#always a good refresher to draw something other than skeletons

[alch3mic]

hey! wanted to see how u were doing! u said early u were hungover and not feeling great, hope ur feeling better!! <3

i’m feeling much better thankfully haha, thank you for checking in my friend! i’ve decided to spend some time today taking a break mentally and just doodle out one of my aus because it’s been taking up a lot of my brain space recently. so far it’s been a lot of fun! i hope you’re doing well too!

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 13, Section 1

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 13: The Desert Palace

Jehanna was known as the Country of White Dunes. Just as that name implied, the capital city was chosen to be built upon a tiny patch of green land in the middle of a giant desert.

The rainy season was very short, and the air was dry almost the entire year round. Skeletons of animals that had collapsed from exhaustion dotted the desert. However, despite being suffocated by such harsh nature, Jehanna was also beautiful.

The country was ruled by Queen Ismaire. Her husband had passed long ago, and after overcoming countless hardships, she’d come to be a fine ruler for the country. The palace towered majestically over the white desert, and was a symbol of how the queen lived her life.

Eirika’s army traveled along the narrow main road built throughout the desert and towards the capital city. The palace looked so very far away.

What was going on inside that beautiful palace now? Just thinking about it lowered their spirits. Eirika was lost in thought as she swayed gently atop her horse, but noticed a small flower that had bloomed on the side of the road, and stopped.

When she jumped off her horse and went to pick the flower, she smelled a refreshing aroma. 

Tana saw what she was doing, and peered over at her. “It’s so cute! Wow, flowers can even bloom in a dry climate like this!”

“This is a medicinal plant. I forgot its name, but… it’s supposed to be very effective at relieving the pain of wounds. It only grows in dry climates, so it is a valuable plant.”

“Wow… you really know a lot about it! I'm surprised that you know something like that!"

Eirika smiled and stared down at the beautiful flower in her hand.

The person who had taught her all about it was Lyon. He had his very own medicinal plant garden in a corner of Grado Castle’s garden, where he grew a wide variety of plants. He’d even worked very hard to recreate a desert environment and tried to raise plants that only grew in that climate.

Ephraim showed no interest in medicinal plants, and did not come near them, but Eirika often visited the garden with Lyon. Even Lyon, who’d been shy at first, opened up and answered all of Eirika’s various questions on the subject, telling her all the plants’ names, effects, and how to care for them.

“Those without money cannot buy expensive medicine, right? But there are plants everywhere that can become effective medicines. I’m studying medicinal plants, and want to teach the people about them, because it should make life much easier for those suffering from illnesses…”

Eirika was impressed by all the things Lyon passionately shared with her. She still had much to learn about the world at the time, and hadn’t thought yet about the lives of the people.

“You’re so admirable, Lyon! You think as hard as you can to find a way to make everyone happy, don’t you?”

“Oh, I’m not admirable at all… This is the only sort of thing I can do… I’m terrible at sword fighting. I lose even to you.”

When Lyon said that, he seemed embarrassed, so much so that when Eirika looked at him, she felt sorry for him. She couldn’t keep herself from frowning.

‘Why can’t he realize what his own amazing strengths are? It doesn’t matter if he’s bad at sword fighting, because he posesses kindness and intelligence that is unlike anyone else’s.’

This was the same Lyon that had led the Grado Army and conquered Jehanna. Eirika still couldn’t believe it. 

Of course, a commanding officer didn’t need to be an exceptional soldier. It was also conceivable that Lyon was just being used as decoration, and someone else was really leading the army. However, Eirika was still not convinced.

“I’ve heard that Prince Lyon has a gentle personality, and loathes fighting.” Innes whispered, as if he could read Eirika’s wavering heart. He had come up beside her at some point, and was now walking alongside her horse.

“Seems like it was all an act. Perhaps he deceived you and Ephraim to get you two to let your guards down.”

“...That’s...” Eirika wanted to disagree, but she couldn’t find any strength to put into her voice.

Innes had never actually met Lyon, so he was suspicious of him. Eirika could assert that the many different ways he'd shown kindness could not have been false, but it would only be her insisting that her memories were the truth with no proof at all against the fact that they knew for certain that he had conquered Jehanna. 

“I’ve heard that he can use dark magic. Do you know how skilled he is in it, Eirika?”

“...Yes. The bishop that taught him always praised him highly because of his intelligence and passion for studying. He seemed to read difficult books a lot.”

"Then he is very dangerous.” Innes furrowed his brow.

Though he may know dark magic, Lyon never studied it with bad intentions. Darkness was important for bringing peace to people’s hearts. Lyon’s passion for learning magic was always for the sake of others.

L’Arachel was listening to their conversation, and added, “We have no reason to fear the power of darkness, for we have received the gods’ blessing! We shall retake the palace in one fell swoop!”

“No, we do not know if the queen is safe yet. She’s been taken as a hostage, so we must tread carefully.” Innes said.

“You’re right…” All of the energy drained from within L’Arachel, and she sighed deeply.

ー

Eirika’s army set up camp outside the city and decided to finalize their strategy.

There were hardly any people in the capital, and it had become very quiet. At first, Jehanna Palace looked like a beautiful mirage, but from this closer distance, they could see that it was guarded by a sturdy wall. Now that it had fallen into the hands of the enemy, the strength of that wall had backfired.

“The only way to minimize the damage we cause as we attack the palace is to swiftly tear down the front gate. The armored knights should rush in with the cavalry, then the infantry should follow in right after them. Still, we must prepare to damage the palace if need be…” Seth’s expression was dark. 

Innes asked, “Were we able to acquire any knowledge about the palace’s inner structure?”

“No. It is very complex, and we do not know the details of it.”

“That’s not good. We have no idea what kind of traps the enemy has laid out...”

“Rather than tear down the front gate, we should go around the side.”

Eirika and the others all looked up towards the source of the voice that had suddenly cut in from the side.

Those attending the meeting should have been only the army’s leaders. However, at some point, Joshua had entered the tent.

Innes huffed and ordered, “We’re in the middle of an important meeting right now. Please leave.”

“You want to know the inner structure of the palace, right? I’ll tell you.”

“What? Why would you know…?”

“Please wait, Innes!” Eirika stopped him.

Joshua had many years of experience as a mercenary. He might have had an opportunity to obtain a map of the palace at some point. It was unfortunate, but they didn’t have time to question him about it. If they did not hurry, then the queen would be in trouble.

“Please tell us everything you know, Joshua. Are there any other methods of getting inside the palace besides breaking down the front gate?”

“The layout of the palace is very complex. The front gate is not the only way inside. There is also a small passageway that merchants use to get in and out. It is likely that the enemy has not realized it is there.”

“...Can you lead us to it?”

“Yes.” Joshua nodded lightly. 

Innes narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

But Eirika decided to trust him. She had been suspicious of his true motives once in the past, but up until now, he had always fought as another member of her army with all his strength. She did not want to question that sincerity any longer.

Joshua pulled out a piece of paper that had a quick sketch of the palace drawn on it. Though the drawing only consisted of simple lines, it was surprisingly detailed. It had everything they would need written on it, from the placement of the hallways and rooms, to where the stairs and even pillars were. 

“The throne room is inside here. Prince Lyon is most likely leading the army from in there. And in the basement, there is an altar. If they are keeping the queen confined, then it is likely that they are using this room down there to do so.” Joshua pointed at the map and explained. 

Seth and Innes stared at the map with very serious looks on their faces.

“We’ll designate a large enough force to rush the gate and feint an attack on it. They will be a diversion and draw in the enemy, and should attack and retreat repeatedly so that no one is injured. Using that gap in the enemy’s defenses, a small elite force will attack from the merchant’s entrance on the east side. The enemy's guard there will probably be light, so we should be able to attack and defeat them in one swoop. After we establish that area as a base, we will head for the throne room.”

“...Alright.” Innes seemed to agree with that strategy. He raised his head up with confidence and looked at Joshua. “I shall lead the diversion team. At the very least, we will make a scene, and keep them in one area. Eirika, I want you to lead the elite force. Joshua, you will of course guide Eirika down the merchant’s entrance.”

Eirika nodded and looked at Joshua.

He had the same thin smile on his face as always, but his expression looked a bit more stiff than usual.

It wasn’t just a strange feeling. Something about the way Joshua was acting was undoubtedly strange. A dark color shaded his eyes. He seemed to have noticed that Eirika was staring at him, as he quickly turned his head away, and rushed out of the tent.

[katchihe]

Taking a break from drawing to...write? Yeah! I've actually missed writing after so long. Not to mention I need the practice for a competition image lol

Featuring Corsen (Pokemon GO oc) with her team on hand Shiho (shiny Horsea), Titan (Arcanine), Sleepy (Snorlax), and Mint (Glaceon). But I can't go on further without saying that it also features some nerd we all came to love and hate. And his Salamence who just no.

I think it does get pretty long but I tried getting into the good parts haha. There is definitely a part 2 and I might post it soon, but in the meantime enjoy!

If anything needed fixing today it was certainly Corsen's jaw. The trainer couldn't keep her mouth shut since passing by the wooden doors of the museum. Left and right, up and down, everywhere she looked there was something exciting to see.

"This is amazing!" Corsen squealed. Slapping her hands to her cheeks smiling widely. The museum was full on packed with trainers and their Pokémon. Thankfully there was a limit to the sizes of Pokémon so nothing could be broken in such a priceless museum.  

From statues, to the first planes, to the first achievements, to the first texts of ancient civilizations, everything could be found here. Corsen hadn't even spent 30 minutes inside and her phone was about to burst with all the videos and pictures she had already taken.

"Hey Shiho look!" Shiho looked towards where his trainer pointed at. The fossil exhibition. Since she was young, she had always had a fascination for fossils. Even staying up super late at night to read all the theories and encyclopedias of each extinct fossil Pokémon.

"Let's go there first and then how about we go get some lunch?"

Shiho wiggled contently in his carrier in agreement, just by feeling his trainer's energy he too felt excited. At this Corsen wasted no more time and went into the exhibition.

Once again Corsen's mouth couldn't stay shut at the sights.

"Is that an Aurorus?!" The brunette gasped looking up at the elongated neck of the extinct Pokémon. The wings of the skeleton flapped in the superficial wind, to only think of how it would've been to have such a Pokémon be alive today.

"Wait until Blanche sees this! Now should I take a video or photo?" Corsen pondered opening up the camera on her phone. Crouching down the brunette faced her camera up, hoping to get a cool sideways shot, but to her dismay it only focused on the fossils' chest area.

"A little back." Corsen muttered taking a couple of steps back.

Nope.

"Maybe a little more?"

Nope.

"Ugh!"

Getting up in her annoyance Corsen walked back focusing too much on the screen of her phone. It wasn't until she felt her back hit something hard, and the sound of a book dropping, that she finally shifted her attention.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!"

Back turned the stranger slowly bent down to pick up his book.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry I didn't see you!" Corsen apologized staying frozen in place. At the suffocating silence she bit her lip not knowing what else to say. She felt Shiho shift in his carrier staying silent as well.

After forever came to an end, the stranger finally spoke.

"Watch where you're going, pest." The man turned his head to glare at the brunette. Obvious anger, and disdain in his eyes. Funny how red is often associated with anger as his eyes were the full definition of it.

The stranger spoke no more and began to walk away without giving Corsen a second glance.

Corsen huffed exhaling a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Now the frozen air feeling vanished and she was free of its spell. Anger started to creep through.

"I said SORRY!" Corsen growled spreading her arms out in protest.

Shiho huffed alongside his trainer glaring at the back of the man.

"Whatever." Corsen rolled her eyes and turned back around to enjoy the museum. She wasn't about to let some insignificant incident ruin her day.

In a second her eye caught something interesting and her mind quickly forgot about the sour experience.

The sight was a golden hoop behind glass up against the near wall.

With peeked interest the trainer approached the compartment and looked up in awe. The hoop looked a bit rusty, yet it shone so brightly of gold in the evening sun that broke in through the high window.

"It is said this hoop once belonged to the mysterious Pokémon known as 'Hoopa'." Corsen read the metallic plate which stood in front of the display. "Legend says this Pokémon was first seen around 1,700 years ago. Hoopa would transport both objects and Pokémon through its many hoops. Those legends have never been proven true, but this hoop was found near Varanasi, India where the legend of this mythical Pokémon first began." 

"Huh well that's quite interesting." Corsen looked back up to the hoop. It looked so normal for it to belong to Hoopa. If that was even true. 

She had read many stories and theories about the mischievous Pokémon. Also seen those videos that claimed to have caught the Pokémon on camera, but none of them were true.

Much like Mew, those were just theories and made-up stories from the older civilizations of the past.

Walking down to the other section of the glass display Corsen then spotted a fossil. Squinting her eyes she tried to decipher the shape of it.

Shiho called to his trainer to look down on the plate.

"Aerodactyl. A Pokémon which became extinct around 150 million years ago. It lived in the prehistoric era where it reigned top predator. Being able to rip prey with its strong jaws, and fly as high as 250 meters up in the air with its strong wings, there was nothing that could possibly have stopped this Pokémon." Corsen read the metallic plate then looked up to the fossil once more. She still couldn't figure out the shape of it despite the massive size.

"Well still looks interesting." The trainer brought her camera up and snapped a photo of both the Aerodactyl fossil and the hoop.

"Maybe I can even make my own theories of these two." She laughed and began to walk away.

----

Later in the evening, Corsen sat at a café trying to mellow down from the long day.

She was immensely thankful to Blanche for having given her this opportunity, but was still a bit skeptical as to why they had decided to bless her with such a gift.

Corsen didn't want to pay no mind to it however, she continuously told herself it was something genuine that had come from Blanche's deepest part of their heart. Or something cheesy like that.

"Oh my baby is tired isn't he?" Ebony eyes dropped to Shiho who's head now lay limp against his trainer.

The Horsea slept peacefully giving no mind to his trainer as she caressed his cheek.

"But you're right it has been a long day." Corsen brought out Shiho's Pokéball and recalled the water-type. Taking off the carrier Corsen stretched her arms back with a yawn.

"I guess it's time to go hit the hay too." Getting up from her seat Corsen looked at her watch. 11:27PM. The hotel wasn't that far away, she could bring out Titan for a ride to get there much quicker, but the trainer decided against it last minute.

The night breeze felt quite nice and refreshing for a walk. After paying her bill and tipping her waiter she began the walk back to the hotel with the GPS in hand.

There was rarely anyone in the streets. Cars began to appear less and less the further she walked. It was such a somber ambient, one that started to cause Corsen both concern and worry.

It was the weekend and it wasn't so late in the night to not have both trainers and Pokémon out enjoying the night.

Corsen tried ignoring the nagging feeling in her gut and focused instead on walking.

"But what if a big scary shadow jumped out of nowhere?" Her mind began to wonder.

The trainer shook her head vigorously in return. She had Titan, Sleepy, and Mint in hand that were more than capable of holding themselves against anyone.

"Oh but what if something is behind you?"

Once again Corsen shook her head trying to rid her mind of such childish thoughts. Turning around she saw no one except her own shadow.

"I'm just delusional." Corsen muttered rolling her eyes in annoyance, but stopped mid turn when smoke caught her eye. It was up high and it looked like a fire a couple of blocks down the street.

The nagging feeling seemed to increase at the sight. Observing the buildings it looked to have been in the direction of the museum.

"That's odd..." Corsen placed her phone in the pocket of her jacket and began walking towards the direction of the fire.

The closer she got the faster her pace until she was on a full out run.

Turning the corner Corsen stopped abruptly in her tracks. Smoke and flames decorated the entrance to the Smithsonian. Eyes widened in horror at the sight.

Corsen started running once again towards the building but stopped once more when she spotted a cargo truck at the distance.

Two men carried a rather big piece of flat rock hosting it up in the back. Once the rock was secure they jumped in the back and closed the doors.

"A robbery?" Corsen furrowed her brows reaching into her backpack. Why weren't the alarms ringing? Where were the police? Where was anyone?

Bringing out a Pokéball she faced it towards the street. Through a beam of red light came out an Arcanine who looked at his trainer ready for action.

"Titan, I need your full speed right now." Corsen said jumping on the Pokémon's back. Titan nodded in reply lifting his body back up from the ground once his trainer was positioned.

With one final glance at the burning entrance Corsen and Titan began following the truck through the streets.

It only took seconds to reach the vehicle. Corsen held tightly onto Titan's mane as he ran at full speed through the streets. Despite his size he was an expert at agility, easily dodging parked cars and turning corners with ease.

"Titan! Scratch the back tire!" Corsen called as loud as she could through the wind. Gaining a bit more speed the Arcanine took one calculated swipe at the tire and it immediately blew out.

The rim screeched and sparked on the pavement before the truck fell on its weight and lost control. It ended up skidding to a stop and crashed onto its side.

"Steady." Corsen halted Titan who breathed heavily, ready for combat.

Out of the truck emerged three men who looked both bruised and confused. In their attire, a bright R decorated their chests. "Team Rocket?" Corsen felt a cold air hit despite the warm aura of her Arcanine.

Once they spotted the trainer and the Arcanine they called forth their own Pokémon. Dratini, Golbat, and Ivysaur. Their eyes shone red in the dim lights of the streets, at this the brunette furrowed her brows in confusion.

There was something off about those Pokémon, but Corsen wasn't about to sit around and figure it out.

Jumping off Titan's back the trainer readied herself as well.

"Titan, flame charge."

It was over as soon as it began. The three opposing foes dropped unconscious as well as their following companions. The rocket grunts recalled their fainted Pokémon and seeing as they were out of Pokémon to battle with, they began to retrieve.

"Wait until boss gets here. You'll regret this." One of them said before taking off at a run.

Titan growled loudly stomping the ground.

"No." Corsen placed a hand on Titan's chest stopping him from running after the man.

"Let them go, we have more important matters at hand." Corsen said approaching the fallen vehicle. She began to unhitch the back door letting it swing open before it hit the ground.

It was dark inside but she could barely make out the silhouette of the fossil rock. Bringing out a flashlight the trainer looked in relief and shock upon the Aerodactyl fossil. It was miraculously intact, except for some pieces of rubble that had fallen off the edges.

Jumping inside the truck Corsen ran a hand across the fossil. No cracks. Good. But why were they taking this specific thing out of all the objects in the museum? She was sure there were far more valuable objects in there than a piece of rock.

Suddenly her foot hit something metallic that swung across the floor. Directing her flashlight towards that direction Corsen spotted a ring. The Hoopa ring.

"What the hell?" Corsen stepped carefully around the fossil towards the ring.

Titan stood at the entrance of the truck, attentive to his trainer.

Grabbing a hold of the ring Corsen brought it up to the light.

Titan growled showing his fangs, partially scaring his trainer in the process.

"It's just a ring calm down." Corsen shushed the Arcanine looking at him while she placed her index finger to her lips. She had to admit she was still a bit jumpy from the events, adrenaline was running high.

Looking back down to the ring, Corsen turned it in her hand. Still looked as normal as when it was in its glass confinement.

"I could possibly keep this safe in my jacket." Corsen shakily opened the breast pocket of her jacket. It wasn't every day you had something so old and so valuable on your person. As for the fossil, Corsen frowned. She could possibly carry it back to the museum with Titan, but what if it fell and broke into a million pieces?

Another growl rumbled through the truck causing the trainer to break from her train of thought.

"Titan-" Corsen looked up ready to calm the dog but stopped. He wasn't looking at her.

A cold wave rushed through the brunettes body. Turning off the flashlight she began walking towards the entrance of the truck.

Without warning Titan let out a massive roar and launched forward and out sight from Corsen.

"Titan!" Corsen called rushing out of the truck and jumped out.

Titan swiftly outmaneuvered a Salamence on the ground. The massive dragon Pokémon looked wild in its eyes as it tried to swing at Titan any way possible.

In a second of distraction Titan yelped as the Salamence managed to land a hit. The Arcanine skidded back shaking his body. Crouching down with a growl he got ready to attack once again.

"Titan, are you alright?" the trainer called. Titan's attention suddenly shifted and so did Corsens'.

"Stop wasting so much time." A male voice said approaching the trio.

He looked to be of average height. In the darkness his hair looked pitch black, his attire had the same red R as the grunts.

Team Rocket. Again.

The man stopped next to the Salamence. He didn't bother looking at Corsen, his attention focused on the Arcanine who looked ready to tear him apart.

"Pathetic. You can't even finish such a weak Pokémon."

"Hey! Who the hell are you calling weak?" Corsen yelled feeling a rush of anger. She would personally get physical at anyone who had the audacity to insult her Pokémon, didn't matter who it was. She had even gotten physical with Candela's right-hand trainer, then again that mouth of his never shut.

The man glanced at the brunette, disgust in his eyes.

Despite the anger slowly clouding her mind, Corsen couldn't help but tilt her head a bit. She had seen similar eyes before, but where?

"Tch...how dare rifraff such as yourself speak to me?"

"What?" Corsen blinked. The anger taking over once again. "Oh so you think you're above me? Do something about it!"

Corsen lifted her hand and Titan flared his fangs.

"Only a fool would challenge me." The man gave a simple nod and the Salamence launched forward.

"Titan, bite!"

Titan jumped up in the air, the Salamence barely missed him by inches. Landing on the dragon's back the Arcanine dug his claws into the hard flesh before biting the back of Salamence's neck.

The dragon-type roared out in pain. It tried shaking off the Arcanine to no avail. Spreading its giant wings the Salamence flew up in the air like a missile.

Corsen rubbed some dust out of her eyes from the sudden wind. Looking up she spotted the Salamence flying in circles at high speed.

Soon Titan lost his grip and slid off the dragon's back. At this the Salamence turned and landed a massive hit with its tail on Titan causing him to come crashing down on the ground.

"Titan!"

Heart pounded fast. Corsen almost became deaf to her own beating heart. Her rival seemed unfazed by the battle, he stood starring off into the distance as if this was just child's play.

"Think, think!" Corsen grit her teeth together in thought.

Titan soon stood back up, a bit shaky. He growled towards the Salamence who landed heavily. Both Pokémon flared their teeth at each other.

"Titan!" Corsen called towards her Arcanine. He glanced at her for a brief second. The brunette gave a simple nod and he understood immediately.

Standing up straight the Arcanine's eyes began to glow a bright orange, light emitted from the dog's paws as flames began escaping through his teeth.

With a massive howl a ring of fire appeared around the Salamence who didn't move by the sudden display of flames.

3 pillars of fire erupted from the ground and began to circle the dragon. With a giant flash the pillars crashed onto each other and enveloped the dragon within them.

The fire was soon out and now smoke stood in its place.

This had to be it. There was no one before who managed to stay standing after a direct hit from Titan's Blast Burn.

The smoke slowly dispersed and there stood the Salamence, unperturbed.

It shook its body getting rid of the ashes before spreading its wings with a growl.

"There's no way..." Corsen's eyes widened, Titan mimicked his trainer's expression.

Without warning the Salamence flew forward and swiped at Titan who went flying across the street. Hitting a parked car the Arcanine fell unconscious to the ground.

At that moment Corsen felt frozen, unable to move. How the hell did the Salamence survive such a direct hit from Titan?

Quickly focusing back to the battle at hand, Corsen called out Sleepy the Snorlax.

If Salamence had such a high defense then Sleepy was sure to lower it quickly. After all tank vs tank always did the trick.

To her dismay the battle ended the same way.

In the eyes of the experts, Sleepy was a perfect specimen. Perfect attack power, perfect defense, and perfect stamina. But all of that didn't matter when he too landed on the ground unconscious after a couple of direct hits.

Corsen grit her teeth together, gut churned causing her nausea. She wiped the sweat off her forehead, thoughts racing a mile a minute.

"Alright then. Let's see how you go up against this!" Corsen took out her last Pokéball looking at the Salamence. She knew Shiho stood no chance against such an evolved and trained Pokémon as the Salamence, but she still had an ace up her sleeve.

Through a beam of red light appeared a Glaceon. At the sight Salamence looked to have smiled at the small ice-type.

"You're super weak towards ice attacks aren't you?" Corsen smirked, assured about her victory.

Salamence flew towards the Glaceon who evaded the first attack with ease.

"Mint! Icy Wind!" Corsen called towards the Glaceon. Landing gracefully the ice-type called a chant, the icy diamond on its head glowed in the dark and out of nowhere came a rush of cold wind.

Salamence growled at the feeling of the freezing wind. Flapping its wings it flew up high trying to dust the diamond flakes from its body. Opening its jaw it directed a powerful Hyper Beam down at Mint who barely missed it by jumping to the side. A crater now stood where Mint had once been standing.

Corsen's stomach gave another sickening churn. She had to end this quickly before Mint got seriously hurt. Looking at her opponent she wondered if he had any more Pokémon on his person, and if Mint would be able to uphold himself against them all.

The Salamence still flew up high in the air. Biting her lip in thought the trainer looked down at her Glaceon. He had to get close for this finishing move, and one that would be most effective to the dragon.

She knew she had a couple more minutes before the Salamence was able to use Hyper Beam again. Would she wait for it to come down, or would be bring Glaceon up?

"Mint." Corsen looked up at the Salamence in the air. Glaceon followed suit. "I need you to get close to the Salamence, if possible jump on its back."

Glaceon nodded in reply and began running towards a nearby tree. Jumping onto its branches the Glaceon launched up close to the Salamence. Corsen had always been impressed with Mint's agility. It was something he had always displayed, even as an Eevee back in the day.

"Icy wind!" Corsen called before Mint brought forth another gust of cold wind. This one was far nearer than the last, it even cause the Salamence to lose altitude in the process. At this, the Glaceon managed to land on the dragon's back successfully.

"Perfect," Corsen smirked clenching her fist.

"Mint! Finish it with Avalanche!" Glaceon began yet another chant as a cloud began forming above the two in the air. It didn't take long before snow started falling from the cloud followed by chunks of ice.

Jumping back down to the ground Mint managed to miss the avalanche; just in time as it enveloped the dragon causing it to fall back down to the ground with a roar.

Silence befell the street afterwards.

Corsen couldn't help but smile at her victory. Salamence was immensely weak to ice-type moves and Avalanche had been a direct hit to it, now there was no possible way of it to get back up.

Shifting her attention from the pile of ice, Corsen looked towards the Salamence's trainer. He was looking at where his Salamence lay buried. The brunette saw his chest heave in a slow sigh before turning his attention to her. In the dim light she saw the corner of his mouth lift up in a smirk.

Without warning a flash of red passed the trainer, followed by a cry of pain from her Glaceon. Corsen turned in time to see Mint land heavily on the other side of the street. Trying to stand back up from the hit, Mint couldn't lift his body and fell limp on the ground.

The Salamence roared in victory as it spread its massive wings in a big display.

Corsen's breath hitched in her throat. Her legs shook until they finally gave out under her.

"This is impossible..." she stared wide-eyed at the ground clenching her hands to fists. Her entire body shook, primarily in disbelief, but there was also a sense of fear deep inside.

"Don't be too disappointed. It was always going to end like this." The man finally spoke walking closer to Corsen.

The brunette looked up at him through the bangs that covered her eyes. Rage filled the endless pits of her black eyes.

She didn't know from where, but Corsen soon found the strength to stand back up. Standing in front of the fossil rock she blocked the entrance.

The man stopped, glaring at the brunette.

"Who the hell are you and what do you want with the fossil rock?" Corsen asked glaring at the man. He didn't get a chance to answer before the Salamence landed in front of the brunette.

It towered over the trainer casting an immense shadow over her. A breath caught in Corsen's chest as the Salamence inched closer, it growled showing its teeth at her. Being so close to the Pokémon she saw its glowing red eyes. She always knew dragon-types were prideful and dangerous Pokémon, but this Slamance was on another level.

Corsen didn't remember how she ended up on the ground seconds after. Perhaps it was the immense fear she had felt from starring at the dragon inches from her face, or perhaps it was the lack of air from the too-heavy of an atmosphere around them. She tried moving but her body felt too heavy; only managing to look up at the Salamence's trainer she saw his red eyes glare down at her. In that second it hit her.

The man from the museum. The one she had accidentally hit.

Corsen grunted trying to fight her own body to stand, but it was no use. Her world slowly faded until it was all black.

[jacksonsdead]

FALLOUT OC INTERVIEW

Tagged by both @robobrainmurdermysterytheatre​ and @ticktockthem​ Thank you!  Rules:

1. Choose an OC. 

2. Answer them as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same. I’m choosing my courier!

(Also some of the answers feature Jack, who belongs to @robobrainmurdermysterytheatre​ ) Callie and Desmond are my other OCs ;) 

What is your name? Haley

How old are you? Late twenties? Hard to keep track out here

What do you look like? Blonde, been told by plenty of people that I’m pretty, unfortunately...that’s not always an advantage.

Where are you from? Where do you live now? I’m from Nevada, lived in a little community just outside of West Vegas when I was a kid. Now I mostly still travel but the boyfriend has a house just outside of Freeside so I guess that’s what I’d consider home.

What was your childhood like? Not...great...Don’t really remember much of my parents, just flashes. They were apparently pretty famous singers/performers but they died when I was still really young. I was raised by my older sister and most of my memories of her are good, which... makes dealing with things harder considering how she died. And after she died? Well...I was 17 and stupid and I’m not getting into the rest. 

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions? I don’t consider myself ‘aligned’ with any factions but there are some I’m on good terms with, honestly I try to keep my nose out of things entirely but...well you have to draw a line sometimes. I respect the hell out of the Followers of the Apocalypse, one of the few factions I’d go out of my way to help out. And the Kings? I like their leader a lot, seems level-headed and pragmatic. And have you seen the way they dress? Every member of the Kings is attractive as hell. 

Tell me about your best friend. Don’t have that many but my closest are probably Callista, Cass and Jack. Callie’s running New Vegas now, was always ambitious as hell, no one I’d trust more to get shit done and done right. Plus we’ve been looking out for each other since we were kids. 

Cass is the type of friend who is going to tell it to you straight--she doesn’t mince words, doesn’t bother with niceties, and honestly, there’s something refreshing about that. Really fun to drink with too.

And Jack? Jack is...well he’s way more than just my best friend, more on that later.

Do you have a family? Tell me about them! I have a daughter, didn’t know about her until a few months ago. Basically one day this 12-year-old kid shows up and introduces herself. We’re still getting to know each other at this point, but she’s sharp; really clever and funny. 

What about a partner or partners? ...I could have you sitting here all day but I’ll only mention the ones that matter. There’s Manny, Desmond and Jack. 

Manny is an ex but when we were together? He was just, such a genuine person; authentic and honest. I knew pretty much *right* away that he was way too good for me, but it was hard to not want that, to not want someone just...nice? But he was still so obviously in love with someone else so I ended things and maybe that wasn’t fair; I honestly hope him and Boone work out. 

Desmond...well the way we met isn’t exactly the type of story you tell the family. Thought he’d just be another in the line of feeling-sorry-for-myself-late-night-mistakes. But he ended up being one of the most decent people I’ve ever met, quit the raiders for me and buy a house kind of decent--didn’t think I’d ever find something like that. He’s also really good with the kid so, think I’ll stick around. 

And finally, Jack. 

(screenshot courtesy of @robobrainmurdermysterytheatre​ )

I met Jack when I left Nevada for a while--took the first caravan I could find going the furthest away and eventually made it to Boston. I was...not ok. I’d had one foot off the edge of a cliff for a while at that point, ready to fall, just waiting for a push. Turns out Jack was too--and I think we both felt that instinctually, that connection. We had a lot in common, that disregard for our own lives, that recklessness born of misery and through it all, somehow, we each became the one thing keeping the other from drowning.  And man, we had fun too. I can honestly say there’s no one that *gets* me like Jack, knows how to have a good time. Some of my fondest memories are my time with him; Sometimes I wonder why I even left Boston at all. We still talk, and he visits in the winter, wish he could visit more though, I miss him all the time.  Who are your enemies, and why? The Omertas and I have history and no, I don’t want to talk about it. All I’ll say is that if you go into Gomorrah knowing that they get teenagers hooked on chems and then force them into prostitution to pay back their debt, then fuck you. 

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them? They’re kind of assholes right? I mean, you fly around on airships with prewar tech that could be used to help, I don’t know, the world, but instead you use it to grind people under your heel, to “civilize” and then you take any prewar tech they may have away for yourselves. Not a huge fan of them honestly, don’t trust them...but the power armor and airships are pretty cool, I’ll admit. And to be fair, there are a few individuals in the brotherhood that seem pretty decent, I’m just not a real fan of organized militaristic factions as a whole.

What about The Enclave? Don’t really know very much about them but the propaganda spewing fascist patriotism is annoying as hell. 

How do you feel about Super Mutants? Hate fighting them, try to keep my distance; there’s just something viscerally terrifying about mutated GIANT used-to-be-people that turns my stomach and gets the fight-or-flight response going.  Granted, the friendly ones are fine, but there’s also something so sad about them too, makes you sick to your stomach knowing that they used to...not be that way.

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in? The entirety of my time in the Sierra Madre Casino was just one awful clusterfuck that’d I’d rather forget. 

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw? Unfortunately, and I have the scars to prove it. I typically try to avoid them or snipe them from a distance. Better make your shots count though, cause once they see you, it’s over. 

Do you like fighting? To be honest, most times I try to talk my way out of it, but sometimes there’s nothing that you can do to avoid them. And then? Well sometimes there’s stress that nothing but a good fight can ease. What’s your weapon of choice? Prefer to keep things at a distance, typically use a Anti-Material rifle. But if things get close a .45 pistol or That Gun is my next choice.

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?) Half the time? Spite. Spite and instinct. Charm can usually get me out of most situations, or into them depending. And usually if you’re stuck, hacking a terminal or two can get you all the information you need. 

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them? 

👏I👏Hate👏Vaults👏

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you? I carry a lot of Rad-X and try to filter my own water whenever I can. I have no issue with ghouls but I don’t want to be one. 

What’s your favorite wasteland critter? I know that they’re dangerous but NightStalkers are just cool.

What’s your least favorite wasteland critter? MOTHERFUCKING CAZADORS. You see one set of wings? Don’t worry there’s 50 more nearby AT LEAST.  How do you feel about robots? Robots are honestly fascinating, Jack taught me a lot about programming them. And I’d do anything for ED-E, they’re my favorite to travel with. 

How many caps do you have on you right now? Doesn’t matter how many I have, if I need more I’ll just play a few hands of Caravan or Black Jack. 

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla? I like both honestly (especially Quantums) but out of the two I’d take a Sunset Sarsaparilla, way more refreshing in the desert heat. 

Do you do chems? Used to be a Med-X junkie when I was a teenager, try to stay away from it now but it’s hard not to use when they’re such a tactical advantage. I keep chems on me for battles and occasionally for recreation even though it’s probably not a great idea. Used to do drug runs for the Great Khans too. 

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world? I hack a lot of terminals and read a lot of emails and it really does get me curious. Trying to imagine a world that I only have the skeletons of to use as a frame of reference? A lot of the stories Jack tells me seem impossible, but the evidence is all around us if you know where to look. It’s honestly fascinating to learn about. 

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently? My sister shouldn’t have died, I should have stopped them or, hell, I should have been the one to...It just shouldn’t have happened.

What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve? I’d say that being a courier and going to all these places that most people have never seen or heard of or imagined is definitely a big accomplishment. I’d like to see more.

What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world? I could try and say I have lofty, big goals for the world, that I look at the big picture but honestly? I just want to find peace for myself. To not wake up already tired. I want my kid to be happy and provided for and never go through anything I went through. I want to see Jack. 

I TAG: @undeadcourier and @courierspikeee

[skeletonroomies-blog]

what do y'all do for hobbies?

“our favorite hobbies? this is a easy first question,” Sans shrugs before continuing, “since you didn’t say any names, we’ll all answer. who wants to go fir-”

“ME! I WOULD LIKE TO GO FIRST!” Papyrus eagerly interrupts.

“sure paps, go ahead.”

“OKAY! MY HOBBY IS COOKING AND TRYING NEW RECIPES! BACK IN THE UNDERGROUND, MY COOKING WAS… WELL, GREAT! BUT UNEATABLE! SINCE BEING ON THE SURFACE, IT IS BOTH GREAT AND DELICIOUS!” He beams, proud of his improvements. Teddy purrs her agreement down by his feet.

“of course, I help too. I supervise! I always alert Sans when something catches on fire,” she says, and Lily snorts from across the room.

“You mean by meowing very loudly while Paps frantically tries to stop the fire?” Lily snickers when Teddy bats her with a paw.

“Exactly.” She chuckles.

“OH, CAN I GO NEXT SINCE YOU’RE DONE?” Blue asks, but doesn’t wait on an answer.

“MY HOBBY IS JOGGING! IT’S A GREAT WAY TO CLEAR YOUR MIND OR TO WAKE YOU UP IN THE MORNING! VERY REFRESHING! AND LILY LOVES GOING ON JOGS WITH TOO, DON’T YOU GIRL?” He reaches down and ruffles the top of Lily’s head affectionately. Lily forces the best ‘happy dog face’ she could, but all it gets her is snickers from some of the lazy brothers and Teddy.

She does not love it, but she does love Blue.

“TCH, IT’S MY TURN NOW! I SHOULD’VE GONE FIRST, BUT I SUPPOSE IT CAN’T BE HELPED NOW,” Edge huffs in annoyance before continuing, “MY HOBBY IN TORTURING PEOPLE! AS IT SHOULD BE OBVIOUS, SINCE I WOULD NEVER HAD SUCH A LAME HOBBY AS “COOKING” OR “JOGGING”. DEFINITELY NOTHING LIKE READING EITHER!” (good?maybe? Ask Teddy opinion)

Everyone stays silent, expect for one or two coughs. They all squint theirs eyes at him. Teddy shrugs, deciding not to mention anything.

“MAY I GO NOW?” Star says while practically vibrating in excitement.

“sure star, you waited pretty patiently, go ahead,” Sans says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“YES! MY HOBBY IS PAINTING! MOSTLY OF GALAXIES AND PLANETS, SINCE I KNOW A LOT ABOUT THEM, BUT OTHER STUFF TOO!” He says proudly before picking Teddy up. She does a weak meow in protest.

“AND TEDDY ALWAYS ACCOMPANIES ME! SHE’S A GREAT PAINTING BUDDY!”

Lily shakes her head in amusement. “All she does is sit there, but I suppose.”

“Hey! You head him! I am the best painting buddy, you’re just jealous,” she huffs in fake annoyance.

After a moment of silence, Sans finally speaks up again. “sooo… who’s next? anyone?”

Stretch shrugs his shoulder when no one else says anything. “i guess i’ll go. my hobby is gaming, nothing special,” he finishes with another shrug.

“AND CONSIDERING THAT IS ALSO SOMETHING YOU DO AS PART OF YOUR JOB, THAT’S ALL YOU DO ALL DAY! IF IT WASN’T FOR LILY DISTRACTING YOU ALL THE TIME, YOU’D PROBABLY PLAY GAMES FROM WAKE TO SLEEP!” Blue scolds, but there’s an amused smile threatening to show.

Stretch shrugs. “I guess you could say she controllers my video gaming habit.” As if on cue, he pulls out his controller. There’s a mixture of snickers and groans through out the room.

“speakin’ of lily distracting people, she distracts me too. my hobby is tinkerin’, mostly with cars. lily likes to steal my tools… always the ones I need too,” Red grumbles the last part. Lily gets a smug look on her face.

“guess it’s my turn. my hobby is collecting rocks. earth has a lot of interesting rocks and gems, a lot more than space did. teddy agrees with me,” Comet says, reaching over and scratching her under the chin. She purrs affectionately.

“is that everyone then? alright, i guess i’m the last one. nothing really special, my hobby is just star gazing. i like to look for constellations. lily always joins me, even though she can’t look through the telescope.” Lily wrinkles her nose at Sans, huffing quietly.

“actually, I can. He just doesn’t know I can smell the paint on it, and I’m not falling for that trick,” she says.

After pausing for a few moments, she continues, “as far as me and Teddy goes, my hobbies are drawing and writing. The skeletons think I just like to sleep all day or bother them though.”

“Mhm! And mine are drawing, painting, experimenting with different arts, and crafting. Thanks for the ask!”

[canadian-buckbeaver]

Angel!Reader x Sans

(Spoiler! Ending has been written!) For @alextris - and their much appreciated patience

All your life you were used to the stares and whispers from other people.  In a group setting, it was always you who stuck out like a sore thumb.  You could never fit in.  But you were used to that, used to being unique and special. It was in genes to standout, be different.  Your mother never said who your father was, nor did you ask.  He was the one person who was never in your life.  And, even at a very young age, you were grateful for not having one extra person in your life.  You had more than enough attention to last a lifetime.  Even before you were born, doctors and scientists had followed you and your mother around, watching the both of you carefully, eyeing the tests and images with a critical eye.  “There had to be a mistake,” they would say.  “It just isn’t possible for this.  Perhaps the CT Scanner was acting up, maybe the X-Ray Machine had encountered some interference.”  Test after test was done with the same result.  Specialist after specialist.  Hospital after hospital, clinic after clinic.  Doctor after doctor.  There was always something prodding, something watching, something, or someone, there.  There were whispers and hushed tones, the nods and gestures.

Like you said, you were used to them by now.  You knew that you would never fit in, never pass for a human.

Your wings made sure of that.

Yes, wings. Wings like the wings of birds, coated in the softest of feathers.  Feathers pure white, whiter than freshly fallen snow.

They sprouted from the back of your shoulders, connected to your shoulder blades by tendons and muscles.  You could move them, rustle them, extend them, even on the rare occasions fly with them. Move them like they were natural. Like they were supposed to be on the back of any human.

On first glance, people had often mistaken you for an angel.  A fair maiden with wings, one who was supposed to bring good luck and peace. One who was in God’s good graces, all innocent and pure.  Not that you could blame them.  All things considered, you did resemble the fair guardians and messengers of God, of the bible.

When you were out with your boyfriend, the whispers and stares would multiply.  People openly staring at the sight before the two of you, manners forgotten.  You and your boyfriend paid them no mind though.  He too was as unique as you.

Picture this, a beautiful angel, one with wings as white as snow, holding hands with a skeleton.

It was something that the townspeople had never imagined, never before fathomed.  But the two of you were used to stares.  You let them stare at you while the two of you enjoyed your own little world.

A gorgeous, innocent and pure angel, holding hands with a skeleton… it was completely absurd.

Especially since Sans knew that it couldn’t be further from the truth.

* * * * *

You could still remember the first time that you and your skeleton boyfriend met.  It had been a clear, warm night, the skies alive with the twinkling of stars.  It was one of the nights that you couldn’t sleep.  Your wings had the tendency to follow the same cycle as birds and, every so often, you would go through a molt.  The old and worn feathers would slowly shed, making way for the new feathers underneath the old.  During this time your wings would be itchy and uncomfortable, driving you insane as the new feathers slowly pushed through and firmed. Sometimes you were lucky enough to be able to ignore it, but this night was one of those nights where sleep would be impossible.

Your wings would itch and tingle just as you would start to drift off.  You tossed and turned but, no matter what position you attempted, you could feel the prickle of feathers.  No position gave you the relief that you sought.  You had tried to distract yourself with your favourite scandalous, romantic novel, but even that had backfired.  There was a tingling between your thighs.  You groaned as your hand traveled under your covers, rubbing at your labia.  Your teasing touches helped to alleviate the need in your loins, but nothing to help the itch in your wings.

Giving up on sleep, you silently opened your window, looking up at the stars.  You couldn’t remember the last time that you had seen so many on such a clear night.  The air was warm and crisp, spring slowly maturing to summer.  The skies were completely clear and moon shining bright like a beacon.  Almost calling you to them.

It would be the perfect night for stargazing.

Silently, mindful of your mother and her boyfriend sleeping in the next room over, you spread your wings, letting the breeze ruffle your feathers.  Already you could tell that you had made the right decision.  The wind blowing throw the old and new feathers, whispering against the skin under them, felt amazing.  Carefully, quietly, you gave a deep downward stroke, effortlessly soaring into the open sky.  

It wasn’t very often that you chose to fly on your own.  Usually you preferred the more conservative methods of travel, walking, or driving.  Using your wings made you tired, like you were drawing on more than your normal muscles and energy to move.  But when you did choose to fly, it was worth it.  Your wings made you feel weightless and free, like nothing could touch you. That the world and its problems were far, far away.

Another advantage to your wings is that you were able to get to any place you wanted faster. Within minutes you were gracefully landing on a hill in your favourite clearing.  You could already feel the slight effects of your flight, a slight stiffening in your shoulders and back, but it was worth it.   Already you felt freer here than you had at the stuffy house.  The air was clean, unpolluted by the nearby city, even scented with the faint smell of wildflowers.  You settled on the hill as you prepared for a long night of starwatching.  The familiar constellations were high and bright in the sky, their legends tickling your ears.  

There was a delicate cough from behind you.  “You know… I was… I was trying to think of a good opening line, but then I decided that I would just wing it.”

Despite the corniness of the joke, you snorted, smiling as you turned around to see the visitor.

A small, slightly stocky, skeleton stood behind you, hands shoved into the pockets of a blue hoodie. You remembered seeing him around town, usually accompanied by another taller skeleton in tiny shorts, or a motherly looking goat woman.  You had spoken before, several times in fact.  Always quick with a pun or joke, yet he seemed to be more intelligent than he let on.

“That was good,” you told him as he settled close by you.  Not close enough to touch, but far enough to not be rude.  You eyed him carefully.  Despite the low temperature he seemed to be sweating in his hoodie. His cheeks were flushed and he was antsy, shifting from one side to another.  If you didn’t know any better, it would seem like he was coming down off of a drug trip or similar.

He gave a small bark of a laugh.  “Always good to have an audience that appreciates my jokes.  Some of them fly over people’s heads.” He gave another wink causing you to laugh and shake your head.  “I’m Sans,” he introduced himself.  “Sans the skeleton.”

“It’s nice to meet you Sans. I’m…” you took his hand and shook it, pausing when you felt the heat radiating off of him.  “Are you ok? It seems like you have quite the fever.”

He hastily shoved his hand back in his pocket.  “I’m fine.” he hastily assured you.  “Just something that all us monsters go through every once in a while.”

“I’m not following.”

The skeleton twitched in his seat, his eye lights not looking at you.  “Well… I suppose us monsters are a lot like animals.  Every so often we go through a heat period and…” he clamped his jaw shut.  “I’m not sure why I am telling you this.”

The skeleton looked like he was in pain almost.  “Perhaps because I look like an angel?  One that is supposed to be able to solve everyone’s problems?”

Sans smiled at that. “If that’s the case then I’m nothing but a fat, fluffy chicken.” He said to your amusement.

You were smiling more here than you had in days you realized.  “So, what normally cures your heat session?” you asked him. “Water?  Some food?  The stars?”

“Was hoping that the stars would provide me a distraction at least,” he admitted, looking up to the heavens.  The little pinpricks of his eyes were tracing imaginary lines of the stars, following the shape of the constellations above.

You smiled at him before looking up at the stars as well.  “Not answering the question.” You noted.

His cheek bones and skull were turning bright blue.  He muttered something, not facing you.

“What?”

“It’s… it’s like with animals.  It wears off on its own.”

“I doubt that is what you tried to say the first time.”  You countered back.

The eye lights faded away completely.  You had the feeling that you had him backed into the corner.  His voice was quiet, sounding like he was being choked with his own words.  “Usually a good fucking or masturbation helps kill it faster.  But…”

Curious now, you looked at him, gently touching his arm.  “But?” you prodded.

“But I can’t get off on my own this time.” he finally admitted to you.  “I try and try but nothing.  Feels like I’ve been edging myself all night.  Hurts like hell now.  So thought I would come up here, see the stars, maybe some stargazing will help cool me off.  But even that has run afowl.” He admitted, winking at you before looking back at the stars.

Giving a quick laugh at his pun, you looked at him with a curved smile.  “I like you.  You’re something else, Sans.  Refreshing.” You knew that you were nowhere as innocent as you portrayed.  The lingering feel of your own need still haunted you, echoing with his own.  And he was a very interesting man, or monster.

Sans had made some sort of disagreeing sound at your comment.  “If you think I’m neat, you should meet my brother, Papyrus.  Now he is the coolest skeleton that you would ever meat.”

His words rolled off you like water.  The more he sat beside you, the more aware you were of his scent.  It was unlike any other cologne that you had smelt before. It was sweet yet spicy and warm, the smell of cloves mixed with apples and roses.

And it was affecting you in other areas as well.

You wanted to melt into the scent, have it sing through your body. Run your hands up and down his body, feeling the curves of his bones, or if perhaps magic had formed some sort of invisible, fake body.  Rubbing your thighs together, you considered your options.  You could leave Sans to his own devices and fly home, alone, letting yourself be cooped up until the sun rose.  Or you could help him.

Looking him over again, you could see that his sweat was the same colour of his hoodie. Perhaps it was an intentional fashion choice on his part?  Or was it perhaps pure coincidence?  Not to mention the generous bulge in his shorts that was a faint blue as well.

You were curious about this skeleton man, you had to admit.  Very curious.  There was just something about him that drew you to him.  You wanted to find out more about him and his bones. Besides you had your own needs to attend to.  The two of you could help one another perhaps.  How long it had been since you had released some much needed tension?  No answer came.  “Did you hear the joke about the egg that got laid?” you asked him as you moved closer to him.

His eye lights flickered to you.  “No?” he asked.

“Well then, I guess we should get cracking.” You winked at him, pulling him in for a deep, demanding kiss.

The skeleton made an odd noise – something mixed between a groan and a squeal.  It sounded like the skeleton was fighting with himself.  Like Sans was trying hard not to give in to his own desires.  However, in the end, his arousal won out.  His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. You could feel his skeleton fingers digging into your flesh before they dipped under the hem of your shirt.  The bones were surprisingly warm like those made of flesh.  They slowly travelled up your back, feeling the curve of your spine, the warmth of your flesh.

You pressed closer to him, your own hands finding the zipper on his jacket and pulling it open. The skeleton had nothing on underneath. No shirt, not even an undershirt. The bones of his rib cage were glowing a bright blue, little droplets of sweat slowly beading on them, tracing the curves of his bones.  Fascinated, you drew back away from the kiss, running your hands on the strong curves of the ribs.  They even felt like real bones.  Sturdy and strong, they even had the markings of the thin grow patterns that natural bone developed. There was a large scar across Sans’ sternum that drew your attention. That was definitely not caused by the growth of the bones.  It was strangely unnatural, even for a monster.  The rest of his bones were white, glowing with a soft blue light, the same colour that matched his eyes.  But the mark on his sternum was dark, glowing like the dying embers of a fire. Captivated, you placed a gentle hand on it.

Sans gave a guttural sounding groan before gripping your wrist tightly.  “Careful,” he told you, “my bones and… well that… they are a little sensitive.”

“I’ll be gentle,” you assured him, not daring to move your hand until he released it.  Giving you the go ahead.  Carefully you felt along the scar, moving slowly and gently. The wound itself was deep and jagged. Whatever had caused this wound was not natural.  Yet, despite its violent appearance, it seemed like it was pleasurable for him when you touched it.  His bones shivered under your touch, his eyes half lidded.  You had somehow moved into his lap without noticing, pressing ever closer to him.

His own hands were wandering over you.  No curve was left untouched, not one freckle left unnoticed, not one dimple undiscovered. It was like he was slowly mapping out your body.  Getting to know it and you.  His hands found your breasts and gently squeezed them, feeling their weight.  His fingers sought out your nipples and slowly thumbed them, feeling them harden under his ministrations. “How was I so lucky to run into you in the park?” he whispered, drawing your shirt over your head. The fabric momentarily caught on your wings but he gently pulled it free.  Exposing your breasts to him.

You giggled softly to yourself at his words.  “The stars align every so often.” You told him simply.  Sitting up, you slowly slid your pants over your hips, wiggling them as the fabric moved over them.  Putting on a show for him.  Feeling brave, you seized one of his hands and led it to your folds.  “Did you ever imagine that you would finger an angel?”

His boney fingers were gentle (and warm thankfully) as they collected your fluid on them.  Sans was silent for a moment as he seemed to weigh your words.  There was a low chuckle as the skeleton looked up, a grin on his teeth. “Probably as much as you ever imagined getting boned by a skeleton.” He told you, carefully slipping a single phalange into your core.  Your slick acted as lube, allowing his finger to slide into you without resistance.

Biting back a groan, you rocked your hips, encouraging him deeper.  Sans pumped the single finger, feeling how your channel clenched tight around it and, when you loosened, he pushed in a second.  And then a third.  Stretching you out, slowly, carefully, even as his thumb brushed against your clit.  The combination felt like nothing that you had ever done to yourself, or any of your other partners had done to you.  It felt, as clique as it was, it felt different.  A different right.  Perfect. It made you whither in pleasure, gripping tight to his jacket to stabilize yourself.  Panting, you kissed him again, making him swallow your noises of pleasure.  Your wings slowly unfurled and wrapped around the two of you.

The skeleton broke the kiss, leaning back to take all of you in.  His free hand reached up, following the curves of your wing, delicately stroking the feathers as he explored it. It caused another shiver to rock through your body.  You hadn’t known that your wings could be so sensitive as well.  “By the stars, you are beautiful.” He whispered as his attention again returned to you.

You blushed at his words.  They sounded so sincere, so full of admiration.  “You have a way with that tongue of yours,” you said to him.

“I can do even more with it.” he quickly retorted.  “Wanna see?” There was a dim glow of magic in his jaw, a long tongue licking at his teeth.  The blue was the same colour as his eye lights you noticed.  “I’d be more than happy to give you a sneak peek on just what else it can do.”  He was a cocky son of a bitch but you couldn’t help yourself.  You had to admit that you were entranced by him.  All of him.  Body, tongue, words and spirit.  That didn’t kill the need that you were feeling deep inside of you. Just by the mere sight of his tongue. You couldn’t move your eyes from the glowing appendage.  Slowly you nodded, completely memorized.  Seizing you about the waist he gently pushed you to the ground, making sure that your wings were fine, before seizing your thighs and pulling them around his neck.

His tongue was warm and wet, much like a normal human’s, you noted to yourself as he licked up your folds.  After that, the comparisons ended.  His tongue was narrower at the tip, letting him dive into your core easily, flicking deep inside of you, reaching places that you didn’t even know of. Your nerves were tingling, drowning in extreme pleasure.  His hands held you tight, keeping you open and spread for his enjoyment. By the stars above, you didn’t know how badly you had needed this.  Your hands seized his skull, holding him to your core, but there was no need.  Sans was not leaving his spot.  He was like a dog with a bone.  He lapped at your juices, pressing the tongue deep inside of you, before twisting it. Letting it trace all the ridges inside of you.

You screamed as his tongue found that one spot deep inside of you that made you see stars. He paused for a moment, making sure that you were alright before giving a smirk and continuing.  This time with more gusto.

“Sans!” you cried out, your nails digging into his skull.  Your legs trembled around his neck, tightening around him.  Your back arched, wings fluttered, but he kept going.

“I’ve always wanted to taste an angel’s juices,” Sans growled against you.  His tongue deep inside of you, attacking that same spot inside of you, the one that made you see stars, a thumb beginning to rub your sensitive clit in time with his tongue.

With that added stimulation, it didn’t take much to push you over the edge.  You gave another scream, your pussy clenching tight around his tongue.  To your embarrassment, you felt yourself squirt, making an even bigger mess than before.

Sans didn’t mind at all.  His tongue withdrew from your hole, slowly lapping over your folds, cleaning you off.

Savouring every drop.

“That was perfect, my angel,” he told you, lifting his skull from your thighs.  You could see that there was still some of your cream on his teeth.  It wouldn’t remain there for long.  As you watched he slowly licked them clean, winking at you.  “I rather enjoyed your sounds and taste.  Perhaps I should call you my chicken instead, because you are-”

“If you say I am finger-licking good, I will kick you in the skull and go home.” You warned him, your own face glowing bright red.

He gave another low, seductive chuckle, removing your legs from his shoulders and wrapping them around his waist instead.  “I’m sorry, angel.  I won’t say it.” he promised you.  He slowly kissed up your body, his eyes on you.  He gave a gentle nip to your neck, growling softly.  The heat had decreased slightly, you noticed, but he was still hot. “You are perfect,” he breathed to your ear.  “Absolutely perfect. Delicious and gorgeous and completely perfect.”

“You’re just saying that to get into my pants,” you replied to him, your breath catching in your throat nonetheless.  The skeleton had a skilled tongue – in more than one way.

Sans gave an amused chuckle into your neck.  He was doing his best to desperately kiss and nip all the skin that he could.  “Well considering that your pants are off already, I would say that I’m halfway there, my angel.”  His teeth just sank into your flesh, bruising and marking it. Marking you as his.

His angel.

And somehow those words just felt right.

You could feel that there was something brushing against your lips.  Something long and thick and very, very hard.  Slowly moving through your folds, gathering your moisture on it.  Looking down, you gulped.  Gone was the question on how skeletons mated. “Holy shit….” you murmured, looking down.  Sans’ cock was the same shade of blue as his tongue, though you supposed that you should have suspected that.  It was lined with small barbs, much like your favourite dildo back at the house.

He groaned as he humped through your folds, teasing your clit with it.  “What… ha… what do you think, my angel?  Do you think that it would please you?” he asked you. There was a small whine to his voice as he asked you, his need finally beginning to seep through.

“I think it would,” you panted back, hands gripping tight to his shoulder blades, your legs wrapping around his pelvis tighter.  You pulled him in for a deep, needy kiss, taking the time to really taste him.  He still tasted faintly of you and your juices, but there was an underlying current of something else.  Something almost sweet and ketchup-y? How odd.  You decided that you would ask him about that later.  For now, your mind was dominated by other thoughts as he pressed you into the ground.  And his body obviously desired yours.  His cock was pressing against your thigh, warm and thick and willing.  But still, he hesitated, not pushing into you. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. “Why are you holding back?”

Sans paused, looking over you.  “Your wings… would they be ok like this?  Bird wings are so fragile.  I won’t hurt them will I?”

It took a second before you understood.  Here you were, pinned to the ground, wings in the dirt and mud. “They will be fine,” you assured him, touching his cheek.  He was still so hot to the touch.  “They are much more durable than a normal bird’s wing.  They aren’t hair though, so don’t pull on them. I admit that I do like kinky things, some kinky things, but I cannot have you pulling on my wings.”

Understanding, Sans nodded in agreement, pressing tight to you in a deep kiss.  “No pulling on those beautiful wings, my angel,” he promised you.

Perhaps at any other time you would have been touched that he was so careful, so concerned. But his heat was beginning to affect you too.  Making you needy and wet and wanting, inpatient for him to begin.

“Come now, Sans. It’s time for you to worship your angel.”

The skeleton groaned loudly, recapturing your mouth with his, kissing you silent as he began to push deep inside of you.  As he stretched you out you were grateful that he took the time to prepare you for him. He was so thick, it felt like he was stretching you to your absolute limits.  And still he continued to push in. It burned slightly but it was nothing that you couldn’t handle.

You truly were a needy angel.

When at last it seemed like you couldn’t take another inch of him, that he had filled you completely and fully, at last he paused.  You took a shuddering breath, feeling your body adjust to his girth and his length.  He completely filled you.

At least you were having the same affect on him.  Sans groaned, resting his skull in between your neck and shoulder, shuddering so hard that you could hear the rattle of his bones.  “Stars,” he croaked.  “I’m sorry babe.  I… you’re so wet and slick.  So perfect. Almost like you were made just for me. I just pressed myself inside of you and I almost came.” He groaned again, giving your neck a gentle bite.  There was barely any pressure to his bite, his teeth just pressing to your skin. His hands settled to your sides, fully pinning you underneath him, but careful not to pull or press on your feathers. Still he stilled.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked him, feeling desperate.  You tightened your thighs around him, encouraging him.  “Come on and start moving already.  I need you too.  I need this”

This was all the invitation that Sans needed.  With a small groan, he began to move.  Pressing in and pulling out, slowly, carefully.  Slowly at first, allowing himself to adjust to you and your tight channel. He stretched you out in the most delicious of ways, his thick head rubbing against the walls of your slick pussy.  Your walls clenched desperately around him, seeking to pull him in deeper. He seemed to be under the same spell as you.  Pressing in as deep as he could and loathing to pull away.

But by God, those barbs of his!  They weren’t hard as you had originally thought, but soft and fleshy, moving with the curves and tightness of your body.  They didn’t hurt when they pressed in. Rather the opposite.  They added an added stimulation that had been missing from your life.  They rubbed against nerves that you didn’t know existed, playing with them and encouraging them to sing in ecstasy.  You kissed his neck, tasting his vertebrae.  Even his sweat didn’t taste like normal salty sweat. There was a sweetness to it, and a sensation that made your tongue tingle.  Sex with normal guys was officially ruined, you quickly realized. You could never go back to it. You would be always looking for more.

“God you’re perfect,” he whispered to your ear.  “Your pussy is swallowing me whole, taking my cock so well.  And I slide like butter!  My heat must be working on you too. How… how odd… How did I get so lucky to come across you tonight?  I… So lucky… You drive me crazy…. Y-your voice, your body, hell, even… even your wings. Everything about you is beautiful and perfect.”  His voice was thick and husky, whispering to your ears.  Groaning, you encouraged him on.  Slipping your hands around him, you pressed yourself closer to him.

Encouraged by your movements, he rocked his hips into you, harder, faster. Sinking deep into you. His mouth buried into your neck, groaning and kissing.  You could hear the deep wet sounds that your body made as he moved.

 * * * * *

“Erm. Babe? ��You still there?  Your mind is flying away from me.” Sans’ deep voice whispered to you as he interlocked his fingers with yours.  Blinking, you woke from your thoughts, turning to look at him.  His skull was tilted quizzically at you, his eye lights open and calm.  Oh right. You were settled beside him in one of the nearby diners that populated your small town. Papyrus and Undyne were seated across from the two of you, the both of them talking about some anime or the like that they had been watching together.  Probably trying to incorporate the fighting styles or signature moves of the characters to their impressive battle feats. “Come on, babe.  I’m beginning to feel a little bonely without you.”

You gave a little giggle, ignoring how Papyrus groaned at your ‘encouragement’ of your boyfriend’s puns.  He chose not to say anything more though.  Sans had changed a lot from the sweaty, awkward skeleton he was when you first met.  Although not as confident as the other two, he could hold his own conversation with other humans without breaking into an uncomfortable pun-fest.

“What were you thinking about?” Sans asked you quietly when Papyrus and Undyne returned to their anime conversation.  His eye lights were soft when they looked at you, warm and full of love? Appreciation?  Something…

“I was thinking about the first time we officially met.” You told him truthfully.  “How the stars in the sky twinkled down at us, how the wind felt blowing through my wings…”

Sans snorted at that, shaking his head as if in disbelief.  “If you were only thinking about the first time then I better up my game. Can’t have you getting bored of me. Have to make sure that our other times are just as memorable.”

Squeezing his hand, you kissed his cheek gently, enjoying the way that his cheeks still flushed with that slight blue as you did.  Knowing how much he liked to be held and hold you, you extended your wings around him, embracing him in them, muffling the outside noises.  It was like the two of you were in your own world.  “I could never be bored of you.  Because, tibia honest my love, my mind is never far from you.”

“Now you’re just ribbing me…”

“Hey now. An angel can never lie.  I was just thinking of that first night.  The two of us on the hill… how you said that I was finger-licking good.”

There was a loud groan from the opposite side of the table.  “HUMAN… I HAD HOPED THAT I WOULD NEVER HEAR SUCH INFORMATION REGARDING THE EXPLOITS THAT YOU AND MY BROTHER HAVE…”

“Oh come on, bro. Don’t tell me that you’re harping on us.”

“SANS I SWEAR TO ASGORE. IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP I WILL TAKE AWAY YOUR KETCHUP PRIVILEGES FOR A WEEK. NO, A MONTH!”

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Annie Kim, spotted prancing about in the Northwest Side. I remember seeing her with The Breakfast Club back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say manipulative and cold? Apparently now she spends time as a bartender at Dark Paradise Strip Club, and keeps skeletons buried at Bukdong Apartments, 601. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Eris; we missed you so.

TW: car accident, death

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

Chungha starts high school and soon everyone knows her name. She’s at the top of the class even though she seems to do nothing in class. Instead of taking notes and staying until late in the study rooms, she chews bubble gum and looks out of the window, plays with her dark locks or her pen, and she’s never seen in study sessions. Her weekends are spent hopping from party to party, a cigarette in one hand and a flask in the other. She rarely speaks, yet everyone seems drawn to her, everyone wants to see Kim Chungha, wants to know what’s the deal with her. She finds a few like-minded people, students who don’t ask questions and manage to keep their deeds under wraps, and they group up. Soon, rumours start going around, that there’s something going on in their group, that the relationships between them are fake, just a scam and that they’re all sleeping with each other behind their backs. Chungha doesn’t pay it much attention, prefers to ignore the annoying blogger who thinks she runs this town, and when people ask she just pops a gum bubble on their face and turns around with a smirk. Graduation cannot come soon enough, but it eventually does and Chungha leaves the place behind, never to be spoken of again.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

Since June 14th 2015, Kim Chungha doesn’t exist. Instead, there’s a girl called Annie Kim who looks and acts very much like her, but insists she’s not her. Annie is quiet yet she draws everyone in, her gaze and attitude enough to peak people’s interests. She’s very good at pretending to listen to you, and you’ll find that soon enough you’ll trust her with all your secrets, let all the walls you hold around you fall and open your heart to her. In exchange, Annie will give you a smile, perhaps a kiss if she’s bored, and make you feel like you’re loved and all your secrets are safe with her - but you’ll never know if they really are. As you get closer to her, your life will start spiralling down - perhaps you’ll lose your job, or your partner will leave you all on your own, and you’ll find comfort in telling her all about it. You’ll find her behind the bar at Dark Paradise strip club, and most times she’ll be more interesting than the people undressing in front of you and offering to give you lap dances. She’ll learn your order in no time, and will make you feel welcomed there no matter who you are or what you’re looking for, because she doesn’t really care. You’ll love her and give your all to her, but you’ll never get anything in return.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

Annie Kim wasn’t always Annie Kim. Once upon a time, her name was Kim Chungha, although not many know that.

Kim Chungha is born in a family that loves her, third child after her two brothers and the princess of the castle. Her parents and brothers spoil her rotten, giving her everything and anything she asks for. Dad is a detective for Seoul’s Metropolitan Police and mom takes time off her job as a primary school teacher to take care of little Chungha and her siblings. It’s all pretty and nice and sweet, and no problems arise. As far as childhood’s go, Chungha has a perfect one.

School starts and Kim Chungha quickly raises through the ranks, making the top of the class with ease. But she gets bored easily, and soon she finds more interesting things to entertain herself with. It starts with some mice being caught in the streets and kept in a box without food or water to see how long they survive. After a dozen of mice die this way, Chungha finds them boring too, their patterns predictable and routine now. Her brothers are the next targets: Chungha steals their snacks and toys without them noticing and observes with a poker face how they react. Humans are much more interesting than animals, Chungha decides.

By the time high school comes along, both her brothers and parents seem to have realized there’s something not quite right with Chungha, but none of them dare say anything, each of them thinking they’re the only ones that notice. She has them all wrapped around her fingers, and a simple movement of her dainty hand is enough to pull the strings and make them do whatever she wants.  

High school comes and goes fast, in a whirlwind of gossip, flings, rumours, lust and some more people dancing in Chungha’s hand. She graduates and soon decides that her parents’ house is boring, there’s nothing more for her there. The family lets her go, and soon that peaceful and warm feeling the house had been filled with before Chungha is back. She doesn’t call often, visits even less, but her parents still want to be an important part of her life. She’s fed up with it, doesn’t want them following their every movement all the time, and so she fakes her death.

With a bit of that innate ability she seems to have to cause mischief, she finds a girl that looks enough like her and gets her into a car crash, one with loads of damage and fire to burn her fingertips so no one can really identify her. Before the emergency services arrive, she rushes to the aid of the girl, only to steal her identification away and slip her own into the other’s pockets. When the paramedics arrive, she pretends to be an innocent passersby that was trying to help and is quickly dismissed. She watches the funeral they hold for Kim Chungha from afar, face hidden behind a mask and sunglasses and now-blonde hair under her cap. They don’t see her, their eyes too full with the tears they shed for their little baby girl.

With a new identity, Chungha becomes Annie, a girl who moved from a small town near Seattle to Seoul. When people ask, that’s all she tells. She burns her own fingertips and makes sure to avoid any place she was ever in before. She finds a job as a bartender and listens to the drunken woes of the clients as she prepares Martini’s and Bloody Mary’s. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s enough to pay the rent. Add onto that the few odd jobs done here and there, and Chungha - no, Annie can even afford cigarettes and a bottle of vodka always waiting for her back home.

[tyranttortoise]

Happy Birthday, Whisper!

Heeeeeyyy, today is @with-a-whisper‘s birthday, and I love her. <3   So enjoy a quick drabble.  Most of it’s under a cut.  I know mobile’s kinda been wonky with those lately.

Swapfell Papyrus / Reader ( SFW )

"hey darlin'.  what'll it be tonight?  another rum and coke, hold the rum?"

You can't help but grin as you slide onto the bar seat of you new favorite restaurant and prop your arms on the bar.  You had stumbled across this place by accident one day, when you were lost on the monster side of the city and ducked inside to both get your bearings and satisfy your growling stomach.  

You never expected it to be run entirely by skeleton monsters.

It had been an interesting evening, with enough excitement to bring you back on a weekly basis.  Of course, besides the entertainment that came from their strong personalities both clashing yet somehow seamlessly working together, one skeleton in particular had caught your eye.

Rus.

"Not tonight," you smugly claim and pull out your ID between two fingers.  Leaning over the bar in excitement, you inform him, "It's my birthday."

He plucks the ID from your fingers and studies it for a moment -- giving you a chance to study him.  He wore a crisp, black dress shirt and slacks, though the top button of his shirt has been left undone and his sleeves are rolled to expose his forearms..  Both his suspenders and his loose tie are a dark orange, the same color as the bright embers glowing within his eyesockets.  

His eyes flick up from your ID just in time to catch you staring, and his lazy smirk quirks up.  "finally old enough by human standards to see my magic at work.  congrats on another year of livin'."  He hand the plastic card back to you, and you quirk a brow.  That's a strange way to put it.

"Is that the monster way of saying happy birthday?"

"it is where i'm from," he replies simply, already in the process of gathering supplies behind the bar.  "ok, i'm gonna go easy on ya the first drink, see what you like."

"I can handle whatever you can dish out," you reply in challenge, which causes him to chuckle.

"sure, but it's no fun if you're sloppy drunk off the first one."

You watch him mix the drink, his fingers deftly moving.  He's wearing fingerless gloves, but from what you've been able to tell, the palms have a special grip to them to give him better grip on the glasses.  It allowed him to do his tricks with ease; he tosses a bottle behind his back with one hand, and then catches it with the other, all without ever taking his eyes off the task at hand.  

"Show-off," you mutter fondly, and he winks.

"whatever gets me tips."

On more than one occasion, you've come in to find money stuffed into the waistband of his pants or down the collar of his shirt.  You didn't realize so many people would be attracted to a skeleton monster, but he draws quite the crowd -- especially on ladies' night.  

As he directs that killer, carefree grin your way, slides the glass toward you, and leans in close over the bar, you realize that you're lopped right in there with them with wanting to jump his literal bones.  A warm flush creeps to your cheeks before you've even had a single sip.  

"it's a magic mojito."

"What's in it?" you question, picking up the glass and giving it a quick sniff.  It's minty in a subtle kind of way. Upon closer inspection, you also realize that the drink is faintly glowing; at first, you had thought it was just a trick of the low lighting at the bar.

"rum, syrup, mint, lime, and sea tea.  give it a sip."

Sea tea?  You've never heard of it, so maybe that explains the glow.  Holding his gaze, you lift the glass and take a long sip.  You can't taste the alcohol, but if you had to describe the drink, it would be cool and refreshing.  

"It's not what I expected," you admit as you lower the glass.  "But it's tasty."

"not much alcohol in that one, but don't worry, we're just gettin' started."  He smirks, turning to grab another bottle and then reach beneath the bar for more supplies.  You sip on your drink, enjoying the taste.

He mixes two liquids together, pours them into another canister, and then tosses it into the air.  It doesn't fall, instead levitating with a soft blue glow around it, turning end-over-end while he waves his finger in a lazy circle.  Your eyes light up at the display; you've seen him use magic plenty since you've started coming here and watching him work, but it never ceases to impress you.  

With a cocky smirk, he snaps his fingers and the shaker cracks open over the glass.  The concoction inside is a swirl of blue and green.  "murky waters," he clarifies as he pushes the drink in front of you.  As an afterthought, he garnishes it with a little umbrella that doesn't quite go with the glass but makes you laugh.  

You've finished your mojito, so you exchange your empty glass for the new one. "Yeah, because drinking murky water is really appealing," you quip before you take a sip. Something pops into your mouth from the drink and your eyes widen in surprise.  Your teeth sink into it, and you realize that it seems to be a blueberry with quite the strong taste.

"you never know what's lurkin' in murky waters," Rus comments with an amused chuckle, watching your expression carefully.  "in this case, it was a vodka-infused blueberry.  that one's got echoflower wine and crabapple beer, mixed with sours."

You could definitely taste the alcohol in this one.  Well, you did tell him to bring it on and step up his game.  "Now you're just trying to get me drunk," you teasingly accuse, while he just grins and shrugs a shoulder.

"just doin' my job, darlin'."

"How long have you been bartending?" you ask, while you sip this drink at a slower pace than the mojito.  You hadn't eaten much today, so your head is already starting to feel pleasantly buzzed.  

"not long.  jus' since m'lord wanted to open this place up."  You quirk a brow at the term m'lord.  You've met the owner of the establishment; he's a short skeleton with a loud mouth and an eye for perfectionism.  

"A relative, right?" you ask for clarification.  From what the friendliest of the waiters, Papyrus, told you, their skeleton crew consisted entirely of family.

"my bro, yeah," Rus nods.  

"And you hadn't bartended before that?"  You're surprised; he's a natural.

"nope.  completely self-taught.  guess it helps that i used to spend a lot of time at a bar.  heh, only then i was watchin' a spider monster sling drinks.  talk about a sleight of hand--she had six."

You'd like to see that, as much as the idea of a giant spider monster kinda-sorta creeps you out.  "Do they still bartend?"

"nah, not here.  they're a baker, i think.  it's not far from here actually, so if you ever see muffet's bakery, head inside.  though... maybe don't mention the bartending thing."  Before you can press him as to why you shouldn't, he leans in on the bar again, and you find yourself leaning forward.  Your second drink is half-gone, and you're feeling pretty damn good right about now.  Why, you're not even embarrassed to be looking him directly in the eyes.  His smirk widens, and your gaze drops to the eye-catching gold fang.  Somehow, that glimmer of gold just makes him seem more appealing.

"I like your gold tooth," you blurt suddenly, catching him by surprise.

Woah, are you drunk?  You're grinning like you're well on your way.  You face feels hot, but you're not completely mortified.

Rus nudges your glass closer to your hand.  "i'll make you all the cocktails ya want if you keep the flattery comin'.  but i'm about to go on a smoke break before m'lord does his rounds.  wanna come?"

One-on-one time with him without a bar between the two of you?  He doesn't have to ask you twice.  Nodding, you knock back the last of your drink and step off the barstool.  The world lurches slightly, and your face tingles a little; alcohol always seems to catch up with people when they first stand up, you've heard.  Rus gestures for you to follow him through the back, which leads through the kitchen, where an chef in a blue uniform is excitedly making entrees.  Another skeleton, about the same build as Rus but clad in an orange chef's jacket.  They both seem surprised to see you walking through with Rus--especially since you've snagged the crook of his elbow in your hand as he guides you through.

"RUS!  YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BRING CUSTOMERS THROUGH HERE!" the one in blue admonishes, though there's no real scold to his tone.  

"sorry, it's a birthday tour.  i've been mixin' birthday drinks, so i'm gonna take a smoke break real quick.  didn't want my little human to get lonely."  

The chef gasps.  "IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY?!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HUMAN!  WELL, SINCE IT'S A SPECIAL DAY, I CAN MAKE AN EXCEPTION!!"  

"Thanks!" you call back with a wave; Rus hasn't stopped moving through, so by the time you turn back around, he's guiding you out the back door and into the alley between buildings.  The air is chilly, so you find yourself pressing against his side for warmth.  Thankfully, he doesn't move away.  Instead, he just guides you to the wall and leans against it, fishing a cigarette and lighter from his pockets.

"I think you're the one that wanted the company," you tease, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt to warm them.

He lights the tip of his cigarette and it burns a dim purple.  It must be magic, you realize; you've never seen any other cigarette like it.  "caught me.  i gotta admit, it's been nice havin' you come around so much.  gives me somethin' to look forward to."  

He's got a lop-sided smirk with smoke curling between his fangs that makes your heart race.  You're not sure if he's just teasing you or not, but you take it as encouragement to rest your cheek on his shoulder while you watch the cigarette burn between his sharp teeth.  It doesn't smell like normal smoke, either; it has an undercurrent of spice, which is pleasant in the crisp air.

"Do you smoke a lot?" you wonder aloud.

Papyrus glances over at you, the cigarette dangling from his teeth.  He shrugs, though his expression morphs into a sharp-toothed smirk.  "nah, that's you.  smokin' hot."

You watch as smoke curls from between his teeth as he speaks, coming out in little tiny wisps.  The designs it creates are mesmerizing.

"Yeah, right," you snort, though that flush is back to your cheeks.  "What kind of cigarette is that?"  

"it's not like the human ones up here.  it's infused with magic," he explains. "it's not harmful like the human kind... though it's not like those hurt me, either.  i don't exactly have lungs. doesn't mean you don't take my breath away, though."  He tosses in a casual wink that has you blushing even harder and trying to bury your face in his shoulder.  He only chuckles.

"...I'd like to try it."

His eyesockets widen at your announcement, and he cranes his head to get a better look at your face. "didn't take you for a smoker."

"I'm not, but... you said it's not harmful like a human cigarette, right?  So what does it do?"

"hmm... it's just infused with magic," he claims, his index and third fingers coming up to cradle the cigarette between his teeth.  He inhales deeply, then exhales a purple cloud through his fangs.  "i dunno what kind of effect it'd have on a human.  it's mostly just energy to monsters, but this kind is a calming energy."    

"Well?  Can I try it?" you repeat your request, undaunted, and unwind one of your hands from his arm to hold it out to him.  He seems to mull it over for a moment, before he smirks and takes you hand in his, lacing your fingers together.  

"ok. but let's make it interesting... and remember to try not to swallow the smoke."  

You quirk an eyebrow as he takes in a deep inhale, then pulls the cigarette away from his teeth.  He bends down, and his hand moves from yours to cup your cheek and draw your face to his.  You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as your lips touch his teeth-- and he coaxes them apart with his fangs.  

The world spins in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

You feel him blow the smoke directly into your mouth, and you have to remind yourself not to inhale too deeply and swallow.  Instead, you hold the smoke in--which tastes strangely sweet and a little tangy, your gaze half-lidded.  

"now blow it out."

You comply, slowly forcing out a breath and watching purple smoke curl around Papyrus's features.  He smirks, still so close that you can feel the heat of his breath fanning against your face.  "well?"

You pause to assess yourself.  "I don't feel any different, but it tasted nice."

"might be the alcohol." H e shrugs a shoulder, nonplussed.  "wanna see if i taste any better?"

"Wha--"  You barely have time to process the question before he drops the cigarette and grinds it out beneath his shoe, and then moves to slide one hand into your hair and the other around your waist, pulling your body against his.  His teeth press back to your lips, which you instantly part in a surprised gasp, letting his tongue invade.  The coalesced magic that comprises it tastes like sweet, smoky barbeque sauce, and it tingles against your tongue.

Your hands come up to steady yourself, gripping onto his tie.  You've been longing for a chance to kiss him for over a month now -- but even with all the teasing and flirting that's gone on between the two of you, you never realized you'd be making out with the charismatic bartender in the back alley.

You're just drunk enough that you don't care; you're going to take advantage of the situation.  So, you kiss him back with abandon, tangling tongues and pressing your body flat against his.  You even stand on your tip-toes in an effort to get a better angle on the kiss.  

Just as you've moved, pushing him so his back hits the wall behind you in a surprisingly daring maneuver (sober you is either going to be proud of that or mortified), you hear someone clear their throat from the back door.

You jump away, guilty, but Rus's arms don't move.  He tilts his head while you hide your face in his chest.  

"could you maybe not take advantage of people in dark alleys, rus?” a low voice drawls, and you peek to spot the orange-clad chef standing there with a sucker stem bobbing between his teeth.  From his smirk, he seems more amused by the situation than scolding.  

“where’s the fun in that, stretch?”

“i hear you, but blue said to bring the human inside.  he’s got a surprise cooked up.”

Your mortification began to drain at the mention of a surprise.  You pull back, and attempt to straighten Rus’s tie to no avail.  Oh well.  He looks sexier that way.

“thanks darlin’.”  

Shit, you said that out loud.  You’ll never apologize for speaking the truth, so you just grin while he ushers you back into the door Stretch is holding open.  The other skeleton’s eyelights flick over you, and you feel like you’re being Judged, but Birthday You doesn’t give a fuck.

Inside, the blue-clad chef, turns to you with a broad grin.  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HUMAN!!”  There’s cake and puppydough ice cream on the counter.  The delirious grin that’s been on your face since Rus kissed you widens to the point that your cheeks hurt, and you thank the friendly skeleton and take a bite.  Rus grabs another spoon and helps himself, too.

He elbows you to get your attention, and when you glance up, he’s leaned over, ice cream smeared across his fangs.

“want some, darlin’?”

You elbow him lightly in the ribs and keep eating, while Blueberry exchanges a confused look with Stretch and Rus gives you a shit-eating grin.

[rosalia-the-guardian]

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一"N-nergh..." The feeling of stupor was very slowly wearing off as she tried to waken herself further. Her head was pounding and oddly felt stiff against whatever she was laying on, as did many parts of herself. Shifting was impossible as she found when the smallest turn of her head was resisted, and she quickly gave up when it tugged against her horn. Eyes opening at last, she stared into the dimly lit room where she was surrounded by statues while she herself was in the middle and standing upright.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一A tsking noise was heard off to her right, and while she couldn't see, the voice was immediately identified. "You waken far too quickly for your own good, my dear."

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一"....Milos." Yes, there were confusion and surprise, mixed with growing hurt when she started realizing that this was no prank. He planned this. The few months probably led them up to this point. She could see that he had done this many times for a lot of victims, as she could begin to pick out what she thought were rocky debris as skeletons in their stead. There were probably fifteen of them just in front of her.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一The pain of betrayal had already begun to harden to anger. "This is hardly what I would call a romantic endeavor." The Guardian was deliberately keeping her tone cool even as the man kicked a few bones out of his way to make his way to the front, a glint of metallic in his hand.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一"Ah, it's so refreshing to not have a screaming banshee as they realize their fate," Milos replied, his expression holding malice glee. "But gods are made of sterner stuff, I'd imagine. Isn't that right, my Rozalina?" Due to his heavy accent, he had first called her that until later on. It had been cute the first time all those months ago, but it was already grinding at her nerves.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一Again she suppressed her growing anger. "And I suppose you intend to find out. What have you done to all those before me?" The Guardian took note that he seemed a little off put by her lack of fright even as he swept his arm out, the dagger in his hand me visible now. It held runes and etched script in the blade, which had to mean it meant more than decorations.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一"All these creatures were failures to my research," he answered with an amiable tone. "There's not enough blood within them for real use. Even some of the more magical variant were of little use, no matter how long I kept them alive." Indeed there were more than human remains there; there were some lizard folk known as scalazi on this world, and others she hadn't known as of yet.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一Milos turned back to her, dagger held higher. "Blood is the most crucial ingredient needed for turning myself immortal. All these had done were extend my lifeforce and kept me young. So not entirely wasteful, but disappointing nonetheless." He gave a wicked smirk. "You were the breakthrough I needed. Golden blood flows in you, something that should hold the key. But you were also the hardest catch to draw in. You leaving would make all that time wasted."

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一"That would explain you desperately convincing me to have one last meal together," she finished for him, still tasting that sharp bitter taste she had from her drink. It was heavily drugged, though he didn't count on her ability to purge her system so quickly by her own natural magic. Even now she could feel it rapidly disappearing, though he took great pains to have her immobilized. Now that her senses were returning, she could feel her feathers twisted and pressed down against her muscles where manacles were bound around the joints, keeping them outstretched and stiff behind her, and the cold links around the base of her horn where it was then wrapped around to hold her head flat against her support.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一Milos laughed, brushing the blade along her stomach though the laughter died when she didn't so much as flinch. He had always been weary around her when she didn't react the way he expected her. But he was cocky, so sure of his position. "We'll be able to spend much more time together after this ritual. I don't intend to try and kill such a pretty goddess, even if it were possible. You have a far more resilient nature, a system that us mere mortals can't hope to have without such help. Who knows, perhaps I'll have to do this on a regular basis to retain my new status. You'll be the eternal fountain for my rituals and magic."

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一Beyond him, where the shadows were at their darkest, a figure melted into view of the Guardian, one that is all too familiar. Dea, watching silently from where she materialized even as she knew she caught Rosalia's attention. There were no indication that she planned to help. That alone made the Rebirth's anger to boiling point, though not enough to fail and realize that there were something else that Dea held almost gingerly in her hands; a small crystal mirror.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一"You are very much mistaken." This time, her voice held a hint of anger. It seemed to amuse the man as he regarded her, the dagger still held against her bare skin.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一"Am I? I've had years to research how to hold even gods captive, and I've only used the best magic for you. Your essence is held as tightly as the chains upon you, unable to shift out of them. They who hold the majority of the gods' essence can keep them imprisoned." The blade began to slide along the skin, a warm gush beginning to flow as the action caused cold sweat to form, the Guardian unable to restrain that intake hiss from the sharp cut. Pain was not new, nor deliberate ones like this, but it still hurt. "The containment spells were perfected just for you."

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一She could feel her wound itching as it already started healing even without her help, though it was slowed by whatever magic the dagger was inscribed with. Several drops had slid down her skin. But she was not going to stay here any longer. "I am not one of your world's gods." Drawing in energy from the earth around her, Rosalia shook off the remains of the drugs and reached deep into her powers. The earth trembled beneath them.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一"What in the..." Milos took a step back, his expression no longer one of triumph. "Your magic should have been sealed along with your essence!"

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一The support turned out to be carved stone, which she gladly used to her will as she caused it to shift, the chains only a hindrance until the stone was used to snap links apart. Limbs were freed all at once, and the chains fell away as she wretched the set from around her head. "Milos Tunik, you have caused great misfortune to many who fell before your selfish desires.” The ground beneath his feet was liquefying before he had a chance to make a move, sinking him down to his knees before she willed the stone to solidify once more.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一Raising a hand toward Dea, the crystal mirror flew toward her to hover over her slim digits, barely missing the man’s face when he had tried to follow her gaze but still seeing nothing in the shadows. “May Fayte judge your actions.”

⊰👁⊱一The mirror shimmered before a reflection began to take shape within the surface, revealing a young woman of gentle emerald-colored hair, her golden eyes piercing through the man’s own. 

⊰👁⊱一”The course of fifty-two years has brought the total of twenty-eight victims. Your most recent, Trina Hyru, had a great destiny that would have brought a great time of peace to your warring kingdoms. Her death had only inflamed the war and countless had been lost to the struggle when it could have been prevented. In committing these acts and evading your natural course, you are found GUILTY.”

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一Milos struggled with the floor, the dagger chipping at the stone with little effect even as he felt sweat drenching his face. “You’re... you have no right to pass judgement. You’re not even gods of this world!” His mind was whirling from all this information being stated, trying to grasp at something that would render them powerless before him. His longer life was not meant to end here.

≾⚖≿一The silent figure watching from the shadows finally stepped forward, her boots ringing through the room with such force that it caused the man to cease his struggle. It seemed the temperature had suddenly dropped by ten degrees. “Nor were you meant to live this long, Milos Tunik. Your story was meant to end fifty-three years ago. For evading your death and causing me more trouble, as well as your crimes, you are hereby marked for the Second Circle of Infernam when you were originally meant for the Sixth Circle.” Her hand pressed against the back of Milos’ head before he had time to react, the man’s scream as the searing cold engulfed him while his lifeforce was forcibly ejected from his body echoing the room for only a few seconds until the life was pulled from his rapidly disintegrating body. Dea’s hand closed around the soul orb and clenched her fingers around it, her would-be eyes watching the ashes fall to the ground.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一Even though this was necessary, Rosalia had to focus her attention elsewhere and forced herself to instead concentrate on the wound on her stomach, even as she closed her eyes to the sound of Milos’ screams and felt the dull ache at the base of her horn. Yet the hurt still remained. 

≾⚖≿一”It’s done.” Dea meanwhile was all business, the spirit orb sent directly to Infernam with the flash of energy where it could be judged properly. Pulling out her shades to carefully fit back over her eyes, the Death Guardian turned away while the crystal mirror returned to her possession. “...think it’s still worth it, Rosalia?” she commented even as she opened a shadowy vortex to return her to their dimension. Without waiting for a response, she stepped through it, the portal closing behind her with deliberation.

Ʒ🕁Ƹ一Which was fine by the Rebirth Guardian; there was no answer to give.

[kzbrandt]

The Encounter

The Encounter

 “Oh, come on girl, have another drink with me, we’re practically sisters. This is the only therapy I’ll pay for!” A wonderfully golden angel whipped her hair, only swaying slightly. It would take more than imported wine for this Tabian to succumb. Estrid was as strong as she was beautiful, and how she loved to spread that beauty around.

    Just outside the rustic, sand-bar, majestic waves could be heard slapping the shore of Hexía. Taboo was particularly alluring tonight. A fushia sky was dazzling with bright blue stars, scattered aimlessly.

    “Fine, but only one more. Two more gauntlet’s please! Oh, Esie, does life ever feel boring to you, just too dry for the tongue to tolerate?”

    “Every day I feel feverish, sick with longing-- to spread my legs and welcome newcomers!” Giggling, fighting the urge to hiccup, she laughed away the serious tone.

    Why did Asna always bring down the party, she thought? Wasn’t it easier to drink the divine nectar the trees provided and forget about such things.

    Asna-Tove had an elegant appearance that many noticed, especially Skarde, who found her irresistible since adolescence. Of course, from time to time, she noticed his cleft chin and burly muscles, most fitting for a hunter and collector of sorts. Even with his comeliness, something was missing, that spark that kindled undeniable chemistry.

    Everyone in Taboo knew of The Great Lovers of the Sky, even those in the Hexían Isles observed the Lovers Eclipse once a year, it was a long recognized tradition. Asna thought of the Sun-Goddess often. Tabian’s loved to drink to their founders' union but couldn't seem to recall anything more than the trivial motions of the holiday.  Questions were always whispered within the solemn woman's mind. Her thoughts stretched farther than just drink and merry-making. All that was left of their history was how Síandra and Lunach united Taboo against a great storm, and then nothing…. Nobody around her seemed to care or even realize the obvious plot-holes. What ever happened to their King And Queen?

    Interrupted by her childhood friend sliding into the stool next to her, she got a good look at his rough but debonair complexion. Even with a scratched up face, he was impressive, rough but gentle, he deeply desired to know the inner workings of her heart.

    “Evening Asna, looking especially somber this moon, care to confess anything?”

    “Just feeling a little out of place, I guess.”

    “Impossible.”

    “What?”

    “I look at you and see how perfect you fit my eyes, no displacement could ever exist.”  

    “Do you ever tire of such flattery?”

    “Never.”

    Looking down at her fair hands and curved fingernails, she felt guilt and bewilderment. Heavy of heart, she would never be able to return his affection and blind to what he saw in her, when all others saw only the freak, the outlander.

    “Choose a hand,” he implored.

    “Okay, I’ll play, um...left,” When Skarde opened his hand, he revealed a priceless treasure, a lost trinket of old. Swaddled in an intricate piece of embroidery, there was a story sewn, but much...much older. Hidden inside was the solidified heart of an ashen monarch, one who had fallen out of all memory.

    “What is it?”

    “This is all that remains of The Skeleton King. I found his long lost temple, full of spectacular treasures of history, all untouched. Look at this fabric, it tells of a time before our Great Lover’s of the Sky, before Síandra, the birthing tree’s chose another. From the cryptic text and encryptions, this stone once drummed in his chest, now glistening as a precious jewel. I brought it for you. I strung some silver so you might wear it, if you so desired…”

    “Skarde, it’s so wonderful, I love it. You must tell me more!”

    “I’ll do you one better, come with me and see for yourself. There is still life left to this night,” guiding with his calloused and rough hand, he beckoned her.  Unable to resist Asna-Tove followed Skarde to the outskirts of Hexía where no one dared to venture, only thrill seekers and fools came here under the stroke of moonlight.

    For the first time in years, she with raven of hair and violet of eye, felt her soul surge with excitement. Finally a moment impregnated with more than pointless filler, a moment worth living for. Soon the pair came to an unnatural jungle in the middle of the desert.  Had she seen this before, it seemed to appear out of nowhere.

    “I’ve lived here my whole life and not once remember such vegetation?”

    “It’s that ruby necklace that dangles around your neck, while in possession of it, I too saw what hides in plain sight. Without it, I can only see dunes for miles.”

    “Amazing,” fondling the heavy jewel, her peach fingertips tingled, sensing something more, something forgotten. “Tell me more about the Skeleton King.”

    “Well my fair lady, I know his tale is old, known now to only the few, he ruled all of Taboo. Ancient beasts prowled undisturbed, honoring his reign. None could defy him, both tyrant and lover, he was supreme. As great as he was, there was hatred and envy that hungered, ready to pounce. The Skeleton King loved only one and this was his weakness. The rest is too cryptic to make sense of from the ancient scrolls, hopefully this will be rectified shortly. I need to find out more, I shan’t be denied, heavy on drink, I'm an unstoppable force!”

    “Hysterical more like.”

    As giant ferns and towering trees were lush with dense foliage, the evening wind was crisp and refreshing. Enveloped within her own thoughts, Asna took note of scattered boulders forming in the shadow of the underbrush. Brick by brick a temple of old was welcoming them, taking all the attention for itself. The necklace grew warm around the young woman’s milky clavicle, but she barely felt anything beyond the perplexity that engulfed her mind.

    This place seemed so familiar, but how could such a thing be possible? The ruins barely crumbled, wearing three thousand years very well. Befuddled and mesmerized Asna-Tove traced old carvings, barely able to make it out.

Beyond lies the tomb of the Skeleton King, only what was lost will resurrect what is to come.

    As if a vale was pulled back, she went down a dark unlit corridor and descended into a spiral of stairs that seemed endless, by the thousands they delved into the ominous deep. Walking until the hardened heart of the fallen king glowed with life once again, she came upon the phantom from her dreams.

_______________________________________________________

  A few kilometres west, Skarde had found a quite intricately carved picture of times past, “With her death, he could not sustain his own life force and fell to ashes with only his beating heart left behind, soon solidified, and perfectly cut. Only when she returns, raven of hair and violet of eye, will he breathe again…” Staring at the picture sculpted into the rock, it had a striking resemblance to his secretly admired.

    It couldn’t be, could it?  Searching for a name, he desperately looked to ail the worry in his chest. Below, one line was written:

AsnaTov the light to his darkness, forever may he reign.

    “No… It can’t be?”

__________________________________________________________

    “You… This is impossible. You can’t be real, just a fantasy, yet here you are. So beautiful, just like ice.”

    As she went to withdraw her hand suddenly it was halted mid-air. Once cold dead eyes now smoldered ferociously red, ignited once more. As his bony hand glided cooly across her cheek, she should’ve been terrified, but an unfamiliar sensation coarsed through her veins. Had Asna-Tove been dead all this time, only to draw breath when he was with her once again? What was happening, she thought somewhere in the back of her mind, amidst a dense, impenetrable fog.

“AsnaTov, light of my life, I’ve been waiting for you…”

ᔓKZBrandtᔕ

[poipoi1912]

As a fan of your writing (I’ve read all your barisi fics several times over), I’m always reading your fic update posts and tags. If you don’t mind me asking (and apologies if you’ve asked this before) but what is your fic writing process like?

First ofall, thank you so much! I appreciate your message, and I’m happy you enjoy myfics. I have to say, as a latecomer to writing, it’s still so heartwarming tosee others having this reaction to my stories, because I spent so many years beinga reader and having these exact reactions to other people’s stories. It’s just…lovely. So thank you.

As for mywriting process, well, it could use some improvement, clearly D:

I wouldbreak it down into two distinct categories:

When I’m Struggling

If I’mfeeling uninspired of blocked, I do one of two things:

Open up arandom document and start writing nonsense, usually dialogue-only, until a linejumps at me and I think “this is worth building a story around,” if that makessense. Lines of dialogue are the driving force of my stories, more than plot. Atleast when it comes to my standalone stories/episode tags.

Or,

Stopwriting. Take a break, go outside, see friends, binge a random show, watch amovie, read a book or a fic from another fandom. Any one of those things cangive me inspiration, because Barisi is always in the back of my mind. It mighttake a while, but it’ll come. I actually find that I’m particularly energizedafter a break, so I’ve mostly stopped feeling guilty and now I simply embrace these periodsof inactivity. Instead of blaming myself and thinking I’m letting you all down,I focus on the fact I’ll feel refreshed and more creative when I return.

When I’m On A Roll

Oh boy. Wheredo I start?

Episode Tags

When itcomes to my episode tags, or even my shorter standalone stories, I do what Idescribed above, even when I’m not blocked. I just write dialogue, and I tryto come up with a vague setting (Barba’s office, the precinct, a bar, Sonny’splace, etc). That’s all I start with. Words and a place. I write whatever comesto mind, even skipping scenes and moving to the next setting, and writing evenmore dialogue. That’s always the skeleton of my shorter stories.

As I write,as the lines just pop in my head, I tend to find the “purpose” of the story,and that’s also when I pick the POV, depending on that purpose. Maybe it’s Barbarealizing his feelings, maybe it’s Sonny expressing his feelings, maybe they’realready together but they take the next step, maybe one of them needs toprocess a painful experience related to a case, maybe they both need toexplain. Whatever it is, it stems from the dialogue, and I never have it when Istart writing. It eventually manifests itself, lol.

After I’mdone with my long long dialogue bits,I go back and fill in the blanks. I fuss over the opening, every time, and Itry to keep it dynamic (it’s usually a line, in fact). I want it to beeye-catching and to immediately grab you and transport you into the story, evenas you’re missing vital pieces of information (like the setting, which I tendto reveal later on). Speaking of the setting, at this stage I also sketch outthe physical details, like what they’re wearing (coats if they’re outdoors,just shirts and vests if they’re indoors, rolled up sleeves if they’re at abar, etc), or what they’re doing (are they sitting? Standing? Walkingtogether?), so I can make the story more illustrative.

Then, I goover what I have but this time I focus on describing Sonny and Rafael’sfeelings and expressions, in-between all that dialogue. Their smiles, theirfrowns, their sighs. I expand on the feelings (or inner thoughts) of the POVcharacter, and I describe the facial expressions of the other character, as thePOV character perceives them (which could lead to misunderstandings, or lovely realizations).I find that makes the dialogue a little more vibrant. I don’t want you to justhear their voices, I want you to see their faces as they speak.

Then, I goover the whole thing again and add context. Backstory. Feels. Angst. Dependingon the scenario (an established relationship, a first time, pre-slash, etc), Ialter the tone of the expository paragraphs to better match the overall purposeof the story, and the vibe between Sonny and Rafael in that particular moment in time.Sometimes I’ll add fictional flashbacks, sometimes I’ll add canon references whichbring out new feelings, sometimes I’ll let my POV character go off on atangent. I find that enriches the story, having a better grip on the maincharacter and their state of mind, as well as having a better handle on the connectionbetween the main pairing.

Then, I goover the story again, and I try tofind key phrases to repeat/sprinkle throughout. I love overusing repetition tohighlight emotion. Either because the POV character is stuck on a particular thought,or because they’re single-minded about a particular goal (like love). I try touse repetition to draw out an emotional response from you as well, so you canall feel the exact same thing the POV character does. To them, it’s a randomthought they can’t get out of their heads, and to you it’s a literary device tobetter describe their obsession.

Then, about2 minutes before I post a story, I come up with the ending. I never even botheranymore, I just use a placeholder ending because I know I’ll change it when I’mdone. My endings tend to be a little more, for lack of a better word, poetic (ifnot pretentious lol, which kinda is a better word). I just start typing and letit happen. Whatever comes out, structure and proper syntax be damned. That said, I do always try to leave my stories withan ending-slash-beginning. Not exactly open-ended, but open. Opening a door tothe future, if you will, so you can all imagine what happens next.

Tosummarize: I write the dialogue first, then I find the angle and pick a POV,then I fill in the blanks with descriptions of emotions and expressions andplaces, then I fill in the backstory, and then I write a random emotionalending using repetition, my favorite trope :D

Longer Stories

Oooooh boy.

This iswhere the trouble starts.

I writenotes. Notes upon notes upon notes. Usually on my phone, because inspirationtends to strike when I’m on the go. I tell myself “for the next 2 weeks, I’ll justwrite down anything that comes to mind about this particular story.” It doesn’thave to be connected or even coherent. Anything goes. Sometimes I’ll write acrisp 3K in one sitting, sometimes I’ll come up with a single line of dialogue,sometimes I’ll come up with a rough draft for a scene, sometimes I’ll come upwith the actual ending, sometimes I’ll just write dialogue for 3 days straight,sometimes I’ll come up with a plot idea.

See, thelonger stories need to have a plot. And plot twists. The purpose can’t just bean emotion. It needs to be something bigger, a change in the characters’ lives,or careers, or relationships. It needs to have multiple settings, and (sort of)equal parts dialogue and prose, and it needs to be more intricate and interesting throughout,so it doesn’t drag. And, if it’s part of a series, it needs to reference theprevious parts and feel like a natural continuation, both in terms of thecharacterization and the plot. All of that means that longer stories are harderto write.

But it alsomeans that I have more leeway to come up with different and new ideas, andincorporate more of my favorite tropes, and go deeper into characterization ina way only a longer story would allow, and build an actual world, a smalluniverse with its own rules, a universe in which I have to be just as loyal toSVU canon as I have to be loyal to my own versions of these characters, so Ithink the good outweighs the bad :D

Aaaanyway,after I have my notes (which are usually around 20/30K, no lie), I take a fewdays to copy-paste them into one huge document. Then, I arrange themchronologically. Roughly, at first, I try to put them in order, as they would logicallyoccur (for instance, if I’m writing, say, a wedding fic, I put the announcementfirst, and the rehearsal dinner later, and the honeymoon even later, etc, andthis is all hypothetical of course). That gives me a basic outline of thestory.

Using thatoutline, I again fill in the blanks. I separate the notes intosections-slash-scenes, and I find the setting for each scene. I find ways toconnect these scenes, either with a fun segue or just with a fade to black lol,so the entire story is coherent. I might have to rearrange something, or even chuck it to the “Unsorted” section in the end, if I can’t figure it out right then. At this point,I also re-read the entirety of my notes and do little edits/touch-ups, by adding moredialogue, or putting a new character in a previously written scene, etc etc.

Once I’mdone, I have a very detailed and specific outline.

And then Istare at that outline for like 2 months without writing a single thing :D

That’s thescary part. Actually writing the story. A story for which I have thousands uponthousands of notes. A story whose ending I’ve already written. And it is not easy,lol.

Again, I tend to fuss over the opening, to the point of debilitating uncertainty. After that, I might get going and write several thousands of words, butI also might get stuck and write nothing for weeks. At that point, I’ll usuallyskip a part/scene, and write the next thing that comes easily to me, just toget the ball rolling. Then, after I feel a little more inspired, I might goback and complete what I missed.

I have aterrible habit of re-reading and editing what I already wrote about a million times,which unnecessarily lengthens the entire process (and sometimes even preventsme from writing anything new), but I lie to myself and pretend that’s okay,because when I’m done with a story I am DONE. I don’t have to do an intensere-read/edit of the whole thing because I’ve already done it, in smallerincrements. I just do a final read-through and change a word or three. So that’sgood (no it’s not).

To summarize: NOTESSSSSSS

Seriously though, at best, I’llsit down and give in and let my inspiration guide me. I’ll just write and writeand write, mostly dialogue (because the rest can be added later), until I havesomething real I can use. Or, I’ll come up with a smaller outline for a scene,hitting specific “marks” until I get it where I want it. That’s also useful,because the next day I can just add more details and lines and make it work.

At worst(at worst when I’m still inspired, I mean, because the literal worst is “nowriting at all”), I’ll re-read the last 5K I wrote, and I’ll keep tweaking it,and I’ll get stuck on a particular paragraph for like 2 hours, and then I’llhave no more time to write and I’ll be left with nothing more than a needless rewrite ofthe work I did in the previous 4 days :D

Eventually(no but eventuallyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, like 2 years later) I tend to get really caughtup in the story and it begins to consume me and I feel compelled to finish it.For you all, but also for my own sanity. So I sit down and devote myself to itand do nothing else until it’s done.

And then Ipost the story and sleep for 3 days.

So yeah.

In Conclusion

It can be astruggle. And that’s without taking real life into account. There are wholeweeks when I’m not sleeping well, and I’m too busy, and writing gives me aheadache. And then there are weeks when I’m totally stressed and the only thingthat brings me joy is writing. There’s no explanation or reason. Some days I’ll wake up and start typing ideas on my phone before I’ve even really opened my eyes, and some days I’ll procrastinate and leave a word document open for 2 hours with nothing to show for it.

Generally I try to go with the flow, and only push myself when a breakthrough is in sight, if that makes sense, otherwise my writing can feel forced. I’m also not afraid to totally discard some stories, because I don’t want to write for the sake of writing. I want each little story to have a reason to exist, at least in my head. I also tend to allow myself some periods ofinactivity no shit lol, and I use them to recharge (creatively but also physically).

But Ialways come back

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, C! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE DEVIL with the faceclaim of MAHESH JADU. Getting to read your application was truly -- genuinely -- a gift. A treat! A joy! You touched on everything I could have wanted in an app for The Devil, from the way their body is in need of constant repair to how at its core, their loyalty is selfish, but selfish for a reason that is so incredibly human it makes you want to weep. Wraith (what a fitting name) embodied a terror, I think, befitting a spymaster, and I fully believe that they are good at what they do. I both empathize with and fear their power. I think your exploration of the void as a concept was also fascinating, and I was so happy to see you take it into your own hands and make it yours! You’ve done me a great service by letting me get to have you and them on the dashboard.

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OOC NAME: C PRONOUNS: they/them AGE: 27 TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST; my activity is pretty consistent—I’m around on Discord most of the time, and I will generally do all of my replies 3 times a week or so ANYTHING ELSE?: this group looks so wonderful! I’ve been longing for a good fantasy rp and this is so well done, so thank you!

IN CHARACTER SKELETON: the Devil NAME: Wraith ( among a half-dozen others. It’s not so much a name as a quick referent, a summons. they don’t need a name to answer when called. they had a real name, once, years ago; they don’t remember it anymore. a name their mother gave them, a name their mother spat into the ground. not the name of a child, but the name of a well-honed, well-balanced blade. they gave it up, when they went to court. it was a split-second decision, when the king asked them their name, and instead of giving the one that someone else had branded them with, they answered: my Lord, I am nothing but a wraith ) FACECLAIM: Mahesh Jadu (backups: Sacha Dhawan or Mena Massoud - though I would age the character down to 28 in Mena’s case) AGE: 35 --  ( it’s old, for an inferni; there’s no reason they should be alive anymore by all accounts, but Wraith’s magic isn’t quite as actively destructive as that of many inferni. still, it would be a lie to say the magic isn’t taking its toll. it has called in its dark favor from them time and again: first, three fingers of their left hand, now empty space; then, a part of their jaw, reconstructed for them by a court necromancer out of someone else’s bone; these days, it isn’t so much that parts of their body are going missing as their very material form seems to take longer and longer to take shape each time they move, and sometimes it is as if they aren’t anything more substantial than dark smoke unfurling, as if they themself are slowly being consumed by the void they fall through again and again. ) DETAILS: The thing that fascinates me most about The Devil is the way they seem to have traded one cage for another, one wielder from another, doing the same thing at the hands of a different master. “You are not an animal . . . You’ll show her just how beast like you can be.” There’s a layer, there, of absolute self-denial, a kind of self-obliteration in the pursuit of their vengeance. There’s something very pragmatic about them, very focused: the position is a tool, too, not something they delight in except in what it gets them. I feel like “spymaster” characters are always written as characters who delight in gossip and the abuse of information, but the Devil is such a refreshing change from that trope, in that way. I also love the complexity of their feelings about Septimus: an acknowledgement, that he is a fool, an understanding that he is a bad leader, perhaps even an understanding that he deserves to be overthrown, and yet a deliberate allegiance to him in the moment because it serves them, because it grants them power in a way they crave that power. I think there’s a sense, in that loyalty, that it is better to be an animal caged by the kind of fool who forgets to latch the gate at night; there’s a sense that if it came down to it, they could outsmart Septimus and escape him, a deliberate choice to serve a master they could overpower if they needed to. That’s what makes the difference, between their mother and Septimus, between serving one over the other: they feel that with Septimus, they are really the one in control. BACKGROUND: ( trigger warnings: sexist slurs, abuse, injury, body horror ) The first time they fall, it is an accident. Schoolyard bullies have them cornered—they’re scrawny, for their ages, and their mother is alone and poor, the kind of woman to whom vicious gossip clings. What about you? one of the kids asks, bigger than them by nearly threefold, and reeking. Are you a whore like your mother, too? Let’s see what you— One moment, the kid is in front of them and the next there is nothing but black, a void around them, empty of everything, utterly. Of light, of beings, of sensation. Of time. It feels like they are falling for an hour, but when they hit the ground, ten feet behind the boys who were cornering them, smoldering slightly with thick black smoke, it has been less than a second. Time accelerates, then, as if to make up for it: there are screams of fear, looks of terror, and the next thing they know they are choking on the ground, their mother’s hand gripped around their throat. What did you do? What did you do and how did you do it? They can’t answer her, they don’t know. They’ve never known magic before, never done anything but fear it before. Time accelerates again, between each jump, each fall. The moments between the void blur. In the void, they feel grounded in their body. When they land, they feel detached. They press into small corners, fold their body small, overhear what they can. They report back. Some days their mother cradles their hair, rakes sharp-nailed fingers through it until she draws blood. Some days she locks their door and leaves, an understanding between them both that if they fall, to get out, the punishment will be much, much worse. Some days they go without food, some days they are left so aching and bruised they can barely hang onto the rafters to listen. There are only two constants: one, that each day ends with information, shared to their mother, measured, weighted, judged; two, that the time they spend in the void, brief and silent and perfect, makes the rest somehow bearable. The crack, the split, the seam, the breaking point. It comes one day, as they are coughing blood onto the floor. Someone knows, she shouts. Someone knows about you, you filth, you rat, you traitor. Who did you tell? Who have you told? They haven’t told anyone; someone planted information, leaked deliberately within earshot, somewhere they shouldn’t have been. Someone had grown suspicious at how much their mother knew, how much power it afforded her, and someone conspired to use them to take her down. She beats them bloody, leaves scars they’ll bare for the rest of their life, but she forgets one thing, in her attempt to reign them in. She forgets, because they have never used it against her, that they can fall. They let themself spend hours, in the void, before deciding where to go. The cuts in their skin, the breaks in their bones fill, with the black smoke of it, as they float there, falling. Like a new womb, it wraps its cold smoke around them and births them anew. They don’t think they’re going to appear inside the castle walls. They don’t have to think. It decides for them. ( this is the part of the story that precedes them, the part that has already been told: a young inferni, barely sixteen, appears before the King, begs for entrance three times, one week upon the next upon the next. disappears in a cloud of smoke and returns with a blade of grass from Wyvern-Wing plains. returns with a hand full of the pink sands of the Eastern coast. returns with a midnight-blue flower from deep within the Volkan forest. though they only needed one, to convince him. when asked their name, they say my Lord, I am nothing but a wraith ) Nicknames come easily, when they forsake a true name of their own. Not just wraith, but others: raven, ghost, wolf, snake. It doesn’t mean anything to them; they are accustomed to being a beast. Their reputation for lurking in corners, unseen, leads at first to rapid mistrust, suspicion, extra precaution. Royals are no more secretive than ordinary folk, except that they have more resources, hold their secrets more precious even when they are as banal as all the rest. So the charm is something they have to learn, something they have to socialize themself to. Talented or not, no one can survive in court without learning how to talk the right way. They may not need charm, or gold, or anything but magic to get the information they need to please the King, but that does not mean that the rest of the court is as easily content. There are patterns to learn, rivalries to steer clear of, delicate spots not to aggravate; they are a quick study. It is the same survival instinct that saw them bend like a reed to their mother’s hand. Cross the wrong person, and you are as good as dead. And so they don’t. They make few friends, and make the illusion of many: trust no one, but give them all reason to believe they trust you. They learn, they work, they excel. Secrets no one should know. Priceless ones no bribe is enough to uncover. They spend their days shuttling back and forth between the court and wherever they need to do, compiling reports by day, hiding in dark corners by night. As constant as the cool embrace of the void. And then, one day, their magic has its first cost: they appear before the king and look to find three fingers missing from their left hand, only the thumb and index finger left. No scarring left in their wake, as if they were never there to begin with. Months later, it is half their jaw they leave behind, and though a court necromancer shapes shards of someone else’s bone into a replacement and seals it under their skin, it is then that they begin to wear the mask they grow infamous for—the new jaw may sit fine and prettily in their face, but it will not be the last piece of themself they lose to the void. That it means they rarely see their own face, inhuman to them and unfamiliar, with its new bone structure, is a consideration as well, but one they will not admit to. That it means they never glimpse the lingering furl of black smoke in their own eyes is not something they will say aloud. PLOT IDEAS: 1. What is the void, they think, but a manifestation of the Undying’s embrace? Some might think it heresy, but their quiet, private reverence, their silent faith is a comfort to them. The void was a womb, to them, reborn and cloaked in black. They do not adhere to the tenets of organized worship of the Undying, but they think of her as a second mother of sorts, a relationship far more personal than by all accounts they should. They think she holds them close, every time they fall. But this private zealotry, this silent dedication, might raise the hackles of those who find the organized worship of temples and priests the only true way to understand faith. It might cast suspicion on them, or make them enemies in high places they have no interest in placating. 2. Sometimes it takes several seconds, for their body to fully materialize after they leave the void. Sometimes, it takes days. Sometimes, lately, they walk around more ghost than body, black cloaks and masks the only thing giving them form at all. They are close, they feel, so close, to getting what they want, but there is a risk, razor-sharp, that they will disappear entirely when it is just at their fingertips. Inferni aren’t meant to live so long, after all, are supposed to burn out in chaotic destruction, their own bodies traded for the magic they wield. But other inferni have lived as long, other magic users have found ways to circumvent the cost of their gifts. And if anyone can find the ones who have, can learn how they have done it, it is the wraith who knows all secrets. 3. They have heard so much talk of coups, in the intel they collect, the gossip they confirm. It seems everybody wants to be a part of a coup, at some point or another. Revolutionary aspirations have never been their cup of tea. Their work shelters them; the King provides everything they need. But they stand as a valuable resource, to either side, and while they are loyal to their king now, it is not out of any love for man nor nation. It is out of a loyalty to power, a loyalty to access, a loyalty to usefulness. If they were to receive a better offer, if the tides were to shift, just so, if there was a way to assure that someone else could keep them alive…  they could find themself falling to the other side, or at least playing the field for both. Their dedication to the King is dedication to a fool whose power serves their needs; that doesn’t mean the Hierophant doesn’t have a point about the way magic could be used. Hungry dogs are never loyal, after all, and though the King has kept them well-fed, some masters offer crumbs and others steaks. CHARACTER DEATH: I’m absolutely fine with the possibility of them dying, and I look forward to the idea of playing/plotting a new character to replace them if that’s the case!

WRITING SAMPLE It was dark, at the docks, sun long gone, and darker beneath the wooden piers, by the struts that held them up above the water. The waves were glassy and smooth, like tourmaline, the tide low, lapping below their feet where they hung, half-suspended, beneath the docks, mask pulled low across their face. Dark clothes, dark mask, dark gloves, tendrils of the void around them and still fading from the fall from the castle to here. There was a meeting. Supposed to be a secret, but they had heard tell of the time and place, the collaborators involved. They would have been there even if revealing themself had not been an option, but this time… there was a question, furiously turning in their mind: would they pull themselves out of their perch, step out into the light, let those involved see the mask on their face and know they were there? Or would they do as they were told, as they usually did, deliver the message back and be done with it? They had spent plenty of time spying in the docks before, tracking black market deals, watching bargains and trades, keeping an eye of the coming and going of not only goods but people. Who spoke to whom, who wanted what. It was easy to hide, here, plenty of small, dark places to slip into, not to mention that no one ever seemed to look down. But the docks were the place of commonfolk and petty nobles. Of those getting rich off illegal goods, or bribing others into silence. It wasn’t ordinarily the place one came to talk of a coup. And yet… They pressed their ear closer to the wooden planks, closing their eyes to block out every sense but sound, a practiced trick to hear even the lowest of whispers from their hiding place. That was what the conversation was about—or, no, it wasn’t quite. That was the problem, perhaps. Careful language, as if cautiously avoiding saying the kind of forbidden words that could foment a rebellion. But the voices were talking about Koldam, and if they’d noticed anything of late, it was that Koldam had become something of a code word. A signal, from one rebellious upstart to the next. They’d even heard it within the walls of the castle, in places they weren’t meant to be. There was a different tone to it, now, one that gave them pause: before, talks of revolution had been full of determination, boldness, grandeur. Yes, people whispered about it in shadowed corners, but they did so too loudly, and with alcohol on their breaths. This… This was different. Cold steel and careful rationality. Best-laid plans. And coming, not from disgruntled laborers or upstart nobles, but from people it shouldn’t be. They could have easily hoisted themself up, from where they were, onto the pier in one swift motion, but instead, they let go of the strut, plummeting to the water, and disappeared an instant before slicing through the surface, a measured dive into the void that left them landing on the pier above in a crouch. Mostly material. Close enough that no one would see, behind their mask, if they weren’t. Black smoke rising off of them like fog.     “You might want to be careful what you say, talking like that,” they said, voice quiet but sharp and clear even through the mask. “You never know you might be listening.”

EXTRAS x. playlist x. pinterest board x. mockblog

[paul-tudor-owen]

Review: The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen: ‘incredibly original, passionate and powerful’

A really glowing review of my novel The Weighing of the Heart from Lynne aka The Book-Reviewing Mum:

Well this is definitely not like something I have ever read before! A story which is based around Egyptian Mythology and Art, it really took me to different places where normal books wouldn’t!

I have never read a novel based on Egyptian Mythology before and actually before I read this book I googled the title ‘The Weighing Of the Heart’ and it told me all about this Ancient Egyptian history! I only have a basic knowledge on Ancient Egypt and I actually ended up learning something which I loved!

You can really feel the passion the author has for art in this book as well, with a number of famous paintings and artists being mentioned and a lot of the story also being based around art, it was talked about a lot which I also thoroughly enjoyed! It was refreshing to read something that’s based around such different subjects than I am used to!

We follow the main character Nick through the book from moving to a new place in New York due to a breakup, to him falling in love and basically losing his mind a little!

He moves in with the Peacock Sisters who are very wealthy and have an amazing apartment in a more lavish part of New York! Their apartment is filled with expensive and beautiful artwork which include lots of originals!

While living here Nick meets Lydia who lives across the hall and also rents from the Peacock sisters! They get to talking and both realise they share the same passions which not only include art but also art that is based on Egyptian Mythology and history and this draws them together!

They embark on a romantic love affair, but Nick is always slightly paranoid shall we say, he ends up seeing things that others possibly don’t, becomes quite jealous which drives him up the wall.

One day they commit an impromptu crime which was hardly planned and this is when things start to change for the 2 of them!

They deal with the guilt and their own thoughts differently and this is where the cracks begin to appear and they start to learn things about each other that they previously did not know…

…and well you will have to read the book to find out where this takes them!

I thoroughly enjoyed the storyline, I loved how it touched on so many genres, from romance, crime, thriller and I would class it as slightly magical with some of the mythology and how can you go wrong with a book that includes so much!

I loved how in different chapters it would take you back to Nick’s past and Lydia’s past so we could learn more about each character! It really helped build an understanding as to who they are, and why they act the way they do!

This book is a really easy read and super easy to follow! The romance, crime and mythology really kept me engaged and I couldn’t wait to find out what was going to happen in the end!

I’d like to give this book 4 ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ for being so incredibly original, educational, passionate, and powerful!

An Awesome Read!

Another positive review of The Weighing of the Heart, this one from Bex aka That Bookish Fangirl, who calls the novel "beautifully written".

So this book is definitely not my usual type but an art heist and Egyptian mythology? Sign me up. For his debut novel Paul does a fantastic job in fully immersing the reader into the story line and New York. Personally I didn’t connect with the main characters and would have loved to read more about the Peacock sisters but that didn’t mean I could put the book down. It’s beautifully written and you can really tell that Paul has a passion or at least did a lot of research onto Art and Artists which was great to read. Also who doesn’t love a twist at the end of a book?

It’s unsurprising that this book has been shortlisted for the People's Book Prize 2020.

And here's another very positive review of The Weighing of the Heart, this one from the.b00kreader, who was "captivated by the writing style and the plot".

This was quite an intriguing read.

After his breakup, Nick moves in with the Peacocks. In the adjoining apartment lives a young woman, Lydia, who has recently been divorced. As they both get into a crime... things don't exactly work like you'd expect.

Throughout this book, I was captivated by the writing style and the plot. I do feel as though Nick was way too overprotective of Lydia. The ending was not what I had expected, I was expecting a completely different outcome. But there ain't no complaints!

**TRIGGER WARNING** This book contains details of stolen items and I feel, some manipulation. Please be aware of this before purchasing / reading.

Another great review, this one from Kirsti aka Mrs Feg Fiction:

I was very excited to read this one because I love to support independent publishers and authors where I can. The blurb of this book is also very interesting, an Englishman in New York who is fascinated by Egyptian mythology and art. A guy down on his luck who happens to find himself living in a lavish Upper East Side apartment which he rents from the exuberant and slightly eccentric Peacock sisters.

Enter Lydia their other lodger, who happens to be Portuguese, beautiful and also interested in ancient Egypt and boom you've got a love interest that quite quickly develops into an unorchestrated heist... You're interested now right?! 😉

@paultowen writes really well and despite this being his debut book, I didn't struggle with the writing style at all. I fell into the storyline quickly and the energy moved along at a good pace.

The main character, Nick is not hugely likeable because it's clear early on that he has some demons and there's something sinister about his past. Lydia is more likeable, she's a bit of a wimp, but she's smart and relatable. The Peacock sisters are hilarious, in a good way.

There are lots of parts to this story, it is by no means all about the crime. I particularly enjoyed learning about the Egyptian Mythology and it's clear the author has a keen interest in this. There is a great deal of depth to each character and you do need to do a fair amount of reading between the lines for parts of the story.

I felt the ending was a little rushed and I had more unanswered questions than I would have liked, but I think that might be kind of the point.

Overall a solid debut.

Here's another great review of The Weighing of the Heart, this one from Soph aka Book, Blog & Candle:

In The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen, our main character is Nick Braeburn. An Englishman in New York who has recently lost his girlfriend, his job and his apartment. Luckily, he is taken in by the eccentric Peacock sisters. However, trouble starts when he and his beautiful neighbour take advantage of their kindness and commit a despicable crime. 

Nick is a polite, unassuming and perfectly nice character but it's not quite enough to cover all of the skeletons in his closet. He quickly falls for Lydia, the classic next door, both connected by their love for Egyptian art based on Egyptian mythology. However, there is a thin line between love and obsession which is a definitely theme throughout the book! As we all know, obsession feeds into paranoia and Nick's true colours are soon revealed. 

There was amazing imagery and fantastic writing all throughout this book. I loved how Ancient Egyptian mythology was woven seamlessly alongside the storytelling. I knew it was going to be my kind of book when I read the blurb, so it's no surprise that I read it in one sitting and loved it! 

The Weighing of the Heart is a great mystery and perfect for fans of The Goldfinch! 

Buy The Weighing of the Heart for 99p here or 99c here, and read its numerous 5-star reviews!

And you can vote for The Weighing of the Heart for the People’s Book Prize 2020 here.

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Park Yeeun, spotted prancing about in the Northeast Side. I remember seeing her with The Nobodies back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say fickle and honest? Apparently now she spends time as the owner of Magok Bookstore, and keeps skeletons buried at Banjeom Apartments, 104. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Darling; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

yeeun floated among the clouds, never did she touch the ground. she was always up there, making her own stories and scenarios and forgetting reality exists, and forgetting that her reality could be exactly that if she did anything about it. no, this yeeun preferred to be in her mind, in made up worlds in books because in there she could be anything. instead of socializing, she’d prefer to stay in art class, painting away whatever forms in her brain. she was the odd one, a mysterious one, a boring one that not even gossip girl had interest in her, at least until her fairy-tale prince came along. yeeun was aware of the trap she was getting into, but her infatuation of her own love story with him somehow made it worth it. it made her feel happy and hurt at the same time- for some reason feeling those two together made greater stories. there was something about feelings that she loved to feel and express. she never hid them, which is why the little rumor started to spread. but she learned to deal with it until her heart was broken.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit: 

there was a reason why gossip girl named her darling. it’s because she’s the girl who grew up, but still believes in neverland. instead of growing apart of that world inside of her, she embraced it and continued to develop it after high school. she decided to write books, draw and paint more, and even opened up her own bookstore cafe with the commissions she earned. yeeun is still the ditsy girl, but has opened up to reality and becoming more typical as everyone else. she still believes in fairy-tales and true love. she still handles her life recklessly, but can now manage it whenever it turns awry. despite not having many friends in high school, she’s tried her best keeping in touch with the little bunch that she had. she continues to be the weird yet loyal friend, always listening and looking out for them. even now, during the nightly hours, she keeps the store open for the night owls and offers her services to the strangers as well.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

with a brother going into law school and a sister being a plastic surgeon, one wonders: where does the middle child fall in? yeeun is swept under the staircase, hidden away with countless books while the eldest sister is praised for her accomplishments and the younger brother is spoiled and taken care of during his tough time as a future lawyer. her siblings all seemed to have a goal from the moment they were born, but young yeeun had only her imagination. in there she could be an astronaut, a carpenter, or even a fairy if she wanted to. she was the oddball, the one who predictably would be stuck somewhere between being a bum or an artist. to her parents, there is not much of a difference. her parents were hard working people who owned a chicken restaurant and yeeun spent her adolescence working with them since they thought it would do her good. if she worked there more, she will see how important it is to go for a good career, but yeeun never budged. she did feel apologetic to her parents for not being like her siblings, but she loved her imagination too much to just give it up. she felt safe and it was the place where nobody could bother her and ignore the world around her.

high school was a different story. it was nearly impossible to ignore the loudness of other students and the gentle whispers created by someone named gossip girl. yeeun was safe in the beginning and had only heard rumors about others, never from her. it was until she met the man of her dreams, her heart eyes were visible to all. she was finally given a name, darling, and yeeun was not mad about it. it’s as if suddenly her own life was becoming more like her stories. an unrequited love and she was the protagonist. as much as others pitied her, she subtly enjoyed tagging along. from there, she learned that reality could be just as great as her imagination. she slowly brought her thoughts into the real world, creating pieces of writing, drawings, and paintings to actually share them with those close to her, but nobody else. she was still afraid of what others may think more about her and the constant looks of pity were not looking good to her as more time went on. she hated looking like a fool to her parents and even less to her classmates. she hated her reputation, but he was so charming that she couldn’t let go regardless. it had to be him to let her go, and he did eventually. it was her first time getting heartbroken and she did not expect it to feel the way it did. like her heart being crushed by his bare hands then dropping it into the floor just to stomp on it for good measure. yeeun was crushed, but her mind thrived more than ever and she somehow loved it.

yeeun graduated high school and did some random jobs in between. she published some stories online, painted, worked nights at a sauna, and still helped her family’s restaurant on the side. while life pushed her to grow up, yeeun pushed it to accept her oddity of her childish mind and somehow made both of them coexist. with that accomplished, she wanted to create that haven in her mind into a reality. she wanted a place where not only she, but others could go in and relax. take their mind away from their hectic lives for at least a moment. it didn’t take much for her to come up with a bookstore cafe, but it did take time to convince her family to loan her money. because her parents still wanted her to continue her education, yeeun worked and went to school until finally graduating and having the chance to buy the building. she now works in the bookstore whenever she can, especially in the late hours where those who can’t sleep can find a place to hangout if they desire to.

[itsworn]

This 1947 Cadillac Packs Plenty of Allure

Customs are a true exercise in style and balance. Defining that perfect combination is the ultimate key to creating one that’ll be memorable. When referencing design changes, too little can make the car lackluster while too much can ruin the vibe. Finding the ideal fusion of glamour and inventiveness—therein lies the art. Kevin Anderson of Indianapolis, Indiana, is no stranger to the custom world; in fact, he has had a hand in designing and building a number of noteworthy customs over the past few years. When you look at his prior accomplishments, which include a hammered ’50 Merc, ’63 Buick Rivera, and ’36 Ford tail-dragger, it’s easy to see wherein his roots lie.

It often takes a series of what-ifs to get artistic ideas flowing. Ask any devoted custom enthusiast, and they’ll tell you it’s the rush of looking at a body style that gets the mind twisting to see what can be applied to its flow in getting started. Having always held a fascination with Cadillac body styles of the ’40s, Kevin began looking at original factory brochures to help shape his vision.

While on countless road trips with good friend Mike Boerema, owner of Gas Axe Garage in Allendale, Michigan, the pair would often discuss cool ideas for potential builds. With the Cadillac project heavy on his mind, Kevin asked if he’d be interested in taking on the project should a suitable candidate be found. Boerema, already well-known for building ultra-traditional hot rods, many of which have graced the pages of STREET RODDER, was more than ready to apply his fabrication skills.

Establishing a proper baseline for creating the car took exhaustive research into the past to review builds of similar styles. There was plenty of influence from the likes of Westergard and Valley Customs on what it would take to breathe new life into comparable designs; however, this particular Cadillac platform had not seen much in the way of customizing. Further exploring proved remarkably there was only one located, a Barris-built Carson-topped ’42/’46 Cadillac convertible. With only three images to draw from, it took the creative efforts of the duo to blend their ideas into the final design to synthesize a proper rendition for the build. Kevin told us the transformation would bring “opulence, sophistication, and beauty” to the table by converting an ugly ducking into a chopped and dropped luxurious Carson-capped coupe.

Sourcing a 1947 Cadillac convertible would prove to be pricy as well as pretty unobtainable, however, there were a number of Series 62 four-door sedans available on the market. Kevin located a low-mile factory original one-owner car for sale at a museum in Minnesota that was thinning the herd. He had Boerema measure a factory convertible along with a four-door to see if the proportional values were close enough to take on the transformation. Fortunately, they were exact. There’s nothing like starting with a clean base so a deal was made, and the car was transported to Gas Axe Garage to start its 14-month reincarnation.

Once the car was disassembled, the spine and all related parts were sent off to be blasted clean. Once back, Boerema made a number of subtle modifications to the frame to support a new slammed stance, which included a substantial C-notch out back, as well as opening up the spring pockets to properly cradle the airbag suspension. Out back the rebuilt factory rearend packing 3.77 gears was set in place along with a custom two-link combined with Air Lift ’bags and Monroe tube shocks. Up front, a restored factory independent suspension was deftly matched to Air Lift ’bags and a ’57 Chevy power steering box to carve a path. When it’s time to drop anchor, a stock master pushes fluid through steel lines to factory binders mounted at each corner. Nothing says class better than a set of original steel wheels, sporting a set of 15-inch-wide Kelsey Tire/Goodyear Super Cushion whites crowned by Cadillac caps.

In 1947, nothing said power and performance better than a Cadillac driveline. Wanting to maintain the tradition, Kevin had Boerema completely refreshed the factory engine, starting with a complete disassembly of the 346ci V-8. The block and complete rotating assembly were massaged to perfection and once again matched to the factory cam. For a smooth getaway the factory cast-iron heads meet the stock intake and Stromberg carb get the job done in style. The goods move through a refreshed factory automatic transmission linked to the original driveshaft sealing the deal.

Taking on the evolution of the body relies on a true visionary working their craft, especially when converting a four-door. To prepare for the job, the body was first stripped clean, revealing a steel shell requiring no restoration work. With a blank canvas and torch in hand, Boerema started the transformation. He began with moving back the B-pillars to accommodate modified 1947 Cadillac Sedanette doors as well as crafting new door frames and vent windows to mirror those of a convertible. From there, the front fender pontoons were welded to the doors, along with the rear fenders being welded to the body. Once completed, Boerema focused on executing a perfectly balanced 5-inch chop, which also incorporated creating a skeleton for the Carson-styled top accenting the complete roofline drop (including suspension) a staggering 17 inches. There was also the exhaustive work in fabricating a convertible-styled windshield frame. Other notable changes include extended-down rear skirts, fabricating custom stainless trim, nosing and decking the body, shaving the door handles, side emblems, and antenna and removing the factory taillights The body was then final gapped and metal finished. From there, the stainless trim as well as grille and bumpers were treated to the shiny tank at Jon Wright’s Custom Chrome Plating in Grafton, Ohio.

With the fabrication work completed, the car was then delivered to Gary Brown of Browns Metal Mods in Port Leyden, New York, to work his magic in getting everything razor sharp and ready for paint. In selecting a color, Kevin wanted something that would add endless allure to the car’s newfound personality. Gary custom blended a House of Kolor Crystal Cadillac Cobalt Blue Candy and laid down a mile-deep coating across the body, bringing it all to life.

Wanting the interior to embody just the right amount of elegance, the stock dash and gauges were retained, complemented by having Dennis Crook of Quality Restorations resize the steering wheel for a better fit, mounted to an ididit tilt column. Kevin then called on Buckskinz Custom Fabrication of Grand Rapids to revamp the living room, starting with reworking the factory bench seat as well as crafting new side panels and headliner accented by stainless spears. Everything was then covered in a traditional pattern with 16 custom-dyed ivory hides from GST AutoLeather accented by brocade inserts and bronze Mercedes-Benz square-weave carpeting. The dramatic padded Carson-styled top was then upholstered using yards of oyster-colored Haartz cloth. Kevin added the final icing with his personally designed crystal door pulls and Cadillac badge emblems. This is one noteworthy custom that’ll be remembered for decades to come, showcasing the talents of everyone involved. srm

The post This 1947 Cadillac Packs Plenty of Allure appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network https://www.hotrod.com/articles/1947-cadillac-packs-plenty-allure/ via IFTTT

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Kim Minseok, spotted prancing about in the Southeast Side. I don’t remember seeing him with any clique back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say artistic and cold? Apparently now he spends time as a musical actor at Albee Theater and the owner of Geomsohan Bakery, and keeps skeletons buried at Macheon Hill Gated Community, 505. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Ivory Serpent; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

If there was one student most likely to be famous it was Minseok aka Xiumin. The young male was present for any school performance be it singing, dancing, or acting. Of course always being in the spotlight did draw the ire of some who said his skills were lacking. Minseok didn’t care people knew his name at least. While joining a clique did have its perks he had to keep his parents in mind. They were high profile individuals and so anything he did would reflect back on them for not raising their son properly. Still he took pleasure in being a spectator and sometimes an undercover participant in some of drama of the school.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

Minseok is now the star he dreamed of being public recognition and awards included. Well he is praised for his skills whispers speak of his cold and controlling nature making him difficult at times to work with. Well you don’t get to the top by being nice however one cannot deny his hard work and determination to put on a great show. Watching him is almost otherworldly especially in dramas or musicals and something many refuse to miss. Despite his high status he is rather down to earth, a sign the gold hasn’t totally poisoned his brain. Some say his good works (charity events, volunteering, etc) are nothing but a ploy to stay on the good side of the public. Minseok is unconcerned he knows why he does his good deeds. It’s hard to really say what the truth is as the young man and his family keep a tight lip on their private lives.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

Born in the Spring of 1990 Minseok’s biological parents were part of a group of traveling entertainers performing not only in Korea, but in China and Japan as well. While he saw many things on his travels money was always tight. Often his family slept huddled together in abandoned building, strangers houses, in open fields and used their talents to get just enough food unless someone was kind enough to give them a free meal. Minseok didn’t understand why his parents didn’t settle down with the common answer of “bad people were looking for them.” The young boy stopped asking out of fear. Minseok’s parents eventually abandoned him in the city as money had become more of a stressor. His mother protested but his father reasoned they could always come back for him. Someone would take him in. When the young male awoke he was left alone with only the sogo drum and red folding fan as reminders of his parents. He used them to his advantage performing on the streets around the city and in time became known as Music Boy. School was never an interest of his so he devoted his time to song and dance when he wasn’t evading the police. One night Minseok just happened to approached a couple who would change his life. They had money he could tell by their clothes so surely they could part with a few won for a starving boy but instead they took him as their son. At 1st he wasn’t sure why but in time learned he was needed to “win the hearts of people” as his new mom put it. Dongwoo was on the fast track to becoming CEO of his fathers company while Sunye was an award winning actress.  Minseok went along with the act as he had his own room, new clothes, toys, everything he wanted but it came at a price. His parents were famous and so image was everything. It was mystery how a couple managed to hide a 7 year old son for so long and suddenly want to display for the world to see. Yet they were private people regarding their personal life so was it really that much of a concern? As the years went on it was apparent their son would follow a path similar to that of his mothers. Minseok managed to keep up the lie until it was a reality, he had a new family now. Any shortcomings he had were soon erased given his adoptive parents resources, the best for the best. Cheongnam was THE school to have your child attend as it was a golden ticket to power and status later in life. Minseok felt the pressure to succeed academically here as he didn’t want to let his parents down. There was too much for the male to study but with the help of some pills he was able to keep up. That is until he spent more time abusing them than anything. His parents stepped in rather swiftly sending him off to rehab explaining to everyone he just needed some rest from working too hard. A small lie to hide the other ones they held. Minseok returned but was more darker than he was before. Gossip Girl, whoever she was seemed to have people scared of what secrets they hid. The male grew wise to the social dynamics of the school and while he avoided it why not stir the pot? It made for a great show to watch. Manipulative and calculating Minseok had a hand in ruin people’s reputation yet he was untouchable. There was a huge target on his back for anything of his skeletons to come out so the male went right into the military. Time would make them forget or at least make it hard for them to keep tabs on him. Minseok’s time was tame as he had easy job compared to others, just talk to the other soldiers and make sure they stay out of trouble. Once his service was up the young man entered college majoring in business and he would day take over his father’s company.  Until then he was free to perform 1st it was at the choir member at the Seoul Opera House  before moving to the Albee Theatre. A downgrade in the eyes of many but Minseok saw more opportunities to be a lead than just another face in the crowd.  Minseok worked at the Geomsohan Bakery until his cover was blown and he had to quit, but later returned this time owning the bakery.