#v; The Monster Is Me and I Am the Monster {King of Scars} | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerbloom-arts · 2 years

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And the Beast Whimpered!

(A concept for a fanfiction)

An idea that's been gnawing at me for a while but I haven't found it in me to draw doodles for it so here goes! If you wanna write the idea or otherwise write/draw something inspired by it please please do it and tell me about it, I would love it so much.

Summary:

Strange things have been going on in the Oshun Oxtra's colony, and the Ghost has been terrifically excited about it! Some say that they've spotted a monster lurking in the woods of the colony and destroying it bit by bit. Unrelatedly, the Muddler of the colony seems to be more tired than usual, possibly because he's worried about his yet to be born first child. Those new father anxieties, am I right?

(v plot, details and werewolf Muddler concept art under the cut)

Plot:

Okay, so like, the island, right? The colony isn't such a big island so if something's going on then everybody knows about it. It's the fall season, the Moomins are preparing for hibernation, the Joxter's apple tree finally grew some apples, the Mymbles are mucking around with the strangely colored leaves and Hodgkins is extremely busy working on some seasonal pranks for the King. The Muddler and the Fuzzy have recently happily announced that the Fuzzy is pregnant and they're very excited about the prospect, however, these days the Muddler seems to be more unresponsive and jittery than he used to be. The Fuzzy's felt him leave the tin some nights, it's making her feel worried.

The Mymble's daughter suggests that it might be because of this night monster that some of the children have spotted lurking about, they confirm that it's most certainly not the Moomin's Ghost, but the Ghost is very excited to meet a fellow beasty to scare folk with.

The Moomin and the Joxter, being the... quote from the Moomin: "brave, strong men of the island who must protect everyone", stake out to find the monster, leaving out the Muddler from the hunt because he's too afraid to face the thing and says he'll only be a drag.

After only a short time, they find the Monster lurking between the trees and the Joxter dives head first into the danger, diagnosing the beast as a werewolf and being excited to finally see one with his own eyes for the first time. The Moomin cautiously follows, thinking the Joxter is a fool for such impulses and they meet eyes with the Monster.

The two men recognize the fur patterns as similar to the Muddler's and the Joxter recognizes the timid and avoidant behavior as that of the Muddler's. The Monster flees after the Joxter tries to calm it down and they puzzle together that the Muddler must be transforming into this thing each night for unknown reasons.

The next morning, the Joxter confronts the Muddler about the Monster but the Muddler tries denying it. Unconvinced, the Joxter continues questioning him as if the Muddler had confirmed his suspicions and the Muddler cracks, spilling the truth of the matter.

He doesn't know why it's happening but he's too terrified to hurt anyone and he dreads every night with an aching pit in his stomach, yet at the same time he's refrained from telling anybody in the vain hope that it'll go away on its own and it'll be as if nothing has happened. The last thing he wants is anybody wasting their time worrying and trying to help with something that likely can't be helped. Then the Muddler refuses to continue the conversation with the Joxter.

The next night, the Joxter tags the Fuzzy along with him to help the Muddler in his monstrous form aswell as reveal the truth to the Fuzzy. The two of them manage to calm the Monster down and take a proper look at it: an extremely muscular and numerously scarred hound-like beast. Whimpering and breathing heavily with a deep fear to approach them or have them get close to him. He's terrified and confused, he probably doesn't understand what is going on, but the two smaller creatures manage to get him to lay down and rest.

The Fuzzy tries to talk to the Muddler about this but again does he refuse, and he outright rejects the idea of Hodgkins knowing about this. The Fuzzy reports to the Joxter about this and notes that she's noticed that he has the scars and his body seems strained and a little more similar to his monster form, this makes her mind reel with many worrying ideas and the two of them try to come up with some kind of plan to cure him of his infliction. Days and nights continue with them trying to deal with the issue in the meantime, even if the Fuzzy is starting to get ill from symptoms of pregnancy.

Eventually, the Muddler has to get some new clothes because his old ones are either torn or ill-fitting, and the only person he can think to get fitting ones from was his uncle, Hodgkins. The original crew travel to the Autocrat's abode to meet with him since this is one of their rare excuses to do so. The Muddler and his uncle have a private conversation and Hodgkins notices the Muddler's acting extremely odd. He discreetly asks the Joxter about it and he fills him in on the situation.

Hodgkins is somewhat aware of this supernatural phenomenon and calls it lycanthropy, and the only cure is to get some silver object in contact with his blood in his monstrous form to pull the Monster's spirit out of the Muddler. This is a rather painful procedure since not too many cases have been documented, which makes it hard to do experiments on cures, but stabbing something silver into the patient has shown to work.

Seeing as Hodgkins is the only one big and strong enough to at least restrain the Muddler, and not many others are willing to stab him, Hodgkins is the only one who could pull off the ritual. He arranges some vacation time with King Jones (a difficult task since the hundred year old King is not a very wise one), obtains a silver knife from the royal silverware and makes it to the colony island.

The night of the curing was an intense one, with the Monster full of survival instinct and many obstacles in the way of a good stab, but they finally get the deed done only to have the Monster bite Hodgkins' shoulder at the same time and the two of them limp over as the others rush to treat their wounds.

Hodgkins and the Muddler meet up the next day and the Muddler apologizes deeply about the situation, and particularly about the shoulder. Hodgkins assures him that it's fine, but he shouldn't have to deal with his problems on his own like this time, he also jokes about how the only person upset would probably be King Jones as he'll have to extend Hodgkins' vacation time for recovery. The two of them hug and life goes on as it should, with winter approaching as it always will.

Details:

• The Joxter is a Joxter, young Moominpappa is referred to as the Moomin and his at-the-time girlfriend (young Moominmamma) is called the Moomin Maiden

• the Muddler is more comparable to a dog than a rodent

• the Muddler has tears which stain his face with a red-brown color and must be cleaned off, however his werewolf form always has stains in its eyes

• the crew have been living on the island for about 2 years

• the Muddler has been dealing with substantial ongoing pain for the past few years and points to it as a reason to not worry about him

• the Joxter and the Fuzzy are around the same height while the Muddler is taller than both of them, only that he slouches over most of the time

• the Muddler and the Fuzzy's first child is the Fuddler (the one from the comics)

• the Muddler and the Joxter have known eachother for years and care deeply about eachother, which is why the Joxter is able to identify the Muddler's behavior

• Optional: if so desired, you can have a romantic thing having gone on between the Joxter and the Muddler before the Muddler's marriage, but after some bonding between the Joxter and the Fuzzy they all manage to develop a polyamorous relationship (love wins <3)

• the Ghost uses it/its pronouns

• the Moomins are the only creatures who hibernate on the island, it's a tradition thing that the others kinda have to deal with (but the Mymbles seem to be very interested in it)

• the werewolf is a kinda sorta allegory for anxiety or panic attacks

• the source of the curse isn't important to the story but that's mostly because I couldn't come up with one, if you have a good idea you can add it but I think it feels more real if it remains unknown or it's caused by some severe mental break

• the Muddler is in a state of nausea and unable to navigate very well in his werewolf form which makes him scrape against alot of things in the forest, which is why he has those scars

Concept art for Weremuddler:

(Imagine he has a bunch of scars all over his body ok)

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gay-arsonists-lullaby · 1 year

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Character introduction: Vojtech

• Vojtech -- composed of the Slavic elements voj (from Old Slavic vojъ /'army') + teh (from the root of Old Slavic utěha/'comfort, consolation'), meaning literally 'consolation of the army' and figuratively 'strengthening of the army'. it can mean "joyous warrior" or "he who enjoys war" {lol why am I doing this to him? Voj, baby, I am sorry}

• he/him, asexual and demiromantic

• a boy who once was bright and young and full of life now has deal with the horrors of the world and its figurative monsters, all while trying his best to not become a literal monster {key word is *trying*}

• MANSLAUGHTER, MANIPULATE, MALEWIFE

• literally ‘if that twink from Sokoliar Tomáš/Tomas and the Falcon King had depression and killed a few people’ {aka. he is the Ostkík to Eva's Formína}

• “sme rana a nôž, sme prvada a lož. / we are the knife and the wound, we are the lie and the truth. ” - LÁSKA MOJA

• “‘are you decent?’ morally, no, but I am wearing pants if that's what you're asking.”

• ‘láska, bože, láska, kde ťa ľudia berú? /love, oh, love, where do people find you? ’ but as in ‘really, where? do they, like, sell it at the market or- ’

• DAYLIGHT - David Kushner

• “sneh padá v nás / otázky neviem klásť / ako sa máš? / odpovieš v lete až. | snow is falling within us / I can't ask questions / how are you doing? / you will answer in the summer.” - V LETE TI POVIEM AKO SA MÁM/

• “just, you know, don't go where I can't follow.”

• Hozier vibes (when my time comes around / lay me gently in the cold dark earth / no grave can hold my body down / I'll crawl home to her)

•“honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago / idealism sits in prison / chivalry fell on its sword / innocence died screaming / honey, ask me I should know / I slithered here from Eden just to hide outside your door.” - FROM EDEN

• “a weapon? a monster? a child.”

• “unclench your fists, my lover, the war is over now. (I’ve forgotten how to uncurl my fingers from the trigger.)” - teach me how to be at peace again ( J.P. )

• *uses frilly shirts and nice jackets to hide scars of the past* I mean, he may be repressing his trauma but at least he's slaying! (depressed but well dressed)

• “do not corner me. I am a wild animal.”

• “-legendy, duševné choroby, halucinácie, prípadne prípady kanibalizmu.” - príčiny vlkolačstva, Wikipédia

• TO BE ALONE - Hozier / NFWMB - Hozier

• “ideas for you: pretty boy aesthetic and existential crisis”

• “and I- I don't know. I thought she looked at me like there was something worth looking at, I suppose. like I was worth looking at.”

• sometimes a babygirl is just a blood-drenched man who is constantly on the verge of tears.

• full on “my wife will be hearing about this” vibes {brain gone, only thoughts of wife now}

• “you are right. maybe that person they speak of is not who I really am. but, to tell you the truth, I no longer remember who I am actually supposed be. ”

• “it's okay to murder people but it's never okay to disrespect your wife”

• to quote my bestie:

“ fellow man hot and slutty for the aesthetic, not for actual people. ”

• plus, an official statement from Eva:

“‘he's a murderer!’ to you. to me, he's the love of my life.”

statement follow-up: plus, I am also a murderer so at least we match.

• PAIN, LONGING, MISERY AND LOVE, POSSIBLY. {arcs}

#writing #original character #creative writing #dark academia #work in progress #vibes vibes vibes #fantasy wip #originally he was kind of just an accessory #but I guess the fact that I made two aesthetic boards for him kind of made him grow on me

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phis-corner · 4 years

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wild

Another prompt for @jasonette-july-2k20, also cross-posted on Ao3 under the name m3owww. The other prompt fills are also on there.

“We’re going to the zoo!” Dick announces. “Everybody is mandated to come. Otherwise, Oracle’s locking you out of all your devices for a month. And by everybody, I mean everyone who dons a costume at night to beat people up.”

Marinette groans. This is not going to go well.

Scene I: The Giraffes

“Hey, it’s the giraffes!” Steph exclaims. “Woah, those are really tall.”

“We would have to stack three Damians to reach the height of one female giraffe.” Tim remarks, clutching a large thermos of coffee.

Damian snarls. “Do you wish to die, Drake?” Bruce snatches Damian’s backpack from him before he can pull out his knives.

Jason pokes Marinette in the side. “Male giraffes are eleven feet. If you stood on my shoulders, we’d be around that height.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Call me short, Jay. But I could easily punch you in the groin if I wanted.” Marinette grumbles. She pointedly ignores the commotion next to her.

Damian has tackled Tim, Dick is trying to pull him off, Steph is cheering him on, and Cass is happily watching the giraffes. Bruce is rummaging through Damian’s backpack and grimacing at the amount of weapons the child packed.

Go figure.

Scene II: Elephants

“Well, this kind of stinks.” Jason remarks, as the baby elephant in front of them decides to take a poo. They all collectively gag as the smell wafts their way.

“Let’s just move on.” Bruce decides, and the group starts walking, except for Damian.

“Five more minutes, Father.” The boy commands. “It is too adorable to leave.”

Marinette has never been more glad that she always brings face masks around. She hands one to Jason and puts the other on. At least this muffles most of the scent.

Bruce sighs. “Damian-”

“Five minutes, Father.” He hisses dangerously.

“Guess we’re stuck here.” Tim says sadly. “It’s going to be a long five minutes.”

Scene III: Reptile House

“Mari! Look here! It’s a Burmese Python!” Jason calls, pointing to a massive snake coiled in one of the terrariums.

Marinette shudders. “Eugh, these creep me out. Guess I use the mouse miraculous too much. I just hope we can move on soon.”

“This snake is beautiful.” Damian declares, gesturing at a King Cobra. “I wish to keep it as a pet.”

“Little D, this is a zoo!” Dick chastises. “Not an animal shelter with pets up for adoption!”

“Are you crazy? That’s the longest venomous snake in the world!” Tim shrieks.

Damian sniffs. “Precisely, Drake. I wish to train it to attack you, just as I have with all my other pets.”

“You- what?” Tim splutters. “That’s why none of the animals like me? I’m changing your Wifi password.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Steph walks up to Marinette and Jason, holding out a tub of popcorn. “Want some?”

“Thanks.” Marinette reaches for the popcorn, then freezes. “Wait. Where’d you get this?”

The blonde grins. “I have Cass on my side. Anything is possible.”

“Speaking of which,” Jason frowns. “Where is she?”

Scene IV: Butterfly House

Dick shrieks as another butterfly flaps past his head. “I swear, these things are trying to kill me!”

“Tt, don’t be stupid, Grayson. They are harmless creatures.” Damian scoffs.

Marinette hums thoughtfully. “I mean, most butterflies are, but if they’re actually the demonic purple butterflies sent by a crazy fashion designer with a magical brooch to prey on negative emotions and turn people into colorful monsters with ridiculous powers that I spent three years fighting, then we’re in trouble.”

Jason blinks. “Sometimes, I forget how crazy your life was.”

“Yeah, I wish I could do that.” Marinette sighs. “Gabriel was a dick.”

Tim raises his camera and snaps a picture of Steph giggling as a butterfly makes itself at home in her hair.

Bruce almost-smiles. “At least no one’s trying to kill each other here. Everyone is- wait.” He scans the house, frowning.

“Guys, have any of you seen Cass?”

Scene V: Penguins

As it turns out, Cass went off to buy a slushy. She joins them at the penguin exhibit and watches gleefully as Bruce tries to interrogate the poor birds. Tim is filming the entire thing on his camera.

“Have you ever had any association with the Gotham villain known as Penguin in the past?”

“Squawk.”

“What, exactly, is your connection to the criminal otherwise known as Oswald Cobblepot?”

“Squawk?”

“Answer my question!” Bruce growls at the birds.

Jason’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and Marinette stifles a giggle.

“Father, these are-”

“Silence, Damian! I am interrogating the moles that Penguin planted at the zoo.”

One especially brave penguin waddles right up to Bruce, leaving only a few inches of space in between their faces.

They engage in a silent staring contest.

Then…

“SQUAWK!” The penguin screeches in Bruce’s face. Being the Batman, he doesn’t startle (very much) and simply growls as the penguin dives into the water, chirping happily.

“Get back here! I wasn’t done yet!”

Scene VI: Tigers

The orange and black-striped feline elegantly prowls towards the group, heading straight for Cass, who beams and reaches her hand out to press up against the glass. The tiger nuzzles into the wall between them, and Cass frowns.

Captive. She signs. Free?

“This tiger was born in captivity.” Bruce says. “She wouldn’t survive in the wild. And for future reference, none of you are allowed to free the zoo animals.”

Dick sighs. “Aw, come on B, Dami and I had our heist already halfway planned!”

“This tiger is beautiful.” Damian states. “She is graceful in a way that humans cannot master.”

“What about Cass?” Jason points out. “She’s just as graceful as the tiger.”

Cass smiles, pleased. Thank you, little brother.

“Marinette and Dick are really graceful when they’re in the air too!” Steph adds.

Marinette winces. “Key word being air. I’ve already tripped over my own feet six times, and another three times on Jason.”

Right on cue, as she moves to read another plaque, she trips over Jason’s foot and flails. He catches her in a dip like the good boyfriend he is and promptly kisses her- passionately.

Damian makes a disgusted noise, Dick sighs, Tim snaps a picture, and Cass smacks them both on the backs of their heads.

Children. She signs, and they both smile sheepishly. Two toddlers are staring, openmouthed, and Marinette counts five parents covering their children’s eyes.

“Oops.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two can contribute to Alfred’s PDA jar when we get back.”

“Aww, Bruce!” Jason complains.

“He has strict rules and you didn’t follow them.” Steph chirps. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Timbo, help me out here?”

Tim looks up from where he’s fiddling with his camera. “Uh, no thank you? You two have scarred multiple children for life. It’s only five dollars. You’ll survive.”

“No! Betrayed! By my own family!” Jason wails, and Marinette huffs.

“Mon oiseau, you are the son of a billionaire. Not to mention, all the money you make from your… extracurriculars. You can pay the five dollar fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!”

At the end of the day, all of them are tired and sweaty. They agree that maybe the zoo isn’t the greatest place for a family outing, except for Damian, who wants to return to kidnap (Animalnap? Zoonap?) the animals and set them free.

As they get out of the minivan one by one, Marinette, who is right behind Damian, spots something in his shirt move.

“Damian, what’s in your shirt?”

The boy snarls. “Nothing!”

“Damian…” Bruce sighs, and Damian reluctantly pulls out a green grass snake.

“It is non-venomous. Nobody will miss it.” He says defensively, and there is a chorus of groans.

“It’s a snake.” Tim points out. “That you stole. From the zoo.”

Damian sniffs. “I prefer the term liberated.”

Jason groans, and rests his chin on the top of Marinette’s head. She staggers underneath the extra weight. “I hate this fucking family.”

Marinette reaches up to poke him in the chest. “You know you love us. Why else would you wear a bat on your chest?”

“To piss Bruce off.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

#maribat #jasonette #jasonette july 2k20 #mild crack #I had a lot of fun writing this #now i'm just posting my favorites from ao3 on tumblr #my writing

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tenmillionwhumperflies · 3 years

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Cloudwalker Series Part 23

Alright, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of angst and a whoooollllleee lotta whump. It’s Avizon’s backstory time, peeps!

Warnings: Abusive woman, beatings, dislocations, blood, hand whump, guilt for hurting someone/ comparing to an abusive/evil character.

Master-list Here

Approx WC: 2200

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

When Avizon went downstairs he found Orrien teaching Ihuka how to peel potatoes. He couldn’t help but faintly smile, seeing Ihuka screwing up his face as he concentrated. “Before you say it, I couldn’t sleep so I gave up and started making dinner. Ihuka wanted to help,” Orrien supplied. “He’s doing a good job. We’ve been learning some words and he’s taken quite a shine to Mouse.”

Avizon looked at the metal dragon on Avizon’s ear, which was currently guarding a pea. Avizon smiled, but it wasn’t as forced as he expected it to be. “Horse called Fox and a dragon called Mouse. You’re a creative one, that’s for sure. So, what have we learned then, Ihuka?” “Tay-toe!” Ihuka beamed, showing him the potato he’d finished peeling. “Potato, yes, clever bird,” Avizon chuckled.

“Ummm… knife, pot, bowl,” he pointed to each item. “Fire… hot. d.dangerous?” “Yes, fires are hot and dangerous.” Orrien grinned and pointed to a pan. “And what’s in there?” “Dinner!” he beamed. Orrien and Avizon chuckled. “You’re making quite the chef out of young Ihuka.” Orrien chuckled and collected a bowl of stew for Ihuka. “And I found a way to get him to eat his v-e-g.” “Drowned in gravy and stock?” Avizon guessed. Orrien winked.

It was true, Ihuka would have to start to eat vegetables since he wasn’t getting the greens now he wasn’t in the wild. Avizon wanted to be able to keep him healthy and happy.

Orrien gave him the bowl. “Off with you now, go eat outside.”

“Eat… out...side...” he pointed to the window. “Yes, outside, clever bird.” Ihuka beamed and left. “He’s gone to sit on the step, bless his heart. He’s a good lad, really. It’s nice being able to teach him words.”

Avizon nodded. “I just hope I can undo the damage I’ve done...”

Orrien looked up at him and sighed. “I think you can, with time. He’s bouncing back, but I think he also knows you didn’t mean it. He can see your regret.” “I hope so… I also noticed something… A few days after Ihuka bit me, I began to change. Seeing Blue’s bite, get infected like that… I can’t help but wonder if Ihuka biting me… if it… changed me, helped tilt the scales.”

“Perhaps so.” “And to think that’s what I broke him for...” Avizon mumbled. “All my life I swore I’d never be anything like Halve, but I fear that is what I have become-” Orrien’s mood immediately darkened. “Do not say that name in this home. And you are nothing like that man, or his bitch of a daughter.” Avizon flinched at his sudden change. “I’m sorry. But I almost killed Ihuka, how am I that much better?” “Because you feel guilt. You feel regret. That is why.” Orrien gestured for him to sit and reluctantly, Avizon did so. Orrien sat opposite him.

Avizon sighed. “Is that enough to separate me from that monster?” “Yes. It is. Now please, you need to dismiss those thoughts. You are better than him. Ro loved you, you don’t get to compare yourself to that beast. Where is this coming from, Avizon?”

Avizon found the wooden table beneath him to be the better thing to look at. “I’ve had too much time to think about all the wrong I have done… Seeing how my birds react to me… I… Seeing Blue and Dyan, how they need each other… It has brought up memories. All I can see are the similarities between me and… him.” He looked down at his hand, at the small scar on the top of his hand that the princess had left behind from one of her attacks.

Avizon sighed. “I’m having a difficult day, I suppose.”

“What you went through was by no means easy. You pushed your body to its limit and then so much further. You were lost, yes, but you are also trying to find yourself again, to be better.” Orrien carefully put a hand on his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Avizon shook his head. “I think I’ll go for a ride. You should know, our guest, Tashka, is still in the barn, I believe. He has promised to not attack this place again.”

“Good… How is Blue anyway? Did he wake?” “He cracked open his eyes a little, but I left him with Dyan since Dyan was having a hard time too. He practically asked me to punish him and muzzle him but I refused… He thought I was going to take his other horn when he accidentally snarled at me.” Orrien frowned. “Poor bird… With Blue, we never got around to working past his fear of taking off his collar. But Dyan wasn’t threatened by its removal. Perhaps you could get him a weighed necklace, something he can feel, to reassure him on his more vulnerable days, when he feels like he is doing wrong? It is hard for them to adapt at times.”

Avizon nodded slowly. “I will speak to him when he’s calm and see what we can do. He looked about ready to fall asleep when I left him.” Orrien excused himself from the table. “I’d like to pop my head around the door and make sure everything is well. I was meaning to check on Blue anyway. What he went through… I shouldn’t be long.” Orrien gestured to the pot. “You should eat.” Avizon nodded but he didn’t hear the words he said. He was lost in thought, staring at his scarred hand. He shuddered with the memories, but Orrien had already left. He didn’t need to see this, he didn’t like to have people see his struggling.

And so his mind wandered, and Avizon couldn’t reel it back in. All he could think about was his time at that cursed castle, the pain he’d endured, to all the events that had led him into darkness, and despair…

Several Years ago...

Avizon groaned as he made his way up the many stairs to get to the top of the tower to see Orrien and have his wounds checked over from the day before. Orrien had healed him well, but he needed to keep a close eye on it. Avizon had been unconscious after one of the princesses 'gifts' had left him too close to death.

It had been a bad stab wound sent in a fit of rage because Avizon hadn't knelt fast enough with his still healing leg injury from several days prior. Nothing he could do was ever enough for that woman or her father. Every failure brought pain which brought more failure. It was a cycle he couldn't escape from but he was running out of blood to give.

He'd only just gotten to the top, panting for breath, when he came face to face with Princess Eriona. He bit back a whimper and bowed. "Your Highness." "Downstairs, now," she hissed. "You didn't make an appearance yesterday."

Because he was unconscious, but that wasn't an answer he could provide. "Yes, your Highness… my sincerest apologies."

With every day that passed the desire to kill that bitch grew, but he was too terrified to ever act upon such thoughts.

Despite struggling all the way up the stairs, he now had to go back down. He politely invited Eriona to go first, but she slapped the back of his head and shoved him towards the stairs. He struggled to keep his balance as he limped down faster than he wanted to. He blinked away tears and bit back a grimace as the spiking pain increased rapidly.

"Hurry up!"

Despite his pain, he did so, his limp growing worse. He was in so much pain but he just couldn't stop. It wasn’t an option, she was already clearly so mad.

"You had the audacity to get my father involved, getting me into trouble for lowering his 'security'. Like you could do anything! You're worthless, pathetic! And one day once father is dead you'll be mine to hurt as I wish!"

She kicked him in the back of the head before he could string together some sort of reply, sending him down half a dozen stairs before he could catch himself. His stomach flipped when he felt something give in his shoulder. He cried out in pain, holding onto it with a strangled sob. He could only guess it had dislocated. He struggled to get up again with three shaky limbs. He choked back a sob. He was sure he'd opened his stab wound too. He clamped his eyes shut.

"Please, mistress," he whimpered, daring to use the other name she liked him to use when they were alone. "I..."

"Get up!" she spat, grabbing him by the hair and yanking up.

Avizon struggled to his feet and had no choice but to keep walking. His body burned with the pain he was in. He cried out as he hobbled, keeping a hand against the wall for support.

"Cry all you want, coward, you will be punished."

Finally, he made it to the bottom of the stairs, snivelling, whimpering, and shaking. He just couldn't take this anymore. He just couldn't live the rest of his life like this. He yearned for the day he could be free from this, from the pain. Ro always told him he didn’t deserve this, but then why did he always suffer so?

Avizon gulped as she forced him on into a storage cupboard. He knew what to expect, and he could only try to defend himself from the beating he received from her. He tried to protect his shoulder and hold on as best he could as he could until her frustration died down. That was all he was to her, a punching bag, a means of gaining satisfaction from hurting others. He was nothing in her eyes. The king wouldn’t correct her either, he just made sure she didn’t kill him. He curled up in the corner and gradually fell down to the ground with each devastating blow to his already broken body.

He screamed when she got him to the ground and started to kick him in the ribs. He wheezed and curled up until finally, finally, she stopped, panting for breath. She reached up into her hair and Avizon braced in advance, turning his head away. There was a sudden pain in his hand and he cried out. Then there was a yanking sensation, and blood flowed freely. Stabbed with her hairpin. He tried to focus on breathing, to get gulps of air past his frozen lungs and broken ribs. He tried not to stare at his hand.

“Do not ignore me next time I call for you,” she glowered. He lay on the floor, battered, broken, and in so much pain he just simply could not move even if he wanted to. His eyes were dull and unseeing. He barely managed to choke out, “Yes, m.mistress...”

She left him alone, to lay on the floor in agony, out of sight of anyone in the castle. He closed his eyes and waited for unconsciousness, for someone to find him. He didn’t care which anymore. This was the life he had almost always lived, and there would be no escape from it…

He didn’t remember falling unconscious, but he woke to the feeling of warmth on his cheek, a hand, and not just anyone. “Open your eyes, my love, please open your eyes… Oh, by the realms… W.what the fuck has she done to you this time?...”

Avizon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a feeble sob. He forced his eyes open a crack, just enough to see his beautiful green eyes. “R.Ro...”

Ro hushed him gently and kissed his forehead. "I've got you. My father's on his way- stay awake, sweetheart, please stay awake."

Avizon didn't even try to sit up. He couldn't if he wanted to. He was battling with his heavy eyelids, the whispered promise of painlessness. Ro sat down beside him and pulled him into his lap with care. Avizon whimpered as his shoulder moved but he tried to stay quiet for Ro. He wanted the comfort. The pain was so heavy he couldn't breathe.

"Ro?" Orrien called. "In here. I.it's bad," Ro answered.

Avizon saw the tears in his eyes and reached up with a bloody hand to wipe his tears away but thought better of it. His hand was so covered that it would have marked his face. He didn't want to do that to him.

"'m okay," he mumbled instead, even if he felt like anything but.

The first thing Orrien did when he saw him was swear. “She’s getting out of control,” he hissed, kneeling down to assess the injuries. Avizon whimpered and tried to push his hand away from his now clearly bleeding wound. “N.no, master, p.please...”

Orrien gently put his hand on Avizon’s forehead, assessing his temperature. “I’m going to have to inform the king again-”

“No!” Avizon yelped, trying to sit up, but that drew a scream from him. Ro eased him back down as he panted heavily and sweat dripped from his body. “N.no...” “She punished you for it? Dash it all!” Orrien spat, but he quickly dismissed his anger. “Alright… let’s just get you upstairs so I can patch this up. Don’t worry, lad, I’ve got you… sleep.”

#Cloudwalker series #whump #tw:abusive environment #tw:blood #Avizon #Orrien #Ihuka #royal whumper #Avizon didn't have a very nice time with the royals #and that's only going to get worse tbh

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

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Welllp These Are Books: the February 2021 Edition

Most of my last month was spent on deadline and waiting for people to respond to my emails, which meant I did not have the time (or energy) to write much of anything, but had plenty of time to read, quite frankly, an absurd number of books. Some of which were very good, some of which were very cheesy, and some of which I have now told multiple people was quite possibly the worst book I have ever read. As always, though, what are my opinions if I am not sharing them with the internet? Ridiculous headlines, links, and those aforementioned opinions under the cut. As always, part two, feel free to send me any and all recommendations. It cannot possibly be worse than this one book. Seriously, you’ll understand in a second.

———

Quite Possibly the First Book I’ve Gone Out of My Way to Buy On Release Day Since Breaking Dawn, Which Says a lot About Me. As a Person.

A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas

Nesta Archeron has always been prickly-proud, swift to anger, and slow to forgive. And ever since being forced into the Cauldron and becoming High Fae against her will, she's struggled to find a place for herself within the strange, deadly world she inhabits. Worse, she can't seem to move past the horrors of the war with Hybern and all she lost in it.

The one person who ignites her temper more than any other is Cassian, the battle-scarred warrior whose position in Rhysand and Feyre's Night Court keeps him constantly in Nesta's orbit. But her temper isn't the only thing Cassian ignites. The fire between them is undeniable, and only burns hotter as they are forced into close quarters with each other.

Meanwhile, the treacherous human queens who returned to the Continent during the last war have forged a dangerous new alliance, threatening the fragile peace that has settled over the realms. And the key to halting them might very well rely on Cassian and Nesta facing their haunting pasts.

Against the sweeping backdrop of a world seared by war and plagued with uncertainty, Nesta and Cassian battle monsters from within and without as they search for acceptance-and healing-in each other's arms.

I’m not kidding when I tell you that I was counting the days until this came out. I was kind of indifferent to Nesta after the original ACOTAR books, but intrigued enough that I was like, I need to read this, and then I did read this and now I care quite a lot about Nesta. And how in love with Cassian she is. And vice versa. Because, let’s be honest, dude is in l o v e. There were some parts of the story I was not super into — namely, Ferye having to die in childbirth. Like, you’re telling me Cassian could have his guts hanging out at one point and we don’t know how to do a c-section? Nah, that ain’t it. Also, pregnancy as a storyline is not always my favorite thing, but more on that in a second. Also, also, here’s a bunch more words about ACOSF.

A “Huh, So That Happened” Sort of Ending. Which Was Disappointing.

A Vow So Bold and Deadly by Brigid Kemmerer

Emberfall is crumbling fast, torn between those who believe Rhen is the rightful prince and those who are eager to begin a new era under Grey, the true heir. Grey has agreed to wait two months before attacking Emberfall, and in that time, Rhen has turned away from everyone--even Harper, as she desperately tries to help him find a path to peace.

Fight the battle, save the kingdom. Meanwhile, Lia Mara struggles to rule Syhl Shallow with a gentler hand than her mother. But after enjoying decades of peace once magic was driven out of their lands, some of her subjects are angry Lia Mara has an enchanted prince and a magical scraver by her side. As Grey's deadline draws nearer, Lia Mara questions if she can be the queen her country needs.

As the two kingdoms come closer to conflict, loyalties are tested, love is threatened, and an old enemy resurfaces who could destroy them all, in this stunning conclusion to bestselling author Brigid Kemmerer's Cursebreaker series.

I loved the first book in this series. Absolutely adored it. So much so that I pretty quickly got the second one and read it. Enjoyed that on its own, but like I said in that one ask, I’m fairly certain A Curse So Dark and Lonely could have very easily been a standalone story. Should have been a standalone story? There was just SO MUCH going on here, and not nearly enough of it was resolved. Plot points just hung by the end of the trilogy, I was not ever entirely convinced Rhen and Harper were actually in love, let alone liked each other, and I thought Rhen got the very short end of an exceptionally cracked stick by the time the whole story wrapped up. Really, I think this tried to do too much in not enough time and there should probably be another book. Also Lia Mara getting pregnant was dumb. There I said it.

Free Books On Amazon Unlimited That Were Better Than Expected, But Also Read Like Fic

The Bargainer Series by Laura Thalassa

Everyone knows that if you need a favor, you go to the Bargainer to make it happen. He’s a man who can get you anything you want … at a price. And everyone knows that sooner or later he always collects.

Callypso Lillis is a siren with a very big problem, one that stretches up her arm and far into her past. For the last seven years she’s been collecting a bracelet of black beads up her wrist, magical IOUs for favors she’s received. Only death or repayment will fulfill the obligations. Only then will the beads disappear.

But for one of his clients, he’s never asked for repayment. Not until now. When Callie finds the fae king of the night in her room, a grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye, she knows things are about to change. At first it’s just a chaste kiss—a single bead’s worth—and a promise for more.

For the Bargainer, it’s more than just a matter of rekindling an old romance. Something is happening in the Otherworld. Fae warriors are going missing one by one. Only the women are returned, each in a glass casket, a child clutched to their breast. And then there are the whispers among the slaves, whispers of an evil that’s been awoken.

If the Bargainer has any hope to save his people, he’ll need the help of the siren he spurned long ago. Only, his foe has a taste for exotic creatures, and Callie just happens to be one.

No one is going to be able to convince me this wasn’t ACOTAR fan fic. I don’t care about timing or dates, or whatever. The similarities just...did not stop. In all three books, even. There were three books in this series, by the way. Most of which I really enjoyed. I read them all in like four days of email waiting, so they must have been doing something right. Des was a good love interest and I really liked the flashbacks in the first book. Also Callie didn’t super annoy me. That being said, whoever edited this book. Oof. Some of the prose was so goddamn cringe, I literally lol’ed. Right out loud. Every now and then it was like we had to be reminded that Des was a BAD GUY ™ but it felt very Edward “I’m a killer, Bella” Cullen, and Callie’s internal monologue was occasionally hysterical. Not in a good way. Also Temper was the worst. She was so annoying. Every time she talked, I was like, oh, her again. The first book was the best one.

HITTING ALL MY ROM COM BOXES! BASEBALL! ROMANCE! PINING! ONLY VAGUELY UNCOMFORTABLE WHEN THEY HAD SEX IN THE PORT JEFF DUGOUT BECAUSE I’VE BEEN IN THE PORT JEFF DUGOUT.

Fix Her Up by Tessa Bailey

Georgette Castle’s family runs the best home renovation business in town, but she picked balloons instead of blueprints and they haven’t taken her seriously since. Frankly, she’s over it. Georgie loves planning children’s birthday parties and making people laugh, just not at her own expense. She’s determined to fix herself up into a Woman of the World... whatever that means.

Phase one: new framework for her business (a website from this decade, perhaps?)

Phase two: a gut-reno on her wardrobe (fyi, leggings are pants.)

Phase three: updates to her exterior (do people still wax?)

Phase four: put herself on the market (and stop crushing on Travis Ford!)

Travis Ford was major league baseball’s hottest rookie when an injury ended his career. Now he’s flipping houses to keep busy and trying to forget his glory days. But he can’t even cross the street without someone recapping his greatest hits. Or making a joke about his… bat. And then there's Georgie, his best friend’s sister, who is not a kid anymore. When she proposes a wild scheme—that they pretend to date, to shock her family and help him land a new job—he agrees. What’s the harm? It’s not like it’s real. But the girl Travis used to tease is now a funny, full-of-life woman and there’s nothing fake about how much he wants her...

Living her best life means facing the truth: Georgie hasn’t been on a date since, well, ever. Nobody’s asking the town clown out for a night of hot sex, that’s for sure. Maybe if people think she’s having a steamy love affair, they’ll acknowledge she’s not just the “little sister” who paints faces for a living. And who better to help demolish that image than the resident sports star and tabloid favorite.

Legit, I saw the description for this and I was like—did I write this? Kind of. (Shameless plug to read my own rom com, it also has baseball and pining) It didn’t matter, I loved it. Seriously, it hit all my rom com boxes: childhood friends, best friend’s sister, coming back home under duress, FAKE DATING and, let’s be honest, I am not immune to the use of “baby girl” as an endearment. Every time Travis called Georgie “baby girl” I was like, oh, ok, this is cool. It was cool! I only have two quips. One, that the fake dating didn’t last a little longer. The pacing of the story felt very quick, but that’s also this genre’s style. So I kind of get it. And two, that it happened in Port Jefferson, which is a town in Suffolk County that I have not only been to, but have spent significant time in. Meaning I could picture every single thing, knew exactly where they were and have used the exit on the Northern State Parkway that the final moments of the book took place at. The Port Jeff girls basketball team won a Long Island championship last weekend. In real life, not the book.

In Which Spinoffs Continue to be my Kryptonite. Especially Well-Written Ones

Mistletoe and Mr. Right by Sarah Morgenthaler

Lana Montgomery is everything the quirky small town of Moose Springs, Alaska can't stand: a rich socialite with dreams of changing things for the better. But Lana's determined to prove that she belongs...even if it means trading her stilettos for snow boots and tracking one of the town's hairiest Christmas mysteries: the Santa Moose, an antlered Grinch hell-bent on destroying every bit of holiday cheer (and tinsel) it can sink its teeth into.

And really...how hard could it be?

The last few years have been tough on Rick Harding, and it's not getting any easier now that his dream girl's back in town. When Lana accidentally tranquilizes him instead of the Santa Moose, it's clear she needs help, fast...and this could be his chance to finally catch her eye. It's an all-out Christmas war, but if they can nab that darn moose before it destroys the town, Rick and Lana might finally find a place where they both belong...together.

I mentioned The Tourist Attraction in my January list, and this is the second in the Moose Springs trio. And it’s so good! I wish people were all as nice to Lana as Rick was. It’s what she deserved! More small-town antics, more kissing, another moose. This one was just as cute as the original book, especially because it brought back original characters and Zoey and Graham were so goddamn adorable as a committed couple I genuinely feared for the state of my teeth.

Enjoy the View by Sarah Morgenthaler

Former Hollywood darling River Lane's acting career is tanking fast. Determined to start fresh behind the camera, she agrees to film a documentary about the picturesque small town of Moose Springs, Alaska. The assignment should have been easy, but the quirky locals want nothing to do with River. Well, too bad: River's going to make this film and prove herself, no matter what it takes.

Or what (literal) mountain she has to climb.

Easton Lockett may be a gentle giant, but he knows a thing or two about survival. If he can keep everyone in line, he should be able to get River and her crew up and down Mount Veil in one piece. Turns out that's a big if. The wildlife's wilder than usual, the camera crew's determined to wander off a cliff, and the gorgeous actress is fearless. Falling for River only makes Easton's job tougher, but there's only so long he can hold out against her brilliant smile. When bad weather strikes, putting everyone at risk, it'll take all of Easton's skill to get them back home safely...and convince River she should stay in his arms for good.

Wrapping up the Moose Springs trio, this one might have been my least favorite, but that’s not really saying much. Since I loved them all pretty equally. River and Easton’s banter was grade-A, top-notch, which is a one-way ticket to my reading-heart. Maybe part of the problem (I say problem like there really was one) was that most of the story took place on a mountain. I kind of wanted more small-town shenanigans, and updates on the condos and the state of the town and Graham being mayor. Still, this was very cute. I swooned multiple times. I’ll probably read anything Sarah Morgenthaler writes from here on out.

Seriously, What Is YA? Does Anyone Know?

The Beautiful by Renee Ahdieh

In 1872, New Orleans is a city ruled by the dead. But to seventeen-year-old Celine Rousseau, New Orleans is a safe haven after she's forced to flee her life as a dressmaker in Paris. Taken in by the sisters of the Ursuline convent in the middle of the carnival season, Celine is quickly enraptured by the vibrant city, from its music to its fancy soirées and even its danger. She becomes embroiled in the city's glitzy underworld, known as La Cour des Lions, after catching the eye of the group's enigmatic leader, Sébastien Saint Germain.

When the body of one of the girls from the convent is found in Sébastien's own lair--the second dead girl to turn up in recent weeks--Celine battles her attraction to Sébastien and suspicions about his guilt along with the shame of her own horrible secret.

After a third murder, New Orleans becomes gripped by the terror of a serial killer on the loose--one who has now set Celine in his sights. As the murderer stalks her, Celine finally takes matters into her own hands, only to find herself caught in the midst of an age-old feud between the darkest creatures of the night, where the price of forbidden love is her life.

Like I said last month, I put a hold on pretty much everything Renee Ahdieh had written in my library. And this was just as good as the last series I read. Her world building is just—chef’s kiss, gorgeous. I dream of writing this airy, magical way, that makes you feel like you’re in New Orleans. That being said, I do not know what kid is reading this because apparently this is YA and I had to read every single word to figure out what was going on. Now, I know there are two more books in the series, but this one felt like a lot of set up and I spent most of it being like...will this make sense eventually? It did, but only during a very rushed climax of final few chapters. The sequel isn’t available on Kindle at the library, and I haven’t bought it yet. So, that’s probably kind of telling.

In Which You Cannot Always Depend On Old Favorites

No Judgments by Meg Cabot

When a massive hurricane severs all power and cell service to Little Bridge Island—as well as its connection to the mainland—twenty-five-year-old Bree Beckham isn’t worried . . . at first. She’s already escaped one storm—her emotionally abusive ex—so a hurricane seems like it will be a piece of cake.

But animal-loving Bree does become alarmed when she realizes how many islanders have been cut off from their beloved pets. Now it’s up to her to save as many of Little Bridge’s cats and dogs as she can . . . but to do so, she’s going to need help—help she has no choice but to accept from her boss’s sexy nephew, Drew Hartwell, the Mermaid Café’s most notorious heartbreaker.

But when Bree starts falling for Drew, just as Little Bridge’s power is restored and her penitent ex shows up, she has to ask herself if her island fling was only a result of the stormy weather, or if it could last during clear skies too.

I love Meg Cabot. That should be stated upfront and at the very beginning because for a very long time I have claimed that being Meg Cabot was my dream job. I’ve read pretty much every book Meg Cabot has ever written and was fairly certain I’d be into these once I did read them. Only I was...not. Not really. Everything in this book happened so quickly, I felt like I was the one in the hurricane. People were kissing and then they were having sex and there was a storm and pets and then—it was over? The pacing was all over the place, I had no idea why Drew and Bree liked each other, some guy kicked a dog at one point?? It was weird. Which leads us to—

No Offense by Meg Cabot

A broken engagement only gave Molly Montgomery additional incentive to follow her dream job from the Colorado Rockies to the Florida Keys. Now, as Little Bridge Island Public Library’s head of children’s services, Molly hopes the messiest thing in her life will be her sticky-note covered desk. But fate—in the form of a newborn left in the restroom—has other ideas. So does the sheriff who comes to investigate the “abandonment”. When John Hartwell folds all six-feet-three of himself into a tiny chair and insists that whoever left the baby is a criminal, Molly begs to differ and asks what he’s doing about the Island’s real crime wave (if thefts of items from homes that have been left unlocked could be called that). Not the best of starts, but the man’s arrogance is almost as distracting as his blue eyes. Almost…

John would be pretty irritated if one of his deputies had a desk as disorderly as Molly’s. Good thing she doesn’t work for him, considering how attracted he is to her. Molly’s lilting librarian voice makes even the saltiest remarks go down sweeter, which is bad as long as she’s a witness but might be good once the case is solved—provided he hasn’t gotten on her last nerve by then. Recently divorced, John has been having trouble adjusting to single life as well as single parenthood. But something in Molly’s beautiful smile gives John hope that his old life on Little Bridge might suddenly hold new promise—if only they can get over their differences.

This isn’t a sequel SEQUEL, but another one of those “exists in the same universe,” or same town, as it were, and it was better than No Judgments. Molly and John actually had a few legitimate conversations before they started kissing. The conflict was still weird and sort of forced, this was not Meg’s usual banter (I fell like I can call her Meg at this point, y’know?) and, again, the ending just felt like it...happened. I don’t know guys, maybe I should just reread The Boy Is Back. Or that quasi Persephone-Hades series. It’s been awhile. On that one, at least. I read The Boy Is Back like six months ago.

ABSOLUTELY INFURIATING ROM COM THAT I CANNOT BELIEVE I FINISHED, SOMEONE GIVE ME A PRIZE FOR FINISHING THIS

Fight or Flight by Samantha Young

The universe is conspiring against Ava Breevort. As if flying back to Phoenix to bury a childhood friend wasn't hell enough, a cloud of volcanic ash traveling from overseas delayed her flight back home to Boston. Her last ditch attempt to salvage the trip was thwarted by an arrogant Scotsman, Caleb Scott, who steals a first class seat out from under her. Then over the course of their journey home, their antagonism somehow lands them in bed for the steamiest layover Ava's ever had. And that's all it was--until Caleb shows up on her doorstep.

When pure chance pulls Ava back into Caleb's orbit, he proposes they enjoy their physical connection while he's stranded in Boston. Ava agrees, knowing her heart's in no danger since a) she barely likes Caleb and b) his existence in her life is temporary. Not long thereafter Ava realizes she's made a terrible error because as it turns out Caleb Scott isn't quite so unlikeable after all. When his stay in Boston becomes permanent, Ava must decide whether to fight her feelings for him or give into them. But even if she does decide to risk her heart on Caleb, there is no guarantee her stubborn Scot will want to risk his heart on her...

When I tell you guys that this was the worst book I have read in recent memory, I am not kidding. Might actually be the worst book I have ever read. Bar none. And that’s saying something because one time I had to read Ender’s Game in college and that, like, physically pained me. This was awful. Awful people. Awful plot. Awful resolution. AWFUL. Where to start? Well, I’m not going to apologize for spoilers, because God help us all, do not read this book. Ava has been through so many horrible things in her life it was like someone was trying to set a record. Bad parents, cheating ex-boyfriend, dead former best friend who was former because of the cheating ex-boyfriend. Naturally, this made her a control freak because—of course, or something. And Caleb! Oh my God, fucking Caleb Scott. The dickwad. I’ve never rooted for anyone to not get the girl more. When Ava “broke up” with him (they were never really together) I might have cheered. Shitty things does not give you an excuse to be a dick, and Caleb was a dick. Seriously, he started crying about how his ex-fiance KILLED THEIR BABY and I was like—this cannot possibly be a real book. It was! With lots of abortion opinions out of FUCKING nowhere, and weird possessive behavior from, like, every dude in it. Both Ava AND her best friend (not the dead one, a different one) got assaulted at one point. I kept reading solely because I was desperate to see how they rationalized Ava and Caleb getting back together at the end and they didn’t. He showed up on her flight when her boss came up with a fake work trip so he could sit next to her on the plane. What? WHAT?? It was so dumb. So bad. I can’t believe I read it.

#book recs #fiction rec #rom com recs #fantasy recs #laura reads books #i swear i do other things besides read #really #welllp these are books

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bookdating · 5 years

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2020 Reading Challenge

This year, out of pure boredom, I decided there are simply too many popular books I need to read, so I started designing a list for the new year. It contains 20 reading challenges based on authors I want to read more from, authors I want to discover, and some very specific books. I welcome everyone to try this challenge or express their opinion about the books I chose.

A V. E. Schwab book

I read A darker shade of magic and Vicious and I loved those, but I haven't had a piece of Victoria Schwab's wonderful writing for too long. So for this challenge I chose to read This savage song, followed by Our Dark Duet.

All Grishaverse

If you don't know what Grishaverse is, it's basically the sum of all books written by Leigh Bardugo in the Grisha world. To complete this challenge, I need to read Six of Crows with its sequel, Crooked Kingdom, and also King of Scars.

A Ruta Sepetys book

Last year I read Salt to the Sea, which was insanely good, short, and sad. I want more. For this, I chose Between shades of grey.

A Kristin Hannah book

Her books are everywhere. I've read Winter Garden this year and I have to say that Kristin Hannah knows what she's doing. The Nightingale is a must for me.

A Rainbow Rowell book

I've read Fangirl a long time ago. Pumpkinheads rekindled my love for this author, so I chose to read Eleanor & Park for this.

A Neil Gaiman book

I mean, what am I doing? Why didn't I read anything from him? I'm thinking of going for Neverwhere, but let me know if you have other ideas.

A Terry Pratchett book

The Discworld series fascinated me since I was in school, but I only know it from stories. It's time to get rid of the excuses and start The color of magic.

A middle grade series

I had so many options for this one. I seem to enjoy them a lot, so I wanted something good, but with a fair amount of books because I won't have time for a 10 book series. So I chose to start Aru Shah and the End of Time. It looks like the perfect fit for my reading disires.

A Patrick Ness book

I'm not sure what is the best book to pick up from his. I chose A Monster Calls but let me know if you like better other books of his.

Harry Potter re-read

I'm in the middle of it actually. I wanted to add this so I could have something I'll surely cross off quickly and it'll motivate me to read more. I have the last two books to read.

A fairy-tale retelling

There are so many. I've wanted to pick up Romanov for some time, so this is my chance.

A Haruki Murakami book

His writing style always draws me in and leaves me feeling like I just woke up from a dream. I want to read The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle for this.

An lgbtq book

Great candidates for this one. I'm going to take it easy and finally read I'll give you the sun, but I'm still open for ideas.

A prize winner

The Goldfinch has been on my shelf for quite long. It's time to get rid of it.

A Ian McEwan book

I loved Amsterdam with all my heart. For this, I'll read Atonement.

Scythe series

No description needed.

His Dark Materials trilogy

Just because.

A Markus Zusak book

The Book Thief is my favorite book. I know that his other books won't compare, but I have to see for myself. I chose I am the Messanger.

A Brandon Sanderson book

Mistborn series was one of the greatest adventure of my last year. I don't want to commit big for this, so I chose Elantris.

A Laini Taylor book

Simply saying, Strange the Dreamer.

#Books #Reading #bibliophile #thereadingchallengechallenge #bookish #reading #reading challenge #bookshelf #reader #2020 reading challenge #New year #read #tbr #2020 tbr #booklr

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sxmplytrxsh · 7 years

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No offense but I'm sad lonely and gay someone pay attention to me

#pokey rambles #I seriously.... want some affection....#but everytime I try to open messenger or my fucking texts my heart rate jacks tf up #I have no spoons left for trying to be funny and happy with friends yikes #seriously ti king of isolation #I isolate myself to protect others from my abusive manipulative nature because I'm a monster :^)#like if you see please #also ok to reblog #like... I want to talk to my friends but if I open up even a little it all comes gushing out and that's no good #I'm not able to interact with people like a normal human :^)#also I'm so lonely and touch starved but I get panicky any time anyone tried to hug me bcs guess who had an affection less childhood :^)#sidenote the government people were at my #housse again today because my brother assaulted my mom AGAIN and I WANNA move out so bad #side note side note I rediscovered chew and spit today and holy fuck i forgot how good it is to taste but not get the calories #is this a bad coping mechanism? probably but so is cutting so like ( ͡° ᴥ ͡° )#see like here I am spilling my guts in the tags because I want attention but I don't actually want to let anyone know #!!! CAN I STOP BEING A CONTRADICTION THANKS #like. I'm hiding my cuts and scars w long sleeves and have been for weeks but I'm 👌🏼 this close to wearing short sleeves around my friends #becaue I'm d e sperate for someone to see in like v not okay #but I'm not gonna do that because !!! it's so manipulative and triggering !!#but also I don't care ?? self harm is just like a part of me at this point so why tf am I hiding it #at least I'm not taking my razors to school rn lmao #if anyone actually reads the tags ily and I hope ur having a good day !!!#sidenot sidenote sidenote I'm identifying rly strongly w Lance McClain like #this month and I rly want a klance relationship ?? and that feels rly awful to feel?? but it's what I desperately want ??#do I want a date mate bcs of Lance or am I genuinely lonely we'll never know

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attackonari · 4 years

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Take What is Mine VI

ToC: I - II - III - IV - V

The feast of the hunt was getting underway. Torches lined the pathways, children play fighting, elders bemoaning the younger generation and youngsters listening to embellished tales of hunts. Holding the drink in my hand I smiled watching my people celebrate a well done hunt with a feast of our spoils. Not all of our food, but everyone contributed.

I took a sip and looked around, spotting Sakura speaking with Emiya, one of the many hunters. Not a bad one, but not really my cup of ale. I continue to scour the crowds with my eyes, looking for a head that should have long returned. That mate of mine is too good to have been killed in his first hunt...right? No, no, he is arrogant and his feats have been heard even here, not that we’d tell him.

I set my cup down and stand, signalling to Sakura to come to me. Leaning close to her ear to ensure others do not get a whisper of conversation, not that many would with dancing, children and feasting, I whisper to her my question.

“Where is he?”

“Apologies,” Sakura whispers back, “but it seems that he has yet to return. I have sent out a scouting party to see if he can be found,” she pauses, “or his body.”

His body? Why would only his body be found? Before I knew it I was having her walk with me to the back rooms. No need to alert anyone during a joyous occasion. I pull her to the back room and have her against the wall with my hand on her throat.

“What have you schemed now,” I growled baring my teeth. Sakura likes to play games with her image. Plant ideas and schemes here and there and make the other party believe it was their idea. Or, push them towards it with just a few words. Perfect for envoys of other territories or even the wayward humans who believe they can claim dominion over us as if we truly were beasts, but my mate? I couldn’t help but tighten my hand around her throat.

“A-Alpha...I,” she could barely sound out, “I only...said...to watch out…” she tried to take a breath, I loosened only for enough air.

“Watch out for whom Sakura,” I growled beginning to lose patience, “Who did you warn my fool of a mate away from?”

“O-Old...Scarred PAW,” she dropped like a piece of wood into fire. Watch out for Old Scarred Paw? She sent my fool out to fight the Great Bear, that to even us is a beast among beasts. I only met the bear once a few years ago. It was through blinding an eye that I managed to escape and barely at that. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I can feel my claws aching to rip her apart, my gums aching to dive into her throat. My mate...my mate is dead. Old Scarred Paw kills all in its way.

“You,” she coughed, “you can always find a better mate,” she coughed a few more times, “a better one. Find a beastman,” she cleared her throat.

I could hear her words but it felt as if my ears were underwater. She sentenced my mate to die. A hunter's death is glorious but a death is still a death. And my cubs will be without their father. I can only watch as Sakura attempts to stand.

“Do not look so lost,” she cleared her throat, using the wall as a crutch, “you are the Alpha, you can have whoever you want of the males, or,” she paused looking at me, “the females…”

I can only continue to stare at her. My eyes are dry, but already at the thought of my blond fool my heart howls in sorrow. Before I knew it my fist was buried in the root wall of the Great Tree. My face leaned in close, so close, I could see the pinks in the purples of her eyes.

“No,” I whispered softly, “there will be no other for this Alpha. I will walk into the forest and howl my sorrows and let myself be hunted to death.”

“You speak,” her voice still croaking, “as if you swore matehood to him for eternity. As if you said the vows when you mated him,” she tried to growl. I can only stare at her foolishness. Perhaps if I had acknowledged...no...it would not have changed that I felt only the affection of a friend.

“I did,” I smiled, “I swore to the Earth Mother, and the Sun Father,” my heart shattered, not even a day mated and already he is gone, “and beneath the light of the Daughter Moon and the Children Stars, I swore to be his mate. His hunter. His hearth,” I paused and closed my eyes, “and his home.”

Staring into her eyes, I could see the tears gathering and pulled back. I am already exhausted at the thought of the announcement of giving Sakura the Alpha position as I will walk to prepare to be hunted into the afterlife. I turned my back to my foolish friend, I always knew one day her schemes, her tricks would come to bite her in the ass, but I didn’t think it would bite me too. Hah, bitten by association. And it meant my death, what irony.

“I will announce my abdication and the Right of Prey for the morning,” I begin walking forward before pausing once more, “This means you, as my successor will have to fight once again for your claim.”

“Why,” she gasped, “why would you vow to him your soul,” she questioned as if she didn’t understand despite the amount of times I told her. Well it couldn’t be helped, maybe my act as the Alpha fooled even her? Who knows and at this point, who cares?

“I told you didn’t I,” I questioned as if she hadn’t heard the story a thousand times, “I want the kind of love my parents had,” I fiddled with the fang necklace hanging from my neck, “a pure love where it didn’t need to be questioned or said. One where you just know.”

I took a deep breath and shook off the lingering sorrow that now fills me completely. I am still Alpha and will be until morning. A feast will go on regardless of the news tonight. I will make sure of that.

“Fix yourself quickly, and then join my side.”

With that I walk out of the back room and to the throne. I sit back down and gulp down my drink calling for a young cub to get this Alpha another. The cub sprints away cheering but is scolded by his mother as she hands him a full cup. He attempts to run over only to be scolded loudly to his chagrin, and, to the entertainment of others. A chuckle leaves my lips as I pat the cubs head and send him to play with his friends. I take another sip as I once again survey the Main Den hall. I will certainly miss this. As I put my cup down and Sakura finally joins my side, I take a glance to see her eyes are slightly puffy. Fool. I signal to the drummers to cease and let out a large howl. With that I stand. Time for my final show.

“My fellow beasts,” I exclaim loudly, “today the hunting party hunted well for the week! However,” I pause, “I have some sad news to relate to you, my fellows.”

With this Sakura will once again have to fight for her place as Alpha.

“I will be ab-”

Howls begin to sound about the village. Multiple howls alerting everyone to something coming. Cubs are rushed behind their parents, young ones beginning to growl and adults flexing their claws. Those howls were of the scouting party. Did they come to bring me his remains?

A young male runs in panting and pale as if he were prey himself.

“ALPHA,” he panted. He should not look so tired and he began to stutter and flail about.

“Y-your-”

“MY WHAT,” I couldn’t help but roar. This is ridiculous, I can’t even get an announcement in, “out with it boy!”

“YOUR MATE KILLED OLD SCARRED PAW,” his voice echoed around us. What? What sort of joke is this? My mate would have been killed by that damn bear.

“So you come to jest about Old Scarred Paw here,” I couldn’t help but growl and begin walking to the whelp.

“I-I am not jesting Alpha,” the whelp shook in his footwraps, “h-he carries the Great Beast upon its back. The O-old Bears’ other eye...it's been stabbed,” he stuttered, “a-and his throat s-slashed.”

I was about to grab the whelp and shake him for unknowingly poking at my broken heart when the occupants of the hall burst into chatter. Behind the whelp I can see the body of the old bear heaving up and down. Entering the hall, two golden legs stopped right in front of us and threw the body of Old Scarred Paw at my feet. There standing in front of me was my mate. This foolish human king, Gilgamesh. His breathing strained and heavy, his body bruised, dirty, bloody and cut up. I couldn’t help but hold my breath. This man, he won’t ever know how he just saved me right now.

Chapped lips suddenly opened up before letting out a booming laugh. I could only stare into his red eyes as he smirked.

“A worthy adversary, but that beast is no Humbaba,” he chuckled a bit more before his hand came up to slick his hair back, “rejoice beastwoman, I killed your monster.”

“You did,” I pushed the whelp out of my way and walked up to him. My mate is alive. My mate killed Old Scarred Paw. I drew closer to him, stepping over the corpse and standing right in front of him. I couldn’t help but examine him. Mostly intact, with a good bit of bruising.

“Hmmm,” he raised an eyebrow as I looked back at his eyes, “what is it you-mmph!”

I grabbed his face and let my lips claim his. My mate is alive. He really must be part god. That’s the only way he could have triumphed over the old bear. I kissed him with everything I was, my entire being. Pulling away I couldn’t help but breathe heavily, pulling back a bit, feeling my eyes water.

“You should praise me more...mon..grel,” he said, falling back, I barely caught him in my arms.

“GIL!”

#attackonari #kishinami hakuno #gilgamesh #wolf queen au #I updated twice in a row wow!#Fuwafuwamedb look! Another one!#I hope you like it!

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malyen0retsev · 5 years

Note

So since I’m basically out of work for now I might as well make some use of it... could ya give a girl some book recs?? I’m literally so bored all day I will devour a trilogy in that time rn

You and me both pal, I’m literally in quarantine with suspected symptoms AIN’T IT FUN. So yes, of course! Burying myself in books as it is

His Dark Materials and The Book of Dust - Philip Pullman(Recommend reading HDM first, or if you start with BOD then only read La Belle Sauvage before reading HDM) Set in an alternate reality Oxford - and then further afield - where everybody has a familiar which is representative of their soul in the shape of an animal. Focussed around the character of Lyra and the way in which she is tied dramatically into the events of the world around her... easy to follow, good fantasy

The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra ClareLook, if you haven’t heard of this series you must be napping under a rock honestly... but an urban fantasy saga about a race of peoples called Shadowhunters who protect the earth from demons. Three completed series exist already - The Infernal Devices, The Mortal Instruments, and The Dark Artifices (and I’d recommend reading them in that order tbh, with the short story bindups The Bane Chronicles and Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy between TMI and TDA). Recently released was also the short story bindup Ghosts of the Shadow Market, and the two books The Red Scrolls of Magic and Chain of Gold, which I’d recommend reading in that order post TDA. It’s a wonderfully magic, genuinely hilarious series filled with unforgettable and wonderful characters.

Gone Series - Michael GrantIs post apocalyptic what we want right now?? Idk... but this remains one of my favourite series of all time. A world where all adults suddenly vanish for -reasons- you slowly uncover... and kids start developing superpowers... with adults gone and all tiers of power broken down, what happens? CHAOS THAT’S WHAT. I basically ate these books whole so so fast. One thing I would say - they’re followed by the Monster trilogy, a follow on trilogy. Wouldn’t recommend. You don’t need it. You only need the original 6 books.

Grishaverse - Leigh BardugoThis series became my full blown obsession last year; another fantasy series, set in a world where some people are born with special magical abilities, known as Grisha. The Grisha Trilogy follows the typical chosen one path with Alina Starkov; the Six of Crows Duology chronologically follows it and remarks upon events from the trilogy, but is with a whole different set of characters and is sort of like a high fantasy Oceans 8 Heist; the King of Scars Duology focused around two of the Grisha Trilogy characters and one of the SoC squad. These are also mad addictive books, incredibly original (and I’d recommend reading them in the order I listed them)

The Nevernight Chronicle - Jay Kristoff16-year-old Mia Corvere is seeking revenge for her murdered family, so seeks the Red Church - a school of Assassins. That’s the set up. Add in a ton more excellent writing, political intrigue, fierce characters, animal familiars in the form of shadows, and legit good LGBTQ+ rep, and that’s this series for you.

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha ShannonIn some ways a retelling of the mythological folk tale of St George and the Dragon; seeks inspiration from both Western and Eastern mythological representations of dragons... where dragons are monsters in one side of the world, and allies in another. This is a story which throws you in the deep end immediately and just sort of expects you to grab hold, but hang in there. The initial hundred pages are a mindfuck, and then it is impossible to put down.

Throne of Glass series - Sarah J MaasA world of humans and fae, magic and mortal; stories filled with assassins, swords, political intrigue, alliances, heartbreak, love, pirates, adventure, and dragons. Look, people shit on Sarah J Maas and some of that is totally valid but I won’t apologise for how invested I am in these books. And I really really need to finish this series and now I have the time to YAY

The Poppy War and The Dragon Republic - R F KuangInspired by real Chinese history, this series (final book in the trilogy publishing this year, so this is the perfect time to binge these ready for that) is a military high fantasy inspired by events in China, Japan, and Taiwan, and underpinned by both Chinese history and mythology. Also opium. And gods (quote Rebecca Kuang) dropping acid. These books have you practically ripping the pages to get to the next bit they’re so well written and did I mention the author is 23

Books I’m reading at the moment/getting to ASAP while in quarantine so can’t say what they’re about but just a taste anyway: The Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon SandersonNinth House - Leigh BardugoThe Farseer Trilogy - Robin HobbRed Rising Trilogy - Pierce BrownA Discovery of Witches Trilogy - Deborah HarknessThe Dark Vault - V E SchwabPlus continuing my re-read of The Shadowhunter Chronicles because I am trash for that series always

HOPE THAT HELPED ANON

#asks #BOOKS

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lowbatterypleasecharge · 4 years

Text

k-pop preferences: FMA

Ed:

Monsta X - loud and gaudy, need I say more

Peripherally follows BTS - got to support them short kings

He wasn't a huge fan of Twice, but Al and Winry started playing the Feel Special Album and "Get Loud" is gospel

Stray Kids - "Miroh"... but also "Hellavator" and "DoUbLe KnOt"

Al:

SNSD are the Amazons we deserve

Of course he follows Taeyeon, you buffoons

Twice in general, but also "TT" - "TT" is his spirit animal

IU is Class™

Seventeen - well-liked by everyone, "Very Nice," how could you go wrong?

Winry:

Really anything she can bop to while working, she's not picky

Made her ringtone on Ed's cell "Pick Up the Phone," because what the hell Ed

"Save Me" saved her many times, during many work shifts

Them Loona girls are pretty cool - "Butterfly" is promising

"Tell me why-y-y I'm so lonely," she absentmindedly sings to herself as she stares, bleary-eyed at the arm plate she has to weld into place before the shipment at 6 AM tomorrow. Today. 2 hours from now.

"Sugar Free" is her workout jam, no judging

Hohenheim:

There are thousands of souls, sometimes at war, in his body. He loves and hates all music equally. Hyukoh hits a certain way, though. There's a silence within himself when he hears "Gondry" that he hasn't known for centuries.

Roy:

"Back in my day, we had quality music: Epik High."

Stuck in second gen

"Chaser" is his go-to drunk karaoke song - he and Hughes used to go to town on Fridays

(He may or may not have serenaded Hawkeye to "Mirotic" after a bottle of tequila...we don't talk about the scar on the back of his left knee)

Sometimes the young-ins do something right - I'm looking at you, "Shangri-La"

Riza:

Usually passes the AUX cord to someone else, but objective quality

Dreamcatcher is always a safe bet, style for days

Keeping her eye on BVNDIT because deep female voices are where it's at

SHINEE has her respect - classic, still going strong with "Good Evening"...as long as she never has to look at their debut hair again

(If she Tokyo Drifts to "I'm Sorry," only Black Hayate has to know)

Hughes:

Though technically unrelated to K-pop, we all know Hughes did a rendition of "Baby Shark" with his wife and daughter and proceeded to curse every military base he was stationed at

Knows most of the same songs Roy does, but also oddly informed on the K-pop landscape as a whole - from g.o.d. to, gods forbid, ITZY

Sings "Lovey Dovey" a lot - whether it's for the memes or because he unironically worships the song, no one can tell

Havoc:

Got7 ult bias - everyone wants to know why

But also, "Guys, iKON, 'Love Scenario' is where it's at."

Who's he kidding, really any gg could sing and he'd watch

Armstrong:

Every morning he eats his 5 dozen eggs to "Sixth Sense"

EXO's "Mama" dramatics are goals

Knows the dance to "Again and Again," for some reason

Lust:

"Bad Boys" by RV, but also "Peek-a-boo" MV is fire

Rip Pristin V, guys

Y'all wished they liked BP

Jennie is living her best life, though. Be hot...that's it, that's all there is to life. It's that easy.

EXID and Hyuna - free the titties, do God's work

Envy:

There's a vibration under their pillow, which doesn't really bother them. But it happens again. And again. They lift their head slightly, groggily squinting into the darkness of their room. And then...a slightly muffled "A-to-the-G-to-the-U-to-the-STD." "Oh, Lust can go to voicemail."

They wouldn't say they like "Instagram" per say, but it's like the song won't let go of them. It's on every Spotify playlist they have, somehow. It's unsettling.

Greed:

Block B sinner, through-and-through, cultural appropriation be damned - they want it all

"Monster," no explanation needed

"Bang Bang Bang" is now inextricably entwined in their vocabulary because God is dead, and we have killed them

(and "DDU-DU-DDU-DU," but hopefully his crew doesn't know that)

Ling:

"24 Hours" > "Gashina," and he will die on this hill

But also he's been determined to figure out how to Taemin since "Move"

Vape, you say? Be gay, you say?

Lan Fan is in charge of setting up "Trouble Maker" on the boombox before he yeets out the window, or maybe "Sorry Sorry"...it depends

"Young Lord, what is 'jyp's don't leave me,' and why is the dance tutorial in our search history?"

Greed!Ling:

They've made a compromise, it's 2NE1, and it's possible they're both better for it

Perhaps "I Am the Best" is the anthem they deserved, all along

Lan Fan:

Day6 - the existential yearning

"I Smile" she thinks, very much not smiling

Also, scene kid Lan Fan in her black hood, meditating on life's greatest questions and Seungyeon's "Guilty"

(In other news, Lan Fan has learned to suppress many things in life, the lyrics to "Some" are not one of them)

(P.S. "Gashina" > "24 Hours," but the Young Lord doesn't have to know that)

Mei:

Anything Al likes, obviously, though she despairs at gen 2 gg legs

Astro, obviously

I.O.I. - Korean releases only, she's not a heathen

"Just One Day" - romance in a nutshell

Has a weak spot for traditional Korean influences - "Lit" and "Idol" come to mind, though she's pretty sure she wouldn't like the latter under normal circumstances

Scar:

Doesn't normally listen to music outside of religious reasons

Did the military try to make Scar do a PR stunt to RM and Whales' "Change?" Yes, they absolutely tried.

Olivier:

Again, not a huge music person, doesn't really do it for her

A nod in passing to those who don't pander to the masses on Weekly Idol, even if she doesn't know who they are

(Ever since then, Armstrong keeps blithering on about functions? She thinks. She doesn't care to understand how they're connected to red lights or electric shocks, though.)

Dr. Marcoh:

Trot

"Man, the kids really can sing these days," he thinks, biting his bottom lip and bobbing his head to Masked Singer

#the moment pride said his favorite kpop song was arirang they should have cuffed the little f*cker where he stood #'daddy's favorite song' my @ss #fma headcanon #kpop headcanon #i guess?#txt post #long txt post

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sanders-sides-fics · 5 years

Text

A Fanciful Dream: Chapter Five

Warnings: Arguments, Discussion of the dead

Masterlist

Ao3

Word Count: 2188

Virgil sat on the large bed in the third bedroom of the guest suite. He was glad King Remington and his advisor had given him time alone. Their belief that he was this lost prince couldn’t be right, even with Patton’s added information. Virgil would know if he was a prince. He would know it if he were meant for more than being a servant.

The entire idea was overwhelming. If the idea was right, his fathers were dead and he’d never have the chance to know them. He’d known them once, but the memories never returned.

Virgil had made peace with his permanent memory loss years ago, but now a familiar sadness coiled in his stomach. Most of his supposed family was dead. And the brother he might have left would barely let him get a word in on the idea.

If he were this lost Prince, it meant the Dragon Witch tried to kill him. The Dragon Witch. The one Prince Roman spoke of in the most frightening of his stories. In the retellings of King Thomas’ narrow escape from her clutches, each one more gruesome than the last. That was the Witch who wanted him dead.

How would such a person react to finding him alive?

No. Virgil couldn’t be this Prince. He was a servant. No background, no brother, no tragic past. Virgil just needed to convince King Remington. Or Remy, as the King tried to make Virgil call him. King Remington would find it all silly once he realized that Virgil wasn’t his dead little brother.

Virgil glanced around the bedroom and laid back on the bed. It was quite comfortable. He would enjoy sleeping on such soft materials while he tried to make the foreign guests see reason. But he missed the small space he kept in Patton’s small quarters. That was what felt like home.

Patton.

Patton who told him to go with these two for now. It was entirely possible Patton was playing along to please the visiting guests, but Patton could truly believe this fairy tale.

Why was Virgil the only one seeing how fool-hearted it was? If Virgil was this Virgilius, the Dragon Witch would have ensured he died. And the village Patton found him was too far from Picais’ border for him to have wandered there.

It didn’t make sense.

“Virgil?”

Virgil glanced up to see Logan standing in his doorway. The servant sat up on the bed.

“Yes, sir?”

Logan smiled tiredly, “Just Logan is fine, Virgil. I wanted to discuss today with you privately.��

Virgil nodded, he hoped Logan felt differently from King Remington. Someone else had to see that this could not be true. There was no way Virgil was a Prince. Even without his memory, Virgil would feel like he was meant for more than servitude if he were the lost Prince. And he didn’t.

“Do you think I’m Virgilius?”

Logan was quiet for a moment, brow creasing as he frowned. He bit his lip before looking over Virgil and focusing on his face, pausing briefly on the scarf around his neck.

“You share many qualities with young Virgilius . . . And you resemble King Emile when he was your age. How were you named Virgil?”

Virgil frowned, “Patton wanted something to call me and when he suggested the name Virgil, it felt . . . right?”

Logan narrowed his eyes at the explanation, “Patton suggested it?”

“I brought up “V” and he came up with V names,” Virgil shrugged. “It wasn’t the first one he came up with.”

Logan’s face relaxed at the explanation and Virgil realized what Logan had thought of Patton. It confirmed Logan’s thoughts on their situation as well. Virgil slumped his shoulders, feeling defeated. If Logan was suspicious of Patton, it meant he truly believed Virgil was Virgilius.

“You really think I’m the Prince, don’t you?” he asked.

Logan nodded grimly, “I’ve seen no evidence to suggest otherwise. I’m merely exercising precaution to protect Remington should this belief prove false.” Logan cleared his throat, “I recognize your reluctance to have this prove true, but I implore you to consider the possibility. For Remington’s sake, and your own.”

“I can try,” Virgil sighed, wringing his hands as he thought it over. “I don’t think it’s true, but King Remington isn’t going to let this go.”

Logan sat down on the bed beside Virgil, “I am not . . . the best with emotions but should you require guidance, I shall do my best to assist you through this situation.”

Virgil shifted on the bed, considering the offer presented to him. He didn’t know if he could trust Patton’s advice after how quickly his father gave into this theory. Trusting Logan may be his best chance to figure out how he could be feeling. At the least, the adviser had considered the situation and admitted his doubts, unlike anyone else.

It wasn’t that Virgil didn’t want to find his family. He spent years hoping they would find him, but as he grew closer to Patton and became more comfortable in his role in the castle, the want faded. It remained, but now Virgil couldn’t imagine a life where Patton hadn’t taken him in. And being a Prince? It didn’t fit that image.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer Logan,” he concluded. “I don’t see how this is more than some coincidence, maybe you can try to explain it in a way I can comprehend?”

“Of course, Virgil,” the adviser spoke softly.

The man reached to his neck and pulled out a chain necklace with a golden locket attached at the end. He opened it to reveal two small portraits of men, one on each side.

“The man on the left is King Emile and on the right is King Dorian, Remington and Virgilius’s fathers,” Logan explained. “Even now, I see the resemblance between you and the late King Emile.”

Logan took off the necklace to allow Virgil a closer look at the portrait. Logan placed the locket in Virgil’s hands and lifted his hands up to eye-level. Virgil focused on the left portrait, taking in the soft expression of the late King, eyes searching for what Logan saw.

. . . Remington was correct, the King had the same chestnut-colored eyes as Virgil, only his were framed by laugh lines and a thick pair of glasses. And the King had a similar skull structure if the artist had correctly captured King Emile’s image.

Virgil glanced at the other portrait. King Dorian’s eyes were alight with mischief and a small smirk coiled his lips. A burn scar marred the left half of his face, but even so, Virgil could see bits of King Remington in the late King Dorian. And of himself. They had the same nose and hair color; their hair both the same dark brown, mistaken for black a glance.

“I do see a small resemblance,” he whispered.

Virgil couldn’t look away from the two portraits, in awe of the similarities. Something stirred in him . . . was it sadness? Perhaps it was from the knowledge the two men were no longer alive, torn from their family and kingdom too soon. Yes, that was it.

Virgil slipped out of the guest suite once Remington and Logan retired for the night, He wanted to clear his head and think about today’s events. Virgil hadn’t had a moment to really consider what happened without someone interrupting. And Logan had provided some new information for him to consider.

He walked down the hall of the castle, trying to imagine having been part of a family ruling over one. There wasn’t much to compare to, King Thomas and Prince Roman were never close. Virgil paused in front of portraits of the two royals. King Thomas sat in his throne with a grim expression and Prince Roman stood beside him stiffly with a forced smile.

It wasn’t hard for Virgil to tell it was a false smile, he’d spent enough time watching Prince Roman force that smile in the court and drop it immediately when they entered his private chambers.

. . . Virgil didn’t want that life for himself. He knew Prince Roman hated it as well. If Virgil was Virgilius, his happiness - contentedness with his life? - would be traded for a family. He wasn’t even sure he wanted that.

He sighed and shook his head as he walked away from the portrait, continuing down the hall. Virgil stopped when he arrived at the balcony and opened the glass doors to go outside. The autumn air was pleasantly chill against his skin as he walked onto the balcony.

He leaned against the railing and looked up. The sky was clear, allowing him to see the constellations of Orethus and Mediua. He always enjoyed the way Patton crafted their story and described how they overcame the manticore chimera. It frightened him at first until the first time Prince Roman sat in on the story, a month into Virgil’s stay at the castle. The Prince made him act as Mediua and Roman, Orethus, to defeat the monster together.

Virgil smiled softly at the memory. Virgil didn’t always like the Prince, but that didn’t make him entirely unbearable to think of. Rather, when he wasn’t flirting, his company could be enjoyable.

Virgil shook his head. He was being ridiculous. How he didn’t feel for Prince Roman didn’t matter right now. He needed to focus on how King Remington was convincing everyone that Virgil some prince. Once King Remington gave up his fantasy, Virgil could try to figure the Prince Roman thing out.

From behind him, Virgil heard a quiet “oh” sounded out as the door’s hinges squeaked. Virgil glanced over his shoulder and sighed. Prince Roman stood at the entryway in his nightclothes, a silk tunic and pants.

“I didn’t think anyone was out here . . .” Roman mumbled.

Virgil shrugged, “I needed to clear my head.”

“Because of the prince thing?”

Virgil nodded.

“I mean, it seems so odd. Are you sure it’s true?”

Virgil shook his head, “I don’t think so, but everyone else does . . .”

“Then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go along with it?”

Virgil frowned, “I don’t want to live a lie.”

Roman nodded, stepping out onto the balcony and shitting the glass door.

“Good point,” Roman leaned against the railing. “I suppose you’re right . . . Are you staying here then?”

“. . . I’m not sure,” Virgil looked from Roman and back to the sky. “I think I’d like to.”

Roman sighed, “I’ll miss you if you go.”

“You would?”

Virgil turned to the Prince, trying to hide the shock from his face. Prince Roman could have lied and not cared at all, but Virgil never expected to hear it. Virgil expected Roman to not care or acknowledge their situation. At most, he expected Prince Roman to stop flirting with him, given the protective nature of King Remington.

“Of course, Joyle doesn’t know how I like my evening tea.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Of course.”

“More seriously, Virgil, you’ve known me for years and I enjoy your company. I can’t think of anyone else in the castle who knows me the way you do.”

“Roman, I swear if you’re trying to get with me again-”

“No! No, Virgil,” Prince Roman interrupted. “I overstepped this morning . . . It’s fine, it’s important you know I think more of you than that.”

“Because of the Prince thing.”

Roman frowned, “No, I-I. Virgil, we used to be friends . . . when you started working for me, we lost that.”

“Ever think it was due to your actions?”

Roman paused and stared at Virgil, leaving the question in the air between them. Virgil huffed and crossed his arms as he waited for Roman’s answer.

“. . . Virgil . . . Have I treated you so poorly?” Roman asked in a tender tone.

“Yes!” Virgil exploded. “Me, other servants, those you court! You act so selfishly, as though how you feel is most important! Even today, you were more important than the visiting King!”

Roman stood before Virgil with tears in his eyes. Roman’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil shook his head.

“No, for once, you have to listen. You’re right, I’ve known you for years and I watched you hurt person after person! You court lords and ladies, then throw them aside when you grow bored, stringing them along! You disrespect your servants, never thanking them for their aid and demanding that what you require is most important. Today, I needed to help prepare for King Remington’s arrival, but you deemed yourself more worthy of my time.”

“Virgil, I-”

“You’re immature and childish, Roman. And unfit to rule while you continue to act this way. I’ve put up with it as a favor to Patton, but I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“I’ve already heard this from my father, I don’t need to hear it from my manservant,” Roman forced out as he gripped the balcony’s railing tightly. “Especially one who does not listen to me.”

“Fine. Then know, if this proves false? That I quit,” Virgil said, forcing himself to stay calm.

Virgil turned from the Prince and stomped back inside.

#Virgil Sanders #Sanders Sides #big bang 2019 #tw: arguments #tw: death #my fics

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feralwrongs · 5 years

Text

ophelia

tw: death/suicide mentions, abortion, brief sex mention

read more starts where the tws come in

i. daisy

his words scrawled on parchment with a quill full of inky secrets are for me, me, me and i am selfish. i am young and selfish and a child and they forget that, they all do, they always do. he writes me love letters and while i know, i know, i know there cannot be anything more than this, not ever (because he is going to be king one day) i hope. i wish. i pray. hoping and wishing and praying mean nothing, i know this. yet an unwarranted daisy of forbidden hope blooms in my chest. even with his ignorance to the blossom in my chest, he waters it.

we spend nights together now sometimes not always but most nights. he draws me from fitful slumber as his weight dips the mattress behind me, long arms enveloping me nose snuffling into the back of my neck through the jungle of my hair. we sleep some nights and he’s always gone when i awaken, leaving behind the scent of him and a small note tucked beneath my pillow. other nights we spend pressed chest to chest, talking in hushed tones, our breaths and heartbeats falling in line as our whispers mingle in the air. those nights end when the morning sunlight trickles in and he leaves with a searing kiss that says the things we know we cannot say and then he’s gone.

the night before he leaves to wittenberg is different. so different. i am still awake when he enters just past one. there are no words shared between us before he lunges forward onto my bed, onto me, kissing me like a man starved for months on end. i kiss him back just as hungrily. as suddenly and quickly as he arrives our clothes are a pile on my bedroom floor. we tangle in the sheets, a fumbling mess, hands desperate to map every inch of skin, eyes lingering on every freckle and scar. we kiss and we kiss and we kiss and we kiss and we it’s quick but it’s perfect and i love him, love love love him. i wish i could tell him but i silence that impossible fantasy by kissing him again and again and again.

the sun rises. he dresses. he leaves. i dress. i leave. i become just another person in the throng of those bidding him farewell. he shakes my hand. he goes to school. i go back to my room. he’s left a note under my pillow. how did i miss that?

i wish things were different. i wish i could say the things i want to say. i’ll have to be content with knowing that you know.

i cry then. he loves me. i love him. despite it all, i love him. i love him and he loves me and the love hidden in letters tucked beneath my bed are enough until he comes home.

ii. violet

the rain is falling loud as hail when he returns as if to fill the silence he brings. it’s haunting, his silence full of anger and unsaid words and overwhelming sadness. i feel it in his embrace after the funeral that night. it’s heavy and sticky on his skin, molasses that sticks me to him and him to me. he feels so small in my arms, a crystallised violet protected only by my trembling hands.

i’m sorry, he whispers into my hair. for what, i ask, and he has no answer to give me but i know the words sitting on his tongue. he is sorry for weakness, for collapsing under the weight of sudden loss, for wetting my hair with salty tears, for the sobs that force their way out of his chest, for showing what he has been taught to identify as weakness. you have nothing to be sorry for, i say. i’m going to be king, he points out, voice breaking on the word he dreads, i’m not a child anymore. but he is a child. we are children. barely nineteen and he can’t cry for his dead father.

you have nothing to be sorry for, not a single thing, i repeat with force. so he cries and i stroke his hair and i am angry, furious, incensed, that this man no, this boy, is sorry for his humanity. the thought makes me nauseous so i close my eyes and inhale the scent of him and try to match his breaths with mine.

if i let him go, he will fall, i think. so i don’t let him go. if i keep holding him, i will fall, i think. so i tighten my arms around him. he is worth any fall.

iii. fennel and columbine

when they say life and death go hand in hand, this is not how they meant it. one week after the king is buried, a wedding is announced. the king dead not a month and the queen is engaged to her dead husband’s brother and i wish more than anything i didn’t understand.

unwed, a woman is powerless, a pawn in a twisted game of chess for men to play as they please; despite how sickeningly contrary it is, a woman without a husband loses all autonomy. she does in marriage too but she is set, settled, chosen, and cannot be used for power even if the man who marries her does so for power even if the man who marries her was a brother not three weeks earlier.

i understand this but he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, and i don’t try to explain it. some things men will never understand, and to try is to hurt, and his anger is so white-hot that it makes the sticky molasses on his skin boil and it burns when he holds me but i don’t cry out because i love him, i love him, i love him, and i know he loves me. i think he loves me. i hope he loves me.

iv. fennel and columbine, again

two months pass. i become his solace, my arms his safe haven, our nights together leaving me breathless and pink all over.

two months pass and he asks me to pick flowers for his lapel for the wedding, a simple act that soothes the monster created in my chest by the fear of losing him. i’m desperate to see him smile again (a real smile in the real world)

so i muddy my knees and my elbows digging through the dense underbrush by the brook, getting tangled up in the overgrown vines and garlands that hang from the trees. and when i find what i need i nearly fall into the brook in my rush to return to him. the slap of my bare feet on the marble floors echoes through the halls tracking mud on freshly cleaned floors but i don’t care about that, any of that, not now.

i bring him a small bunch of fennel and columbine and pin it with shaky, dirty hands that fall to rest against my stomach once their task is complete. the ghost of a smile touches his lips as he notes the chosen blossoms a smile that fills me with a warmth of my own and makes the molasses on his skin not burn so badly anymore. then his eyes follow my hands and he steps back.

deceived lovers, good choice, he whispers and the calculated mask on his face as he turns and leaves my room drains any warmth i feel as quickly as it had arrived.

v. rue

his mother visits me it’s her wedding night and yet here she is.

a cup of tea in hand. i don’t want it. but what choice do i have?

i could be wrong, i whisper. better safe than sorry, she replies.

my father has told me to stay away from him.

my lips brush against the porcelain of the small cup at my words, the bitter rue stinging lips chapped, chapped from kissing him. i would bear the weight of this sting for the rest of eternity if it meant being his.

but i am a pawn and she is a pawn and this is a demented game of chess and so i drink, the honey-coloured liquid burning my throat and drawing a violent retch out of my mouth.

she stays with me that night, glued to my side as the poison (that perfectly concocted potion) ruins me from the inside out.

i bleed for the first time in three months that night. we correctly erred on caution’s side and yet i’ve never felt more sorry in my life and i know she knows but neither of us says anything and that is that.

vi. rosemary and pansies

two nights after the wedding he is in my room again and for a brief moment, a brief lightning flash, i think that things are okay.

i drop my sewing (my hands are trembling too badly to sew anyway) and my eyes flutter shut, visions of the future i always dreamt of dancing behind my eyelids.

then his hand is wrapped around my wrist in an iron-clad grasp and he drags me up from my chair to him and this isn’t him, this isn’t. the man before me is hollow, pale, ghostly. his skin is nearing translucence sans the deep shadows beneath his eyes and i am frightened.

he stares and stares and stares and then he sighs the sigh of a man five times his age and then he’s gone and then i make the mistake every girl makes at least once: i trust my father.

and i am coerced, no, forced into the role of spy with the letters that keep me sane clutched in my hands that shake worse than before, meant to be used as daggers against him even though i’ve already been forced to keep my distance forced not to love him forced into a life i didn’t ask for.

to be or not to be, he asks the air, desperate for the meaning of this life, begging to know what happens after it all. i don’t know the answer and i can’t even begin to try to find words and then it doesn’t matter.

get thee to a nunnery, he shouts, shaking me violently as i tremble furiously in his grasp.

of course he confirms my worst fears, the ones hidden away in the darkest corners of my mind. he never meant the words, of course he didn’t, says i should lock myself away and i agree. i don’t say so but i do because the only way to survive as a woman in this world is to keep your heart locked away.

then he leaves.

to my father and the king, this shows the prince’s madness, but they are left unaware that this has pushed me one step closer to the abyss of my own.

vii. withered violets

he’s dead. they’re dead. we’re all dead. my father is dead and the man i love (used to love, used to) he’s gone too, swallowed whole by madness and grief.

and my brother is away. and the world is dying. and i’m dying.

the violets don’t bloom anymore and all i can do is cry and cry and cry and sing nonsense songs until the thread holding me in this life snaps and (finally, finally, finally) i fall heavily into the murky water.

#kate writes #ophelia #poetry #i wrote this for a writing portfolio for school #we had recently read carol ann duffy #hamlet #narrative poetry #pls read im babey

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darkredehmption · 5 years

Text

Not What We Seem

@DamagedBrother and @OfFeatherNFang

Mal:

Caldwell was like any other city as I wasted the day away. Resting for a few hours in the morning, rolling around on a bed that probably needed a fresh set of sheets, I took the afternoon to recharge, finding a clear rooftop and sprawling out to bake. It’d been a while since I’d just lounged in the sun, so maybe I should be thinking of this as some sort of vacation, rather than an obligation to my mahmen.

As day turned to twilight, then to evening, I wandered the city streets, killing time for once instead of monsters. Cafe’s were open, and I had a coffee, something sweet, and then went ‘fuck it’, and ordered some frappa-whappa-whatever, which would’ve been sweet enough to give me diabetes if that was possible for an angel slash vampire. And it was all courtesy of Bert Aframian, the credit card serving as money I’d never touched, and never would.

With every hour that passed I grew more impatient for my audience with the King, my footsteps taking me further from the polite cafes and diners to the gritty alleys and side streets, the pulsing nightclubs with their barely restrained bouncers all too eager to break something. Or someone.

Lines stretched around the corner for several, and I stopped shy of entering one that looked borderline promising: The Iron Mask. It took a minute for my mental voice to be heard over the pounding music that pushed out the doorway, but when it was it reminded me that showing up to an audience with the King of vampires, reeking of sweat, sex and alcohol, was probably a bad idea. No doubt classed somewhere in the zone of ‘disrespectful AF’. I could even feel my mahmen’s frown from here.

Grumbling about propriety, I stalked on, stuffing my hands in my coat pocket and holding out for a better distraction. Ironically, it only took another three blocks for it to appear.

As I rounded a corner into yet another run down, lamp shattered street, the wind pushed into me, and with it the foulest scent I’d encountered for years; not counting the wendigo snack bar I’d had to burn down after killing the thing. Something like rotting meat and baby powder wafted toward me on the breeze, and as my gag reflex got a work out, my eyes zeroed in on the culprit. He was on the corner, leaning against a graffiti laden brick wall. His face was lit by the phone he held, and his hair looked faded, like a blonde with a bad dye job that was finally washing out.

Every story my mahmen had ever told me, about rancid demons of ichor that hunted vampires coalesced, and the vision before me was… anticlimactic. This thing was what had hunted my mother’s kind for centuries? This… thing… with its pale hair and eyes and lazy gait, no doubt peddling drugs to humans… was the threat I hadn’t been allowed to face?

I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. The noise caught his attention, the phone forgotten as he looked up. I wasn’t sure if he could scent me or not - was that something a Lesser could do? - but I saw the flare of recognition in his eyes as easily as he saw it in mine. Well, give or take a little of my breeding…

The phone was forgotten as he reached into his coat, the piece he pulled out a sleek, dark nin mil. I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, dropping into a roll as my heart rate kicked into high gear. The first shot went over my head, a thunderclap in the street as I came up and launched myself skyward. The second shot hit the pavement, the third grazed my boot. And then I was invisible as I summoned my wings and threw them wide, using the launch and my feathers to close the twenty meter distance between us in two seconds.

His wild, sweeping arc of the gun as he tried to spot me again was for nothing as I crashed out of the sky to land on him, resuming a visible state as I batted the gun aside and bared my fangs in a snarl, black wings spread wide over him. He stared up, agape, whatever fury he’d been ready to unleash forgotten at the sight of me.

“Get a good look?” I spat, drawing a blade from my boot and bringing it up, then down, right for the heart.

He twisted at the last second, my blade glancing off the bone in his arm, his shoulder, as he tried to reach for the gun. Black blood spurted, and I ducked another shot, my ear ringing as I grabbed the wrist holding the gun and twisted with everything I had. He screamed as the bones shattered, the hand connected to his body only by flesh as it hung at a gut churning angle.

Slamming a palm to his throat, I cut off the scream with a squeeze as I pulled back the blade and drove down again. This time I found the mark.

I wasn’t expecting the light show. Mahmen certainly never warned me about ‘that’. The burst seemed to fry my retinas as I reeled back, the body now just a scorch mark as I tried to blink away the blaze.

“What… the fuck…” I muttered, rubbing at one eye with the hand that didn’t clutch the blade, ready for whatever came next.

Which, as it turned out, was not another Lesser. My phone pinged, an alarm to remind me my meeting was five minutes away. Cursing, I looked around. I’d planned to be there already, to linger outside in the cool air and only enter at the sound of that alarm, but now here I was, in some dead street at the edge of a city and reeking of the black blood that spattered my leather jacket sleeve.

Fucking hell.

Wings still out, I leapt up into the air, landing on a nearby roof that clearly had only seen pigeon activity for a long time. Shucking off the coat, I set it and the single blade I’d bothered to bring against the edge, then looked down at myself. There was nothing else to be done, time not on my side now as I launched into the air, winging myself across town to the Audience House.

Making the door with a minute to spare, I sheathed my wings and raked a hand through my windswept hair, taking a deep breath and wincing at the lingering stench of sweet, rotting meat.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, stepping into the receiving room and offering courteous smile to the male behind the desk, who seemed relieved to see me. He waved me forward, and only then did I notice the huge, hulking male at the next doorway. The one between me and the King.

I was grateful for my years of training, because it was the only thing that kept my face impassive as I stared up into golden yellow eyes, a lip twisted by a scar that stretched right up to his forehead. The scar didn’t bother me though; it was the set of those shoulders, the look on his face that told me one wrong move, and he’d gladly break my neck to protect whoever was behind that door.

Dude was definitely committed to this King.

Stepping forward, I bowed as mahmen had shown me, then stood and extended my arms. The male grunted as he stepped forward, a shiver rolling down my spine as he stood behind me. A spark leapt between us, and I couldn’t help but gasp at the shock, shooting him a sharp glance like it was his fault. Then he was patting me down, thorough with hands that had no doubt killed a thousand Lessers just like the one I’d dealt with on the street. When he was done, his hand closed around my shoulder, all but shoving me through the door, into a room with… King Fucking Kong, apparently.

The male was huge. With a capital H-oly Fuck. Seated on a throne, and with two additional warriors in the room, he still dwarfed them not just with his size, but his presence. He commanded attention, and as the black wraparounds looked in my direction he took a deep breath and leant forward.

“Speak your name.”

The two males at his back stiffened at the sight of me. One had eyes like diamonds, and a tattoo that curled around one eye as he narrowed them at me. The other had hair of impossible colors, a glorious mane that look touchable. My fingers even twitched. But they still paled to the male in the throne.

Before I answered I bowed low, as was proper for a nobody civilian.

“I am Malys, son of the Chosen Elieanora,” I said evenly, rising from the bow. “And I have come to seek a pardon from your majesty for her fleeing the Sanctuary a hundred years past.”

Zsadist:

[Tonight I was on King duty. Instead of heading out into the field, I found myself playing bodyguard to Wrath. Which wasn’t as thrilling as going out and killing lessers, but it was still an important job. We must serve and protect not only the race but our King as well. Guarding Wrath with me was Vishous and my twin. While Cop, Rhage, and Tohr were out in the field. I was hoping that tonight would go smoothly and there wouldn’t be any problems on our hands. It was always nerve wracking having Wrath out though. He was not only the King of our race, but a brother, and a lot of people wanted him dead.

Cracking my neck as I try to remember how many meetings we had tonight. We should be wrapping it up soon. I could feel daylight growing near and we would need to get Wrath home. Digging into my pocket to grab my phone. I glanced at the time written across the screen before I check to see if I had any messages. Without Vishous’s knowledge I gave the shifter my actual number. Then again, maybe V already knew that. Snorting at the thought then pushes the device back into my pocket. He hadn’t texted me so I assumed that we were still on for training later in the week. You could do it Z, just had one more to get through and then you could be at home with a book.

My ears prick as I hear a muffled conversation at the end of the hall. Straightening up as I watch a male turn the corner and head down the hallway towards me. Tilting my head as I take in the site of him. Interesting. I’ve never seen this male around before. Not that I really knew all vampires in this area, but there was something about him that screamed he was not from here. An outsider. What business did he have with the King?

I let out a low grunt as the stranger bows to me then holds out his arms so I could pat him down. Moving to his backside, I blink as I feel some sort of jolt. Was this some kind of power he had? Was he trying to pull a fast one on me? On the King? Biting back a growl as my hands move roughly over the male. Not caring as I grabbed and pushed my hands all over his body in search for weapons. I didn’t trust him one bit. I practically shove him into the room and get a hint of a scent that clouds my senses. Baby powder. The enemy.

My golden eyes go wide as I watch him stumble forward towards the King. Who the fuck did I just let enter this room? Fuck. Quickly I move in and stand close to the male. Vishous eyes me as he tries to read what’s doing. I see his eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up what I discovered. We keep it cool though. Listening to what this fucker had to say but also being ready at a moment’s notice if we had to strike. Slowly I bring my hand to my chest. Keeping it close in case I had to pull a dagger on this fucker. I would not let my King get hurt. Not on my watch. Nope.

I watched as he bowed again, a more pronounced one then the bow I received moments before. When he rises the King orders him to speak. My brows draw in as he speaks the name of a Chosen. A chosen I’ve never heard before. Phury blinks then shifts in his spot. He was the primale after all so all matters involving chosen he dealt with. Well it was a good thing he was present then. She was not just any chosen, but one who left. It made me wonder if Tohr knew about her. Maybe it was a chosen he came across with Darius. Though it sounded like she fled and went into hiding without a trace. I was intrigued by what the mystery man had to say, but still kept my guard up. The stench of the enemy still all around me. As my eyes roamed his body I noticed that he looked a little disheveled. Similar to what I looked like after fighting. The only problem was which side was he fighting on? And even if he was taking down a lesser who the fuck was he to do so?]

Mal:

The King grunted his acknowledgment of my words. I was beginning to suspect that standing on ceremony was not what happened with this guy. He had all the pomp and pageantry of a steel blade, and twice as sharp.

At my back I could feel the tension of the golden eyed warrior, and it took every lick of self control I had, and every lesson my mahmen had ever taught me about manners or propriety, to not turn around and eyeball him like I was ready to throw down right here, right now.

Cause I was. And I would. If it wasn’t for the woman who raised me needing this boon.

“So your mother was a Chosen that fled the sanctuary,” the King intoned, leaning back in that massive chair and tilting his head toward the male with the luscious locks, like he wanted him paying attention. “Why did she leave?”

Clearing my throat, I took a second to check my tone. It was, after all, a reasonable question, even if /I/ didn’t want anyone questioning her.

“Pardon me, my Lord, but it would be rude of me to attempt an explanation of my mother’s motivations at the time, not being her, or sharing that… experience. From what she has deigned to tell her son, it was to do with the desire for freedom and not wanting to… perform.”

Y’know… as in… be the Ehros she’d been trained to be. Sweet fuck please don’t make me say it out loud. Damn it, I could feel the faintest trace of a blush on my cheeks, but c’mon, who wouldn’t get embarrassed talking about whether or not their mother wanted to be a professional sex doll. Motherfuckers…

Instead of letting them get a word in, I continued, hoping the damn blush faded faster than the stupid Lesser stench I kept catching a whiff of.

“I understand that under your reign, things have changed, both for your civilian people, and for the Chosen. It is my hope that, with that in mind, my mother would be free to return to her people without facing persecution.”

Wrath inhaled again, and I had to wonder if he was catching all that stinking baby powder smell. I hid a wince, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“You got balls kid, I’ll give you that,” he said finally. “What if I wasn’t as benevolent as they say, hmm? What if I demanded retribution from your mahmen and her location? What then?”

“Then you have her son as a prisoner to serve whatever sentence you deem necessary,” I say coolly, eyes narrowing, “and I will have to suffice, for I will not ever reveal my mahmen’s location. I’d rather die.”

Every word rang with truth even as I stared him down - for all the good that probably did. They had to call him ‘Blind King’ for a reason. Not to worry though, cause the three other males around us were all kinds of ‘watch your fuckin’ mouth kid’ after I spoke.

“Phury,” Wrath said finally. “What do you want to do about this?”

Zsadist:

[This kid has way too much sass talking to the King like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? He came here on behalf of his mother, a chosen, to pardon her from fleeing. Now I know shit has changed and the King will most likely have no problem with this, but he still should have some respect. And then on top of it he’s gonna come in here reeking like lessers? Nope.

My attention is drawn to my twin when Wrath calls him out. Ah yes, the primale. What would he think of all this? He had to be curious about this Chosen. And I’m sure the other chosens would be excited to meet another, have another sister. I watched as Phury shifts beside the King. He eyes the stranger up before speaking.

“I don’t wish for any punishment to be brought to your Mother. I understand her reasons for fleeing.” He scrubbed a hand through his long locks of hair. “Things are different now and I have a sanctuary of my own for the chosens.” He gave a small private smile as he thought of them all. “If she would like to return, I would be happy to bring her in and introduce her to the others. I know they would be just thrilled to meet another sister.”

What he said was true. Phury cared deeply about the chosens. It’s funny cause when we first learned that he was going to be the primale we were unsure of what that would entail. But he found love, with Cormia. And I was glad that my brother was finally happy. Now only if he could stop trying to introduce me to different chosens every time I fed. Like I would do the same and get mated or some shit. Yeah right.

I snort at the thought then turned my attention to the stinky fucker in the room. I knew Wrath wasn’t dumb. He could smell what we smelled and probably even more so with his heightened senses. Even though I was on guard and ready to strike at a moment’s notice I kept my cool. Wrath might not want to make a scene in the audience house but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t elsewhere. My hand stayed close to my blade regardless. Just cause we didn’t want bloodshed didn’t mean this fucker doesn’t. Chosen mother or not, I’ve learned in my lifetime that you could trust no one. Anyone could turn on you or have other motives.]

Mal:

While the King looked like he could make a meal out of me and still use my rib as a toothpick, the male with the rainbow hair adjusted his stance and looked me over. He still looked like he wanted to put something sharp somewhere I wouldn’t like it, but when he spoke of the Chosen, of my mother having the freedom to return and see them, there was no malice, no aggression. His compassion and care for them was plain in the look on his face, the tone of his voice.

Relief ran through me as I thought of my mahmen, of being able to tell her she could come back to this past she’d fled so long ago.

Aware of each male in the room /wanting/ a reason to hurt me, I very slowly bowed my head, then lowered myself into a bow, my knee on the floor. I couldn’t speak the Old Language - I didn’t know a word of it - but I tried to make sure the sincerity of my gratitude rang through as I spoke.

“My Lords, your kindness knows no bounds.” Okay, it probably knew plenty of bounds, but go with me on this. “I am incredibly grateful for the mercy and compassion you’ve shown my mother. I apologize if I, at any stage, seemed ungrateful. My concern was only for the woman who raised me alone in the human world, and that she might find some solace in returning to the people she knew and loved.”

Lifting my head but not rising from my crouched bow, I looked first at the Primale, and then to the King.

“I thank you for taking the time to see me. For gracing me with an audience.”

And yeah. I guess I meant it. There was truth in everything I said. But now I was done. I could go home, go back to the hunt, and forget about Caldwell unless it housed a poltergeist.

Rising to stand - again, so much more slowly to avoid getting shivved - I made to turn on the spot when the King’s voice rang out.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been doing tonight, son.” My eyes flicked to those black wraparounds, then to the male’s either side of him. Otherwise, I didn’t move. “If you’re not from here, what have you been doing in town?” the Blind King continued softly.

Swallowing, I kept my voice even. My heart rate barely twitched. I’d faced down the worst kinds of monsters, seen horrors I wouldn’t wish on my enemies as nightmares; I could face this King… and his warriors. After all, I’d faced the Lessers they’d spent centuries fighting, and I’d barely broken a sweat to do it.

“I’m sure the activities of a wayward civilian would be of no interest to his Majesty,” I begin, tone courteous. “You honor me just in the asking. If it please the King to know, I have stayed in a simple motel, partaken of the city and its cafe’s, and walked through the Nightclub district.”

Wrath took a deep breath again, then gave a slow, cool smile.

“Well… I hope you enjoyed your stay in the city then. Be sure to pass on my blessings to your mahmen, when you get home.”

That was it? I blinked then bowed my head again.

“Of course, m’Lord. You’ve been most gracious.”

Zsadist:

[Narrowing my golden eyes as I hear the male give some kind of excuse. So that’s how it was going to be huh? I listened to the King as he dismissed him. Wrath didn’t want to cause problems in here, but that didn’t mean he was off the hook. Not by a long shot. He was withholding information from the King. Chosen mother or not that was something you didn’t do. My eyes flicker to the stranger who reeked of the enemy, I hold back a growl as I stare him down. Watching as he exited the room. Quickly I draw my attention to my brothers]

What do you want to do my Lord? [Vishous finally let out a growl as Phury just looked like he was deep in thought. My twin was probably wondering who this mysterious chosen was. I have to admit that I was curious as well. Wrath chuckled and shook his head slowly. A vicious smirk formed on his face before he spoke.

“Get him. Bring him back to the mansion, but keep him in the tunnels. Put him in one of the PT suites and have someone guard it until I can deal with him.” Nodding before I turn to head out. Pausing in my tracks as I hear Wrath again. “And Z..?” Turning to look back]

My Lord? [His jaw clenches. “Knock him out if you have to but don’t kill him. Not until I get to the bottom of this.” Vishous chimes in. “Contact Butch and have him bring the SUV when you get him.” Nodding at my brother before I exit the room. I take a deep inhale, smelling the trail the stranger left. My fangs elongate and I quickly move through the building. Once outside I take another whiff before bolting off in run.]

#SLS

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tigriswolf · 5 years

Text

poetry

so, i decided to go through my poetry on A03 and pull out my favorite lines. *shrugs* i’ve alphabetized, including articles, just because.

a minstrel new to the land / Stepped to the center of the fair, / Bowing to the priestesses and the nobles, / Proclaiming, “A marvel I bring!” / He held aloft a gleaming harp / Pale as bone with golden strings and explained, / “A harp that itself sings!”

A mile turns to two turns to three: / your shoulders loosen, / you can breathe.

And all fell / Silent / from the / ground / to the / sky. // Time / stilled.

And this is my swan song / My final dive across the sky / There’ll be no more curtains /The show is closin’ down / This is me goin’ goin’ gone /If you hear me at all, /Hear me sayin’ goodbye

Anger / that scorches / Like a wind from the north

Bones dot the riverbed, / With sharp bitemark scars.

Croons the selkie: / For years I have waited / And now I cannot wait a moment more / I’ll kiss you this final time / First with my lips and then with this blade / This knife I’ve used to slice your fruit / Never have I felt stronger, husband, / Than when this blade kisses your throat / Choke on your own blood, husband, / Reach for me with those hands I hate / I am calm, husband, calm as the shallows / As breathing your last you collapse

Don’t claim to be afraid / When all you want / Is to keep everything / The way it’s been / Since before this country / Had a name that’s always been a lie. // You’re not afraid.

Don’t forget what can’t be forgotten / And do better than everyone / Who let all this happen, / Who stacked the tinder and lit the spark.

Don’t leave your skin on land, / we caution our daughters. / Don’t trust in landfolk, / we warn our sons. / No one will fight for you, / we tell our children. / You must fight for yourself.

Don’t tell me / someone somewhere / is a monster / and I should be grateful / because it’s not you.

Every day without zombies is a good day. / (Right?) // Are we happy now? / Keep that smile on your face.

every time I enter a building I analyze its / zombie apocalypse capabilities. /I am perpetually disappointed.

Fare thee well, my love. / There is nowhere left to fall.

flowers bloom to gentle rain / light glows from the deep / as your story is told / and told /and told again / the world warms in bitter heat

For I am he, that Judas, / the one who kissed the king; / for I am he, Iscariot, / who only played the part set before me.

Grief devours, digests, spits out / someone you don’t know but / who seems familiar, similar, / an echo, a distorted reflection, /a was become an is.

Happiness is what you make, /What you build after you break.

Have I ever been my own? / Caught in your lies, / tangled in your smile and your touch, /your toy when you think of me. // Your toy, / you toy—

I am patient. I am quiet. / I am calm but there is a storm below the surface. / I wanted to endure. To move on. To forget you. /You should have let me.

I bite my tongue / Because there’s a time and a place / And causing hurt is not my aim

I could reach out to touch a horse’s flank— / The dapple gray, I think, / because he seems calm and the closest to me. // But my fingers touch only paint.

I close my eyes / and I shut that door /I look like you / but I am not yours.

I have found the final thing you will take from me.

I hesitate at the thought of dialing 911 / And I’m a white woman. / I know there must be good cops out there. / Why aren’t they doing their jobs?

I may be someone’s mother, / someone’s sister, daughter, aunt, niece. / Someone somewhere loves me / and maybe they’re like you— / But I’m myself and my own. / I breathe and I cry and I write and I sing; / I live and I love and I hate. / I’m my own before I’m anyone’s / and that’s enough.

I painted you out of the walls. / You’re not welcome so don’t come ‘round. / We’ll talk here or not at all.

I remember never seeing who I thought I was / in the lessons, whatever the lesson was. / I remember how my mind wandered / because it couldn’t be contained / by those hypocritical walls, / by my peers who were never on the same page, / not even in the same book.

I stand in the storm / so the world can grieve for me.

I step away from the wall, / open my eyes, turn to continue on, / an entire museum to explore— / But I look back. / Years and a continent away, / I’m still looking back.

I want to tell that girl I was / It’s alright, it’ll be alright, / you’re not wrong. / You’re not incomplete. / You’re not broken / and it’s not your fault / you don’t understand. / It’s not a problem to be fixed. / I want to tell that girl I was / Even when you’re almost thirty, / you’re still looking for who you are / but you’ll get there, baby girl, / you’ll get there. / I want to tell her, / You’re not broken for what you can’t do / And / You’re not broken for what you don’t feel / And / You’re not broken for what you don’t understand. / Baby girl, you’re not broken in the least.

I wanted more, to eat it all. / And sometimes, I wish I had.

"I went walking in the fruit garden," she told her husband, / "I saw this and it reminded me of you." / She held up the apple, shiny as freshly-spilled blood. / "Eat it with me," she murmured, biting in and pulling it away. / "Let it symbolize our love, shared and shared alike."

I wish you luck but that’s the last thought I’ll grant you.

(i’d trade it all away / never sing again / if i could be in Mama’s arms / i’d trade it all away) // There is no young / No running, no sun /There is only us

If I could go back there are things I would change / But meeting you, loving you I would keep the same / We were so young and so in love / So much of who I am I owe to us

If I were a poem, I’d be the kind to break your heart.

I’ll find my truth for myself / And I’ll be content / Because stories are what I know / And telling stories is what I do / And questioning in order to create / Is what I was born for

I’m never going home to you / because wherever you are could never be my home.

I’m not crying / I’m dying /Dying to say goodbye

I’m not sure what I’ll miss more: / Who you actually were, / Who I thought you were, / Who I was with you, / Or who I thought I was when I loved you.

In the / deep /dark / where no light has ever shone // there s h e rests // on a throne of tattered bone / remnants of a beast long gone

In the dirt, I gave it all away

Is happy something you work for / Or is it something that you are?

It’s gonna be a good day, writing just for me, / writing just for me, and laughing, and smiling, / smiling so wide, / laughing so true // I burnt that poem I wrote you

it’s not like i know anything else / it’s not like you’re owed anything less

I’ve been questioning since I learned to speak

Kingdoms need kings. / You never hear anything about queendoms.

Let me start with this: // Your knowledge is not knowledge. / Your people are not people. / Why tell your story when I could tell mine?

Mama, mama, can’t you hear? / Your demons are calling my name.

My anger builds slowly / Beneath a placid surface of smiles and grace / And I will not be quiet / Because this is too much after too long

My family thanked you, / when I was still strapped / to the hospital bed. / I never did. // You remember, don’t you? / I’ll never forget.

My mother never told me to trust cops. / My father did, but he’s a white man.

Never will I return, Stepmother / To my father’s house on the edge of town / Do you mourn my silly sister? / Do you finally regret all you’ve done / Now that I stand here, now that I’ve won? / I kiss my husband, the future king / And a golden tiara on my head gleams / I kiss my husband and soon, Stepmother/ Soon, Godmother, I shall be queen

Once upon a time, there was a princess, / Prettiest girl in all the land. /Once upon a time, there was a monster / Who once upon a time had been a man.

poison comes softly, / across the waves, / and whispers summon you. // whispers summoned you, / and now they summon me. / and the poison comes so softly.

Remember— / Winter is cold, with / Lungs that freeze, / Fingers that tremble, / Bodies that tumble down into / Ravines with bones never found. // There are slavering wolves in the night, / Howling, growling, slavering wolves, / Hunting in the trees outside of town, / Prowling in the streets outside the house. // Listen to the tale told through the ages: //No fae-given gift is ever not a curse.

Remember, too, this: / there is a magic in grief / and a magic in violence / and always a magic in blood— // but the greatest magic is this: // the g i v i n g of life // and the // t a k i n g of it

Shattered / tattered / scattered / spread across the bed / discarded on the floor / you take and take and take / i know it wasn't always this way

She talks about the stories grandparents tell / She is a grandma herself / And all of the others nod and smile /Because they know exactly what she’s talking about

Strike as you like, master clock, tick tock tick tock / But the magic shall not fade! / Here I dance with the prince / In garments so fine I’ve never seen their like / My silly sister sought to order me / And so it’s her I’ve chosen / She will waste away while the magic works / Exactly as I say!

“Succulent cheeks,” the witch moaned, / adding oregano to the sauce; / a little more salt, a dash of paprika, / a thighbone for the flavor, / a splash of virgin’s blood to round it out— / “Delicious!” the witch declared, turning / to hold the spoon to the girl’s mouth, whose eyes / still teared, blood still smeared on her palms. / “Taste your brother, dear.”

Take a look around, / see that for every difference, / there’s a similarity /and in the different, /there is familiarity.

Tell me that we’ll still be friends / a hundred years from now, / if we’re both still alive. / Tell me that sisters are forever. / Tell me that even when you’re off on your / own, changing the world—you will, / I know you will—you’ll think of me / sometimes, you’ll remember our games, / the stories we wove, the songs we sang. / (Remember me, remember us, / sisters of soul and sisters of blood.)

Tell them / Our blood is the same, /His and mine. /I spill it in splendor, /His flowing grace.

Tell them / That when I die, / I will die in triumph.

the bed’s cold even when you’re here

The horses cannot stamp off the wall, / out of pigment and into the world.

The tiara balances on a precipice / The scepter shatters on the stones / The throne rusts, covered by dust

There are resurrected trees on my desk / At work

There is so much I don’t remember / More I’ll never know / But I have her name /And her mitochondrial DNA /And I know she loved me so

Thirty pieces, for his soul. / Thirty pieces, and they weren’t even gold.

This is my body; / I’ll not break it for you.

We laughed and loved in every room

we were so hungry then / waiting for the sea to swallow us whole

Where do you truly believe you’ll go when you die? / I’d bet my soul it’s not to Jesus / Because he’d be standing in Ferguson – / And it wouldn’t be on your side.

You don’t get to ignore / The blood and the anguish / That led to this point, / Every last indignity / And every last lie. // I wonder: / Could even a hurricane wash this away?

you’re crying. / stop crying. / it’s a dream. / you’ll wake up. // you haven’t woken up. / you’re not dreaming.

Your name on my tongue / The way you laughed / How we danced / Our hearts beat in time / Our souls sang together / We stood in the sun and the storm / Promised swore made solemn vows / I memorized your freckles once / I’ve forgotten so much now /

You never sang for me. / I listened through the wall, / catching what words I could. / I still have some, hidden behind the wallpaper. / I kept them, just in case. / You never came back for them, though, / just like you never came back for me.

You remember the / burn from the / scars, from the // transformation of being / set aflame and / after somehow surviving.

You told me a beautiful fairy tale / but I told you the same /and on the grave there is a name

#my poetry #my writing #poetry

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