#The West Moon Chronicles

[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 10/5

Everybody’s wild and rockin’, wearin’ out their Sunday stockings, doin’ the Werewolf Rock.. 

Saga Vol 10 TP - Brian K. Vaughan & Fiona Staples

TRADE WAITERS, REJOICE!

Canis Dear Hatter GN Vol 1 -  Zakk

After taking him in on that rainy day, the mysterious Ryou now lives with the mad hatter, Kutsuna. With his stellar staff's help, business has been booming. However, one fateful day, Kutsuna's rival and long-time friend Gotou informs him that he has been entered into New York Fashion Week. Initially Kutsuna was hesitant to travel, but over time he steels his resolve. Once in New York, Kutsuna encounters some of Ryou's old acquaintances.

3Keys #1 (of 5) - David Messina

Did the inhabitants of another dimension flee into our reality to save themselves from the terrible wrath of the Great Old Ones...or to help prepare us for a final devastating invasion? And what if humanity's only chance against these Great Old Ones is an impetuous, mischievous young woman and her sardonic, furry, and surprisingly violent mentor?

Air Book One TP - G. Willow Wilson & M. K. Perker

A new edition of the first of four thrilling volumes in this mind-bending, Eisner-nominated series! Acrophobic flight attendant Blythe has just fallen for a mysterious traveler-who may or may not be a terrorist-and she's about to embark on the strangest journey of her life. Searching for him, Blythe will crash-land into a web of technological conspiracies, dark politics and secret organizations. When she learns that she is the only person able to control flight and reality, with science so advanced it might be magic, she'll have to break the rules of time and space for answers.

Dark Ride #1 - Joshua Williamson, Andrei Bressan & Adriano Lucas

WELCOME TO THE SCARIEST PLACE ON EARTH!? Devil Land has been the world's premiere horror-themed amusement park for over 50 years, home to the scariest ride ever created - The Devil's Due.? But when lifelong fan Owen Seasons begins his first day on the job, he will discover the true horrors happening behind the scenes, the truth about the park's reclusive creator Arthur Dante, and that the job of his dreams might just be a living nightmare.

Be Very Afraid Of Kanako Inuki! GN - Inuki Kanako

From the mind of Japan's "queen of horror manga" comes a short story collection sure to put a grin on your face and send a chill down your spine. For more than 30 years, Inuki Kananko has been terrorizing girls and boys with twisted catch-22s and ghoulish monsters. Discover one of the best-kept secrets of global horror with this selection of some of Inuki's most popular short comics. The six hair-raising stories feature an array of unnerving characters and scenarios brought to life in Inuki's signature art style, in the tradition of Junji Ito, Kazuo Umezu, Shintaro Kago, and Junko Mizuno.

The West Moon Chronicles #1 - Frank Jun Kim & Joe Bocardo

The elusive creatures of mud and blood known as the dokkaebi live just off of Route 4 in east Texas, in the ancient pine forest known as the Tanglechase. Joon-Ho, a Korean immigrant with a shadowy past, and his estranged grandson Jae-Sun are the only people in the nearby town of Vane who know the true nature of the dokkaebi. Together, they must figure out what's causing the creatures to turn hostile. Perhaps it has something to do with the interdimensional portal at the heart of the Tanglechase, for it is from here that the past comes knocking, demanding a reckoning from both men.

40 Seconds TP - Jeremy Haun & Christopher Mitten

A science fiction/fantasy adventure about a brave team of science explorers traveling through a series of alien gateways to answer a distress call a galaxy away. They find themselves jumping across the universe through strange and beautiful landscapes only to be hunted by a vast, inexplicably unstoppable and dangerous horde. Amazing truths lie at the final gate. If only they can make it in time . . .

Kaya #1 - Wes Craig

A jam-packed series premiere with 31 gorgeous story pages, plus bonus material and a Jack Kirby-inspired variant cover by DEADLY CLASS co-creator WES CRAIG!

After the destruction of their village, a young girl with a magic arm and a fighting spirit is tasked with delivering her little brother to a faraway safe haven. There, he's destined to discover the secret to overthrowing the all-powerful empire that destroyed their home.

Night Of The Ghoul #1 (of 3) - Scott Snyder & Francesco Francavilla

Shot in 1936, Night of the Ghoul by writer/director T.F. Merritt was meant to sit beside Frankenstein and Dracula as an instant classic . . . But the legendary film never made it to the silver screen. Just before editing was finished, a mysterious studio fire destroyed the footage and killed the cast and crew celebrating at the wrap party. Forest Inman is a horror film obsessive who digitizes old films for the famed Aurora movie studio. When Forest stumbles across a seemingly forgotten canister of footage, he just might have discovered the remnants of the lost classic Night of the Ghoul. This discovery sends Forest on a dark odyssey, where he's warned by a mysterious old man that the film's ghoul is far more than a work of fiction: it's a very real monster who plans to kill him.

Unbreakable Red Sonja #1 - Jim Zub, Giovanni Valletta & Lucio Parrillo

As we head toward the 50th anniversary of the She-Devil With a Sword in 2023, Dynamite Entertainment is proud to present a sweeping story of sword and sorcery and high adventure by writer Jim Zub (Conan the Barbarian, Dungeons & Dragons, Avengers) and artist Giovanni Valletta (John Wick, James Bond)! In this debut issue, Red Sonja carries a hazy vision that lurks just out of reach in her memories. The answer to that mysterious moment will unlock a journey of forbidden magic and searing steel as Sonja's past and present collide in a quest beyond anything our scarlet-haired hero has faced before!  

Revolvers #1 (of 4) - John Zuur Platten, Christian Dibari, & Simon Gough

Hampton Wales, a Detroit homicide detective, finds himself trapped in a mysterious and violent reality, only to find himself dead while attempting to solve a seemingly average and routine homicide. Confronted by an immortal tormenter known as La Piton (the Python), Hampton begins a dark and twisted quest to find out why and how he died. To do so, he must face off against a legion of gun-toting, deceased Revolvers within the Moratorium, a hellish version of Purgatory. Hampton will need to "kill or be killed" to have enough time to unravel his demise and discover it was by his own hand, someone else, or something more sinister.

Leonide The Vampyr: Miracle at The Crow’s Head one shot -  Mike Mignola & Rachele Aragno

A small, coastal village is home to normal people living quiet and simple lives--until a shipwreck brings a small coffin and its smaller occupant into their midst. What begins as a miracle soon takes a turn toward the horrible in this ghostly tale from celebrated Hellboy creator Mike Mignola and artist extraordinaire Rachele Aragno (Mel the Chosen)! The first issue of a new series of stories, Leonide the Vampyr is shiveringly spectacular.  

Imaginary GN Vol 1 -  Niiro Ikuhana

A gorgeously illustrated tale about childhood friends, unrequited love, and the power of imagination! Back when Tasuku was a kid, he harbored a secret: he was in love with his friend Maika. But Maika moved away for school before he could gather his courage and confess. Now, as adults, they've reconnected as friends, and being together brings memories of their shared past rushing back. It was so easy to fantasize about wild things when they were children, but as adults, what are their fantasies now? This inventive and beautifully illustrated romantic drama explores the fantastical moments hiding in the everyday, and how a rich inner life can be a guide to a different future.

Monkey Meat TP - Juni Ba The Monkey Meat company made a fortune selling cans of...well, monkey meat. They're now ruling over a corporate empire and an island where they run all sorts of wacky supernatural experiments in a hyper-capitalist landscape. Follow the adventures of the citizens of Monkey Meat Island in this five-story anthology. Collects MONKEY MEAT #1-5.

Junkyard Joe #1 - Geoff Johns, Gary Frank & Brad Anderson

Throughout history, unlikely and strange heroes have risen and fallen, their identities and lives a secret. But for a Great Evil to be stopped, their stories must be told. They are The Unnamed fighting The Unknown War.

From the explosive pages of GEIGER comes JUNKYARD JOE! The world knows him as the comic strip by cartoonist Muddy Davis, but the truth stretches back to the Vietnam War. This is their story of sacrifice and brotherhood. 

Joe Hill’s Rain TP - Joe Hill, David M. Booher & Zoe Thorogood On a seemingly normal August day in Boulder, Colorado, the skies are clear and Honeysuckle Speck couldn't be happier. She's finally moving in with her girlfriend Yolanda. But their world is literally torn apart when dark clouds roll in and release a downpour of nails-splinters of bright crystal that shred the skin of anyone not safely under cover. RAIN makes vivid this escalating apocalyptic event, as the deluge of nails spreads across the country and around the world, threatening everything young lovers Honeysuckle and Yolanda hold dear.

Whatcha snagging this week, Fantomites? 

[elettralightwood]

The young heroine refused to give up hope—she would ride the very wind to rescue her love from imprisonment.

Clary and Jace if they were in East of the Sun & West of the Moon

- art by Cassandra Jean

[coolcomicbookcovers]

[graphicpolicy]

Scout Comics' The West Moon Chronicle and The Greylock are in development for TV

Scout Comics' The West Moon Chronicle and The Greylock are in development for TV #comics #comicbooks

Scout Comics & Entertainment has partnered with Second Act Entertainment to develop two Scout comics into film and television projects. Scout and Second Act will produce.  In The Greylock, by Eli Shockey and Atagun Ilhan, magic is a commodity. Potions are sold at corner stores, Orcs and Dwarves earn a living in cubicles not battlefields… but there are those who resist the Houses of Magi’s laws.…

[hmar177]

DALLAS WINSTON ONE SHOT <3

******SMUTTTTTTTYYYYY******

I'm not sure when I stopped loving Jack, but I know it crept out of the subconscious of my mind the second I saw that damn photo. I know I shouldn't feel this way, Jack is perfect. He comes from a good family, he's sweet and charming, he gets along with my friends and brings my mom flowers everytime he comes over. He was everything I could have dreamed for myself. He is who I should want. But that damn picture of Dallas Winston.

I wish he had just stayed on his side like he was supposed to.

My predicament started a few months ago when I was walking home from school. I had to stay late after my final class to run over a few plans with the committee for the dance coming up. It was my first dance that I was fully running myself and I was over the moon about it. I loved planning big events like this. My brain worked meticulously over every detail and it was so satisfying watching it all come together.

After I had finished my meeting with Sally and Davis, I found myself taking my normal walk home. It was a beautiful day out. The sun was just low enough in the sky to cast a gentle, warm glow on my face, the leaves left a quiet hum in my ears, and I found myself inhaling the glorious scent of the freshly landscaped houses as if the scent would live forever in my lungs if I breathed deep enough.

As I rounded the last corner before my street, I heard loud screeching coming from behind me. A car full of what seemed to be 4 or 5 rowdy boys came barreling down the street. Blasting loud rock music and howling like a pack of wolves, the boys came up fast. I stopped in place and watched as they came closer. They slowed up ever so slightly as they passed me, giving me a good chance to glance into the vehicle. I didn't recognize them, but I did recognize the driver. Dallas Winston.

With his sunglasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose and a cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth, he held my eyes as he cruised by. I can't tell if I imagined it or not, but I thought I caught a hint of a smirk on his face before he punched the accelerator once more and took off before I could even register the entire exchange. It almost felt like I had just hallucinated that whole sequence.

What were a bunch of greasers doing over here on the west side? Not that I ever had anything against them, I just figured they would want to stay clear of a bunch of privileged, snotty folks who are constantly after their demise.

I had never met Dallas before, but I knew bits and pieces about him. Grew up with a rough homelife, dropped out of school, and even wound up in prison for a while. Everyone in this town saw Dallas and all the greasers as less than. I saw them as kids who just had shit luck when it came to the parents department.

I knew some greasers. There were quite a few in my grade, like Sodapop Curtis. He was one of the sweetest kids I ever met. Had a heart of gold, and a boatload of love for some girl Sandy he always seemed to mention. Soda dropped out a few months ago though after his parents both died tragically in a car accident. Another example of kids with shit luck and no ones around this town to sympathize for them.

Later that night, I found myself sitting at my desk trying to work on my short story. I was assigned by my English teacher to write a short story loosely based on a truly exciting and invigorating time in my life that made me feel alive. The only problem was I have never had an experience in my life that could remotely be described as such.

Everyday, I wake up, go to school, go to event committee meetings, or to my internship at the local newspaper, The Tulsa Chronicles. After all that, I either come home and do homework, or just hangout at the drive in with my friends and my boyfriend Jack. Nothing about my routine is special or interesting. It never changes and I don't see it altering anytime soon. In a town with so little to do, it is quite the tall order to ask us to find something interesting to write about.

I want to be a writer some day, so when I can't complete a simple short story for school, it horrifies me that I may be chasing after a hopeless dream. I intern at the Tulsa Chronicles in hope of it being a good addition to my college applications, but for now I am just helping with the printing and shipping of the papers. One of the editors told me if I had a writing piece that I was proud of, I could pass it along to them and they could give it a read and see if there were any opportunities for me to write something for the paper soon. I was hoping this short story could be that piece that I was proud of, but that is looking like a pipe dream now.

After staring at my blank paper for what feels like hours, I decide tonight is not the night that I am going to find any inspiration, so I turn out the lights and climb into bed. Maybe my dreams will inspire me. Maybe I'll dream of those greasers, flying through neighborhoods and screaming, sounding like they are high on the freedom that life has to offer. I want a taste of what they are having.

The next day is the same as all the other ones, not to anyone's surprise. I woke up, went to school, and made my way over to the Tulsa Chronicles. When I walked in, the newsroom was buzzing much more than normal. In a town as boring as Tulsa, there is not a ton of news to report, so when the newsroom was like this, something major must have happened.

“Rose, get to the printer stat. We need to start loading up these boxes now!” my boss Susan yelled from across the room.

“On it!” I let her know.

As I made my way to the printer, pages were flying out faster than I have ever seen before. This must be a big story if they have the printers working this hard.

Page after page, I watched them stack into a nice pile until the cover page finally flew out.

It read, “Delinquent youths turn heroes after daring fire rescue”

Right next to the title, I saw their faces, Ponyboy Curtis, Johnny Caid, and Dallas Winston.

Pony and Johnny's pictures didn't shock me. Cherry Valance told me a few days ago how sweet and kind they had been to her at the drive in and they always seemed like kind approachable kids. But cherry had also mentioned that Pony and Johnny had protected her from, Dallas Winston

Dallas had always seemed so cold and foreboding. Even his smirk from yesterday's drive by left a chill down my spine. It wasnt that I was afraid of him, but Dallas Winston wasn't someone you just assumed you could become fast friends with. You had to earn his loyalty to be seen with him. His picture being tagged alongside this story seemed extremely out of character. Dallas had his family of greasers and he had himself. There wasn't much else he was looking after. Especially not strangers in some random church fire.

I picked up the front page and looked at it very closely. Part of me didn't want to assume like the rest of this town that this was a mistake, but a bigger part of me couldn't help but think this wasn't true. Dallas Winston saving children he didn't know? Dallas didn't walk by a child in the street without trying to terrify them in some way. Something isn't adding up. Were we all utterly wrong about him? I couldn't help but just stare at his picture, trying to see him run into that burning church. Coming out covered in ash, carrying a couple kids in his arms and placing them down gently before rushing back inside to save more. I felt a twinge in my chest. Something I haven't felt before.

“Rose! Quit daydreaming and pack up those papers. The delivery service will be here in 20 to take those boxes out. They better be filled!” Susan yelled.

“Yes of course.” I replied, suddenly taken out of my temporary, and odd trance.

As I loaded each paper into the boxes, my eyes lingered a little too long on Dallas’s face as each paper piled onto the next. After what must have been hundreds of papers, I “accidentally” misplaced one in my bag sitting next to me. I don't know why I took it. I would surely be getting one of these papers delivered to my house within the next day or so, but part of me wanted to just have this for me. I also didn't want to explain to my dad why I needed his morning paper, the one I had helped package and ship out and have had access to for over a day.

After loading the last box and as a sudden calmness came over the newsroom, it was finally time to head home. I grabbed my bag, making sure the paper was tucked in enough so that it wouldn't be seen, said goodnight to the staff, and made my way out.

As I walked out of the building, I looked up to see Jack leaned up against his shiny new sports car that his parents just bought him as a good job for making the basketball team present. It sounds ridiculous and it is ridiculous. When you come from money like Jack's family, there are very few occasions that don't involve an illustrious gift such as the sports car he now leans against.

I say all this with complete understanding that I come from a family very similar to Jacks. I am privileged and I know that, but I don't see that as a reason to act any differently towards others. Why should the number that's on my fathers paychecks determine whether I am a better person than others? It doesn't. But people like Jack feel that it does. But Jack makes me smile, and my mother hasn't shut up about those lilies he brought her this past weekend when he was over for dinner. Who could hate Jack, right?

“Hey there honey. How was the journalism world today?” Jack says with a smile as he opens the passenger side door for me to get in. Jack picks me up whenever he's in the area and he knows I'm here. It's very sweet of him. Another reason to love him, right?

“Busy. There was a big story today so there were a lot more papers to print and ship.” I told him.

“Really! What was the story?” He asked.

I hesitated for a second.

“Oh I don't remember. I didn't really get a chance to read it. Too busy getting them into boxes.” I explained. I don't know why I lied. I think a part of me felt guilty about the things I felt and thought as I looked at Dallas’s picture the past few hours and another part of me wanted to keep Dallas to myself for a bit longer because by morning everyone would be talking about him. More people would be picturing him as this grand hero, and I still wanted to be the only one who saw him that way.

The rest of the ride, we sat in comfortable silence. That was the best way to describe me and Jack's relationship. Comfortable. Our parents set us up freshman year of highschool and we fell into the narrative with ease. He was cute and popular. It made sense why I should want him, so I convinced myself I did. And it worked for a while. A long while now. But as we come towards the midway point of Junior year, I'm not too sure how much longer I can convince myself that Jack is what I want. But what would be my reason for leaving him? He was too nice to my parents? He made one too many jokes that made all my friends laugh? He was too popular? Too athletic? On paper he was perfect. Trying to tell anyone that my time with Jack was coming to an end would make me sound like the biggest fool. So I just stayed. There was no reason to leave, even though I wanted there to be so badly.

We pulled up to the front of my house and he came around and opened my door. I thanked him and looked up to my house. The big, beautiful white home sat on top of the hill at the top of my street with a huge porch that wrapped around the whole house, and perfectly painted blue shutters. It was truly out of a magazine and I was eternally grateful for being able to be raised in a home as beautiful as this one. The dining room light shined bright and I knew my parents were in there waiting for me to arrive so we could have dinner as a family. Jack took my hand and walked me to the door. My mother opened it as we took the final step onto the porch.

“Jack!’ My mother said, “How kind of you to bring Rose home. Won't you come in and join us for dinner.”

A pit immediately formed in my stomach.

“I'd love-” Jack started before I cut him off.

“I'm actually not feeling very well so I think I am just gonna go to bed.” I quickly sputtered out. Facing Jack I said, “Maybe another night.”

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before rushing up the stairs and straight into my room before anyone else could say anything. That was definitely rude of me, but the thought of having to sit next to Jack for the next hour, knowing I smuggled home a paper with the only intention of staring at the man on the cover made me extremely nauseous. I may not feel for Jack the way I used to, but I wouldn't be disrespectful, and if I was gonna be disrespectful, I wasn't gonna allow him to eat dinner with me and my family as if everything was fine and dandy.

I sat down on my bed and immediately removed the paper from my bag. It wasn't often that I had strange outbursts such as the one I just had downstairs, so I knew my parents would leave me be for a while. I took the paper, and got comfortable. Reading the entire article front and back and learning that what the title states was indeed true, I took the cover and discarded the rest of the pages. Holding Dallas’s picture up, I thought about the words in the article and how they described the man I was looking at. Bold. Courageous. Brave. Not words I would initially think of when I heard the name Dallas Winston.

His face held hard lines in his jaw and forehead. He had strong dark features and striking eyes. He was beautiful in a rugged and tired way. A way that you never see here in the west side neighborhoods. I was mesmerized by his stern stare. I wanted to know everything about him and I wanted to know it now. I wanted to spend a day with him and learn what it took to earn his trust. To earn a glance from those haunting eyes. The way he looked at me as he rode past me in his car yesterday felt like a shot of espresso. It jolted something awake inside of me. I needed another hit. I craved it.

Before I could comprehend what I was doing, my body was up and at my desk. I was opening my drawer and pulling out a pair of scissors. I slowly and carefully cut around his face making sure not to accidentally trim anything important off, because truthfully it was all important. He was important and I needed to know why.

I held the small picture of Dallas Winston between my fingers, holding as close to the edge as possible, with fear I might smudge it, and I grabbed a piece of tape. Walking over to my bed, I taped the picture on my wall right next to where my head lays when I sleep. I could hide it during the day behind my pillows when I made my bed. It was just for me. He was my new interest. He was my excitement that I had been looking for, I just had to find a way to make these little daydreams something real. As I crawled into bed with the image of dark raven eyes flashing through my mind, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, Jack, my parents, and Tulsa all feeling like a distant memory rather than my reality.

It could have been 3 hours or 3 minutes, but before I knew it, I was woken up by the sound of my desk lamp falling to the ground and a soft breeze coming from my window that I was sure was closed when I got into bed. I shot up like an arrow and reached for the lamp on my bedside table, flicking it on as fast as I could. As the light flooded the room, I was immediately met with the eyes I saw as I lulled myself to sleep. I had to be imagining him right? Dallas Winston stood right there in the middle of my bedroom, standing at least 6 foot 2, drowning in his leather jacket, with his signature blue jeans, and a black eye that was shining through even in the dim lighting.

“Dallas?” I began before he ran over to my bed and clasped his hand around my mouth and the other one slid behind my head keeping me quiet and still.

Slowly he shook his head as if to tell me, now is not a time for talking. I assumed he was scared my parents would hear him, which I am now realizing never even crossed my mind. My parents would lose their minds if they strolled into my room right now to find a greaser, Dallas Winston worst of all, standing in my bedroom at, I flashed my eyes to my clock, 2am. But my parents never even entered my head, nothing really entered my head. Not fear, not my parents, not jack. All I could think about was that incredible shot of adrenaline I felt when I saw him, and coming up with a plan to make him stay as long as possible so I didn't have to stop this feeling.

All of a sudden I heard sirens, and red and blue lights flash past the house at a high speed. I looked up at Dallas who was looking out the window to make sure the coast was clear. His hands were still firmly placed around my head. I studied his face while he wasn't paying attention to me, just as I was doing last night. But this was ten times better. The picture didn't do him justice. He was gorgeous. A light sheen of sweat coated his forehead from running I assumed, and his hair drooped gently in front of his eyes, giving him a rugged elvis look. I could stare at him for hours and not get bored for a second.

Once he saw that he was in the clear, he slowly brought his attention back to me. He studied my face for a second, a small shimmer of something in his eyes but I don't know what it was. After a moment he brought his eyes around my room, studying the pictures and posters on my walls that I'm sure I'll be embarrassed about later, to the books on my nightstand, and with another flick of his gaze, he was locked in on something behind me. He stared long and hard and I couldn't think of what it could be. He slowly came inclose, his lips right next to my ear.

“Well I'll be damned. Looks like I have a fan.” He whispered, his warm breath hitting my neck.

My eyes widened, the picture. Dallas WInston was looking at the picture of him I cut out and taped next to my bed.

“Now tell me darling, if I remove my hands, can you stay quiet and not let anyone know I am here? Because I do have a few questions about this I'd like to ask.” He said quietly with a shit eating grin on his face, so good, that it could seduce the Queen of England.

I slowly nod. Why am I not terrified right now? A known felon is standing in my room right now in the middle of the night. He snuck in my window in an attempt to run from the cops. I am harboring a criminal right now as we speak and all I can think about is how I can end things with Jack so that this lasts forever.

“Good Girl.” He says softly, then slowly takes his hands off my mouth, immediately missing the feel of his touch. God I was so fucked.

He pulled over my desk chair and took a seat right in front of me, our knees almost touching. He held the picture between his fingers looking at it, then up to me.

“So tell me, what's a nice girl like you doing hanging up pictures of bad Dallas Winston on her pretty pink bedroom walls?” He asks.

I think I stopped breathing. What was I supposed to say? There was no real explanation for why I hung up the picture other than I was chasing a feeling I couldn't even name. I stared blankly trying to say anything, trying to think of something to say that would make him as interested in me as I was in him.

“Well?” He pushed after I sat there stunned for I don't even know how long.

“Uhh, I, Uh….. I think I want to feel what you feel.” I said. Shit. That didn't even make any sense. He for sure thought I was crazy. He looked at me puzzled.

“Honey, the last thing you want is to feel what I feel.” He gave a small laugh that created small needles in the back of my throat and moved to get up.

“I want to feel alive. I want to be reckless and have fun. You have fun, don't you?” I said quickly, anything coming out of my mouth was just a hidden plea for him to stay.

He stopped in his tracks, and looked back over to me. The moon casting a soft glow on his hard features. The shimmer in his eyes came back for a second. He slowly sat back down.

“Oh, I have fun. But the kind of fun I have would give a soc like you nightmares.” He said with venom on his tongue. I couldn't tell if he was threatening me or daring me to push him more.

“Show me.” I whispered. Dally smirked at me pondering my dare for a split second, before he slid his switchblade knife out of his pocket and softly dragged the blade from my fingertips, up my arm, and across my collar bone. Every hair on my body stood straight up. My breath hitched ever so slightly and he moved the blade to my neck and held it there.

Part of me was truly scared, and another part of me felt that there was something a bit performative too. Dallas Winston wasn't going to hurt me. I knew that for a fact. He leaned in close, taking a strand of my hair in his other hand, and brought his lips to my ear.

“Are you having fun yet?” He said. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the smirk in his words.

I backed away so I could meet his eyes. A fire raged behind them. I would give anything to look inside his brain, even for just a moment. I smiled at him and I could see the excitement grow. I don't know why, but I liked what was happening. I liked the uncertainty of what he was going to say and do, and I liked that I trusted him for no reason at all.

“I think I like you more than I should.” I say. I don't know why I said that. I wasn't even embarrassed that I did. It was like being close to him unlocked a new version of myself that I didn't know existed. A version of myself that had confidence and a desire to push the limits. I felt alive.

“Do you like me more than your boyfriend?” He grinned.

“Do you want me to?” I challenged. He grinned and his gaze flicked down to my lips for a moment before it returned to my eyes. The knife at my throat is all but forgotten.

“Let's make a deal. If I can kiss better than a soc, you have to go out with me.” He said.

“And if you can't?” I said, barely a whisper.

“Oh honey, there are very few things I can't do.” He said leaning in and attaching his lips to mine. I felt the knife hit the bed next to me as I melted into his kiss and his hands wrapping around my face.

It was soft and slow for all but a moment, before I knew it he was laying me down on the bed and forcing his tongue into my mouth. I guess it wasn't forcing it, more like me waiting for it and craving it.

My hands roamed his body, feeling his toned muscles through his thin black tee shirt. I slid his leather jacket off, as his hands found their way under my shirt. He planted his hand on my stomach and pushed me down to the mattress keeping me in place. A breeze gently floated in from the window, and it made me hyper aware of the slickness that was now coating my thighs.

His mouth moved to my cheek and then to my neck. I clasp one of my hands over my mouth to muffle my moans. He placed his thigh between my legs allowing me to move my hips to get some relief.

God what was I doing? How did it come to me grinding on Dallas Winston in my bed at 2 in the morning. I couldn't bring myself to stop though. It was all too much. Too good.

“How am I doing sweetheart?” He said in my ear before he brought his face back up to look me in the eyes. “I think the tears in your eyes are telling me that I'm gonna see you tomorrow night.”

I moaned into his shoulder, as I felt his hand trail down my abdomen and underneath my waistband. He teased there for a moment, smirking down at me waiting for me to stop him, but there was no way in hell I wanted this to ever end. I gave him a quick nod before he cupped me over my underwear. He quickly covered my mouth with his own as he knew I was about to moan. He chuckled softly into the kiss.

“My God Dallas. Oh my god” I moaned into his mouth.

“I am a God, aren't I?” He growled before sliding his fingers underneath my underwear and inside of me. The pleasure was so overwhelming, that I bit into his shoulder to stop myself from crying out. He groaned from the pain, but I knew he liked it.

As his fingers pumped in and out of me, he slowly started to grind himself into my hip. He was hard. I felt him poking through his tight jeans, begging to be let out.

“Dallas. I want you.” I begged. I need more of him. I need him closer.

He removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty. I looked up at him and he immediately placed his fingers into his mouth, sucking me off of them. I let out a moan. He was trailing kisses down my chest, then my stomach, never taking his eyes off of me.

“I know baby, I know. Not yet though.” He assured me. “I just need a little taste first.”

He grabbed the waistband of my shorts and my underwear and slowly pulled them down, never stopping his trail of kisses that now led down my leg.

“So beautiful.” He whispered to himself as he was now eye level with my core. “Spread your legs for me baby.” I do what I'm told. “That's it. Good Girl. Now lay back and let me worship you.”

Dallas wastes absolutely no time diving right in and taking all of me into his mouth. He licks from top to bottom and back again before taking my clit into his mouth and sucking. “So sweet.” He moans into me.

I have to grab the pillow on my bed and cover my face because the scream I almost let out would have surely woken up the entire neighborhood. Dallas’s name on the tip of my tongue. The name about to escape with every moan that shoots through me, which would not only let the town know I was in the middle of the most erotic moment of my life, but also it was Dallas Winston that was buried between my legs.

I feel one of Dallas’s hands remove from my thigh and I look down to see what he was doing. I look down to see Dallas’s mouth still attached to my clit, but his eyes boring into mine with the most seductive look I have ever seen in my life. Without ever looking away from me, Dallas removes his mouth, now just an inch away from me, and takes a little gold foil packet out of his pocket and takes it straight to his mouth. He rips the foil open with his teeth and slides the condom out.

He stands up. His 6 foot 2, god-like stance, looming over me, made me feel so small and helpless on my bed. God, I wish I could be a fly on the wall right now, wanting to see what I might look like. My shirt pushed up, shorts and underwear thrown about the room somewhere, My hair probably a mess, and tears staining my face as Dallas Winston stands over me, slowly unbuckling his belt.

He smirks down at me and he pulls his pants and boxers down, revealing his erection and my god it was big. I honestly didn't know if it was gonna fit inside of me. Right on cue, as if he could read my mind, Dallas says, “Don't be scared darling, you can handle it.”

He goes to put on the condom, but I sit up quickly, grabbing his hand, stopping him. “Can I do it?” I ask him. He looks down at me with hooded eyes and a smirk that could kill.

“Fuck yeah you can.” he says in a breathy tone as he hands me the condom. I take the condom out of his hand and hesitantly grab his dick. A low grumble comes from his throat as I give it a little pump before rolling on the condom.

The second it's on, he pushes me on my back, and comes down on top of me. He starts to position himself at my entrance and looks me in the eyes. “Baby, as much as I want this to last forever, I'm not gonna last very long.” He leans in kissing me hard and chuckles against my lips and I smile at his words. Yeah, me neither.

I take a deep breath and he thrusts inside of me. I clasp my arms around his neck and hug him as close to me as possible. He is big and it hurts so good. I bite into his shoulder again trying to distract myself from the pain, but also from the fact that my orgasm is seconds away and he just got inside of me.

He whimpers in my ear as I kiss his neck profusely. He finds a steady pace that has me borderline drooling. “God Dallas, don't stop. It feels so good.” I barely get out because I can barely catch my breath. I shoot one of my hands out and feel something sharp hit my finger. I look down to see Dallas’s knife still sitting next to us on the bed. It must have nicked my finger. Before I can register what's happened, Dallas takes my bloodied finger and sucks it into his mouth while holding my gaze. His eyes were hooded, and looking drunk off sex.

“Come for me baby. Come on. I know you're there. Show me how good I make you feel.” He begs me. Between his words, and my finger in his mouth, I'm there in a second. Burying my face into his neck, my orgasm rips through me harder than it ever has before. My nails digging into his bicep and a drip of sweat going down my forehead. Dallas still thrusts into me hard and fast for a moment more before he takes my lips into his and I feel his dick twitch as he spills into the condom.

He lays on top of me, breathing heavily in my ear for what feels like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. He slowly removed himself from me, then pushed up so he was hovering over me again. He smiled down at me as I grabbed his face with my hands, pulling him down to kiss me. His kiss was so gentle, the word love flew through my head, but it was only a fraction of a thought.

I brushed my finger over his cheek bone, before noticing my finger was still bleeding. I brought it to my face, inspecting the cut. It wasn't deep at all. Just a knick. Dallas took my finger to his lips and planted a soft kiss to the cut. Adab of blood coating his lip, only for a second before he licked it off.

“What time are you free tomorrow?” He asks as he nuzzles his face into my neck, no doubt leaving more hickeys.

“Maybe around 7?” I told him. “I just have to go break up with Jack, and then I'm all yours.” I giggled lightly. He came back up and looked at me with the most serious expression I saw all night.

“All mine.” He smiled.

***hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!!! DALLAS WINSTON I LOVE YOU***

[liveinfarbe]

Adar and Galadriel reminiscing about their Beleriand days…

These are clips from episode 4 and 7 of season 1. Notice the knife/dagger-parallel.

I've been researching the Silmarillion a little bit, because I think it gives hints about time and place in Adar's flashback account. This got lengthy. I write about the questionable Moriondor assumption by Galadriel and the esteem for flowers, blossoms, willows, glades in the lives of Galadriel and Celeborn, in Beleriand and beyond, and a possible path for hope, forgiveness and growth after trauma, that would lie in a dark Celeborn meets dark Galadriel story: Adar informs Arondir that he's been young in Beleriand once and used to walk down the banks of the Sirion river for miles and miles. He noticed sage blossoms, apparently liked the view, because it left a lasting impression. What I get from this (given the cosmology of that world is actual history and not just mythical) is that it must've happened after the sun and the moon appeared and pulled Middle-Earth out of its darkness, or else there wouldn’t be miles of sage blossoming. It thrives in full sunlight. This puts the account at the end of the First Age, after the Years of the Trees. Interestingly, this is after the "creation" of the Orcs by Morgoth.

Whatever bond and similarity Adar has with the Uruks, he’s apparently not one of those Moriondor that Galadriel talked about to him. I assume the Moriondor concept reflects Tolkien’s idea (he had several) that elves were captured by Morgoth after their awakening in Cuiviénen under the starlight and before Oromë found them and then got corrupted and twisted and thus became the first Uruks. While Adar shares certain physical traits with them, he can’t be one of those first Uruks, because 1.) he lived far in the West, in Beleriand, 2.) the sun had risen, 3.) he’s lived among elves that spoke Sindarin and Quenya, since he speaks it too and not some Avari language, though he could've learned all that in Angband during idle hours, I don't know, he learned black speech too. Anyway, the first mentions of Orcs roaming Beleriand is in Y.T. (Years of the Trees) 1330, but Melkor (at this point in time he's not yet given the name Morgoth by Fëanor) is incarcerated in Valinor. Sauron is in Beleriand though, hiding out in Angband, waiting for Melkor's return, "breeding" Orcs apparently, because their numbers grow and they "roam" Beleriand. This is 200 Valian years before the sun. I'm no loremaster, but I know this is a long time. At this point and later, Adar is still, as he describes himself, young. So Orcs were breathing living creatures before that elf-man became Adar. "Young" I see as meaning before he got captured and tortured and then brainwashed by Sauron as part of the “13 of us” (ep. 2x2).

So something doesn't add up, and Adar implies that in his interaction with Arondir in ep. 1x4. Are the tales of Moriondor a widely spread myth created by Elves, since all accounts about Orcs mostly stem from Elvish chroniclers? Maybe this is what Adar hints at. He says to Arondir

“You have been told many lies. Some run so deep even the rocks and roots believe them. To untangle it all would all but require the creation of a new world.”

He thinks only gods can do that, and he ain’t one…yet. Unlike Morgoth who raised mountains, or other Valar whose wrath sank a whole landmass like Beleriand, and later Númenor. He's just doing what he must, realizing Morgoth's terraforming plan and resettling the Uruks so they can live freely.

The "many lies" that he mentions are reflected in the things that Galadriel - who’s famous as "the scourge of the Orcs", even in Númenor - says to him when she interrogates him in episode 1x6. She’s full of hate and delivers a truly genocidal speech to him that shocks herself in the aftermath. (She acknowledges that somewhat self-critically to Theo in ep. 1x7, and it might be one of the reasons she rejects Sauron's offer later)

The truth about Adar's origin story isn't yet revealed. I think it will be, because the writers put some effort in it, dropped cues and hints in excellent dialogue and made him a multilayered character. Finally, let’s come back to the flowers and blossom mentions in the clips above because they could very nicely tie back to Galadriel and Celeborn in Beleriand and beyond. Adar says he “went down that river once”. Let’s see, if he, for example, came from Doriath and went down the Sirion towards its mouth and saw a lush amount of flowers blossom, he could have come through a region called Nan-Tathren or Tarsarinan that is literally called Valley of the willows. Possibly the home to Galadriel’s “glades of flowers” she danced in.

Why would she dance there and not in Doriath? I don't know, but there's a clear hint that she was in that region and even made meaningful personal connections there. With Ents. And Celeborn, too. Tarsarinan, Valley of the willows, means something to the couple and Treebard, as mentioned in a passage in The Lord of the Rings. The memories of Celeborn, Galadriel and Treebard of that place are intimately entangled.

Then Treebeard said farewell to each of them in turn, and he bowed three times slowly and with great reverence to Celeborn and Galadriel. ‘It is long, long since we met by stock or by stone, A vanimar, vanimálion nostari!’ he said. 'It is sad that we should meet only thus at the ending. For the world is changing: I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, and I smell it in the air. I do not think we shall meet again.' And Celeborn said: 'I do not know, Eldest.' But Galadriel said: 'Not in Middle-earth, nor until the lands that lie under the wave are lifted up again. Then in the willow-meads of Tasarinan we may meet in the Spring. Farewell!

“Many Partings” - The Return Of The King - LOTR - J.R.R. Tolkien

Okay… 1.) Treebard's “It is long, long since we met by stock or by stone” sounds a lot like Adar’s words to Arondir "even the rocks and the roots believe them", 2.) A vanimar, vanimálion nostari! is translated as "Oh, beautiful ones, parents of beautiful children"

That last point reminds of Adar's relationship to the Uruks and the rhetoric surrounding it: Adar whose name translates as "father" calls the Uruks "my children", "my sons and daughters", main difference is that they’re not that beautiful, neither is he — but that lies in the eye of the beholder. Does Adar imply the propaganda about Uruks is so pervading that even the eldest Ents believe them? Possibly his old friend Treebard… ?

I mean he's certainly wreaked havoc in the woods, forced the felling of trees, displaying not much respect for the Ents. On the other hand, Adar is shown planting Alfirin seeds, that grow into flowers. He's still very Elvish, full of respect and longing for "new life, in defiance of death".

Finally… Lothlórien, Galadriel and Celeborn's later safe space, is literally meaning "Lórien of the Blossom". Treebard calls it "Dreamflower".

With all that cherishing of flowers - I think even his chain mail shirt displays flowery ornaments - could Adar be Celeborn in a rather depressing and long-lasting dark phase of his life in ROP? Explaining where he’s been all that time since she last mocked him as a “silver clam”? And if he is not, wouldn’t that be a really good story if he was? Adar doing the work could be an arc about hope and the possibility of healing and changing — it’s what Galadriel needs, too, in the long run.

At this point she’s confused and hurting after the betrayal by Sauron, because she liked him more than anyone in ages, but also because she had to witness herself being unreliable and, frankly, unwise. Yes, she’s vindicated for having always been right about Sauron, but the way she went about it fills her with shame, it’s gnawing at her, not primarily because of wounded pride, I believe, but out of compassion for the victims of her actions. Not unlike Míriel after her return to Númenor. It begs the question to them both if it was all needless, if there really is a greater good in what's unfolding now? At this point in the narrative, the Númenorian intervention that Galadriel pressed for must feel like a Pyrrhic victory with grave consequences and implications for the future of Middle-Earth as well as Númenor. It has caused immense trouble and pain already to many other people that Galadriel gave Sauron a clap on the back and an army. She still has to fully confront herself about that, she's still vulnerable to the darkness inside her, because she's hurting. She has Elrond to help and guard her, but other than that, who's there for her? I mean, in the end she has to accept that it's not her who can slay Sauron, she needs to come to that understanding. It's a battle within herself she hasn't yet had the courage to take up because she still can't face her lingering grief at this point in any other way than turning it into anger.

[christophernolan]

Fantasy books by female authors that deserve more praise and recognition and are so SO MUCH better than whatever SJM writes.

The Sun Sword series | Michelle West

A hundred thousand kingdoms | NK Jemisin

The killing Moon | NK Jemisin

An ember in the Ashes | Sabaa Tahir

Shatter Me | Taherah Mafi

Furyborn | Claire Legrand

The bone season | Samantha Shannon

Darker shade of Magic | VE Schwab

The invisible life of Addie LaRue | VE Schwab

Realm of the Elderlings | Robin Hobbs

Sands of Arawiya | Hafsah Faizal

The Daevabad Trilogy | SA Chakraborty

Year of the Reaper | Makiia Lucier

The bear and the Nightingale | Katherine Arden

The Night Circus | Erin Morgenstern

Descendent of the Crane | Joan He

The bridge Kingdom | Danielle Jensen

Dark Shores | Danielle Jensen

Falling Kingdoms | Morgan Rhodes

Range of Ghosts | Elizabeth Bear

Children of blood and Bone | Tomi Adeyemi

The Wrath and the Dawn | Renee Ahdieh

Lumatere Chronicles | Melina Marchetta

The Alchemists of Loom | Elise Kova

[wc-confessions]

Hello, it’s xenofic recs anon again! Please check this link for the previous list; there’s a lot of books here: https://www.tumblr.com/wc-confessions/753648281346801664/heres-a-rapid-fire-list-of-non-warriors?source=share.

I made an error with The Secret of NIMH, it’s a trilogy, not a single book! I learned that Silverwing has a TV show, too. I’m also changing my method to save time. If a novel interests you, I suggest searching it up.

In exchange, I’ll clarify my goal in sending these recommendations. I do it because I want xenofiction to grow. I want people to realize there are plenty of series out there. If you end up liking a series more than Warriors, good for you! If you end up disliking a series more than Warriors, good for you! I want to invite constructive discussions surrounding xenofiction as a whole. You aren’t better for not reading Warriors just like how you aren’t better for reading only Warriors. These asks come from a love of xenofiction and wanting to spread the word. I am in no way attempting to show malice towards Warriors or uncritical favoritism towards the series I list. 

The Guardian Herd series by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez.

The Gryphon Insurrection series by K. Vale Nagle.

The Council of Cats by R. J. F.

Swordbird series by Nancy Yi Fan.

Strong Hearts are Mandatory series by Teelia Pelletier. Hey, did you know the song Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles? Throw some cats in there!

Hunter’s Moon: A Story of Foxes by Garry Kilworth.

Darkeye series by Lydia West.

Prehistoria: The Raptor’s Tail by Jack Blackburn. One book but seemingly a future series.

Raven Quest by Sharon Stewart.

The Tales from Veynekan series by Fiona Jade Thornburg.

The Dogs of the Spires series by Ethan Summers.

Skytalons series, The Wolves of Elementia series, and Griffin Quest series by Sophie Torro. Fun fact: the author used to be Warriors Unlimited, and she published her first book, Cornelius’ Curse, at 16!

The Wildings series by Nilanjana Roy.

War Bunny Chronicles series by Christopher St. John. 

Hunters Universe series, more commonly known as Hunters Unlucky, by Abigail Hilton.

This is all I have for now. To cap this off, I want to give a shout-out to @/drive-pdfs-and-stuff. They have resources for those who are unable to pay for novels. I’ll appear again when I have more to show!

‎

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌙 Ramadan Mubarak - Books ft. Muslims

🦇 Good morning, my beautiful bookish bats. To celebrate this Islamic holy month, here are a FEW books featuring Muslim characters. I hope you consider adding a few to your TBR.

❓What was the last book you read that taught you something new OR what's at the top of your TBR?

🌙 A Woman is No Man - Etaf Rum 🌙 Amal Unbound - Aisha Saeed 🌙 Love From A to Z - S.K. Ali 🌙 Hana Khan Carries On - Uzma Jalaluddin 🌙 Yes No Maybe So - Becky Albertalli and Aisha Saeed 🌙 Evil Eye - Etaf Rum 🌙 I Am Malala - Malala Yousafzai 🌙 Exit West - Mohsin Hamid 🌙 Written in the Stars - Aisha Saeed 🌙 The Night Diary - Veera Hiranandani 🌙 Much Ado About Nada - Uzma Jalaluddin 🌙 The Eid Gift - S.K. Ali 🌙 More Than Just a Pretty Face - Syed M. Masood 🌙 Yusuf Azeem Is Not a Hero - Saadia Faruqi 🌙 If You Could Be Mine by Sara Farizan 🌙 Snow - Orhan Pamuk 🌙 Sofia Khan Is Not Obliged - Ayisha Malik 🌙 The Proudest Blue by Ibtihaj Muhammad 🌙 And I Darken - Kiersten White 🌙 The Last White Man - Mohsin Hamid

🌙 Hijab Butch Blues - Lamya H 🌙 The Bad Muslim Discount - Syed M. Masood 🌙 Ms. Marvel - G. Willow Wilson 🌙 Love from Mecca to Medina - S.K. Ali 🌙 The City of Brass - S.A. Chakraborty 🌙 The Love Match by Priyanka Taslim 🌙 A Map of Home by Randa Jarrar 🌙 A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi 🌙 An Emotion of Great Delight by Tahereh Mafi 🌙 The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali by Sabina Khan 🌙 The Moor’s Account - Laila Lalami 🌙 Only This Beautiful Moment by Abdi Nazemian 🌙 Salt Houses by Hala Alyan 🌙 When a Brown Girl Flees by Aamna Quershi 🌙 Jasmine Falling by Shereen Malherbe 🌙 Between Two Moons by Aisha Abdel Gawad 🌙 Sea Prayer by Khaled Hosseini 🌙 A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini 🌙 The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini 🌙 Unmarriageable by Soniah Kamal

🌙 Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie 🌙 All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir 🌙 The Bohemians by Jasmin Darznik 🌙 Ayesha at Last by Uzma Jalaluddin 🌙 A Case of Exploding Mangoes by Mohammed Hanif 🌙 Chronicle of a Last Summer by Yasmine El Rashidi 🌙 A Girl Like That by Tanaz Bhathena 🌙 Other Words for Home by Jasmine Warga 🌙 The Mismatch by Sara Jafari 🌙 Does My Head Look Big In This? by Randa Abdel-Fattah 🌙 You Truly Assumed by Laila Sabreen 🌙 Saints and Misfits by S.K. Ali 🌙 Once Upon an Eid - S.K. Ali and Aisha Saeed 🌙 Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel by Sara Farizan 🌙 Alif the Unseen by G. Willow Wilson 🌙 The Henna Wars by Adiba Jaigirdar 🌙 A Show for Two by Tashie Bhuiyan 🌙 Nayra and the Djinn by Michael Berry 🌙 All-American Muslim Girl by Lucinda Dyer 🌙 It All Comes Back to You by Farah Naz Rishi

🌙 The Marvelous Mirza Girls by Sheba Karim 🌙 Salaam, with Love by Sara Sharaf Beg 🌙 Queen of the Tiles by Hanna Alkaf 🌙 How It All Blew Up by Arvin Ahmadi 🌙 Zara Hossain Is Here by Sabina Khan 🌙 Punching the Air by Ibi Zoboi & Yusef Salaam 🌙 She Wore Red Trainers by Na'ima B. Robert 🌙 Hollow Fires by Lucinda Dyer 🌙 Internment by Samira Ahmed 🌙 Against the Loveless World by Susan Abulhawa 🌙 Love in a Headscarf - Shelina Zahra Janmohamed 🌙 Courting Samira by Amal Awad 🌙 The Other Half of Happiness by Ayisha Malik 🌙 Huda F Are You? by Huda Fahmy 🌙 Love, Hate & Other Filters by Samira Ahmed 🌙 Mad, Bad & Dangerous to Know by Samira Ahmed 🌙 Muslim Girls Rise - Saira Mir and Aaliya Jaleel 🌙 Amira & Hamza - Samira Ahmed 🌙 The Weight of Our Sky by Hanna Alkaf 🌙 Nura and the Immortal Palace by M.T. Khan

🌙 As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow by Zoulfa Katouh 🌙 Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan 🌙 Zachary Ying and the Dragon Emperor by Xiran Jay Zhao 🌙 The Yard - Aliyyah Eniath 🌙 When We Were Sisters by Fatimah Asghar 🌙 The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty 🌙 Maya's Laws of Love by Alina Khawaja 🌙 The Chai Factor by Farah Heron 🌙 The Beauty of Your Face - Sahar Mustafah 🌙 Hope Ablaze by Sarah Mughal Rana

[ellstersmash]

the beach house: chapter 3

contact

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Pairing: Mason x Theo West Rating: T for Teen (flashback to Murphy event, language) Words: 2,639 [Read on Ao3] Unit Bravo take to the beach to recruit some merfolk. Theo earns her keep and Mason proves Adam wrong. | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Theo wakes to a soft knock on the door, her cheek hot and a little sticky as she peels it off Mason’s chest.

Nate pops his head in and drops Mason’s bag just inside, eyes averted. “Adam has spotted signs of the merfolk a few miles down the coast. You two should get dressed and join us—unless you’d prefer to spend the entire mission in here, of course.”

Theo stretches and pretends to consider it, but Mason rolls out from under her. “Thanks, Nate,” he says. “We’ll be right there.”

Right there is a bit optimistic, considering they both need to wash up again. With a little water and a comb, Theo tames her hair into something resembling a braid, and throws on the first thing she yanks from her bag. It’s a sundress, but it’s comfortable, and if she’s remembering correctly, plans A through C do not involve fighting. Besides, she can kick ass in a dress if she has to—that is, if merfolk even have asses. Do fish? She makes a note to look it up later.

Nate, Mason, and Felix are waiting for her in the living room.

“Ooh, pretty,” Felix croons and slings an arm around her shoulder. “You dressing up for me, Agent West Jr.? Or maybe someone else…?”

“Someone else,” Theo says. “Adam won’t know what hit him. Where’s our guy?”

“Outside,” Nate says, while Felix mimes a dagger twist to his heart and throws himself dramatically against the wall. “We don’t know how quickly they’re moving or if they will choose to make contact.”

“Or if they even know we’re here,” Felix adds.

Mason shrugs and heads out the door. “Time to find out.”

It’s still dark outside, but the clouds have dissipated, allowing the moon to cast a silver glow that glitters across the waves. And it’s cooler than before, Theo notes with a shiver. She spots Adam standing near the shore, arms crossed and shoulders tense.

“We should spread out,” he says as they reach him. “They will likely realize what we are as they draw near and are unlikely to approach us as a group. We will also have a better chance of spotting them from multiple vantage points.”

Nate nods his agreement. “I’ll head north,” he says before striding off.

Adam turns to Mason. “If I send you and Theo south, can I trust you to both keep her safe and complete the mission?”

A thick tension rises between the two, Mason glaring at their leader as Adam holds his hard gaze, unflinching as ever. Theo resists the urge to shrink back, feeling very much like a child fallen in a lion enclosure near mealtime.

“Why the fuck would you ask me that?”

“I am asking about your priorities because you abandoned your watch early—”

“By four minutes.” Theo interjects, and Adam turns his disapproval her way.

“Yes, after he spent who knows how long distracted from his responsibilities.”

“That’s bullshit,” Mason says. “I can multitask just fine and you know that.”

Felix warily steps in. “Adam, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“Of course we’ll be fine, and of course we’ll do our goddamn jobs.” Mason stalks off, clearly still fuming. “Let’s go.”

Theo shoots Felix a grateful smile, then shoves her hands in her pockets and hurries to catch up and keep pace. They walk down the beach in a charged silence, smothered by the sound of the wind and the sea. Occasionally, Theo casts her eyes across the water’s surface, squinting at every odd shape and shadow, which all turn out to be nothing more than waves breaking as they near the shore.

Mason stops. “This is far enough.”

“You sure?” Theo asks, peering back in the direction of the house. “I think I can still see Adam.” Or a trick of the light on the dunes, one of the two.

He scoffs. “Et tu?”

“What?”

“Forget it. Yes, Theo, I’m sure.”

Theo bumps him with her hip. “You know I have the utmost faith in you, right?”

His expression doesn’t soften, but his eyes do. 

“And so do the others, Adam included. He obviously woke up on the wrong side of the coffin.”

That earns her a smile. “Quit distracting me.”

But he’s the one who has all her attention. Theo may not be as good a multitasker as Mason, but for the next fifteen minutes or so, she is outwardly diligent even as she fights the gravity of his presence. She watches the water instead of the wisps of dark hair that escape his low bun and whip across his face. She keeps her hands deep in her pockets instead of sliding them into his. She ignores the scent of her soap mingling with that of his skin and the briny air.

Yet another movement out on the water draws her gaze. She’s still trying to decide if it’s anything or nothing when Mason says, “Look alive,” and Theo freezes, heart racing.

A rounded shape rises up from the water’s surface, the being’s face in shadow but framed by long wet hair that drapes down to the sides, like a veil disappearing into the inky blackness of the sea. As Theo calms herself and regains control of her limbs, another appears to the left of the first—then another, slightly behind them. She recalls something from the brief about their sense of hearing not working well above water and slowly removes her hands from her pockets to hold them up, spreading her fingers wide to make it clear she doesn’t intend to harm them.

“Hello. My name is Agent Theo West, and this is Specialist Agent Mason,” she calls out, carefully enunciating each word. “We’re with the Agency.”

None of the merfolk react.

“Can you understand me?” she asks, louder this time, and hopes to whatever god is listening they can. If they need a translator, she’s screwed until Nate arrives, and he may not even know he should be booking his ass over here yet.

“We understand,” the first says in a musical voice, and all three advance. At first, they move with a gentle weaving motion, back and forth like sharks do, then it shifts to a more humanlike gait. By the time the water is shallow enough to stand, they each walk on two legs. All have long hair in shades of teal and blue and green that blur toward black in the faint predawn light, and all are lovely in an otherworldly way.

All three are also super naked—a fact she files away to appreciate later and does her best to ignore for the moment.

They stop when the first, presumably their leader, reaches the water’s edge.

“My name is impossible to say above-waves, but you may call me Ciraith.”

“Ciraith,” Theo repeats. “Pleasure to meet you.” Mason grunts from behind her.

“We know of your Agency,” Ciraith says, then extends a long, slender arm to point at Theo. “And we have heard of you as well. What you can do.” Their large dark eyes are fixed on Theo’s own as they tilt their head, sending silken strands of hair cascading down one shoulder as if made of water themselves. They breathe deep as if savoring the lungfuls of air. “And what you have become.”

For a full and eternal second, Murphy’s needles are back in her arms, his foul compound raging through her veins, narrowing her sense of the outside world to pain and rust and his sharp aftershave, before she blinks hard and snaps back to the present. The merfolks’ features may be mostly humanoid, but their mannerisms are different enough to set Theo on edge. She can’t read Ciraith’s intention. Is this their idea of a warning? A threat? Or are they just making conversation?

“I can neither confirm nor deny any such statements at this time.”

“Smooth,” Mason mutters.

Ciraith takes another step forward, and Theo holds her ground. Despite feeling rather like prey for the second time in an hour, she has Mason at her back. Soon there’s no more than an arm’s length between them, and at this distance, Theo can make out starry little flecks of silver in the merperson’s eyes.

“Tell us the truth, young one,” they say, voice pitched lower and far more resonant than before. A headache threatens, a pinching pressure at Theo’s temples reminiscent of when Mason uses his compulsion around her, though not nearly so intense.

Young one. They hadn’t covered lifespans during her crash course on merfolk—or maybe she just missed that bit—and Theo can’t help but wonder how old the supernatural now standing in front of her is. But before she can ask, the pain in her head intensifies and Theo winces, pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples.

“That’s enough,” Mason growls, and the headache abates just as quickly as it came on.

Ciraith’s expression changes from rapt observation to something like amusement. It’s still hard to tell. “Confirmation of the first, at least,” they say.

“I— Yes,” Theo blurts out, dropping her hands to her side. “And?”

“How might we test the second, I wonder?”

Mason’s between them in a flash, his body inches from Ciraith’s as he shields Theo. A shout comes from the water as the other two merfolk, content to remain passive observers until now, take a few startled steps forward.

“You don’t,” Mason growls. Sounds like his fangs are out. “Back off.”

Ciraith smiles placidly but shows their pointed teeth, and Mason hisses.

Predators. Theo almost rolls her eyes. She lays a hand on Mason’s arm to try and soothe the rising tension and gently tugs him out of the way. “Ciraith, the Agency would like to meet with you in an official capacity. They will ask you to sign a treaty on behalf of your people. For their part, they offer shelter, protection, provisions, whatever you might need.”

Ciraith’s gaze stays locked on Mason’s even as they respond to Theo. “And if we do not need what they can provide?”

“I think you do. Even if you stay under forever, the ocean’s not exactly becoming a more welcoming place as time goes on.”

“Thanks to your kind.”

“Most of my kind doesn’t know you exist.” Not that knowing would stop them, she thinks. “Regardless, the Agency won’t force you to sign. It can’t hurt to hear them out.”

“Perhaps not. They offer these things in exchange for our subservience?”

“No.” Theo shakes her head. “They only ask for peace.” Then she adds, too honestly: “As far as I know, anyway.”

Ciraith’s brow furrows, then smooths as they suss out Theo’s tone. A light laughter, like the tinkling notes of a wind chime, escapes their shapely lips, and a smile more pleasant than the last lingers after the sound fades.

“Very well.”

The stale air Theo has been holding in reserve since this encounter began whooshes out of her lungs in relief. “OK,” she says, not sure what happens from here.

“Our people will remain in this area for two days’ time. We will watch this stretch of sand. Send your Agency here and we will meet with them.”

Theo nods. “I will. Thank you, Ciraith.”

The three merfolk move as one to return to the deep, and Theo notices a shimmer on their skin—or scales, perhaps—as the first full light of sunrise spills across the horizon. As they had spoken together, the sky had gone rose and lavender and gold, warming the shallows to a luminous green.

Ciraith looks back and catches her eye, then silently disappears beneath the surface.

Sheer relief washes over Theo and she turns to look at Mason, unable to keep the grin from her face any longer. He’s still glaring at the spot where the merfolk vanished, but finally relaxes and almost smiles back when Theo whoops and jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and hugging him tight.

“We fucking did it!” she says, maybe a bit high on her success. “Suck it, Adam!”

“I actually did very little,” Mason points out, “other than keep you from being dragged to the seafloor and eaten.”

“Yeah, but that’s really important. I hate getting eaten.” She leans back and caresses his cheeks, one then the other, and adds, “Nonconsensually, anyway.”

The others reach them and Theo twists to high-five Felix.

“Did you guys see that?” she asks and kicks her feet in uncontainable excitement. “Did you see me totally win that negotiation?”

“A negotiation is not a contest,” Adam says, expression stony as usual, “and therefore it cannot be won.” But he does nod to Mason, who almost imperceptibly nods back.

Felix groans and rolls his eyes. “What do you even mean? Winner’s the one who gets more.”

“By that definition, I did not win,” Theo points out.

“Well, you got what we came here to get! So yeah, you won. Ignore Adam, he’s just mad because he didn’t get to talk to the pretty fish people. He made us watch the whole thing from back there so we didn’t intimidate them, and it was going so well, but then shit almost hit the fan and I was like, ‘Oh, damn, she doesn’t have this,’ but then you totally did.” He high-fives her again, then Mason.

Nate smiles as his gaze shifts from her to Mason, then back. “Yes, well done to the both of you. You two made an excellent team, though that should hardly be a surprise at this point. Wouldn’t you agree, Adam?”

Lips pressed tightly together at the light rebuke only Nate could ever get away with, Adam grunts in reluctant agreement.

Theo hugs Mason one last time, smashing her cheek into his neck, then pushes at his shoulder.

“OK,” she says. “I’m sorry I freaked out. I’m good now, you can let me down.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then I shall graciously allow you to carry me all the way back down the beach.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

His grip tightens into unforgiving steel as he gives her a frighteningly self-satisfied smirk, then walks directly into the surf—boots, jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, sundress, and all.

“Wait! Waitwait wait—”

The last of her protests is swallowed as he dunks them underwater, and when she surfaces to find him soaking wet and shivering right along with her, all she can do is laugh. A yell of “Make room!” comes from the shore, and she whirls around just in time to see Felix charging in after them, stripping shoes and pieces of clothing off as he goes.

“Come on, you two!” Theo yells. “Water’s fine.” 

She yanks her waterlogged shoes off and lobs them up onto the sand. One doesn’t quite make it, bouncing back to drift freely in the swash until Nate rescues it. He shares a long look with Adam, one of their unspoken conversations, then grins and shrugs off his jacket. He’s got a zillion layers, and is meticulous about folding each one he removes, but ages later he finally wades in to join them in just a pair of boxers she can tell are expensive.

“Wow,” he says, hugging his arms tight to his body. “So, by ‘fine,’ you meant ‘freezing.’”

“You’ll warm up.” Theo rears back to splash him, but Felix comes out of nowhere to scoop her up by the waist with a feral yell and dunk her backward.

“Oh, that’s war.” Mason dives toward Felix, who darts around Nate, who tries his best to avoid them both but ends up as wet as Theo would’ve gotten him in the first place. And even though Adam keeps watch from the beach, nice and dry and tactically superior, Theo swears she can see his ass unclench, and maybe even a hint of a smile.

[lilith-kruger]

THE QUEEN RHAENA TARGARYEN:Many strange and contradictory anecdotes are told of that night, and over the years it is difficult to distinguish legend from reality. Did the three brides in black share a bed, as some say? It seems unlikely. Did his highness visit them all that night and consummate the three links? Could be. Did princess rhaena attempt to assassinate the king with a dagger?What was she hiding under her pillows, as she later claimed? Did elinor costayne scratch the king on his back to the point of leaving his skin torn and bloody as they copulated? Did jeyne westerling drink the fertility brew that queen tyanna is said to have brought her, or did she throw it in her face? Is it true that tyanna prepared and brought her that potion? The first chronicle did not It appears well into the reign of jaehaerys, when the last two women had been dead for twenty years

PRINCESS RHAENA TARGARYEN:During the first quarter of the year 135 A.D. two crucial events occurred which brought great joy to the seven kingdoms of the west. Upon waking up on the third day of the third moon of the year, the inhabitants of disembarkation del rey witnessed a phenomenon not seen since the dark days of the dance: a dragon flying over the city. Lady rhaena, who had turned nineteen, was riding aurora for First time. On that inaugural flight, he went around the city before returning to pozo dragon, but as the days went by, he gained courage and moved further away. However, only once did rhaena land with aurora inside the Red fortress, for not even prince viserys' great efforts could persuade his brother, the king, to go and see his sister fly; Queen daenaera, on the other hand, was so captivated that she heard her say that she also wanted a dragon. Soon after, aurora took rhaena through the Black water bay to rocadragon, where, he said, "the dragons and their riders are best received."

SEPTA RHAENA TARGARYEN:Of baelor's other sisters, rhaena was almost as pious as her brother, and eventually became septa.

[gizkasparadise]

also while im here, top dramas of the year ive seen so far (roughly in order)

lost you forever (cdrama)

this is the year of "dramas on paper i hate become immediate most favorite dramas." i was meh or actively disliked a good chunk of the cast before watching it, and wasnt going to bother. tumblr!posts intrigued me and i immediately got hooked. great female lead, great love interests and character development. reverse harem done right!!

moving (kdrama)

i am so sick of superhero shit due to mcu hypersaturation, so this was another one i wasnt going to bother with. but i liked the cast, so i gave it a shot and omg. it's a character study and intergenerational trauma (and intergenerational hope!!) hidden as a superhero movie. the definition of legacy being seeds you plant so your children can see flowers bloom. the family relationships are so good and this show made me cry like 3 times

the glory, part 2

i support women's rights but more importantly i support women's wrongs. a satisfying second half to one of my favorite dramas!

perfect marriage revenge

not even halfway done but i just love it. over the top, extra makjang plot from like 2008 with pocket lint for a budget but executed so well and knows what it's about

upcoming 2023 dramas im excited for

death's game (kdrama)

welcome to samdalri (kdrama)

sweet home season 2!!! (kdrama)

2023 dramas i havent watched yet but got high hopes for

twinkling watermelon

my dearest

story of kunning palace

wonderland of love

call it love

an ancient love song

west out of yumen

2023 biggest letdowns

arthdal chronicles s2. we couldve had it all, and i was excited about recasts. what we got was tedious side plots that took too long, illogical deus ex machinas all over the place, and inconsistent or underused characters. some highlights, but it didnt meet my hype for it :(

worst of evil. incredible ride, dud of an ending

my journey to you. someone will punch me for this, but it was way too slow for me and i couldnt stand the sound/auditory levels for dialogue (everyone. slowly. whispers. everything. all. the. time)

till the end of the moon. LOOK I REALLY LOVED PARTS OF IT. but i hated about the same number of parts and the ending was stupid. a seesaw of emotions.

[godzilla-reads]

After finishing 177 books this year, I went over each month and chose 12 books that I consider to be my favorite reads of 2023. These are the books I liked the most, but still trying to keep within the 12 book limit or else I would’ve chosen a whole lot more. Here they are:

⚔️ Valiant by Holly Black

🧙‍♂️ A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin

🐲 His Majesty’s Dragon by Naomi Novik

🎨 The Crane Husband by Kelly Barnhill

👑 The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley

🔥 The Fire Within by Chris d’Lacey

🐻 On Being a Bear by Rémy Marion (trans. David Warriner)

🐻‍❄️ East of the Sun, West of the Moon by Jackie Morris

🐈 The Travelling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa (trans. Philip Gabriel)

🐰 Watership Down: The Graphic Novel by Richard Adams, James Sturm, and Joe Sutphin

☕️ Things You May Find Hidden in my Ear: Poems by Mosab Abu Toha

🥶 The Queen of Nothing by Holly Black

[nejjcollectsbooks]

Some classic Asian literature I own:

Monkey: The Journey to the West by Wu Ch'eng-en, translated by Arthur Waley. The Romance of the Three Kingdoms by Luo Guanzhong, translated by Martin Palmer. Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa, translated by Jay Rubin.

Monkey: The Journey to the West summary:

Written in the sixteenth century, Monkey is a retelling of a famous Chinese Legend. A heroic epic, it chronicles the adventures of Prince Tripitaka, a young buddhist priest, travelling with his three quirky (non-human) disciples; Pigsy, Sandy and Monkey. It's a story with a typical adventure plot line where the gang sets off on a quest, and along the way will face many supernatural foes, it is very much along the lines of Homer or the Illiad.

Some lovely quotes from Monkey:

“Monkey now produced his staff and the two of them did their best to kill each other, like the affectionate in-laws they were.” “But a single strand does not make a thread nor can one hand clap.” “Why did you go towards the monster when he wanted to eat you up instead of running away? Now he's swallowed you. Today you're still a monk, but tomorrow you'll be a turd.” “With passions stilled and one’s nature firm, all destinies are in harmony; When the full moon of contemplation is reached you will be pure.” “After following it for nearly two miles he came across two she-monsters drawing water from a well. How did he know that they were monsters? Each of them had on her head an extremely unfashionable hair-style held up by bamboo slivers that stood one foot two or three inches high.”

I made another two similar posts, one for The Romance of the Three Kingdoms and one for Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories.

[artist-issues]

Whats your favorite myth?

This might be a boring answer if you were expecting me to say, like, a classical myth, but it's the Chronicles of Narnia. Which I think counts.

But, if you want me to be more academic about it, it would be Cupid and Psyche. But even then you can't divorce my like for Cupid and Psyche, or even East of the Sun and West of the Moon, or Beauty & the Beast, from their connection to C.S. Lewis' "Til' We Have Faces" 😂

Followers reblog with your favorite myth 🤷‍♀️

[aamaranthiine]

I am doing busy work at the office today so have some more assorted headcanons for Amalthea's One Piece verse. The other relevant post since this is sort of a series is here.

Her memory is excellent but still quite limited; she has a decent recollection of up to 150 years but it can be spotty. She can be terrible with remembering faces / names unless she has consistent contact with the person throughout their life. (Which is rare, given her reluctance to form attachments.)

She journals habitually. There are several log books on her at all times; she writes down daily events, memories, weather patterns, all sorts of information. This is how she retains some semblence of continuity throughout her long life. The most important and significant "memories" are chronicled so she can reflect on them as needed.

Thea has circumnavigated the entire world several times over, though she has definitely done it at a slow pace. Why rush when she lives forever? In all 4 Blues and the Grand Line, she has islands she claims as "hers." Usually uninhabited places, considered too dangerous or remote for settlement. It's these places where she keeps supply caches and hides accumulated treasure.

Every few decades, Thea will alter her appearance and even present as another gender to better hide herself. This includes changing her identity and relevant paperwork. In the most recent era, since a decade post Roger's death, she's reverted back to her preferred and real likeness.

I've mentioned it to several mutuals but now Im making this more official: Thea has been to Laugh Tale and she is the creator of the singular Eternal Pose to the island. She was acquainted with Roger and he commissioned her to make the Pose. She has not been to Laugh Tale since then.

For 5 years following Roger's execution, Thea demolished the execution stand in Loguetown on the anniversary as a form of protest. She was forced to stop her vandalism when an Admiral was posted there for a time to deter the destruction.

Her current existing bounty poster only lists her epithet as "The Silverblood" and has been in circulation for 125 years. Her posted bounty is 250 million beli.

There are at least two islands; one in West Blue and one in the New World that have mistaken Amalthea as a deity due to her powerful mythical zoan abilities. One likens her to more of a fey-like entity that blesses their waters and the other has effectively made her their patron goddess of the moon, amongst other lesser aspects. She does not speak about this freely, its awkward for her.