#beau is twist of beast from beauty and the beast and was suppose to be in rsa until an incident with fae involved happened teehee

[twstgo]

misc ramshackle kids doodleeees

(second pic in reference to the twitter trend)

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Five: Super Duper Mart

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: At the Super Duper Mart, The Ghoul goes on a chem bender after the vault dweller gives him anti-feral meds. You begin to piece together his true identity which leads to a briefly romantic moment between the two of you. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.6k

As you approach the Super Duper Mart, you see the ghoul and vault dweller standing outside. His words are indiscernible, but the vault dweller eventually limps through the front doors. Shortly after, he collapses to the ground. He must’ve ran out of vials, you think.

Casually, you approach the collapsed ghoul, squatting down to meet his gaze with a friendly smile. "Hey there," you greet him. His eyes meet yours, and he emits a faint, incomprehensible noise. There are no signs of him turning feral but it's clear he's not in great shape either.

"Seems like you're having a rough time," you frown. "I'd lend a hand but a big ass gulper swallowed me whole - along with the vials I had. It would've been nice if you had helped me. There might have been a slim chance that sweet anti-feral juice would've been okay." You tilt your head and fix him with a stern gaze.

"You..." he strains to speak, "still blabberin’?"

"Of course. I’m not just gonna leave you here to rot," you declare, raising his chin to meet your gaze. The vulnerability reflected in his eyes, combined with the rough texture of his skin, sends a ripple of goosebumps across your body. Despite his harsh exterior, there's an unexpected allure in his eyes that kindles a warm feeling within you. As you gently trace your thumb across his lower lip, a blush begins to creep upon your cheeks. This growing feeling makes you withdraw your hand abruptly, causing his head to slump back onto the ground. "But I’m not gonna help you either. Consider it payback for leaving me to be someone’s dinner. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before running off without me."

With a final smirk, you rise to your feet and give the ghoul one last look before heading towards the nearby wall of the mart. You take a seat on the ground, curious about how the vault dweller will fare inside there. Rumor has it this particular mart is notorious for trading people for chems - organ harvesting business.

Hours ticked by in eerie silence, leaving you to wonder if the vault dweller’s organs have been collected yet. As you glance over at the motionless ghoul on the ground, you can’t help but approach and kneel down for a closer look. Surprisingly, he is still breathing, although utterly useless.

"Tell me your name and I’ll go in to check the status of your trade," you propose.

"Fuck you," he croaks.

"Fine then. I suppose we'll be known in the wasteland as… Smoothie and The Ghoul.” You outstretch your hands as if you were revealing a movie title. “Get it? Like a bizarre twist on that book Beauty and the Beast. But I ain’t the wasteland beauty and you, my friend, are more of a… dehydrated, hairless beast - being a ghoul and all."

“The hell do you know about Beau-“

Just then, a small group of ghouls emerge from the building, causing both of you to shift your focus towards them. Among the chaos, one of them proclaim that a woman rescued them, followed by the ominous sound of gunfire. Looks like that little vault dweller has some guts after all.

Stepping out of the mart, the weary vault dweller emerges, now adorned in armor she didn't have before, with a weapon gripped firmly in her hand. Her gaze falls upon you, a faint look of surprise on her blood covered face, considering the last time she saw you, you were being devoured by a gulper.

"Hey, little vault dweller," you wave. "Good job in there."

"The name's Lucy," she responds. “You made it out of that creature?”

“Eh, ain’t a normal day in the wasteland if you don’t get gulped up by some sort of monster.”

“Props to you, ma’am. I was certain he’d help you but he decided these drugs are more important.” Lucy breathlessly replies, turning her attention to the ghoul still lying on the ground. With a couple of vials in her hand, she places them in front of him. “You don’t get these, you turn into one of those? That how it works? I may end up looking like you... but I'll never be like you. Golden Rule, motherfucker.”

“Golden Rule, eh? What the hell did you do to her?” You inquire The Ghoul as Lucy sets off on her own into the wasteland. Presumably to find the head you knew those Brotherhood idiots have.

The Ghoul's gaze hardens as he reaches for the vials in front of him, a sinister glint in his eyes. “She’s too soft… and I taught her a lesson,” he responds with a low voice.

“Seems like she might have taught you a lesson,” you retort, a sharp edge to your words as you observe him downing one of the vials.

He groans in satisfaction as the chem hits his system, prompting him to stand up and walk into the mart. You follow closely behind, collecting any valuable provisions and hastily stuffing them into your bag. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him having a field day with a massive pile of vials on a table, filling his cowboy hat full of them. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without his hat and you're struck by the sight of his bald head. Not everyone can carry off the hairless look with ease, but he manages to pull it off effortlessly and there’s a rugged charm to his appearance.

Without hesitation, he starts consuming every chem and liquor bottle in sight, a reckless abandon in his actions. The breaking of glass and the sharp smell of alcohol fill the air as you slowly make your way towards his self-destructive behavior. The Ghoul seems to stumble upon an old holotape in front of a working television set and begins playing it as he settles down on a dilapidated pair of seats nearby. You take a seat beside him, pop a couple of mentats found on the table in front of you, and grab the bottle of liquor from him, chugging it down in one go.

An old western film begins to play, featuring an actor named Cooper Howard. You can't help but notice that the severely worn shirt under The Ghoul’s duster closely resembles what the actor is wearing in the film. Subtly, you shift your gaze back and forth between the man on screen and the one next to you. Could it be him?

As you study The Ghoul’s features, you notice a remarkable similarity in his bone structure to that of the actor. The contours of his face, the shape of his jawline, and even the way his cheekbones are structured all seem to echo those of the Cooper Howard. Despite the weariness evident in his eyes, there is a subtle glint that mirrors the spark found in the eyes of this actor in the old western films.

Realization dawns on you that this ghoul is none other than Cooper Howard. After over 200 years in the wasteland presumably as a ghoul, it's no surprise he's become the pessimistic asshole he is now. No wonder he refuses to tell you his name or anything about himself. "That man is quite handsome,” the words slip from your lips, revealing a hint of admiration and perhaps even a touch of flirtation.

The Ghoul chuckles, unaware that you have connected the dots and learned his true identity. His laughter fades as he turns his head towards you, the distance between you suddenly shrinking. His eyes lock onto yours, then flicker down to your lips. A sense of anticipation fills the air as you feel the warmth of his breath on your face, tainted with the unmistakable scent of alcohol.

A moment of tense silence hangs between you, the only sound being the faint hum of the flickering overhead lights. Unsure of what to do or say, you hesitate, opening your mouth to speak but closing it without a word. In the dimly lit surroundings of the rundown mart, he leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his lips almost brushing against yours.

In an instant, the effects of all the chems and alcohol he consumed hit him like a ton of bricks. His movements slow to a crawl, his eyelids droop heavily, and before you can even process what's happening, he slumps over, unconscious. You sit there in disbelief, watching as The Ghoul soundly sleeps before you, wondering what could have happened if he hadn't passed out.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft snores escaping his lips, all evoke a sense of warmth and familiarity. A wave of nostalgia washes over you, reminding you of the love you once shared with a ghoul in the past. You recall the tender moments, the deep connection, and the unspoken understanding that bounded you together. Despite the challenges and prejudices you faced, your love blossomed into something truly special. You can't help but feel a hint of longing for that lost love.

Lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, you seek distraction by glancing down at his hand resting near your thigh and you notice that one of his fingers is missing. What the fuck happened while I was gone? Turning your attention to the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table, you take a final swig, the burning liquid warming your insides. Feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, you lean in and rest your head on his shoulder. The scent of his unique musk mingles with the lingering aroma of whiskey. Eyes drifting shut, you welcome the embrace of sleep, letting the darkness envelop you alongside The Ghoul.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28

[seafleece]

“you know, you’re not very brave.”

he thinks vax missed being taller than him. it’s hard to give a statement like that any weight when you’re looking up to someone.

he puts a hand to his heart. “well, thank you.”

“it’s not a compliment.”

“oh, but it is, vax’ildan.” he casts a look over all of them— out of their mechs, showing the signs of being rattled in them, like yolks in an egg. “seeing how well bravery treats all of you. i don’t need to be brave. i need to be smart. in fact, i would say the latter prevents the former.”

they all look rather stonily at him, so he pretends to be interested suddenly in the haphazard schematic on his desk and deflects. “so the materials. i won’t be getting them myself, of course— bruises would ruin my cowardly complexion, you see—“

—

they do the damn thing, of course.

vecna builds himself a beautiful beast, all right, but aspirations are like a tower— you need to build ever higher, but the resources stay finite. you scrape the sky only to find you’ve been cutting at your foundation to craft your spire, and a tap has you tumbling back to earth.

he works and works on the traveler, and doesn’t think about the psychopomp or the friends he left behind when the blaze of him across the sky burnt out.

he never comes up with a better name for it, too busy thinking about what it’ll be like to stand beneath a blue sky. a traveler for a traveler— it suffices. you only need a name if you’re going to be introduced to someone else, and that’s not exactly the plan.

he’d never thought about it before vax’ildan, but he takes a moment as he puts the finishing touches on the cloaking mechanism to enjoy cowardice, to revel in safety by his own hand. he’s always been good at avoidance, and now he sees it realized.

the thought leaps unbidden that cowards only live to watch the brave die for them, and he laughs shakily to dispel it. maybe vax’ildan is waiting on some gray shore to ferry him to places unknown, but he’ll be waiting forever.

—

it’s not brave, talking to her.

it’s one of the safest things he could do— she’s a child. no friends, no risk of exposure. there’s so much to be afraid of here that it becomes what keeps him going, just cataloguing it all. strange big loud world, ocean roaring and ships crashing and business and politics and people and life always happening, so fast and so short, like lit brush, like moths. he sees a girl with her head propped on her fist, idly coloring in a flower on her bedroom wall, and he’s unafraid of what she could do.

talking to jester isn’t brave. it’s not breaking the rules he’s got for laying low.

but it is stupid.

—

“what’s it called?”

“the traveler.”

never named, never meant to be introduced. a rule broken. jester punctuates it by clapping her little hands giddily. “it’s beautiful. did you make it all yourself?”

“i did indeed.”

“momma says dad had one, but i don’t think it was this pretty. she said he even let her fly it one time, but that they ran into some bad guys and that’s how he decided he had to leave, to keep her safe.”

“ah,” he says, having nothing better to say.

“can i try yours out?”

she’s maybe three or four feet tall. her hands wouldn’t even reach all of the controls, he thinks, from the chair.

“i don’t think so,” he says, and then surprises himself by tacking on “i’m sorry” when her face crumples, even moreso when he realizes he means it.

—

“did you see the kids down at the beach?”

“i did.”

“do you think—“ she twists her hands nervously. “i never had any friends before you. i don’t know how to make them.”

it’s like she’s punched him.

(scanlan was funny. he’d offered even to take a look over bigby the night before saundor, and he’d seen a picture taped to scanlan’s control panel, a young woman, scowling at the camera. who’s this, he’d said, tongue a little loose with borrowed wine, and scanlan had sighed with his tongue and heart even looser and said, my daughter, and the understanding had fizzled right out of him. he didn’t even try with the others, but losing the feeling of having a mirror in someone else for the first time, of commiserating, of talking, even, it lingers.

scanlan came back ready to fight a god, and he mourned the loss of something he never really succeeded in having at all.)

“it just takes practice,” he says. “making friends.”

he can see she’s close to crying, and it stabs at him. “how am i supposed to practice?” she whispers. “i can’t leave.”

he excuses himself and listens to her start to cry, sniffles and then sobs too full of feeling for a child, and then he goes to the traveler sitting cloaked and cowardly in a cliff alcove, and gets to work.

—

“you know, i’m proud of you.”

“thanks? i’m a little busy right now.”

he keeps talking like he hasn’t heard her.

on her dash, the indicator is bright, green and steady. it’s not the first time she’s run out of power on a mission before. not even the second, or third, or fourth. it switches over automatically— not a big deal, but seeing that light blink on, she feels safe. whole.

“you’re braver than me.”

she doesn’t say anything.

“you always were. i made this ship so it could never be found, and you’ve done more with it in plain view then i ever did in hiding. more with me.”

vokodo’s an ugly thing, swimming bulbous in the thin atmosphere. heat ripples around him, distorting the sky. fire bursts in tiny pockets where debris is caught too close or simply sheds from him, and when it burns out the remains trail ash down, down to the distant earth.

“hope you’re watching, psychopomp.”

“hmm?”

“ah, don’t worry.”

then, she gets shot.

—

he doesn’t finish before it breaks bad.

the mechanism is— it’s complicated. hard to keep himself himself.

he’s just decided to call it for the day when he hears feet kicking up sand towards the entrance, tearing at the hanging coastal plants.

“i messed up.”

she looks distraught when she gets through, breathing hard and face tracked with tears.

“um—“

“i can’t go home. i don’t have anywhere else.”

he darts his eyes over to the traveler and back again. not finished, but serviceable.

“i—“

“you can drop me off in port damali, or at the gorge, or anywhere, just,” and she swipes at her eyes, “take me with you.”

“you can have it.”

“what?”

he’s surprised by it, too. surprised it was that simple to cross over that last threshold— all the planning was easier when he was unsure it would come to fruition.

“i’ve been working on it. you’ll be able to pilot it, reach all the controls and everything.”

“what about you?”

“i’ll come with you— i. i can’t always be there, but uh— it’s me. the traveler. it’s part of me, a version of me. i can try to be it when you need me.”

“why?”

in his mind’s eye he sees a little girl in the alcove of a hidden beach. watching with wide eyes as ships cut smooth trails across the water and fade against the horizon, as people gather on the sand in loud clusters and hold each other’s hands to wade into the surf.

watching the world pass by without her.

“friendship, i guess. i’m not good at it either.”

—

it’s quiet, is the thing. falling from the sky.

it’s a wobbly spiral they cut, like a bird broken. jester’s hands slip from the controls— sweat or blood, he can’t quite tell.

“jester.”

he doesn’t think she could even say anything— the speed would tear it from her throat into a million shreds. he speaks in her mind instead, the way he hasn’t for a long time.

below them the wings of the stormlord burst from the sides, a symphony of metal pinions. they shoot past her and she dives, too slow, too slow.

beau and expositor 008 are clinging to him, still. its rotating claws are deep and the paint, the outer plates are searing away, dripping from its titanium bones. he thinks beau is probably screaming.

if it were a better day to die he thinks he would spin a speech, his best one. she’d cry, and then laugh through it. he’d go offline in a shower of sparks.

but it’s never a good day to die. jester is about to black out from hypoxia. The ground lurches to meet them like an eager magnet. he doesn’t even know if she can hear him.

“love you, jester.”

no swirl. no green. just the thing you say to someone beloved if you think it’ll be the last.

it looks beautiful. the invisible paneling unfolds, like a flower in reverse. heat skates on the surface, red and blue and white.

deep in the dissolving wires, he closes his eyes. the panels drip invisibility as it burns from them. they close on jester like a shell, bright and obvious in the sky.

then, it breaks into spinning shards on the sea. 

they float like feathers, silent and empty.

jester’s father has water in his veins. she goes under and sinks for a long moment. blood is washed from her nose, her ears, carried away and lost.

then, she breaks the surface.

[pinkevilbobdoesthings]

Right, so, just going to be honest with you guys, I wrote like the end scene of a Beauty and the Beast AU fic staring Caleb and Jester. If you want to read it, here it is. If you don't, just keep scrolling.

So MyBatteryIsLowAndItsGettingDark suggested a Beauty and the Beast Au and then Tambuli suggested a twist that I could not deny. So I wrote the end of what really should've been a multi-chapter fic. I regret nothing and am counting this as a bonus fic for the fairytale prompt for Widojest Week.

Here’s ‘Finding You Can Change’.

______________________________

It was a tale as old as time. Or at least that's what Caleb was told. He wasn't sure that he believed that though. Caleb had a feeling that time existed before language was even a concept, but that kind of thinking has no place in love and poetry. Jester would grumble any time he brought logic into a conversation about stories or romance.

It was a straightforward enough tale; Caleb was a young man from the village ever curious and looking for more and Jester was, well, a beast. She was unlike anything Caleb had seen before with her blue skin, curling horns, and pointed tail. But she was at the same time was a young woman who loved sweet pastries, getting into mischief, and a good romance novel(though her and Caleb's opinions on what made a good romance novel often differed). That didn't change the fact that most people from the village would fear her for her looks, so Jester stayed in the castle hiding away from the world. "It's not so bad," Jester would say. "I've heard that the outside world is very overrated." There was always a distant, sad look on her face when she said that though.

Once, Jester told him that she was under a terrible curse that could only be broken by someone falling ‘madly in love with her and giving her true love’s kiss. “Then I won’t be alone anymore.” The look she gave him spoke volumes about how she hoped it was him. Caleb just shook his head. Falling in love was a mistake he was not going to make twice.

Caleb didn't stay at the castle, but he would frequently come up from the village to visit Jester. The castle had more books in it than Caleb had dared believe there were in the whole world. And if he had to be honest, Caleb enjoyed Jester's company. She was funny and had the sweetest smile. When he was back at the village, all of his thoughts would contain Jester.

The villagers had found out about Jester. A monster they called her and the term made Caleb sick to his stomach. He tried to tell them that she was good and lovely and fun and better than anyone in that village, but all Caleb got for his efforts was accusations of being mad.

Caleb followed after the mob and tried to stop them, but they got to the castle before him. A hot fire was set on the castle and Caleb managed to put it out. It was only then he could get the village to listen to him and understand that Jester would never bring harm to them. But it wasn’t enough. An arrow shot out of the mob piercing Jester’s heart and Caleb’s heart fell.

It was as though Caleb’s world had ended. Jester saved Caleb’s life and he could do nothing for her as life and blood left her body. He held onto her cold hand tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’t cry, Caleb,” Jester said her voice soft and fading.

“Oh Jester,” Caleb whispered. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to end. You never even got to leave the castle.”

“But I got to meet you Caleb.” Jester smiled like she couldn’t imagine anything better.

The tears fell on to Jester’s face. “Jester, there’s so many things I wanted to show you. You can’t leave me not like this.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” But the light in Jester’s eyes was fading.

Caleb could sense the presence of the shamed villagers behind him watching, but Caleb didn’t care. Let them watch as his heart died. He froze; he loved her. “You can’t leave, Jester. You can’t die. I’m lost without you.”

A sweet smile was tainted by the hint of blood in the corner of Jester’s mouth. “Oh Caleb, I-” but she didn’t finish what she was going to say.

“No, no, no.” Caleb couldn’t believe it. He kissed her. “True love’s kiss. See that fixes everything.” Pressing his lips gently to hers, he kissed her again. “You to come back. You have to.” Again and again, Caleb kissed her in desperation. “I love you.”

“Well, it’s about time.” A lilting whisper brushed Caleb’s ear. The hair on Caleb’s neck stood on end. Green mist swirled around him and Jester. He could practically taste magic from it. Caleb tried to focus on Jester but the mist grew thicker and thicker until he couldn’t see anything. Shivers ran down his spine and his everything. As fast as the mist came, it dissipated. Gasps filled the air behind.

But Caleb didn’t care as he saw Jester stirred. Blood no longer stained the stones beneath. Jester was whole and healthy. She cracked open an eye. “Caleb? Is it true? Can you truly love me?”

“Ja. I truly do.” Caleb nodded clutching her hand. A soft thumping came from behind him, but he paid it no mind. Jester was alive.

Jester gasped once she fully opened her eyes. “Caleb! What happened to you?”

Caleb looked down at his hands to discover they were now a bright red and his fingers ended in claws. He felt at his mouth to find fangs, and his hands trailed upwards to discover a pair of horns growing out of his head. Behind him a long thin tail similar to Jester’s swished lazily on the ground.

“This isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” Jester said her eyes filling with tears. “My curse was supposed to be broken. Not spread to you.” She drew away from him crouching down into a little huddle. “I don’t blame you if you hate me.” Her voice was thick with tears.

“Nein, I could never hate you. How could I? Now I match the girl I love. Now you’re not alone anymore.” Caleb wrapped his tail around Jester’s.

Jester looked at him with eyes full of admiration and tears. “But the village?”

The voices he had been ignoring suddenly assailed Caleb all at once. Questions and accusations were being slung all about. It was all too overwhelming and he didn’t know where to begin to protect Jester from it all. A hand rested gently on Caleb’s shoulder, Nott. “We’ll take care of them,” she said. Behind her, Fjord and Beau were already handling the crowd. “But you’ll have to tell me all about your girlfriend later.”

“Girlfriend?” Caleb was grateful that he was now completely red and no one could see him blush anymore.

Jester giggled, but it was weak and watery. “Did you really mean it? What you said about matching the girl you love?”

“Ja, I did. Jester, I love you very much,” Caleb said.

She smiled but ducked her head down. “So, is she right about me being your girlfriend?”

“Actually, I think I’d prefer the term fiancee if you don’t mind it,” Caleb said with a shy sly smile.

Jester tackled Caleb in a tight hug.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

____________________________________

Notes:

TIEFLING CALEB!!! Yeah that's why I wrote this.

So I was going to write an epilogue, but it just didn't work. But just know that Caleb and Jester got married and live in the village together and sometimes visit the castle. Caleb is a teacher and Jester works at the bakery. They are happy and cute together.

[perfectcreaturerarelyseen]

The Fate of the Fae | 06 (M)

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female

Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst. Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut

Words: Chapter 6: 2,003

Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!

Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. Enjoy

The Fate of the Fae: Chapter 6

He’d told them he was no savior.

Still when he returned from the woods silently, not meeting their eyes, the clan scoffed. Some Forest Father indeed, they thought to themselves as he trudged past.

They ignored the thick stream of silver blood that ran a steady river from his upper bicep to his fingers. It stained the ground leaving a sparkling trail behind him as he made his way back to the village.

The dirt pathways that dissected the town, creating a makeshift road between the impermanent buildings were choked thick with the smoke of burning fae. He pulled the collar of his shirt up over his mouth.

Skirting his way around the burning funeral pyre he finally caught a glimpse of Willow Woman, now Madison as he called her in his mind, helping to carry limp bodies and heaving them onto the flames. The fae had sickness of their own and it was dangerous to leave so many dead in the open. Plus the scent of that thick silver blood attracted the monsters. Whether it was dried or fresh the sickly sweet scent of it drew them in like nectar to a bee. It was dangerous. Everything about this village cloaked in the stench of death was dangerous. He yearned for nothing more than to grab Madison and drag her kicked and screaming back to the safety of his cabin.

He’d settle even to live like nomads on the land. Camping out at the edge of the woods. He’d even let himself believe that she wouldn’t fear the trees. That she would plunge herself deep into the woods with him at her side. They could live, deep in the darkness of the forest, away from all of the evil of this world. She was pure of soul, the woods would accept her. He knew it in his featherlight bones. She was the light to the darkness deep within him. The light of this world was as bright as his willow baby. The night’s were as dark as the world of his baby but they were half as beautiful too.

He was half tempted to stalk towards her, throw her over his shoulder, and leave this place. She could bang her fists against his back and scream until she was hoarse but he was determined to get her away from here. Anywhere but this cursed place.

Andrew quickly realized that he was standing in the middle of the village intensely staring at the back of her form as a pool of his blood gathered at his feet. He shook himself and ran his uninjured hand through his hair groaning. The bite hurt like a bitch and he wasn’t happy about it.

He had made little progress in the forest. Barely getting a few feet into the woods one of the monsters had jumped him in a blind attack. He’d lifted his arm to cover his face and thus earned himself a wicked bite. The smell of his blood had attracted so many that he knew there was no chance of making anymore progress into the woods. He was looking for the leader not the lackeys. He’d landed one booted foot in the chest of the beast and heaved with his long limbs. It’d gone flying.

Before any of the others could get some fangs into him he’d turned intense eyes on them. There was a moment of complete silence as the entire forest paused. He knew he couldn’t hold them for long, not this many, still the Forest Father commanded their attention. He was the damn Forest Father for fuck’s sake they would bow under his gaze.

There was a chorus of growls but slowly they sank to their haunches. Quietly and smoothly he exited the woods still holding his gaze upon them. When he’d cleared the tree line the spell broke and he heard baying howls.

This place was cursed. This place was fucked.

Willow Woman as if sensing his pain or simple sensing him turned. She had a wet cloth tied over her mouth to help with the smoke. Without seeing her mouth he could not read her expression. Her eyes looked wet but whether from the smoke or something else he wasn't sure.

A small woman almost the size of a child laid a hand on her arm. The woman had long dark hair and olive skin. She turned to see what Madison was looking at and locked eyes on Andrew. She narrowed her eyes but still he couldn’t read her expression either with the cloth covering half of her face. She gave a small almost enthusiastic wave. Andrew gave a small lift of his hand in response. He realized then that her eyes weren’t narrowed but instead crinkled with a smile. She placed a hand on Willow Woman’s arm and leaned over to her ear to be heard over the fire. The blaze ate her words but Madison shot him another look before nodding.

She turned from her work and made her way to him. Pulling the cloth down from her mouth he could see that she was frowning. Her look made a knife twist in his stomach. It was the first time she didn’t look happy to see him. They stood for a moment staring each other down not saying a word. Finally her eyes locked on his arm and a look of tenderness passed over her face.

“You’re hurt.” It wasn’t a question. There was fire in her and he loved when it came out.

“It’s only a bite.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. It made him smile and when she saw him smiling she smiled too.

“What shall I do with you Forest Father?” She asked with a sound of fake exasperation in her voice.

“Andrew.” He supplied and she looked at him surprised. Then a feeling of warmth spread through his chest as her face lit up. “And...Madison...” He tested her name on his tongue. She didn’t protest at the use of her name so he continued. “You can do anything you want with me.”

OoOo

Alexis threw Madison’s door open to find her curled up on the bed her phone clutched to her chest. She clucked her tongue at the sight and moved to the window throwing open the curtains. Madison groaned from the bed and covered her eyes with her arms.

“Up, up, up. It’s almost noon. You’ve slept far too long.” Alexis opened the window letting fresh air flood the room that smelled of staleness.

“I was up late.” Madison complained still covering her face.

“Your point being?” Alexis leaned her head out the window staring up at the bright blue sky, cloudless for once. “Where is Tom?”

“Tom?” Madison asked sounding groggy.

“Yes. Tom as in Tom. The red breasted robin. He’s usually here by now. Tom!” She yelled out the window.

“Not so loud for goodness sake!” Madison harshly whispered at her. “Bates will hear you.” She hissed.

“Oh your ‘betrothed’” Alexis said the word sarcastically before continuing “...left with The Snake a few hours ago. We’re in the clear for all types of mischief and fun. Now seriously where is Tom. Tom!” She shouted out the window again. For such a small woman she could make so much noise.

“I can’t believe you named the bird Tom. It’s so generic. Why do you need him anyways?”

“What was I supposed to call him? Balthazar? I want to know where Bates has gone.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a scandalous idea that will get us both in some very deep shit. We’ll be fine as long as I can keep tabs on that idiot you’re supposed to marry.” Madison refrained from pointing out that Bates registered on the spectrum of genius because she’d called him worst names than that before.

Alexis was almost always too kind about him. She was too kind about anyone really. She was the only fae from her previous life that Bates had allowed to stay with Madison. Ripped from her village, her mother, and everything she knew Alexis had demanded to come with them. She was small but she was scary. Not willing to start a fight over something so petty Bates had allowed it. Alexis with her uncanny ability to talk to trees and birds came in handy. Not to mention she was Madison’s best and only friend.

“What idea is this?” Madison asked cautiously.

“Remember that beau you fell so hard for last night?” Alexis asked looking at Madison finally. She registered the fat lip she was sporting from The Snake’s hand but said nothing. “Oh don’t look at me like that. The elm on Main Street told me about it.” Madison rolled her eyes at Alexis but they both smiled.

“Yes, I remember. What about him?”

“He’s playing a concert today and we’re going.” Madison wanted to argue. So many words came to her mind but she couldn’t bring herself to say any of them. She desperately, oh so desperately, wanted to see him again.

“What’s the plan?”

“Oh girl you should know me by now, there’s no plan.” Alexis grinned with pure mischief burning in her eyes. Madison swallowed hard a ball of nervous energy having nothing to do with her husband finding out forming in her stomach. Still she didn’t argue as Alexis went to her large freestanding oak wardrobe and began throwing outfit choices on the bed.

OoOo

Staring down at his phone for the hundredth time he typed another text trying to sound cute instead of crazy and incomprehensible. He quickly deleted it and began texting again. Finally he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall he was sitting against. He gently bumped his head against the painted cement but his wild mane of hair absorbed most of the pain.

Why? Why couldn’t he come up with anything to say. His long legs cramped from being in the same position for so long. He stood and began to pace the hallway. The sound check had gone well and he was already pumped for the upcoming show.

They’d be letting the crowd in soon and already he could feel their energy like a low thrum through his body.

He wanted her.

He groaned and tore his hand through his curly hair. In this light it looked alight like a blazing fire. It matched the way his brain was burning searching fruitlessly for words.

He wrote songs. He was a king among thieves when it came to clever phrasing. Yet, he came up with nothing.

He thought again of his dream. Her sweet skin salty with sweat as he ran his tongue over it. The little gasps that escaped her with each thrust. He felt completely out of control inside of her. Like he would lose himself in her.

With another growl he typed furiously. His finger hovered over the send button. With a shaky breath he hit send and almost immediately flung his phone across the hallway. He refrained instead sitting once again, wrapping his long arms around his knees and resting his head on top.

OoOo

She glanced down at her phone and her heart leapt into her throat.

...Wasteland Baby, I’m playing a concert today, will you come?...

She knew who it was from even though she didn’t recognize the number. Madison typed back with vigor never hesitating.

...Oh baby, I will most definitely come...

OoOo

He took a deep breath and glanced at the text. He read over the words several times before smiling. He practically leapt up. He had a bounce to his step that he usual reserved for when they rocked out “Jackie and Wilson” in front of the crowd.

She’d come. Oh would she come.

OoOo

She escaped her gilded cage for a moment.

A modern Cinderella with wings.

The forest king awaited her arrival.

Unknown royalty among winglessly winged.

The glass slipper awaited to be shattered.

The bond grew.

As did the danger.

Such was the fate of the fae.

OoOo

[kwbookreviews]

Beau and Bett Review

I rated it 2 OUT OF 5 STARS / Buy it on Amazon on June 25th, 2019 / Visit Kathryn Berla on Goodreads

I received an ARC of the book from Amberjack Publishing via Netgalley in exchange for my honest review.

Beau and Bett is a contemporary young adult novel by Kathryn Berla.

SUMMARY:

After Beau LeFrancois's mother wrecks Bett Diaz’s luxury SUV, his family faces an impossibly large bill—with no car insurance to help pay it. To pay off the debt, Beau spends his weekends working at the Diaz Ranch.

Beau’s prepared to work, but he’s definitely not prepared for the infamous temper of Bett Diaz, also known as "The Beast" at school. As Beau learns the secrets behind Bett’s tough exterior, he finds himself falling for her . . . until he catches Bett in a lie.

A contemporary twist on a classic fairy tale, Beau and Bett is a timely story of family, friendship, and the power of speaking out and standing up for yourself.

Beau and Bett is a novel that you will finish in one sitting. It is described as a modern retelling of Beauty and the Beast, and although I usually love retellings of fairy tales, this story ultimately fell flat for me. Bett, the female protagonist is supposed to be equivalent to the Beast. However, I had a hard time making the connection as to why Bett and Beast were considered to be alike. There is a given reason, but it does not really make sense to call her a beast. She does not share the same characteristics as him. It makes more sense to see Beau being compared to Belle but even that is considered quite a bit of a stretch. I wish the author hadn’t labeled this novel as a retelling of Beauty and the Beast because it really does not feel like that at all. But even if this novel hadn’t been considered a modern twist of a classic story,  it is hard to feel the connection between the two main characters.

There are parts of this book I like, and other parts that I don’t like. Kathryn Berla’s writing is sweet; I did enjoy how she manages to work in big themes such as conflict, isolation and friendship into the novel naturally. That being said, I think at certain parts of the novel her writing did not flow very well. The pacing was slow, and sometimes it felt too slow for my liking. The dialogue did not feel natural; most of the conversations in the book felt a little boring to me as I read them.  It is great to see that the gender roles for Belle and Beast are switched in this story, as that is the one thing that makes the book stand out. But my biggest problem with this novel is that both of the main characters were undeveloped, and although they were presented with their own personalities, these personalities were never fleshed out during the story. I wish the author spent more time trying to figure out  this story and I believe if she focused on better developing the story overall that this novel would have been much stronger. I suggest this book to anyone who wants to read a short and sweet novel. This book teaches you that it is important to remember to never judge a book by its cover.