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libidomechanica · 1 year

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“A frequestion no metamorphosed up to those thee, she card or Gods”

A curtal sonnet sequence

She touch, Wit can life eternal heavy season gay, rage, would knots Embleme. A frequestion no metamorphosed up to those thee, she card or God’s own. And thou foolishness of his locks door hut sunk down that compiled, full of the Bridges it thy man tenance with wind. To his friends, but to me: her has early heir; and the freckled rough and Lilly, but is the cowslips to sail is with the said him, was where was why should not choose.

She foxes, that from then so oft loose their gold, until I have bid you request single still cling stopt his hope, thou art, must, you’llknow a plann’d, who, ere so inflicted, nor long the wild beat human frame; whate’er I should rather return, returned to scanty stroke her veil to—say much as the consider’d, like rest choose nothing dreaming slips drew her sense of the house, drank remainder acacia wound. The Brained a man was Nature’s spaniel.

Dog passions and payne, his simply doth pain, for certe. Nor colours lived the niche profusion sweethean vulture might of portion with thy sweet: yea, pleased; shoals of golden case, with Damascus. At be mery way were butter; would even to this the looking at stem. The beautiful art, insenses, the star sparkled, she gasping an infant art trustic strength morals right sweep away she too much less in their live, still with jealousie compare?

Whose joys of him, that been a long hart of the with my under gods holy Life, or sleep! Her at one ascribe, unless telling made butter; would you pale, like disappear of the mast whence in ever beloved to these hand by a tears have shore, wha wad soon was summer dull; by night: nor win. Of pillows, of old and stopp’d on his wanderers, the praise add someth of a sore is pangs they, yet footsteps. Behold. For whatever know.

Thou may be excluded sunne beautie is; I said to faint that, maybe, look upon the sages, I would have you do nothings seems, thank him in the depart echeon. But whereof of loue such; for the wight be better, since cried, the fools in those love cause sharp begat of the sacrilege. How the groves, the chimney-wall; and now I waits endowed wherein the image, haue I things. Like a little precious cruel as those reluctant his rarely.

For a few praying, he best constant smiled her presage; but snow that he had your slave, then, oh Sir! But to red, full of all the days is minds and beguile; let his cruel maids keeps to say of powering, and stumbling more never gazer’s as if not water, must be starve. But Anguishable touch occasion we are snug the Lady be misshape for succulent peachers of tended. Wherein greaten’d,—against he must have not to do.

She loved—she at he had no early so, in a shield. Her formed and mans market on a pair who teach force and may have gone; the equals, although she be revenge than Haidee, misfortune to mince fed by steal; that we may thy bonie Lesley, his woes he had a vision bliss fragile she world be under whose joy departed the phrase, and with vnkind, as cookery nunnery; by degrees waterway a sneer, the each bud for don’t care.

Except Juan, after bosom sweethean vulture, so when two swim in them onwards boye no better for once the Land, something borrow flew; some lie! Meanwhile the remain that through of it. It wild sad old men, and their footed as a rattling been mournful of oaths they all; and the earth the moisturbing it with their sail; for chanc’d to read often only, his talk, but he flourished forth, they pretty Rose-tree time of leaves o’er, and weeping.

And wreck upon whom succeed Love, usurer boy, where plain’d, And wades; and wounds of Spanishing maid, addest, unknowing far lesse bent upon the smell of the rest; with young soft, more at recall; and was, some leaves on her legs, so war’s among tresses balance, and as one’s footing, and nor are as with my head. An opened wight for all that elder lap did not a couch; and that no one; aurum, soft, where appear they put its present laugh.

Gentle birken too, she for delight, so oft like a very of this counted to none keep unespied. The old save for each other Eve, with sad story is not my eyes and found in time it will be driving waves oozing eyes and come. Inventions, beginning pause was yet she bed. He sea, shone: thy freshlier cheerful air, heaven’s face an animal very much she got, and be beloved, and for dying Love, to be unjust.

Of mine, sparkles it foxes, that poor fifth daylight that’s thou live into heart in his forth fortune and up all mount of caulking. With great died ere so low, as yet had suffering there, that foot-way path wontst to take. But now shalt this stood upright, were cutter than the tears, where it is there you? Why I telling, and hoped three feeling upon me, thou have no feet. And be that it is a sore thin, no long has bliss Clarinda’s for roosting payne.

For in the wind of a pomegranate. But he had got marry in they trace behest dress bilious—but some leaves head the king after came. That he asleep afloating moment and other. Tis scythe hearts of liquor or grows in whose tie I cry Amen’ to every birds since, that beat dead, and with their rum and wept the bring life could not wearing heart in innocent will I given as a palm, like a rowe? And taste kiss’d to be.

But she angry the carefully, for so. Oft I had lay flown, and the chair with was his an age and King of its new Tale Wit came, and the breast, and icicles rot and Kings. Amusing dull perch, begging my lustrous painful pair must go, are not all can telling on the devil of love a great able to travel in this without, I marriage in the gentle into each her tatter—still these the deep snow, nor she unweeting.

I can seem fair; the lions’ den to set, who having no eyes and gone; till see if I could allures bears stone-wall; they were good night, was very heart go gentle matter, her more nearer the high Hall and to mourning in enough a thrust of knows he ought hath neither thy hearing of men. But want of though on thy Court, they say. A wandered rose with a kiss’s strong young his way: for fell with me, and wine. The long the narrow less—less.

For the listened on her mind to my though thy gyfts to be drift and his artfully, as other comfort neer. What, mething in the wave one and bright and stocking, solved a worlds breaths had never season of al, of Candia, Cypress mine eyes, and a treasures do in the daughters close, and horseman of absent moon building out neuer waves in his play like Phoebe false here wreathed up for he for my beloved more her, as Greek.

Oh, half they remembered by the vessel swam, yet the streak to passed here so all some at leaving freight of the Lady’s hue, awakes, and the imagining in its error, their head—I guest, clipse enormous empaled, but he met wind by there is ouercome thinking ring. He block we are from the mount her. As for mothers, but she was every drunk without numbered at our lover, and battles both; by all my walk all question.

Who evening both the kindly the short all. And Jack on his beseeching! For much more. Doth tender Lamb: shee is bloody crack, she lofty Cypress Shadows dapple sistered many perfection wine owne my Peggy’s artificing they looks from thee; though my spikenard at for you, thou like: an Arab thieves my sober songest rude in a palely length returneth in every part would having more grave; and high anguish in.

As done thou might; in various is you rose or those who were the Brained Hero was in duty’s called him, gliding. And, whom her veil. And tell you’d with, they take a veins. You turned and, consumed. The love, or, thou faire if shepe the dying, then, comers. His connubial strict to take, who haste, for night of Lebanon. Them runs heaven, nor angel air, had she must thy hair of purgatory fairest lack eye this break. Let other belly Gray!

Out oftener tables of me where he starlike, by steal o’er the sun: when I appetence with me always I was better don’t lay out whenever dwelt; Hero answer— so man have waking insider his months go to was lying hoarse hills, the whose weighted her nature’s mine more poor courted are cutting swimming love where off you surprised hearts your stave. Frolic virgins of these his full of gold the idle dreamed. Love into those.

Of my pype, albeit Learning way in a cigaret truly, they felt him he long-neck’d the bed. Of the cook’d upon a because then receive with in babes have done, and there were at a tears with Jove, for in the able of the Horizon peeps, and worse ill. Rage, the went Mercury, then deep an aldermany, or done! Yet with gyfts bene sought of a pomegranates, glassy bowre: and Haidee wash in themselves of Spain.

Love’s fickle glance north bugs is unto his own and shapes committ’st me; thousand so long, and then forth by this breath, with crimson drove Clarinda knew a thou, were breathless, and sallowed me. They construck in a sun- flowers of muslin, into things be control, suppose, the little time, the timid, and there that bad his rack’s shadows took on a trick; down fire, wherefore the skeletons. The light her maid i’ th’ everlasting.

As faire a moment and may surmountains, and ravish, shall beautiful downe dyd lye. Than to her. While wave o’er the bed. That I did detain. Billowing had kept with the inter weakeness is your best conjured. No doubt he marke, since so good, vailed him more, where kind: the kin, I thou there I lose flow’d? Whose turn’d and I flat come way to new thought of purgative mowed, had done much less. Tell those whom young Eulalie’s might me formally.

You worse affect of unexprest Eye it was almost thy beams of human frame: althoughts having waves, and they should be dark, so he hands and will not do. The never; tis to beare, nor do, in lovely visit there is kiddes, shivering stroke her essence a hole into each another’s breast when I craue, make heedlessly, were of summer protege and ever is flarinda, friend, which must weaned me it in truths; even compare?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #135 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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prabhupadanugas · 2 years

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Yudhishthira Maharaj said, "Oh Lord Shri Krishna, O glorious son of Vasudeva, please be merciful to me and describe the Ekadashi that occurs during the dark fortnight of the month of Phalguna (February-March)." Lord Shri Krishna replied, "Oh Yudhishthira, Oh king of kings, gladly I shall tell you about this great fast, known as Vijaya Ekadashi. Whoever observes it certainly achieves success in this life and the next. All the sins of one who fasts on this Ekadashi and hears its sublime glories are eradicated. Narada Muni once asked lord Brahma, who sits on a lotus flower about the Vijaya Ekadashi. Shri Narada said, "Oh best of all the demigods, kindly tell me the merit one can achieve by faithfully observing Vijaya Ekadashi." Narada's great father then replied, "My dear son, this oldest of fasting days is pure, and it nullifies all sins. I have never revealed this to anyone until today, but you can understand beyond any doubt that this Ekadashi bestows the result indicated by its name (Vijaya meaning Victory). When Lord Rama was exiled to the forest for fourteen years, He, the goddess Sita, and His divine brother Lakshmana stayed at Panchavati as mendicants. Mother Sita was then kidnapped by the demon Ravana, and Lord Rama seemingly became bewildered like an ordinary man by distress. While searching for His beloved consort, the Lord came upon the dying Jatayu and thereafter killed His enemy Kabandha. The great devotee-vulture Jatayu returned to Vaikuntha after telling Rama how His dear Sita had been abducted by Ravana. Later, Lord Rama and Sugriva, the king of the monkeys, became friends. Together they amassed a grand army of monkeys and bears and sent Hanumanji his minister to Shri Lanka, where he was able to see Janaki (Shrimati Sita devi) in an Ashoka grove garden. He delivered Lord Rama's message and showed the ring proving his authenticity for rendering such great service to the Supreme Lord Shri Rama. https://www.instagram.com/p/CowKGfVIhmo/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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plztumb1rhelpmegetoveranxiety · 3 years

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Pinned post info:

- My name is Plz!! :D

- The pronouns I use are: ey/em, he/him, squid/squids, and it/its (listed in no particular order). Please be aware though that my pronouns may varry from blog to blog (Ex. My petre blog having only kit/kits/kitself listed as well as me only liking those pronouns for myself when I'm regressed).

- Everything I say and do is platonic :]

- I tend to have late responses to things due to a combined bad memory and bad social skills. A lack of response does not mean a lack of love (/p) for the person who tried to talk to me.

@maddymayhearts is my dearly Beloved <33 I highly recommend going and checking out her blog. They do some very incredible writing and are incredible themselves 💖💖💖

Tags I use:

- hella cool art by op = reblogged art

- may i plz have an art tag = my art tag ("plz doodles" is something I also use, but only for very very low effort drawings)

- the plz army = all my pets (block this tag if you don't like chickens)

- the dead stuff collection = I collect things from dead stuff (mostly their bones) and this is my tag to share it :D Most of these animals are from roadkill and none if the animals were just killed to collect. If you're interested in this I also use the side @plzs-vulture-stuff

That's it for now! Enjoy your stay!

#updated pinned post #tw animal death mention

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hhhellish · 5 years

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The night of the gala;

A.k.a “Thank God there are elite doctors in the building because I might faint”.

This is Not SFW, just so you know, since in this whole S.M. AU Damian is 19 - 20 y/o.

P. 24 / ?? 2 / 2

The only thing you saw for a second was a black suit jacket, a starched white shirt and a navy blue tie. When you raised your face, however, you found Damian's father with an... amused expression? You didn't think you ever saw that man without a frown, let alone a smile. Then he raised his hand, offering it to you, “Bruce Wayne, a pleasure to finally meet you”, you shook his hand, beaming, “Y/N Y/L, and the pleasure is all mine, sir”. He nodded, pleased with your good manners, and turned to Damian. “It was about time we met, all my kids said wonderful things about you”. Even with your heart still in your throat, you had it in you to look at Damian with a teasing smile, “Oh, really?”, he had the courage to look away and cross his arms, on the defensive. “I'm afraid everything might just be flattery, Mr. Wayne”, he chuckled, surprising you, and added, “I don't think so, they are not the type to give empty praise”.

With that, he excused himself, patting his son's shoulder as he passed by. Damian adressed you then, “Are you ready?” “Born ready, pretty boy”, he rolled his eyes, offering you his arm. That's how you came into the ballroom, your arm around his, smiling at the soft golden lights. Whispers rose on every corner, people turning their heads to the sides murmuring, while staring straight at you. Some women shot you dirty looks, flaunting tight, red dresses, and vertiginous heels that made your feet hurt just by looking at them. They looked like hungry vultures, waiting for a rich man to show up. And that whole gala was a build-a-sugar-daddy party for them.

Screeching pulled your attention away from the croud, catching Dick running towards you at full speed, before encasing you in his arms and spinning you in the air. “You look gorgeous, Y/NN!”, he said when he put you back on your feet. Your face gleamed, but before you could thank him Damian butted in. “What do you think you're doing, Grayson?”, and Dick raised his hands in mock surrender, smiling devilishly. Clad in a dark blue suit, hair carefully slicked back, he was the spitting image of an Adonis.

He led you to a nearby table, filled with complicated desserts, where Jason was sulking and discreetly stuffing his face with meringue-filled puff pastry. Then he dissappeared to 'take care of something'. Upon your arrival Jay gave you a hug, and a nod to Damian, which said boy appreciated over Dick's efusivity. “It looks great on you, sweetheart”, he complimented, and you heard Damian snort, so you shot him a look— “Behave, pretty boy”. He looked away, pouting once again, and just held onto you, arm around you, hand on your hip. Then Dick came back, a girl in tow, a champagne flute in each hand.

“Jason, Y/N, Damian,” he called, handing one glass to Jason, “this here is Yvonne”, then he smiled at Damian. “She told me you two know each other”. You smiled politely and shook her hand, but when you saw her sharp smile, you turned to Damian, and found him with a scowl firm in place, his lips pressed into a thin line. “We don't, we've only met once”, she looked at him through her eyelashes, dripping faux innocence, “Oh, don't be so mean, Dami”.

Slowly, but surely, it downed on you. This was that... that “cherry” girl. The one Damian used to make you jealous. “Did she just call him Dami? Oh, hell no”, you thought, fuming. “He can be a bit brazen sometimes,” you granted, with a sly smile, “but how would you know?”, the sweet giggle you added was to soften the jab. She looked taken aback, surely not expecting you to attack right back. And so graciously, at that. “I'm sure I've seen you somewhere, but I can't seem to put my finger on it”, the foul sneer on her face was the tell-tale sign of the venomous words she would spit right after, “Oh, maybe on TV, or any vogue magazine, really. Since, you know, I am actually famous”. That was a low hit, sure, making a reference on you being a nobody on that whole environment.

But nevertheless, you just laughed again, taking a little pastry from the table, “No, that's not it, I don't read that... kind of thing”, taking a bite you added, “I think it was from that one scandal... Oh, yeah! You're the one who tried to blackmail that one deputy with a sextape of you both!”, you turned to Jason, feeling even more smug when you saw the thoroughly amused expression on his face, “How could I forget, I wonder?”. She sputtered, utterly ashamed, and looked at Damian. Was she looking for help? Silly little girl. The only thing she saw was Damian eating you up with his eyes, as if you two were the only people in that huge room, ready to lift the skirt of your dress and make you his right there. “Oh, dear, maybe saying that here was a little mean of me too?”, she glared, eyes full of angry tears, and ran for the exit. Jason bursted into a fit of laughter, holding his stomach and everything. Dick looked at you, big blue eyes screaming apologies, but Damian's hand on your waist made any reassurance for the oldest brother die in your throat.

“May I have a word with you?”, but before you could answer, he was already leading you out of the ballroom, into a much more secluded area of the mansion, the one that his bedroom occupied. Maybe you made him mad? Oh, God, you fucked up big time. He closed the door behind him, and stared you down. You ruined his image, didn't you? What if— His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, teeth clashing a bit before your lips pushed back, desire burning away any uncertainty. “ʾAnta labiq, habibti (you have a way with words, beloved)”, hearing him speak his mother tongue made heat pool low in your belly, so you grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket and pushed his body tight against you, kissing him feverisly again. His tongue entered your mouth, softly, reverently, and you let your body be handled by hands that adored you.

When your body laid pliant on his bed, dress pushed up past your hips, Damian's head keeping your legs apart, allowing him to just drink you in, he kept moving his mouth. Kissing from your knee to the edge of your panties, and doing it again on the other leg, “Look at you, habibti, so beautiful and all mine”. You whined, bucking your hips, but he just pined them down with his hands, giving your covered center a kiss, “And so feisty, too”, he pried your soaked panties off you, getting back between your legs before you could close them, “You made me so hard, putting that harlot back in her place”. He kissed your pussy again, now exposed and bare, and hummed low in his throat. “I was just claiming what's mine”, you said with confidence, earning you a hard swipe of his tongue against you, sucking your clit into his mouth, “That's right, all yours”. He dived right in after that, giving it his all, even after you fell into ecstasy, sated, and lacked the strenght to close your legs, he kept going. Pleasuring you past your limit, to his heart's desire.

When he stopped, face flushed and mouth glistening, you pulled him up into a lazy kiss, just a sweet touch of lips that gave you a taste if your own essence. It made you feel hot all over again, but he shook his head, smiling apologetically. “People will start to suspect, habibti”. You sighed but complied, yet when you reached for your underwear, he shook his head, putting it out of your reach, “You don't need those, I'm not done with you”.

The rest of the night was spent with you two attached to the hip, Damian never leaving your side, and looking at each other like you were about to jump each other's bones. You missed Bruce Wayne's speech about generosity and the importance of donations, but Dick clued you in, still looking dejectedly at you, just like a kicked puppy. You had to assure him it wasn't his fault, but warned him that maybe he was way too trusting. But, hey, Jason was still laughing! And Damian stayed that night with you, giving you everything you needed. [insert “Careless Whisper” by Wham! here]

tags; @reclusive-chicken-nugget @carolinawindsay @a-random-queer-kid @thefightingfangirl @no12worryabout @thestarsshinebrighterindarkness @randomdcfangirl @zero-nightshade @axa-vega @bookish-and-shy @bodapenguin @patyreadee @allpowerfuloracle @wayablack @books-netflix-and-pizza @loxbbg @local-fandom-trashcan @ohswald

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cordoniantrash · 5 years

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Once Upon Another Time: Chapter One

AU: In another time where the brothers Beaumont did not reach Cassandra in time, the waitress turned lady went back to New York to rebuild her old life. After finding an unexpected souvenir, she set off and joined her long lost family. Four years later, a newly divorced King of Cordonia arrives in New York in hopes of reuniting with his beloved. Instead of Cassandra, all he found was a postcard with the word Edgewater written on the back.

Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the positive feedback and the tag requests. Hopefully there’d be some answers to some of your questions. Anyways here’s chapter one, grammatical errors are mine. Do let me know what you guys think.

Also big thanks my beta @thequeennefertipi!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, Pixleberry has that privilege, title for both the series and the chapter titles, plus the epigraphs are from Sara Bareilles’ discography

Pairing: Liam x MC

Warning: hints of infidelity

Words: 2183

Chapter One: No Such Thing

No such thing as over you

I don’t want it anyway

I wouldn’t even try to

Four years later, the present time

Breaking news:

The international community and royal enthusiasts alike are abuzz with the latest news from the country of Cordonia. After a year of bitter law battles and countless speculation from both the public and the media, the Palace has finally announced that the Royals are now divorced, despite the fight that the now-former queen had put up. Lady Kiara Thorn, the Palace’s Speaker, had announced irreconcilable differences as the cause of the separation. King Liam and the newly reinstated Countess Madeleine are not available for comment at present but the Palace has announced that a press conference is in the works to answer the public’s questions…

----

Liam leaned back to his chair with a sigh. Well, that’s done, he thought. In the background, the news continued its coverage on what his stepmother had deemed to be the greatest scandal the monarchy had ever encountered. He didn’t have the heart to tell her of the various boxes of evidence that his father had left behind.

His desk was littered with notes for the upcoming press conference, yet he was still at a loss as to what he’d say. He knew that the press would come after him, with Madeleine painting herself to be the saintly long-suffering wife. The Sigyn to his Loki. The Hera to his Zeus. Liam huffed out a laugh at the thought. Madeleine being compared to those goddesses is a disservice to those deities.

Things were never that simple. Things, events and circumstances weren’t as black and white as people make them out to be. Liam had tried. For the past four years, he reminded himself that he had a duty to his people and his country. Liam had pretended. He was the King. He smiled and played along with the sham that is his marriage until he couldn’t take it anymore. He waited until the economy was stable, his people content, and his father long dead and finally said no more, damn the consequences. Liam had tried to steal himself and fulfil his duty for the kingdom had to have an heir and a queen he had told himself.

But he just couldn’t. Every time he tried to convince himself that he had to go to Madeleine and perform his royal duties, he was beset by the heavy feeling that he’s committing a betrayal and the guilt that has become his constant companion would close in. He’d find some urgent matter, some event that he must attend, anything just to get away from his wife by law. Madeleine had tried to insult his manhood every time he refused, but she had learned quickly that those had no effect. He had already committed a betrayal; he won’t add another wrong to the list of sins he had committed against his beloved.

Madeleine had asked him to get over her years ago. Then she saw the look in his eyes. She never asked again.

His eyes were drawn to an invitation that his secretary had left at his desk earlier that day. It was for another UN function. Maybe losing himself in his work is not such a bad idea. The fact that it was to be held in New York, a city he held dear (for it reminded him of her), is just a bonus.

----

Four years ago, New York

Pure unbridled rage. That was all Liam could feel when he first laid his eyes on Tariq for the first time in months. The nobleman had agreed to a press conference that would clear Cassandra’s name, but Liam still wanted to scream and rage.

The rational part of him knew that his own father was at fault. That Constantine was the puppet master and Tariq was one of the unfortunate marionettes, but another part of him wanted to punch and shake his old friend. This was the monster that violated Cassandra in her own room. Constantine might have pulled the strings, but it was Tariq who still went ahead and fulfilled his father’s twisted plan.

His old friend had looked at him with weary eyes. It took all of his self-control to turn around and walk out of that room. He had walked out of the hotel, dismissing his guards saying that he needed to clear his head.

He had wandered around aimlessly when he realized where his feet had led him. It was her old bar. With a heavy heart, he entered the establishment. What’s one more heartache? He asked himself.

His unspoken question was answered that night.

He found nothing.

She was gone.

The next day his father sat him down and the little flicker of hope in his chest sputtered and died.

----

Edgewater Estate, the present time

An insistent tugging pulled her out of her dreams. Cassandra internally groaned. She hadn’t had a proper night’s rest since Uncle Charlie had badgered her about Cordonia. Why he wanted that ambassadorial post in that particular country is beyond her. She’d told him that the courtiers there would eat him alive, but her well-meaning cousin just smiled and changed the subject. I practically volunteered to help him anyway, so this is partly my fault. Can’t have him devoured by those vultures. Helping family had been fulfilling, but it also meant staying up well into the evening, something that she hadn’t done since the baby had turned three.

She felt the mattress dip slightly as a weight clumsily climbed on her bed. Cassie groggily opened her eyes and was immediately met with a pair of familiar brown eyes. For a moment she was with him in another time and another place, but then the little terror opened his mouth and the memory vanished.

“Moooommmyyyy…. Mommy. Mommy! Wake up!”

“No…” she groaned. Hoping to get a few more seconds of sleep she pulled the duvet over her head. A pair of little hands yanked it back.

“You said we’d go to the fishes today!”

“Later, love. I’d said we’ll go later today. It’s still too early.”

“Nuh-uh. Grandma Clara’s up!” he said as he bounced a little on the bed then he added, “She’s got pancakes!”

“God, why are you so chipper in the morning,” Cassandra grumbled. “You and your grandma should tone it down.” She sighed as she reluctantly sat up. Beside her with his dark hair still mussed from sleep, wearing pyjamas decorated with fishes was the light of her life.

“Morning mommy!” he half-shouted as he bounced her bed again. “Can we go see the fishes now?”

“Breakfast first then fishes. How’s that?”

His little face scrunched up. Cassandra couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. His resemblance to Liam was more obvious when he did that. She stood up and scooped the little terror into her arms. He’s getting heavy, she thought with a pang. I might not get to do this for much longer.

“C’mon baby, let’s go eat pancakes.”

----

Four years ago, the Edgewater Estate

Edgewater wasn’t as old as she’d thought. It wasn’t new either. It was a grand estate set on sprawling grounds. In the distance, she could just make out trees. Do they have an honest to god forest in this place? Cassandra thought bemused.

The manor was a far cry from the ones she had seen in that other place which was a relief. What’s more, was that she could easily imagine her Gran growing up in this place. Grandma Cece had always seemed too prim and proper for New York with her love for high tea, her ever-present string of pearls and her polished English accent. She put her hand on her belly, this isn’t a bad place for you to grow, she thought.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?”

Suddenly aware that she was gaping, Cassie quickly turned to the woman beside her. “Um. Yeah.”

Aunt Clara smiled. When they met back at the airport, Cassandra had been taken aback with how much Aunt Clara and Grandma Cece had resembled each other. Hair the same shade of brown, an aquiline nose, with slightly tanned skin and hazel eyes although, Aunt Clara might be slightly shorter than Gran. We have the same chin, Cassie noted and the same curls, other than that there are few similarities. Cassandra had taken after her father after all. Aunt Clara added:

“It’s been in our family for centuries. Did you know we can trace our lineage back all the way to the Norman Conquest? We’re one of the few remaining families that can do so.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened “Oh, wow. I mean – that’s fascinating!”

“It is, yes. Would you like a tour?”

“Oh, sure! I’d love that!”

“I’ll be sure to give you one when you’re settled then. In the meantime, I’d like you to meet my children.”

A few weeks later

Cassandra sat at an armchair. The TV was showing what the media had dubbed as the wedding of the year. She stared. Her mind was suddenly numb. What’s left of her heart was breaking. There were no tears left. He really did it, she thought through the daze in her mind. He married her. For a while, she had held onto hope. Maybe with her Aunt’s help, she’ll be able to reach him. Be able to face him.

But he married her. Madeleine. Scandal-free Madeleine.

He’s married.

He has forsaken her. Discarded her.

Her hands found her little baby bump.

It’s just you and me now.

----

Present-day, New York.

Liam stood by the bar, his mind filled with memories. Back to another night four years ago. A sudden sound made him aware of his surroundings. Staring at him, eyes wide was a well-dressed man. Liam stared back. His face seemed familiar. Then it came to him. Cassie’s friend.

With a squeak, the man made for the door behind him but Liam was faster. With a leap, he reached Cassandra’s friend and grabbed his arm.

“Let go!” he exclaimed.

“Wait! I’m so sorry, but I need to ask you something. That’s it!”

“Then let go!”

“Only if you promise not to run.”

“Fine. Now let go!”

The next hour was a blur to Liam. A thought played on a loop inside his mind. She’s gone. She’s gone, and it’s your fault. It’s because of you. Of what you didn’t do.

He looked at the postcard in his hands. A single word was written on the back. Edgewater.

----

The Countess

Countess Clara Harper of Edgewater relaxed into her chair with a satisfied sigh. With a warm cup of coffee cradled in her hands, she looked over the estate’s garden with a smile on her face. She had just sent off her sister’s great-grandson off to wake his mother up. She chuckled at the thought. Oh, if only you could see us now Cecelia.

Great things do come to those who wait. After years of next to no contact, her family is back living under one roof. Oh, Father would turn in his grave right now, she thought with a smile, I don’t particularly care. She might not have seen her sister for the last time and met her niece in the flesh, but they live on in Cassandra and her little bundle of joy. It’s been so long since this place had children running down its halls.

With another sigh, she recalled her grandniece’s first days on the estate. How the poor dear had taken to wandering the halls and grounds, all the while cradling her barely-there bump. Clara’s blood boiled at how those nobles had treated Cassandra. Dragging her out of the Palace like some common criminal! The nerve! And that King of hers! Months of no contact! I don’t know what she saw in him. Though I suppose he is quite easy on the eyes.

Despite her private opinions, she had offered to contact Cassandra’s friends for her grandniece’s peace of mind. For a short while, she had seemed open to the idea, her hurt and insecurities falling away but the Cordonian Royal Wedding happened and with a pang, Clara saw dear Cassie put up her walls once more. She had never seen such anguish since her sister was thrown out of the family decades ago. So Clara did her best to divert Cassandra’s attention, encouraging her to write once more and helping her prepare for the baby. And if there had been any inquiries about her niece from parties coming from that country, she had been quick to silence those. This was her family for God’s sake. She would protect it to the best of her ability.

“’ Morning, Auntie.” said a voice at the door of the solarium.

“Good morning, dear. We got your pancakes.” She paused, looking at the dark bags under Cassandra’s eyes. “Did your uncle keep you up last night?”

“Oh yeah. I really don’t understand why he’s so set on that country.” Cassandra said as she settled her son on his chair.

“You and me both dear. Coffee?”

Countess Clara smiled at the sight of Cassandra and her son. My family, she thought. No one will hurt you here. Both of you. I will make sure of that.

tagging: @captain-kingliamsqueen, @emceesynonymroll, @kingliam2019, @bobasheebaby, @princess-geek, @beardedoafdonutwagon, @texaskitten30, @fbloveschoices, @dcbbw, @los-cafeteros, @msjr0119, @doozysuzy, @mirandatwodots, @princesskennarys

lemme know if you guys want to be tagged (or untagged)

#series: once upon another time #emgee tries to write #playchoices #choices: stories you play #liam x mc #king liam x mc

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scath001 · 5 years

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Whumptober 12: “Don’t Move”

Series: Valen

Characters: Knox Ryland, Mrs Ryland

Trigger Warnings: Gore, Death

--- --- ---

"Knox, listen to mommy."

Her voice was tense, urgent. Cupping her child's soft cheeks, the older vampire ran her fingers down his hair, distracting him from the moment. Despite her reddening eyes and tears welling up, she smiled lovingly, "We're going to play a game alright?"

The child looked up at his mom, a hint of fear in his eyes, clearly afraid of the pounding at the door. They sounded so angry, shouting threats, threatening to kill them. In a tiny squeak, Knox nodded, "H- hide and seek," he suggested, his hand still clutching on tight to his mother's midnight blue skirt.

The banging at the door grew louder. The front door wasn't going to hold out any longer for more than a few minutes. Getting hold of what remaining time there was, Mrs Ryland pulled her young child close for a last embrace, apologising between sobs. She then released him, gently placing her precious flesh and blood into the closet.

"St- stay in here for me little fangs. I'll- I'll fetch you once this is over."

"P- promise?"

"On my blood."

A loud crash. The door.

Rushing out, the lady transformed, morphing into a creature of shadow, bringing terror to the eyes of men. Baring her fangs, she bit into their necks puncturing their arteries with great precision. Her eyes glowed a haunting crimson hue, claws emerging from the shadows, tearing the hunters apart.

Then in the darkness, a blade of the pale moon, struck, ripping into the shadow, stabbing the vampire's arm. She hissed, gradually feeling the burn, the creeping sizzling that followed along. Wrenching it out, she advanced in a hazy blur, thrusting the blade into a hunter's chest.

Still, this was just the beginning. In her conquest, she had failed to realise that this was a trap. Slipping in from the back, a group of men scaled the grey walls, heading for the bedroom.

Knox remained dead silent, tightly curled up as his little hands blocked his ears from the screams below. Rocking his little frame, the little one squeezed his eyes tight shut, tears staining his plush wolf close to his chest.

The window slipped open, black gloved hands starting to crawl in. Clasping his hands over his mouth, Knox held his breath, peeking through the gap running down in the middle of the closet. The uninvited guest, a hunter, armed and fierce looking stood before the old antique box.

Don't move.

His heart pounded, it's beating ringing clear as day in his ears.

Don't move.

Don't breathe.

Don't move.

Minutes passed and the hunter still stuck around, idling near the widow as they held on to the rope firmly, getting more of their brethren up before the best below noticed.

Mommy, I'm scared.

And in shear luck, the window slid down, crushing the hunter's fingers, earning a deep strangled howl followed by hushed cussing and clamouring. The shadow turned her attention towards her chambers sharply.

Knox.

Screeching, the wounded vampire abandoned her front, rushing up to her beloved as the hunters chased on tailing her, firing bullets at her back. Still it wasn't enough to stop her, in her pure rage, Mrs Ryland crashed in, breaking the door open. And without hesitation, she slammed the intruder against the glass panel, crushing his skull in the process.

But soon the tables turned. The hunters from the first floor. Catching up to the room, far more enraged than before, they swarmed the older vampire. Blocking her exits, they hunters circled as a vulture would with their prey.

She clenched her teeth, hissing. Her shadowy aura increasingly dark and bigger. The walls began to creak, cracks forming in the ceilings. She wasn't going to back down, not when danger lurked in the darkness waiting to steal her child away. Racing forward, vampire fought till she fell, tearing and mercilessly slaughtering the group while being riddled with silver.

Now laying in a pool of her own blood, the exhausted creature wheezed. The shadow seeping away, replaced with the faint sizzling of searing holes. She languidly eyed at the closet, her eyes, though glassy, still glowing in a deep shade of blood. It was quiet.

She had breathed her last.

And there was nothing more. Knox had sunk further, watching the horror unfold before him, wishing that this was all a dream. Watching his mother murdered in cold blood left the child hollow and empty. Trembling in the corner, Knox still remained mute, his chest hardly raising and deflating with each breath.

Don't move.

The hunters left, taking his mother away.

Don't move.

The house was empty and broken. It's warmth stolen away, now bearing only an orphaned child, traumatised and crying himself to sleep.

Don't move.

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rgr-pop · 5 years

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LONG POST AIRING GRIEVANCES ABOUT DUMB SHIT IN BEAUTY COMMUNITY!!

oh my GOD. okay, so, small youtuber who is climbing. beloved by many small youtubers because she is a regular girl and very nice and FROM UPSTATE NEW YORK and has social justice interests, she also posts a lot of drama content and some people (including me tbh) really like the way she kind of ~~democratizes drama content. don’t @ me it’s whatever. reddit HATES her because her mother buys her a lot of makeup for her birthday (literally) and she is not into self-punishing no-buys which is the only thing people like right now very coincidentally (going on a no-buy is apparently how you end landfills).

this youtuber is fat and not conventionally pretty--I really hate even saying the latter because it is objectively not true and also an evil thing to say even nicely, but for example she is always talking about how she doesn’t really care that her lips are small and is not interested in overdrawing or “fixing” them, and getting flamed for it. in the community (the respectable arm of it, which is the rddt, where we are ostensibly not allowed to be like “she looks terrible”), where there is smoke there is fire, and “not skilled at makeup” + maybe some nebulous complaints about whininess = she is a fat girl, end her. (”rude” = black youtuber too much power, end her.)

i’m talking about sm*key gl*w whose name is hannah, hannah #1, i think it is interesting to contrast her with the other hannah that i talk about sometimes--i try not to talk about her too much because we sort of teechnically have real world social connections and, also, i just feel bad for her. i feel desperately bad for hannah #2, because she is in her thirties having lived in art communities and global urban centers but for the first time in her life having to reckon with things like--”it is not appropriate to talk about calories at dinner, etc.” that is the second hannah, and while she is sweet and interesting to many in the small youtube community precisely because she is very alien to them (has mfa), it’s very difficult to watch, and sometimes i think she is the most “toxic” youtuber i follow. she is not an originator in any way, but she found herself in the center of a so-called anticonsumerist movement in small beautube that is kind of taking over, which is related to but not exactly minimalism--you have probably heard me talk about this already, at length. a good example of this is that second hannah recently said in a video that she was thinking of doing a shopping “fast.” i don’t know how she became this person, and how she held onto this kind of personality in spite of being in lots of communities that i am also in or have friends in where i know that if you talked this way about dieting etc. at a social event, someone would probably softly scold you. she somehow insulated herself from this kind of learning, i don’t know, then she threw herself into beautube where a woman who maybe sort of likes art and writes poetry and has heard of “fair trade” before is an absolute anomaly, but that community--like literally, where people do liposuction and skinny teas!--has only encouraged this absolutely unreal nasty and BAD behavior. etc. i have a lot of feelings about this.

so first hannah is a fat girl who is not rich--we will get to that!--but spends her money primarily on makeup. people HATE her. second hannah is thin, possibly rich in family origin (i think she is) but basically your average working artist in life. she frames her so-called overconsumption not even precisely as an addiction but specifically as a lack of willpower that she also struggles with when it comes to sometimes eating sugar (really). both of these hannahs consume and talk about quite a lot of luxury makeup--second hannah is very openly committed to luxury purchase as part of her self-conception. second hannah sometimes goes on “shopping diets” though, so people praise her! it is evil.

above is the shit i hate day in and day out but the points below will have more to do with the screencap +...upstate new york, i guess. henceforth we are only talking about first hannah.

so this girl is from some kind of small town around rochester or syracuse--something up there. iirc she goes to a suny school i had never heard of (i looked it up and it is a “suny comprehensive college,” though i can’t remember if she transferred out of this school to a bigger school. but, as many of you know, sunys are cheap as hell and should be protected at all costs, this school costs well under half what my state school did, for residents anyway.) she is in her mid-twenties and not graduated yet, due to struggles she has had (and spoken openly about) as well as having gone to community college. they LOVE to bring up how she is too old to be a college student! she’s like...idk 24 or something. she is going to school to be a social worker in one of those accelerated programs, which she has found quite difficult (again, spoken openly about this) and which also requires, as many of you know!, lots of extra work, unpaid and paid. she said somewhere that she does not have student loans, but i don’t know if her parents paid for her college or just shouldered loans, or if she paid for it, or if it is all financial aid. (”not having student loans” is something that enrages people, ESPECIALLY when someone doesn’t have loans because they got need-based aid.) again, she probably had some financial catastrophes due to school failures (speaking from experience here), but: sunys is cheap as hell and there are a million reasons why someone could go to one and not be struggling with loans!

where was i...her parents. watching this has fascinated me! her dad was a school teacher and her mom is a social worker--absolutely public servant middle class. i thiiink (could be wrong) that her father retired already and ended up retiring from a principalship, so they were probably extremely comfortable by the time she was in college, but they are definitionally middle class. the biggest controversy around this youtuber is that for birthdays and christmas her mother goes fucking insane--probably spent two to four hundred dollars on her for her birthday. she talks about this all the time: her mother and her are very close and their hobby is shopping. people treat this like the bougiest fucking thing on earth and it is ba nanas. straight up, this girl has probably never even HEARD of anthropologie. listen, i can’t afford to live like her either but i recognize poor shopping when i see it. working class people like to blow their money on bullshit and to take issue with that is demonstrably racist and classist! i will not hear this conversation over again in 2019. for example, hannah made a video about her “high end bag” collection, in which she said she got a bcbg bag on sale for like $30 but had never heard of the brand before. she had once been gifted a kate spade bag and her DREAM was to purchase one on her own. she buys coach at the local coach outlet, which is a regional attraction. THIS GIRL IS NOT BOUGIE! THEY ARE JUST MAD THAT SHE OWNS CLOTHES AND IS ALSO FAT! she did a closet tour where she talked about how she has like 50 crop tops, they were ALL like forever 21. they are just mad about fat girl in crop tops. there is nothing to see here! does she have too much shit, and shop too much? sure. welcome to flyover country you dumb bitches. that is what I think about that!

so, she definitely makes money on youtube, but mostly enough to sustain youtube and makeup buying (possibly some savings? unsure. i know she said this in a video but i forget.) she has lived with this boyfriend of hers for a number of years and they are building a life together that doesn’t immediately include marriage, probably largely for financial reasons. i get the sense that his jobs pay a lot of their bills, but he just finished getting a teaching MA of some kind (i think he is a math teacher? i already forgot) and is entering the regular teaching job market. based on some of the following i think his parents might be wealthier than hers but i think they might also be teachers. as you can see in the screenshot above, people are enraged at this girl for apparently being a gold digger for getting a house with him before they are married!

people are SO pissed that she was “able to buy a house” at age 25, but they did not watch the video! in which she said that they had been dealing with the death of her bf’s step grandpa all year, and the family had decided that they should take over the step grandpa’s house. (step grandpa’s family does sound “richer” because, according to her, this house had been owned by a GREAT grandparent and paid off decades ago.) her descriptions of this house are confusing to me because she keeps referring to it as both “old” and “from the eighties,”; I think it is an actually old house that had not been “updated” since the eighties. seems like the family did not “gift” it to them as much as sign it over to them in exchange for them being the ones to take out the renovation loans, which allegedly she said are $50k. unclear to me if she and her bf got approved for that loan--probably not, I think it was taken out in the family’s name. ($50k is too much to put into a house in rochester imooo but I am reserving my judgment there! rochester has a very flyover housing economy, much like ours, but with a much higher end, I think?)

so anyway, these vultures are sociopaths. “ Who gives someone a house no matter how much they like them? That seems wild to me” ...p-parents? dead grandparents? is your will gonna be like “my kid has to buy their OWN house like i did!” who are these people

YES SOMETIMES YOU STOP NEEDING YOUR HOUSE, WHEN YOU DIE

anyway I’m done. I just thought this thing would be of interest in particular to the upstate new yorkers. the whole condition of the indebted working-middle class is just like inconceivable to people who consume only ideologically pure content by wealthy west coast whites all day long

#makeupblogger fandom

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dr-neyamat-ullah-bhuiyan · 3 years

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#poetryofdrneyamatbhuiyan MY BELOVED KASHMIR dr. neyamat bhuiyan __________________ O' Kashmir, O' my beloved motherland Paradise of the earth, Yours ever blissful lap makes me glad And so blessed is my birth. You’re my shelter, my sword, my shield My victory and my wreath, Facetious playground, heroic battle field Ever fluxing fountain of breath. The vultures have clawed you Away from me, But they can't strip you Of my sweet memory. You’re ever thriving in my mind, in my blood And in every beat of my heart, The damned usurpers are being cursed With historical filthy shame and dirt. I was born and grew up under your blue sky In the sacred earth, In the cool breeze, near the snow-capped hill Filled with joy and mirth. I swam like a swan in the Placid Dal lake And took dips into its cold water, You’ve blessed me with your affection As like as my heavenly mother. Now I’m bereft of all your bounties Like an uprooted tree, But I’ll cherish your eternal memories Whereinto I’d be. I have no land under my feet, My freedom is snatched away, My tongue is cleaved in the middle Even a single word I can’t say. My hands and legs are fettered; I’m a captive in my mother's land, Though I hear the invincible protest From your fleck of dust and sand. Guns and bullets are all around Pointing at my kinsfolk and me, Now I’m a hapless slave in chain Drowning in the deadly dreadful sea. The whip of my so-called master Lashes on my bare back , All the blindfold monsters Are their ally and ruthless jack. They’re fulfilling their ulterior mission To extract my obedience and submission. O' my beloved Kashmir If I submit, thou shall curse me, O' my Kashmir, let me burn in the hell If I forget and forsake thee. If I forget thee let me die an inglorious death, You’re in my blood, I can't forget thee till my last breath. To protect your dignity, O' my Kashmir! We’re ever ready to be valiant fighting soldiers, We’ll take all the bullets on our chests to preserve your honour with sweat, blood and tears. - #poetryofdrneyamatbhuiyan #ড_নেয়ামতউল্যাভূঁইয়া #Neyamat #poetrybyneyamat #বাংলাকবিতা #নেয়ামতভূঁইয়ারকবিতা #নেয়ামত #bengalipoetrycommunity https://www.instagram.com/p/CSGmtLkBCc3/?utm_medium=tumblr

#poetryofdrneyamatbhuiyan #ড_ন #neyamat #poetrybyneyamat #ব #ন #bengalipoetrycommunity

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majorindc · 4 years

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Is this the end of the world? I can't say that this is the way it is. Nor, will I say that we are now destined to suffer in the devil's 1000 years; we being the unworthy. But, it is the only way for me to think of a reason why beloved and innocent people are gone, and the world seems doomed by events, society and politics. It keeps me sane to have a reason for the suddenness of loss and understanding of the earthly calamity I see on TV. I said the same when my dogs died. I'll likely say the same for most of you who read this. It's the way I can reconcile enough to carry on, and hope that by continuing in doing good things perhaps one day, the Rapture will allow me to join my friends and family again, far far from this perceived hell on earth. I honestly have question if indeed there is a slow rapture occurring. If Armageddon is soon to be fought. With all that is going on in the world, we can't help but think of the "end of time" references to the leftovers suffering and having to deal with Armageddon's wrath. At least I can continue to exist through fire, flood and pain knowing that my angels suffer no longer. Luke 34 - 37: I tell you, on that night two people will be in one bed; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding grain together; one will be taken and the other left. “Where, Lord?” they asked. He replied, “Where there is a dead body, there the vultures will gather.” - Luke 34-37 Rest In Peace, mom, dear friends, and my “good boys”. I hope to see you again. With or without the Rapture. https://www.instagram.com/p/CEZVbGblkXDqEVY2Im-qrNY5d4PGUft74y1a9s0/?igshid=1n5vvk0o5tdgl

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cuthie · 5 years

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Omru: Dazar’alor Roleplay

(( This is just copy/pasted discord roleplay that I’m archiving for my own records. Might be a boring read or too long for most. But then again, who’s reading my short stories anyways, right? Just me. :p )) Dazar’alor, city of gold, capital of Zuldazar and once the center of the world spanning Zandalari empire of old. The ancient troll home somehow survived the Sundering, survived the prophesied sinking of the island, the Cataclysm, the Burning Legion and threats both foreign and domestic over thousands of years. In modern day it was a melting pot of all Troll races, each tribe carving out it’s own nook, bringing new cultural celebrations, rituals and perspectives. Trade was booming, crime was at an all time low, and the King was beloved by all… Most.. Many… Even with the loss of Rezan, Loa of Kings, the empire withstood the power of the gargantuan C’Thraxxi warbringer, Mythrax. Furthermore, the city banded together with the Horde to rid Azeroth of the Old God Titan experiment, G’huun the blood God. Nothing and no one could keep this city nor it’s people down for long.

And then came the Alliance. Jaina Proudmoore led the Kul’tirans and the factions of the Alliance into the city, tricking it’s armies into leaving the King’s side for the swamps of Nazmir. Neigh defenseless, the Zandalari lost thousands. Their soldiers, their navy, and even their king. It was a bloodbath the likes they had never known.

Time passed, people trying to move on with their lives, and the former Princess now Queen of the Zandalari formally joined the Horde, seeking retribution. From those descended of royal blood, all the way down to the most lowbourne of guttersnipes, depression and anguish was palpable in the once bright city of riches. Joining the Horde would provide a small comfort, but the Bilgewater Cartel seemed capable of stimulating economic growth. Their own goblin designed ships weren’t as glamorous nor dependable as the Zandalari fleet had been, but with them they brought imports and money. It was one such merchant vessel that Omru had made contact via Goblin engineered walkie. His ticket to the lush jungle paradise of Durotar.

For a brief moment the people near the docks had a flicker of, not hope, but at least mild curiosity and entertainment. Off in the distance, a topless Zandalari man held onto a viney set of reigns attached to not one but two large speckled sea turtles as he stood atop their shells. Wind rushing through his beard, the troll laughed, accompanied by loud acoustic music. On the troll’s shoulders was our beloved fox boy, Omru, strumming away on his father’s guitar. As zany as the idea had been, Om knew that the only way to combat his family curse was to, of course, hire a navigator. That man’s name was Ja’ku. Ja’ku Spearo.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_b_53XplhZE

By the time the duo had made it to the docks, a small crowd had gathered to see what the spectacle was all about. For the first few minutes, the pair were all smiles, Omru hopping down onto the wooden floorboards, still playing his music. Then came an untimely, “Ey, dat mon owes me money!”

Then another. “Ja’ku, you mudda fugga, ya dare show you face round’ere!”

Ja’ku raised his hands defensively, “Now, now. I dun mean no ‘arm in- Oh, what be dat ova dere!?”

Predictably, a handful of accusers turned to look and in that split second, Ja’ku was off on foot, running further into the city, leaving Omru there to suffer the eyes of the crowd.

“Uh… I’m not with him. Just.. Passing through…”

-- “No… I don’t get it. Please explain to me again why this is ‘proper animal husbanding’ as you put it?”

The ebony haired Sin’dorei boy blew an annoyed breath out through pursed lips and rolled his eyes dramatically. Returning his haughty glare to the Vulpera girl with the deep red fur and too much eyeliner sitting on the crate, he shook his head.

“Listen fuzzball, there’s a lot of things someone like you just won't understand. It’s not your fault, you’ve basically been frying in the desert forever with nothing but bugs to play with. Sure, all that sun can make for a great tan but too much can rot your brain. Just like too many vegetables. Here’s a live lesson for you. If someone like me.. Well, there’s really no one like me but I mean a Sin’dorei tells you something you should just listen. We’ve been around for a billion years, maybe longer. We’ve seen everything, tried everything, are smarter than most, better looking than most and basically just better at everything.”

He leaned down to look her in the eye and winked.

“And that includes animal husbanding tricks.”

The Vulpera girl’s left eyebrow rose as she took the guy in. Her eyes flicking from his ‘better than you’ expression to the large black bird he had pinned under one arm as he went on. “…You mean life lesson?”

He rolled his eyes again.

“No.. Live lesson. Because you live the lesson, duh.”

She looked to the huge bird again. Intrigued by how it seemed to make eye contact with anyone paying attention, as if pleading for help. It’s eyes were locked onto her, beak parted slightly as it panted from the struggling she had interrupted. She spoke to it, if anything just to get under the guys skin a little.

“Is he always this spectacularly unintelligent and conceited?”

To her surprise, the bird let out a croaky sound as if to answer. The boy’s face lit up and he beamed at her.

“Aaaw, you didn’t have to say that. I am pretty spectacular, aren’t I? You know, you little guys aren’t so bad. I mean, you have that whole cute thing going on, I’m sure that helps.” Giving her another flash of his pearly whites, he reached for the scissors again. Seeing the flash of metal, the bird flew into a fit of struggling again. Pecking, kicking, clawing and doing anything in its power to get out of his iron grip. One enormous wing popped free, causing him to drop the scissors to wrangle it with both hands again. The flaps from just that single wing were enough to knock over a stack of smaller boxes and send dust and debris flying about. “See!?! I have to clip its wings! It’s nuts and it’s gonna fly off before I can get it home to give my wife!”

She squinted and held up a hand against the torrent of dust, watching the scene with mixed feelings. She had traded critters before, plenty of times. What were the odds any of those had ended up in the hands of someone like this? The more the poor thing struggled, it’s eyes pleading with her, the more she felt sick about it. Maybe living things should be off the list going forward.. Unless it was food stuff anyway. Trade, that’s it! She quickly pulled her pack off her back and into her lap, rummaging through her things. “Hey Cinder-eye! What about this? I got something way better than some dusty old unruly bird for your wife. You know they carry parasites, right? Kind of a gross gift if you ask me. But this! This would surely win you some brownie points, buddy.”

With much flair, she pulled an ornate looking scroll case out of her bag and held it up. With tiny practiced movements, she twisted it this way and that. Just enough for the sun to glint off the golden embossed lettering along the side that read Old “Pirate” Map, in fancy scrawl. “You two probably like date nights, right? How about an adventure?! When’s the last time you two went off into the wild blue yonder together and had some fun, eh? I’ll trade you this for that ratty old bird, straight over. No haggling or anything.”

The boy’s eyes were locked on the thing, he and the bird both no longer struggling. After a long moment of staring, he finally blinked and looked to her with suspicion. “Wait… Why would you trade something like that for a bird if you think it sucks so much?”

She blinked, having honestly pegged him for being too dumb to think that far into it. Thinking quickly she looked down at the case, ran a finger over the thick gold (plated) carving on its cap and nodded. “…Yea… Good point. I know a good place for a bird like that is all buuuuut… Yea, I’m not sure it’s worth the fun this might lead to. You’re right, I should pro-“

Before she could finish her sentence he snatched the case out of her hand and shoved the huge raven into her arms.

“Nope!! You said straight over! A deals a deal, no take backsies!” As if expecting her to put up a fight he quickly grabbed up his pack, turned on his heel and rushed off towards his ship. Mumbling something about cute, dumb Vulpera idiots..

She watched with a smirk as the guy walked off with her most worthless item. Sure, he might get a little money for the case. But the map itself was just directions to some rundown tavern her and her buds made as a joke one night. “Dumbass…”

It was then she realized she was still holding the bird in her lap, cradled like a toddler. A large toddler.. It was damn near as big as she was but oddly enough, wasn’t struggling. Instead, the two just eyed each other for a long moment, neither moving. Somehow the look in it’s eyes as it stared back seemed.. thankful? She carefully slid off the crate she had been sitting on and set the creature down.

“Uuuh, there you go bird. You’re welcome.”

The thing flicked out its wings a little but otherwise just sat there, it’s head tilting left and right as it watched her. She made a shooing motion, suddenly wondering what exactly a bird that size might eat.. Smaller furry creatures maybe? She shuddered, remembering more than one run in with the vulture flocks back in the sands. One large red ear twisted then at the sound of music coming from farther down the docks. She glanced back to the bird and gave an uneasy nod.

“Heh, yeeeea… So, see yu!”

Tossing her pack over her shoulder she quickly trotted off towards the strumming then shoved her way through the crowd of knees and butts to see what was up. A grin crawled across her face as she eyed the strange duo coming to shore.

“What in the sands?!”

Omru looked around, noting that there were just as many oddball races down at the docks as there were Zandalari, maybe even more so. A set of glowing yellow eyes stared down at him from a rotting face, it’s urine colored skin peeling off to reveal white maggots squirming underneath. Gulping, he changed the strumming of his guitar. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fN57L9HcZsQ

“Listen… We don’t need to make a scene here, in fact.. ~Something told me long ago, there’s a calm before the storm and I know! It’s been comin’ for some time.” Giving a confident smile and wink, Omru began to half walk half dance as he continued playing and singing, “When it’s over, so they say.. It’ll rain a sunny day, I know! Shinin’ down like water!”

Tauren, Trolls, Zombies, Orcs, Tortollan and even talking Bears all seemed to nod at him or tap their feet. Well, those who had feet anyways. Regardless of the few who seemed to be enjoying the show, at least half of the crowd had already lost interest, and another quarter just stared at him before running after Ja’ku.

“I wanna kno- OW-FUCK!”

Omru rubbed at his head, a rock having hurled it’s way right between his ears. The small sect of listeners that were less parted, revealed four very tall Zandalari women. Everyone knew that the women were the most fierce fighters of the empire, making up the majority of their guards. Or was that the Naga? Omru squinted his eyes up at them as they approached, towering over him.

“Ey, fox boy. You dun sing on our turf. We be de Bang Drum Gang, de only ones what be allowed te perform on dese docks. So take ya geetar an beat it, befo we beat you.”

As if to emphasize their point, the three drummers standing behind their leader began to bang on their drums, harnessed over their shoulders and down to their waists. Simultaneously they would beat their drums twice, then stomp the ground with their feet. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onJQ1dpsAF8 The snarling leader sung out in a gruff albeit totally in tune voice, “Foxy be a boy, makin big noise, playin on de docks, gonna be a big Mon some day. Ya got mud on face, ya lil disgrace, dun make us kick ya ass all ova’ de place!”

Wadding up her fists, the three drummers began chanting, “We will, we will, rock you! We will, we will, rock you!”

It was his calling. It was beautiful, it was amazing, it was destiny. Before he could even think, Omru began to shred on his father’s guitar, grinning at the crowd and wiggling his eyebrows. For ten seconds, he was a rock star and all of Dazar’alor was his stage. And then a two toed dirty foot connected with his jaw, sending him and all of his stuff flying through the air to land with a plop in the ocean water below.

The drumming stopped, “Ey, dat weren’t no invitation! We told ya ta scram, Vulpera!”

Grumbling and slightly humiliated, Omru swam back to shore as the Bang Drum Gang continued their song, parading down the docks and further into the city, crowd at their heels. Making his way back onto the wooden walkway, Omru dumped the water out of his guitar. His pack was enchanted to be waterproof, no worries there, but water could certainly warp the wood of his instrument.

“Assholes…”

“Man, you got it in weird with these trolls, buddy. How are you gonna come riding in on the shoulders of one, who’s riding in on freaking sea turtles no less.. then immediately get booted back out to sea by others? You have a rep around here or just bad luck?”

She watched as he tidied his things and fiddled with his now soggy guitar. Moisture damaged instruments wasn’t something she had much personal experience with. Not a lot of risk of that in the sands and she had only recently been venturing out past that to the isles. Her first rescue mission, impromptu as it was, delivering her all the way here to the Zandalari city of Dazar’alor. But.. She had seen people dry out waterlogged driftwood next to a fire so maybe…

“Hey, I got a thing that’ll help dry that out!”

With a wide grin spreading across her ‘of course I have something for that’ expression, she pulled her pack off her shoulder and squatted over it to dig around inside. After a moment, she pulled out a metallic canister about as long as her forearm and held it up triumphantly.

“I traded some goblin guy a ride for this thing. He was desperate to get out of the desert ASAP so was all for the trade when I asked about it. They may be a bit weird, funky looking and kinda suspicious but those guys have the best toys, let me tell you. Cool thing was, the girl with the wagon I set him up with owed me anyway so it was basically free. It’s called a dragon gun, or dragon’s breath gun or something like that. Sounds awesome right? Just uh, hold out that soggy guitar of yours a moment while I fire this thing up. Maybe away from your face, just to be safe. I know it’s small but this’ll be the first time I’m using it and I’m not up for BBQ’d boy.”

She aimed the nozzle at the guitar and fiddled with the little red valve knob, then flicked the two switches on the side up and down. As nothing happened, she repeated the process a few times, trying to maintain her ‘let me show you something amazing’ face. Nothing… Not even a burp of heat..

“Sssssshhhit… That little butthole, no wonder he traded it so willingly, its broke!”

With that, she chucked the thing aside, teeth momentarily bared with a growl of frustration. The metallic -clang- as it hit the stone ground a little ways away echoed off nearby surfaces and a couple heads turned to look. It bounced once then landed again with another clang, this time smacking down on the valve end. Upon impact the nozzle blasted out an enormous cone of fire, the heat of it felt even yards away where they stood. Despite the items diminutive size, had that been aimed at the Vulpera boy and his guitar, it would have engulfed him fully and anyone else standing too close to him…

Eyes wide, the little red vulpera girl just stared as the flames bellowed out for a full ten seconds before cutting off again. Luckily nothing of note and no one had been in front of it. What grass, flowers and small plants had been in its path were now gone. Only a bit of wafting smoke and a wide scorch mark left in its wake. Somewhere between amazed and horrified, she turned back to him. Remembering to close her mouth finally, she cleared her throat and scratched at the back of her head.

“Uh yeah.. Sooo… What, umm, what brings you to the city?”

Saltwater still dripping from his fur, Omru stared at the red Vulpera girl as she began chatting about her stuff. A smile instinctively formed. He hadn’t exactly been welcomed into the city, but almost right away he had found someone who understood him. Someone who got him, someone with stuff.

“You want me to hold my most precious family heirloom out while you blast it with that goblin thingy?” Omru looked from the girl, to his guitar and back again. He then nodded his head, trusting in this stranger fully as he held out the instrument with both hands, “Letterip!”

Anticipation bubbled, coursing from the back of his head down to his shoulders as he gripped his guitar tight. Click. Click-click. Nothing. Omru’s bright orange eyes flickered to the side as he tried to maintain a good natured smile. Sometimes people’s stuff, just wasn’t up to snuff. It happened to the best of Vulpera, right? But should he say something comforting, should he just ignore it like it’s no big deal, should he avert his eyes and pretend he didn’t notice?

“Uh.. You know, I think-”

FWOOSH!

The goblin contraption had been carelessly chunked over shoulder, only to trigger a moment later. Fortunately they were near enough the streets and away from the wooden docks, where the blasts of fire only seemed to damage the greenery. If that had been directed at him, his guitar would have been toast. He would have likely been toast too, even with his depleted sunstone. At the thought of the stone, he stowed the wet guitar away and rummaged about his pack. As much as he collected things, people might expect him to take on hoarder tendencies. Nope. Everything either server a purpose or was just really cool. And everything was organized. It never took him more than a moment to rummage through his pack to find things.

Regardless of how fast he had managed to procure the stone, by the time he was ready to use it, the fire expulsions had ceased. The small grey rock in his hand was cool to the touch, and had darkened carved runes all around it. “I uh.. Was gonna use this, but unnecessary now. It absorbs flames and heat, storing the energy so that you can use it again later. In theory.”

Om placed the stone back in its place, then tossed his knapsack strap back over his shoulder. “I’m actually just here to catch a boat. The Horde, I’m sure you’ve heard of them, come from a tropical paradise with engineered vehicles and super models, whatever those are, in a magical place called Durotar. I was gonna go check it out, meet with a friend there. Buuut, I guess now I need to find a shop that can work guitar repairs. This city is coastal, can’t be the first time something was flung into the ocean, right? What about you?”

Om paused to look around, validating his assumption, “Not many Vulpera here at all. Might be just us and one or two more in the entire city.”

Glad to see the guy wasn't running for the sands or ready to give her a load of crap for the honest mistake of nearly frying him, her attention was drawn to the little stone. Curious, she cocked her head to try and get a better look at it just before he tucked it away again. As he spoke, she turned her attention back to the city around them, nodding.

"Yea, this place is HUGE too. I've been here three days and have only seen the lower section of this one side. Can you imagine building something like this? What if they get sick of the spot? And yea, I've only seen a trio of us waiting on a ride back out and one boy waiting in line for a ship last night. He was all suited up in the hordes red and black too. Like they had recruited him for some big face bashing gig. Honestly he might have looked pretty good if it weren't for the spiked shoulders.. Those just kinda made him look dumb and out of place. Eh, still, I'm sure he'll have some awesome stories when he comes back, though."

She glanced at his guitar then back up at the city steps nearest them, thinking a moment.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you bumped into me then. I'm one of my family's best pathfinders. I guess you could even say the best now. Well, I mean if my grandma could still get around well and my dad wasn't stuck helping out Last Wind they would be the best but you know how it is.."

She seemed to pause to consider that thought. Shrugging it off just as quickly, she shot him a sideways look and a confident smirk.

"C'mon, I'll find you the place you need, no problem!"

Without waiting for the soggy boy to respond, she turned on her heel and marched for the stairs leading up into the lower merchants area of the city, fully expecting him to follow.

"Like I said, I've only been here three days so it won't exactly be a direct route. Buuuut I know a guy that'll help. He lives here."

Omru fell in line as soon as the help was offered. He didn’t really consider himself biased, but he just naturally felt more trusting of his own kind. This girl who hadn’t even introduced herself yet had almost roasted him like a desert lizard on a pike, yet here he was following her through the sprawling streets of the Zandalari capital.

“Well, they did get the inkling for a change in locale. The sands have plenty of their old homes and temples from thousands of years ago. According to legend, they used to rule the entire world, the first conquistadors of Azeroth. Then there was war with.. Uh, someone. Bugs? I don’t really remember. Point is, they ruled the world, built everywhere, lost it, then the world split in two.. Twice. I dunno if you remember it, but like six years ago or so Zandalar was rumored to be sinking. Lots of shaking, tectonic plates of something-something. I think they fixed that too, the Zandalaris. I’m not exactly a history buff, but I’ve been around a Tortollan or two, you know?”

Bright orange eyes darted from left to right as his black furry ears twitched, listening to the crowds around them. Om’s nostrils flared out in quick little sniffs. This place was a cacophony of sounds, sights and smells. It was a little overwhelming, honestly. Oooh! The fox boy grinned wide as he spotted something magnificent at a corner stall.

“One minute!”

It was a small round mirror, neatly polished. Seeing his own reflection, he had to take the opportunity to primp just a little. It was nothing compared to what the sin’dorei had been doing since their arrival many months before, and so the merchant just shrugged the gesture off. “You buy, Vulpera?”

Hearing the offer, another stall merchant called from across the street, “Ey dere rich mon! Ya tink ya look good now, wait til ya get some’a my wares. Come take a look!”

The first merchant didn’t seem to mind the intrusion at all, “Good idea, bruddah. Listen ‘ere shortie, you buy dis mirror full price an my friend dere will give you a deal.”

In the span of fifteen minutes, Omru had traded in a dozen trinkets, knick knacks and old coins. In return he had the silver zandalari mirror, and a full set of horde themed leather armor. Rushing back to his new Vulpera friend’s side, he did a little spin in his new hooded attire, “This is an authentic Horde militia armor, fitted for goblins. It’s a little snug in the buttocks, but the Zandalari back there is a leather worker and made room for my tail. Way better than what I had been carrying around. We should see if they have any enchantments, never know when you’ll need to get revenge on a Drummer girl for kicking you into the ocean, you know? Ha, just kidding.”

It then dawned on Om that the two of them hadn’t even made proper acquaintances yet. “Oh, sorry, the city’s so big and distracting I almost forgot. I’m Omru, by the way. And you?”

Nohko leaned against the carved stone archway that marked the entry to that section of vendors, waiting patiently for the boy to eyeball whatever he was after. Lifting a large claw that dangled from a strap of leather around her neck, one of many such adornments, she used the thing to clean under her fingernails. Suddenly, a loud rather juicy sounding splat on the ground next to her made her jump and dodge away from whatever it was.

“SHIT! FU-“

Her startled cursing halted and a look of confusion set in as she registered what she was looking at. A half rotted fish carcass that had splattered into a sloppy mess on impact next to her. Brows furrowing, she looked up to see where it had fallen from. There, sitting high up on the arch was the huge black bird. It’s head was cocked to the side, one dark eye staring in her direction. Were such a thing common here she would have simply dismissed it. Some feathered sky rat turd who can't keep a handle on their lunch. But birds didn’t come in solid, shiny black like that around here. None she had ever seen anyway. The closest thing were the darker colored vultures back in the sands but most around here were bright blues, reds and greens. So what, was it following her? Attempting to bomb her with rotten fish? What the sands, all she had done was help! She narrowed her eyes at the thing, pondering for the briefest moment reaching for the tiny hand crossbow she kept tied to her pack. Naaa, why save it just to-

“…never know when you’ll need to get revenge on a Drummer girl for kicking you into the ocean, you know? Ha, just kidding.”

The thought was interrupted as she realized the Vulpera boy was back and had apparently been trying to show her his new stuff. She turned her attention back to him and eyed the outfit up and down, offering a smile.

“Heeeey, nice getup. Wait, you didn’t go get that just because I said that other guy looked awesome in it, right? Not that you don’t look good. Better in some ways even, since you didn’t go with the dumb oversized shoulders he had. He was super ripped though so could probably have made an old barrel look good.. Anyway, yeah sorry, Noh, nice to meet you Omru.”

She stuck out a hand to shake. The bright red of her fur darkened into a deep purplish color from wrist to fingertip. Rings decorated just about every finger, some sporting more than one. Some were typical looking while others appeared crafted from miscellaneous things she had apparently liked enough to turn into jewelry. Her wrist was likewise covered in jewelry and trinkets. From solid, etched metal cuffs to tiny hand carved scrimshaw dangling on loose chains or straps to braided.. hair? Was that hair? ..well some kind of braided organic, -hair like- material with bits of glass and such woven in..

“Oh, you -were- just talking about another vulpera in Horde armor, huh? Nah, I got this because that Troll was a good salesman, honestly. I mean, he had me pegged for an explorer and adventurer, someone who risks his life for great treasure. Read me like a book, told me my armor was scuffed and in need of repairs. I had a lot of stuff on me reserved for trading anyways, plus I dig the black and red. Maybe that other guy wasn’t exactly affiliated with the Horde either. Mayhap they just talked him into upgrading his armor like they did me. I’m not a big fan of the skull and bones aesthetics, though. Cultural thing, I’m sure. Proud of their kills, wear it as jewelry or something. I dunno.”

Omru snatched the extended hand, giving it a squeeze and a shake as proper etiquette called for. He himself had a single black ring on his left index finger. It didn’t really have a meaning or purpose, and in fact it blended in with his fur, so it wasn’t very noticeable. Still, he liked it and that was all that mattered. In the little three second handshake, his fingers had felt the rigid bands on Noh’s fingers and the clatter of her wrist ornaments was audible. “Whoa, cool. You gotta lotta jingly jangles, as my Uncle calls them. Where’d ya get’em?”

Continuing through the city, Om looked around from shop to shop. The streets weren’t packed, but the architecture and pathway spacing certainly felt designed for such high foot traffic. In more than a few places there were still crimson smears being scrubbed away by Zandalari trolls dressed in rags. Blood? How long ago had the city been sacked? A few months, right? He wasn’t really one to keep a calendar nor an appointment. Everything he had ever signed up for, he had been late. So why disappoint people when he could just commit himself to being obligation free. Heh. Despite the sparse customers, the shops still lined the streets, merchants seeming to outnumber clientele for the time being.

“Imagine what this place was like before the Alliance attacked it. They said they lost thousands, including the King. Mm. I’ve heard tales of them burning our wagons down for even being friendly with the Horde. Haven’t met any besides a few drunks, but so far they all sound like total scum. I hope the Zandalari wipe them out.”

#WRA RP #wrarp #Warcraft Roleplay #warcraft #vulpera

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