#as compared to barely a page for the prologue and three pages for Chapter One

[victorluvsalice]

Hello everyone -- I bring you the next chapter of "Start At The Beginning...Sort Of!" Chapter Two by my count, Chapter Three by AO3's. :p This is a meatier chapter than the previous two, covering the gang's arrival at the Mangled Mermaid, Victor explaining what's going on with him, and Emily arriving on the scene. I hope you all enjoy!

Oh, and just so you're aware, I've gone through and updated the author's notes on both the Prologue and Chapter One with some more information about the setting and the Smiler-related stuff, in hopes that it might clear up any confusion people might be having. So yeah -- fingers crossed that lowers a few barriers to entry!

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader]

Chapter One | Home

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(Author Note, written in November 2020 and updated on May 2021: For those who've already read the prologue, two changes happened: [1] the story title went from Goodnight, Starlight to Fairytale Complex, and [2] since this's a rewrite of an older work, the main/focus relationship would now be Sans, but there will still be alternate relationships, other main four being Papyrus, Muffet, Grillby, and Napstablook! More info on that can be found on Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 3 of 3).)

• • •

Your phone lights up and buzzes erratically, waking you up and forcing you to get out of bed when it proves to be too far away for you to reach it. The screen marks an unholy five thirty five in the morning, and you can only wonder over what your aunt wants to discuss with you at such an early hour. There's around two urgent voicemails, eleven text messages, and three missed calls, all from her, so you decide on phoning her back to get things over with.

She answers fast, hardly giving the phone a chance to beep once.

"Turn on the TV right now, honey," your aunt shouts, an indistinguishable emotion between anger and shock displayed in her voice. "Now," she repeats, authority shown in that single word. "And don't forget to call me later. We need to talk." She hangs up after that, leaving you with more questions than you once had.

You raise a brow at the oddity of her call, yet relent with how tired both your mind and body feel. You'd left work at eleven at night, only to arrive home at midnight and fall asleep at one. With barely five hours of rest in your system, you don't exactly feel motivated to watch television, yet that changes when you sit at the edge of your bed, turn it on, and see the first thing there is a breaking news report taking over every cable channel present. No matter which one you switch to, it's there, reporting over the rise of a whole new species of living beings, these capable of human reasoning and conduct, as one of the reporters and even a scientist so claimed based on the little information they've both gathered about the species already. They proceed to display a picture of a large crowd of people gathered near a mountain, these looking straight out of a fantasy novel. They vary greatly, from bipedal, anthropomorphic fish, bears, bunnies, goats, and spiders, to living skeletons, ghosts, and live, humanoid flames. You have to rub sleep away from your eyes and blink a few times to process what's going on, until you see who's standing smack in the middle of them all.

"F- Frisk?!" you shout, breaking the silence of your home and the night.

Almost immediately, you pick up your phone and search for more information on where and when the picture was taken. The sun seemed to be setting in it, and based on when the news had chosen to report on the event, you figure Frisk has to be with that group somewhere around. You access the news channel's main page and see a pinned post asking for information on the child's parents, comment section blocked to prevent a flood in them, along with the share button to keep any second parties from spreading it around more.

>> A goat lady by the name of Toriel has taken Frisk under her temporary care while authorities regain contact with the child's parents. If anyone reading this post happens to know about their location, number, or any other contact information, please do let us know over at private message, so that we may interview them personally. We have searched far and wide for more thorough information on the child, but Child Protective Services have settled upon keeping that information private, while the child refused to tell us anything else after they found out over what penalties their parents would be receiving. They insist that their primary caregiver is a good person, that they do not know about their secondary caregiver's whereabouts, and that they will not allow anything bad to happen to either of them, refusing to so much as give up their last name to us as a result. However, we are still in dire need of said information in order to interview the parents and perform more proper investigations as to why the child disappeared for a period of almost two whole months.

Below the basic gist stands a shorter paragraph and a photo of a different monster, this one a skeleton instead of a goat woman.

>> In addition to the goat lady offering to look after Frisk for the time being, another monster has reached out to us and left his number only specifically for the parents. He states it is necessary they meet and that he would like to offer an explanation as to what happened at the Underground and how Frisk got there. If you are one of the parents, please contact us through private message so that we may provide you with his number and further directions on what to do from there.

You check the time of the post, lock your phone, and set it aside when the news returns from a commercial break, this one much shorter compared to usually. 

"Passerby say it sounded similar to that of a bomb going off, yet there were no signs of destruction and nobody near when they made it to the place where they heard the noise. It's estimated the Barrier broke at late evening, and that the monsters left with Frisk barely an hour after that event, without bothering to inform anyone over the missing child's arrival. Authorities claim they've yet to gain contact with Frisk's secondary caregiver and that they are now on their way to contact their primary one. Given the circumstances and the current hour, Child Protective Services believe it best to visit at noon, as they have already tracked down the parent's location and received further information on the subject through social media. That's all we've managed to cover so far, but remember to stay tuned for more at-"

“(Mom/Dad), I'm home!”

Your eyes shoot open and you almost have to double take when you hear that voice. It's followed by a few persistent knocks on the door, though you still go as far as to check the pulse on your wrist to make sure you're still alive. You turn the television off, hop out of bed, and rush over to the living room, where you're greeted with the sight of Frisk standing by the entrance and looking around, their own set of keys balanced on their finger as they take in their surroundings. They continue to look this way and that, observing the changes you've made to the house since they were gone. 

They meet with your eyes and freeze up, taking a small, precautionary step forward. "I… I missed you," they mutter, voice soft and quiet, a large difference from when they announced they were back home. They fiddle with their hands and face at the floor, casting a guilty look at the worn welcome mat as they say, "I'm sorry for… for disappearing like that. But I promise I-"

Before they can finish speaking, you've already made it to their side. Your arms wrap around them and you bring them in for a strong and lasting embrace, tucking their head against your chest, squeezing them tight, and allowing them to listen to your heart beat. "Oh, sweetheart, forget all that," you reply, stroking their hair and kissing their forehead. "I… I missed you, too." You hold them tight and let some of your worries out through another squeeze. It feels almost bizarre having them in your arms again, but it feels right all the same. Every puzzle seems to fall right into place, and the only thing in your mind right now's their well-being. "H- How are you, by the way?" you ask, breaking the hug apart. "Are you hungry? ...Sleepy? And who brought you here? Did they treat you well?"

"I'm okay," they reply, giggling. "Miss Toriel made me some food before we left, and I'm way too pumped to even think about sleeping!"

"And where is Miss Toriel?"

"She left right after we got here. She said she didn't want to bother you now that I'm back, and that you could meet up with her some other time!"

You hug them yet again, still too stricken to let go of them. "I'm… I'm so glad you're back home, dear," you whisper, holding them close as you mutter more sentences with similar sentiments to the previous one. You still can't shake off your shock nor can you believe this is real. The rational part of your brain insists it's no time to be emotional and that you need answers stat, though the emotional part demands you pour all your attention onto the moment and appreciate Frisk's return. You'd cried countless hours, days, nights, and weeks. And all of that pent up regret, confusion, and relief begins to be let out through whispered words, strong hugs, and gentle caresses. "I… I thought you were gone for good, dear, an- and that you left because you hated me." You hiccup at that last statement and hold them tighter, fearing another disappearance. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad about me being your (mother/father). And… And I'm sorry for anything I might've done to upset you. I- I'll try to be a better parent for you from now on, and you can tell me over where I can improve. Alright?"

Frisk breaks the hug apart and faces up at you with a frown. "What are you saying? I don't hate you, (mom/dad)!" they reply, gaze furrowed and eyes wide. "I… I was thinking about something else that day. B- But it has nothing to do with you. I promise!"

"Then why did you disappear?" you ask, placing a hand over their shoulder and maintaining your frown. "Why did you run away? ...And just what do you mean by that? What were you thinking about before you disappeared?"

Looking caught, they face the floor and fiddle with their hands again. "...Can we talk about that later? I think I'm feeling sleepy now."

Your glare finally shows through, the rational part of you taking over now. "Don't you dare change the subject, Frisk (L/N). What did you mean by that? What happened before you disappeared?"

"Please, (mom/dad)! I can tell you later," they whine, tears welling up in their eyes. "I- I don't wanna talk about that right now. I miss you. And I… I really wanna be with you right now. I really miss my home, I miss studying with you, and I... I miss going out on weekends with you, too."

You straighten your posture, cross your arms tight, and frown, still unconvinced. "Can you promise me you'll tell me first thing tomorrow, after we catch up today?"

Slowly, they nod. "I promise."

"Pinky promise?"

Frisk smiles bright and wide at your suggestion and at the gesture you make, pinky finger offered out to them. They interlock theirs with yours and let go when you both nod, sealing the deal. "I promise. Could we go watch a movie now?"

"Didn't you say you were sleepy?"

"I sleep better with the TV on!"

"Yeah, right." Despite yourself, you giggle and smile at them. Then, you place a hand on their head and mess up their hair, poking your tongue out when they glare at you. "Let's go, then. Just... Remember me to call my boss so I can take the day off today and go to work a bit later tomorrow."

"...Can you really do that? I thought you could get fired for that!"

"Probably not." You laugh. "But you're my main and only priority right now. And I can just try to find another job after all this's over with."

You offer your hand out to them and lead the way back to your bedroom when they take it. Your heart's still racing and you've yet to acknowledge the fact they're finally back with you, though your happiness continues to persist through it all; they're here and that's all that matters right now. Worry would come in later.

"Why did you move the TV to the bedroom, though?" they ask, halfway through your destination.

You squeeze their hand and stare down at them, managing a guilty and meek smile. "I, uh, might've... borrowed your dad's Netflicks password, and tried watching some movies since you went missing. I could barely sleep at night, so I just tried distracting myself by finding something new to watch." You let go, finally reaching the door of your bedroom. "I also made sure to tidy up your bedroom once a week, just in case you ever came back, so it's all nice and clean if you want to go there later," you say, smiling. "But... I'm guessing you'd want to be with me for awhile now?"

They nod, not an ounce of reluctance present in their actions. "Definitely!" They flinch back and giggle when you kiss their cheek as a response, "Can I, really?"

"As long as you fulfill your promise, then yes. You can stay in my bedroom for as long as you want, dear."

"But didn't you say I was a big kid just last year?"

"Yes, but I…" You chew on your lip and blink back tears, their return finally dawning on you. "I missed you too much to care about that right now."

You turn on the television and access Netflicks, putting on a movie and climbing into bed. They do the same and rest their head against your lap, cuddling against you. You both stay that way for the entirety of the movie, with them close and with your hand on their head, stroking their hair until they fall asleep halfway in.

When you're sure they're out like a light, you allow yourself to cry again; tears continue to go down the more time you spend with Frisk close to your side.

They were back.

Your prayers had been answered, and now you wouldn't have to lay awake at night, feeling guilty and mourning over their loss for hours on end.

Hopefully, Child Protective Services and Frisk's school would go easier on you now; despite what you said about not minding if they were taken away after their return, you do care. Now that they're back in your arms, you can't imagine not having the right to visit them again; a world without them. At that thought, sorrow overflows your mind and you find yourself crying quietly during what's left of another movie, uncontrolled yet quiet as you try not to wake or worry Frisk over your state. You needed to be strong for their sake and for your own as well, if the time to part ways from them ever became a reality.

That's the last thing you think of as you close your eyes, exhaustion finally taking your body for itself. Faint murmurs of an ongoing movie are the last things you hear and the sight of Frisk sleeping peacefully on your lap is the last thing you see. It all feels right, yet not; cherishing these final moments is the only thing you can do for now.

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[hollenka99]

Laying Foundations

Summary: The Blood God gets used to caring for a baby and small child who is getting livelier by the year. Chapter 1 of Blood and Feathers. <<Prologue

Warnings: Very brief emeto reference

It is a rather long journey to his Overworld forest cabin from wherever he'd ended up that caused him to be near Phillip's birthplace. The baby, ever so respectfully quiet until now, bawls as soon as the heat of the Nether seems to register. That or he finds portal travel disagreeable. The Blood God is not yet ready to unveil his latest plan. It is half formed and to be honest, he is completely winging it. He wasn't even sure whether he wished to raise his little project here, in his domain where things have always felt a bit... clearer, or in the Overworld, where Phillip is meant to belong, until the Netherdamned child threatened to blow his cover. All he could do to lessen the risk of being spotted is cover Phillip with his cloak and ignore the tiny talons poking at his skin. Besides, if worse came to worst, he could always glare a piglin down into silence. There are very few who are bold enough to trifle with a violence-centric deity, after all. But they do eventually make it. It then hits him that yes, of course, nothing here was left in a suitable condition for raising a child. There is clutter all over the table for one thing. There is also the remains of some meal he must have had prior to leaving the last time. Forgive him for not caring about trivial things such as cleaning up after himself when he's done that thousands of times over his centuries long life. Cleaning is a futile endeavour anyway. You achieve your result, only for it to rapidly be reversed. It will be worse now that he has subjected himself to a child, a form of life unable to comprehend its surroundings required respect, therefore antagonising their environment in their ignorance. That said, he did have three wolves who were capable of causing a mess all on their own. Perhaps, he ponders, he should have asked Celandine to reserve Phillip for a few days as he prepared the place for another being. It will be fine. Phillip is too young to care as it is. After some strife, the house becomes tidier. A pillow and its removed case are placed in a box for lack of better furniture. It will be as good of a bed as Phillip will get while the god fully adjusts his living arrangements. Caring for an infant is... more work than he had been expecting. And he had been anticipating to be kept busy by the kid regardless. During the first night, everything appears to be a problem. He's been fed, changed, paid attention to in general... all of it pointing to the fact Phillip should be content with sleeping. Then ah, the sword swings. Phillip must finally realise he is not going to see his family anymore. Oh well, not much he can do to remedy that. Also, he must say that for such a small stomach, it certainly seems to need filling often. Celandine checks to see how he is faring and offers advice. One such recommendation is to heat the liquid so that it is served warm. However, this occasionally proves to be a disaster as his sense of 'too hot' has been skewed by Nether standards. Phillip never fails to let him know if he's miscalculated. He knows it's irresponsible but a short trip without the baby through the Nether to collect Krev, Valka and Mort won't do much damage. They leap up at him but he hasn't got time to waste with pleasantries. The trio follow him diligently as they pass the statue of the four of them, narrowly avoid a slip into lava because how many lives must I live before you listen when I say be careful and they still remain at his heels when he steps into the portal. The wolves certainly love Phillip at first sight since they barely allow the god to leave the infant's designated room. Easy, he tells them, get your noses away because he's not a plaything and you won't even get to see him if you crowd round like this. The longer they have to get used to each other, the less agitated Phillip tends to be when not in need of care. It is during these calmer moments that they can be found, for example, reading a book 'together'. More to the point, he reads aloud while Phillip tries to grab pages, wriggles in the crook of his arm or the little boy simply stares up at him. Phillip has also become fond of gripping his caregiver's tusks whenever he is carried. It's an odd habit but it isn't painful or particularly uncomfortable so eh, who cares. Being 7 months old when they meet, Phillip is already on the verge of crawling. This is an issue. He gains the ability to be mobile by the time the Blood God is satisfied the cabin is satisfactory for a baby. This soon devolves into a keen eye frequently being kept aimed at the floor. The god wasn't a stranger to watching his step (a trio of wolves seemingly determined to become safety hazards at times will do that to you) but this was even worse. Do you know how miniscule Phillip is compared to him?! And this is the shortest the god can make himself. He is going to accidentally tread on the infant one day if he doesn't remain vigilant, he is sure of it. Winter proves to be a troublesome time. The cold seeps in through the windows whenever there isn't a lit fire to combat it. He despises the season and most years, he is either residing in the Nether anyway or he stays in his large desert home. Well actually, that place of his in the desert tends to be his usual shelter. It's just that humans (and, by extension, avians he supposes) are so fickle when it comes to temperature. They can never be too hot or too cold, for fear of their bodies' ridiculous way of attempting to maintain thermal homeostasis leading to their demises. Babies... are likely the worst culprits of this, along with the elderly. That was why he chose somewhere milder like this forest when it came to Phillip. Celandine has some thoughts on the matter, given that she is unhappy upon her next visit. "You do realise avians are migratory, don't you? It is, after all, partially how you ended up meeting and adopting him. The cold does not suit him." "It does not suit me either. If he is simply cold, I will keep him by the fire." "Keep him warm." She sternly instructs. Perhaps she is right though. He isn't too fond of the lowering temperatures and Phillip's fussiness seems to agree with him. He drafts up rough blueprints for a house, larger than this lowly, isolated cottage but also nothing requiring the time and resources on par with his massive desert villa. Hopefully, with the builders he plans to hire to construct it on his behalf, it will be ready for them this time next year. Which leaves the more pressing issue of what is he going to do for this winter? Well, he supposes there's only one thing for it. Phillip does not find the heat favourable. He spends his days complaining in his own infantile way or being very quiet when struggling with the temperature. Between the age of 9 to 12 months, his style is very much in the minimalist category. Another dilemma the god has is the fact he never exactly need a reason to keep cool here. Therefore, a water source is relatively far away and the coldest spot on the property is the room used to keep food fresh for longer. Phillip shouldn't really be around raw meat but for the sake of lowering the risk of him overheating, he does become familiar with the storage area. However, it's not as if he lives in there. He does get placed outside in the shade with a blanket underneath him every now and again. Babies will taste test any old thing they can get their hands on and there is no better example of this than the way a crawling infant takes fistfuls of the most abundant resource around him to sample. It's the god's duty to supervise in order to prevent sand from becoming unintentionally integrated into Phillip's diet. He notices birds lingering in unusual numbers in the early weeks of the new year. Low enough that perhaps he hasn't cared to notice the true extent of the local bird population before. High enough that he's sure there weren't this many before now. It's February too which makes it even more perplexing. Disappearing to warmer lands is one thing but surely they don't migrate to barren wastelands such as these. Then March 1st arrives and suddenly it all begins to make sense. Celandine could honestly have been less subtle. Any longer and it would have been an infestation. The goddess lands to the cacophony of birds cheering her arrival. Phillip's absent-minded babbling ceases as soon as his brain registers that she has taken him in her arms. She kneels, a baby in one arm while the other is held out as an invitation. She calls out, asking where the subject of her intentions was and summoning it to come to her. A bird with dark feathers makes itself known. It swoops in, perching on the offered limb. It's not a remarkable creature in any way. It has wings, it has eyes, it... presumably breathes. Regardless, it sets its eyes on Phillip from the moment it comes forward. Phillip himself observes the bird with curiosity, even reaching out to it. "Given that you have completed a year of life now, I thought a lifelong friend to keep you company throughout all the other years you're going to see would be a nice gift. She was born last spring, just like you, and she'll stay with you until it's time for you to go. So take good care of each other." The two are left on the ground opposite each other. The crow (apparently that's what the species was called) appears inquisitive. Phillip, on the other hand, crawls back towards him within a minute. "What's their name?" The god asks when Celandine soon shows signs of leaving. A chuckle. "She hasn't told me." It doesn't take too long after his birthday for the baby to learn how to stand with support. In fact, once he manages the feat once, he seems to become obsessed with it. Soft clicking can soon be heard near various pieces of furniture multiple times a day. It would seem the Blood God had just started to get the hang of dealing with a child at one stage of development when Phillip inevitably progressed onto the next. He learns to walk unassisted out on the grass around their house in June. He'd been warned this part of the infant's development would be slower than a human's but given he wasn't aware of how Overworlder children grew, it didn't bother him in the first place. The 1 year old avian struggles to maintain his balance in the beginning but as the weeks and months go on, the clack of talons on wood grows ever more common. Phillip catches him speaking with his ambassadors one day. The conversation isn't anything serious and honestly, should have been had in the Nether. However, wouldn't you know it, raising a kid requires you to be present in case they need you. So they're here, risking their wellbeing just so Phillip can be entertaining himself in the corner of his eye. The toddler specifically notices them bow prior to taking their leave. When the god turns to head back home, he spots a small figure crouch and punch the earth in an imitation of what he witnessed moments before. "Not the time or place." Phillip looks at him expectantly. He repeats the action. "Oh no, I'm not going to lower myself for you. It's called me being at the top of a hierarchy that you're at the bottom of. ...But you probably won't understand that concept for a while." A brief nod of the head is all Phillip receives. He pouts in response, makes a third attempt, but follows him inside all the same when he doesn't get what he wanted. Learning to speak is a slow process for the child, made even slower by the inconsistency of languages spoken at him. The only one who is monolingual is the bird Phillip got for his birthday. As time goes on and the boy starts to get used to forming words, he frequently points to the animal to say things such as "Am" or "Mimi". It's not until November or so that Phillip begins to refer to her as 'Amica'. It takes the god longer than it should have to realise that this is the crow's name and not, as he initially assumed, the Common translation of the Avian word for 'bird'. Amica it is then. The name becomes one of Phillip's favourite Common words to say. Also around this time, the savannah house gets completed, or at least the bare minimum of it is ready. Any extra rooms can be commissioned to be done in upcoming springs and summers if he so desires. The exterior is acacia with a cobblestone frame. It looks nice, as do the rooms inside. The basement that spans the entire area underneath the building will make for good storage space. Like the forest, there are plenty of trees and open spaces for Phillip to play in one day. With some rope and a plank of wood, he could craft a swing once Phillip is able to use one. He comes to realise that this child has no concrete language. Phillip will attempt to copy his grunts and snorts but nothing his vocal chords can produce is quite as deep or guttural as they need to be. The Blood God has been speaking in a mix of Piglin and Common, very occasionally reverting to Ancient Piglin. It depends on his mood but he has been attempting to raise him bilingual with a subconscious bias towards Piglin. Whenever Celandine visits, she will talk to him exclusively in Common for some reason instead of her own natural tongue. As for Amica, they converse only in Avian. However, the reasoning behind that is obvious. One way or another, he can tell Phillip is getting confused with all the words he has to know at only 2 years old. He will speak in Piglin, pause then make some kind of tweety noise while frowning. The funnier moments are when Phillip forgets himself and speaks Avian to him before realising his mistake when the god doesn't understand him. His tiny brain has to fit a great deal of information inside it but they will get there. Defeating a toddler in battle is very easy. His ward lacks co-ordination, focus and sometimes attempts to procure 'weaponry' that is far beyond his weight limit. The Blood God has been whacked with a stick more times than he would like. As annoying as having his legs be attacked with an inefficient blunt object can be, the kid's giggling whenever he reacts to it in any way does make it more tolerable. The wolves enjoy the results of his pitiful attempts at throwing though so all is not lost. However, all this physical play has a habit of messing up Phillip's wings if they're not careful. It had taken practice for the god to care for the wings to a decent standard. Now it was Phillip's turn to start learning, given that he was growing old enough to gain the dexterity for it. The majority of it is still the Blood God's responsibility because gods know that toddler does not pay self-grooming as much attention as he should yet but his involvement increases all the same. And when he molts over the summer, Phillip makes it clear he doesn't want his feathers disposed of. So the god supposes there's going to be a chest full of old feathers in it now. Who knows, it might be interesting for Phillip to peruse through one day. Each early January, the god has been begrudgingly allowing himself to be called away. Ever since Phillip came along, he's been slacking with this specific duty. He'll be presented with a selection of potential warriors for him to act as sponsor for but he never cares much for choosing the one he actually believes in, as he used to do. Being the Blood God's candidate in the fight used to be an advantage but he wouldn't be surprised if it's becoming a hinderance recently. How can you win if your sponsor doesn't help with your preparations throughout the year? The god would say he needed to sit out on being a sponsor if he could. It's simply not possible. It likewise is impossible for him to safely and discreetly keep Phillip in the Nether for weeks. When the actual tournaments come, he now skips them. He can get away with being absent, after all. It's not like he hasn't sat quarter- or semi-finals out before. The final though and the celebrations after? Yeah... not exactly something he can consider missing, especially given it's him who has to have the winner presented to him then host the party. To solve his problem, he speaks to Celandine. She apparently can't care for him in her own home (something about it not being suitable for mortals) but she can arrange for a couple to temporarily babysit Phillip while the finals are being fought. This time, he returns to house with a sleeping child in his hold. The toddler never says a huge amount regarding his time there. However, that's more likely due to his young age than a comment on his experience away from home. When he's three years old, the god decides Phillip is old enough to start working on fighting basics such as footing and learning environmental awareness. It's nothing strenuous or particularly physical but developing the foundation blocks now will serve them both well in the future. Use of any form of proper weaponry can be left for when Phillip is a little older. As the weeks roll by, the boy begins to really take to it. It requires conscious effort for him to maintain a proper stance when moving around but they can work on it. They both have years to get it right and improve efficiency. As a treat to reward him for his efforts so far, the Blood God plans to make a delicacy he's been wanting to introduce Phillip to for a while. He temporarily leaves him under the supervision of the wolves while he sleeps so that certain ingredients could be collected in the Nether. The fungus (both types, he's going all out) is sliced while he creates a broth with an infusion of wither petals. Mushrooms get thrown in too for an Overworld spin on it. An addition of torn petals completes the dish. When he serves it to Phillip, the boy recoils at the taste which causes him to end up eating wet mushrooms and fungus for dinner as a compromise. Not even an hour later, he is pale, less attentive than usual and holding a bowl due to being violently ill. He wants to dismiss it as food poisoning of some sort, maybe he didn't prepare it properly (he knows he didn't mess it up, not with how experienced he is with the dish) or perhaps Phillip is simply suffering from an undiscovered allergy. He reckons the best course of action is to send Amica to Celandine, she'd likely have a better idea than him. And oh, does she. "You gave him soup laced with wither rose petals? Are you trying to kill him?!" "Of course not." He growls back. "It's just that nobody seems to be writing down 'hey don't feed anything wither related to kids'." "Don't feed wither roses to anyone! How have you been around for millennia but still don't know only piglins have a tolerance to wither poison? Gods above, it is the commonest of common knowledge." Regaining his health is an arduous task for the small child. His body fights it as best as it can but its methods risk leading to severe dehydration. It is for this reason the god is eternally grateful their savannah home is close to a body of water. If he's not checking in on Phillip, he's boiling water or preparing safe food so he can urge the kid to eat. The fever keeps Phillip in bed for days. It's slow, it's messy, it's far from a great time for anyone. But they gradually see it through. Phillip just about manages to get to the other side, albeit feeling temporarily weaker. "He's lucky I gave him longevity as part of being one of my Chosen. /You're/ lucky." Celandine comments when the disaster finally begins to see its end. "Trust me, Blood God, one more miscalculation on your part that's in even the vaguest vicinity of this one and I will not hesitate to deliver him to the caregivers he should be with. The only reason I'm allowing this experiment of yours to continue is my own curiosity. However, I value him seeing 30 years more than how he gets to that age. This is your only warning." It is duly noted. The god thinks it wise to let Phillip mingle with other children. Who knows how he'd turn out if all he had for company throughout his formative years was a couple of gods, three immortal wolves and Amica or whatever other bird is willing to listen to his ramblings. The two of them are fairly secluded but there is a human town not too far from where the house is. With repeated visits, Phillip begins to make friends of the human variety. Most of the young children think Phillip is cool for having wings. They are also of the opinion that having a giant pig-looking man as a caregiver is impressive. One day on the walk home, the kid in his arm, Phillip looks up at him and opens his mouth. "What's a daddy? Coz- coz I was playing with a girl. Then the man was shouting. She said it was um... it was her 'daddy'. What's that?" "A father." "What's that?" "A male parent. So if you grew up and met a woman then had a baby together, you would be a father. Humans use dad and daddy colloquially." "What's-" "Slang." "Okay." Phillip ponders a moment. "Are you a daddy?" Nether damn you, kid. The god groans. "Yes... I suppose I am something like that to you." "Did you meet a woman?" "Well, Celandine is female and she let me take you home with me after I met her so... in a way." "Celly is a lady daddy." He nods. "That's typically called a mother." After Phillip questions whether the two deities have had a baby other than himself (no, definitely not together and the Blood God has never personally seen the point in siring any brood himself), he descends into further enquiries. It gets to the point the god makes an offhand comment about how he wasn't expecting to deal with a questionnaire today. Phillip responds by asking what a questionnaire is. With all that their conversation entails, it should honestly be counted as a miracle they never touch on the dreaded topic of conception. He does not, however, escape Phillip's gradual shift to a more informal way of addressing him. At least he's not calling him 'Sir' as if it's his actual given name anymore. Over the last few years of parenting, he has learned the quietest moments are the most suspicious ones. If Phillip is not chattering away to himself as he plays in the main room, he is likely running around outside with the wolves or engaging in conversation with Amica. That is to say, he is making noise one way or another. So when the god comes to the realisation he hears nothing on a day in early summer, it is safe to say he is concerned. He discovers Phillip standing on a low branch of a tree. "What are you trying to achieve with this?" The boy glances up. "Oh hi, Daddy. Celly said I was gonna fly. I gotta be 4 or 5 or 6. I'm 4 now so I'm gonna fly now." "I'm not sure it works like that. It's more to do with how large your wings are. They have to be able to support you in the air." "I'm 4." He holds up the appropriate quantity of fingers as if they will emphasise his point. "Celly said my wings are getting super big." That would not be how he would describe the size of those limited things. "They are growing but really, Phillip, you should be careful. I highly doubt you are ready yet." "Watch this." "Don't." He warns. "Get down from there." Phillip grins as if he's thought of the perfect scheme. "Okay!" He leaps from the branch, wings spread out. A second later, an 'oof' of a body hitting the ground is heard. The drop was too short to particularly do any damage (or, in fact, provide enough time for the wings to accept the wind). However, the young boy breaks into a fit of bawling as if he's hurt himself. He's seen stupider injuries over the centuries so a part of the god does not dismiss the possibility Phillip really has caused himself harm as a result of this stunt. Luckily for both of them, it's simply the typical 'small child acting like the most minor inconvenience is the end of the world'. It becomes a long summer of keeping an eye out for Phillip potentially attempting to repeat his actions. Practice may make perfect but the child will never take the skies if he breaks all his bones first. The kid begrudgingly adheres to the rule that he will not perform any flying-related activities without supervision. He often complains that he can't practise flying if he can't jump from a high enough spot to try. The god has none of it. Instead, he suggests the boy flap his wings to imitate flying while standing firm on ground as a better alternative. Phillip becomes a self-declared 'expert' at this soon enough. "Savannah, savannah, savannah." Phillip chants, hopping with his arms raised in an attempt to grab the god's hand. A bag is abandoned by his feet and he continues to pay it no heed in favour of badgering his father. He doesn't know why the child sees the need to jump for it. His current height now has him being not quite the length of one of his legs. Phillip is capable of taking his hand if he so desires by simply lifting it up all the way. "Yes, we are going to the savannah, hold on a minute." They both know the drill by now. In the final week of October, they travel to the house in the midst of the savannah. They return to their forest home as March sees its close. Each time, Phillip must cover up to obscure himself from view as he is carried through the Nether. The Blood God himself has a cloak of his own to further shield the child. This is arguably the first year Phillip is able to walk beside him since he can now reach the god's hand but for the sake of making things easier for everyone, the boy will be held during the trip. Most piglins have no reason to bother him. Even those tasked with helping him manage things from the ground on his behalf seem to have developed an unspoken rule to let him pass undisturbed if the path he takes leads him away from his manor. The moment Phillip is allowed on his feet upon their arrival this year, he sprints to the door. During one afternoon in February, he notices Phillip busy with the swing outside. He doesn't entirely understand the entertainment value in winding it up then spinning but if it amuses the kid then whatever. Amica seems to be keeping him company so that served the god well. He thinks this would be a good time to start carving this acacia wood he has lying around into a blade and handle. Because what 5 year old boy wouldn't want a sword for his birthday? And what god of war and blood wouldn't eagerly anticipate the day he can begin training his protégé properly?

[assembledherethevolunteers]

Future Management Chapter 3

A/N: Hi again!  Sorry this took so long.  It’s been a crazy week.  I hope you guys are still enjoying this (and thank you to everyone for the love of my last chapter)! Please let me know what you think of this next part!

 Pairing: Ben Hardy x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Ben Hardy had been together for the better part of a decade. ��After hitting a rough patch, the two of you decide to end things. However, one small surprise keeps you two connected more than you thought.

 Warnings: Cursing, angst (I swear it’ll get better), fighting (verbal)

Catch Up: Prologue (https://assembledherethevolunteers.tumblr.com/post/188795655663/future-management)  Chapter 1 (https://assembledherethevolunteers.tumblr.com/post/188846514968/future-management-chapter-1) Chapter 2 (https://assembledherethevolunteers.tumblr.com/post/188923255568/future-management-chapter-2) 

Taglist: @lovebirdy93 @jonesyaddiction @im-an-adult-ish @taylorroger-s @amy-brooklyn99 @springholland @stassaurus  @hahaboop @tcnystqks @bloatedandlonly @doctorwhatwhenandwhere  If I missed you I’m sorry! Please let me know if you want to be added.  

The next morning, Ben and Eliza came with you to the recording.  

Ben had made breakfast, but barely talked to you outside of something for Eliza.  You were wondering how him seeing Jackson again would go if he was still this mad at you, even though he had no right to be mad.  Mostly because you weren’t actually dating Jackson, but also because, just like you had to remind yourself, the two of you weren’t together anymore.  

“Good morning, Y/N,” Jackson smiled at you in the studio.  

“Hi, Mr. Jack!”  Eliza waved from Ben’s arms behind you.  

“Well, hi there, Miss Eliza. How are you doing today, darlin?”

You grinned at her but noticed that Ben’s jaw had tightened.  

“Good! Mummy said we can go home and play princesses after dis!”  

“Well that should be a whole lotta fun, huh?”  

Eliza giggled and shook her head yes.  You watched as Ben moved his arms so that Eliza was even closer to him.  

“Y/N? Jackson?”  A woman with a headset asked.  

“Yes?” You both replied.

“Can you follow me? We’ll get you in hair and makeup.”

“Alright,” you turned to Ben and Eliza.  “Mommy and Mr. Jack have to go with her, but you and Daddy can…”

“Oh, Jaz?”  The woman said to another.  She stopped and looked at the group.  “Can you take these two to Y/N’s dressing room?”  

You saw this ‘Jaz’ woman look Ben up and down and then smile.  You nearly saw red.  

“I sure can, follow me, you two.”  

You gave Eliza a kiss on her cheek.  “Mommy will see you soon, okay?”  

“Okay! Bye, Mummy! Bye, Mr. Jack!” Eliza waved at both of you and then Jaz led them away.  

“She’s really cute,” Jack told you as you followed the woman.  

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Ben doesn’t seem to like me much,” Jackson said with a dry chuckle.

“It um…takes him a bit to warm up to people.  He’s really a good guy.  A great father.”  You replied as you walked into the hair and makeup area.  

Jackson just hummed noncommittally and sat down in one of the chairs.  The two of you spoke with the cosmetologists as they fixed your makeup and hair.  

The interview was going well.  You and Jackson talked about the movie and how it was working together.  The two of you had always gotten along easily.  It made it easy to work with and do all these interviews.

You were about to wrap up when one of the hosts brought it up.  It wasn’t really off limits, but it still kind of shook you when somebody brought it up.  

“Now, Y/N, how is it being back in London?  You used to live here, yeah?”  

You fidgeted with your hair for just a second, a nervous gesture, before fixing a smile on your face.

“I did, yeah.  I love being here!  It’s so different from New York, but at the same time it’s still that go go go of a big city.  And it’s that same modern feel and yet you know how much history has happened here as well.  It’s beautiful.”  

“That’s very true,” the female host, Holly nodded.  “You sometimes forget how historic this city is.”  

You could tell she was trying to hint to her cohost not to bring it up again.  Thankfully, he picked up on it.  

“It is, indeed, a beautiful city.  Now, back to the film.”  

You and Jackson finished the interview mentioning a part of the book that you wish could’ve been in the movie.  

“Not to give too much away, but there’s this scene towards the end of the novel, in the last couple chapters I think?, and we just couldn’t make it work.  It was written so well on the page and we tried four or five different ways to get it perfect, but we just couldn’t, so we had to scrap it. Maybe that will be an extra on the Blu-Ray or something.”

“I remember that day,” Jackson laughed.  “Everybody was trying to get it exactly like it was on the page.  Maybe if we had just taken a little more creative license it would’ve worked better, but like Y/N said, it was so beautiful on the page that we wanted to do it justice.”  

“Well now we need to know what it is!”  

You looked at Jackson and then gestured for him to continue.  

“Oh great, make me do it,” Jackson nudged you with his arm.  You laughed and pushed him back, letting your hand linger for maybe just a beat too long.  “Again, we don’t want to give too much away, and it’s not like it’s the climax of the film, but Y/N’s character and mine are in their home, and she has a dream.  I’ll leave it at that.”  

“Oooh I remember that part!” The Holly’s voice rose in excitement.  “I loved reading that!”

“Me too!” You matched her tone.  “And we tried, we really did, it just didn’t work with the story we were working on and everybody agreed to let it go because the same thing could be conveyed with a conversation between our characters,” you shrugged and then looked to the audience.  “If you’re one of those people that doesn’t read the book because a movie is coming out, may I suggest breaking that rule just this once?  That scene itself is worth it.”  

The other three on the set vocally agreed with you.  

“Well we can’t wait to see the film, it sounds amazing and you two are just great.  If your chemistry here carried on set, I think we’re in for something great!”  Holly smiled at both of you and then turned to a camera.  

“’See You Around’ comes out next Friday!  Stay tuned and Meghan May will be showing you how to get rid of those pesky earwigs in your garden.”  

The audience applauded and then the same woman that showed you and Jackson hair and makeup appeared.

“And we’re clear!”  

“Thank you both, so much,” you offered your hand to the hosts.  They both took and shook it in turn.  

You and Jackson came off set and Eliza ran right up to you and hugged your leg.  

“Good job, Mummy!”

You bent down, trying to keep your balance in your heels.  

“Thank you, Lovebug! Did you have fun watching Mommy?”

Eliza nodded and then looked up at Jackson.  “You did good too, Mr. Jack.”  

“Thank you, Miss Eliza.”

“Well, we should probably get to lunch.  Eliza will need her nap soon,” Ben’s voice came from a few yards away, a little too loud.

“Daddy! Can Mr. Jack come over to lunch?”  

Jackson looked over at Ben and you noticed Ben’s eyes harden.  

“I don’t think so, Birdie.”

Eliza pouted and looked at you.  

“Mummy?”  

You ran your hand through her hair.  You opened your mouth to answer, but you were cut off.  

“You know what, Miss Eliza?” Jackson drew Eliza’s attention.  “I’ve actually got plans for lunch, but I’ll be sure to see you one more time before I leave.”  

Eliza was still pouting but nodded.  

“Okay, Mr. Jack.”  

You stood up and gave Jack a hug and kissed his cheek.  

“I’ll see you at the premiere tomorrow night?”

“Sure will,” Jackson fixed you with a huge smile.  He smiled down at Eliza.  “I’ll see you soon, Miss Eliza.”  

“Bye, Mr. Jack!” Eliza hugged his legs before moving back to you.  

You bent down and picked her up.  She played with your necklace, already over the crushing disappointment.  

“I’ll see you later,” Jackson said again.  He looked to Ben.  “Nice to see you again, Ben.”  

Ben just waved before Jackson left.  

You shot a glare at Ben before you started making your way out as well.  You and Ben were silent, listening to Eliza talk about one of the nice people that had given her a lollipop (“But Daddy said I can’t have it until lunch”).  

You buckled Eliza into her car seat and then got into the car, still ignoring Ben.  Thank God Eliza kept talking because the tension in the front of the car was palpable.

Lunch wasn’t much better. You made Eliza a turkey sandwich, along with fruit snacks and carrot sticks. You and Ben avoided each other as much as possible.  Once Eliza was done eating, Ben put her down for her nap.  

You thought about pouring yourself some wine but decided alcohol wouldn’t help anything.  Ben walked back down the stairs and then set his hands on the counter.  You watched him for a moment.  

“I don’t like him.”  

You rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest.  

“Why?  What has he done to you?”  

Ben looked at you for a long moment.  “Are you sleeping with him?”  

“Ben!” You hissed, trying not to raise your voice for fear of waking Eliza.  

“That’s not an answer.”

“Why does it matter? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not married anymore.”  

Ben opened his mouth a couple times before inhaling sharply through his nose.  

“I know, I just would like to know who is around MY daughter.”

You stared at Ben, dumbfounded.

“First of all, she’s OUR daughter.  Second of all, you’re kidding, right?”

“Look, if she gets attached to ‘Mr. Jack’ and he ends up being a bad guy…”  

“Ben, I’m not dating Jack!” You were getting angry.  Did he honestly think that you would do ANYTHING to hurt Eliza?   That you would let people that would hurt her even be able to LOOK at her?

That made Ben take a moment back and then he cleared his throat.  

“I…I mean, he’s still around her.”

“Yeah! And so are Gwil and Joe and Luc…”

“They’re different!”

“Why?! Because YOU know them?! Last I checked, they were also your coworkers before they were friends and…”

“So you’re comparing my best friends to some guy that you just flirt with and…”

“WE WERE IN A MOVIE TOGETHER!”  You hated yourself for yelling, but you couldn’t stop it.  “YOU KNOW HOW THOSE INTERVIEWS GO! THEY WANT TO SEE YOU GET ALONG WITH YOUR COSTARS!” You were fuming.  He was mad because you got along with your coworker? How dare he use Eliza as an excuse for not liking somebody!  

“WELL YOU PLAYED IT REALLY FUCKING WELL!  HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IF YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH HIM OR NOT?!”

“MAYBE TAKE MY GODDAMN WORD FOR IT?! OR NOT EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT!”

“HOW AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO WORRY ABOUT IT!?”

“BECAUSE IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, THAT’S HOW!  WHY THE FUCK DO YOU CARE IF HE AND I ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER?!”

“BECAUSE I…!”

“Mummy? Daddy?”  You and Ben turned toward Eliza.  She was holding her stuffed ladybug close to her face as she stood at the doorway to the kitchen.  She looked about ready to start sobbing.  

“Oh Birdie, what are you doing awake?” Ben’s voice softened, even though his chest still heaved.  He walked over and picked up Eliza.  You were quickly behind her, rubbing her back.

“I h…heard you and Mummy yelling,” Eliza’s voice shook, full of tears.  

“Oh Lovebug, Mommy and Daddy are sorry,” you cooed, continuing to rub circles on her back. “We um…you know how Mommy and Daddy play pretend?”  You asked her.  That was how you explained what you and Ben did.  It was the easiest explanation for a three-year-old.  

Eliza nodded, tears still threatening to fall.  

“Well, that’s all we were doing.  Playing pretend.”  

“You both said bad words,” Eliza whispered, almost as if she spoke louder she would break whatever tentative peace you and Ben had reached.    

Ben pressed a kiss to her forehead.  

“We did, and we’re sorry, love,” Ben rocked with a Eliza a few moments.  Once she seemed to be calmed down, he asked “Do you want to go upstairs and get some more sleep?”  

Eliza shook her head, burying her face in the crook of Ben’s neck.  

“How about we watch ‘The Princess and the Frog’ and cuddle on the couch?”  You offered.  The Princess and the Frog was her favorite movie and you knew it could soothe her.  

She peeked over at you.

“Can Daddy cuddle too?”

You looked at Ben and then back to Eliza.  Why did she have to look so much like him?  You tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“Of course, sweetie. Why don’t you and Daddy get comfy and…”

“No, here,” Ben slid Eliza into your arms.  She buried herself deeper in your arms.  You and Ben exchanged a look.  “You and Mummy can get comfy and I’ll get everything ready.”  Ben kissed Eliza’s nose and led you to the living room.  You and Eliza started making a nest of blankets and pillows as Ben got the TV and Blu-Ray player ready.  

“Mummy?”  Eliza asked as you got her wrapped in a blanket.  

“Yes, honey?”  

Eliza was suddenly shy, which was something she never was.  You rubbed her back again.  “What’s the matter, Liza?”

She shook her head as Ben came over with the remote.  

“Ready, lovies?”  

You ignored the term of endearment as you burrowed yourself deeper into the hoard of blankets and wrapped your arms around Eliza.  Ben pressed play and then placed one arm on top of yours and pulling Eliza (and you) closer to his chest.  

If the two of you had still been married, this could’ve been how you spent the last three years. Cuddling on the couch, Eliza between you, watching Disney movies while the dreary English afternoon went by.  Maybe after she was asleep, Ben would take her upstairs and then when he came back downstairs, the two of you would snuggle, just the two of you, maybe finish the movie if it wasn’t over yet.  

Eliza was singing along to the songs, and you noticed Ben was keeping the beat with his thumb near your elbow.  You hated how…normal this all seemed.  

You hated that you ached for this.  

Eliza giggled at the fireflies in the movie started up their song.  The last thing you remembered was Ray and all his family singing “Gonna Take You There” and the feeling of Ben gently rubbing your arm.  

Ben watched as your eyes fluttered closed.  He’d missed that sight.  He’s missed almost everything about you.  Maybe that’s why it had been easier to pick a fight with you about Jackson.  If he thought about the bad things, he wouldn’t beg you take him back.  He felt awful for taking out his frustration on somebody who honestly seemed like a good guy and had been nothing but nice to Eliza (and you, as much as it annoyed him).

And poor Eliza.  No child should have to hear their parents argue like that, whether they were together or not.  Ben glanced at her.  She was trying so hard to stay awake, but the song was a soft love song and it was lulling her to sleep.  

“Get some sleep, Birdie,” Ben placed a kiss in her hair.  

“No, Daddy,” Eliza muttered, but her eyes were already closed.  

You’d always said that Eliza looked more like him, and maybe she did, but she acted just like you. She was sweet, and smart, and warm. She had her stubborn side too, even at three.  It pained him when he saw her act like you, or when she used American terms for something because it just reminded him that much more of you.  And when she talked about you, the way her face lit up when she saw you, it just made him miss you that much more.  

Ben watched the rest of the movie, even though he basically knew it by heart.  

“Because Tiana, she is my Evangeline.”  

Ben looked over at you and sighed.  

[o-captain-elcapitan]

Steel Horses - Chapter One

Title: Steel Horses Author: ElCapitan Game: Dragon Age Characters/Pairing: M!Adaar x Dorian Disclaimer: All recognizable content belongs to Bioware

Summary -

Valo-Kas M.C. is not a 1% motorcycle club. The security work that they do is above board, legal and licensed, squeaky f*cking clean. What their clients get up to, however, is none of their business. And their strict “look the other way, ask no questions” policy is what keeps them in business. That is until a new Tevinter client puts the MC in federal cross hairs. Ozet Adaar wants to protect his sister and save his club. When a Tevinter ambassador knocks him on his ass his heart is pulled in yet another direction and there’s nothing more terrifying than knowing that he can’t protect them all. His twin, Ozena, might consider herself “barely a mage” but that’s still enough to damn her if the wrong people find her out. Federal scrutiny is the last thing they need. Maker only knows if they can shake it with their lives in tact.

Read on Ao3

[Prologue]

Ozena Adaar

Six months earlier… 

“Wait, I’m not done.”

River’s sigh was long suffering as they leafed back a page and held the book open with their thumb. She could hear the unspoken,  Maker’s breath , in their silence. 

Ozena supposed she couldn’t blame them. Things were just starting to get steamy and she was slowing down their pace to The Good Part with her slow and steady wins the race reading speed. She liked to savor the smut, sue her. 

She was sure that River’s sigh had nothing to do with how she’d climbed onto the back of the half elf’s bike, draped herself onto their back, propped her chin on their shoulder, and started reading along; out loud at first, until things had started to get good, then annoying River had taken a backseat to the story they were reading. She’d made jokes before when she’d read the title, but Ozena was mature enough to admit when she was wrong. As it turned out Hard in Hightown was a page turner. 

No, her complete disregard for personal space had nothing to do with River’s silent,  not-at-all-vocal-but-felt-in-spirit  grumbling. After almost a decade and a half of riding together, they knew that a little Big Spoon action was the least of Ozena’s mindless affections. This was nothing. It got worse if the mood was right and all parties were willing. 

If she knew River --and after all this time she liked to think that she did-- they just wanted to finish this chapter before Shokrakar and Zet emerged from the clubhouse and led the way to their next paycheck. Ozena was slowing them down. 

The kiss she pressed to their shoulder, and the gentle squeeze of her arms around their waist, was meant as an apology. When she lifted her mouth from the smooth, cool leather of River’s cut, she murmured, “Okay, next page,” and tried to keep up with their lightning fast reading speed.

Valo-Kas had an escort job tonight, the extent of which was mostly to look tough and dissuade any funny business with a head count. It was easy shit, routine shit, business as usual. With four horned giants --three of which were the size of brick shit-houses, herself included-- and a motley assortment of tough as shit bad asses, all armed to the teeth and decked out in matching leather cuts, most people with good sense knew better than to try anything. Everyone else learned that lesson pretty quickly. 60% of the time they got paid to make an appearance. The other 40% was when they actually got to have some fun. 

According to Shokrakar, fun wasn’t on tonight’s itinerary. Their client just wanted a show of force and thought it’d be enough to keep things civil. But there was a saying about the Maker’s attitude on mortals making plans. They’d be ready for anything regardless of how it went down. 

A sense of foreboding made Ozena hold River tighter, an ominous uncertainty that niggled at the back of her neck and the back of her mind. It felt like that moment of near realization. The fraction of a second just before you were actively aware that you were about to fall, an instant of knowing and not knowing, the glide before the tumble. 

Something was going to happen tonight. Good or bad, she had no way of knowing, but her instincts were coiled tight, springloaded to meet whatever the night had in store. 

Her gaze lifted from the page she hadn’t been reading, not out of boredom, but because the tightness in her gut was making it hard to concentrate on the words. She looked around at the other members of Valo-Kas, all milling about, waiting for their President and VP to give them the order to mount up and ride out. A bit of familial warmth chased away the apprehension that had started to cool her blood. These were her people, her brothers and sisters. She’d die for any one of them without a second thought. They were her club, which was more than family, more binding than blood, though Ozet would always be her number one and anyone who accused her of playing favorites was right. 

Ozet was everyone’s favorite. Any claim to the contrary was a fucking lie. 

They were a small MC compared to others around Ferelden and the Free Marches, boasting a total of nine members in all. Val-Kas was the Mother Charter, the Original club, a ragtag group of ex-cons and former military that felt no need to franchise their brand and spread across the map like an STD at a music festival. Small circles were easier to maintain. Besides, she’d bet on her mismatched nine against any club with the call sheet in the dozens. 

There was chill, unflappable River, with their pinstraight, midnight black hair and olive skin. Who leaned so heavily on the elven helf of their heritage that their body was as genderless as their identity. Their build was lean and accompanied by diamond sharp, angular features. Heavy lidded, almond shaped eyes sat under thick, sculpted eyebrows and between a wide nose that gave them the appearance of a cat. They were willowy and agile, and the only thing human about them was their height. 

They were still shorter than Ozena, but most humans were, even the tall ones. 

Ashir, the MC’s Sergeant at Arms, was bulky for an elf. Full elf, not a half blood like River and Eema --technically Nys, too. The wild waves of his dark brown hair was almost always secured into a messy top knot that --without fail-- looked like one wrong move would snap the hair tie and loose his glorious mane. His Dalish heritage was in his ink, the intricate black lines that covered his bronzy terracotta surface all the way from his brow to his knuckles, even onto this feet. Quick as most were to dismiss the Dalish, she’d seen his prowess in combat outstrip trained soldiers. He’d earned that Sergeant patch several times over. 

Their Road Captain, Devlon, was the club’s lone dwarf. His ash blond hair was as long as it was thick, ritualistically braided in intricate ropes, ornamented with gold rings and beads. They made them tough in Orzammar, and Dev was the cream of the military crop. He didn’t like to talk about what brought him topside, and she knew better than to ask. Some walls took longer than others to scale, and then there were those too thick and too tall for even time to make a difference. 

Down the line of motorcycles, Eema and Nysris were both lounging on their bikes, propped onto the seats sidesaddle as one thumbed through their phone and the other amused herself by folding bits of paper and flicking the pieces at the field goal of Vercer’s lifted hands. They were both half elves but, unlike Eema, Nys’ other half was Tal Vashoth. They were night and day in a sense that was a stone’s throw away from literal. 

Where Eema was the warm golds of a cloudless summer day, Nysris was as dark as an overcast night. The vashoth influence on her genes manifested first in her horns, but also in her black skin. Not umber or plum, black like obsidian, onyx, or the vast infinity between stars. When they opened their mouths to speak the real surprise was that, of the two, Nys’ upbeat personality was the one that shone bright as the sun. Eema was quiet and reticent, with a dark sense of humor that took everyone with a clear line of sight by surprise every single time. 

Vercer was Valo-Kas’ only human and newest patched member. Sponsored by Nys, who’d been impressed by his performance in a bar fight, they’d only just voted him in as a fully patched member last night. This was the first job he’d work with a top and bottom rocker instead of the Prospect patch he’d worn for the last year. By the twinkle in his baby blues, the man was thrilled and his excitement was contagious. 

The MC was an outlaw’s trail mix, but they were family and she wouldn’t trade any last one of them for anything. 

Before she could berate herself for being a sap, the clubhouse’s door kicked open and their two unaccounted for members finally emerged from within. Shokrakar was big for a femal, even by Tal Vashoth standards, with a commanding mein that made the President patch on her chest all but obsolete. With her height and build, the intimidating size of her horns, and the facial scars, there was no question that she was the woman in charge. 

Zet also lived and breathed his Vice President patch. He was taller than Shok by only a few inches, wider and bulkier, though significantly less grizzled. His comparable youth was in his musculature, in the well defined, bulging ropes of muscle that hadn’t been sandblasted by time. He had the same dark, coal ash complexion that she did, and also kept his cascading sheets of silver hair nearly as long. He and Shok would have made anything other than their power cruisers look like crotch rockets. 

As they approached, Ozena kissed River’s cheek before breaking the circle of her arms from around their waist and lifting her leg over the back of their bike. She moved to the next bike over, where she was parked just beside them, and leaned back in her seat to wait for the club’s officers to lead the charge. 

“Mount up, you lazy shits,” said Shokrakar as she walked down the line of bikes to where hers was parked at the end. A wink was aimed at Ozena as she passed her. “We’ve got a job to do.”

Zet, who was close on Shok’s heels, his bike in the spot beside the president’s, gave her a familiar look as he sauntered by. There was a wordless,  stay close to me  , in the violet rings of his eyes. Her replying nod was imperceptible and Ozena wasn’t sure if she should be reassured by the silent request. Of course she could take care of herself but, that it was made at all meant that he felt it too; that ominous  something  that made her skin feel tight. Maybe it was just another twin thing. Whatever the reason, she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight tonight. 

The raucous roar of engines filled the night as, one after the other, their bikes came alive. Shok pushed off first, rolling toward the gated exit as the others followed suit, falling into formation behind her once they hit the street. 

There was a refreshing chill in the air and she breathed in deeply. On nights like tonight it was easy to imagine herself riding into forever, not a worry to her name so long as the road stretched on, but then she glanced around at her club, at her family, and the fantasy turned sour. There was no forever without them, and jobs like the one they were riding towards now was what kept them going. They’d be fine. Just like they always were. 

Ozet Adaar

The drive from their clubhouse on the outskirts of Amaranthine wasn’t far from the shipping yard in Seagrave, the location of the client’s meetup. As escort and entourage, they would catch up with the client on the way then accompany them to their meeting, where they were expected to mean mug their associate into rethinking any poorly put together plans involving a forceful renege of any previously established agreements. The arrangement raised some questions that they were paid not to ask. Though that didn’t stop his interest from being piqued. 

He didn’t know much about the client. Next to nothing, actually. Shokrakar had done the coordinating and they’d done enough jobs like this one that Zet hadn’t minded letting the old crone do her thing. This was their bread and butter, routine, business as usual bullshit. Valo-Kas was a well oiled machine and could do this hogtied, blind folded, and swinging from a tree like a piñata. He had the utmost faith in his club. So then why was his stomach so tight his abs hurt like he’d spent the last two hours braced for a punch to the gut?

This was one of those times he wished that Shok would revisit their ‘ask no questions’ policy. Capable as they were, there were things they couldn't prepare for if they went into it blind. They’d survived this long because they were tough as shit, crafty as hell, and had some higher power looking out for them. But their luck was finite. Someday it was going to run out. 

He gripped the handlebars tighter and stopped himself from looking over his shoulder to where Zen was riding. If he had to pick a night to scrape the dredges of their Good Luck Barrel, it’d be the night they did a job for some Vint high roller cruising through town looking for muscle. They’d been hired because the client had no friends, no connections this side of the Waking Sea, and looking weak was how out of town big shots ended up floating onto shore with a bullet hole between their eyes and the back of their head blown off. 

Deductive reasoning and over a decade in The Life made it easy to determine what this meeting was about. If their client had no friends then they had to make some. This was more than a business deal. It was a date, a courtship. Their client was out to woo and the question he wouldn't be asking was: what for?

Zet was trying not to let preparedness turn into paranoia. As VP his job was to think ahead, picture all the possibilities, and prepare for them accordingly. It was a fine line to walk, to not succumb to the anxiety that one misstep could end with members dead or arrested, and the club torn apart. 

They’d done this before. Sometimes shit went sideways. It was part of the job and part of the paycheck. If that was the case this go around they’d handle it like all the times before: teeth bared, guns raised, and hell bent on taking as many fuckers down with them before karma did her thing. 

His sigh was resolute, determined, and the breath that followed as fortified by the night’s cold air. They rode up on a luxury SUV and he recognized the plates. He and Shokrakar shared a look before he nodded and raised a hand to signal the others. Valo-Kas flowed around the vehicle and lined up in front of it. Their headlights and roaring engines guided the way to Seagrave. 

There wasn’t much traffic on the roads this late at night, expediting the drive into the privatized port and shipping yard. The procession drove deeper into the fenced area, between the rusted patchwork of stacked shipping containers, toward the docks. When the SUV flashed its high beams they slowed to a stop. Kickstands were toed out, engines cut, and the few helmets removed as he and Shok both unstradled their bikes. 

The others followed suit but stayed behind as he and their president went to officially greet their client. As they strode toward the SUV a tall, well dressed and groomed elf stepped out of the driver's seat. He started for the back door without acknowledging either of them before pulling it open and offering the person inside his hand. An eyebrow cocked when he noticed slender, jewel covered fingers slip into his extended palm. 

The sharp click of stilettos on pavement were followed by the reveal of a tall, slender, human woman with dark, russet skin, black hair twisted into an elegant bun, and a sleek, black dress with a harsh, sharp, angled design. She smoothed a manicured hand over her dress as cold, dark eyes assessed their approach. Her gaze was guarded, shrewd, ink blots that dressed them down with a single sweep. Face and features as round as hears might have been gentle on anyone else, but she had the indomitable severity of a businesswoman that specialized in the less than legal. Small as she was by comparison to him and Shokrakar, her presence was strangely commanding. 

This was clearly a woman who dealt with their “kind” often. 

Glancing between them, her eyes landed on the older Tal Vashoth and she extended a hand in her direction. “You must be Shokrakar, President of Valo-Kas.” her accent had a melodic elegance to it, the chime of an expensive education. 

Her grip swallowed her hand whole. With a jerk of her chin she motioned her attention toward him. “And this is my VP, Ozet.” When their hands broke apart the woman offered it to him, smile too cold to be pleasant. 

He gave her hand a firm shake anyway, well accustomed to getting greeted with both distrust and distaste right off the bat. Sometimes their clients resented them for the same reasons they hired them in the first place. They were big, hulking, horned bikers that looked more likely to take a lead pipe to your kneecaps than to watch your back. That aesthetic was part of the deal. It was what she was paying them for. By the sharp edge to her stare, he was guessing that she was loathe to acknowledge that fact. 

“My name is Livia Herathinos,” she said, turning on her heel with a look toward her elf driver, a wordless command that had him moving with her toward the back of the vehicle. Without looking back at them, she explained, “All that I require of your club tonight is its presence. Of the both of you, I might request a touch more.”

The driver popped the trunk open and, as they followed her to the SUV’s back bumper, he began to unload some reinforced cases. They were wide and thick, built to survive a beating. One was handed off to each of them and Zet was surprised by its weight. 

As the cases were distributed, Livia explained, “I ask that you accompany me into the meeting. All this requires of you is to stay close behind me and bring the cases when I signal for them. There will be no need for you to say or do anything beyond stand there and look menacing.”

Shok huffed an amused breath and considered the case in her hand. “You want us to carry your bags.”

“If you think you can manage it.”

The laugh faded from her expression and, for several tense heartbeats, she and Livia just stared at each other. It was Shok that backed down first, grunting dispassionately, not because she was intimidated by her but because carrying bags was part of the job. She was a Vint and obviously came from money, maybe even from some influential family too far north from here for them to care, this was just how their kind treated those they deemed beneath them. It wasn’t personal and, so long as she paid, it didn’t fucking matter. 

He and Shokrakar shared another look. At Zet’s raised eyebrow the older female refocused on Livia and nodded for her to lead the way. Her replying nod was satisfied with what she interpreted as submission. She gave her driver a meaningful glance and he shut the trunk and took the space directly behind her as she led them toward the docks. 

Driver and bodyguard. Zet had to wonder if Slave was his actual job description. By the way she was keeping him close, he was guessing yes. That was the way of the Tevinter Elite. 

After signalling for the other members to fall in line with them, the group strode unhurriedly toward the docks, where the crash of high tide thundered in the night. There was a small group of three waiting for them. A pale human man with two others behind him. Zet didn’t recognize any of them, and couldn't see any identifying colors under their shirt collars or exposed skin. Behind him, Valo-Kas fanned out. He wanted to glance back at Nys and Zen and order them to check the perimeter, but they were too close to Livia’s associate for him to take his eyes off of them. He and Shok were supposed to be her growling, drooling mabari hounds. If he looked away it broke the illusion that he was more than happy to kill for her and just as prepared to die for her, too. So he kept his eyes forward and hoped that his twin and Nys knew enough to do a quick check their environs.

The human man at point spoke over the churning ocean’s din with a rough, “Do you have it?” 

Livia motioned for him and Shokrakar to step forward. Once they were close, she turned her back on the humans and approached them one at a time, opening each of their cases to reveal military grade weaponry fitted into the shaped foam interior. When she stepped away it was with an inviting wave. The human at point looked back at his companions before stepping forward to inspect the guns. 

As he removed a rifle, Livia explained, “Today I’ve brought you just a taste of what we have in stock. What you’re holding there is a 7.62 mm enhanced battle rifle. You’ll find a M240L machine gun in the second case.” They watched as the man tested the weight of it, lifted the rifle’s butt to his shoulder, pointed the barrel toward a shipping container and stared down the sights. As he tested the weapon, she explained, “We also have a selection of AKs and semi automatic pistols, depending on demand.”

Lifting his face from the weapon, he grinned like a kid on Wintersend. “May I,” he asked, looking toward the provided ammunition.

Her smile was polite as she gestured toward the case in Zet’s hand. “By all means.”

He picked the magazine out of the case and slammed it into place. Grinning back at his men he aimed again at the shipping container and squeezed the trigger. The thunder of round after round firing off at a lightning fast pace was joined by the flash at the end of the rifle’s barrel. The man laughed before doing another sweep at the container, tearing through the metal like a knife through warm butter. He lowered the gun and turned to Livia, excitement in his eyes. 

“Let’s talk numbers,” he said, and before another word could come out of either of them, the thunder of even more gunshots filled the night.

____

I hope you like it! toss a reblog to your writer, or tumblr of plenty <3

[youcantkillamutant]

A Map Made in Heaven (Epilogue)

Prologue…Chapter 1…Chapter 2…Chapter 3…Chapter 4…Chapter 5...Chapter 6

Author: youcantkillamutant

Fandom: Marvel (Black Panther)

Pairing: Erik Stevens/Killmonger x Black!OC

Summary: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens is the biggest bootlegger in South Carolina, but he wants to be more than the middle man. After he receives a letter from an ‘old friend’ of his father, he embarks on a quest to find his homeland. Enter Audrey Cade, the finest mapmaker in the County.

Warnings: None!  😊😊😊Okay maybe a lil angst but other than that....

Words: 1K+

A/N: So...This happened! This is the last bit of my 1920’s AU! Thank you to everyone for reading liking and reblogging and recommending (!?!??!) this story. I love that y’all read and review. That stuff always makes my day! 😘😘😘

I only own my original characters of course. As usual Marvel don’t sue me I’m broke.

Listening to: Bitter End by the Dixie Chicks, Shine by Leon Bridges, and Redemption Song by Bob Marley

EPILOGUE

July 10, 1922: Charleston, SC

Two years, four days, and…5 hours, since Audrey Cade left Erik in Wakanda. She never heard from him again, and after that first year she stopped waiting. Well as much as she could. That first year was…a bit of a frenzy. She convinced the US government to commission her to remap that Francis Marion National Forest in Awendaw, and she spent half a year searching for that tree.

Audrey mapped over 200,000 acres of vast expansive green searching for a baobab that shouldn’t have been there. It took her six long months to find it within the maze of slender trunked trees, and when she did Audrey lost her breath. Where there was once a strong wide tree, stood only a stump. It was withered and wilted, rotting from the inside and curled in on itself.

Audrey had held out hope for a while that Erik didn’t do it, that he didn’t destroy Wakanda. But she hadn’t heard from him, or Shuri, or even Ti for that matter and seeing the entrance to Wakanda shriveled and dying… She cried for hours that day, gut wrenching sobs pulled from her aching heart. Audrey felt as though an entire part of her had been scooped out and left bare and raw.

To be fair, Junie let Audrey wallow for a while. Too long if you asked Junie, but she could hardly get Audrey to talk about it. In all honesty Junie had never been one for feelings, her husband took over when the kids were crying but this is Audrey. Her little sister, her partner in crime, the smartest person she’d ever met.

Junie will never forget what Audrey said at Oakies, that first night back.

“I found it Junie. I found home.”

Audrey did her best to tell Junie all she could stomach.

“Erik is—was a prince. Lost royalty.”

Junie lost it of course, couldn’t understand why Audrey left Erik in the first place. Audrey tried to explain, she really did, but it seemed that the difficulty of the situation was between her and Erik.

“They hurt him and I couldn’t—he wouldn’t listen Junie. I’m afraid I’ve—”

All Junie could do in the end was hold her friend. She took her home and fed her sweets, and when that didn’t work she forced her back on a schedule. The shop reopened two months after Audrey returned, and she would go running with Junie every morning before the shop doors creaked open to the public.

Mrs. Floyd from the County Clerk’s office was the first to click her heels through the door, on the third day she opened. A few of her grandchildren tumbling in alongside her. Audrey softened at the babbling children, setting them up with paper and crayons at a smaller desk she reserved for these occasions.

“You let Mr. Stevens know I am keeping his place nice and clean sweetheart. And when you get a chance, come on down to the library and read to the kids, they’ve been missing you while you were away.” Audrey jolted at the mention of Erik. Junie hadn’t said his name since she had spilled everything, and to hear about him when he wasn’t there…hurt.

“Oh—okay Mrs. Floyd.” A deep inhale. “Is there anything I can get for you now?” Mrs. Floyd went on to describe the commission she needed and Audrey did her best to focus. That’s how it’s been since she reopened.  

Audrey used some of the money she had gotten from Shuri to make some upgrades to the shop as well. She’d found the best mechanic around to rig her a lightbox like the one in Wakanda, and a carpenter to get her the smoothest table money could buy. It still didn’t compare to vibranium, but her commissions shot through the roof after.

She had three sketchbooks full of Wakanda and Jabariland. The ornate palace halls, shining solar paneled automobiles, and the vast fields of Wakanda colored the pages. When she flicked through them now…It all seemed like a dream. She still reads the letter she got from Ti all those years ago. Ran her fingers over the splotchy ink of the map and uneven pulp of the paper.

Some days, bad days, she thought about what life would have been like if she had stayed. We he have burned her with all of Wakanda. Would he have reconsidered? Would she have ever returned home if he did? Erik was so set on his ambitions, Audrey was never truly sure if he had enough time for her. Sometimes she wasn’t sure she would have time for him. After she found Wakanda, her thoughts opened up to finding other lost lands. Discovering worlds people hadn’t seen in centuries somehow seemed possible after finding Wakanda.

The door to Cade’s Atlas swung open interrupting her musings, and all Audrey heard were the pitter patter of little feet.

“Bincinke!”

“Ti?” Audrey could barely speak. Before her was a girl, skinny and sprouting and covered in furs from the mountains, hopping from foot to foot.

“You remember! I knew you would! Baba wasn’t sure but I knew it!” Audrey’s heart was full to bursting when Ti released a triumphant smile. Babbling on and on.

“Uncle said I could run ahead if I bring you this!” She waved a wooden box around, nearly dropping it before she set it down and leapt into Audrey’s arms.

“I missed you bincinke.” Audrey squeezed Ti tight. Please don’t let this be a dream.

“I missed you too princess.” Another squeeze and Ti jumped out of her arms, shoving the box into Audrey’s shaking hands.

Ti gestured for Audrey to open it, so she did. It took her a moment to find the silk pull tab on the sleek box and the tab pulled the lid off slowly. The inside of the box was laced with soft, shining fabric. Silver, like vibranium. Inside was a beer bottle. Long necked and clear, filled with glittering blue liquid, the label read: Wakandan Brews, Est. 1921. There were a few Wakandan words at the bottom, Audrey only catching the words ‘home’ and ‘family’ before it fell from her hands back into the box.

She was so busy staring at the bold lettering that she barely heard the door clink open. Soft boots squeaked on the wooden floorboards, and long denim pants covered the man up to his waist. A soft cotton shirt hugged his shoulders and Audrey stopped breathing when she got to his handsome, brown face.

“Hey babydoll.”

“E—Erik?” Audrey’s breath left her in a rush. Wakanda lives.

—o—

Translations

Bincinke: Explorer (Hausa)

A/N: So here we are! The finale! This is the scene I imagined at the end, no crazy touching reunion, just Audrey seeing that Erik is alive. That’s all I wanted, I nice soft ending 😊

I know I say this in every chapter, but I want to thank everyone for reading this little AU. This is my first fic ever, and going into it I wasn’t confident that anyone would even read it let alone like it. I am forever grateful that I started writing fic for this wonderful fandom. I know that there are sometimes petty squabbles and shit, but everyone of y’all is amazing and I’m so happy to write amongst my amazing peers 😘😘😘

Taglist: @muse-of-mbaku​ @k-michaelis​ @princessstevens​ @nemesispawn​ @queenamaniii​ @dreadedphilosphy​ @killmongurl​ @thelovelyliterary​ @elaindeereads​ @thedom223​ @bidibidibombaclaat @thatrandomfangirl98​ @panthergoddessbast​

[catescher]

Review: The Savior’s Champion by Jenna Moreci

Quick Disclaimer: I was not in any form or shape paid for this review/compensated for it. I bought the book on my own initiative and out of my own pocket. No strings attached whatsoever. However: I am influenced by Jenna Moreci’s TSC-related content such as blog posts and character portraits. I went in knowing a bit about the book and who the characters were. Also Spoiler Warning!

Name of the book: The Savior’s Champion Author: Jenna Moreci Publishing House: Self-Published Pages: 562 Formats available: EBook and Hardcover ISBN: 978-0999735213 Prices: E-Book: 5.99 € (EU) 7.15 $ (US) 4.79 £ (GB) Hardcover: 21.41 € (EU) 23.164 (US) 18.99£ (GB)

Description (Amazon) Tobias Kaya doesn't care about The Savior. He doesn't care that She's the Ruler of the realm or that She purified the land, and he certainly doesn't care that She's of age to be married. But when competing for Her hand proves to be his last chance to save his family, he's forced to make The Savior his priority. Now Tobias is thrown into the Sovereign's Tournament with nineteen other men, and each of them is fighting — and killing — for the chance to rule at The Savior's side. Instantly his world is plagued with violence, treachery, and manipulation, revealing the hidden ugliness of his proud realm. And when his circumstances seem especially dire, he stumbles into an unexpected romance, one that opens him up to unimaginable dangers and darkness. 

The Author Jenna Moreci is a Silicon Valley native and Youtube sensation, dominating the authortube community with her straightforward and hilarious writing channel. A lifelong storyteller, Jenna specializes in crafting thrilling adventures with heaping doses of bloodshed and romance.  When she's not writing or 'tubing, Jenna enjoys angry music, potent wine, and laughing until her face hurts with her goofball fiancé.

Website

Tumblr: @jennamoreci

The Review:

I’ll try to keep it mostly spoiler free, and otherwise be as vague as possible. But, you might want to read the first three chapters on Jenna’ website here.

Cover art  “Pretty nice cover,” I thought to myself. “Simple, yet fitting… if the shirtless wouldn’t be there.” Honestly, in my opinion, the cover would have been so much better without said dude on it. I have a very simple opinion of shirtless dudes and book covers and if I wouldn’t have known what the book was about I probably wouldn’t have bought it or would have at least been very sceptical of it. On a related note, I cracked up when Tobias asked for a shirt in later chapters which makes my complaints about the shirt even more funny to me somehow.

How did I find the writing? It’s a fantastic writing style, that’s for sure. Also, in many points, it improved so much compared to Eve: The Awakening. The writing itself was pretty awesome, it was written in past tense and in 3rd Person limited, which happened to be my preferred tense and POV. The only point during which it varied was the prologue, in which I was honestly not sure in which POV it was. Was it omniscient or did she switch between two different POVs? It kinda threw me off, but otherwise, the POV was pretty consistent.

Fun Hell yes, it was fun. I read through the entire book (almost) without a break in about eight hours, give or take. I was engrossed in it. I honestly can’t remember the last time bloodshed was so fun to read about. So much fucked-up shit happened in this book and it was fun to read about. To be fair, this says a lot more about me than about the book. Other than the bloodshed I quite obviously enjoyed, a huge part was the romantic subplot. If you followed me for a bit and read the other reviews by any chance, you know I’m not quite fond of romance. But from all that romantic subplots (or plots) I read this year and quite probably last year, this was one of the best, if not the best. Tobias and Leila are both so sweet and caring for each other, especially when you consider that those two are not what one might call nice. But, it kinda got a bit preachy about the dehumanization of the suitors - but again, this becomes sort of a bounding point between Tobias and Leila. I would just have preferred it to be a bit more subtle.

Characters Due to TSC having about 30 characters (and about half of them die), I will only talk about Tobias, Leila, and Kaleo in detail. I will say some stuff about other characters, but those three have to act as representatives. Tobias is a good character, bit cynic and (and I guess starting with the latter half of the book) depressed or has PTSD-like symptoms. And that’s about it when it comes to flaws. He’s sweet, and his only bigger flaw (which went away when pressured) was that he was unwilling to fight and kill. I mean, I liked him a lot - but he’s too much of a Mister Perfect. 

Leila is the main love interest, and she is my opinion better developed than Tobias.She’s very callous in the beginning to Tobias because of a misunderstanding, but softens up eventually. Due to her living in the palace her entire life, she has a very funny (and sweet) scene in which she doesn’t realize that normal people not necessarily have servants. It’s one of my favourite scenes in the entire book! Also, she is without a doubt my favourite characters. I mean, who doesn’t like a girl who can handle a knife? Kaleo is one of the main antagonists. Let’s just say, Jenna Moreci is excellent at creating villains you love to hate. He’s despicable and absolutely sociopathic without any regards to human lives. Also, Tobias’ (and our) dislike is earned in Chapter 3. Let’s just say it involves a wall and blood. Lots of blood.

The other characters are all important, don’t get me wrong, but there are just so many of them. Let’s just say there are a lot of hateable and lovable characters in this book and Jenna makes very good hatable characters. Honestly, most of them would deserve an analysis by themselves.

Predictability I had a few predictions, some turned out to be true, some not and some I completely missed. In any case, one of the big plot twists concerning the murder of the previous Saviour I was correct about the identity of the killer. But one came completely out of left field towards the end, and honestly, if you read it, you will know which one I mean. Also, you will see the hints that Jenna Moreci left throughout the book on the second read through and I had my mind blown by them. Let’s just say I might have said “What”. Loudly. Multiple times.

Another problem, outside of the book and technically my own fault, was the character profiles on Tumblr, so I might suggest that if you want to be surprised you should skip those until after you read the book. I was kinda spoiled because I knew that certain people would survive until a certain point because the scene in their character profiles/introduction did not happen yet. Like I said, my fault, so if you want to go in blind - don’t go to Count Blogula on Tuesdays. And stay away from the TSC-tag. Also… since it’s the first book in a series, I do have two theories about two of the characters in the prologue. It’s a metalsmith and a midwife (?). A man who is a metalsmith also happened to be Tobias’ father who died in an accident - a bit too much of a coincidence. The other, the woman, had a child which she gave him before performing a C-Section on the Saviour’s mother. So, either she is his wife and with that Tobias’ mother, or she is Delphi’s mother who was mentioned to be a midwife. If this happens to be true, you heard it here first. Probably.

Overall impression Loved it. I enjoyed it a lot, I could sink into this world and just shut off my brain and enjoy it. It’s definitely the best book I’ve read this year so far and it’s a strong contender for my personal Book of the Year. I’m looking forward to TSS (The Saviour’s Sister) and I can’t wait for it to come out (or even for teasers to turn up).

Some of my favourite lines: “His skin was smooth, his chest bare - am I ever going to get a shirt? - but his nerves were piqued, stirred by the thought of the looming celebration of which he knew so little. […] You little shit, I just got this shirt.”

“’You seem like a honest man. Wear that with pride. Be true and good, and I have no doubt you’ll gain the exact favor you deserve.’”

You want to read more from Book Bloggers? Here I got a long list for you.

[glitterysummerkitty]

Dr Bombshell & Mr Hollywood

A Jake Gyllenhaal Fan- fiction

Prologue// Chpt 1// Chpt 2// Chpt 3// Chpt 4// Chpt 5// Chpt 6

Chapter 7

        Sunday evening was by far the most phenomenal day Candice had, in terms of fun, in a very long time. As soon as the game began Candice fell completely in her zone and she had even managed to impress the hell out of everyone present. At the end of the day Dave had been a proud captain and both Jaylon and Ronnell were all praises with Ronnell even trying to bribe her into abandoning Dave and joining him for the following matches.

      Even Mabel was surprised and after the glorious victory of the Omega- 3’s, the first question Mabel had asked her was ‘Where the hell have you been? Jheez Candy! I didn’t even know you were so good at this sport.’ Candice blushed but didn’t think it important to remind her best friend that she had been the captain of her team college team and they had won several trophies. She even won several awards, which were now displayed proudly in a pristine glass shelf at Washington State University.

      At the end of the friendly match Pizza’s and beers were ordered and jokes and stories about their spouses and children were shared. Candice kept mum and tried to stay out of anyone’s focus but more often it had been futile since she was the star player of today and so everyone’s attention was on her. Especially Uma. Candice had never thought at the beginning of the evening that she would ever be comfortable with Uma but surprisingly at the end she found out how hilarious Uma really was. Basically Uma was Gemma multiplied hundred times. Candice believed she could handle Uma and her eccentric behaviour.

      After such a beautiful Sunday came Monday bringing along with it, its infamous blues. Candice groaned as she reached out and shut the alarm. She tilted her head and looked outside the window. It was still dark out there and although it wasn’t snowing anymore it was drizzling. Candice saw the little droplets of water glistening under the streetlight against the glass surface. Candice sighed. Strange fact check about Candice- she hates rain. Yes, she loves snow but hates rain. Why? Don’t ask because even she didn’t have a reason for it.

      With the comforts of her warm sheets and Mr Ruskin’s hot body pressed against her sides, Candice didn’t feel like getting up. But work was work and so she closed her eyes counted from five to one backwards and then hopped out of her bed.

      She barely got time to breathe on Mondays as she had three classes to teach and the clinic is almost always full on Mondays, filling up her schedule for early evening to late night. The first class was with master’s student and their class had been on a topic which was more challenging and close to her heart- Maternal Nutrition and it’s consequences. They had discussed and critically analysed some of the studies out there and compared the methods and their varied results. It was fun.

      But then her next class was with first year Grads and that wasn’t something she enjoyed especially considering she would have to face Zachary. After that day, when she had kicked him out her class, she hadn’t seen him and it made her slightly nervous. Also, after just having such a challenging class, to have to talk about the process of digestion wasn’t something appealed to her.

      Mentally preparing herself, Candice pushes open the door to the large hall and entered it. As she did, the rambunctious class fell to a low hush. As usual, on the very first row at the very centre the seat was occupied by one of her least favourite students Brianna. Candice had observed how the slightly obese girl with a bad case of acne and a harsh expression, never mingled with her other classmates. She always sat by herself and had minimal to no contact with her mates. Candice had also made an observation as to how Brianna seemed to have a problem with her although she would never understand why.

“Good morning class. I hope you all had a great weekend.”, she started as she scanned the class and found it devoid of Zach. She didn’t know if she should be relieved by it or not.

“We sure did!”, someone said but Candice couldn’t point out.

“How was yours Dr Averell?”, a slim, blonde seated two rows up from the front row asked in her sweet voice as she twirled a piece of hair in her finger.

“Better. Thank you Cameron.”, Candice smiled back.

“So... Today I am going to talk about the whole process of digestion, absorption and Metabolism.”, there were some groans, some exited rustling of pages showing eagerness to write down notes while some just sat straight with their nose buried in their phone screen.

“Digestion is the first crucial stage where food is broken down to smaller chemical constitutes for absorption. There are two ways this is achieved- Mechanically and chemically.”, Candice moved to the next slide on her presentation, when the door to the hall opened and in strode Zach. Instantly every girl’s, except Brianna, attention was consumed by him and Candice felt compelled to roll her eyes but she didn’t.

“Sorry I am late, Dr A. I was eating breakfast and went in deep thought about all the things I could do during the time I waste during your class and lost track of time.”, he smirked as she took to his usual seat. Immediately the class broke out into an “Ooooohh” and “Burn”. Candice gave the entire class a sharp look before finally settling her glare at the infuriating boy.

“Really?”, Candice feigned surprise, “Well from observing Mr Meyer’s performance in class for an entire year one would assume that he’s incapable of deep contemplation but I am glad to know you can.”, with that Candice turned her attention to her PowerPoint. She ignored the snickers and Zac’s stabbing glare as she went on about peristalsis.

      Candice decided to grab lunch from the ‘Four Hundred Guild’- a restaurant within the campus that served exclusively to the faculty and staff of Pruitt and Hearst University- before going to her next class. She shot Mabel a text, letting her know where she was and then decided to call Bethany to check up on her aunt. Apparently Aunty Aubrey wasn’t doing so well. Her latest cycle of chemo had left her very weak. It had Candice worried but Bethany assured her that she and a few women from the church were doing everything to help her through this. Candice end the conversation with a promise to send some more money by the weekend and also a request to fill her hospital room with some Calla Lily. “She loves them.”, Candice said.

      Over a lip smacking lemon thyme chicken, Candice narrated the whole incident over Zach to Mabel, who was flabbergasted by Zac’s audacity and also found it hard to believe that Candice had stood up against him.

“While I am very proud of you for what you have done, I am also worried. What if he decides to take action on his threat? In my opinion you shouldn’t continue to antagonise him. It’s a question of your career.”, she advised as she shoved a brussel sprout in her mouth.

“I know. It’s just he’s so infuriating.”, Candice grumbled.

        At half past three Candice left from the university. Once again she made a stop at Starbuck on her way to clinic and faced the same server as the last time. She placed her order without making much eye- contact and then sat down at the table. This time Candice had time enough to have her drink at the café.

      As she waited for her Tarragon Chicken Salad Sandwich and a tall cup of Americano she got her laptop out to check her e- mail. There lay a tiny dose of happiness waiting for her and Candice grabbed it.

  From: reader1980@fmail.com

To: lbrooks.lkb@cjg.com

Date: 19 Feb 2018, 10:00 am

 Dear Lynne,

    I have finally got time today and I am determined to spend the day reading and hopefully get to the end of your book. As I am typing this mail, on my desk lies your book, a tall mug of coffee and a lot of snacks. Believe me when I say that I am on a mission to finish this book today.

      You can expect to hear from me by tonight on my opinions on what I thought about the book. Until then I am signing out! Xoxo

                                                  Regards,

                                              An Avid Reader

        Candice grinned. She loved the reader’s enthusiasm and could only hope she felt as enthusiastic once she finishes reading the book. Candice wasn’t one to care much about what other’s opinion. She wrote ‘Love Knows no Bounds’ because it was something she believed and something that she wanted to write about. It didn’t matter if others didn’t buy what she had to sell. But for some unknown reason ‘An Avid Reader’s’ opinion mattered to her very much. She giggled silently to herself at the (xoxo) part making her wonder who the reader could be. Was it a man or a woman? Was he/ she old or young? Which part of US was this person writing from?

 From: lbrooks.lkb@cjg.com

To: reader1980@fmail.com

Date: 19 Feb 2018, 3:45 pm

 An Avid Reader,

  Your enthusiasm towards my work is encouraging. For any artist, I believe, appreciation of their work means above all and they while they can do without it, when a reader like you shows so much eagerness it really gives much pleasure. I hope you continue to show similar gusto until the end and after that too.

      I will be waiting to hear from you as well. Until then happy reading!

                                                Regards,

                                            Lynne Brooks

                                              (Author of-

                                         “Love Knows no Bound”)

        As she ate she went through some more fan sent e- mails and replied to few. She reached clinic on time and Ashley greeted her with a great news that owing to the bad weather, Mrs Laine had cancelled her appointment and so had two other patients.

“Dr Averell. Do you think I could leave early today? Actually it’s my boyfriend and I seven month anniversary.”, Ashley asked. In the three months that Ashley had been working here this was the first time she had asked for anything so Candice didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Sure. Oh and I probably think it’s a good idea because on Wednesday I need you here late. I want all the patient files organised and prepared for the next month’s audit.”, Candice informed. The red head looked happy.

      Candice saw the few patients who had braved the weather while using her free time to update her patient’s information into the software. The said task was mundane and taxing to Candice but something that she had to be done. When only one file was left on the table she opened it and the name sent both, shivers down her spine and anger through her veins. Candice marvelled at being able to experience two varied emotions belonging to different spectrum, simultaneously, at the sight of the same name.

      There is a knock on the door and Candice looked up, expecting to see Ancil walk in but it was Ashley.

“Dr Averell your seven o’ clock is here. I just wanted to ask if it’s alright if I leave?”, Ashley fidgeted with her fingers. Candice thought, amused, if she came off intimidating to Ashley.

“Of course you can leave. Thank you Ashley.”, she smiled. Ashely smiled back nervously before scrambling out the room. Candice wondered what she ever did to intimidate the poor girl.

“Good evening Dr Averell.”, that familiar baritone voice filled her room making her tremble in her seat.

“Good evening Mr Dumont. Please have a seat.”, she mumbled as she motioned for him to take a seat. It didn’t matter if Ashley found her intimidating or not but Ancil managed just fine to drain every ounce of courage she possessed.

“You look gorgeous. As always.”, he lowered his voice and by the time he said always it was merely a whisper. Candice squirmed in her seat as she felt her muscles in her stomach and everything south of it clench.

“Thank you... How are you today?”, she said a little out of breath and blushed deeply. She kept her gaze fixed on the file before her.

“Better than I have been in days.”, he replied.

“Good. How much of the plan have you been able to follow?”, she asked as she made notes on her file.

“Hhhmm...”, Ancil trailed off forcing her to look up when he didn’t say anything for a while. Candice watched mesmerized as he tapped his lean finger against his lips. His face looked like he was genuinely trying to recollect. Candice wanted those lips wrapped around her own, she wanted to run her tongue over it, she wanted to...

      Candice flushed as she found him smirking at her, apparently having caught her staring at his lips. While she knew her body had its natural cravings, she chastised herself for fantasizing about her patient right in front of him. Embarrassed she turned her attention back to the file and for the rest of the session didn’t look up until necessary.

[alabastermenagerie]

Actual Game Concept I Really Want To Make: Dogmen

You might have seen some of my artwork concerning Dogmen at various points, but I don’t post it very often because I have a bit of a problem: I don’t actually have the art style I want for this?

Okay so, Dogmen is a story I’ve had rolling around in my head for a while. It used to be called Blasphemer’s Prayer exclusively, but THAT particular story only ended up being one part of the whole (which is what it will be).

So now it will be a Visual Novel, largely because my main strength is in writing (as silly as that sounds) and because people tend to complain that Visual Novels don’t have consequential choices or multiple endings, this game is gonna have multiple endings. Probably three or four (Unless I can figure out branches for more)

It is also gonna be a cosmic horror game. Well, kinda.

See, I’ve come to realize recently that a lot of my FAVORITE narrative games have really fun-to-hang-out-with characters (Undertale, Night in the Woods). And I really prefer writing characters who are fun to be around anyway. And probably super gay for each other.

They’re just very prone to horrible demises you see.

ACTUAL PREMISE OF THE STORY BELOW THIS LINE

One day, approximately five percent of the world’s male population suddenly turn into what’s later dubbed “dogmen”. They have absolutely no memory of their past lives, and they are prone into turning into even MORE horrible beasts that have bloodthirst. They seem to be completely invincible in either form.

This ends up throwing the world into chaos. Not too much at first; initially it’s thought the military can subdue the problem. But it doesn’t work. The world gradually falls apart.

You do NOT play one of the hapless humans in this. You play dogmen.

Note: Despite the fact they are CALLED dogmen, they are not all dogs, or even wolves. The term is intended in-world as a pejorative.

Spencer (Primary character) - Kangaroo. Avoided the first few months of the strife due to being hidden away in his basement by his parents. Has a fear of hurting others, often remorseful, but has a strong yearning to fix the world, somehow.

Arthur - Striped Hyena. Strongest of the group by nature, often crude, fell in love with a human girl and never had the chance to see her again. Has a hyena cackle, hates being made powerless.

Lance - Coyote. Was likely an old man before the change, has lots of wisdom and random knowledge from a life he doesn’t remember living. Likes to smoke, is often very quiet and would rather avoid conflict than anything.

Weasel - Weasel. He doesn’t have a name from a past life or anything so everyone just calls him Weasel. He’s the smallest of the group, excitable, and unusually optimistic given the circumstances.

Terrible, terrible things are going to happen to all of them.

Beyond this even stranger things happen than just men turning into beasts, some things only perceptible to the Dogmen, like The Machine, just barely in view to be nearly transparent, which covers the whole sky. Or the droning of the Other Place which can still be heard when they sleep, or the black ghosts which seem to take a keen interest when they transform.

Of course, sometimes the worst demons don’t come from the outside.

How BIG would this game be? The most recent treatment I came up with covers the entire story: a prologue and four chapters. However, given there are multiple paths, there will be entirely different stories when you get to chapter 3 depending on what you could do to finish the second chapter.

Each of the chapters could themselves be fairly lengthy. I originally wrote Blasphemer’s Prayer, which in this game would be one of the chapter 3 branches, for NaNoWriMo and still figure on having roughly the same plot. It will probably not be novel-length in the game, but each section should easily be the comparative size of a novella.

How much GAME would be in this game? I’m not certain at the moment; for now, I still largely expect it to be narrative-driven rather than something like being puzzle-driven on the side (w/instead maybe some light puzzle elements like Night in the Woods when the situation calls for it).

However, I DO know that people love their secrets, and they want to dig into games to find something everyone else missed. I think it should have secrets, probably BIG secrets.

Anyway I wrote all of that to tell you I don’t have the total skillset I would need to make the game I have in my head. Being an artist I do understand the difference between having a concept in your head and realizing it on the page are different things, but in this case I do have deficiencies I’d eventually need to overcome, such as:

Not being able to draw humans very well

Skewing toward cute art style more than effectively scary (not strictly a weakness, as I think mixing the two can create great effect, but I do still need More Scary for contrast)

Music (Especially wanting a cover of Ordinary World, or at least a very comparable song) and sound effects

Programming of other things

The fact this game would probably require a LOT of environments I wouldn’t be able to do all on my own

And, of course, testing

The primary thing I can do is write, and I am at least a competent enough artist I can still probably sell most of it. I might end up having to try and do as much of this as I can anyway; there’s ways around the other issues (such as free and royalty-free music, but I do believe having a composer would be really nice for everyone)

It’s currently still all in the planning stages (I have a novel to write, after all!) but this is the current shape of the project and I think, despite its potential size, it could actually be something I can do.