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ducktalkspodcast · 4 years

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The Complete Carl Barks Disney Library

The Complete Carl Barks Disney Library by Fantagraphics began in December of 2011 with Lost in the Andes. Fantagraphics has released two volumes each year. The volumes are chronological, but Fantagraphics decided to begin with some of Carl Barks most widely acclaimed work by starting with volume 7. When the collection is complete it will span the entirety of Carl Barks’s Disney comics published between 1942 and 1966 and consist of 30 volumes. Carl Barks is known for penning some of the greatest Donal Duck and Uncle Scrooge stories, and has been known as “The Good Duck Artist.” Carl Barks was one of three inaugural inductees into the Will Eisner Comic Book Hall of Fame in 1987.

The Twenty-four Carat Moon

The Complete Carl Barks Disney Library Vol. 22: “The Twenty-four Carat Moon” was released by Fantagraphics in June 2020.

The cover consists of two illustrations from stories in this volume. The top illustration on the cover of this book is from the story The Twenty-four Carat Moon and the bottom illustration is from the story The Forbidium Money Bin.

This edition of the Carl Barks library is 200 pages, and it includes 30 stories that were published between 1958 and 1962. There is a short biography on Carl Bark’s life as well as behind the scenes pictures and stories about each and every story that is included in this edition. It is full of great and interesting information. I am glad that it is included in this volume and every volume of the Carl Barks Disney Library.

Carl Barks Disney Library Vol. 22 is available in hardcover and Kindle\Comixology versions. You can find a link to buy this book at the end of this review.

The next new release in this series, Carl Barks Library Vol. 23: Under The Polar Ice, is scheduled to be released in September 2020.

Included Stories

There are 30 Disney Duck stories included in The Twenty-four Carat Moon:

Uncle Scrooge and the Twenty-four Carat Moon

All Choked Up

Moola on the Move

Uncle Scrooge and the Strange Shipwrecks

Thumbs Up

Uncle Scrooge and the Fabulous Tycoon

Bill Wind

The Forbidium Money Bin

The Sleepies

Lights Out

Uncle Scrooge and the Magic Ink

Uncle Scrooge and the Flying Dutchman

Immovable Miser

Kitty-Go-Round

Pyramid Scheme

Return to Pizen Bluff

Poor Loser

Uncle Scrooge Crawls for Cash

Uncle Scrooge and the Money Champ

News from Afar

Rainbow’s End

Uncle Scrooge and His Handy Andy

Uncle Scrooge and the Prize of Pizarro

Turnabout

The Homey Touch

Gyro Goes for a Dip

The House on Cyclone Hill

The Wishing Well

Krankenstein Gyro

Gyro Gearloose and the Firefly Tracker

The first story in this volume is also it’s titular story, The Twenty-four Carat Moon. This early Sci-Fi story follows an adventure with Uncle Scrooge, Donald, and the boys as they race to claim a second moon made of gold! Readers are treated to a story of preposterous proportions with a moral that everybody can learn from.

All Choked Up is a four-panel story about Uncle Scrooge and his “roll that would choke a horse.”

The single page story, Moola on the Move, sees Scrooge cross paths with the Maharajah.

When Scrooge McDuck learns that another of his ships has gone on the rocks in Doomgurgle Straits, the adventurous tycoon hires his nephew, Donald Duck, to solve the mystery in Uncle Scrooge and the Strange Shipwrecks. Oh, and there might be Beagle Boys in this story!

Uncle Scrooge is determined to get a fair deal from his butcher in Thumbs Up.

Donald Duck worries that his Uncle Scrooge feels small next to the latest tycoon who may be richer than Scrooge McDuck in Uncle Scrooge and the Fabulous Tycoon.

The half a page story in Bill Wind defines Scrooge McDuck.

The Forbidium Money Bin is a story that I had never heard of before reading this volume, but it is one that I will not forget. Another Sci-Fi story that takes us to new worlds (at least it did at the time it was published). Scrooge hires Gyro Gearloose to build an unbreakable money bin, and he succeeds. But things become complicated when Uncle Scrooge looses the combination to open the unbreakable safe. Thankfully, Gyro has a plan and it takes the two on a trip to the moon to find a new material that might allow them to break into the safe!

When Uncle Scrooge has trouble sleeping Donald has some advice that helps the richest duck in the world catch some Zs in The Sleepies.

How is Scrooge McDuck to finish reading his newspaper when the headline reads “Electric Light Rates Go Up!”? Find out in Lights Out.

Sometimes Uncle Scrooge must use extreme measures to collect money loaned to his nephew Donald Duck. In Uncle Scrooge and the Magic Ink Donald is jolted into action with Scrooge’s latest discovery.

Uncle Scrooge and the Flying Dutchman is one of the most iconic stories for the characters of Uncle Scrooge, Donald Duck, and the nephews. I had never read the story before, and I was excited to find it was in this volume. My familiarity of the story stems from Carl Barks painting from the story, and many young Duck Fans may know it from the DuckTales intro.

The Flying Dutchman did not disappoint. It is a grand adventure story where the ducks head off in search of ship that went missing in 1659. What they find was startling, and they must piece together what is happening before they are lost near Antarctica!

Immovable Miser is another single page story of how Uncle Scrooge gets a free downtown.

Did you know Uncle Scrooge has a cat named Clementine!? He did in Kitty-Go-Round.

Pyramid Scheme is another grand adventure following the McDuck/Duck family as they travel to Egypt in search of a new business adventure for Uncle Scrooge. When they find an undiscovered pyramid his dreams of unearthed riches drives him to spend a fortune unearthing the tomb’s treasure.

Fans of Don Rosa’s The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck may recognize the location referenced in the title, Return to Pizen Bluff. In The Vigilante of Pizen Bluff Scrooge is between adventures outside of the USA when he returns looking for fortune. He finds himself in Pizen Bluff, AZ. Like most of Rosa’s stories the setting of that story is a reference to one of Barks’s stories. Return to Pizen Bluff has Scrooge and family revisting the site of his old mine in Pizen Bluff.

Poor Loser and Uncle Scrooge Crawls for Cash are both short stories that you may enjoy.

Let’s talk about Uncle Scrooge and the Money Champ. Glomgold, Glomgold, Glomgold! Money Champ is Barks’s second story to feature Flintheart Glomgold as the villain. Flinty comes into the story swinging (literally, he and Scrooge “go toe to toe” in this one), and challenges Scrooge to… gasp! A CONTEST TO DECIDE WHO IS THE RICHEST DUCK IN THE WORLD!? That’s right, here you have it, a story that would influence many future Uncle Scrooge stories. Don’t miss Money Champ!

News from Afar and Rainbow’s End are four-frame stories that perfectly capture the essence of Scrooge McDuck.

Uncle Scrooge and His Handy Andy is not the first mariner adventure for the ducks int his volume, but it might have made me giggle the hardest. Join Scrooge McDuck and his family as they sail in the Duckburg-Bahamalulu Race!

In Uncle Scrooge and the Prize of Pizarro Scrooge and his family follow clues on another globe-trotting adventure that leads them to discover lost Incan gold. What our adventurers do not know is that someone may still be guarding that gold.

In Turnabout Scrooge is being followed… and in The Homey Touch he decides to “beautify” his home.

The last five stories in this volume are Gyro Gearloose stories. Barks is best known for his Donald Duck stories and for creating Scrooge McDuck, but he also created Gyro Gearloose. Gyro Goes for a Dip, The House on Cyclone Hill, The Wishing Well, Krankenstein Gyro, Gyro Gearloose and the Firefly Tracker all feature Gyro as he tinkers away with his latest inventions. You know what should be expected from these stories, and they do not disappoint. If you are a Gyro Gearloose fan we know you will love the way this volume ends.

Final Thoughts

I am a little behind on these volumes and had to skip ahead to read volume 22 for this review. I am glad I did. The early Sci-fi, the globe traveling adventures, and more Barks Flintheart Glomgold made this volume a joy to read. These collections are the best way for Duck Fans to enjoy the stories that have inspired well-written stories for decades. Barks was a gifted writer and even the four-panel stories provide pages worth of insight into Scrooge McDuck.

Once you read through the commentary on some of the stories you will find history on Carl Barks written by Donald Ault. If you are not familiar with the creator it is a nice introduction to his career.

I know in these reviews Steven likes to point out how much it would cost to collect all of these books on your own, and that Fantagraphics’ collections are a more economical way of owning these stories. This is true and you would be hard-pressed to find these stories in good condition.

We are grateful for Fantagraphics willingness to provide us with a copy of this volume for review. Their commitment to producing quality collections of this iconic library is commendable.

If you are collecting the Carl Barks Disney Library, you probably already own this volume. If you have not been collecting the library I hope that this review has convinced you that you should start with this volume. It is well worth the retail price tag. I own several volumes produced by Fantagraphics and I am always stunned by how gorgeous they are in person.

You can order the book at the following links:

The Complete Carl Barks Disney Library Vol. 22: The Twenty-four Carat Moon

*By purchasing from Amazon.com through this link above, you are supporting DuckTalks at no additional cost to yourself!

The Complete Carl Barks Disney Library Vol. 22: "The Twenty-four Carat Moon" Review! @Fantagraphics #DuckMerch #DuckHistory #TheFlyingDutchman #Read The Complete Carl Barks Disney Library The Complete Carl Barks Disney Library by Fantagraphics began in December of 2011 with

#Carl Barks #Fantagraphics #Gyro Gearloose #return to pizen bluff #the complete carl barks disney library #the flying dutchman #the forbidium money bin #the prize of pizarro #The Twenty-Four Carat Moon #under the polar ice #volume 22 #volume 23

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saintheartwing · 3 years

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So...I’ve Begun Reading Artemis Fowl...It IS Really Good

So, I decided to check out the movie and...ugh.Not good. So I began to think “How badly did they screw this up” and began reading the books.

They’re REALLY good. The thing you need to know about Artemis Fowl is he starts off as...well, a smug snake. He’s a big jerk in a lot of ways who, after his dad supposedly dies out trying to get into a new market in Russia which the Russian mafia doesn’t take kind to, his mom goes nutso. She doesn’t recognize him half the time. His only friend is his butler...and he doesn’t even know Butler’s real name. He’s also a super brilliant young man. Add all that up, and you get a very selfish, self-centered, pretentious young man who doesn’t find ANYBODY his equal.

He decides upon doing some investigation into the more strange and occultish things in the world to get hold of a ton of money through a SEEMINGLY insane, ludicrous way...through the fairy world. Yes, there’s actual elves. He got into it, evidently, by trolling through the ancient stories and there always seemed to be commonalities among them from ancient races.

Artemis slightly lucks out. He’s able to get hold of basically the Fairy Bible, the Book of the People. It provides insider knowledge of how they do things, and through that, he makes a plan. He’ll kidnap a fairy, overcoming their magic, and ransom them for gold. It’ll be difficult, they need to get one that’s low on magic. And they have to wear special sunglasses that will be reflective, for fairies can MESMERIZE people, hypnotizing them. They’ll catch one doing the necessary ritual for magic recharge.

The good news is fairies are fairly commonly popping out of the Underground they live in in Ireland...where the Fowl manor is located. And the ritual is best done near an ancient oak and a riverbend and even better, under a full moon. Well, there’s one not too far from Fowl Manor...and after some staking out...Fowl catches one. A fairy named Holly Short, the only female fairy on the recon unit that the fair folk have.

He, Butler, and his butler’s sister Juliet lock her in a room with a bed. They’ve got their hostage. They use the helmet armor she’s got to communicate with her boss. The fairies figure out where Fowl Manor is, but though they can slow down time, pretty much stop it...Artemis now has fairy tech because he caught Holly, and this means Butler can move freely through the time bubble. He kicks the butts of EVERY recon agent sent to save her. So Holly’s boss, Commander Root, has to come in for negotiations.

Artemis wants gold. A ton of twenty four carat gold. And a ton of gold is, evidently, 64.3 million dollars. A looot of money. Root says that Artemis can’t win. They have a “bio bomb”. It destroys all organic matter used on it, and if they’re caught in a time field, as they are right now, they can’t just race out the front door to get away. There’s only one helmet, and there’s three of them. They’re trapped.

Right?

Well, Artemis says he knows how to escape it. And he’s thought of everything ELSE the fairies would do so far. So...they send in a wild card. Professional Thief Mulch Diggums, a dwarf. Dwarves are natural diggers, they tunnel by unhinging their jaws, eating through the dirt, and expelling it out their rump.

...yeaaah...THAT particular scene from the movie’s pretty accurate. So Mulch is called on to tunnel into the Fowl estate to try and help free Holly. At the same time, Holly’s got a way to break free. She’s been using the bed to break into the floor and beneath the floor...is some earth. And she’s got an acorn on her. With that acorn and the proper words and access to real Earth...she can recharge her magic. Not even reflective lenses can keep her from mesmerizing Juliet. And Mulch finds Artemis’s copy of the Book of the People, thus taking away his big advantage over the fairies. Holly’s now free, but she can’t leave the house. Fairies have rules to adhere to if they wanna keep their magic, and when captured by Artemis, one of his rules was “You absolutely can’t leave the house”. Now...she COULD leave her room. He didn’t say she couldn’t do that. But the house? Nope.

No matter. Root’s gonna send in the gold, get Holly out...then bio bomb the place, stroll in, and claim the ransom.

Unfortuntely his second in command and friend, Cudgeon, has a better idea. They’ve got a troll Holly recently caught. Cudgeon suggested to the fairy’s ruling council to just launch the troll in. Have it wreck the place, the humans will be screaming for help, and then the fairies can just bust in and kick Fowl’s little ass up and down the halls. And if Holly’s hurt, well...too bad.

It goes badly. Butler is strong and skilled but he was trying to get Juliet to safety and he wasn’t expecting a TROLL. Holly tries to help fight it off but she can’t get her helmet to work properly, it’s been damaged, and the weapon she used on the troll earlier to beat it was IN the helmet. She only manages to make it reel back, but she’s badly hurt. BUT...not so hurt she can’t use magic to heal Butler. Who is NOT. PLAYING.

He rises up, puts some nearby knight armor from a standing knight stand on...and has a mace. BAM! BAM! BAM! He has a Sig Saurer submachine gun. BAM-BAM-BAM! Nobody touches his sister. But...Holly asks him not to kill the troll. It’s beaten. And it’s just a dumb animal, please show mercy. So he doesn’t kill it, kicks it out, and Artemis and Juliet and Butler get contacted by Root, who agrees to send the money in, apologizing for the troll.

Holly feels bad that Juliet’s about to get killed, she doesn’t feel bad about Artemis, but she doesn’t want Juliet killed. She says “I have magic, please, isn’t there anything I can do, you’re gonna be killed!” Artemis says there’s nothing she can do. He knows there’s a real danger coming but he’s sure he can beat it.

Although...there is ONE thing Holly could do with her magic.

Then...sure enough...Holly is allowed to leave the house with half the gold. Payment for services rendered. The fairies launch the bio bomb as Artemis and Butler and Juliet drink drugged champagne.

And THAT...is how they beat the time field and the bio bomb. By knocking themselves unconcious, they can weasel out of the time field’s effects. When the fairy recon team comes in...yep. Sure enough, no bodies lying around. Artemis has escaped. So he gets to keep half a ton of gold.

And...well, Holly did some magic for Artemis. She cured his mother of her mental illness. And that’s the first book.

Artemis is kinda unlikable, but having Holly freeing herself basically, not being a true damsel in distress, AND her saving Butler, who’s a lot more uneasy and disliking of Artemis’s plan, makes the story engaging. Artemis may not be a nice kid you can like, but the other characters make up for that. And there’s great worldbuilding and humor, with some nice, dry wit.

The “Artic Incident” shows that Artemis’s mom is having him see a shrink. THe issue is he doesn’t respect anybody else. Nobody alive. Sure, he respects people like Einstein and Archimedes, but nobody PRESENT. And his dad’s still gone.

...or so he thought. A video has come in. Slightly blurry. But a man is tied up to a pole in a Russian winter and a sign on him reads...Hello Son.

...Artemis is sure it’s him. And the FAIRIES are sure Artemis has teamed up with one of the most problematic, and STUPIDEST races of all...goblins. Nasty little things who can breath fire and who are super dumb...but now they’re using human tech to attack the fair folk underground. Who else but Artemis would do it? It’s sinister, evil, clever, it’s totally him.

The joke, though, is it isn’t him who’s sold the tech to the goblins. Holly brings him in to be interrogated by Commander Root, and the scientist centaur, Foaly, who’s a brilliant mind and who makes fascianting devices like iris cams, little cameras that can slip onto your eyes as easily as a contact lens. Artemis isn’t behind what the goblins are doing BUT...he’s willing to help find out who is...

If they help him get his dad back. Well, Root agrees. Holly at first doesn’t believe Artemis actually cares until more time goes on and she realizes “Oh, wow, he’s serious, he DOES care about his dad, he’s not as cold and cruel as I thought”. They find out though that...well...they’ve got problems. While going to Russia, and trekking through the artic to where his dad is being held...goblins attack, and their weapons have been sabotaged! Somebody on the inside has screwed them over.

But no, it’s not Foaly or Commander Root or the like. It’s Cudgeon. He’s teamed up with the pixie Opal Kaboi, a brilliant young woman who “upgraded” all the fairy folk police weaponry...as part of a plan for Cudgeon to take over the fairy lands. He’s sold weapons to the goblins, and he’s depowered the fair folks weapons...but then he’ll come riding in, JUST in time to save them. The weapons of the fair folk will be restored, the goblin rebellion put down, and they’ll all be so grateful he saved them he’ll get into a position of power. And then he’ll make Opal Kaboi meet with a tragic accident. Maybe several. And, of course, he’ll kill off Commander Root and Holly and Foaly and those “mud men”, as he calls Artemis and Butler. Heck, all the fairies call humans mud men. Racist pricks.

Artemis is able to help stop the rebellion. He exposes cudgeon to Opal, Butler and Root kick goblin ass, and in the end, they uphold their end of the bargain and go back to Russia to free Artemis’s dad, faking him being shot. Artemis thanks Holly...rather profusely, at that. He’s SUPER grateful. She’s given him back his family, she’s saved his life once, and she’s just an amazing woman and-

Yeaaah, it’s sorta implied he KINDA has feelings for her. And Holly’s grateful too, not just for the “helping to stop the goblin rebellion and conspiracy” thing. She had lost her finger in an incident involving a train earlier when travelling through the artic with him. A door had slammed and cut her finger off, but Artemis was able to get it back on and to use the magic ritual to heal her, meaning she didn’t have to lose her trigger finger. She gives him a gold coin that she shoots through, a trophy, and says that beneath that exterior, there’s a “spark of decency. Blow on it sometime”.

The next story has Artemis trying to be a bit more...well, less criminal. He’s got some technology he salvaged from that helmet Holly left behind at his house. He’s used the tech and made a fancy computer cube, YEAAAARS beyond anything humanity has. No, he’s not putting it on the market. Not yet. He wants a businessman, Jon Spiro, to invest in his company he’s gonna be making. He’ll keep the cube off the market, Jon Spiro can sell his stocks, and invest in a real winner. After all nobody else has this kind of tech.

Spiro, however, is like “I could just kill you and take your fancy computer here you just showed me”. And Artemis is like “Oh give me a break, I arranged to meet you in a public restaurant, in broad daylight, and with my bodyguard who’s like three times your size, you can’t threaten me.”

Well. actually...he can. Spiro had the ENTIRE PLACE filled with his assassins before Artemis arrived. All the “customers” are his men. He takes the cube and leaves Artemis to get plugged by his bodyguards. Not good! The good news is Artemis rigged a sonic grenade underneath the table and they set it off. So all the bodyguards are beaten down!

Bad news is that one of the bodyguards actually was prepared for such a thing...well, mostly. His teeth are all blown out but he’s still concious enough...to try and shoot Artemis right in the chest.

Butler barely saves him, taking the shot, and managing to shoot THAT guy, knocking him out. But Butler...Butler’s wound is basically fatal, and he reveals his true name, Domovoi, before he goes limp.

Artemis is DESPERATE. He has only one recourse. He sticks Butler in the nearby frozen fish ice tank in the restaurant to keep the body cool, and calls in a favor, getting a cryo pod delivered to keep Butler’s body cool. He then makes a call. A public phone call...that talks about stuff ONLY the fair folk would know, all to get the attention of the fairies. And lucky him...Holly shows up. He begs her to heal Butler.

“Please, Holly. I can’t just let him go. It’s BUTLER...”

“...alright, Mud Boy.” Holly agrees. She owes Butler, after all. He’s saved her life several times and he’s a good man. Foaly the centaur is unsure the magical procedure will work, it’s NEVER really been done before. Artemis keeping the body cool has helped, but...it’s a shot in the dark.

But...the magic ritual works. Holly heals him. But she’s also sorta...took some of his life force. The process made him age a bit. He’s now got a beard! But, still, he’s alive.

Artemis admits what happened with the cube computer, and Jon Spiro. And the cube is SO powerful and SO beyond normal human tech, in Spiro’s hands, it’d be a nightmare for all parties. He can easily, if he cracks the code on it, find out about the fairy folk. So Artemis offers to clean up his mess if he can get some help from Holly. Commander Root says sure...if he agrees to a mind wipe. He, Juliet, and Butler. They’ll remove all memory of the People from him, he won’t remember anything about fairies and the like, and they’ll fill in the gaps since, after all, he’s known about them for several years now.

Artemis agrees, and they come up with a plan. Jon Spiro can’t get INTO the cube. So Artemis will agree to come to him in exchange for Spiro not going after him and his family, and he’ll crack the code he put on the cube to allow Spiro to make use of it. But it’s a trick. He’s wired with some fairy tech to spy on Spiro through it all as they make a plan. He’ll “fix” the cube, crack it open...but make it so it won’t actually tell Spiro about The People. On top of that, he knows full well Spiro wants to use the cube to get even with his rivals...

And what better way to do that than to break into their own corporate HQ with the cube and hack their security and steal all their stuff right from out of their noses? Artemis is like “I don’t think that’s a good ideaaaa” in a sort of more subtle “Stop, don’t, come back” bit from Willy Wonka. He’s COUNTING on Spiro being a “rub his face in it” type...and Spiro really, REALLY is that type. Super petty, super smug. And super screwed. Artemis and the gang manage to trap him, get the cops to show up, and they steal the cube back, with Artemis tricking Spiro handily. He even fiddled with the cameras in the facility that Spiro tried to break into to make it look like HE wasn’t even there at all!

With the adventure done, the gang has to have their memories wiped. Artemis gives Mulch Diggums, who helped with everything, the gold coin memento Holly gave him saying “it means a lot to me, and I’d like you to have it”. He also thanks Holly for everything. He has both his family and now real friends thanks to the People. He wishes he didn’t have to forget that.

Soon, the memory wipe is done. Artemis tried to leave behind some memory triggers to get AROUND the wipe, like unsent emails, online storage, and even a time capsule buried in the yard. But...well, that gold coin he gave to Mulch the dwarf isn’t ACTUALLY the coin.

It’s a computer disc. With a few memory triggers on it. He also has a note attached to it. “Wait a few years and come find me...we’re gonna do a TON of business together”, basically. Artemis, meanwhile, realizes a short time after the mind wipe that..something isn’t right. He was washing his face...when a tiny lens fell from his eyes. A corroded contact lens with a mirrored layer behind it. And Juliet and Butler had them too. But they don’t remember putting those lenses there...clearly, something’s up. And he’s determined to find out what.

Meanwhile, Holly and Foaly are rather sad about wiping Artemis’s memory. They were really beginning to like him. They’re worried, too, that maybe wiping his memory has taken away all the progress he’s made. Maybe he’s back to being that cold, cruel criminal Holly met those few years ago...

Well, the People will soon end up needing him. Because the pixie Opal Kaboi, sinister mastermind and sociopathic inventor, has been faking a coma, and she’s got two servants of hers to break her out. She switches herself with a clone of her that’s brain dead to fake the coma, and she’s got a plan. She’s disguised herself as a human, the child of a billionaire environmentalist, and she’s going to make herself human...and have her dad do a special project. A project...to tunnel down into the Earth to tap into the core.

And, well...fairies live underground. The two races are sure to meet thanks to this project, and Opal is sure they’ll be war, and with her sinister technology and skills, she intends to wipe out the fair folk and have humans win, and then work her way up from there, getting more and more power so she can finally take over the world.

Artemis, meanwhile, is engaging in some theft of a very special painting...the Fairy Thief. He’s now gonna be the youngest thief in the entire world, and as he admires the painting, he realizes something about this Pascal Herve painting. The fairy is lingering at the window because she can’t come in unless INVITED. How does he know that?

At the same time, Holly and Commander Root are trying to track down a goblin general who was able to sneak out of prison. Root has recommended Holly to basically take over the division she’s a part of, to be, well, a commander herself. And he also wants her to know how proud he is of what she’s become. He’s become a secondary father to her after she lost her own dad twenty years back.

...I think...you can guess what I’m going to say next. No, he’s not three days until retirement. But he and Holly walk into a trap set up by Opal Kaboi. The goblin general is wired. When Root tries to grab the goblin...a special bomb is strapped to him. One that’s messing with the electronics in the room they’re currently stuck in. Foaly, watching everything from Holly’s camera, can’t hear what’s being said, and all he sees is her pointing a gun at her commanding officer, he can’t even see the bomb because the bomb’s made of a special stealth ore.

Root is gonna explode. But Opal says “Hey, if you shoot this ONE SPECIFIC PART of the bomb...MAYBE you’ll stop the countdownn, but you really should go off and save those mud men, because the Fairy Thief painting they’re after has a tracking chip in it. And I’ve sent a bio bomb after them to blow them up.”

Holly is SURE she can make the shot and stop the countdown but...

...well, she doesn’t. Poor Root is violently blown up. It’s a horrifying, terrible scene. And shortly after as Holly BARRELS desperately to try and save them, the bio bomb soars at Artemis and Butler! The good news is Butler leaps out the window with Artemis, using a bed to cushion the fall.

The bad news is they barely survive. Holly manages to save Artemis, carrrying him off, intending to come back to help Butler later, he’s just WAY too heavy to carry, and after healing Artemis, and he awakens, she explains what’s going on.

You might think he doesn’t believe her. But no, he does. He remembers the strange lenses he’d put in his eyes, and her story lines up with them. He found out shortly after discovering those lenses HE ordered them, and he could only have done so to cheat a fairy mesmer. So he belives Holly...but he doesn’t remember her one iota.

Butler, meanwhile, is visited by Mulch Diggum, who’s broken out of prison upon hearing Julius Root is dead and Holly is suspect number one. They’re his friends...and he HAS to help them! So he’s gone to Fowl Manor...with the memory trigger disc. He plays it for Butler...and Butler remembers everything. Good thing too...

Because Opal Kaboi has just found Artemis and Holly and intends to PERSONALLY have them killed as NASTILY as possible cuz they avoided being killed by her little bombs earlier. She’s gonna have trolls tear them apart. And she rubs salt in the wound by telling Holly that hey, funny story...that sweet spot I told you about? On the bomb on Root? That I said if you shot, it’d stop the countdown? Well, there wasn’t one. I lied just to frame you. The good news is, Artemis had his phone on and was leaving a message at Fowl Manor, and Butler and Mulch heard the whole thing, so they know where Opal is gonna be sending them. And they hurry over as Artemis begins to get more of his memories back, and they try to escape from being torn apart by trolls.

Soon Artemis has his whole memory back...and he’s torn by guilt over what he did to Holly when he first met her. He feels scummy. And he also swears to stop Opal Kaboi. And he knows exactly how.

They know where Opal is going to be because she’s bragged so much. Mulch is able to sneak onto her ship...steal the bombs she intended to trigger that would be part of her plan to damage the home of the fairies and make them even MORE vulnerable to the drilling plan her “adopted human father” was planning...and put them in her ship. In fact, right where she was keeping her chocolate truffles. Just to add insult to injury. Opal had been all “You’re so dumb if you thought stealing the bombs would stop me, I’ll just detonate them and your whole ship will blow up”. Well, Opal, they did steal them from your ship...but they just moved it to another part of the ship you didn’t think to check...

Until it’s too late. Opal’s ship blows up, she BARELY escapes to the surface...and just as her magic has run out, leaving her stranded in Italy and forced to work in a vineyard, digging holes for grapes and the like. Artemis and the gang reunite with Foaly and explain to him and the fairy authorities what happened, and after an investigation and Commander Julius Root’s funeral, Holly is cleared. She and Mulch decide to work together as private detectives, the Fairy Folk now consider Artemis and Butler a true friend of the people, Mulch has his criminal record expunged completely, and Artemis, in a show of generosity, decides to secretly donate “The Fairy Thief” painting he stole (which,t to be fair, was taken from ANOTHER thief...) to the Louvre.

The fourth story is definitely the height of the series. Some dramatic changes, Artemis at his very best, the interplay with the gang, the high stakes...so I can recommend the series. Well, to a point. THIS point. After this, the books begin to go downhill. It just comes across as spinning it’s wheels, and then for the last book, well...

Well, uh...see, there’s this plan Opal has to cause chaos and because a TON of her technology is now being used up on the surface world, all the technology she had friggin blows up. We’re talking stuff like dialysis machines and other medical equipment made useless. Pacemakers? BOOM! Right in your chest! Submarines no longer functioning! People on boats? Stranded! People begin looting. PLANES FALL FROM THE SKY.

Oh but hey, at least they’re not distracted by TV anymore. No really, that’s...like, nobody really dwells on what’s clearly a horrific, apocalyptic scenario and god knows how many people died...

Look, I love the series. But I think I can best recommend it...in the graphic novel format it came in. So check those out. They go all the way, at least currently, up to the fourth book. So just read those if you can. They’re a ton of fun and super creative. :)

#artemis fowl #fiction #action #Adventure #comic #recommndation

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purgatoriorpg-archive · 3 years

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SUPERBIA. ⟡ NAME. ⟡ 27, F.

EMPYREAN, ICHOR-VEINED, YOU HAVE RELISHED IN INIMITABLE POWER ALL YOUR LIFE. Heiress of the world’s largest luxury hotel empire and only daughter of a Wall Street titan, you understood the value of supremacy before you even learned how to walk. Perfection was sovereignty and law, the influence you wielded to reign from the first moment you tasted dominion. The world made way for you the way it did for emperors, kings and conquerors, an endless sea parting at your feet, paving the way forwards for your ascent. You were revered and idolised, feared and worshipped in equal measure. The only thing that never bowed to your ambition was him—Julian. The final piece to play upon your chessboard, the keys to your kingdom. It was inevitable and glorious in its inevitability: the merging of two empires coalescing with your union. Until everything began to crumble and you could no longer conceal the devastation with gilded artifice and perfect simulacrum. So you did what women kings have done since the beginning of time: you planned his downfall and prepared to take your rightful place.

DYNAMICS.

AVARITIA ⟡ THE SUN & THE MOON.

There’s something tender and profoundly beautiful about the love between two girls who couldn’t be any more different than you are. You could have been enemies if not for the very first time you met, when she pulled a satin pink ribbon out of her Baby Dior pocket to adorn the hair your teacher didn't know how to tame. She is the only one who has ever seen you without skin or armour, the softness you shield from the world in order to become who you are meant to be. You both know what it means to rule, to be adored and envied, to be coveted—the intensity of that love and fear and jealousy when turned upon each other turns to catastrophe. When you go to war, you are storm colliding with sea—utter calamity. The sun and moon aligned are always competing for each other’s light, always eclipsed partly by love, partly by terror, forever impossible to separate.

GULA. ⟡ DARLING, DEAREST, DEAD.

You would have been married, if he had lived. Not in the girlhood fantasy of silk wedding dresses and twenty-four carat diamonds, but in the real sense. There were no two people more perfectly matched in birthright, pedigree and ambition. You've never hidden from the princess-cut truth: you were more in love with the idea of him than the flesh and blood beneath the veneer. Perhaps that's why it was so easy to surrender him. You were one of the last to agree, hesitating out of misplaced, enduring loyalty to his silhouette in your picturesque future. Now, his shadow haunts you still, looming across every facet and reflection of the live you could have built together. You got everything you wanted in the end—the merger, his family's acceptance and cooperation, your ascendance to your empire’s throne—without him. If living with his spectre is the price you have to pay, then so be it.

VANAGLORIA, LUXURIA & ACEDIA ⟡ THE RIOT CLUB.

Along with AVARITIA and GULA, the six of you spent your halcyon childhoods revolving in and out of each other’s lives. In between boarding school and summer holidays to private islands, Mediterranean villas and ski chalets in Aspen, friendship sprung from a string of reckless escapades and lavish exploits. You indulged each other’s worst habits, coaxing temptation from inhibition in your endless pursuit of pleasure. From your wild youth to the boundless hedonism of Verdamme, your history with them is the most enduring relationship in your life. The night that you finally yielded, agreed, that something had to be done about GULA, you couldn’t help but wonder if they would have done the same if it was you. After the funeral, you couldn’t stand the concept of playing the part of grieving widow in front of them, too. They all knew it was a lie; they had all signed their names in his blood. Now, you don’t know what to make of them, these ghosts with the faces of people you were once closer to than your own family.

OPEN. ⟡ FC: ANOK YAI.

ALT. FCS: Duckie Thot, Ryan Destiny, Adut Akech.

#superbia.#o.#original rp #mystery rp #skeleton rp #lsrp #lsrpg

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strwxberrymilk · 4 years

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“Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night may become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.”

Pairing: Werewolf John Marston x Reader

Word count: 3,362

Happy Valentine’s day! Here’s my fic for the always lovely @littlestarofthewest from the @rdrsecretcupid2020 event!! You said you liked tropes and mythical creatures, so I hope you like confessions of love and werewolves!!

Summer winds danced through the trees, their sunlit branches trembling, gently moved by the warm breeze. Crickets began chirping along with songbirds as the sun sank over the heartlands, calling sweetly to the coming dusk. Creamy wisps of clouds delicately kissed the horizon, beckoning forth a warm glow over the lands, coating cliffs, and wildflowers in its radiance. The Dakota River was turned into liquid gold and the meadows seemed less like grass and more like twenty-four-carat threads waltzing in place. The campsite basked in the golden hour, hushed if only for a moment, by the setting sun. She sat there on an old fallen log, journaling and taking in the half-light of day. The breeze swirled through her hair and onto sun-kissed skin as she tucked wild strands behind her ear. Her pencil scraped purposefully at the paper, marking down her fleeting thoughts as the day came to an end.

Tonight would be the first full moon since she had been bitten those weeks ago. The freezing dampness of Colter was testing in itself, but with the hapless attack from an O’driscoll scout, the journey was frightful. She had been on guard duty when the beast came from the trees, roaring madly, sending spittle flying through the cold air, and clamping its razor-filled maw around her throat. Luckily, the men came just in time, hurdled into action from the sound of the beast- shooting the creature dead and getting the girl inside. There was no mistaking her fate then. In fact, most of the people who ran with the Van Der Linde gang were all too familiar with the curse that would soon befall the young woman, having to deal with it themselves as well. She healed quickly from the wounds, biding her time until the moon would finally rise, uncovered and full. And it seemed that a night full of firsts would arise with the setting sun.

He watched her sitting on that log, basking in her radiance, starry-eyed and captivated by the way that the light caressed her skin and how the dust in the air danced a halo around her. How he longed to be the sunlight on her skin, craving to be sweetly buried in those locks, holding her to him, with full dominion over her body and affections. She was to be his, and his alone- it was what he ached for, what he needed in order to feel whole again. Since the day they met, John Marston had an eye for the lady. Much to Dutch and Hosea’s chagrin, John had immediately imprinted upon her the second their gazes met. This bond that had suddenly drawn the two together held a more significant meaning than john had known at first, only recognizing that she was his destiny after a talk with Hosea. The girl was clueless, however. Merely thinking that the young man just enjoyed her company some. Maybe he thought of her as a sister that needed his protection or a damsel in need of saving- because in her mind, surely this tall, dark, and villainously handsome man couldn’t feel the same way about her. So, she pushed down these hot and blooming fantasies of romance every time she spent a moment with John.

The girl shut her journal with an inward sigh, slouching, resting her elbows on her knees. Her eyes fluttered shut with a long exhale, worried about the night to come. John was leaned against a nearby tree, watching, spell-bound by her entirety, and just how gorgeous she looked. He pushed off of the rough bark when he saw the clear anxiety in her posture, spurs clinking as he headed towards her. “Evening miss (___),” he called, stopping to stand next to the log. The girl snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes weary and thoughtful. “Oh, hello John,” She quickly looked back at the landscape, feeling her cheeks heat up under his gaze. “What’re you up to?” The question hardly squeaked out from her lips as she nervously played with her pencil, refusing to meet his eyes. John huffed, bringing his hands to rest on his gun belt, turning to watch as the sun made its final descent behind the distant mountains. “Well I noticed you looked worried, so I came to see how you were,” He glanced at her in his periphery, “-Since I know it’s gonna be your first night is all.” He added quickly, mumbling slightly, shaking his head. The girl sighed, swallowing her feelings once more and turned to face him completely in her seat, “Hah, well you’re right. I am really worried John. I-I mean I’ve never gone through anything like this before, especially not alone.” Nervously laughing she continued, “I really am frightened.” John moved to sit beside her, resting with one elbow on his thigh. She could now see his face fully, handsomely drenched in the afterglow of twilight, black wisps falling into his eyes. His lips were pulled into a tight line and his brows furrowed, “(___), I’m gonna be honest with you. It’s not easy. In reality, it will be painful, and damn difficult. It was, even for me.” He placed a heavy hand onto her smaller ones, squeezing slightly in re-assurance, “But you’re a strong, fine woman. You’ll manage just fine I’m sure.” John grinned a toothy smile and chuckled as the young woman laughed as well. “Thank you, John, I- uh- That means a lot to me.” She glanced down before finding herself lost in those coal brown eyes, staring longingly at his scars, tracing down his face and to his lips. A soft sort of tension ebbed between them and through the beginning night, making their silence quite awkward. Noticing this, John cleared his throat and spoke up, “Say, why don’t we go grab some dinner and get you settled?” He stood up and held out a hand to the girl. Smiling sweetly, she took his hand and walked with him back to the center of camp.

They sat together at a table and ate their stew, chatting about things other than their lycanthropy. After dinner, John and the girl rested around the campfire with the rest of the gang, all more quiet than usual out of respect for the girl’s first moon, and by Dutch’s orders. It was easy for them to empathize with her since all first turns are involuntary and happen no matter what, on the first full moon after one is bitten. After a wolf’s first moon, they are free to choose when to turn or not, voluntarily shifting at will, not tied to their beastly form when those bright nights come. After a while, the girl grew more exhausted, feeling hot under the rays of the rising moon, and asked john to bid her goodnight. He walked her back to her own tent, re-assuring her that everything will be alright and that she should try to sleep and get some rest while she can. With a kiss to her delicate hand, He wished her a peaceful first moon. The girl heaved and entered her tent. As the flaps closed behind her, the girl began to undress. She was sweating already, and her clothing clung to her, nearly drenched. Being left in just her drawers and chemise the girl lied down onto her bedroll, panting, exhausted and growing more agitated as time went on.

She slept for a short while as the camp around her calmed to a hush and only embers sizzled where the roaring fire once sat. The moon rose higher into the night sky, stars twinkling sporadically in the deep black depths. Crickets stopped their singing and no rabbit even dared to exit its burrow; the earth knew that it was time. With a gasp, she woke, suddenly and painfully- her skin burned with heat and her chest ached. Pure instinct ran through her veins, as she lifted herself from the ground, stumbling out of the tent and into camp. Nobody was out now, all stowed away, sleeping soundly in their bedrolls. She wheezed as her feet carried her out into the forest. Her heart began to race, every time she waltzed into a patch of moonlight, promptly carrying her faster downhill. Her skin felt like it was on fire, searing deep into her bones, making her cry out in pain. Her yells were the only sound that echoed in the trees, becoming more erratic and desperate as she stumbled towards a clearing in her moon-drunk stupor. All she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears as she cleared the tree line. Stepping into the moonlight sent waves of chills down her skin, cooling the heat that ached her. The pure ecstasy that direct moonlight poured into her was indescribable. She whimpered as pain overtook her short-lived pleasure, breath hitching as she hunched over. Her entire body was trembling severely, and tears welled in her eyes. Bones began to shift and crack horridly as she writhed in pain, screaming out into the night air. Her once soft and manicured hands grew into large wolf-like paws with long unmanaged claws hanging atop. Her spine elongated and ruptured, stretching and pulling. Her chest moved in the opposite direction, ripping through her underclothes, leaving her bare. The girl’s legs grew longer and bent wildly, breaking and contorting into those akin to a canine. Her bare feet morphed into large paws, making her stumble, catching herself on the ground with her arms. The girl’s once petite frame was now hulking and covered in thick fur. The worst pain was in her face and jaw, cracking and relocating, making her shriek in pain. The moon was at its peak now, casting its midnight rays below into the valley and onto the girl. Her screams turned to beastly roars as the shifting came to its end. Whimpering and writhing in the dewy grass she looked up to the moon. This final action, a gesture of submission and connection sent a rush of primal strength into her. She rose now, standing tall and greeted the moon with a hauntingly beautiful howl. She sang away the pain, tilting her head back and flattening her ears. This is how she was supposed to feel. To be liberated by the moon’s benevolent grasp.

John bolted awake in his tent. He heard her song so clearly, even in his sleep, calling to him. This siren song beckoned him fourth, setting his heart on fire. He threw himself out of his tent, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He knew that the bond that nature had secured between them would call to him eventually, but just how quickly and wholly instinct took over was jarring to him. He scented the air, nostrils flaring, and pupils blown, searching for the girl- his girl. His lanky form bounded through the forest floor, stomping over thickets through the underbrush. Most times he was confident in his will to keep from turning when exposed to the moon’s rays, but when his ears pricked at the again enchanting howl that sang from the she-wolf, her scent drifting back up the hill, he felt his continence slip from his grasp. Stumbling forward he growled as his own beastly form began to manifest, shifting from man to wolf. His once slim torso now broad and coated in inky black fur, heaved deeply as he tried to regain some sort of restraint. With his senses, now heightened, he could feel the girl close by. His massive paws padded quietly as he stalked through the underbrush, head swiveling and ears twitching, looking for an indicator of her location. nose to the wind, his stride came to a stop as the tree line thinned into a clearing. The moment his eyes found her, gaining her bearings in the meadow, he felt more human as a wolf than he ever had before. She stood gazing upwards, her fur sparkling in the moon’s rays, tail waving slightly under her long, muscular legs. A fire sparked in his loins, churning butterflies in his gut- feet carrying him out into the open air to meet her.

She hadn’t noticed him approach, focus fixated on the night sky. His steps broke the silence, causing her to snap her attention to him. The girl wasn’t used to her new senses, nose scrunching as she took in his scent, it was unfamiliar yet known, something she remembered but now dripping in musk. Fear swam down her spine, hackles raised, and ears pinned snarling a warning to the dark-furred male. She backed up slightly, tucking her tail, crouching defensively. The male was shocked, not knowing why she didn’t recognize him. He let out a small sound between a whimper and a bark, ears lying flat submissively, stepping forward. Shadows uncovered the wolf as he slinked forward into the moonlight, head hanging low and eyes locked onto hers. The deep scars that cut into his fur were now visible in the misty silver rays and his eyes, stark red against midnight brows, pierced like a beacon through the air and into her. Her ears flicked forward in question, head bobbing backward. This night could not get any weirder, she thought, she had expected her first moon to be strange, yes, but she knew that face; It couldn’t be anyone but john. She let him approach, stepping closer herself, calling out a quiet whimper in question to the male, ‘john?’ The larger canine broke from his submissive stance, bouncing slightly and happy to be recognized by the she-wolf. His tail began to wag rapidly, and he grinned, ‘I’m here (___), it’s me.’ Along with her demeanor, the tension broke and she sprang forward, closing the gap between them and tackled John to the ground. She laughed in relief, ‘Man am I glad to see you! I don’t know what I would’ve done if some other folks had found me so quick!’ She pressed the bridge of her muzzle to his chin and breathed in a deep whiff of his scent, which became clear to her in recognition of the man whom she pined over. John grunted, out of wind from the sudden hug, and chuckled, ‘well you did look like you were ‘bout to kill me right there. If I ain’t know you, I would’ve tucked tail and ran, you sure showed like a seasoned wolf already.’ The girl rolled off of him, reaching her feet and cocked her head to one side. ‘What’d you mean ‘if I ain’t know you?’ How did you know it was me, not like anyone’s seen me turned before?’ Her brows were furrowed, and she gazed around as if to look for anyone else there with them. ‘well,’ John said, standing up, ‘I could smell you, but really it was that beautiful call of yours. I knew that nobody else could sing so sweetly to me-‘ He stopped suddenly. The words falling out of his mouth far too quickly. John wasn’t quite how to tell her how strongly he felt, but damn he knew it needed to be more romantic than word vomit. John huffed, ‘Anyways, let’s get you back home. Or at least closer to camp. folks around here ain’t used to seeing things like us.’ He gestured back to the tree line and placed a paw at the small of her back. She sent him a smile, her eyes, soft, gleaming gold in the moon’s light. They started into the forest, side by side. ‘And while we walk, I could explain some more things that you’ll start to experience? Having had your first moon and all.’ He questioned, looking down at the girl. Humming, she answered, ‘That sounds wonderful, thank you, John.’

Through the night, the two young werewolves padded through trees and over thickets, conversing quietly. He described his first moon to the girl, and how he learned all he knew from Dutch. How scents work, how to track prey as a wolf, how ranking works. The moon was sinking low now, barely kissing the tops of distant trees. The wind settled into a slow breeze as the caterwauling crickets hushed to a whisper, and twinkling stars began to fade. It was when they got onto the topic of packs and ranking that imprinting came up. The two stopped just outside of camp. John’s throat was dry as he described the ‘at first sight’ bond that takes place between destined mates. He stated that, ‘It feels like when you’re apart from them, that you’re suffocating.’ The girl was quiet for a long moment before asking, ‘And that you would give the world just to hold them? for even one second?’ She refused to look at him, worried that if she did, he’d know exactly what her question was. John took in a deep breath before exhaling, ‘I never knew how I should tell you this. But I think right now is as good as tomorrow and as any day. (___) from the second I met you all that time ago, I knew that you were meant to belong to me.’ He took the girl’s smaller paws into his and gave them a gentle squeeze, eyes lingering on her face, taking in her ethereal beauty. Even as a wolf, he thought she was the image of perfection itself. The girl was shocked, mouth hanging open. Her head shook as she looked up to meet his eyes. ‘are you toying with me, John Marston?’ Her eyes welled up with tears. In her mind, there was no way that this man, who treated her with such chivalry, who was so handsome, fiercely loyal, and genuine could feel the same way about her that she does of him. John’s eyes looked worried as he pulled her into his chest, claws raking through her soft fur. ‘I always questioned it or dismissed it, but tonight- when I heard you howl- it just solidified it to me.’ He breathed deeply, looking down and stroking her cheek, ‘We are meant to be with one another, (___). We’re supposed the be mates.’ The girl lifted her head from his broad, inky chest and grasped onto the hand that remained on her furred cheek. he stammered mouth opening and closing before finally admitting, ‘I love you.’ She choked out a sigh of relief before returning his confession, ‘I love you too.’ He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers, holding each other tightly in the dying moonlight. His next words were those of ancient origin, that was said between every pair of courting wolves, symbolic and true in meaning. ‘I vow to protect you, love you, provide for you in any way that I can.’ He whispered to her, earnestly. The girl smiled before answering, ‘I vow to serve you, comfort you, and provide for you in any way that I can.’

The pair pulled away from one another as the beginning signs of day spread along the land. ‘we should get you inside before you turn back. You’re gonna be exhausted- just like I was after my first moon.’ John called, taking her hand in his own. In the east, the sun peeked from behind the horizon and songbirds sang to the coming light. The sky was yellow and blue, beckoning day to come once more. The new couple, giddy and spry, traipsed paw in paw into the awakening camp. The only other souls awake at that early hour were Dutch and Arthur, who sat just outside Dutch’s tent, drinking their coffee and talking quietly. They snapped their heads in the direction of the two wolves that came into view. Dutch smiled touched and knowing while Arthur grinned and nodded before taking another sip of his hot coffee. The girl yawned as she carefully entered her tent, John following close behind. She lied down atop the furs and blankets on the floor, tail wrapping around her bent legs, and beckoned John to do the same. ‘Stay with me?’ she asked, humming quietly. He curled up beside her, holding the girl close to his chest, laying his head down just above hers. ‘Always (___), always.’

I apologize that i couldn’t get this posted sooner! This weekend was chaotic and i couldn’t get to my laptop. I really hope you enjoyed it, I’m a fairly inexperienced writer and this was my first insert fic. I know it doesn’t live up to your god-like writing skills but I gave it a shot anyways!

Have an amazing week sugarplum!! <3

#rdr2 #rdrsecretcupid2020 #secret cupid #john marston #john marston x f!reader #fluff #sfw #werewolf #werewolf AU #john marston x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #strwxberrywrites

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dirtyriver · 4 years

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Illustration for "The Twenty-Four Carat Moon" (Carl Barks), Uncle Scrooge #375, March 2008, by Don Rosa (first published in Picsou Magazine 334, France, November 1999)

#Comics #Disney #Don Rosa #Uncle Scrooge #Donald Duck #Huey Dewey Louie #Carl Barks

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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THE HOUSE, (part 3 of 3), a tale of Flocking Bay

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

THE HOUSE

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

7357 words

Written 1990

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan activity, Fiction, Art, Cosplay, Music, or any other thing is actively encouraged!

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I was still curious about the rest of the file in the town library, so I decided to take a break and go into town. As I stepped out the front door, I felt the wind. The trees along the road were still, yet I was buffeted from all sides at once by a wind that did not swirl but pressed my clothes tight to me from all sides at once. I felt more like I was being held comfortably than pushed like a wind usually would. It was warm, where the day and been chill. When I got into the car I left the door open to see what would happen. The wind closed it. This time there was a perceptible pause before the glove box opened.

When it did, a rush of wind gusted out and raced about inside the car. Once again, there were five of the odd gold coins within it. As before, I thanked whatever Power had put them there. Though brisk, the day seemed clear enough to risk the walk into town after all, so I got out of the car strolled down the road to town. Having everything that I needed within walking distance was one of the reasons that I liked the small town of Flocking Bay so much.

The Flocking Bay Bank of Maine was my next stop. I had some difficulty getting them to accept the coins for credit to my account. They insisted on a slate test by a local jeweler to ascertain the purity of the coins. They were twenty four carat. Then they wanted to take the coins at current spot price less ten percent, which was fine with me. They also wanted to count the coins at three to the troy ounce, as Hiram Wickes had counted them in the 1850’s and 60’s, which was not. I insisted that the same jeweler weigh the nine coins that I was depositing. With gold at nearly four hundred dollars to the ounce, the six tenths of an ounce per coin seemed worth the effort. The business was finally done to the satisfaction of all.

My steps now lead me down aged, tree lined streets to the library. Mrs. Alderman had set out the file in readiness for me. I added the tenth coin and a notarized account of its origin and the number of coins to date.

“You have been so helpful, she said brightly, “setting things in order the way you have. Do you know, I’ve been studying some, after hours. I hope that you will have a great book.”

“Mrs. Alderman,” I said in a confidential tone, “I’ve allowed you to deceive yourself. See, I too, put something in your file. I’m not a writer. I’m John Peaslee. I live in the old Wickes place, and I wanted to find out about its history.

My uncle, Gordon Wetherbee, is a scholar at Miskatonic University and he may indeed wish to publish a book or monograph on the subject of my house.”

She looked like a person seeing a ghost. In a faint voice, she replied, “Oh, my! I had hoped it was not you. You were such a nice young man, too.”

Noticing the past tense, I chided gently, “I still am, Mrs. Alderman. I live yet and I have not changed from the person that you first met. The nice young man who set your file in order is not dead.”

“Yet,” she said firmly. “Nobody as lives in that house does so for long. None has ever escaped it.”

“Yet,” I completed with a smile, and crossed the room to the battered pine table by the old mullioned window.

I had put the botanical report off until last, not knowing anything about plants. The report described in dry detail what were called “some of the most unusual genetic monsters that I have ever seen.” The report was issued by Miskatonic University. It described roses that were nothing of the sort. The “rose” plants were carnivorous. There were low pansy and violet-like plants that were some strange form of thallophyte. The mycelium of these fungi was linked in some fashion to the roots of the “roses.” Both forms died instantly upon being plucked and began rotting with almost supernatural speed. No pressings were possible due to the rapidity of decomposition, so only photos and rapidly drawn pictures of what was seen by microscope were included. The grass was as unusual as the “pansies” and “roses.” The leaves all rose from rhizomes, which spread from a central node, like some ferns. This “grass” was no fern, however. None of the plants could be cultivated away from the Wickes house. “The plants fit no known classification and must be regarded as unique to science,” the report concluded.

That evening the wind came again, and blew at my back all the way to the house, like a great friendly beast hurrying its master home. I had forgotten to buy batteries for my flashlight, but I did not turn back.

I resumed my search of the library. The evening passed uneventfully, I did not finish with the library that night. I was feeling restless.

So were the rats of the spectral brigade. I could hear a few upstairs but most were in the basement. Taking a candlestick, I worked the hidden spring of the concealed door to the basement. I could hear the rats below.

The stair was longer than I remembered it. The basement was larger than I recalled it being. The corners were dim in the candlelight. The spectral brigade was upstairs, of course. Still no dust or spider webs. I nearly dropped the candle in shock when I saw it. There was a table in the corner. I knew that the basement had been empty. Bare stone.

My curiosity led me cautiously to the table. It had on it a candlestick with a burned-out stub of candle, a box of papers, and six largish portfolios of leather, each labeled with the name of a continent. They also were filled with papers. A cursory examination revealed that I had found Hiram’s correspondence. There was a lot of it. It was clear that he had the habit of making copies of his missives and attaching the replies to the letters for easy reference. He may have been messy but his mind had been well organized. Taking the folder marked Australia because it was the smallest, I went back up the stairs. I placed the folio on the desk in the study to read by tomorrow̓s daylight. In checking my calendar, I noticed that tomorrow was the day of the new moon.

Bed was welcome, after the tension and labors of the day, but not a relief. My night passed in troubled dreams. It was a place of incomprehensible, invisible obstacles and wind. The wind blew at me from all directions at once, forcing me away in a direction that was not a direction. Resisting the wind caused it to go away. It came back with gold for me. As I refused the gold, my frustration mounted. It was not what I wanted. My tears spilt forth in a flood. I wanted something else - and I could not remember what.

The morning light awakened me on sweat-drenched sheets. Slowly, as dreams will, the terrors faded. I got up and began my day.

As I had begun to expect, the books did not materialize. None of the books in the library was a rebound Necronomicon or Black Book. I reshelved the last book with a sigh. The precious books appeared have eluded me.

I turned my attention to the Australia folder. Its pages yielding information for the first time in about a hundred and twenty years. Apparently, Hiram had a number of correspondents in Australia. His questions ranged from searches for rumored ‘houses of stone’ in the outback to tracing the aboriginal folk carvings and paintings and asking about the most secret rituals and ceremonies of the aboriginal Australians. His questions, piercing and analytical, illuminated every subject with stark clarity, like flashes of lightning. He had known exactly what he was looking for and was not at all afraid of finding it.

Now, with the day beginning to close, there came a knock at my door. Opening the door revealed a postman with a bulky Next Day Letter envelope. Signing for it, I noticed that it was from Miskatonic University. Uncle Gordon had responded almost the instant that he had received my letter, and by the fastest possible post. Impressed, I opened the flap of the letter. A single sheet was all that the large envelope held. Uncle Gordon̓s hasty scrawl read:

Dear John:

It is with simple horror that I have read that you have purchased the house of Hiram Wickes. Delay not an instant! Get out of that house! Leave before the new moon! I pray that this reaches you in time!

Come to me in Arkham! There, I will tell you all that I know of this matter. I hope that you are still alive and well and will come to hear my reasons for so urgent a request.

You are involved with Powers beyond imagination. Things there are that are worse than even what is in the Necronomicon. Hastur, Whose Name Must Not be Uttered, is involved, and Cuthulu, as well, whose coin you sent a tracing of.

This must sound mad to you. A very hodgepodge of fear. And it is. Fear for you. Come to me at once! Upon your life it is necessary!

In regard and fear for your life,

I remain,

Gordon Wetherbee

It was remarkable. I had never seen evidence of such agitation from uncle Gordon before. This, along with all that I had learned, made up my mind. I would take his advice. Packing my few clothes took almost no time. Seeing the Australia folder, I realized how important Hiram’s letters could be to uncle Gordon. I placed it with my bag, by the front door.

I raced to the library, took up a candlestick and plunged down the long flight of stairs to that huge gloomy vault of a basement. As I gathered the box and folders into my arms, I saw them at last! Among others, the Necronomicon and Black Book had been hidden behind the letter portfolios. Putting down the letters in the face of a far greater treasure, I examined the precious books. There was what had to be the only complete 1784 edition of the Necronomicon. Priceless. Also, there was the almost as rare 1635 edition of the Black Book. There was an apparently genuine medieval Latin Philippus Faber. Last was a hand-bound copy of a manuscript, written on a fine supple parchment of a type that I could not identify, labeled in Hiram’s now familiar script, Pnakotic Manuscripts, subtitled, “Being a Collection of Ante-human Lore.” The writing in this last volume was of a sort that I had never seen before. It was disturbing just to look at. The very notion of actually reading it made me shudder.

Knowing that I should not tarry, I placed the books with my other burdens and gathered them up. There was a sudden rushing of wind from all sides at once, forcing me away in a direction that was not a direction. The candle in my hand burned bright and unwavering, despite the wind. It did not blow out.

In a blind panic, I ran up the long, crumbling, dusty, spider-bedecked stair. I found myself back in the basement. I no longer had my load of letters and books. Two more attempts to go up the stairs left me still in the vast, dusty crypt of a basement… Raising the candle high, I looked intently up the stair, trying to see why I could not get to the top. After a few minutes, or perhaps hours, I got my eyes to work properly and the nausea stopped. The stairs offered no escape.

In searching for a way out of this vast stone lined vault of a basement, I found all of the fifty nine other people who had vanished. They are all dead. They have dried to sere brown mummies. Many still show signs of bleeding from eyes, nose or ears, as if their brains had burst within their skulls. It seems that transport to wherever this is, killed the others outright. Some were in bed, others at table, some at other tasks. Each family or person seems to have their own area. The next group is in a different spot. It helps me to sort them out. All of my goods are by the stair.

Examining the bodies so closely may seem to be a ghoulish exercise but it gives me something to do.

I do not need the candle. There is a pale sourceless illumination everywhere. Dust is thick on the floor and everything else. Cobwebs shroud everything.

There, in the corner lies what was Hiram Wickes. The notes and papers with him tell the story. Unable to stand his own mess, he had the house cleaned attic to basement. The yard was manicured to perfection. He then made the simple blunder that has cost so many lives and so much misery.

He bound Hastur of the Winds, Whose Name Must Not be Uttered, to keep his house and grounds exactly as it was on that day in 1866. Every new moon, everything that does not fit goes to the basement but that too gets cleaned. Hastur has no choice but to sweep the excess to someplace else…

I am lucky. I have the opportunity to starve. I was in the basement when the cleaning came. I was pushed through a distance too short to kill. The unvarying light seems to erase time, except that I am getting hungry.

Uncle Gordon has solved many occult mysteries and seems to know something of this one. I know that he will come soon. I wonder if he can do anything.

I found a pen among my things and paper from the possessions of the many dead. I have determined to make this account.

I leave my curse on Flocking Bay Realty. They knew that this would happen. They have sold the house many times, without warning. They have been battening on this evil since 1908.

I have found the rats. They are everywhere here. They do not touch the bodies or Hiram’s books and papers. They are disgusting. If I get hungry enough, I shall eat them.

-THE END-

<==Previous

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

#THE HOUSE #Part 3 of 3 #flocking bay #Written by De Writer

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ltwilliammowett · 5 years

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John Harrison’s first marine timekeeper, 1737. (© National Maritime Museum, Greenwich)

The Development of the Marine Chronometer

The rotation of the earth leads to an apparent movement of the celestial bodies (sun, stars, moon) in the firmament. Since the earth rotates by a known amount in a certain time, the time difference of such events at the respective observation sites is in a fixed relation to the difference in length of their positions.

The exact time of such events (such as the midday passage of the sun through the meridian) thus depends on the position of the observer on the globe - and exclusively on his longitude, i.e. his displacement in an east-west direction. With the help of a chronometer, the time difference of such an event at the place of observation is determined with the time at the place for which both the longitude and the time of this event are known exactly. For this purpose, the chronometer must be synchronized with the time of the known location.

The difference in length can then be calculated from the observed time difference:

Since the solar day, defined as a complete apparent rotation of the sun in the sky (360 degrees), lasts on average 24 hours or 1440 minutes, there is a time difference of exactly four minutes per degree of longitude difference. A ship whose local time is exactly 48 minutes behind that of a defined prime meridian (such as that of Greenwich) would therefore be twelve degrees west of this prime meridian. A deviation of the clock's rate, however, causes inaccuracies in the determination of the time at the zero meridian and thus of the length - it is not possible to determine which part of the time difference is attributable to the geographical position reached and which to the deviation of the clock reached until then.

This also led to the following event, which Admiral Sir Clowdisley Shovell called "Chastly weather" and cursed over the fog that had been present at sea for twelve days. After victorious battles with the French Mediterranean fleet, he set sail from Gibraltar to England on 29 September 1707 with 21 ships of the Royal Navy. Full of concern that his ships could run on rocky reefs, the admiral ordered his navigation officers to consult each other. According to unanimous opinion, the fleet was at a safe distance west of the Ile d´Ouessant. But the officers had calculated their position incorrectly. The Scilly Islands, twenty miles off the southwest tip of England, became a nameless grave for 2,000 soldiers.

Now the governments of the various seafaring nations had long been looking for a solution to the so-called longitude problem. This misfortune led to the British government in the so-called "Longitude Act" of July 8, 1714, to suspend the highest price. 20,000 pounds was to be given to anyone who could find a method for determining the geographical longitude at sea.

John Harrison (1693-1776)

John Harrison, who was born into a family of simple means on 24 th March, 1693 in the county of Yorkshire, had learned the carpentry trade. In 1713, not quite having reached the age of twenty, he had made his very first clock without having had any training as a clockmaker. More clocks were to follow.

John Harrison's famous chronometer H-5 , 1772

No one knows when or how Harrison had first learned of the Board of Longitude’s prize. Perhaps he had already dealt with the problem before. To make a clock that would work reliably at sea, he dispensed with the pendulum and replaced it with two dumbbell balances linked together.

In 1737, he presented his clock to the Board of Longitude. Although his clock had only been off by a few seconds per day on the trial voyage from London to Lisbon, he declared that his timekeeper still had a few deficiencies that he intended to rectify. In the 20 years that followed, he perfected his ideas and completed his „sea watch“ in 1759. The drawings were published in 1767.

Yet many years passed before Harrison received his prize. Not until King George III intervened on Harrison’s behalf did Harrison receive the prize in 1773, three years before his death.

John Harrison (1693-1776). Mezzotint by P. L. Tassaert, after a painting by Thomas King. (© Trustees of the British Museum)

John Arnold (1736-1799)

John Harrison’s clocks were good; however, they were complicated to make and, consequently, expensive. John Arnold designed a less expensive model. In 1782 he had a new type of escapement and a compensation balance patented. The most significant aspect of Arnold’s design was that the balance would be in contact with the gear train for only a very short period of time in order to trigger the impulse for the movement.

Arnold’s invention changed the way position was determined on the high seas. Thanks to the sextant and the chronometer, mariners would now know where they were, even after weeks of voyaging on the open sea.

Such was the case in 1789 with Captain Thomas Welladvice, commander of the Indiaman, Barwell. By determining their position with his Arnold chronometer in the middle of the night, Welladvice found out that he had to be near the Isles of Scilly. He had the ship moored at midnight. By daybreak he saw the rocks before him. The tragedy of 1707 did not repeat itself.

John Arnold (1736-1799). Engraving by Susan Esther Reid, after Robert Davy. (© Trustees of the British Museum)

John Arnold, pocket chronometer, N°1/36, housed in a 22-carat gold case, London, 1778.

#naval history #sea watches #18th century #john harrison #John arnold #age of sail #longitude

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queenie-main · 5 years

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There are two Uncle Scrooge comics I know of that are about him going to the moon in search of gold. The first one is The Twenty-Four Carat Moon, the other is The Loony Lunar Gold Rush. In both of them he faces competition from fellow earthlings and in one of them there is aliens.

And now in Whatever Happened to Della Duck? Della finds an alien civilization on the moon and they have tons of gold, so much that they build their city out of it! Very convenient because Della’s rocket uses gold as a power source!

And let’s not forget there are already two plot threads about making money this season; Louie is learning how to run a business and Scrooge has a bet with Glomgold that could cost him everything he has. If these two threads intersect with Della and the moon people, things are going to get very interesting.

#ducktales #dt spoilers #della duck #scrooge mcduck #louie duck #screencaps #dt theories

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fashionoftherunway · 2 years

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What Are the Most Expensive Shoes?

Whether you're on a shoe hunt or simply want to have the most opulent shoe in the world, you've probably wondered: What are the most expensive shoes? These shoes can cost millions of dollars, or even hundreds of thousands. They can be anything from diamond-encrusted pumps to super-exclusive Michael Jordan sneakers. And even though they may be very rare, these shoes have become a symbol of luxury and status.

The most expensive shoe ever made was the Debbie Wingham High Heels. They're made out of platinum, gold and rare diamonds. Another incredibly expensive shoe is the Tom Ford Custom by Jason Arasheben. It's made from luxury materials and is painstakingly handcrafted. The cost of these shoes is a testament to how much craftsmanship and attention to detail went into them. They're definitely not for the faint of heart.

Known as the Moon Star Shoe, it's made from a piece of meteorite found in Argentina in 1576. The shoes are incredibly rare, with only 10 pairs ever made. Miles Nadal, a tennis player and avid shoe collector, planned to display them in a museum in Toronto. But when he got an offer for his Nike Moon Shoes, he broke the previous record for sneakers.

Similarly, the Stuart Weitzman ruby stilettos are another expensive pair. These shoes are worth $1.6 million and have a red satin upper and cherry red insole. They're studded with 642 Burma rubies. The shoes were displayed in Harrod's London in 2003. It's hard to believe they cost so much! A pair of these shoes is sure to impress, but that's the point.

One pair of shoes that are worth over $1 million is a pair designed by British designer Debbie Wingham. These shoes were created in collaboration with contemporary artist Chris Campbell and feature over one thousand full-cut round diamonds. The shoes were then placed in a platinum frame and stitched with 18-carat gold thread. The shoes have become legendary in the fashion industry, and they're still in demand today. Amongst celebrities and rich people, these shoes are often the most expensive shoes in the world.

Another pair of shoes that made the list of most expensive shoes are the infamous red velvet Stuart Weitzman stilettos. Inspired by the famous Wizard of Oz film, these stunners were adorned with 464 Burmese rubies and elegant red satin straps. They're valued at more than a million dollars, and they've even been worn by Laura Harring on the red carpet.

The third-most-expensive pair of shoes are designed by luxury designer Debbie Wingham. These shoes are studded with rare gemstones, gold plaque, and platinum. They are crafted of silver leather, with twenty-four-carat gold paint and 18-carat gold threads. They're surprisingly comfortable and are made to last a lifetime. If you're a real shoe lover, you'll never regret investing in these shoes.

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adelleandlaura4ever · 2 months

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You Are My Everything

You are my morning in every day

For you are my coffee that make me sway

Like dancing dandelion in every way

Whispering on air that you’re my everything.

You are my moonlight and stars

Whose love is shinier than gems,

Reflecting the happiness that I’ve found you.

Sometimes you act as a rain

In a cloudy weather my dear

For you hide my pain through thunder and lightning

A paper boat who slowly moves

Where our heart is in there navigating the love

Telling everyone that we are conquerors

Against sadness and boredom.

Your voice is a summertime

Strumming ukulele every time you sing

Your melody of sweetness makes me dance

Expressing that I am yours and you are mine,

Like a treasure each time I hug you

And twenty four carat gold is your lovely kiss,

You coated my heart in richness and happiness

Like the greedy hand of Midas.

Sail me my dear across the world

And tell them that I love you the most.

I am a poet and you are my quill

An emotion that makes me chill.

I love you for what I am

My lady of every lifetime, I’ll want to dance with you

Till my eyes and music stop.

(by Marvin Tucay Barcia)

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

A beautiful, warm lovely woman once posted this beautiful poem to me, many moons ago.

It still resonates within my heart.

SHE is the sunshine that lights my face

SHE is the moonlight that comes to me in my dreams

SHE is the star in my constellation

SHE is the love in my heart

SHE is the life and energy in my Soul

She is Laura!

And she is my Soulmate and Lover,

For all of my days and forevermore in my Eternity!

I love you deeply Laura ❤️❤️❤️❤️

@dreamiingofher

@adelleandlaura4ever

#adelle&laura

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ducktalkspodcast · 5 years

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DuckTalks Episode #073 - Pins and Ornaments!

DuckTalks Episode #073 – Pins and Ornaments!

Join the guys as they read your feedback, celebrate a new Listener of the Week, discuss the Disney XD Monday Countdown, and Magic Kingdom’s DuckTales content. In DuckMerch they mostly talk pins and ornaments.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Android | Google Podcasts | RSS

Notes:

DuckTales Lunchbox/Thermos 2019 Hallmark Ornament Set **New Pics**

Disney Store-…

View On WordPress

#Carl Barks #Disney Magic Kingdoms #Disney Studio Store #Disney XD #DuckMerch #DuckTales #DuckTalks #Hallmark #Legacy Sketchbook Ornament #listener of the week #Mondo #The Twenty-Four Carat Moon #Top Monday Countdown #Vol 22

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purgatoriorpg · 3 years

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SUPERBIA. ⟡ NAZRIN ATEM-SHARIF. ⟡ 27, F.

EMPYREAN, ICHOR-VEINED, YOU HAVE RELISHED IN INIMITABLE POWER ALL YOUR LIFE. Heiress of the world’s largest luxury hotel empire and only daughter of a Wall Street titan, you understood the value of supremacy before you even learned how to walk. Perfection was sovereignty and law, the influence you wielded from the first moment you tasted dominion. The world made way for you the way it did for emperors, kings and conquerors. An endless sea parting at your feet, paving the way forwards for your ascent. You were revered and idolised, feared and worshipped in equal measure. The only one that never bowed to your ambition was him—Julian. The final piece to play upon your chessboard, the keys to your kingdom. It was inevitable and glorious in its inevitability: the merging of two empires coalescing with your marital union. Until everything began to crumble and you could no longer conceal the devastation with gilded artifice and perfect simulacrum. So you did what women kings have done since the beginning of time: you planned his downfall and prepared to take your rightful place.

DYNAMICS.

AVARITIA ⟡ THE SUN & THE MOON.

GULA. ⟡ DARLING, DEAREST, DEAD.

You would have been married, if he had lived. Not in the girlhood fantasy of silk wedding dresses and twenty-four carat diamonds, but in the real sense. There were no two people more perfectly matched in birthright, pedigree and ambition. You've never hidden from the princess-cut truth: you were more in love with the idea of him than the flesh and blood beneath the veneer. Perhaps that's why it was so easy to surrender him. You were one of the last to agree, hesitating out of misplaced, enduring loyalty to his silhouette in your picturesque future. Now, his shadow haunts you still, looming across every facet and reflection of the lives and lies you could have built together. You got everything you wanted in the end—the merger, his family's acceptance and cooperation, your ascendance to your empire’s throne—without him. If living with his spectre is the price you have to pay, then so be it.

VANAGLORIA, LUXURIA & ACEDIA ⟡ THE RIOT CLUB.

CLOSED. ⟡ FC: DUCKIE THOT.

#superbia.#c.#a.

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whereyoursoulresides · 6 years

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I wrote another thing...

I …can’t…stop. Someone. Help.

Title: Goddess

Summary: An exploration of the women in Kunzite’s first life, and the impact they have had on his character. Characters featured: Reika, Venus, Beryl. Ultimate final pairing: Kunzite/Zoisite.

Tags: a lot of liberal creative license here, it’s almost an exploration of Kunzite discovering his sexuality and orientation, bisexual, golden kingdom, silver millennium,

Link to A03: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13389354

Kunzite had never considered himself particularly sexual.

It is true he had the occasional urges, but he never felt the urge reduce him to the physical baseness he had seen other soldiers do. The growling, the hollering, the guttural grunting and slapping - the sounds that men made when they considered themselves truly as such.

What he felt instead (in addition to the physicality of it all) - was a deep sense of elation. Admiration. Inspiration. It filled his chest with air and rooted deeper within him than any man could lose himself in a woman. This sensation was closer to the euphoria that had been described to him, a sense of true awe, of being humbled, and finding meaning. In his earlier years, he could understand how men could be intoxicated with this sense of total completion and purpose.

So when he found Reiche, a goddess in the shadows of a nameless tavern bar, he was lost.

—

Reiche was beautiful in all the ways Kunzite could have imagined. She was intelligent, compassionate and stunning…a true work of art, elegance and softness in a painter’s charcoal. The worn warmth of her arms and her thick mahogany locks shone before Kunzite like slivers of gold stumbling between rocks and soil. She was older than Kunzite, only slightly - but in her air and grace, she was worlds beyond all he had experienced in his nineteen years of life.

When she took him to her bed, she was always gentle. She was a teacher in every sense of the word, and opened his eyes to the physicality of love, as well as the spiritual. Together they discussed the difference, the similarities. Though Kunzite had little understanding between the two (or was it three) of love, lust and more, over time they became good friends, deep friends…kindred spirits aspiring for more in a war-torn world. He, to protect and preserve as a soldier and guardian, and she the same, as a doctor of medicine.

But such aspirations were higher than a cliff-face for peasants such as they, and in this they bonded between sheets, trailing fingers down the curves of each other’s body, grazing the textures of one another’s flesh.

Though she was a prostitute, Kunzite had considered bringing her home to his family. Had war not already been his destiny, he could see her being his wife - her company brought him peace, awe, and a smile. She warmed his heart and was a good soul through and through. She did not deserve the life she had. Thus Kunzite always sent her a fraction of his pay every month after that first night, with no expectation for her to work. Thus the great ship he arranged for her and her child, to come work in Elysian as the city’s first ever woman-doctor, when he first became one of the Shitennou.

Though goddess she was, an eternal friend was all she could remain.

—

She was grace and she was beauty. She was love and she was stunning. She was Venus, and all of Earth knew of her gilded hair and twinkling, sunny laugh as well as the knew the Sun.

But she was more than beauty, as she curtsied in her sunflower-yellow dress, a golden sword strapped to her back. Her eternal youthfulness disguised an immense strength, twenty-four-carat gold covered steel. When he bowed and they both rose, he struck by her unwavering fearlessness and incredible clarity - optimism in the face of death, certainty in what laid before her. She would lay her life for her Princess at a moment’s hesitance, breast bared and throat open, and she would do so with a smile on her face.

Above all else, Venus’ beauty was in her strength, and in this manner, Kunzite could find no other who could compare. As he danced with her, arms weaving, cloaks and trains swirling, friction sparking between the brush of his cotton gloves and her chiffon bracelet - Kunzite could imagine losing himself in those sharp, crystal-blue doe eyes. Together they could clash blades, watch and protect, and become one in the lament of what they could not have. He could see Venus as his wife, and seriously considered it when Endymion proposed as such.

But her youthfulness was perhaps too eternal, and her loyalty and dedication too sharp. Her warmth was comfort at a foot’s distance, but smelting when duty seared through. Though goddess she was, he could not reach the sky to touch her, less he was burned.

—

If Venus was sun, then she was dark.

She was evocative and seductive, like a shadow gliding over curtains at twilight. Her long locks were a deep blood red, rich and luminous. She was tall like Reiche, strong like Venus. She had her own sense of compassion, which was a delicate balance between law and kindness. In her, Kunzite truly saw a monarch, and imagined she as Gaia’s incarnate - protective, fierce, and motherly.

When she walked with Kunzite through gardens of thorns under a blanket of stars, she was both a friend and a dream. She walked with the weight of knowing and the spine to deliver it. While Reiche swaddled her little one in shadows and Venus drew her blade too quick, Beryl kept herself measured, controlled. Kunzite often thought of her as wine, as she seemed to be its personification - stunning, aged, fortified. In Beryl he found both an equal, and a comfort. She was most goddess he could ever liken thus far.

So when Endymion turned his back on her for the child-princess of the Moon, Kunzite could not understand.

—

It was days before the end of the Silver Millennium, though Kunzite did not know it at the time. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing the open doors that lead to the empty balcony. The early morning wind lifted the chiffon curtains like ghosts. Kunzite listened to the crickets announce the coming of war, though anyone else had yet to know.

Above him, the moon’s face shone like an ominous beacon in the sky. It hovered as though constantly surveilling, constantly watching. In a few days’ time, the Prince would go up to the Princess and ask for her hand. After the wedding, the Silver Crystal would sit on the throne, and had the power to bring life, death, or total loss of freedom and autonomy, with just a breath. The Prince and Master Kunzite had once loved and served was handing a child-god a marriage proposal, with Earth as the engagement ring.

As Kunzite pondered the meaning of the word - marriage, wedding, wife - the bed sheets rustled behind him, and his bed companion rolled over. The mattress creaked softly with the sense of normalcy, and his partner roused contently, licking their lips and brushing back their thick, tangled, coppery hair.

“Kunzite-sama?” his partner breathed. “What’s the matter?”

Kunzite glanced back up at the moon, before looking over his shoulder. His lover laid sprawled on the bed, the pale moonlight highlighting the cream of his skin, the marbling of his shoulder. His ginger curls were luminous and his face was sculpted between boyish and adulthood; a true Adonis.

Kunzite laid back down and rolled over to face the smaller man. He let his fingers explore the soft curls, taking in the pools of ivy-green, the thickness of his heavy lashes.

“It’s nothing,” Kunzite answered quietly, brushing the boy’s cheek lightly. “Go back to sleep.”

Soft lips spread into a smile, as his partner shifted closer to him.

“Don’t forget about me,” Zoisite whispered sleepily as he happily cuddled to his master’s touch. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Kunzite smiled again, and ran his fingers through the boy’s thick hair.

“I know. I won’t.”

#anyo writes #kunzite x zoisite #kunzoi fanfiction #beryl #reika #venus #Silver millennium #Golden Kingdom #Kunzite #sailor moon classic

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