#Book Two

[draculathedansemacabre]

For everyone that's been asking about the future of Dracula: The Danse Macabre...

Series creator Gabriel Urbina posted this thread talking about the show's future. The highlights are:

The folks involved in making the show would love to make more of it. The dream would be for the Dracula arc to just be Book One of the series, with Book Two featuring Mina, now working as an occult detective and with Count Dracula still whispering in her ear, tackling the plot of another great 19th Century horror novel.

In time, the podcast would have Mina work her way through the mysteries at the hearts of many classics of 1800's horror literature, like Frankenstein, the works of Edgar Allen Poe, The King in Yellow, The Portrait of Dorian Gray, Charles Dickens's ghost stories, and so on!

We'd all love to get back to the studio and keep making more of DTDM right away. The spirit is willing, but the budget is week - we'd need to find multiple thousands of dollars of budget to get to make more of this show. So it might take a bit. If you want to help us get there ASAP, the things to do are:

Get as many people as you can to listen to the show! The more attention it gets, the easier it is to find partnerships and promo deals that can help secure a production budget for Season Two.

If you can, sign up for a recurring donation at Gabriel's Patreon.

But hopefully, before too long, we can be back on the feed with more of The Danse Macabre, and we can hear as Mina and Dracula face off against another classic of 19th Century Literature!

[delicateartisantrash]

Chapter Drop! Why the Caged Bird Sings

Life might be crazy, but Butterfly's is even crazier and I am -absolutely- delighted to escape into it periodically.

Thank ya'll for keeping me inspired to continue writing <3 Genuinely, these stories and the connections with people I've made through them have brought so much joy into my life that I never in my wildest dreams would have expected.

^me, being picked up my the TF fandom and reminded of all the goodness and compassion that exists all over the world

[wyked-ao3]

Mixed fried writing share

tagged by @gioiaalbanoart here and her superb banana fish fanfiction can be found here on ao3

Gently Tagging my tag list to share a snippet of what they are writing if they feel up to it + @kind-lion, @tragedycoded, @adhdprincess and @ruvastuon

@thatuselesshuman @gioiaalbanoart @lychhiker-writes @thecomfywriter @evilwriter37

@saebasanart @the-golden-comet @mauannacreates @kind-lion @alinacapellabooks

@kuebiko-writing @kaeru483 @theink-stainedfolk @unstableunicornsofasgard @mysticstarlightduck

@demon-sneeze @fromthenortheast @smellyrottentrees @honeybewrites @the-letterbox-archives

@illarian-rambling @paeliae-occasionally

Y'all were tagged high as the spoiler line doesn't seem to work if your below it...or I had a few people tell me it didn't?

Snippet from book two chapter two

Jade meeting Morana for the first time

He blinked a few times as he spotted someone dressed in a skull headdress with eyes darker than the starless night walking towards him. The mark of the ocean moon that was possibly connected to Nimue on her forehead symbolized that she was a shaman and he relaxed a little as most were peaceful—then again, most also had a bone to pick with his family. The thought caused him to tense back up again.

“You have a strange aura around you,” she said while circling him like a shark.

Jade shrugged and backed away, uncomfortable with the way she looked at the air around him. Given his life, he couldn't even hypothesize what she was seeing, as there were a few too many possibilities for him to narrow it down. The energy that surrounded her seemed to be wild and there was a string bigger than the rest—he assumed it was her tether to the gods.

She said, “ohh, my name's Morana, I'm always forgetting the customs.”

Walking off before he could reply, not that he had planned to. He tilted his head at the peculiar interaction.

[randombookcreator]

A year and a half later... I'm FINALLY making book 2! Here's book 1's cover

↓

[maryannmackey]

He goes down to Greenwich and refurbishes the apartments, ready for Anne. Proclamations (undated) are prepared, to go out to the people of England and the rulers of Europe, announcing the birth of a prince. Just leave a little gap, he suggests, at the end of 'prince,' so if need be you can squash in... But they look at him as if he's a traitor, so he leaves off.

When a woman withdraws to give birth the sun may be shining but the shutters of her room are closed so she can make her own weather. She is kept in the dark so she can dream. Her dreams drift her far away, from terra firma to a marshy tract of land, to a landing stage, to a river where a mist closes over the farther bank, and earth and sky are inseparate; there she must embark toward life and death, a muffled figure in the stern directing the oars. In this vessel prayers are said that men never hear. Bargains are struck between a woman and her God. The river is tidal, and between one feather-stroke and the next, her tide may turn.

On August 26, 1533, a procession escorts the queen to her sealed rooms at Greenwich. Her husband kisses her, adieu and bon voyage, and she neither smiles nor speaks. She is very pale, very grand, a tiny jeweled head balanced on the swaying tent of her body, her steps small and circumspect, a prayer book in her hand. On the quay she turns her head: one lingering glance. She sees him; she sees the archbishop. One last look and then, her women steadying her elbows, she puts her foot into the boat.

-Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel

[zythebeeking]

Very short little ficlet expanding upon Halt watching Will be taken by Skandians in book two (I’ve never posted something I’ve written before I hope it’s alright ^^’):

Long after the ship had passed the horizon line and faded from site, Halt sat on the ocean shore. A broken promise fell from his lips repeatedly “I’ll come find you, I promise, I promise I’ll come find you, Will.” His voice was broken as tears slid down his face, a heartbreak unlike any he’s felt before. His chest felt so violently empty, an ache that reminded him of what he’d just lost. The sun began to set, marking the hours he’d sat, unable to leave the place he last saw his apprentice. This boy he’d come to consider like his son. And he was gone now.

-

Gilan had looked all over for the grizzled Ranger, unable to find him after the battle. Blaze, his horse, carried him on as he scoured the land near the battlefield. The swampy lands of the Fens appeared before him as he dismounted and continued on foot. Carefully making his way through the land, ensuring he didn’t step in the wrong area and sink into the mud, he looked around for Halt. The ground became sturdier the further he walked until he crested a ridge. There, he could make out the small figure of his former mentor and one of his closest friends. He left Blaze where he was, softly telling him to stay. As he got closer to the Ranger, he could hear the repetitive promise he’d been muttering to the wind for hours, the pain in his voice evident. Never once had he seen Halt this broken. Silently, he dropped to his knees beside the man and brought him into a hug, taking in his tear stained face. He was shocked when Halt buried his head into his shoulder, sobs wracking at him as he finally let it all out. A couple tears slid down Gilan’s cheeks at the loss of Will and at the pain Halt was feeling. Halt stayed like that for a bit before Gilan pulled back to look at him.

“It’s gonna be ok,” he said, trying his best to be as reassuring as possible. Halt shook his head.

“I lost him, Gilan. I was right there and I couldn’t get to him. I failed him,” Halt said brokenly. Gilan’s heart shattered at the words, that being the first time Halt had ever spoken like that. Normally he was self-assured, confident, wise. Someone who’d guided Gilan through so much. And here he was, blaming himself for Will’s capture.

“You did everything you could. We’ll get him back. If anything, it’s my fault I left him alone,” Gilan reassured. Halt shook his head, unable to say more. Gilan stood up and offered a hand.

“We should get going,” he suggested. Halt shook his head and remained put.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Halt you need to go back and eat and get some rest. We have a lot of work to do,” Gilan hoped maybe the thought of work and his duty to the kingdom could distract him a bit from his heartache.

“I need to find Will,” he said. Gilan frowned. He knew Halt didn’t want to leave the spot he’d last seen his apprentice but he needed to. Resolutely, he bent over and picked the Ranger up. Blaze and Abelard trotted over at Gilan’s whistle and he hoisted Halt up onto his horse.

“You can’t find Will if you don’t take care of yourself and your horse,” Gilan reminded him, not unkindly. Halt made no further protest, tears sliding down his face silently as Gilan swung up onto Blaze and called for Abelard to follow. He led them back to the battlefield, knowing it was gonna be a rough time for his old mentor.

[luxxbean]

thinking about “Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time.” a lot lately

[starlost-lix]

finished book 2 of mdzs and OH MY GOSH I CANNOT WITH THE EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER I HAVE GONE THROUGH?!!?

THE YI CITY ARC???? POOR XIAO XINGCHEN AND SONG LAN 😭 idk its like xue yang is a psycho i find him kind of funny tho oops 😬 also sizhui is the cutest kid ever but smth seems weird about him like i feel like there’s smth important going on…

lan zhan and wei ying being absolutely dumb in love for each other like wwx sir u are full on spouting monologues and internal screaming over lwj how oblivious are u 😭 and lwj is so like cold but like not cold like i see u being jealous and protective 👏👏

idk if this is an unpopular opinion but i kind of really absolutely hate meng yao ik ppl like his character and want redemption but i highkey want to just see him get thrown off a cliff 😓😓 poor nie mingjue :((( also lan xichen i like him a lot but he highkey annoyed me bc of how blind he was

the ending 😩😩😩😩 no words that was a great cliffhanger

jin ling is such a lovely little angry little baby please can i adopt him 🥺🥺🥺

[redux-iterum]

Burning Hearts: Epilogue

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Camp was silent, but in the purposefully hushed way, that of a Clan who’d woken up to the pained cries of a queen as she brought her litter into the world and had elected to leave her be until the night. The kits had stopped squealing, busily nursing at Goldenflower’s belly, kneading her with their shut eyes and ears. Brindleface and her kits had fallen asleep quickly after the birthing, and Frostfur was outside guarding the nursery as her own kits drifted off again.

With the sun thankfully dimmed by a cloudy sky, Goldenflower’s eyes were glued to her litter of three: two beautiful little torbie mollies, the stronger pale ginger and brown and the weaker a darker version, and a curious, rotund tabby tom. Somehow, despite everything the matriarch had learned in her studies, he had come out dark brown.  

Just like his father.

Was StarClan punishing her for something? What for? Her ignorance? Her blind trust and love?  How was this possible otherwise?

Goldenflower repressed a grieving shudder and forced her thoughts to something else—anything else.

Names. They needed names. And she was the only one here to give them.

If Fireheart were here, she could take the opportunity to teach him how to name his own kits when he had them. It could have taken her mind off of everything, to see his excitement when he met his little siblings, and his worry over Cloudkit, who had grown fatter and louder, if that was possible.

But he wasn’t here. She’d have to do this alone.

Some small part of her reminded her that Brindleface and Frostfur could help, but… no. This was for family to do. She had a feeling.

The first molly, the pale one, she regarded with no small amount of affection. She was as big as her brother—bigger, really—and her markings were paired together beautifully, a solid blend of pale ginger and a warm brown with the tabby markings streaking down her body evenly. She was mostly that ginger, though the brown wasn’t giving up its spaces without a fight.

Tawny, maybe, Goldenflower thought. Or Morning. She could be a Morning. But Tawny feels more obvious…

She could come back to that. She had better ideas for the other two.

The weakest, runty and spotted, had more mottled brown and ginger. She was the smallest and the quietest; Goldenflower’s experience warned her to be ready for the worst. She didn’t let that forbid her from naming the kit. She should have a mighty name, something to make up for her size.

Leopard. He would have called you that.

And perhaps she shouldn’t have thought of what he would have wanted, but... how could she not? They’d discussed names before she had retreated into the nursery full-time. He’d loved the idea of a Leopardkit. That had been his favorite one out of all they’d talked about.

He loved you before you were born, she thought, pressing her nose to Leopardkit, who barely twitched in response. I know that was real. No one else has to.

Now, the tom…

Curse her sentimentality, but it was impossible not to think of him. He was a spitting image of his father, big and starkly-striped. He was going to be tall and powerful, she could see already. But perhaps not brutish; even as a newborn, his claws seemed mostly tucked in, barely grazing her stomach when he pushed harder for milk. They were long, still, like his, and his paws were massive.

He wasn’t getting Tiger, obviously. But something close, something fierce and prickly… shame Thornkit had taken that name already.

A name struck her, and she couldn’t think of another. Bramble. Bramble, with long, sharp stripes and long, sharp claws.

It was perfect. She could only pray no one figured out the source.

Drowsily, she returned to the pale molly, going over Tawny and Morning, back and forth, her exhaustion creeping in and tamping down her thoughts until she drifted off, with a vague image in her head of three little kits touching noses with their father, his amber eyes shining with love and pride.

Where was his soul now, she wondered… 

---

He runs, paws scrambling for purchase on the rocky slope that borders the road. A shining silhouette blazes ahead of him and he ducks into the forest. Ferns and brush stand still as death as he races through them, mouth open, panting for air he no longer needs, amber eyes wild with fright.

Screams like roars follow him through the woods, light-figures easily keeping pace with him, creeping close to his tail as he stumbles and sprints with every bit of power he can channel to his legs. Whooping yowls and jovial caterwauls rattle his chest with horror.

How could they be chasing me? Were my intentions not noble? Didn’t I do the best for my Clan?

It wasn’t good enough.

His victims, drowned and sliced and crippled and gasping for air, flash in front of his eyes, glaring at him, nearly making him trip and fall as he tries to skid to a stop and dive to the side, away from them, away from their damning eyes.

This is a mistake. He only manages a few more steps before sun-bright figures cut off his path. He jerks sideways again, and backs away from the rounding line of Hunters encircling him. He’s surrounded on all sides by glowing warriors: some apprentices, few leaders—the best of the best, the strongest in life and most righteous in death, the ones who protect the territories from all ghostly dangers.

But…

No, this can’t be right. I’m no danger. Not like this. Not like—

The deputy flails about, scrambling for escape, some explanation, anything to get him out of this. There is none. The Hunters are stronger, larger than him. They hurt to look at, blazing as they do. They say nothing to him. Their eyes burn with rage.

Where is He?

Behind him, a searing light exiles what little darkness was left in the forest, the only sound now of a crackling fire. He is immediately pulled into gazing at the giant; it’d be sacrilege to refuse to acknowledge Him. His eyes squeeze shut—this is worse than looking at the sun—but again, he is forced to open them, eyes tearing up in agony as he looks upon the Endless Watcher.

“You disappoint Me, wraith,” the Lion rumbles, His voice shaking the ground and making the trees tremble. “Potential like yours has not been seen in a long time. You could have been the finest leader in generations, if you loved your Clan like you thought you did.”

The deputy’s mouth opens to no sound; his throat is dry as an autumn leaf.

“Destroying your Clanmates,” a Hunter adds coldly, a strangely familiar golden tom almost as sunny as Horoa Himself. “Ignoring your neighbors, wanting them to fall, though you’d never let yourself acknowledge that…”

“Leaving your own family to expose you,” another Hunter says, dark grey and small (standing taller than the deputy even so). She narrows her eyes that shine too bright for a mortal. “They will not rest easy for a long time. Is that what you wanted? Pain and grief, by your doing?”

The deputy barely manages to croak out, “My Lord, have mercy. Please—”

“Another said that, recently,” a tortoiseshell drawls. “The living didn’t heed him.” Her lip twitches as she dryly looks the deputy up and down, regarding him like the stringy remains of stale prey. “Neither did we.”

“Go peacefully,” the Lion growls, and the ground shakes under the deputy’s feet. “This we will give you. Offer your throat and fade to mist. You will not get anything else.”

The deputy trembles. He looks for any kindness, any empathy in the eyes of his undoing. There is none. Pathetically, kit-like in his huddling, he looks to Horoa again.

“By—” he swallows. “By Your teeth, then. It would be an honor, my Lord. Please…”

The Lion throws back His head with a thundering, hearty chuff. The sound is echoed by His Hunters, who shake their heads and give each other tickled looks, like they’re sharing a private joke. Horoa lowers His head again, gazing down at the deputy, His single eye blinding.

“None from ThunderClan will honor you,” He says. “Neither will I.”

The small dark grey molly bursts forward; her claws streak with light. A snap. A crash. Sparks tear open the mist of his flesh. The storm raging in his throat chokes back his words as it rends him apart.

In the heartbeat of a moment, in an eye amidst his agony, one quiet thought murmurs in her voice.

“They will never know your name, love.”

And then there is silence.

The vapor, split in two even wisps, disperses and fades, absorbed by the clean air of the forest. Horoa waves His tail, smoking at the tip, with satisfaction as His Hunters keep their eyes on the very last misty thread. It dissolves, and nothing remains. The Lion curtly nods, growls a chuff, turns and leaps into a gallop, His Titan-like feet hardly touching the ground. His followers race after Him, cheering again, searching for the next danger to protect the Clans from. Light encompasses them, like the sun is swallowing them up.

As they disappear, the forest’s natural light returns, followed by hesitant shadows. The cackle of flames dies, and birdsong carries on again, somewhat confused as to why it stopped. The woods, just for a bit, are beautifully warm with the echo of the sun’s heat. 

The world continues on as if they were never there at all.

[truths33k3r4]

A Lotus doodle to brighten your day through the craziness life will sometimes throw your way.

~Em 🩷

I LOVE IT!!! Aw, Em, thank you so very much!! 😊💙

This is going right into my fanart collection and will be cherished for years to come 💙

Thank you for the smile!! Life has been crazy for a bit, but it’s finally starting to slow down. :) So much so I was able to finish the first draft of the next chapter of SIW!!

Because of your kind gift, here’s a little sneak peek. ;)

~

Lotus woke with a thrashing gasp, the air in her lungs stolen by another nightmare. Her hand shakily rose to her plastron as she tried to calm her pounding heart. The echoes of the monster’s threats slowly faded from her mind, but the adrenaline and fear still loomed over her like an inescapable smaug. Her dream still had its hold on her, morphing her reality as it saw fit; Shadows seemed to come alive as their claws shot out from the darkness. Every wall sprouted eyes and began to close in on her. Her stomach twisted in discomfort as she fought to forget her dream, closing her eyes and reminding herself again and again that it was over.

“I’m fine… It’s… It’s done..” She choked, still trying to regain her purloined breath.

Once the ghostly chorus of the phantom completely faded, she wearily opened her eyes. Everything had returned to normal, the shadows creeping back into their crevices awaiting the next time she would try to sleep. All the eyes had vanished from the walls. The room had stopped shrinking.

Before she could slump in relief her gut twisted again, making her wince as the discomfort only grew.

~

To God be the glory! :)

~ Melissa

[alvoskia]

nothing better than your beta readers crying during like, 3 chapters in a row

[slaughter-books]

Day 29: JOMPBPC: Extra AF

My beautiful February, 2024 book haul! 💛

[wyked-ao3]

Out of context line

Jade pov

Looking at the pirate at the door, he said the last thing he intended to say for a long while. “Y'all are make’n’ a mistake, This will only end badly for ya.”

Np Tagging @tragedycoded @sableglass and @aintgonnatakethis

TPKODR tag list (y'all can join in)

@thatuselesshuman @gioiaalbanoart @lychhiker-writes @thecomfywriter @evilwriter37

@saebasanart @the-golden-comet @mauannacreates @kind-lion @alinacapellabooks

@kuebiko-writing @kaeru483 @theink-stainedfolk @unstableunicornsofasgard @mysticstarlightduck

@demon-sneeze @fromthenortheast @smellyrottentrees @honeybewrites @the-letterbox-archives

@illarian-rambling

[epnona-the-wisp]

Here's a new Lucas story! I wrote it a long time ago, but I don't think I ever posted it online!

Vote for Lucas in the OC poll here!

[vellatra]

I’d heard Mom and Aileev argue a few times already. So far, the scuffles had been short and mild, but I could tell things were getting more and more tense between them. Things really came to a head that night around the dinner table. Mom had come home tired — well, she always did now — but luckily, Aileev and I had brought leftover stew back from Grandma’s with us that day, so all she had to do was heat it up. We sat quietly for a bit, picking at the stew. Aileev must have finished her food first, because I suddenly heard her bowl clatter, empty, on the table. “Mom, I’ve made up my mind,” she said, firmly. “We’re not doing this again,” said Mom, setting her spoon down. “I already told you, you’re not going.” “Yes, I am,” said Aileev. “I want to help stop the jelturen." Mom sighed — a long, bitter sigh. She was barely thirty, but she was starting to sound so old, lately. It scared me. “You know what it was like. Losing your father… and Nabikio. Would you risk putting me and your sister through that again?” “Don’t you hide behind that,” Aileev snapped. “What about everyone else? We’ve got people dying every day. What about them? And what about you? You two can’t lose me but you’re okay to kill off?” “That’s different-“ Mom started. Aileev stood up with a little huff. “I’m joining the army, with or without your blessing. Either I’ll be like Dad and start training now, or I’ll be like you and just jump in, untrained, as an adult. That’s the only thing that’s up to you. Let me know when you’ve decided.” She stomped out to the porch and flew away. Mom was quiet. And she stayed quiet for too long. “You’re right,” I said, finally. “A lot of people do die in battle. But look at all the ones who don’t. How old is Rajag? Hasn’t he been in since he was a kid? And… don’t you want all the help you can get, bringing the war to an end? I’d enlist too if I wasn’t blind.” “…Never thought I’d be thankful for you losing your eyes,” Mom half-laughed. It sounded like she was holding back some strong feelings — which she did a lot lately. She got up too, and in a moment, her arms were around me. “…She’s right,” she mumbled sadly. “I can’t stop her forever. And if I try, she’s even more likely to die when she does make it out there. What am I going to do with her….” She trailed off as her voice threatened to crack. “Mom, it’s fine,” I said, standing up to return the hug. “Maybe she’ll go to training for awhile, and change her mind and drop out. We’re only ten. We’re talking years into the future, right now. Anything could happen.” “I hope so…” Mom whispered, rocking a little as she hugged me. “I hope so….”