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megashadowdragon · 3 years ago

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In the upcoming The Winds of Winter many characters we've come to know and love are going to intersect with each other. Their personalities and backstories are going to collide and the result of the concoction is going to vary from character to character.

In this thread, I'm going to touch on the interactions between two individuals that, weirdly enough, don't seem to get a lot of attention from the fandom in regards to how a potential interaction between the two might go down.

These two being Tyrion Lannister and Victarion Greyjoy.

On examination, there couldn't be two characters more different than each other. In a way, they're almost perfect foils to each other. Before I get into any foreshadowing indicated in the text of the books, I think it be best if I laid down some of these differences to give you guys an idea:

Tyrion has a sharp mind and uses this to great effect in understanding people's motivations and the politics surrounding them. Victarion is described as a "dullard" and "dumb as a stump" by GRRM himself, with not much knowledge or interest in the ways of greater politics.

Tyrion uses his wit to make jokes to entertain himself and those around him. Victarion heavily dislikes humor and it's even indicated in the text that he "mistrusts laughter".

Tyrion is a small, stunted dwarf with not much in the way of physical prowess. Victarion is a tall, muscular man who is a renowned warrior with great strength.

Tyrion regularly dismisses and mocks the idea of gods existing, thinking that all the suffering in the world proves that no gods are looking out for anyone.

If there are gods to listen, they are monstrous gods who torment us for their sport. Who else would make a world like this, so full of bondage, blood, and pain? Who else would shape us as they have? - Tyrion ADWD

Victarion is an extremely devout religious man that believes that the suffering in life is the proof of a god existing.

Life is pain, you fool. There is no joy but in the Drowned God’s watery halls. - The Iron Suitor ADWD

Now, I've listed these differences to give an idea on how these two could easily be connected as foils to each other, but surprisingly there's also some similarities between the two that connects them further:

Both Tyrion and Victarion have murdered former lovers of theirs after they betrayed them by sleeping with a family member. Victarion kills his wife after sleeping with his brother Euron and Tyrion murders Shae after she sleeps with his father Tywin. Both using their own hands to do it. (Tyrion strangling Shae and Victarion beating his wife to death with his fists).

Both were betrayed by their brother and have a desire to seek vengeance against them and destroy them.

Both have met Moqorro at sea and Moqorro has stated prophecies to both of them.

Both have fought and commanded in naval warfare. Both utilising fire in a naval battle (Tyrion with wildfire at the Blackwater and Victarion throwing the first torch onto Tywin's ship at the burning of Lannisport).

Both are seeking out Daenerys to use her for vengeance against their family. Tyrion with his siblings and his father's legacy and Victarion against his brother Euron.

So, now that the differences and similarities between the two characters have been established, I'll move onto what an interaction between these two might entail and what purpose it would serve.

The Monkey Demon

“We have become swollen, bloated, foul. Brother couples with sister in the bed of kings, and the fruit of their incest capers in his palace to the piping of a twisted little monkey demon.” A preacher at King's Landing ACOK.

“The dwarf, the evil counselor, the twisted little monkey demon. I’m all that stands between them and chaos.” - Tyrion ACOK

Tyrion Lannister, the monkey demon. Once tried to save a city and gain the people's love, found none and was promptly punted into a cell. Tried to work in his family interests, even if it meant defending the crown of a worm-lipped tyrant born out of incest, was turned on and blamed for the tyrant's downfall. Tried to find love in the arms of a whore and found out whores don't play fair (or where they go). All attempts, all that effort to seek validation had blown up in his face.

So, what's left?

The game of thrones, of course. You know, the very game that produces complete sociopaths like Varys and Petyr Baelish. With every other avenue denied to him, what else would be left for our favourite pampered lil shit Tyrion Lannister?

A man who's been denied everything and who has now found a re-newed purpose in life through a game of manipulation and deception. An individual with obligations no longer holding him down. No family to support, no love from the masses to be gained, nothing. All that's left is to engage in a game where self-gratification can be bought and the chance to tear down the old ghosts that persistently haunt him.

I won't engage too much into the finer details of Tyrion's character arc, but I highly recommend reading this excellent essay meereeneseblot . wordpress . com/2013/11/22/paying-his-debts-part-i-tyrion-in-kings-landing/ to better understand where Tyrion's arc will be going into TWOW.

So, our favourite dwarf finds himself traveling (waddling) to Meeren, hoping to seek the favour of the beautiful Queen Daenaerys Targaryen. Under siege with dubious allies and dragons you want to use to burn down your family's legacy, but they're too busy swarming the air like horny mosquitos...

But.... what's this? Ironborn swarming ashore? What the fuc-... With a complete donkey-brain of a captain leading them and who's just ready to be manipulated, you say? AND he wants to use Daenarys for his own ends too?

Muy bueno.

Now, to get to the point of the essay.

The Iron Captain

The Drowned God had not shaped Victarion Greyjoy to fight with words at kingsmoots, nor struggle against furtive sneaking foes in endless bogs. This was why he had been put on earth; to stand steel-clad with an axe red and dripping in his hand, dealing death with every blow. - The Reaver AFFC

So, I've showcased that Victarion Greyjoy's character is not one to dabble in higher politics or any other high-minded thinking. He's a man bred for splitting an enemy's skull in two with his axe, not someone trying to worm his way into people's confidences with false charm to achieve their own ends. Unfortunately for him, he's about to come across somebody who is.

A monkey on the mast above howled derision, almost as if it could taste his frustration. Filthy, noisy beast. He could send a man up after it, but the monkeys seemed to like that game and had proved themselves more agile than his crew. The howls rang in his ears, though, and made the throbbing in his hand seem worse. - The Iron Suitor ADWD

The moniker that's been labelled for Tyrion of "Monkey demon" earlier in ACOK has made a comeback by GRRM in Victarion's ADWD chapters to foreshadow their relationship going into TWOW. And what that relationship will entail, I think I can safely say, will not be a positive one. Not for Victarion anyways.

The monkeys, though … the monkeys were a plague. Victarion had forbidden his men to bring any of the demonic creatures aboard ship, yet somehow half his fleet was now infested with them, even his own Iron Victory. He could see some now, swinging from spar to spar and ship to ship. Would that I had a crossbow - The Iron Suitor ADWD

So, we can see that the passage likely connects Tyrion with the "monkey" moniker by way of referencing a "crossbow" as well as the word "demonic". As we all know, a crossbow is what Tyrion used to slay his father in ASOS. The mention of a crossbow in conjunction with monkeys being described as "demonic", I think we can safely say that Tyrion is being referenced by GRRM in Victarion's chapters .

Okay, so let's assume that Tyrion is referenced in these passages. What does it mean?

Here's what I believe: Tyrion, upon encountering Victarion, would have the judge of his character. Tyrion outclasses Victarion in every way when it comes to intelligence, wit, and manipulation. The two are at the same location (Meeren) and both want the favour of Daenarys. It seems inevitable that the two characters will cross paths. Tyrion would realise that this is a man that he can outwit and use for his own ends.

The first passage describes negatives feelings felt by Victarion at the monkey's "howling". This, I believe, is foreshadowing of Tyrion's attempts to manipulate Victarion. The "howling" used in substitute and reference to the lies that Tyrion will use on Victarion and his men.

Victarion's "frustration" is telling. There are two other characters in the series that aren't as versed in dealing with manipulation and the game of thrones in general, like Victarion. Those two being Eddard Stark and Barristan Selmy, and they reacted in similar ways to manipulation used on them.

“Most likely the king did not know,” Littlefinger said. “It would not be the first time. Our good Robert is practiced at closing his eyes to things he would rather not see.” Ned had no reply for that. The face of the butcher’s boy swam up before his eyes, cloven almost in two, and afterward the king had said not a word. His head was pounding. - Eddard AGOT

“Volantis.” Selmy’s sword hand tingled. We made a peace with Yunkai. Not with Volantis. “You are certain?”

“Certain. The Wise Masters know. So do their friends. The Harpy, Reznak, Hizdahr. This king will open the city gates to the Volantenes when they arrive. All those Daenerys freed will be enslaved again. Even some who were never slaves will be fitted for chains. You may end your days in a fighting pit, old man. Khrazz will eat your heart.”

His head was pounding. “Daenerys must be told.” -The Queensguard ADWD

When Ned encounters a lie by Littlefinger when they talk to him, it's described in the text as his "head pounding". The same happens when Barristan talks to the Shavepate in Meereen. It's likely that the Shavepate has his own agendas and when Barristan hears him he has the same reaction as Ned in where his "head pounds". The implication being that they instinctively know it's a lie, but can't grasp the higher details and fully realise it.

Victarion isn't an honourable man like Eddard and Barristan, but he shares the same ineptitude regarding the game of thrones as they do. The reaction isn't the exact same, but it's described in similar negative detail that taxes him. We can also refer to Barristan's passage where his hand "tingles" during the exchange, just as Victarion's hand "throbs" from the monkeys.

So, what is Tyrion's goal and why would he even need to bother with Victarion and his crew? We can refer back to this passage in Tyrion's final POV chapter in ADWD:

“I am dancing as fast as I can.” He wanted to laugh, but that would have ruined the game. Plumm was enjoying this, and Tyrion had no intention of spoiling his fun. Let him go on thinking that he’s bent me over and fucked me up the arse, and I’ll go on buying steel swords with parchment dragons. If ever he went back to Westeros to claim his birthright, he would have all the gold of Casterly Rock to make good on his promises - Tyrion ADWD

Tyrion's ultimate goal from ADWD and going forward is to tear down his father's legacy and to wreck vengeance upon his siblings. In order to achieve this, he has to acquire power. It's my belief that he'll try to persuade Victarion's men to fight for his cause. In the same way he swindled the Second Sons with promises of riches of Casterly Rock, I believe he'll do the same with Victarion's men.

To get a better picture of the character of the Ironborn soldiers I refer to this passage:

His words drew mutters of assent. “Slaver’s Bay is too far,” called out Ralf the Limper. “And too close to Valyria,” shouted Quellon Humble. Fralegg the Strong said, “Highgarden’s close. I say, look for dragons there. The golden kind!” Alvyn Sharp said, “Why sail the world, when the Mander lies before us?” Red Ralf Stonehouse bounded to his feet. “Oldtown is richer, and the Arbor richer still. Redwyne’s fleet is off away. We need only reach out our hand to pluck the ripest fruit in Westeros.”

“Fruit?” The king’s eye looked more black than blue. “Only a craven would steal a fruit when he could take the orchard.”

“It is the Arbor we want,” said Red Ralf, and other men took up the cry. The Crow’s Eye let the shouts wash over him. Then he leapt down from the table, grabbed his slattern by the arm, and pulled her from the hall.

- The Reaver AFFC

Euron Greyjoy, the king of the Ironborn, proposes an ambitious plan of acquiring dragons to rule all of Westeros, but his Ironborn soldiers opt for the easy way out. A way that will require less effort and with the promises of quick riches. Why sail half a world away when the gold is in their backyards?

The ironmen that have sailed with Victarion, will see the imp bearing his promises, and might just decide that he's their ticket to a grander prize. Their Iron Captain is a formidable warrior, aye, but Casterly Rock would have all the riches they need, and who better to offer them than the rightful born heir of Casterly Rock?

We've already seen Victarion's men turn on him before:

Victarion grabbed him by the forearm. “Refuse him!”

Nute looked at him as if he had gone mad. “Refuse him? Lands and lordship? Will you make me a lord?” He wrenched his arm away and stood, basking in the cheers.

And now he steals my men away, Victarion thought. - The Reaver AFFC

As I've highlighted in the first two passages, the monkeys are described as being more "agile" (more cunning) than Victarion's crew and infesting "half of them". It makes sense, since it's not like Tyrion can swindle 100 percent of Victarion's crew, but at least half of them? That doesn't seem like too much of a challenge, given what we know of the Ironborn's character.

Victarion Greyjoy mistrusted laughter. The sound of it always left him with the uneasy feeling that he was the butt of some jape he did not understand. Euron Crow’s Eye had oft made mock of him when they were boys. So had Aeron, before he had become the Damphair. Their mockery oft came disguised as praise, and sometimes Victarion had not even realized he was being mocked. Not until he heard the laughter. Then came the anger, boiling up in the back of his throat until he was like to choke upon the taste. That was how he felt about the monkeys. Their antics never brought so much as a smile to the captain’s face, though his crew would roar and hoot and whistle. - The Iron Suitor ADWD

“You have a gift for making men smile,” Septa Lemore told Tyrion as he was drying off his toes. “You should thank the Father Above. He gives gifts to all his children.”

“He does,” he agreed pleasantly. And when I die, please let them bury with me a crossbow, so I can thank the Father Above for his gifts the same way I thanked the father below. - Tyrion ADWD

For half a year he cartwheeled his merry way about Casterly Rock, bringing smiles to the faces of septons, squires, and servants alike. Even Cersei laughed to see him once or twice. All that ended abruptly the day his father returned from a sojourn in King’s Landing. That night at supper Tyrion surprised his sire by walking the length of the high table on his hands. Lord Tywin was not pleased. “The gods made you a dwarf. Must you be a fool as well? You were born a lion, not a monkey.” - Tyrion ADWD

Tyrion will use his personality to amuse and charm a majority of the Iron Fleet's crew, all so he can win them over and bond them to him, but Victarion won't be amused. We've already seen Tyrion's prowess used to great effect in winning over a crowd during his slave auction and he'll do the same with The Ironborn by playing the part of an amusing fool; "dancing" and making witty jokes to the bemusement of the knuckleheads from the Iron Islands.

He could send a man up after it, but the monkeys seemed to like that game

Victarion had forbidden his men to bring any of the demonic creatures aboard ship, yet somehow half his fleet was now infested with them, even his own Iron Victory.

Their antics never brought so much as a smile to the captain’s face, though his crew would roar and hoot and whistle.

Victarion may have some vague idea that the "monkeys" are nothing but trouble for his crew, but like Eddard and Barristan, he can't quite grasp the finer details of what a game of thrones player like Tyrion is trying to achieve exactly. He doesn't see the capering little monkey as someone trying to swindle his crew right from under him. "and sometimes Victarion had not even realized he was being mocked. Not until he heard the laughter. "

Because ultimately, the joke is on Victarion. The Monkey Demon makes his japes and charms all, while laughing from above at the dumb brute who can only frown his displeasure and not realise what the monkey has in store for him, until it's too late. And Victarion, finally realising the punchline too late, will be the biggest mistake of his life.

The Glory That Awaits

"The Lord of Light has shown me your worth, Lord Captain. Every night in my fires I glimpse the glory that awaits you." - Victarion ADWD

One of the biggest constants in Victarion's arc is that he's basically a born stooge. He's being manipulated by characters superior in intelligence than him, and while these manipulations haven't born fruit so far in AFFC and ADWD, I think they'll finally bloom and bite him in his kraken ass in TWOW.

Moqorro

Euron

Tyrion

It's been heavily implied in the text that all three characters are going to use him just to achieve their ends. The only character that hasn't interacted with him yet is Tyrion, but the first two share something in common that I think will translate over to Tyrion's machinations as well. That something being dragons.

Euron gifts him with a dragonhorn and bonehead extraordinaire Victarion thinks that he'll use it for his own benefit and snag himself a dragon. As if Euron would be stupid enough to allow Victarion to do that.

Euron was a fool to give me this, it is a precious thing, and powerful. With this I’ll win the Seastone Chair, and then the Iron Throne. With this I’ll win the world. - Victarion TWOW

Interesting that the word "fool" is invoked for Euron, a man who is more cunning than Victarion by miles. After all, you don't just secure a kingship like Euron did through sheer luck.

That's what the dancing little monkey will seem like to Victarion as well. Lord Tywin, a man after Victarion's own heart because he never smiled or laughed, wasn't amused by the monkey's antics either:

Lord Tywin’s mouth tightened. “Very droll. Shall I have them sew you a suit of motley, and a little hat with bells on it?” - Tyrion ASOS

He considered Tyrion a motley wearing fool. We all know how that ended for Tywin.

Moqorro then tells him that in order to capture the dragon for himself, he must claim the dragonhorn with his own blood.

“Your brother did not sound the horn himself. Nor must you.” Moqorro pointed to the band of steel. “Here. ‘Blood for fire, fire for blood.’ Who blows the hellhorn matters not. The dragons will come to the horn’s master. You must claim the horn. With blood.” - Victarion ADWD

So, the first two characters are connected via the use of the dragonhorn. Judging what we know from Euron's character, it's extremely likely that he's pulling one over on Victarion for his own ends. Since I've established that Tyrion is also going to do the same through this essay, it's highly likely Moqorro is just using Victarion as well.

Here we see Moqorro relaying a prophecy to Tyrion:

“Dragons old and young, true and false, bright and dark. And you. A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of all.”

“Snarling? An amiable fellow like me?” Tyrion was almost flattered. And no doubt that is just what he intends. Every fool loves to hear that he’s important. “Perhaps it was Penny you saw. We’re almost of a size.”

“No, my friend.”

My friend? When did that happen, I wonder? - Tyrion ADWD

Definition of amiable:

friendly, sociable, and congenial. generally agreeable

Definition of snarling:

Something used by predators before they rip your throat out.

Moqorro's label cuts to the heart of the matter, despite Tyrion's "incredulous" reaction to it.

How can the jovial, charming little dwarf be anything but a good, fun time? "Snarling"? Does it "look" like he wants to burn down all of Westeros just to get some empty satisfaction at the downfall of his family? Does it "look" like he wants to use people less intelligent than him to achieve those ends?

Yes, Tyrion. Yes it does.

So, onto the next point. Since we've established that Tyrion doesn't have Victarion's best interests at heart, there's a question we should ask ourselves here: Why would Moqorro consider Tyrion a friend if he can see that he'll just end up using Victarion? His prophecies seem to be pretty on point in judging future events and how it relates to people, so why look so highly upon the dwarf?

It's because Moqorro is manipulating Victarion for his own ends as well. If he was Victarion's true ally, he wouldn't be so chummy with Tyrion.

Considering Moqorro looks so favorably upon Tyrion, his claims to Victarion that he can claim the dragon for his own are dubious. Moqorro's prophecy for "the glory that awaits him" to Victarion may not be the glorious ending Victarion thinks it'll be. Since Moqorro is a priest of fire, the "glory" he speaks of is something that he himself finds glorious. Fire.

During Victarion's travelogue in ADWD, he starts to incorporate The Lord of Light's beliefs for his own and mixes it with his belief of the Drowned God.

He wondered if this was how his brother Aeron felt when the Drowned God spoke to him. He could almost hear the god’s voice welling up from the depths of the sea. You shall serve me well, my captain, the waves seemed to say. It was for this I made you.

But he would feed the red god too, Moqorro’s fire god. The arm the priest had healed was hideous to look upon, pork crackling from elbow to fingertips. Sometimes when Victarion closed his hand the skin would split and smoke, yet the arm was stronger than it had ever been. “Two gods are with me now,” he told the dusky woman. “No foe can stand before two gods." - Victarion ADWD

In one final, humiliating punchline, the Iron Captain will serve his two gods. But not in the way he intended.

“Might be his robes caught fire, so he jumped overboard to put them out,” suggested Longwater Pyke, to general laughter. Even the monkeys were amused. They chattered overhead, and one flung down a handful of his own shit to spatter on the boards. -The Iron Suitor ADWD

The captain could not abide lies, so he had the Ghiscari captain bound hand and foot and thrown overboard, a sacrifice to the Drowned God. “Your red god will have his due,” he promised Moqorro, “but the seas are ruled by the Drowned God.”- Victarion ADWD

The captain answered with a nod, grim-faced, then called for the seven girls he had claimed to be brought on deck, the loveliest of all those found aboard the Willing Maiden. He kissed them each upon the cheeks and told them of the honor that awaited them, though they did not understand his words. Then he had them put aboard the fishing ketch that they had captured, cut her loose, and had her set afire.

“With this gift of innocence and beauty, we honor both the gods,” he proclaimed, as the warships of the Iron Fleet rowed past the burning ketch. “Let these girls be reborn in light, undefiled by mortal lust, or let them descend to the Drowned God’s watery halls, to feast and dance and laugh until the seas dry up.” - Victarion ADWD

His plan to snatch a dragon and win the world will backfire horribly. Believing he'll become Aegon the Conquerer come again, he uses the dragonhorn to bring a dragon to him. Since the dragonhorn is at least six feet long, it'd be a pain and seem redundant to move it from the deck of The Iron Victory. Thinking the dragon will be binded to him, he'll be happy as a pig in shit when the horn gets tooted like an old lady's fart.

That is, until the dragon swoops down and opens his maw to unleash a nuclear holocaust on his sorry ass.

When he raised his whip, he saw that the lash was burning. His hand as well. All of him, all of him was burning. Oh, he thought. Then he began to scream. - The Dragontamer ADWD

It's not too far-fetched to say the passage connects with Victarion, considering his arm and hand have already been described as split and smoking. It's also isn't the first time his hand is referenced, as I've stated before in the reference to Barristan Selmy. Both references coming from the same book ADWD.

Engulfed in dragonfire, he'll have no choice but to jump overboard into the sea. That'll snuff the flames right ou-

The white roses drew back, as men always did at the sight of Victarion Greyjoy armed and armored, his face hidden behind his kraken helm. They were clutching swords and spears and axes, but nine of every ten wore no armor, and the tenth had only a shirt of sewn scales. These are no ironmen, Victarion thought. They still fear drowning. - The Reaver AFFC

None of his men had seen what became of the knight after he went over the side, however. Most like the man had drowned. “May he feast as he fought, in the Drowned God’s watery halls.” Though the men of the Shield Islands called themselves sailors, they crossed the seas in dread and went lightly clad in battle for fear of drowning. Young Serry had been different. A brave man, thought Victarion. Almost ironborn. - The Reaver AFFC

In a buy two-get-one free deal, the char-coaled Iron Captain will serve his two gods, sinking like a rock to the bottom of the ocean to feast in the watery halls of the Drowned God for eternity. The Monkey Demon laughing and capering all the while.

At least the Drowned God will be impressed with the Kraken armor.

The End

So, in a final analysis, I believe Tyrion will convince at least half, if not most of Victarion's crew to join in his cause, thinking they'll be rich beyond their wildest of dreams, not realising that they're just expendable pawns for Tyrion to fulfil his desire for vengeance.

While the exact logistics of how Tyrion is involved in Victarion's death escape me, I certainly believe he'll have a part in it. As I've stated before, Tyrion will likely be involved with Victarion and his plot for dragons just like Moqorro and Euron.

The white cyvasse dragon ended up at Tyrion’s feet. He scooped it off the carpet and wiped it on his sleeve, but some of the Yunkish blood had collected in the fine grooves of the carving, so the pale wood seemed veined with red. “All hail our beloved queen, Daenerys.” Be she alive or be she dead. He tossed the bloody dragon in the air, caught it, grinned. - Tyrion TWOW

It'd also be guesswork on my part to write what exact manipulations and lies Tyrion will utilise on Victarion and his men through dialogue, but I think my rough sketch is enough to give a general idea for the direction they'll likely take.

Considering that Tyrion is inevitably going to meet with Daenerys, and since it's not like he has any easy passage to any other location, he'll likely be at Meeren for a good while.

And since it seems highly unlikely that Victarion will just be killed off at the Battle of Fire, considering he's been chronicled and built up in the past two books, I think it's safe to assume that the two will have lengthy interactions with each other while they're stuck in Meereen.

Whether or not Victarion will be around long enough to meet the fair-haired queen of his dreams is unknown, but it's possible he'll be dead before then.

After all, wouldn't it be a worthy prize for our beloved imp to come bearing gifts of a naval fleet bonded to him to the lovely Queen Daenerys? All from him, no other person claiming ownership of them.

"The old captain? Eh, he wouldn't have been as generous as me."

Despite all of that, despite all the manipulations and deceit, will Tyrion be truly satisfied at the end result?

That night Tyrion Lannister dreamed of a battle that turned the hills of Westeros as red as blood. He was in the midst of it, dealing death with an axe as big as he was, fighting side by side with Barristan the Bold and Bittersteel as dragons wheeled across the sky above them. In the dream he had two heads, both noseless. His father led the enemy, so he slew him once again. Then he killed his brother, Jaime, hacking at his face until it was a red ruin, laughing every time he struck a blow. Only when the fight was finished did he realize that his second head was weeping. - Tyrion ADWD

#tyrion lannister #asoiaf #A Song of Ice and Fire #asoiaf victarion #victarion greyjoy #asoiaf tyrion #asoiaf theory #asoiaf meta

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rwbyremnants · 4 years ago

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Here you go! Might be a minute before this fic continues, but I will try to make it not TOO long. In the meantime I hope you guys are enjoying Lady Stardust!

=Chapter 16

Life was good for the next few days. Though Weiss hated having to sneak around town the way she did, at least it meant she could be with Yang. They spent every available moment with their lips locked together, hands sliding up and down lightly-sweating backs. Maybe they never found a good time to go any further than they had thus far, but she wasn’t overly concerned; they had all the time in the world.

Despite the allure of the depot’s solitude, it was also slightly dangerous due to the neighbourhood, and getting increasingly chilly. This was the reason the most recent of their “dates” occurred somewhere a little unconventional for the besotted couple.

“Great chicken, Mrs. B,” Yang said around a mouthful as Kali returned from the kitchen for the eighth time.

“Thank you,” she sighed with a weary smile as she sat at last. “Sorry for running in and out, girls. I’m just trying to make sure the cassata doesn’t burn.”

Blake shrugged in a weary manner. “You know I could go look for you. Stop being a martyr.”

“I’m not a martyr,” she said in an overly-affected tone. “I’m just a housewife without a husband. Doomed to wander this earth alone!”

Weiss had just been rolling her eyes. Then she felt the tip of a shoe prod her under the table; it was coming from Blake. She hissed, “What?”

“This is your line.”

“Huh?”

“Mom’s ‘alone forever’, and you’re supposed to rescue her,” she said, though she was looking at her mother the whole while instead of Weiss. “Isn’t that right?”

“It was supposed to be a soliloquy,” she cackled as she stirred the chicken and pasta around on her plate, preparing to scoop some up.

“Oh, Kali!” Weiss said, pressing both hands to her heart. The elbow movement made Yang duck out of the way instinctively, even though it would have missed. “I cannot bear to hear of your loneliness! Say it isn’t so!”

They all clapped, and Weiss waved at them to leave her alone. Then Blake said, “You oughtta join the drama club. Maybe you could play Emily in ‘Our Town’.”

Swallowing her current bite, Yang put in, “I heard they’re gonna put on ‘Oklahoma!’ next year. Might not happen until we already graduated, though.”

“You really think so?” Weiss said with a wider smile. “You know, I’ve always thought I could be very dramatic…”

“No kidding.” At the tone, she frowned at Yang and sat down quickly. “I’m just kidding, Weiss! Wow, didn’t think it would rattle your cage that much.”

“If I’m so dramatic, why are you with me? Hm?”

“Because the drama is exciting.” They leaned closer and closer, Yang grinning wolfishly, Weiss frowning as deeply as she could be - even though the frown was quivering with her efforts not to burst out laughing. In the end, she lost, and they giggled before going back to their food.

Blake sighed. “I know this is dinner, but I’m about to lose my lunch.”

“Sorry,” Yang laughed. Weiss glanced at her with slightly more concern, due to the private information to which only she was privy, but Blake didn’t meet her eyes. ��We’ll keep it a little less friendly.”

“Don’t on our account,” Kali chuckled, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I’ve seen it all before - and done most of it myself.”

“Mom!” Blake hissed.

“What? Your dear old mother’s supposed to act like she’s dead now?” Even as Blake was rolling her eyes, she pushed up from the table. “Be right back.”

“Again?” Yang asked. “C’mon, sit down. Let it go a little longer.”

“Not if we want dessert! This time, I’m sure it’s ready to come out - and then I have to do the icing. This is my fault for not getting it done earlier when I knew I should have…”

As she left, Weiss was glancing between her and her daughter. Blake had been a little sullen ever since they got there. Before that, she had been doing quite well with the situation all week; cracking jokes the same as anyone else during the few moments she dared stop by their table. It was infuriating, having to keep from talking to them in the hallways lest her annoyance of a brother take it upon himself to report back what he had seen, but this was the situation in which they found themselves. All they could do was make the best of it - and keep her jacket in Pyrrha’s car trunk.

But now, she had to do something for her other friend. Standing quickly, she said, “Let me help you with that icing!”

A little late, she realised Blake was doing the same thing. “Oh… uh, why?”

“Don’t worry about that!” Kali said with a genuine smile. “You’re guests! Why would I ask that of you?”

“Well… I want to help! Might be fun!” That sounded like a pathetic excuse, even to her own ears, but it was too late. “You get started, I just have to ask Yang something.”

As Kali shrugged and went through the door, Weiss waited impatiently for Yang to stop blinking at her and get up. In a whisper, she ordered her, “Talk to Blake.”

“What? I mean, I have been. What do you mean?”

“She’s feeling…” There was no way she could divulge the whole truth, since that would be a breach of Blake’s trust, so she had to compromise. “I think she’s been a little lonely. You’re best friends, aren’t you? But you’re spending so much time with me that I think she’s feeling left out. So just… try, while I’m helping her mom?”

Yang had started to glance over her shoulder at Blake, but caught herself just in time before she made it obvious that was what they were talking about. “Oh. I mean… you really think so? Wow… chee, I never thought- I’m a real butthead.”

“You’re not. I think we’re allowed to be real gone for the first week after confessing our undying affections.”

“Yeah,” she said with a shy grin, and Weiss grinned back. She leaned forward and left a peck on her cheek. “Go on, I’ll see what I can do.”

Weiss returned the cheek-kiss herself, then passed through into the kitchen. She just barely caught Yang going, “Eyyyy, so…” before the door swung shut and she couldn’t hear the rest.

Presently, Mrs. Belladonna was just setting the cake on top of her cooling rack, which was perched on the stovetop range. Luckily, she was clothed this time - in a black halterneck dress with white polka dots, high-heeled pumps to match, and gold earrings and pearls to accent. Really, she looked phenomenal, even if most housewives certainly wouldn’t wear something so light and flirty for a simple dinner at home.

“How can I help?”

“By going back in and talking to your friends,” she said pointedly, shooting a brief smile over her shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know why you want to be in here when you’re our guest.”

Trying to come up with an excuse that didn’t involve admitting that she thought Blake needed more time with her girlfriend, strange as that would sound, she said, “Because! Um… obviously, I didn’t do as well in Home Ec as my friends did, and… and I would love to watch a master at work! Yes!”

The woman’s amber eyes - a hereditary trait, apparently - narrowed at her for a long moment. Then she said, “Sugar.”

“What? Hey, I’m being serious!”

“You’re sweet, but you aren’t sugar,” she snorted, gesturing to the counter behind her. Embarrassed, Weiss picked up the large jar. “I need five tablespoons in this bowl. I’ll get the orange liqueur and the ricotta.”

In short order, the two managed to make the “sciroppo di zucchero”, as Kali called it; it looked like syrup to Weiss. Then they set that aside and moved on to the frosting, which was made up of a fresh-squeezed lemon and confectioners sugar - the latter of which got everywhere because Weiss thought it would pour the same way as regular sugar. Kali laughed for quite a while, even as she got a wet dishcloth to wipe down her grumpy face.

“This is ridiculous!” she groused, arms folded over her chest. “I thought I knew how to bake, at least a little, and I’m making a mess!”

“It’s not that bad, signorina,” she tittered. Weiss tried to pretend having the older woman dote on her didn’t evoke two very different kind of feelings at the same time; an odd fluttering of excitement, and a dull ache of loss due to her own mother not being part of her life in that way. But there was no sense in putting either of those on Kali. “There, all clean. Now, we start building.”

As Weiss returned the cloth to the sink for her, she asked, “Building what?”

“The cake. Here, watch.”

Not that there was much to watch. Kali was so practiced that all she had to do was take a knife, hold the cake in the middle, and take one horizontal swipe so that it turned into two thinner cakes. First try! Weiss knew that no matter how much work she put into it, she would never be that effortless in the kitchen.

“Now pour the syrup onto the bottom layer,” she instructed. “Evenly as you can. This is what I always let Blake do, because you can’t really ‘hurt’ the cake during this part.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” she grunted, and Kali laughed again. But Weiss had to admit, it felt good to be able to help without fear of ruining the whole confection. Once the syrup was drizzled on, Kali added a layer of ricotta, then they repeated both actions with the second layer once it was placed upon its mate.

“There. Now we just let this chill for about an hour.”

“Good.” She watched as she slid it into the refrigerator, then eased it shut. “So… what now?”

“Put a towel over the icing. And hand me that small Tupperware of candied fruits.” Weiss obeyed on both counts while Kali wiped down the counter quickly, ridding it of the rest of her confectioners mess. “Those will be ready to go once it’s chilled. Though sometimes, you’ll have to add a little water to get the right consistency.”

“Wow, there’s so much to remember,” she half-laughed, and Kali grinned at her. “I don’t remember the cakes in class being anything this complicated.”

Her index finger raised for emphasis. “Ahhh, but they weren’t Italian cakes. We pride ourselves on making everything far more complex than needed.” They both shared a little giggle. “Take my daughter out there. She really got herself in a pickle, didn’t she?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Letting you slide in and steal the woman she had her heart set on.” When Weiss looked shocked, she held up a hand to forestall her. “No, it’s alright. It’s Blake’s fault, not yours. You did what came naturally when you felt an attraction to Yang.”

“You knew she liked her? And… and you didn’t try to stop me?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she went back to wiping down the counter, even though it was nearly spotless. “Should I have? I think you two really suit each other. And my Blake and Yang could have suited each other, but if they were meant to be, it would have come to pass. One of them would have made a move to close that gap between them. Alas, no such thing happened - and I don’t even think it’s my daughter who’s to blame. I believe fate plays a larger role in love than we foolish mortals like to believe it does.”

“Fate, huh?” she sighed, leaning back against the stove. It was still a little warm, but not bad enough to burn her by now. “Wish I could believe that. Instead, I feel like… like I stole her. Exactly how you put it.”

“Ohhh, honey.” Kali walked over to hold her shoulders bracingly. “You can’t steal anything that isn’t a possession. Yang is her own woman. The same way if I tried to turn your head, I wouldn’t be ‘stealing’ you, and if Blake finally made her move, she wouldn’t be ‘stealing’ Yang. You and Yang are the ones who have chosen to be together, and that is the choice that matters most. Really, it’s the only one that does.”

For a second or two, she took that in, letting out a couple of sighs as Kali pet up and down one of her shoulders. Then she smiled up at her. “Thanks, Mrs. Belladonna. Or… Kali, sorry.”

“Better. Or ‘Kali-carina’, if you want.”

“Oh, is that your middle name?” A shake of her head. “Maiden name?”

“It means ‘Cute little Kali’,” she purred in a seductive voice. But by now, Weiss was just barely able to tell that she was teasing, even if her teasing was slicker than that of the younger Dragons.

“Ha, ha.”

Her smirk was still coy, but at least she stood back a little further. “Wow, you really are growing up. It makes me want to chase you around the kitchen even more.”

“Stop that!” she laughed, and Kali brought up her manicured nails to form scary wolf-claws. “Hey!”

“Something more delicious than my cassata has wandered into this kitchen! I… I can’t control myself!” She pounced, but the move was so telegraphed that Weiss could easily dance to the side, giggling even louder.

“Enough! I’ll put you out with the fire extinguisher!”

“Hold still so I can catch you, little mouse!” This time, when Weiss scampered away, she didn’t follow, merely laughing and holding her stomach. It took a moment or two for her to recover enough to groan, “Ohhh… oh, that’s too much fun! I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”

Wiping her eyes, Weiss returned to stand near the counter, still braced to run if she needed to. “Don’t you and Blake play around like that at all?”

“Oh, no. Well, we used to, but I’m afraid she’s a bit too old to want to ‘play with Mama’ anymore.” Her eyes turned bittersweet, but she looked contented with the way things turned out. “Such a big girl now, I almost can’t believe it. Feels like someone stole my baby and replaced her with an adult.”

Weiss’s heart went out to her. “Well, I’m not too old.”

“I daresay you aren’t. Since… you had a significant portion of your life with no mother?” When Weiss only blinked in surprise, she shrugged. “You don’t have to explain. Though last I checked, Jacques Schnee is not a widower.”

As briefly as she could, Weiss explained, “They aren’t happy. And Mother drinks to pretend she is. The mornings, before she’s had her first drink… she’s the most miserable person I’ve ever known. And the rest of the day, she’s a stranger.”

“Ohhhhh,” she breathed in a voice of such real disappointment and sympathy that Weiss had to turn away from her completely. She didn’t want to be pitied, didn’t want to see that in someone’s eyes when they looked at her. She didn’t want to think about just how awful her home situation was for any longer than necessary, nor be reminded of it by unwelcome pandering. “I am sorry.”

“I am, too. So let’s not worry about that, since there’s nothing we can do.”

“Agreed.” Though Kali still looked a bit shaken by the revelation, she forced a smile onto her face as she gently took Weiss’s elbow. “I think I took you away from the last of your dinner, so… so let’s go polish that off while we wait for the cake to chill.”

As Kali's arm fell around Weiss's shoulders, she found herself leaning into the comforting presence. Probably because of their most recent topic of discussion. As usual, the woman seemed to know when teasing would not be ideal, so she definitely did nothing of that nature as they paced out into the dining room.

Only to find it empty. Of course, the table and their leftover meals were still there, but Yang and Blake were nowhere to be seen. They only had time to glance at each other before they heard a distant voice from upstairs.

“Oh, did we lose them?” Kali muttered as she headed for the stairs, pausing to listen. Weiss bumped into her from behind, having expected her to keep going. “Oh!”

“Ah, sorry!”

“It’s alright.” She was already cupping a hand around her ear, tilting her head. After a moment, she sighed, “Well, it doesn’t sound like ‘fun noises’, so shall we go see what we’re missing?”

About halfway up the stairs, Weiss finally figured out what she meant by ‘fun noises’ and nearly tripped.

Once heading down the hallway, she heard more clearly that Yang was speaking. They were just getting close enough when she caught, “...so we can have a normal conversation?” The response was muffled. “Well, we can’t do it this way, you germ-head!”

“What’s all this about?” Kali asked softly.

“Oh, your brat is being a… a brat!”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I am not!” Blake shouted through the wood of her bedroom door. Which at least cleared up why Yang sounded so frustrated.

“She’s mad because she figured out Weiss asked me to talk to her,” Yang sighed. “And maybe it’s not a problem anyway!”

“Shut up!”

Pushing her hand into her face for a moment, Kali muttered, “Perfect. Creating problems where they didn’t exist before.” Smiling sweetly at the two girls she could actually see at the moment, she asked, “Do you mind going back down to finish your supper? I’ll see what I can do with my daughter.”

Something about the sweet smile felt a little ominous to Weiss. Based on that, she caught Yang by the elbow and dragged her back downstairs.

“Sorry,” she sighed wearily. “I didn’t mean for her to figure it out. I just ran out of stuff to talk about, and she guessed. What was I supposed to say? I didn’t wanna lie, but then she got even madder when-”

“It’s okay,” Weiss headed her off, petting up and down her shoulders. “Really. Just… c’mere.” Leaning up, she kissed her cheek. “Thank you for trying. And I bet Blake will appreciate it later, when she’s feeling less…”

When Weiss never finished her thought, she glanced up toward the ceiling. “Less like a bitch?”

“Less betrayed. She probably feels like we had some big plan we discussed before we got here, and she was in the dark. Hard to blame her.” With a put-upon sigh, she turned back to the table. “Well, I guess we should eat, since it’s what Kali told us to do.”

“And you always do what you’re told, huh, good little girl?” But Yang sat down, anyway.

They barely had time to finish off their meal before a yelp came from the ceiling, followed by steps on their way down the stairs. Not long afterward, the Belladonnas returned, and one of them was being pulled along by the shell of her ear - and it definitely wasn’t the mother.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

“Apologise to your friends right now. For what you said, and for your behaviour.”

Though Blake looked quite sullen, she also looked so embarrassed that Weiss had a hard time watching her at all. “Alright! I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“For-” Annoyed beyond her limits, she pushed the hand off, and Kali took a step back so Blake could apologise on her own terms. Still looking at the floor, she went on, “For getting too upset about nothing. You were trying to be nice, and I lost my head.”

“You got jealous,” Kali corrected.

“Jealous?” When glancing between them yielded no answers, Yang asked, “Jealous of what, me? If you want Weiss that bad, you can have her.”

“HEY!” Weiss yelped immediately. “I’m not a bargaining chip!”

After a moment of tense silence, Yang trying to find a way to gracefully backpedal from a joke gone wrong, Blake sighed. “No, not that. It’s just… you spend so much time together now, and sometimes it feels like I never see you anymore. Stupid, I know. But I can’t help it.”

“That’s what Weiss told me. And I’m sorry,” she went on before Blake could snap something unkind at the princess. “It’s my fault, okay? My fault for… kind of ignoring you, even if it wasn’t on purpose. You know that, right? I’m just figuring out how me and Weiss fit together, that’s all. But you’re always gonna be my right-hand chick. You know that.”

“Really?” Blake whispered. “Even… when you two are married and living together?”

“Like we could do that,” Weiss scoffed. “Marriage is for straighties. But… yes, even when we’re old and gray, we’ll still be your friends. I hope, anyway.”

It only took her a minute or so to think through her feelings, sigh in defeat, and walk forward to give Yang a quick, “manly” hug that mostly consisted of a few quick pats on the back before they stepped away from each other again.

“Glad that’s settled,” Kali sighed. “Now, I need to borrow one of you again to frost this cake. Weiss, would you like to volunteer? Or would you, Blake?”

“No way,” she grunted, still rubbing her ear. “I don’t want to be within an arm’s length of you for the rest of the night.”

Laughing merrily again, she gestured for Weiss to join her. Once they were in the kitchen, she could hear the conversation start up again, but decided to get back to work on the cake before she caught any words. After all, as she was fast coming to understand, some things just weren’t her business.

#princess and the dragons #freezerburn fanfic #rwby fanfiction #1950s au #rwbyremnants

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tracle0 · 5 years ago

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22/11

I was tagged by @joyful-soul-collector (thank you this is possibly one of my favourite tag games) ... Okay also also before I could finish this up, @hyba also tagged me so uh it’s 22/11 instead, ty ty. You two might want to check the tag list cause uhhh you might be there who knows not me c:

The rules are: Answer the 11 (22 this time but hush) questions, make up your own 11 and then tag... I think it’s 11 people but I don’t know 11 people who I haven’t already tagged so...

I sort of started spamming pictures to answer a question so I’m gonna... put the pictures under the cut.

1. Have any of your OCs ever stolen something? What did they steal, and why? Oh yeah sure - the first one I can think of easily is Cain. He used to live on the streets so had to steal to survive. But he’d also work for money. He’s not heartless, just desperate.

Also now I’m thinking about it, Tag would definitely be the kind of guy to just... hey I know I’m meant to hand this gear in but... no-one will miss it so.... he steals to amuse himself with the gadgets he gets.

2. Did you ever have imaginary friends as a kid? What were they like? I copied my sister in having pretend animal friends, but not really. Who needs imaginary friends when you have real-life ones lol I was a lot more liked as a kid.

3. Do any of your OCs have a favorite article of clothing? Why is it their favorite?

Uhhhh

Um.

Yeah, you could say that.

Andy likes his hoodie because it’s a thing that is only his. He didn’t get it from Murdock, I honestly don’t know WHERE he got it from, but it’s his, and the fact he owns anything means a lot to him.

Cain likes his because it’s one of the few things left over from when he was younger and again, it’s his. He didn’t steal it. It belongs to Only Him. He feels comfortable in it.

4. What do you fist develop about a character when you make one up? Do you think of their appearance first? Their personality? Their backstory?

Honestly? It depends. Backstory always comes after, but personality and appearance often intersect. I know for WIP 3 I thought of personality and traits first, and for Collateral it was appearance first. I think for Sonder it was more.. their role in the story? ‘Oh hey this is the antagonist, this is the protagonist, this is the love interest wait I hate romance, okay, side kick’ etc

5. Fluff or Angst?

If it’s not romantic? Fluff. I made myself angsty enough when I was younger, I want more happiness in my life.

6. Remember the color of that dress that everyone was debating about however many years ago? The one that was blue and black, or white and gold? What colors did you see?

The correct colours.

7. Pick your bubbliest, happiest OC. Now tell me what will make them turn into your worst nightmare. I wanna see what makes them the angriest.

Oh boy, let’s see uhhh... Tag. Tag from WIP 3 who is undergoing the process of a name change.

Seeing someone he loves die would twist him. Being isolated would eventually break him. Being unable to do what he loves would definitely upset him also.

Also idk if you’ve heard about it but in his world, there’s a nifty ability called being a silvertongue and I know at least one silvertongue is not gonna exploit this but I also know of another who would even on this19-year-old kid so maybe it’s not by choice but that could make him a nightmare. Just sayin’

8. Now pick your angstiest, most emo OC. And tell me what would make them blush and giggle like an idiot. I wanna see what makes them the happiest.

Okay for this one it’s a tie I write a lot of angsty characters.

>Andy - seeing something just. Really funny. Oh did Sam just fall over in a ridiculous way? Fantastic. That’s actually how they first have a proper conversation. Sam falls over, he laughs, they talk.

>Cain - anything awesome that Duck does. Oh hey what’s up Goose oh you drew this radical picture? /tearing up/ it’s so great oh my gosh you’re so talented. That’s more being happy than giggling but can you see Cain giggling? No, me neither.

9. If you could have any mythical creature for a pet, what would it be?

Dragon, next question.

10. What’s your go-to thing for when you’re hungry but don’t have time/energy to cook something?

Fruit! It is! Very good! And tasty! Apples have a good cronch! Oranges are mmmm juicy. Banana? Yes nice thank you. Oh wow we have strawberries? What a sweet treat. Also healthy!

11. Do any of your OCs have scars? Would they be confident enough to show them in public (like at the beach)?

Oh yeah sure man. Andy’s got multiple from... ‘training’. He doesn't show them off. Cain, Duck and Theo have all been badly burnt on the arms, and Cain ‘’shows it off’’ just because it makes him uncomfortable to have his arms covered. And uh Raya probably has some sort of scar on her knees or elbow from rollerblading. Because you do fall over and it does scar.

And now for Hyba’s questions, lez go bois

1. What cultural value do you see in writing/reading/storytelling/etc.?

I think that without storytelling specifically, humans would be so... mundane? We’d be no different to any other animal on the planet. Creating anything, be that stories or art or literally anything is so... human. To take that away would be like taking away humanities soul. The cultural value isn’t really measurable - storytelling makes up the culture.

2. Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

Honestly, I have no idea. I try to entertain myself, and if other people like it too, then that’s neat. But because I’m writing for myself, I anticipate everything, so I don’t know if it’s original or not. I know it delivers what I want! But is that readers want? Who knows!

3. As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?

Crow. Not even as a writer, just... dude crows are so damn cool.

4. What do you think most characterizes your writing?

I’m not quite sure about the phrasing so uhhhh represents? Google is telling me ‘describes’.

In which case, a midnight fever jolting you out of bed, moments before you could fall asleep, and puppeting you to a writing surface so you can splurge ideas onto it sounds about right. 66% of my WIPs have elements in them that were based on dreams.

5. How do you select the names of your characters?

Mostly? Spite. ‘Oh Trade, you can’t have a bad guy named Andy, all Andy’s are good’ NOPE NOT ANYMORE SUCK IT. I also have a friend who is really good at coming up with names that fit the exact mood of the character so I go to her a lot. Sometimes they’re puns.

6. Choose one of your OCs (or more). How would they want to be seen by others?

Sam from Sonder wants to be seen as someone people can talk to, but also someone who pursues a science because yes sociology is a science to her, shut up, don’t talk to me if you’re going to mention the words ‘paradigm’ or ‘objective’ thank you.

7. How do you find or make time to write? Are you consistent or do you write whenever you get the chance?

Hahahahahhahha.

In the past few months, I’ve not been writing because I’ve had exams. Before that, I wrote at every chance I had - being a student, I had a fair bit of free time during the day, so I’d use that to write. But for a while, it was a nothing on the ‘what has Trade written recently’ chart.

Going up again boiiis

8. What does literary success look like to you? Is it important for you as a writer?

Literary success? That’s... a very interesting question. I think I’d be satisfied and feel successful if one person told me that my book helped them through something.

Jokes on me, I’ve already had that, my books helped me, I have already succeeded, see you losers in hell.

Also fanart but uh who needs fanart when you draw enough for five armies?

9. Are there any scenes that you’ve had to edit out of your WIPs? Can you tell us about them if they don’t spoil the book?

YES oh lord yes okay so in Sonder, chapter 15, I decided around draft 2 that I wanted a scene where Atlas got drunk. I made up reasons for it, asked lots of friends about what it was like to be drunk (as I personally have never been drunk), attended parties to get first-hand research and did so much preparation.

Wrote the scene, was pleased with it, left it to fester. Two years and two drafts later (now), I’ve come back and realised oh hey that scene is utterly useless and de-rails the plot. Time to remove it I guess.

I rationalise it as ‘well you wrote it and you had fun but it’s not needed, move on’ and that works well for me.

10. Would you feel comfortable publishing or sharing your writing using your real name, or would you prefer a pseudonym?

Pseudonym 100%. As cool as it would be to be able to go ‘hey I wrote this’ to people, the terrifying ordeal of being known is horrific, and people being able to track all my past activity from when I was literally seven is my worst nightmare. I wouldn’t even tell family or friends if I could get away with it.

‘Hey [real name], there’s a book at Waterstones called Sonder? With the exact same characters, plot and writing style as you have? But it’s under [pseudonym]?’ ‘oh hey, really that’s wild. Anyway,’

11. When writing, do you try more to be original or do you prefer to deliver to readers what they want? Do you think that a book can do both? Which is more important to you as a writer?

Oh hey, this is like question two but MORE. Standing by my previous answer, I think a book can do both - people want a happy ending, usually, but you can always be original in how you do that. No two stories can be told in exactly the same way. And hey - even if people do guess what’s coming up, that’s good.

As a writer? It’s most important to entertain. I don’t try and catch people out, I just deliver the story I have in my head and then edit it mercilessly until I’m pleased.

Questions!

1) Design a mask for an OC to wear. Would it cover their whole face? Is it a mascarade mask? Is it fancy or simple? Bonus cool kid points if you draw it.

2) Which OCs like spicy food?

3) Which OCs can take care of a plant - an orchid, to be exact?

4) Do you tell stories in any other medium beyond writing? eg: art or roleplay or...?

5) Do you have any irl items that you have because ‘oh dude this is something that’d totally be in my story’? Can I see them?

6) What’s the first book you remember buying?

7) Do you have any weird collections of things? As an example, I have a skull collection and a collection of... what’s best described as doll body parts. Anything just... weird that you have a lot of? Can I see it?

8) Which OC gets distracted by watching birds and which OC is like ‘dude stop watching the birds we’ve got STUFF TO DO’

9) Have you ever met a published author? Who?

10) Are you a person who likes tea or are you a person who prefers coffee? If the latter - dude c’mon tea is so much better smh

11) Have you backed up your files recently? Do it now. Please, for the love of god, back up your files.

Tagging!

@hyba @joyful-soul-collector (dunno if I’m allowed to tag the people who tagged me but fukkit here’s some more questions you eggs) @kaatiba @albatris @timetravelingpigeon @note-katha (hi we have barely interacted but nice new username) @nymph-of-diana (on your main if you want, idm c:) @writing-and-nutmeg @futurity-writing @osteoprecocious and @thatfizzyyyy

Honestly, the fact I made it to 11 is - wowza. Uhhh if you don’t want to then don’t, if you do want to then PLEASE do and then tag me so I can see your answers, I’m curious.

Ciao.

#writing #am writing #my writing #writerblr #writeblr #tagged in #Wow this went on #but seriously this is possibly my favourite tag game #coming up with questions is hard but #hey piece of advice #put stuff you love into the questions #I like masks for example #so #questions about masks lezgo

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 5 years ago

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Shield Hero 20

Motoyasu getting dragged by Filo was funny…not enough to get a proper laugh though. Just a smirk or two.

Stop narrating and just get on with it, Naofumi and friends…!

“I was saying we should fight together all along.” (from Itsuki) – Were you, now…? (skeptical)

Ass-pull! I call “ass-pull” at the power to swallow the phoenix flame! Seriously, when did the dragon get the opportunity to teach Naofumi how to do that???

How did Naofumi not die after losing so much blood…?

What does the Q even stand for in the queen’s name…?

Sarazanmai 7

The seagulls…so fluffy…

For some reason, I expect a fakeout, but then it never arrives…these boys are really connecting…

I found some kappa croquette thingy online, but it referred to a “Shiki City” which probably isn’t in Asakusa…

The shirt…Kazuki’s shirt says “frog” but I get the feeling it also means “return”.

Shirohasu water. It’s Irohasu in Japan.

Was the lyric to Kawausoiya (the otter song) “gonna take ‘em”…?

Nice ET reference, Sara.

Balls…not just sport entendre, but…y’know. The sort of humour I don’t like as much.

Ooh…Keppi is shaping up to be the bad guy. But what plans does he have? Am I speculating too much and is he being framed? Hard to know until next time…

BSD 32

When Kyouka is eating the sundae, she looks like the Tofu Kyouka from Mayoi…hmm.

Can I confess something? Before I saw the illustrations for s2, I thought Louisa’s hair was much darker than what it is in the anime…hmmm, indeed.

I don’t think we were ever told (in the manga or the anime) what Louisa’s wish was…

This bit with Fyodor…I don’t think it was in the manga.

Subarashi-sou is a pun on “it seems wonderful”. That wasn’t in the manga, but it’s a great pun (because it’s right up my alley).

Fitz laughing at the neighbour’s TV wasn’t in the manga either, but that’s just the anime director’s humour peeking through.

“Blalack Daniel’s”, LOL.

Ohh…a quick Google reveals TJ Eckleberg is from the Great Gatsby. In there, he’s an eye doctor, but here, he’s an engineer.

George B Wilson is also from the Great Gatsby…Here be spoilers, but…George dies in his original work too.

Manhasset is a place in New York…I assume it’s connected to the Great Gatsby as well…

Oh yeah! Random Poe moment. That’s in the manga, so Igarashi (or whoever’s responsible for the terrible humour) doesn’t have to fake that bit.

Cue “Objection!” by Fitz, lemme guess. Even if I know the outcome and how it was done, I’d like to have my memory refreshed (by stabbing in the dark…and making an Ace Attorney joke in the process).

I already know, without googling, that Tom Buchanan is part of Great Gatsby as well…

Bank of Amerigo…LOL.

Fruits Basket 8

“If you show up for the banquet now…”

“The banquet sounds just like the folk tale!” Honestly, subbers, proofread…

Haa-kun and Haa-san. No distinguishing between them (aside from honorifics), even though they’re two completely different people.

Hatori’s squinty face was…hilarious, to put it simply.

Oh…I forgot the dance seems to be something the animal of the year does. So if Yuki was 3 years ago, it makes sense Momiji is doing it this year.

Best seat in the house for a sunrise, huh?

Kimetsu no Yaiba 8

I’ve seen Muzan being described as “Demon Michael Jackson” and now I can’t get that out of my head when I see him…sorry.

Tsukihiko, huh? It translates to “moon’s radiance” or something like that. That name is appropriate for a bad guy, isn’t it?

This is the first time I’ve really listened to the OST (aside from the OP and ED), so it’s…really something.

Ooh, I didn’t realise until now, but Ufotable even imitated the paper Jump is printed on with the next-ep previews…

OPM 2 8 (OPM 20)

Er…I haven’t mentioned it for the past few episodes, but Suiryu is hotttttttt. (No? I said that? Okay, next step.) That’s basically the only reason why I’m watching anymore…I can’t seem to find anyone who thinks positively of this tournament arc enough to do reviews of it that I can read, which has made my own opinion of this beloved series go down the drain…Also, if you weren’t aware, my taste lies not in Suiryu’s huge bulk, but rather in the fact he’s got long hair.

Didn’t Suiryu get pierced in the abs??? Where’s the blood coming from his injuries??? Update: He does have injuries there, they’re just not bloody…that’s all.

The main criticism for OPM 2 is the fact that it keeps cutting between different events, so it’s hard to follow. Well, I’ve had worse (see Concrete Revolutio) so that’s why I’m still here.

People say that clothing changes you – say if you put on a new outfit, you feel like a new person. (Of course, that’s all glamorising and praising consumption, but that’s beside the point here.) I think that’s what’s up with Max and Snek.

Shield Hero 21

“…the Shield Hero is worshipped.”

Really? Boob jiggle, at a time like this??? (Context: Malty is getting th slave crest painted on her.)

Wait, was there ever a Shield Church???

Okay, that felt like a real seasonal ending. What the heck is going to happen in the last few episodes, I wonder…?

Sarazanmai 8

Chikai knows the real meaning of YOLO…heh. I’m only kidding…

To be honest, I think I like Toi best out of the main trio. I tend to like the boys in blue…and no, I don’t mean the otter police.

Kazuki’s service provider is “Kappa Phone”, LOL.

When Reo held up the gun, I was yelling, “Enta! Get it for him!” (i.e. take the bullet) I didn’t expect him to actually do it…

…and here I thought tragic yuri was common enough and we don’t have enough Tragic Yaoi Dudes…

Notably, Toi was registered on Enta’s phone as “Kuji”, while Kazuki is registered as “Kazuki” (katakana) on Toi’s.

Shots fired…!

Update: I didn’t notice this, but the evil dude with kamome written behind him (I think it’s in this episode, but it might have been in the last one instead) must be based on a seagull…because that’s what kamome means.

Bungou Stray Dogs 33 (BSD S3 Ep 8)

I think it was around here I stopped reading the scans, because the series was picked up legally anyway…but I can see the death flags for a certain Port Mafia man…one who stands at the top.

As expected…butt shot. Igarashi (or whoever’s responsible for that shot) likes butts, so between this and Sarazanmai…*imagines image of kappa!Kazuki holding a shirikodama* There’s absolutely no buts about it (LOL), there’s no shortage of butts this season.

“To think that the rabbit being hunted would show its face…” – I think it’s hard for you to say that, Akutagawa, when you yourself have no face in that frame…

Why are both Akutagawa and Fyodor Naruto running today???

“So you’re doing this for that woman.”

What is “Mukurotoride”? I don’t seem to remember…maybe I never learnt what it was. Update: Apparently a tower in Dead Apple is called Mukurotoride.

Conspiracy time! This book sounds like Kunikida’s Ability…so imagine if it were under Dazai’s nose the entire time…

Fruits Basket 9

I love how the synopsis for this episode goes, “Kyo fights Yuki, Yuki fights a cold…”

Hatsuharu’s wearing such an ostentatious fluffy jacket…LOL, I love it.

Holy cow (LOL), I forgot how old Hatsuharu is…so that means he’s 15-ish, right?

Come to think of it…I see Fruits Basket characters in Ro Te O, which I started writing at about this time in 2013. The Azrael of that time was a hybrid of Hatsuharu, Ritsu and Ayame, Tetsuya is basically Yuki and Ryou is Kyou…hmm.

Apparently, Shigure had in the 2001 anime a song that went like, “High school girls, high school girls, cute high school girls for me.” So that’s where it was??? (Context: I haven’t seen Fruits Basket 2001, but read the entire manga.)

Kimetsu no Yaiba 9

Recap time, recap time…so the lady’s in the back room and Tanjiro conveniently forgets the man is in the basement…? Wuh?

Moya was complaining about how repetitive this show can get when it comes to the script (i.e. it repeats itself because it doesn’t trust its audience, but I think that’s because this is originally serialised on TV week by week that people may forget if they’re not bingeing, taking notes or following the manga). I’ll talk more about that in my KnY collab post, I guess…

When Yushiro said “watch your back”…he really meant it, huh?

Temari are the balls, but kemari is when you kick the balls.

“…the eyeballs on his hands are creepy.” – LOL.

Shield Hero 22

The ep title just says “Hero Council”…not specifically that there are 4 of them.

My stream’s been buffering more than usual, so I went “like mother, like daughter” before Naofumi did…

It would’ve ben massively funny to hear Melty call Malty either “Trash” or “B****”…especially the last one, because that’s always a fun way to end a sentence (especially for a girl as young as her). Update: She does, but the way she does it isn’t as funny as I thought it would be (and she doesn’t end her sentence with her sister’s new name).

Wait, I thought they got rid of her slave pact??? I thought it was only for the duration of her trial that she needed it for.

L’Arc and that lady seem like they’re foreshadowing for later…hmm. Update: The next-episode synopsis says “yes”. So does that new visual.

Sarazanmai 9

I can’t believe this show’s almost over…That means I gotta get a move on with RobiHachi, but to be honest? Non-anime things are probably going to kep me busy until…a few days from now. So I’ll get RobiHachi watched then.

Characetrs are dying en masse in this episode, aren’t they??? I saw a spoiler that (well, SPOILER) Chikai’s gonna die, but I don’t know about Enta or Keppi…Update: To be honest, I thought Chikai was going to become the next monster – a gun monster, perhaps. Maybe now that I’ve finished the episode, he’ll become a real zombie. (Hey, see what I did there with the bolding…? How’s that for hiding spoilers, eh???)

Oh yeah…I forgot Enta’s sister was Kazuki’s teacher…

There was a sign behind Masa that said”Hinode Asakusa” – “hi no de” meaning roughly “under the sun” or “leaving the sun”.

Tokarev…? The gun? Gun monster, maybe? Is this a critique of the American gun…(exaggerated voice) Nah, can’t be…this is Japanese.

Lionel…Lionel…for some reason, that name in relation to soccer seems familiar...I just can’t put my finger on who it reminds me of, though. Update: Is it, perhaps, Messi…? Yes, I think that’s the guy I was thinking of…!

Aw…I’m not crying, you are…But these words were running through my head before Toi chucked the bag of money away and yelled, “F***!”: “Everything I do, I do it for you.” Isn’t that cute…?

Bungou Stray Dogs 34

“…one by one?” Junban means “sequentially”, so I don’t see why you have to use the phrase “one by one”. Or “one at a time” would also work.

Hardbank…to contrast Softbank (a phone company in Japan).

Face-stealing aliens strike again…(re: Atsushi)

Oh flip. This reminds me of my Kunikida fic…yeah, I bet you don’t remember it.

Hey, this dude! Apparently he’s from one of Kunikida’s stories. I really am approaching the end of what I know of canon…*gulp* Update: Oops, we already passed that part…

I wonder if the real Fyodor could play cello…? Or is this just a thing to make him ominous and villanous…?

The cross on the wall behind Kunikida…makes this show more like Eva than Kekkai Sensen…exquisite. Absolutely exquisite, isn’t it?

Another cool cross, behind Tanizaki!

What’s a tatamigatana? Also, I didn’t know other people could be synchronised using Doppo Poet and Ranpo’s deduction…

Does Kouyou mean (by “the one I most despise”)…Chuuya? Or herself? It’s definitely not Ace.

Kimetsu no Yaiba 10

Headpats for Yushiro as well! Headpats for everyone!

There’s a lot of Tanjiro being terrified in this episode…

Wait…Kizuki? I thought they were the 12 Moons? (Well, “tsuki” means “moon”, but then what’s the “ki”?) Update: The “ki” means “demon”, so the Kizuki are the 12 Demon Moons.

Being alone with the body…that’s always a scary thought in murder mysteries…for the people who dissect them to determine the cause of death, that is.

Considering the name of the episode is “Together Forever”…nup, I don’t see Nezuko and Tanjiro separating anytime soon…

The Kasugai crow is what happens when you can’t turn off your Google Assistant…or GPS…or Siri.

If Tanjiro knows the name of his crow, how do the crows get their names? Do their trainers (is that the right term for a crow breeder in this case…?) give them names?

OPM S2 Ep 9 (Ep 21)

LOL, that one shot of the ants…JC Staff really don’t care about this series, do they…?

I kinda forgot about Genos after a bit more than a week…sorry, I was watching other anime in between. (More than usual, at least. I started playing Chibi Tamago – a forum game for AniList where you collect badges for watching anime - that’s why.)

Did he (Pri-Pri Prisoner)…store his phone in his butt…?

#simulcast commentary #Bungou Stray Dogs #one punch man #Sarazanmai #Fruits Basket #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #the rising of the shield hero #Chesarka watches Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari #Chesarka watches BSD #Chesarka watches OPM #Chesarka watches Sarazanmai #Chesarka watches KnY #Chesarka watches Furuba #Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari

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lifeinfleeting · 6 years ago

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Good Guy

Its 3 am, you were bleeding, wide awake from a throbbing pain on your hips. Painkillers. You realise you fall to easily. You can't stop thinking about that man you met in Vietnam over a weekend. You decided to write about it. You dont want to forget it. You remember every moment from that weekend. The minute you saw him fixing his hair under the 4 pm sun and the way he was observing you, unsettling you just a little bit. You start to ask yourself 'Do angels sweat?' He came to you, you both said hi and he said his name, you said your name. You were both sweating. Angels do sweat. You were anxious thinking he will make an excuse, bid you goodbye and leave you alone in the Wharf but he suggested you go to a cafe to have coffee, you ended up getting fruit juices instead. He said ' you looked shorter than I expected' and you thought 'great he speaks his mind' . You could tell he was intelligent while you both agree how unpaid internships are basically slavery. He seems to uderstand somehow the way things are where you are living, he knows more about your region in the world more than all the boys you dated could ever " I have a big map of Southeast Asia in my Room' he studied Political Science and had a masters in International Relations and you started thinking about how you want him to know you like a part of that world and be a part of his world. But you tell yourself to stop and you laughed at how silly your thought processes go. But you started wondering how does he really feel with you eating your words beside him. You finished your juice and you both laughed at his never ending drink and you said to yourself 'fuck you dont think too much' . You started to let go of your inhibitions.

You both decided to go for a walk and joked at how silly it is for people to spend so much on something just to get a taste of that something even if it costs them everything. But you realise you are part of the joke knowing at that moment you would be willing to do the same. You looked at floating dragons and he talked about pride and you start hoping he keeps that keychain you bought together to remember. And as you go along, you start to offer to take pictures of him and he started to ask you why you dont want your picture taken. You failed to tell just how embarrased you are at your own insecurities. But you remember his words 'just be yourself' , cliche but you believed him and you wanted to be asked again. But it's too late, it was too late to get that picture with him.

Its 3:30 now and you remember how you both hurried to be sheltered after a downpour. You were both wet and he asked you how your hair could be that wet, but all you could think about was you were both wet. And you stopped that thought process because it was crazy so you both ordered beer to cool down and complained about how expensive it was. He always complained but you loved how reasonable and how well supported they were. He starts to ask you what you want to do after but your mind could only think about the now with him drenched in rain - sitting next to you on a table. You both agreed to have dinner and shared an umbrella while you both waited for taxi. After two failed attempts at a taxi you decided to eat close by. You couldn't think straight thinking how you dont want the night to end so you ordered the same dish he did. He didnt eat his peppers but you did wanting the night to last as it can. But the night ended and you both bid farewell. You went home on taxi not knowing the strange feeling you were feeling. You sent him the pictures you have taken as an excuse of asking if he safely arrived in his hostel he said he did and you said good night.

The next morning he texted you good morning and asked what time you should meet. You thought it was some dream but you have agreed to go together to take the bus to Ho Chi Minh. You feel excited and sad because it meant you have to say goodbye so you thought about going with him to Cambodia and Laos. But you have to do things back home so

then you're mind was in chaos. He was there waiting at the bus station and you saw him but you didnt know how to greet him so you put a smile and said did you already book your ticket. He said no and you both took the bus at 13. It was a disaster after but it ended up with you on top of his bunk bed. You could tell he was squeezed from the size of the bed but you ask anyway 'are you fine' and he said he was squeezed. And you wanted to make him more comfortable but you were afraid of sounding annoying, so you just stared at the bus ceiling wondering what he was doing. Then he started talking to you and you both joked about being on top and bottom. Fast forward you arrived in Saigon, knowing hours from now he'll be gone. But you went with him to his hotel and you dropped your things there. You went to his room to help him with his things and then all you could think about was 'can we kiss'. He went to the toilet after you and he was looking for something and you hope it was a kiss but all you could say was 'should we go' and he answered yes. He did what he promised and toured you around Saigon. You loved it. Jaywalking, running scared on pedestrian lanes, dinner together, you didnt want it to end. And you loved how he tries to look at you everytime he says something. And you start hoping this could be something. But you stopped yourself knowing then not everything has to become something. It's important to fall for people and falling over to people can be this easy, you reason to yourself under the assumption of normality. You went back to his hotel for your things and you shared a hug while your taxi waited. You bid your goodbyes and you wanted to believe Green saying 'No one ever says goodbye unless they want to see you again' .

#goodguy #grindr #gay #lovestory #stories #goodbye

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sniffle-elf · 7 years ago

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Maybe I Should Have Stayed Home

Okay! Here is a thing I’ve been working on for far too long. Hectic rl stuff combined with ADHD means writing more than a sentance a day didn’t... happen lmao. But I managed to focus my brain tonight and finished it.

So here’s a new OC. His name is Liam, he’s a musician and a geek, and his husband is Big and Fussy. Liam often works when he shouldn’t, making Evan chase his scrawny ass down. This is almost 3.5K of stupid. So enjoy that! Also this is totally dedicated to @kotyonoksnz because she was so patient with me. ;;

There were a lot of adjectives that could describe Liam Cooper. Most of them were some extension of his seemingly perpetual good mood. Sunny, warm, loving, enthusiastic. But there were also the ones that were murmured in fond exasperation by his husband, when Liam would come to him in the middle of the night, waking him and asking him sheepishly where the burn cream was. Klutzy, disastrous, a tragedy sometimes. He was the type to eat half of a meal before realising something tasted off about it, and opt to finish it before going to fish the packaging out of the garbage only to discover that it had gone off two weeks ago. Evan had screamed at him over texts more than once to throw stuff in the trash. The infamous 'Can fruit be like... carbonated? This pineapple tastes fizzy!' conversation was brought up in wedding toasts. It had gotten to the point where he had told Liam that he was banned from the kitchen if there was any cooking involved unless he had supervision. And while it had been a funny joke that had made their friends laugh, there was an air of seriousness to it. More often than not, if Liam cut himself, or burned himself, or burned something else, his admission at such was answered with a, "What were you doing in the kitchen?" And while there was always a subtle cringe at being treated more or less like a child who was too young and stupid to handle something like grilling a chicken breast, he knew that the reason that Evan gave him those huffy little sighs was that he loved him. And how could you be mad at something like that?

And just like there were countless adjectives to describe Liam, there were innumerable things about him that just would never change. He would always opt for the left side of the bed because when he was a little boy, the right side of his bed had faced the closet that he was convinced housed an entire militia of soul-sucking monster creatures. So the left side was safer, always. Even at thirty-five, when he was pretty convinced that soul-sucking monster creatures didn't exist. So even now, when he was married and wise to the ways of the world, if he and Evan went somewhere and slept in a guest room or a hotel, he would make a beeline for the left side of the bed. And the best part of it all was the smug little face he'd give Evan as he stretched his long body out on the mattress. The look that said 'I won, I got the good side, so suck it husbando.'

He was always hungry, and if he didn't want to eat that was a sure sign that there was Something Wrong. The last time Liam had refused to eat, Evan had found him an hour later, sitting in the bathtub and hyperventilating through an anxiety attack that had been building up all day. And that was another thing; Liam had anxiety attacks, and that was something else that would never change. They ranged from minor episodes where his breath came in funny little gasps, and his chest got tight, to full-blown attacks that curled him into a ball and stole his breath entirely, breaking his speech into stuttered syllables and welts that came when he raked his nails over the bare skin of his arms. He didn't know when the anxiety had started, or if it had just always been a part of him, but it was there. Lingering under the surface of him, behind the sunny smiles and bubbles of laughter and genuine happiness. Just one of his little, hidden corners, he liked to say.

Another thing about Liam that would never, ever change was the fact that he was stubborn as hell when it came to his health. Always the kid who begged for a day off of school if he sniffled three times in a row, it had all changed one day in his twenties. He went from looking for any excuse to stay home and play video games to going to work with a fever of almost a hundred and three. He didn't get very far into his day before passing out behind the snack counter at the skating rink, but he still went. And after that, it just became kind of a thing. Because after he'd spread his baby bird wings and moved away from home, he realised that if he didn't go to work, he didn't get paid. And not being paid meant staying in the shithole apartment that he could barely afford anyway, living with leaks around the windows that let in cascades of water during the rainy season - pretty much the entire year in Seattle - and frigid winds, and had spots of black mould on the sills. And this was maybe why he was sick all the time in the first place. He tended to hold onto colds for an alarming amount of time, sniffling stuffily and coughing into the sleeves of oversize hoodies for a month after the symptoms had first started.

And then he'd met Evan, who was a beautiful mountain of a former linebacker who now owned a game store. And they'd dated only a few months before Liam moved out of the Hellmouth apartment and into his place. And it was a place that was always warm and homey, and not full of black mould. And even though he could suddenly afford to take a day off if he caught a stubborn cold, he still refused to stay home from work unless it was vital. He didn't work at the snack counter at the skating rink anymore, as much as his addiction to soft pretzels suffered. Instead, he had started working at Evan's store. Drexoll was a relaxed place, the sort of shop that held weekly game nights. Game nights that had zero structure, and boiled down to 'come and play games, we don't care what games, order pizza to the store if you want, no you don't have to buy anything, just come hang out'. Because of this chill atmosphere, the shop was never empty, even on a Tuesday afternoon in February when the snow was coming down so thickly it was hard to see more than five feet ahead of you.

He knew that he didn't have a cold because of the weather. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that the cosy old proverb of being out in the rain or the snow wasn't going to get you sick. But it was just so easy to blame his runny nose on that particular Tuesday on the chilly weather. It was easy to wave off Charlie, the girl who sometimes bordered on being Regina George levels of mean, when she told him that he looked like a walking garbage fire. "Just the cold weather," he said with almost too much cheer in his voice. And since he'd just started his shift at the store, he could play off the flush that had climbed his cheeks and the way he had already blown his nose about fourteen times in the half hour he'd been there. She'd lifted a pierced eyebrow, muttered something about not sniffling around the customers - as if they would decide never to shop at Drexoll again because one of the register biscuits had a runny nose - and gone back to unpacking a case of Magic The Gathering cards. Liam rolled his eyes behind his glasses (which he was wearing because he was lazy and not because he'd felt too crummy that morning to put his contacts in, thank you very much) and leaned his hip against the counter, thumbing through social media on his phone.

Meme. Meme. Update about the snow. Meme. Ooh, Emily and Harper were at Voodoo Doughnuts! Mem--

"Hih-KTSShhh'ue!"

The sneeze was sudden, and Liam barely had time to turn his head away to avoid misting the screen of his phone. His nostrils twitched with need, the second of his usual pair hovering just at the edge of his nose. He had time to react to the second, though, a few hitchy seconds where he could fit a loosely curled fist beneath his nose. "Hih-hh--! Hh-KTchhh!" It was clumsily stifled, barely suppressed, and it made his head swim for a minute. The sniffles that resulted from the sneezes were damp and frequent, and he huffed a curl that escaped the knot he'd twisted his hair into from his eyes with a long, slow breath upward.

"Just the snow, huh?" Charlie spoke up from somewhere behind Liam's left shoulder, and he rolled his eyes again, digging a tissue out of the pocket of his jeans to dab it beneath his nose. And really, that should say more than the sneezes themselves said, because Liam was not the type to carry tissues around. He was the type to sniffle against the cuff of his sleeve instead, or just sniffle, over and over again until he could find a Kleenex, or a sheet of paper towel, or whatever was at hand to deal with it. Having a pocket full of tissues meant you needed a pocket full of tissues, and that meant you were sick. And while Liam wouldn't go so far as to deny to himself that he had a cold, he would absolutely deny it to the rest of the world. And of course, Charlie noticed the tissue thing too, and knew him well enough to know it was a sign, and she had to hum an irritating "Mmhmm!" in a tone that made him huff between quiet sniffles against the tissue.

"Do me a favour Charlie, whenever you get a chance? Feast upon an entire cornucopia of dicks." He nudged his glasses up his nose, grinning at the appreciative giggle that came from the girl with bright blue hair that was hovering near the counter, clutching a stack of tabletop campaign books to her chest. Ignoring Charlie, and the middle finger she presented to him, Liam turned his attention to the customer, folding his arms and leaning against the counter so he could see her selections. They spent half an hour discussing the pros and cons of a classic Dungeons and Dragons session over something newer, like Tales From The Loop, or something fandom based. He laughed when he recounted the night he and a few friends spent hours creating characters for a Buffy game, only to have it fall through.

"I still have my character sheet for my W-Watcher..." Liam was sniffling again, with such an increasing frequency that even Blue seemed to notice. She glanced sideways at Charlie, who was still unpacking cards at a pace so leisurely it had to be on purpose. Liam ignored them both, focusing on quelling the infuriating tickle that was lingering in his sinuses like a friend prone to doorknob goodbyes. The type of person that stood at the front door, one hand on the knob, for an hour. The one who kept saying 'I should be going' and then launching into a new branch of conversation. The one that just won't go away. He rubbed the slope of his nose, just beneath the bridge of his glasses, and sniffled again against a bent knuckle. "She was totally a Mary-Sue. I think snff I wrote in that she was going to snff! sleep with Giles, or had slept with G-Giles or... shit. J-just a--hh-!" The Doorknob Goodbye tickle had decided not only to not go away, but to flare up with such sudden intensity that Liam didn't have time to do anything more than lean his hand against the counter to keep his entire lanky body from falling forward, hold up a finger to Blue, and whip his head to the side with a vicious, "hh'Ahtsch'ue!!"

"Bless y--"

"Don't bother; he's not done yet." Charlie sounded vaguely amused, standing on her stepladder to reach the top shelf behind the counter. Liam couldn't even fix her with the glare that he wanted to, since she was right. He wasn't done. He struggled to get a hand into the pocket of his torn jeans, all while his breath hitched softly as he fought to keep the sneeze at bay for one more second. Just one. more. second!

Nope.

"h'ihhTSshhhh'ue! Hh-Hk!'TSChhh!" Shit. Three. That almost never happened, he almost always sneezed in even numbers. Fits of six or eight during allergy season instead of his typical 'just because' double, but it was always even numbers. So that was weird. But at least his cold seemed satisfied with the weirdness of three, and the tickle faded back to the dull hum in the back of his sinuses that he knew would be a constant for the next week or so.

"Did you just sneeze all over my clean counter?" The deep voice was warmly amused, fond, and had no trace of the admonishment that it might have had the speaker not seen Liam sneeze all over everything when the trees started blooming. Not to mention he had married him last October. Liam had been so distracted by his own nasal prowess that he hadn't heard the doorbell chime that indicated someone new had entered the store. Evan, who was supposed to stay home that day because he had just worked nine days in a row, stood at the corner of the counter with his arms folded and that look of eye-rolling affection that Liam usually caused to creep across his face. "You messy bitch. What are you doing?"

And of course, just when Liam was about to answer his husband (and boss), Charlie had to hop down from her stool and open her own mouth, ambling over with the grace of the rodeo girl she had once been when her family had lived down South. "He's sick, and you should take him home. You should take him home because we don't need him here, getting his snotty face all over everything and sneezing in the fridge."

That blunt statement managed to startle a stuffy laugh out of Liam, and he pulled a tissue - his last tissue - from his pocket and dabbed it beneath his nose which was, admittedly, running like a cheap faucet. "Charlie. An entire cornucopia of dicks. And I'm not sick," he added, turning to look at Evan again, who had that expression of exasperation on his face again. "I'm not! It's just... it's the weather or something. Fucking me up. S'cuse me," he had to turn away, to face the wall like a punished child so he could blow softly into his crumpled tissue. It did nothing to erase the beginning of congestion that softened his words, making everything sound like it was wrapped in bubble paper. What it did do was trigger that last sneeze, the one that had confused him when he'd stopped at three. Hunching thin shoulders, he folded the tissue over his nose to catch it. "Hh'kTSchhh! Oh god, that's so much better. I felt incomplete for a minute there. What??" Upon turning around again, tissue still held in place as he tended to his forever runny nose, he found three pairs of eyes staring at him. One confused and a little concerned (Blue), one smug (Charlie), and one soft with worry. Evan reached across the counter, and Liam found himself leaning toward his touch automatically, heaving a defeated sigh when a brown wrist came into contact with his forehead. "I have a gig tonight..."

Evan sighed a perfect echo of Liam's huff, and brushed errant strands of hair from his forehead with an expert touch. "Li, you won't be able to sing if you can't breathe. And you've got a fever. The last time I let you go on stage when you were running a fever, you passed out and fell off the stage. And then we got to take a fun trip to the emergency room and spend our vacation fund on hospital bills because you busted your face open and needed stitches and a CT scan because they were afraid you'd scrambled your brains. Didn't help that you kept saying you smelled french fries..." He added, flicking the bald spot that split Liam's eyebrow, the spot that had caught the edge of the stage when he'd fallen and had split wide open. Liam flinched back and pouted, rubbing his brow with one hand.

"I did smell french fries, you dickburger. One of the nurses was eating at that big round... nurse island thing. In the middle of the ER. Whatever, the point is... ugh." He dropped his hand and slumped a little, defeat he wasn't willing to admit out loud yet making him sag like a potato sack that had lost all of its potatoes. "My friend here..." He gestured with a limp hand toward Blue, who was still standing there and jumped a little when a hand was flapped at her, "Was asking me questions about tabletop games, and I am being a good little employee and helping her out. So you can just... go away. Go be big and handsome and annoying somewhere else. I'm working." He turned back to the poor child who had been sucked right into the middle of something that she certainly hadn't anticipated when she'd approached the tired looking dude wearing the t-shirt with the dice printed on the front. And he was just about to launch back into their conversation about classic-versus-new games when dizziness filled his head, and he was forced to lean on the counter again. When Evan came around a little too quickly, and spoke his name in that worried tone that squeezed Liam's heart like a fist, he smiled weakly and held a hand up to him. "I'm fine, I'm alright. I just didn't eat breakfast this morning. I wasn't hung..ry..." Oops. That was as much an admission of his state of poor health as holding up a giant neon sign that proclaimed I'm sick and should be at home and in bed! would be.

He didn't have to see the look in Evan's coal-dark eyes, or the tightness at the corners of his mouth to know that he was displeased. The gentle hand on his back, and the murmur of, "Babe..." said more than words would. He leaned against the broad chest that made him feel small and safe, his head dipping down to drop onto Evan's shoulder.

"Alright. Okay. You win. Take me home. I'll call Roger, see if someone else can't take my slots tonight. Hey kid, Charlie here is gonna help you. She may be a total assbutt, but she knows her shit. Next time I see you in here, tell me how your campaign went. Full, gory details on how you GMed everyone into tears." He grinned, a little less sunshiney than it normally was, and looped an arm around Evan's waist with another soft sniffle. "I'm gonna let the boss bully me outta here. Lemme get my jacket, Ev? I'll meet you outsihh..." A sniffle, a rub of his nose, and he managed to stumble through what he was trying to say before ducking against Evan's shoulder like it was the thing to do. "Meetyououtside hHH!'KSCChhuh!-h'EhSCHhuh!" The sneezes were muffled against the thick knit of Evan's sweater, which made Charlie squeak in disgust and Evan to sigh softly.

"Bless you. How about I come with you to get your jacket, and also get you some more Kleenex for the ride home? Hm?" He leaned down to nuzzle Liam's temple a little and brush his lips against the warm skin there, tightening his arm around his shoulders. And Liam, who was sniffling against his wrist now, allowed himself to slump against his husband, taking the affection he was offering.

"Yeah, okay. I guess... maybe I shouldn't have come in today."

#elfy ocs #elf fic #snezfic #liam cooper #evan kaslow #charlie (kind of?)#just a whole world of characters that probably mean nothing to you #but have full backstories in my brain #i've created a monster #it's a whole universe #anyway #here's this thing #bye #OH ALSO I TOOK OUT THE HTML TAGS #i'm awesome at things

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prplzorua · 8 years ago

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Quiet

Morality was the father. The Dad, the Dad guy. That was him, he was the eldest Persona, so it would make sense that he would be protective over the others. He tried his best to keep them all happy, especially his host. He cared for Thomas' wellbeing greatly, his and everyone's lives kinda depended on it. With him being the happy-go-lucky persona, everybody assumed that was always how he was. They forgot. They forgot that he's the Deep emotion, the heart, feelings, there's not only happy and sad, there's the mixes, the inbetweens' and far outs. He is an embodiment of the most basic emotions, on the outside, he feels everything, sadness, fear, everything. He tries not to let the negative consume him, it would only hurt Thomas if he did. He tries not to be too anxious, Anxiety would feel and suffer the backlash, he tries not to be too passionate about things, Logic would be blanked out and Prince would be stuck in day-dream mode. He tried so hard for the benefit of the other's, never for himself. He's done it so much that he forgot. He forgot the truth. He lived behind lies, he lived behind the others, helping as best, guiding like he always-always did. He was the deep emotion, he felt everything and nothing at all. He built a damn, it held everything back, and one day.... I T B R O K E ------ It was late evening and they were sitting in the commons, all of them having come from helping Thomas with a video, simply sat back and relaxed on the couch. Anxiety was on tumblr, Logic was reading, Prince was playing fruit Ninja and Morality was just sitting on the couch, content with watching the others. Smiling, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, making and helping Thomas with videos was always tiring. The Parent wasn't asleep, just resting his eyes, simply relaxing in the relative quiet. Every now and then a page would turn, fingers would tap against a phone screen and an occasional muttering of success would be heard. Morality embraced the sound of it all, simply because it didn't happen often. Of course, that Peace didn't last long. ---- "Hey Morality, what's for Dinner?" Called Prince, he didn't look up from his phone. "Really?" Hissed out his opposite. The royal turned to Anxiety, who just narrowed his eyes and gestured to Morality by tilting his head. Following the gesture, Prince instantly became sheepish, having not realised the Father was asleep. "Oops" Anxiety rolled his eyes. Logic huffed and continued reading. Princey didn't exactly like that. "Geez, I didn't know, no need to get all huffy" "Well if you payed more attention to your surroundings, then maybe-" "Oh that's rich, pay attention to my surroundings? Says the emo who walks into walls on a daily basis" "Hey, you pushed me! And that happened one time, not on a daily basis, what, you can't see or count? Geez Princey, you got it rough" "Oh you want to see rough?" "Bring it your highness" Prince stood up, so did Anxiety, but before they could do anything Logic cut in. "Boys would you mind taking your flirting elsewhere? I'm trying to read and Morality is taking a nap-" "Where not flirting!" Shouted the two red faced personas. Both of them sat down and huffed, turning away from each other. Fight calmed instantly. Logic smirked and flipped to a new page. "Hmph, stupid Anxiety, I was just stating facts", muttered the fanciful persona none too quietly. "Oh, and what would that be Princey?" Sneered the youngest. "He's good at cooking, but that's about it, he doesn't do much in videos", Prince paused facing the other two. They were looking at him oddly, he smirked. "I'm kidding, he's good keeping everyone happy, so he's there for MORAL support", the Royal wiggled his eyebrows then laughed as Logic groaned and Anxiety shot him with one of the couch cushions. "Ugh, you're worse than he is with the Dad jokes", The Teacher rolled his eyes and stood up, "I'm going to read in my room away from all your tomfoolery. Anxiety then stood up. "That's fair teach, I'mma go take a nap" "But it's almost dinner-", started the Royal.

"Best time to nap", smirked Anxiety as he clicked his tongue and gestured with finger guns. Prince rolled his eyes and threw his arms up, as if to ask the heavens to give him patience. The emo nightmare laughed and headed to his room, the royal have nothing else to do headed up to his room as well, Logic was long gone. With no one else in the room, no one saw the tears that trailed down Morality's face. He wasn't asleep. "he doesn't do much in videos" "he's there for MORAL support" "Ugh, you're worse than he is with the Dad jokes" "all your tomfoolery" Sure he knew it was meant to be a joke, but it hurt none the less. The father stood up quietly, wiping away the tears and began to prepare dinner. ----- He said nothing during dinner.

No one really noticed, after all there were nine of them at the table. The four main personas, the vine kids, Pranks, Misleading Compliment and Thomas’ inner child, they were all idly chatting amongst themselves while eating.

"Thank you for the wonderful meal Morality" He nodded at the royal. Prince frowned, confused. "Are you alright? " "I'm fine, just tired" Anxiety agreed with the Father. "Yeah, I get that", the younger stretched, hands behind his back and then above his head, joints and muscles popping in relief. With a yawn, the dark persona stood up, and carried his plate to the sink, "thanks for the food, g'night" "Didn't you take a nap before dinner?" Asked the royal inquisitively. "Yeah and your point is?" Prince rolled his eyes but left to his castle, Anxiety went back to his room, Logic excused himself from the table, bidding his thanks, leaving on the note that he'd be working on a plan for the next video. The rest of Dinner was quiet. The kids ate in silence. It wasn't long until they finished their meals too. Morality's children ran up to him, gave him a hug, put their dishes in the sink and headed off to bed. Pranks and Misleading Compliment did the same. The last child, the embodiment of imagination, stared at the father for a moment. "Are you sure you're ok?”

“I’m fine kiddo”

The boy narrowed his eyes.

“I'm imagination, I know how to play pretend" Morality just smiled at the boy, before turning and heading to his room. ----- The next morning was quiet. Well, Morality was quiet. The kids ran off, they had school to go to, they went to the very school that Logic taught at, just a lower level obviously. The Teacher went right behind them. Prince headed off to his castle, apparently there was a report of a dragon witch attack one of the nearby towns. That left Anxiety and Morality. With no one else to drown him out with noise the younger realized that the Parental hadn't said a word all breakfast. "Are you o-?" Morality left the table before he could finish his sentence. ----- The rest of the week was...odd. During videos Dad didn't say much, he still smiled and made his jokes, but they didn't have the same feeling. Breakfasts, Lunches and Dinners were also quiet. It put a damper on everyone's mood. ----- It was late in the evening, and the three personas were in the commons, Logic was reading a book, Anxeity was on tumblr and Prince was playing Fruit Ninja. They were all quiet, save for the sound of a flipped page, the tapping of the phone screen and the occasional mutterings of success. The air felt stifling and the youngest persona found it hard to breathe. Mobile had froze, again, so pictures on his dash weren't loading. Groaning internally, Anxiety looked up from his phone, just in time to see a dejected pair of children, silently walk by. Moving quickly and quietly Anxiety caught up with Morality's children. "Hey, are you guys alri-?", he didn't need to finish his sentence, the pair turned to him with tears in their eyes. Anxiety's demeanor instantly changed, this was what Pranks oh so jokingly called "Big brother mode" "What happened?" "Nothing", the girl spoke, her voice quivering, "he just smiled and said something about left overs, and he always says he's fine, but he's not and-", her brother cut her off. "He won't tell us anything!" The dark trait sighed, placing a hand on their shoulders. "I'll go talk to him, I'll try to bring Dad back, ok?", they nodded, "good, now go heat up some dinner then go to bed alright?" The vine siblings left, hugging Anxiety before moving and doing what they were told. Anxiety straightened his hoodie and exhaled, he had a Morality to talk to. ----- He knocked three times. "Come in" The younger trait entered the eldest's room. "Hey Kiddo, what can I do for ya?" Anxiety moved to sit on the bed. "What you can do, is tell me what's going on with you" "What do you mean? I'm fi-" "Dad I've used that lie so many times, I know when someone else is using it too, don't bother trying, you're not fine-" "I-" "You're scaring the kids" "Wha-?" "They're not stupid, they know something's wrong, they can feel it and they don't like it, what's worse is that you won't even tell them, you won't even tell me" "I-" "You're what? I swear Dad, if you say 'fine'-" "I'm sorry" Morality's head was down, hair covering his eyes, his voice small and his fists clenched and shook. And suddenly Anxiety understood. He didn't know, but he felt, he was well accustomed to the feeling of self-doubt, self-hate and any other self-depreciating word he could think of. The younger swallowed thickly, he knew exactly what to do, he didn't like that he did though, the tables turned, now he was the one offering comfort, irony just loves to laugh doesn't it? Anxiety pulled Morality into a hug, the action surprised the father greatly, after all the darker trait wasn't known to initiate contact. "I'm sorry" Morality was even more surprised. "Why? You did nothing-" "That's why, I did nothing, I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner, I knew something was wrong, but I thought you just needed space, I should have known-" "Anx- you couldn't have possibly, known-" "But I should have! You're our strength, our support, but who supports you?" The Parent, stiffened. "I-" Anxiety hugged him tighter. Morality swallowed thickly, his throat burned and his eyes stung.

“You’re always here for us, the least we can do is be there for you”

Dad held him, finally acknowledging the hug. The younger persona said nothing when he felt the warm droplets seep through his black hoodie, he let Morality cry, holding onto him just as he would during an attack. The father cried, long choked sobs, Anxiety simply held onto him tighter, rubbing his back, silently offering comfort the only way he knew how. ----- It was quite a while when Morality calmed down, he was sniffling and his arms still shook, but he broke from the embrace. "Thank you-", he sniffed. "Any time Dad" "Sorry about your hoodie" "It's fine, I got tons of 'em, besides", the younger paused to smirk at the elder, "snot like I can't wash it" Morality gaped, wide eyed, before genuinely laughing. Anxiety smiled, Morality's laughter was far better than the quiet. ----- tags: @prinxietys @prinxietyhell @thebrightsun @the-prince-and-the-emo @the-sanders-sides AN:// aaay, back at it with angst, well... just a lil bit lol, I'm serious, I wrote Morality being a Dad to Anx, so why not have a nice father son moment hmm?

#angst #anxiety sanders #morality sanders #prince sanders #logic sanders #sanders sides #Dad!morality #my fic

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excerptsfromunfinishednovels · 7 years ago

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Excerpts From Unfinished Novels #14: Mirstone

Genre: fantasy, adventure, romance

Warnings: scenes of violence, mild sexual scene, mild language

Word Count: 4,125

Summary: Yahaira wants to take charge of her own life and marry for love, not for titles or to strengthen the kingdom. Her parents have planned otherwise, so she’s formed a plan to take charge of her own destiny.

Excerpt is from the first third of the novel

Micha wheeled himself into the main hall of the castle and up to the table where breakfast had been laid out, humming lightly, a small, joyful smile on his face. As his manservant served food onto his plate, he continued to hum as his mind wandered, focusing on the memories of the night before; the sound of Yahaira’s laughter, the feel of her hands in his as they danced around the hall, the way she bowed her head towards his as they talked together, her cheeks flushed from the wine and dancing. As he nibbled on a piece of bread, his mind continued to reminisce about his time with Yahaira, and the more he thought about her, the more he realised that there had been something…off with her. Her smile hadn’t quite met her eyes, her laughter had had a nervous edge to it, and when they hadn’t been directly interacting with each other, he’d noticed her staring into space, a worried look on her face. She’d seemed sad and worried, and it tore at Micha’s heart to think that he hadn’t noticed it until now. He would speak to her when he saw her next, try to find out what was wrong and figure out if there was anything he could do to help her.

Feeling a bit happier, he resumed his humming and a little faster, wanting to go and find Yahaira as soon as possible.

“My my, you’re awfully cheerful this morning,” a voice boomed as a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

Micha inhaled sharply and immediately started coughing violently as he choked on a piece of chicken. When he could breathe normally once more, he turned and glared at his brother who was doubled over with laughter.

“Good morning to you too Teman,” he huffed.

Teman grinned and took a seat beside him, reaching out and pulling a plate of meats towards him before his manservant could even take a step forward; the servant smoothly moved to fill his goblet instead while Teman simultaneously ate food off his plate while reaching for more to put on it.

“So what has you humming so merrily this morning eh? Perhaps it’s the fond memories of your night with the fair Yahaira?”

Micha felt his face go hot and he quickly hissed, “You make it sound scandalous, speaking in such a manner!”

“I jest brother!” Teman laughed, raising his hand defensively. “I merely meant that you and Princess Yahaira looked to be enjoying each other’s company at the ball last night, that is all.”

“Yes, well…we have been friends for many years, although it had been several months since we last spoke. It was good to spend time with her. Did you enjoy the ball? Find anyone…suitable to spend your night with?” Micha asked, his smirk belying his innocent tone.

“As a matter of fact I did,” Teman replied with an even bigger smirk. He leaned sideways and murmured in Micha’s ear, “He was the son of a lord or an earl from somewhere, I didn’t care to find out, but he has equal interest as I in remaining discreet.”

Micha shook his head and sighed.

“You disapprove of my actions?” Teman asked, his expression jovial, but his tone hurt. “You wish I would remain chaste like an old maid in a nunnery?”

“No; I wish there was no need for you to be discreet,” Micha replied sincerely, and Teman shot him a rare grateful smile in return.

“I am not discreet for myself, but for my partners; those princes will be expected to marry and produce heirs and rule their kingdoms. If their preferences were to become common knowledge it could potentially weaken their position, maybe even prevent them from taking their throne. Not everyone is as lucky as I to rule their kingdom with their brother who will provide all necessary heirs.”

“First I need to find a wife,” Micha pointed out.

“And you shall! What maiden could resist you – look at your face, it’s so handsome!”

“You only say that because you have the same one.”

“That is true.” Teman shrugged. “But I was being serious – you would make an excellent husband.”

“As long as the maiden’s parents are happy for their daughter to be wed to a man who cannot use his legs,” Micha said grimly.

“Yahaira’s parents were unnecessarily harsh with you,” Teman replied, frowning darkly.

“I understand their objections…but it is unfortunate that they wouldn’t even consider my proposal.”

“Perhaps if you spoke to Yahaira herself like you wanted to in the first place…”

“Perhaps,” Micha said, the corners of his mouth turned down unhappily. He quickly shook it off, mindful of the other guests breakfasting nearby, and said, “So what are your plans for today? The weather looks to be favourable for hunting; I’m sure you could persuade Dawud to organise it.”

“He said he had some announcement to make today, something involving his son; he was very vague about it, wanted to keep it a secret.”

“Hmm, I wonder what it could be about,” Micha mused. “How old is Kadin now? I haven’t seen him in over ten years.”

“Twenty-one I believe; still so young.”

“As if we’re so old at twenty-eight,” Micha snorted.

He finished his food, and then pulled away from the table. “I’m going to see if I can find Yahaira; we still have much to catch up on.”

“Last night was not enough?” Teman asked with a grin.

Micha smiled softly and replied, “There is no amount of time that would ever be enough.”

“Oh brother,” Teman said, shaking his head. “I wish you luck.”

Micha smiled and wheeled himself out of the room, his manservant following. He gave the other man a few instructions for his tasks for the day, and then set off to try and find Yahaira, starting with the castle grounds; the royal gardens, the orchard, and the path down to the river. When that proved not to be fruitful, he moved inside, heading straight for the library, but once again was unsuccessful. He was on his way to the stables to see if she had taken her horse out when his manservant found him and informed him that everyone was gathering in the great hall for King Dawud’s announcement. Micha quickly made his way to the hall, hoping that he’d be able to place himself close enough to Yahaira to catch her attention and arrange a meeting with her after the announcement. However, when he entered the hall he stopped short at the sight of Yahaira, standing up at the top of the room with her mother and father, along with Dawud and a young man that must be Kadin. Yahaira’s face was expressionless, but Micha could see the sadness and anger in her eyes screaming out at him from across the room. Kadin didn’t look thrilled either, but he was still managing to hide it better than Yahaira. A mixture of confusion and nausea rose up in Micha’s gut, and he looked around, searching for Teman. He spotted his brother standing to one side, staring up at the front of the hall, his eyes fixed intensely on Kadin, an odd expression on his face. He quickly wheeled over to him, nudging his arm when he was beside him.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

Teman shrugged without looking away from Kadin, and Micha was about to ask him again when Dawud cleared his throat, the noise in the hall dying down immediately in response.

“Welcome, honoured guests,” Dawud announced, spreading his arms out as he smiled warmly. “I trust you all had a pleasant night and have not been suffering too badly this morning.”

Low chuckles spread across the hall at this, and Dawud laughed himself and continued. “I must admit something dear friends; I didn’t not invite you all here simply for the pleasure of throwing a ball. I also invited you so that you could be present for a very special announcement concerning my son, Prince Kadin. After numerous talks, it has been decided that my son shall marry Princess Yahaira of Kaipis, bringing together two mighty kingdoms, and ensuring the strength and prosperity of both for many years to come.”

The nausea rose stronger in Micha’s stomach, and though he could hear the applause and cheers from the people around him, and could feel his own hands clapping together, it all seemed distant and fuzzy, like his head was plunged underwater. A hand clapped down onto his shoulder and he was startled into awareness; his jaw ached from being stretched into a grimaced smile, and when he blinked he felt a few tears roll down his cheeks. Teman kneeled in front of him, a sad smile on his face.

“Tears of joy brother? Come now, no need to express your emotions so openly,” he joked weakly, handing a handkerchief to him.

Micha took is and quickly wiped his face. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. He looked up at the front of the hall, where the guests of the court had already gathered to congratulate the two families. “We should go up and congratulate them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Teman nodded and stood. He and Micha started to move to the front of the hall when a fierce roar suddenly filled the air. There was a pause, and then the wall behind the royal families exploded inwards and a massive dragon clawed its way into the room. The nobles in the hall started screaming and running away in a mass of panicked bodies as the dragon’s huge amber body filled the entire opening it had created, while the king’s soldiers and guards ran forward brandishing their weapons. The dragon screeched again, small flames shooting out across the hall, and everyone ducked and covered their ears at the deafening noise.

When the noise died down, there was a single, small, very human shriek followed by the noise of flapping wings, and Micha looked up in confusion to see that the dragon was gone, leaving only the gaping hole in the wall and a few scorch marks around the room as proof it had ever been there.

And then he spotted the dragon flying away and realised what had been the source of that single, small shriek.

“YAHAIRA!” He screamed as he tried to force his chair over piles of rubble in an attempt to race towards the opening in the wall. The chair toppled to the side, sending him sprawling on the ground, but he continued to drag his body towards the wall, still calling out to her. “Yahaira!”

Yahaira, caught in the clutches of the dragon’s claws, looked back at him, her face a picture of sorrow and agony, and Micha imagined she mouthed ‘I’m sorry,’ at him before she grew smaller and smaller and eventually disappeared from sight.

Micha continued to drag himself to the opening in the wall, still calling after her, tears streaming down his face. Hands pulled at him, and he fought helplessly against them as they lifted him up, and placed him back in his chair, before pulling him into a fierce hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Teman muttered into his ear, apologising both for what he had just done and the heartbreak that Micha was clearly going through.

“You have to go get her Teman, you have to find her and bring her home,” Micha babbled, clutching his brother close. “I can’t…I’m not fast enough, I’m not…you need to, please, please, I cannot lose her, not like this.”

“Of course, I promise,” Teman said fiercely. He pulled back, still holding Micha as he stared into his eyes. “I will do everything in my power to make sure she makes it back alive and well; you have my word. Will you be okay if I go now?”

“Yes yes, go.”

Teman kissed his cheek, pressed his hand and then was gone, racing out of the hall amidst the panic and confusion of the court. He ran to his room, threw together a pack of supplies, mainly consisting of weapons, and then raced to the stables to fetch his horse. He was fastening the saddle when another person ran into the stable, and Teman looked up to see Kadin, a pack similar to his own on his back, heading straight for the saddle and tack beside a beautiful brown stallion. Teman licked his lips, looked away, finished tightening the saddle and then, unable to help himself, turned back to the prince, a large shit-eating grin on his face.

“Well hello Prince Kadin,” he drawled, smirking as the other man jumped and spun around to face him, his expression shocked. “Or should I say Lord Phillip? Or was it duke or earl? You were very vague about your title last night, and it seems you outright lied about your name.”

The startled expression on Kadin’s face quickly morphed into a wry grin, and he shrugged and replied, “It’s been so long since I’ve met someone who didn’t know who I was; I thought I’d have a little fun. Would knowing my name have made any difference to what happened last night?”

Memories of their night together flashed through Teman’s mind; how stunning Kadin had looked stretched out on his bed, the bronze of his skin radiant in the light of the candles, his hair mussed and brown eyes huge and dilated with lust; how their bodies had felt pressed against each other as they had kissed; the soft, needy noises Kadin had made as Teman had worshipped his body.

Feeling his face grow hot, Teman coughed and replied, “It wouldn’t have made a difference no, but I would have appreciated your honesty all the same.” Ignoring Kadin’s triumphant smile he turned back to his horse and quickly set to work putting it’s bridle on. “So where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I’m going to rescue the Princess Yahaira,” Kadin told him as he fitted the saddle and bridge on his own horse.

“It seems we have a common goal then.”

“Why are you going to rescue her? Are you…are you in love with her?” Kadin asked him, his voice oddly tight.

“Only as a sister,” Teman replied with a laugh. “My attraction is solely for men. It is my brother who is in love with her actually.”

“Oh.”

“And what of your feelings for Yahaira? She is to be your bride after all.”

Kadin was silent for a long moment, and Teman turned to see him frowning down at the saddle he was tightening. Eventually he sighed and said, “No. I don’t think she was to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“The entire marriage was arranged between my parents and hers; Yahaira and I have never actually had the opportunity to speak to each other about it. I was going to ask her what her true feelings were, and if she was at all against the marriage I was going to call it off.”

“You could lose and awful lot of respect for such an action.”

“Better mine than hers.”

“You would let her go so easily? Do you not have any attraction to her?”

“No; like you, I am attracted to men only. However, I must marry in order to produce an heir. I hope to find a bride who…shares my inclination and also wishes to enter into a marriage of convenience.”

“And you do not think that Yahaira is like that?”

“I saw her with your brother right before you and I left the hall to…converse privately; she is clearly in love with him.”

Teman grinned at Kadin’s choice of words and finished sorting the last pieces of tackle on his horse. “So it would seem we are both out to rescue a damsel in distress that neither of us are actually interested in.”

“It would seem so.”

“Would you care to work together? Quests can be quite lonesome, especially at night.”

Kadin sent Teman a heated look that shot a flash of arousal straight through him and pooled deliciously in his belly, and then smiled brightly and replied, “That sounds like an excellent proposal. Quickly, let us depart before my father notices and tries to detain me.”

Teman grinned and hopped up into the saddle, Kadin doing likewise. The two men shared a grin and quickly set their horses cantering out of the palace grounds and into the wilderness.

Yahaira sighed in relief as she was lowered gently on to the ground. She dusted her dress off and straightened her headscarf, grinning up at Iantha who had landed on the ground beside her.

“Thank you; that was brilliant.”

“You don’t think smashing the wall in was a bit much? I’ve only ever done courtyard or tower kidnappings before.”

“No no, it was perfect,” Yahaira assured her. “It really sold the whole ‘dragon on a mad bid for a virgin beauty’ thing. My parents will definitely think I’m dead.”

“Why did you decide to hire me anyway? Were things really that bad?”

“Yes and no.” Yahaira sighed, and then continued to explain. “My parents had arranged a marriage for me.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Yes, and I just can’t face the thought of marrying a complete stranger; I want to marry for love, and there is only one man that I have ever felt anything close to love for. And I cannot marry him.”

“Because he is not of noble blood?”

“Oh no he his; in fact he’s a king. But my parents won’t approve; he rules his kingdom with his brother, and my parents fear that any children he and his brother sire will cause a lot of issues with future succession. I’ve tried to speak with them about it but they won’t listen so I’ve had to resort to drastic measures; hence staging the kidnapping.” Yahaira paused, reflecting on what she had said. She’d never actually said it all aloud to anyone else, and hearing it laid out like that made it sound…sort of childish. She frowned and looked up at Iantha as she asked, “Do you think my actions were foolish?”

“I think you did what you deemed necessary in a moment of stress. Whether or not they were foolish remains to be seen; perhaps you will regret them and need to return home as soon as possible, or perhaps you will find that this new freedom allows you a life you could never have dreamed of,” Iantha replied sagely.

Yahaira grinned and replied, “Thank you; you are very wise.”

“I am nearly two hundred years old,” Iantha grinned and then cocked her head towards the cave they were beside. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes please.”

Yahaira followed Iantha into the cavern, stopping short when she saw that it was full of…yarn.

“I thought that dragons hoarded treasure,” she said nonplussed.

“We hoard whatever we’re obsessed with,” Iantha chuckled as she set the fire inside a giant stove burning and filled a kettle with water before placing it on the stove. “For rather a large percentage of us that would be shiny pretty things, hence the treasure stereotype. Currently I’m obsessed with knitting, so I’m hoarding as much yarn as I can get my claws on.”

“Currently?”

“Mmm; my obsessions tend to change over time. Previous to this it was books.”

“You should have seen what the cavern looked like when she was obsessed with weapons; I couldn’t come in for fear of accidentally getting myself maimed or killed,” a voice said teasingly, and Yahaira turned to see a tall, dark-skinned woman walking into the cavern, a grin on her face.

“Edrea,” she greet joyfully, walking forward to meet her in a friendly embrace. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Edrea replied just as joyfully. “I trust my wife did a good job?” she asked, sending a teasing grin at Iantha who replied, “I am a master of my craft,” in an affronted tone as she poured the tea; two small cups for Yahaira and Edrea, and one giant cup for herself. When she was done, she put the kettle down and then bent her head down to Edrea, who kissed her snout and wrapped her arms around her neck, nuzzling their faces together.

“Your wife? But…I thought you said your wife’s name was Urice.”

“Oh yes, she’s our other wife,” Edrea explained to Yahaira as she handed her a cup of tea. “She should be back soon; she was off kidnapping a prince this morning – not our usual clientele, but a customer is a customer.”

Yahaira took the cup of tea from Edrea with a grateful smile and said, “Oh. So…does she also hoard yarn?”

Edrea and Iantha shared a quick look before Iantha replied, “No; her tastes are a bit more…traditional. She has her own cave where she keeps her hoard.”

“Oh, okay.” Yahaira didn’t quite know what else to say without sounding like she was prying, so settled for sipping on her tea instead. Edrea took in her slightly dazed expression and then asked kindly, “Would you like to take a walk?”

Yahaira swallowed and answered, “Yes please.”

They left the cave as Iantha was settling into her pile of yarn, a pair of knitting needles in her claws, the jumper she was working on dangling from them. They walked in silence, and Yahaira sipped her tea and sighed happily as she enjoyed the peace and stillness around her.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine. I just…I feel like maybe I should regret it, you know, arranging the kidnapping, but I don’t; I’m finally able to take charge of my life and make decisions about it for myself. I should be happy…”

“But?”

“But…I’m scared that I’ve made a huge mistake, and…there are some people I left behind that I will miss terribly.”

“You know you can always go home if it gets too much,” Edrea said gently. “That’s the whole point of the kidnapping; if you never want to be found again then you never have to be, but if you do want to go home, then there’s no shame attached to you like there would be if you had simply disappeared or run away. The choice is entirely up to you, and the beauty of it is you can make it whenever you want, even if it’s several years from now.”

“You’re right; what I need right now is time to decide what I really want to do with my life, and you and your wives have given me that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, would you like a tour of the community?”

“Yes please,” Yahaira said eagerly.

Edrea laughed and said, “Follow me.”

Yahaira followed her as she walked around the back of the cave, where there was a small but noticeable crack in the wall. Edrea pulled a small gem out of her pocket and pressed it into the crack, which immediately grew in size, large enough for them to both walk into.

“You’ll get one of these so you can come and go as you please. The only thing we ask is that you ensure that no one who is not a member of this community knows about how to get in, or ever has access to your key.”

Yahaira nodded solemnly and followed Edrea into the hole in the wall. When they were inside, Edrea took the gem from where it was sitting in a hole in the wall, and the crack immediately shrank back to its original size, leaving them in darkness which was broken only by a soft red light being emitted by the gem in Edrea’s hand. Edrea took Yahaira’s hand and guided her forward through the tunnel. They turned a corner and were suddenly enveloped in the bright light of day. Yahaira shielded her eyes and blinked several times as she stepped forward, still being guided by the other woman. When her eyes had adjusted to the brightness, she gaped in awe at what she saw.

Spread out before her and Edrea was a large expanse of green fields surrounded by a forest. In the centre of the fields was a small village comprised of several buildings, and everywhere there were women; working in the fields, walking in and out of the forest, their weapons and what they had caught on show, and walking between buildings in the village. They were talking together, laughing and hunting and working and living together, enjoying an existence far removed from the noble lives they had grown up in.

“It’s…it’s beautiful,” Yahaira whispered.

Edrea grinned and reached out to squeeze her hand as she said, “Welcome to Mirstone.”

If you’ve made it this far, why not celebrate by clicking the like button? If you’ve enjoyed reading this week’s short story and think other people would also like it, please reblog and share.

Slán!

C.x

#excerpts from unfinished novels #writerscreed #mirstone #my writing #writblr #fantasy #lgbtqia #dragons #dragons kidnapping princesses #polyamory #polyamourous relationship #mlm #wlw #short story #creative writing #prose #wheelchair user #disability #queer romance

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princessvicky01 · 8 years ago

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OC Interview

Thank you so very much @cantkeepmyeyesoff this was really fun!

Rules

1. Pick one of your characters

2. Fill in the questions/statements as if you are being interviewed for an article and you were your muse.

3. Tag people to do this meme

I’m of course going with my favourite Annabel Trevelyan (I know a mother shouldn’t have favourites but still) - Cont below cut.

What is your name?

*Gives a beaming smile*. Annabel Trevelyan

What is your real name?

Oh ok, Lady Annabel Kathryn Trevelyan, only daughter of Bann William Trevelyan of the Dracon line. There, that better?

Do you know why you were called that?

Annabel? I think means loving? Or that’s what my mother said. Kathryn is my aunts name.

Are you single or taken?

Definitely taken, sorry.

Having any abilities or powers?

This? *Holds up her glowing hand* I’m also pretty good with a sword.

Stop being a Mary Sue

Ha! I couldn’t stop even if I tried. *Overplayed wink*

What’s your eye color?

Are you colour blind or...? Blue - bright blue.

How about your hair color?

Oh, so you are colour blind then? Sorry, its brunette.

Have you any family members?

Yes, some might say too many being a Trevelyan. If you mean close family I have my father, older brother, Bryan, and younger half brothers. I’m also close with some of my cousins.

Oh? What about pets?

Not really, I have a favourite horse and hound back in Ostwick if they count?

That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

Hmmm... I’ve never liked the cold I suppose.

Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

Yes! I love the melee ring. There’s nothing better then beating someone who thinks they’ll have an easy win because I’m a ‘Lady’, that horror stricken look of realisation that they’ve messed with the wrong person, priceless.

I also like to roam on horse back. But I guess my favourite favourite is being in the tavern with my friends, laughing and messing around.

Ever hurt anyone before?

Hurt like physically, hurt? Then yes, lots. Hurt like feelings? Not deeply, I don’t think.

Ever….killed anyone before?

Is that a real question? Can I see these questions? Did Josie check these?

What kind of animal are you?

*Eyes widen and light up* A dragon! Naturally.

Name your worst habits.

A lady has no bad habits. Or that’s what I should say. I guess I talk to much?

Do you look up to anyone at all?

My older brother Bryan. He manages to take all his fire and hide it, to be the perfect Lord, I don’t know how he does it. He’s also pretty smart, but I’ll deny ever saying that. In fact, can you just pretend I didn’t say any of that? His ego is bad enough as it is.

Gay, straight, or bisexual?

Straight.

Do you go to school?

I was home schooled, mainly in etiquette, history, logic, the arts and tourney skills.

Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

I have always refused to marry a man not of my choosing. Although if it happened to be a certain man of my choosing, then yes, why not?

Do you have any fanboys/fangirls? I always seem to attract a gathering at social events, mainly young lords trying to impress...

What are you most afraid of?

I’m afraid of nothing. Dragon, remember?

What do you usually wear?

My long dragonling leather coat when out. Around here, a low cut blouse, tight fitting bottoms and boots. I like to be comfortable but still look somewhat presentable.

Do you love someone?

*Beaming smile returns* Yes, very much so, our dear Commander Cullen.

When was the last time you wet yourself?

Really? It says that? *Gets up to try to peer at sheet which is quickly hidden away then returns to sit and lifts up her chin* Never, of course.

Well, it’s not over yet!

Maker preserve me...you do like the sound of your voice don’t you? They say I talk to much...

What class are you? (high class, middle class, low class)

None of those, I’m noble, remember? Seriously who wrote these questions? Did Josie agree to these? Is this some kind of joke for the pie thing the other day? Because I already apologised for that.

How many friends do you have?

*Gives big grin* Lots, I’m very lucky.

What are your thoughts on pie?

Ha, I knew it! This is about the pie!

I said I was sorry for putting salt instead of sugar in Josie’s summer fruit pie. I just wanted to see if she could keep her gracious expression when eating something disgusting. Its important to know these things. Turns out, she can. *Nods in appreciation* Besides I’ve already arranged for some of those fancy Antivan berries she loves to be delivered to make her an extra special one.

Favourite drink?

I know I should say some luxury wine, but the truth is, I love mead.

What’s your favourite place?

Does in my lover’s arms count? *Giggles*

If you mean at Skyhold then the tavern I suppose or if you mean Thedas I guess my families keep back in Ostwick.

Are you interested in someone?

I should hope I’m in interested in the man I’m in love with...would be rather awkward if I wasn’t...

What’s your bra cup size?

*Barks a laugh* Brilliant question but I’m sure Thedas doesn’t needs to know the answer...but *drops voice to husky purr* between you and me, its a decent handful.

Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

I don’t swim. You really don’t understand dragons very well do you?

What’s your type?

I guess someone who is strong inside and out, who cares deeply and isn’t pretentious? Someone I can trust. Oh and handsome too of course.

Any fetishes?

*Eyes narrow* Who have you been talking to? That thing about Cullen taking command is old barrack gossip you should disregard it.

Seme or uke? Top or bottom? Dominant or submissive?

If I told you those things Cullen would die of embarrassment and I very much like him alive. So, sorry, you’ll just have to use your little imagination on that one... *Arches one eyebrow with a smirk*

Camping or indoors?

Really? You go from are you dom or sub, to camping? *Sigh* Indoors I suppose.

Are you wanting to quiz to end?

I don’t mind, but I’m pretty sure this is payback of some kind and I do have things I’m meant to be doing. You can tell Josie I said, well played Ambassador. Good day.

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

Ok this has been going around for a while, not sure who’s been tagged but as I enjoyed it I’m going to tag some people anyway (only if you want to!) @inner-muse @elevanetheirin @ekoorb03 @mavheraan @sloth-race @general-uptight @wickedwitchofthewilds

#oc meme #annabel trevelyan #oc interview

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piarou-neelix · 8 years ago

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I want to share a story written by a good friend of mine

Teddy Bear || Original Short Story By Priscilla Kint

I remember the day I was new.

Bought in a commercial toy store with three floors where I was seated next to the pogo sticks and the window decoration stickers for not much more than a day before I was picked up and taken to the counter. I was quite excited, unbothered by the wrapping paper that smothered my mouth or the shop assistant, who unapologetically shoved my leg up to my ear in order to make the package smaller. She was new, like me, so it wasn’t very hard to forgive her.

Hours later, the tearing of paper was followed by a small gasp, and then I saw his face for the first time. It was as new to me as I was to him, and it smiled with the few teeth it had grown. Seeing me brought him joy, that much was clear, but I do wonder whether it would have mattered if I had been some other toy. Would the same excitement have lit up his eyes had I been a wooden miniature train or a painted X-men doll instead? I think so. It wasn’t about me or what I represented – not yet. It was about getting a present and opening it and discovering what was inside. Excitement. A new possession. I wasn’t much more than that.

I remember the day I was playtime.

Hours were not yet filled with school, but there was a time for television, a time for dinner, multiple times for bed, and one horrid, horrid time for bath. I was playtime and we both loved it. I became a knight in shining armour, a peaceful monster that destroyed a city of Lego before helping to build it up again. I was named Jenny, after his favourite aunt who always brought him pieces of fruit that were somehow so much tastier than his mother’s carefully cut up apple slices. I was called Poo, because that was a word that was always followed by giggles and a small smile on his father’s face that we had learnt to spot through the scruff on his cheeks and chin.

He held me, my boneless paws leaning on top of the kitchen table, where I would drink tea that was merely air. He dropped me on the ground when the dragon – a green pillow smudged with that morning’s strawberries – almost defeated me, and he raised me up on his shoulders after I saved the city and became the hero. He ran around the living room, nearly tripping over the folded corner of carpet his mother had warned him about three times already. His roars of laughter found their way into my being like silk threads being sewn into the rims of my heart. I wondered whether it was that way for humans as well, that they could feel more whole, more themselves, as they were being built by others.

I remember the day I was home.

When his mother had other places to be that weren’t by his side – food needed money, and money needed to be earned, but what proper kid would really understand that, anyway? – she handed me to him as a renewed gift. Of course, this was not the day I was new, so he didn’t crack that same surprised smile. Instead he cried. He cried when the car drew to a halt in front of the crèche and the tires squeaked and crunched the gravel. He cried as he took his dinosaur-decorated backpack in his one hand and me in the other. He cried even when Miss Lola, a woman with a youthfulness that didn’t match her age but was wonderfully extraordinary, took his hand and promised him he would have fun that day and all the days to come.

On that first day, he sat on a yellow plastic chair in a corner of the room. He watched the other children play and draw and laugh and fight amongst each other without feeling the slightest urge to join them. I was in his lap, his one hand clutched around my arm, the other on top of my head. It was quite nice, being the only thing in the room that interested him. I was what was familiar. I was what was known. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t be new again. New was not what he needed.

He needed home, if only for a little while. Because the next day, from where I sat, leaning against his backpack with my head tilted to the right, I saw him ask a girl called Alexa whether she wanted to share her tin soldiers with him.

I remember the day I was comfort.

When daddy arrived home from work early with his phone in his hand, the shoulder strap of his leather bag dangling down, dragging over the dusty floor. It was the first time we met Death, and he didn’t understand why Aunt Jenny couldn’t simply visit and give him her pieces of fresh fruit and make his parents smile again.

There was never a real goodbye for him. The funeral was on a school day, and Lola made sure to keep him occupied. He made a puzzle, sixteen pieces, and was proud of himself for finishing the image of a spaceship that seemed to come to life once he’d pressed the final piece in place. Still, he felt lonely at night, when his mother didn’t spent as long reading him a bedtime story. When she didn’t tuck him in as tightly as usual. So he wrapped his arms around me, pressed me to his chest, which was getting broader than I was, and cried his tears into my coat of hair, where they solidified the strings of laughter.

The next morning, when I still tasted salt that now mixed with morning sweat, his father sat at the breakfast table with his head in his hands, nothing but a cup of black coffee in front of him. And his son, my dear human, walked up to him and handed me over. The Dutch word for hug is knuffel, as is the Dutch word for a stuffed toy. Perhaps he saw more similarities between the two than most adults do.

I remember the day I was broken.

It started out as a minor tear at the base of my belly, but quickly grew to a disaster that made me snow all over the house. His mother told him I was old, and I felt another one of my stitches snap as I realised what that might mean. I was not old. I didn’t want to be discarded, exchanged for another new.

But that never happened. He clasped me to his chest, refusing his mother and her calls to let me go. He sat in the corner underneath the ironing board, where he would always make tents with the cleanly washed duvet covers and bedsheets. Hiding in plain sight.

It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. Although I was getting slimmer every day, his mother promised to fix me. She spent an entire evening, her feet up on the couch as she watched three different crime series with similar names and the same fake blood, pricking the tips of her fingers with a needle. She wasn’t very good at sewing, but that didn’t stop her. She’d even bought special thread, metallic, so that, afterwards, there was a shimmering line across my stomach whenever I was out in the sun. A line that was a promise, a quick-fix that was not quite beautiful but beautifully loveable.

Three weeks, it took, before I ruptured once more. There was a puff of stuffing onto the kitchen table, a fight, tears that stuck to his cheeks instead of dripping onto my coat, and then his dad took me away.

It took his grandmother little more than fifteen minutes to fix me up with a thread that matched my chestnut brown and a knot that made me feel confident as my life was in her hands.

I remember the day I was shame.

I’m not sure how it happened, and why it happened so quickly, but I’m pretty sure that Andy was at least partly to blame. He was a short boy in year five that looked like a mouse, with ears as big and protruding teeth. He was good at football, and he always spoke up first in class and made jokes, so all the other boys liked him.

And he told us that only babies carry around stuffed animals.

That evening, my human let his carrots grow cold and his chocolate ice cream grow warm. He did his homework without trying to trick his mother into letting him watch an episode of the Power Rangers. She asked him what was wrong, and he told her that he didn’t need me anymore.

It stung, and I am pretty sure the couch swallowed me ever so slightly as those words travelled around the room.

His mother asked him why, and whether he really meant it, whether he needed to think on it. He sucked his lip and bit the skin around it until it was cherry red. His cheeks and eyes reddened as well, and once more his tears didn’t find a safe haven in my coat.

The following morning I was left at the foot of his bed, where hours felt like centuries when he wasn’t there. His mother came to open the window, and later to close it and make the bed. I could’ve sworn she cast me a pitiful smile that I wasn’t sure I liked.

Once he returned from school, he rushed up the stairs, the thomp-thomp of his feet muffled by the carpet on the steps, and let himself fall onto the bed, onto me, as he hugged me fiercely. He told me he wouldn’t leave me alone again. He told me he’d missed me. He told me he didn’t mind being a baby, as long as the other boys wouldn’t see.

From then on, I travelled with him in the bottom of his backpack, where his bottle of milk and his apple and his lunch box took turns flattening my legs and creasing my ears.

I remember the day I was forgotten.

When the bedroom cupboard and the LEGO helicopters were exchanged for a desk with a lamp too bright for sleeping. There had been a lot of nerves in the weeks before, and he’d held me close every night. He wondered about the new friends he’d make, the different classrooms he’d be seeing, all in one day. He was afraid he’d end up taking the bus alone, since most of his friends would go to other schools. I comforted him as best I could – and then I was stuffed in the back of a drawer. The words he told his mother when she asked him where I was were ‘I don’t need it anymore’.

Nights were spent alone, by him and by me. He changed his breakfast from bread to cereal. He ate dinner someplace else every other day. His voice deepened, and for the first time I felt my biggest fear wasn’t that I was going to grow old, but that he was going to grow up. I could handle needle and thread and the tumbling round and round in the washing machine. But if he could not find the time – would not find the time – to cuddle me and miss me and think of me, then I had no purpose.

My coat became greyer and dirtier more quickly than it used to when I shared his bed. A spider passed me by once, not minding me while it spun its web and waited and waited. Much like I did. I quickly feared that the chance of a fly finding its way into that drawer was as equally slim as him opening it and taking me out. He was done with me. He was a growing boy who did his history and math homework – or didn’t – and considered buying coins to be able to spend more time on that week’s most popular app.

I barely slept, even though I did little other than rest in the back of that drawer. What kept me awake was the fear that I was being selfish. Was it egocentric, pathetic, to think it unfair that my life was over while his was changing and expanding so much without me?

I remember the day I was a memory.

A meek morning sun that caught my eye as the drawer opened. A small intake of breath, and I was being pulled out by my hind paw. Remember this one, his mother asked with a smile in her voice. He stood next to her, taller than she was, although I didn’t recall having seen that happen. He smiled a sad happy smile, his hand almost completely enclosing my belly, and placed me in a cardboard box.

His room at college was a small one, but there was a place for me on the top shelf of his bookcase, where my feet dangled just above the works of Derrida and Said. I leaned against his favourite science-fiction novels, sitting back leisurely as I took my time taking in the double bed – black frame with red covers – and the desk that was flooded with printed articles covered in orange and yellow marker. I smiled as I realised that the pots and pans in his small kitchen spent more time being dirty in the sink than being clean in the cupboard.

And I liked her the moment she entered.

She had long dark blonde hair that was up in a bun. Occasionally, it spilled her locks like a waterfall. There were dimples in her cheeks that showed more clearly when she laughed, which was nearly every second she spent with him. She wore a sweater – his sweater? – when she visited the first time. It took her less than five minutes to notice me, as he was doing his best to calculate the right amount of pasta for two.

What’s that, she asked. He turned, his glasses fogged up from the cooking water on the stove. He’s a childhood toy, he told her. She nodded, then tilted her head. He’s adorable.

I felt elated. I enjoyed being taken off the plank and looked at for real for the first time in years. I liked being part of his life again, especially since I suspected that that particular part of it was going to become quite important quite quickly. But the best thing of all was that he had seen me as a ‘he’ again after years of being thrown aside as an ‘it’.

Of all those days I do remember, I don’t quite remember the day I was love.

Perhaps it is my faulty memory or my cotton brain. Still, it must’ve been there, that day. It must have.

Could it have been one of the moments he crushed me in his hugs until I could hear my fibres groan? Or one of those times when the family would go out for the day and he had thought he’d packed me into his bag, but hadn’t, and then his mother would turn the car around to pick me up? Perhaps it was the day he put me on that top shelf, seeing some worth in me when I thought he never would again.

Or maybe – just maybe – it didn’t matter. Maybe it was a whole life of small moments that spelled it out in a language like that of the Ents he used to be such a fan of; slow, all-encompassing, and simple.

By Priscilla Kint

#love #short story #coming of age #writing

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vdbstore-blog · 7 years ago

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New Post has been published on http://vintagedesignerhandbagsonline.com/gwyneth-glows-like-a-radioactive-swan-my-day-at-the-goop-festival-life-and-style/

'Gwyneth glows like a radioactive swan' – my day at the Goop festival | Life and style

Culver City, Los Angeles, is socked in by haze, and a line of women in black athleisure – more blondes than one is accustomed to seeing in one place at one time – stretches down the block. Each has paid between $500 and $1500 (£390 and £1,175) to stand in this line and attend In Goop Health: Presented by Goop, the inaugural “health and wellness expo” of Gwyneth Paltrow’s lifestyle brand, Goop.

People are excited, a little nervous and giddy. It feels as if we are waiting for the bus to summer camp, if your summer camp gives out free lube and Nicole Richie is there. At 9am the beefy security team parts and we pour into a courtyard where employees sort us into more lines based on how much we have paid to be here. Colour-coded bracelets indicate whether you are a Lapis ($500), Amethyst ($1,000) or Clear Quartz ($1,500) Gooper. More money means more activities: a foam roller workout, a “sound bath”, even lunch with “GP” herself in the “Collagen Garden”. Apparently, a prohibitively expensive, celebrity-studded self-help salon isn’t exclusive enough: the very rich can’t have fun without a little class hierarchy.

We pass into a second courtyard, which offers clusters of tasteful white furniture ringed by a variety of “wellness adventures”. In one corner, you can sit cross-legged on a cushion and the “resident Goop shaman” will tell you which crystal you “need”. In the opposite corner is a woman who will photograph your aura in a little tent. There is an oxygen bar and an IV drip station. And there is food, of course, just in very small pieces: tiny vegan doughnuts, quinoa and lox swaddled in seaweed, ladles of unsalted bone broth, fruit.

I take a lap of the courtyard and the cavernous hangar where we will be spending the next nine hours (there is no re-entry). Inside, interspersed among the Goop-approved matcha and coconut-water stalls, is the Goop Marketplace, where attendees can buy face potions, rolling pins and Tory Burch’s new line of active wear. For $55, you can buy one of the jade eggs that Goop famously suggested women carry around in their vaginas. Or, a rose quartz egg, if you have “seen results with the jade egg and want to take your practice a step further”. I head back outside and get in line for the shaman.

Probiotic juices are flowing. Photograph: Kolasinski/BFA/Rex/Shutterstock

Turns out, the shaman is a little backed up, so they are scheduling appointments instead. A friendly employee writes my name on a clipboard and tells me to come back at 4.05pm. The line for aura photography is even longer. I wait about 10 minutes before a staffer announces that the schedule is full and we are all fired from the line, but we can check back later. That’s fine. Everyone is feeling good. Employees weave through the crowd with trays of probiotic juice. I decide I like the Goop expo. It is silly, but most of us seem to be in on the joke – like Dungeons and Dragons for your vaginal flora. Why not?

I don’t believe that my proximity to crystals (or lack thereof) has any effect on my wellbeing, but I don’t think it is interesting or sophisticated to mock people who do. These women are having fun. They are sitting on pillows and connecting with each other. It is the kind of spontaneously intimate conversation that happens among women all the time, dressed up in the language of magic and, sure, monetised.

As long as you are not promising miracles and swapping carnelian for childhood vaccines, organising your inner life around crystals doesn’t seem much different than organising it around “bullet journalling”. There is a line, of course, between having fun with rocks and exploiting people’s fears for profit, and I am expecting to approach that soon enough.

I wander back inside and there she is, gliding through the Bulletproof Coffee line like our priestess. Here is just a true fact: Gwyneth glows like a radioactive swan. She emits light. She would be great in a power outage. Though the FAQ specifically directed attendees to wear athleisure (with a link to the Goop store’s athleisure page – just to be helpful!), Gwyneth appears to be wearing a sirocco of flower petals. She leads us, her flock, into the auditorium and the real show begins.

After a brief history of Goop (“I started to wonder: Why do we all not feel well? Why is there so much cancer? Why are we all so tired?”), Paltrow introduces her personal physician, Dr Habib Sadeghi, DO. He talks for an hour about “cosmic flow”; his left testicle; the “magnificence” of Gwyneth (“I’ve been down and I’ve touched her feet … and I’ll do it again”); and his belief that “consciousness precedes phenotypic expression”, which means, basically, that all ailments are on some level psychosomatic and your ovarian cysts are really just little nodules of emotion – or something.

Women connecting with themselves. Photograph: Salangsang/BFA/Rex/Shutterstock

The next panel, on gut health, counters Sadeghi’s consciousness theory with the assertion that all human illnesses are caused by antibiotics, ibuprofen, caesarean sections and legumes. The human gut is a rich rainforest, they say. Antibiotics are “napalm”, and taking one ibuprofen is “like swallowing a hand grenade”. Someone relates an anecdote about a marathon runner who had to get a faecal transplant from her fat niece, and it made the marathon runner fat. In mice, faecal transplants have been found to make fat mice thin, and anxious mice calm. Oh, my God, I realise. Paltrow is going to start selling her own poop.

Dr Steven Gundry, author of The Plant Paradox, reveals that from January to June inclusive, he consumes all his calories between 6pm and 8pm, because “we evolved to search for food all day and then fast”. It’s funny how our understanding of human evolution – of the point at which we were once our truest selves – can shift according to which restrictive diet is on-trend that day. Next to each of our chairs is a complementary bottle of hot-pink, watermelon-flavoured water, sickly-sweet with Stevia. You know, just like the cavemen used to drink.

Gundry argues that human beings aren’t meant to eat any plants native to North America, because we are native to “Africa, Europe and Asia”. At one point, Dr Amy Myers casually distinguishes between the gut bacteria Asian people need (because “they” eat a lot of seaweed) and the gut bacteria that “we” need. You don’t have to glance around the room to know who “we” are.

In Goop Health is shockingly white – even to me, a blond, white person who went in expecting whiteness. Obviously, this is anecdotal – I haven’t conducted a census – but I don’t recall seeing more than 10 people of colour among the attendees, and that’s a generous estimate. The panellists are almost exclusively white. I wonder if anyone at Goop brought up the lack of diversity in their speakers during the planning stages, or anticipated this criticism. But to acknowledge it would be to acknowledge politics, and In Goop Health stays as far away from politics as it can get.

Lindy West at Goop in Health. Photograph: Lindy West

However, an event supposedly focused “on being and achieving the optimal versions of ourselves”, as Paltrow put it during her welcome address, cannot truly be depoliticised. You can’t honestly address “wellness” – the things people need to be well – without addressing poverty and systemic racism, disability access and affordable healthcare, paid family leave and food insecurity, contraception and abortion, sex work and the war against drugs and mass incarceration. Unless, of course, you are only talking about the wellness of people whose lives are untouched by all of those forces. That is, the wellness of people who are disproportionately well already.

Towards the end of his speech, Sadeghi tells a story about an epiphany he had in the anatomy lab. He says he discovered that the first valve of the heart flows straight back into the heart: “Selfish little organ there! No, no, not selfish – self-honouring. Wooo! What a difference! I could never give anything to anybody – ask my beloved wife – until I take care of me. Until my needs are met. Right? Right? When you fly down, the first thing that they tell you is that before you put the mask on anybody else, put it on yourself.”

I hear that idea repeated over and over again at the Goop conference – take care of yourself so you can take care of others. Put your mask on first. Hold space for yourself. Be entitled. Take. At a certain point, it begins to feel less like self-care and more like rationalisation. I don’t know anything about the personal lives of the women at In Goop Health – who they give money to, what hardships they have endured, why they were drawn to this event – and every person I interact with is funny and smart and kind and self-aware. But it is self-evident and measurable that white people in the US, in general, are assiduous about the first part of that equation (caring for ourselves) and less than attentive to the second (caring for others).

It is OK to love skin cream and crystals. It is normal and forgivable to be afraid of dying, afraid of cancer, afraid of losing your youth and beauty and the currency they confer. We have no other currency for women. I understand why people spend their lives searching for that one magic supplement, that one bit of lore that will turn their “lifestyle” around and make them small and perfect and valuable for ever. I also understand, especially at this moment in history, why people long to step outside of politics for a day and eat kale-flavoured ice cream (real, not satire, actually good) in a warehouse full of Galadriels. But the idea that anything is apolitical is an illusion accessible only to a very few. And the absolute least the Galadriel-in-chief ought to do is acknowledge that.

The kale-flavoured ice-cream was actually good. Photograph: Lindy West

At 4.05pm I dash outside for my shaman appointment, only to be told they are running about an hour behind. “Should I come back in an hour,” I ask. “I mean, you could try,” the woman says in a way that means, “No”, or maybe, “Not with that bracelet”.

For her keynote to close the day, Paltrow purports to dissect the complexities and woes of being a working mother with a panel of famous gal pals: Cameron Diaz, Tory Burch, Nicole Richie and Miranda Kerr. How do they do it? How do they have it all? The women deliver a bounty of platitudes about ambition, female friendship, self-care, their mothers and sticking to one’s “practice”. They are charming and humble. Richie is funny. But at no point do any of them say the words: “I HAVE LOTS AND LOTS OF MONEY AND A STAFF.” In the context of a conversation about the challenges facing working mothers, the omission is, frankly, bizarre. It is a basic responsibility of the privileged to refrain from taking credit for our own good fortune. They might as well have been reading from Ivanka Trump’s book proposal. As with all the other panels, they do not take questions.

There is one moment I can’t stop thinking about. Near the end, Kerr casually mentions that she once tried leech therapy as part of her wellness practice: “One was on my coccyx because it’s really good to, like, detox the body, rejuvenate the body … I had a leech facial as well. And I kept the leeches. They’re in my koi pond.”

I am fat. I was the fattest person at the Goop expo. Strangers regularly contact me to tell me that I’m unhealthy and I’m going to die. A sampler from my emails:

“Being obese is NOT OK. It is associated with many health risks including: diabetes, high blood pressure, cardiovascular disease, and premature death. Go lose some weight you fat slob, and do it before you go on disability so we don’t have to pay for you.”

“I don’t know what sort of message you are trying to send out to young girls/women, but that it is OK to be obese, and it is some sort of feminist sin to want to keep to a natural healthy shape can’t be a good one.”

Kerr’s body is almost certainly what those people mean when they say “a natural healthy shape”, because our society conflates conventional beauty with health. But, I don’t know – I might be fat, but I’ve never felt like I needed to get an IV drip on a patio in Culver City or put leeches on my butt to suck out toxins, and I’m grateful for that.

I guess Goop did make me feel well after all.

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excerptsfromunfinishednovels · 7 years ago

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Excerpts From Unfinished Novels #14: Mirstone - Roundup

Mini-Playlist:

‘Season 2 Episode 3’ – Glass Animals

‘Where’s My Love’ - Syml

‘Runaway’ – Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Genre: fantasy, adventure, romance

Warnings: scenes of violence, mild sexual scene, mild language

Word Count: 4,125

Excerpt is from the first third of the novel

Feeling a bit happier, he resumed his humming and a little faster, wanting to go and find Yahaira as soon as possible.

“My my, you’re awfully cheerful this morning,” a voice boomed as a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Good morning to you too Teman,” he huffed.

“So what has you humming so merrily this morning eh? Perhaps it’s the fond memories of your night with the fair Yahaira?”

Micha felt his face go hot and he quickly hissed, “You make it sound scandalous, speaking in such a manner!”

“I jest brother!” Teman laughed, raising his hand defensively. “I merely meant that you and Princess Yahaira looked to be enjoying each other’s company at the ball last night, that is all.”

Micha shook his head and sighed.

“You disapprove of my actions?” Teman asked, his expression jovial, but his tone hurt. “You wish I would remain chaste like an old maid in a nunnery?”

“No; I wish there was no need for you to be discreet,” Micha replied sincerely, and Teman shot him a rare grateful smile in return.

“First I need to find a wife,” Micha pointed out.

“And you shall! What maiden could resist you – look at your face, it’s so handsome!”

“You only say that because you have the same one.”

“That is true.” Teman shrugged. “But I was being serious – you would make an excellent husband.”

“As long as the maiden’s parents are happy for their daughter to be wed to a man who cannot use his legs,” Micha said grimly.

“Yahaira’s parents were unnecessarily harsh with you,” Teman replied, frowning darkly.

“I understand their objections…but it is unfortunate that they wouldn’t even consider my proposal.”

“Perhaps if you spoke to Yahaira herself like you wanted to in the first place…”

“He said he had some announcement to make today, something involving his son; he was very vague about it, wanted to keep it a secret.”

“Hmm, I wonder what it could be about,” Micha mused. “How old is Kadin now? I haven’t seen him in over ten years.”

“Twenty-one I believe; still so young.”

“As if we’re so old at twenty-eight,” Micha snorted.

He finished his food, and then pulled away from the table. “I’m going to see if I can find Yahaira; we still have much to catch up on.”

“Last night was not enough?” Teman asked with a grin.

Micha smiled softly and replied, “There is no amount of time that would ever be enough.”

“Oh brother,” Teman said, shaking his head. “I wish you luck.”

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

Teman shrugged without looking away from Kadin, and Micha was about to ask him again when Dawud cleared his throat, the noise in the hall dying down immediately in response.

“Welcome, honoured guests,” Dawud announced, spreading his arms out as he smiled warmly. “I trust you all had a pleasant night and have not been suffering too badly this morning.”

“Tears of joy brother? Come now, no need to express your emotions so openly,” he joked weakly, handing a handkerchief to him.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Teman nodded and stood. He and Micha started to move to the front of the hall when a fierce roar suddenly filled the air. There was a pause, and then the wall behind the royal families exploded inwards and a massive dragon clawed its way into the room. The nobles in the hall started screaming and running away in a mass of panicked bodies as the Iantha’s huge amber body filled the entire opening it had created, while the king’s soldiers and guards ran forward brandishing their weapons. The dragon screeched again, small flames shooting out across the hall, and everyone ducked and covered their ears at the deafening noise.

And then he spotted the dragon flying away and realised what had been the source of that single, small shriek.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Teman muttered into his ear, apologising both for what he had just done and the heartbreak that Micha was clearly going through.

“Yes yes, go.”

“I’m going to rescue the Princess Yahaira,” Kadin told him as he fitted the saddle and bridge on his own horse.

“It seems we have a common goal then.”

“Why are you going to rescue her? Are you…are you in love with her?” Kadin asked him, his voice oddly tight.

“Only as a sister,” Teman replied with a laugh. “My attraction is solely for men. It is my brother who is in love with her actually.”

“Oh.”

“And what of your feelings for Yahaira? She is to be your bride after all.”

Kadin was silent for a long moment, and Teman turned to see him frowning down at the saddle he was tightening. Eventually he sighed and said, “No. I don’t think she was to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You could lose and awful lot of respect for such an action.”

“Better mine than hers.”

“You would let her go so easily? Do you not have any attraction to her?”

“And you do not think that Yahaira is like that?”

“I saw her with your brother right before you and I left the hall to…converse privately; she is clearly in love with him.”

“It would seem so.”

“Would you care to work together? Quests can be quite lonesome, especially at night.”

Teman grinned and hopped up into the saddle, Kadin doing likewise. The two men shared a grin and quickly set their horses cantering out of the palace grounds and into the wilderness.

Yahaira sighed in relief as she was lowered gently on to the ground. She dusted her dress off and straightened her headscarf, grinning up at Iantha who had landed on the ground beside her.

“Thank you; that was brilliant.”

“You don’t think smashing the wall in was a bit much? I’ve only ever done courtyard or tower kidnappings before.”

“No no, it was perfect,” Yahaira assured her. “It really sold the whole ‘dragon on a mad bid for a virgin beauty’ thing. My parents will definitely think I’m dead.”

“Why did you decide to hire me anyway? Were things really that bad?”

“Yes and no.” Yahaira sighed, and then continued to explain. “My parents had arranged a marriage for me.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Because he is not of noble blood?”

Yahaira grinned and replied, “Thank you; you are very wise.”

“I am nearly two hundred years old,” Iantha grinned and then cocked her head towards the cave they were beside. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes please.”

Yahaira followed Iantha into the cavern, stopping short when she saw that it was full of…yarn.

“I thought that dragons hoarded treasure,” she said nonplussed.

“Currently?”

“Mmm; my obsessions tend to change over time. Previous to this it was books.”

“Edrea,” she greet joyfully, walking forward to meet her in a friendly embrace. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Your wife? But…I thought you said your wife’s name was Urice.”

Yahaira took the cup of tea from Edrea with a grateful smile and said, “Oh. So…does she also hoard yarn?”

Edrea and Iantha shared a quick look before Iantha replied, “No; her tastes are a bit more…traditional. She has her own cave where she keeps her hoard.”

Yahaira swallowed and answered, “Yes please.”

“Are you okay?”

“But?”

“But…I’m scared that I’ve made a huge mistake, and…there are some people I left behind that I will miss terribly.”

“You’re right; what I need right now is time to decide what I really want to do with my life, and you and your wives have given me that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, would you like a tour of the community?”

“Yes please,” Yahaira said eagerly.

Edrea laughed and said, “Follow me.”

“It’s…it’s beautiful,” Yahaira whispered.

Edrea grinned and reached out to squeeze her hand as she said, “Welcome to Mirstone.”

I hope you’ve enjoyed this week’s short story; please like and reblog if you have!

I’m wondering whether I should continue with the roundup - do you guys find them useful/enjoyable? If I don’t hear from anyone I’ll take it as a no.

Slán!

C.x

#excerpts from unfinished novels #mirstone #roundup #writblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #fantasy #lgbtqia #queer romance #polyamourous relationship #dragons #dragons kidnapping princesses #wheelchair user #disability #mlm #wlw #adventure

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