#moors gone wild

[d3arapril]

TOO FAR GONE | P.B

sydney moore has always kept paige bueckers right where she wants her—close enough to touch, but never close enough to hold. whenever paige attempts to move on, whether alone or with someone new, she always finds herself gravitating back to her whether she likes it or not. as their behaviours both become increasingly destructive, can they break the cycle or are they too far gone?

WARNINGS/TAGS: TOXIC!OC, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS & ATTACHMENTS, LANGUAGE, MANIPULATION, SEXUAL CONTENT, CHEATING | PLAYLIST

00 PROLOGUE

01 ONE CALL AWAY | all it took was one call.

02 WHY LIE? | if she love me enough she gon' lie to herself.

03 PRESSURIZED | you run, i'll make you come right back.

04 WDYWFM? | five months go by, and i thought about letting her go.

05 BIRDS OF A FEATHER | say you wanna quit, don’t be stupid.

so i know i said invisible string was coming back but it's winter time and i want to write something angsty! some things are still subject to change and the prologue won't be out for a few days at LEAST! but tbh i just wanted to get this out because i'm excited to share it. i'm also quite nervous lol but i can't wait to go on this wild journey with you all. buckle up and enjoy! x

[lalacliffthorne]

💜 starshine pt. IV 💜

Rhysand x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: a promise is fulfilled.

notes: back to our regularly scheduled program of fluff deluxe - with maybe a teeny-tiny sprinkle of angst. come on, I can't just make it that easy.

______________________________________________________________

Crossing the street, I pushed my bag higher up my shoulder, a cool but soft breeze brushing through my hair as I closed my eyes for a second.

Something warm vibrated under my ribs, something that seemed to stem from the city I was wandering through itself, and when I opened my eyes again, my heart rose in a vibrant flutter when I caught a glimpse at the sun sinking towards the mountains, its warm golden light submerging the buildings and gardens into an otherworldly glow.

Velaris. The City of Starlight.

The Court of Dreams.

When Rhys had first told me about it, all those years ago, I had almost not believed him. It had sounded - far too good to be true.

But now, as I made my way through the narrow streets, laughter and voices winding through the air from restaurants and bars, families passing me, I suddenly understood the light that appeared in his eyes whenever he talked about the city.

It was beautiful.

The buildings were big and winding, with towers and bay windows and balconies, the cobblestone streets between ranging from wide ones leading to big squares to narrow, connected alleys. Jasmine and wisterias were winding around the houses, in full bloom just like the trees, their petals being sweeped through the streets by the soft breeze, lacing the air with a sweet scent.

A few children were chasing a whirlwind of blossoms, giggling, and I could feel something in my chest swell.

My eyes flared golden for a moment, and the petals rose in a rush, moving through the air like water flowing and sweeping around the children, their laughter growing as petals brushed over their cheeks like gentle tickles.

I smiled brightly and exhaled a soft laugh before turning back ahead, my breath hitching as I slipped out of the street and found the river in front of me. Bridges with intricate carvings arched over the water that reflected the light of the first golden lanterns and the sky, a few stars already visible, twinkling in the pale blue that spanned all the way to the surrounding mountains.

It had taken me longer than expected to fulfill my promise. After taking care of those still Under the Mountain and the faeries there, I had brought those captured home. By then, many faeries had started leaving the places they'd sought shelter at.

But the chaos that had become the courts had not spared their homes. Many of the wild woods and the moors, the meadows and riverlands had been destroyed or had withered without the fairie´s care.

And so I had spent almost two months making my way from Spring up all the way to the North, the rebuilding of the fairie's homes a lot easier with the assistance of my magic. It had mended something in my chest, cracks that had formed there over the past fifty years, cracks caused by the harm that had been caused to those I felt I was made to protect.

And not a day had gone by where I hadn't felt the gentle rake of claws down the walls of my mind, like the male they belonged was trying to assure himself I was still there.

I knew Rhys was probably up to his ears in work, things that had piled up over the last fifty years; mending his own court back together. But still.

I knew him.

Knew how wonderfully, awfully self-sacrificing he was, and how he had the admirable and not at all healthy tendency to always put everyone else first.

The stubborn male hadn't sought me out once. And it had made something rise and ache in my chest, more with every passing week, until over the last few, I had rushed, moved as quickly as possible, barely halting.

It felt like something pulled me north, something that became stronger the closer I got.

☆

The sun was almost touching the snow-covered mountain peaks when I finally found the adress Rhys had left me. It was located at the end of a long street, a bit off the city center, sheltered by blooming trees and hedges, just like the other properties.

Carefully opening the iron wrought gate covered in sweet smelling vines, I felt my heart skip softly against my ribs.

Before me rose a tall, wide house made from sandstone, with huge windows and carved details, blossoming plants climbing the walls. There were bushes in bloom planted in front, and as I slowly made my way towards the stairs at the side of the house, leading to big wooden doors, I caught a glimpse at the garden beyond.

My breath hitched, and I slowed until I stood still.

Flowers bloomed, wild and free, faeries whizzing through the high grass, giggling and chasing each other over a pond reflecting the mountains lining the horizon and the sky above that was slowly beginning to turn pink.

Something rose in my chest, swelling and thrumming as a soft, slightly shaking laugh built in my throat, and I quickly wiped a hand over my nose.

Staring at the garden for another second, my heart fluttering wildly against my ribs, I blinked before looking up the house's façade. Then I turned, climbing the steps to the door where I hesitated for a second before I raised my hand to knock gently.

After waiting for a minute and knocking again, I felt my brows furrow, and my heart skipped softly when Rhys' voice echoed through my memories.

Don't worry. The wards will let you in any time, day or night.

I could still hear the cheeky smile in his voice, and something rose in my chest.

Raising my hand again, I paused for a moment before carefully placing it onto the wood of the door.

My heart skipped when I felt a shift under my fingers. A soft breeze brushed through my hair and brought with it the small of chilled nights and wild flowers, and my lips rose into an incredulous smile when the door opened with a creak.

Carefully stepping over the threshold, I felt something begin to flutter gently against my ribs as I slowly made my way past the staircase leading up and felt my lips part softly.

My gaze flickered over the one wide room that was the first floor, open and flooded by the golden light of the sinking sun flowing through big windows that opened like doors into the garden. There were shelves filled with books to the front, comfortable looking couches and soft carpets, and a big oak table over in the open kitchen with an array of chairs. The air smelled warm, of blooming flowers and a trace of Rhys that lingered, like he'd been here some time in the past few days.

Something rose under my ribs, quick and fluttering wildly as I carefully let my fingers graze over the back of a leather armchair, breathing in the scent of the flowers on the dining table – and then the air shifted behind me, and I quickly looked over my shoulder, my heart rising in my chest and breath stilling.

Rhys had appeared next to the stairs, looking a little out of breath, his hair windswept like he had rushed as his wide eyes flickered up the stairs.

My gaze quickly darted over him, and something tightened harshly in my chest as I practically drank him in, because Gods, I had missed him. Far more than I had realised, something that seeing him again Under the Mountain had not changed; in fact, it seemed to have made it worse, because as my gaze dragged over the familiar width of his shoulders, his inky black hair and that stupidly beautiful face, something in my chest began to ache.

Rhys' eyes darted away from the stairs as he turned quickly, and his body went completely still when his gaze found mine.

Something swelled under my ribs, rising as it pulsed warmth, and I swallowed before sending him a smile, soft and just a little cheeky. “Hello.”

Rhys stared at me like I had knocked one of the books from the shelves behind me over his head. His violet eyes were wide, his throat working as he swallowed lightly, and suddenly, the ache in my chest grew unbearable.

Dropping my bag, I darted towards him, and Rhys stepped forward, catching me as I crashed into him.

His familiar scent washed over me like a tidal wave as his arms tightened around my waist, lifting me slightly until only my toes touched the floor as he pressed me into his chest, and I dug my fingers into the back of his shoulders, my arms wound tight around his neck as I buried my face in his shirt. His scent filled my nose, the warmth of his skin causing my own to heat, and something rose under my ribs, fluttering into my throat when I could feel the light shudder going through Rhys' body.

His arms tightened around me like I wasn't already pulled flush into his body, then he dropped his head to bury his nose at my shoulder, a slightly shaking breath leaving him.

“You're here,”, he mumbled, his deep voice hoarse, and I slid my arms down from his neck to wind them tightly around his middle, curling into his chest because it felt like the only way to still get closer.

“I promised, right?”, I mumbled into his shirt, my own voice sounding a bit weak, and Rhys slid his arms up from my waist to wrap them around my shoulders, dragging me further into his body as he dropped his nose into my hair.

My heart clenched when I felt a tightness form in my chest, one that wasn't mine but belonged to the male in front of me, who felt tired, and worn, and a little heavy, but like him, and the feeling in my chest swelled.

Breathing out, I felt my shoulders sink. Winding my arms tighter around Rhys and nuzzling my face into his chest, I mumbled: “I hope not everyone can walk in here like that, because then we'd really have to talk about your security measures.”

Rhys huffed into my hair, his lips moving up against my forehead when he mumbled back: “What do you take me for, an idiot?”

I felt my own lips rise, and Rhys huffed and added a grumbled: “You know what, don't answer that.”

A giggle bubbled in my throat, and I could feel Rhys' muscles shift under my hands, slowly relaxing as he wrapped me up tighter in his arms.

“You're not an idiot,”, I whispered softly, pressing my nose into his shirt, and my heart skipped when I could feel Rhys begin to smile brightly into my hair.

“I've been telling you that for more than a century, darling.”

His voice sent a soft tingle down my spine, low and rumbling warmly, and I grumbled: “I take it back.”

“No no,”, Rhys murmured, and I could feel his smile widening.

Closing my eyes, I carefully sent a wave of warmth his way, to lessen a bit of that heaviness clinging to him, and Rhys' grip shifted as his shoulders sagged.

We would have probably kept standing there for another while, because tiredness suddenly washed over me, the exhaustion of the past two months finally catching up with me, and Rhys didn't seem like he was planning on letting go either, his grip softening as he held me, body unwavering even when I slowly let my whole weight sink against him, burying deeper into his chest.

But then something shifted at the back of my mind, soft and curious, and I hesitated before pulling back.

“Rhys?”

The male looked down at me, violet eyes tracking over my face, and I slowly slipped out of his grip a little, feeling my brows furrow gently as I stared up at him.

“Who's house is this?”

Rhys' hands on my hips flexed a little, almost like nerves as he slowly slid them off. Then he blinked and smiled, soft and lopsided and almost a little sheepish as he dipped his head to the side.

“Yours.”

I blinked. My arms slipped from his waist as I stared up at him, feeling my lips part, and suddenly, the ache in my chest was back, only it was different now, pressing onto my lungs and causing my breath to hitch.

“What?”, I whispered softly.

One corner of Rhys' lips curved, his eyes moving over my face as he shrugged lightly.

“I always hoped you'd come here one day. And I didn't want you to feel like you were just visiting.” He blinked, and it almost looked like he was hesitating for a second before he mumbled, voice hoarse: “I wanted you to have a home here.”

Staring up at him, I felt the ache rise. Looking over my shoulder, my eyes brushed over the beautiful living room, the garden visible through the big doors –

Something thrummed harshly against my ribs, and turning around, I sniffled and moved forward, slipping my arms around Rhys' neck and hugging him so forcefully, he huffed a little in surprise.

“Thank you,”, I whispered, my heart rising as my bottom lip trembled a little and a tear ran over my cheek as I quickly squeezed my eyes shut.

Rhys breathed out and wrapped his arms around me, dropping his chin onto my shoulder, and his deep voice rumbled through my body when he mumbled back, sounding a little raspy: “Purely selfish reasons.”

Giggling softly, I pressed my nose against his shoulder. Then I pulled back to stare up at him, breathing a soft, incredulous snort.

"Only you simply buy someone a house."

Rhys smirked. "Always aiming to impress." Raising his hand, he gently brushed his thumb over my cheek, wiping away a tear as he stared at me, one corner of his lips curving. Then he blinked.

“Come on.” Leaning down, he picked up my bag before straightening and sending me a slow grin that caused his cheeks to crease and my heart to do a backflip. “You're staying with me tonight.”

“And where would that be?” Feeling my lips curve, I turned around to follow Rhys towards the windows leading onto the terrace.

Rhys pushed open the doors, and something skipped lightly against my chest when he threw a look over his shoulder, his violet eyes twinkling lazily when he raised a brow.

“The House of Wind.”

The soft air brushed over my skin when I stepped onto the terrace, breathing in the scent of blooming trees as I slowly took the two steps leading down onto the grass. Then Rhys turned around, and my breath hitched when the air behind him rippled, shimmering as his wings melted out of the darkness.

I had seen them before, but they still made something tumble softly in my stomach, the way they opened in a stretch, flared wide for a moment before relaxing and folding lightly against his back. Then I blinked.

“Oh, no no.”

“Sadly, there's no other way.” Rhys shrugged, eyes twinkling.

“I am not flying with you.” I glared at him.

“Darling, the only way to the House of Wind is by air travel.” Rhys' lips curved in amusement when he raised a brow. “So unless you've learned how to grow wings, you'll have to fly with me.”

“No.” Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I shook my head. “That is not going to happen.”

Rhys casually slipped his hands into his pockets, eyes bright when he tipped his head to the side.

“You know, it almost sounds a little like you don't trust me.“

“That's low.” I glowered at him, and Rhys breathed a chuckle, something skipping against my ribs at the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned at me.

“Just telling you what it looks like, sweetheart.”

I grumbled.

It was annoying. I did trust him. And he knew it.

What he didn't know was that I had trusted him for so long, and still, it scared me just how much.

Rhys seemed to see how he cut through my resistance, because he smiled, that godsdamned beautiful smile, and raised his brows.

Glowering at him for another second, I gave up my defensive stance and huffed. “I still don't see why I can't stay down here.”

Rhys chuckled and stepped towards me, carefully slipping my bag over my head and sending me a smile as he tightened the strap across my chest until it was sitting securely on my back, his eyes twinkling like the stars.

“Because I am far too selfish to let you stay anywhere I am not.”

Something got stuck in my throat as I looked up at him, and he sent me a wink that had me pull myself out of my stupor, huffing at him.

Rhys laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine, my body fighting to angle towards him.

“Alright, starshine.” He grinned down at me, eyes glittering with mischief. “Hop on.”

I snorted softly.

“Wha-“ Interrupting myself with a soft squeal, I quickly held onto Rhys when he picked me up. My legs locked around his waist like reflex, my arms clinging to his shoulders, and my eyes widened a little.

“What are you –“

Rhys' laugh made his chest vibrate, his arm under my thighs hoisting me up slightly to adjust his grip, and my heart skipped so high, I knew he'd caught it when he grinned at me.

We were on eye level for once, noses almost brushing and his body impossibly close, and I had to keep myself from holding my breath.

“Really?” My voice was a little breathier than usual, but huffy, and Rhys' eyes twinkled.

“Hold tight.”

“You are enjoying this far too much.” I tried not to swallow, and Rhys' lips curved upwards as his eyes dragged over my face.

“You have no idea.”

My breath hitched when I stared at him and the spark in his eyes.

My voice sounded a little shaky but moderately threatening when I mumbled: “If you drop me –“

Rhys smiled brightly. “Don't worry, love. I rarely drop anyone.”

I flicked his ear, and the grin I got in return made my heart stagger.

Rhys chuckled and raised his brows. “I am insulted you think I wouldn't try to catch you.”

My breath hitched, my mouth opening.

“Try to catch me; you –“

Rhys' wings opened as he took a step backwards, and with one strong beat, he launched into the air, leaving my stomach and my squeal down on the ground when we shot into the sky.

Wind whipped my hair as I squeezed my eyes shut tightly on instinct. My fingers dug into Rhys' shoulders, my legs tightening around his waist and arms clinging to his neck in a way that could not have been comfortable. But Rhys just held me steadily as his wings carried us higher and higher.

I didn't dare look down, instead hastily turning my head to bury my face in the crook of his neck, and I could feel Rhys' chuckle rumble deep in his chest, the arm slipped around my waist tightening.

“You know, if you were to look down to your left right now –“

The teasing tilt of Rhys' deep voice right at my ear made me dig my fingers into his shoulders, and his warm laugh caused my stomach to dip for an entirely different reason than the way he leaned to the right as he dove into an elegant curve, wings stretched wide as they took us higher and higher with powerful movements.

When, after what felt like an eternity, Rhys' feet finally touched solid ground, my muscles had cramped into place. I refused to raise my head from where my nose was pressed into Rhys' neck, keeping my eyes shut tightly. Just in case.

It most definitely did not have anything to do with the fact his scent had filled my lungs or how warm he felt. Warm and solid and safe.

Definitely not.

Rhys chuckled lightly, his grip loosening until only his right arm was resting under my thighs, supporting my weight effortlessly, and I could feel air graze my skin as his wings disappeared into the shadows. Then his warm breath brushed over my ear, causing my heart to miss a beat when his nose gently nudged my temple.

“You can open your eyes now, starshine.”

Ignoring the teasing tilt in his voice, I furrowed my brows, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Are you sure?” My lips brushed over Rhys' neck with my sceptic grumble, and it almost felt like he shivered a little under the touch.

Rhys just huffed in amusement, and I cracked open an eye, peaking over his shoulder.

My heart stilled, and my breath hitched as my lips parted softly.

Slowly, I raised my head.

Terraces stretched away from the mountain and the façade of a palace carved out of the very stone, shimmering in the moonlight. Blooming trees and gardens flanked the stone balustrades, lanterns and fires dipping everything in a golden light.

And far, far in the vale below us, the Sidra glittered in the moonlight, and around it, Velaris stretched into the distance, a maze of cobblestone streets, blooming trees and sandstone buildings, lit in a warm golden light that reflected in the river while mountains rose in the distance, guarding the city from all around as they rose high into the night sky.

A sky filled with more stars than I had seen in my whole life. Glittering, twinkling with dozens of galaxies stretching to the horizon, hues of lilac and blue and pink gleaming in the pitch black darkness.

It was so beautiful, it caused my chest to ache.

I hadn't realised my throat had closed up until I swallowed harshly, something skipping violently against my ribs when I whispered: “Oh.”

Rhys shifted, and I turned my head, my heart getting stuck in my throat when I found his eyes already on my face. There was a light in them, like they were reflecting the galaxies above as they pierced into mine, one corner of his lips curved upwards just enough for a crease to appear in his cheek and my breath to falter.

Suddenly, I realised I was still clinging to him, bodies still pressed together, so close that our noses were almost touching. Yet Rhys didn't make any move to let go.

Lightly swallowing again, anything to fight the sudden urge to lean forward, I unlocked my legs from around his waist, and Rhys loosened his grip enough to carefully place me on the ground. When my feet hit the stone floor, my knees almost buckled, and Rhys caught me by the waist, his eyes dancing with amusement when he leaned down his head a little, grinning at me.

“Am I making you weak?”

I barely had enough sense to hit his biceps instead of just gaping at him.

Rhys chuckled and straightened.

“Come on.” His hand slipped to the small of my back, and his chest bumped into my shoulder as he began to gently push me towards a pair of big doors leading into the House of Wind. “I'll show you to your room.”

Following Rhys through the halls, I felt my heart skip lightly. It felt a little strange, like the mountain was humming softly, not quite a presence like the one of the male next to me, but still –

“You'll stay right down the hall from me.” Rhys threw me a look, his eyes twinkling. “In case you get lonely.”

I huffed, trying to ignore the strange tingle down my spine, and Rhys chuckled, creases forming in his cheeks.

“Where is everyone?” I slipped my bag onto my shoulder.

“Azriel and Cassian are staying in the city right now. You'll meet them and Mor tomorrow.”

I sent him a cheeky grin. “Still scared they're going to steal me away?”

Rhys slowed as we reached a door, and his eyes moved over my face, then he blinked, one corner of his lips rising softly. “More than ever before.”

Looking up at him, I felt my brows furrow gently, something turning a little in my chest. But then he pushed open the door, and as I stepped over the threshold, my eyes got caught on the ceiling and the star constellations depicted in golden paint on inky black, and my breath hitched.

“Oh.”

☆

I woke up from the mountain trembling.

It was far past midnight. The sky was deep black, the stars twinkling, and I had fallen asleep with a soft skip in my chest, the bed soft like a cloud, my eyes on the constellations painted onto the ceiling. But now, my breath was heaving, a pressure on my chest that wasn't stemming from me, like a weight pressing me down, and my eyes widened as horror took over me.

Rhys.

Scrambling to my feet, I almost stumbled when the tremble of the mountain ebbed away , the windowpanes no longer clinking.

My heart skipped into my throat, and I slid over towards the door, ripping it open – and barely catching the tall figure tumbling through it.

“What –“ My eyes widened as my heart tightenend harshly, and I nearly lost my breath at the wave of emotions crashing over me as warm, sweaty skin pressed against mine. Then Rhys' soft, broken voice sounded next to my ear.

“I'm sorry.”

My throat closed, pulled tighter and tighter as I felt his fingers digging into my waist and the way his chest heaved with his shuddering breaths, and pulling back, I slipped my hands up to cup the sides of his face, staring at him and feeling something press onto my chest at the sight of dried teartracks on his cheeks and his eyes, iris blown and utterly terrified.

Trying to swallow, I whispered, my voice cracking slightly: “Come on.”

Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I slipped under his arm and wrapped my own around his waist, and something closed around my heart like an iron fist when I felt Rhys lean heavily against me, his nose brushing over my hair as I started to guide him towards the bed. He sank onto the mattress, and I slipped into between his legs, my hands carefully cupping his face as I listen to his heart rate, off and racing, felt a slight tremble run through his body.

Rhys' hands slid around my waist and pulled me forward, and something pulsed harshly, painfully in my chest when he wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my shirt. I could feel something wet seep through the fabric and barely fought back the burn in my eyes, a heavy weight on my throat when I slid my arms over Rhys' shoulders and buried my nose in his soft hair.

Rhys held onto me until I felt his heartbeat calm a little. Then his grip around my waist tightened, and he pulled back, arms slow to slide away from me, hands coming to rest at the back of my thighs.

“I'm sorry for waking you up,”, he mumbled, and his rough voice caused something to break a little in my chest. "It's why the others are staying in the city, but - I couldn't stand the thought of you being here but not with me."

My breath hitched, heart skipping high.

Slowly sitting down on the mattress, I pulled my legs up. Something skipped harshly against my ribs as I watched Rhys, his hunched frame, so unlike him, head dropped, hair dishevelled as he ran his hands over his face.

“What happened?”, I whispered, barely audible and a little uneven.

Rhys turned his head, and something skipped hard against my ribs when his eyes found mine, pained and raw. Then he mumbled, hollow and hoarse: “She killed you.”

My heart dipped once before stilling.

“I always dream about it. Her killing you.” Rhys blinked, staring into nothingness. Then he turned, slowly pulling myself up until he was sitting fully on the mattress, back against the headboard. There were dark circles under his eyes, skin sallow. I hadn't even fully realised he wasn't wearing a shirt until I saw the scar on his collarbone that I knew hadn't been there.

Before.

Rhys swallowed, staring at my knee. Then he mumbled: “Even though I'm back here, I feel like some part of me is still trapped down there.” A muscle in his jaw shifted, pain flashing through his eyes. “With her. I can still feel her, whenever I close my eyes. When I sleep, I dream about – what she did. It makes me –“

His face twisted into something that made my breath still. Then he blinked and raised his eyes, and they found mine, tired and a little broken when he mumbled: “I never wanted you to have to witness that. What she did, what she made me do – wasn't just for her pleasure.” His voice crumbled a little when he mumbled: “It was just another way of torture.”

My fingers trembled, but I kept staring at him, feeling my breath shake. My eyes were burning, and there was a pressure on my chest, a weight that made my body ache as I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, the male in front of me who had always been sure and charming and overly confident boarding on annoyingly arrogant and who now looked tired and a little empty, like something deep inside him had been shattered.

All because of her.

I didn't realise I had started to shake, my whole body so tense, my fingers dug into my knees until Rhysand´s soft, slightly cautios voice made me tear away my eyes from the scar on his collarbone.

“Starshine?”

My eyes darted up to meet his, and Rhys looked at me with his head tipped to the side.

“You're glowing.”

I blinked before hastily drawing away my eyes, swallowing against the pressure in my throat as I found a golden light pulsing around me.

Quickly, I furrowed my brows, drawing back the magic, even though it still raged soundlessly in my chest, then I raised my head again, and my heart tightened when I met Rhys' eyes that were already on my face.

Trying to fight the ache in my chest, I whispered, my voice hoarse: “I should have ripped her to shreds.”

Rhys breathed a laugh, and something tumbled in my chest at the way his eyes crinkled slightly, some of the familiar curve of his lips returning onto his face when he looked up at me. That slightly broken look was still there, and even though he was smiling softly, I could feel his pain.

Before I could stop myself, I dove forward, tackling him in a hug so forceful, it knocked the wind out of him; his arms catching me in reflex the only thing preventing me from slipping right off the other side of his lap.

I could feel Rhys freeze for nothing more than a second. Then a slow breath left him. His shoulders sagged and his arms circled around me, pulling me into his chest so tightly, I lost my breath, his grip almost squashing my ribs, and something stilled in my chest when he turned his head to bury his face in the crook of my neck.

I tried to swallow against the weight in my chest, pressing my nose against his shoulder and closing my eyes tightly.

“I wish I could take it away.” My voice was nothing more than a whisper, but I knew Rhys had heard me, because he shook his head without pulling back, his face still pressed into my neck, and something fluttered against my throat when he mumbled, voice so rough, it vibrated over my skin: “You've already done much more than I could ever give back.”

“Rhys –“

“You saved me.” Even though his deep voice was steady, it sounded raspy, and a little breathless when he added in a soft murmur: “You have been saving me since the day I met you.”

My heart did one small skip. Then it stilled.

Staring at the wall, I tried to fight the pressure in my throat as something warm rolled over my cheek, and I fisted my hands, quickly burying my nose at his shoulder and squeezing my eyes shut tightly.

There was an ache in my chest I couldn't explain.

Rhys propped his chin onto my shoulder, his hand gently running over my back, and I sniffled and huffed, my voice grumbly and a little shaky when I mumbled: “Shouldn't I be comforting you?”

Rhys breathed a chuckle, and the sound filled something in my chest I hadn´t realised had been empty.

“I think it's fine if we comfort each other.” I could hear the way his lips had curved and breathed out, threading my fingers through the hair at the back of his head as I pressed my nose against his shoulder.

A low hum left Rhys that had his chest vibrating and something jump in my stomach, and when I pulled back lightly, his eyes had closed as he leaned back into my touch. There was something so unguarded about this face, hurt and tension and restlessness still visible in the way his brows were crunched a little, but the shadows of Under the Mountain seemed to fade slowly as a light rumble built in his chest, voice rough when he mumbled: “If you stop, I'll be very annoyed.”

My heart skipped, and I felt my lips curve into a slow, soft but cheeky smile.

“Are my ears deceiving me or is the mighty High Lord of the Night Court really asking me for headscratches…“

Rhys' grip around my waist tightened when he huffed and cracked open an eye, but one corner of his lips quirked when he glared at me.

“Yes, so think about your answer, because the High Lord is going to remember if you decide to deny them to him.”

I breathed a laugh, grinning widely at him.

“One, you're not my High Lord, in case you forgot about that, which leads me to two; are you trying to use your title on me, because you know I am not impressed by something like that –“

“Well, you could be impressed by other things -“ The rest of his words went under in a deep, soft chuckle when I lightly tugged at his hair, just enough to make a grin spread over Rhys´ face.

Feeling my heart skip, I loosened my grip, and Rhys' eyes rolled back a little when my nails raked gently over his scalp. Something twitched in my stomach at the way he groaned softly, head tipping back into my touch, the movement exposing the curve of his throat.

I swallowed softly, watching as little by little, my fingers massaged away the tension clinging to the male in front of me. His shoulders slowly slumped, hands around my waist relaxing before gently pulling me closer in what felt like subconcious, and I was suddenly glad his eyes had fluttered shut, attention clearly somewhere else, because I couldn't keep myself from holding my breath.

Stupidly pretty.

When I finally slid my fingers out of his hair, Rhys looked close to falling asleep on the spot. His eyes were drooping as he fought to open them fully, gaze seeming a little dazed as he blinked a few times, and I felt my lips curve when I gently poked my finger into his chest.

“Happy?”

Rhys' eyes found mine, and something skipped high into my throat when they pierced into mine, tired and warm and still twinkling softly. Then one corner of his lips rose a little.

“Profoundly.”

Staring at him, I felt something surge in my chest, warm and rising, and my lips curved cheekily as I raised my brows, whispering a little roughly: “Good.”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, and I knew that I should have broken eye contact, should have looked away like I usually did, because the way my heart was beating against my ribs, firm and steady, was strange and a little scary - but I didn't.

Not when Rhys was watching me like this, tired, lips curved up far enough for his cheek to crease.

I blinked, then I tipped my head to the side a little, mumbling softly to not disturb the quiet: “Are you going to try and get some sleep?”

Rhys stared at me, something behind that tired sparkle in his eyes when he mumbled back, voice almost a little rough: “Are you going to get me back if she finds me again?”

My heart slipped into my throat, and I barely suppressed the urge to swallow, instead sending him a soft, crooked smile, mumbling quietly: “I´ll fight her over and over again if I have to.”

Rhys stared at me, and blinking, I carefully slipped off his lap, tugging up the blanket and sliding under it. Rhys followed, heavily turning onto his side, and I let my head sink into my pillow, my eyes tracking over his face. Then, before I could stop myself, I slid closer, and I almost thought I could feel Rhys' breath hitch when I wrapped my arm around his waist and buried into his chest.

“I hope for your sake that you don't snore,”, I mumbled softly into his warm skin, and something that felt a little like a shudder went through Rhys' body. Then his arms slipped around my shoulder and squeezed, pulling me into his chest until even the last bit of me was pressed into his body.

My heart got stuck in my throat when I felt him bury his nose in my hair, then Rhys mumbled, his voice almost a little hoarse: “Why? Would you push me off the bed?”

My heart skipped gently, and I felt my lips curve into a slow, cheeky smile as I whispered back: "Don't think I'd spare you, High Lord."

I could feel Rhys' lips rise, then he breathed out softly, and slowly, very slowly, his heartbeat calmed, only occasionally hitching gently. Exhaling lightly, I closed my eyes and felt something pulse gently in my chest.

"Night,", I mumbled softly, and Rhys' hand slipped up, fingers tangling into my hair, his thumb gently brushing over the back of my neck and causing a tingle to run over my skin when he mumbled back: "Good Night, starshine."

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020 @lizziesfirstwife

@brandywineeeee @t0uch-starved-h0e @sharknutz

@valencia-rou @twsssmlmaa

[glitterclan]

Gonna take a wild guess that Biscuit and Ember don't know their kid is in the Clan?

they do not...yet :3 i have elaborated on this in the replies of one post but i'll talk about it here as well.

before being owned by her current twolegs, biscuit was owned by a different family of twolegs that was a bit negligent. she was allowed in and out of the house as she pleased, and she met ember, who was a stray. they had a litter of four kits. biscuit's twolegs adopted out three of the kits, but by 12 weeks, the last kit (jasmineflutter) had not been adopted and the twolegs were impatient, so they took the kit out to the moors and left it there, where she was found by glitterclan. after the kits were gone, biscuit's twolegs did not want to deal with another litter but also did not want to pay to spay their cat, so they gave her away to another family. biscuit's new/current twolegs keep her strictly indoors, but she has managed to escape 2-3 times.

biscuit and ember are both under the impression that all of their kits were adopted - they are completely unaware that the twolegs abandoned their last kit to die, and so they are unaware that she is in the clans. if they HAD known, i imagine biscuit would have been significantly more hesitant about helping the colony (even though it was like...unwillingly) and putting the clan in harm's way.

[moonyhasmanyanimals]

Drip

TW; Cannibalism (wild), Blood, mention Vomiting, kidnapping, scarring, forced cannibalism (Reader), and Blood

Wild does have gold blood so woohoo

Inspired;

Nothing Left to Bury by Willow Moore (listen to the song at your own risk)

---------------------

Drip

Drip

Drip

That's all you could hear, the smell of iron was strong, and the screaming outside was terrifying, it was like he wasn't himself anymore.

His blue eyes stared into your soul, he saw you as a god, he was a loyal follower, he would kill anyone for you, Even for a small lick of your skin.

Scarring was covering your body, and the drip of your blood hit the floor

You had no idea how far he was, all you knew was it was going to be rough, it hurt

"My god(dess)" his voice was raspy, years and years of not talking did that to him, you hated the sound of his voice, you didn't love his voice anymore

That's all he would call you now, you felt like vomiting when he would call out to you. Calling you God(dess)

It was like he wasn't himself anymore, fear had been in your eyes since that night you don't know what made him like that.

you close your eyes and open them once again, and he is gone

Your eyes dart around the room, tears welling up

Drip

Where was he?

Where did he go?

Was he really leaving?

You pray to the goddess Hylia that he is gone.

Your body tenses from the pain in your neck, his teeth sinking into your neck, and hearing a slight purr sound come from him.

Drip

"my god(dess).. speak to me" his voice didn't sound the same, you hated it "God(dess) don't ignore me, please"

You stayed silent, and then you felt his tongue run up your face, tasting the salty tears

"you taste sweet god(dess)"

He smiled, licking the bite wound he caused, before biting down harder, causing you to let out a gasp from the pain.

He held your head in place while he slowly removed the flesh from your body.

His ears twitch as he hears your screams, but he seems much to... out of it, slowly starting to chew on the flesh, enjoying the sweet iron taste.

He licks the wound, smiling, before moving away from you, blood dripping from his mouth, soon he walks in front of you, shoving something inside your mouth and covering it

"Chew and swallow my god(dess)"

you felt like vomiting from the pain In your neck and the taste of iron in your mouth, you noticed on his arm that gold blood was dripping down onto the floor. slowly you chew and forcefully swallow, you want to vomit, it is disgusting,

This whole thing was disgusting.

He removed his hand from your mouth, smiling at you softly

"We are now sealed together my god(dess) we are now one, no matter how much you struggle, no matter how much you hate me, you are now bound"

He takes a seat in your lap, kissing your lips with force, wiping the tears off your face with his hands, his grip was strong, the smell and the taste was to much you could handle, but the pain kept you awake

Drip

Drip

Drip

It was all you could hear.

----------------------------------

@yandereunsolved for the idea

[bitter69uk]

“Rockabilly bombshell Sparkle Moore was born Barbara Morgan in Omaha in 1939. The quintessential bad girl, she dressed in leather (and often in men's clothes), with her short blonde hair greased back in an Elvis Presley-styled pompadour. Dubbed "Sparkle" in honour of a supporting character in the Dick Tracy comic strip, she signed to the Cincinnati-based Fraternity label to issue her debut single, the hiccupping "Rock-a-Bop," in late 1956, and though still just 17 years old she toured the US in support of the record, even opening for Gene Vincent at the peak of his fame. (A planned appearance on radio's Grand Ol' Opry was cancelled due to a bout with laryngitis, however.) The sultry yet sinister "Killer" followed in 1957, but soon after Moore learned she was pregnant and abruptly quit performing to focus on raising a family. No subsequent recordings are known to exist, although an unreleased Fraternity ballad called "Flower of My Heart" subsequently appeared on several compilations, most notable among them 2004's Good Girls Gone Bad: Weird, Wild & Wanted, the first to assemble her complete recorded output in one disc (including a handful of alternate takes).”

/ From Allmusic Guide /

Happy 85th birthday to enigmatic platinum blonde rockabilly icon - and perennial Lobotomy Room favourite - Sparkle Moore (born 6 November 1939)! Now sing along with me: “You should be labelled with a skull and crossbones / You're a jinx to my soul, oh yeah …”

[rainintheevening]

Part I - Part II ... Part XVIII - Part XIX

It hurts to see Peter hurting.

More than the state of their city (still theirs), more than the shattered buildings (he imagines the inferno of Christmas with a little shiver), even more than the dark smudges under their mother's eyes (he and Susan make all the meals during the holidays), it's Peter who wrenches at his heart, ache welling behind Ed's sternum.

He sees how Peter yearns for a sword, an enemy, a way to make all the brokenness around them right. More than sees, though, Edmund knows.

Knows the hunger that eats at the back of the throat, the way a single page in the newspaper swamps security like a tidal wave, the helplessness that weighs shoulders and hands till falling to fury or despair seem the only choices available. Hunger and helplessness had been his old play-fellows, back Before, and now he finds their heads reared again, but he also finds himself too taken up with watching over his brother to pay much attention to them. He forgets himself in his concern for Peter.

Peter does not cry again, not that Edmund sees or hears at least. He sleeps little, laughs less.

The girls too are shaken by the alterations to what had once been their world, but Lucy laughs more than she cries, and Susan steps easily into the motherly role.

Peter does all the shopping. In the span of their three weeks holidays, he also fixes all the bicycles in the garden shed, digs up the whole bed of the Victory garden, mends two broken chairs and a chest of drawers, takes a broken clock to pieces (Ed is the one who finds the problem), and fights four different boys, two of them more than once.

Many of the children who had stayed through the whole of the bombing are quick to sneer at those who did not.

��As if we chose to go!” Edmund complains.

“Cowards,” hisses Daisy Moore as she passes them in the churchyard, and her brother laughs.

“Got scared by a few rockets, and left your poor mother all alone in her shelter, listening to us all burn?”

Ed does not relax his grip on Peter's arm until Daisy and Danny have disappeared, until the tremble of taught muscles under his hand has melted away, until the growl has died in Peter's throat.

“Look,” Ed says with forced lightness, guiding Peter toward the street where Lucy leans against a small tree, singing to herself. “I know it was terrible, but there's no call for talking like that. It might make you feel better for a moment, but it makes someone else feel horrid for awhile, so it's definitely a sum-total loss.”

Peter does not answer.

The next day he and Susan come home from a walk, and his sleeve is torn and there is blood on his knuckles.

“They insulted Susan,” is all he says to Edmund in the mirror, bent over, washing wounded hands.

Edmund is glad when they go back to school.

At St. Maurice’s, Peter's responsibilities are clear, he's respected, he has the wide open sky and the wild moors to ride over.

They step off the train at the village station, and Ed sees him breathing deep, smiling at Colin's enthusiastic greeting, leaping to catch a stolen cap and prolong a wild chase along the platform.

Ed joins Peter very early for a ride the next morning, slapped awake by the cold wet May air, but he sees the light in Peter's eyes, the way he greets each horse in turn, and Ed strokes Rose's neck, tickles under her chin as he smiles himself.

“Perhaps he'll be alright.”

But then this term Wollers is gone, graduated, good, steady old boy off to the war, and the new Head Boy ticks Peter off twice in the first week for ‘interfering’, slaps Alexander Morrow in Ed's form with a hundred lines (in French!) for cheeking him in the hall, and generally does his best to let everyone know he's in charge, while also making everyone hate him for it.

Ed hates it, especially for Peter's sake, when Peter's only a year younger and also named head of the Sixth Form. A few weeks in, Peter joins Ed on the way in to lunch, and his brow is drawn low over still-smouldering eyes, jaw set in a hard line.

“Beaumont”, he says, without preamble. “Trying to tell me what to do about Gilly when it's a Sixth Form matter. Now who’s interfering?”

“Not you,” Ed says mildly, watches Peter's shoulders drop, watches him exhale. “Just don't give him the satisfaction of marking you up for anything,” he adds.

“I know, I know,” Peter sighs. “Jolly well wish I could box him, but I can't unless he starts it. I don't know why they chose him.”

At least Pete has rugger to shine at, Ed thinks. Peter had sat his Junior Cert at the end of last term (and passed with Credit or Distinction in all subjects, which Ed is very proud of him for) so he's more relaxed with his own studies, making time for more tutoring of the young ones, and making the rugby team.

Edmund tries out for the Junior team, gets named a spare. He knows he's not strong, but he is fast, and slippery.

A letter from Dad comes, forwarded from Mum, and it is cheerful, telling them things they already know about the successes in North Africa, expounding on his work learning Arabic, giving a brief written sketch of the desert sunset that strikes up vividly at them like heat from the sand till Edmund can see it as clearly as the view west from Tashbaan.

Peter is quiet though, broody for days after. Ed watches, wonders, worries.

Three months and Peter will be 17, a year off of signing up. Sometimes Edmund is certain Peter would have already gone, fudged his age and signed his name; he doesn't doubt they would take a strapping youth like Peter with very few questions. But he'd promised Mum, and Peter Pevensie is not a promise-breaker.

He's also not the only one hurting, not the only one missing Dad, missing Narnia, but Ed doesn't like to worry his brother, doesn't want to add to the concerns Peter carries.

There are questions sitting somewhere in his stomach, and he tries to ignore them, but they've grown heavier over the days, weeks, months. Time ticking by, another spring, and something about the sunrises, the green flush racing across the quad, rising in the victory garden, the apple trees by the stables bursting into bloom, it makes the longing flare bright in him.

As always the memories stay hazy, sometimes fearfully so, only brought back in sharp relief, a cleared streak in fogged up glass, in odd moments. Ed thinks there's a pattern in it—when a lie hovers on the tip of his tongue, he hears Oreius's voice; when Peter turns with an angry word, he remembers tense council rooms; when an apology fails to melt Edmund's own shame, he sees Tumnus's face. But there are smaller, less specific flashes too, and one day, hard at work with the violin in one of the practice rooms, he gets lost in the music, notes dancing under his fingers, spinning, swooping, diving, soaring, and he plays and plays and plays until he coasts to a halt, stands breathless and a little dizzy, feeling exactly as he had after his first real flight on the back of a gryphon, and his hand on the bow grips involuntarily tighter, as if feathers and fur are slipping through his fingers.

“Oh, don't stop.”

A hoarse whisper making Ed spin round, but it is only Peter leaning in the doorway, yearning writ large across his face, until their eyes meet and it twists into sorrow.

Only then does Edmund realise his cheeks are wet, and he pivots quickly back, lays the violin down gentle, deliberate.

Peter says nothing, but he comes across the room, stands close behind, close enough that Ed decides he doesn't care, and turns, falls into Peter's chest.

Arms wrap strong around him, smile bunches the cheek that presses against his head, but still Peter says nothing, and Edmund is glad. Just for a minute he hides his face in his big brother's shoulder, and lets himself cry. Peter holds him, safe and tight, and he stays, sniffling into Peter’s vest, until Peter says, “It sounded like Narnia. What was it?”

Ed sighs, pulls away to scrub a sleeve across his nose. “I don't know. It just sort of… came over me. Or out of me. Or to me– I don't know.”

Slow grinning pride breaks across Peter's face. “So you're a composer now too!”

And Ed must needs shove him away, rolling his eyes. “I didn't exactly write it down, so I'll probably never be able to play it again.”

“That doesn't change how beautiful it was,” Peter says, hopeful and true like Edmund needs him to be.

He fingers the violin strings, plucking them gently, tick tock tick tock tick, and he says it quiet.

“It's been about ten years. In Narnia. Without us. If the time difference between the professor's visit and ours is consistent.”

“Corin will be a man,” Peter murmurs in the surprised tone of grown-ups talking about nieces or nephews they haven't seen in ages. “And what would you bet Aravis and Cor are married?”

“Peridan and Anna must have several children by now.” Ed’s voice catches in his throat at the thought of his friend, who had sworn he would make Edmund godfather of all his sons, as well as letting him teach them all how to fight. And oh, Ed had stood up at his wedding as best man, hadn't he? While Peter had given Anna away, in lieu of long-lost father or brothers.

“Erah and Pearl–” Peter starts, but can't finish.

“We weren't trying to leave,” Edmund says. “I wish they knew that.”

“We were only following Lucy into another adventure.” Peter has a little half-smile on his lips, and then his arm around Ed’s shoulders is warm.

“The professor said it wouldn't all be easy.” Edmund rests his head on Peter's shoulder.

“Do you ever wish-?” Peter starts, but cuts himself off with a decided “No, I don't.”

Edmund knows, he's wondered himself, once or twice on difficult days, but he always answers the same as Peter. He'll always be grateful they had been brought to Narnia.

But there's one question he does hesitate over, as the seasons change, and the clock ticks on, and he voices it now, barely above a whisper: “Are you so sure we'll go back?”

“Of course,” Peter says at once. “Aslan said we would always be kings and queens of Narnia. We'll get back somehow.”

“You're sure?” Edmund pulls away enough to look hard up into Peter's eyes, searching for a hint of doubt.

“Quite. We have to.” Peter swallows hard, looks away out the window where the rain falls steady in the quad. “We have to,” softer now.

Ed sees the longing in his brother's eyes, and he wishes suddenly that just being here with Edmund and the music and the rain was enough for Peter. But he loves his brother anyway.

“Alright, your majesty,” he says lightly. “Now come on, the supper bell will ring any minute.”

He snaps the clasps on the violin case closed, leads the way out of the room, humming the whisper of wings in a blue sky.

Behind him, Peter is silent.

Next

[skruttet]

Dear moominpappa French,

Thank you for the very friendly letter which was sent to Lasse and me from Benn's! I gave Daniel's strip cartoon to Lasse who very much appreciated to have a helper on the Equator. If one has been drawing strip cartoons for seven years or more there's an everlasting hunt for new ideas and sometimes one ends up in desperation.

We were very thrilled by the Moomin game - it looks good! And it's a real joy and a help in the job to know there's a whole family liking the stories so much that it has gone mooministic! I don't know if you have the very first strip cartoons? Say, m. on the Riviera, m. valley goes djungle, The lonely island, The dangerous winter (where Mymble falls in love with Mr. Brisk). Ten books with m. strip cartoons - three synopsies in each - have been published in Swedish by Gebers förlag, (Stockholm, bot 159) but maybe they're already in the tremendous collection of your son?

Here in Helsingfors the cold has ceased and Lasse and I are beginning to wait for spring. We have a small island each, the very last into the sea, in the Finnish gulf east from H:fors and go out there as soon as the ices break up. On my island there are no trees, only rock and wild flowers and in the middle a mysterious, rather deep lake.

You would have liked the Big Storm (biggest in 60 years) last summer - 11 beaufort! The cellar was full of seaweed and sand afterwards, the boats moored to the hut and breakers going over most of the island. My Moominmamma (aged 86) was enchanted. Afterwards, a helicopter landed on our islands counting the survivors. Lasse was inspired to a new synopsis. Don't you think the Associated Newspapers at Fleet Street should send him to Africa to get new ideas?

A lot of love and good luck to you all!

Tove Jansson.

P.S. Hope you've got the Moomin mascot I've sent.

More pictures of the correspondance & game on their Facebook post!

[aliciavance4228]

One Hundred Books

Decided to make this list in order to include in one post all the books that I found to be worth reading and would recommend to others. They're not in a specific order:

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie

Dubliners by James Joyce

A Jounal of the Plague Year by Daniel Defoe

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier

Art of War by Sun Tzu

The Trial by Kafka

Metamorphosis by Kafka

The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

Dracula by Bram Stocker

The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

1984 by George Orwell

Animal Farm by George Orwell

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Lord of the Flies by William Golding

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

Dune by Frank Herbert

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

Crime and Punishment by Dostoievski

Notes from the Underground by Dostoievski

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

The Pianist by Władisław Szpilman

Don Quixote by Miquel de Cervantes

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri

Doctor Faustus by Thomas Mann

The Idiot by Dostoievski

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

The Insulted and Humiliated by Dostoievski

Foundation by Isaac Asimov

I, Robot by Isaac Asimov

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

Moby-Dick by Herman Meville

The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoievski

The Call of Cthulhu by Lovecraft

Dagon and other Macabre Tells by Lovecraft

The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli

Memoirs of Hadrian by Marguerite Yourcenar

The Shining by Stephen King

The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio

The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco

The Enlightened Cave by Max Blecher

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

The God Factory by Karel Čapek

The Tongue Set Free by Elias Canetti

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream by Harlan Ellison

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

Selected Poems by Jorge Louis Borges

The Prague Cemetery by Umberto Eco

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai

The Stranger by Albert Camus

The Plague by Albert Camus

Carrie by Stephen King

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Notre Dame of Paris by Victor Hugo

Catch 22 by Joseph Heller

American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

The Iliad by Homer

The Odyssey by Homer

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

The Tell-Tale Heart and other Writings by Edgar Allan Poe

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

Hercule Poirot's Christmas by Agatha Christie

The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner

V for Vendetta by Alan Moore

The Red and the Black by Stendhal

The Queen's Gambit by Walter Tevis

It by Stephen King

Pet Sematary by Stephen King

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

The Death of Ivan Ilych by Leo Tolstoy

La Dame aux Camélias by Alexandre Dumas fils

Pride and Predjudice by Jane Austen

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

Persuasion by Jane Austen

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell

A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Return of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

1Q84 by Haruki Murakami

[thefisherqueen]

I came across the surname Baskerville in a text completely unrelated to Sherlock Holmes (in a book about wild camping), and it's gives some really interesting insight into the history and present state of UK inherited titles and landownership so thought I would share!

'William the Conqueror invaded England in 1066 and then made himself king. It was like any other invasion of conquest, in any other time or realm. King Harold the Second was dead. Long live the King. Life goes on. But there was a difference. New laws saw all of the land seized by the Crown - a relatively unique development in the history of conquest. Sasxon barons were replaced by the Norman lords and their allies. The Domesday Book - the most definitive land registery document every devised - was produced on William's orders in 1086 to identify the new owners and their land holding and what they might owe, in tax, favour and loyalty, to the king: the sovereign Landlord.

Landownership had worked broadly in the same way ever since our ancestors abandoned the nomadic life, and took up the shovel and plough about 10.000 BC. What the Normans changed in Britain was the communal right of access over the land. That system of non-communal access is still very much in force today amoung the modern-day descendents of the Normans. Which is why William's 1086 census - the Domesday Book (and its modern version, the Land Registry) - remains so important. It serves as a legal document that established ownership by the legal holder of the title.

My research into where I could roll out a sleeping bag today meant looking at landownership. I discovered that very little had changed sinde the Norman invasion. Just 0,6 per cent of the population still owns 50 per cent of the British land, and most of this elite are the descendants of the 11th-century Norman aristocracy.

A report - "Who owns Britain?' - by Country Life magazine in 2010 was said to be the most detailed survey of its kind in over 100 years. The research claimed that just 1200 aristocrats and their families own 20 million of Britain's 60 million acres of land. The top private landowner in Europe was the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry, who owned 240.000 acres in England and Scotland. Research by the London School of Economics in 2013 claimed that the Normans who conquered England - with surnames Baskerville, Darcy, Mandeville and Montgomery - still dominate the student rolls for Oxford and Cambridge universities, still make up a large proportion of the elite that holds the prime positions in professions such as medicine, law and politics. They also control a good number of the political agencies, public bodies and charitable organisations that oversee rules regulating land management and access.

But 1066 was about more than Saxon lords losing their holdings. It was how it affected the peasants that mattered most. The common rights over common lands like Sherwood Forest and the Kentish Weald were gone. Those rights included the right to roam over woodlands, marshes, moors and coasts of many common areas; to graze animals, collect wood for fuel, tools and buildings, to eat fruits, to collect water from rivers and streams, to catch fish and generally to do all the things that made it possible to live off the land."

From: Wild camping. Exploring and sleeping in the wilds of the UK and Ireland, by Stephen Neale, page 29

I've been to the UK several times for hiking trips, and I remember being puzzled by the system of access to nature at first. It is quite bewildering to be just walking on a perfecty good path, only to suddenly find it fenced off, with aggressive signs warning walkers to KEEP OUT!!! Why are hikers treated with so much suspicion even in areas famous for its good hiking? And what do you mean by Right of Way? How come there's major roads and motor cross terrains within a national park? (turns out they are largely privately owned). Myself, I've never been shy to climb the occasional wall or fence, and pitch my tent somewhere even on private lands. I consider it my own gentle way of resisting the very idea of private property, which creates so much inequality. I've never yet faced any trouble for it, by the way. Turns out land owners have little desire to actually hike on their lands, especially in rain or cold or darkness, and the people who work for them are usually not payed enough to care about a lonely hiker who is causing no disturbance or damage whatsoever xD

[wc-confessions]

As someone who’s experienced and gotten mental trauma from being verbally bullied and/or verbally peer abused in my life-

I honestly dislike how bullying and/or peer abuse is handled in Warrior Cats.

I’ll list some examples here. Please note though that some bits of the series that I mention here I have NOT completely finished reading and/or fully remember, with those parts being filled in from the fandom and/or wiki, so I apologize if I mention any information here in a incorrect and/or wrong way.

Example One: Tallstar’s Revenge

Shrewpaw taunts Tallpaw and calls him “Wormpaw” in order to take fun of Tallpaw’s heritage of his parents being tunnelers. He also unsheathed his claws once while training with Tallpaw as well.

And after Sandgorse - Tallpaw’s father - dies, and tries to go into the tunnels due to the fact that Tallpaw’s father was $h!tty towards him because Tallpaw’s training to be in a Moor runner instead of a tunneler-

Shrewpaw literally says to Tallpaw - a grieving, mentally unwell cat - that literally no one would love or miss him if he died or was gone.

Like- I know that Shrewpaw was also grieving his mother, and probably blamed Tallpaw for death, but’s that’s NO excuse for him to say that to Tallpaw, especially since Shrewpaw himself know the crushing grief and anger of losing a parent.

Your grief does NOT excuse your shitty actions and/or willingly stating bad and harmful $h!t towards others.

But for some reason, instead of the narrative of the book as something not excusable and/or at least putting weight on it to the point that Shrewpaw acknowledges how bad he was to Tallpaw and gradually work his way into being a better person (towards Tallpaw)-

The book instead makes him somewhat like “What? Huh?? I was only teasing you. I didn’t know you were hurt by my bad treatment towards you! :(”

And the book just went along with it and Talltail just believed that awful excuse and just forgave him for that? For some reason??

Example Two: Fire and Ice, and Into the Wild

Sandpaw was a rude bully to Firepaw, insulting and talking badly about him and being xenophobic towards him.

That is until after Fireheart saves her life within Fire and Ice, and Sandstorm grows as a character and treats him nicely after that traumatic and/or mind-changing event occurred.

And it, indeed, does make sense for her character, since she probably internalized and believed the xenophobia within the clans and her viewing Fireheart in a different light after literally saving her life (despite how $h!tty she was him), so her changing her behavior towards him does make sense, and I like that she grew as a person and/or character from that experience.

However, despite this, it does NOT excuse her behavior towards Fireheart when he was a apprentice, and please correct me if I’m wrong about this, but despite how bad she treated Fireheart in the past, he just…forgives her quite quickly and calmly within Fire and Ice after she treats him kindly?

Because I would honestly like it if Fireheart was still quite at least still a bit bitter towards the Sandstorm past treatment towards him, to the point that has to process his disliking of her and/or Sandstorm gradually proves that she’s a better person towards him before they’re chill hanging out with each other.

Example Three: Leopardstar’s Honor

And the fact that Leopardpaw literally gained TRAUMA from Skypaw nearly DROWNING her, to the point that Leopardpaw couldn’t even SWIM in the WATER without being reminded of the fear and pain she felt (possibly nearing drowning) when Skypaw suddenly pushed her head underwater.

And instead of Leopardpaw feeling connected to her mentor to the point that she reveals this traumatic event that occurred and was caused by Skypaw with Skypaw being rightfully punished and/or condoned for it, and her mentor and Sunpaw helping Leopardpaw learn to process and/or overcome that trauma that Skypaw gave her-

Skypaw NEVER gets punished or at least properly addressed for what she did to Leopardpaw, and her mentor - or at least her friend - does NOT learn about what happened to Leopardpaw, resulting in them to believe that she has a average cat dislike for water instead of a fear of water from a TRAUMATIC EVENT that occurred to Leopardpaw.

And while yes, while I suppose there’s a chance that this is probably something that’s a more realistic and/or capable thing to occur within real life-

The fact that this trauma that Skypaw caused Leopardpaw to have wasn’t properly addressed and/or dealt with in a way that honestly doesn’t feel good written honestly…quite irks me a bit.

Of course, I’m NOT surprised that the Erins weren’t able to treat this subject good and/or with proper care (and probably with the most of the serious subjects that they put into their writing)-

I still honestly can’t help but feel quite irritated and/or upset about it, especially when such a sensitive and/or serious subject (that’s already undermined and improperly addressed as h*ll) within a book series whose readers are or at least includes literal CHILDREN isn’t properly treated and/or presented that good (or even decent.)

Please note once again that my knowledge of these parts within the series may not be complete and/or as accurate as they should be, so if I stated or mentioned anything wrong and/or incorrect correct here.

I’m so sorry if I didn’t properly word and write anything well within this confession either, I’m wrote this with zero sleep yet at around 2:15 am - 3:00 am. I’m also sorry if I overreacted to some of the information within this confession as well.

Thank you for reading this rant, and I hope that you have a good day and/or night today.

.

[melabea]

werewolf id pack!

includes names, 1stpp, 2ndpp, 3rdpp, genders, alterhuman flags, & other terms!

names:

Amaris, Apolune, Fierce, Gorge, Lunar/Lunula, Lycan, Moony, Randy, Wolf/Wolfe/Wolff, & Wulf

1stpp: (xi/xe/xy/xine/xyself)

bo/bol/bold/bone or boine/bolself or boldself, fi/fie/fierce/fine/fieself or fierceself, fi/fie/fiery/fine/fieself or fieryself, go/gor/gorge/gone or goine/gorself or gorgeself, lu/luna/lunar/lune or luine/lunaself or lunarself, ly/lyca/lycan/lyne or lyine/lycaself or lycanself, mi/mo/moon/mine/moself or moonself, wi/wil/wild/wine/wilself or wildself, & wo/wol/wolf/wone or woine/wolself or wolfself

2ndpp: (xou/xour/xours/xourself)

bo/bor/bors/borself, fie/fier/fiers/fierself, go/gor/gors/gorself, luna/lunar/lunars/lunarself, lycan/lycar/lycars/lycarself, moon/moor/moors/moorself, wild/wilr/wilrs/wilrself, & wolf/wor/wors/worself

3rdpp: (xe/xim)

bold/bolds, fierce/fierces, fiery/fierys, full/moons, gorge/gorges, lunar/lunars, lycan/lycans, moon/moons, wild/wilds, & wolf/wolfs

genders: (all terms are links)

werewolfgender, puolupus, ihmilupus, werewoldepic, lycanthropylexic, lycadh/lycadhgender, werehonum, werewolfcorian, weregender, lycangender, & wolfgender

alterhuman flags: (all terms are links)

werewolf, werewolf kin, werewolf transspecies, werewolf kin, werewolf, & werewolf constelic,

other terms: (all terms are links)

auctolycan, assigned lycan at birth, miscelycan, alderwerewolf, werevesil, & wolfiean

banner made by us; pack for anon!

[vintage-tech]

If you're of a certain age, you remember the ads for the compilation albums by Ronco and K-Tel -- "20 original hits by the original stars" was always the tagline -- but there were other companies out there putting out mixtapes on vinyl, like Sessions, and then there is this two-record collections by a company called I & M Teleproducts which has 23 releases listed in Discogs.com -- several of which are Lawrence Welk, but many of which are contemporary collections.

Dreamin' is from 1979 and I approve of the tracklist. While Ronco was putting Wild Cherry's "Play That Funky Music" and Barry Manilow on the same record, or K-Tel was mining the latter half of the Top 100 with Forgotten Charting Singles By Major Artists, I & M was attempting to stay a bit more on-topic and contained mostly music that neither of the bigger names had tapped but you knew. And being a two-record set, you felt like you got twice as much tunage when actually you didn't (21 songs) but there was a better chance of higher quality sound due to the uncompressed groove on the vinyl. It's up to personal opinion whether the line "21 original hits by 18 original artists" sounds impressive, especially since the songs by those repeated artists have been pretty much forgotten.

Here's the track list and you do know many of them:

A1 Samantha Sang– Emotion A2 Dan Hill– Sometimes When We Touch A3 Gladys Knight & The Pips– Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me A4 David Soul– Don't Give Up On Us A5 Paul Anka– The Times Of Your Life B1 Kenny Nolan– I Like Dreamin' B2 Gladys Knight & The Pips– The Way We Were B3 Atlanta Rhythm Section– So Into You B4 Mary MacGregor– Torn Between Two Lovers B5 Jessi Colter– I'm Not Lisa C1 Peter McCann– Do You Wanna Make Love C2 Eric Carmen– All By Myself C3 Jennifer Warnes– Right Time Of The Night C4 LeBlanc & Carr– Falling C5 England Dan & John Ford Coley– Nights Are Forever Without You C6 Daryl Hall & John Oates– She's Gone D1 Roberta Flack– The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face D2 Paul Anka– There's Nothing Stronger Than Our Love D3 Dorothy Moore– Misty Blue D4 The Spinners– They Just Can't Stop It (The Games People Play) D5 Gladys Knight & The Pips– So Sad The Song

Trivia: The Bee Gees wrote "Emotion" though didn't record it themselves for many years. David Soul was Hutch on the TV show Starsky & Hutch. Many of us can't help but think of Kodak film ads in regard to "The Times Of Your Life". Peter McCann technically makes two appearances on this list because he also wrote "Right Time Of The Night". "The Way We Were" is a Barbra Streisand cover from a 1973 movie by the same name, and the spoken introduction to the Gladys Knight song is "Try To Remember" from the long-running 1960 Broadway musical The Fantasticks.

[darlistq]

welcome to my girlblog!

i am Dari, 15 years old russian girl, if i am not here, i am reading or gossiping with my friend <3

asks are always open!

about me

• i love

reading, journaling, writing, 2000’s films, y2k aestetic, girlblogging, gossiping with my friends, esoteric and listen to misic!

•my style/aestetic

i mix 2000s style (y2k, mcbling, bimbo) with more elegant styles like preppy (academia) and coquette, my style inspiration are regina george and jade

• characters, who are just like me

jenifer check, blair walborf, raquelle, poppy moore, jo march, maddy perez

my favorites

•music

ariana grande, lana del rey, maybe baby, rhiana, dead blonde, katya sambuka

•books

caraval, gone with the wind, little women, little men, timeless, caroline

•movies and shows

mean girls, wild child, gossip girl, bratz, jenifer body, maxxxine

socials

pinterest: darlistq (Dari 🩷)

youtube: darlistq (Dari 🩷)

hope u will follow! <3

[bitter69uk]

“Rockabilly bombshell Sparkle Moore was born Barbara Morgan in Omaha in 1939. The quintessential bad girl, she dressed in leather (and often in men's clothes), with her short blonde hair greased back in an Elvis Presley-styled pompadour. Dubbed "Sparkle" in honour of a supporting character in the Dick Tracy comic strip, she signed to the Cincinnati-based Fraternity label to issue her debut single, the hiccupping "Rock-a-Bop," in late 1956, and though still just 17 years old she toured the US in support of the record, even opening for Gene Vincent at the peak of his fame. (A planned appearance on radio's Grand Ol' Opry was cancelled due to a bout with laryngitis, however.) The sultry yet sinister "Killer" followed in 1957, but soon after Moore learned she was pregnant and abruptly quit performing to focus on raising a family. No subsequent recordings are known to exist, although an unreleased Fraternity ballad called "Flower of My Heart" subsequently appeared on several compilations, most notable among them 2004's Good Girls Gone Bad: Weird, Wild & Wanted, the first to assemble her complete recorded output in one disc (including a handful of alternate takes).”

/ From Allmusic Guide /

Happy 84th birthday to enigmatic platinum blonde rockabilly icon - and perennial Lobotomy Room favourite - Sparkle Moore (born 6 November 1939)! Now sing along with me: “You should be labelled with a skull and a-crossbones / You're a jinx to my soul, oh yeah …”

[thereadingchallengechallenge]

🔎 YA Under the Radar 7 🔍

I have been working on this list in the series all year 😂 it just took me that long to read a decent amount of underrated YA - but I got there in the end and I'm pretty happy with the recs on this list 🥰

there are rainbow flags next to LGBT+ rep, wheelchair symbols next to disability rep and koalas next to Australia YA simply because there's a lot of that on this particular list

so take a gander and maybe consider picking up a title or two (or ten) in 2024 to support lesser-known authors and books 😊

Take Me With You When You Go by David Levithan & Jennifer Niven 🏳️‍🌈

Margo Zimmerman Gets the Girl by Brianna R Shrum & Sara Waxelbaum 🏳️‍🌈♿️

Imogen, Obviously by Becky Albertalli 🏳️‍🌈

To Break a Covenant by Alison Ames 🏳️‍🌈

It Looks Like Us by Alison Ames 🏳️‍🌈

Scout’s Honor by Lily Anderson 🏳️‍🌈

Grace Notes by Karen Comer 🐨

The Sky Blues by Robbie Couch 🏳️‍🌈

Blood Moon by Lucy Cuthew

After Dark With Roxie Clark by Brooke Lauren Davis

Blind Spot by Robyn Dennison 🐨

Melt With You by Jennifer Dugan 🏳️‍🌈

The Lake House by Sarah Beth Durst

Where You See Yourself by Claire Forrest ♿️

What We Harvest by Ann Fraistat

All Eyes On Us by Kit Frick 🏳️‍🌈

When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey 🏳️‍🌈

The Lightness of Hands by Jeff Garvin ♿️

Then Everything Happens at Once by M-E Girard 🏳️‍🌈♿️

The Buried by Melissa Grey 🏳️‍🌈

Because of You by Pip Harry 🐨

The Lost Girls by Sonia Hartl 🏳️‍🌈

Howl by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Weight of Blood by Tiffany D Jackson

Jay’s Gay Agenda by Jason June 🏳️‍🌈

Out of the Blue by Jason June 🏳️‍🌈

Riley Weaver Needs a Date to the Gaybutante Ball by Jason June 🏳️‍🌈

Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko 🏳️‍🌈

The Honeys by Ryan La Sala 🏳️‍🌈

Luck of the Titanic by Stacey Lee

It Will End Like This by Kyra Leigh

Extasia by Claire Legrand

Ryan and Avery by David Levithan 🏳️‍🌈

Starlings by Amanda Linsmeier 🏳️‍🌈

The Drowned Woods by Emily Lloyd-Jones

A Scatter of Light by Malinda Lo 🏳️‍🌈

We Didn’t Think It Through by Gary Lonesborough 🐨

Sadie Starr’s Guide to Starting Over by Miranda Luby 🐨

None Shall Sleep series by Ellie Marney 🐨

The Girls Are Never Gone by Sarah Glenn Marsh ♿️

Our Last Echoes by Kate Alice Marshall

These Fleeting Shadows by Kate Alice Marshall 🏳️‍🌈

The Narrow by Kate Alice Marshall 🏳️‍🌈

Dark and Deepest Red by Anna-Marie McLemore

Mask of Shadows duology by Linsey Miller 🏳️‍🌈

Sugar by Carly Nugent ♿️🐨

All Our Hidden Gifts trilogy by Caroline O’Donoghue 🏳️‍🌈

The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly by Jamie Pacton

Lucky Girl by Jamie Pacton

The Vermilion Emporium by Jamie Pacton

Accidental by Alex Richards

Some Kind of Animal by Mar Romasco-Moore

Luminous by Mara Rutherford

The Poison Season by Mara Rutherford

The Midnight Lie duology by Marie Rutkoski 🏳️‍🌈

Can’t Take That Away by Steven Salvatore 🏳️‍🌈

When You Call My Name by Tucker Shaw 🏳️‍🌈

If You Still Recognise Me by Cynthia So 🏳️‍🌈

Our Year of Maybe by Rachel Lynn Solomon ♿️

Breathe and Count Back From Ten by Natalia Sylvester ♿️

Cold by Mariko Tamaki 🏳️‍🌈

Outrun the Wind by Elizabeth Tammi 🏳️‍🌈

The Weight of a Soul by Elizabeth Tammi

Wild and Crooked by Leah Thomas ♿️

Violet Ghosts by Leah Thomas 🏳️‍🌈

The Comedienne’s Guide to Pride by Hayli Thomson 🏳️‍🌈🐨

The Siren, the Song and the Spy by Maggie Tokuda-Hall

Sweet and Bitter Magic by Adrienne Tooley 🏳️‍🌈

Sofi and the Bone Song by Adrienne Tooley 🏳️‍🌈

Nothing Sung and Nothing Spoken by Nita Tyndall 🏳️‍🌈♿️

The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White 🏳️‍🌈

This Is the Way the World Ends by Jen Wilde 🏳️‍🌈♿️🐨

Where You Left Us by Rhiannon Wilde 🏳️‍🌈🐨

Two Can Play That Game by Leanne Yong🐨

Katzenjammer by Francesca Zappia

[survivalist-anon]

29: All Hell Breaks Loose: part 2

As the fighting continues, Bilhard and Cahrilo were just wrapping up their fight with Pinky, who became bored of fighting two opponents.

"Oh come boys, do SOMETHING interesting!", as he swings tirelessly.

"YOU'RE THE FOOL THATS USING A HAMMER, FIGHT LIKE AN ASTARTES YOU COWARD!", Cahrilo shouted attempting a side sweep.

The crowd was going wild, oblivious to the events occuring outside of the area. As for Sleen's patrons, they had begun to suspect that their host has been gone for far too long.

Señor Mateo had become worried, he had not seen Alejandro for sometime, and he had not appeared in the ring fighting the other 'steers'. ".......Jose, come here.", he motioned to his translator to come closer.

Across the room, another set of watchful eyes are observing the unease. "....oi, lades. Me finks we shood be leavins.", Mr. Green thoughtfully warns his escorts. Both of them mischievously smile, in a few seconds Mr.Green's entourage leave quickly.

Seeing Mr.Green leave, confirms Mateo's concerns. "Donde estas Alejandro.....", he whispers listlessly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the duo storm through, looking for the others, Moors attempts to track the group's missing gear. "Come on now....it's got to be hear somewhere.", Moors grumbling to himself.

"Say Moors, ain't dat one of ours?", Gus, who has strapped himself on to the side of Moors' terminator armor, points to a seemingly normal marine with iridescent teal colored bits of armor. The marine was looking around, frantically looking like he was looking for a place to hide.

With a confused tilt to his head, Moors was surprised to actually see an Alpha Legion Marine in the flesh. "Well well, ain't that something......you can even find them here...filthy traitors.....", preparing his drill, Moors stomps in the direction of the Alpha Legion Marine.

Gus looks to Moors' helmet with a side glance, shrugs, "hmm, guess not.", cocking his pistol just in case.

The Alpha Legion Marine was looking back and forth, suddenly stopped a blank wall. From a distance, Moors and Gus could see he was hitting the wall...as if he was finding a hollow spot. Stepping back, ready for a running start, he roundhouses the false wall. Landing with a heavy thud, looking up at his handy work and celebrates by raising his arms up.

The childish scene was awkward from Moors' and Gus's perspective.

Getting up and leaping into the hole, Moors conspicuously follows him, peering into the hole, the duo could see that somehow that marine FOUND the room that kept every marine's gear and equipment. Including their own.

Eeriely organized, the room looked like a lab, many of the pieces of armor that had been stripped from other Astartes were mounted on a wall. There weren't many, but many too much. The weapons had been laid out based on size. Personal items had been kept on boxes, hastily recorded with sharpy and a rough description of their previous owners.

The alpha legion marine was rummaging throughout looking for something. Watching him intently as it almost seemed as if he was ignoring the large yellow colored Terminator suited marine with a scraggly old many just hanging from his back. Gleefully, he takes out what looked like a leather satchel, walks to the wall where the pauldrons were mounted, thought about his choices.... nodding disapprovingly.....turns around to see Moors and Gus.

".........", he silently he stared at the both of them, he slowly walked away, trying not to acknowledge them, simply walking away with his satchel. Leaving the both of them in the room.

"Good gravy with biscuits, what do you suppose was that all about?", Gus looked at Moors. As for Moors, he strangely didn't have the heart to attack him for some reason. As if he wasn't a true threat...at least for now.

Looking around the storage room, Moors could pinpoint where their gear had been placed, still in tact. "Good, we have the stuff, let's warn the others.", Moors turned to Gus.

Another beep came from Gus's equipment, "Ooooowwei, we better getta upon outta here cus they comin in FAST!".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the garage, Sleen had been determined to hold on to the sports car.

Resorting to using his combat knife, Wick strikes the hydrologic wiring connecting the various parts of Sleen's mechanical arm, but nothing was was working, for every cut place and new set of mechanical augmentations grew over.

Likely because of Sleen's injuries, the augmentations kept healing over and over the body until had grown over cancerously.

Alejandro was pulling with all his might,ll through Sleen off balance. Only managing to mangle his arm to the point it is loosely attached.

The loud screeching of Sleen's decimated voice box eoch loudly throughout the facility.

Altering nearly every member of security, the roar could even be hear from the arena.

The rest of the gang almost stopped mid fight from the reverberation of the roars.

Everyone had stood silent.

This was the final straw for Mateo. It was clear that something was genuinely wrong. He stood up, and looked for an emergency fire alarm. Walked up, pulled it, and signaled the rest of his gang to make a quick getaway.

The other patrons were scrambling, they had no idea what was going on.

The sprinkler system went off, as the crowd leaves hastily, an emergency message does of:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM HAS BEEN ACTIVATED. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY SAFELY TO THE DESIGNATED EMERGENCY EXITS." The automated message blared out, a lighting system had gone off to alert the audience where to safely leave.

The rest of the Marines had noticed even the locked sliding doors were now open.

"Come on lads! We have to find Moors!", Sten alerted the others. While they finished off the rest of their opponents.

"Hey what about that slimy traitor with tattooed arms?", Joe asked worried, the traitor in question was the Alpha Legionare who had slipped away from the fight as the chaos marines had decided to stay.

"Forget about him, we will seek him later!", Toke landed a final blow.

The arena had begun to fill up with water, the fight between Bilhard, Cahrilo and Pinky had abruptly ended.

"Oh poo! This RUINING my visage!", he frustratingly flipped whatever was left of his messy, greasy hair. He propped his hammer head down, climbed on the handle, jumped off and waved. "Chao you corpse emperor losers!", making a rude gesture with his fingers and running off.

Bilhard and Cahrilo do their best to jump out of the quickly flooding arena. Narrowly escaping.

They caught up with the rest to look for Moors and Wick.

Running down the hall, they could see that the security guards were running in a much more different direction.

"what in the-", Toke exclaimed quietly but as he did he ran straight into the cold, hard chest plate of Moors' terminator armor. Falling back and landing on his back, he was out for the count.

As the others could see Toke on the floor and looked up at the Terminator Armor with Gus hanging from the back.

"Oh howdy do! Sorry 'bout cha friend. Hehe", he chuckled.

Bilhard somehow mastered a smile on his heavily bruised face, "It's about time! Have you retrieves the gear?".

Moors lifts the bags he's gotten plus items that hadn't been collected by the other chaos marins. "I also took a few extras, also we need to hightail it out of here. That facility we've been borrowing from is coming here too."

Joe clicked his teeth, "Fuck, they're always around aren't they". More or less feeling inconvenienced than genuinely worried.

"Where's Wick, shouldn't be be with you?" As Cahrilo asked, another roar emanated from the floor above them.

Sten looked at Joe, "Are there OTHER obstacles we should be concerned with? That sounded dangerously close to a Hellbrute.".

Joe thought about that, "no...but only one way to find out. The sound is coming from the garage area just about this floor."

Bilhard shaking his head in agreement, "Well then, let's get a move on!", he picks up Toke, "Lead the Moors, we're bare here.".

A voxed chuckle comes out of the helmet, "not completely bare!". He shows that in the extra bags there were extra weapons, whether being from previous Marines or not. "How's about we get Wick and get out?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

The battle of the car garage has ramped up, Wick and Alejandro have been trying to loosen Sleen's grip on the car. The security guards had a new dilemma; shoot the 'steers' or shoot their own monstrous boss.

Tearing and hacking away at Sleen's vice-like grip, Wick and Alejandro hadn't been a successful.

"It's no use! She'll have to get out of the car!", Alejandro strained to pry open the mechanical claw.

Wick attempted help him, with both lifting loosen the death grip.

Sleen ironically was not too focused on them anymore, for now the security guards have taken a judgement call to begin shooting at Sleen. With everything flying bullet failing to hit him where it would make any difference. "YOU FOOLS CAN'T STOP ME ANYMORE, LOSERS!", with the nub of his dismembered mechanical arm, the wires had begun to heal over and bridge the separated parts. The wires nearest a set of guards attack them, attaching to their limbs and pulling them towards Sleen. Their flesh being torn piece by piece as they're forcibly assimilated into the mess of flesh and metal.

Selene had tried to pull the car away from Sleen but it was no use. "WICK! Where are the other keys?!", she shouted, practically reading both of their minds.

He quickly looked to keys that had been left in his hands, he could see the fob of another one of the speedier sports cars. "El Nino! Do you see another one of these vehicles!?".

Alejandro peaked over the claw, none behind Sleen, "No!", he glanced over and saw one just a few cars away. "There! Head to that side of the garage!". He attempted to rip the hydrologic tubing attached to the fingers of the claws, one was about to detach the claw from the car.

Wick had taken Selene quickly from the car, heading to one and only getaway car.

Looking over, he could see his prey escaping, no longer capable of being reasoned with, he sluggishly lubbers towards them, now incumbered by his sheer mass. Alejandro notices his movements, "RUN CUERVO!", he is able to tear off a chunk of the car, throwing it at Sleen's hunched over head.

Another terrible roar reverberated throughout.

Wick quickly found the car, "Head out as fast as you can! Don't look back mi amor.", the saddened echo in his voice was hard to miss. Selene had given one last kiss, turning on the car, the engine roared loudly.

Sleen turned to see that Selene was getting away, reaching out again to pin the car down.

From the rearview mirror, Selene could see the claw coming down, but just that moment as if it was instinct screaming at her, she checked the glove compartment and found a gun. Such convenience could be deemed as divine intervention, some would say an unfortunate blessing of the second amendment for this one special moment. Likely, the owner of the car was just careless.

She picked up the gun, the carelessness of the owner had already left the gun loaded, she turned and took her shot. As time slowed down, the bullet had dodged ever signal possible obstacle, like a hand guiding the bullet, so small that it wasn't perceivable. It's target, right into Sleen's uncorrupted eye. As the monstrous criminal turned his head to hear where the shot had come from, he could see the stoic yet satisfied smirk of Selene, who had finally taken her revenge.

Target hit.

Hitting his eye directly through his eye socket, traveling through the brain and right out the back. He stops as if someone had pulled his plug.

Wick, marveling at the marksmanship, turns to see that her car had ready gone. He could take a deep breath knowing she was heading to safety.

Victory was something she would have never imagined feeling in her life, but the bitter weight of leaving Wick behind had quickly soured the moment. What was supposed to be a smile had pulled down, she had no idea of Wick was going to be able to escape and find her. Through the rearview mirror, she could see the facility in the distance, but she could see helicopters coming in from the distance. "oh mon dieu, s'il te plaît, sors de là mon amour.", she uttered to herself. Wick knew she was safe, but was he and the others ready to escape?

End of log 29

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @walking-natural-disaster @starfrost740 @squishyowl @sleepyfan-blog @lawnchair86