#inspired by: story of evil

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres: lovecraftian/cosmic

[shy-raccoon]

The villain successfully corrupts the hero to their side and regrets it. Maybe the hero is releasing their repressed anger and they are far more brutal, sadistic and violent then the villain anticipated. The villain has to witness their new "partner" commit atrocities they wouldn't dream of. The line of who's the true leader of evil organization eventually gets very very blurred.

[brotherslayer]

Misery AU where Yoichi is the author of the Captain Hero comics and AFO throws him into the vault when he discovers that Yoichi is planning to kill off the Demon Lord

[gravity-what]

I see portrayals of betrayal

And a brother's final stand

I see you on the brink of death

I see you draw your final breath

I see a man who gets to make it home alive

But it's no longer you

Listening to the Epic Musical and, well “No Longer You” really inspired me so enjoy Chase having to face off against a Sphinx and being forced to confront his future.

Enjoy!

[skymantle]

not shipping something subtextual? alright whatever

not shipping it because a wildly popular INACCURATE fan theory says the characters are related? annoying.

not shipping it because you believe (falsely) that they're related + claiming there's no subtext when the crux of the series is the relationship? DIE.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 47/Epilogue: Mikey Done Good

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev

It has been a month since Mikey's second rescue from the TCRI.

The lair is bright again. There is laughter again. Everyone smiles and jokes and has fun again.

It's a home again.

Casey Jones Jr. smiles as he works to tidy up the lair, moving the empty and flattened cardboard boxes over to a side tunnel so they can be placed in a dumpster later. Usually, none of them mind the clutter or the mess from moving, but they're having guests over tonight and Casey wants to make a good impression.

Speaking of, CJ gets a notif from the security system that April has arrived. She waltzes in moment later, smiling brightly.

"Whattup, family!" she yells loudly, announcing her arrival to all who didn't get the notification. "It's your favourite person! Apriiiiiiiiiiiiil O'Neil!!"

CJ rolls his eyes as Donatello and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.2.0 come out to greet her.

"Hey, April!" Donnie responds, quickly fistbumping her in greeting. "How was class?"

"Pretty good. My report got an A, so I'd think I'm a shoo-in for the competitive writing finals this year. I heard the winners get to intern for Channel 6!"

Donnie rolls his eyes and smiles.

"You always did like the news."

"Congrats, bromigo!" S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.2.0 cheers, activating a few streamers and confetti, much to Casey's annoyance at having to clean the hall again.

"Where's everybody else?" April asks, glancing up and down the halls.

"Raph is still getting the dining room set up," Donnie says. "And Mikey's making dinner."

"Mikey is?" April asks, eyes wide, yet nowhere near as wide as her smile. "He's cooking again?"

"We've been practicing a few recipes," Casey announces proudly. "He felt confident enough to try making some of the food tonight."

"Lemme guess... pizza?" April chuckles as she follows the others into the living room to help Raphael set up. "I can't wait for another Mikey original! So, is everybody coming tonight?"

"My mom said she'll be here in a bit," Casey answers as he starts wiping down the table for the fourth time. "Agent Bishop and Honeycutt will be arriving within the next fifteen minutes, I think."

"Pops and Draxum are still waiting for Leo to wrap up his appointment. They're cuttin' it close, but Leo promised to be on time," Raph says as he carries a stack of plates into the room. "Which means he'll be fashionably late again."

Donnie sneers.

"You'd think a guy who can make portals to any place on earth would understand how to be punctual."

"I still can't believe it's been a month," April awes. "Everything flew by so fast!"

"And it doesn't help that the one day at the TCRI felt like a whole week," Raph groans. "Hey, who's in charge of silverware?"

"I got it," Casey offers, running into the kitchen and returning a moment later with the cutlery. "So, Mikey made pizza, Raph made breadsticks, and I made salad."

"I brought mini shish kabobs and dip," April offers, holding up a tupperware with grilled veggies on skewers.

"Sounds great! Mom mentioned bringing brownies..." Casey recalls, "Bishop and the Professor offered to pick up drinks, and Master Splinter and the Baron said they'd grab some Yokai hors d'oeuvre from the Hidden City vendors. So I think we'll be good!"

The group continue to set up the dinner table just as three more guests enter from the subway tunnel.

"I HAVE ARRIVED!!!" Cassandra yells loudly, waving her hockey stick around like a crazed chimpanzee as she runs.

Cass rushes forwards and wraps her arms around CJ as tightly as she can. He reciprocates with a laugh.

"ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ," Fugitoid remarks as he and Bishop walk in next, "ʙᴜᴛ ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴄᴀʟᴍᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴɴᴇʀ."

"Hey, Professor!" Casey greets with a smile. "You're looking good. New upgrades?"

"ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄɪɴɢ. ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇʟʏ ʜᴇʟᴘꜰᴜʟ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ…"

"Anything for a fan of my work," Dee jokes. "And you've brought drinks. Any flavourless juice?"

"Sorry, just sodas," Bishop says, holding up a few grocery bags filled with large liters of name brand seltzers.

"We can't expect you to be perfect all the time," Donnie grumbles.

"Where's Mikey?" Bishop asks.

"If he heard Cass's war cry, then he should be here any second --"

Almost on cue, Mikey comes bounding out of the kitchen at full speed, pouncing at Cass and zipping around her waist and shoulders in excitement like a hyped-up cat. He eventually perches just above her shoulders, chirping excitedly and giving her a noogie. She laughs as she reaches up and pulls him down, matching his energy and nooging him right back.

Mikey laughs before releasing his hold on her and running over to Bishop and Fugitoid, reacting much more calmly and rising to stand on two legs for them.

"Hi, guys!" he says, a smile growing across his doughy and flour-caked face.

"ꜱᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴍɪᴋᴇʏ!" Fugitoid greets. "ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ."

"Thanks! I'm all patched up now, see?" Mikey says as he enthusiastically shows off the large scars on his abdomen and neck. "My only complaint is the physical therapy's boring; but it is helping me to get back into my old hobbies!"

"I see you've taken up cooking?" Bishop asks, pulling a small chunk of sticky dough off Mikey's face.

"Oh, yeah. Whoops! I got a little carried away... but the pizza should be done in a while! Just enough time to talk about stuff and wait for the rest to get here! We can catch up!"

"Yeah, how's it going with the whole TCRI business?" Casey asks as he takes the brownies and sodas into the kitchen, the rest following after him and Mikey.

"Going really well," Bishop nods with a smile. "Which is surprising, considering everything. You'd think an evil corporation would try to hide their misdeeds, but what with all the leadership gone, everyone's turning on each other and revealing the truth!"

"Seriously?" Raph asks, eyes wide. "That's awesome!"

"Why haven't we heard anything about it on the news?" April asks.

"I doubt the local police will let any kind of news about a failed government study get in the public eye," Bishop sighs. "But they're handling it pretty well. Most scientists want to plea bargain, and from what I've heard the TCRI will be completely and permanently shut down within the next few days. Not just the sites stationed in NYC, but all over the globe! Then there's proceedings, court hearings, lawsuits from disgruntled employees for harassment, assault, and unfair work environments, just to name a few."

"Sounds like you have your hands full!" April laughs, moving aside as Mikey skirts behind her to retrieve a bottle of tomato sauce for the pizza.

"ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ!" Fugitoid chimes in. "ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴄʀɪ ɪɴ ꜱʜᴀᴍʙʟᴇꜱ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇꜱ ɢᴏᴠᴇʀɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ!"

"And that's where you two come in, hm?" Donnie asks with a smirk.

"I think it's time we rebuilt the Earth Protection Force from the ground up," Bishop nods. "Make it the way it was supposed to be. Something we can actually rely on."

Mikey smiles brightly at the agent as he shreds the cheese over the pizza dough and tomato paste. Though in his distraction, he accidentally spreads the cheese onto the countertop rather than the pizza itself. He hastily scoops up the cheese and sprinkles it back wherever it looks needed.

"Well, you're perfect for the job!" Casey beams.

"And I know a few girl scouts who would be VERY EXCITED to help!" Cass exclaims, forgetting her inside voice for a moment.

"I'll take that under consideration," Bishop responds with a roll of his eyes. "I could use some extra help. There are a lot of bad guys out there..."

"Speaking of," Raph slides in, clearing his throat. "Any updates on a certain 'you know who' and her location?"

"Abigail Finn is still incognito," Bishop sighs. "Though, Donatello's facial tracking system and security measures have helped us to keep a few tabs on her. But she's staying discreet, keeping a low profile and avoiding anything illegal. Which is good."

"Just give me a reason to annihilate her," Donnie whispers to himself. "Or to at least let me go semi-lethal..."

"Have you made any attempts to arrest her?" Casey asks.

"We... considered it," Bishop sighs. "But we felt that it would be better to let it slide. If we did make any attempts, you can bet she'd try to twist the truth and reveal everything she knows about you guys."

"So essentially, you're at a stalemate," Casey grumbles.

"Pretty much. We know dirt on her, she knows dirt on us. So long as we stay out of each others' ways, we're fine."

"ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ? ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ?" Fugitoid asks.

"Mostly helpin' with recovery," Raph answers. "In different ways."

"ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴠᴇʀʏ ɢᴏɪɴɢ, ᴍɪᴄʜᴇʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ?"

Mikey sighs as he shoves the pizza into the oven. Not a begrudging sigh, but more of a 'where do I start' kind of sigh.

"Well... it's been a lot. First was the whole bedridden thing. Then the physical therapy started. Case was a HUGE help with that, he's an expert on it! And after that... it was a mix of stuff. My memory's gotten better, thanks to Draxum's mystic goop. He said by the rate I'm healing at, all my memories should be back by the end of the month!"

"ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ!" Fugitoid remarks, though the 'mystic goop' comment flies right over his head.

"Yeah... but it's not always easy," Mikey admits. "I have some bad days, a few relapses. Sometimes I still forget names and call one of my brothers by their life-colour instead. Sometimes I talk in the third person instead of the first. Some days I can't talk at all! Walking is... still wacky and tough to get used to. I'm comfortable doing both two legs and four, but I'm faster on four. My vision still acts up, but I've learned to control it a bit better. Dee and I have been training it to shift on command instead of in reaction to light! All in all, adjusting is weird."

"I bet," Bishop nods.

"Wildest thing -- pun intended -- is the whole 'animalistic traits' junk that happens. Like, I still don't get some social cues?" Mikey admits. "Like most people shake hands, but I'll smell or sniff a person first. Most people hug, I climb on them and wrap my whole body around them like a snake. I'll growl if I'm angry. Sometimes I bite when I get startled. Stuff like that."

"Don't forget that one week where you kept making nests all over the lair and storing food in your room," Donnie chimes in.

"I'm just glad you haven't tried to mark your territory or anything," Raph jokes.

Mikey gives him a joking side-glare before continuing.

"Well anyways, it's been weird and confusing but I'm doing a lot better now. I'm really happy again! Which, I'll be honest... surprises me sometimes. The nightmares aren't as constant. They happen, and sometimes I wake up and I don't know where I am. But my family's there to help whenever. I didn't think I'd be this happy this much for a long time... But here we are!"

April starts tearing up out of joy and goes to hug Mikey, who laughs and hugs her back.

"ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ʏᴇᴛ?" Fugitoid wonders.

"One or two," Mikey shrugs. "Though Raph would rather I wait a little longer. I'm kinda glad I kept the mutations, they really help with tracking and stuff -- and the looks on the villains' faces when I start climbing the walls is priceless!" Mikey cackles.

"ᴀɴᴅ… ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛʀᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ?"

"Not as bad," Mikey explains. "Practically gone. Sure, Instinct pops up every once in a while. He really likes to talk during fights and junk. But Raph's been helping me out with him."

Raphael smiles proudly at the mention.

"Therapy's been good too," Mikey continues. "It helps to just... talk it out with someone."

"You've been doing therapy?" Bishop asks in pleasant surprise. "With who? A human therapist?"

"Actually, there's a Yokai clinic in the Hidden City," Mikey smiles. "Draxum recommended it to Leo, and Leo recommend it to all of us."

"Ohhhh, so is that the appointment Casey mentioned?" April asks.

"Yeah," Mikey says with a grin. "I'm really happy that Leo took the initiative to go, that was huge for him. And he's doing a lot better, too!"

Mikey continues to explain their experiences with their therapists as he works with the pizza, pulling it from the oven and sprinkling garlic and herbs into the crust before setting it back in for a few more minutes...

"Leo's therapist has been giving him tips on how to improve his mental health, gain more self-worth, and deal with his own intrusive thoughts. He said I'd like talking to them, so I went in for a sort of trial run. It was... a little awkward at first. The initial couple of sessions were just us getting to know each other and my therapist asking about my family and some hobbies, which I kinda didn't expect at first? I guess I figured that we'd jump right into the issue... But the more we talked, the closer we got and the easier it was for me to open up about my traumas and problems. So, uh, there's that!"

Mikey chuckles as he checks on the pizza again. Five more minutes, maybe... He sighs as he leaps onto the kitchen counter and perches there.

"So, I guess this is our new normal," April notes. "Everything seems to be all wrapped up for the most part."

"Except for one thing," Cassandra grumbles. "The blue turtle and his fathers aren't here yet! I want to eat the pizza already!!"

"It's not even out of the oven," Raph scolds.

"I'LL EAT IT WITH MY BARE HANDS!" Cass shouts, pumping her fists. "I'LL EAT IT STRAIGHT OUT OF THE FIRE! IT'S NO MATCH FOR ME!!"

"Uh-huh, suuuuuuure," April jokes.

"When is Leo getting back, though?" Mikey asks.

"By my calculations, he'll be here in the next three minutes," Donnie declares. "My tracker says he and Papa and Draxum just left the Yokai clinic and should be getting their contributions for dinner right about now."

"Great! They'll arrive just in time for the pizza..."

The group continue talking about whatever they can until Leonardo's portal illuminates the outer room. Warm welcomes, questions on how the session went, how Leo's doing, what Draxum has been up to, and so on until everyone decides that they are starving and sit themselves down for dinner.

The group catch Leo up to the discussion through the salad and appetizers. He huffs at the mention of Dr. Finn. Draxum catches the others up on the recent finishes to his home and how Huginn and Muninn have come back to work for him again.

Fugitoid pretends to eat the food, which causes Casey Jones to snort his soda through his nose and the entire table laughs, even John Bishop.

Mikey uses his mutated tongue to snag an hors d'oeuvre off of Leo's plate when he isn't looking. Splinter sees and snickers loudly, which alerts Leo to Mikey's second and third attempts.

The pizza comes out a few minutes later, hot and ready. The crust is a bit warped and has strange knots, the cheese is mismatched and looks odd, and the toppings are strangely arranged. It's the wackiest-looking flatbread the world has ever seen.

Yet when each guest takes a bite, they are wonderfully surprised. It is quite possibly the most delicious pizza in the world, despite its flaws and outward appearance.

"Mikey, you made this?" Leo asks with shock as he chows down on the slice.

Mikey nods as he eats his own cheesy triangle.

"Wow, dude! This tastes awesome!"

Mikey's smile stretches across his face as Leo pats him on the back.

"You did good, Mikey! You did really good."

The End.

Prev || AO3

[fertbutt]

have i shown this guy yet. uuhhh dnd character 😁😁😁😁 im playing curse of stradh its my first ever full campaign ive just done a couple one-shots before this!!!! Im really excited!!!!! Pls no spoilers

his name is sanguine hes a half-elf warlock hes very weak and sickly so as a kid he would get these spells where hed just rot in bed for like weeks like a little victorian child. but he survived and now he has a zest for life since hes so fragile hes on a quest for immortality. also he joined a church and then burnt it down theres a lot of stuff hes done it's not so important but that's why he's wearing the priest get-up

[wewerebornsextuplets]

i read all of the denki mystery stories in a frenzy a few weeks ago and have been stewing on kiru concepts for it ever since.... shes a laundry attendant in akatsuka village with [less than] loose ties to the matsuno family. in this au shes particularly close to toshio/jyushi, who begins frequenting the laundromat after his grandmother's death in spite of the considerable wealth the ogami estate has. he seems aware that theres a connection there but he isnt sure what it really is...

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I don't get why people hate the timeline so much, its not like you can't pretty much completely ignore it when you play the games. The only time it even approaches mattering to the story is when there is an explicit sequel like botw and totk or zelda and zelda 2

Hey sorry your ask got lost in the sauce of my broken tumblr, but: yeah!

I mean, I get why in some sense. It's been a heated point of debate and I think some people understandably resent the space it has taken not only in fandom discourse, but in how people began to understand the game and its narrative aesthetic choices. There is such a thing as over-rationalizing everything to hard logic, and sometimes it's just not the fandom for that --especially when you begin to forget it's all just fan theory and start to forget what the games are supposed to be like and evoke beyond just strict facts displayed in a linear way.

What I think bugs me with TotK in particular is that it both evokes and relies on continuity and the idea of a timeline, of archeology, of history itself, while being so loose and vacant with it that it both is doing Timeline Shit while also completely failing to understand why some parts of the fandom were invested in Timeline Shit to begin with.

But that's just my two cents of course!

[withered--s0uls]

Oh yeah right I forgot about this lol

There is like absolutely no lore behind this really, just Servant of Evil parts with the siblings.

I still plan to do the other Story of Evil songs but idk when I'll feel like doing them lol

Bonus of last one without text:

[shy-raccoon]

A villain so powerful and brutal they drive the hero into villainy out of sheer desperation. A hero who's plans to stop the villain once and for all start resembling and then surpassing the villain's plans. A hero who dosen't want to hurt anyone except for the villain but who starts to justify more and more collateral damage as the years drag on.

For example, after years of the villain committing to many war crimes to count the hero is legitimately considering just nuking the Villains's capital city to get it over with. They can even justify it to themselves after all a lot of the capital cities population are the villain's rich supporters and henchmen (but far more are starving in the slums). Maybe the villain even finds out about this plan and is horrifed, They may be evil but even they are not foolish enough to resort to nukes.

[97tears]

there’s like a surprising amount of thomas no shinzou academic essays but one thing i don’t agree about is that they all say juli has some form of internalized homophobia. simply not true

[pelcrow]

my oc Jack at one of his lowest moments. all alone and by his own hand.

[ibrithir-was-here]

Old short story I wrote a couple of years ago and then forgot about. Remembered it the other day, gave it a bit of a brush up, and figured I'd share it. My own take on the old "Dark Snow White" retelling

Sunlight and Snowdrops

Father is sending us away tomorrow, sent for schooling at a monastery far off in the south. His new wife--The Usurper, who I will not grace with the title of queen-- tells us of the walled gardens, where pomegranates and figs grow almost year round on trees with leaves as large and tall as a man, a place where the sea still rushes up freely to meet the shore, long stretches of golden sand, forever warm to the touch.

She has talked of little else for months now, as if she and Father hope that such constant chatter will somehow soften us to the idea of our exile, make us forget the kingdom she has stolen from us, just as she has stolen his heart. And perhaps with my sisters she has somewhat succeeded . They always did take after Father, with their butter-yellow hair, and skin flushed like ripe peaches. Perhaps they were always more suited for such places. But I am my mother’s daughter, as any who look upon me can tell, and I will not be made to forget.

For how could such a flat, lurid place ever hope to compare with the beauty of my mother’s kingdom? What is a stretch of damping sea-shore to the beauty of a deep lake, forever crystallized into the finest mirror? What are walled gardens with their mad jumble of gaudy fruits to the dark towering pines, whispering to each other as the wind moves through them? What monastery could ever hope to reach heaven in the way that the mountains of the valley swell up in dark waves, to crack the egg-shell gray of the sky?

It is the blue sky of that far off place I fear most of all. What want have I for a sky of unchanging blue, suffocating in it’s immensity, with its one great burning eye beating down to peel and crack my skin in the day, and it’s thousand eyes to stare down at night? My mother’s pale sky has never once burned me, never once stared into my dreams, not with her veils of snow to protect me. Her sky is forever changing, shifting from stillness to storm on her whim. Blasting and breaking, soothing and softening, blanketing all with her beautiful covering of pure, protective white.

But my father’s new queen has poisoned its beauty for him, turning his head with her talk of salted water and coarse sand. If she wishes to retreat to such places, then I say let us be well rid of her. If my father and sisters are fools enough to follow her, to believe the lies she and her counselors and sages have spread about my mother, the rightful queen, then let them be off as well. I know the truth, I have not forgotten, I of all her daughters, have remained faithful.

There are so few of us now. So many have turned away from their true queen. But though loyalty is fragile, memory remains as firm as the ice upon the Great Lake. Despite their seeming love for the Usurper, The common people still tell my mother’s story. The Usurper thinks that because she was once one of them, a drudge plucked from obscurity by the weakness of my father’s will, that their hearts have turned to her in full.

But they can never forget my mother completely, she does not let them.

When the winds howl thick, like wolves at the door, the tale, long and wondrous and wild, is whispered between huddled crones and wide-eyed children.

A tale that takes hold of the mind and heart, as surely as the cold takes to the bones.

It begins in Winter, for indeed, how could it not?

A winter long and dark, when my grandmother, a woman wise in the old ways of the world, sat sewing at her window, looking out into the forest that spreads like an ink stain all round the castle, the snow falling heavy all around her, silencing the world as she made her request to the magic of the woods.

Three drops of her own blood she spilt to gain her heart's desire, a child for her childless king. And a child she received, a beauty such as never been seen. Hair black as the trees of the forest, lips as red as the blood she had given, and skin as white as the purest snow. A child of the winter woods, born on winter’s darkest night.

A life had been granted, and so was a life taken away. My grandmother lived long enough to bless my mother with her name, and the king, who once had so longed for a child, was now too grieved to bear the sight of his new daughter. And so my mother was given over to the wife of the castle’s woodsman, recently blessed with a child of her own, and who, most importantly, lived in a cottage on the edge of the woods, far, far away from the castle grounds, and her mourning father’s eye.

For seven years my mother grew up in the care of the woodsman’s family, as loved as if she were their own blood daughter, and the girls loved each other as sisters. They spent many days beneath the shadows of the trees, and learned much from the woods. They say even then, before she had come into her power, that the creatures and spirits of that place knew my mother as part of their blood, knew that something of her had come from something within them, and protected her for it.

It was in the winter of her fifth year that she met my father, a lad of nine, trapped within an enchanted bearskin. She and her foster sister brought him into the warmth of their cabin, saving his life, and each winter for three years after, he returned. She told me once that those winters were some of the happiest memories of her life, surrounded by those she loved in the shelter of the snows.

It was in summer that her sorrows came.

It was in summer that my mother discovered the gnome that had cursed her bear, and by his death my father was freed from his enchantment, only to then return to his own far off kingdom. It was in summer that my mother was parted from her foster family, recalled to court at last--only to find her own usurper on her father’s arm.

The people of the land adored the lady who had come to them out of the sun-drenched south, calling her their Summer Queen, praising her for the abundance that had blessed the lands since she had wed the king. And surely there was never a woman so beautiful. They say that her hair flowed like sunlight itself down her shoulders until it touched the floor, braided all over with flowers of every hew, and her eyes were as blue and bright as an August morning.

My mother said she could feel those eyes trying to melt her the moment she was brought before them.

My mother was not at court long. One day, the Summer Queen surprised her with a visit from her foster-father, and though he smiled at her, his eyes seemed grim and troubled. They traveled together down to the edge of the woods, far from the eyes of any in the castle--and there he took out the knife, carved all over with flowers, to cut out her heart.

(He claimed later, when the coup was over, and my mother restored to the throne, that he had only done so to protect his family, his own little daughter. My mother granted him the same pity he had shown her, and sent him into the woods, alone and unarmed. I do not know to this day if he fell to the animals or the cold that finally came, but by all accounts, he was never seen again.)

My mother, for her part, wandered for months alone beneath the boughs of the woods. The animals did not harm her, the woods knew its own, but she dared not venture near the edges where human souls still delt, fearful now that any might betray her to the Summer Queen. And as remarkable as she was, she was still only a child, and had never had to care for herself before, and she longed for the cheer and company of creatures like herself.

More than that, the heat of a seemingly endless summer wore at her. August passed into September and September to October and on, with nary a change to be seen. The leaves on the trees remained green, and did not fall. The rivers ran along as full and fat as ever, though there was no snow left to feed them. The sun felt like a great eye, searching for her beneath the sheltering shadows of the forest. Only at night did she find respite, and she longed for the relief of a winter that never came.

Farther and farther she wandered, seeking someplace where she might find some sign of chance, some shelter from the daylight that stretched longer and longer. At last, she found herself upon the slopes of the farthest mountain. Her feet were worn ragged from wandering, and her tongue was cracked from the heat, but with the last of her strength, she managed to stagger to the summit, and there, in a hollow tucked into the dark shadows of the peaks, so dark that even the hottest of summers could not fully touch them, she found snow.

And there her strength finally deserted her. She lay down upon the snow as contentedly as if it had been a feather bed, and might have slipped into the endless sleep beneath that cold coverlet, had it not been for the little men.

The frozen-beards, the valley people call them. Dwarfs that live in the fields of ice upon the mountains, having little to do with the valley people. They delight in the cold, they are said to be able to call up snow storms to hide their homes,and in winter they might be seen galloping along in the wake of an avalanche as happy as a child at play. But for all the ice of their beards, they are warm of heart, and they took the half-frozen child into their home as readily as if she had been one of their own.

For seven years, my mother at last knew peace. In the caves of the mountains she learned much of the songs and stories and skill of her new family. She learned the shaping of swords and the setting of gems,and the summoning of wind and fog, and was happy.

But nothing lasts forever, and at last, summer found her patch of hidden winter.

The king of a far-off land had proclaimed his intention to visit our valley kingdom, which had grown in renown-- and profit-- thanks to the summer that seemed trapped within the crown of our mountain valley. The rivers and Great Lake were never clear of vessels shipping goods out and bringing gold in. Both people and purses grew fat from the bounty, and basked in the seemingly endless sunshine.

There was one stain however, upon the glorious reign of the Summer Queen, though it was only spoken of in whispers, for it would not do to complain of such small misfortune within the wake of so many blessings.

The Draining Sickness.

It came on quickly, overnight in some cases. Those afflicted withered away, drained, pale and almost bloodless, like unwatered plants beneath the noon-day sun. No one knew how it spread, it seemed to only strike one village at a time; and oddly the most healthy and comely succumbed first, as if offended by their vitality and beauty.

Fate however, seemed inclined to some mercy. For each village that was stricken with loss soon found itself blessed with an overflowing of crops and commerce, as if Death felt some blood money was owed.

It was not only the young and lovely who were taken though. The old King, my mother’s father, was struck down on Summer’s Eve itself— along with seven young girls from each of the surrounding villages. But the grief over these deaths was short-lived, such was the glory of the days that followed, the golden sunlight drying the tears from the cheeks of the mourners even as they fell. Indeed, it seemed hard to grieve anything beneath the sun of that long, long summer. The Summer Queen, clothed in green and yellow and scarlet and blue, wore only a black ribbon around her neck for mourning, and none falted her.

It was then that the rumors came, rumors that the visiting king was not only there to see the beauty of the valley, but of its women as well. Indeed, those coming before his entourage said that he was seeking out one who was rumored to be the Fairest of them All.

The Summer Queen, shining almost to match the blazing endless sun, was more than happy to aid him in his search. And it was undoubtedly her efforts to ensure her own success in fulfilling the terms of his quest which led her to discover that my mother’s heart--which she thought she had devoured seven years ago, at the start of her endless summer --still beat it’s red,red blood within her snow white breast.

A grand celebration was proclaimed in the king’s honor, a festival of such magnificence as had never been seen outside of the old stories, and travelers came from all the surrounding lands to take part, ply their trades, and sell their wares. Up and over the mountains they came, and several passed by the cave where my mother dwelt.

Was it any wonder that my mother, still so young, having found a measure of peace in that snowy valley which soothed the burns upon her soul, and made her long to return somewhat to the world of men and look once more upon human faces, took in good faith the laces, brought by from far by the cargo boats; the comb, carved and painted so cleverly with a myriad flower; and finally, most beautiful blood-red summer apple, grown in her father’s own orchard?

When my mother woke again-- to the face of my father, returned from afar at last to find the girl who had freed him from his curse, and had now freed her in return-- she was not so naive.

My father had brought many men with him, and the people of the valley had grown slow and complacent in their bounty. When his men came with their swords, and the frozen-beards called up their icy winds, and my mother rode down upon the capitol in a sleigh made from her own glass coffin, they were not prepared to withstand the onslaught. Soon enough all had either fallen to their knees —or fallen where they stood.

The Summer Queen danced at my mother’s wedding, in shoes crafted by my mother herself, in the art taught to her by her foster-fathers. Shoes which returned upon the Summer Queen all the heat of the sun which she had stolen by her sacrifices and bloody rites.

Then my mother took up her rightful throne, and winter came at last to the valley.

My mother and father were wed in the open courtyard, as the snow fell like diamonds all around them, and all agreed they had never seen a more beautiful sight. My mother’s foster sister, who had remained loyal to her true queen, was reunited with her, and wed to my father’s brother. Children followed both of them after, and for many years, the natural order of the seasons came and went.

It was on my seventh birthday that my mother found the mirror, tucked behind a tapestry woven with fruit and flowers, in the abandoned tower of the Summer Queen.

No one knows where the Summer Queen obtained the mirror. Some have claimed it was a wedding gift from her godfather, a fallen priest who had taken supper at the Scholomance. Others that she crafted it herself, from water and moonlight, on a witch’s sabbath. But my mother told me once that the mirror was only a shard of a greater whole, and that the Summer Queen had only happened upon it, and though her own powers were great, her vain and narrow mind only able to discover the basest powers of the mirror.

But my mother-- born of blood and snow and forest, learned in the lore of the mountain folk, the perfect inversion in shape and soul of the Summer Queen-- could feel at once what was before her. She had higher aspirations than to know of mere beauty. After all, why should she trouble herself over such trivial questions?

She was, and is, the Fairest of them All.

No, my mother asked for vision and clarity, and the mirror readily supplied, showing her the darkness that lay in the hearts of men, the twisted, choking desire she had already tasted in an apple grown of blood and summer heat, and she knew what she must do.

That night, on Summer’s Eve itself, the snows began to fall.

The winters lie heavy on our land now, as heavy as summer once did. Our borders have shrunken back to what they were before the days of the Summer Queen. The rivers she once choked with cargo boats and merry-makers now flow freely beneath the protection of their own glass coffins. The flowers that once crowned her traitorous head have not been seen in many a year. The mountains are eternally capped with snow, the frost-beards no longer trapped within their narrow valley. Our kingdom, once vibrantly flushed with the blood of those taken to feed an endless summer, is now white and pure, cleansed by the endless falling snow.

My mother saved her kingdom from a blood soaked opulence, from a land made rich and fat off the hearts of their own, and yet they still turned upon her. Called her witch, demon, and worse. In the end, as the purifying snows fell heavier and heavier, The Usurper-- covered in ash from the fires she’d set to hold the snows at bay-- besieged the capitol. With her brother at her side, with an army of thred-bare shop-keepers and merchants laid low, she came up the Great Road with as much pride and assurance as if the crown sat already upon her head.

My aunt, foster-sister of my mother, and others who remained loyal, who knew their true queen for the power that she was, fought back. Indeed, my aunt and the wolves that answered to her slew The Usurper’s brother upon the very threshold. But the faithful were soon overwhelmed. The few who survived were driven into the woods, seeking the shelter that had been granted to my mother. The Usurper had the trees set ablaze, calling out that the dark powers of the forest would not be allowed to aid the followers of a witch. Her army came right up to the palace gates. And my father, my dear, foolish, fearful, traitorous father, who’s heart had been turned by The Usurper’s treacherous lies--himself unbarred the door for her.

My mother did not flee, whatever they say. She who had vowed to never be driven by anyone again, she who had bent the very elements to her will. She did not flee before The Usurper’s feeble army of ragged townsfolk and treacherous palace guards,even as they tore up her portraits, burned her books, and smashed her mirror into a thousand pieces.

No,they were not granted that victory. When she fell, she fell of her own accord, and her white gown sparkled like snow-flakes in the sun as she dived, down from the window at which her mother had once sat sewing, down, down into the blazing, waiting embrace of the woods that had heard her mother’s prayer.

When the fires at last burned themselves out, they found my mother’s body, ash covered, but untouched by the flames, as if even they could not bear to besmirch her beauty. She was placed once more in the glass coffin that bore her name, and it sat in state for three days in the royal chapel. She was, after all, a king’s daughter, and wife of another. On the third day, it was gone. Some claim she was properly buried, far beneath the ground, with a hawthorn branch in her heart. Others say that the rebels took the coffin, and burned it till the glass was melted down into a lump as black as her hair had been. The faithful say that the frost-beards came in the dark of the night, and reclaimed their daughter, carrying the coffin up once more to the high valley where my father once found her, to await the day when she will awaken again.

If she has not so already.

For though my mother’s crown sits on The Usurper’s head, and her daughters are to be sent to the far corners of the earth, in hopes the heat of the sun and the scent of the flowers will drive her from their hearts, the winter still lays heavy upon the land, and the wind has not ceased to blow since the day that she fell.

Father is sending us away tomorrow, and I do not think he shall be long in following. So many have left already. He longs for the shores of his youth, where the spring and summer follows after the winter. My uncle, his brother, has already returned there, with many of his children. The common folk are leaving as regularly as they can clear the mountain passes, which is not easy in these times. The birds and gentler animals left years ago. Soon, it will be only the wolves that prowl the dark woods, edging closer and closer into the towns as more and more people abandon my mother’s frozen kingdom. They say that the spectre of my aunt can be seen running with the wolves sometimes, when the moon is obscured by clouds, red cloak trailing behind her like blood on the snow.

They can send me away, but I shall find my way back. A thousand’s flowers scents could not make me forget the smell of the pines, a thousand bird’s songs could not drown out the howl of the wind. The bluest of skies cannot burn away the purest of snows. Not all the mirror’s pieces were ground to powder. I managed to save one, one single shard reclaimed in the chaos that shattered my childhood. I have kept it close, reworked and polished it, set it into a clasp on a chain that rests even now against my heart, hidden beneath my dress so that The Usurper cannot see. Already I have learned much, not as much as my mother, I do not claim that, but enough

And when the time is right, I know it shall lead me home. Past the guards that will be placed at the door, past the gates that will be barred, over the rivers and hills and far away, back to my mother’s mountain. And there I know I shall find her again, hair as black as night, lips as red as blood, skin as white as snow; riding in her sleigh of glass thru the eternal winter air to meet me.

[starrysharks]

i used to be a bit conscious about having so many girls/fem characters in my works (starsaints carnival is the only developed story right now that doesn't have a female protagonist, and most of the time i have to actively go out of my way to make male characters) but you know what fuck it i like girls so i'm gonna write girls goddammit!!!

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 30

Hey guys! I was away out of town for a couple weeks and was out of service during that time so I'm finally here with a few chapters ready to post. Which is perfect because I'll be out of town again for the next two weeks and I'll make sure that I get a post out for you so you don't all suffer. Things are getting gooood.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29 Content Warnings: violence, light torture All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

I stood in the center of the Great Hall, surrounded by men that I had grown to despise for their pathetic neutrality on every decision. I had told them everything my father had done, sparing nothing. I shook with anger, but Selhar stood beside me, barely more than a boy, yet holding himself with the stature of a grown man. Him being there made everything feel far less frightening. We stood, side by side, in the center of the room while the Council circled around us, each keeping their own judgements to themselves while they studied and stared at us. The room was silent as they took in the information I had given them. It took everything in me to not scream back at them to just believe us as I held each of their gazes.

Suddenly, like a large exhale, all of them seemed to erupt with questions. It was clearly a division between those who believed me and those who found my tale preposterous.

“Do you understand what you are accusing?” Councilman Orin rose to his feet. I detected exasperation in his tone and I felt my body go rigid. I remembered he was one who had always admired my father and the two worked close together often. “I understand that since the death of the Duke’s Consort, there has been a change in you. I do not see a benefit in bringing your familial problems to this Council. You understand that if you succeed in removing your father from his role, what it will mean for Berdusk? And what it could mean for Triel if what you say is true? This would mean an entire upheaval in two bodies of government. These are not accusations to be given lightly, son.”

“I certainly would not bring these accusations if I did not intend to do that exact thing.” I said, my voice quivered as I bit back my emotion. “Something must change. An upheaval is necessary. Do you understand what you would permit to continue if nothing is done?” I raised my head and looked directly at Orin. “You would be permitting a radical group to exist beyond our control and persuade this and neighboring lands and it would be that radical group - the Red Hunters - that would begin determining who would be able to travel between roads without trouble, who could trade with us and who could not. What belongs to us would belong to them. Their hands would forever be in all of your pockets and making choices that do nothing for our people.”

Another man rose, he was older and hunched, but his glassy eyes looked kindly down at me, “I cannot deny that I am entirely unbelieving. The Duke and I have often been opposed in our opinions, but I always respected his leadership as long as it was in the interest of the citizens of Berdusk. I believe we all can agree that in the years following your mother’s death, he has not behaved as he used to. I’m not opposed to his removal, but I believe we all find ourselves unprepared to handle what this could mean to Berdusk.”

“Precisely!” Another interjected. “What is to be done if the Duke is gone?”

“Are you not able bodied to lead the people without a Duke?” Selhar asked, his exasperated tone went over their heads, but I caught the way he looked over at me with a roll of his eyes.

“But the Hilmars have led and protected these people for generations.” Orin responded, he looked at me, a dark gleam in his eye, “To lose their duke and the entire way of life would bring utter ruin.”

“You say Commander Gideon has been investigating the Duke as well?” The kind, glassy eyed councilman spoke again.

I nodded, “He is not currently here since the Duke suspected his disloyalty, but we have convinced a number of his guards to speak on his behalf…those that have been forced under my father’s instructions to go against their creed.” I gestured to the line of guards that stood at the door behind me. They all remained silent, but stood stoically and alert. “I also have the means to contact Commander Gideon, should we find it is safe for him to return.”

I turned to a hunched man who sat before me, he was buried in a large book, frantically running his knobby fingers down the page before frantically turning to the next.

“Treasurer,” I gently spoke, drawing the man’s attention. “What have you found in your research?”

He shook his head, sighing. “Gentlemen, the Young Lord is correct. There are withdrawals made by the Duke once a month with no notation, which is well… I-I don’t know how such a thing passes through my clerks.” He removed his spectacles and looked up at me, “And just as you said, there are also payments that are received from Triel that are given right before each of these withdrawals, which are noted as a trade for goods…but I don’t believe goods were ever traded?”

Many shook their heads, “I’ve not been aware of any trades between Triel.” One said.

“It appears that the evidence is stacking against the Duke.” The old councilman sighed. “But Councilman Orin - though I am reluctant to admit - has made a point. Our people expect there to be a Duke in this land…there is no easy way to dismantle what has always been. Young Lord, what do you suggest be done now that the truth is out?”

I nodded. “I understand the burden this places on you and the rest of Berdusk. It is my intention to take his place as Duke.”

Selhar stiffened next to me and whirled his attention on me. “Altan.” He hissed.

I raised a hand to calm him, “I know I have been…reluctant to bear the responsibilities that were always mine. I have watched my father rule in silence, but no more. He speaks with poison on his lips and has held back the progress of Berdusk for too long. Our people deserve to thrive with a leader that believes in the spirit of unity, and honesty. No more walls, no more secrets. We can bridge Berdusk better with the surrounding communes.”

“Ah,” Orin interjected. “I’m beginning to see the whole picture.” He looked to the other Councilman. “This pup wants to free his orc lover and bring its people to our town. Is that what has spurned your interest in ruling all of a sudden?”

The room grew uncomfortably still and I felt my face begin to burn. I had expected this turn to happen, I had never been good at subtlety. And I certainly had been far from subtle the moment I met Drunrag.

“I won’t deny that I have a personal interest in seeing Drunrag released from wherever my father has imprisoned him. And I won’t deny that I wouldn’t invest my influence to foster alliances with outside leaders, but I promise you my choice to do this didn’t come from a place of selfishness. My mother, the late Duchess Telmira, taught me that every individual should be treated with dignity, no matter how different they may be from our understanding. Because what we do not understand is not something to fear, but to learn from and the way we grow is often doing the thing we fear the most. We cannot progress without these connections. The Duke has separated us and choked our people from alliances that would strengthen us.” 

I took a breath, “To be truthful, I don’t want to be Duke. If it were truly up to me, I would dismantle this entire government and start over.” I glanced over to Orin, “It would be easier to just run away and never take responsibility for what I’ve brought to you. And yet, that’s not what I was raised to do and it would be on my conscious if I chose that path. We are all currently facing an uncertain future, but I believe uncertainty is the best place to begin building something we want that’s better than where we were. Uncertainty is just another word for possibility. And if we can build bridges and repair what’s broken, imagine what Berdusk could be. A homeland to traditions old and traditions new. A caretaker to friends and strangers alike.”

“That’s a very optimistic perspective, son.” Orin snidely remarked. “What makes you think people will want this change?”

I hardened my stare, “Perhaps they don’t…but I think people are allowed to change their minds if they want something different. But they won’t know until we give them that opportunity.”

The Council exchanged looks of concern and skepticism. It wasn’t a surprise to see such reactions, I had resisted and ignored my responsibility for a long time and had gone to great lengths to make my dislike known to everyone and now here I stood, sputing flowery words of hope and connection. I certainly wouldn’t trust them if I were them. What I was suggesting was entirely new, foreign to Berdusk. I held each of their gazes and tried to return an expression that exuded confidence and faith in what I said. 

“Lord Altan.” Orin said again. “Are you prepared for the consequences that will come from this?”

“Are you prepared to no longer have my father’s money lining your pockets?” I retorted.

The look of disdain on Orin’s face could not have been more satisfying. “How dare you!?”

I folded my arms and smirked. “Change will come whether we want it or not, it does not care how we feel about it. I won’t lead Berdusk into ruin, and I will see that whatever ‘privileges’ my father has given some of  you is returned to the people. I’m not really here to be liked by any of you.”

The glassy-eyed councilman nodded, “Well, I do not wish to hold back this spirited young lord, I see great potential in him, but we still have the current Duke Hilmar to concern ourselves with. We must try him for his crimes and come to this answer ourselves. Do you disagree?”

I shook my head, “I do not.”

A guard behind us cleared their throat and announced, “Duke Hilmar left early this morning. He didn’t say where, but he appeared to be in a hurry and in a dark mood according to some of the staff here in the Great Hall.”

“Running away perhaps…” Someone mumbled.

The councilman talked amongst and over themselves, struggling to know what to do next.

“A decision cannot be made until the Duke has been tried for his crimes.” One finally said.

“Have guards sent to seek him out, find him!” One yelled.

“If he doesn’t return in three days, we must concede that he is guilty.” Another declared.

“Young Lord, permit us to hold any further discussion until the Duke is found?” The glassy-eyed councilman asked.

I bowed my head, “Granted. Thank you gentlemen, I look forward to seeing this through.”

“As do I.” He replied with a weak smile.

The meeting seemed to awkwardly end as everyone eyed one another with wide expressions and vacant smiles. Admittedly, I had done the equivalent of dumping ice cold water on all their heads and left them with barely a solution. Was I really the best I could offer Berdusk for a better future? I had to believe that my mother taught me what she did for more than just being the pawn of someone else. Change would come slowly, but it would change. And I prayed that it would eventually lead me to Drunrag and he would stay by my side to the long, bitter end.

Selhar grabbed my hand next to me, “Are you mad?” he whispered as he began to pull me away. “You didn’t tell me you would do this.”

“I had to.” I said. 

“But…” He bowed his head. “You told me you wanted to travel, to sing and make art and meet people. What about Drunrag?”

I felt my smile fade from my face, “Those dreams would mean nothing if I ruined your dreams, Selhar.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “I had to do what needed to be done. I will not regret this.”

He nodded, but couldn’t meet my eyes.

We began to walk down the hall when I suddenly felt a faint burning in the pit of my stomach. I stopped and placed a hand on the flat of my stomach and wavered. This feeling, so familiar, so painfully vivid in my memories. I stumbled back and leaned against the wall, my breath suddenly becoming shallow and desperate. I placed my other hand on my chest, feeling the quickening in my heartbeat.

Lordhovid. It was back.

“Altan!” Selhar reached to catch me, his eyes wide.

I held him back, my eyes unfocused as I felt the burn begin to spread. “Selhar, I need to get out of here.”

“What? Why? What’s happening?”

I looked up at him, but flinched as a wave of feverish heat punched into my loins. I bent down and gasped for air. “I’ll explain later, but I need to leave…” I reached into the pocket of my tunic and found the crumpled letter from Gaius Gideon. “Here. Take me here.” I shoved the paper into his hands before I gasped again and collapsed to the ground. The heat was unbearable, worse than it had been before. And through the pain and fog, I could feel the tight, unyielding pull in my gut that tied me to my beloved.

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