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istumpysk · 2 years

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Reek II (Theon II) [Chapter 20]

Besides, where would he run to? Behind him were the camps, crowded with Dreadfort men and those the Ryswells had brought from the Rills, with the Barrowton host between them. South of Moat Cailin, another army was coming up the causeway, an army of Boltons and Freys marching beneath the banners of the Dreadfort.

I think it's a little concerning House Dustin always finds itself grouped with the Boltons, Freys, and Ryswells.

You do you, but I will not be putting my faith in Queen in the North Barbrey Dustin.

+.+.+

He was no rider. He was not even a man. He was Lord Ramsay's creature, lower than a dog, a worm in human skin.

. . .

+.+.+

"You will pretend to be a prince," Lord Ramsay told him last night, as Reek was soaking in a tub of scalding water, "but we know the truth. You're Reek. You'll always be Reek, no matter how sweet you smell. Your nose may lie to you. Remember your name. Remember who you are."

Why is this so funny?

"Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are." - Daenerys II, ADWD

"Remember who you are, Daenerys," the stars whispered in a woman's voice. "The dragons know. Do you?" - Daenerys X, ADWD

+.+.+

You will be tempted to betray me. To run or fight or join our foes. No, quiet, I'll not hear you deny it. Lie to me, and I'll take your tongue. A man would turn against me in your place, but we know what you are, don't we?

. . .

+.+.+

When he looked up, he caught a glimpse of pale faces peering from behind the battlements of the Gatehouse Tower and through the broken masonry that crowned the Children's Tower, where legend said the children of the forest had once called down the hammer of the waters to break the lands of Westeros in two.

One point for the north seceding.

+.+.+

The swampy ground beyond the causeway was impassable, an endless morass of suckholes, quicksands, and glistening green swards that looked solid to the unwary eye but turned to water the instant you trod upon them, the whole of it infested with venomous serpents and poisonous flowers and monstrous lizard lions with teeth like daggers. Just as dangerous were its people, seldom seen but always lurking, the swamp-dwellers, the frog-eaters, the mud-men. Fenn and Reed, Peat and Boggs, Cray and Quagg, Greengood and Blackmyre, those were the sorts of names they gave themselves. The ironborn called them all bog devils.

All of these houses are Team Stark. No further explanation required. Just trust me, bro.

+.+.+

The guard rubbed his face, his eyes red and inflamed. "We used to drag the dead down into the cellars. All the vaults are flooded down there. No one wants to take the trouble now, so we just leave them where they fall."

"The cellar is a better place for them. Give them to the water. To the Drowned God."

Dead ironborn go to the water.

+.+.+

"How many of the garrison are left?"

"Some," said the ironman. "I don't know. Fewer than we was before. Some in the Drunkard's Tower too, I think. Not the Children's Tower. Dagon Codd went over there a few days back. Only two men left alive, he said, and they was eating on the dead ones. He killed them both, if you can believe that."

Oh dear.

+.+.+

Ralf Kenning lay shivering beneath a mountain of furs. His arms were stacked beside him—sword and axe, mail hauberk, iron warhelm. His shield bore the storm god's cloudy hand, lightning crackling from his fingers down to a raging sea, but the paint was discolored and peeling, the wood beneath starting to rot.

I think I'm confused. Why is the Storm God on his shield?

+.+.+

Ralf was rotting too. Beneath the furs he was naked and feverish, his pale puffy flesh covered with weeping sores and scabs. His head was misshapen, one cheek grotesquely swollen, his neck so engorged with blood that it threatened to swallow his face. The arm on that same side was big as a log and crawling with white worms. No one had bathed him or shaved him for many days, from the look of him. One eye wept pus, and his beard was crusty with dried vomit. "What happened to him?" asked Reek.

[...]

"Kill him," Reek told the guard. "His wits are gone. He's full of blood and worms."

The man gaped at him. "The captain put him in command."

"You'd put a dying horse down."

[...]

"I will kill him for you." Reek snatched up Ralf Kenning's sword where it leaned against his shield. He still had fingers enough to clasp the hilt. When he laid the edge of the blade against the swollen throat of the creature on the straw, the skin split open in a gout of black blood and yellow pus. Kenning jerked violently, then lay still.

That might be one of the most disgusting things I've ever read.

The irony of Theon putting someone out of their misery is not lost on me.

+.+.+

All the men were strangers to him. Several wore cloaks fastened by brooches in the shape of silver codfish. The Codds were not well regarded in the Iron Islands; the men were said to be thieves and cowards, the women wantons who bedded with their own fathers and brothers.

I would have ignored this if the word wanton wasn't used.

Edit: I missed an amusing detail.

Thank you, @decadelongsummer. 😂

+.+.+

He gestured at the parchment. "Break the seal. Read the words. That is a safe conduct, written in Lord Ramsay's own hand. Give up your swords and come with me, and his lordship will feed you and give you leave to march unmolested to the Stony Shore and find a ship for home. Elsewise you die."

At no point does Theon acknowledge he's leading these men to their deaths.

And he definitely knows.

+.+.+

"My uncle is never coming back," Reek told them. "The kingswood crowned his brother Euron, and the Crow's Eye has other wars to fight. You think my uncle values you? He doesn't. You are the ones he left behind to die. He scraped you off the same way he scrapes mud off his boots when he wades ashore."

And? He meant well, okay?

+.+.+

"Lord Ramsay treats his captives honorably so long as they keep faith with him." He has only taken toes and fingers and that other thing, when he might have had my tongue, or peeled the skin off my legs from heel to thigh. "Yield up your swords to him, and you will live."

. . .

+.+.+

One man took a swallow of ale. Another turned his cup over to wash away a finger of blood before it reached the place where he was seated. No one spoke. When the one-armed man slid the throwing axe back through his belt, Reek knew he had won. He almost felt a man again. Lord Ramsay will be pleased with me.

. . .

+.+.+

He did well to send me, Reek told himself as he climbed back onto his stot to lead his ragged column back across the boggy ground to where the northmen were encamped.

Ongoing theme of Theon being sent on a mission with paper in hand.

Let's see if it happens a third time.

+.+.+

"Leave your weapons here," he told the prisoners. "Swords, bows, daggers. Armed men will be slain on sight."

Reasonable request, but there's the first hint something is amiss.

+.+.+

It took them thrice as long to cover the distance as it had taken Reek alone. Crude litters had been patched together for four of the men who could not walk; the fifth was carried by his son, upon his back. It made for slow going, and all the ironborn were well aware of how exposed they were, well within bowshot of the bog devils and their poisoned arrows. If I die, I die. Reek only prayed the archer knew his business, so death would be quick and clean. A man's death, not the end Ralf Kenning suffered.

When it comes to Theon and foreshadowing, I'm mostly looking for archery and an honourable death.

+.+.+

The one-armed man walked at the head of the procession, limping heavily. His name, he said, was Adrack Humble, and he had a rock wife and three salt wives back on Great Wyk. "Three of the four had big bellies when we sailed," he boasted, "and Humbles run to twins. First thing I'll need to do when I get back is count up my new sons. Might be I'll even name one after you, m'lord."

Aye, name him Reek, he thought, and when he's bad you can cut his toes off and give him rats to eat. He turned his head and spat, and wondered if Ralf Kenning hadn't been the lucky one.

There's the second hint this is all going to hell.

+.+.+

A light rain had begun to piss down out of the slate-grey sky by the time Lord Ramsay's camp appeared in front of them.

Third.

+.+.+

The dogs swarmed around them, snapping and snarling at the strangers. The Bastard's girls, Reek thought, before he remembered that one must never, never, never use that word in Ramsay's presence.

Again, pretty apparent why Ramsay would constantly refer to Jon as 'bastard' in the pink letter.

+.+.+

"So few. I had hoped for more. They were such stubborn foes." Lord Ramsay's pale eyes shone.

Final hint.

+.+.+

"My lord," he said, "my place is here, with you. I'm your Reek. I only want to serve you. All I ask … a skin of wine, that would be reward enough for me … red wine, the strongest that you have, all the wine a man can drink …"

All Theon wants is to be blackout drunk when it starts.

+.+.+

Lord Ramsay laughed. "You're not a man, Reek. You're just my creature. You'll have your wine, though. Walder, see to it. And fear not, I won't return you to the dungeons, you have my word as a Bolton. We'll make a dog of you instead. Meat every day, and I'll even leave you teeth enough to eat it. You can sleep beside my girls. Ben, do you have a collar for him?"

"I'll have one made, m'lord," said old Ben Bones.

The old man did better than that. That night, besides the collar, there was a ragged blanket too, and half a chicken. Reek had to fight the dogs for the meat, but it was the best meal he'd had since Winterfell.

Being a dog is somehow an upgrade.

I'm happy for you if you enjoy this POV, but I can't do it.

+.+.+

And the wine … the wine was dark and sour, but strong. Squatting amongst the hounds, Reek drank until his head swam, retched, wiped his mouth, and drank some more. Afterward he lay back and closed his eyes. When he woke a dog was licking vomit from his beard, and dark clouds were scuttling across the face of a sickle moon. Somewhere in the night, men were screaming. He shoved the dog aside, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Go to sleep, Theon.

+.+.+

The flayed man of House Bolton was hoisted above the Gatehouse Tower, where Reek had hauled down the golden kraken of Pyke. Along the rotting-plank road, wooden stakes were driven deep into the boggy ground; there the corpses festered, red and dripping. Sixty-three, he knew, there are sixty-three of them. One was short half an arm. Another had a parchment shoved between its teeth, its wax seal still unbroken.

Do you have any idea how stupid you have to be to not connect Ramsay putting 63 ironborn on wooden stakes with Daenerys crucifying 163 men?

Is that a parallel Targs are comfortable with?

+.+.+

Three days later, the vanguard of Roose Bolton's host threaded its way through the ruins and past the row of grisly sentinels—four hundred mounted Freys clad in blue and grey, their spearpoints glittering whenever the sun broke through the clouds.

[...]

The northmen followed hard behind the van, their tattered banners streaming in the wind. Reek watched them pass. Most were afoot, and there were so few of them. He remembered the great host that marched south with Young Wolf, beneath the direwolf of Winterfell. Twenty thousand swords and spears had gone off to war with Robb, or near enough to make no matter, but only two in ten were coming back, and most of those were Dreadfort men.

[...]

Farther back came the baggage train—lumbering wayns laden with provisions and loot taken in the war, and carts crowded with wounded men and cripples. And at the rear, more Freys. At least a thousand, maybe more: bowmen, spearmen, peasants armed with scythes and sharpened sticks, freeriders and mounted archers, and another hundred knights to stiffen them.

Number update!

House Bolton has 4000 men.

House Frey has 1500 (2000?) men in the north.

"Not for long. Bolton's bastard son will soon remove that little obstacle. Lord Bolton will have two thousand Freys to augment his own strength, under Lord Walder's sons Hosteen and Aenys. That should be more than enough to deal with Stannis and a few thousand broken men." - Jaime II, AFFC

+.+.+

Two of old Lord Walder's sons led the van. One was brawny, with a massive jut of jaw and arms thick with muscle. The other had hungry eyes close-set above a pointed nose, a thin brown beard that did not quite conceal the weak chin beneath it, a bald head. Hosteen and Aenys. He remembered them from before he knew his name. Hosteen was a bull, slow to anger but implacable once roused, and by repute the fiercest fighter of Lord Walder's get. Aenys was older, crueler, and more clever—a commander, not a swordsman. Both were seasoned soldiers.

The clever commander will die.

The implacable one will lead the Freys against Stannis.

Strangely, Stannis smiled. "Angry foes do not concern me. Anger makes men stupid, and Hosteen Frey was stupid to begin with, if half of what I have heard of him is true. Let him come." - Theon I, TWOW

+.+.+

Back where the press was thickest at the center of the column rode a man armored in dark grey plate over a quilted tunic of blood-red leather. His rondels were wrought in the shape of human heads, with open mouths that shrieked in agony. From his shoulders streamed a pink woolen cloak embroidered with droplets of blood. Long streamers of red silk fluttered from the top of his closed helm. No crannogman will slay Roose Bolton with a poisoned arrow, Reek thought when he first saw him. An enclosed wagon groaned along behind him, drawn by six heavy draft horses and defended by crossbowmen, front and rear. Curtains of dark blue velvet concealed the wagon's occupants from watching eyes.

[...]

When the rider in the dark armor removed his helm, however, the face beneath was not one that Reek knew. Ramsay's smile curdled at the sight, and anger flashed across his face. "What is this, some mockery?"

"Just caution," whispered Roose Bolton, as he emerged from behind the curtains of the enclosed wagon.

This is setting off an alarm or two.

A decoy disguised as Roose Bolton? Surely we'll be seeing this tactic again.

+.+.+

The Lord of the Dreadfort did not have a strong likeness to his bastard son. His face was clean-shaved, smooth-skinned, ordinary, not handsome but not quite plain. Though Roose had been in battles, he bore no scars. Though well past forty, he was as yet unwrinkled, with scarce a line to tell of the passage of time. His lips were so thin that when he pressed them together they seemed to vanish altogether. There was an agelessness about him, a stillness; on Roose Bolton's face, rage and joy looked much the same. All he and Ramsay had in common were their eyes. His eyes are ice. Reek wondered if Roose Bolton ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks?

Once, a boy called Theon Greyjoy had enjoyed tweaking Bolton as they sat at council with Robb Stark, mocking his soft voice and making japes about leeches. He must have been mad. This is no man to jape with. You had only to look at Bolton to know that he had more cruelty in his pinky toe than all the Freys combined.

Someone on Reddit said Roose is neutral evil, while Ramsay is chaotic evil, and I think that's perfect.

Given how fleshed out (lol) Roose is in the books, many have speculated Ramsay took his storyline on the show. I have to disagree.

Roose and Tywin are similar for a reason. They made their beds (children), now they must lie in them.

"Tainted blood is ever treacherous, and Ramsay's nature was sly, greedy, and cruel. I count myself well rid of him. The trueborn sons my young wife has promised me would never have been safe while he lived." - Catelyn VI, ACOK

+.+.+

"My new wife," Roose Bolton said. "Lady Walda, this is my natural son. Kiss your stepmother's hand, Ramsay." He did. "And I am sure you will recall the Lady Arya. Your betrothed."

The girl was slim, and taller than he remembered, but that was only to be expected. Girls grow fast at that age. Her dress was grey wool bordered with white satin; over it she wore an ermine cloak clasped with a silver wolf's head. Dark brown hair fell halfway down her back. And her eyes …

That is not Lord Eddard's daughter.

Arya had her father's eyes, the grey eyes of the Starks. A girl her age might let her hair grow long, add inches to her height, see her chest fill out, but she could not change the color of her eyes. That's Sansa's little friend, the steward's girl. Jeyne, that was her name. Jeyne Poole.

Theon knowing Arya resembles Ned instantly shatters the illusion.

You have to wonder if someone will recognize Sansa because they're familiar with Catelyn Stark. I can think of a few good candidates.

+.+.+

"Lord Ramsay." The girl dipped down before him. That was wrong as well. The real Arya Stark would have spat into his face. "I pray that I will make you a good wife and give you strong sons to follow after you."

"That you will," promised Ramsay, "and soon."

Final thoughts:

I'm already losing track of everything. I think I need to start a Grand Northern Conspiracy spreadsheet.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #reek ii #theon ii

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anonymousewrites · 2 years

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Of Two Worlds (Book 2) Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Ghosts

On the other side of Shibuya station, Megumi was of the same mind as (Y/N). He had broken into Dagon’s, the sea curse’s, domain where Nanami, who had only one eye left and blood striping his crisp cream suit, Zenin Naobito, who had lost an arm, and Maki, bruised and cut but doing the best out of the three, were fighting for their lives.

Now, Megumi had summoned his own partial domain to break a hole in Dagon’s. The three sorcerers raced towards him to escape as Dagon surged after them.

“To Fushiguro!” ordered Nanami. He stopped by Fushiguro to let Naobito and Maki go through first.

But as they skidded to a stop before the hole, two pairs of hands reached through from the outside, and two figures jumped in. One was a man with dark hair and a scar above his lip; the other, a woman with (H/C) hair and (E/C) eyes. Nanami and Naobito watched in shock. Toji, however, moved lightning-quick and threw Maki to the side while Toji stole Playful Cloud the staff. (M/N) stretched and watched them with glowing eyes.

“Fushiguro.” Nanami turned to Megumi urgently.

“No good. The hole’s closed, and it knows our plan now, too. I doubt it’ll let us open another one that easily,” said Megumi.

“Toji?! (M/N)?!” gasped Naobito, staring at the pair.

But neither responded. Their minds, though stronger than their bodies’ original souls, were still influenced by the cursed technique. They had become puppets of carnage, bearing their fangs towards the strongest around. Toji and (M/N) looked at Dagon.

“Eel strike, maybe a swordfish,” said (M/N).

A moment later, Dagon struck with an eel, and Toji, with his superhuman senses, reacted instantly, sending Dagon flying with multiple strikes of Playful Cloud. Dagon reeled backwards, struggling to keep up with the force that was Fushiguro Toji.

“Multiple,” said (M/N), still just observing carefully.

Toji dodged the several eels headed towards and grinned as he easily beat Dagon back, a feat that three sorcerers failed to do together. Naobito, happy to let Toji risk his somehow-returned life against Dagon, tried his hand at getting rid of (M/N). Neither could be left alive, in his mind. (M/N) leaned back and let Naobito’s punch move over her before she landed a powerful blow on the Zenin.

“Either a hundred crabs or two huge trilobites behind you,” said (M/N) as she handled Naobito’s attacks with ease and forced him back to his allies.

Toji pivoted and slammed Playful Cloud through the first and second trilobite. Their size and hard shells did nothing to stop his massacre. Not stopping for a second, his speed brought him right to the unarmed and shocked Dagon. He slammed the staff through the curse’s stomach, letting blood spray everywhere once again.

Maki watched in shock. To see someone like herself, no cursed energy at all and better physical abilities to balance out, doing what Zenin Naobito and Nanami Kento could not was surprising. Sure, she had incredibly strength and speed, but this guy was out of this world.

And the woman, who seemed to read attacks before they came, moved easily through even the strange, beach-like domain of Dagon’s creation like it was a walk in the park and nothing could shock her. But with her cursed technique, perhaps that wasn’t surprising.

“Hey, geezer, who are they?” asked Maki.

“Ghosts,” muttered Naobito darkly.

In the few seconds the exchange took, Toji struck Playful Cloud against itself and sharpened its ends. Dagon surged towards him to try to force him on the defensive, jumping up so that Toji could not reach him first. The curse user grinned insanely. With precision even sorcerers could not master, Toji balanced each third of Playful Cloud on top of the other and vaulted upwards. As Dagon’s eyes widened, Toji smirked and drove sharpened points through his head, letting him fall to the sand, dead.

Dagon’s Domain disappeared and left the group standing in Shibuya station once again. Toji and (M/N) turned to the group. Nanami narrowed his eyes and braced for an attack, even if it was strange to look into a face so much like (Y/N)’s but so intent on destruction. But then (M/N)’s head tilted and her eyes glowed softly for a moment before she smiled. A true smile, not steeped in insanity or sadism, but soft and warm.

“Have fun, Toji,” she said, her posture relaxing. “I’m out.”

Toji narrowed his eyes. “Heh?!”

“I have something else to do,” she said. “And I’m sure you can handle a few sorcerers.” Not letting anyone get another word in, she turned and began running down the halls of Shibuya. “Ba-bye!”

Naobito and Nanami hesitated to go after her, but they knew they needed to be here to face Toji. He was the more immediate threat, the more dangerous killer. (M/N) had always posed a problem for different reasons.

Toji grumbled and looked back at the group, the desire to fight the strongest in front of him as strong as ever, still slightly influenced by the old lady’s technique. “Vague and annoying as ever. I’m gonna finish what I started with you.” He grinned. “After I finish off these guys.”

(Y/N) turned and threw her instantly summoned knife down the hall behind her as she sensed strange cursed energy, almost familiar.

(M/N) grinned and caught it before it had a chance to even scratch her. “Fast! Didn’t give me a chance to predict your movement. If I didn’t have my reflexes, I’d be dead.” She frowned. “Again.”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes and watched the (M/N). Again? “What do you want?”

“Straight to the point. I know where you get that,” said (M/N). She twirled the dagger around in her hand and shrugged. “Technically, the technique that summoned me back wants me to fight the strongest person in front of me.” (M/N) gestured to (Y/N) with the knife. “Of course, that’d be you.”

“I’m by myself,” said (Y/N) blankly. She was letting her enemy get comfortable before she got rid of the daggers and could resummon weapons just for herself.

“Sure, but I’m confident you’d be powerful no matter who you’re around,” said (M/N). Either going to attack and get her dagger back or get rid of them entirely.

(Y/N) couldn’t read tone well at times, but she identified a strange hint of caring and familiarity in the voice.

(M/N). “I wouldn’t expect anything less from my daughter.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. Her focus shifted from seeing (M/N) as an enemy to putting the pieces together. Instead of looking at her stance and if she was going to attack, (Y/N) noticed the (E/C)-colored eyes and (H/C) hair, so similar to her own.

(M/N) calmly walked towards her stunned daughter. She cupped (Y/N)’s face and looked at her. She smiled sadly. “Oh, star, you’re so grown up. I wish I could have been with you.”

“Why weren’t you?” whispered (Y/N). “I’ve heard the Elders; I’ve heard Gojo. They say you were powerful, you and my father. Why weren’t you here?”

(M/N) sighed. “Because there was more at stake than just my life.” She gazed fondly at (Y/N). “There was your future.”

(Y/N) curled her hands into fists. “My future as an outcast? They tried to execute me, why…” Her voice turned to a broken whisper. “Why couldn’t we have stayed together? Couldn’t you have seen what was going to happen?”

(M/N) shook her head sadly. “My star, I only see possibilities. And the farther off the event, the vaguer it is to predict likely scenarios.”

“So you couldn’t have escaped? You and my father would have died anyways?” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to the ground.

“(Y/N), I am only concerned about your fate,” said (M/N). “You’re my daughter. And as much pain as you have been through, this is a life much better suited to you then running from sorcerers and killing them when they caught up would have been.” She laughed and gestured around her. “You have people who care about you and the will to fight for what you want, even as others try to keep it from you. That’s all I ever wanted for you.” (M/N) leaned forward to kiss (Y/N)’s forehead softly. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be incredible, no matter what path you choose.”

(Y/N) looked up into her mother’s eyes. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“You know that that I must, (Y/N),” she said, hugging her daughter close and stepping back as she raised the dagger. “I love you, my star.” (M/N) drove the silver blade through herself, and her body fell to the ground.

As (Y/N) watched it transform back into the corpse of Ogami’s granddaughter again, she picked up her dagger and let it fade, bloodstains and all, into glimmers of light that danced away into the sky.

I love you.

While (Y/N) fought (M/N), Nanami, Maki, Megumi, and Naobito faced Zenin Toji, a force of power bent on killing the strongest sorcerers before him. It took him only a second to identify his opponent based on that criterion. Toji slammed Megumi through the station’s window, taking the battle to the streets.

“Megumi!” cried Maki before freezing as two powerful cursed energies permeated the room.

“Dagon is gone,” snarled Jogo.

“Yes, it seems so,” said Nox, glancing over at the sorcerers. He had noticed Fushiguro Toji, so it was no surprise to him that Dagon had fallen.

Nanami and Naobito’s eyes widened at the sight of the curses. They were both on another level compared to Dagon, especially Nox. They watched warily as Jogo knelt by his fallen companion’s remains.

“Calm yourself. We are spirits of nature, our souls return, even if new forms. You will see Hanami, Dagon, and Miku again,” said Nox.

“Miku is dead?” asked Jogo.

“Her cursed energy disappeared a few moments ago, extinguished by a power greater than her own,” said Nox.

Jogo narrowed his eye. “Then we’ll end that sorcerer after we kill these.”

Nox hummed uncommittedly. “I’ll take the Zenin.”

“I can handle all of them just fine,” snapped Jogo.

“The Zenin is mine,” repeated Nox in a tone that allowed no further discussion.

Naobito narrowed his eyes and sped towards Nox, not wasting another second. But with his lost arm decreasing his speed and lack of power next to the curse, Naobito never stood a chance. Nox’s hand snatched Naobito’s neck easily, and he began strangling the Zenin Clan Head.

“Hello, Naobito,” said Nox, his eyes shining in the darkness of the subway. “It’s been a long time.” Naobito sputtered and tried to speak up, but Nox tightened his grip and leaned towards his ear. “This is for everyone you sacrificed in the false name of humanity.” Nox tossed Naobito to the ground and, as his eyes glowed, holding up two fingers with pointed, black nails and circling them in the air.

“Galaxy.”

Purple and blue light swirled in a spiral pattern around Naobito before constricting into a gold-white light that sliced the Clan Head open in several spots. Naobito’s body fell apart, blood spilling over the floor. Zenin Naobito was dead.

Maki and Nanami’s eyes widened as it all happened in an instant. They crouched to prepare for an attack, but Jogo sent flames racing towards both. The fire ate away at their skin, sending Maki down for the count, badly burned but alive, and Nanami fell against the wall, trying to keep himself up in order to fight.

Nanami’s brown eyes met Nox’s silver for a brief moment. Neither man moved as Nox glanced over the 7-3 Sorcerer’s form as if deciphering something from it, expression inscrutable as Nanami’s. It seemed a decision was being made as Jogo watch for Nox to make the first move. The different in power and control between the two was evident. Jogo had the bravado but not the leadership. Nox was in charge.

The moment was broken when cursed energy ran through the entire building. Jogo turned wildly to where he sensed it.

Sukuna’s finger had been revealed within Shibuya Station.

Nox smirked and tossed a casual glance over his shoulder at Nanami. “If you can stand, I’d suggest taking the girl and running. Things are about to get a little hectic.”

Nanami was struck by how oddly sincere the advice was underneath the playfulness.

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zydrateacademy · 2 months

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Thieves Guild Summary (4/17/24)

Event Summary!

Dibbe, with a lead regarding a hefty safe being transported to Daggerfall, arranges for her fellow thieves to intercept it. The intel that Lord Bernard Auberon was out to Summerset, wheeling and dealing. She did not know much more than that.

Sending a raven to an old acquaintance, a professional lockpicker named Silent-Reed, she was then joined by the local Guildmaster Garrett, Cyprian, Trili, and Pibiha.

Getting in was a simple affair. It took some effort to navigate the Lord’s collection. The vault door to the basement required a specialized key. Upstairs,a nordic door held them back for several minutes until Silent-Reed discovered the puzzle, to which Garrett accidentally solved the second half.

It took a darker turn as they were met with strange technology of obscured origins, a torture rack that was cleaned and transported up to the master’s quarters. A table full of books, golden artifacts, other strangeness. Pibiha raided the master bedroom, locating a subtle alcove from beneath the bed that soon revealed the key to the vault.

After the group finished raiding the upstairs, they headed towards their true bounty.

Silent-Reed took it upon himself to unlock the vault and the entire group was met with a fairly grisly sight. The basement was retrofitted to be a shrine to Mehrunes Dagon, the lord of Change himself. There were torture tables and signs of dismemberment, as well as a crematorium with burned corpses looking to escape, left right where they lay.

All things seemed safe, for a while. The group looted as quickly as they could, with Cyprian wisely warning them not to toil with the belongings of a Daedric lord and cultist. He remained at the stairwell, looking upon his comrades in both disdain and concern in equal measure.

Silent-Reed lived up to his boast of being the best lock picker on both sides of Tamriel, though it was a difficult safe to crack, it all came naturally to him as he could feel the beat of the metal and got it open in ample time.

Just in time for a portal to open on the shrine. Unclear if it was their own meddling, their presence, or if they were just sent there to retrieve the corpses and souls of those slain within the premises, the Thieves Guild found themselves in combat with two scamps and a bloodied Hound of Oblivion.

Cyprian quickly closed the portal to prevent reinforcements. The group made short work of the scamps, but the Hound proved to be an incredibly dangerous foe. It bled Cyprian by mauling his thigh, taking him out of the fight in short order. Trili was also severely wounded late in the fight. The others met it in melee, with Garrett and Dibbe fruitlessly plugging arrows at it only to see it bounce harmlessly against its armor, or the arrows would connect to flesh and yet still do the creature no harm.

Finally, Pibiha finished the creature, crushing its head with a massive swing of her hammer. Wounds were quickly tended to and the thieves dashed out of the unholy shrine with haste. Cyprian demanded his rest and broke away from the team, while the rest counted their earnings (after Dib apologized profusely).

Some trinkets and tantos were kept by a couple of the thieves involved, and the Guildmaster was too exhausted to debate for the usual system of making sure -everything- is fenced off with the proceeds being split among the thieves. Thus, allocation of booty went differently.

Silent-Reed was offered a place in the guild, but he opted to remain independent.

The earnings were thus.

A Dai-Curse Tanto. Designed to mark those who are wounded by it, a Dremora from a daedric plane would know the location of the one struck. Dib was the one to identify it, not disclosing how exactly she’s familiar. She specified that dremora are intelligent, sentient beings so what they could do with the information of one’s constant location could vary between death, to annoyance and inconvenience. The Guildmaster in his wisdom dubbed the threat too great and ordered it to be vaulted under lock and key. Pibiha mentioned her employer would know a worthy target of such a curse, but nobody debated that such a blade remain out of anyone’s hands. Dib specified that for a rainy day, if the Guild comes under hard times, it would fetch a price exceeding five digits, even six to the right person.

There were then three rings. Two were atronach summonings, a storm and flame. Permanent summonings unless slain or ordered to dissipate, and the rings would need recharging. Silent-Reed took the Ring of Flame Atronach for his payment for the evening, undoubtedly striking a decent price on the enchanter’s market.

The third and most powerful (and most expensive), was a Ring of Regeneration. When worn, one’s wounds would consistently close and seal.

There were then the Shoes of Bounding. Decently cobbled shoes but otherwise fairly mundane, allows the user to run faster and jump much higher.

Garrett also grabbed himself an ornate Altmeri-made golden vase. Very shiny, not a bad piece to sell off or present on one’s mantlepiece. There was also a clockwork planetary device, undoubtedly the property of Sotha Sil himself.

Among other things.

The rest, under the Illiac Bay Thieves Guild doctrine, is to be fenced away and the earnings passed around to the thieves that worked for it. An undoubtedly decent haul, well earned from an intense battle.

#roleplaying #elder scrolls #ESO #Elder Scrolls Online #Gaming #PC Gaming

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druidx · 2 years

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Day 1 - Nano 2022 Round-up

I'm calling it a night, but here's my round-up today.

Word count total: 6,347

Hours written total: 05:41

How am I feeling: Fucking knackered. We've had three electrical storms in the past 20h, and - not to sound like a crone, but - the pressure change is playing havoc with my joints. Also, I maaaay be experiencing a sugar crash.

Stupidest lines I've written today:

Aderyn is sending an SMS to Jauffre on succeeding in getting a quest item. In-game, none of the Blades have surnames and I've yet to assign these guys some, leading to this:

We also found a shittonne of other stuff. Modryn and the remaining blades {surname}, {surname}, {surname} and {surname}, are gonna bring it all up to The Manor.

Best lines I've written today:

Modryn has been in close combat with an enemy, and Aderyn is checking up on him after the fact:

Modryn battered Aderyn's hands away. "I'm fine," he croaked. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

And shortly after:

"Are you ready to go again, uncle?" Modryn nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be, eh?" "You can stay here-?" "Pah." He pulled himself up. "I'm not letting you go in there alone." Aderyn sucked her teeth as he hauled himself up. "If you say so, old man." "I do say so. Come on."

Honestly, all of Modryn and Aderyn's banter is funny as hell to me. Modryn bitches like a 15yo, it's great.

Problems overcome: I've had a plot hole for the biggest time which was, why would Martin ever go anywhere near the Vault while Dagon was still alive, and I think I've found the answer in my trove of stuff left behind by Tiber Septim in Sancre Tor.

Problems ahead: I have no idea, whatsoever, how to translate the Miscarcand quest into my Modern AU. I don't think my original idea will work, and honestly, I'm considering skipping it to get straight to Defense of Bruma. But to give myself breathing room, I'm going to instead write the thieves' quest, Ahdarji's Heirloom. Because who doesn't love a useless & unexpected subplot?

#TESFic #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion fanfic #tes oblivion #The Elder Scrolls #nanowrimo 2022 #nanowrimo #meta wandering words #modern oblivion au #haven's ember series #wip 'the ruby falls'#wip 'the ruby falls' excerpt #oc aderyn griffiths #hero of kvatch #modryn oreyn #meta writing

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sharpscrolls · 2 years

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@aelathehvntress

“Pardon me, is this the companions base?”

the sound of youth, of confidence, of being overly happy about anything that comes his way. Sure getting out fo the vault of Dagon is something no sane person would do, and the blue skies still unsettled him when they were not red like the vault skies were. Or the deadlands, but still-

the smell of a daedra, but also mint. And pie. And blueberries, and possibly every other wild life in skyrim.

“

#ic #pushes this on-

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dagonsvault · 1 year

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Something is lurking in the dark...

#pascal benoit #illustration #lovecraft #cthulhu #dagon #dagonsvault #dagon's vault #hpl #hp lovecraft

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artbyothermeans · 4 years

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The Mummy

#dagon's vault #artbyothermeans #mummy #pascal benoit #fantasy

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cicadahaze · 2 years

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I have opinions about Lovecraft and they boil down to he was an interesting and horrible person with an interesting and unique body of work that he could absolutely not use to it’s full potential, he made worse everything he touched, and that what other people have down with his concepts is almost universally better than what he did with his own ideas

#did you know that cthulhu actually looks like That. it’s not an abstraction. it’s literally what he looks like.#the story Call of Cthulhu ends with cthulhu coming out and eating people.#Lovecraft is why everyone thinks the king in yellow’s name is Hastur #some of Lovecraft’s stuff is the most embarrassing shit I’ve ever read #and his prose is pretentious and hard to comprehend #have you read his silver key stories?? they suck #at the mountains of madness is interesting but like. it absolutely falls on its goddamn face #the white vault podcast does it 100% better #just listen to the white vault instead #inns mouth is iconic and honestly pretty good!! if you can bear with the racism #interesting concept! which could be done in a non racist way I’m sure but man he went full throttle on that #the og Dagon story was better

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khoicesbyk · 3 years

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The Royal Romance.

Heavy Is The Head.

A/N: Whether this becomes an actual series or not: We shall see.

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

^Shameless birthday plug. Why? Because it's my birthday and I'm completely shameless. 🤷🏾‍♀️😁💃🏾🙌🏾👏🏾

This is a birthday present to myself by myself! And what better present than a birthday fic.

Current Word Count: 6,890 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @therideordiechronicles @nina01040 @storyflirting @twistedjaee @tessa-liam @kingliam2019 @pixie88 @secretaryunpaid @aussieez @txemrn @lucy-268 @sfb123 @chemist-ana @choicesficwriterscreations @texaskitten30

I had this done a week ago but I kept adding and taking out parts, paragraphs and dialogue. But now it's done for real this time. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1.) The New Normal.

In King Henry IV, Part Two, William Shakespeare wrote the words “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.” It was later translated into modern English as “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

5:30 am.

That’s the time the alarm on King Marquise’s phone went off. After rolling over to silence his phone, Marquise sat up, and with a yawn and a roll of his neck and shoulders, he’s out of bed. After stretching he turns his attention to the woman in his bed. The one he calls his savior, his Goddess, his true north. The woman who captured his heart so long ago. His Queen. Shanelle Miller is everything that he could have hoped, dreamed, prayed, and wished for as a wife and mother. Every day that he spends with her as his and his alone is a day he thanks God for.

He stands and watches her chest rise and fall as she sleeps soundly in their bed. He leaned over and moved a few stray strands of her hair from in front of her face.

“Good morning my love. I'll see you when I get back from my run.” He whispered to her before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

He quietly crept into his closet and changed into his workout clothes then grabbed his phone, AirPods, and Apple Watch before he left the main sleeping quarters where his wife slept and walked down the hall.

Being The King Of Cordonia is an incredible honor and opportunity. But it's not without its dangers and exceedingly high expectations and standards. Marquise has an obligation to Cordonia and especially to her people. And every day he bears the weight of it all. For two reasons, the two he calls his sun and stars. His wife and his daughter.

He walks until he comes to a door with a bright purple K on it. It’s his daughter’s bedroom. And just outside her bedroom door is a portrait that means more to him than all the literal gold in the family vault. It’s a portrait he took with his mother. He stops and runs a hand over the frame as he gazes at the portrait. It’s one of the most vivid memories he has of his mother when she was alive. He was 5 when she had the portrait commissioned. And sitting there to have it painted with her meant everything to him. He smiles wistfully at the painting before closing his eyes.

“Tu me manques tellement, ma mère. J'espère vous avoir rendu fier de Moi.”, he whispered in French as he leaned his head against the frame.

After staying for a few more seconds he stepped back then quietly opened Khari’s bedroom door. He carefully stepped into her room and stopped to look at his sleeping princess. She was curled up with her stuffed dragon Dagon and her kitten Paisley at her side. The family of corgis were sleeping together at the foot of her bed. Seeing her sleeping soundly made his heart melt. Lightly tapping on his right thigh he woke up Ozzie.

“Wake up Oz! We gotta go!” He whispered to his favorite canine companion.

Ozzie slowly roused from his sleep and blinked sleepily then looked up at Marquise before slowly rising and stretching. He was careful not to wake his mate Belle or their puppies Lucky and Lady. With a shake of his head, Ozzie was at Marquise’s side.

“Good boy Oz! Now let’s go. The boys are probably outside waiting on us.”

With one last look at his daughter and the family of corgis, he and Ozzie quietly leave Khari’s bedroom. They head out of the main bedroom wing and down the hall to the main staircase, where his majesty stops at a side table and grabs a leash for Ozzie before heading down the stairs and out the main entrance. When they walked out and across the lawn of the palace, his older brother Leo and his two best friends Maxwell Beaumont and Drake Walker were waiting for him and Ozzie.

“Ozzie!” The three exclaimed.

“What?! No love for your ruling monarch?”

“Dude. The whole kingdom loves you.” Leo replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah! You don’t need us stroking your ego.” Drake quipped.

“He’s got a big ego…” Maxwell teased.

“Scallywags! The lot of ya!”

The four shared a hearty laugh.

“Alright your Majesty! What are we doing this morning?”

“10 miles. 5 miles up and 5 miles down.”

“This has got to be illegal somewhere!” Maxwell whined.

“Yeah. You were Crown Prince once. Isn't it illegal to torture people without just cause?” Drake asked.

Leo sighed dramatically.

“If it is, I guarantee you he changed the law when he became King.”

“Happy to hear that you all understand why I am in charge.”

The three groaned collectively.

“Ready to go Oz?”

Ozzie barked in agreement.

“That's the spirit! Now let's go!”

And with that, they were off on their run with Ozzie at their side.

He enjoys his early morning runs with them. It helps keep him centered in reality. It reminds him that he is a man first and then a King. Besides, keeping his physique in tip-top shape for his wife is a bonus for him. He loves to give Shanelle something to drool over. These runs also remind him that he will always have his friends and his older brother to lean on and rely on. They are his most trusted advisors in both life and the Royal Council.

As his heart pumps during the run, his thoughts take him to the most recent events. The Via Imperii is the latest threat to his kingdom. This secret society is dangerous and has big plans for his kingdom. Plans he's not exactly keen on.

His reign as King of Cordonia has felt like it's been one crisis after another. From assassination attempts to coups to forced betrothal's to finding out that two members of his father's court were responsible for his mother's death on top of finding out that he has a long-lost sister, Marquise has dealt with it all. All while trying to run a kingdom and raise a daughter. What's more, no matter how much he wants to say to hell with this so-called secret society, he knows that he can't put Cordonia or his family and friends at risk. So he grins and bears it.

And lately, he's begun to question himself as King. He's also begun to understand why his father ruled the way he did. Constantine was paranoid as King. He felt he couldn't trust anyone, much less those in his own court. He used to have strong diplomatic ties with several allied countries but that all changed after Queen Eleanor was killed. And as a King himself, Marquise now understands his father's paranoia. But he refuses to let his life be ruled by or rule Cordonia by fear. He just has to find a way out of this.

7:15 am.

Marquise, Ozzie, and the boys soon finish their run just as the sun begins to come up over the palace.

“Well, that was fun!”

“Dude you’re a sadist!” Drake quipped.

“No, my wife is a sadist. I'm an innocent angel, who just happens to enjoy torturing you lot.”

The three men groan.

“I'm starting to regret my abdication.”

“Ugh! Everything hurtsssssss!” Maxwell complained as he laid out in the grass.

“Oh quit your whining! Be like Ozzie. Stoic!”

He smirks as his friends and brother narrow their eyes at him.

“You're lucky we can't touch you because you’re the King!” Drake sneered.

“I don’t know, I think I might have to pull out my older brother card. That trumps his King card.”

Marquise rolled his eyes at Leo.

“Let me get Ozzie inside. I'll see you guys at the Council meeting later.”

“Yup.” the boys replied.

With that, he and Leo head inside then back to their respective wings of the palace, while Drake and Maxwell head off to their flats near the palace. After getting Ozzie settled, Marquise headed to his quarters where he found his wife trying to silence the alarm on her phone. He stood quietly snickering to himself as he watched as she unsuccessfully hit her phone repeatedly.

He finally took pity on her and silenced her alarm. She briefly looked up at him with one eye open before turning over and burying herself in their covers.

“Wake up my love.” he gently whispered in her ear.

She groaned into her pillow.

“Now now. It's time to get up.”

“I don't want to be an adult today!”

“You're not being an adult, my love. You’re being The Queen.”

“I don't want to do that either!”

“Shanelle…” his tone was firm but gentle.

“Noooooooo…” she whined.

He shook his head at her.

“Very well. Have it your way…”

He stood up and with a shrug, he grabbed the covers and yanked them off of her causing her to bolt up in their bed.

“Just the way I like to see you. Breathing hard with your hair everywhere.”

She glared at him before throwing a pillow at him.

“Now is that any way for My Queen to behave?”

She let out a frustrated sigh.

“Of all the times for you to be a King…” she muttered as she crossed her arms.

He smirked as he held out his hand to help her out of bed. She gave him a side-eye before he helped her out of bed and into his arms.

“Ewwww!”

“What?”

“You're all sweaty.”

“I mean I just came back from my morning run with the guys.” he said with a shrug.

“Which means you haven't been in the shower yet! Yuck!”

He snickered as he tightened his arms around her.

“Gross!”

“You like it…” he whispered before nipping at the bottom of her right ear.

“Let me go!”

He groans as he buries his face into the crook of her neck.

“You need to go get in the shower! And so do I!”

He doesn't stop. Instead, he slides one hand down her back while the other stays in the center of her back. Doing so raised goosebumps on her skin, sent chills down her spine, and caused her back to slightly arch.

“Marquise!” she pouted.

He was thankful that she loved falling asleep in his old oversized Harvard t-shirt because it just barely covered the bottom of her ass.

“Let me go!”

“If I do that, you’ll start pouting again.” He whispered harshly in her ear.

She continued to squirm in his arms. But no matter how much she wriggled he would not let her go. It wasn't until he grabbed a handful of her ass that she finally put her foot down.

“Okay! Okay! Enough! We are not doing this! We need to go get in the shower before the munchkin wakes up! Now!”

With a groan of reluctance, he lets her go.

“Spoilsport…” he mutters.

“Whatever!”

“At least you’re all hot and bothered and sweaty.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes and as she went to walk past him he slapped her on her ass causing her to let out a yelp.

“Hey! Easy on the merchandise! You break it, you’re buying me another Birkin!”

“I am not buying you another one of those overpriced handbags.”

She stalked off into the bathroom without another word.

After taking a good long hot shower. Marquise was just about ready when his gaze fell on his cufflinks. One pair had his mother's royal portrait in them. And the other pair had his parent's wedding photo. Shanelle had them custom-made for their wedding anniversary. He settled on the pair with his mother's portrait.

He missed her dearly. Before Shanelle and Khari, Eleanor was the love of his life.

She was born Eleanor Anyango in Nyambura. A small village outside of Nairobi, Kenya. When she was 10 her mother took a job in the distant kingdom of Auvernal as a chambermaid for the royal family. As she grew up became interested in finance, so when she returned from college at Oxford University, she became a member of the Royal Treasury. That's where she met a young King Constantine Rys. The two were soon madly in love and when she married him in 1984, she went from deputy Treasury Director to Queen of Cordonia.

Two years after being married to Constantine, Eleanor was finally pregnant. They had a few fertility struggles but she was finally able to carry to term. She had her only boy. She named him Marquise Constantine Rys. She never got to see him become The King she knew he could be. Nor did she get to meet Shanelle or her beautiful granddaughter. And it’s the biggest regret that Marquise has ever had.

He stares at the cufflinks a few seconds more before slipping them on with a faint smile. He soon left his closet and went to check if Shanelle was ready. When he stepped into her closet, he was struck by the sight of his wife putting on her lotion. Her hair was still damp and her brown skin shined in the light.

“I thought putting lotion on you was my job.”

Shanelle shrugged innocently.

“You took too long. So I was forced to do it myself.”

“How can I make it up to you, my queen?”

“You can help me pick which perfume I'm wearing.”

“At your service my love!”

She threw him a wink over her shoulder as she walked over to the cabinet with her perfume in it. He followed behind her.

“How many bottles do you have?”

“At last count? 95.”

“Sheesh! And here I thought you had too many bags.”

“A. I will cut you for that comment. And B. you’re the one who's always buying me perfume.”

“Well, now I know not to buy you any more perfume. Or bags. Or shoes. Or jewelry. Or anything else, clothes and accessories related.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes at him.

“Liar.”

“Yeah, I know. So let's find your scent for the day.”

After going through her many bottles of perfume, they finally settled on two of them.

“I'm thinking of either my favorite Burberry scent. You know the one that smells like berries? Or maybe I'll go with the Prada one you bought me for Valentine's Day.”

“Hmm…let me see.”

Marquise took the Burberry perfume and lightly spritzed the inside of her right wrist before taking a sniff.

“Hmm…”

“Well?”

“I need a better spot to test.”

Shanelle arched an eyebrow.

“Uh huh.”

She tilted her head so he could lightly spritz her neck. He already knew this perfume was the one.

“Well?”

“How is it no matter what you always manage to look beautiful?”

“That doesn't answer the question, your majesty.”

“This is the one.”

“Thank you. Now move it so I can get dressed. I have an event to host today.”

“Oh? I don't remember seeing anything on your calendar.”

“That's because it's not a Cordonian event.”

“Ohh…”

“Yeah. It's the Via Imperii’s Ladies Of Prestige And Power Luncheon. Queen Sigrid all but insisted it be held here and that I host it.”

“You sound thrilled.”

Shanelle cut her eyes at him.

“You see this face? Does this face look like someone who wants to host a luncheon for a bunch of snobs?”

Marquise snickered.

“That is why I married you.”

“No, you married me because your only other alternatives for Queen were Olivia or Madeleine.”

Marquise shrugged.

“You're not wrong.”

“Of course I'm not wrong. Olivia would've had this country in constant war and Madeleine would have turned you into a raging alcoholic.”

“That's a little grim.”

“But still not wrong.”

“Okay fine.”

“So see? You had to marry me. For King and Country!”

Marquise shook his head and smirked.

“Speaking of which, have I kissed you today?”

“No. You woke me up and tried to use me as a towel.”

“I’m shirking my duties!”

“Indeed you are, my king.”

“Allow me to remedy that!”

He captured her lips in a passion-filled kiss.

“I hate it when you do that.” Shanelle pouted.

“Why?”

“Because I never want you to stop.”

“Well in that case…”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into another deep kiss. He loved to leave her breathless and wanting for more.

“I should let you get dressed.”

“You should but knowing you, you won't.”

“You're right. I won't. So let's get you out of this robe.”

Shanelle let her robe drop to the floor and it didn't take long to pop the buttons of his shirt open. She was soon rewarded with another passionate kiss from her husband.

“You are such a tease, your majesty.”

“Trust me, that was nothing.”

With no effort at all, Marquise picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, and walked her backward until she was just barely sitting on the edge of a dresser.

“This is how I like you.”

“And how is that?”

“At my mercy.”

Shanelle smirked.

“I am yours, my king.”

He smiled against her lips before kissing her again. She was his addiction. He believed strongly that if his queen wasn't happy then no one was happy. So he always made sure that she was happy, satisfied, and fulfilled in every way possible.

He slowly trailed kisses along her jawline to her ear and then down the left side of her neck. With each kiss being more heated than the last.

While he nursed her pulse line, his hands played with her breasts. She loved feeling his hands on her skin. Especially feeling the pads of his thumbs circle her nipples.

“Yessssssssssssss…” she moaned softly.

His majesty was getting the reaction he wanted from his wife. His lips soon went from nursing her pulse line to her breasts. She leaned back slightly to give him better access.

To him, she isn't just an addiction. She is an obsession that would sometimes borderline on a fetish depending on the day. He focused his lips on her right breast. Licking, sucking and nipping at her nipple with his teeth and his left hand was focused on rubbing and pinching her left nipple. He loves to drive her insane. And while it sometimes annoyed her, she loved it just the same.

When he glanced up at her face, her eyes were closed and she had her bottom lip between her teeth. He smiled to himself as he went back to teasing her. He slipped his right hand between her thighs earning him a groan of approval from his wife. He could feel the heat radiating from her core on his hand as he inched it closer. He could hear the desperation in her breathing.

“Someone is happy to see me.”

“Will you just shut up and fuck me now?”

Marquise cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Such language! Quite unbecoming of a woman of your station, my queen.”

Shanelle groaned impatiently.

“Let's see. What do you want?”

As he asked the question, his fingers brushed against her very wet slit.

“Do you want this?”

To illustrate his point he circled her clit with his thumb. Causing her to shiver and her eyes to flutter closed.

“Or do you want this?”

He slipped a finger inside her. He moved his finger in and out of her entrance. He watched her as she bit her bottom lip to suppress a moan.

“Hmm? What was that my love? I couldn't quite hear you.”

“Marquise…”

He loved to watch her lose control.

“Tell me what you want, my love.”

“I want you!”

With a victorious grin, Marquise dove headfirst into his queen. Her eyes snapped open when his tongue made contact with her clit.

“Ohhhh, God! Yes!” she moaned.

If there was anything that His Majesty knew quite well, it was his wife’s body. He knew every sensitive spot and he knew how to exploit those spots. With her legs over his shoulders, Marquise took his time eating her out. He took his cues from the different octaves her voice reached. It's how he knew when to switch between using his tongue and his fingers.

“God! Yes!”

He loved to hear her beg him for more. He made it his mission to always give her the most fulfilling orgasms. And this moment was no different. She was at his mercy and he was determined to take advantage of the opportunity.

“Baby just like that!”

He used his tongue to write his name across her clit while using his fingers as pistons inside her. He felt her legs begin to shake and could hear her moans begin to turn into shrieks that much like her breathing she was struggling to control. She had both hands white-knuckling the edge of the dresser as she rode his fingers. She was close; he felt it as her thighs squeezed around his neck. This was her way of keeping him in place as she rode out her orgasm.

“Oh shit! There! Right there! Just like that baby! Just like that!”

“Shhh, my love!”

“Marquise…”

“As much as I love seeing our little one, I don't think we want her barging in here to investigate why she heard her mother screaming her head off. Might scar her for life.”

She wanted to go over the edge into sweet orgasmic oblivion but she couldn't quite get over that hurdle so to speak. Luckily for her, he knew exactly what she needed.

“You might want to hang on, my love. And for the love of God, keep it down!”

He replaced his fingers with his tongue. Her thighs squeezed his neck as her body shook. He stopped long enough to encourage her.

“That's it, my love. Let go. Cum for me.”

She had a vice-like grip on the dresser and bit down hard on her bottom lip to muffle her scream, as she rode in his tongue over the edge into her orgasm. When he let her go, she had light bruises on her thighs from where his fingers were. She laid against the top of the dresser so she could catch her breath.

“My favorite!” he quipped before licking her juices off his fingers.

“I…hate…you!” she said breathlessly.

He snickered.

“I love you too. Now I'm gonna freshen up then go get the princess while you get dressed. Sound good?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“That's my girl!”

With a quick kiss, Marquise left her to freshen up before going to see about his little one. Being a dad was the highlight of his life. Khari was his sun, moon, and stars. When he got to her room, she was already awake. She was sitting on her bed reading to Paisley, Lucky, and Lady. When she looked up from her book she smiled before throwing her arms around his neck.

“Good morning daddy!”

His heart stuttered.

“Good morning precious. How are you?”

“I'm good.”

“Did you sleep well little one?”

“Uh-huh! But now I'm hungry.”

“Okay well let's get you dressed and we'll go meet your mother for breakfast.”

“Okay, daddy.”

He followed her into her closet and helped her pick her outfit for the day before helping her brush her teeth and get dressed. Normally her mother would do this but today he felt like taking a swing at it. Once she was dressed, they met Shanelle in the main hallway then made their way to the dining area where breakfast was waiting.

After breakfast, Marquise gave his wife and daughter a kiss goodbye as they got ready for Shanelle's event. While he left to host the Prime Ministers of Norway and Sweden in his study.

9:47 am.

While his Swedish and Norwegian were a tad bit rusty, his meeting included talks about possible tax incentives, opening consumer markets, each other's families, and NATO alliances went off without a hitch. Marquise was pleased to have made progress with two key European allies.

1:49 pm.

After a quick bite for lunch, his majesty then got ready for the Royal Council meeting.

While they weren't his favorite subject of conversation, he was thankful that he at least had his two best friends and older brother on the council with him. They made the meetings a lot more manageable. Especially Maxwell. During the meeting, he announced that there would be a tax increase on the nobility to help fund a new healthcare plan for the people.

While it wasn't received enthusiastically, many couldn't stop him from implementing this new law. Simply because the King’s word is final. Marquise prides himself on being for the people of Cordonia. Much like his mother Eleanor was. She believed in the ideal that Cordonia thrives for and because of the people. And not the nobility.

As he sat in his office with a glass of Scotch in his hand, he gazed at the photo on the desk of Shanelle and Khari from a month before. They had gone to Applewood for the rededication of the Applewood Orchard. And he snapped a picture of his girls after they tried the first harvest since the orchard was burned. He smiles at the photo of them smiling. They are what drives him to be a better husband, father, and King.

As he looked around his office his gaze stopped on the royal portrait of his father Constantine. It was commissioned right after he was crowned. Constantine Leonidas Rys was a complicated man in his later years. But in his youth especially when he was Crown Prince he was the life of the party. He was always reliable when it came to a good stiff drink and a great political debate. When he married Lady Debra Onasis of House Vescovi on August 21st, 1980, it was an arranged marriage between his father King Leonardo, and her father Duke Julian.

They might not have been in love at least but both cared for one another. When Debra gave birth to Leo in 1982, Constantine was thrilled as were his parents. But Debra was not. She loved her son deeply and dearly but life as Queen of Cordonia wasn't what she thought it would be. The pressure became too much for her and she left. Leaving Constantine to raise Leo by himself until he met young Eleanor Anyango on a diplomatic trip to Auvernal and the rest became history until her untimely death.

He was much older and set in his old ways when he met Regina Amaranth in Fydelia. But was smitten nonetheless. When they married Leo was 17 and Marquise was 13. Both care deeply for their stepmother as she does for them.

Marquise will admit that his father wasn't always the easiest to get along with. They butted heads more often than not but Marquise loved his father nonetheless. So when it was revealed that he was behind the plot to frame Shanelle, Marquise took it hard. He couldn't believe that his father would be so nefarious and yet he was. It changed their relationship entirely. With Marquise wondering if he could even fully trust his dad ever again.

It wasn't until Constantine died saving him that the voice in his head that questioned their relationship was silenced for good. Because as his father laid there dying none of it mattered. All that mattered was trying to save him. He needed to save him. He had to. There was so much that he needed to say, so much he wanted to say but he never got the chance to.

So whenever he looked at his father's portrait, he can't help but wonder what he would've said to him. But today he was brought out of his reverie by a knock at his door.

“Come in!” he announced.

An aide stepped in.

“Pardon the interruption your majesty, but Lord Vancoeur would like a word in private with you.”

Marquise rolled his eyes internally.

“Let him in.”

“Yes, my king.”

The aide disappeared then reappeared with Neville trailing behind him.

“Thank you. That will be all.”

“Yes, your majesty. Your Grace.”

The aide soon left and it was just him and Neville.

“Neville! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I came by to discuss your new tax hike on the nobility.”

“Please have a seat, Lord Vancoeur.”

Neville took a seat across from him.

“Now, what would you like to discuss?”

“Simple. I demand that you rescind the new tax law immediately.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It's a frivolous law. And I want it stricken down! We are the populace’s betters! We should not be paying more in taxes! We should be living as the nobility that we are!”

Marquise schooled his annoyance behind a stoic mask.

“You do realize that's not how this works right?”

Neville scoffed.

“It is where our mutual friends are concerned. I would hate for them to have to force you and your wife to change the law.”

Marquise set his jaw as his eyebrow twitched.

“After all, we're both members, Marquise.”

“Your Majesty.” Marquise corrected him.

“There was nothing wrong with what I just said to you.”

“Actually there is. You may be a member of the Via Imperii but not only are you a very low member on their totem pole Neville but you're still Cordonian nobility so long as I allow you to be.”

“Oh come now Marquise! You can't be–”

“So don't you dare for one second think that I'm not well within my right as your monarch to strip you and your house of your lands and titles!” Marquise sneered.

Neville sank into his seat.

“That's what I thought. Now get out of my office, Lord Vancoeur.”

Neville got up without a word.

“Oh! And one more thing! You ever call me by my first name again, and I will personally see to it that you are thrown into a dungeon just for annoying the hell out of me.”

The color drained from Neville’s face.

“Have a good rest of your day.”

And just like that Marquise was alone once again.

Hearing the Via Imperii’s name, much less speaking it, always put him in a bad headspace. This is why he struggles with his wife being part of The Circle. He trusts her implicitly but he's seen firsthand what lengths they're willing to go to, to get what they want.

A prime example of this was them revealing that he has a younger sister. While he is happy to have Lena in his life and wants to have some kind of relationship with her, it's not lost on him that she works for the very organization that bankrolled the men that killed his mother. Not to mention the fact they only revealed her to force his hand and have Cordonia join their ranks. But what is his majesty to do? It's damned if you do and damned if you don't.

3:54 pm.

After all his meetings were over, it was time for the family to head to Volterias. When he got to the main staircase he was greeted by his daughter.

“Daddy!”

She ran up and nearly took him out at the knees.

“Hello my princess. How was your day?”

“It was good daddy. I missed you.”

He picked her up.

“I missed you too, my love.”

“Uh-huh. And what about me?”

Shanelle looked at her husband with an expectant eyebrow raised and her arms crossed.

“Of course I've missed you, my queen.”

He kisses her sweetly with Khari wriggling in his arms.

“Much better your majesty. Now, are we ready to go?”

“Yes, my queen. Let us be off to Duchy Volterias.”

“Yay! We get to go home!” Khari squealed.

Marquise smiled at his daughter.

“Yes, my love. We do.”

Soon they were off to his queen’s duchy. 2 hours later they were pulling up to the estate and Khari was ready to get out of the SUV.

“Home sweet home! Right, Ozzie?” Khari asked Ozzie. His only response was a bark which seemed to be in agreement. As they walked across the bridge his majesty began to think about dinner.

“So what are my girls hungry for tonight?”

“Can we make pizza daddy?”

“Of course, little one.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes and smirked at her husband.

“Never thought I'd see a King be a pushover but here we are.”

Marquise cut his eyes at his wife.

“At this very moment, I am a dad. Not a king. And if my precious little one wants pizza for dinner then we are going to have pizza for dinner!” he said matter of factly.

Shanelle simply shrugged as they walked into the manor. It didn't take them long to cover the kitchen in cornmeal, olive oil, tomato sauce, and various pizza toppings. And after waiting for them to bake, the pizzas were done and demolished. And after dinner, it was movie night in the master bedroom.

8:37 pm.

“Okay pumpkin what are we watching tonight?”

“Can we watch Moana mommy?”

Marquise let out a grateful sigh that she didn't want to watch Frozen for the millionth time.

“Of course, pumpkin.”

“Moana it is!” the King proclaimed as they settled into watching Moana.

Not even an hour later his majesty found himself as a pillow for both of his girls. With his wife on his right and his daughter on his left. He shook his head and chuckled softly.

“Happens every time…”

He quietly picked up his snoring daughter and put her to bed in her room.

“Goodnight my princess. I'll see you in the morning.”

When he returned to the bedroom Shanelle had changed into one of his dress shirts and was under the covers.

“That's my shirt!”

“I know. It smells like your Prada Cologne.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You weren't asleep, were you?”

“I dozed for a bit but I woke up when you went to put little bit to bed. Now get over here.”

“So bossy!” he teased.

“Queen.”

“By proxy.”

“Still Queen.”

Marquise rolled his eyes with a smirk before crawling into bed with his wife.

“I've been so busy with our girl I haven't had time to ask you how the luncheon went.”

He heard Shanelle groan.

“That bad?”

“I was stuck in a room full of female Nevilles.”

He winced.

“Yikes! And I thought my run-in with him earlier was bad.”

“Whatever you’re imagining…imagine it being…10…times…worse.”

Marquise shuddered.

“My poor love. I'm sorry you had to endure that.”

“It was awful…”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead while softly running his knuckles along her spine.

“Ne t'inquiète pas mon amour. Je suis ici maintenant.”

She snuggled against his chest.

“Let me make you feel better.”

He tilted her chin then kissed her softly. He loves the feel of her lips on his. He loves how soft her lips always are. He rolled onto his back and pulled her into his lap. Instinctively, his hands went to her waist to hold her in place as their kiss deepened. When the kiss ended Shanelle was feeling quite satisfied.

“Better?”

“I’ll say.”

“That's not a yes. So it looks like I must continue.”

“Yes, you should.”

He kissed her again. But this kiss was more intense than the last and left her dizzy.

“Damn! What did I do to deserve a kiss like that?”

“You stole my heart and never gave it back.”

She playfully shoved him.

“Uh-huh. But seriously how was your day? You mentioned something about Neville.”

“Yeah. He's not happy about the new tax hike on the nobility.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes.

“He even mentioned telling our…mutual friends that shall remain nameless.”

Shanelle’s eyebrows shot up.

“He threatened you?!”

“Vaguely. Until I reminded him of his position in the Via Imperii and his station here in Cordonia.”

“The damn nerve!”

“That’s the Vancoeur family for you. His mother Lady Beatrice and older brother Gorman are just as bad. And his father Luther is even worse than the two of them combined.”

“Then maybe we should pay a visit to Comery Isle. Just to remind them of their betters.”

Marquise smirked.

“You're evil my queen!”

“Well, I mean I am in the land of apples. While living a fairytale life so…”

“That is just one reason why I love you.”

“You better.”

“My love, there is no other for me but you.”

“I'm not so sure your daughter would agree.”

“Okay fine. There is no other woman for me but you.”

“Much better.”

He looked at her with pure adoration.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what my love?”

“Make me feel like I'm the only woman in the world?”

“Because you are my love. You always will be.”

“Ever the hopeless romantic.”

“You love it.”

“Oh I do. I really do. Now I think it's time that we got you out of these clothes my king.”

“The Queen has decreed it! So shall it be!”

They both worked to get him undressed. He groaned as she ran her hand over the bulge in his pants. She loved feeling him shiver at her touch. After he was naked, he tangled his right hand in her hair and pulled her head back so he could run his tongue along her collarbone. Hearing her gasp softly sent a chill down his spine.

“While you look great in my shirt, I need it gone. I want your skin, not fabric.” he whispered before nipping the bottom of her left ear.

“Then take it off your majesty.”

“Yes, my queen.”

He deftly unbuttoned the shirt, stopping to kiss every inch of her exposed skin before tossing it aside. When he looked at her his heart skipped a beat. He still couldn't believe that the beautiful black woman before him, is his wife and queen. Everything about her amazes him. Her drive, her determination, her everlasting love for him and their daughter, her wit, and especially her heart leaves him speechless.

Never in a million years did he expect to fall in love with someone like her. When they met at her old bar in D.C. he came for the drinks, the food, the possible debauchery, and his friends. But he stayed for her.

“You are a Goddess.”

“It's about damn time someone noticed my talents.”

“There is nothing that I don't miss when it comes to you, my love.”

“There is one thing you missed.”

“What?”

“You missed a spot here.”

She tapped her bottom lip.

“Nah. I didn't miss it. I just hadn't gotten around to it yet.”

With that, he kissed her again while tightening his arms around her. He didn't want to let her go. He gently leaned her back so he could kiss along her sternum and down her chest. He loves to shower her with love, affection, and kisses. His Queen. His Goddess.

He looked up to see her biting her bottom lip with her eyes closed. He slid his left hand to her neck and brought her lips to his. He wanted to taste her. He needed to. This moment is where she became a fetish. She broke their kiss to look into his eyes.

“I need you.”

“I am yours, my queen.”

“Take me.”

“I was waiting for you to say something.”

He drove his tongue into her mouth as he pulled her closer and into position. He winked at her before bringing her down onto him. He took a sharp breath while she gasped softly.

“Yes…”

His grip on her hips tightened as he started to move her in sync with him. He loved feeling her fit around him like a glove. She laid her hands on his broad chest as she rode her husband.

“You are infuckingcredible!” he said through clenched teeth.

He loved to hold her still then plow into her again and again. He would just barely pull out of her before thrusting back in. Never giving her inner walls a full chance to adjust.

“Fuck! Yessssssss! Just like that!”

He loved to see the lust in her eyes and hear the pleasure in her voice and feel her body respond to him. She went from scratching his chest to her nails digging into his wrist. He took that as a sign that she was close. And truth be told, so was he.

She bounced up and down riding him hard. Feeling her grip on his length, drove him insane. He took advantage of the situation and began thrusting his hips harder. He watched her close her eyes. With one final thrust of his hips, her orgasm snapped and sent her into a sweet oblivion with him right behind her.

That was it, all, ball game. Marquise held her close as they came down from their combined high. She snuggled against his chest, completely satisfied.

“That was…”

“Amazing? I know. You know that I live to please you, my queen.”

She rolled her eyes with a sly smile. He kissed her forehead softly as he rubbed her back. He felt her body become heavier.

“You should get some sleep.”

“Mmmhmm.”

He chuckled softly.

“Goodnight my queen.”

“Goodnight…”

It didn't take her long after that to drift off to sleep. As he laid there with his queen in his arms, he took a small moment to be thankful. Even with everything else in his life seemingly going awry, he was thankful for her. He was thankful for their daughter. He was grateful for quiet moments like these.

Because these moments became his new normal.

#khoicesbyk #choices #choices stories you play #pixelberry #choices fanfiction #fanfic #king marquise #queen shanelle #king of cordonia #queen of cordonia #king and queen of cordonia #black king liam #liam x mc #king liam #birthday fic #choices fic writers creations

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nightingaletrash · 3 years

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New oc for the Fox and the Anchorite AU, in which the Anchorite is still Moricar’s insurance against Mehrunes Dagon but isn’t the Fourth Ambition.

This is Sif, the Fox and the Fourth Ambition. Her element is earth, and she prefers to utilise hand-to-hand combat over martial weapons. She’s essentially the embodiment of earthquakes and tectonic activity.

Raised in Vault Vulpinaz, Sif was freed by Varen’s forces during the rebellion and, aware of the dangers of the world outside, she travelled with a small unit of soldiers for a time. One of the soldiers took a liking to Sif and recognised her natural knack for combat and aptitude for magic - they took the time to train the teen, helping her to refine the training she had received during her time in the vault.

The soldier would later be killed in an accident when Sif’s powers continued to grow and began to escape her control. She fled in the aftermath and travelled alone, wrestling with the growing power within her. After several weeks alone, she crossed paths with a young man called Sombren, in whom she shared an inherent connection. Realising they shared similar stories, were both of the same nature, and they were both struggling with the same build of power, the pair sought out a teacher who could help them. And soon, Xynaa appeared to them and offered her help.

The two Ambitions trained intensively under Xynaa’s tutelage, learning how to suppress and control their power until they proved their mastery. However whereas Sombren chose to leave the sanctuary to return to Nirn, Sif remained behind - she wished to learn more about Mehrunes Dagon’s plans for the Ambitions, and believed her best chance of doing so was by remaining in the Deadlands.

During her time in Xynaa’s care, Sif befriended a dremnaken that she calls Drem, and a quasi-griffon she calls Griff. Together, the trio wanders the Deadlands in search of answers, though Drem has warned Sif against trusting her mentor; Xynaa’s openness about her desire for favours undoubtedly masks her exact intentions. Drem’s prediction proved right when Xynaa called Sif back to the sanctuary where the three other Ambitions had gathered.

#eso #sif the fox #drem the dremnaken #the fox and the anchorite au

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rowaning · 3 years

Conversation

The Complete Fiction of HP Lovecraft rated by me, someone who read them all* but has a terrible memory

The Beast in The Cave: uh a guy goes on a cave tour and finds a creature that was like a human that got lost and adapted to its surroundings. 0/10 just because im pretty sure there was another one with this exact premise and neither of them were memorable at all.

The Alchemist: dude achieves immortality and lives in the narrators basement and has pledged to murder his entire lineage or something. 4/10 the alchemy stuff was actually kind of interesting

The Tomb: im pretty sure this is the one where a guy starts hanging out in a tomb and like travels back in time/becomes one of his ancestors? 5/10 if its the one im thinking of i did enjoy reading it

Dagon: guy lands on a mysterious island with signs of a long dead civilization. 1/10 i do not remember what happened in it

A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson: 0/10 i have no memory of this

Polaris: also 0/10 i forgot all about it

Beyond the Wall of Sleep: could be any of the dream focused ones. if its the one about the dude sailing into the void or whatever than 4/10 not too bad

Memory: ironically, i dont remember it. 0/10

Old Bugs: 1/10 for the title god i wish i remembered this one

The Transition of Juan Romero: i got nothing. 0/10

The White Ship: this might also be the one about the dude sailing into the void? i liked that one he lived in a lighthouse and boarded a dream ship and just fucking left it was fun. 4/10

The Street: uh i think really steep street that didnt actually exist. 3/10

The Doom that Came to Sarnath: i wanna say another one of the dream centered ones where a town discovers some old relics and blatantly disrespects them and gets exactly whats coming to it. 5/10 they deserved what they got

The Statement of Randolph Carter: ok this dude shows up several times. i think this one is about how he returns to his childhood home then travels back in time and creates a time loop paradox thing. 1/10 meh

The Terrible Old Man: uh some thieves harrass a weird old guy and get got. 5/10

The Cats of Ulthar: someone is mean to a cat in a dream city, all of the rest of the cats get revenge and are revered for the rest of time. 2/10 (-3 because lovecraft has a specific name he gives to apparently every fictional and real cat he encounters and wow i wish he hadn't)

The Tree: i feel like this is something to do with a person becoming a tree but i cant actually remember. 0/10

Celephais: yeah no i got nothing 0/10

The Picture in the House: also nothing 0/10

The Temple: nope 0/10

Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and his Family: is this the one where the dude's great grandfather married an ape? i dont think so but im not sure. 0/10, -5/10 if it is that one cause that one was especially shitty

From Beyond: nope 0/10

Nyarlathotep: charismatic dude shows up and is like get in bitches we're going to the void. i love nyarlathotep cause hes the one who directly interacts with humanity and like wears a human suit or whatever so hes just some dude whos like hey im gonna feed you to azathoth 5/0

The Quest of Iranon: got nothing 0/10

The Music of Erich Zann: narrator makes friends with an old musician whos being hunted by supernatural forces. 2/10 because i remember it but it was just ok

Ex Oblivione: 1/10 for the title but i have no clue what it was about

Sweet Ermengarde: lovecraft's sole attempt at comedy. not to my taste like at all 0/10

The Nameless city: nope 0/10

The Outsider: also nope 0/10

The Moon-Bog: sounds cool, dont remember it. 0/10

The Other Gods: dude tries to find the gods of humanity where they live on a big mountain, actually finds them, is immediately smited by the Other Gods who protect the gods of humanity. 3/10 he deserved it

Azathoth: dont recall, 0/10

Herbert West- Reanimator: Arkham man Herbert West and his assistant ressurect the dead with little thought to the consequences, then get murdered by a band of said resurrected dead. 5/10

Hypnos: nope 0/10

What the Moon Brings: also nope 0/10

The Hound: still nope 0/10

The Lurking Fear: again, nope 0/10

The Rats in the Walls: dude returns to his ancestral home, hears rats, excavates the basement and finds out that his ancestors ate human flesh, eats his friend. 1/10 it was an interesting read but can lovecraft please stop calling cats that.

The Unnameable: no clue 0/10

The Festival: nope 0/10

*Under the Pyramids: ok im pretty sure this is the one with houdini which is the only one i could not read. i went into this mentally prepared for lovecraft's bigotry but i was not mentally prepared for him dropping harry houdini, avid skeptic who absolutely would have beat the shit out of him for this, into the middle of his super racist paranormal horror. -1000/10

The Shunned House: nope 0/10

The Horror at Red Hook: also nope 0/10

He: cool title, no memory of the story. 0/10

In the Vault: wow im bad at this. 0/10

Cool Air: still no 0/10

The Call of Cthulhu: kind of all over the place, there was a thing about artists and then a thing about a cop investigating a cult. 3/10 meh but ill give it a bonus for being a staple of horror fiction.

Pickman's Model: uh artist sees some wild shit and draws it and then it eats him. 2/10 i forget the details

The Strange High House in the Mist: if this is the one im thinking of, dude does a dangerous climb to find a mysterious house and meet the inhabitant who is kind of interdimensional and also being hunted by interdimensional things. also maybe the house eats people? 2/10

The Silver Key: another Randolph Carter one, and i think this is actually the one about him travelling back in time so idk what the other one was. 3/10

The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath: randolph carter goes on a quest in the dream world to find the gods of humanity and ask why they wont let him check out this cool city he can see from his window. lots of action and very wordy and went a lot of different places. 4/10 good read but extremely xenophobic

The Case of Charles Dexter Ward: guy investigates his ancestor who looks disturbingly like him, ancestor comes back to life and kills him and takes his place and a bunch of other stuff happens. mostly a dramatized genealogical study. 3/10 not bad, very suspenseful

The Colour Out Of Space: meteor lands on a farm, scientists get weirded out by it, everything in the area gets weird then dead, alien thing gets enough power from draining nearby life-forms to escape earth. fun twist ending. 4/10 bonus for being one of the better ones, detraction for writing out a 'rural accent'

The Descendant: nope, 0/10

The Very Old Folk: nope again, 0/10

History of the Necronomicon: very dry. fake history of lovecraft's fake book thats super important to a lot of the stories. 0/10

The Dunwich Horror: isolated witchy family has a kid who no one likes that grows up real fast. graphic descriptions of renovation. a horror gets unleashed on the area and the local folklore scholars have to deal with it. 1/10 nothing good enough to counter the xenophobia

Ibid: i remember this one. no idea what it's deal was. pseudo-bibliography? it was weird. 0/10

The Whisperer in Darkness: guy has a correspondance with another guy about local folk legends based on evil crab things. other guy gets straight up replaced by an evil crab thing and first guy doesnt even notice. imagine if you followed up on a scam email and didnt realize anything was up until you saw that the face of the dude you were talking to in person was a mask. 4/10 for the comedy this guy would not last in the internet age at all

At The Mountains of Madness: guy whines about penguins and how awful it would be if there were civilizations that predated humanity. also commits grave desecration. i get hit by the realization that if lovecraft was less of a racist coward he wouldve made a great speculative sci fi author. 3/10 i would love to watch that old asshole get absolutely torn to shreds by the monster fucker community

The Shadow over Innsmouth: Fish People! Leave Them Alone! Or Else! 5/10 the protagonist gets to live the dream by escaping human society and becoming an immortal fish person

The Dreams in the Witch House: dude rents an objectively haunted room, doesnt listen to people trying to help him, gets murdered by a weird rat. later they find a shit ton of bones in the attic. 2/10 meh

Through The Gates of the Silver Key: Randolph Carter transcends time and space, then de-transcends time and space and immediately gets stuck on another planet in the distant past, makes a long and difficult journey back to earth to find that his estate is being divided amongst his heirs. the comedy potential of a man stuck in an alien body dealing with a legal system that has declared him dead is not examined. 2/10

The Thing on the Doorstep: narrator's good friend marries a fish person witch who steals his body. thats basically it. 3/10. at this point im like wow these narrators really refuse to believe the heavily foreshadowed supernatural explanations that turn out to be correct huh.

The Evil Clergyman: dude is in a room. some ghosts (?) show up. dude has a UV light for some reason. Gets his face stolen i guess and just has to live with it. 5/10 for being absolutely buck wild and refusing to explain anything

The Book: nope 0/10

The Shadow Out Of Time: dude gets his body stolen by ancient scholar species. agonizes about it for a while. finds archaeological evidence of said species. finds a book he wrote while living with said species. almost gets eaten by something. 3/10 more cool speculative sci fi but lame protagonist

The Haunter of the Dark: you'd think id remember it bc this was the last one and i read it last night. oh wait, nvm i do remember it. dude finds an old box in a run down culty church and unleashes a horror that then comes and fucks him up. 1/10 meh.

#tw lovecraft #i have forgotten more than i can remember #which is on par for me

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