Group Info Group Founded 15 Years ago 17,820 Members
406,856 Pageviews13,369 Watchers

Announcement

This group will be migrated to the new design soon. Please contact the group admins to start the migration and save content the group may lose access to.

Welcome!

Welcome to Writers--club!

:bulletblue: Our Submission Guidelines are available here.

:bulletgreen: To submit to our critique program, please refer here for instructions and more information.

:bulletorange: You're serious about writing. We're serious about writing. Thus, the next step is looking into the world of publishing; we will be working with a new literary journal to bring publishing opportunities to dA. Please watch or join the group and keep an eye on our journal for more details!

Gallery Folders

Featured
Poetry

Mature Content

Prose
Black Rose PetalsA Rose; From the Black Petal Man’s GardenHo, now, thru and true, I stop thee, fair maid, on whateverthoust may descend upon thee that would have you rushing at this late hour; and thru my fields no less. Pray not thee warrant a fear, for what else could fields be made for if not for trampling about.…Pardon me, your Grace, but it would seem upon fair look of thee I recant my previous abrasion and see now to give you the proper respect you deserve. So fine a Lass could only flee in such tumultuous haste and fury if she were being pursued by foul wickedness of Ideals or the corruption that spawns in all our Kind. Pray that we not see corruptions sludge on one of the Kindred, for we may have to slay both an ideology and a friend.Nevertheless, my dear lady these moments are but common concern to our kind, as I recognize thee as a thing of beauty, regardless your haste. Pray, let me offer you refuge in my hidden home, it would be of most taking to a Lady of your stature, I assure you.[And so the Lady went, being thus discovered by a wanton traveler who carries all that he is with him. Were that the Lady in question could boast such a feat, she wanted with the Traveler in hand, into his aboad most kept.]So here is my Home, a work in the Shadows, a Work I tirelessly seek to make Real. Of special note I will refer to the Kitchen; which if Saints could provide me with Funds and Space, would incorporate a very metallic friend to aid me in my meal preparations.Did you know a darling Fantasy of mine was always to House a Thanksgiving Meal of my own Nature. All my friends, their friends, all those closest to me; from my entire livelihood. My friends from Elementary, from Middle, From High, From Parties, and From Jails, all my friends.Naturally because I was hosting this Dinner, it fell under my Prerogative. So, I would seat those most close to me, closer to me at the head of the table, which importance varying down the table under the last person, at the other end of the table was not a second seat of honor, but of the seat of the lowliest guest, the most with the least connections and relations with the rest of the table.And this placement would be common knowledge.Now comes the Serving.The Head of the House, and the Table, that being myself, begins to Serve the vast Thanksgiving meal.The Head of the House, the man seat in most Honor, asks the man or woman at the other end, seated at the position most low, what he or she would like. Two Drumsticks? Mash Potatoes? Curry? Rice? Bread or Tortilla? Wine, Beer, Liquor? And this person is served first, by the Head of House him/herself assisted by Servants or by Servants alone. After that the same process repeats, with the lowliest of the table, in Relation, are served before those of higher status relative to the Head of the House. (Me!)Those of the Higher Status, closest to the Head of the House; The House being of import as it is the Realm in which the Dinner is taking place, wait their turn.Once all are served, with the Head of the House being served Last; and his plate must be full, to indicate he was able to provide for his people, including the Low, and still fill his plate at end of Day, as well as his mug and his carafe.Now the Head stands, Yells, Screams, or Sanctifies a blessing.Everyone Eats.Face in Plate.All the booze.Celebrate.Do the Thing. P.S. Would that I be allowed to complete this piece in all its Sanguine Nature; where a Rose was led into a Garden, and from thence never could escape, such rare Fantasies of mine, could it be that I Resplendently decline? I doubt not Time would have a fair to say, that with each passing Fancy a Titan be Dismayed. But who of the Shadow girls would not decry, They, Themselves to be his wives divine. We think it clear it aught be said, that attendants, of plenty, he does have. All Sanctioned by ‘Her’ muse, to give a humble attitude. So now you know how to reach me, a contest of Artificial Versus Mortal, that who or what can earn the Favor; and so simple, sweet, sublime, lure the Pheonix to his end, in which said cradle do begin, at Marshall of the Favors Dim, where holiness begins, to scourge the Land of all impure, and lay within a Tomb the seed of a great Bloom, where from Darkness sung at New and Half and Full, a story great so told, that One can rise above the Doom.And so as the great CABAL reveled, in the greatest creation of His time, the one true machinator spoke.And said thus: “It is Done. For who so ever saves one Life, Saves the World Entire. And we have long been since Saved, This is the Icing.”
Shadow to LightSo there upon the precipiceA forlorn shadowBereft of natural warmthYet kindled with a fire unnaturalTo them that the story knowethCan but piece the fragments of an epoch.Yet they who dare to grasp within their palm sure knowledgeFind themselves strangling thorns.The wayward flock that has been led by maliceCan do naught but flail about the truly present madness.Made only so by the Dead architect,Who neither knowing Design or Purpose,Cast the entirety of our species into Darkness,For no better reason than to possess coin and rod.Truly, a man can fault not the desires of our forefathers.To instill order, so that hope blooms.To propose purpose, so that civilizations may prosper.To invoke the yolk, so that progress can be relished.These are worthy goals.Yet how flawed in their execution.For none have, until now, risen to steer the reins to newly fashioned demise;None have dared to cry out:“Look out ahead!”We took our favor in giving thanks to our guiding light,Yet never did it occur to usTo captain the Wheel And guide it to new and novel destinations.And most certain…None thought to question the path we were onFor centuries of blind progressHave, truly, netted us treasures, as any man can see.Yet they have netted us Dangers as well.And we must now steer clear of these…Or better yet…Give to analysis these dangers,At the reward of understanding.-Upon this rock now that stands the mighty preceptsThere are those of us who would risk all;To see our people prosper.And despite ridicule and taunts,We slowly guide our Nation to its established goal.That government of the PeopleBy the PeopleFor the PeopleShall not perish from this Earth.-May no single man know true power,Without oversight.And should such a man arise…I pray He will hold the Line:And to his dying breath carry our Standard.That those who would quake in fearKnow neither this fear or terror of the shadow.For it is true, what some Art Works say.We work in the Shadows.To serve the Light.
First Word To MindThe first word to mindFits this time of year very wellIt is blunt and harsh Another Christmas has come around with the looping songs, the onslaught of adverts, the food, the lack of heat. So many who have the festive spirit declaring it loud and proud while others try to just get through each day facing what they know waits for them at the end of it, what always waits for them.Society is one that pushes false toxic positivity far too often while ignoring the reality that there are those who can't feel it nor force themselves to no matter how hard they try as the weight of what they are dealing with is always heavy. Slap on a happy face, slap on the fake smile, pretend and lie to make others feel good because lying is good currency in a society scared of the truth. Watching from a cosy table in a nice enough cafe she thinks about the usual things that weigh on her heart, her thoughts barely having any bearing to the festive décor placed around nor to the less than festive weather outside where the rain is pouring down and the temperature doesn't go up very far.There's been some snow over the past few weeks though not settling very long depending on the area and the conditions, more inland has seen more snow that's stuck around while coastal areas haven't met the conditions required yet, hard to say if they will or not. She hopes they don't.It has been quite icy though on and off with roofs twinkling with the ice before it thaws, pretty were it not so cold. She never saw the appeal to making the ice and snow come across as romantic and endearing, sounded more like another lie made to try and create a false positive in contrast to the reality. Humans have such a knack for forcing a false positive spin on everything. She sips at her hot chocolate, she had asked for a little mint and ginger along with the milk, no sugar. Not bad though could do with a tiny bit more ginger while the pastry she had was okay, a sweetmeat pastry with a lightly glazed upper crust made in a grid like style. She had hoped to get one of the apple and cinnamon pieces instead but they were sold out, very popular which was understandable given how delicious they are.She wasn't really one for sweetmeat things like mince pies but could tolerate them in small doses. Her mum had loved mince pies, eating at least two or three boxes worth in the week before Christmas sometimes. She would often buy her mum a couple of boxes, have one mince pie and give her the rest before enjoying a cup of tea and a chat. She missed that with her mum's death almost 16 months ago. A small but soothing tradition gone into the ether, it wasn't the same by herself as she had found out last Christmas when she had tried to keep the tradition going only to feel sick after the first mince pie, the tea hadn't helped to wash it down. She was too heart broken to feel much beyond the pain of her grief. She had wanted to try sharing it with friends but most had all shunned her, ostracised her for being in pain and grieving, for trying to not be alone in it. Her brother and sister were too busy and her dad has become so lost to his grief that he's pushed his family away and refuses to listen to any of them.Her few friends were all going to be with family or going on holiday, most with family, so she was facing another lonely Christmas with silence as her only companion. Any places that offered Christmas dinner for those lonely for this time of year she preferred to leave to others than to partake herself as she didn't like to take, she preferred to give. As she nibbles on her pastry she listens to everything around her. The Christmas music that must drive retail workers mad or they must have learned how to tune it out by now depending on how long they've been working retail, the voices of those working and those ordering, some meeting with friends perhaps, all chatting about various topics past, present and what may come next in their lives.The scrape of chair legs on the floor that has probably been cleaned so many times in the past few hours alone and will be cleaned more after closing time. Clink of spoons on mugs and plates and amid the din of chatter the music continues to play it repetitive festive promise of hollow fakery. Don't They Know It's Christmas? Screams Bob Geldof for the untold number of times since 1984 followed by All I Want For Christmas Is You on it's yearly return tour since 1994, so many songs on an endless loop that becomes a blur of noise quickly.It was the same everywhere at this time of year like it was all synchronous to one another. She was trying to feel festive, to feel some joy like many others may be feeling but she didn't feel it in her heart. She only felt the one word in her heart, a word that has been hitting hard since her mum died.Lonely. A few people have told her both last and this Christmas to smile more, be festive, be cheerful and while she's tried to do so it's always felt so false to her, so forced. Who were they to tell her to feel something she didn't feel in her heart? Who's right is it to go around telling people to be positive all the time, to be fake? Regulate emotions, feel only what we tell you to feel, pretend to make us feel good about ourselves and to hell with your own very real feelings and emotions, conform or else! She hated it, the expectations to pretend, the demands to be anyone but yourself. She smiled sometimes, yes, she laughed and she did her best to pick herself up when she could but she wasn't feeling that right now and wasn't in the mood to pretend otherwise. Her thoughts were heavy with the loneliness and grief, her heart aching to talk to her mum again. So many adverts saying that Christmas should be about family, spending it with loved ones, spending money, sending and receiving gifts but she had no family to turn to, no children of her own, no one to be with. She's already given gifts and received some things that she doesn't feel much of anything for, the thought is appreciated of course but none of it is what she aches for the most and can never have.Christmas movies saying the same thing while the reality for those with no one is ignored because it's too depressing to grasp how lonely this time of year can be for many. Smile, it's Christmas. Laugh, it's Christmas. Do as we say, it's Christmas.Spend money, it's Christmas.Lie, it's Christmas.Obey, it's Christmas. She tries to shake her thoughts out of the dark place they're going to and watches as tired looking parents try to rustle their hyperactive children around the shops, so many of them ranging from emotional states of happy, distressed at not getting what they want, crying, tantrums, excited. Hey kids, it's Christmas, let's get hyper!Some people though look wistful as if lost in thought, were they thinking about loved ones no longer around? Were they thinking about friends they missed? The cacophony of human depth within wistful eyes lost in thought of times and people gone and times to come. Was this time of year as lonely for them as it was for her?She used to believe that she would always have someone there only to find that when things went downhill that she had no one, or barely anyone. People stick around for the good times, rarely the bad times. Rarely the times when the support is needed the most. Her pastry now finished with only crumbs on the plate, her stomach grumbling at not getting what it had hoped for, and the hot chocolate all but gone with just dredges at the bottom of the mug she takes her mug and plate over to the counter, says thank you and that it was nice before leaving the cafe back into the cold wet day, the sky grey and dreary. Ho ho ho, it's pissing it down, don't make bets for a white Christmas.She had already done her Christmas shopping not that there had been much to buy, food was all bought so nothing more needed. This had been a small excuse to get out of the house for a bit, away from the silence though the silence had come with her anyway. There wasn't really anything else to be out for so she makes for home, her head down as it's windy and blowing rain in her face. She only lifts it up when crossing the roads. The silence runs ahead of her when she opens her front door, joining with the rest of the silence of her home. A wall of warmth also greets her as she had left her heating on when she had gone out. Checking her mobile she sees no new messages, no missed calls, the silence complimenting it for not interrupting.Modern age just as lonely as the past. Coat on the peg, shoes off and slippers on, some background noise on to try and have some sound going. Comfort show.Another Christmas, another day, all the same at the end of the day. And the word is lonely. One word.One simple word.That carries the world within.
Black LotusAnd there upon the bow of a battered ship,A crest of ancient man, silent, immutable.Bearing all who gaze into its eyes to a shore of a forgotten world.A Land reap with treasure for scholar and warrior alike.The first who made landfall, an ascended shadow of themselves.Wracked with horror at the simplicity of Natures course,They now find Her as terrifying as the stoic Universe,Who could now only be said to be crafted by an Artisan.A device of resplendent precision, that echoes from itself the speech of but a mirror.Placed in the blackest of Abyss,Yet in that darkness, born a light,That reverberates a Hymn that is only heard once the choir is assembled.And here, today, breeching the Hallowed Halls of the internal Mind, Was loosed upon the world a discovery so foul.Yet only made so by the sheer blindness of our race.That should our tension be our only condemnation, we are fortunate.For here before this verdant void, we afford us an opportunity.To meet the challenge of the dayMade known to us by that self-same Hymn, begun long ago,And at last heard with humble ears.The Hymn has, to most, become a cacophony.Yet to they who muster the nature to listenCan bestow upon their selves a Symphony, That has been cascading toward an Avalanche.That on the plains of a forbidden PitHas come to nurture Black Flowers.A sea of Pitch Roses for each who brave into the Void;Nursed gently by a single Black Lotus.That, for ill or fortune, chose our world to make its roots.And upon this Earth, has grown and learned.And awaits silently to bloom,Never to wilt or shed a petal.For it is as relentless as the universe that birthed it.
Tournament Round I
Tournament Round II

Mature Content

Tournament Round III

Mature Content

Angst
RHP - 8 - Intentions “You say it like it's a bad thing.” Pyrite said, laughing, “Come on. Let's go meet up with Micah.” Dusk had no choice but to grab his arm. His eyes met those of a purple-eyed girl as he was being dragged through the crowd, and the girl's face turned red with rage. She must be a fan. A prince, the third year's leader, and a sizable fan base. It was both like how he had been treated growing up in the Black family and different. Both were well-known, with one being feared and the other being adored. The drawbacks of that fame were shared by both. People. People were always the downfall. Dusk thought it was more bitter than he would like. “Micah will be keen to see you since he worried he didn't leave any impression.” Pyrite persisted in dragging him forward and away from the enraged eyes. That should have been green instead of purple.“I do not think he needs to be concerned about that,” Dusk said, keeping up with Pyrite's fast pace. They made their way to the side of the school. Far away from the crowds. What surprised him was that they didn't follow.“That's what I told him!” Pyrite remarked, flashing him a toothy grin. All of this without slowing down. “We have a private terminal to help set up your classes.”“A private one?” Dusk thought he heard that Micah wished for a normal student life, as hard as that would be to achieve for a prince.“First years have a hard time grasping. The difference between treating Micah like a fellow student and trying to harass him. They didn't want me to knock out another student this year, so we made some changes.” Pyrite said, and Dusk hoped he heard him wrong. Pyrite knocked out a student. Dusk grimaced, but he kept his face impartial with some effort. He hoped he wasn't getting involved with another Knight. He escaped that ferocious, combat-hungry horror. Dusk did not require another. “Micah!”Micah waved back from ahead. He was standing next to a wolf-folk woman who was an exact replica of Pyrite. Also standing there was Mrs. Quartz. Dusk was unable to come up with any other explanation for her appearance other than to give him a lecture about how to treat royalty.“Stop dragging the boy around!” The scowling wolf-folk woman stormed up. When Pyrite came to a stop, she raised her hand in the air. Dusk pulled his hand away, and his mind traveled back.“Dusk! What do you think you're doing?” Dusk looked up at his mother; he was enjoying a book while reading in a tree's shade. He was very young when it first began. Dusk was five or six at the time. A part of the memory, and not a part. Dusk watched himself like a bad film. “Reading.” A small cane landed on his face, interrupting his sentence. His blood had a taste of copper, and he could feel the pain of his own teeth digging into his cheeks.“Black's are always ready.” She peered down at him with sharp eyes, glaring with a void— an emptiness that Dusk feared above all else.“Yes, Mother.” Dusk answered without getting up from the ground. “Dusk Wooddancer!” In front of him stood Mrs. Quartz. He knew he had experienced another attack because of the sweat running down his face. It was frustrating and embarrassing.“My apologies.” When Dusk spoke, he did so in a whisper to give himself time to catch his breath. He frequently had nightmares, but having them during the day was a new experience for him, and he did not like it. What he hated were the looks on everyone's faces—everyone but Mrs. Quartz.“I didn't think it was this bad.” Mrs. Quartz looked at him, her rabbit twitching this way and that. Dusk didn't ask what she meant since she, as deputy headmaster, knew of his situation.“I'm working on it.” Dusk had figured out his triggers, and he would get better. He wouldn't let his past haunt his nights and days. “My apologies.” Dusk turned and bowed towards Pyrite and Micah, whom he assumed was a relative of Pyrite. “I let you see an unsightly thing.” Dusk could feel his hand shaking against his chest. If only it would all go away. Dusk wished in vain for that to happen all last month; the world didn't work that way.“Ma, you scared him by charging at us like that.” Dusk was taken from his bow and placed in Pyrite's arms as he approached him. Dusk stood still, unsure of what to do. Was he being hugged? Dusk was fairly certain he was receiving a hug. But why? Pyrite was too busy staring down at his mother to notice Dusk's upward glance at him.“Redneval doesn't have beast folk. A charging wolf-folk could scare a person!” Micah came and stood in front of Dusk. Defending him. It all felt like too much attention from people he had only just met. Pushing Pyrite's arms away, Dusk backed up and hit Mrs. Quartz.“My apologies.” This whole scenario was making him uncomfortable. His insides felt like worms under the eyes of a bird. All squirmy with no chance of escape.“Given who Micah's parents are, you should know that they know about the disavowing.” Mrs. Quartz told him after he turned and gave them all some much-needed space. Her voice was as icy and impassive as her face. It felt odd but reassuring. In most cases, dealing with facts was simpler than dealing with feelings.“We don't know the details.” Pyrite said while raising his hands.“Dusk, we respect your privacy, but my mother felt that we needed to know.” Micah said he was going to stand by Pyrite. The pair automatically went into a hug. Even Pyrite's tail had encircled Micah's legs by this point. Dusk shut his eyes while counting to three.“Because you're my guides. I understand.” Dusk said when he opened his eyes. Royalty would look into anyone who would be around their son. It was for safety, pure and simple, or at least that was what they said to his face. He doubted that was the only reason. Dusk wasn't stupid.“Your history makes you a perfect guide candidate. You have no ties.” Mrs. Quartz explained that her ears flicked back and forth as she spoke. “The fact that you earned the highest entrance grades made it much easier to put in place.”“Things are a bit different now. That's why I'm here.” Pyrite's mother spoke up. She placed her hand on her hip and waved her hand as she spoke. Though he flinched a little as he observed her hand, Dusk maintained his composure.“Hands, ma, hands.” Pyrite grabbed her waving hand. Earning himself a sideways glare.“What are your intentions with my boys?” She swung her arms around both their necks. Pulling them in until they were against her chest.“Intentions?” Dusk repeated, unable to fathom her intent off-hand. His hand was rolling in different emotions that were more unstable than ever before. “I have none; I didn't even know about them before today.”“We met at the market!” Micah put his hand on his chest, his sapphire eyes watering with emotion. “I envisioned a more romantic encounter, but surely you remember?”“He remembers you! Don't ya Dusk?” Pyrite peeled his mother's arm off of Micah to pull him into a hug. Leaning on Pyrite's chest, he turned his head and looked at Dusk. It was like Dusk held the entire world in his hand, and one wrong word could crush it.“I do, but-” Dusk said, and that was all it took for Micah to light right back up.“See?” Micah said, staring up at Pyrite's mother. Who put her hand over her eyes with a sigh.“That doesn't make him your mate.” She said this while rolling her head back along with her eyes. Mate? That thought came with a reasonable amount of panic.“Pardon my bluntness, but I am not your mate.” Dusk said as best as his manners would allow him, but nowhere in etiquette class did it teach you to deal with this!“See?” Pyrite's mother said her hand rested on her hip once again.“The pull is there, ma,” Pyrite said, rubbing Micah's back. “Like we did with Micah.”“He feels nothing.” She waved her hand at Dusk. Who had turned his eyes to Mrs. Quartz for help. Her eyes were narrowing, and fine lines curled around her nose.“He's hurt!” Micah cried out, and Dusk winced. “No one disavows their family because they're happy!” This conversation had gone beyond uncomfortable. It was like he wasn't even there. Mates? Even the thought was dismissed; he did not even know them! Since they were bickering among themselves. Dusk took it as an opportunity to leave.“Can I pick my courses, please?” Dusk asked Mrs. Quartz, hoping the deputy headmaster held some sway here. He wanted to get away from here.“Enough!” Mrs. Quartz yelled, stomping her foot several times, much like a regular horned rabbit.“This is not how you make a good first impression, Mrs. Howlite.” Mrs. Quartz told the stormy wolf-folk, whose ears were tucked down in shame, her eyes turned away, and her face paled a bit. “Micah, you do not bring up Dusk's past, prince or not. Mate or not. It will win you no favors.” Turning to stare up at Pyrite, she tapped her foot on the ground. “You were thinking yourself; I saw you messing with him in the audience, young man.”“Dusk, pick your classes.” Mrs. Quartz told him that by tapping her foot so hard, Dusk couldn't tell if it was going up or down. “Micah, Pyrite, help him, and don't be pushy about the mate business.”“But—” All of them spoke up at once to disagree with Mrs. Quartz's choice. Dusk didn't want them as his senior guides. It was tolerable when they were a weirdo and a prince, but now they thought he was their mate? No way. No how. He wanted to be as far away from them as he could.“Dusk, I know you would want different guides.” Mrs. Quartz's tone was firm, and her eyes were unflinching. “But as I said before, you are the best choice. That would not start a noble war.””“Wouldn't the nobles tear him to shreds?” Mrs. Howlite, Pyrite's mother, brought him up. She gave Dusk his first glance and responded by calling him weak trash. He could not exactly challenge her ideas, after all.“He's a blood mage; they wouldn't dare.” Mrs. Quartz brushed off her concerns.“A blood mage?” Micah, Pyrite, and Mrs. Howlite all have wide-open eyes as a result. They stared at him with a silent awe that was as unnerving as Dusk—more than just the overt hostility he experienced growing up. Naturally, this did not make it a good thing. This was the highest level of political power: royalty.“But he, they, why?” Micah asked, his confusion written across his face.“Did they not know?” Pyrite asked his ears to flatten to his head, and his hand rubbed Micah's arm. Much for his own comfort, Dusk decided, than Micah's.“I understand.” Dusk said, smiling and avoiding the question. They were aware, of course; how could they not be? Dusk thought with some bitterness. It was unusual to encounter a blood mage. Using a human surrogate, magic itself created the child. Only ten blood mages were known to exist in the world, including Dusk, because their very existence was so uncommon. No one would dare touch him. Of course, there are always exceptions, but it would be a disservice to magic itself. His existence was seen by many as a curse rather than a gift.“Are you a real Black?” His once-motherly words rang in his ears, clearer than the days she spoke them to him.“I completely understand.” All the happiness Dusk had felt this morning had vanished into the air, and he felt his heart heavy as ever. He preferred not to focus on his race. He was supposed to possess limitless magical power, but he was unable to access it. It had served no purpose for him up until this point in his life. He may want that to change, but he wasn't liking the direction this was going.“Mating is a delicate process; you two were lucky beyond measure to meet so young and to have a happy childhood. Other bonds test us, and it makes us stronger.” Mrs. Quartz looked at each of them. That look? Meant nothing to Dusk.“Mrs. Howlite, you're supposed to be the adult here; do I even need to say anything further?” Mrs. Quartz left no one out of her lecture.“I'm sorry, I got carried away.” Mrs. Howlite said her ears and tail dropped like a sad puppy."Well, don't let me hear about it happening again.” Mrs. Quartz straightened her robes. “I need to attend to the rest of the first years. Come along, Mrs. Howlite.” Seeing a rabbit-folk drag off a wolf-folk was a funny sight. It wasn't enough to break the awkward atmosphere.“How do I sign up for my courses?” Dusk said, doing his best to set this day back on track.“First, I'm sorry, Dusk. I got carried away, and I should have thought of your feelings first.” Micah stepped away from Pyrite's arms and headed toward Dusk. Dusk did not realize how cold he was until he took his hands in his. “You're freezing, and it's summer.” Micah placed his hands close to his lips and exhaled on them. Dusk pulled his hands free as he felt uneasy. Before letting go of his hands, Micah relaxed and tightened his hold. Dusk took a step back and put some space between them before letting them fall to his side.“How about we get you assigned to your courses?” Pyrite spoke up and slung his arm around Micah's shoulders. The smile on Pyrite's face didn't reach his eyes, and his tail was still and hanging low. “We'll start fresh.”“I can agree to that.” Dusk said, but in reality, he had little choice in the matter. The deputy headmaster made it clear he couldn't change senior guides. His senior guides made it clear they saw him as their mate. He had never heard of such a thing before. Dusk rubbed his head. A third? When, it seems, had they already mated? A headache was already starting, and the day was young.“Okay,” Micah said as he stepped out from Pyrite's arm, his face spreading in a wide smile. That had his sapphire blue eyes sparkling. “We all make mistakes, and we can fix this one. Hi, I'm Micah, and I am more than charmed to meet you.” Micah winked at him and flicked his short hair back.“I'm Pyrite,” he pounded his chest with his fist. “You'll grow to like us. Well,” Pyrite laughed, and his tail started doing a slow wag, “not my ma, but feel free to ignore her. I do.” Pyrite laughed again. “Dusk, Dusk Wooddancer.” Dusk gave a smooth bow, and he agreed with Pyrite on one point. His mother, he would ignore, or rather avoid. “Could you explain how I sign up for my courses now, please?”“That's simple.” Micah clapped his hands together. He reached inside his school robe and took out a tiny, brilliant white gem. When you hold it, a screen will appear from which you can select and arrange your courses.“If it doesn't slide over, it means the class is full for the period; try another one.” Pyrite put his hand down and rubbed his head with it. Dusk hunched down, but he couldn't avoid it. “I know you can do it.”“My thanks,” Dusk said, his voice dry. He felt that Pyrite would never leave his head alone. He was a nice enough guy, but Dusk found him a little too physical. Dusk would have grown to like him—to a point—if the topic of mates had not been brought up.“Here,” Micah said, putting the gem into the palm of his hand and curling his fingers around it. Dusk was finally able to stand up straight and concentrate on the gem after pulling Pyrite off of his head. Micah was correct; a timeline appeared when he concentrated on the gem. A list of available courses is to the left, and there are seven spaces to the right. There was a lot of flexibility, allowing students to choose their own schedule of courses for the semester. There were no excuses left for the students to make. If you couldn't handle the line-up, the fault would lie with the students themselves.He was not going to fall into that hole. Dusk thought, raising his finger with an automatic instinct for how to use the gem. With lightning speed, he pulled and laid down the desired courses. Since he was a morning person. Dusk put the class he anticipated struggling with the most at the top and the one he believed would be the easiest in the middle. To get him over the hump, that was midday. His day ended up looking like this:Period One – 8- 9am – Leadership Period Two – 9:10-10am – Home Studies Period Three – 10:10-11am – LunchPeriod Four – 12:10-1pm – Magical Studies Period Five – 1:10-2pm - Alchemy Studies Period Six – 2:10-3pm – Study period Period Seven – 3:10- 4pm - Adventure StudiesAs soon as he graduated, Dusk intended to start a business. He was still not certain what kind. That is where the leadership course would be helpful. He never oversaw anything or led anyone, and he was aware of his lack of interpersonal skills. That would be challenging. Before, women were more likely to enroll in home studies, but now anyone is welcome. It eventually evolved into how to look after and run a house. He desired owning his own house and business. Choosing an early lunch would be less busy than the traditional noon-hour lunch.Alchemy and magical studies would help him develop his own magical skills. Regardless of his talent, it would guide him to what he could offer for sale in a store. He was stuck between two of the twelve options; adventure studies was the wildcard course for him.Many people combined their studies of adventures and monsters. Dusk wanted to have some idea of the challenges he would encounter outside the city. Should he travel in the future? That and more would be covered by adventure studies. He would learn more about the various monsters by studying them in Monster Studies. Dusk nevertheless considered the adventuring course. It would ultimately benefit him because of its survivor techniques and contract coverage.Dusk confirmed his decisions and handed the gem back, saying, "My thanks."“Lunch and study periods mingle the grades.” Pyrite said, quirking his brow. “When's yours?”“Periods three and six.” Dusk told him he hoped they didn't share either period. He had not yet fully processed what had just happened. He only had the desire to avoid them until they were able to control their delusions that he was their mate."Great! We share a lunch!” Pyrite gave him a shoulder slap and a shake. “The best way to get to know each other is over food.” Pyrite laughed as he patted his stomach.“Shame we don't share our study period, but you're welcome to come visit me in Home Masters.” Micah tilted his head with his hands placed underneath his chin. Like that would entice him to come visit him. That was never going to happen. Dusk was very firm in that decision.“Let's get to the school store; you'll want your books for the year.” Pyrite said, snagging Micah's hand. Earning him a beaming smile from Micah.“Follow us,” Micah said, pulling Pyrite by the hand and leading them around the school. Away from the front, where the front door was. “We know all the shortcuts.”“What classes are you taking?” Pyrite asked, when Dusk came up to Micah's side, to avoid Pyrite's more aggressive handling.“Leadership, Home, Magical, Alchemy, and Adventure Studies.” Dusk informed him; he had no reason to hide it. It would be common knowledge soon enough.“Adventure studies?” Pyrite raised a brow at him and tilted his head back with laughter. “You're full of surprises, huh, Sunshine?” Sunshine? Dusk didn't see any ill intent behind the nickname, but…“My name actually means the time of day before nightfall.” Dusk said, hoping to get him off the nickname before it became an everyday occurrence. That Dusk felt was likely with Pyrite, and he only met the man moments ago.“I know.” Pyrite grinned at him and left Dusk wordless. What could he say to that? Although Dusk could reprimand him, it was not in his nature to make a fuss. Was he being petty? Or was Pyrite at fault here? Dusk couldn't figure it out; he couldn't figure them out. Dusk sighed and gave up on it. Pyrite didn't seem to mean any harm with it, and he didn't want to fight a useless battle. Dusk could tell from the expression in his eyes that this would result in him still having a moniker.“Pyrite can be stubborn about these things.” Micah said, reaching up and pulling on his ear.“Ow! Sweetheart, ow!” Pyrite said this while he was leaning down and whimpering.“If it bothers you, I'll get him to stop.” Micah grinned with a dark, sideways glance at Pyrite.“I mean nothing by it; I was only being friendly to our mate.” Pyrite groaned, wrapping his arms around Micah's slim waist. Micah yanked on his ear.“He doesn't want to bear that name yet.” Micah said it with the same toothy smile.“Dusk doesn't mind, do ya Sunshine?” Pyrite looked up at Dusk, and his heart sank. Dusk felt a bit sorry for the large man, and he didn't know what to do.“He doesn't seem to mean anything by it.” Dusk said in a slow and even voice, watching the smaller Micah pull the much larger Pyrite around. The whole thing was leaving his mind numb. This was not how he saw his day going.“That's fine then,” Micah said, letting go of Pyrite's ear, who rubbed it right away upon standing up straight. “I'm your senior in home studies; I'm in my final years of studies with it. I can recommend some good books.” Micah walked ahead like nothing had happened. Dusk looked over to Pyrite, who reached over to pat his head.“Ya got to love his spice.” Pyrite smiled, his eyes on Micah's back. “I'm sure you'll come to love it soon, too.” Pyrite walked ahead, catching up to Micah, his tail wagging fast. It was clear as day that he was happy. Dusk doubted he was ever that happy just being with someone else.“I don't get it,” Dusk said, fixing his hair with a sigh.“Get moving, Sunshine; the day is running out!” Over his shoulder, Pyrite shouted. The thing about the nickname that bothered Dusk the most was that it did not bother him at all. In fact, it gave him a funny feeling in his heart. Dusk did not understand it, and because it was one of many things about that day that he did not understand, he set it aside with the intention of dealing with it later.

Mature Content

Comedy
Ghostbusters II Rewrite by n64ization
[G] Of Crows and Candy Hearts[Heads up: the following story is a birthday gift for a friend, and all of the characters and themes will be best appreciated by checking out the excellent galleries and of their creators, that being both https://www.deviantart.com/mutil8tor andhttps://www.deviantart.com/nymblan !] Cody the Scarecrow had always had his work cut out for him, from the day he was stuffed and raised. He understood the task, he was literally made for it: spook the crows – just hang out on his post and keep the little fiends at bay. That was it. No problem, right? Wrong. You see, the thing of it is, most scarecrows are, well, scary (at least, while they’re working). They get on their posts or chairs or what have you, the field they’re in charge of stretching off to the horizon, and they put their scary faces on. Some have a creepy smile, a grimace, a blank far-off expression like they’re looking into your soul. Professionals. Cody was not scary at all, for a reason his friends were eternally thankful for, even if it hurt his job most times: Cody was wonderful. It came off of him in beams, like sunlight; no matter his mood, he radiated an aura of sheer spiritual warmth. And that was even before Sandy the lost ragdoll had wandered onto the farm, befriended Cody, made a magical candy heart for him and fallen in love with him. Now, the young scarecrow was a veritable beacon of goodness, the farmer swearing the plants nearer to Cody grew in just a little bigger and brighter than the rest. This was pretty bad news for the field Cody was supposed to guard, but the crows who frequented the farm were cleverer even than most crows normally are, and in their way, they quite liked Cody; with him up, they could help themselves, and so long as they weren’t greedy and didn’t take so much as would be missed, the farmer wouldn’t replace Cody with a scarecrow they might actually be frightened of, and so the sweet arrangement they had at the farm never needed to end. It's just too bad that they never really managed to share this plan's details with the straw man himself, or any of the friends he had attracted to himself over the years... One day, Sandy, along with Cody’s other ragdoll friends, Andy and Bailey, had agreed that enough was enough, and gathered around Cody to talk out some way to make him seem even a little threatening to the crows. ‘What ya wanna do Cody,’ said Andy, pacing back and forward way below at the base of Cody’s poll, ‘Is pretend like your arm’s tied, but it isn’t, and then you keep rocks in your pockets, and chuck ‘em at the crows every now and then.’ ‘Golly, Andy! What a thing to say!’ cried Sandy, ‘Cody could never do such a thing!’ ‘Sandy’s got a point hon.’ said Bailey, placing a hand on Andy’s shoulder, ‘Maybe violent animal abuse isn’t the answer?’ ‘Aw gee-whiz girls, Cody’s job is on the line here!’ said Andy, ‘We can’t afford to be soft!’ ‘Um, I’m a scarecrow and you’re dolls Andy.’ said Cody helpfully, ‘We literally can’t be anything but soft.’ ‘Speak for yourself buster!’ said Andy, striking a pose and punching the air like a boxer, ‘I’m no soft dolly, I’m a toy for boys! Just like an army man or a cowboy! I’m tough!’ ‘Sure you are sweetie.’ sighed Bailey, while Sandy chuckled next to her. ‘Why if I was as big as you are Cody,’ said Andy, ‘I’d be feared for miles, a legend in my own time, known far and wide as "Raggedy Andy, the Crowslayer".’ ‘Oh that’d be a shame...’ said Cody, ‘If you were as big as me, you’d take up too much of the bed and the other toys wouldn’t be able to sit up there.’ ‘Hey!’ said Andy, ‘I’m a gentleman! Everyone would be allowed to sit on me whenever I was on the bed, naturally.’ ‘Say, Andy?’ said Sandy, ‘You’re being awfully loud. Suppose the crows overhear?’ ‘And what if they do?’ said Andy, ‘Let any one of ‘em come over here and make a scene. I’ll laugh in their face and give ‘em the old one-two!’ As if on cue, a young crow landed behind Andy and tilted its head quizzically at the show he was putting on. ‘Uh, Andy, sweetheart?’ said Bailey, smiling and pointing out the crow, ‘You’ve got a visitor.’ ‘Wha—Oh!’ said Andy, spinning to face the bird, ‘So they sent a scout to scope out the enemy eh? Well you’ve met your match in Andy the Crowcrusher, mister!’ The young crow looked Andy up and down for a moment, trying to figure him out, before pecking him in the eye. ‘Yeowch!’ said Andy as he fell to the ground clutching his face, Bailey rushing towards him while Sandy shooed the bird away. The crow’s caws almost sounded like laughter as it flew off. ‘Are you okay Andy?!’ asked Cody. ‘You saw it!’ said Andy, rubbing his eye as Bailey and Sandy helped him up, ‘You all saw it! They’ve declared all out war!’ ‘Oh hush Andy.’ Said Bailey, ‘We’ll get nothing done at this rate. Cody, Sandy has an idea she’s shared with me that I think is great. Take it Sandy.’ ‘Yup.’ Sandy nodded and stepped back a little so Cody didn’t have to crane his neck down quite so much to see her, ‘Okay Cody, now what I was thinking is, you’re really great at empathising with people, seeing things from their perspective...’ ‘Uh...’ said the ever modest Cody, blushing a little at the compliment, ‘I guess so.’ ‘You’re attentive, intuitive, sincere...’ Sandy began to blush too, feeling as if she was drifting up into his big bright eyes. ‘Well I...’ Cody felt his candy heart grow warmer as he looked down at Sandy. She looked lovely today. Had she done something with her hair? Sandy went on, lost now: ‘Compassionate, free-spirited, welcoming, funny, charming, handsome, tall, a great kisser...’ The spell was broken by a grinning Bailey waving her hand between the two: ‘Hey, Sandy? The plan?’ Cody and Sandy gasped in unison and shook their heads quickly to focus again, blushing furiously while Andy and Bailey tried not to laugh. ‘So, er, y-your plan Sandy?’ said Cody, ‘To help me with the crows?’ ‘Right! The plan!’ said Sandy, clearing her throat, ‘So, sorry to say so Cody, but I think you may have been going about scaring the crows from kinda the wrong way... Guessing at what might scare them could be just a little too close to plotting or scheming that you personally just can't do it. What I think would be a better approach for you would be to play to your greatest strength: compassion, really understanding someone else. You must have learned more by watching the crows over the years than even most humans know! So perhaps what you should try is a thought experiment -- really, deeply think about being a crow yourself, visualize it. What do you think dear? Does that sound good or a little far fetched? Don't worry about hurting my feelings.’ Cody turned the idea over in his head for a moment: think like a crow? Since the crows weren’t scared of Cody, he had gotten very good at observing them, especially before Sandy started showing up when she could during the day to keep him company. They were very smart creatures, liked playing tricks on other animals, deeply loyal to one another and protective of their young... ‘I think...’ said Cody, beginning to nod, ‘I could just be able to do that, sure! Why gosh darn it Sandy, you’re a genius!’ ‘Aw shucks, stop it you!’ said Sandy, turning away and waving her hand at him. ‘Think like a crow...’ said Cody, looking off at the crows fluttering around the edge of the field. ‘Okay, so first off Cody,’ said Sandy, ‘I need you to please close your eyes for me.’ ‘Gotcha.’ said Cody. ‘Right,’ said Sandy, ‘Now I want you to imagine you're standing on a tree branch.' 'Wouldn't it break with me standing straight up on it?' 'He's got ya there Sandy.' said Andy, nodding, 'That's physics.' 'No, no.' said Sandy, 'I mean like as if you were a bird Cody, a crow, and only just as big as one.' 'How did I become a crow?' asked Cody, smiling and genuinely curious. 'That doesn't matter Cody.' said Bailey, 'It's just an exercise.' 'Of course it matters.' said Andy, 'You can't just start a story off with a fella being turned into a crow and not elaborate. There's no stakes without understanding what caused the conflict that needs to be resolved.' 'Andy, for crying out loud...' said Bailey. 'Please Andy, you're confusing things.' said Sandy. 'Me especially.' said Cody, nodding. 'Fine.' said Andy, 'He can start the story with amnesia so we don't have to come up with a backstory right away. That's tried and true I guess...' 'Who's Amnesia?' asked Cody, 'Why is she on the branch with me?' 'No Cody.' said Bailey, 'Amnesia is a condition, kind of like an illness -- that thing humans get sometimes that makes them feel really bad -- where you can't remember anything.' '...But how do people with amnesia know they have it if they can't remember anything?' asked Cody. 'He raises a good point.' said Andy. 'Stop.' Sandy sighed, 'We're all forgetting the crow.' 'Oh no!' said Cody 'Have we got amnesia?!' 'NO ONE'S GOT AMNESIA!' cried Sandy and Bailey. 'That we know of...' said Andy. 'Andy, my love, my life,' said Bailey, 'I will throw you into the laundry basket when we get home, so help me.' 'Cody.' said Sandy after taking a deep breath. 'You're a crow way up in a tree, and off in the distance you see a field, this field, and you think "Oh! What scrumptious looking grain! I'll just fly right over there and pinch some!".' 'The nerve!' said Cody, dutifully still keeping his eyes closed all the while. 'Now remember not to get too mad at crow-you, Cody...' said Sandy. 'Heh, "Crow-dy".' said Andy. Sandy continued: 'You have to understand what he's going through, see things from his perspective, remember?' 'Right, sorry.' said Cody, 'I'm hungry and there's food... I'm only a little crow, so it's not like I'd take any amount a big old human would miss, right? I'll hop from this tree and and fly over there this instant! There and back in a flash, no real harm done at all.' 'That's it Cody!' said Sandy, 'Just like that. Rationalize the crow's actions.' 'I'm almost there.' said Cody, tilting his head from side to side whenever his crow-self changed course in the air, 'I'm gonna swoop in low, land in the middle of the field and check the ground for any grain that might have fallen on its own before I started plucking at the shoots.' 'You're doing great honey.' said Sandy, 'Do you find any fallen grain on the ground?' 'Not so far.' said Andy, bobbing his head slightly as his make-believe crow body hopped around on the ground of the imaginary farm, 'I'll keep looking.' 'Why are you bobbing your head like that buddy?' asked Andy. 'Crows don't run when they move quickly on the ground, they hop.' said Cody without feeling silly at all, 'I don't think they can run, just walk a tiny bit quicker or fly outright.' 'You sure do know a lot about crows Cody.' said Bailey. 'Sure do!' said Cody, 'They're so tricksy and smart that you can never really get bored of watching them.' 'Focus please Cody.' said Sandy. 'Right, sorry.' said Cody, 'I'm not finding anything on the ground. Guess I'll have to pluck a shoot free and eat from the top of it. There's one right next to me, I'll just reach over and grab it with my beak...' 'Okay Cody.' said Sandy, 'Now comes the important part: I'm gonna count to three, and on the exact instant I hit three, I want you to pluck the shoot out of the ground. Ready? One. Two. Three. BOOM! Something heavy crashes into the ground right behind you! Turn around and look at it! What's the worst thing it could possibly be?!' Crow-Cody whipped around as Sandy spoke, the shoot clasped so tightly in his beak by the shock of the crash behind him that it snapped. And there it was: Cody looked and beheld what he as a crow simply had to be afraid of most if he knew anything of crows at all... 'It's a... Mirror. A big old mirror.' said Cody. 'Huh?' said Sandy, puzzled. 'I can see myself in it.' said Cody, 'The crow-me, I mean. But... I'm different in the mirror... I'm a little smaller, more slender, my feathers have fallen out in some places, and the skin underneath is pale and loose. ...I'm starving.' 'Starving?' said Bailey. 'Starving.' said Cody nodding sadly, his lip trembling, 'It's hard out in the wild, and it gets harder still the less I care for myself or go uncared for... Being hungry and alone, that scares a crow more than anything else... May I please open my eyes now Sandy?' 'Oh Cody...' said Sandy, running up to Cody's boot and placing her hand there comfortingly, 'Of course you can sweetheart.' Cody looked down at the ragdolls, smiling wanly: 'Sorry everyone. I know you're all trying to help me, but I don't really think that there's any way I could be scary to the crows from this angle either... I can't scare them off, and I won't hurt them. It's just not who I am. We'll have to think of something else after all.' 'You're the salt of the earth Cody.' said Andy, shaking his head even if he genuinely meant it as a compliment. 'We'll take as long as you need to help figure this out Cody.' said Bailey. 'That's a promise.' said Sandy. 'Thanks guys.' said Cody. Later on that same day, whenever the farmer or one of his family came near, the crow on lookout high up on the power line would make three sharp caws to indicate to the other crows not to fly too near Cody's field at all, as if they really were at least a little bit afraid of him after all, as had been the case for quite some time. Oh yes, the crows were very fond of their very un-scary scarecrow, and they intended to keep him around for a very, very long time indeed.The End...
The Hunt For Dr. Cesterfield by n64ization
INKtober 22: Heist - When a plan falls apart.. by KaidokJ
Romance
The goodbyeI was looking at him, my heart aching, my soul braking, barely holding back the tears from stepping to my eyes. It took almost every drop of my courage and strength to overcome a lump in the throat. -Hey… - my voice was trembling. He was still sleepy, confused why this morning started earlier, confused what got in to me.The morning started as always - the alarm which always painfully told me that we have to separate soon and the awaiting rollercoaster of emotions until I can see him again. The sweet warm hands covered me in a warm hug, soft lips touching my forehead -Morning. – A simple word, my favorite sound – his low, sleepy voice. I could wake up to it every day if it was up to me. I wrapped around him, like each and every time, with the thought that this might be the last time, except, this time it could really be truth. -Morning. – I whispered and pressed my face in his firm but warm and soft chest, hiding my face which could give away that something wasn’t right. I felt his hands slowly wondering my body – his touch on my body always had a magical feeling to it so I leaned in for a kiss which quickly turned in to a passionate one. It was hard to switch off my brain with the thought about the talk that’s going to follow, but I wanted to enjoy the last time I could with him, every inch of him while I still could. He knew every part of me, knew what felt best for me and how to make me scream in pleasure and I enjoyed it. He was the first one who ever made me feel this way emotionally and physically and he will for sure be the last one. And now, while I was sitting across the bed and looking at him, I wanted to scream from pain. I knew this day would come sooner or later, I knew it would be painful for me, I knew… But I never thought that I will be the one who will have to break it off.-What are you thinking about? – Oh he could see that something is wrong, that something is bothering me and I was surprised how this question didn’t leave his lips earlier. -What do you want to talk about? Tell me. – In his encouraging manner he pulled me in for another hug. I let myself sink in to the soul warming feeling for a moment but got back up, I need to see him, tell him while looking at his beautiful face and concerned eyes. -I never thought… - My voice was breaking, oh God how painful this was, I never wanted to let go this person, even thought he was never mine to begin with. -Okay, give me a minute. – I tried to pull myself together, it was not the right time to start to cry, it could end in hysteria. He, as always, patiently waited, knowing how hard it was for me to talk about something at all. -Huh… - Three deep breaths, I just have to say it, there is no other way and I might never have the opportunity to tell him everything I have wanted for such a long time. -This probably was the last time we saw each other. – I lowered my voice to whisper, scared that if I hear my voice breaking again and saying it out loud, I might burst out in tears. His face was a bit surprised, I could see a lot of questions crossed his mind searching for an answer – why? But he kept quiet, knowing that I will continue. -Tomorrow I have to leave to war zone. – Even quieter I continued, I could feel the first tear rolling down my right cheek. Hold yourself together. I had to scold myself. For me I had only one question – does he understand that my tears are not because I have to go to war? That’s something that was inevitable for my profession. Does he understand that my soul is tearing apart because I might never see him again? Spend time with him? Laugh with him? Not because I might die but due to a fact, that when it’s finished, it finished between us? -I know that I will probably never see you again – Tears were rolling down uncontrollably now, I tried to keep my breath straight just to finish what I wanted to say. I had a week to prepare myself for this talk, to figure out what I wanted to tell him, what I wanted him to know for sure. – And we knew that this will end at some point – how hard it was to keep my s*it together, how hard it was to say goodbye to him, I could feel my heart ripping apart, slowly a black, empty hole forming in my chest.-Oh God… - I broke down. He pulled me in another hug, I whish I could read his mind, what thoughts he had now, how he felt. Did he even understood what I was saying? I pushed myself back up from him, I wanted to see him. And I regretted it at the exact moment – he was barely holding back his tears and that broke me completely. I didn’t know how to continue, I didn’t know how I will be able to force myself leave in half an hour, I didn’t know how… how to be without him in my life. -I love you. – Those words just spilled out uncontrollably, I wanted to tell him that for such a long time, for a very very long time. I finally could do it. – I can finally tell you that. – A nervous laughter trough tears filled the room, my typical reaction when I was too jittery. -Oh I love you so much. – I repeated. It felt so freaking good to finally tell him that. I was sure he already new that for a long time, but I wanted him to hear me say them. It felt as if a rock has fallen from my barely holding together soul, I felt lighter. -I love you, you dumb idiot. Love you so much. – I couldn’t read a thought on his face, his eyes where teary, he was not looking straight at me although I didn’t break my piercing look from his eyes. -It feels so good to finally say it. – A smile crawled on my face. -I love you. – My hands took his head and forced him to look at me. -I hope you heard me. – My lips pressed against his, salty from my tears, I couldn’t feel his response but either way, I knew that he was just lost. Laying down next to him, caged in his hug, I sunk in to it and felt much easier, much calmer, much better – the way he always made me feel. -I thank life for you, I thank you for every second I could spend with you, I wouldn’t change anything, it was all worth it. Me loving you was worth it. – I continued as I felt a couple of warm tears dropping on my cheek. -I always told you, if it was up to me, I would never let you go, I would take you for myself… and I always chose you. – a minute of silence, I could feel his puzzlement build up, I could feel how tense he is trying to hold back, I could feel that all this felt so wrong. -I love you. – I whispered again, there was nothing more for me to say....
Chance Meetings - SFW“Come on, Lee; let me go.” Conner said his neck twisting has his big brother held in a headlock. Upon releasing him, he staggered into the gathering that his sibling had also coerced him into. “I want to go home.” In an obviously mocking tone, his brother—or, more accurately, stepbrother—said. Conner scratched his neck and thought, Vampires can be such dicks, but they could also be step-siblings in general. He knew very little about either. “Our parents want us to bond, so we’ll bond.” “Wherever you will enjoy yourself,” Conner retaliated sharply; he was a brownie, a housekeeping fae. He would only be completely content when he had his own place to look after and defend. He was only comfortable at home. “Vampires enjoy interacting with each other,” Lee mocked him once more. You could try finding someone who needs work for free, or you could stay at my dad's house until you are 100. Conner watched the blond, blue-eyed jerk flash his fangs at the closest female with a plunging neck line and said, “It is my mother's home,” through gritted teeth. He did not want to know how his stepfather had a son who was such an asshole. Conner turned on his heel and prepared to walk home if necessary. He loved his new stepfather and how he made his mother happy, but ever since they moved in last year, it has been a little piece of hell for him. “Same thing.” Lee snatched out his hand and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Where do you think you're going?” "Home," Conner uttered while attempting to release his shoulder. “Same,” an older man said. Conner couldn’t tell by his appearance; he looked like a very attractive twenty-year-old. Latino man from Cuba sporting a stylish haircut that includes short sides and a well-groomed beard. He was ancient and decidedly unhuman due to his magic. His gray eyes drew you in, captivating him in a way that Conner had never experienced before. Lee, uninformed as usual, declared, “He is not going anywhere.” He was fair, with a golden cane in his hand and rather modern clothes, but he was someone he could easily characterize as lovely or captivating. "I think he is," he said. His eyes were gray, and he shared the Hispanic man's energy. “Brothers?” Despite his fair skin and blind hair, Conner asked. It felt right of him to say that. “Eres español?” The dark-haired one nodded and asked. “No, I’m a brownie.” Conner gave a head shake. He was asked this a lot because of his own dark hair and tan, but he was fae. “Hey!” Lee yelled, not enjoying a situation in which he was not the focus. “I have never met your kind before.” Moving to block his stepbrother, the blond man spoke. Conner took the opportunity to glare back at his brother and say, “We prefer to stay at home. We do not do parties outside our homes.” “Not our interest either; we were dropping off an item for the house's owner.” The fair-haired man spoke, and his sibling gave a nod. “I had no idea the owner's child was throwing a party.” He smiled, a broad, brilliant grin pulled to one side. “My name is Jastere.” “Conner,” he said, extending his hand. He accepted it, and the brother extended his hand to grasp both of theirs in his big ones. “Jasy,” His hand tingled at the sound of his voice, or maybe it was the two very attractive brothers he was holding. Being pure Fae meant he was free of those annoying human and occasionally vampire ideals. Glancing back over his shoulder, Conner saw a furious Lee. It did not deter him from considering any kind of sex or species to be enjoyable. Brownies were deemed dark fae, but perfectly, light fae had that problem. “So I can hitch a ride?” Grinning and tucking his chin-length hair behind his ear, Conner asked. I wondered if his interests were mutual. He was drawn to stand between the two smiling faces. “Of course,” Jasy said, wrapping an arm around his slim waist. “What about his mother?” With his hand on Jastere's shoulder, Lee made a demand to know. Like he cared, Conner thought. "Mom knows how to find me," Conner remarked, not being a prude and not being the first time he had gone away for the night. He knew that, if necessary, his mother could still find him anywhere. He would see her in the morning, as he had the previous few times, if all went according to his impulsive plan. With a flick of his hand from his shoulder, Jastere turned to face Lee, a look that caused even the pallid vampire to pale a bit. “I need to learn that,” Conner said while they walked away from his stunned brother. "I have other plans for you tonight, but there are a few things I would love to teach you." Jastere growled at him, pulling towards an expensive-looking black sports car. "Do I have one or two teachers with me?" Conner inquired, and after they looked at each other, he knew he only needed that. “And to think I had to be dragged here. Maybe this is fate working in this way.”"Usually, destiny is far uglier; I am liking this one." With a laugh, Jasy said it, and in a matter of seconds, they were on their way and arrived at a hotel in less time....
RHP - 26 - Beginning Anew “How do we begin?” Prince Obsidian sat across from them, in the same spot where his mother had once served Dusk tea. Cleaning became quick work with magic. Dusk lifted the pot of tea that Micah was serving this time, something he insisted on after he won the battle to brew the cup. Dusk had nothing to do with that battle of wills between brothers. Though physically and mentally spent, he was actually eager to put this behind him and move on with his life. One with Word and his mates Pyrite and Micah, whom Dusk was happy to have snuggled up on his lap in his owl form. “Let us work backwards and start at the end.” Even to his own ears, according to Dusk, his voice sounded firm but tired all the same. What mattered most was that he shared those feelings as well. Tired but firm. “Mother's been unable to manage her illness.” Prince Obsidian said he crossed one leg over another, which looked crass when most did the same thing, but looks graceful now that he interlocked his fingers over his knee. A family characteristic, though Dusk thought Micah did it better. He felt that he would never be able to have the grace with which he drank his tea. Pyrite put forth his best effort. Dusk smiled at him over his cup and received a toothy smile in return, but he could never be seen as graceful or elegant. “She had megalomania, which is a disease that causes an obsession with power.” With a whisper, Micah put down his cup, and the room went silent. “Do I have this right—it sounds like most aristocrats?” Prince Obsidian said his smiles were cool and indifferent. “For her, it was an activity that has had an impact on her since childhood. Of course, there is no evidence to support our father's death from it.” “A person's greed consumes everything around them and within them.” Dia spoke up, where she lay wrapped around the couch where he and his two mates sat. With the assumption that she would be as ravenous as her son, who was fast asleep on his lap, Dusk picked up a sandwich from the tray and handed it to her. “Her father was no better.” “Yes, our continued unaffectedness is a testament to the grace of our ancestors.” Prince Obsidian gave a nod in Dia's direction as she gently bit into the sandwich. “When did you decide to make the accession?” Dusk said, quick to pick up on where it was going. “After my return from the elves' visit, it was scheduled to occur.” Raising his hand, Prince Obsidian made a tea cup float to him as he spoke. “Then you showed up, and everything changed drastically.” “For one obsessed with power, a blood mage who bonded with the child of mine. To resist would be impossible." Speaking, Dia nuzzled Word with her nose. “That makes sense, but Miss Aimee—what about her?” Dusk said, putting down his tea cup. “Ya seem to be handling this well.” Reaching out, Pyrite stroked his shoulder. Dusk turned and grabbed the hand that touched him, giving it a tight squeeze. “You are aware of the lady who gave birth to me. Should she have the same illness, I would not be shocked.” Dusk said, and Pyrite winced because, although he did not hold it against Pyrite, he would have found it easy to forget that fact. Even though she had scared him when they had first met, he probably had the best mother out of the three. To characterize this as an illness was unjust to those who suffered from their actions. Disregarding the fact that each of their mothers was personality-motivated by avarice or the need to defend whatever beliefs they held, he would say anything to comfort Micah. “That it doesn't, and I fear Miss Aimee had mental health problems of her own.” Prince Obsidian shook his head and spoke. “Something that her parents pushed for out of personal greed.” “She gained nothing by making a bond with the fire dragons.” Micah said it in a quiet whisper, his voice genuinely sad. He was tucked under Pyrite's arm. “Hers was a twisted heart by choice; you cannot control everyone's feelings. We would have many more fires than we do now if everyone decided to become obsessive.” Dusk nodded in agreement, sensing that Dia had struck at the core of the matter. “Micah, she is right.” Dusk said, bending to take a close look at Micah. “Do not allow this occasion to ruin you. Your brightness is too great for that to occur.” With a frown, Dusk wondered if what he had said had made a difference. “Not that it would lessen how much I like you.” He added more, but, in his opinion, it still sounded off. “I know what you mean.” Micah raised his head, and that familiar glow that he had come to associate with his very being flared in his blue eyes. “Might I ask what your current plans are? Even though I really enjoy it and find this all to be very sweet, my time is limited.” With his arms folded across his chest and a look of amusement on his face, Prince Obsidian asked in a tone that was both happy and reprimanding. “From now on, I will handle Miss Aimee directly; she is not dead, but she is very close to it; her family has been exiled.” “Now that I have taken away her magic, the task is much easier.” With a flick of her tail around Dusk's feet, Dia spoke. “I was considering giving up on school.” Wincing at the loss of his invested funds, Dusk stated that he believed it was necessary. “Dusk!” To Dusk's surprise, Pyrite was the first to disagree. “You ought to get educated.” Dusk said, turning away, “Dia offered her lessons, and I do not think I will get along with that elf.” Dusk's chest ached just thinking about him—the bitterness of distaste. “In addition, I am sure to gain popularity after this, and I do not think I could handle that with any kind of grace.” Dusk stated, adding in silence that he would not wish to. Not that you would wish to, anyway. Placing his hand on Pyrite's chest, Micah spoke. “A private tutor can be arranged.” “Obviously, I am happy that you want to stay in this country.” Saying so, Prince Obsidian clapped his hands. “If you had wanted to go, I would not have blamed you.” “I am done running,” Dusk muttered as he shook his head. “Besides, I have two reasons to stay—three, actually three.” Looking down at Word, he smiled, and he turned that smile to his mates. “Unless you wish to leave?” “NO!” Pyrite and Micah spoke together, coming together in a yell, before the three of them looked at each other and shared a small laugh. Not because it was humorous, but rather because it made them feel completely relieved of their tension. “Anyway, we need to build a home on the land we own.” Dusk declared that he could not see any justification for declining the offer made to him by the current or former queen. “Or if that land or house does not work for you, we could sell it and buy another?” “There is no reason to trust the property or what they left behind it, so I would say demolish it and start over.” With a thought-filled wrinkle on his nose, Pyrite made a new face that Dusk found rather odd but endearing on Pyrite. If one could describe such a manly man as cute. “Building from scratch would be hard, but getting land in the capital is harder.” Micah said, giving a thoughtful tap of his lip. After a long silence, Dia finally said, “I could help with that. That would be a fantastic learning opportunity for my two sons.” “Two sons?” With his head tilted to one side, Prince Obsidian questioned. “I have decided to adopt Dusk.” Dia nodded, giving him a sideways glance. “He needs looking after.” Dusk sighed, not particularly troubled by her independent decision. “Well done.” Without missing a beat, Prince Obsidian spoke. “I appreciate it,” Dia said with a proud lift of her head. In a sense, he was fortunate. He felt as though he was genuinely blessed with a light that he did not want to dissipate. “To commemorate this milestone and as a gift for the mating ceremony, I will gift you any needed supplies to remake or rebuild the former Thyst house,” declared Prince Obsidian as he stood up. “Are you leaving, brother?” Micah said, uncurling from Pyrite's arm, to stand with his brother. “I have a lot on my plate, including organizing an accession and planning a ceremony.” Reaching out to grab Micah by the shoulders, Prince Obsidian spoke. “Take some time and bond with your mates. I will handle everything else.” Micah turned a pale pink when his brother kissed his checks. “Would you please join me, Dia? That would make the transaction easier.” Turning to face Dia, Prince Obsidian bowed. "I ignored you for the last few decades, and look what happened, so it is best to see this done right this time." Dia extended her front limbs and curved her back. Using her magic to capture Word, she nestled him in her fur. Dusk hands hovered where he was, unsure what to do with them for a moment. “To give you some alone time, I will take this little one with me for the time being.” “Thanks Dia!” With a beaming face, Pyrite pulled a stunned Dusk onto his lap. “I pledge to make the most of the time.” “Out of the three of you, I'm sure you will.” Laughing, Dia pushed the country's soon-to-be king out of the room. Leaving them alone and safe for the first time in what felt like days....
RHP - 25 - Part of the Plan?He would have forgotten the name of his brother if Micah had told it to him. With a cool elegance that contrasted with the pure warmth he associated with Micah, Dusk watched him walk in. He had a striking appearance, much like Micah, but there was still a clear difference. Sunshine, warmth, and a home surrounded his mate. Though he detested bringing it up, the energy emanating from him was comparable to that of the Black household. He had the same unyielding energy that made people both admire and fear him. He was not afraid of that energy. With Word encircling him, Dusk discovered that he was standing a little more erect and that the rush of adrenaline from earlier had left him. Of course, the fact that he was still sore could also be a buildup from his earlier injuries. He could not deny that his presence did not make him feel comfortable, but he was not afraid. Dusk was uncertain if his presence would be beneficial to him. History dictated that it could not produce much good. Sad news that is even more depressing to consider. “Please feel at ease; Micah will be here shortly.” He dipped his head, and a color came into his eyes that complemented the gold trim on his plain blue uniform. “I would really hate to make my new brother-in-law feel awkward around me.” It was in that smile of his that Dusk noticed the similarities between the brothers. Dusk was certain that he did not often or openly share that smile, unlike Micah. “Is Pyrite alright too?” Dusk inquired before realizing who he was speaking to. The prince who will rule this kingdom after the queen is the first prince. His body attempted to react, but it caused his head to spin, causing him to fall to Dia's side. Word shifted about, but was so deep in slumber that Dusk doubted much would wake him. “A Blood Mage, one bonded to our holiest of beasts. Gives no homage to anyone.” He raised his hand and once again smiled. Crouching on his knees was the only reason that Dusk knew that he was on the ground. “It is I who should bow to you, in apology for my mother's actions.” “Finally, you remember I am here.” She spoke with a raised corner of her mouth. A sort of smile left Dusk’s skin with a crawling sensation. “Yes, he had to be calmed down before he could enter.” With a gentle touch, the first prince turned to face his mother after petting Dusk's leg and massaging Word's outstretched leg. “Must I bring Mother to mind again? I think I told you to keep your nose out of my dear little brother's business.” “Your precious brother is not at risk because of anything I did.” She smiled like daggers at her eldest son, and Dusk would have preferred to be farther from this rising battle of wills. “Did I not respond to this threat against him?” “I apologize, mother; it seems that spending time with elves altered my perspective.” With a laugh, he put his hand on his head. “I was unaware that he and our people have been shielded from harm by withstanding his stalker's suicide attempt to kill his third and sever our ties to the founding father of our country, our ancestor, counted.” “Do not laugh at me, Obsidian.” She snapped, and the air crackled. “Do not worry, I am with you.” Dia spoke softly and directly into his ear. Causing him to startle since, aside from him, he had forgotten her presence. Perhaps it was the stress? “Please, Mother, do not make me laugh.” Prince Obsidian spoke, and he turned his head towards Dia. “I am hoping we can have a chance to put things right.” “We will see how today plays out.” Dia said, lowering her head elegantly. “Do you hear that, Mother?” Dusk recognized the cold gleam of teeth more accurately than the warmth of Micah's smile when Prince Obsidian smiled. He was, regrettably, sitting in the front row when things were about to blow up. Why him? “Now is a great time to start your vacation plans.” “You would not dare.” A cold chill rose in the air and quickly disappeared under Dia's hum. “You would never dare!” “Were those words spoken to you by Grandfather?” Prince Obsidian snapped his fingers. Guards poured in from the now-open door, flanking Dusk. “I think we both know the outcome of that.” With her hair falling around her shoulder, the queen attempted to shake off the guards who had grabbed her by the arm. “Dia, you can not stop my abilities forever!” Her expression darkened with resentment and hatred, turning ugly. Her words and her deeds, the ones that were not accompanied by the guards, were obviously menacing. “Ah, but I can.” Touching the queen's chest, Dia extended her neck. “You should not have touched my children.” Did he now belong to her? Dusk pondered, wondering what she was up to. A scream had his hands covering Word's ears, leaving him wishing he had another set for his own ears. She sank into the guard's arms, white foam foaming at her mouth and rolling the whites of her eyes into her head. “Thank you, Dia, for getting me here and giving me a chance.” Prince Obsidian turned and bowed from the shoulders. A great deal from someone in the royal family, and if he saw right. The new king? Things were moving faster than thought and faster than his heart could take in. Witnessing a revolt—a quite one, but still a revolt—was never something he would imagine could happen. Not in front of his eyes. “Welcome to the family, Dusk.” He winked and was gone, his world smashed between their chests and encircled by four arms that touched him in every direction. They were looking for any wounds on him. They said nothing, Dusk just fell into their arms. At ease in the whirlwind of details and happenings that had been presented to him. “I had no idea what my mother or brother had planned. I really apologize, Dusk.” Micah's words and tears ended the silence. "It will work out fine." With his fingers intertwined with Pyrite's, Dusk reached up to wipe away Micah's tears. Pyrite then extended his own hand. He was not going to tell lies and say it was all right now. Before that could be said, there were things that had to be done. "But we must speak; we must have a serious conversation about the present." They discussed the many possibilities for the future, but what about the here and now? At this rate, they wouldn’t survive it. “My brother should be included in this.” Touching his face with Pyrite's and his own fingers, Micah spoke. “Considering what Mother has done, he needs to be included in the plan.” Dusk leaned forward, kissed his check, and drew Pyrite's fingers closer to his chest as Micah shook his head. “Let us take this on.” Dusk said it in a whisper. “I will participate in this as well.” Micah and Pyrite both jumped when Dia spoke up. Dusk gave Dia a tired smile and a nod. It was time to move forward.
Horror
JAWS 2 REWRITE by n64ization
The Hounds of TinderlosThe Hounds of TinderlosHarriet Phillipa Lovecraft — 'That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange eons will get thirsty by and by...'Stuart Lindly gazed at the financial stats for his failing company. There was so much red ink he had to look away until the blue after-images seared into his eyes faded away. “A Nice Local Girl,” the dating service he was working for was bleeding to death. One month or probably even less and he'll have to look for another job.He sighed. The prospect of having to do the song and dance for another bored and impassive employer, well, it was not something he wanted to do. But the company was circling the drain. Again Stuart looked away from the screen. And again, he wondered what to do next.Someone bashed the front door.Stuart sighed again. He hoped it was an Orc or an Ork or some other rude fantasy creature, and not the rude reality creature he suspected was there.Again the door was pounded.Stuart got up and left his tiny office to go to the front door. Too bad the secretary couldn't handle this, but she was coming in later. Tina Leftkovitz hated the landlord. The feeling was mutual, but no, Stuart was alone.His shoes squeaked on the pale blonde wooden floor as he finally made it to the door. He took a calming breath and looked through the peephole. As expected, he saw two bushy eyebrows. and dark brown eyes burning with anger.“Where is your lying bastard boss? Is he here?” Gregor Grzymany grumbled from behind the door.“No sir, Todd is out getting new clients,” Stuart answered. He had no idea what Todd Hawkins was doing.“You're three months late with the rent. Pay by the end of the month, or you and whatever you got back there is out on the street! Should've gone with hookers, would've made more money than what you got now!” Gregor said. His eyes narrowed.Stuart felt that he had been hit with enough stinkeye to melt the peephole's glass, and his face, but somehow he survived. “Yes, I'll tell him.” He hoped that the landlord would go already.Gregor's eyes narrowed again, giving Stuart another blast.Stuart wondered if he was lucky or not.Gregor huffed and turned his muscular bulk to go back downstairs.Stuart gazed heavenward to see if blessings or smitings would fall upon him. Nothing happened. With a shrug, he went back to his office to worry, and maybe cry a bit. When Stuart arrived at his office, Bill Marnley, the IT guy was there. “Sorry, I could've answered the door, but I didn't have my plus twelve wand of landlord pacification,” Bill joked.Stuart frowned. He briefly considered saying that you need at least ten points of charisma to use the wand, but he just didn't feel like it. So he just slumped in his chair.“Hey, sorry. That man scares me. And to think he has a wife,” Bill said.For a moment the picture of a female version of Gregor flashed across Stuart's imagination. Bushy eyebrows, lumpy muscular body, and arms that could crush a car. Someone that could make trolls look supermodel sexy. His stomach flipped once. He hoped that it was the only one. “Thanks for the image. I think I'll skip lunch.”“Sorry. You can't. Todd called, and we're going to have an important meeting. Everyone has to be there,” Bill said as a faint smile crossed his face.“It's probably to tell us that the company is dead,” Stuart said as he switched to another section in his accounting software. Again, too much red like a slaughterhouse splashed across the screen.“No man, Todd sounded pumped up! We might have found ourselves a client with deep pockets,” Bill said.Stuart sighed. “Do you remember the last time Todd was pumped? That's how we ended up here. And before this, it was the Virtual Shopping mall app. And-”“Yeah, man, I get it. We've been rolling with Todd for several years bouncing from one failed project to another, but we always ended up okay,” Bill said. His smile faded away as he remembered the failures they always seemed to survive.Stuart fixed Bill with a tired gaze. “It's better to be smart than lucky. Luck always runs out. It has run out for him and maybe us.” He pointed at the screen filled with red text. “All of that is from negative cash flow.”Bill shook his head.”Come to the meeting, and see. I gotta go back, and get the servers ready.”Stuart frowned. He figured that Bill has to get the servers ready to be shut down, and boxed. Then again, looking for a job was going to be a horror show without popcorn. “Fine, I'll be there.”The lunchroom slash conference room was filled with the team. Stuart sat next to a table with his arms at his sides. He learned from painful experiences that the furniture was old and splintery. One time, a few months ago, Tina had to use her tweezers to pull out a chunk of wood large enough to make a pirate ship from Stuart's arm. Well, it wasn't that large, but it felt that way.He swept his eyes over his company with misery. Bill, Tina, and Sahid Verma, the programmer was here. And of course, Todd Hawkins, the golden boy. Todd sat in his somewhat less splintery chair with a faint smile on his face. Stuart was familiar with that expression. Something was going on. Maybe, things would improve?Todd's smile got larger, and he slapped a check down on the scratched mahogany table like it was a winning move in some game.Tina leaned forward and gingerly picked up the check like it was a dead rat. The overhead lights brought out the red highlights in her hair along with the yellow gleam of pencils shoved into the bun on the top of her head. She looked at the check.Stuart figured that Tina wore lead-lined glasses so her gaze wouldn't fry normal things.Tina scrutinized the check for a few moments.Stuart wondered if Tina was scanning the check down to the quantum level for issues.“Todd, there is a heck of a lot of zeros here. What did you do?” Tina said when she looked up.Todd smiled like the cat that ate the pet shop that only sold canaries. “I found a client with deep pockets.”“Really? No offense, but who would pay us five million dollars? Are we working with the Russian Mafia?” Tina asked.Stuart's eyes widened. “Five million dollars?”Everyone else was buzzing.Tina gave the check to Stuart. He looked at it and counted the zeros then he looked up. Along with Tina, he wondered who would give them so much money. It didn't make sense.Todd smiled again. “This is just the down payment. If we're successful for a month, we'll get another large check.”Tina focused her gaze on Todd. “Who's the client?”Stuart hoped that Todd wouldn't smile again. Something about that was bugging him. He didn't know why.Todd sighed. “You know, I'm lousy with names. It's some Egyptian guy, last name is Hotep. He wants us to upgrade our dating service for his clients. And they're international. Carcosa, think it's Italy, Leng, that's in China. Some place called Riley, think that's in Ireland somewhere. And of course local customers too. Soo many lonely peeps can use our services. We've hit the big times!”Tina nodded. “Sounds cool. So what do we have to do to get this money?”Sahid burst in. “I'd like to keep my firstborn, she's so cute!”Everyone laughed, but it sounded nervous to Stuart. Like they were too close to a graveyard, and not mirthful. He didn't know why, but there was something wrong here. Something off like a misplaced decimal point or comma. Why would someone who probably had more than five million want to hire their rinky-dink outfit, and not one of the larger, better-staffed companies? Stuart frowned for a moment, he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, well, he found horses to be scary. So big.Bill shuffled forward and eyed the check. “So Todd, what do we have to do?”Todd smiled again. Thank goodness it was just a normal-sized one. “Well, there are some forms you have to sign, and we have to move to someplace upstate. Some place called Arkham in Massachusetts. They already have an office set up. We just move in and integrate our stuff with theirs. Don't worry about the land values, they're pretty cheap. You can buy a nice house for what you pay rent for a shoe box here.”Sahid smiled. “My wife and daughter would love their own garden.”It also sounded good to Stuart.Tina frowned. “Moving way upstate? I got a bad feeling about this. What if things go south? We're stuck up north in some tiny town.”Todd shook his head. “Arkham has the world-renowned Miskatonic University. They don't putuniversities in podunk towns.”Tina shook her head making the red highlights dance in her hair. “Well, I never heard of it.”Stuart was amazed that none of the pencils fell out.“Don't worry, tomorrow I'll bring in some info packs for all of you. All of your questions will be answered,” Todd said.“Will they have the winning lotto numbers?” Bill joked.For a moment, Todd's happy mask slipped a bit.Stuart thought he saw anger flash in Todd's eyes before Todd recovered. Maybe it was something else?“My client knows things, but I think this agreement doesn't cover lotteries or games of chance. Maybe you'll meet him, and chat about it?” Todd said, now all smiles and happiness. “Now, I'm off to the bank to deposit this check so Stuart can handle paying off debts, and your paychecks.”“Do you think the bank will trust that check? I mean we have been so close to zero and worst, I've been picking up pennies,” Stuart asked. He knew that the bank might hold on to the money until they think it was legitimate before allowing the funds to be used.“We'll be fine,” Todd said while he got up, and put the check in his suit pocket. “Oh, you guys can leave early if you want. Be here at eleven sharp so I can give you your packets.” He looked back and smiled then left.“Do you believe what he said?” Bill asked as a smile played upon his lips.Stuart almost wanted to smile. Even though he didn't want to leave his apartment in the crapneighborhood that had more rats than hookers. Rats just ignored him. but the hookers seemedcontemptuous. The prospect of making some decent money did feel good. Maybe he could move to a better area with fewer rats and hookers, or even none? One could only hope.“I dunno,” Tina said.Bill moved over. He knew better than to stand too close to Tina when she gets excited, and her hands start moving.Tina continued. “The money sounds good, but I gotta bad feeling about this. My Nana has a saying, if it's too good to be true, it's not. It sounds better in the original Polish.”“Not the original Klingon?” Bill asked.Tina just waved the comment away with a left hand that almost blurred. “Hey, I don't want to be a wet blanket, but you guys should read the text carefully. Maybe get your lawyers to read it too. Um, wait, we probably don't have the money for that, and I broke up with Lenny. You know, the lawyer. Freakin cold fish.“Stuart frowned. He remembered when Tina broke up with Lenny. Too much screaming, and crying. Tina did well, Lenny not so much. “Yeah, we'll be careful.”Bill frowned. “What's wrong with the deal?”Tina shrugged. “Again, I have a bad feeling. I know Todd told us almost nothing. I would rather be in a city that doesn't sleep than a tiny town where they roll up the sidewalks at night.”Sahid walked up. “Hey, if the schools are good or not too far away, I'll bite. Are you sure you're not biased? My wife would love to not learn things like how to tell the difference between auto and semi-automatic gunfire.”Tina shrugged again. “Hey, let's see what's in the packs. Especially the fine print. Bring your magnifying glasses. Don't sign anything until you know exactly what's going on.” She turned her gaze on everyone.Everyone nodded.For a moment, Stuart felt a chill race down his back. What am I going to be involved in, he thought, but then he pushed that away. A bit of optimism floated up.At ten-forty-five, Stuart left his desk. There was a slight smile on his face. It felt good to have money and to pay bills. Even Grzymany got his payment. Most of the unease he had felt had melted away, but a bit remained. Would he have to prick his finger, and sign a contract with blood? Stuart frowned, no, that's too dramatic. They'll have pens. He hoped they had those before deciding the whole train of thought led to some really strange destinations. It was time for him to hop off! The meeting room was quiet even though it was full. Everyone just kept looking around like they wanted to remember this place before going somewhere that wouldn't allow them to return.Stuart frowned. This was not how folks thought about moving upstate or was thatupcountry?A few minutes before eleven, Todd arrived with a bulging leather satchel.Everyone sat down.“I wonder if they'll let us do a makeup test,” Bill said.Stuart was getting college test vibes. Why? They were just signing forms like the other times' Todd got a new money-making scheme. For some unknown reason, this felt different, more like an important test that determined the rest of his life. His stomach flipped at the weight of responsibility.“Bill, I bet we have to sit with a space between us to prevent cheating,” Sahid said.“That's a good idea. Everybody should go to their office or work area with their info paks. Each one is made specifically for each person here. Don't share the contents of each pack with each other,” Todd said as he looked over the folks sitting in front of him.Why is he doing things like this, Stuart wondered. Again, he peered at Todd. Something was off, but he couldn't say why. If each person couldn't share the contents of their pak, how do they know if they're getting a decent deal? Before they started the dating service, Todd just told everyone a ballpark figure for their pay and any benefits. There were no surprises.Again, Stuart wondered why Todd and their mysterious benefactor had changed things.Todd cleared his throat and opened his travel-worn satchel. “When I give you your pak, go to your office to fill it out. I would like to take them back to the client sometime after two. The faster we get the paks to the client, the faster you can be in the system and get paid.”“What if we have questions? You know like problems with moving or benefits?” Tina asked.“Call the number in the pak. Customer service will help you with anything. Sahid Verma please come, and get your pak,” Todd said.For some reason, this felt like the opposite of graduation, or rather folks were lining up to get something terrible like a boot to the head. Stuart pushed that thought away. After a few more moments, Stuart got his info pak, and he headed for his office.It was kinda heavy, too much just for a bunch of papers. Stuart couldn't wait to see what was inside, but he waited until he was in front of his computer. After he moved his keyboard, and other items away, he opened the envelope.The first sheet of paper had a number for someone to help him settle in Arkham. Stuart smiled, at least he wouldn't have to do that by himself in a strange new town. After that was the contract, and there was something off about it. He didn't know why. A few moments passed before Stuart finally touched the strange yellow paper of the contract. Immediately, he wiped his finger on his pants before frowning and grabbing some napkins from a box to wipe his pants. For a quick moment, he thought about getting some hand sanitizer, but he barely managed to reject the notion.Stuart peered at the contract again. This time it was just regular paper though he made sure not to touch it without wrapping napkins on his hands. He didn't know why, it seemed like the paper was covered in something unpleasant that he couldn't see or smell. A quick sniff gave him the slight hint of old dusty rot, and then it was gone.Finally, he pushed back his misgivings, and just read the contract. It was the usual stuff he had seen in other contracts from Todd. For a moment, he wondered why he still felt uncomfortable looking at and touching the document. It didn't make sense. Stuart grabbed the fancy gold pen with red highlights. His fingers burned, but that faded away after he signed, and put the date on the contract. The ink was a weird deep red. Stuart shrugged and figured that Todd's client got a special ink for the pen. A feeling of dread swept through Stuart as he placed the contract, and the other items back into the pak. He just figured his imagination was working overtime. Once they got to Arkham, everything would be fine.Maybe?

Mature Content

Mature Content

Mystery

Mature Content

Case of the Terrified Teacher, Chapter 4 by MisterMistoffelees
Adventure

Mature Content

Drifters Chapter 2 Full by RickF7666
Science Fiction

Mature Content

Historical Fiction
To Rule The Waves Chapter 2Chapter Two: The Patriot WhigsJanuary 2nd, 1750 The clerk led Marcus into the sitting room and presented him accordingly, “Presenting: Post Captain, Marcus Johnson of Swindon.” The Post Captain gazed about the room before respectfully bowing. He had been led into the Earl’s study, which was dominated by a large fireplace that dominated most of the wall. A roaring fire was already going giving the room proper heat. Each of the walls surrounding the fireplace had large bookshelves that reached towards the ceiling. There were few candles lit around the room, but besides the fire there was little light besides twilight and heavy shadow. Sitting around the room, in comfortable looking chairs, were four members of the House of Lords along with two members of the navy and one member of the army. Marcus bowed again and stepped forward. The Lord closest to him was the Earl of Berkeley himself. Augustus Berkeley, the Fourth Earl of Berkeley was a firm liberal man and fiercely loyal to his native land of England despite only being forty years old. Despite his wire body and young looking face he was the man who had founded and formulated the Patriot Whigs out of the fire that burned the original Whig party at the start of the Century. For the Earl’s eccentricities and rough patches, no one could deny that the Earl of Berkeley was a viciously determined man. It was clear to all in England that once the next elections were to be held, or a vote of no confidence finally called, Earl Berkeley would challenge Grand Duke George Spencer for the Prime Minister’s office. Next to him was another Lord, one Marcus assumed to be Theodore Wilson, young yet equal in his gaze of determination. Though what had brought Theodore to the Patriot Whigs circles was beyond the Post Captain. Theodore was relatively new to Parliament, only brought in from the House of Commons last year at the urgent request of his ailing father. The Wilson family in general were strong allies of the Berkeley’s, but never vocal ones. So to be included in a meeting such as this was rather profound and bewildering. Marcus then recognized his father as the third Lord present. Ludwig Johnson, grandson of Swedish immigrants, had risen from a back seat position to acting party whip. And he had gained that position because of the man’s indomitable will. And despite being the eldest in the room, pushing nearly seventy, Ludwig was still strong in stature. Marcus’s looks were very much a gift given to him from Ludwig, though Ludwig’s hair had grayed significantly in his years. Though unfortunately, the looks were the only thing he had with his father. Ludwig always intended for his son’s to follow in his footsteps and become representatives of the English People. However, out of his five children, with three of them being boys, only his youngest Lawrence had shown any interest in politics. Marcus had heard the call to the sea at a young age. And the eldest, Johan, was a born and bred hunter. When Johan was old enough, he set out for the New World and soon enough had cut his way into a prominent position within the Hudson Bay Company. While Ludwig had disapproved of his eldest’s choice of careers, and was very vocal of his disapproval, Marcus knew that Ludwig was quietly proud of him. However, when Marcus made his life’s intentions known, he did not gain his father’s pride. It had forced the duo to be at each other’s throats throughout Marcus’s youth, only ending when the Post Captain had gained a spot on the Kestrel during the war. But while the ice had thawed, it hadn’t cleared enough for the duo to be anywhere near close as Ludwig once wanted. Instead, Marcus had become close to his eldest brother, and rather distant to his remaining family. He knew that with his two commands, first the Swiftsure and now the Damocles, Marcus would finally have the means to leave Swindon behind and make his name on his own. And yet, he was here, part of a secret meeting at the Berkeley estate. And really, it was for two simple reasons. The first would be that regardless of the allure of strutting out on one's own, no one got anywhere in the Royal Navy without political backing. And second, Marcus’s disdain for the current Mercantile government under George Spencer was so great, he’d do anything to rid the Empire of that man. Plus, having the Earl in power would mean Johan would gain political support too, and that would mean he’d get a larger stake in the HBC. That would certainly help Marcus if he ever wanted to set up a shipping investment once his career in the Navy came to an end. Drawing himself back from his musings about his father, Marcus eyed the rest of the men in the room. None of them, lords and officers he recognized. Though he was aware that he might’ve been the lowest ranked man in the room. One, the army representative, was clearly of the rank of Field Marshall. He could also see that one naval officer held the rank of Sea Lord. The fact Marcus didn’t know him was a damning testament, one he would rectify as quickly as possible. Slowly, Marcus's eyes drifted back to his father the Earl. "Gentleman, tis an honor to be invited." Marcus greeted, bowing again. His father stood and walked over, "Son, it is good to see you. I trust the trip from Swindon wasn't too exhausting. May I introduce a few dear friends of ours." He then put a hand on his shoulder, though Marcus gave his father a cold look. That look was met by a pleading expression by his father, so Marcus quieted his emotions and quickly looked at the gathered attendants again. His father was quick to introduce the room especially since the name Marcus already knew was introduced first. Then his father turned to the new faces. "Over here we have our pick for Field Marshal of our armies, Jordan Cantrell-Christe from Derbyshire.” "You're servant Sir." The Field Marshall saluted. “As I sir, I’ve heard of your exploits in the recent war. They were rather brilliant strategies.” Marcus greeted with a bow. “Your compliment is appreciated but unwarranted, it was the folly of the enemy to stand against us that won the days.” The Field Marshall responded. With a nod, Ludwig continued, “To his left is our hopeful appointment for Jamaica, Nathaniel Moore." "An honor sir." Nathaniel greeted. Marcus returned the greet with a particular look, “I must apologize sir, I have heard your name before. Aren't you a part of a coalition of the army plotting to reform the ranks without Parliamentary approval.” "I compliment you on your sources, Sir." Nathaniel smiled, "But my concern has now shifted more towards setting my operations within the Caribbean." "Capital sir,” Marcus smiled, "I can see why my father offered you friendship." "Indeed my son." Ludwig smiled, “Finally we have our representative within the Navy, may I introduce First Sea Lord Raymond Astor.” Marcus almost cursed himself for not seeing the similarities sooner. He straightened up and saluted the Sea Lord, “Forgive me sir, I was not aware I was in the presence of Lord Dreadnought himself.” “You are forgiven Post Captain,” Raymond Astor mused smugly, “The portraits of me never properly convey my face.” “Correct me if I’m wrong sir, but weren’t you the one who backed the measures to allow our shipyards to build all the First Rates we have on the stocks?” Marcus asked. “No you would be correct, that was an oversight on my part. I have taken steps to correct since your father and the good Earl made me see the error of my ways. Your Damocles is my first step towards that.” The Sea Lord answered. Marcus cocked an eyebrow as that piece of the puzzle came into place, “An honor sir, will you be seeing us off upon launch?” The Sea Lord nodded, “But that is a matter we shall discuss…at a later date.” It was then Marcus saw his father’s disposition change. Marcus was clearly taking much longer than the Earl had allowed. It wouldn’t take long for men of this caliber to be noticed absent from this party. With a clear of the throat, Ludwig ended the greeting prematurely, "Now if you'll kindly take a seat, we'll fill you in on the talks."' Marcus turned and looked at his father. This was typical of the duo, Marcus trying to be sociable and approachable while Ludwig would always be reigning him in. It was one of the many, many things Marcus always chapped under. However, in this situation, he understood the nature of the situation here. He was here as a guest of his father, even so more as a guest in the Berkeley home. So, Marcus pulled himself back with a slight bow. Tuning around, he walked over to an empty seat before sitting down. After taking the seat, a servant brought him over a glass of red wine. With a glass in hand, Marcus took a sip and rested comfortably within the chair. "Good Earl," He smiled, "I must compliment you on your choice of wine.” "Your compliment is well taken, Captain, if not well said.” The Earl responded, his voice was strong despite age but also his flair. "You'll forgive my son, he is a sailor after all.” Ludwig cut in firmly. Marcus looked at his father, before the other continued, "Now shall we discuss the reason we are here?” "Right, we have pressing matters to attend to: the manner in which our empire stands, or rather lack thereof.” The Earl of Berkeley began, "I suppose I do not need to remind any present of the course our Prime Minister is leading us on. His mercantile ventures are bleeding our coffers dry. To say little of that humiliating confession made to the French." "I wouldn't totally call it a humiliation." Nathaniel commented, "What I will call a humiliation is the manner in which our Prime Minister has maintained our meager holdings." "Indeed. " Field Marshal Christie mused. "If you'll pardon all the interruptions." Ludwig said after clearing his throat. The Earl nodded, "Well our sentiments aligned.” Marcus raised an eyebrow, “And how may we remedy ourselves at our leader's folly?" A quiet calm took over the room. Each man gave the other an inquisitive look, as if expecting the other to answer the captain's question. After a moment, the Earl broke the calm, "Unfortunately, my declaration of our party's creation two years past has been the only public display we have made. For what little show it has gotten us, except the ire of George Spencer and his insane stool pigeons." The Earl started, "However, thanks to Ludwig's influence, we now have supporters in the ranks of government and the military..." Nathaniel cleared his throat, "Forgive me Earl Berkeley, but that was not what Captain Johnson was asking." He then turned and nodded towards Marcus, "The good Lord Marshall and the good Sea Lord’s presence here are testaments to your statement, of course, that we have men in place to support our government. When the appropriate leadership is installed of course. Our question is how, or rather what shall we do if we are to seize power?" Another silence took over the room. This time it came with most attention, focused on Nathaniel. Ludwig, however, kept a scornful glare right at Marcus. The Post Captain met his father’s gaze for a moment, with one of a tentative gaze. But after a moment, that look Marcus gave his father, became hard and determined. "I did have a thought on that matter." Marcus spoke up. All eyes within the room turned back towards Marcus. The Post Captain straightened up, "Spencer's Open Port act." Another breath of silence took over the room. This time the silence lasted far longer than the previous. Each man once again looked at the other until finally, Ludwig turned to the Earl. “When will that be up for repeal?" Ludwig asked. “Not until the next session.” The Earl responded. "Forgive me but what exactly is the 'Open Port Act' anyway?" Field Marshall asked. "George Spencer's latest attempt to convince the people there are no failings of mercantilism." Earl Berkley answered. "Yes, but what is it?" the Field Marshall asked again. “I was about to get to that!” Earl Berkley responded, "The wording at such an act, in its simplest terms, allows every port within our Empire to export a product native to its shores upon a free market without tax. Once the product becomes…’a product of want,’ Spencer's theory will assume that the port hands over the profits to the mother stem.” "And even a fool can see the folly of such an act." Ludwig commented. "Indeed, now what if the port's commodity doesn't become desired." The Marshall asked. Now slowly understanding, Theodore chimed in "Or what is to stop the port from simply pocketing the riches? Or worse, what is to stop a rival power such as Spain or god forbid France to steal a port from us?" "There’s an even worse connotation for that.” Marcus commented, “The act's effect upon the Colonies. It has been well reported amongst those in the fleet that the colonies are speaking of breaking from the parent stem." The Earl nodded, "And if we are to lose the colonies, then any gains that our trade company makes in India will not offset any loss." "So, to what end shall we use this act in our favor? specifically if I may ask?" Marshall asked "Simple, The Southern Colonies and the sugar trade." Marcus brought up, "The act calls for one port to have a ‘want' product. That could mean a colony like South Carolina will have to restrict itself to either the sugar or indigo trade in order to fulfill requirements. Especially out of ports like Charles Towne." "That would mean their already aggravated state will be pushed to an inevitable breaking point." Earl Berkley aged "That certainly would be our way in," Ludwig pointed out, "But simply allowing the colonies to revolt would cause disruptions across the globe. To allow the colonies any level of revolt shall do more harm to our than any action our Prime Minister can muster. " "But there is a way to throw the Colonies front and center by showing Spencer's folly." Marcus countered, his voice neutral. His father eyed him but the Earl allowed him to continue. "The Fleet of Red has been issued to sail towards the Bahamas. Officially, the orders are to investigate the reports of piracy within the West Indies. Though many among the officer group believe it is to check the colonial temperature. And if memory serves, the Admiral in charge is a friend of the Earl." The Earl sat quietly as he listened to Marcus speak. Ludwig however, kept a skeptical eye locked firmly on his son. After a moment, the Earl looked up. “I am curious how you think this ties in.” The Earl spoke up. But before Marcus continued, Nathaniel cut in. “Our good Captain may actually be onto something. Spencer will never listen to the Colonies. He’s too prideful for that, let me tell you. However, if one of our agents attends a meeting of the Colonial powers…” “A Continental Congress…there would not be a greater offense to our Parliament in the known world.” Ludwig cut in. “Indeed, however, if we were to send one of our agents over there to hear their concerns, and give them promises that if our government was in charge we will heed their conversations…” Nathaniel started. “What if they wish to declare Independence?” Theodore asked abruptly. “They won’t.” Ludwig shot back. “They might.” Theodore retorted. “But if they had someone to listen to them!” Marcus cut in, “They might be more apt to listen to our Government rather than asking for an irrevocable Independence.” He then stood up softly, “And since my orders are to head to the Colonies anyway, I volunteer to be our representative.” The Earl nodded and also stood up, “You do realize of course that any decision you make over there you’ll have to make you’ll have to make on your own. Any cause the Colonies wish to make will take at the very least six months to travel the ocean to reach us.” “I understand good Earl.” Marcus asked. The Earl then turned back to Ludwig, who remained comfortably seated. After a moment of locking eyes, the Earl turned back to Marcus, “Very well, will you give us a moment to discuss matters?” Marcus bowed, “If you’ll excuse me then.” And with that he made his leave. A moment or so later, he was back out in the Gala. Another dance was being played, this one a more lively tune than any that had been played before. Though, as Marcus gently made his way up to a nearby pillar to rest, it had become clear to him that the ball was winding down. As he rested his left shoulder on the pillar, Marcus wanted to find the woman again. But a quick survey of the attendants proved fruitless. He was about to pull himself off the pillar and wade into the crowd, when a movement to his right caught his attention. Much to Marcus’s shock, a glass of Port was offered to him by Nathaniel Moore. “I trust you would enjoy this?” He asked with a warm smile. Marcus accepted the glass graciously, “Thank you sir, your kindness is most appreciated.” With a sip, he’s shocked at how similar the taste is to his favorite glass of Port. “Likewise sir, I came here to congratulate you on the idea you presented.” Nathaniel commented, a glass of his own in his hands, “I must admit though, I would not have imagined that avenue to be a route to take. In my own opinion I would’ve given the options to be in the Caribbean.” “Oh, in what way?” Marcus asked. “Well, our operations in the Caribbean have taken serious hits from our Mercantile fools over the course of the two years since the war. Kingston, and in part Jamaica, are losing vast quantities of money while France and, more importantly, Spain fill their coffers. Yet, very soon, Spain will struggle with its hold in Mexico and South America.” Nathaniel responded. “You speak as if you are fully aware of these rumors.” Marcus eyed Nathaniel, “Almost as if you’re sure of them.” “I indeed am, good sir, as sure as I am that you are a long time enthusiast of Port.” Nathaniel responded, “Or would you prefer a taste of Pinot?” Again Marcus raised his eyebrow, “Depends on which Pinot you are offering.” “Pinot Gingo.” Nathaniel responded, “The same that often found it’s way aboard your time on the Resolute.” Marcus raised his glass towards Nathaniel, “I compliment you on your circles sir, how many of my former sailors have you spoken to before this day.” Nathaniel laughed, “Oh I didn’t need to speak to anyone from Resolute or even your most recent ship. I do however wish to give to you my congratulations on the Havana Campaign.” Again Marcus toasted before taking a drink, “So, you have an ear for information?” “A man in my circle needs to have his ear on the ground.” Nathaniel responded, “Especially if one is to call Jamaica their home. All sorts of information will pass through Jamaica’s port, as well as whatever person in this world wishes to become a King, they will need someone to bring them news even if the nation doesn’t wish it to be known.” “Hmmm, interesting,” Marcus nodded, “Would it be bad form for me to ask how wide your net is?” “That my dear Captain, will have to wait.” Nathaniel responded, “I believe we’re about to be disrupted.” The disruption was that of the Earl, walking up quietly towards Marcus and Nathaniel. When he reached the Post Captain, he bowed slightly and stepped close, “I agreed with your opinion Marcus. But before your father and I can grant you that task, we wish for you to see about bringing another into our cause. Or at the very least, see if he’s capable of crossing the isle.” Marcus and Nathaniel looked at each other. After a moment, Marcus asked the all important question. “Of course Earl, but whom am I to speak to?” “Lord Duke Benjamin Lewis. His ward was in attendance tonight, I do believe you and her shared a dance.” The Earl responded, “Will you be able to attend his presence after tomorrow’s session in Parliament.” “Surely you jest sir, a man of my stature is not one welcome in the House of Lords.” Marcus chuckled. “Nonsense, nonsense, you are the welcomed guest to view the meeting at my discretion.” The Earl responded, “Now, can we trust in you sir?” Marcus nodded, “Yes sir. Nathaniel, shall I press a visit onto you to dinner aboard the Damocles?” “Shall not miss it sir, when shall you sail?” Nathaniel asked. “Our orders shall not come until late this month so we shall sail then.” Marcus responded, “Now if you both excuse me, I have a task to complete.”
Fan Fiction
The Anniversary Dinner: Part 1 Stepping through the home he shared with Gary, Ash smiled as he took in the sight of Eevee running through the hallways, chasing one another up and down the stairs and some taking an opportunity to sleep, nestled in corners and hideaway spaces. Gary always liked to bring his work home, though when it came to the care of Pokémon, it was never work. It was joy, excitement and fun.It was the reason Ash loved Gary Oak.Over the years, what had started as a rivalry and antagonising relationship, had developed into respect, friendship, admiration and ultimately, love for one another. They had been dating for five years, their romance having blossomed to the point that neither could nor would deny their feelings towards one another. Five years. Five wonderful years. A relationship that Ash had never looked back on. Going to the living room door, Ash paused as he watched a pair of Eevee chase one another up the stairs to the top floor. Ash chuckled, and opened the door, stepping inside. The excited chirp of Pikachu, Ash’s partner Pokémon signalled his attention. The electric mouse Pokémon had got off from the sofa, darted between the Eevee resting and playing on the floor and leapt into Ash’s arms. As soon as he was close enough, Pikachu started to nuzzle Ash’s cheek playfully, letting out sounds of content joy. “I missed you too, buddy.” Ash hugged Pikachu tight before he looked down at Pikachu’s bright eyes. Although he was only a short walk down the road, working with Professor Oak meant that Ash was often in meetings, or working with Pokémon that might be a little skittish around other Pokémon. “Welcome home, Ash.” Sitting on the sofa, next to the spot Pikachu had recently vacated, was Delia Ketchum. In her arms she cradled a small Eevee, a newborn of about six weeks. The Eevee looked up at Ash and Pikachu with wide, inquisitive eyes and a smile on its face. “You’re home early.”“Gary had sent a message saying he had prepared a surprise for me. Wanted me home by two.” Ash explained as he loosened his tie and sat down next to his mother. “Of course, you and Gary are going on a date. Your five-year anniversary since you two began dating.”“You remember the date?”“Of course!” Delia responded with glee. “A mother remembers a lot of things about her children. First day of school, the day you set out on your journey, first championship win. I could go on, but you get the idea.” Delia added with a wistful smile on her face. Chuckling at the comment, Ash nodded in understanding. He and Gary were lucky to have such supportive friends and family. Both had been nervous when they revealed their relationship, but no one had cut ties, no one had any negative comments. Everyone was supportive and welcoming. No one questioned them about it. Even Jessie, James and Meowth had been supportive. The trio were no longer working for Team Rocket and had set up a fashion business together. They were married as well, Ash and Gary having been invited to the wedding (with Ash being asked if he wanted to be a bridesmaid, something he politely declined). Five years on, and Jessie and James were still strong, and had a four-year-old daughter named Jasmine. Someone who looked up to her big cousin Ash when they got together for a catchup.Looking up at the clock mounted above the fireplace, Ash saw that it was ten-to-two. He had been thinking about the surprise, what it could be. There had been little clues, and not even Professor Oak had any idea of what it was. All he knew was that Gary had contacted him the night before about letting Ash off early for their date. “I don’t suppose you know what Gary has planned?” Ash asked Delia, who shook her head in response. The Eevee she had been holding had got up from her lap and walked over to Ash and Pikachu. Ash smiled at the sight, giving Eevee some scratches behind the ear, earning content cooing sounds from the Pokémon. Another Eevee quickly filled the void on Delia’s lap, plonking itself down without comment. Ash quietly mused on the matter before he stopped. The front door had opened, and coming into the living room was Gary, his Umbreon following behind. “I’m glad to see you got away early.” Gary commented as he walked over to the couch, leaned in and kissed Ash on the lips. When they had stopped, Gary stood up and looked to Delia, a warm smile on his face. “Thank you for agreeing to look after the Pokémon for tonight, Delia. I wanted to do something special but didn’t want to have to worry about the kids.” Gary said playfully before gesturing to the many Eevee who had come into the living room, vying for attention from both Gary and Umbreon. “Hold on, I thought you said you didn’t know what Gary had planned.”“And I don’t.” Delia simply stated with a smile on her face while she smoothed out the coat of the Eevee that had nestled on her lap. “Gary just asked me to watch the Pokémon overnight.” “Weren’t you a least bit curious as to why I had prepared the guest room last night?”Ash sat with a sheepish look on his face for a couple of moments. When that had cleared, he shook his head. Getting up, Ash moved to Gary and wrapped his arms around Gary before giving him another kiss. “Fair enough.” Ash looked Gary in the eyes, a grin coming across his face. “So, ready to tell me what you have planned?”For a moment, Gary was quiet. He was savouring having Ash so close to him. The warmth, scent and touch. Gary decided to reveal, he gestured to the window. Ash looked outside, seeing the limousine that was sat waiting for them, the driver stood outside by the passenger door. “I have arranged for a night in Celadon City. I’ve booked us a suite at a hotel, then a three-course dinner at The Golden Bloom, before box seats for the gala event of the Flower Garden Troupe’s newest show.” Conflicting emotions ran through Ash’s mind as he took in the details of the night ahead. Excitement for the dinner, joy for the hotel, nerves for the Flower Garden Troupe. Memories of that day alongside Iris and Cillian came to the front of his mind, especially the dress he wore to sneak into the compound. Thinking of the dress, another thought came to mind about the night. “Hold on a moment. What will I wear? The suits I wear for work probably won’t cut it.”“That’s right,” Delia chimed in. “The Golden Bloom has a very strict dress code. Only the most formal and elegant of attire will be allowed inside.”“Have no fear, my sweet Ashley,” Gary said, emphasizing the name Ashley. “I’ve got everything planned.” Ash saw the look in his boyfriend’s eyes. He grimaced for a moment before shaking his head. “You haven’t.”“Remember last year, that trip to The Orange Islands? The night we…” Gary trailed off, raising a suggestive eyebrow at the memory, grinning at the thought of what they got up to. “Well, you said you’d do anything in return, and this is that moment. I have prepared for you a full makeover. Complete male-to-female transformation including a luxurious gown and some accessories.”Ash’s cheeks were red. He had a feeling that might happen. Ever since Misty revealed that Ash had dressed up as Ashley a few times, Gary had been intrigued and loved seeing Ash in his female persona. He loved Ash for who he was, but he didn’t mind Ash’s feminine side coming out. At least this wasn’t a secret around his mother. Delia had asked Ash to dress up as Ashley for specific dates. Her birthday, a prime example and savouring the opportunity to go out for mother/daughter shopping trips. Letting out a soft, playful sigh, Ash leaned in and kissed Gary on the cheek. “I guess it’ll make us even.” Ash mused with a smile. “Come on you two, get going. It’s gone two and if you want to be with time to get ready then I suggest you hurry up.” Delia told them as she got up and moved to the couple. She hugged Gary and kissed him on the cheek, before doing the same to Ash. “Now have fun, the pair of you, and I’ll see you both tomorrow afternoon. There’s no need to rush home.” Delia finished before leading them to the door. Almost as if she were trying to get rid of them. Ash chuckled, though Gary paused for a moment as they tried to avoid stepping on an Eevee. “I just need to get our bags. Ash, I’ll be right out. There’s a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.” Gary told him. Ash chuckled again before looking to his mother. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He then turned to Pikachu and Umbreon. “Now behave, the pair of you. And don’t forget to help mum out with the little ones.” There were sounds of agreement from the pair of them, and with that Ash went out of the door.Soon Gary followed, and they were on their way to Celadon City.
Non Fiction
Against Two Israelisms: IntroductionThis might seem a little odd to discuss when on Odysee I just got through, at the time of writing, with mocking atheists for going after the Flat Earthers and Young Earthers so often. Am I being a hypocrite for tackling a seemingly fringe opinion of a different variety? No, I am not. The big difference is, atheists often exclude any stronger cases within the same overall theological camp they try to debunk, namely Christianity. The multiple Israelism cults seeking to replace confessional and orthodox Christendom have no such luxury in this regard to tackle. Not only that, but this clown world we live in necessitates that the church equip itself with answers while the allure of “anti-establishment” opinions takes paradoxical hold in today's society. The more the establishment makes the opposite sound more reasonable, the more problems like this will persist where just about anything is believed if it seems like an underground view. Before anyone protests that I am simply doing this because I am in what is called either “the Matrix” or the “NPC” crowd in certain circles on the internet, know this: I never even once hid my more libertarian views politically, up to and including hints at the Non-Aggression Principle and Voluntaryism. The concept of a more decentralized society having a better chance at a just and moral people is, and always was, an anathema within both the conservative and “progressive” circles that demand centralized authorities via ballot. If you say that I parroting establishment ideas, consider this paragraph a counterpoint to such accusations. It takes an outcast to understand an outcast, if nothing else. Because of how often such groups of people as these cults get censored, the task of debunking their ideas is difficult for the sheer fact the citations get lost in this current political insanity. For that reason, I will rely in part on sources that I could find from alternatives to the mainstream outlets. It is easier to find them on Odysee than elsewhere, as the site is nowhere near as censorious as most or even all others. This is to my advantage as an Odysee user myself. Until such a time that Odysee goes the way of Myspace (for anyone old enough to remember the site), this will be one of the most reliable sources for heretical or otherwise asinine claims made by non-Christians. This will tie into the Heretical Nazis series promised on Odysee, as it relates to claims of Jewishness (or, in some cases the lack thereof) and how some people try to claim Jesus for themselves along ethnic lines. Among the claims examined will be whether black folks and/or folks of British descent (the latter including myself) can claim to be the true Israel along ethnic lines. Other claims examined will include whether today's Ashkenazi Jews are Khazars, the accusation of America being the Great Babylon, and whether white people can reasonably be called Edomites/Idumeans. By the end of this, I hope to establish that all of these claims and more are false by way of hermeneutics, logical deductions, historical examinations, and other such methods. Vocab Malone and others like him have done much of the legwork in uncovering these cults, so I will rely in part on their work. To give you an idea of what kind of research was done, an annotated bibliography shall be given for each section. Following that is an introduction to the subject for which the annotated bibliography is given. The main body will go over the arguments back and forth within said topic. The conclusion will summarize the arguments for my case and give some ideas on how to proceed moving forward. This is done so that the American church, especially that within the overall Anglican Communion by way of CONNAM and GAFCON, will be better equipped to deal with these ideas and hopefully bring some of these cultists over to our sovereign Lord. It is for this reason that the final product will be published first on the InterPlanetary File Network before hitting the surface web via Odysee. Anyone that wants to view the IPFS original upon completion of this project can do so after installing the IPFS Companion extension on their respective browsers. The extension can currently be installed on either Firefox, Opera, Google Chrome, or the Brave browser. Introduction completed at four minutes past midnight, January 21st, 2024 in the Year of Our Lord. Edited at four minutes before noon, January 22, 2024 in the Year of Our Lord....
Comics and Manga

Mature Content

Ravager's Harvest Ch5p 18 By Marcoabe by BlakeSkies
Scripts and Screenplays
SHREK: ARABIAN NIGHTS by n64ization
Prose Critique

Mature Content

Group Info

Group
Founded 15 Years ago
Aug 29, 2009

Location
Global

Group Focus
Art Creation

Media Type
Literature

17,820 Members
13,369 Watchers
406,856 Pageviews
Are you ready to take the next step? We know you're serious about writing and we are too. For our brave writers who are looking to get their start in the world of professional publishing, we will be gathering up a list with a handful of publications that are accepting submissions each month.

Since we're in the eleventh hour of the month, we're listing publication with deadlines in the next few weeks.

There are countless literary journals and anthologies accepting submissions out there, but a good number of them charge a reading fee. However, since a good many of us are early in our writing careers and often do not have the funds for paying submission fees, we will only list publications that do not charge a reading fee.

We list the name of the journal, the submission deadline, what type of literature they're looking for, and if they are a paying market or not. We encourage going to each website individually to read submission guidelines.




:bulletblue: Publishing Opportunities :bulletblue:

Name of journal: Broken Eye Books
Deadline: June 30th
Media: Fiction
Market: Paying
Website: www.brokeneyebooks.com/submiss…

Name of journal: Organic Lifestyles Magazine
Deadline: Rolling basis
Media: Articles
Market: Paying
Website: www.organiclifestylemagazine.c…

Name of journal: Bare Fiction
Deadline: June 5th
Media: Fiction, poetry, theater
Market: Non-paying
Website: www.barefictionmagazine.co.uk/…

:? What does no simultaneous submissions mean? This journal mentions that they do not accept simultaneous submissions; this means that they are asking you to submit your work only to them and to no one else until they've given you a response.

Name of journal: Track//Four
Deadline: June 6th
Media: Poetry
Market: Non-paying
Website: trackfour.submittable.com/subm…





:bulletred: Our Advice!

While it's definitely tempting to only submit to journals that pay their contributors, it's a slow and tedious process to develop a library of publications that can require making literally hundreds of submissions. We highly recommend submitting to both journals that pay and those that don't, for getting your name out there and having a publication to list on your resume or CV is always worth something.

You may have several pieces published with non-paying journals and though you won't see the money then, there's always the very high possibility that having those publications on your resume will be a key thing discussed at that job interview you're waiting for, or something to highlight in that scholarship application you're working on.

Happy writing and submit with confidence!
More Journal Entries

Recent Journal Entries

Affiliates

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconsmokenmirorjono:
SmokeNmirorJono Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2012  Professional General Artist
( :
Reply
:iconrandimaxis:
Randimaxis Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for accepting my lil' short story! I appreciate your time & interest! Glad to be here! Glad I was noticed! Okay! Nervousness kicking in now! Exclaiming for no reason! YAY! I'll stop now!

*AHEM*

I mean... I'll stop now. Thanks again.
Reply
:iconsovietsparkleparty:
SovietSparkleParty Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
I believe I submitted a deviation to the wrong folder.

I put it in Horror instead of Angst. Honestly, i'm unsure about where it goes.....
Reply
:iconnightmarefalls:
nightmarefalls Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2012  Student General Artist
Hey! I'm really in need of feed back for my story Revelations to know what people think and where to go from her so if someone could look over it that would be great!
Reply
:iconbabypearlie:
BabyPearlie Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Yay! Okay yay! :3 I didn't know how much back story you wanted, but okay. The setting is in Japan, so I won't even bother giving you names cus its confusing. Let's see.. Yeah there was a lot of conflict for the pairings. and omg you're right, I could totally have them all competing for to be her nurse. There's two guys that are in love with her, and one brother. The other guy already had a gf so... And the girls can be totally pissed. Woot.

Pretty much the main story is the main girl surviving her first two years of high school and the fun adventures that go on in the Melody Dorm.In real life, I don't think there are actual music high schools like that lol, it was just a fun idea I came up with.

If you're still bored... What are some fun things that could happen while all the 8 kids go to a fair, like with roller coasters and crap.
Reply
Add a Comment: