was the moon. 

The sun loved the moon. She loved everything about him. She loved his smile and his charm. She loved his presence and his strength. She loved him with all she had in her.

She was the sun and he was the moon. 

 The moon loved the sun. He loved her smile and her warmth. He loved her beauty and her light. He loved everything about her. He loved her with all he had in him. 

She was the sun and he was the moon.

 They completed each other. One without the other was nothing. For what is a day without night? What is the light with no darkness? What is warmth with no chill? What was the sun with no moon? What was her without him?

She was the sun and he was the moon.

Ao3 link

Thanks so much for reading!

@our-newdream

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 2 Hobbit Plot Bunnies

Title: A Hobbit’s Tale: Reclaiming One’s Home

Summary:  Role Reversal AU. Prince Bilbo Baggins, formerly of the Shire, has never really had a purpose amongst his people other than to stir up trouble for the displaced hobbits. Therefore, when Gandalf approaches him with a plan to retake the West, Bilbo is willing to do whatever it takes, even team up with a band of dwarven blacksmiths disguised as warriors to take down the Goblin King.

POV: Switches between Bilbo and Thorin

It was a dark and stormy night as a small figure fought his way to a run-down inn in Esgaroth. He tugged his cloak tighter to his person as he pushed his way through the Big People around him to claim a small table near the back. Being so close to Erebor, none of the men took notice of the figure half their size. Once he was settled in with a piping hot plate before him did Bilbo Baggins-Took, exiled Prince of the Shire, pull back his hood.

He could feel the stares even more so now that he revealed that he wasn’t in fact a dwarf. Halfing, Shire-folk. The whispers floated just on the edge of his enhanced hearing, and under the table he readjusted the grip on his long knife. He didn’t really expect anything to happen, but he also knew to be cautious.

Bilbo was able to finish his meal in peace, and pulled out his pipe as he continued to wait on his purpose in coming to this Yavanna-forsaken lake town. He had just lit the bowl and took a couple of deep puffs when a figure in a long gray cloak and equally big hat stopped before his table. He looked up, but the lighting and angle hid the man’s face.

“Good evening.” He greeted with a curt nod.

“What do you mean? Do you wish me a good evening, or mean that it is a good evening whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this evening; or that it is a evening to be good on?”

Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief. “Gandalf.”

The old wizard gave a deep chuckle as he threw his head back, his eyes twinkling in delight.

“Hello, my dear friend.”

“I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me.” Bilbo complained, trying to hide the meek smile around his pipe stem.

“Misplaced in my memories, surely. But never forgotten.” Gandalf affirmed as he sat down across from Bilbo. “Now, what exactly have you done this time to get yourself kicked out of the New Shire?”

“No, no. That’s not what happened.” Bilbo was quick to dispute. “I saw an opportunity to help my fellow hobbits, and I took it. This...is an adventure, not a sentencing.”

Gandalf merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Bilbo held the staredown before he groaned releasing a cloud of smoke.

“And perhaps...I did get carried away when I said the Brown Lands would be more green if the men there would just give us control and keep their smelly booted feet off the land and their long noses out of our arses.”

Gandalf chuckled. “Fortinbras didn’t think that was very clever?”

“Oh, my cousin didn’t have much of a problem with it. I dare say the village chief we were negotiating with was ready to strike me down where I stood.”

Gandalf hummed in agreement and part amusement. Bilbo let the silence fester between them long enough for another draw on his pipe before he spoke again, more reverently.

“I know I don’t make it easier on Fortinbras or the rest of my family, but my pride as a Took and as a hobbit is all I have left, Gandalf. I can’t believe they sent me away to get rid of me, and maybe a small part of me thinks…”

Bilbo trailed off staring at the grain in the wood of the table between them.

“Yes?” Gandalf prompted the smaller fellow.

Bilbo shook his head, and the hesitancy in his eyes moments ago was replaced with steely determination.

“The hobbits will return to Eriador. Even if I have to stand alone before the Goblin King himself. I will have my kin living again in the quiet burrows of the Farthings.”

Gandalf gave the hobbit prince a soft look. “The bravery of hobbits will never cease to amaze me. Or perhaps, it is your mother’s legacy I see shining in you, rather than your people as a whole.”

Bilbo felt himself blush as he always did when Gandalf compared him to his mother. 

“Which is why, I do not hesitate to give you this: the last possession she left in my care.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow as he finished off his pipeweed and tucked the wooden heirloom away for another day. He reached across the table to take the folded parchment Gandalf threw down between them. His eyes raked over the map in awe when he realized what it was he had before him.

“Gandalf, this is a map to…”

“Yes.” Gandalf nodded putting his hand over Bilbo’s much smaller one. “And if we are careful and clever, I dare say with this we can see your dream fulfilled.”

Bilbo’s eyes filled up with tears as he shook his head mutely.

“I don’t...I don’t know what to say.”

“Keep it secret. Keep it safe. And while I think it is a fine plan of foolishness to march into your enemies hold outnumbered nearly ten thousand to one, I thought if you wouldn’t mind the company, I have an idea for some hired help.”

“Who?” Bilbo questioned.

“A company of soldiers I’m well acquainted with conveniently located in Erebor.”

***

Thorin had it in his head from the morning he woke up, that it was going to be a perfectly normal day. He had a couple of orders to finish up for cookware from one of the widows in Dale and an axe for Gloin’s son he thought he would begin. He planned to take Fili and Kili out to the edge of Mirkwood on that hunting trip he had been promising for so long. May catch up with Balin and Dwalin over a pint of ale in the tavern later that evening. There was certainly nothing that seemed to suggest he would earn a visit from Tharkun, bringer of grey moods, and yet a couple of hours into his forge, that’s precisely who showed up.

Thorin barely glanced up from the hot metal he was beating into shape, trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Most would recognize he was busy, and wait for him at the front of the shop. Not the old wizard it seemed.

“Well, if it isn’t the disturber of peace himself.” He greeted gruffly, his eyes never leaving his work.

“Now, now, Thorin. Is that any way to greet old friends?”

“I wasn’t aware that’s what we were.” Thorin raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, old friends of your father.” Gandalf was quick to correct.

Thorin huffed a bitter laugh. “Yes, friends. Tell me, is it common to leave all of your friends to the mercy of orcs?”

“That was not my doing, Thorin Oakenshield, but that of your king.” Gandalf remarked gravely.

That, Thorin knew all too well. He grunted before plunging the skillet into the basin of water watching the rapidly cooling metal for imperfections. When he finally deemed it well enough, he pulled it back out and set it to the side before giving Gandalf his full attention.

“What do you want?”

“I’m on a recruiting mission for an old friend. You see, he’s a long way from home and in need of an escort to get over the Misty Mountains.”

Thorin shook his head with a chuckle. “Your friend sounds like a fool. No one steps foot west of the Misty Mountains anymore. Besides, I’m a blacksmith, not a warrior.”

“That’s not entirely true. There are still some settlements to the west out of goblin hands, and I’m sure my friend will accept any help freely given even if that comes with a little rust here and there.”

Thorin resisted the urge to rub a hand down his face and instead scratched at the bottom of his shortened beard.

“Perhaps I’m not making myself plain enough, friend. I will not be coerced into another farfetched scheme of yours. Now away with you, I have better uses for my time than to argue it away.”

“At least hear him out. You may find yourself empathetic.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

Thorin crossed his arms at that point, refusing to budge on the issue. Gandalf gave him a calculating look before shaking his head as if in disappointment. Thorin was not swayed.

“You’ve changed Thorin Oakenshield, and not entirely for the better. Very well, I will rid you of my company. Good luck to you in your smithing endeavors.”

Thorin merely gave him a nod watching him pass through the settlement on his way to Dale before returning to his work. Dwalin gave him a look, but Thorin shook it away. Seeing Gandalf again brought up dark memories, but nothing that he hadn’t made peace with. He was happy. His family, well what was left of it, was happy. Even if their houses now existed on the outskirts of the mountain rather inside her warmth. This was his life now, and he wasn’t about to jeopardize it for another fullhardy attempt against the goblins.

The rest of the day passed much in how he was expecting it to go. Dis noticed his mood and tried to pry the worries from his mind, but he assured her he was fine. He met the brothers Lin down at the bar, and after his second beer he had nearly forgotten his exchange with Gandalf. That’s when he appeared.

“Will you look at that?” Balin marveled, his voice low.

Thorin and Dwalin were both facing the older dwarf, and therefore couldn’t see what had captured his attention. They both turned in their seats before their jaws dropped in much the same open awe as most of the patrons. It was a halfling. Obvious by the large feet containing bronze curls, and the pointed leaf-shaped ears hidden in hair equally fair. He walked with a pompous air of someone not swayed by the staring and whispers happening around him. He paused for only a moment before squaring his shoulders and marching right up to Bombur who had stopped cleaning the glass in his hand subconsciously as the creature eased its way forward.

“Have you ever seen a halfling before?” Dwalin murmured.

“Nay.” Balin denied with a shake of his head. “Father said he had once before the Fall of the Shire. He said the land used to be beautiful, rich in food the way Erebor is rich in gold.”

The halfling had quick words with Bombur but spun around towards them as if he somehow heard Balin’s soft words. He said something to Bombur with a nod of his head before making his way towards their table. The whole time, Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off him. No dwarf there really could. Thorin fought the urge to smooth down his hair as he set his beer back on the table. The hobbit came right up to him and gave a bow of his head.

“Thorin, son of Thrain?” He questioned.

Thorin only blinked in shock that this near ethereal being with a musical lithe in his voice sought him out. Dwalin gave him a kick with his boot which managed to wake him up enough to answer with a gruff ‘aye’.

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” He stated holding out his hand.

Thorin merely stared at it numbly, and for the first time the halfling seemed to lose some of his confidence.

“That is...was I wrong to assume that is a traditional dwarven greeting?”

“Uh, no. Thorin, son of Thrain at yours and your family.” He returned shaking the smaller, softer hand.

Bilbo nodded, regaining the cool detachment once more. 

“Very good. I assume these are your companions?”

“Dwalin, son of Fundin, at your service.” Thorin’s friend eagerly answered shaking the halfling’s hand as well.

“Well met, Dwalin.”

“Balin, son of Fundin, at your service.” Balin picked up after Dwalin.

“Well met, Balin.” Bilbo shook his hand as well. “May I?” He asked indicating the spot next to him.

“Please, Mister Baggins. Can we order you anything?” Balin took over with pleasantries.

“No thank you. I like to keep my wits about me when conducting business.” The odd being was quick to brush off, his jade eyes piercing Thorin.

“Business? With me?” Thorin smirked.

What could an average dwarven blacksmith have to offer a wandering halfling? The little creature bristled in confusion.

“Yes, Gandalf told me you were made aware of this meeting. Is something the matter?”

All of Thorin’s good mood vanished in an instant. 

“You’re Gandalf’s friend.” He accused.

“I hope you are quicker with a blade than you are in a conversation, Mister Thorin or this will be a poor venture indeed. Yes, Gandalf, the man who spoke with you earlier sent me here as was scheduled. Or was I too late to catch you before you were knee deep into your spirits, and the drink had addled your mind?”

Thorin glared at the fiery being wondering what he wanted to be most insulted by: the soft creature’s barbed words or his relation with Gandalf.

[morsquiesa]

@gentledeaths​ , continued from here.

DEATH APPROACHES  .  —  ‘ have we? ’ thanatos smiles a knowing smile. he is not a trickster god by any means : in fact, he is quite irritated with the mischievous decisions of his brother twin. that cannot stop the amusement on his features from turning up at the sight of the other di angelo child. he has known this string once before, alas he could not cut it, at the command of the master of the house. still, he does not laugh : no, he could never. not at someone who has defied death by his own hand. ( it is not your time, the fates had commanded him to say, and her string was reinforced by the golden aura of death himself. )

‘ i am thanatos, my lady. gentle death. ’  he admits with a nod of his head. ‘ though, when i came to take your thread and bring it to the underworld, the fates seemed to have other plans for you. it is appropriate, then, that you do not remember me. mortal souls just outside of my reach often do not. we both seem to work for the master of the house now - your father - so… it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. please call on me for all that you need. ’

WHERE HAVE I SEEN YOU BEFORE? IN A DREAM, A THOUSAND YEARS AGO. The gleam that shines in the golden eyes, the curl of lips into an uncanny smile. Yes, you, I have seen you. She recognizes him, not by eyes or not by memory, but by heart, the faint tug resurfacing a feeling she’s only felt once in her life. In the middle of a land abandoned by gods, with trembling hands desperately clinging to the controls of a broken machine, when she was fifteen. I am going to die, she remembers thinking, limbs cold and what’s left of her fortitude shattering.  Nico, Nico, oh brother, what have I done? The last piece that held the machine together crashed, and so did her panic before she fell into the blurry haze of compulsory peace. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, forgive me.

This is exactly how it felt, in her last moments of clarity before she’s gasped for her next breath in a make-shift bed, Zoë’s arms around her to keep her in place. She didn’t remember it back then, but now it all returns to her with his presence. Bianca remains frozen in her place, fingers wrapped around the edges of the worn-out book she had been calmly reading before his appearance, white knuckles adding to their ghost-like sight. She looks for any sign of hostility- it is the expected approach to gods by heart now, since they are not known for being the bringer of good news. They take pain everywhere they go, they spread it to earth like a starving monster that eats and eats and eats.

 But she doesn’t find any of that, not with him. She looks him in the eye, and the smile once she’s deemed uncanny now warms her with a flood of relief. Familiar. Accepting. Welcoming. She doesn’t know what surprises her more- the fact that these are the emotions she feels in the presence of a god, or if they are the emotions she feels in the presence of death? For a moment, she wonders if everyone feels this way, or if the aspect of familiarity comes from the fact that they share a home- the underworld, the dead, the very darkness that surrounds them both. He’s kind- he matches his title, she thinks. The irony of the one thing this world fears the most having a soothing voice with gentle words gives Bianca something to think about. But later. 

 Now her fingers eases off the book, and she taps them on the cover idly as she shuts it down. She has company, it seems. “ I hope we are meeting under different circumstances now,” She hums, calm and lighthearted tone echoing in the black marble walls of the throne room. “ I would hate to die in my own home.” Her head tilts aside, and the gleam that passes her bright emerald eyes to his amicable introduction matches his. “ I am Bianca. Likewise, I think. ” She gestures around them with a flick of her wrist, and towards the empty thrones of her father and Persephone. “ Are you here to see my father? He’s in the gardens, but if I were you, I wouldn’t go looking for him.” It is the toughest time of the year for Persephone, and they are all aware of it- not by choice, but it is hard to remain ignorant of. She gets up from her own seat, pushing her book aside. “ Is there anything I can do for you?” 

[briannaswriter]

NaNo Update #1

title: Curse Bringer story summary:

Brianna Vale isn't afraid of the dark. She might be the only one in her family who can see the monsters who lurk in it, but she's also the only one who knows they walk among people during the day, too. Survival means following a set of rules: don't go out after dark, don't make promises, don't run if one follows you, and most important of all, don't ask questions. All of these would be easier if her parents hadn't walked out eight years ago, leaving her and her sister, Leona, into the care of their not-that-much older sister, Poppy. Its been eight years since they disappeared off the face of the earth, but Brianna and her sisters follow their rules still. So long as they do, the things that go bump in the night will leave her in peace. Or they did until she defeated a monster in her work and found herself under the spotlight of the supernatural world she was trying to ignore. Before long, the Vale sister's find themselves embroiled in a plot where the only way to win is to face their fears. What better way to counter secretive supernaturals than write a guide on how to handle them?

words today: 2,054 writing summary so far: Brianna runs into a monster and chaos ensues. author’s notes: uhhhhhh it took a minute to START, but once I got going, I found my rhythm. I’m not sure if I’ll keep first person in the next drafts, but eh, first draft and first person works!

excerpt:

Ignoring a monster was always hard. I could tell myself to walk by it with the same ease as everyone else, feigning an inability to see it and hoping some instinctive fear didn't trip me. But I hadn't succeeded in the past. I can pretend not to see it, but I couldn't ignore it. 

If I saw one on the street while walking, I urged my sisters across the road to the opposite sidewalk. If I didn't have an excuse, I lied. I was good at telling lies to most people, but somehow they always spotted some tell in my face. They see through the ignorance I try to grant them when it comes to the monsters walking among us, their smiles forced and their shoulders tight until I no longer felt it around us. 

Like me, they never speak of it. 

We learned a long time ago not to discuss it. Not in public, and only rarely at home. If my parents were around, we talked about it not at all. Or they didn't with us. I feared Poppy knew more about those discussions than I - she was always present in the room where it happened. It was her responsibility as the eldest to know, and while I could pry nearly anything from her, I couldn't get the answers about this. 

I steeled myself, moving robotically back to the front with the blue suitcase in hand. The familiarity of work didn't relax me, but I could pretend it did until it was real. 

Teresa waited, a touch impatient, letting out a quiet breath of relief when I reappeared. 

"Thank you," she said. 

I changed a glance at the window, a forced smile on my lips. 

The monster was gone.

[badbookreviewclub]

Complete Review - The Rose Council: The Kaiser Mage

DISCLAIMER: This review will contain spoilers. If you plan to read the book, I will leave a mark for when I go more in-depth on the book, so continue at your own risk. If you want to purchase The Rose Council: The Kaiser Mage, you can get it here.

The Rose Council, as far as I can find, is the first book published by Mark Bullock. On the cover, it states that it is book 1, presumably in a series, though after some extensive searching, I can’t find any sequels despite the book having been published in 2010. The book was published through AuthorHouse, a self-publishing company. I have spoken very briefly with the author about his work, considering that my Dad actually happens to be friends with Bullock. However, I will do my utmost to be unbiased and as professional as these reviews get by keeping any personal feelings I hold towards Bullock out of my review and commentary. Bullock has stated that he had the editors at AuthorHouse review his book and edit it, however, after looking through reviews of AuthorHouse’s services and their FAQ (link their FAQ), AuthorHouse only offers suggestions for edits. It is entirely up to the author if they wish to accept these edits. I have reason to believe, through a multitude of spelling errors and grammatical mistakes, that this book never made it past chapter 3 of editing, if it was even edited at all. It gets worse as it goes, which seems to defy all logic. As an author writes a book, especially for their first time around, you would assume that the book would get better as it goes with their skill in writing improving over time. The exact opposite happens in this book, and it gets so much worse than it started as it goes. Bullock has also stated that he did not review the book very many times himself or have others go over it very many times as it can “cause the book to lose its story.” It doesn’t take very long to find that this statement is more than just a little wrong. Tony Smith, the author of Fukushima and the Coming Tokyo Earthquake stated that an author should go over their book “Enough times that if someone would plagiarize your work you would recognize it instantly (source).” Most authors tend to agree with Smith, and if any author begins to hate their work from reading it so much or the words start to blur together, they should have a good, qualified, and supportive editor behind them. Not their friends acting as an editor, but an actual editor who went to school and studied the language the author is writing it well enough that they know the ins and outs of how words work together and how stories flow. A good editor will catch plotholes and inconsistencies; they will point out when your story is starting to flounder and fall apart; they will point out things that need to be cut and things that need to be elaborated on. If Bullock truly did have an editor, they were not a good one because none of these things happened, and if they did, I would absolutely hate to be the one to read through the first manuscript because The Rose Council: The Kaiser Mage was absolutely horrendous to read through and I can barely imagine what it would be like to edit it. To combat the point that the “book will lose its story” it doesn’t take very many brain cells to figure out that if you are losing your story through the editing process, then perhaps it wasn’t a good story to begin with. I have rarely met an author who goes with the first storyboard or plot they laid out, let alone continuing on without making a few or many tweaks to the story itself as they go. To simply go with the first idea that you have and believe that it doesn’t need to be changed is arrogant and childish. In the words of the true Queen, Hannah Montana, “Nobody’s perfect” and this could not be more true for books. A book is never completely perfect, they can be absolutely amazing works of art, but most authors will still find something wrong or something that they wish they could change. “I hope you’re plagued with dissatisfaction your whole life, that way you’ll always strive to do better.” -Bob Ross Bob Ross may not be an author, but a book is still a work of art. Perhaps not a painting or even a drawing, but it is still a piece of artwork that many people hold dear to them. Never think that you can’t improve because you always can. We can always strive to be a better version of ourselves and to put out better work. To believe you have reached perfection, that your work simply can’t improve is incredibly arrogant and reflects poorly on yourself and your work. You can be happy with your work and love it and believe it is good, but we can always do better. On from the rant, we come to the book itself. Little known and little shared book, The Rose Council: The Kaiser Mage. This book has yet to blow up in the mainstream like Empress Theresa for how horrible it is, which isn’t surprising. It’s rather hard to find on Amazon or really any website without searching directly for the title. I don’t know if I’m pleased about that or not, because, on Amazon, it had three reviews before I posted my own. They were all rated five stars, one of them from Bullock’s friend, another from his wife, and another from an account I can only assume is fake with the review having been bought by Bullock or made by him. Either way, they were all 5-stars, and I felt immense satisfaction when my review brought it down to 3-stars. One of the reviews is written far more eloquently than the actual book is, and it’s the fake review, posted by Amazon user ‘F1.4toF32’. The sole review on this user’s account is for the book. If you look at Amazon.uk and other international Amazon pages, this user’s review doesn’t actually exist. Wonder why that is? Maybe because it’s… oh, I don’t know… fake? A purchased review so Bullock could promote his book and make it look better? *Gasp* This wasn’t a good start for The Rose Council: The Kaiser Mage. If you look at the reviews through Barnes & Noble and Goodreads, Bullock or his wife have reviewed the book and left it a 5-star review. I understand that Franzi is supporting her husband in his endeavor to be a writer, and the sentiment is sweet, but it’s enabling his terrible, terrible writing. Bullock rating the book himself though is just rather arrogant and comes off as a piss-poor attempt to try and boost his book to get more readers. Boosting his book to get more readers is definitely the last thing that Bullock needs, however. Actually, no. Bullock needs more people to read his book so he can have his massive ego stomped on and dragged through the mud. Pride is one thing, an ego is another (Sorry, my personal feelings leaked in a bit there. Though I’m choosing to keep it in).  

The Rose Council: The Kaiser Mage is a fantasy novel, supposedly the first in a series of 7 according to the fake review. It contains a pitiful attempt at a ‘sex-scene’, which safely moves it out of the young-adult audience and into the adult audience. As such, that gives me free rein to have a no-holds-barred review. This collection of words so horrendous it can barely be called a book was made for adults and therefore, has no excuse for its god-awful writing; in the story, characters, and in the grammar of the book, it is truly terrible to the extent of being painful.

The Summary: After 3000 years of peace since the banning of the Gods, a balance is about to be tipped. David, an apprentice and son to the King’s High Enchanter, struggles with the destiny he is to fulfill as the bringer to find the next Kaiser Mage. Unfortunately, the struggle of the delicate balance favors against David, who by himself has little to no power. Unexpectedly, David has discovered a new gift that he must master to find the truth about himself. After a terrible accident, Franziska, a fellow apprentice who conceals a strong love for David, finds herself trailing in David’s shadow to keep him safe. The prophecies handed down through the ages are ambiguous, however, leading some to believe that it is Franziska, not David, who is the true Bringer of the next Kaiser Mage. It is a race against time and fate to bring forth the Kaiser Mage. This summary is terrible in a lot of ways. To start, a good summary will: - Contain the main points and don’t go beyond them - Be as brief as possible (e.g. Don’t get specific with dates, numbers, details unless they are necessary) 

- Give the basic information to interest a reader in the story 

- Be concise

- Isn’t revealing of important plot points (specifically pertains to works of fiction)(Video source)

Bullock’s summary, on the other hand, is: 

- Revealing of plot points

- Exposing content of the book that isn’t actually there (It’s fucking lying to you about the content of the book) 

- Setting up relationships (which should be set up in the story, not in the summary) 

- Confusing; I still don’t know entirely what the fuck a Kaiser Mage is and I read the entire book

- Exposing plot twists

The Lies: In the summary, we actually get a few lies. First, Franziska never conceals her love for David. She is more than open about it through the entire book, and her entire reason for being and existing is solely for David and to ‘help’ him. 

Second, nothing seems to be against David except Jason, a whiny brat who thinks that he’s entitled to everything and doesn’t even show up until about half-way into the book. Even then, Jason holds absolutely no pull with anyone or anything. He couldn’t even tell a fucking fly to piss off. Third, David never struggles with his destiny. In fact, he seems more than eager throughout the entire book to achieve it. 

Fourth, Franziska never follows in David’s shadow to try and protect him. In fact, she is quite literally ahead of him the entire time. (Also this is a bit nitpicky for me, but it’s weird that David and Franzi are in love because David is the name of Bullock’s son and Franzi is his wife)

The Characters: David Saxton: The main character. Arrogant, a rebel, objectifies women, a complete Gary-Stu. He can do no wrong, is a strategic genius, and is overpowered as shit.

Franziska/Franzi: The main love interest. Scared, submissive, friendly, has occasional bursts of anger.

Rudolf: David’s father figure and mentor. Big, burly, deep voice. That’s seriously all I can think of when I think of Rudolf.

Cornelius: David’s grandfather (biological). The King’s Wizard (I didn’t know there was a difference between a mage and a wizard, but go for it I guess).

Adam Saxton: David’s actual dad. Wants the best for his son, I guess. He is a pretty good teacher, I guess. Fuck if I know how to describe him, he dies within the first three chapters.

Hans: A side character, the Fro-Drag (Frozen Dragon) Warrior. Big, buff, an asshole, emotionally stunted.

Shauna: Hans’ love interest. There is no reason for her to exist other than to give Hans a love interest. She does a few things that help the story, but other than that she serves no purpose to the story. 

Henrich: First Keeper (of a Rose Council tower, I think?). One of the bad guys, but not the Big Bad Evil Guy (BBEG). Idk…. he’s just… there. He doesn’t really have a personality.

Eve: Second Keeper (of the same tower). One of the bad guys, not the BBEG. Apparently she dresses super skimpy, but she’s proud and confident, but also cruel and evil? Zesterag: Third Keeper (same tower). David and Cornelius’s friend. Personality? He doesn’t have one. He is a major part of this book and yet I struggle to find words to describe who he is as a person, and I come up empty because he simply isn’t anything other than ‘David’s friend’ and the ‘Third Keeper’. 

Jason: The nephew to the King. Arrogant, prideful, incompetent, entitled. Not necessarily one of the bad guys, though he’s certainly painted to try and be David’s foil it just doesn’t work most of the time, if not all of the time. King Bertram Ingram: Obviously the king. Supposedly he’s the best king that the kingdom has ever seen. He’s easy-going and rather incompetent in the world of magic despite the fact that his kingdom heavily revolves around magic. 

Morgloth: The Demon god, the BBEG. You never meet him in this stupid fucking book.

If you haven’t figured out from this “short” list of characters, who they are, and their personalities, the characters in The Rose Council are bland and incredibly surface level. They never change from this starting state of who they are either. There is absolutely no character development from anyone and that makes them, as characters, feel fake and any emotion feels forced (and there certainly is a lot of ‘emotion’ that Bullock tries to push on the reader). 

The Problems: This book has… a lot of problems. This isn’t surprising at this point considering it most definitely falls under the category of a bad book. The plot itself is terrible and should have been completely different (which I will go into later). The characters are flat and never develop or gain anything more than a surface-level description. In fact, the descriptions are so surface level that often times, when Bullock describes some of the men, in particular, it comes off as incredibly homoerotic. “‘A complicated case for sure, but General Ekins’s choice in the bet political mind needed for the task was more than well chosen,’ the king replied, which surprisingly made Stark blush, more because it was coming from a man he well respected” (pg 216). Stark received a compliment from the king here and blushed. Now I know that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s gay, but it certainly has Big Gay Energy, especially with how the rest of the book is framed in its almost excessive descriptions of men in a manner that seems over over-indulgent. I was dead convinced that David was gay too until Franziska came into the picture sheerly on how he described Rudolf. “Rudolf smiled his glowing smile David loved very much” (pg 3). “David quickly flipped the dented sword in his hands and presented it to the large man hilt first, allowing his large, thick hands to grab it” (pg 3, 4). And there are so many more examples. Also, on the topic of hands, Bullock has a weird obsession with talking about hands. Rudolf’s thick and large hands and Fraziska’s small and delicate hands more specifically. They are mentioned far too many times and it has convinced me that Bullock has a kink for hands. I’m not going to kink shame anyone, but please, for the love of J.R.R Tolkein, please, stop talking about their hands. There are a lot of grammar and spelling errors as well. Several times throughout the book, and especially in the prologue, Bullock spells ‘Kaiser’ wrong, spelling it as ‘Kaser’. You would think that if the name is on the cover of the book that you could be fucked enough to go and find spelling errors to fix it. He also spells ‘colonel’ as ‘coronal’, which after the years that Bullock spent in the military, you would think he could get right, but I guess not. ‘Till’ instead of ‘Until’, which is the use of slang I guess, but it’s used in formal conversations which would lead me to believe it’s a spelling error. And the big cherry on top, ‘trader’ instead of ‘traitor’. These are the most reoccurring spelling errors throughout the book and while I’m more than certain there are others, these are really the only ones that I can think of at the moment. There’s also so problems with Bullock switching the names (especially towards the end of the book) which makes it a struggle to follow along. E.g. he occasionally switches the name ‘David’ and ‘Jason’, or ‘Franziska’ and ‘Shauna’. This wouldn’t be a huge problem if it didn’t happen as often as it did. In fact, it wouldn’t be a problem at all if Bulock had actually been fucked to edit his book or at the very least, have someone look over it to edit it. 

Bullock also steals most of his elements in the book from other fantasy things (mainly World of Warcraft). I understand that fantasy-based things often work off of the same system and borrow a lot from each other, but they still put their own unique twist on it to make the novel feel unique and not like a rehashing of other fantasy stories. Bullock doesn’t do this, and it makes his novel hard to read and understand. If you haven’t played World of Warcraft or Warhammer before (like me) then oftentimes, you don’t know what the fuck Bullock is talking about with a Bloodthirster as he never describes what it is, what it looks like, or anything relating to painting a picture for the reader to allow them to become involved in the story. Another element that was more than blatantly stolen, especially from World of Warcraft, was the Lich King. This was supposed to be another BBEG in the book as far as I was aware, though you never really see any interaction with him. Nothing serves as a threat in this fucking book and it’s annoying. There is nothing at all to ever challenge David and to push him to develop into a better person or a better character. Everyone enables his bad behavior and encourages him to cheat so long if he wins because fuck having honor and pride in what you have done so long as you win, right?

The Plot: The plot of this book is god-awful. What should have been the plot of the entire book is shoved into the last ⅕ and finished in about ten pages. It is genuinely painful to read and I fucking hate it. The entire book up until that point was fluff and exposition and all of it was poorly done. That’s not to say that the last ⅕ of the book was done amazingly, arguably it was done far worse than the rest of the book because of how much shit was crammed into it. It became more than obvious that Bullock was done with the book and just wanted to publish it and never look at it again. The story follows David, a battle mage who has been spoken about in one of Alexander’s prophecies. I’m not entirely sure what this prophecy is since we never learn it or hear anything about it. Alexander was the first Kaiser Mage, the one who pushed the Gods from the earth since I guess that they were just going to kill all living beings on it for their own perverse pleasure (I think. It’s never fully explained). David’s role is to bring the Kaiser Mage back to earth and into being so the Kaiser Mage can put an end to Morgloth before the demon god can terrorize the earth once more. However, Alexander’s prophecy specifically states that the Bringer [of the Kaiser Mage] will be a woman. As such, some people suspect that it is actually Fraziska who is the Bringer, especially after they discover that she essentially harnesses elven magic. This is never explained in the story as to why she has elven magic, she just does. Hans is the son of the recently deceased king of the Fro-Drag clan, determined to kill the great Frozen Dragon who killed his father and the handful of other warriors before his father. They are supposed to kill the baby Frozen Dragon every five-to-ten years, though Bullock flip-flops between the number so I’m not entirely sure. It has been 25 years since the dragon has been killed and no they stand little to no chance of facing off against it, especially since they are supposed to fight the dragon without weapons (big shocker, they don’t fight it without any weapons). Shauna is Hans’ beloved and the head of the Shamans in their clan. She will do her utmost to protect Hans and to see him through to the end of his journey. 

Jason is just an entitled prick who is there to make David look better. 

The Problems: What’s wrong with the plot? Everything. Everything is wrong with the story, from the pacing to the exposition to the entire worldbuilding. I’ll move through the book chronologically with you and lay it all out for you to see. There are 27 chapters in total plus a prologue, though two chapters are labeled ‘Chapter 26’. At the end of the explanation, I’ll showcase what I think would have been a better plot for this book, especially as the start of a series. 

Prologue: Alexander’s Bible To start, the entire thing is in italics. Not only is the word ‘Prologue’ written in bold at the top, but the entire section is in italics. It’s a bit nitpicky, but I hate reading a lot in italics because it can be incredibly difficult to read at times and is often unnecessary. This is one of those times where I really think that the italics were unnecessary. 

This section, though, aside from italics is incredibly poorly explained exposition of what a Kaiser Mage is, who the Gods are, and what games they were playing with the different races of Earth, forcing them to fight for their own pleasure. A Kaiser Mage is essentially akin to a God, with some power from all of the Gods as a Kaiser Mage is created to stand-off against the Demon God, Morgloth. The worst explained part of the prologue is a game called ‘Chock’. I’m still not entirely sure what Chock is because it was terribly explained throughout the entire book. If you’re not going to explain a game well, just don’t explain it at all. Better yet, just don’t have it in the fucking book if I can’t understand what it is because it only becomes more and more confusing as you devote entire fucking chapters to someone playing the games that you came up with. These games are completely and utterly pointless and add nothing to the book besides jacking off David’s ego even more and being like “look at how great David is? Don’t you love him yet?” No! I don’t love him. I fucking hate David and everything that he is in this book because he is by far one of the most annoying characters and clearly doesn’t understand how privileged he is most of the time because he’s “good and true” and “knows the right way in a world full of darkness.” I would have liked to see him evolve to become the rebel that he was, not just have him always be like that. Or better yet, have him be a rebel, a liar, a cheat, a thief in the beginning and teach him moral values and the lesson in having pride in what you do. Teach him what it’s like to stick to a code of honor and how being a good person improves your lives and the lives of everyone around you, even if you lose in a friendly game or two. It’s so fucking stupid that Bullock didn’t do this and it makes the book more than just pointless to read. I don’t know if I can even call it a book at this point it’s just a terrible smash together of words that have been bound and framed to be a book, but it’s not. 

I fucking hate The Rose Council: The Kaiser Mage more than any terrible book I have on my shelf at this point. 

Ugh

Chapters 1-6

We start off the book by seeing David train with Rudolf, something I guess that he’s not supposed to be doing because his father doesn’t want him to train to be a soldier. Essentially, David is supposed to be training to take over as the next High Enchanter to the king, a role that his father currently fills. After the training session, David heads back to his house where his father and Franziska are already waiting for them. Adam, David’s father, has them recount the lesson that they just learned the previous day --- how to summon a golem. However, Adam specifically tells them that he doesn’t want them to summon golems because it could kill them, yet, he taught them the exact steps needed to summon one. Funny how that works, isn’t it? Surprise, surprise, as soon as Adam leaves to go and help some Elves and the two are left alone, David and Franziska summon a fucking golem. Before they summon the golem, Franziska helps David to find his magic by “reaching into herself” and “bringing forth her magic” and “putting it into David”. I honest to god hate the way that Bullock constantly describes how they “reach into themselves and bring forth their magic” to describe them using it. It’s annoying and honestly makes me deeply uncomfortable. After they summon the golem (which nearly kills them) the chapter ends and we are now introduced to Cornelius, Zesterag, and the King. We learn that Adam died while trying to fight Bloodthirster and ended up trapping the demon in his ring at the cost of his own life force. He gave the ring to the Elves to give to David. That’s the entire fucking chapter right there, explained better than it explained itself. It tries to push emotion onto the reader by having Cornelius cry over his son dying but I feel absolutely nothing when I read it because I have absolutely no reason to care about Cornelius or Adam. 

In the next chapter, we are introduced to Hans and the other warriors who are on their way to kill the Great Frozen Dragon. Bullock flips between calling the Frozen Dragon just that, the Frozen Dragon, or Fro-Drag, or a Fro-Dragon. The inconsistency is incredibly annoying, actually. We also meet Shauna, who is willing to break the rules of their ancestors in order to ensure that Hans can kill the dragon and live, even at the cost of her own life or the lives of her sisters. Yohanus is introduced, and he literally serves no other purpose than to give Hans and excuse as to why he can leave the clan after they kill the Fro-Drag, as Yohanus can take the mantle of King of the clans instead of Hans after the dragon has been killed. Hans also comes off as a massive asshole because he refuses to respond to his men so much that his men just accept that he just doesn’t respond sometimes or just won’t respond sometimes. I guess this was supposed to make Hans the “cool and mysterious” type and a total “badass”, but it just makes him look like an asshole. 

If you’re wondering, a Fro-Drag warrior is a warrior who successfully has killed the dragon and as such, has been blessed by the Dragon God with abilities beyond the normal human scope (incredibly enhanced speed, strength, reflexes, constitution, and endurance). They also become completely blue once they are turned into a Fro-Drag warrior. Apparently, nothing can beat one of these warriors, except, you know, a nearly fully grown dragon as Hans’ dead father would prove. 

After this, we discover that the elves have arrived to basically give David his father’s position, though Cornelius and Zesterag burst in, just in time, and declare that no, David will be going to study under the Rose Council to become a Rose Council Mage and Franziska will be taking the rank of the High Enchantress. So they do just that, David goes with Zesterag to study under the Rose Council and to hopefully become one of the members and Franzi goes to be the High Enchantress and fulfill everything that duty entails. 

Chapter 7-13

David, now at the Rose Council Tower and having met Eve, who he promptly decided was a disgusting whore because the dress she wore hugged her curves too tightly in his opinion, now has to read and memorize the book containing all of the rules of the Rose Council. In order to do this, David discovers that he has a “second mind” which allows him to piss off and do other things while his first mind takes in all of the information and commits it to memory. God, that would be so fucking handy when it came to school. Or just reading this book in general because it was so fucking painful and I would have rather liked to piss off and do other things instead of sitting here and reading through this garbage. In chapter 7, David also meets his servant while he is in the tower. He promptly invades her mind without her consent and finds out she was raped by another trainee in the Rose Council. Bullock uses this point to fuel why the Rose Council are all terrible people and I had to set the book down and leave it for a bit after reading that point. I can’t explain better myself why rape really shouldn’t be used as an arbitrary plot device thrown in to stir emotions than KrismonRogue does. If you want to hear him go in-depth in better words than I can use right now, please, watch his reasoning here. 

In chapter 8, Franzi cries because she has to leave her house and actually do things that a High Enchantress is supposed to do. She’s supposed to meet with the king and then go on whatever mission he designates. She cries even more because she’s terrified of the alter-rang golem (I have no idea what the fuck an alter-rang golem is, but I assume it’s big and made out of metal as the book describes) she and David summoned. As such, she’s struggling to control it. 

In chapter 9, after finishing the book of rules faster than any other mage has read it, David is introduced to the Gauntlet of Pain (edgy). Where the other mages will launch mental attacks on him and inflict him with unbearable pain. He must push through it in order to get to the end of the hallway (I think that’s what it is) where a statue of Alexander, the first and so far, the only Kaiser Mage is. Should he reach the statue, David will be granted into the life of a fully-fledged Rose Mage. He almost fucking does it on the first try because all he does is make his magic move his body while he just squirrels away in his second mind. He doesn’t stop until the First Keeper, Henrich, decides that it’s too soon for him to reach the statue and just fucking punches the lights out of David via magic. Also, apparently your hair can hurt in this fantasy world. I wasn’t aware that hair itself had nerve endings, but apparently it does. 

In chapter 10 Hans and Yohanus kill the Frozen Dragon after Shauna basically points out a crack in the magic shield that prevents any non-living object from entering. Yohanus is able to bring a spear in because of this and they kill the Frozen Dragon. The scene goes way too quickly and is incredibly muddled, which makes it super annoying and bland. The Dragon God shows up after they kill the dragon though and basically grants them both the powers of a Fro-Drag warrior. We learn that in the process of trying to help Hans and Yohanus, several of the Shamans ‘died’ because of their astral projection (though Bullock doesn’t call it astral projection). In truth, their souls were just lost from their bodies because they wandered too far from their bodies and I guess the Dragon God was willing to help the souls be guided back? I have no fucking idea though. The chapter where that’s talked about (chapter 14) is so muddled and hard to decipher. Hans is told that he is to be an assassin and needs to kill the Bringer (or the Kaiser Mage? Both?) before they use evil magic to bring Morgloth into the world and kill everyone. 

Chapter 11, Franziska has guards from the kingdom now. They’re called Marble Guards. The only one we know is Clouse and both her and Clouse have far more chemistry than David and she do. The existence of Clouse is entirely pointless however, aside from pointing out just how ‘devoted’ to David that Franzi is. We learn that the alter-rang golem, who is named Ugly, is powerful as shit and basically destroys a single building with its blast of magic lightning. We also meet Jason whose father, the Lord of the village, is then convinced needs to go and be part of the army so he has a better shot at becoming the king after the death of the current king. 

Chapter 12, David has an orgy in the showers despite the fact that he says he’s so devoted to Franzi. Actually, the orgy in the showers is completely against his own will and in fact, he has told the servant who brought this onto him that he didn’t want to have sex with her because he was so devoted to Franzi, yet, she pushes this onto him anyways and does it in public space too. If this was a good writer, this would have really fucked up David. However, Bullock is not a good writer, so I’m inclined to believe that this was written with the thought that David should be enjoying it. David gets attacked with magic per the orders of Henrich to attack David with magic whenever you saw him. He’s in the middle of the orgy when this happens and pretends to really be enjoying it while another mage, Teresina, basically funnels away the pain. Apparently convincing everybody he was a masochist was enough to deter them from ever causing him pain like that again out of the blue. It’s weird. 

David plays a shitty game with marbles called Defenders or something like that. It’s terribly explained and I’m not going to even bother trying lest I confuse myself more. That just brings me back to my previous statement of not including a game if you can’t explain it to the reader’s understanding. Of course, he fucking wins the game so hard that everyone is impressed and on his side now. He then goes through the Gauntlet of Pain again and actually succeeds this time. He’s told to repeat a phrase on the statue to finally become a Rose Mage. However this little shit, instead of repeating what the phrase is on the statue, he repeats the “actual” phrase (of which I still don’t know what it is, nor do I know what the fake phrase was). Henrich gets super pissed again because of this and says that David is disrespecting the council and Alexander and almost kills David because of it. I guess Zesterag interferes again and saves David’s life? Not too sure though. 

In chapter 13, we learn that Henrich is working for Morgloth, David attacks him because of this after freeing Zesterag’s brother, Delpapa (I think this addition was completely pointless). Zesterag and some of the guards from the castle smuggle David out of the tower and get him to safety while Zesterag pretends that he killed David so Henrich and Eve will lay off and not try to hunt him down to kill him. I’m really not interested in David’s safety at all, despite the fact that this is half-way through the book. I don’t care about anything or anyone in this story and there really isn’t a plot-line up until now. It’s just David doing whatever the fuck he wants and the rest of the crew trying to actually do their jobs. 

Chapter 14-26 (It’s actually chapter 27, but it’s labeled as 26, so fuck it) 

Hans and Yohanus return back to the village, Yohanus is declared as the king and Hans says that he’s going to go out to search for the Bringer so he can kill them before they kill the world. Shauna gets permission from Yohanus to follow after Hans. 

Chapter 15, it’s just Franziska, her guard Clouse, some soldiers, and her golem as they pass through a pass filled to the brim with Black Orcs. Supposedly these Black Orcs are super dangerous, but they don’t dare attack because the golem is so stupidly intimidating. They are on their way to the frontlines of the battlefield against the undead creature that would kill the entire land if the shield crystal isn’t recharged. Franziska’s job is to go and recharge these crystals. 

They arrive at a camp and go to meet the Sisters of Prophecy where Hans is. Hans joins the entourage (sans Shauna). Eve also joins the entourage to ‘protect’ Franziska and guide her, I guess. 

Chapter 16, It’s basically just David’s escape to the palace and then Zesterag convincing Henrich and Eve that he did, in fact, kill David. David dives into a home to hide from Eve and unbeknownst to him, there’s a naked old woman in the home. This is completely pointless to the story and I have no idea why it was included, it wasn’t even funny. We learn that Zesterag has been promoted to Second Keeper and Eve to First Keeper because Henrich has moved to be the Head of the Rose Council. Apparently it’s also a good thing that Henrich believes/does work for Morgloth because he’s their only inside to the way the demon works? This really doesn’t make sense to me, but alright, I guess. In chapter 17 David has arrived to the castle and is basically given the rank of Officer so he can hide from the Rose Council. He is to escort a bunch of new soldiers to the front lines with another officer, Jason, aka entitled brat boy. Oh yeah, for some reason Bullock decided to use a lot of military terminology and complicated names like Sergeant Major and Lord General and Field General, and as someone with no idea what ranking military people have with the titles and whatnot, this actually gets really confusing really quickly. It’s also weird to me that he’s using military terms in a fantasy world, especially because it is by no means a modern world and by no means has any other elements from real life in it. It’s rather jarring and it just doesn’t fit with the world. I understand that in fantasy an author can generally do whatever the fuck they want within reason and so long as it fits, but the military theme really just doesn’t feel like it fits in this story in any way. Bullock jumps between having guards and knights to having soldiers and officers and sergeants and lieutenants. It doesn’t work with the story and I think it needs to be removed entirely. Sure, a good majority of the story will go with it, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. The entire plot needs to be remade anyways. Especially considering that in this chapter, David gets a bracer. In this bracer, I guess that he needs to capture different types of magic in order to summon the Kaiser Mage. 

The bracer should have been given to him at the beginning of the story. Not the last ⅕. The bracer should have been the entire fucking story as he searched for the different types of magic in order to activate it so he could ‘summon’ the Kaiser Mage to their reality. It’s so fucking stupid that Bullock just throws it in during the last part of the book because now we finally have some kind of plot-line or purpose for David being out and about despite the Rose Council supposedly coming after him to kill him (although they think that he’s already dead). Here’s the real kick in the ass though: Mark ignores the entire fucking point of the bracer until about the last ten-ish pages. Everything in this godforsaken story is shoved into the last ten pages and I hate it. It was incredibly frustrating and I nearly tore the book in half down the spine I was so mad when reading it. 

Anyways, Jason is just a total brat, they get to pick Marble Guards to accompany them on their journey to the frontline. Because David just dazzled his superior with his genius so much when it came to picking his guards he gets to have four instead of two. After that, they arrive at the training grounds where the new guards are and *GASP* guess who is there???? Rudolf! David’s sugar daddy! David throws down with all of the new soldiers in a ring to prove to his daddy just how impressive his skills are now that he can use magic to help him! And his Daddy is very impressed by his skills. Then we meet KEVIN. THE MOST FUCKING BRILLIANT NAME FOR A FANTASY CHARACTER EVER. KEVIN.  F U C K I N G    K E V I N. Kevin is a half-leaderless (which I guess is a race?) and is described as such; “Kevin’s eyes were the giveaway, with the blue reddish tint in them and semi-browner skin. Almost as if Kevin had the best tan, but the leaderless people’s skin were naturally brown” (pg 174). Kevin wants to fight David because Kevin is just amazing with a blade, but David asks if they can wait until tomorrow because he’s so exhausted. 

Chapter 18 and Jason is even more of a brat and David is the star child I guess. David fights Kevin and uses his magic to cheat because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to beat Kevin in the swordfight, meaning that Kevin is the superior fighter. However, instead of being chided for cheating and abandoning any honor in his fight, Daddy Rudolf instead praises David after he promises to never cheat again, and Daddy Rudolf tells him instead “Oh hell no, that is by far the wrong lesson to learn. There will be another time when something like this will happen, David, only it will be your life on the line. I expect you to cheat with everything got, to win, understand?” (pg 177) They do more training exercises and it’s generally pretty unnecessary other than to prove that David is just ‘one of the boys’ and that all of the soldiers love him. 

Chapter 19, Franzi has more chemistry with Hans and Clouse again than she ever did with David. Franzi makes ‘friends’ with Eve and threatens Eve that Ugly will kill her if she keeps trying to push her way into her mind. Franzi pretends she’s the Bringer to make Eve happy and Eve tells her that the Bringer is the Kaiser Mage. We already know that David is the Bringer at this point so dING DING DING FUCK YOU WE’RE GOING TO GIVE AWAY THE END OF THE BOOK RIGHT NOW. SURPRISE, BITCH, DAVID WAS THE NEW KAISER MAGE ALL ALONG. 

We also get a brief perspective from Shauna where for some fucking reason she’s in a desert. In this desert, she passes out but also befriends two Silverback Desert Hounds. She’s basically a fucking pointless character already and is just there for Hans. 

Chapter 20, Jason is more of an entitled brat. David is struggling to use his second mind for some fucking reason, even though this is literally the only point he struggles to use it. Jason is found to be a racist as he hates Captin Olek who I guess is a great captain. He just hates him because he’s black. Yay, more Jason terrible and David great content. Fucking pointless chapter. Oh yeah and somewhere in these chapters David’s ring, the one he got from his father, starts to burn him because the Bloodthirster that is trapped inside of it is pounding on the walls of the pocket dimension? And for some reason, that’s enough to cause the ring to start burning his skin. And for some reason, later on, Bullock loses all logic and insists that the ring burns him terribly enough that he starts to bleed. Despite the fact that you know, heat is used to cauterize wounds. 

Chapter 21, Jason bad, David good. Soldiers love David, hate Jason. David can talk in the language of the gods when talking to the Bloodthirster. He plays Chock again and it’s still terribly explained. It’s completely pointless other than proving that David is a very smart and very strategic boy. And that Daddy Rudolf is very impressed with him (not really because although Rudolf is there he juST IS LIKE A FUCKING CARDBOARD FIGURE IN THE BACKGROUND). 

Chapter 22, David good, Jason bad. They go through a dangerous canyon filled with Black Orc’s now that Franziska went through earlier. 

Chapter 23, Franziska meets with Dark Elves who know she’s not the Bringer and out her to Hans. For some reason, despite the fact that she’s saying she’s the Bringer and Hans is supposed to kill the Bringer, he hasn’t killed her yet. Franziska snaps and has Ugly almost kill Eve. Eve escapes in the nick of time. Franziska and Clouse still have more chemistry than David and Franziska and that is only proved further. 

Chapter 24, Shauna shows up. Franziska and Shauna bond almost immediately. David and co finally arrive at the frontlines without have lost a single man, which is supposed to be super impressive but it doesn’t feel that way. Jason bad, David good. All soldier’s love David. Oh nooo… Henrich is there and he knows that David is too. Henrich is big anger now because David is supposed to be dead. Henrich would attack David but whoops! Big wraith arrives and does it for him after Jason was left alone in the field and like a dumbass David rushed in to save Jason because he just has to be the bigger man in the situation. Wraith kidnaps David and Jason. Franziska finds out and cries more. 

Chapter 25, David wakes up in the place he was hidden after being kidnapped. Finds one of the green magics for his bracer. Yay! He runs while carrying Jason. Hans realizes David is the Bring and chase after him. Eve gets mad at Henrich and tells Ugly to kill him. Henrich is okay and fucking yeets Ugly a couple of yards away and into a mountain with magics. Eve assures Franziska that Henrich isn’t mad and takes her to a tent to “teach her things”. 

Chapter 26 part 1, David run lots while carrying Jason. Hans shows up and fucking deflects all of the magic with the magical resistance that was blessed onto him by the Dragon God when he became a Fro-Drag warrior. They fights lots. David cheats and releases the Bloodthirster from the ring because if you release the Bloodthirster he becomes your servant until you die. David realizes he fucked up. Hans knows he fucked up. Somehow David convinces Hans that he’s not even and when the Bloodthirster brags that he can never be sealed again, David fucking seals him in the stupid fucking magic bracer to get what I guess is the red life magic. Hans just so happens to be the blue life magic because “blue man must be part of blue circle hurhur.” He doesn’t absorb Hans into the bracer but somehow gets the magic? Fuck if I know. Apparently in the prophecy is also said that the Bringer would be evil and release evil magic upon the world, but that was just Alexander spouting bullshit and somehow that in itself was supposed to bring everyone together to do what needed to be done 

Chapter 26, part 2, David confronts Eve and Henrich. He fucking makes Eve his slave by brainwashing her with the bracer to make her want nothing more than to serve him. He absorbs Henrich into the bracer without any fight. He then declares himself the Kaiser mage and what a fucking surprise, he is. He then goes off to face the Lich King or Morgloth’s clone that he sent to terrorize the world because he couldn’t set foot on it himself???? Fuck if I know at this point, this book is such a fucking mess. Either way, the BBEG is Morgloth’s clone and instead of an epic fight, Kaiser Mage David just goes up and does the same fucking thing he does with Eve and brainwashes it without a challenge to be his servant. He then goes and commands it to go and kill Morgloth so like, guess there goes that fucking challenge. 

And the book is over. The book is finally fucking over. Aside from my rant about the plot issues and how the entire plot should have been centered around the Gauntlet, it has a lot of issues with formatting and phrasing and grammar. The Rose Council clearly never saw an editor a day’s worth of revision and it desperately needs to. Writing a book is hard and takes a lot of effort and research, none of these were put into The Rose Council and it shows. 

Overall, 0/10 stars. I fucking hated it. 

[i-rove-rock-n-roll]

Eden (cause rn there is no better title) Just some writing I felt like sharin.

He dreamt that he was back in prison, the blue walls suffocating, even as he lay in his cell, staring at the ceiling, they closed in on him. A murmur came from the hallway.

“Which prisoner is this?”

“How the hell should I know? All the same to me the damn punks.”

“I think this one's that Southern one. That one with the accent.” The other made a noise of assent and through half closed eyes, Gram saw the guard peer at him through the bars.

“Who cares?” the other guard said, disinterested.

The dream changed to nighttime, and he heard the panting nearby stop abruptly. A shovel was thrown up beside him, as Gram continued to lay, now pressed against the ground rather than the bunk.

“C’mon, Charlie, we gotta get him in the ground.”

“Why do we gotta do it?” The other man, presumably Charlie, whined. Gram felt them pick up his body, lugging it over to the grave, as his mind swirled in a fog not unlike the one surrounding them.

“Bastards got no family. No one to claim ‘im. No one to give a shit, so we get stuck with him.” They dropped Gram into the hole, none too gently, but he felt nothing, staring vacantly at the two men above him.

“Grab a shovel, bud. Get this over with.”

And the dirt covered him.

He awoke in the darkness, unable to breathe, his arms crossed over his chest. Choking on the dirt, he clawed upwards, blindly trying to get out. Finally, Gram’s hand broke out into the air, and he drug his body out.

“Who…” he gasped, “..am I? Fuckin’...Uma Thurman?”

He shivered, taking in his surroundings. The prison yard was gone, the ugly brick building no longer in sight. In fact, the only thing he could see were trees, strangely tall, in a way that made all others look like saplings. The leaves rustled, and the dark fog gleamed as an animal leapt out, followed by another, and another. Men followed, clutching leashes, but they weren’t quite right, each with grotesque faces, their eyes flashing with malice. The dogs smiled with them in unison, all with teeth sharp and hungry growls. It wasn’t hard to guess the goal of the game they wanted to play. Stumbling, Gram began to run. The trees blurred as he ran, even as his chest burned, reminding him of his lack of exercise, he moved. His legs pumped, barely slowing as he hit the river, drenching his knees with an icy rush. Gram stopped, waiting for them to follow. The not-men did not call to their beasts, but an eerie noise followed from the other side of the river. A horn sounded, followed by something dimly resembling a search light, and Gram took off again, lungs empty.

He collapsed once he reached a small clearing, the same one that contained his gravestone. He was back where he started.

Attempting to get his raspy wheezing under control, he leaned against the stone, staring at the clearly cut letters.

Jonathan Denvers. He blinked, the letters shifting. Ingram Niesler. He blinked again and watched the stone crumble.

The clearing was surrounded.

A figure stepped forward, tall and with blank eyes. The dogs at Gram’s back made no move, but growled softly before the figure’s swiveling head quieted it. Its eyes were like glass, seeing something he couldn’t.

“We have a job for him,” hissed a voice from behind, and Gram jumped. The leader of the not-man stopped a foot away, as if unwilling or unable to come closer. The others holding the beasts shifted in agreement, though none stepped up, even as the not-dogs thrashed against the leashes with incredible strength.

“As do we,” said the being with the glass eyes. “I don’t suppose you could wait your turn?” they asked mildly, ignoring the snarl they received in return.

“I don’t even know who you guys are, so I ain’t doin’ shit.” Gram was painfully aware of how high his voice had jumped up. Both pairs of eyes, clear and gleaming, glanced at him, like he were some sort of minor inconvenience.

“You don’t have a choice, Jonathan Denvers.”

“My name is Gram.” He wanted to scream, but his words came out in a squeak. “Not Jonathan,” his voice was stronger now. “Ingram.”

“You are Jonathan, Jehovah’s gift. And you will do as you are told.” The being twitched irritably and the not-man cackled at the look on Gram’s face.

“Feisty, this one. I like him.” The being slung an arm over his shoulder, cold fingers crawling against his skin. The other tensed even more than Gram. He couldn’t pull away. “Listen, kid, can I call you kid? Anyway--”

“Whatever it is, it ain’t happening.”

“Just hear me out, kid, I got a deal--” Gram snorted and the glass eyed figure seemed to smirk for a moment before becoming impassive again.

“Let me guess, I’ll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, cause I think I’m better than you? Well, I ain’t Johnny, bitch, so scram.” His courage didn’t leave, even when the face twisted and the nails made pierce his throat. The glass eyed being moved in an instant, somehow, and had the figure down on its knees, a sword pressed against their Adam’s apple. The apple quivered as they laughed silently, eyes glued to the hard face above them.

“Still got it, don’t you, Mike? I think you’re a few feathers short though--urk!” Came the choke as the blade dug deeper into the not-man’s neck, as the being now known as Mike narrowed its eyes. Somehow, and he had absolutely no idea how, Gram had been so distracted by the appearance of the sword that he missed the enormous wings spreading outward, looking very much like a large, threatening bird, but with some gaps in his feathers. Gram swallowed and.began to inch away.

“This has been fun, but I think I’m gonna go home, now…”

“Oh, kid,” came the amused sigh from the being still on its knees. “You can’t go until we let you.” The glass eyed Mike blinked before Gram’s eyes, reappearing only a few inches away. Gram flinched, unable to see anything but the swirling emptiness in the eyes before him.

“Three days, Jonathan. Nicole had her chance, now it’s yours.”

The gleaming eyed being stood up, rubbing its throat loosely.

“Think on it, Johnny. You only got eternity left if you fail.”

“What are you talking about?” Gram blinked, confused.

“Cleaning up the town. That’s what your little cuz thinks she’s doing. Doing a better job than half my..well, I can’t really call them people, but still.” the being waved a hand dismissively. 

“Think of it as a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah.” Mike suggested. 

The figure rolled its eyes, waggling a finger in Gram’s direction. “If you don’t behave Uncle Sammy won’t give you your present.”

“I’ve never been one much for surprises.”

“I know.” The figure rolled its eyes. “Made you such a boring child.”

“I thought your name was Lucifer, anyway.”

“Newsflash, once upon a time I had a different name.” The Devil gave Gram a pointed look. “Sam was my name just as much a Lucifer is now, Jonathan.” Gram opened his mouth, but he held up a hand. “Don’t get so riled. I’m proving a point.”

“A pretty shitty one.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t do any research before picking your name?” Mike said dryly. “Of all the names you could have chosen for yourself, you chose an old Norse name.”

Gram blinked. “Is it? I just liked the sound of it.”

“It means ‘Ing’s raven’. Or ‘raven of peace’. Whichever sounds catchier.”

“You’re like a walking dictionary.”

“No, I just know how to use google.” Gram huffed, muttering something about prison and piece of crap computers. “Why go by Gram? I mean, spelling wise, didn’t that get you into trouble with paperwork?”

“Graham is a type of cracker, and Gram is shorter.”

“I can tell literally no difference when you speak.”

“That’s cause you’re a da--” Lucifer’s eyes flashed.

“Watch your mouth, kid.”

“Geez, jus’ like the swear jar at home.” Now the Devil’s eyes rolled in response, temper forgotten.

“To get back on topic, I did not choose my name by coincidence.” It drummed its fingers briefly. “The name Lucifer means light bringer. Even as Samael I brought this light to you people, yet I also doled out what everyone feared. The Wrath of God.” Their lips quirked in a humorless smile. “I was not a fluffy little cherub with a harp. None of us--them--” They jerked a thumb towards the army of angels not five feet away. “I mean, are.”

“Depending on who you talk to,” Mike said slowly. “Ravens are symbols of good, or of evil. No one gives a shit about where it actually came from anymore, just like they forget my origins and Sammy’s.” Their lips quirked in a humorless smile. “Definitions are tricky bastards, each language you people make creates new ideas and problems.” 

“Are you guys going anywhere with this?” Gram’s head was spinning, but he refused to sit down. “I’d like to be up in time to get some breakfast before Uncle Lou eats it all.” 

“The point, Ingram, is this: You may bear the name, raven of peace, but what side is the raven on? Peace is subjective. What one considers Heaven another considers Hell, as the twerps in your little town have already decided.”

Gram remembered the car ride with his parole officer, and the low whistle that accompanied the impressed statement. 

“Looks like Eden.” He remembered his own words, half serious, half inside joke,

“Well, we call it Hell.”

“You humans have limited concepts.” The Devil said, eyes twinkling with amusement. 

“That’s the way language works. Try goin’ to Spain and see if they treat you any different.” Gram paused. “What do I call you two? Ma’am? Sir? Captain?” Now it was Mike--Michael-- Gram knew, that rolled their eyes. 

“You don’t need to call me anything. Just do your fuckin’ job.”

“Was that a Friday After Next quote?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Never thought I’d meet an angel with a sense of humor.”

“Archangel.”

“Or an inferiority complex.”

“Comes with the territory, Jonathan Ingram.” The archangel answered briskly, rolling their eyes with the Devil laughed. “Now, wake up”

[shoujosoulsearching]

Mars, AKA The Shoujo Manga with Too Much Emotional Baggage for One Woman to Carry

SPOILER WARNING!!!

The Roman god of war, Mars, was said to love violence and conflict--he was known as the embodiment of bloodthirst. Unlike his Greek counterpart Ares, however, who was considered to be more destructive in nature, Mars was seen as more of a protector, a bringer of peace.

With a title like Mars, one has to wonder what side of the Roman god is going to be showcased in the story: the bloodthirsty divine or the righteous guardian? For a shoujo manga, you’d expect it to go the latter, but upon reading Fuyumi Souryo’s fifteen-volume teenage melodrama, the answer to that question turns out to be much more complicated than you think.

The actual story itself has nothing to do with the literal god named Mars--he’s only explicitly shown in the first volume as a statue, which our playboy prince charming, Rei Kashino, approaches and kisses on the mouth. Kira Aso, our introverted and artistic leading lady, is infatuated with this sight and asks Rei to become a model for her to sketch during her free time. From that moment onwards, their relationship blossoms, and they both bring out things in each other that would have never been brought to the surface if they had never met.

While it has its fair amount of stereotypes what sets Mars apart from its contenders is the way the main couple is portrayed. Rei and Kira are individually appealing characters, and their qualities are only enhanced as they grow closer throughout the story.

Our leading man Rei is the first character that truly jumps off the page from the get-go. A motorcycle-riding playboy who couldn’t care less about school, Rei’s a boy with deep-rooted issues and a devil-may care attitude. He has an unmeasurable sense of justice, and while he has a sense of morality, he won’t always uphold it when the situation tests him. If he gets a bad feeling from someone, he will immediately turn to hostility--but only when the event pertains to something he wants, or something he cares about. He understands what the “right” thing to do is, but he doesn’t care. As long as he isn’t stopped by Kira or someone else’s plea, he will fix the problem in a way that satisfies him.

This type of violent behavior would usually be associated with a sociopath, but upon further inspection that turns out to not be the case. Most of Rei’s questionable actions come from a post-conventional reasoning, and it’s apparent that whenever he acts out it’s because he’s either been deeply hurt by something in the past or he’s afraid to lose what he cherishes in the present. I’m not at all justifying his actions, but the point is that Rei has never been a true monster, and whatever monstrous aspects he had to him were eventually blurred away by Kira (who was the first person to ever love him that wasn’t incredibly toxic.)

The main difference between a sociopath like Masao Kirishima and someone like Rei, is that Rei is just a teenager who’s been hurt one too many times and only knows how to self medicate using violence. He had never been policed for his actions in a proper way. As we learn in the last volume, his memories were altered during his time in the psychiatric ward to lessen his trauma. Once you look beyond his blunt and aggressive exterior, Rei is the most genuine character in the entire series. He’s just a teenage boy that’s been through too much hardship that he never deserved, and was never emotionally mature enough to handle all of it. He’s rightfully angry at the world--until he meets Kira.

It took time for our heroine to shine like her male counterpart did, but a few volumes in, Kira becomes a show-stopping character. Originally an immovable introvert only interested in painting and nothing else, Kira grows into her own loving, hopeful person. One of the things I appreciated the most about Mars was it’s portrayal of mental illness--nothing is never outwardly said, but it’s obvious that Kira had been going through not only anxiety but a deep, dark depression she can’t bring herself back from. The way Kira thought about death, the way she always put others needs before her own, etc, made her real and relatable to me on a personal level. I’ve had those same issues my entire life, and seeing Kira slowly and surely come into her own throughout each volume wasn’t just satisfying, was inspiring.

The most tantalizing reveal about Kira and why she acts the way she does is when we learn that she was raped by her stepfather in middle school. Not only did she start isolating herself after the incident, she began to live in her head, where a more sinister, damaged and unhinged Kira would imagine killing herself and those around her. This is an extremely serious subject to dive into--and Mars doesn’t cover up the darkness behind it. It’s not romanticized, it’s ugly and depressing, and the worst part is that we never get the feeling that Kira will ever fully recover from it. Yes, she learns to become intimate with Rei because she trusts him--but it’s implied that in the deepest, darkest parts of her soul, that horrible memory will continue to live on.

The first thing that struck me, and my favorite aspect of the entire series, was how genuine the relationship between Rei and Kira felt--several times in the story there’d be a break where they would just talk, and not talk as in they’d tell each other things that would move the plot forward, or with a clear purpose in mind--they have actual conversations. They talk about each other’s hobbies, about their existential crises, things that actual teenagers talk to each other about. With every heart-to-heart comes another glimpse into who these two are as people, and it becomes apparent that they cherish and remember every word they say to each other. It’s clear that these two characters grow because of each other, and turn one another into the best versions of themselves. They’re honest and authentic with each other in ways only adolescents can be. As two teenagers who’ve never had anyone to be their shoulder to cry on, their relationship just feels right, and their marriage at the end of the series is one of the most wholesome and satisfying things I’ve read in a shoujo manga.

Up until now I’ve sung praises to Mars for the two main characters and their dynamic, but unfortunately, besides a few exceptions, the rest of the characters in the series are either uninteresting, unlikable or just straight up garbage human beings. To keep it short, just seeing Shiori, Kurosawa or Harumi on every panel would get me peeved. Masao Kirishima was the last straw for me, however; once I got deep enough into his arc I ended up putting down the series for a few days, because I couldn’t stand his presence (not to mention the ONLY canonically LGBT character just HAD to be an evil psychopath who wanted to kill people for pleasure…..REALLY……) but I’ll throw in a head-canon saying that these characters only exist for me to appreciate the main couple more (which it did) so I could look over it.

By far Mars’ biggest problem is it’s tone. Soap operas can be fun, don’t get me wrong, and there are plenty of times where Mars gets it right--but also plenty of times where it becomes overbearing. The series was probably best to read week by week when it was being released in Bessatsu Friend magazine; it’s not hard to imagine Souryo stuffing in enough melodrama in each chapter before it’s release in order to keep reader’s interest. Marathon-reading it is very much a different experience. And it doesn’t help that It’s clear that this is a product of its time. A lot of popular shoujo manga in the 90s tended to stretch the drama, i.e. the insane level of bullying, the evil side characters insisting on keeping the main couple apart, etc.

Using an example from Mars, Rei reveals he used to have a brother, who is actually dead, and when Kira asks how he died, before Rei can answer, a man jumps off a building and the police are called. Rei has a panic attack after seeing this, and it’s implied that his brother died from suicide. Then, we go back to the high school where it’s revealed that a character named Kurosawa also attempted suicide, and is currently getting treatment. Then Rei and Kira go out on a date. ALL IN ONE CHAPTER. If you got exhausted reading that, try reading that page-to-page in one sitting. It was entertaining, sure, but it took me out of the immersion every now and again.

I can shit on these aspects as much as I want, but without them, Mars wouldn’t be Mars. It’s apart of its charm, in an odd way, and it only enhances everything the series does right. At times, it’s as if Mars is drowning you in it’s depressing conflict and weighing you down with it’s emotional baggage, enjoying every second of your agony--but in the end it always comes back around, making wrongs rights and surprising you with its tenderness. That’s why I think this manga has the perfect title. I doubt Fuyumi Souryo intended for this, but in its own roundabout way, I believe Mars is an allegory for the Roman god, and a good one that you definitely shouldn’t miss out on. 

And I’m giving this one a STAR rating.

(Check out my other manga analyses here, and my standards here.)

(Follow me on twitter @/choerrychrist)

[blufics]

Title: Mon Étoile, Ta Promesse

Pairing: Marinette/Chat Noir

Synopsis: Not everything has to be a secret, Marinette finds.

“Shooting star. Make a wish.”

Marinette made a wish.

Chat slid curious eyes over to her. “What’d you wish for?” he asked, a small smile lighting his mouth.

She shook her head; she had seen that question coming from a mile away.

“You’re not supposed to tell,” she reminded him with a chuckle. “Otherwise, it won’t come true.”

He scoffed, impatient as ever. “I’ve never believed that crap. Why would telling someone what you want make it any less likely to happen?”

“Well,” she reasoned, “maybe the Universe doesn’t like letting people in on its secrets. Especially nosy, loudmouthed kitties.”

“I’m not nosy,” he insisted. “I’m just curious.”

“And what did curiosity do to the cat?”

“Not anything satisfaction couldn’t help, from what I hear.”

“I don’t know, Chat. Sometimes, you don’t get the answers you’re looking for.”

He shrugged. “I mean, any answer is fine in my book.”

Curiously, Marinette tensed a little. “Well, sometimes, there isn’t an answer at all.”

“But isn’t that an answer in itself?” He gave her an inquisitive look; she didn’t meet his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she told him, her words quiet.

“You’re a terrible liar, Princess.” Ruefully, he smiled at her again, reaching a hand to rest on her shoulder. “Come on. What’s bothering you?”

“I’ve just been thinking,” she said. “A lot.”

“As you do,” he pressed.

“And, I don’t know. I get…..scared. Sometimes.”

“Scared?” He moved closer, examining her expression. Her arms drew in around her torso as he did, and he froze, frowning. “What could possibly scare a girl like you?”

She snorted. “Oh, lots of things. Lots of people.”

“Like?”

“Well.” She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, a sea of black and gold winking at her from its vast distance. It jeered at her, laughed, and she felt so small. “Like you,” she said.

And at this, Chat Noir couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Me?” he snickered. “Your friendly neighborhood Cat Man, bringer of justice and bad puns? That scares you?”

“Not that,” she assured him with a light smile of her own. “Just the fact that...well. The fact that I care about you. That scares me.”

“Hey,” he said, pulling her to his side. “If it helps any, I care about you too.”

“That helps a little,” she admitted.

“Am I less scary now?”

“Definitely,” she conceded, relaxing into him.

A breeze passed through them, warm with the city’s collective breath, and he said, “I hope you wished for peace of mind.”

“And what if I didn’t?”

“Then I’ll just have to wish it for you.”

With a giggling hum, she planted the most fleeting of kisses on his cheek.

“That’s sweet, Chaton,” she told him. “But I thought we agreed that saying it out loud isn’t a good idea.”

Chat grinned, all black, gold, and pink. “Well, I guess the Universe is just going to have to get over itself,” he said. “Because it’s going to come true.”

Marinette could have come up with a thousand quips to mask the warmth in her chest that his words brought, but her voice couldn’t seem to function properly. So instead, she opted to tousle his hair, hooking one arm around his waist.

“If you say so,” she finally sighed. His arm securing itself around her shoulders told her, I know so.

She looked back out into the night, where the city, for a moment, seemed to hold its peace.

AN: We can all just safely assume that Chat drops by Mari’s place to chill regularly, right? Right.

[jimmy-o-face]

A faithful Dark Phoenix film would be a pointless rehash...

I’ve been seeing a lot people say that FOX is rushing into the X-Men: Phoenix film. That there needs to be a Phoenix Saga and have tons of build-up before Jean gets corrupted and kills a lot of people. However, the problem with that criticism is that it doesn’t seem like film makers have any intent on Jean turning evil. According to producers they want to give the audience something different with this Phoenix story and being evil was already done in X-Men: The Last Stand.

“But I think in the Dark Phoenix story that we're preparing, we feel really good about it and it's an opportunity to do something also that is unique and different and more specific in ways that previous movies haven’t really had the opportunity to be and that what those things are will fulfill what we're trying to do.”

If that isn’t a strong enough implication, the film’s main antagonist is apparently Lilandra(played by Jessica Chastain) and reportedly the film is going to open with a spaceship landing in the baseball field of the X-mansion during a day, according to Jeff Sneider on Meet the Movie Press. So it seems that the film will be loosely based on Uncanny X-Men #137 titled “The Fate of the Phoenix!” of The Dark Phoenix Saga where The Shi’ar attempts to execute Jean because she can’t control the power of the chaos bringer thus was a threat to the universe.

Some of might say they are rushing to The Fate of Phoenix because they haven’t showcase Jean’s transformation into the Phoenix, fearing her own power, being manipulated, and becoming corrupted. But in reality they aren’t because they were already done that stuff in previous X-Men films(X2, X3, and Apocalypse) and so that would just be pointlessly repetitive. But some have said that X2 and X3 don’t matter because this is a rebooted series. However, this isn’t a true reboot but a alternate timeline meaning it's the same continuity and characters. Even if it was a true reboot that wouldn’t save it from criticism as shown by the now  dead The Amazing Spider-Man series, which was criticized for rehashing the same origin story and Osborne feud. 

Here are major points of The Dark Phoenix Saga have already been adapted:

-X2 had Jean seemly sacrificing herself to her team and then rise from the water alive reaching the full potential of her power. Just like in Uncanny X-Men #100-101.

-X3 had Cyclops grieving Jean’s death, Jean being corrupted by power, manipulated by a villian, her turning on her teammates,visiting her old home, kill a lot of people, and die via suicide. Like in Uncanny X-Men #132-138.

-X-Men: First Class already had The Hellfire Club as main villain. 

-X-Men: Apocalypse had Jean Grey fearing her power and what she was becoming. Something that was happening through out Uncanny X-Men #101-138.

Virtually the only thing they left out was the Shi’ar stuff. Even if they did a complete reboot with the Shi’ar, it would just be the equivalent of the Parker parent plot of The Amazing Spider-Man series. A lot of been there and done that, but with a new plot line thrown in. It's a bad idea from a business standpoint.

It seems that the previous two X-Men films(Days of Future Past & Apocalypse) have already set-up a reason for The Shi’ar to want Jean dead. It seems that there very existence was to make the events of this film possible. Because around the time of Days of Future Past’s release screenwriter of the film and Apocalypse Simon Kinberg talked about going back in time and correcting the mistakes made in X3.

“Bryan and I talked a lot about what we were going to honour, and what we were going to nullify from the original movies. Something I felt strongly about was making sure Jean Grey and Cyclops are alive at the end of the movie, perhaps out of personal guilt for having worked on X3. There are many things in X3 I am proud of, and there are many things I would do differently if I could go back in time and talk to my younger self. I was disappointed for personal reasons – and as a fan – with the way Scott was killed, and the personification of Dark Phoenix. I felt like seeing them at the end of the film would be very satisfying.”

Now what exactly did they set-up in the previous two films that would make the Shi’ar see Jean as a threat? For starters, Days of Future Past had Beast say that there is a theory about time travel that no matter what you do time will go in same general direction like a river. Kinberg confirmed this theory to be true since Days of Future Past released. That’s why the ending monologue at the end of Days of Future Past said you can change the tide of time, but mentioned nothing about the current.

“We talk, maybe too much, in the movie about this notion of time travel, or time continuity, where the river of time keeps going in the same direction, but you can shift it a little bit. You can put a pebble in and see at least a splash. So at the end of this movie, we want to feel like the current is going in the same direction. Charles went off and started the X-Men, but the way he did it and the people who are part of the X-Men are not exactly the same.

There were several ripples made in Days of Future Past. One in particularly was when Xavier read Wolverine’s mind and found out about what happened to Jean in the original timeline. A scene that surprisingly a lot people have forgotten about.

As shown in Apocalypse this scene in conjunction with Xavier’s character arc about not controlling others lead to him not putting psychic blocks on Jean like he did in X3. Instead he chose to have faith in Jean controlling her powers. However, Jean is shown having visions about the world being engulfed in fire, similar to her hearing voices from the future in X2. You know what that means?

That was just one of a few examples of Hank’s theory on time. Magneto tried to have a normal life but history repeated itself, peace between mutants and humans was destroyed like in the old timeline, and Xavier had the exact same conversation with Magneto they had in X1. According to Brian Singer months prior to the film’s release, Apocalypse was meant to showcase time being immutable. 

“Again, fucking with the reboot idea. I get to take control and reboot my own movie. I rebooted the universe so now anything can happen. So here’s the plan, in my head, again giving away the plan because of the alcohol- The soda water. What happens when you use Days of Future Past to erase movies like X1, 2 and 3, yes you can erase those events that occurred, but I also was very adamant about having what we call ‘The Tivo Scene.’ The scene in that room with all the video cameras in Days of Future Past, I call it the Tivo scene. 'I developed this piece of technology that records television.’ The point is time’s immutability. The idea that time is like a river. You can splash it and mess it up and throw rocks in it and shatter it but it eventually kind of coalesces and this is, again, theories of quantum physics. It’s all based in quantum physics.

So what I’m doing with these in-betweenqueels is playing with time’s immutability and the prequel concept, meaning that yes we erased those storylines and anything can happen. That means the audience goes into the movie thinking that anything can happen. I mean anything, anyone could die. Any possibility could occur, but characters are still moving towards their immutable place. Jean and Scott, are they meant to be together? Is Scott this guy who hates schools, who ahtes authority, destined to become a leader? You don’t know. Is Jean ever going ot disover the full potential of her power? You don’t know, but we move in those direction character wise but then we have the freedom story wise to do whatever the fuck we want because we erased those three movies.

In summary, there is tons of evidence suggesting that Jean is destined to not control her powers and kill a ton of people in the process. Xavier’s efforts to change her fate by not trying to control her only made matters worse. Now her power has grown over the years without the psychic blocks, to the point were she is vastly powerful than an Professor X, Magneto, and Apocalypse. All three who’s powers were shown to be on a planetary scale in X-Men: Apocalypse and according to Jean that power is still growing. With Dark Phoenix taking place several years after Apocalypse, that power has likely grown even more.

The film also suggests that Jean’s power isn’t just telepathy and telekinesis, but something else. A “dark power” as Jean called it. Obviously alluding that power being the “Chaos Bringer” rather than a mutation. Which I am shocked many fans like Comicbookgirl19 didn’t catch and thought it was a mutation. Because if you’ve read the comic version of the Phoenix storyline Jean’s power was originally meant to be the full power of her mutation until it was retconned in Uncanny X-Men #137. There the Watcher and Shi’ar revealed that its actually a primordial force that bonded with Jean. I’m guessing these people only watched the cartoon version of the storyline. 

So the build-up is already there. We don’t need to rehash Jean going evil and killing lots of people to motivate the Shi’ar into trying to kill her. They just need to found out what Xavier knows and we are good to go. Which would be easy since the Shi’ar have telepaths on their side which includes Lilandra herself. Her and Xavier’s first interaction was through telepathy after all.

Nuff’ said.

[as-inevitable-as-morning]

Lay With Me Ch. 2: “Imagine”

Read on AO3

'Lay With Me' was originally only supposed to be one chapter, but these two demanded more. I hope you all enjoyed reading! Any likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated! :)

Listen to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amCJDHgPrPk for maximum fluff!

“We need to trust them, Bellamy,” she’d told him, and he’d settled onto the ground next to her against his better judgement.

Every instinct inside of him was telling him that this was a stupid idea, that they’d never be able to trust the grounders fully—especially when all that they had seen so far was war. But Clarke changed everything, as usual. Determined and resilient and full of faith, the amount of empathy she held scared him sometimes. And so he settled down, dropping his pack and using it as a pillow, willing himself to sleep.

He didn’t. It was impossible.

On the other side of camp, he saw their people dozing off and heard snores coming from some of the tents. Sleep came easier for those that weren’t carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, and for a moment Bellamy envied them. For as long as he could remember, he had been the protector, the guardian, the soldier, and he’d give anything for a few moments of rest. But his people were here and their supposed enemies were only a few feet away, the proposed plan risky as hell.

He couldn’t have shut his eyes if he tried.

Suddenly, Clarke stirred next to him and faced him with tired eyes. In that moment, he knew she hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep either, that she was buried with the same burdens as he was.

Knowing that they weren’t alone in all of this gave them both a ridiculous amount of comfort.

“Can’t sleep?” he muttered softly, his voice even hoarser than usual in his efforts to make as little sound as possible.

She shook her head slightly and let out a sigh.

It was ridiculous, really. There had been no movement from either side for hours, but the anxious part of her mind still managed to get the better of her. There was simply too much to think about—her friends in Mount Weather, the grounders, Finn’s death. She asked herself a series of countless ‘what ifs’ that always kept sleep out of reach.

A moment of easy silence passed between the two of them. They simply laid there, their eyes occasionally darting off to the trees or the stars before slowly gravitating back to the other’s face.

Bellamy cleared his throat, carefully considering what he was about to say before realizing how stupid his hesitance was. It wasn’t like they were actually going to do anything, and if other people wanted to act like idiots about it, screw them. His relationship—friendship, he corrected himself—with Clarke was no one else’s business but their own.

“Lay with me for a while?” he asked, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile in response.

She was instantly brought back to the day in the tent, when she had been the one to propose that question. She remembered the feel his arms around her and his warm breath hitting the top of her head, the beat of his steady heart against her ear. She recalled how good lying with him had made her feel.

She moved over to him slowly, tentatively, afraid that she would wake someone. But, as usual, Bellamy had other plans. He caught her wrist in his hand and pulled her to him quickly, enveloping her in his strong arms and resting his hands on the small of her back. She settled herself against him so that her head was resting on his chest, just below the crook of his neck, and her arms reached around his back and drew him even closer. They were in the same position as they were what felt like eons ago.

He had to let out a breath because of how good it felt to have his arms around her.

Everywhere he went he was thought of as a bringer of chaos and death, but he was never that to Clarke. No, never to her. For some unknown reason, she had decided that he was good, decided that he wasn’t a monster or a murderer or any of the other terrible things he saw in himself. To her, he was a man that—while certainly problematic and infuriating at times—would do anything to protect those he loved. She looked over the rough, hard walls that he put up for himself and peered right into his soul. She chose to see the good in him and ignore all the rest.

He looked up at the stars and smiled, his hands mindlessly combing through her long blonde hair. It was moments like these that he could pretend to be half the man she perceived him as.

He imagined himself in a time of peace, when there weren’t any wars to win or people to save, and it was all so vivid.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He could see a house on top of a hill that was surrounded by trees and meadows and rivers. He could smell the scent of fresh pine and the musk of a campfire burning in the distance. He could hear birds chirping sweet, happy songs. He could feel a soft breeze and the warm sun on the back of his neck.

He took a step closer to the house, then another, then another. He started to notice the color of the front door, a dark green that matched the color of fir trees. He began to hear the clatter of metal and realized that the sound was coming from windchimes on the porch. He could smell something sweet coming from what he could only assume was the kitchen, and his mouth started to water at the thought of what it could be.

He made his way onto the porch and the wood creaked under his boots, but he found the sound oddly comforting, as if he were actually coming home. He grabbed the door handle and twisted it, pushing it forward so that the door was popped open.

It was beautiful inside.

The first room was a simple foyer, with a staircase leading to the second floor and doors allowing access to the rooms on the first. He took a left and found the kitchen, a fresh-baked pie laying on the white countertop. If his mouth wasn’t watering when he was outside, it certainly was now. The pie was made from apples, his favorite.

After tearing himself out of the kitchen, the pie left mostly uneaten, he headed across the hall. His jaw dropped at what he saw next.

It was a library, with books and shelves as far as the eye could see. He smiled at the titles he noticed, immediately brought back to his childhood. He had read every one more times than he could possibly count. There was a wooden desk in the center, covered with papers and note cards and writing utensils of all sorts. To the north wall, there was an easel with a canvas. It was empty, aside from a few sketch marks. He stepped toward it and narrowed his eyes, trying to see if he could make out the image the artist had in mind…

A sound came from the back of the house, and Bellamy stirred when he heard it. He wasn’t afraid per se, only curious. It was impossible to be afraid when he was here, when he was home.

He left the library and marched down the hall until he’d reached the back door. He grabbed the handle and pulled it toward him, finding that it opened to another deck. He heard the sound again, registering it as the cheerful laughs and screams of children as they played in the backyard. He scanned the yard with his eyes. He couldn’t help but smile.

There were trees, tall oaks that had probably been there for half a century at the least. There were flowers of all sorts everywhere, as far as the eyes could see. There was a wooden playset, a handmade jungle gym of sorts, a tire tied to a tree. There were three children. Two girls and a boy, no more than a few years apart.

The oldest had blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, with glasses and freckles and a smile that was brighter than the sun. She was obviously in charge of the other two, explaining the games they would play and clapping her hands together at the start.

The second was a boy, around seven or eight, who clearly didn’t appreciate his sister’s mandative attitude. Bellamy chuckled to himself as he watched the boy kick the dirt and cross his arms. “If you keep bossing us around, I’m telling Mom,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in protest and looking at his sister with dark eyes. She merely shrugged in response and waved him forward to play with them. He rolled his eyes but didn’t protest, and soon he was halfway across the yard chasing them.

The youngest was another girl. She was only three or four and clearly didn’t understand half of the games her siblings came up with, but laughed and played along nonetheless. Her dark brown pigtails flowed behind her as she ran across the yard. “Come and get meee!” she called out in between giggles.

He sat there and watched them for a moment, his grin growing wider and wider. He watched as the boy caught her in his arms and tickled her senseless. “Tag! You’re it!” he exclaimed, before setting her on the ground and taking off in the opposite direction.

He watched as the eldest slowed her pace to give her little sister the advantage, and saw the toddler pat her on the back of her knee. “Darn it!” the blonde exclaimed in feigned surprise. “Well, I guess I’m it now!”

They went on like that for a while, just running back and forth and tapping each other on the arm or the leg or the foot and giggling all the while. The youngest fell flat on her face and let out a cry, but got to her feet and brushed herself off seconds later. Her siblings gave her a minute to catch her breath, and she spent it searching for a possible escape route. Instead, she clasped her eyes on him.

“Daddy?” she called, stepping toward the porch in sheer curiosity and smiling when she saw it was him. “Mommy, Mommy! Daddy’s home!”

She ran toward him immediately. The other two weren’t far behind, and soon Bellamy found himself enveloped in a tight group hug. The littlest one clung to his leg, the boy to his hip, and the eldest just below his ribcage.

“Bellamy?” a voice around the corner asked.

His jaw dropped when he saw her, awestruck by how beautiful she was. He didn’t think that it was possible for her to be more gorgeous than she was in her prime, but he should have known that she would prove him wrong. She always did. Her blonde hair had been trimmed just above her shoulders and her cerulean eyes glistened with more wisdom than he’d ever seen. Her clothes were simple, just a pale pink t-shirt and cropped jeans, but they were in pristine condition. There was no blood or dirt, no evidence of the pain or heartache that she had gone through. Only beauty remained. Beauty, and love.

She smiled at him and marched up the steps of the porch, joining in their little embrace. Her arms clasped around his neck and pressed her soft lips to his cheek, resulting in a snide remark from their son and giggles from their two girls.

The family stood there for what seemed like seconds and eons all in one. Bellamy didn’t think he had been happier in his entire life.

Clarke stood on her tiptoes so that her lips were near his right ear. “It’s good to have you home, Bellamy…” she whispered.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Bellamy…”

He heard Clarke’s voice again, but this time it was much clearer. It felt closer, more real. He felt an elbow hit him just above the ribs and his brown eyes opened to a dark sky, to their hellish reality. It wasn’t morning yet, but it would be soon.

Clarke was still nestled on top of him, but she had rolled onto her stomach so that she could look at him when she spoke. Her hair was disheveled and the corner of her mouth was crusted with drool and she had clearly no idea how cute she looked. “People will be up soon,” she told him, trying to maneuver herself out of his arms. “I’m going to lay down over there.”

His grip around her tightened and he looked up at her with sad, sleepy eyes. He wasn’t ready to give up his fantasy just yet—he wasn’t sure he ever would be—and he silently prayed that she wasn’t either. “Please,” he begged, his voice still coarse from peaceful sleep, “just a little while longer.”

And Clarke did not have the heart to protest.

[writtenbylois]

Something Resembling a First Chapter

Four letters, three meanings, two syllables—one name. I wear it like a crown and a curse. My mother saw the name in an old book when she was pregnant with me, probably went through every encyclopedia in Papa’s store until she found its definitions. Hope, aspiration, expectation. As a child, I assumed my parents named me Amal with hope in mind. My name always rolled off their tongues with an upward intonation, I closed my eyes and thought they were smiling when they said it. Even when I was being scolded, a part of me loved hearing it and knowing what it represented.

“Amal, my girl,” my father told me, “When you were born, I looked up at the sky, and it was blue again.”

I never failed to laugh when he said that. I would be doing something mundane—organizing a bookshelf in the store, completing a math problem for school—and he’d pat my shoulder and talk to me about blue. I never paid much attention to his words, though, not at first. He said them so often that their weight began to fade. I was my father’s blue sky girl. I didn’t have a problem with my title for a long time.

My mother cried when I showed her the grade on my first exam. It was a spelling test, and I received a perfect score. “Look, Tarek!” she screamed, holding the flimsy piece of paper high in the air. “One hundred percent! Our daughter, our Amal, so smart!”

Papa put the down paper he was reading and ran to my mother, pulled the test from her hands gingerly, and held it over the flickering candlelight on the table. He didn’t say a word, traced the scarlet “A” written next to my name, and pressed his thumb to his lips. Mama gave me a cookie, one with raisins and chocolate and caramel bites, which I devoured with a smile, watching my father stare at that exam. I was licking melted chocolate off my fingers when his eyes finally found me. His hands were rose petals against my cheeks, his kiss a plant blooming on my forehead.  

** *

My mother was angry with me the last time I saw her. She was screaming out words I’d never heard her use in my direction as I sat with my knees to my chest, curling into myself. Her voice broke as tears welled in her eyes, the same I eyes I have. She screamed even after her voice was gone. Papa wasn’t around to calm her down.  

I had come to know my mother as a woman of beauty and grace, shoulders back, head held high. She wore rosy lipstick that brought out the pink in her butterscotch skin. She always had little flowers in her hair, usually white ones that shined against her thick black coils. I picked them for her as a little girl.

“Thank you, baby,” she said, even when I gave weeds as an offering. She somehow managed to make them look wonderful before my eyes. I was in awe of her, always fantasized about how my brown kinks would hold roses and lilies. When I got older, she taught me how to braid them into my hair before telling bedtime stories. I heard so many stories about princesses and towers—Mama sort of sang them to me. Sandwiched between the tales of princes and white horses were also stories of justice, of struggle. And she sang those stories just as loud.

“Never forget who you are, where you come from.” Her soft fingers massaged my curls. All the princesses in my bedtime stories had thick hair like mine, brown skin like mine. “The best princesses are strong and smart. They know how to stand up for themselves and others. They become queens when they grow up.”

I saw my mother as a queen. I imagined her walking through our village with a golden crown and scepter, teaching me to one day do the same. With age, that illusion deteriorated.

She said that she could no longer recognize me. Her eyes bore into me.

“Who are you?” she asked for the first of many times.  I held myself closer, stared at the letters in her old, worn hands. She had spent hours reading them aloud, shocked at their content, but composed. Words I silently ingested like sweets before supper spoiled against my ears. I groaned watching her drop each note on the floor, one after the other, until only one remained. I heard her read the first two words, and then nothing at all. Her mouth snapped shut. I remember the feeling of her silence, the weight of it on my chest. The envelopes, all signed E. Clough, mocked me from the ground. Mama probably read over that last letter three times before rolling her eyes to mine. She asked me all her peaceful questions—those of confirmation, certainty, and decision—without saying a word. My answers came the same way. I saw the steam come out her ears, braced myself for the burns I’d surely get from her boiling overflow. Then the screaming started. And ended.  

“He will ruin you.” She said very quietly, palms placed lightly on her forehead.

My body shook at the sound of her leaving, a shiver ran down my spine when the door clicked softly. I wanted it to slam. I wanted to feel anger, bitterness, but I sobbed. I sobbed that whole night.

***

I was afraid the thick layer of blood on his face belonged to him, and my heart dropped when I realized it didn’t. It was like he was wearing a mask, the only patches of visible skin being the pink under his eyes, as he slumped, hands shaking, in the old chair my father built one summer long ago. I remember trying, and failing, to weave daisies into a flower crown as Papa sanded the wood, sang songs he promised to teach me when he finished. I was humming one of those songs to distract myself from the violence I heard outside my home that night. There was screaming, yes, but the faint sounds of last prayers and calls for loved ones that crept in from the outside world were more terrifying.

And then the door knob slowly, painfully, twisted. The door whined against the weight of Eoin’s entrance, moaned as he stumbled in, mumbling something incoherent. I helped him into a chair with trembling arms, tried to ignore the sick smell of burnt skin I knew would be stuck in his hair.

I felt him look up at me with black eyes under the flickering light candles in the room’s corner. My fingers were stained red, wet from the worn rag I pressed against the rough skin above his eyebrow. Somehow, blood was stuck there, too. I avoided his gaze, using what was left of my energy to keep from vomiting. The pieces of grime I scrubbed off him settled under my fingernails. They had grown too long. I was proud of myself for resisting the urge to bite them for months, but in that moment, with blood and dirt and sweat caked under, I knew I’d have to cut them down to the quick. All that work, for nothing. . .

After wringing the rag over what was quickly becoming a bucket of murky water, I began to address the other half of Eoin’s face, paying careful attention to the little cuts that must have come from debris. I rested my free hand on his cheek for balance and, without thinking, didn’t remove it when he leaned in, lips brushing the center of my palm. I could’ve moved away when his trembling hands made their way to my waist, planting themselves on my dress finger by finger, waiting for my rejection. I heard his breath catch, allowed myself to look him in the eyes. My name tumbled out his mouth in a soft mumble, a tone that rang comfortable to my ears, much different than it had a week earlier.

***

We met on a Friday afternoon—the day before my eighteenth birthday. The sun was setting and I was walking back from school alone for the first time in months, neatly labelled textbooks pressed to my chest as I passed through Main Street. I kept my eyes down, just as my mother had told me, ignored the jeering of the imperial officers leaning against bar entrances. The sickly, beer-flavored promises of pleasure they threw at me stuck to my body, irreverent tattoos I’d received time and time again. I was disgusted, but too scared and too smart to say anything back. I felt my parents push me along in those moments, thought of seeing them at home and pretending the regular danger I faced didn’t actually exist. Catcalling, I would soon learn, was the least of my worries with these soldiers.

My eyes were pulled up by the murmurs of a gathering crowd two blocks from my home. A girl in my class, Zahra, had been found in the river. Her name meant radiant, full of life, and she was. She whistled on her way to school, leant me her notes when I was sick. Her body was soulless, naked, and bruised when they pulled her out. We all knew what happened. We all knew who did it. We all knew that there was nothing we could do.

They had the guns and the food and the power to make any one of us disappear. At least, that’s what I’d heard my father say at the meetings he held in our basement. That’s what he said that Friday night. Our history was dying, being stolen away by the thief in the night.

“We cannot even teach our children to tell our stories, to speak our language, to read our sacred texts.” Papa held an old book up in the air, waved it like a flag as the other people at the meeting cheered him in hushed praises. “These invaders, bringers of enlightenment and death, tell us that our ways are not good enough, our words are not good enough. But our resources are theirs for the taking. Our women are theirs for the raping. We mean nothing to any of them.”

I clapped at that meeting, ignoring the distant expression on my mother’s face as she did the same. I wondered how an entire group of people could be so despicable.

And my mind floated back to Zahra; the image of her brown skin sucked dry by the river. Gray and cold as the undertaker whispered our rites of the dead over her body. A priest came shortly after, cutting through the crowd of villagers surrounding her as they repeated the chants of the undertaker. He threw a sheet over her corpse, cursed our gods and prayed to his as she was lifted by soldiers with expressions I thought were too calm, and taken away. They hadn’t even waited for her mother to come, to say goodbye. She’d be buried away in their way, blessed for their gods, and distant from us for the rest of time. Her mother should have been able to say goodbye.  

When Zahra’s mother finally arrived at the riverbank, I ran. Didn’t want to hear her wail as so many mothers before her had. I ran, pounding my loafers on the ground, ignoring the sweat that seeped through my uniform. I threw the door open, fell into my home, and unraveled. My eyes squeezed shut, mouth became a tightly covered jar of cries as my hands tried to stifle them. Papa was probably in the basement preparing for the meeting. Mama had no doubt gotten word of Zahra and was either praying about it, or finding a way to blame her for her own death. I could hear Mama asking if I’d seen her talking privately with any soldiers, putting herself in harm’s way. It made me sick.

Kicking off my shoes in between bouts of crying, I wondered when either of my parents would emerge from wherever they were. I’d have to be clean and calm by the time they did—a prim and proper representation of our family; my parents’ hopes and dreams finding solace weighing down on my shoulders. On days like that one, it was especially hard. It could have easily been me in that river, and all those expectations stuck in the depths of the water. . .

A brisk knock upon the door snatched me out of my thoughts. And there he was, maybe two years older than I, standing with three textbooks tucked under his arm. Pale pink skin, jaw clean shaven, kind eyes I didn’t expect from someone in a military uniform. But he was all business, perfectly erect in posture and straight faced. I froze, suddenly feeling so small.

“Good afternoon, would these happen to belong to you?” He tilted his head towards the books, brought his eyes to mine.            “Yes,” I said in a more hoarse voice than intended, opening my arms to receive. It must have taken him by surprise, quickly followed by a wave of realization that rippled through his face, kind eyes.

“You knew the girl in the river, didn’t you?” He placed the books in my hands gingerly, cupping his palms under mine for just a beat longer than necessary.

“She was a friend . . . but that doesn’t matter.” I whispered. “It’s not safe for any of us anymore.”

“I’m sorry. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be.” He paused. “I. . .I don’t like the way things are being handled, the way my brothers are acting. It isn’t right. I’m very sorry.”  

I took a step back, rested my hand on the doorknob, and settled into the silence between us. I knew he meant well, but his uniform meant more to me than his condolences.

“My name is, uh, Eoin Clough.” He pointed to the pin above his front pocket. “If you need anything or feel scared, you can come to me. I promise. And I’m a man of my word.”  

I nodded, slowly closing the door with no intention taking him up on the offer.

***

He was pacing, arms tightly crossed above his chest, hands firm and steady. I watched him from my bed, perched on the edge.

“You have to leave.” He said with a firmness I’d never before heard. “It’s the best bet, the safest bet.”

I blinked, I think, digging my fingers into the flat mattress I tricked myself into believing wasn’t completely devoid of anything close to comfort. Safety was the last thing on my mind, especially in that moment. The sweet smell of burning coal and beeswax had been moving through my village for days; blacksmiths were busier than they had been in years. The spot where my father’s old gun stood was suddenly vacant. My mother started fasting, tuning out the sound of her rumbling stomach with high praises and worship songs. Villagers I’d barely seen crowded outside my house late at night to talk to Papa in low whispers about how to make provisions for their children. I lay in bed listening to them, tasting iron and bile as my thoughts betrayed me, brought me to him.

“I’m staying. I’m staying right here for whatever happens.”

“I won’t let you.”

Heat crept up my ears. I didn’t try to keep myself calm.

“My mother warned me about this. You’re all the same. Weak and strong and pathetic. God, I chose you. Over everyone. I have chosen you time and time again despite everything and I am stuck with you.”

“Fuck you.”  

The words dripped out his mouth smooth as honey, sticking to my skin like thick molasses. We stared at each other.

“Everyone is dying and you’re upset with me for being honest with you? Unbelievable. People are dying—my people are dying because of you. Because you and your brothers stomp on our land and sling your guns in our faces and say that everything that is ours suddenly belongs to you.” I felt my voice cracking, took a breath.

“You won’t let me stay with those who are still alive? . . . I suppose you can force me to evacuate. That wouldn’t be uncommon for people in our situation, would it?”

He stalked away, twisting my door open, and closing it immediately after. A sharp pain split my head when I stood up. I clutched my torso, held back a gag.

He turned back, sighed against the wall.

“This is as easy for me as it is for you, Amal.” he tapped on the dusty green shell of his helmet absentmindedly. “I don’t want to put you in a bad position.”

“You might not have wanted to, but you did from the very beginning.” I dropped down onto my bed, spent, trying to remember where I’d put the bucket I’d been throwing up in all day.

“Eoin, I have never truly been safe with you. And that’s a fact we have both failed to acknowledge.”