#i went wild when they used the phrase ‘king of space’ in a shot with a Skrull in it in Loki you don’t understand how desperate I am

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

I will be devastated if Secret Invasion doesn’t even have a sneaky sneaky about Teddy.

Like they could literally just have a scene where they are in a shop or something and the guy behind the counter has ‘Teddy’ on his name tag and I will scream and cry and thank Jesus for all he has done for me (very little).

I’m gonna start the first episode and I won’t talk about the show until it either finished or we get a Teddy mention.

[knives-out20]

The Impact Of The Intergalactic - David Bowie Opinion Essay - by Beck S.

This is an essay I wrote about the span of David Bowie's career. I wrote it for a summer school course I took last year (August 2021) for a course called History of Rock & Roll.

My teacher gave nice feedback after he marked it, talking about how it was an "Excellent paper. It charts Bowie's progress throughout his career well, and includes significant detail. I could really feel the passion you have about him throughout. In fact, there is *too much* detail! The paper was supposed to be 3 pages max, double-spaced. Still, this is a good problem to have; better too much than too little."

So...enjoy!!

From his early works like Hunky Dory, to Black Tie White Noise in the 1990’s and stretching over to Blackstar as his final album, David Bowie has rarely had a bad album or song- in my opinion. His career has had ups and downs, his musical creations ranging in the way he would pitch his voice and what instruments he would use, the people he would produce with, and the wild things he would say. Charting David Bowie’s development over time is in fact an interesting journey.

Early on in his dreamy career, Bowie would have done nearly anything- or in fact, anyone- to grow in the music world. Hopping from band to band (like The Velvet Underground), producer to producer, doing whatever he could do to get ‘in’ in the industry. His early albums weren’t taken very highly in their times- especially with the ‘man-dress’ he wore on the British release of his The Man Who Sold The World album. Although, this dress was only the start of the androgynous appearance he would soon be known for, over the course of his 5-decade-spanning career.

The 1970’s were strange, to say the least. He married Angela Bowie at the start of the decade, then welcomed their son Duncan Zowie Haywood Jones a year later. Bowie went on to be hopped up on cocaine. David donned the look of one of his famous personas, The Thin White Duke. The same persona with slicked-back ginger hair, a white button-up under a black waistcoat and paired with black dress pants. The same Duke who called Adolf Hitler one of the first ‘rock stars’ and gave off a lot of faschist energy. He said many statements he’d later apologize for and grow as a better man from, which is good- it’s better than standing by then, or even backing himself up and supporting them. David Bowie called that period the darkest days of his life, and blamed the crazy statements on his horrid addiction and deteriorating mental state. The late 1970’s were more favorable, seeing as it gave the world what was dubbed the Berlin Trilogy alongside Brian Eno and David’s personal friend, Iggy Pop. Made up of three of his albums: Low and Heroes (both in 1977) and Lodger (1978). He moved from Los Angeles to Switzerland, then to Berlin as a further decision to escape his addiction (the reason he moved away from LA in the first place). It was in Berlin, of course, where he wrote his famous song Heroes, about two lovers, one from East Berlin and one from West.

Speaking of Berlin, David Bowie performed near the west of the Berlin Wall in 1987; he played so loud that crowds gathered on the east to listen. At this time, Bowie had no idea he would be the beginning of the city’s soon-coming unifying. After his death in 2016, the German government thanked him for bringing the wall down and unifying a divided Germany.

Music isn’t all he is known for, though it is a majority. He also starred in movies from time to time. Being the titular man in The Man Who Fell To Earth in 1976, Jareth the moody goblin king in Jim Henson’s 1986 Labyrinth film (what is most likely his most famous role), Monte the barman in the 1991 movie The Linguini Incident, cameoing as himself in Zoolander (2001), Nikola Tesla in the 2006 movie The Prestige, and even Lord Royal Highness in Spongebob Squarepants’ Atlantis Squarepantis in 2007, among a few others. David Bowie dabbled in the art of acting, and was not that bad at it. He was good enough to gain a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, too. Sometimes it bends my mind that my first introduction to my all-time favourite musician was in a Spongebob Squarepants movie, back before I knew who he was, but David Bowie was never one to shy away from foreshadowing. At least one song from many of his albums would hint at the direction he’d go in for his next release. For example, his track Queen Bitch on Hunky Dory foreshadowed his soon-coming Ziggy Stardust. And the Diamond Dogs track 1984 actually hinted at the Philadelphian soul of Young Americans, which is a more famous song of his, which he went on to perform on The Cher Show with its host.

The 1990’s were certainly an experimental time for David Bowie. But to my knowledge, I think the 1990’s was a time for everyone. He married supermodel Iman some days after performing at the Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert, and released the album I named earlier, Black Tie White Noise. It is known to have had a prominent use of electronic instruments, as was his other 1990’s album, Earthling. The early 1990’s greeted David’s first real band since the Spiders From Mars, dubbed Tin Machine. They recorded three guitar-driven albums which received mixed reviews from the masses, but Bowie looks back at this period- as do I- with a certain fondness; “a glorious disaster” he called it, when talking to journalist Mick Brown. Tin Machine is a period I don’t listen to often, compared to his solo stuff, but I don’t press the skip button when it comes on.

Alas, the starman’s career drew to a close as the 2000s rolled in. David Bowie greeted the 2000’s with the birth of his and Iman’s daughter, the beautiful Alexandria Zahra Jones. After suffering a- strange, as it were- heart attack symptoms mid-song during a concert in 2004, he took a hiatus from his career. I say strange because given what I know, he was trying his best to stay healthy at the time. According to my special Rolling Stone edition magazine about David Bowie (released at the start of this year), he was on tour and performing in a really hot arena. But Bowie was sober, and had quit smoking. He was taking medication to lower his cholesterol, and worked out with a trainer. Bowie looked great, and yet he felt a pain in his shoulder and chest, along with a shortness for breath. A bodyguard rushed onstage to usher Bowie off of it, cutting the concert short. He only performed live once or twice after that point, but was set on never going live ever again. And he kept his word on that, unfortunately but also fortunately. Unfortunately, because David Bowie live would have been quite the experience- I wouldn’t know, personally. But fortunately, because I do not believe anyone needs a repeat of the 2004 Reality scare.

I am actually not too fond of speaking of his final years. Nobody really likes to speak of the last years of their idols’ life before their death, so it’s no surprise. Blackstar was David Bowie’s 25th and final album, recorded entirely in secret in New York alongside his long-time producer, Tony Visconti. The album's central theme lyrically is mortality, and seeing as Bowie was undergoing chemotherapy for his cancer at the time, I see it as his way of coping with his incoming death. His producer Tony Visconti called him a ‘canny bastard’, when he realized Bowie was essentially writing a farewell album. Every song on the album is what is considered a swan song, a swan song in question being a phrase for a final gesture of some sort before retirement or death. In this case, death. Over the course of recording the album, David Bowie’s chemotherapy had actually been working and he had an eerie optimism while recording. But by the time they shot the two music videos Blackstar and Lazarus, where he showed off the definite passage of time and cruelty of chemotherapy through sparse and gray hair with sagging skin, he knew his condition was terminal and that this would be a battle he would lose. Blackstar wasn’t the first album to have been made by a musician succumbing to a fatal illness, but in my opinion it is in fact the most beautiful. It’s jazzy, and elegant, showing how at peace he had become with dying.

Blackstar the album was released on January 8th, 2016. Also known as David Bowie’s 69th birthday. Two days later, David Bowie died at his Lafayette Street home on January 10th after living with liver cancer for up to 18 months. Beforehand, he had let it be known he did not want a funeral nor a burial, but rather that his body be cremated and the ashes to be scattered in Bali by his loved ones. His wish was received, and planet Earth was very much bluer and quieter without his colour and wonderful noise.

As I said earlier on, David Bowie’s career came with ups and downs. His mysteriously close relationship with Mick Jagger, his cross with famous underage groupie Lori Maddox, the births of his two talented children, his faschist bender in the 70’s, and final bang of Blackstar in his final year on earth. Through the highs and lows, his career and his music meant a lot to the quote-unquote misfits and freaks of the world, myself included. David Bowie turned and faced the strange, shouted “you’re not alone!” To those who felt the loneliest, he surely spent his career helping those who needed to be themselves, feel more freer and braver in doing so, no matter what they may be when they are themselves. He never went boring, he never went stale, he sang what he wanted and dressed how he pleased, and kept to his word on how much more to life there is when you’re just that; yourself. A year after David Bowie’s untimely passing, his son Duncan Jones accepted an award for British album of the year that was won by Blackstar at the 37th annual Brit Awards. When he accepted it, he made a speech about his father that I will leave here, and never forget. Seeing as it perfectly encapsulates David Bowie’ legacy, and the true meaning of his extraordinary career.

“I lost my dad last year, but I also became a dad. And, uhm, I was spending a lot of time- after getting over the shock- of trying to work out what would I want my son to know about his granddad? And I think it would be the same thing that most of my dad's fans have taken over the last 50 years. That he’s always been there supporting people who think they’re a little bit weird or a little bit strange, a little bit different, and he’s always been there for them. So...this award is for all the kooks, and all the people who make the kooks. Thanks, Brits, and thanks to his fans.” - Duncan Z. H. Jones (February 22 2017, at The O2 Arena in London.)

[bxar]

random drabble of angst for my Murphy lovers (its long)

For the love of the lake!! This whole bunker thing was insane. Stupid. Murphy hadn’t told Domin of about the whole Skifru stealing the bunker while they were up there trying to decide who got the damn thing. Domin was trying to help his people survive and when they kick Skikru out, Domin, of course, took out five of his own people to keep Murphy right where he wanted him. Next to him. So when he heard that he, Emori, Clarke and Bellemy had gone to get Raven. Domin would have gone in a heart beat, but after saving the cockroach he had to go run save his stupid clan that for some reason was arguing with Trikru.

By the time he was done, they were separating Skikru. Domin rushed in to find Murphy and save him. He’d fought so hard to keep the stupid kid in here that now that they were separated he’d gone and got himself put outside the tiny little son of a....

Kane came over when Domin started threatening the others if he didn’t find Murphy soon. Kane explained where Murphy and the others were and that the likelihood of them getting back was nearly impossible. Domin rushed for the door, trying to get out, trying to go get the stupid cockroach. It took eight men to get him down and those men still had broken ribs, fingers, noses, one guy had a broken leg. One man got a good shot at Domin’s head, taking him down. 

When he woke it was too late. Far too late. There was nothing to be done. Nothing to do but....survive.

Domin was used to this feeling. A feeling of being not only lost, pain and confused but also being trapped, broken, cursed. And Murphy makes threes. Three times he’s had this moment happen to him. Three times he’s loved someone and lost them. Three times he’s been trapped, unable to do anything. You can’t fight stupidity, you can’t selflessness, you can’t fight shame. These were the things to take his lovers. He repeated them, like he was memorizing the moves of a fight. Those three words, repeated, constantly in his head. 

Stupidity. Selflessness. Shame.  Stupidity. Selflessness. Shame.  Stupidity. Selflessness. Shame.  Stupidity. Selflessness. Shame.  Stupidity. Selflessness. Shame.  Stupidity. Selflessness. Shame.  Stupidity. Selflessness. Shame.

Some days the repetition became too much, some days he just punched walls until his hand hurt just to distract himself. Not that it did anything... It took a little over a month for Kane to find Domin. Kane seemed to have dubbed himself everyone's care taker since coming into the bunker. While Domin found the sentiment endearing, he’d prefer Kane stick to taking care of Abby. 

No matter the fight, the arguments, the fights in the wring, Domin kept to himself. He stayed out of the Wonkrus way and focused on getting over his problems. The Dark year was the worse part of it. He couldn’t really understand the arguments, the fights, the drama. He just stayed out of it. When Octavia opened the wring, he went to the first two or three matches. After he saw the first two, the remaining were really not that impressive. Domin was careful to just...say out of it. Indra helped him where she could, mostly bringing him food to insure his strength stayed up should he ever want to join the fight. 

Six years. Six years of sitting in his cave, throwing knives at the wall, occasionally drinking himself to sleep or participating to practice with Indra, that last one took Indra a long time to get out of him. He had been coming to the wring, with the intention to help Kane. When Octavia jumped in that wring Domin had been moments from slicing the wire walls and leaping in to defend Kane. He knew Kane could not defend against Octavia, but Domin knew he could. But then the sun came and with that sun came two people he had thought were dead.

Oh, Domin sliced those wires and went right for the two of them. Tackling them both to the ground and cheering in his once usual booming way, laughing as he kissed both Bellamy until he had to ask Kane to team together to make him stop. Domin didn’t let go though. He still had him wrapped in a giant bear hug when he got up. He had to talk to Octavia with Domin draped on his shoulders. 

“I thought you were all dead for sure!” Domin laughed, poking Bellamys sides roughly. 

“Murphy is going to lose it when he knows you’re down here.” Bellamy chuckled, shoving Domin off of him. Bellamy only escaped because he said the one thing that Domin wanted to hear.

“H-He’s alive? Where is he? Is he up there? COCKROACH!!!!!! MURPHY!!!!!!!!!!!!” Domin shouted up there, about to climb the rope when Bellamy handed him one of Skikrus walkie things.

“I don’t understand? Is he in this tiny box? How did he get in there? How do we get him out? COCKROACH!!!! I’LL GET YOU OUT OF THERE DON’T WORRY!!!!”

Bellamy was laughing as he hit the button and spoke to Raven, asking if Murphy was there. When Raven, another person Domin was excited to tackle, said Murphy was right there, Bellamy told Domin to hit the button and then talk.

“Cockroach?” Domin asked in confusion, still holding the button down when he spoke to Bellamy. “This doesn’t explain where he is! How do we get him out of the box, Bellamy?”

Bellamy made him remove his thumb from the button and thats when Domin heard it.

“TAKE YOUR FINGER OFF THE FUCKING BUTTON YOU GIANT IDIOT!!!” Murphy shouted, making everyone in the wring stare at Domin and the walkie in his hand. Domin laughed in excitement and then told everyone to shut up so he could hear Murphy.

“Domin, are you there? Where did he go Bellamy?” Murphy asked. Bellamy explained how the walkie worked. Annoyed that this was the only way to talk to the cockroach, Domin still went with it.

“Helloooooooo! Space prison to earth prison! Where’d he go, Bell!?”

“Cockroach!”

“Domin! How the hell are you still alive?”

“I’ve been in the bunker. Which smells like ass.”

“Yeah, at least you didn’t have to eat Montys green soup.”

“I did actually. So we were both tortured.”

“Like we don’t have enough problems.” Murphy laughed. Domin missed that. He looked around, searching for somewhere private to talk to him. He told Murphy to hold on, he was going somewhere quiet and rushed from the wring, stepping into a hall no one was in, dark and secluded.

“I thought you had died, cockroach.”

“Nah, cockroaches survive everything, Domin.”

“I’m starting to maybe understand what that means.” Domin sighed and then whined “When are you going to be here?”

“I don’t know when. I’m trying though. Real hard. I’m going to get back to......to the ground.” Murphy said confidently. Domin wasn’t too sure. He could hear an edge to his voice that he wasn’t sure what it meant.

It was quiet between them for a moment. The memory of their last interaction was probably still deeply imprinted in both of them. Domin had lost his temper. It wasn’t uncommon, but he’d lost it with Murphy. Murphy was arguing with him about being one of the people in the bunker and Domin just couldn’t.....he couldn’t stop it. One thing Domin prided himself on was that no matter how often he’d been the odd man out, he’d never forced his feelings of Jad or Goda. He’d devoted his life to maintaining their love, to honoring his memory, to protecting Goda. He never devoted much time to his happiness. Never given much thought on how to get his love returned. But Murphy was different from Jad and Goda. Very different. The contrast was like looking at night and day. 

Jad and Goda were morning and afternoon. Jad was hot, burning like the setting sun, inviting, full of energy and endless possibilities before the night came. Goda was the morning, bright, cool, fresh and full of life. The two of them together made for the perfect day. And then came Murphy. Dark, chilled, full of strange noises and beasts. Murphy was where Domins monster ran free, where they found endless chances to be wild, hunt, play. Though night didn’t live in nothing but terror, there was also the stars. High and bright over head with the moon as their all powerful king. Murphy was the moon. Domin was the beast who ran under his light.

So while Murphy shouted that he didn’t deserve to be in the bunker, that there were so many others who should be here, that Domin should have let him go....Domin’s control on the selfish beast within was lost.

Shoving Murphy to the floor, he pinned him down, putting his forehead to his, giving Murphy a few seconds to resist, to argue before he spoke. It was soft, low, almost a whisper.

“I love you, John.”

The silence that had hung in the small space between the two of them could have crushed both of them. Murphy stared, as if he was attempting to see the lie, the trick, the real reason Domin was saying it. Domin said nothing more. He kissed Murphy, expecting the usual resistance when he touched him, pulled him close or made one of his usual moves, but much to Domins pleasure Murphy kissed back, he gave Domin the smallest victory. Given that the two of them could die any moment, this victory might not mean much to Murphy, but it gave Domin more than he needed.

Sadly, this was when Indra came to ask Domin to help settle Podakru in, who were arguing with Trikru. Domin commanded Murphy to stay down here. He was not joking, there was no teasing, no misunderstanding. He made that clear. But when Domin had come back, Murphy was already topside.

Now, here, in this dark hall, with even more space between them then every before, Domin felt the only thing between them was that moment, that kiss, those words. It was small, nothing really, but it was enough to keep them both silent.

“Do cockroaches live in space?” Domin asked randomly as the thought flashed across his mind.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Murphy came back.

“Not well. They prefer the ground. Do bears like hiding in caves?”

“Winters, sure, not six years. These people stink and they talk a lot.”

“You talk a lot.”

“Because I’m important. These people aren’t.”

“Goddamnit, Domin.”

“Your favorite phrase.”

“Just over used.”

“Still think it’d sound better if you moaned it.”

“GODDAMNIT, DOMIN!”

Laughing, he headed back into the wring, Bellamy and Kane were in deep conversation, but Bellamy motioned for him to come over.

“I think I’m needed, cockroach. Bellamy has Bellamy face. It’s still so fuckable.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Domin.”

“John.”

“...........Domin.”

“Ai op dena, niron.”

“See you soon.”

[itskateak]

Oceans and Stars - Chapter 7

Story Summary: A story of how Bucky Barnes falls in love with oceans, stars, and the woman who gave him the reasons to.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Velika Dante King (Fem!OC)

Chapter Summary: Velika has been on the frontlines. She finds herself camping on the beach of the Ocean at the Edge of The World. 

Words: 2K

Warnings: Mentions of war, mild language, 

A/N: Whenever I write Tzion’s character in relation to Velika,the phrase “baby girl” just happens. Don’t ask me to explain, please. It’s just a character thing with her now.

Masterlist

                       ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

𝓛𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮. {𝐿𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒}

"We're making camp, soon," Velika called back to her unit, hiking her bag higher on her shoulders. The grass was tall and she nearly tripped as some wound around her boot. She cussed and ripped through it. She hated the plains with a burning passion.

 It hadn't been bad in the beginning, with short grass that stretched on for miles. Then the grass started to get taller and now Velika was nearly up to her chest in plants.

"Need me to carry you, Vel? Almost losing you in this forest." Her old friend, Tzion, asked as she caught up to her, a teasing lilt to her voice. The large ex-general sauntered casually next to her, over a foot taller than Velika herself.

"Shut up. Not all of us are taller than the trees." Velika shot her a playful glare. "The Ocean at the Edge of the World is about four miles down this bluff. Should be space for us to settle down for the night and wait for instructions."

"You ever been to the Ocean?" Tzion checked the area, her head swiveling as she scanned for any approaching enemies. She was Velika's right hand in their unit, making sure that their backs were watched and everyone's ideas were heard and taken into account. She was a fantastic leader and worked well with her old friend.

"I've never been this far into Hell," She admitted, avoiding a hole in the ground. "I popped out on the Other Side and Baphomet had to bring me over here through the northern gate."

"How long ago was that?"

"Uh, like...four hundred years? Three hundred? I haven't been keeping track." Tzion snorted and shook her head in amusement. They fell quiet, content to just walk and stay attentive to their surroundings. 

The war had lasted eleven years already. Time moved differently in Hell, meaning that they'd been fighting for roughly two Earthen years. It certainly wasn't the longest war she'd been in, but it was still hard. Her body was tighter, leaner, and constantly sore. She felt like she was constantly being watched (she was, by her unit), constantly threatened (she was, by pretty much everything around them), and constantly holding the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Velika shifted Bucky's dog tags under the collar of her armor. She hadn't taken them off since she'd left. She'd also stolen one of Bucky's shirts to wear under her armor. It was the red one that he didn't wear much anymore so it was the perfect one to swipe without him missing it too much. It still smelled like his cologne, miraculously, and it brought her comfort on the darkest and roughest days.

The others had given her small things to carry with her, too. Wanda's ring was on the chain with Bucky's tags. Tony and Bruce's tech was ingrained in her armor. But Tony also gave her the deck of his favorite playing cards. Steve had gotten her a sturdy bracelet. Peter had written her a letter talking about one of his days at school, complete with little doodles and even a small note from Ned. Natasha gifted her a knife, even though she knew it wouldn't do anything against the angels.

The photos of the team, Peter's letter, and Tony's playing cards were tucked into her bag, which seemed to grow heavier with every step she took. Exhaustion was settled deeply in her bones and she was certain that no matter how much she slept, she thought she'd never feel rested.

The war was turning in their favor. It had been in their favor at the start, she hadn't known that until she saw the Four Horsemen riding towards their enemy. Death, War, Pestilence, and Famine were defending Hell alongside every demon, fallen angel, and other creatures that called it home. The Horsemen themselves were mostly Archangels, except for War. But this isn't about them.

"Four miles are nothin' compared to what we've already trekked," Tzion muttered with a sigh, falling back to talk with an ex-officer.

Four miles. In the grand scheme of things, four miles was a walk in the park. If the park was a war-torn battlefield where death could befall them any second.

Yeah, just a regular old walk in the park.

                       ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

𝓖𝓻𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝔀. {𝒢𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌}

The Ocean at the Edge of the World was the most beautiful thing Velika had ever seen. The crystalline blue waters stretched on until the horizon, reflecting the dusky sky. Waves washed against black sand, tumbling stones and shells onto the shore. The beach was a mile wide from where the plains ended and went on for miles either direction.

"Wow," She breathed, dropping her bag into the sand. People milled around her, putting up tents and gathering firewood and grass to start fires.

"Just wait until the sun sets." Tzion nudged her before walking down the beach a little to set her tent up.

Velika dug through her bag, finding her stakes, and slowly started to get her tent ready. She was suddenly reminded of camping with Bucky while on the recon mission in the Caribbean. She bit her lip and pushed down tears, taken off guard by the wave of emotion. 

She missed them all terribly and she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. She'd done her fair share of crying in private moments and she was sick of it. The tent refused to cooperate and she dropped it in frustration, the tears blurring her vision.

"Hey, baby girl, it's okay." Tzion was suddenly at her side with concern. "Take a breath" 

Velika clenched her jaw and drew in a deep breath, eyes closing. 

"I'll get this set up. Go for a walk. Take some time for yourself, baby girl. You've been leading us all day and you're stressed out. I'll get take care of this and take over for a little." Tzion rubbed her back and gave her a soft look.

"Alright. Thank you." Velika nodded and strode off down the beach towards the tidal pools for at least five minutes alone away from the prying eyes of her unit and the expectations.

                       ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰.

"Okay, so, who do you have waiting for you back home?" Tzion asked before taking a swig of her beer. Where she had gotten the beer, Velika had no idea. She had mentioned something about a smuggler's cache a mile down the beach, but Velika really had no idea where she'd produced it from.

The people sitting around their campfire took turns talking, some showing photos and others telling stories. In the beginning, no one wanted to bond in case they died on the battlefield soon after. But after eleven years of fighting and losing very few, they all had started forming small groups and trusting each other a lot more.

Velika's brother talked fondly of the people that worked in the business he co-owned with his best friend (who he was definitely not in love with). His best friend also told stories of their staff, smiling at the memories and staring longingly at her brother.

The ex-sergeant of the Bellators (the highest legions in the warrior caste) showed a picture of a little girl with wild brown hair and a smile to match. Her mother was crouched behind the girl, hair wild as well and her smile nearly identical to her daughter's. The girl wasn't his biological kid, but he'd been her father figure since before she was born. 

Tzion spoke of a red-headed man she'd met who she helped save from the gallows. He was lanky and tall, and reportedly good in bed. She was still taller than him by a good few inches, but he didn't seem to mind.

"So, Veli. Who do you have?" Tzion called her out since she hadn't said anything yet.

"A whole team. It took a long time for me to find my place among them and actually trust them, but once I did...it was like finding a family. A really, really dysfunctional family." Velika laughed, taking a quick sip of her beer. She grimaced, but wouldn't complain. It was one of the better tasting things she'd had since they stopped in a village two years ago. 

"Anyone special?" Tzion gave her a pointed look over the campfire.

"They're all special. Here, hold on." She turned and dug through her bag, pulling her photos out. She passed them around, explaining who each person was. 

"Veli, tell them about Bucky." Her brother chimed in with a sly smile. 

"For the record, I hate you." Velika glared at him, but everyone had already turned to listen to her. She sighed and shrugged. "I don't know what there is to tell. He's a good friend on the team. Quiet, a little reserved at times, but he's good company. He sits with me when I can't sleep and we help each other when the nightmares get too much. He has a great sense of humor and his laugh is infectious. He doesn't smile often, but when he does, it lights his whole face up."

"He's smiling in this photo. Is that him, though?" The ex-sergeant leaned over and pointed to Bucky.

"Yeah. And that's Sam Wilson." Velika smiled despite herself at the photo. "They have a love-hate relationship. Prank wars between the two are genuine wars. One time, Bucky's arm got superglued to a piece of workout equipment and they had to remove it."

"They cut off his arm?" Her brother's best friend asked with wide eyes.

"His left arm is a metal prosthetic and that's the one that got superglued. Well, heat bonded on accident. He was so pissed and chased Sam around the compound for an hour. He came storming into the kitchen at one point and looked me in the eye like he was planning a murder and said 'where's Wilson.' I pointed the way and he ran out while threatening to throw Sam off the roof." Velika laughed, shaking her head fondly. 

"Sounds chaotic." Tzion snorted, taking another swig of her beer. "Did he give you anything before you left? I know the others gave you things to hold onto."

"Yeah, hold on." Velika tugged on the chain around her neck, drawing the dog tags into the firelight. "He gave me his tags from World War Two. I gave him my Praesidium tags. And I also stole his shirt." She pulled the collar of the red henley with a sheepish smile.

"Wasn't he the Winter Soldier?" The ex-sergeant asked warily. That familiar look of distrust in his eyes.

"Yeah." She tucked the dog tags back into her shirt and collected the photos. "But I was also Reaper."

"That's not that same, Velika. You didn't know what happened and you didn't have a choice." The ex-sergeant narrowed his eyes in concern.

"And neither did he. He fell off a cliff, lost his arm, and was brainwashed and controlled by Nazis for seventy years." Velika picked her bottle up and took a long drink. 

"Okay, I stand corrected. Apologies." 

"In any case, he sounds special," Tzion said, giving her a concealed knowing look. 

Velika stared distantly at the fire with a wistful smile. "Yeah, he is."

                       ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

Velika sat in the sand, arms wrapped around her knees. She stared up at the star-filled sky. The horizon blended and it was near impossible to see where the Ocean ended and the sky began. The stars were reflected in the water, which was still enough to appear glassy.

There were no constellations to make out, but that didn't stop her from trying. She connected the dots, making her own shapes and stories. A dolphin. A rose. A bunny with the full moon. Her hand played with Bucky's dog tags, fond memories of nights on the roof coming to surface. She missed them all, but she really missed Bucky.

Velika looked down at the photo of Bucky in her other hand. He was laughing at something stupid Sam had said, his eyes crinkled up and smile wide. It was her favorite photo of him and her heart skipped a beat. Her stomach fluttered and she smiled to herself. 

She returned her gaze to the sky with a new feeling in her chest. She realized what it was and although it scared her a little, she welcomed it.

Love.

𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀.

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The Princess Will Save You: Exclusive Cover Reveal & Chapter Excerpt

https://ift.tt/350Tyic

Sea Witch author Sarah Henning is back with a Princess Bride-inspired YA tale. Check out the cover and an exclusive chapter preview.

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From author of the Sea Witch series Sarah Henning comes a new YA fantasy novel inspired by The Princess Bride, specifically for anyone who wanted to see Buttercup save herself and Westley and maybe a few other people along the way.

It's called The Princess Will Save You, and we're excited to give a first look at this tale of romance and adventure. Check out the official synopsis... 

A PRINCESS A STABLE BOY A QUEST

When her father dies, Princess Amarande is given an ultimatum: Marry the leader of one of the four neighboring kingdoms, or lose her crown—and possibly her life. And to force her hand, her beloved, the stable boy Luca, is kidnapped.

But Amarande was raised to be a warrior, not a sacrifice.

And nothing will stop her from saving her true love and rescuing her kingdom.

The acclaimed author of Sea Witch turns the classic damsel-in-distress tale on its head with this story of adventure, identity, and love.

And now revel in the gorgeousness that is this cover, illustrated by Charlie Bowater and designed by Lesley Worrell...

What are those people with the striking eyes up to? Happy you asked. We also have the first chapter of The Princess Will Save You, which gives some insight into our fierce protagonist Ama and the dashing stable boy she's in love with. Check it out...

Chapter 1

            The whisper and clang of steel rang out over the foothills of Ardenia, a princess and a pauper meeting swords.             Left. Right. Cross. High cut. Mid-cross. Hanging parry. Stab.                          “You’ve been practicing,” the princess accused the boy with a laugh that played across the little meadow they called theirs. The palace grounds of Itspi had plenty of rolling land but not much that provided privacy. But this patch of mostly flat earth surrounded on three sides by fragrant juniper trees was one they’d claimed long ago as children.             It was an open secret within the castle that Princess Amarande of Ardenia spent far too much of her time here, and with this boy. Luca. It hadn’t been anything to worry about until recently.             “Simply trying to avoid a devastating injury.”             “Come, Luca, I think you want to do more than avoid injury.” She tilted her head as their swords met at chest height, their faces and flushed cheeks inches apart. They were dressed alike—training breeches, tunic, chest and wrist armor, but their heads bare. The princess’s auburn hair had already begun to abandon her hasty braid, swirling in curled wisps about her face. “I think you want to win.”             At this, Luca only grinned, dimples flashing as he lunged forward. His sword—blunt for practice but still hard-as-nails Basilican steel—tapped Amarande against the waist, right under the protection of her chest plate. A warning of what could be done for real.             “Always, princess.”             “Then let’s make things more exciting, shall we?”             She’d phrased it as a question but Luca knew better. Better than anyone. Luca, who ran her father’s stables. Who had as much a right to call the palace home as Amarande herself. He drew his sword back, high guard stance and ready to block—just as General Koldo had shown him in a moment of pity for the boy who dared tussle with the Warrior King’s daughter.             Still, he wasn’t quick enough.             Before his sword was in place, Amarande had bent to her boot, and in a lightning strike, launched a small knife straight for his face. It wasn’t a dull practice blade. It was real—the one she’d carried since before she’d learned her letters. Lessons from King Sendoa’s soldiers had always been just as important as anything her tutors managed to teach her. Blunt swords could bruise and hack but this knife could split, slice, cut.             Luca moved just in time, sword useless and weak hand up, fingers just quick enough to catch the last inch of the knife’s hilt. This he’d practiced too.             In the space of a blink, he had the blade flipped in his palm and shot it right back at her. He aimed to miss, of course, but it was a left-handed throw and not as accurate. Thus, it came far too close, snagging the leather of her shoulder guard and sending her flat on her back in the grass.             “Ama,” he whispered, dropping his sword. Taking a tentative step toward her.             Again, a mistake.             From the ground, Amarande swung a leg hard, kicking his feet out from under him. Luca flew up and then back, landing in a heap, the wind and her name knocked out of him. Before he could even attempt to right himself, the princess was sitting atop his stomach, her knees locking his arms against his heaving ribs. One arm ran stiff across his chest plate, right under his collarbone, further pinning him in place; the other held the knife at striking distance.             Before his next breath he could be dead.             “You have been practicing.”             She said it with admiration, but a tight-lipped type of triumph crossed the princess’s face. She examined her prey, trapped as he was—it was amazing what small but mighty could do to a boy even as strong as this one.             A smear of dirt streaked across Luca’s forehead and up into his short black hair. Sweat ran in a single rivulet from one temple, snaking around his long lashes and down his cheek, pausing only briefly to dip into the shadow of a dimple as he grit his teeth in a smile. His eyes regarded the knife in the princess’s hand, an inch from his throat.             And then those eyes lifted to hers, the golden color of sun on snow at dawn, and Amarande felt her heart melt like wax near a flame. The fighting tension of her body fled until the knife was still an inch from his throat but not a threat. Luca’s fingers brushed her cheek, sweeping a lock of windblown hair behind her ear.             Growing up, the privacy of the meadow had given her room to share lemon cake stolen from the kitchens and him to calm her when the king went off on another journey with his regiments and beloved Koldo, keeping the kingdoms of the Sand and Sky safe by answering every ally’s call. But for the last year, there’d been this.             Something almost tangible sat between them—responsibility, expectations, rules. The same inescapable things that had rendered the amusement in their earlier words heavy and misshapen.             Luca raised himself onto his elbows. Amarande straightened, removing her arm from his chest. Their eyes remained locked as his lips parted, and Amarande wondered if he’d actually say it. That he felt it too and that she wasn’t the only one carrying an unspeakable hope thick in her gut.             Instead, he said, “Of course I practice, I fight you.”             As she found the words to answer him, a shout went up from well beyond their meadow, the call of welcome bells clanging across the grounds. Clearly Amarande’s father had returned from his solstice charity, empty-handed after delivering fruit and coin to mining families along the Ardenian border with the Torrent and Pyrenee. She would have to go soon—wash up for dinner by his side, listening to stories of sweet-faced mountain children running down dirt tracks after his horse, songs trailing. Someday, when the Warlord no longer reigned, maybe he’d let her go with him.             But for now, for this moment, she wanted to be nowhere other than with Luca.             Yet, they were interrupted again—a rider coming over the hill. Amarande’s training came back to her in a rush, her father having engrained it in her since the day he put a tiny wooden sword in her hand and began to share the things all living warriors knew.

            Beware or be dead.             

            Make the first mark.             

            A warrior made is a warrior alive.             

            The first tenet whispered in her ear, and the princess shot to her feet, the abandoned knife now clutched in her fingertips. The castle grounds weren’t dangerous, but preparation paid off.             The rider scrambled down the steepest part of the hill, a tough grade before hitting the flat of their meadow. Not armored—in riding gear only—he flew toward them on a dappled mare with wild legs. It was then that Amarande recognized that it wasn’t a he, it was a she—General Koldo, the king’s best friend and second. She was the leader of his army as much as she was Amarande’s surrogate mother, and the princess had never seen her with a note of fear on her sun-mottled face. And yet, there it was as she came closer, braid flying out behind her as the horse’s hooves kicked up plumes of rust-dirt dust.             “Ama!” The dam broke on the panic rising within Amarande.             Koldo called her Ama in private, alone, but never in front of anyone else, even Luca, who used the nickname in the same way. With the general, she was always “Princess” in a space such as this.             The fact that Koldo broke her own protocol was just as terrifying as the fear that rode her tone.             Luca felt it too, tensing at Amarande’s side. His fingers brushed hers as if he wanted to grab them, to give her an anchor for the blow that they could see coming.             Koldo reached them and before she even dismounted the princess registered tear tracks on her dusty cheeks. Amarande’s heart began to fail before the words were even out, breath seeping out of her lungs, until all of her had evaporated into the mountain air. She watched the words fall from Koldo’s lips outside of herself, above, shattered.             “The king is dead.”

Used with Permission from Tor Teen, an imprint of Tom Doherty Associates. Copyright (c) 2020 Sarah Henning.

The Princess Will Save You will be released on July 7th. It is now available to pre-order. You can find out more about Sarah Henning at her website.

Kayti Burt is a staff editor covering books, TV, movies, and fan culture at Den of Geek. Read more of her work here or follow her on Twitter @kaytiburt.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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News Kayti Burt

Nov 14, 2019

Tor Teen

Young Adult Fiction

The Princess Bride

from Books https://ift.tt/2CHOAuq