#the king's collapse

[kd-holloman]

It's been a minute, so here's a little teaser for The King's Collapse (MaM3 for those wondering). I'm approx 62k into the second draft and have approximately 30k left. (Hopefully. I'm trying to trim it down.)

Tag List (ask to be added/removed): @tricksexual, @wildler, @ganseyboii, @surrealirist, @obsessionandstuff, @pertinax--loculos, @pe-ersona, @a-curator-of-nonsense, @angelolytle, @lordkingsmith , @gloriafrimpong

[lenin-it-to-win-it]

Bones when Spock isn't around: Jim, you can't possibly blame Spock. Our dear friend Spock? Our best friend Spock who never lies? He's just doing his JOB, Jim. How can you even say that???

Bones interacting with Spock himself: Raise your eyebrows at me again and I'll slice you open just to watch you bleed you pointy eared fuck

[flunky-robots]

Ice to meet- oh forget it.

[beebfreeb]

Against my will, this freak is fun to draw.

[kd-holloman]

Okay, I wish I was making this up, but ...

With that being said, have some of the best fucks in The King's Collapse.

“Get out of bed, fuckface.” Slater didn’t move. Just the thought of getting out of bed felt comparable to climbing Everest. He felt like his skull was packed with wet sand. He wished his head had been full of anything but brain matter. Maybe if it were, he wouldn’t hurt like he’d laid down at the intersection of State and Madison and let traffic run him over. “Go away, Matt.”

“Fuck you.” Matt glanced from Slater, back to the cup of coffee, and then pulled it toward him. He took a sip. “No thanks. You’re not my type.” “That’s weird. I thought you had a thing for redheads.”

The square was bustling with people. Pink noses and rosy cheeks poked out of puffy jackets as people posed for pictures in front of the massive Christmas tree in the center of the square. Garland, ornaments, and fake snow filled window displays. Further down the square, kids shrieked as they fell on the ice rink. The piercing donation bells rang over the sounds of Christmas music floating through the air. It was giving him a merry-fucking-migraine.

Slater had been climbing the mountain for a long time, now he was caught in an avalanche and it was only picking up speed. “He hit me! Everything he or mom told you about this —” he jabbed a finger at his brown eye — “was a lie! It was a lie and you ate it up because it was palatable than the truth.” Mike glared at him. “Don’t you fucking dare.” “Dare what? Tell the truth because it hurts to look at it? Sorry, Pops, but life is an ugly-fucking-affair.”

Slater’s eyes wandered back over the scars across Louis’s knuckles. He wanted to use a knife and retrace every single one of them on Rick’s skin. He wanted to make Rick suffer the way he’d made them suffer. “I hate him so fucking much.”

The worst thing about it was, she knew that if she failed it wouldn’t be only her career at stake. She’d looked at all the bodies that had come across her autopsy table. All of them had been victims of manipulation and abuse. They didn’t even allow companies to test on animals. There was no way this would be considered acceptable, even if the volunteers had signed waivers.   She wanted to be on the right side of history. “Fuck it.” Joanne scanned her badge in front of Alexis’s cell key. It beeped and the gate slid open. “Fuck the T.C.A.B. and fuck Rick O’Shea.”

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[tiredcowboyy]

fond looks arthur gives merlin that if I was gwen and I saw them all, id immediately stop existing:

[aplpaca]

every martha wells book is like we are going to explore these abandoned/mysterious structures or so help me god

[raccoonpog]

Projecting

[sforzesco]

WHAT DOOM FOR YOU?

back again with my Please Read The Thebaid Agenda! I adapted the ending of Book VII into a comic because oh boy. thoughts thoughts thoughts.

There is a horror in having yourself altered to such a degree where you are unrecognizable in your own self, to know that it is happening, to know that you should be dead and yet you are not. You have already seen the moment of your death!!!! (Stat. Theb. 3.537 – 47) There's a horror in knowing, and in it being treated as an act of love when it's really more like a violation. Amphiaraus is spared Creon's decree, but by falling into the underworld, it makes things worse on a cosmic scale.

Statius' Thebaid Book VII, trans. Jane Wilson Joyce

Statius and Virgil: The Thebaid and the Reinterpretation of the Aeneid, Randall T. Ganiban

Statius' Thebaid and the Poetics of Civil War, Charles McNelis

The Perils of Prophecy: Statius' Amphiaraus and His Literary Antecedents, E. Fantham

society6 | ko-fi | twitter (pillowfort, cohost) | deviantart

[demonkinguwu]

Skully J. Graves

The Pumpkin Prince

Future King of all Halloween 🎃

[unproduciblesmackdown]

the interlude in rotk of frodo exerting all effort against the strains of woodwinds to drag himself a meter or so further up mount doom

[kd-holloman]

NEXT DRAFT IS DONE!!!

I will be looking for beta readers so if anyone is interested let me know!

[alicent-archive]

If young Alicent was told that one day, Rhaenyra would turn up in the sept dressed as a nun, I think she'd actually explode.

[dearabsolutelynoone]

“Gleaming, twinkling…

…eyes like sinking ships on waters.”

(Gold Rush, Taylor Swift)

[whumpneto]

Jonah Hauer-King as Max Mallowan in Agatha and the Curse of Ishtar (2019)

[kd-holloman]

You know the deal, not edited, copied and pasted from mobile.

The King's Collapse D1

Slater pulled onto the cracked driveway, hands frozen at ten and two. He didn’t put the car in park. He couldn’t bring himself to switch off the ignition. It took every ounce of self control he had not to back Aunt Jennifer’s SUV out the drive and speed off down the street.

The brown house needed a new coat of paint. An abused pickup truck sat on the driveway next to a slightly-nicer sedan that was a few decades old. Under an ancient carport, there was a mountain of twisted handlebars next to a boat that didn’t seem like it’d seen a lake in years.

Matt sat up in the passenger seat. He squinted at the golden-pink glow of the sunset through the window. “Where are we?”

Slater’s bones were made of iron. He was welded in place. “Brownstone, Kentucky.”

“Kentucky?” he asked. “Why?”

“We needed a place to go and this is the best one.”

Matt still seemed groggy from his nap. He squinted at the house. “Whose house is this?”

The screen door banged open. An ancient knobby-kneed Chihuahua bounded out. Its stunted legs worked just as fast as its mouth. It yipped at the edge of a dandelion-riddled yard. A man joined the dog to the spot where the yard and cracked asphalt driveway met. His brown hair was too long, it brushed his shoulders. The beard around his mouth and chin were dotted with fine white hair. His face was creased with lines Slater didn’t remember.

All of the ghosts from Slater’s past were haunting him at once. He didn’t like it. “My dad’s.”

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