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demonlovesangel · 3 years

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Elucien VS Elriel throughout the books

Brace yourselves because this is going to be a LONG post but I'm going to do it because people seem to disregard Elain's feelings at all times, especially regarding how she reacts around both Lucien and Azriel. So here we go!

And by the way I'm only going to count actual interactions to make it fair, and the most important ones because if not I would be here all day.

Acomaf

Elucien

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him-

But Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder.

At Lucien- whose face she had finally taken in.

Elriel

Elain said, "It's all very disorienting."

"I can imagine," Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare but Azriel's attention was on my sister, a polite bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.

Rhys chuckled, Cassian's wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel's ease as proof that things weren't indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.

In Acomaf we can see the start of both relationships, but they start with a real difference. Elain and Azriel get along from the very beginning, whereas with Lucien she cringes away because he's one of the reasons she was turned and she doesn't know him, even if she did realize he's her mate.

With Azriel though they talk about his flying, how beautiful it is, she smiles and asks him directly every time. Their interactions come naturally.

Acowar

Elucien

For a long moment, Elain's face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. "Lucien," she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. "From my sister's stories. Her friend."

"Yes."

But Elain blinked slowly. "You were in Hybern."

"Yes." It was all he could say.

"You betrayed us."

He wished she'd shoved him out of the window behind her. "It- it was a mistake."

Her eyes went frank and cold. "I was to be married in a few days."

She looked away- towards the windows. "I can hear your heart," she said quietly.

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth.

"When I sleep," she murmured, "I can her your heart beating through the stone." She angled her head, as if the city held some answer. "Can you hear mine?"

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, "No, lady. I cannot."

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. "No one ever does. No one ever looked- not really." A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. "He did. He saw me. He will not now."

Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. "It felt... strange," Elain breathed. "Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib."

Lucien exposed his palms to her. "I'm sorry."

Elain only stared at him for a long moment. And any lucidity faded as she shook her head...

But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward.

Lucien inclined his head in a bow the movement hiding the gleam of his eye- the longing and sadness.

And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go... He did not glance back at Elain.

Did not see the half step she took towards the stairs- as if she'd speak to him. Stop him.

"I'm fine," Elain said quietly. And then asked, noticing the gore on him, the torn clothes and still-bloody weapons, "Are you-"

"Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but... Yes, I'm in one piece."

A faint smile bloomed on Elain's lips.

Lucien shrugged. "First- here. To help. Then..." Another glance at Elain. "Who knows?"

I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted, "You could come to Velaris."

Elriel

Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face.

Azriel smiled faintly. "Would you like me to show you the garden?"

She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breath of his shoulder. The wings peeking over them.

But Elain did not balk from him did not shy away as she nodded- just once.

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn't tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, "Beautiful."

"I can help her," said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his finger as he extended a hand.

Nesta monitored him like a hawk but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went.

The shadowsinger angled his head.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, "Should we- does she need...?"

"She doesn't need anything," Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

Elain was staring at the spymaster now- unblinkingly.

"We're the ones who need..." Azriel trailed off. "A seer," He said, more to himself than us. "The Cauldron made you a seer."

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

Yet Elain didn't seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger's cheek...

Elain weighed my words... And slowly closed her fingers around the blade.

(...)

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.

What is funny to me here, is how the relationship between Elain and Lucien seems forced but at the same time they kind of try. She directly says to him he betrayed them, continued to ignore him and eventually she did try to get close (in her own way) but apparently decided against it. And at the end even Feyre has to nudge Elain to say something to Lucien, which she did.

Elain's relationship with Az starts off from him putting her down on the town house's foyer, and her never balking away from him. Like literally never, in all their interactions she takes his arm, his hands, looks at him unblinkingly, and even kisses his cheek. Ends up accepting Truth-Teller too, and locking eyes with Azriel. The sweetest girl is not afraid of the most frightening illyrian male... Considering how Elain is, that says a lot.

You can look at this in many ways, but no one can deny that by this book, Az and Elain have a mutual understanding and chemistry.

Acofas

Elucien

A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. "Both of you."

Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.

My sister rose to her feet. "I should get refreshments."

Lucien rose as well. "No need to trouble yourself. I'm-"

But she was already out of the room.

Elriel

Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants.

I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.

(...)

But I strode to my seat- nestled between Amren and Mor- in time to see Elain say to Azriel, "Hello."

(...)

But Azriel only took Elain's heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, "Sit. I'll take care of it."

Elain's hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them...

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. "It's for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often."

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

(...)

Elain smiled again, ducking her head.

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room my sister showing him the plans she'd sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight.

Honestly, for me, this is by far the most telling book even if it is a novella.

The interaction between Lucien and Elain was so forced. She didn't want to be there, he was kind of uncomfortable too and he even says he can't stand being in the same room as her. Afterwards Elain clearly shows no interest in him and even leaves the room. And Elain says to Feyre that he's not entitled to her affections of attentions, we really need to pay attention to her!

With Azriel though... Wow, their interactions just kept on growing and growing. Elain is clearly affected when she looks at him, her throat bobs, she gets all shy (in a good way), smiles at him too, and even gifts him the headache powder because she was paying attention to him throughout the previous months. That clearly says how much she's been noticing Azriel. Not to mention she explains all her gardening plans and they stay talking after everyone went to bed.

I honestly think it's really cute and that's how a relationship should develop.

Acosf

Elucien

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian's heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of the newfound boldness to be seen.

Elriel

"I always thought she was born on the wrong side of the wall," Elain admitted. "She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two," she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel.

Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from.

"I was just checking on dessert," Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger's stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain's breath caught slightly, she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

By this point it's just painfully obvious. Both Lucien and Elain are uncomfortable with each other even if Lucien still does try (but I still think it's because of the mating bond, not because he likes her). He even says in a previous chapter that he's not always in Velaris to see his mate and looks uncomfortable saying that.

With Azriel we can see something has happened or is happening. Small glances, Elain getting shy but smiling at him, him smiling at her and her looking away? That charged look? Elain's breath caught slightly? There's definitely something going on there and we know what it is from Az's PoV. By that point they have been looking at each other, smiling and brushing hands, not to mention Elain started every single interaction in that PoV. She wanted to kiss him, and gifted him another funny and thoughtful gift yet again because she notices him.

I didn't put every single one of the interactions, just the ones that said a lot from Elain's reactions because that's the point of this post, to show how she clearly acts around the two males. And I didn't put the PoV because it's a bonus chapter even when it clarifies Elain's feelings.

With Lucien it's forced, she cringes away, doesn't know what to do, and in the end she's just uncomfortable and clearly doesn't want anything regarding their situation.

With Azriel it started off naturally, they developed a friendship with mutual understanding and respect, and it evolved into something else. The interest in each other was always there. Clearly both of them don't know what to do with this because the feelings are strong and have been there for a long time (at the very least a year because of the last Winter Solstice). From the PoV we know it's not easy, even if both of them like each other (Elain has a mate whether she likes it or not). By this point, because of all the external influences, they can't be together, but I think that's what going to play off in her book, choice.

We need to take into account Elain's reactions and choices. Elain's book is most probably the next one, she's going to be the main character as Feyre and Nesta were. What she wants or needs is what matters, not what everyone else thinks. And from all her scenes we can gather that she's going to fight to make everyone change their mind regarding what she wants to do, who she wants to be.

As you would with a female friend, be supportive of her journey and choices and don't bring her down because it's not what you would have chosen for yourself. Everyone deserves the world, and everyone needs to follow their own path and make their own choices.

#elain #elain archeron #Azriel #elain and azriel #elain x azriel #elriel #Lucien #lucien vanserra #Acotar 5

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courtofwingsandruin · 3 years

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Does anyone else ever think how we know that originally, Lucien and Nesta were supposed to end up together, not Cassian and Nesta? And how that means that this bond between Lucien and Elain probably was a very sudden idea SJM had when writing ACOMAF out?

She decided to change it because this relationship wouldn’t work. I’m not gonna lie that this is slightly perplexing to me. Lucien, especially ACOTAR-era Lucien, probably could’ve gotten along with Nesta quite well. I know SJM knows her characters better than us, but I just can’t see why they wouldn’t work, y’know?

And now, with the whole 3 brothers/3 sisters thing...I’m wondering if that’s part of the reason why. If SJM realized she wanted Lucien to have some connection to one of the three (a mating bond, rather than a romantic relationship), but doesn’t get with them. Because in the end, she had these two Bat Bois sitting right here who would work with them just as well, if not better, than Lucien could with either of them—and it would give her a future story to tell with the three brothers/three sisters and Koschei storyline.

I feel this can be reinforced by the fact that SJM has been planning Elain’s specifically but also Nesta’s story since ACOMAF. She made a lot of decisions while writing ACOMAF and began preparing things for the future books she wanted to write. Choosing not to have Nesta and Lucien get together, instead the tension between Cassian and Nesta the moment they meet. The way Elain and Azriel seem to click and focus on each other the moment they meet, too (if you reread that first meeting I promise you’ll see it. Elain specifically looks to Azriel, not her newly-fae sister, not the High Lord, not the much louder Illyrian right next to Az—not even Nesta. She looks to Azriel every single time when she was unsure, and he’s constantly reassuring her that she’s good to speak up and try). I don’t think that was a coincidence.

Not to mention that if she was planning for Elain and Lucien to be together, she would’ve most definitely given them at least one romantic coded moment together. The closest thing I’ve seen is when Lucien is leaving once and Elain nearly steps down the stairs to say something to him but he’s already gone. And honestly, I blame that completely on the bond. We know they can feel each other’s emotions, Rhys and Feyre can feel each other’s even with their mental shields up (or are supposed to be able to at least)—and we see that Lucien had “longing and sadness” in his eyes just before he disappeared there, which was when Elain almost stepped down. Then Lucien had winnowed away, and she walked away without any other care (likely because the farther away he was the less strong the pull of the mating bond, so she couldn’t feel him as strongly then). This is chapter 34 of ACOWAR. This is the only scene we see that seems like it has slight potential of Elucien in canon.

However, we have many, many scenes to support Elain and Azriel. Their friendship started in ACOMAF, was seen throughout ACOWAR, throughout ACOFAS, and even though we don’t see them even in the same room together but three or so times in ACOSF, there is some kind of tension between them every time (Azriel’s clear protectiveness of Elain when his shadows gathered in the corners to strike, the clear liking of each other when Elain looked away from Azriel’s smile, Nesta noticing a charged look going between them). As well as the many scenes where Azriel and usually Cassian discuss Elain and Azriel’s protectiveness comes back up. As a disclaimer, I don’t like that Azriel is also supporting not allowing Elain to go on these missions and try to prove herself. But every single other couple in the books is protective of each other. Cassian didn’t want Nesta to even let go of his hand to get the harp. Rhys had multiple occasions where he was angry and protective over Feyre doing something dangerous—when instead of going to the townhouse she fought in the streets of Velaris, when she went to find the Suriel during the war. Saying “oh but they’re mates” ignores the fact that it’s said most all males are possessive and protective like this in their world, regardless if it’s a mating bond or family or love. And it also ignores the very plausible theory of Azriel being Elain’s second and/or true mate. I won’t get into that right now though.

And then, of course, the bonus chapter proved that Elain and Azriel’s feeling definitely are not just platonic, and they both have a lot going on behind the scenes. I won’t get into the chapter much because I have plenty of other posts on my blog where I or someone else dissected and discussed it. But they definitely have both romantic and sexual interest in each other.

I truly, truly don’t see why SJM would set that up over the course of three novels and one novella to suddenly not put them together. Especially knowing that she’s said she doesn’t like couples that were built up over long periods of time (4 books is a very long time) and then don’t end up together. I don’t think she introduced Gwyn to be a romantic interest—I do think she included Gwyn in his extra chapter to confuse us and cause panic and chaos, sure, SJM is like that, remember when we first met Emerie? And then Emerie turned out to have no connection to Cassian other than him being her mentor/trainer and she being Nesta’s friend? I don’t think Gwyn will have any actual potential as a romantic partner. This also parallels Cassian and Nesta’s story—with them both mentioning another girl pre-getting together and (likely) nothing actually comes of it. She does parallel things a lot, and I don’t think she did this on accident.

To round this out, I’d like to bring us back to Lucien and Nesta. If she originally had them together, I think there can definitely be an implication there that she had considered them working some. And Cassian and ACOTAR-era Lucien are similar, as well as...well, Nesta and Vassa. The firebird and the silver flames. A human Queen and the Queen of Queens. Vassa has shown a great backbone, will openly bicker with people (we hear about her and Jurian fighting a lot), she’s just this woman who seems like she could be similar enough to Nesta to warrant the idea that Nesta/Lucien could’ve possibly worked if Nesta was a little more like Vassa or Lucien was a little more like Cassian.

I also want to clarify that I’m not against the Elain and Lucien ship, nor am I against Gwyn and Azriel. I actually ship Elain and Lucien—just not as much as I ship Elain and Azriel, because I’m 99.9% certain that Elriel will be endgame (always leave room for error). And once the next book is out and this whole mess has cleared up, I could definitely get behind Gwyn and Azriel as a non-canon sorta-crack ship. I read about pairings that completely disregard canon all the time (Feycien is hardcore slept on). But I can’t find myself supporting Gwyn and Azriel right now, not while this ship war is happening, because I feel right now is the time to actually look at canon and focus on what’s obviously there—not what, to me, is more of just a fun little ship that could work in theory and fanfics and that’s about it.

And that’s all. End rant. I’m so sorry if you actually read all this. This stuff has been on loop in my head for days and I had to word vomit again.

#acotar #acosf #a court of silver flames #elain archeron #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #elriel #acomaf #acowar #pro elriel #i’m not tagging this as anti anything bc i’m not anti any of the ships #the other ships are cute! i like it theory! not seeing it in canon #vassa x lucien #it’s not really about them but i am supporting it some in this?#and it seems like the only safe ship other than elriel to mention?#i don’t want to make anyone mad by tagging this wrong

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 3 years

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my predictions for a court of silver flames (and the book 5)

since i’ve just forced myself to re-read acofas, i emerge now with head clear and heart full of utter dismay for feysand bullshit. this novella is pretty good at setting up a ton of hints for the next book, so at least there’s that. here are some of the plot points/character arcs which i think are worth to keep in mind before reading acosf, especially for those who finished reading acowar and acofas a while ago.

MOR

Mor is going on a journey to the Continent as a Night Court ambassador, possibly with Azriel. I don’t know to which extent this escapade will be described, but it will definitely happen and it will be important for both of them - Mor especially. My personal opinion is that the toxic triangle in which she’s tangled up with Cass and Az will meet its sad end in this book, due to many reasons such as Cassian;s relationship with Nesta, Az’s growing interest in Elain and, hopefully, Mor’s own growth as a person or her new romance. I also think that Mor’s relationship with her father will be a major plotpoint and the Court of Nightmare will play a BIG role either in this book or in the next one. Also-

ERIS

Eris will take the throne from Beron in acosf. I will be shocked if he doesn’t. Possibly the reprecussions of this event will be discussed in the next book. Also possibly, there may be some kind of coup that will result in killing more than one High Lord (yes, I am thinking about Helion)

ELAIN

I’m sorry, but I literally cannot see it any other way - Elain will deny the mating bond with Lucien. The hints for this are scattered all over acofas. She doesn’t want it and she is not, in any freaking way, interested in him nor she is even interested in being interested. I think she’ll also get some opportunities to show more of her character and, hopefully, Mass will finally let her utilize her powers in some sensible way, but this might be saved for the next book.

TAMLIN

Lucien warned Feyre they will need Tamlin as an ally ‘before the dust settles’. I am half-tempted to make an assumption that Tam will die in acosf, but it’s not based on any evidence, so it’s just my personal theory. Regardless, I do believe the destruction of the Spring Court will fucking bite half of Feyre’s ass in the following books and Tamlin either redeems himself (whether or not he should redeem himself when he is already in such a pitiful state is another question) or truly become a villian of the series. The one thing acofas hammered in my head is that his story with Feyre is far from over.

LUCIEN

My fucking heart bleeds for him. My prediction is that he will cut all the ties with the Night Court, if he did not already done it after Feyre was an absolute bitch to him in acofas. I am also like 80% sure that Helion will die and Lucien will inherit the Day Court, thus getting a permanent place to call home, just as he has always wanted (but absolutely not IN A WAY he has wanted). Besides that, I am only praying for Mass to grant him some fucking happiness. i have no doubt that his relationship with Vassa and Jurian will be discussed in more details, if not, I am rioting.

AZRIEL

There are a couple of issues Azriel will have to deal with in this and the following book:

a) his doomed relationship with Mor,

b) his blooming romance/friendship with Elain,

c) his Illyrian identity.

I do think acosf will be a begining of some longer journey for him. Based on the snippets, I think we can also expect a lot of interactions between him and Nesta and I am so fucking excited for it that I can barely contain it.

Also, I subscribe to the theory that Az’s mom lives in the misterious Rosehall and that we will meet her soon.

FEYRE AND RHYSAND

They are basically the same person at this point, let’s be honest.

Rhys will contine to be horny 24/7 and Feyre will continue to focus on small, non-important stuff instead of the actual business of ruling and managing the court, and they will both remain to be terribly self-involved -

okay, enough of my bitterness.

I HOPE Feyre won’t be pregnant in the next book, but let’s be honest, it will probably happen rather soon, so, there’s that. From the snippet of acosf in acofas, it seems that they will have some disagreement about Nesta and I am all for it. Besides that, I think their personal arcs and journeys are over and I believe that there won’t be too much of them in the next books. Same with Amren - I don’t think she will play a big role, besides being an awesome secondary character.

NESTA’S and CASSIAN’s arcs seem to be rather obvious, unless Sarah will somehow break our necks with the narrative 180 degrees spin. I think the biggest mistery is whether or not they are truly mates but, regardless of that, they will end acosf as a couple. Personally, I don’t belive Cassian will die in this book. Sarah is pretty allergic to killing her protagonists in a permanent way. Given that he has already suffered two major injuries throughout the series, I am inclined to belive that it’s time for Cassian to give in to fury over injured Nesta. In my book, there are two possible routes for them to get together:

1) a lot of angsty, heart-breaking hate sex slowly transforming into comraderie, friendship and, finally, romance,

2) no sex, only angsty misunderstandings and sexual frustration strong enough to push them into romantic relationship fairly quickly which then results in more misunderstandings, wrong ideas about each other’s feelings and a whole fucking mess of feelings.

Nesta and Emerie will, in 1000% meet and become friends as Nesta truly fucking needs her own found-faimily type of friends. She will also discover and develop her powers, learn to manage her emotions and to have healthy relationships with people whom she loves.

Cassian will have a somehow similar arc as Feyre in acomaf, during which he will realize his own true potential and self-worth.

Some plotlines I expect to happen:

ILLYRIAN UPRISING

I think it’s rather unavoidable at the point and it will come as a surprise to no one. I also think Devlon may turn out to be an unexpected ally.

RIFT IN THE INNER CIRCLE

This one is something which I hope for, cause it would make so much sense, but I am quite apprehensive to make any definite statements about it. If Cassian and Nesta are to get together in acosf, I cannot see it happening in a way which will not disrupt the delicate balance of the inner circle given a) Nesta’s relationship with Rhys and b) Cassian’s with Mor. In general, I do believe Cassian;s arc will be about gaining confidence in himself and his own feelings and insticts, which will involve some separation from his friends. Also, the downfall of Az-Mor-Cass simply cannot be executed bloodlessly.

ANCIENT POWERS RISING

Feyre toyed with the very fabric of this universe. It has to have some kind of consequences. At this point, we know Koshei will make an appearance (in regards to Vassa), Bryaxis is still on the loose (and Feyre has still not fullfilled her bargain) AND we got an interesting scene of Mor sensing something evil luring in the forests around her estate in acofas.

and last but not least-

WE WILL LEARN WHAT WAS IN THE FUCKING BOX

please feel free to add your own predictions and expectations! I’m sure i missed a lot of stuff

#let me know what you think pls #a court of silver flames #acosf #nessian #acotar #acotar meta #nesta archeron #cassian #feysand #acofas #a court of frost and starlight

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elriell · 3 years

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Answer to my LONG ask friend, posting it like this because I imagine it would be way to long or else!

hi i hope you dont mind me asking, but perhaps any elriel meta will be willing to cover the whole berons alliance with the queen? because i think thats our winning argument in favor of elriels endgame. and i wish im not reaching or overthinking this lol.

why it will be our winning argument? becaue the whole beron pledged alliance to the queen dont mean anything just yet, it hasnt been flushed out yet (sarah left it open ended), and it will definitely be the main conflict in the next book just to set up the final book and war where all the sides has been established whos with who.

because in my perspective, elriels story really will trigger that conflict and rhysands warning in az pov is literally the set up for that conflict.

when i read acosf, i was thinking there is literally no point of beron making alliance with the queen aside him wanting to be the high king, more power, why would he do that when the queen is in the continent and him in prythian, other high lords will surely oppose him being the high king. thus its two (if the queen indeed would help him) versus six since koschei is still trapped in the lake. plus, his alliance is still a secret, surely other courts will learn of it, wont they?

now however possible consequences from elriel, beron perhaps will use the rejecting mating bond—the blood duel—as a reason to declare a war and have other courts against the night court or eris will finally dethrone his father and be the high lord. and with eris being the high lord, isnt that going to be one of the key topic for morrigans book? sarah also confirms morrigan book and she admits that she doesnt know what the novella is going to be, so its same to assume that mor will get a full novel.

fyi, i cant see lucien will challenge azriel though, he is decent and will respect elains choice, but beron as cruel as he is will surely do something sinister.

and i stumbled across an account on twitter and they compare elriels story to helen of troy and the set up of the trojan war is literally the same as elriel. also, beron reminds me of agamemnon in troy movie (2004), both of them want more power. there are a lot of similarities, imo, between elriel and the set up of iliad. in iliad there is also a duel between hector and achilles (this is me reaching lol).

thus, aside from elains connection to the dread trove, elriels conflict also has the logical conflict that tied to the whole overarching plot for the plot of the series to move forward toward the end, because like i said the whole berons alliance need to be addressed and in acosf it hasnt been addressed yet, at least not enough.

im really sorry if i come off as rude by asking this. i would do it honestly, but i dont have the confidence to post anything online (hence, im anonymous) and im not as convincing as the others in terms of flushing the arguments.

also, you are literally keeping me sane when all of elain antis trying their hardest to discredit elriels.

thank you❤️❤️❤️

Hi! I’m that anon who said that Elriel’s conflict with Beron could be the winning argument for our ship since they are tied closely with each other based on Rhysand’s warning in Azriel POV. If you decide to answer that question, would you mind if you answer this one instead? As I’m pretty much still stand on that point however I’d like to add and correct some statements that I think I don’t express clearly in my previous question:)

If you don’t mind, I’d like to post my theory here, anonymously, since I’m not confident enough to post my thoughts online yet as I’m afraid I’ll be judged harshly lol. And perhaps other metas such as you would like to elaborate more on the matter since I think it is a vital plot for Elriel’s book. It’s quite long, I do apologize for that:)

Like I said, Beron allegiance with Briallyn didn’t make any sense to me and it also took me by surprise when I read ACOSF. Why?

A. Briallyn lived on the continent and Beron is in Prythian. Wouldn’t it be better for him to seek an ally that is closer to him instead? We know that Beron wants to be an ally with her because he heard about her ambition. And I suspect that Beron wants to be the High King or kill Feyre since he knows that she has his power. But one thing for sure is that he wants more power.

B. If he indeed wants to be High King or kill Feyre then I don’t believe that the other high lords would comply with him. Therefore, Beron wouldn’t stand a chance against the other high lords and lady in Prythian since it is two (before the queen was killed by Nesta) versus six. Plus, Briallyin lived in the continent thus her allegiance was not something that he could hold on to, imo.

So obviously we know that Briallyn is dead and her allegiance doesn’t mean anything anymore. However, from her allegiance with Beron we now know that Beron for sure set to be the other villain of this new overarching plot alongside Koschei. And I also think that Beron would be the main villain for the next book because a villain as big as Koschei would likely be dealt in the last book.

Now, why is it tied with Elriel? I think Rhysand’s warning in Az’s POV explains it plainly, and I can’t help but think that it is a set up, a foreshadowing, of what would happen in the next book, especially since Koschei’s plotline is not foreshadowed enough in ACOSF and we only know of his onyx box which we get from ACOWAR.

If we acknowledge that Elriel is endgame and their story is next, then Beron surely comes to play in the next book. Their relationship will push the overarching plot one step closer to its climax.

FYI, I can’t see Lucien invoke the Blood Duel himself, he is a decent person so he will respect and understand Elain’s choice to be with Azriel since it is definitely where we are going in the matter of endgame. But, Beron, as cruel as he is, will surely make use of the situation to profit himself, to reach his ambition that is momentarily squashed with Briallyn dead.

These are possible results of what could happen with Blood Duel plotline:

1. Beron would ally himself with Koschei as Briallyn did before because he knows he is outnumbered if he declared a war against the Night Court.

2. Beron could convince other high lords in Prythian to go against the Night Court if Lucien was killed in the Blood Duel, I pray that it will not happen though Lucien deserve some peace and happiness with the woman who wants and loves him voluntarily.

3. Eris would rebel against his father's order for Lucien to invoke the duel, and Beron would be dethroned by Eris and he would be the next high lord of Autumn Court.

I personally lean more on number three, because with Eris being the high lord wouldn’t it be one of the key topics for Mor’s book? It is already confirmed that Sarah pitched Mor’s story as one of the books and she admits that she doesn’t know what the novella is going to be. So, it’s safe to assume that Mor will get a full novel, not a novella one. Seeing her sparse appearance and development we’ve seen of her in ACOSF, then it is also logical to assume that Mor will not be the next book main character.

In conclusion, Elriel needs to happen to address Beron's situation and bring the overall plot of the series a bit higher before it reaches climax in the final book. Is it also possible that Beron’s scenario still can be addressed without it being tied to Elain and Azriel? Yes, but, I will say it again, Rhysand’s warning is a clue, a foreshadowing, of what conflict will be covered in the next book. For an author to drop something as big as that but not happening is a lazy writing in my opinion.

In the previous question I also mentioned that Elriel’s story is kinda similar to Iliad. Their set up is pretty much similar to me, however, I don’t think Elriel’s story will end in tragedy since Sarah doesn’t like to read, write, sad endings.

I’m sorry if I come off as ordering you around, but I really appreciate it if you and other metas also put your thought in the whole Beron/Elriel situation since I’m 95% sure Elain book is next and Azriel will be her LI seeing there is no progress with her and Lucien yet.

And I still stand by my point, you and other Elriel metas keep me sane when all of Elriel antis trying their hardest to discredit all of Elriel’s interaction and feeling in order to make their ship endgame. Thank you so much❤️❤️❤️

Wowza! This has got to be one of the longest asks I have ever received, hahah, congratulations and thank you for taking the time to write it to me!

I would definitely consider doing such a meta, I am working on my Elriel debunking one currently, chipping away at it slowly! It’s a big boy.

I definitely agree that it is a very important and key point because like you said Elriel will be the trigger that pushes this story forward, giving Beron the push he needs, and also it will give or potential for Eris to step in and also Lucien by proxy. It would as you said accelerate the whole plot.

I have said before and I will say it again, Elriel brings so much plot to the story and ties in so many different characters, that say Gwynriel for arguments sake, doesn’t. I have no doubts at all who are the next POVs.

Agree with literally every ounce of your first ask, they have all the ties. There is no point mentioning The blood Duel if it is never going to come in to play, whether they actually do it or get close too it has to happen now. And if that is the case then Elriel clearly has to happen to get there! I don’t think Lucien would participate because I think he would respect Elains decision but who knows...

I feel like their is potential for his hand to be forced by say Beron or someone else, like you said though all ties roll back to Elain. And her ARC.

I am so sorry you don’t feel like you can post it yourself, because you clearly have some great well thought out perspective, and you are well spoken. I am sure the fandom would love to hear your thoughts from you, when you are ready of course. Until then you are always welcome to come here and share with me!!

Going to answer your second one separately because I didn’t read the second one first and now I see you said to answer the other one ahhhahaha

#m for ts #replies

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debu-neko-kun · 4 years

Text

Brand New Moo

A brand new story, idea courtesy of the ever-excellent commissioner (https://www.deviantart.com/doom7951) I really really liked working on this for ideas that may be obvious! Stay tuned for more flubby boys soon-ish! Contains: male weight gain, ssbhm, male lactation, human to boy-cow, cute fat gay stuff

James slumped down in the seat. It felt so wrong to be waiting here, he thought, thinking about what his boss would say if he saw him sitting here… he tapped his foot on the floor, hoping that would make him feel busy, but it just earned him a dirty look from the receptionist, so he opted to just slump deeper into his chair.

“James Rode?”

He sat up, smoothing out his button-up shirt. “Yes?”

“The doctor is available to see you now. Please enter the door to the left.”

James entered the office, expecting to see a sterile hospital room with gurneys and little jars of tongue depressors… Instead, he found himself in a carpeted room, the walls all wood paneling and decorated with diplomas and woodsy paraphernalia like bundles of herbs and wooden carvings.

Perhaps he knew less about this therapy stuff than he thought.

“Hello, Mr. Rode. I’m pleased to see you’ve made it; have a seat, if you’d like.”

James hesitated by the door. ‘I would *like* to go home…’ he mumbled, but stepped his way to the wide couch situated in front of the desk. He gently lowered himself into it, feeling more than a little small with his slender frame surrounded by so much empty seat.

“A little introduction, if I may.” the therapist smiled, tapping the plaque on his desk. “Dr. Maxwell Sweet. I used to own Sweet Farm Dairy, if you can believe it.”

“Never heard of it.” James spoke.

“Ah, well, can’t impress every time.” he chuckled, continuing on about his schooling, but James was already zoning out, sizing him up in his head. Dr. Sweet was slim, pale, well-dressed… probably didn’t spend too much time outside anymore, if the dairy story was to be believed. He wore glasses, making him seem bookish, and the clean-shaven face and well-kempt part in his smoothly combed brown hair made him seem concerned with appearances… not much to go on yet, but James felt like he’d make a respectable adversary in the boardroom regardless.

“…but I felt genetics wasn’t as fulfilling by itself. Are you okay, Mr. Rode?”

“Hmm?” James snapped out of his focused expression, taking a moment to rub his sharp blue eyes. “Sorry, a little tired. Late meeting yesterday…”

“Do you have a lot of late meetings, Mr. Rode?”

“James,” he corrected, “But yeah, I suppose I do. It’s the only way to stay ahead out there, you know?”

“I understand.” Dr. Sweet smiled, scribbling something on a pad on his desk. “Would you say this is the main source of your stress? The pressure to succeed, that is.”

“I, uh-” James stammered. “Are we starting already? I thought you would say when we were starting.”

“Just building a picture, that’s all. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let you know when we get into the real stuff, if you’d like.”

“Okay, well… thanks.” James wilted a little. He wasn’t used to this, showing his cards so openly…

“Stress is the main reason you’re here, correct?”

“Yes… I mean, well, I’m here because of my boyfriend… I didn’t notice anything, but my boyfriend Kriss says I’ve been acting stressed.”

“Stressed in what way?”

“Distant… angry, sad, stuff like that. He says I haven’t been eating either, but I mean, when do I have the time? There’s just a lot to do, and nobody gets that. Nobody understands how hard it is to keep doing the same damn thing day after day, never getting a moment to just stop and relax. It’s not my fault I have to stay a few hours over every day, it’s not my fault I miss the train, it’s not my fault I have to stay with this job or else-”

James stopped, noticing the psychologist watching him intently, a furrowed-brow intensity in his expression.

“Sorry.” James sighed, folding his arms over his ribs, his gaze drifting back to the dried lavender on the wall. “Yeah. Just stressed.”

“I see,” Dr. Sweet said, underlining something on the pad with a quick scratch. “Well, I’m very glad you came to see us, James. I think this treatment will be very helpful in getting you into a better state of mind.”

“Yeah… that’s what Kriss said, too. What is this treatment, anyway? Are you just going to ask me about my past and… give advice, or something?”

“Oh, nothing like that, no. You see, I specialize in a sort of blended treatment. It’s quite ahead of its field, really. Good for people with a lot of stress and little time on their hands.”

Dr. Sweet drew a pile of papers out of his desk, dozens of forms and documents all neatly compiled into a novella of legalese. He set it gently on the desk, in front of James, and extended a pen out for him.

“…Provided you’re willing to participate, that is.”

James took the pen and the papers, sitting back to read over the front page. It was mostly filled out with his insurance information and medical history, employment information from his company, current address… everything except his name. He flipped it over, just finding more information about liability and “understanding patient responsibilities.” Just thinking about pouring over fifty sheets of legal information outside of the office, and for free, made him flip back to the front.

“Alright… well, whatever gets me out of here faster, I guess.” he murmured, scribbling his name at the bottom of the paper.

“Excellent! If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started immediately.”

Dr. Sweet’s drawer slid open, and out he pulled a small bottle of milky white fluid and a syringe.

“W-What is that for?” James asked, shocked at the sudden development. The therapy scenes in movies certainly hadn’t mentioned needles.

“Just something to help you become a little more pliable. We need you like putty for the hypnotherapy to take hold; don’t worry, it only lasts for a few minutes, and it’ll keep you relaxed for the rest of the day. That’s not so bad, is it? I promise you won’t have to keep up with any medication from here on out.”

Despite the cold sweat forming on his brow, James rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. Dr. Sweet drew some of the liquid from the bottle with a casual precision, stood up, and slowly approached the nervous patient.

“Hold still, and…” James felt a small pinch, followed by the dull ache of the injection. “That’s it. You’ve done wonderfully already, James.”

“Hmm… thank you, I guess.” he grumbled, letting out a heavy sigh.

“The medication should activate momentarily. While we wait, why don’t we pass the time with a bit of word association?”

The room around them was already starting to feel a bit… warmer. Familiar, even. He adjusted his collar a bit, leaning back against the couch.

“Do you know how this works, James?”

“I just say the first thing that comes to my head?” he asked, stifling a yawn with his palm.

“Correct. Alright now… your first word is “barn.””

“Tractor.”

“Good.” Sweet smiled. “Your second word is ‘pasture.’”

“Uh… grass. No, hay.” He muttered hazily. He felt like laying himself down on a soft patch of land, sunlight warming his pale flesh,,,

“Very good, James. Don’t think too hard about them. Now, your third word… ‘milk’.”

“Moo…” he spoke dreamily, still thinking about the sunlight and the field. A bubble of lucidity popped to the surface suddenly, bringing a blush to his face. “N-No, I, uh, I mean cow. Cow, that’s it.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Sweet continued, scribbling more notes on his pad. “And when you think of cows, what are some words you think of?”

“Big… u-uh, soft? I don’t really know…”

“That’s fine, James. Imagine a cow standing in a field… what do you think it’s thinking about?”

A warm, electric tingle trickled down from the top of his head, flowing into his spine and down his back. He tried to focus on the words… what does a cow really think about?

“Uhm… eating? How nice the sun is on its back?…”

“And how do you think it feels when it’s warm and fed? Do you think that would make a cow happy, James?”

The tingle turned into an odd, pulsing sensation, coming from somewhere in his core… or maybe deeper than that. A warmth in his cells.

“Y-Yeah… doctor, this feels… weird…”

“The medication can be a little strong, especially the first time. But just focus on my words… would that make you happy, James? Softness, warmth, food… nothing to think about but being tended to? I like to think so.”

“Hmf… y-yeah, that’d be nice…”

Soft… warm… hungry…

“Good,” Sweet began, suddenly dropping his pen. James jolted upright, forced free from his mental drift as quickly as the pen hit the desk. “That’ll conclude our session. Remember what we’ve talked about today; it’s always good to stay in touch with that simple, wholesome part of yourself. Try and slow down a little, and indulge it; I think you’ll be feeling a lot better if you do. See you again in a week?”

“Y-Yeah… yes, that’d be fine.”

“I look forward to it. Be well, James.”

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

The sun was just beginning to set by the time James arrived home. Warm wafts of sweet and savory air swept around him as he shuffled through the threshold, inviting him straight through the living room and into the kitchen. There, a tall, clean-shaven man with swept back blonde hair stood, whistling to himself. The creak of the floor alerted him to James’s entrance, the apron-clad gentlemen turning to greet him.

“Oh, hey! I thought for sure you’d be running a little late, I’m not totally done with dinner yet. How did your appointment go?”

“Mm, that smells wonderful…” James murmured, slumping into one of the dining chairs. “God, I’m starving….”

“Here,” Kriss, his boyfriend of two years, spoke, setting a dish of buttered buns in front of him. “But don’t fill up before you get to the ham. I worked really hard on it as a nice reward for you finally going to that clinic. Speaking of…”

Kriss sat down in front of him as he stuffed a bun into his mouth, propping his face up on his hand. “You didn’t say how it went.”

“The appointment? Right, sorry… it was okay. Good, actually. It was good. It was kind of weird, and I didn’t think I’d need a shot for psychotherapy, but… it was nice. I feel all calm and… gooey? I can’t really explain it… really hungry, too. Mostly hungry, actually.”

James reached for another bun, nibbling on it gently.

“Well, I guess it’s working already. I haven’t seen you eat like that in… well, ever. It’s nice, honestly.”

The oven alarm beeped as James polished off a third bun, absentmindedly chewing while Kriss got up to retrieve the ham.

Soft… warm… hungry… the words bounced around his brainstem, burying themselves somewhere in the middle of sub and thoughtful consciousness. He remembered saying them, but the meaning was mostly detached… regardless, they just sounded so right.

His ruminations were interrupted by a loaded plate being placed in front of him, also interrupting his roll supply. He breathed in the delicious scents of brown sugar in the ham, cinnamon in sweet potatoes. It was like nothing he’d ever smelled before; it was comfort, it was calm. It was… “Mmf, Kriss, this is incredible. Is this a new recipe? I could eat this forever!” he lit up, happily nibbling on the ham slice with gusto.

“Oh, uh… we had it last week, actually. Whatever they gave you sure made you hungry, huh?” he chuckled, looking a little confused, but relieved at the new development. After all, it was healthier than watching him starve himself on coffee and the occasional stick of gum. In only a few moments, James had the entire plate polished off, and returned to munching on bread rolls. “Want some more? I made extra in case you wanted to take some to work, but-” “There’s more?”

Kriss hadn’t seen him this happy since he’d said yes to their first date.

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

“A-Ah, Kriss-!”

“Shh, we’re almost there.” Kriss cooed, shouldering the bedroom door open, his boyfriend carried bridal-style in his arms. Normally, this would be like carrying a bag of flour, but after his uncharacteristic gorging, James felt more like a sack of potatoes. Or, perhaps, one large sack filled with one very large, round, painfully full potato in the center.

“I’ve never eaten so much in my life…” James whispered as he laid out on the bed. He immediately curled onto his side, holding his stomach in his hands. “I can tell… are you sure you’re okay, babe? You can tell me anything, you know.” “I-I’m fine, honestly… just ate too much.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” A familiar silence crept out of the dark now, cutting into the dim room between them. Finally, James spoke, “Kriss, I just- well, I’m not good at this, I haven’t… been there, like I should have. We’ve been together for a long time now and I still haven’t really… opened up.” Kriss sat down on the bed next to him, looking at the sheets next to James. James reached out, grabbing Kriss by the hand. “I’m sorry. Really. I’ve been too into my job and I want to spend more time with moo-”

He hiccupped, covering his mouth in sudden embarrassment. “You! God, I’ve had cows on the brain lately…”

“You certainly eat like one.” Kriss smiled gently, poking his stomach. “H-Heh… so, uhm,” James said, “Will you give me another chance? To show you the real me… not the work me. Actually me?” Kriss leaned over, brushing the tousled hair out of James’s face. “Of course, sweetpea. You know I’ll give you all the time you need to get back in your own head again. And while you’re still trying…”

Kriss cupped his cheek, and leaned in to plant a little kiss on his soft lips. “Maybe I can do something to keep you motivated.”

“C-Careful, my belly’s still sensitive…!”

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

Kriss woke before James-- given his “work early, work late” schedule, this was an uncommon occurrence, but not an unwelcome one. He liked the way James looked peacefully slumbering; it reminded him that he could still stop and relax, that at least he wasn’t hard-wired to run until he dropped. That the hamster wheel didn’t spin forever. He snuggled up closer to his slumbering partner’s back, looping his arm around his side in a gentle embrace. Kriss’s fingers brushed his chest, expecting to feel cool, taut flesh on ribs… instead, his hand touched soft, plush breast.

“H-Huh?” he muttered, startled, his hand recoiling instantly. He knew James, and had never known him to be any more than twiggy at best. Panic rising, he threw off the sheets and flipped on the bedside lamp, exposing the tubby imposter. There, on the bed, was James-- or, at least, he thought it was… same messy black hair, same little blotchy brown birthmark on his shoulder, same pink underwear. This James would have been a perfect replica, if it weren’t for one big thing:

This James was fat.

Well, fat was pushing it, but he definitely had a lot more of it than when he went to bed. His back, once a bony map of shoulder blades and ribs, was now a padded mat of pale pudge, the vaguest hint of love handles forming at his sides. Butt fat pulled his briefs tight, the waistband receding back to squish the tops of his cheeks into two blubbery cupcake tops. His thighs, once slender and toned from his constant jogging around the office building, smooshed together like gently dimpled bags of thick jelly.

“Mmmn?...” he stirred, sitting up. His round face squinted against the harsh light, and he raised a chubby hand to shield himself from it. Kriss’s green eyes darted up to his rounded arm, down to his puffy chest, back up to his cutely dimpled chin, back down to the subtle dome of his belly.

“Kriss?... Oh no, did I oversleep?”

The words clogged in Kriss’s head; what could he say? James was nervous, prone to panic at the slightest change… “You’re… you-” he choked quietly, staring in disbelief. James, following his line of sight to his belly, let out a little yelp of surprise.

“W-What happened to me? I-I didn’t eat that much, did I?...” he stammered, poking the peachy flesh of his abdomen gingerly.

“Impossible…” Kriss whispered, stepping back towards his boyfriend. “Maybe it’s just… water weight? Temporary swelling? Are you allergic to anything?”

Pressing the gentle swell of his arm, it was impossible to think this could just be temporary. “I don’t think so…”

“Well, in any case, I think we should call a doctor.” Kriss said, stepping over to the dresser. “If I can find my phone…”

“Just… use mine.” It took a moment to tear his eyes away from his freshly-plush body long enough to reach for his cell, thumb tapping the home screen. The time-- 5:55 am-- appeared on the screen.

“Oh! No no no, I’m going to be late!”

“James, the doctor-”

“I’ll go after work! I need to get ready; how did I forget the early meeting? I never forget!”

James scrambled to his feet, butt bouncing in his underwear as he bounded into the bathroom, the door shutting quickly behind him. “Kriss, can you find a white shirt for me, please? And my good watch!”

“If they still fit…” Kriss mumbled with a sigh, shuffling to find his clothes. So much for the fast-track relaxation therapy.

‘Give it time,’ he thought, ‘Nobody changes overnight.’

But as he pulled out the obviously too-small button-up from the closet, he suddenly began to doubt these words.

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

James rushed into the office, speed-walking his way through the lobby to the elevator. He barely managed to squeeze by in time for the doors to shut, his belly bumping against the metal as he slipped in.

“Ouch…” he murmured, regarding his sensitive new softness with a little rub. It was only with this did he notice how stressed the buttons were on the shirt, or how a thin sliver of belly fat was drooping out of the bottom. He quickly pulled his pants higher to disguise it, tucking in the shirt like he wasn’t covering for a freak medical condition. Not like it helped much… the fabric was still ungodly tight against his chest, outlining his newly-blossomed moobs like half-filled water balloons in cloth, and similarly highlighted the uncharacteristically pudgy belly beneath. At least his pants had always been a little big for him… they, at least, did a little better at preserving his modesty.

He waited impatiently for the ding, and squeezed through the doors before they’d fully opened, managing to narrowly avoid two coworkers on his way to the meeting room. They said something he didn’t quite hear, but he heard the word “wide”, which was enough to make him flush gently. No time for that, he thought, walking as fast as he could muster with what felt like fifty extra pounds bouncing on his frame. Sweating lightly, he finally arrived at the meeting room, slipping in just before the last coworker. They scoffed at his speedy entrance, but upon seeing his unusually rounded face, decided that it wasn’t worth starting a fight over-- he was clearly suffering enough if he looked like *that* after just one day.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen…” James’s boss began, addressing the crowd. And so it was, James thought, letting the voices around him whisper out into the back of his mind. He’d wait until his name was called, he’d give his report, and then he’d be back to hammering out the numbers until home time. The daily routine… though, there was nothing ‘routine’ about today, as the chair was quick to remind him. Where he used to sit at the edge of the seat, he now filled it out plentifully; so much so that the chair arms touched his sides if he fidgeted an inch or so in either direction. It was an alien feeling, being so plump- he couldn’t even bring himself to say it, but the words hung there in his mind.

Round. Chubby. Soft. Thick. *Fat.*

He grabbed his thigh amidst his anxious ruminating, fingers squishing pliable blubber beneath the trouser fabric. The sensation sent warm, pleasing tingles across his flesh, rumbling deep into his core. It felt… nice?

He scanned the room, making sure nobody could read the feelings passing through his mind and body, but everyone else seemed to be knee-deep in their own happy places too; zoning out to cope was half of the job, after all. A sudden, deep gurgle bubbled in his belly, his hand shooting up to grab at his belly. Where his thigh had been plush, his belly was absolutely pillowy… the silky smooth glob of fat oozed around his fingers where he pressed, sending out another wave of delight across his body. As if to respond to his pressing, another gurgle rumbled against his palm, and he could feel his stomach rising like slow baked dough with his breaths. In, out… warm, soft. He couldn’t help but smile, sucked into the world of squishy comfort. Even as his belly rose in the *out* breath. Even as the chair began to press into his sides ever so softly. Even as the buttons stressed and strained, struggling to keep up with his widening form until-

*PING* The first button on his shirt reflected off a steel mug, snapping everybody out of their stupor with a jolt.

“What was that?” the boss asked. Everybody looked around, but thankfully James’s airy belly was covered by the desk.

“Hmm… well, in any case, that’s the long and short of it.” the boss shrugged, shuffling some papers in his hands. “James, you’re up.”

James looked up, half-lidded in a relaxed daze. “Huh?...”

“Your numbers. You *do* have your report, don’t you?”

Like an apple in a cauldron of caramel, the thought of the report slowly bobbed back to the top of his focus.

“O-Oh, right, yes sir, I uh…”

He reached for his briefcase, grasping at air beneath the desk.

“Is everything alright, James?”

Everybody in the room shuffled, slumped, retreated back to the comfort of the sounds and sights of desert islands and snowy cabins. Meanwhile, he was out in the open, and floundering.

“They’re, uh… late. Late client.” he smiled nervously. The boss looked at him, eyes narrowed in confusion, but simply shook it off.

“Just have them on my desk by tomorrow, okay? Now, who’s next?”

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

Back at his desk, (and with his pants hiked higher than ever) James let out a deep sigh, wincing as his buckle pinched sensitive belly fat.

“Just keep it together, James....” he whispered to himself. He tried to bounce his leg, but found that it just made the rest of him bounce too, and stopped. He logged into his computer with one hand, the other squeezing the stress ball on his desk, but it only reminded him of how much softer he was…

Throwing the ball in the trash can by his foot, he decided his best bet was to focus on his work. Not on the fat ass threatening to blow out the seat of his pants, not on the small overhang his belly would surely be creating if he wore his pants correctly. And not on the strange warmth rushing to his head… just financial information, market watches, and emails.

Five minutes later, and he was still staring at his home screen, unable to bring himself to start working. There was just something at the back of his mind, something creeping up on him; a deep hunger that swelled up inside of him like a consumptive balloon.

“That’s it… just hungry is all…” he assured himself, pushing away from his desk. All he needed was an early lunch, and it would be back to work as usual. Something light…

Before he knew it, he was sitting down at the cafeteria with three hefty cheeseburgers and a heaping plate of thin fries drowned in cheese.

James took a thick, mouth-filling bite of a burger, losing himself in bliss.

“Mmf, so good…” he moaned to himself, prompting a blushing intern to speedwalk to the exit. One hefty gulp down, he sucked down a glob of sugary vanilla milkshake, chasing it with a handful of fries and another bite of burger. Not only did it chip away at the hunger, but his worry too. Suddenly he felt okay; eating like this felt *right*. He absentmindedly rubbed his belly, the gentle touch enough to rip away another button and rub cheese onto his shirt. He didn’t care; why should he? The belly beneath his hand was soft, fat, and jiggly, and it was fun to pat and wobble. And the more he ate, the more he was able to wobble it. One burger down-- and another button popped-- he felt twice as comfortable. Arm fat billowed out in his shirt, small rips forming that pushed dollops of fat through. Pant fibre finally reached capacity, pulling back from his pudgy calves as his thighs claimed ever more real estate within them. Fingers and toes chubbed into cute little sausages. Wrists, ankles, and neck slowly became less defined. Cheeks chubbed, chin flubbed; his masculinity was smudged by the heaps of fat, androgyny taking the wheel.

But still he munched, a happy grin on his face as he grazed the haystack of fries. The warm feeling in his head turned hot, two points burning the warmest… but two points on his chest gained his attention the most. His chest-- rather, his breasts-- ached terribly, prompting a whine from the freshly cherubic gentleman. Pudgy fingers pawed at the last button left on his shirt, but it was simply too tight to be undone. Instead, he opted to just rub at his moobs beneath the fabric, gulping his shake heartily. Finally, the button popped, and he let out a sigh of relief as his fat breasts plapped onto his belly. The sudden motion forced milk out of the little pink nipples in small rivulets, drops running down the curve of the swollen mounds and dripping onto his belly.

“G-Guh…” he groaned, scooping the last of the food into his maw just as his belt buckle burst off. He was exhausted, but sated… for now. Already, his mind was feeling clearer, and already he was starting to regret the sudden gorging… he was huge! And was that… milk?! “Sir, if you’re going to be in here, you need to put on some clothes-”

The security guard looked taken aback as James turned and unsteadily rose, his pants open and his shirt hanging free. His ass fat rose behind him like two fat pumpkins squeezed into a pair of briefs, rising up with plentiful flesh visible.

“A-Are you okay?...”

James huffed, wobbling on his feet as he attempted to center himself. “I’m- *bruuuarp* o-oh, sorry…”

The guard just stood, watching him slowly lumber out of the cafeteria and off towards the elevator.

“They don’t pay me enough for this…”

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

The slow drive was filled with a quiet anxiety, wondering if Kriss was right: what if he had just gone to the doctor in the first place? Why didn’t he just go to a real hospital to see why he was dripping milk all over the upholstery? That was it, though. He knew why he was like this… where else could it have come from?

Doctor Sweet.

Sweat dripped from his apron of a belly as he squeezed in through the front door. The receptionist simply buzzed him through, and he waddled straight into the pastoral office.

“Aha, James! Right on schedule. Please, have a seat.”

James panted heavily, taking the time to rest on the doorway before he entered.

“What… did you do?” he huffed, continuing on towards the desk. “Look at me! This… has to be some kind of reaction… to that medicine!”

The doctor smiled, unfazed by his bloated appearance. “I’ll say. I’d be more than willing to explain it, if you’d just have a seat.”

James stopped, the exhaustion he felt quickly overtaking his urges towards aggression. “F-Fine…”

The massive boy collapsed in the seat like a falling boulder, nearly taking up the whole couch with his bulk.

“Excellent. Now then… you said there was a reaction, yes?”

James gestured to his body.

“So… chills, fever…?”

“I’m fat! I’m huge! I’m… l-leaking!” he burst out, wobbling in anger. Try as he might to seem imposing, he felt like a bowl of pudding.

“Oh. Oh dear, I see the problem… you must’ve skipped the waiver.” Dr. Sweet sighed, shaking his head. “Well, too late for take backs now, I’m afraid.”

James put his hands on his belly in worry. “W-What do you mean?”

“Well, if you’d read the waiver… you’d see that this therapy involves a permanent genetic alteration.”

“G-Genetic?...”

“Yes. We force a mutation-- I won’t get too deep into it now, there’s really no use-- to shave off the rough edges, essentially. I felt it would be important in your case to emphasize the potential for softness, and it seems your body agreed. Surround yourself with soft, and become soft.”

“That… that’s-” James struggled, trailing away quietly.

The doctor continued. “You see, I was like you at a time. Angry, frustrated, stressed, upset at life… but my time as a dairy worker gave me new insight. Being surrounded by gentle docility at all hours of the day taught me to be gentle and caring myself. But this process took years... once I started in medicine, I spent endless hours trying to find how to distill this process into a formula, to turn the experience into a chemical.”

James watched him with confusion, hands gently kneading his fat to keep himself calm.

“Well, I discovered it alright. It’s a bit unwieldy, but with a little guided thinking, it works wonders. Really brings the farm experience home, wouldn't you agree?”

James looked down at his belly, at his nipples streaming milk onto his bellybutton. “Y-You’re saying I’m turning into…”

“A cow, yes. You’re well on your way, in fact. Here, take a look.”

The doctor withdrew a handheld mirror from his desk, and held it up for James to see. He felt like he was staring into a barber mirror, only instead of finding himself with a new haircut, it was fuzzy cow ears and a set of tiny, nubby horns on his head. And somehow, it didn’t feel wrong… in fact, he felt pretty cute.

“Oh… woah…” he murmured, poking the ear gently.

“See? Nothing to worry about! And just as stated in the forms, you’ll be paid a weekly sum for participating in this new therapy. I doubt a cow would be acceptable in an office building, aha.”

James patted his cheeks, a smile forming on his face.

“And if you’ll allow me…”

The doctor set down the mirror, and withdrew a familiar milky white bottle.

“...I’d like to finish what we started.”

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Kriss waited in the kitchen, checking his watch every few minutes, waiting for James to get off of work so he could take him to the hospital. He shouldn’t have even let him go to work… what if he was more sick than he thought? What if it wasn’t just swelling? What if-

*Thud* The front door shut, and Kriss sprang up from his chair, scrambling into the living room.

“James-”

The breath caught in his chest as he took in the full scope of his boyfriend. The 200-and-change chubster who had left that morning had blossomed into a wide, easily 600 lb. wall of blubber. He stared up at his polished, nubby horns, at his furry ears, down at his absolutely shirt-shredding tits… blood rushed into his face so fast he stumbled, nearly falling forward.

“Oh no, are you okay?” James asked, bright blue eyes full of worry. He waddled forward, belly rippling against the front of each knee as he slowly walked like he was wading through waist-high waters. His chest swayed back and forth, barely contained by a tiny stretched-out tee. Despite being more than three inches taller than him, Kriss suddenly found himself pressed face first into warm boy cleavage, peachy flesh enveloping him. James’s flabby, pillowy arms pressed around his back as he cuddled him in an embrace.

“What… happened?” he breathed, head spinning as he tried to process the changes in his boyfriend.

“O-Oh! Right… it’s part of the therapy! Dr. Sweet made me into a big cuddly cow, and I really like it!” he smiled, clasping his chubby hands together. “Though, we may need to get some new clothes… these shorts are kinda tight on my butt.”

For added emphasis, he slowly turned around, revealing the skin-tight shorts had all but retreated into his huge, bare ass, the rolls of his back flab sagging down to nearly meet the top of them.

“A-Aha... “ Kriss said, woozy once more. He clutched the wall to keep from falling over.

“Do… do you not like it?” James asked, timidly pushing his fat thighs together. His ears twitched gently, sending an arrow straight through Kriss’s heart.

“When I read the waiver, I didn’t expect it to be like, well… all of this. Babe… you’re so adorable my head is going to explode. ”

A happy smile brightened his face once more, and James let out a little laugh. “G-Gosh, don’t scare me like that!”

Headrush fleeting, Kriss managed to push off the wall and back into the arms of his lover. He pecked at his blubbery neck, giving him gentle kisses up and across his cheek.

“O-Ooh, these are nice…” Kriss murmured, squeezing his arms around his chest. “You’re like a big stress ball, I love it.”

“H-Hey, careful, they’re still a little full…”

Kriss moved in for a kiss on the lips, pulling away to give his chest another little squeeze. “Full? Like… with milk?”

James nodded. “You’ll have to milk me until the pump arrives, otherwise they’ll get too full and I’ll start to ache… that is, if you want to. I can still just go to the clinic-”

Kriss tugged at his shirt, freeing one of his blubbery boobs. His thumb traced the nipple gently, practically melting James into a puddle.

“A-Ah, god, have you done this before?...”

“No…” Kriss said, bringing the breast to his mouth. Sweet, creamy milk flowed onto his tongue, which he swallowed down. “But I can learn.”

#male weight gain #fat male #male lactation #ssbhm #boycow #moo

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cosmic-has-moved · 3 years

Text

The Vamp N Wolf - Chapter 4

The Mistress was quick to send out an investigation inside the castle for these small cameras, her daughters coming back with no results of these devices. Despite there being no more spotted, the Mistress still advised keeping an eye and ear out for anything out of the ordinary.

After that she decided to go find Hayden. If there were people spying on the castle, there’s a chance they’re also spying on the village.

It was easy finding him since he mostly spends his time in the piano room, he stood in the room arms crossed and cupping chin in deep thought. Alcina brushed it off as just concern about the cameras. “Hayden, I need you to do something for me.”

He snapped out of his thought and looked at her before standing straight. “What is it?”

“I want you to go patrol the whole area, including outside the village.” Cupping her chin she furrowed her brows. “If someone is spying on us, there’s a chance they’re still here.”

Hayden nodded “Than I’ll be going.” He went and walked passed her, but a hand on his shoulder made him stop and look up at her.

Alcina looked back down at him with a concerned expression. “Please be careful.”

He smiled reassuringly and patted her hand before making his way out.

________________________________________________________________

It had been nearly five hours since Hayden went on patrol and the four had grown worry, but Alcina chose to wait more. Thankfully their worries were quickly gone when Hayden returned, with what looked to be the spy over his shoulders.

Throwing the body onto the ground, he began speaking. “I found this person just outside the areas border. He was hiding in a hut that was built in the ground.” Lifting his hand that held the person’s cutoff hand, there was a walkie talkie in its grip. “He went to call for back up when I came in, but I put a stop to it.”

With a silent order from their mother, the girls began examining the body. It was clear that the guy was dead due to there being a large hole through his chest, Hayden explained that it was self-defense because the spy shot at him.

Examining the body vest and other items, Alcina knew who started to spy on them. Mother Miranda only mentioned them a few times because of their concealed reputation, it was the Umbrella Corporation.

“You did wonderful, Hayden.” Alcina ruffled up his hair and turned to her daughters. “Do with the body as you please, it’s practically useless to us now.”

With a nod, Daniella and the two grabbed the body and walked off. Leaving Alcina and Hayden to themselves.

“So I take it you have an idea on what’s going on?” Hayden asked as he gave her the bloodied hand.

“I was told of them from time to time, I heard that they have a bad reputation for creating a dangerous virus but that could just be Chinese whispers.” She wrapped the limb up in a cloth and called over a servant. “But they are a group that shouldn’t be taken too lightly. They’re easy to deal with, just annoying.”

After a servant came over and she gave the hand to them, ordering them to keep in the dungeon bin, with a nod and bow they left.

Hayden furrows his brows while mumbling the corporation name, “Umbrella Corp? Silly name.” Placing his hands on his waist and tilting his head. “We might need to do some digging if they’re spying on us, or at least get word out.”

The Mistress gave him a nod and smiled. “Yes, but I do think Miranda already knows what’s going on. She has eyes everywhere, nothing is safe from her.” Turning around and gesturing him to follow, she walked off. “Now come, I believe it’s nearly time for dinner.”

A huge grin grew on the young man’s face as he happily followed.

________________________________________________________________

Long after their dinner and everyone separating to do their own thing, the Mistress laid in her bed wearing her nightgown.

She barely sleeps due to lack of needing it, her energy lasting for a whole month or more. But when she does need sleep it can be quite difficult to wake her, this was one of those situations. The whole experiment Mother Miranda was running and previous troubles had caught up to her, she was psychically and mentally exhausted.

Closing her eyes and exhaling loudly, she allowed herself to fall into slumber.

She slowly opened her eyes and found herself in the family room, the fireplace crackling from the flames burning the wood. Looking down she saw her daughters, but they were way younger. Daniella and Novella were nearly in their teens while Anna was about six or eight.

“Ah.” Alcina came to the conclusion that she was dreaming up a memory, memories she has long forgotten and desired.

“HEY!”

Snapping herself out of her train of thought, she looked over at the source of the shout. It was Daniella wrestling with Novella while Anna cried over a torn teddy bear, she remembered how often the two would fight while Anna stood back keeping to herself.

Smiling and getting up off the chair, Alcina went over to break up the fight. It was easy separating the two and sending them off, next she picked up Anna and walked her over to her sewing machine that sat in the corner of the room.

The little one watched in interest as her mother sewed the bear back up, the thing was old but Anna still loved it. She smiled joyfully as Alcina handed her back her teddy bear and thanked her before running off.

Watching her child run out she sighed happily and stood up, the atmosphere to the Mistress felt nice. The warmth from the fireplace mixed with the smell of wood made it comfortable.

“I should sleep more often.” She whispered to herself before sitting back down on the lounge chair, quietly wishing she could take here forever.

While laying in the chair she noticed a taste in her mouth, leaning forward and slipped her index finger in her mouth before pulling it back mouth. No blood, yet she could taste it. It started out as feint but quickly took over her taste buds, it shook her enough for her to wake from the dream.

Her vision was groggy upon waking but the first thing her eyes met with was a clenched hand, the taste of blood filling her mouth as her fang dug into the person’s wrist. It was strongly delicious that she continued drinking without a care, later letting go of the hand and moving to the neck. It had been so long since she had her fangs dig into someone’s neck, especially from the ones who previously worked for her as her private toys. Their screams of submission echoed in her head, it deeply aroused her.

Her tongue tingled as her body heated up, her other hand caressing the person’s chest. Something was telling her to stop but her body continued. Occasionally she would pull her teeth out and lick their neck before going back to sucking.

After what felt like hours which were only five minutes, Alcina finally let go and sat up panting heavily. Licking the blood off her lips she looked down to see who had unluckily decided to be her meal.

Her eyes widened in horror as Hayden laid below her looking as pale as snow and close to losing consciousness, her hand gripping his wrist that was cut.

She was quick to get off of him and getting him up off the ground. “No no no no no no, what have I done!” She laid him on her bed and squeezed his wrist to stop it from bleeding. “What the hell happened!?”

Letting out a weak groan, Hayden opened his eyes a bit. “I’m sorry, Mother Miranda gave me orders to give you a bit of my blood. She said it was important or something.” He winced as his wound started healing. “It was only suppose to be a bit, but you tackled me to the ground and I didn’t want to wake the others.”

Alcina sat there with a look of deep regret and anger, that damn woman had nearly gotten Hayden killed again. Placing his hand on her lips she hushed him. “It’s not your fault, just rest.” Using her free hand she stroked his head and continued hushing him. “Worry not, everything will be okay.”

Slowly Hayden shut his eyes and fell asleep, Alcina making sure he was still alive after a few seconds. Placing his hand down she stood up and clenched her fist in anger, “How dare that old hag bring harm to my boy.”

________________________________________________________________

The morning was young and cold, Hayden still laid in Alcina’s bed resting peacefully.

Alcina herself sat at her desk staring intensely at the phone, waiting for it to ring. Mother Miranda would for sure call for results of her orders, if only she was given a phone that could call instead of answer.

As soon as the phone rang she picked up and answered, “About time you rang, I have a few choice words for you.”

There was a couple seconds of silence before Mother Miranda responded, at first she laughed. “So I take it Hayden did as I ordered. And judging by your attitude, you nearly sucked him dry.” She laughed more before calming down. “I only did that to see if my theory of his blood becoming irresistible was true.”

“Do you have any idea how angry I am, you caused me to nearly kill him!” She gritted her teeth as to hold back her yell of anger. “You better stop with this experiment with my son and pick someone else, I can’t bare to see more of my children hurt.” A bit of sadness trickled out of the last sentence.

Yet again there was silence, but there were quiet mumbles in the background. The silence was broken by Mother Miranda clearing her throat. “Fine, I’ll stop.”

Alcina smiled a bit upon hearing that, “But I do need him for one last thing, by the sounds of it he’s managing your blood very well.” Alcina’s smile quickly disappeared and she dug her claws into the desk. “This experiment only involves him mating, nothing more nothing less.”

After a few moments of thinking, the Mistress let out a defeated sigh. “Fine… Just stop hurting him.”

“He’s a stubbornly tough kid, he’ll be fine.” And with that she hung up.

Putting the receiver down, Alcina rested her head on the table. “This is just a huge emotional mess.” Lifting her head up and looking back at Hayden, who was sitting up on the bed yawning. “Hayden!” Alcina sat up off the chair and swiftly sat next to him on the bed, hugging him.

The hug startled him but he patted her back in return, “How long was I out for?”

Letting him go she smiled at him. “Not long, I was just worried since last nights incident.” Rubbing his neck she was relieved to see the bite mark has vanished. “Next time Mother Miranda ask you to do something, let me know first.”

Hayden gave her a slight nod, an apologetic expression on his face. “Again, I’m sorry about last night. If I had know that you’ll react that way, I wouldn’t have done it that way.” He was silenced by Alcina’s finger lightly pressing against his lips.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Hayden. Mother is the one I’m angry at.” Lowering her hand and getting up off the bed, “but more importantly, how are you feeling?”

Giving himself out of her bed, Hayden stretched his body. “I feel fine, bit sore and drained but a warm shower will help with that.” He went to walk off but Alcina grabbed his shoulder, causing him to turn around. “Hm?”

Removing her left glove and getting a claw out, Alcina made a large deep cut on her palm. Hayden protested but was hushed by her. “The least I could do after last night is let you drink from me. It’s safe to say knowing that you can handle my blood perfectly, you can drink it.” Extending her bloody hand towards him, she continued. “I’m ordering you to do so.”

Letting out a sigh, he took her hand and pressed the wound against his mouth. It did give the Mistress some relief that he’ll be fine blood wise now, she could now only hope that he’ll be fine afterwards.

With a lick of the cut and lips, Hayden let go of her hand. “I’m full, thank you.” After rubbing his mouth he looked up at her. “I’ll be going out on patrol today, just in case there’s more of these Umbrella folk. I’ll be sure to let you know of anything interesting.” And with that he left.

Alcina knew she should’ve mentioned Mother Miranda’s next plans for him, but chose it’ll be best to wait until he gets back. Figured it was best to leave him be for now.

________________________________________________________________

Some time had passed and the sun had lowered enough for the sky to be a dark blue, the snow storm that had been warned of coming was just misinformation. The cold temperature hasn’t changed and most likely never will.

The Mistress sat in the family room, Mother Miranda sitting just across from her drinking tea. It was visible that the Mistress was troubled by her sudden presence but kept quiet about it, she knew she was here for Hayden but a carriage would’ve been sent down, Miranda likely had something else to do to be here.

“It was a good idea to let Hayden patrol, it helps his health and hunting skills.” Miranda put her empty cup down and looked up at Alcina. “I have gotten word from your brother about the small incident, you should know by now how I feel about you two killing each other.”

Sitting back in her seat and taking a sip of her own drink, “My apologies, but you know how I feel about people sneaking around my castle.” Twirling her glass she looked at the lit fireplace. “But lets change the subject. I know you’re here for something else other than Hayden.”

The woman let out a slight chuckle, “You’re always sharp, that’s why I like you.” She lend down to a bag she had brought with her and picked it up. “When I first put Hayden into your care, I thought that afterwards you’ll keep him as one of your sex toys.” She lightly tossed the bag to the tall Mistress.

“So I was quite shocked to hear you call him your son, never thought you’d take him in as your own. After some thinking I thought it was best to give you all the information I have collected about him.” She crossed her legs and smiled. “I figured you’d want a copy of them.”

Opening the bag and leaning forward, Alcina got out a folder with Hayden’s full name labelled on it. She had to admit, she was surprised that Miranda had given her this. “I appreciate this, but I don’t know why you’d think I want a whole folder of information about him.” She opened up the folder and stared wide eyed at the photos.

“Oh there’s more than just files on his past life, it also includes notes from the test I’ve done to him and more.” Looking at Alcina’s shocked expression she continued. “I started after seeing him survived such a crash.”

The photos were of the crash site Hayden was found in, it was like a crime scene. But that wasn’t what shook Alcina, it was the photo containing Hayden laying in the drivers seat, a tree branch thick enough had been lodged into his head that only his bottom jaw was visible.

Going through the photos more she picked up three that showed his head regenerating back, each one of them labelled four days apart. She stopped looking at the photos and went to read through the files.

“There you are.”

The Mistress snapped her head up and at the source of the sound, making sure to close the folder.

Hayden stood at the room entrance holding a small box, his smile towards Alcina moved over to Miranda as he looked at her. “Oh it’s you, the soup lady from a while back.” He walked towards Alcina and stood next to her. “It’s safe to say that I couldn’t find anything out of place, but I’ll still look around again tomorrow when I can.”

Giving him a satisfied smile, Alcina patted his shoulder. “Good job for making sure the area is safe.” She looked over at Miranda as her smile faded. “Hayden, this is Mother Miranda.”

Hayden blinked a few times before looking at the woman in question, his body straightening up. “Oh, so we have met before.” Walking over to her he extended his hand to greet her. “Well it’s still a pleasure to meet you.”

As Miranda took his hand, he leaned down and kissed it. The gesture made her smile in response and wanted to be vocal about it. “My my, what lovely manners.” She looked at Alcina. “You have done well, Alcina. The women back in my home will appreciate it when I bring him back with me.”

The last sentence caused the young man to stared at her puzzled. “Being me back with you?” He looked over at the tall Mistress. “What is she talking about?”

“I was going to tell you when you got back, but she surprised me with a visit before your return.” Alcina put her drink down on the table. “You’ll be staying with her for an experiment, it’s harmless judging by what’s involved and you’ll hopefully be home by tomorrow.”

Looking back at Mother Miranda, Hayden tilted his head and asked. “What kind of experiment?”

Standing up off the chair, Miranda answered. “I need you to have sex with a few women, get them pregnant. If it’s successful and the babies turn out fine, you don’t have to worry about being involved in their lives.” Noticing his frightened expression, she giggled. “Now that you know, we better get going. I’m in a bit of a rush.”

As she took his wrist to drag him out, he spoke up. “Wa-Wait. Before I go, I have something for Mother.” Alcina blinked a few times in confusion as Hayden walked over to her, handing her the box he was holding when he returned. “It took some time to finish, but I made you this.”

Before she could say anything in response, they left. Mother Miranda must’ve been in a rush.

Sighing in frustration, Alcina looked at the box before slowly opening it and gasped. She got out a choker necklace. The golden curb had small pearls connected to it with a flower matching the choker material dangling slightly on the center.

A blissful smile grew on the tall lady’s face, “It’s beautiful.” She whispered before putting it on, it fitted perfectly. Gently caressing the metal flower, she hummed.

Her humming stopped upon remembering the folder, looking down she opened it up again. Grabbing the files she flickering through them, she picked out the top file and read it. While reading it was clear that Mother Miranda is interested in Hayden, but it was in a twisted way. She felt sick to the stomach knowing that she'll likely mate with him, but they were already gone so there wasn't anything she could do. She closed the folder and rubbed her temple.

"She better return him."

#Cosmic FanFic #The Vamp n Wolf #alcina dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescu #lady alcina #The Dimitrescu daughters #Hayden #re mother miranda #mother miranda #re village #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #OC #fanfic #fanfiction

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fate-everlasting · 4 years

Text

Matters of the Heart

This is part three of a three-part alternate-ending fanfiction that revolves around the characters of Adele Carrem, Matteo Vasari, and Charlie Stoke, of Fogbank Entertainment’s Storyscape Titanic novella.

Author’s Note: This story begins in the boiler room, drawing from the diamond scene between Adele and Charlie. Thereafter, the storyline diverges.

Part 1 | Part 2

Part 3: Fate, Everlasting

Climbing the stairs, I trace my fingers over the ornate oak railings, admiring the way the golden light reflects off the wood, my fingertips following the gentle curve of the banister toward the landing. When I reach C Deck, there are more people milling about, though I’m hit by a rush of memories, face to face with the Purser’s office where I composed Zetta’s messages for Richard, and had them sent to the Marconi room via pneumatic tube, a technology that amazes me, even now. I take a deep breath, sighing as I look for Matteo, though he is nowhere in sight. I wonder for a moment if he’s retired to his quarters, or perhaps James’ or Zetta’s, but decide to continue up the staircase to B Deck. I pass several passengers on the staircase, and though we make eye contact, we merely nod in acknowledgement of one another, the haunted looks I see in their eyes likely reflected in my own.

I slow as I reach the B Deck landing, expecting to find Matteo, though my brow furrows when I still don’t see him. For a moment, I feel myself start to panic, wondering if I’ve somehow managed to lose him, unsure of the specifics governing our existence on this version of Titanic, whatever it may be. I quickly dismiss the thought, and looking up, the wrought iron and glass dome overhead seems to glow brighter as I ascend the stairs to A Deck. I see more passengers now, many of whom seem to be coming and going from the Lounge as well as passing through the entry vestibules leading from the promenade on either side. Glancing out toward the promenade, I’m taken aback by the beauty. The entire sky seems to be illuminated in a perpetual sunrise, the water glittering brightly as Titanic glides silently toward its destination, though where this destination lies, and when we are to arrive, remains unknown . I sigh softly, and rounding the corner to start up the stairs, I catch myself admiring the ornate beauty of the ship once more, my hand resting gently alongside the bronze cherub adorning the center newel post at the base of the staircase, my mind reeling at the thought that all of this is now at the bottom of the Atlantic. As my gaze lifts toward the landing, my breath catches when I see Matteo’s tall, elegant form waiting there, though his attentions seem to be focused on his wristwatch, his back to the stairway. Climbing the stairs, I approach his side, the smell of his pomade nearly intoxicating. “Teo?”

He turns, smiling softly, his hazel eyes warm, “Adele. I was starting to wonder if you were going to make it.”

“Of course, I made it,” I return his smile, though the light glinting off his watch grabs my attention. I remember how much it meant to him, a gift from his grandfather who wore it during his service in the Boer War. “Your watch, Teo, is it alright…?”

“Well,” he begins, holding his wrist out to display the watch face, “it always did keep perfect time…” he trails off, with a sadness in his eyes.

“Two-twenty,” I softly read the time from his watch, and upon glancing up at the ornately carved clock on the landing, I realize it shows the same. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach when I realize the significance – it’s the exact time that Titanic sank. “Matteo, I’m so sorry.”

He carefully replaces his cuff over his watch, and turns to me, gently taking my hands in his. “Sorry for what, Adele?” His expression is one of concern, and as I look into his eyes, I feel myself drawn as deeply into him as I had ever been.

“Your watch was your good luck charm, it means so much to you, and now…” I shake my head sadly, though I’m unable to break away from Matteo’s gaze.

“It still is my good luck charm, just as it was for my grandfather.” He smiles sincerely, his thumbs lightly tracing over the backs of my hands. “I’m here with you. I can’t think of any better luck than that.”

I feel a sharp pang of guilt at his words, and I know I need to tell him about Charlie. While I love Matteo, and care for him deeply, the love that I have for Charlie is something completely different, something I’ve since come to realize. The last thing I want to do is cause him any pain, especially after everything we’d been through, but I fear that it would hurt him more if I instead don’t say anything. Looking into his hazel eyes, I feel tears welling up and filling my own. I take a deep breath, in attempt to steel my nerves before speaking. “Matteo, I need…”

He shakes his head then, his hands gently squeezing mine as he interrupts, “It’s alright, Adele.” I struggle to break his gaze, casting my eyes downward for a moment before looking up at him again, my heart and stomach in knots. He repeats softly, “It’s alright, I already know.”

“You know…?” My heart is racing. I wonder what he means, or how he could possibly know what I needed to tell him.

He nods, his hands not leaving mine as he speaks softly, “It’s Charlie.” A look of sadness clouds his features then, though I see him attempt to will it away as he offers me a comforting smile, which doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

I feel my heart skip a beat at his words, “But, how?” My heart aches at the sadness in his eyes, knowing I’m responsible.

He continues gently caressing my hands as he holds them in his, and takes a slow breath before speaking. “I knew it in the engine room,” he pauses, his eyes closing briefly at the memory. “I kept looking for you, waiting for you. But, even as the water rose, you never came.” His voice is soft and low, his gaze briefly breaking from mine before he looks into my eyes again. “That’s when I knew.”

I’m speechless for a moment, my heart feeling like it’s shattering into a million pieces, the feeling of guilt nearly overwhelming. “Teo, I had no idea…I’m so, so sorry.” I shut my eyes lightly in attempt to stave off the tears that feel sure to come, and when I slowly open them, I find Matteo’s sad gaze still on me. “I didn’t intend to stay behind, I knew you were waiting for me, and I had every intention to follow you to the lifeboats. I promise you; I didn’t lead you down there to face what happened.” I can no longer suppress the tears, now freely streaming down my cheeks. “I love you, Matteo, I always have, but…”

Matteo wordlessly envelops me into a tight embrace, my body shuddering as I cry against his comfortable form. I feel his breath catch in his chest, and then he speaks softly, the raw emotion palpable in his tone, “I know, Adele. And I…” he hesitates before completing his thought, and takes a slow, but shaky breath. “…I put you in an impossible position.”

I look up at him, finding his hazel eyes tear-filled beneath his dark lashes, my heart feeling as though it’s breaking all over again. He continues, “I knew that you and Charlie shared something, and I should have respected that. After all, I was the accomplice to your blackmailer, there shouldn’t have been any question,” he shakes his head sadly. “It may seem unconventional, but ever since I saw you in that prison cell, I hadn’t been able to get you out of my mind. I hope you know - I need to make sure you know - I helped you because I truly wanted to. I truly care for you, Adele; more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. You made me a better man, and helped me to see that the ends don’t always justify the means, and that there can always be another way.”

I remain close to him, our arms still wrapped around one another. “I understand why you did what you did, Teo. James put you in an impossible position, too, and I know you truly care…” I sigh then, my eyes searching his, “But I didn’t make you a better man. You’ve always been a good man, or you wouldn’t have done everything you did for me, or for Hileni.”

Matteo chuckles softly, shaking his head, “I’m many things, my dear. But I’m afraid a good man isn’t one of them.” He pauses, gently running his fingers through my hair, “You did bring out the best in me.”

I break his gaze momentarily, and take a deep breath before looking up at him, attempting to will my tears away when I ask him the question that’s been nagging in my mind. “Teo, if you knew… Why did you come back? Why didn’t you try to save yourself?”

He reaches down, gently taking my hands in his again, “It was a matter of the heart, Adele.” He raises his eyebrow slightly, “Why did you stay behind?”

His question gives me pause, “I’m…I’m not sure. I was ready to leave, I very nearly did, but I went back.” He nods slightly, and I continue, “I just felt as though I couldn’t leave. My mind was screaming at me to go, to save myself. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. When I went back…” I hesitate, looking at him searchingly, “When I went back, it felt like that was where I was supposed to be.”

“Your heart made its choice, Adele,” Matteo nods gently, “and that’s nothing to apologize for.”

I glance down at my hands in his, and shaking my head slightly, I look back up at him, tears once again stinging my eyes. “It is, though. I stayed, and because of that, you came back, and now…”

“It’s nothing to apologize for,” he reiterates his point, his eyes gazing deeply into my own. “When you didn’t come to the engine room, I knew why you’d stayed, there was no doubt in my mind. It was at that moment that my heart made its choice, and it chose the same as yours – for me to stay.”

I’m speechless for a long moment, silent tears running down my cheeks, before I find my voice. “You chose to stay, even though you knew about Charlie, and knew there’d be no way out? Teo, I…”

He chuckles softly, sadly, gently dabbing my tears away with his handkerchief before replacing it in his pocket, taking my hand in his once more. “Adele, our interactions have never been anything short of complicated, have they?”

I smile slightly through my tears, “I suppose you’re right…But even then…”

Matteo shakes his head, his expression gentle, all the rough edges he’d once had now completely smoothed away. “I meant what I said, Adele. Of any place in the world, in this life, or the next, I’d rather stay with you, no matter the circumstance.”

I feel my breath catch, remembering those exact words when he returned to the boiler room, not knowing at the time that he already knew the truth, even before I’d acknowledged it myself. Looking up at him, I shake my head, “Believe what you will, Teo, but you’re a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known. And, I wouldn’t trade anything that happened between us, I just…” I briefly glance away before returning my gaze to him, “I wish everything hadn’t been so complicated.”

A sad smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, “My dear, that’s but the nature of matters of the heart.” His eyes flicker down to his jade and gold brooch, still pinned to my gown.

Following his glance, I feel another pang of guilt. I gently take my hands from his, and reach up to unpin the brooch, feeling as though I’m no longer deserving. “I’m sorry, Teo. I should give this back to you…”

His hands reach up to cover mine, gently holding them in his once more, and I look up at him. He slowly shakes his head, “It’s yours, Adele. It’s still – and always has been – yours.” I nod wordlessly, tears once again stinging my eyes. Matteo offers a warm smile, though I still discern an underlying sadness in his eyes. “Even if I’d known our voyage would end this way, I’d do it all again. I have no regrets. I followed my heart, and you followed yours. Not everyone has the opportunity to surrender themselves to love, and find solace in whatever the outcome may be. I find solace that I still get to be here with you, and in that you have the good man that you truly deserve.” He pauses for a long moment then, his eyes searching my own, “You should get back to him.”

I’m unable to tear my eyes from his gaze, my emotions in turmoil, though I nod, reminding myself that he was right, my heart had made its choice. “Thank you, Matteo, for everything,” I begin, my voice soft. “For your openness, your kindness, your protection, and most of all, your understanding.” I pause briefly, “I’d do it all again, too.”

He nods, gently squeezing my hands in his, “You needn’t thank me, Adele, nor treat this as though it’s a goodbye. We’ve been through far too much together to go our separate ways now, and someone needs to be here to ensure Charlie treats you the way you deserve.” He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. I chuckle softly at his comment, comforted and relieved, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and off of my heart. He then leans down, closing his eyes as he brings my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it lightly. He lingers there for a moment, and when he raises up and opens his eyes, they’re calm, and far less conflicted than before. “Get back to Charlie, Adele. I’ll catch up with the both of you a bit later.”

He smiles warmly, though a sadness still lingers behind his gaze. I nod, smiling softly, “I look forward to it, Teo.” I notice his gaze then shifts over my shoulder, and he nods his head slightly, before smiling at me once more, turning to head up the stairs to the Boat Deck. I watch him leave, the scent of his pomade fading, all the while my heart is still pounding, and the slightest inkling of doubt still nags in the back of my mind.

I sigh softly, and as I turn to head back down to D Deck, I see Charlie waiting at the base of the staircase, alongside the bronze cherub. Concern is still evident in his features. “Adal, is everything alright?”

I nod, offering him a smile as I slowly descend the stairs, “It is. Well, it is now, anyway. Matteo said he’d rejoin us later.”

Charlie nods at that, and clears his throat slightly, “And, he understands?” No doubt, he is referring to Matteo’s feelings for me, the cause of their contentious interactions from the first day they’d met one another.

“He understands everything, Charlie.” I smile gently, holding my hands out to him as I reach the bottom of the staircase, feeling an undeniable warmth course through my body the moment Charlie takes my hands in his. “There’s only you.”

At my words, his expression softens, and he wraps me in his arms, holding me tightly to him. I settle into his embrace, feeling safe and protected as I look up at him, the golden light shining in through the wrought iron and glass dome above surrounding us in a warm, ethereal glow. He smiles warmly then, his fingertips gently tilting my chin up to him as he leans down, his lips only millimeters from my own. He whispers softly, “And, there’s only you, my Adal.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against mine, and in that instant, the last lingering fragment of doubt in my mind disappeared. I return the kiss passionately, my soul finally feeling at ease. In a change, our kiss isn’t anxious, or hurried, but rather soft, tender, and with a love and an intimacy I hadn’t felt before.

We linger in the kiss for a long moment, and when we slowly part, Charlie smiles warmly, gently tracing his fingertips over my cheek. Looking into his eyes, I feel at peace. While I never could have imagined how the course of my life would change when I accepted my ticket on Titanic, I know that everything I’d done had led me to this moment. And, in this moment, I know beyond any shadow of a doubt, that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I return Charlie’s smile, lightly resting my hand over his on my cheek, before leaning up to press my lips to his once more. He returns my kiss gently before breaking it a moment later, and steps back to offer me his arm. Without hesitation, I gently take his arm, and as I settle in against his side, we descend the Grand Staircase, leaving the past behind, and taking our first steps together into eternity.

#titanic #storyscape #storyscape titanic #adele carrem #adal karam #charlie stoke #matteo vasari #zetta serda #james eisler #hileni carrem #adele x charlie #adele x matteo #matteo x adele #charlie x adele #fanfic #fanfiction

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 5 years

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Moth Work Intro + False Idol | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

Today I thought I’d do a writing update on a project I’ve mentioned a lot in my vlogs but haven’t mentioned as of yet on here! This is a personal ‘passion project’ that I’ve been picking away at since January and have recently taken on as my transition project from Rewired to my next book.

So yee! MOTH WORK (or ‘boys on a boat’ for those who keep up with the vlogs lols) has been my current project for the last few weeks since finishing REWIRED. I didn’t really mean to expand it as much as I have as it simply started off as a spinoff story of my boys Lonan and Harrison which I write every few months when I’m having a breakdown and need something to cheer me up. :-)

I’ve mentioned a few of these stories in the past (like Fishbowl and Mandarin), though this story is a bit different, as I’ve expanded it quite a lot more than I intended to! If you aren’t super caught up with Rewired, I’d definitely scroll through a few of my last updates so this one will make more sense!

What’s it about?

Moth Work is a FOSTERED spinoff story following Lonan and Harrison (dumb+dumber) at the peak of their relationship. I *was saying* that the plot went loosely as follows: after finding a photograph of a woman in Lonan’s father’s dark room, they set out to find her, HOWEVER, because I never stick to plans, I have yet to follow through with this main plot thread, lol. Vaguely, I’d just say the most important part of this story is their relationship at its most fragile because who is plot I don’t know her.

Moth Work follows the events after REWIRED, and is a bit of a bridge between it and the next book. This makes it kind of hard to explain because a) it’s in a different POV, and b) context, but hopefully that makes sense! In essence: Lonan + Harrison’s relationship is big sad and Harrison tries to make it less big sad and it gets even more big sad.

I’ll share a very quick profile of both of the boys so there’s some context for the following excerpts I’ll share!

Harrison

My boy

Generally very outgoing, tho around Lonan this fizzles. Only wants the best for Lonan despite their history. He’s the ‘main’ narrator of the piece (third limited to him though I’m guilty of head hopping lol), so the work has a softer tone than I’m used to. Though Harrison tries to be a Macho Man, around Lonan he’s most himself--mellow, a lil stupidly romantic, and vulnerable.

Lonan

My problematic son/probably should be cancelled

The “issue” in the relationship loool. He’s emotionally immature and lacks accountability, but because of his past, lacks the ability to recognize these faults and work on them. Because of this, he’s fundamentally stayed the same for the last few works he’s been in (if not gotten worse). Lonan requires a lot of emotional assistance, though he isn’t self-aware enough to recognize this. This is often the cause of much conflict.

Conception:

Like I mentioned, I often write short spinoff stories following these boys because it’s a safe happy place for when I’m feeling stressed. This is basically how this piece started, though I’ve continued it for different reasons which I’ll get into. I don’t remember how the first scene was brainstormed, but I do know when I started writing this a few months ago, I wanted it to be a lot longer than my previous stories--a place where I could just dump my writing, even when it wasn’t good. I think I did this to cope with the stress of my writing class honestly, lol, I think I needed a break from ‘serious’ writing AKA a place I could just goof off and have some fun.

The writing bit:

Writing this story has been a bit inconsistent. I’ve been drafting it in little pieces since the beginning of the year, and only recently picked it up as more of a ‘full-time’ work. This is subject to change depending on whether or not I get more of book 7 done. I’ve gone from writing 20 words a day to 0 to 1000--there’s really no consistency with the drafting process here.

I have recently decided that I’ll most likely expand this into either a novella or novel itself because there is literally so much tea left to explore and it’s surpassed 10k words. Drafting Moth Work has been so helpful in easing me back into the world of FOSTERED and piecing together the huge time gap from the end of book 6 to the start of book 7. I’ve been a bit anxious to really dive into book 7 for the fear of the unknown, so inching myself closer to that timeline through this project has been very helpful!

The editing bit:

I recently did an edit around the line level for this entire piece (it’s about 12k words right now) because a) it really needed it b) I was losing steam/starting to get embarrassed and c) I needed a refresher of what had happened because je suis tres forgetful. This edit made me feel so much better about the project. It initially started off as a work where the writing didn’t actually matter and this mentality was working until I got so embarrassed of the prose I found it difficult to read through old scenes to refresh myself and thus couldn’t productively draft.

This project isn’t written exactly in my usual style--it’s pretty stripped back and actually reminds me a lot of how my style would’ve been in book 3 had I been a better writer four years ago lol. I think the looser style works for the voice/the story itself but I def wouldn’t categorize this as litfic (what I usually write). Although the prose isn’t very complex, it took me a really long time to get comfortable enough to edit?? But once I got into the rhythm of it a few days ago, I completed the edit fairly quickly, and I’m 100% feeling better about the project overall! Though the prose is still not my top priority I’m not as embarrassed of it currently lols.

I also divided the project into chapters because it was getting pretty long to just be one mass of text. I currently have 3 chapters. This update will cover chapter 1.

Playlist:

Yo this is literally the best part of writing this project, lol, I get to listen to so much different music?? I’ve made a comprehensive playlist for this story with a character by character breakdown (if anyone wants to see that/highlights, let me know!). This playlist pulls from every song from my library, so we span genres and artists like crazy. Nothing But Thieves has been the primary artist for this story (specifically their self-titled album). These songs (all NBT oop) are the most relevant if you want to get the general tone lol (anything with a star has explicitly inspired the project):

Excuse Me*

Honey Whiskey*

Tempt You (Evocatio)*

If I Get High (II)

Gods

Lover, Please Stay*

I Was Just A Kid*

Get Better

Hell, Yeah*

Afterlife

Reset Me

Particles

Sorry

Number 13

Excerpts:

I don’t have *many* because prose hasn’t really been a top priority for this project, but I’ll try to include at least one per scene.

This is one of the opening paragraphs from chapter one which I’ve titled ‘False Idol’. In short, the chapter follows the boys first attempting to destroy the dark room and then getting distracted and eventually not pulling through after Harrison finds a picture of Ominous Lady.

The chapter’s chronology is wild so we can break it up as follows:

Scene A

The boys enter the dark room with the intention of burning it down

Harrison reaches for his lighter and drops it which prompts him to find the photograph of Ominous Lady

Him and Lonan mildly argue about Ominous Lady until Lonan takes it too seriously and throws a tantrum :-DD

Scene B

Not really a full scene, just a bridge between scene A and C.

Harrison has been waiting for Lonan to return to their campsite for the entire day and he decides to at the very last moment

“hey so i’m unable to apologize for anything but also! cigarette! let’s share it! lungs!”

Scene C

The boys exercising their canoeing skills

This leads us to our first “beat”.

Lonan interrupts Harrison’s peaceful evening by having a mild crisis

This takes place right after the events of Lolita, Lolita (chapter 16 of REWIRED). We then jump back to the fictive present.

This alternates like 5 more times lol then the chapter is done!

The following excerpt describes their entry into the dark room. Don’t know how smart it is to be smoking in a room full of highly flammable material but we out here.

I don’t think she’s particularly special but I also don’t hate her so!! hoping an aesthetic photo will make it read better :’)) I ! don’t ! think ! it does ! but !

Harrison shoulders the door first, traps it open with the clip of his boot. Dust and streaks of light rake behind him as he pushes through cardboard boxes, mountains of photo paper on the ground. Lonan follows silently, still wearing Harrison’s jacket. Trails of smoke from his cigarette catch in the negatives hanging by the clothespins, chemical peel between the layers of ink. In one hand he tends to his cigarette, and in the next, lugs in the canister of gasoline they found in the cabin’s cellar. As Harrison fumbles for his flashlight, Lonan sets it down by the table so it sloshes like the Pacific.

This is a bit of when Harrison finds the photograph of Ominous Lady:

He turns the photograph over, and shines the flashlight on it. It’s scratched and developed wrong, little bits of orange obscuring the woman’s face, but it’s very much a woman. A dark bob and bangs in her eyes, jewelry hanging from her septum. Sunshades enough to reflect the European street behind her. The discreet jet of ink on her skin, blues and greens peeking out from under her sleeve. Izzy, he recognizes. Lonan’s mother.

Nudging Lonan with an elbow, “I didn’t know your mom has tattoos.”

Lonan takes the photograph cautiously, holding it by the corners like it’ll burn him. His brow trembles, but it takes him only seconds to say, “That’s not my mom.” He takes the flashlight from Harrison and examines it closer, fingers nimble and tracing the edges. In the grey light of the dark room, he looks nullified. Just a monochromatic hum of chromosomes and skin.

that’s not my MOM

After the boys find the photograph, Lonan gets triggered at Harrison’s suggestion to find the woman (he presumes her to be someone involved with his father) and promptly has a tantrum and exits. This leads us into the next scene where the boys! actually! get! on! boat! In this scene Lonan tries to say sorry for his tantrum by offering Harrison a cigarette (lol) and because Harrison is hopelessly romantic and also hopelessly dumb, says yeeeees sir! They go for a canoe ride on the water. Thought it was going to be sweet, ended up being a shitstorm but!

This paragraph is kind of toast but:

The canoe isn’t hard to get into the water. After a few nudges from the dock into the slow dip of tide, it stabilizes easily. Harrison is convinced it will capsize but Lonan knows it won’t. They take one ore each, and ignore the life jackets at the back of the shed.

The moon is large and mesmerizing. As Harrison and Lonan take turns pushing the canoe into the water, mast first, then its entire belly, it colours them silver. Lonan’s protected the cigarette in the pocket of his shirt. Harrison stares at its faint outline stretched under the fabric. Lonan steps into the canoe first, rocking with the current, and extends a hand for Harrison. He pulls him in and they row until the cabin is the size of a fingernail, the wave steady and dense. Each cut of the paddle feels like plunging a scalpel into flesh and Harrison watches Lonan do it easily. In the distance, the cabin doesn’t look so menacing. Reeve has left the lamp on by the loft, and it glimmers back like an eyeball, effervescent and tiny. Nothing but a reflective penny in the distance.

Here’s some Harrison being lame:

The water laps at the base of the canoe, and Ris reaches over and touches it like it’s holy. He makes the sign of the cross and it feels perverse, cold water dripping from forehead to chin.

For a while it’s quiet. Just the distant hum of crickets, the slash of the paddle, and the off-chance flash of something in the distance; an animal, a flashlight. Ris tries not to think about Lonan’s dad, like a dead man slithering through the water, following their boat. He picks at a saltine, sucks it between his tongue meditatively. Against the sky, Lonan is backlit and lovely and flecks of his hair peek up from around the jacket’s collar. Harrison wonders if as a child, everyone said he looked just like his father.

On top of lacking accountability, Lonan is also a professional canoeist so he takes over while Harrison eats saltines and reminisces about an encounter they had weeks prior. This leads into the solid chunk of backstory that I weirdly jump in an out of for the entire chapter. :)

Backstory consists of drunk Lonan having a crisis while Harrison tries to have a peaceful evening of taping up his drawings to his bedroom ceiling. The following excerpt describes the moment right after Lonan enters the room.

Harrison’s lips secured around his cigarette, his hand mid-air with packing tape and line drawings of the moon. A tinny country song dribbled through the radio. The minute-meal he’d heat up in the microwave lying forgotten and cold on his desk. Harrison set the pile of drawings down and turned off the music.

“Emily left?” Lonan asked. He kept his face upward, stared clumsily at the ceiling. Harrison watched his eyes trace the new drawings, following the uncalculated pattern.

This paragraph is made up of 5 similes and this is the only reason I’m sharing it :)))):

Lonan has stopped paddling. The canoe sits in the middle of the lake, lifeless, like a bone in the water. He’s turned so Harrison can see him in profile, and Ris can’t tell if it’s relieving or worrying to see his face. Lonan’s jaw is taut, like there are words he wants to say there but can’t. Filling up the hollow bone. He blinks slowly, like he’s trying to re-centre himself, his chest quivering with breaths meant to steady him. The water laps at the base of the canoe, whirling. Dark hair tangles down his cheeks like the fingers of a poltergeist.

I think that’s a pretty good way to end this post lol! How many similes have you put in one paragraph? What’s your record lol this is probably mine!

Hope y’all enjoy the intro to MOTH WORK. I have two other chapters already written which I’ll update on in a separate post! For now I hope you like this more laid back project, let me know what you think!

---Rachel

#writing #writingupdates #writeblr #amwriting #writerblr #fostered #mothwork

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gaslightgallows · 5 years

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Spooptober Housekeeping

(cross-posted from Patreon)

Sorry, October Housekeeping. My husband won’t stop adding “spoop—” as a prefix to everything – he’s even using it as a verb now – and it’s infected me.

Anyway. There’s been a lot going on this month.

Master Vogelspinner (NaNoWriMo 2019 project)

1) To my personal astonishment, the NaNo prep reading is going very well! I’ve finished THREE of the six books I want to read before November: The Bloody Chamber, White as Milk, Red as Blood, and From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death. I'm definitely not going to get through the rest by the end of next week but I think I'm at least going to finish the ones I've never read before!

Next on the list is Deathless, by Catherynne M. Valente. I’m a little nervous about this one. I’ve started this book three times and only ever make it about halfway through before I am overcome by her command of language and imagery. Valente’s writing makes me despair of my own… which isn’t fair, either to her or to me, so Attempt #4 it is.

2) After a year of working on this book, I’m delighted to announce that I finally know what the plot is. That’s the plot, mind you, not the story. I’ve always known what the story is. The story’s the part that comes from the characters. The plot is what’s happening around the characters and what they are reacting to, i.e., the problem. I also now know what the overall theme is: the modernization of death care and the shift from taking care of the dead at home to having professionals to deal with them.

This realization on my part ended up being… unfortunately, very topical.

Sad Family Stuff

While Brian and I were on vacation in New Hampshire last week, we received word that his father had passed away in Texas. A neighbor has paid for the funeral services out-of-pocket, and we’re now working on raising funds to reimburse this very kind man, because he did not need to do that, but he did and that, that’s a Good Damn Neighbor right there. And we’d like to repay him.

Thanks to a number of very generous and deeply-beloved friends, as of this writing, we’re a little over halfway to our goal of $731. If anyone would like to/is able to contribute to these efforts, you may donate directly at paypal.me/eroivas, or you can purchase something from Brian’s Redbubble store (since I still don’t have any of my own merch).

We'll be closing our call for donations on Sunday, 10/27. Any proceeds in excess of the funeral expenses will be sent to Brian’s stepmother.

Annoying Patreon Stuff

Continuing on the delicate and uncomfortable subject of funds, I’ve noticed one or two patrons whose payments were declined last month. Folks, Patreon is a useful service but it doesn’t love any of us, not really, so please remember to check your accounts regularly to make sure you’re still supporting the people you want to support.

I’ve also had a few people recently who needed to reduce or cancel their patronage altogether, and to those people, I would just like to say: I’m sorry to see you go but I completely respect whatever reasons you had for leaving – or, in the case of reduced payments, thank you for sticking around in spite of whatever caused you to change your subscription amount!

Because while I do love money, I value your presence and encouragement far more. Thank you for continuing to support me.

…However.

The Lavender video

Due to these changes, I’m now once again $8/month shy of my first Patreon goal, a video about the Vanishing Hitchhiker legend of Ramapo, New York, which I just barely reached a couple of months ago. I’ve talked with my camera guy (i.e., Brian) and because we’ve already started the preliminary work, we’re going to go ahead with the project. But there’s still other stuff we’d like to do that won’t happen until we can cross that goal. So, if you’re able, please consider supporting me. Or supporting him! He also has a Patreon! It’s full of graveyards! And cosplay! And sometimes naked people!

In the meantime, I’m working on the script, he’s working on getting the equipment together, we’re both working on learning how to edit (Beware, patrons, for you may well be subjected to my terrible bumbling practice videos.), and we’ll be shooting some location footage at the relevant cemetery and street, shortly after Thanksgiving.

Et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum

Let’s see, what else… Randomly-Generated Fiction installments will return in December. For the rest of this month and next, they’re being replaced by further chapters of The Egg of the Damned, the regrettable not-quite-a-novella I wrote in high school and am currently in the presence of retyping and rewriting so that I can make it 100% less racist (seriously, 17 y/o me, what the hell) and 3000% more queer.

I’d love to have it done and ready for publishing by April but I’m afraid that might be just a tad unrealistic.

And lastly – I’m thinking about going back to having reward tiers. Just having a single tier hasn’t encouraged people nearly as much as I’d hoped, so it seems I have to make more offerings unto ye readers.

So what would you like? I’m open to suggestions. Like, wide open. ‘Where are your manners, were you brought up in a barn?!’ kinda open. Stickers? Monthly postcards? The chance to prompt a short story? A cameo in a novel? Dev editing? (Fair warning, that would be a higher tier.) A Discord for discussion? I do not understand the Discord but if y’all want one I will learn to Discord.

Related: ever since I started this Patreon, I’ve been talking about eventually having merchandise of some sort for sale… but idefk how to merch. What do you want? What tickles your fancy?

Let me know in the comments on the post, or reach out to me on Twitter or at my author Tumblr @aflinley (yes, I have an author Tumblr, yes, it’s neglected) or, hell, email me at [email protected].

I want to knooooooooooow!

#gaslight blogs about original fic #oh right i have a patreon #aflinley #my alter ego in the hat #parent death cw #housekeeping #writers on tumblr #writers on patreon

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indie-struggle · 4 years

Text

August 2nd, 2020

I'm sorry for not posting for a while, and I appreciate the concerning emails. I've been wrapped up in this novel that I'm putting the final touches on and it's been... well, it's been hell. My mind is scrambled eggs. You would think it would be a natural transition: going from present/active tense, which is what I usually write my screenplays in, to past tense, but it's a bit more complicated than that. In writing a novel I've discovered quite a few things. First, there are too many writers out there. Second, writing screenplays is fucking easy in comparison--there is no contest. You would think it's the other way around, but the amount of concision compared to the amount of comprehensible prose you have to use are incredibly broad in difference, not to mention a boat load of other things. To fill eights of a page with short choppy action and dialogue isn't shit compared to line by line of narration, action, dialogue, and all the conflicts the reside within them. In screenwriting and filmmaking, most, if not all conflict is externalized, the idea is for it to be viewed and not left to your imagination. Sometimes conflict is personal, it is almost never internal (without being external VO/Narration), and your words are not written to be read only. A novel is. That’s all you get. A novel isn't a recipe for the chef for the ultimate goal to be food, like a screenplay through the mill, out through the director, the editor, and then finally viewed. In a novel you can jump between all three conflicts: Inside the mind (internal), personal relationships/feelings (personal), and aliens destroying the planet (external) at any time. Also, the exterior narration and action, while trying to keep a damn story straight and comprehensible has to be present like an approval stamp. This is especially trying if your narrator is not a character in your story, I just want to say that. My narrator is not me and is not a character or a character in the story. So at no point does it say I, unlike what I'm doing right now--this would be considered first person narration because I'm talking about myself. I, I, I, I... As of now my memory is fogged, it doesn't want to work, let alone think of new story ideas, and it's out of gas. I'm fucking drained. My head hurts, and I don't know how novelists do it. The stamina required just for my novella (190 pages) took the equivalent of 3 screenplays and 8 months of writing and rewriting only to just now be with a TR, that will return my work, pointing out all the typos I became snow blind to prior to final publication. I don't expect any money from this, that wasn't the point. I did it to see if I could. So, it's a victory for me either way, and whether or not it makes money is of no consequence. I finished a novel in my life and it was published. The end. Between you and me, if something comes out of it more so than my filmmaking career, then I'm going to kick myself in the ass for the 25 years of studying, and working myself to death, to climb the wrong fucking hill no one can see but me. One worry that has been simmering in the back of my mind is whether I'll be able to adapt back to screenwriting. I do dabble and write scenes in a grotesquely large and ever growing 400 page script of nonsense, just for repetitive memory, y’know, but it will be interesting to see if it's changed me at all. Looking at screenplays now makes me see how much is over written even more so than before, and I don't want to fall into that trap of being too prosy about a guy who comes in the door:

John delicately turns the handle and opens the door, the light shining behind him with the horrendously beautiful glow of autumn. He’s thinking something but we don’t know what, perhaps lunch, Dinner? Something is in the air and on the tip of his nose...

Kill me.

John enters and looks around a moment, sniffs, and then walks over to the table.

On a positive note, I was complimented for my use of similes, which I attribute to writing scripts. A fast way to convey what someone feels like is a simile, or analogy (you pick), and it's something I've always been able to do. If you were good at talking shit about people when you were young, analogies come to you like ants to spilt sugar. Eh... Eh? We'll see what the future holds. Right now is a weird, gray time, and everything is basically at a stand still unless you can afford the production costs of keeping people tested, separate and safe. This could very well be the sad end of my sad career for all I sadly know. It really is up in the air and deflating more than people realize, and I’m worried--not gonna lie.

Thanks again for the emails.

#screenwriting #filmmaking #writing

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oxfordeliterp · 7 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, AREEJ!

You have been accepted to play the role of CHARLOTTE ZERILLI with the faceclaim of VANESSA HUDGENS. Please create your account and send it to the main in the next 24 hours. When I say that picking the player of Charlotte took me thirty whole minutes after I have read all three applications (impossibly beautiful, all three, and impossible to compare, for they were three different Charlottes that I wanted to see shifted into three different characters, all played in the roleplay group’s context), it’s not a hyperbole. I read about Charlotte being the heiress, the wasp and the strategic, and I honestly couldn’t possibly tell which I liked most, reason why I have literally written this acceptance message for two of the three versions and was ready to post it. I have changed the application under the cut three times and it haunts me how difficult of a choice you have made this for me. I am going to encourage everybody who has applied and didn’t get the role they wanted to reapply, because I would genuinely want you all, but you two (you know who you are) I feel like the roleplay group would be incomplete without. You all had the misfortune of falling in love with the same character. If the Gods love me and if you do end up reapplying, I’m going to be the happiest person alive. It’s unfair; you are all mob princesses to me, right now.

Now to focus on you, Areej. Sorry for the intro, thank you for the wonderful application. I cannot stress how much love I have for every detail you have put into this. It is obvious to me that you are a skilled writer with a capacity and understanding for the human nature that cannot go unnoticed. The para sample was so flawlessly executed that it stuck in my mind. Every little detail you have included made me eager to see your Charlotte on the dashboard. I want to meet her and see where she goes wrong. The amount of research you put into the application has not gone unnoticed. What can I say? And right then, she finally understood what godfather meant.

Name and pronouns: Areej (alternatively Queen, your fave, empress, so on and so forth) & she/her

Age: 17

Time-zone: GMT

Activity level: Right at this very moment, while procrastination is at an all time high, a lot. If I don’t get off by mid-June please kick my ass.

Triggers: removed for privacy

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Charlotte Zerilli

I love her a lot. (ok duh I love her a lot or I wouldn’t be applying for her. look @ me stating the obvious.) But on a more serious and hopefully less obvious note, what I’m always drawn towards is characters’ relationships, and Charlotte’s, I feel, have the potential to be very interesting because she’s almost always superior. Not in a mean way. It’s just how it is. Charlotte Zerilli is everything, has everything, and no matter how approachable and friendly she paints herself as, lingering around her is an air of superiority she can’t seem to wash off. This is what creates chasms. Between her and whoever she’s talking to, there’s a distance. And it’s kinda sad because she longs to have close, personal relationships, but feels like she can’t because nobody understands her, and she thinks nobody can. It’ll be fun. i love making beautiful, complex characters suffer bye

Gender and pronouns of the character: Cis female (she/her)

Changes: As much as I love Shay Mitchell, I wanna request an fc change to Vanessa Hudgens! I just have more muse for her. idk idk

Traits:

CURIOUS ━ As a child, bright and starry eyed, there was a lot about the world around her that Charlotte didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t necessarily because anyone was hiding anything from her (for there weren’t many secrets in the Zerilli household. There was no shame, no need). Rather, there was so much for her to learn and so little time. She wished to know everyone and everything intimately. Twenty years on and not much has changed, although she’s become more subtle in her questions and artful in her use of information.

SECRETIVE ━ Charlotte has this curious ability of making it seem like she over-shares, is honest and straightforward, but there are worlds and worlds she hides. Mainly, what she perceives to be her weaknesses. The most obvious is prooobably the Mafia thing. While she’s become more accepting of it (or, more specifically, the softer aspects of it - i’ll explain later), it’s still not something she talks openly about. Still, it subconsciously shapes her. Behind her mercy, her kindness, is a vain attempt to balance out her family’s crimes. She overcompensates for wrongs she didn’t commit. Not only this, but she doesn’t really talk about her feelings, either, internalising emotion and stress to the point of it being physically detrimental. She’s also big on denial. Always running.

COMPASSIONATE ━ It is perhaps this that came as the biggest surprise to her father and mother although, to be fair, they should’ve expected it. Instead of being given half the love, the Zerilli twins received double from their parents. There was not a moment Charlotte was allowed to feel alone. Her heart surges with the same affection for everyone, not just reserved for family like her father’s is.

VERSATILE ━ Multifaceted and adaptable, Charlotte can go from sleep-deprived academic, slaving away in one of Oxford’s many libraries to out-of-your-league party girl to loyal, advice-giving friend whenever it’s required of her. (Not that her heart truly fits into the moulds she creates for herself, but that’s another story.) The girl prides herself in being able to talk to anyone about pretty much any trivial topic. It is, she believes, an ode to having so many different people around to engage in idle chatter with her growing up, united by nothing but their ties to the Mafia. Her variety of talents, too, (piano, violin, dancing, tennis, painting – it goes on) showcase how her ability knows no limits.

FICKLE ━ An extension of above: because she’s everything, she’s nothing, really. Charlotte’s ephemeral and changeable. Always evolving. Indecisive. Not only about what to eat or what to wear, but about herself and her beliefs, too. For example, she no longer resents her bloodline, which was one of the strong moral stances she took as a teenager. Her perception is constantly changing. And because she’s so perceptive and intelligent, Charlotte can appreciate arguments and situations from different angles – being stubborn in a view means the exclusion of another, so she remains, like air, unsure, always hovering in between poles, restless.

SUPERIOR ━ She’s been running and running from it but, like everything, one chilling fact has caught up to her and there’s no denying it, at least not to herself: Charlotte Zerilli is lonely. How? In a room crowded with awestruck admirers, how is it possible that she feels so isolated? That’s exactly it – everyone’s just an awestruck admirer. Nobody’s really on her level (except Miles !!!! love it).

DEMANDING ━ Of herself. Of others. Her standards are about as high as the walls around her

Extras:

For the course, I was thinking something partly humanitarian – in a vain attempt to, perhaps, ask the God she desperately believed in for forgiveness (saving lives to redeem all those lost at the hands of her family) – with strong scientific elements because she’s lowkey a nerd. aka Medicine. I can go into a lot of unnecessary, extra depth about this decision if you want me to but that was the condensed version

MUSINGS: (faves are bolded) one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven when will i stop twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen probably never sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen and finally twenty

PARA SAMPLE

did i accidentally write a short novella? yes. i’d apologise but i’m not sorry for making you read this

He’d been asking for years (and years and years) and, for a reason Charlotte couldn’t explain more tangibly than it felt right, on this mild Tuesday afternoon, she’d finally agreed. She’d go with him. “Yes. I’m ready,” she’d said, standing in his excessively large office that morning, voice betraying only a slight hesitation. He hadn’t picked up on it. Nobody ever really did. Rather, the light – was that pride? – Charlotte saw swimming to the surface of her father’s eyes served to remind her why she’d ever come back in the first place.

So she smiled, ducked her head and walked with him. As they weaved through the streets of Detroit, she was vaguely aware that this wasn’t a typical Don errand – not that she really knew what that was, granted, having spent the majority of her life actively not knowing. Of course, she’d heard whispers. How could she not have? She’d heard stories about how members of La Cosa Nostra beat people up, stole from them, killed them. Under her father’s orders. But Charlotte had never dared to bring it up with him. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the confession. (Because, who was she kidding, it would’ve been a confession.)

If this was the case, what was she doing here and now? Staring into the eyes of the beast? God knows, she thought, kicking a can that was littering her path, adding to the little mound of rubbish piling up on the side of the road. But she sort of knew, too; it’d been, perhaps, a moment of weakness on her part. For resistance was so tiring. Running was tiring. She craved nothing more than her mother’s arms, her father’s kiss. So Charlotte did something that just a few years ago, she believed was synonymous with weakness, and maybe it was: she surrendered.

“This is it, Tesoro,” her father said at length. She glanced up to find they’d stopped in front of a house – or, she supposed, it was more of a shack. Charlotte watched as he brought his knuckles to the door, about to knock, the gold of his rings forming a stark contrast with the red, peeling paint.

Everything inside her screamed run, run, run. This wouldn’t end up well. No doubt. She was on the brink of witnessing her very first Mafia crime, about to stare into the heart of the Partnership’s – her family’s – sins. Guilt eyed her, licking its lips. It’d swallow her whole.

“N – no. Stop. Please. I can’t do this.” She felt sick. She had to get out of here.

He looked at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment before his gaze flitted to the Capo who’d been trailing behind them. When he turned back to his daughter, his head tilted to the side, as if he understood her concern, and he smiled. In that second he was no longer the Godfather, but just her father. “Come on, Charlotte. Don’t you trust me?” But he changed back again. He always changed back again. Before she could answer (and the answer, as much as she hated it, in this moment, it would’ve probably been no), he’d already knocked at the door.

This was it.

The boy who answered couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Upon realising who it was, his eyes darkened, she guessed in fear, as she’d seen so many others’ do in his presence. They knew what he was capable of. If they even made one wrong move, they’d be, quite literally, dead. She wished it was over already.

“Boss,” he spluttered, bringing her father’s hand to his lips and kissing it.

The older Zerilli nodded in greeting. “This is my daughter, Charlotte.” As the boy moved to kiss her hand, too, her resolve faltered. Surely people didn’t introduce their kids to people they were about to murder. Then again, she didn’t know enough about Mafia customs to recognise that this wasn’t a murder mission at all, that he had people for that, and that this was a compassionate one.

“Will you come in? I can make – what d’you want? Tea? Coffee? I have Scotch.”

Her attention piqued; so she was wrong. Huh. Interesting. If not to beat this kid up, why were they here, then? Her eyes wandered inside, past the boy in the doorway, trying to pick up clues as her dad answered, “Not today. I just came to deliver this.” He handed him a thick envelope. Cash. It had to be. “How is she?”

“A lot better, Boss. Thank you so much for this. It really –”

He held up a hand to silence him. “Of course. It is our duty to help our family, at any cost.”

As they continued this conversation, it occurred to Charlotte, tuned out of the world and into her own mind for a moment, that she’d got it so very wrong. Maybe this wasn’t all bad. An odd sense of honour filled her at the scene; the same father who steadfastly looked out for her and her brother was using his position to look out for this (what she presumed was a) picciotto, too, and if there was one, there may be many more. They were – in his eyes – family. The Detroit Partnership. All the racketeering and the beating were somehow justified, at least a little bit, in her mind by this one act of compassion. How could she have been so judgmental before? It was her father’s blood that coursed through her veins, that made her strive to protect those who could not protect themselves. People like the ‘she’ he’d referred to. And who was she? Probably a sick relative. Mother, sister. It didn’t matter, really – all she knew was that it was someone who needed help. Help that the capofamiglia provided.

And right then, she finally understood what godfather meant.

#charlotte zerilli #accepted

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natigail · 7 years

Text

Posted in March 2017

Find my writing: AO3 | Blogspot | Tumblr | Wattpad

A Light & His Soul Snatcher - Prologue: The Universe & Folklore

Chapter of novella - 1.4k words - AO3

An introduction to the magical universe where this story takes place. An understanding of the lore and the prophecies about lights such as Phil.

Becoming a YouTuber?! - Chapter 31: Runway modelling?

Chapter of novel - 4.8k words - Wattpad

I had never thought I’d be asked to walk a runway in Italy. I was not model material. I had said no instantly but my sister had her tricks to make me change my mind.

Anxiety Triggered Then Everything Went Back to Normal

Blog post - 1.5k words - Blogspot

It's thankfully very rare that I've gotten so badly impacted and overpowered by anxiety that it escalates into an actual can't-breathe can't-move can't-think situation but this time it did for the first time in nearly a year and it was so bloody terrifying.

A Light & His Soul Snatcher - Part 1: The Boy Who Said Light

Chapter of novella - 7.1k words - AO3

Phil is just a curious child, who wants to leave his house for the first time. The outside world of wonders and magic is calling to him but he doesn’t know that soul snatcher Dan is lurking in the shadows, ready to attack and end the young boy’s life.

Creative Process Captured On The Floor | Phan Tweet Dabble

Dabble - 1k words - Tumblr & AO3

Being creative sometimes requires different work positions but Phil finds Dan’s noteworthy enough to document and share with their followers.

SillyNate’s Collab Month - I’m Sorry But Collab Month Is Cancelled

Chapter of novella - 1k words - Wattpad

I had tried my best to keep my promise of making five collabs a week for a whole month but it was getting too much and it was beginning to feel like a chore instead of fun with friends. I had to tell my audience and hope they would understand.

Caught Peeking Out The Window | Phan Tweet Dabble

Dabble - 800 words - Tumblr & AO3

Phil was just curious to what went on outside of his window and now Dan was joking about replacing him.

Calming Day & Fun But Stressful Night | Blogging My Day

Blog post - 2.1k words - Blogspot

This day was a whirlwind of ups and downs but I managed to stay level-headed during the downs and not let them influence the ups.

A Cosy Dan Howell Or A Sad Pimp? | Phan Tweet Dabble

Dabble - 850 words - Tumblr & AO3

Dan didn’t understand why Phil was suddenly chuckled when they sat next to each other on the sofa but soon he wished that he hadn’t asked.

A Light & His Soul Snatcher - Part 2: The Soul Snatcher Healed With Magic

Chapter of novella - 7.3k words - AO3

Dan wakes up in excruciating pain and he feels wrong, too far removed from the soulless killing machine he should be, and as he attempt to hunt like he normally would, he suddenly remember what happened before he went to slumber. The golden child, Phil. He has to find him.

Becoming a YouTuber?! - Chapter 32: A getaway holiday

Chapter of novel - 3.7 words - Wattpad

We were both so busy people that sometimes it felt like we never saw each other despite living together. Spontaneously, we decided to take a weekend away at Bath, a place I had considered studying at instead of London. I’d never have met Nate if I’d chosen Bath.

A Light & His Soul Snatcher - Part 3: The Reformed Soul Snatcher & The Prodigal Light

Chapter of novella - 8.5k words - AO3

It’s been years since they met for the second time and the magical light and not-quite soul snatcher have grown close and comfortable until a coven comes to their small town and stir up serious trouble.

Oscar’s Party Lulls Phil To Sleep & Makes Dan Shout | Phan Tweet Dabble

Dabble - 1k words - AO3 and Tumblr

Having an Oscar Party with friends was tradition for Dan and Phil. Phil would fall asleep, which Dan would tease him about, and Dan would get so invested in the outcome and potentially need Phil to calm him down.

SillyNate’s Collab Month - Final Collab: Don’t Drop The Coconut! Zalfie VS Janya VS Natigail

Chapter of novella - 3k words - Wattpad

I had always wanted the last collab to be an epic one. Making myself and Abbs go head to head in a couple challenge against Zoe & Alfie and Jim & Tanya seemed like the perfect way to do that.

What In Slow Motion Featuring A Startled Phil | Phan Tweet Dabble

Dabble - 1k words - Tumblr & AO3

Pausing at the stairs with cowboy hat in hand, Dan couldn’t resist planning the attack on Phil, who would be walking down the hall any moment.

A Light & His Soul Snatcher - Epilogue: The accomplishment of light no. 2,009

Chapter of novella - 2k words - AO3

So many lights before Phil were powerful, influential and history makers but Phil's actions were unprecedented and his story unique because of the soul snatcher he embraced. These are their accomplishments.

16 pieces of writing. Approximately 47,000 words in total.

Alright that number of words is absolutely insane! What the heck? Around 26k of them belong to my Phan AU novella, which I’ve written over the past few months but still. I’m very proud of what I’ve posted this month. I’ll probably have a hard time topping those numbers at least unless I pre-write a whole longer story again. Who knows? If any of you on here have read any of the dabbles, chapters or blog posts, thank you so much.

#monthly recap #check it out if you want #my stories #phanfic #dabbling #A Light & His Soul Snatcher #Becoming a YouTuber #SillyNate's Collab Month #Phan Tweet Dabbles #blog post #mine

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thesassybooskter · 6 years

Text

MAVERICK by Cheryl Brooks: Excerpt & Giveaway

NOW AVAILABLE / SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA

Zetithians are back. And they’re hotter than ever…

Having the Zetithian feline gene gives Larry Tshevnoe awesome beauty, fearsome strength, sensuality and sexual prowess unmatched by any other males in the universe. But it can make the quest for true love…complicated.

Enter childhood friend and fellow Zetithian Althea Banadänsk. Her empathic powers make her the only one who can show Larry what he truly desires, and she’ll do anything to help…even if that means hiding her desperate craving for him.

But when a distress call sends them off course—and into danger—they find more than their hearts are at stake. Now it’s up to them to become the champions of truth and justice throughout the galaxy…or risk losing it all.

Buy Online: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

Add to Goodreads

Excerpt

Althea giggled. “You sound just like your mother.”

“Yeah, well, there are worse things,” Larry said, laughing along with her. “I happen to like my mom.”

“So do I.” A note of sadness slipped into her voice. “I miss her—and all you guys. Seems like everything changes as we get older.”

“I guess so.” His smoldering gaze met hers and held it as every trace of mirth vanished from his face. “I figured we’d all grow up eventually, but I never thought you’d run off and leave us like that.”

“You’re one to talk,” she shot back, a tad defensively. “You went off on your own ship with only a Scorillian for company.”

“Yes, but I actually visit my family once in a while. Geez, Al. Four years and not a single word from you?”

Althea didn’t need to be an empath to feel his pain. The anguish was right there in his facial expression, the sag of his shoulders, and the wistful note in his voice.

“I know it sounds strange, but it didn’t feel like four years to me. Time took on a rhythm of its own and sort of carried me along. Besides, sending deep space coms from Barada isn’t exactly easy.”

He exhaled sharply. “If you’d bothered to ask me before you left—which you didn’t—I could’ve given you a comsystem with an extended battery life and a range that would reach any planet in the quadrant. But no, you had to run off to hide in the jungle where no one could find you.”

“You found me.”

“Only because I needed you, Al. Not because I missed you.”

His words were like a knife to her soul, hurting far more than she ever would have expected. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized—”

“Of course you didn’t. You’ve always been so aloof. The only feelings you have are the ones you pick up from other people. Never your own.”

Her jaw dropped. She might’ve expected him to be angry but not to resort to that kind of personal attack. “I have feelings.”

“Oh, come on, Al. You’ve always acted like you were a notch above the rest of us, and you know it. You were the only one of your siblings to inherit your mother’s powers, and you liked it that way, because it gave you an excuse to set yourself apart from the rest of us.”

Her own temper flared. Stomping her foot, she bared her fangs. “Dammit, Larry. My ‘powers’ had nothing to do with it. Out of the five litters born on that ship, I was the only girl. How did you expect me to behave? Like one of the guys?”

His expression softened slightly. “We all loved you, Al. You could’ve at least loved us back.”

“I did,” she insisted. “I do. I just…” She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all while at the same time hoping she could make him understand. “If you’d grown up with other Zetithian girls, you’d know that being standoffish is a part of who we are.” She threw up her hands in a gesture of futility. “It’s genetic, Larry. We can’t help it. And when you add the Mordrial witch line on top of that, we—”

He snorted in disgust. “Look, I know all about that ‘finding The One’ crap. Okay, great. So I wasn’t The One and neither were any of my brothers. Big deal. I don’t know who you’ll wind up with, but I do know you’re sure as hell not gonna find the one man who can father your children on Barada Seven.”

“I know that,” she said quietly. “I’d come to the conclusion that such a man doesn’t exist, so I quit looking.”

To her surprise, he laughed. “You’re all of what, twenty-five? A little young to be giving up, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just taking a break. Seems like everywhere we went, there were guys who had hopes of being that man. None of them even came close. I didn’t feel the slightest interest in any of them. It’s as though my Zetithian blood has made the possibility of finding someone even less likely than it would have been if my father had been Terran or some other species.”

“What about other Mordrials? I know we went to their homeworld a few times.”

She shook her head. “Granted, we were never there for very long, but—nothing.”

“And that’s why you came here?”

“One of the reasons.” She hesitated, catching her upper lip with her teeth. Making him understand was more important than she ever would have dreamed. “I know I’m not likely to meet my perfect mate on a planet populated with skinny orange toads, and I’m pretty sure the toads know it too. But I can actually relax here. I don’t know if you realize what that means to me.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to leave?”

For a moment, she almost said yes. But this was Larry, her lifelong friend, and she’d already given him her word. “No. I said I would help you, and I will. Just promise you’ll bring me back here when I’ve done as you asked.”

Once again, she didn’t need to be an empath to know what he was thinking. His expression and his silence said it all. Although he might give her his promise, he certainly didn’t want to.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally said. “Just don’t expect me or any of your family—or mine—to like it.” His eyes narrowed, his brow flattening to a nearly straight line. “I can tell them where I’m taking you, can’t I? Your whereabouts isn’t a secret anymore?”

“No. I was wrong to keep you all in the dark for so long. I wouldn’t mind a visit now and then. That is, if anyone is still speaking to me.”

“Oh, they’ll speak to you. They might not speak to me when they figure out I’ve known where you were all along.”

“You guessed, Larry,” she drawled. “You didn’t actually know.”

“I wasn’t guessing.” Chuckling, he ran a hand through his hair, looking simultaneously guilty and pleased with himself. “That bag of yours has a tracking device in it.”

“How did you—”

“Know you were planning to leave? Geez, Al. It didn’t take an empath to know you were about to run off into the blue.”

“Was I that obvious?”

“Maybe not to anyone else.” With a sly grin, he added, “But you were to me.”

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About Cheryl Brooks

Cheryl Brooks is a former critical care nurse turned romance writer. Her Cat Star Chronicles series includes Slave, Warrior, Rogue, Outcast, Fugitive, Hero, Virgin, Stud, Wildcat, and Rebel. Her Cowboy Heaven series includes the Cowboy Delight novella and the Cowboy Heaven novel. Her self-published works include Sex Love and a Purple Bikini, Midnight in Reno, and the Unlikely Lovers series, which includes Unbridled, Uninhibited, Undeniable, and Unrivaled. As a member of the Sextet, she has also published several erotic novellas with Siren/Bookstrand. She is a member of RWA and IRWA and lives with her husband, two sons, two horses, four cats, and one dog in rural Indiana.

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MAVERICK by Cheryl Brooks: Excerpt & Giveaway was originally published on The Sassy Bookster

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tanmath3-blog · 7 years

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Jasper Bark is infectious – and there’s no known cure. If you’re reading this then you’re already at risk of contamination. The symptoms will begin to manifest any moment now. There’s nothing you can do about it. There’s no itching or unfortunate rashes, but you’ll become obsessed with his books, from the award-winning collections ‘Dead Air’ and ‘Stuck on You and Other Prime Cuts’, to cult novels like ‘The Final Cut’ and acclaimed graphic novels such as ‘Bloodfellas’ and ‘Beyond Lovecraft’.

Soon you’ll want to tweet, post and blog about his work until thousands of others fall under its viral spell. We’re afraid there’s no way to avoid this, these words contain a power you are hopeless to resist. You’re already in their thrall and have been since you began reading this bio. Even now you find yourself itching to read the whole of his work. Don’t fight it, embrace the urge and wear your obsession with pride!

Please help me welcome the amazing Jasper Bark to Roadie Notes….

1. How old were you when you first wrote your first story? If you count comics, I was five years old. I saw a kid’s TV program in which other kids, a little older than me, were drawing their own comic books and I was beyond excited. I don’t think any idea has ever appealed to me so much in my life. The kids on the TV were using paper, felt tip pens, a stapler and their own imaginations. I had access to all those materials and I had more imagination than was healthy for a boy my age. I sat down right away and began making my own comics. I became so obsessed with doing this that, the next Christmas, my parents actually had to confiscate my pens and paper, so that I would stop drawing and come and open my presents.

If you count prose stories, then I was six. My dad used to bring home old log books, from his union (he was a shop steward at the local shipyard), to use as notebooks, and I began filling them with stories and illustrations. I was a lousy artist, but I got a lot better as a story-teller over the years.

2. How many books have you written?

I’ve written five novels, four novellas, nine graphic novels, three collections of short stories, twenty children’s books, countless pages of comics and even a couple of books of poetry (I was young and I needed the money, though if the truth be told, I’d have made more doing porn than writing poetry).

Now that I’ve counted them up, I’m quite surprised actually. Because I’m always beating myself up about not working hard enough.

3. Anything you won’t write about? Y’know, I’ve asked this question myself, on quite a few writers panels at events over the years and the responses vary. At first, most writers will say “no”, there isn’t anything they won’t take on. Then, when we begin to probe the subject, they all end up admitting that there are things that are taboo for them.

My own experience is, that, things will surface in one story, that I will find I’m unable to write about, so I will consider that topic, out-of-bounds. But then another story will start to go in that direction and I will find myself writing about something I thought I could never address. So whenever I think I’ve found something I can’t, or won’t, write about, I end up finding a way to address it.

As writers of dark fiction, we are often confronting the darker sides of our nature, the things we fear most and the things we’re least proud about in ourselves. The same is very much the case for readers of dark fiction too. Dark fiction, whether it be gritty crime, weird stories, or out-and-out horror, is a way for us to face up to, admit, and examine that dark side to our nature in the controlled, and a safe, environment of a story. As a psychologist friend of mine once said: “If you can play with it, you’ve got it. If you can’t play with it, it’s got you.” Fiction is the best way to play with out dark sides, and we should approach it, with as few limits as are comfortable for us.

4. Tell me about you. Age (if you don’t mind answering), married, kids, do you have another job etc…

I’m in my late 40s, I’m married to an amazingly clever, talented and beautiful woman called Veronica, but every calls her Ronnie. She runs her own Marketing and Communications business, and she’s a wonderful role model to our two teenage daughters – Freya and Ishara, who are every bit as indomitable as their mother.

I write full-time and have done since my kids were born, having previously been a national film and music journalist and a professional stand up. I’ve been in and out of trouble most of my life and, in spite of my age, have yet to develop the wisdom to avoid this.

5. What’s your favorite book you have written?

That’s like asking me to pick my favourite child, they’re all special in one way or another. However, like most writers I know, my favourite book is always the one on which I’m currently working. It’s my chance to redeem myself for all the books I’ve already written, for which I had such high hopes, but which, inevitably came out flawed. The book I’m currently working on, still has that possibility to be great, to be my legacy to the world, so, for that reason it is my favourite.

6. Who or what inspired you to write?

Just about every book that I’ve ever read. The great books inspire me to reach similar heights myself, and the lousy one make me think: ‘wow, I can do better than that, maybe I’m not so lame after all’.

7. What do you like to do for fun? I recently joined an all female, octopus mud wrestling team. I’m not actually female (as you probably guessed) and I can’t wrestle for shit. But I think the other ladies let me join because they find it hysterical to see me getting my butt kicked by all manner of octopi. Recently, they’ve taken to replacing the mud in my bouts with avocado puree, jut for the hell of it. It certainly seems to please the crowds, but it leaves me picking green goo, out of unmentionable places, for at least a week afterwards. Mostly causing my poor, long-suffering wife, to raise an unamused eyebrow at my antics.

8. Any traditions you do when you finish a book?

Yes, I sacrifice a virginal avocado, on altar of mud and avocado stones, in front of a select audience of pre-eminent Octopi. This is mainly to increase my standing within the Octopoid community. As you’re probably aware, octopi don’t read, so they have no clue about my literary reputation, they only know me as the short, strange guy who constantly gets his ass whupped in a big vat of puree. So, these rituals help me gain their respect a little more.

9. Where do you write? Quiet or music? I have a study at the bottom of the garden, that used to be a garage until we converted it. It’s full of thousands of books, and hundreds of spiders, who sometimes like to descend onto my keyboard, in the middle of the night, when I’m right in the middle of a particularly disturbing passage.

I sometimes write to music and I sometimes write in silence, it depends what I’m working on. If do write to music, it has to be something without lyrics. Like many writers, when I’m working on fiction, I like to use film scores, as these are composed specifically to support a narrative art form, and as such are really good for getting you in the right mood to write.

10. Anything you would change about your writing? I like to think that through the daily act of writing I am already changing it and growing as a writer. So if there is stuff I’m not satisfied with, I trust to the process to eventually fix it, and allow me to grow out of it. In fact the wonderful thing about being a writer is that, right up until the point of publication, if there is something you don’t like about your writing, you can always go back and change it, and even change it some more.

11. What is your dream? Famous writer?

Over the years, so many amazing writers have had such a profound and life changing effect on me, have written stories, essays and books that have meant to so much to me, that I can’t begin to list them all. They’ve totally changed the way I view the world, and my place in it. They have given me hope in dark times, joy in sad ones and entertainment in periods of unimaginable boredom.

My real dream, as a writer, is to be able to write something that will affect a reader in the same way, that will move them as I have been moved, so many times in the past. If I can give something back, like that, to even a handful of readers, then I will have fulfilled my dreams ten times over.

12. Where do you live?

Why Becky, don’t you already know? Isn’t that you at the bottom of my garden watching me through binoculars?

Wait, no… sorry, that’s my FBI handler, they’re easy to confuse with a stalker, but they’re usually a little more polite.

To go back to your question, I live in the small medieval town of Bradford on Avon, in the UK. It’s quite close to places like Stonehenge, Glastonbury and the Georgian city of Bath, only it’s less well-known, but no less beautiful. If you’ve ever read a novel by Jane Austen, or Thomas Hardy, you’ll have encountered the corner of the world in which I live. It hasn’t changed much in the preceding 200 years and you still can’t get a good broadband connection.

13. Pets?

Well we do have a couple of cats, and the disembodied spirit of a lobotomized gorilla hanging around our cottage. He was a bit unnerving at first, but we’ve taken to leaving out bowls of warm ectoplasm for him, and he’s actually become quite endearing. He even has his uses, such as scaring away Jehovah’s Witnesses and other door to door tradespeople.

14. What’s your favorite thing about writing? It’s that moment when the writing really begins to flow, when you sink fully into the world you’re exploring and time stands still. When the story itself takes over, when you hear the characters voices so clearly in your mind it’s as though they’re there in the room with you. When you’re as utterly surprised and delighted by your work as anyone else who is going to read it in the future. When it goes places you never foresaw, and reveals things you knew nothing about until you began to type it up. When your fingers can hardly keep up with all the words that are tumbling out of you.

Those are the moments we all live for as a writer.

15. What is coming next for you?

Hopefully the shambling hordes of the undead aren’t coming for me.

I have a new novella out, called Quiet Places, which is a story of cosmic folk horror with overtones of psychological horror, set in the wilds of the Scottish Highlands. Unusually for me, it’s an entirely bloodless affair that depends more on atmosphere and dark folk-lore. There is no sex, no violence, yet it is probably the most disturbing thing I’ve yet written.

You can grab a copy here: https://www.amazon.com/Quiet-Places-Novella-Cosmic-Horror/dp/1640074708

I also have a new graphic novel out as well, it’s called Parassassin and it’s a dark blend of sci-fi and horror. Politics, parody and paradox collide in a tale of time travel and attempted assassination.

It’s available here in the US: https://www.amazon.com/Parassassin-Jasper-Bark-ebook/dp/B074Y5NGPS

And here in the UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Parassassin-Jasper-Bark-ebook/dp/B074Y5NGPS

Aside from that I have a novel and a novella due out next year, a lot of different anthology appearances. I also have a graphic novel starting on Comixology in 2018 and a couple of hush – hush projects, I’m going to allude to in an annoyingly vague way.

I am launching a new webcomic, called ‘Fear Fix’ on my website. It’s very much in the tradition of those classic black and white horror comics from the 60s, 70s and 80s, like Warren and Skywald, and also EC horror comics. Like those comics it has a horror host, but, in the tradition of Rod Serling, I am the host of the comic. It has some of the best artist from both mainstream and indie comics and it will be running monthly. You can read the first story – ‘The Bad Girl’s Guide to Making a Killing’ here

I’m also turbo charging my YouTube channel, with monthly updates, the first of which you can see here

And I have just launched a Patreon page, why not check it out and become a patron here You can connect with Jasper Bark here:

Here’s the link to my Patreon Page again: https://www.patreon.com/JasperBark

Here’s a link where you can get a free eBook, a free story and an exclusive video of my blooper reel, by signing up to my mailing list:

http://www.crystallakepub.com/jasperbark/

Really, you’d be foolish not to.

Some of Jasper Bark’s books:

Getting personal with Jasper Bark Jasper Bark is infectious - and there’s no known cure. If you’re reading this then you’re already at risk of contamination.

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