#While I was in the middle of showing Fern how to get away with murder by burying two bodies in one grave

[bonefall]

do you ever worry your own writing might come off as misogynistic though? it seems deceptively easy

When you have anxiety, PTSD, OCD, or multiple of these things, every move you make is something you will self-doubt. It can become endless if you let it, and you can be frozen by absolute indescision.

Embrace the void and reach enlightenment with me; There are many ways to read a story, and no writer can pre-empt every possible interpretation. Not even myself.

If they think my work comes across as misogynistic? Let them. Salty amoebas are often wrong on the internet, but the block button and xkit are beautiful transwomen who are also my friends.

#Honestly tho the existence of terfs is enough to make you realize #That theres some dumb assholes out there who will cynically leverage powerful phrases to try and intimidate you into silence #I think you would need to have some salty coconuts or do an ooo biiiigggg stretch to think BB is misogynistic #This is the melting down about women blog #This is the blog where I regularly take canon books and make them about women instead #I saw a vaguepost about me just wanting one dimensional softgirls #While I was in the middle of showing Fern how to get away with murder by burying two bodies in one grave #And writing her obsessive and unhinged justifications as she digs her claws into her little brother's shoulders desperate to make her- #-senseless violence. The WASTING of her sister's sacrifice. Into something with meaning #If it's wrong to write girliemurder then I don't want to be right <3 #Bone babble

[sourwolfstories]

Hey! Do you have long fic recommendations? Can you involve some soulmate fics but AU are welcome too Long like 50k, 100k+ but really ill read anything

Soulmate fics (at least 50K)

When the Universe Comes Knocking (It’s Polite to Open the Door) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

It was like a door he’d nailed shut in his brain suddenly exploded open, all of his past confusion and anger and hurt and adoration flooding out at once. Stiles? Was it actually Stiles?!

Stiles, the guy he’d had a crush on for fucking years growing up. The guy who’d been an absolute dick to him their whole last year of high school.

The guy who’d told him he loved him in a dirty men’s bathroom on prom night while drunk and upset because he thought Kira was Derek’s girlfriend.

That Stiles? But it couldn’t be!

Marks and Mics by DLanaDHZ

Hale siblings Derek and Laura have been hired to run security for Stiles Stilinski's music tour. Business as usual, except someone is trying really hard to prove they're incapable and hurt Stiles. Derek finds himself curious about Stiles' bitter attitude and a strange illness that plagues the singer. And on top of that, Derek's soulmate remains elusive.

Written Can’t Be Denied by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

Since time immemorial the story of ‘soulmates’ has persisted. In short, the idea that somewhere out there is your perfect match, the one person who can complete you and with whom you can find total happiness.

The story goes that, the first time you meet your ‘soulmate’, the universe will give you a sign in what should be the most obvious way - somewhere in your immediate vicinity the word ‘soulmate’ will appear. If reports of ‘soulmates’ are to be believed, rather than being written of as hopeful delusions, then this ‘obvious’ signal is anything but, fleeting as it is. The word seemingly only appears for a matter of moments and only when two people first meet. There is no guarantee that they will be looking in the correct direction to see it, nor that they will have any idea who their supposed ‘soulmate’ actually is.

A fact that causes havoc the day that up and coming actor, Stiles Stilinski holds up a bottle emblazoned with the word 'soulmate' in the middle of a press conference where Derek Hale is working as a photographer, in the middle of the worst day of his life...

Connected by readridinghood

After the death of his wife, Stiles finds himself left alone with their three children, struggling to keep from being sucked into a void of grief and despair that her death left him with. Knowing his children are safe in the pack's arms under Derek's watchful eyes, he struggles to regain his footing. What do you do when the world keeps tumbling over you and what you've thought of as fact no longer holds true? As the world comes back into focus, so does the love for Derek he thought he'd long since conquered and now with his eyes open, what he thought was the end of him, is only a new beginning. A decade after he fell in love with Stiles, countless days of keeping himself restrained while building a friendship with him, Derek finds out with absolute certainty that Stiles is his mate. You only mate once in your life, so how is it that Stiles was mated to Sophia, his wife and mother of his three children, the woman he is grieving the loss of at the same moment that Derek makes his discovery.

Three Marks by sanam

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

Other fics (at least 50K)

Rich Man, Poor Man by TyReed

During a first date gone horribly wrong, Stiles Stilinksi realizes that the snarky guy he's been asked out by is actually Derek Hale, an heir to Hale Industries, one of the most profitable companies in the entire world. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in the son of a teacher and a cop, a loser who spends all weekend watching movies in his pajamas, and who is also possibly one of the biggest dorks on the Internet.

At the same time, after screwing up their first date horribly, Derek Hale realizes that the funny guy he's asked out is Stiles Stilinksi, the warmest and kindest individual he's ever met in his life, with a family just a loving and caring. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in a guy who screws up everything he does, lacks any semblance of a backbone, and who is possibly one of the biggest history dorks in all of the United States.

These rich and poor men will come to experience a taste of each other's lives, and learn where the real blessings in the world can be found.

Feel it like a fever, burning through the night by LunaCanisLupus_22

“That was my favourite fern,” Deaton declares and Stiles glances at Scott for clarification that such a ridiculous statement just came out of his boss’ mouth.

“You could have just told me not to touch it,” Stiles points out sensibly, squirming inside with something he refuses to believe might be guilt.

Not about the dumb plant, but the instant devastation he’s currently overwhelmingly and inescapably capable of. He can destroy with one touch now.

This is going to complicate things so much.

Or the one where Stiles tries to do the noble self-sacrificing thing: gains a new power, a spectral skin colour and basically ruins his own life. 0/10 would not recommend.

It’s (Not) a Cult by lhr111

“Well Stiles, you told me a few weeks ago that you thought Derek was leading a cult.”

At that Derek whipped his head toward Stiles in shock. “You thought I was a cult leader?”

Stiles will not be shamed. “Well, either you or Peter. Peter made more sense, but since he deferred to you that one time I was a little unsure. I mean, what else could I think with all the weird shit going on. You, hanging out with random high school seniors, doing secret things, ordering them around like you are their parent, them actually doing what you tell them. It’s really weird, okay?”

“Are you familiar with Harry Potter?” Derek asks.

Talk about a non sequitur. “What? What does that have to do with anything? And, of course I know Harry Potter!”

“Well to quote Sirius Black, ‘Once again you’ve put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and as usual come to the wrong conclusion.’"

The Sheriff starts snickering, and Stiles is both insulted and also a little in love.

Call Me (Cliché) by SomewheresSword

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

There’s No Escape for the Potato Man by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Who is this? Where’s Erica?”

“Wrong number, asshole!”

“Stop calling me an asshole,” the man on the other end snapped aggressively.

Stiles could understand. He’d be pretty aggressive too if he’d murdered someone and texted a wrong number to ask for help burying the body. This guy obviously failed How To Be a Serial Killer 101.

“What kind of idiot thinks I murdered someone?”

“The kind of idiot who got your text messages, you fucking dumbass!” he retorted hotly. “Maybe double check your contacts before sending a random stranger details on your nefarious plans to dispose of a freshly cut up body!”

“What?!” the guy on the other end demanded, crossed between horrendously confused and livid.

---------------

If you want more soulmate fics you can check that tag here

you can also find more long fics here and here

Happy Reading :)

#answered #anonymous #sterek #sterek fic rec #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #soulmates au

[hereisleo]

Circle VII: Violence

The Second Babylon

w/ k.hj & reader ft. ateez

g/ demon!au, mystery, suspense

a.n/ after more than three weeks of dry spell, i present you the finale

t.w/ blood, slight gore, violence, death, murder, guns and fire

recommended playlist:

by shoji meguro -

a new world fool

“Rise.”

You stand from your kneeling posture at the command and your eyes meet the burning red of the King. Hongjoong breaks into a smirk, “I told you, ‘You’ll seek us out yourself,’ and here you are.” He leaves his throne, the seven other commanders remain seated, boots soundless against the red carpet. His fingers caress your cheek before digging into your face in a vice-like grip. He leans forward, nose almost brushing against your, the vicious growl rumbling in his throat roots you to the palace floor, “I should punish you for your insubordination.”

He beckons Fraud to approach. The lightning bearer towers over you. The crackle of electricity raises the temperature in the throne room, shadows shift to its taunt. “Let it be remembered, you don’t disobey me.” The last thing you know is the blinding white-hot pain as lightning strikes the consciousness out you.

To say your shoulder is not moving properly is an understatement. The burns have knitted itself to normal skin as Yeosang sits by your bedside, his bed, waiting for you to rouse. You wake up to his finger gently tracing patterns on your arm. You reach for his hand and he lets you hold them. “You could have dodged it,” He refers to the bolt of lightning. “You’re fast enough.” Sure you are. They probably don’t expect you to sit there and take it. You release his hand and feel your shoulder. Uneven surface tells you the bolt scarred your skin in fern-like patterns. Lichtenberg scars. Most disappear in a few days but yours are here to stay.

The fireplace roars to life, black fire licks the unburnt woods. A summoning call from the King and all are expected to answer. Yeosang helps you off the bed, every fibre of your being protests but you trudge on, out of the chamber into the hallway. Yeosang keeps a hand on the small of your back, a precaution should you stumble. Rounding the corner, you find Mingi and Yunho coming out of their chambers. Mingi smirks and nods at you, already up and walking after been directly struck by his lightning. Yunho pats your head and walks behind you and Yeosang. Seonghwa almost purrs when he sees you while San and Wooyoung whistle in amazement. Jongho says nothing but the respect in his eyes are enough.

Red on red. Red staining the gold. Red on the skin. Red dripping of the sharp nails. The throne room is a bloody macabre. Hongjoong stands in the middle of bodily carnage, limbs here and there, and there’s a heart fluttering its final beats in his hand. He turns around and smiles, canines elongated and stained, “I let them breach security.” Familiar badges you used to carry every day lay drenched on the plush carpet. Your eyes glance over the bodies if there’s one body in particular amongst the raiding party. He offers the heart in rhetoric fashion, “Anyone hungry?”

Seonghwa is the first to approach the embodiment of Violence. “Famished, Joong,” he whispers, wiping away the stray splash of blood from the King’s cheek, he has no qualms licking off the blood of his finger. Hongjoong seems to preen at the action. “We’re going. Time to get rid of the thorns from the rose.” He tosses the heart away and it stops short by your boots. His finger points at you, eyes blazing as bright as the blood staining his skin, “They demanded you. I applaud them for their bravery but no one takes what is mine.” No one makes demand to the King.

The shadows curl and snap, opening the void pathway to the Living Plane. The brim of their hats cast a shadow over their eyes, charcoal webs of veins protrude right below the skin, red irises more prominent than ever. Their black coats billow behind them, one by one, the commanders enter the void and melt into the shadows. Hongjoong waits for you with his palm open. You hold his hand, soiled and sticky yet soft. He raises them to his mouth, lips brushing against your knuckles.

“Lay waste to them.”

A siege is what this is. The precinct is surrounded by a wall of black fire, Seonghwa’s mouth curls into a menacing dragon-like grin. You could hear the tinkling of wind chimes in your mind as the wind picks up, your coat whipping in the wind and hat following the direction of the air currents, Yunho is nearby. The fire grows unceasingly. You’ve seen the sight before. The Great Fire of Rome, London, Chicago and many other accounts recorded in history. Wooyoung and Yeosang work on driving the officers outside into a frenzy. San taking them out with ease. They’re turning the Living Plane’s symbol of security into their playground. One of them alone could raze a city yet here they are playing. You could feel pinpricks of electricity tickling your skin, funny how it’s not painful anymore after being submerged in the River Styx. “Shall I get rid of the mutt for you?” Mingi whispers, his cheek pressing against yours and you follow his line of sight. “I’ll take care of it.” Mingi barks a laugh, “Have a blast, little one!”

Jongho’s miasmic presence alone in the bullpen is enough to make the officers kneel. You pass by him and he tips the brim of his hat in greetings, ever so polite. The building shudders, splinters and ashes rain down. Compromised structural integrity. He’s trying to cave the building from the inside, burying the people underneath. The protection runes inscribed to the structure prevent him from bringing the building down. “Need a hand, Jongho?” You call out teasingly, he scoffs and a rune cracks under the suffocating gravity. Guess not. This place is never designed to handle nine commanders of hell at the same time. The scenario never even crossed the mind.

Hongjoong stands beside you, more blood covers the expanse of his skin, he coat soaking the red liquid that’s not his. You wipe the stain from the corner of his mouth, he must have feasted before finding you. In front is the entrance to a secret passageway. Every employee in the Anomaly Department signs a vow of silence regarding the passage. Not at a single word to anyone. Not to be open until there’s an unprecedented attack. The intricately weaved runes are glowing white at the threats yet Hongjoong chuckles, “Pathetic.” The world is always evolving and so does power. The runes are outdated, no one checks it for who knows how many years. Hongjoong blasts the wall into pieces, all it takes is a punch. He’s not a king for nothing. The thrumming of his miasma flow is intoxicating, you could feel it latching, igniting violent tendencies inside. The embodiment of Treachery and the detective mix a savage concoction.

Runes litter the walls and floors as you descend the stairs, Hongjoong close behind you. You wonder how many media coverage is on the other side of the ring of fire. All thoughts are vanquished from mind when you come face to face with a stone door. How far deep into the underground is this? The miasmic energy leaking from the stone is akin to the one you feel in the underworld. “Ley lines,” Hongjoong says behind you. “The runes are pathetic but they’re smart enough to make an escape route close to Limbo.” He steps in front of you, a slew of phrases in a dead language spills from his tongue. The door rumbles open without a fight. No traps activated. You always forget that he’s been on this world longer than any supernatural beings. The first supernatural inhabitant to walk the Earth.

Familiar voices reach your ears. You smile. Oh, how the end of the beginning has come to fruition. The taste of fear on tip of your tongue is delicious. They have no time to cross into Limbo nor did they expect the final defence to be breached. “Detective?” A gentle call of your old title melts you from Hongjoong’s shadow. The reds of your eyes drilling into your partner’s, ex-partner. Guns are pointed at you. The Captain’s frightened face brings a grin to your mouth and the Junior Detective flinch. The grin is short of feral. “Detective, please come back. I know you’re in there,” the pleading of the Junior Detective makes you coo, eyes desperate and the service weapon unsteady in trembling hands.

You approach the Junior Detective, hands raise in the air at the attempt of an nonthreatening advance. “Stop right there!” The Captain yell. “How could you betray us like this?!” Hongjoong clicks his tongue and in a second, he has the Captain against the wall, hand tight around her neck. The Junior Detective whips his attention toward the King of hell, gun trained to his head. That’s not going to kill Hongjoong. “Betray you? Oh no, no. You took Treachery from me, Captain. No one steals from me,” animalistic growls emerge from his throat, nails growing sharper. You could see scarlet beads pooling at the divots where his claws dig into the delicate skin.

Placing a hand on the service weapon, you coax the Junior Detective to lower the gun. Without missing a beat, Hongjoong tears open her throat. The stone wall is splattered red and blood rains on the King. You watch the Captain chokes in her own blood before going cold. Screams of anguish ring throughout the tunnel, gun clattering away. Your partner slumps against you, dragging you to the wet ground. Tear streams down the Junior Detective’s cheeks, heaving and inconsolable. Hongjoong laughs and laughs, doubling over and clutching his stomach as if what went down is the most hilarious comedy show he has ever seen in a while. It probably is, the last time you have seen him laughs this hard was during the assassination of Julius Caesar.

You hum and nuzzle into the sobbing Junior Detective in your arms. “Mingi was right, I should have done it properly,” you whisper. Your old partner’s breath hitches, “What do you mean?” You plant a kiss on the corner of your partner’s mouth, “The Kiss of Judas.” And you let go of the horrified Junior Detective, the cogs in the brain turning to process your words. The tunnel rumbles as the crashing of explosions outside continues. It’s going to collapse.

Chunks of rocks drizzle down. Hongjoong offers his arm for you to link and you do so. “Fabulous show, Treachery! Time for the curtain call! We have a feast waiting for us,” he praises, eyes shaping into crescent moons. Walking toward the stone door, the melodious dead language spills from his mouth. You turn your head to see the Junior Detective rooted to the ground as more and more debris falls. You smile one last time and wave, farther away with each step. Classic Hongjoong. Death by stoning. Never forgive and never forget. The door shuts and the tumbling of boulders chorus inside.

“Goodbye, partner.”

<<prev

ateez main masterlist | sa: masterlist

#t.w #foratiny #atinyforatiny #supernatural activities #dante’s inferno #captain treasure #k.hj #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #ateez #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong drabbles #hongjoong blurbs #ateez fic #ateez au #ateez demon au #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez blurbs #hereisleo

[tempesrature]

The Case of the Murdered Witch Doctors | Chapter 4

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 The Charm of Lost Things (Oneshot Follow-up) Creative Process Note Commissioned Art Piece

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Colt Summary:  “Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting.” - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes   Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: PG-16 @rodappreciationweek @lovehugsandcandy

~*~

“Un-hoooooly shit!” Toby exclaims as he circles around Ellie with his nose uncomfortably in her personal space. Her nose wrinkles lightly when she smells the heavy Fern Flower smoke smell on him. “Nothing! Literally nothing! I’ve never smelled anything like it! Xi, you gotta smell this!”

“I’m sorry about him sweetie,” Ximena sighs as shakes her head and places a hand on her hip. “I would be lying if I say he isn’t usually like this. My name’s Ximena and that guy there is Toby.”

“I’m Ellie. And it’s cool. I get it a lot,” Ellie grimaces a little when she feels the tip of Toby’s nose touch her cheek and she pushes his face away from her. “Although not usually this close. Is his nose broken or something?”

“It will be if he doesn’t take a step back,” Colt replies from somewhere behind her as he closes the door behind his office and stands next to Ellie. He looks at Ximena and Toby and gives them a nod. “Both of you leave for the nightclub. I have a guest tonight.”

Colt sends her a smirk and Ellie rolls her eyes before she waves goodbye to Ximena and Toby. The moment the shop’s doors close behind them, Colt turns to Ellie with a smug smile as he leans back to look at her from head to toe. Taking careful note of the red leather jacket and short black shirt she’s wearing.

“I like that you’re curious,” Colt smiles as he looks back up at her face and subtly licks his lips. “Although self-preservation doesn’t seem to be your best trait.”

Ellie scoffs and pushes past him to enter his office. “I could take you on Colt. I haven’t used my magic the entire day.”

“Aw, saving yourself up for me? I’m touched,” Colt snickers as he follows her and closes the door behind him with a click of the lock.

Ellie immediately drops herself on the couch with a heavy sigh as she leans back and tilts her head to the ceiling. Colt raises an eyebrow at her, wanting to ask about the sigh, but he stops himself when he realizes that he’ll need alcohol first if he’s going to be talking to her about anything.

“Anything new to share to the class?” Colt asks as opens the mini fridge and throws her a bottle of beer. Ellie catches it and eyes the bottle suspiciously. Colt scoffs as he takes a seat next to her, peels off bottle cap like a sticker and tosses it on the coffee table in front of them. “Do you really think I’m gonna make you drink blood?”

“Mm,” Ellie agrees as she gathers her magic between her middle finger and thumb and flicks open the bottle cap which causes a loud pop to fill the room and the bottle cap to shoot up and embed itself on his office ceiling.

Colt frowns as he looks up at the bottle cap’s round indent on the ceiling. “You witches really need to understand spatial awareness beyond your magical bubble.”

“Oh we understand. We just don’t care,” Ellie smiles smugly as she drinks her beer. Colt rolls his eyes but he can’t help the small smile that tugs on his lips. Ellie drinks about half of it and places it down on the coffee table before she uses her magic and flicks her wrist to bring up a projected investigation board of the Kilat murder. Colt leans in, still absolutely at awe at how crisp and clear the image’s she projects, as his eyes glow with gold while he quickly takes in the information in front of him.

“This is what I’ve gathered so far. I looked into why a vampire or magical creature could possibly want from albularyo blood since that’s the only thing missing as of now but so far I haven’t found anything. It doesn’t give them any extra powers or anything so this murder is personally, not magically, motivated.”

“Yeah, we usually avoid drinking from magical creatures,” Colt scrunches his nose a little. “The blood tastes like metal. It’s gross,” Colt furrows his eyebrows at the look she gives him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ellie opens her mouth, ready to explain to him what human blood tastes like but decides that it’s a losing battle and just shakes her head.

“Anyway, there was no forced entry in any of the doors, windows and portals. This is why I wasn’t so sure it was a vampire. Maybe a ghoul or a magical creature that can walk through solid objects? But Mr. Ernesto doesn’t mention any of those kinds of creatures as customers in his book.”

“Let me see the book.”

Ellie flicks her wrist and brings up a page the book. “Those crossed out are either dead, not currently in the country, or have been abducted by the fae. The rest I’ve interviewed and cleared of motive or had solid alibis during the time of the murder. I only have two left to question. Jason Shaw and a vampire named Tobias. Do you know anyone with that name? I’m having difficulties tracking them down.”

“No,” Colt replies. “But I’ll get my crew to ask around, it shouldn’t be that difficult.”

Ellie nods, a little relieved that that part of the investigation is handled by someone else. She’s already gotten a lot of heat and shit for stretching out this investigation into its second month. Mona, the head witch of her department, is being constantly pressured by the higher ups to hex the case as quickly as possible. Although Mona tries her best to keep them from interfering too much with Ellie’s work, she knows that it’s only going to be a matter of time before they forcefully stop the investigation.

“So you did all of this? In the last month?”

“Huh?” Ellie pulls herself out of her thoughts and turns to look at Colt who looks back at her with awe and disbelief. She shifts on her seat, suddenly feeling a little shy under his golden gaze, before she waves away the projected investigation board. “Uh yeah. It’s my first case after all. I need to show them that I can do this, even on my own. Nobody wanted to partner up with a half-witch.”

“This is your first case?” Colt whistles appreciatively as he leans back on the couch. “And you managed to rope me in, a Primordial, to help you. I’m impressed.”

“That was the easy part,” Ellie teases as she leans back on the couch next to him, her body suddenly feeling tired and achy. “It helps that my dad is a detective too. I got it from him.”

“Your…mortal dad?” Colt says cautiously, not really sure how to approach the conversation without insulting her for being a half-witch, but Ellie merely shrugs as if she’s heard the question a million times.

“Yeah. My mother was the witch,” She smiles fondly. “A great one too.”

Colt frowns. “Was?”

“Abducted by the fae five years ago.”

Colt grimaces a little, not really wanting to venture into his thoughts of what it’s like to be abducted by the fae. “She must’ve done something pretty shitty to anger the fae.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ellie says as she turns to look at him, her eyes boring into his. “The Coven disowned my mother when she married my dad. The Agency was advised by the Coven not to investigate since she was not, lineage-wise, a witch anymore. So they didn’t.”

“Ah,” Colt says in realization. “So this is why you’re so stubborn about this case.”

She smirks as her eyes shine with mischief. “I’m a cliché after all.”

Colt nods, his body unconsciously leaning closer to hers. “Never thought about investigating it yourself?”

“I want to but can’t,” She shrugs and uses her magic to raise and swirl the rest of her beer on the coffee table. “I promised my dad I wouldn’t do it. That’s the only condition he had when I said I wanted to join the Agency. He investigated my mother’s abduction himself for two years—nearly drove him mad.”

“Ever want to just burn it down?” Colt says as his eyes glow with a golden fire, his voice tight and pained. “The whole of the Agency, right down to its foundation. Maybe then the creatures that deserved justice will finally get it.”

“And what about future cases like Ana’s?” Ellie sighs as she crosses her arms in front of her and the bottle of beer lands on the coffee table with a thump. “I hate it as much as you do and let me tell you, there’s a lot that needs to change in the Agency but there are good people fighting inside too. For people like Ana, me…you. That’s why I chose to stay, why I choose to fight. For now, at least.”

“You are so fucking annoying,” Colt says as he leans into her, his body magnetized to hers. “But I’m starting to realize that I like that.”

Ellie smirks as she leans her face closer to his. “Like I said, one of my better qualities.”

She doesn’t know who closed the gap—him or her—but it’s definitely as fiery and explosive as the kiss they shared in the nightclub nights before.

Ellie swings her legs over his lap, her lips glued to his, as Colt drops the bottle of beer with a thud on the floor in favor of gripping her hips tight in his hands. He pulls her down to his lap, her hips pressed against his, and she slips past a small moan against his lips and he easily pushes his tongue in to taste her.

She hurriedly pushes his jacket off of his shoulders and he moves his hand underneath her skirt to grip her thighs tight in his hand, his nails digging into skin.

“Fuck I want to taste you,” Colt groans as he fits his face into the side of her neck, his fangs lightly scraping her unblemished skin. “I’m curious. What does the blood of a half-witch taste like?”

Ellie lets out a small moan and delves her hands into his hair, gripping tight, before she grinds her hips against his. “Don’t know. Never had reviews.”

Colt chuckles at the tail end of a moan, his eyes lighting up in dark gold as he presses his lips on her racing pulse point. “Should I do the honors?”

Ellie smiles, opening her mouth to accept his invention, when the shrill sound of her ringtone breaks her out of his spell. She quickly untangles her limbs from his, her red lipstick smeared on her lips and her skirt pulled up her legs. She looks at Colt sitting on the couch, a smug and satisfied look on his face. He brings up his thumb and swipes the red lipstick she’s left on him as he bares his fangs in delight, his golden eyes never leaving her blues.

Ellie blushes, her face heating up at the image, as she clumsily digs through her red leather jacket to fish out her phone. “Uh yeah. Ellie—Detective Wheeler speaking. Yeah, Ingrid. No, I’m not busy. Just give me a sec,” She turns to look at Colt and holds the phone to her chest to cover the receiver. “I need to go.”

Colt frowns but recovers quickly and flicks his wrist to the door, his voice teasing and playful. “See you in four days, Miss Half a Witch.”

Ellie quickly exits the office door, pulling her skirt down as she walks, and makes her way out of the shop with her heart thumping hard and fast in her chest. She brings up the phone back to her ear and immediately pulls it away when she hears Ingrid’s loud voice.

“—can’t be serious! Was that Colt’s voice?!” Ingrid gushes, her voice shrill and high. “Ellie Wheeler you did not just sleep with a Primordial vampire!”

“I didn’t sleep with him!” Ellie defends as she hurriedly makes it to her car, buckles in her seatbelt and starts the engine before she drops her head on the steering wheel. “Just…tell me what you found Ingrid.”

“Nuh-uh you’re not getting away that easily. I expect all the dirty projections later!” Ingrid cackles as Ellie groans in exasperation before Ingrid’s voice drops to something serious. “Anyway, we finally got the approval to conduct an autopsy on the Kilat bodies and guess what we found?”

“Ingrid I literally wouldn’t be able to even if I tried, that’s your job.”

“What? Are you always this cranky after sex or is it just reserved for hot but rude vampires?” Ingrid laughs and Ellie glares at nothing. “Fine, anyway. So we found a huge cut to their femoral artery, that’s the vein behind your thigh. If a creature gets injured there—mortal or otherwise—you best expect to die of blood loss if left untreated. Not even a vampire’s saliva can stop blood loss that bad.”

“But wait,” Ellie scrunches her eyebrows and lifts her head off of the steering wheel. “You said there was no injury on the bodies.”

“Yeah, that’s the strange thing. The way the femoral artery was cut up should indicate a visible and pretty nasty injury—but we found nothing. I’ve asked around and no one has seen anything like this. It’s really weird.”

Ellie sighs as she kneads away the oncoming headache. “Thanks Ingrid, I’ll look into it more.”

“Yeah no problem,” Ingrid confirms before her voice lifts into something teasing and playful. “Now back to Colt. Was he like, you know? Hu—”

“Goodbye Ingrid,” Ellie cuts her off and tosses the phone on the passenger seat. She lets out a big sigh as she leans her head back on the seat. The possibilities swim in her head at the new information Ingrid has just presented her.

If the Kilat’s blood was drained by the femoral artery, what was with the vampire bite? And what would a creature do with close to ten liters of albularyo blood? Or did they just dump it out after the murders had been committed? If the end goal truly was just the murder, why go through all the trouble?

Ellie frowns. The possibility of the blood being dumped is there which means she’ll need a werewolf to help sniff out where the blood could’ve gone to. She could always ask Logan but she knows how iffy he is with blood and she certainly doesn’t want to push him to do things he doesn’t want to do. Logan’s already done enough for her for this case since he practically got her access to the Vault he’s supposed to be guarding.

Ellie sighs and starts her drive back to her apartment. For now, she’ll just follow the two leads she has. Maybe after a bottle of wine and a nice bubble bath, she’ll have a clearer head in four days when she’ll meet the next vampire on her list.

Jason Shaw.

A terrifying Primordial vampire with the power to see the memories of the creatures he feeds on.

#rodaw #choices rod #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #vampire au #detective au #witch au #murder mystery #cw: magic-drug #cw: blood #cw: police #my writing

[magiciaa]

Welcome to Magicia chapter 10: Ms. White has a secret?

((I could not figure out what to do with this chapter for the longest time))

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m going to be late” Fern ran full speed towards the school building while struggling to eat a slice of toast that she’d stolen from Sora’s kitchen before she left. She had overslept from spending the night at Sora’s lab after what happened yesterday. “Hopefully nobody noticed that I was gone, I can’t get detention again”

Fern skidded to a stop in front of the school, and went inside, her hooves making subtle clicking noises on the tile. Ever since the middle school building was shut down a couple years ago, apparently due to the building practically falling apart and being unsafe for students, both the middle school and high school classes were held in the same building.

“And… safe” Fern slid into the classroom just as the bell went off

“Where were you yesterday? Not ditching class I hope” the teacher scolded

“Um… I was… sick… yeah, I was sick” Fern lied

“You weren’t hanging out at the old middle school building with a bunch of high school students, were you?” the teacher asked “that place is extremely dangerous, and someone like you shouldn’t be there”

“No shit it’s dangerous” Fern mumbled under her breath “someone fucking died”

“What did you say?” the teacher asked “you know I don’t tolerate swearing in this classroom”

“N-nothing” Fern snapped to attention “I’ll just take my seat now”

“First, your headphones, you know those aren’t allowed, please hand them over” the teacher announced

“y’know I can’t actually do that” Fern ran out of the classroom and slid into a wall, but readjusted her position and started dashing down the hall at inhuman speeds

“Come back here!” the teacher yelled and ran after her

Fern ran into the high school area, far ahead of the teacher chasing her, and collided with Ms. White

“Oh, hi Bronze” Fern was caught off guard by the collision

“How do you know that, you little shit” Ms. White whisper-shouted in Fern’s face

“How about you don’t get me in trouble, and I won’t tell anyone about your whole magical girl murder mafia thing?” Fern grinned smugly and ran away, taking a picture of Ms. White on her phone to show as evidence in case she needed it

“Why you little-” Ms. White growled

“Did you see a girl in a green sweatshirt run past?” Fern’s teacher asked

“Yes, she ran towards the office” Ms. White pointed calmly in the direction Fern ran

Fern dashed into the bathroom and slid into another wall as several girls stared at her

“Did you hear that Kat, Tara, and Max ditched class again today?” one of the girls asked “Ms. White was furious today, even though she wasn’t here yesterday either”

“Oh, I was with them yesterday, you wanna hear what happened? You will not believe it” Fern replied

“What happened? And don’t leave out a single detail if it’s as unbelievable as you say it is, I need this for the school newspaper” the girl took out her phone to record it

“We still have one of those?” another girl interrupted “how archaic”

Fern explained in extreme detail what went on at the park and the mafia base, leaving out the magical parts as to not reveal Ace, Tara and Doc’s identities

“Oh, also Ms. White freaked out when I called her Bronze, saying ‘how do you know that, you little shit’” Fern continued

“This is amazing, a celebrity hiding right under our noses, and she’s running some kind of secret murder… thingy in the old middle school building” the girl stopped recording “just what the newspaper needs, excitement, drama, stakes”

“Ms. White deserves it, she’s terrible” the other girl chimed in

“Well, Bronze is even worse; one of her minions killed someone right in front of us just because she wanted to protect her girlfriend” Fern added

“Mind if I interview some of the others involved?” the girl asked “I’m Vanessa by the way”

“Sure” Fern replied “and I’m Fern”

“I’ll help you get out of trouble, don’t worry, you’re working with me now” Vanessa responded “I know my way around getting detention”

“How oddly convenient” Fern replied “and there’s way more to this story than you know, there’s stuff I had to leave out because of the rules”

“Rules?” Vanessa asked

“Don’t worry about it right now, let’s go” Fern answered, leaving the bathroom and immediately being confronted with her teacher and a very angry Ms. White “oh fuck”

“Run” Vanessa suggested, grabbing Fern’s wrist and running away towards the exit, Fern quickly realizing and running full speed out the door and diving into a bush

“Fuck it, she already knows” Ms. White announced “Bronze transform” A yellow light engulfed the empty hallway and in Ms. White’s place, stood Bronze.

“Oh my god, you were right” Vanessa took pictures of Bronze from the bush “Is she some kind of monster? A tabaxi perhaps? But she’s not cat-like enough for that”

“Close enough, but let’s go, you don’t want to know what she’s capable of” Fern grabbed Vanessa by the wrist and ran down the block to Ace’s house, avoiding the old middle school building like the plague.

“How… are you… so fast?” Vanessa panted, trying to catch her breath

“Half deer,” Fern skidded to a stop in front of Ace’s house and opened the door

The Prince was asleep on his chair, not in his compact form anymore; Cleo was in the kitchen preparing lunch; Ace and Doc were playing video games in the next room over; Reaper was floating around eating a bag of chips; and Sock was asleep lying face-down on the floor

“Oh my god, what is that?!” Vanessa screamed, pointing a small pocket knife at the Soul Beast “you have a monster like that in your house?”

“Fuck off” The Prince mumbled “unless you’re a magical girl, trying to kill me is useless”

“That’s just Lu, he’s harmless” Fern explained

“Never call me that” the prince replied “my name is The Prince, Lu is long dead”

“Oh, I’ve come to interview everyone that was at the middle school yesterday, mind if I start with you?” Vanessa asked The Prince

“Fine,” The Prince answered “there was this room in the basement that was locked, but I phased through the wall and there were a ton of dead and nearly-dead magical girls and a couple small Soul Beasts running around”

“Magical girls? Soul Beasts? What’re those?” Vanessa asked, recording everything The Prince said

“Magical girls are magical girls, and Soul Beasts, like me, are what happens after a magical girl, or in my case magical boy, dies” The Prince explained

“Was there anything else in the room?” Vanessa asked

“Reaper was” The Prince answered, pointing at Reaper “she helped me get back to my true form”

“How long were you in that room?” Vanessa shoved her Phone in Reaper’s face “and what was it like in there?”

“The Rainbow Room was absolutely awful, it’s dark, rusty, and constantly reeks of death” Reaper explained “I was in there for a little over 3 years, and died about 2 years in, but I was stuck in there because of Bronze’s one-way barrier around the place”

“The Rainbow Room is a very odd name for a room full of dead bodies” Vanessa replied

“Well, magical girl blood does come in different colors” Reaper clarified before being cut off by a knock at the door

“It’s Bronze, you should all hide” Cleo looked out the window and opened the door as everyone hid “hello, what can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for the deer and the werewolf, bring them to me” Bronze commanded

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cleo lied

“You know very well who I’m talking about, fox” Bronze began to get angry

“Fox? I’m just a normal human. I don’t know anything about this fox person” Cleo lied

“Now I know you’re lying,” Bronze gripped Cleo’s necklace “perish, Queen of Hearts”

A low growl came from behind The Prince’s chair as a brown blur leapt out and tackled Bronze to the ground, it was Vanessa, although she didn’t look like she did a minute ago, she had large fluffy ears, a tail, large claws, and dark red eyes

“How dare you, mangy mutt” Bronze snapped as the werewolf scratched at her

Sock walked up to Bronze and glared at her

“Get her off me, firefly” Bronze commanded, kicking Vanessa in the chest

“Maybe, if you return everyone’s powers” Sock replied “I might even go back to your side”

#my writing #welcome to magicia

[eekispyykes]

Mr Sparklepuff Feline Obituary 5.1.2020/Abridged

Mr Puffs 4-2002-  5-1-2020

by Michael Bench

Mr Puffs was an excellent friend and adventurous hiker. He loved to be outdoors. A ferocious mouser ; he did an arc'ing jump on mice and chipmunks from 2 clumps of brush away. The porch frankly stank from all his gifts. An amazing climber and very fast sprinter crossing a square acre in about 3.5sec. Some would ask why he was named as such and close friends know the whole story. A primary point was so people had a good vibe about him and would let him be. In the past two years  he had cancer of the face that spread. He had been treated with surgery to remove the tumor. At a shade over 18yo, he set to rest as every night he was shivvering in normal home temp and couldn't keep weight on; refusing to leave the couch; hating being put in pet clothes/infant flannel.

2017-2020 were tough years for him adjusting to a new stray friend we “adopted” from the wild. They were startingn to get along. It played into the stress.I feel bad about this. it split us up somewhat.  My younger cat was more forceful about claiming me. It weighs on me; Frankly it seemed like a few rape attempts also that difficulted the social cue of ‘normal cat spooning”.. Mr Puffs was able to get out on a van ride of Fogelsville,PA about three months ago. He also gave some love to his plush hedgehog toy. He gave it a consensual drilling every once a while or daily.

What you should know about Mr Puffs:

:My grilling deputy  and trout inspector

:Loved to play the mysterious thing under blanket or newspaper game

:Love to play the mysterious tapping fingers under the many basement stairs game

:Fine taste in music and loved being my karaoke fan. Love you buddy. Not very keen on Tv after Keenan Michael Keys left Animal  Planet's morning show.

:Enjoyed less usual faire like potatoes and adored bbq chicken pizza; he could handle medium wings. He WAS WARNED each time and kept him away from it till it was obvious he wanted it. Honey ham, turkey, .. and salami**. Mind you, he has never been overweight and was complimented by his first vet for muscle tone. It's his compliment to own.

:Enjoyed jumping apartment building gaps while in town: we had to rough it for a month in a storage facility after an unexpected eviction.. which we then would go for walks 1a-3a to get his exercise and water the landscape mulch at 11th street Fred Meyers. There's a little marsh back behind the store that became our little daytime haven.

:His Hiking career started in Eugene, OR. We would go night walking ,w/o a leash and whenever someone was coming he would detour off the sidewalk and into the nearest house’s bushes.. This was optimal because he would get back on the lit sidewalk and learn to keep course. This advanced to 5-7 mile hikes from U Oregon campus to Hendrix park and back. One trip such trip he was panting so he didn’t really want to run away anywhere or into traffic fortunately.. The sun had come out of the cloud cover and heated things up above the usual. We stopped at an icecream place on the way back on the edge of campus: Agate and 19th. Even though he was tired, he was a smart and collected guy. so he slinked to the back of the shop till I came back out..It was like escorting the supermodel of manly cats.  It was at this time I knew leashes or more distant locations were necessary.  

:While we were driving back to Pennsylvania, he decided to have a playfrenzy on the dashboard while I was in heavy traffic nearabouts of Nebraska/Rushmore on the interstate.

:Short story : Since he now had room in the yard to runaround Puffs tested his speed and momentum to get up tree trunks. Our front yard had a medium sized maple oak something. Mr Puffs ran up the tree and alarmed a family of nesting doves. The doves and Mr Puffs seemed to flee the tree foilage each in horizontal directions at about 8ft off the ground.  

:Other than a shoulder injury from a fight of somesort, he was very durable. His parent's owners had coined him 'Jaco” after the famous bass player.. A green -eyed Russian Blue tuxedo, angular white paws.  with little white hairs across his coat. At times I also referred to him as “Cactus Jack”. Massive front incisors like a miniature sabertooth. I pitied the rabbits who he caught which were still squealing.

:Another Short Story. I coaxed my mom to live a little and put that front addition on the house she always wanted. She got an enclosed porch. Theres an open porch on the back of the house also. When the framing was done.. I went out to the backyard to enjoy the night sky, I heard nothing. When I turned around I had two bright eyes scaring me  to the ground. From 9ft, the top of the roof porch he looked at me Apparently Puffs had climbed the 8ft of framing from the work table, crossed the rafters, crossed the whole house roof and decided to voyeur me on the other side of the house. I was very glad he didn't tempt the electric lines whose pole he had tried to climb other days.Stressing moments on me as well.

:Puffs became a pro at taking baths since 2017, and getting nails trimmed at the same time. The trim helped him jump (getting pad purchase)  and helped the furniture too.

:Another quick story. Cats can swim. I took him to go swimming in the creek and that went pretty good the first time. (Must always be on leash. And probably use partially inflated swimmy muscle). He was really comfortable in the water if it was shallow(2.5ft). The problem with the creek is its near a road so don't be near roads even with the leash on.  He was swimming a good crawl in about 4ft.  A fish mustve brushed his foot because he panicked and started jumping out of the water like a bass on a hook. I literally had to swing him in the air (with leash) and onto the shore into some leaves and grass. There's some fault in not being close enough to him to pick him up out of the water directly. He swam pretty good and at range.  To ease that trauma.. (nearly heart attack probably; that went sour) , I let him calm down. At a much shallower area no taller than his knees(5-6”) I set him into the stream without much resentment and just petted him to get him calm.  (He wasn't a lap cat before that either.) At that point the swimming  got shuttered for downhill walks and other casual stuff.

: On similar climbing points.. even till about 2015, he liked to jump the gap from the upright piano top (4ft) to the top of the entertainment center (7.5 ft) plus the hallway gap of  3.5 ft and he was really solid at it. Would stay up there for a while and then jump down onto the sofa table (3 ft tall).. He was always calculating a new feat. When that one item stopped being in his wheelhouse it was clear he was getting bothered/ annoyed and the stress of a cat territory issue wore him down.

If you were to be near him, you'd end up watching him. This statue of a male cat with really long tail. Not lemur-long but really long.. a gray panther. And, maybe you'd try to pet him since he looked inviting. Yet, you wouldn't get much petting done. He'd probably tolerate two brushes and then give your hand a carving with his claws, hiss at you and find a new place to observe the room,  That said, he would cruise the neighborhood looking which apartment I might've visited, slink in and check out how other people decorated. A very dignified personality, sometimes to the point of indignant.  He was  a cat you'd want to clone over and over because he was just that cool on himself. Cloning him was on the slate too until those type of businesses were closed with political force.. He actually inspired a jazz song  (currently in midi form) that I’ve yet to record. I was tore up about his first cancer surgery so I started writing. Hope that will be out soon enuff. I hope this can help you appreciate Mr Puffs. He was buried at a spot he chose. It was nearby a set of brush he would choose to hide in hours near the middle of  hikes.

.. he loved to hide.  Back in Oregon I'd take him  in the van with my mentally handicapped clients. He'd be set loose to get his relaxation in. By the time it was time to leave. he wanted to stay. He hid in bushes and culverts. I learned very quickly that such outings had to be local or I'd be driving back hours to go get him at night or worse. Once I knew that, we'd take rides on the bus to the edges of the bus line and just chill on hills overlooking boating lakes. Fern Ridge Reservoir had a nice pine overlook off Territorial hwy.  He really enjoyed outings and variety. Maybe thats what kept him interested as a matter of longevity. I want to end on that.  He showed me lessons in best intentions and good in the bad.. and murdering all my Egyptian spiny mice within hours of acquiring them and their replacements. Its not like I wouldn't have gotten him a feeder mouse but there were plenty stinking up the walkway as it was. I'm blessed to have spent that month sheltered in a renta-shed with him. It seems the alternative .. without having enough for a pet deposit elsewhere (that moment) was to lower my standards for the landlords daughter and by whatever 'influence' she had. 'evicted us for periodic renovations”. So, eventually we chose instead to leave and he got a brims of fieldmice, chipmunks and forest romping. I hope that was an appreciated choice. He liked city life too. Should you choose to tribute to Mr Puffs, I welcome it. He’d be the type of cat Dos Equis beer would be looking for if he actually drank it.

Hope you’re feeling better, Puffs; BFF 

#cats of tumblr #cats of twitter #BFF #most interesting cat in the world

[because-i-say-so]

AHS Apocalypse Finale Thoughts, Reactions, and Unpopular Opinions (I Think)

So last night was the finale. Overall, I was kind of disappointed with the season in general. A lot of it has to do with the way the storyline played out. Now, let me explain. We were introduced to a bunch of new characters in the first episode, and I was down for it all; a whole new cast of characters, all in the same vein as this anthology series has been. That being said, yes, I was aware that this would be a crossover season, and we’d be seeing other characters from both Murder House and Coven... but let’s be honest, this season was really Coven 2.0. The entire plot was centered around the witches stopping the Antichrist. I wasn’t disappointed with that, on the contrary, I was actually excited because I loved Coven and seeing these characters again was wonderful. What I wasn’t too keen on was that we spent 7 episodes in a flashback. I get it, we needed the flashback to see what happened to get us to the Apocalypse, but did we really need to spend 7 episodes on it? Honestly some of those episodes were just filler and didn’t really push the plot along. While the finale didn’t feel that rushed, I didn’t feel like there was too much thought put into it, kind of like they built the whole season around the finale. Just my feelings. All in all, the whole season was basically fan service, so that I am grateful for.

So on to my episode reaction. Just because I didn’t like the season as a whole, didn’t mean that I was going into the finale without a shit ton of feelings. Absolutely not. I had a lot of feelings going into this episode, that I had my bottle of wine at the ready to help cope with it all.

Myrtle Snow was so, so great in this episode. That woman is not afraid to spill the tea, and has zero regrets doing so. Also, did she plant the idea of purple being a royal color in Ms. Venable’s head? She dressed in purple secretly in the Outpost. She did favor herself as important, because she was the “leader” of the Outpost, but I guess she technically was only “middle management” after all.

I wonder why we weren’t treated to Mutt and Jeff’s deaths.

I love Coco. She really has a kind heart, and damn, I just felt so bad for her when she was going to be placed under the identity spell. She was just so sad knowing that her family was going to die, and then she was just like “fuck no I don’t want to be like Madison.” (Does anyone remember when she was on that show Popular? I was getting Mary Cherry vibes when she was identity spell!Coco.)

So did anyone notice that the remaining witches were hiding out in the Louisiana swamps where they placed the identity spells on Coco and Mallory... and then magically the two are in LA with Madison at the wheel, driving them to Gallant’s salon? I’m sitting here trying to figure this one out... because unless Madison took a fast as hell jet back to the swamps and in the same clothes... Two different states, man.

Also wondering how the hell Cordelia, Myrtle, and Madison survived the nuclear fallout. Protection spell maybe? Louisiana mud was kind of a weak explanation.

MARIE. FUCKING. LEVEAU.

I cheered. Such a nice surprise. Too bad she didn’t survive Michael. Just got back from hell, and now she’s going back. Totally not fair. Actually, she’s still there, torturing Madame LaLaurie, as it turns out... since you know, Cordelia didn’t need to get her out of hell in the end.

Let me talk about Cordelia for a second. We all knew she had to die for Mallory to become the Supreme. I was so sad, and yet I saw it coming a mile away. She, hands down, had the BEST line of the episode. 

Cordelia, you are selfless and full of heart. You ARE the FUCKING Supreme.

And now, on to Michael The-Punk-Ass-Antichrist Langdon. I’m sorry, but even though I love this character, he really was a punk in this episode. Cordelia was right when she said he was coward.

He was so sure of himself. When Cordelia offed herself, it was beautiful. I’m guessing he was upset because he couldn’t erase her soul from existence like he did Queenie and Zoe, since he didn’t directly kill her himself? Anyway, this moment was wonderful. Finally, something put legitimate fear into Michael.

Time travel is a tricky, tricky thing. I wish we could have seen what exactly made Constance go savage on Michael in the re-do of the past. Did Mallory do/say something before this to make her rethink her previous decision? I feel like there was some sort of exchange between them for her to just go and kick Michael out of the house like that. Her rant had me SHOOK. (Bravo Jessica Lange, you are still the Queen of AHS.)

Listen, you can’t have a 7-episode character development arc for Michael and have me not catch feelings for this boy. Every chance he got to have a loving family, someone to care for him, any loving contact... it got ripped away from him in the worst way possible. I was on the sympathy train for him, even though he was the Antichrist. Yes, the Antichrist is inherently evil, and I’ve said that before, but the way his story unfolded, it really did feel like he was being controlled by outside forces driving him to end up the way he did. I think that Michael, not the Antichrist, was just a little boy that wanted to be loved and accepted but was denied that at every turn. There wasn’t any other way it could go, either.

So yeah, I felt bad for him. Remember, he’s technically only a 9/10-year-old kid in a grown man’s body an the Outpost. How else do you expect a 9/10-year-old kid to act when that much power is put in front of them?

Then, in a wholly anti-climactic way, Michael was run over by Mallory. Repeatedly. (Why she didn’t just run over his head, I don’t know. Maybe she wanted him to feel pain. Whatever.) And that was it. I was hoping for a showdown, not this emotional sting:

I think that in the end, Michael was the little 5/6-year-old boy Constance wanted to raise. He didn’t understand why this was happening to him, and it’s kind of heartbreaking. When he asked to be taken to the house, though, Constance knew that couldn’t happen... that was the evil talking. She just couldn’t take the chance that the evil could still exist.

Constance, you did good.

And just like that, the Michael we all came to know and love through the entire season was snapped out of existence. Fuck.

((Side note: Cody Fern did a phenomenal job with Michael this season. I could gush like crazy about his acting chops, but I’ll leave it at that. Michael Langdon has cemented himself as one of my favorite characters of all time. I would love to see Cody in another season of AHS playing a completely different character. That is all.))

Oh, and Tim and Emily were always destined to meet, and their “perfect” DNA produces another Antichrist. I guess it’s just inevitable. I wish the end of the episode was just panning out on the shot of the new Antichrist and his parents, with the dead babysitter. It would have felt more full-circle. The appearance of Anton LeVay and his cardinals was just... overkill.

Other thoughts: Tate and Violet didn’t get their “happy ending.” (Thank God because I didn’t agree with that forgiveness mess at all. Fight me.) But neither did Moira. (That’s a little upsetting, because it was very beautiful, and she deserved it.) Hey the warlocks still exist, but we’re just going to pretend that all the ones we were introduced to aren’t important anymore. Myrtle was never brought back, and while that’s good, her one-liners never existed this season either. Constance is alive! Queenie lives and never goes to the Hotel Cortez! Misty gets brought back and we even got to see Nan again! (Thanks, Mallory.) And poor Madison’s character development never happened because she’s still stuck in retail hell.

The last episode left me... in a mood, and with a half-empty bottle of wine.

#american horror story #ahs apocalypse #apocalypse then #season 8 finale #thoughts #reactions #unpopular opinions? #myrtle snow #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #marie leveau #cordelia goode #constance langdon #michael langdon #i got some questions #this episode kind of fucked me up #not sure if in a good way or bad

[oblivcscence]

I Guess I Should Be Congratulating You.

Latif, a Xantrophn who was the size of a child but the age of a young man. He stood at the height of 5’8, most of it put depression on his shoulders from the lack of courage he had. Damon had been around the 25 year old ever since he had graduated from the academy and did so proudly, now appointed one of the guards of his city. Damon was with him, watching the session he had taken up, working twice as hard to get noticed. Today was his first assignment as recruit and the little guy had asked if Damon would help him out on it. Being close friends with Latif, the prince couldn’t deny the opportunity to get closer to him, now following the smaller Xantrophn to a abandoned house in a ghost town, almost literally. “So what’s this mission for, I know you got the briefing but I was put to the side, kinda missing some key points, care to explain?” Large blue eyes looked back to the heir, a smile tilting his lips as the rookie gestured to the dead area in the city of Pentacle. Golden eyes followed around the overgrown area, it’s swampy forest taking over the desolated town. Damon couldn’t recall what had happened exactly but there was a tale that whispered around that a set of angered exiles, forced the town to leave under persecution or death… Fires were started and ended unknowingly, no records survived and the few that did die, were taken. This started the rumor of the exiles being cruel creatures of the night, placed in stories the children were told to keep them from leaving the cities so no harm would come to them.

To think Damon used to yelp at the ending where his mother, Jaden would yell a loud ‘BOO!’, it was enough to get the Xantrophn chuckling to his own thoughts. It flowed passed his lips like ice water before he felt the burn of blue eyes back on him again. “So as I was saying, we’re heading into the heart of the beast.” ( Was he a poet now? ) A small playful scoff left the prince as dark pointed ears rose, becoming more attentive to what the tiny one had to say. “We’re going to try and figure out the mystery behind what happened.” To this the prince stopped in his tracks. ( Really? ) “Whoa, whoa, how come I wasn’t told this? Latif.” He grumbled, looking passed the short Xantrophn and over to the house where they were supposed to camp at. “I’m sorry, I guess I should’ve told you earlier. I didn’t think that the prince would be scared of children stories.” He sensed the teasing as it tilted the guard’s face. Devil eyes narrowed at his friend before denying that he had doubt that they’re real, in which he thought they were. It wasn’t uncommon to hear Exiles attacking small towns, especially nowadays. The news had put an inkling to the creature who was already at an edge. A shiver crawled along blue skin as they continued closer, long black claws scraping swampy dirt and making tracks. ( How many had died? Who still haunted these homes? ) Each thought made the prince want to end this quickly but he knew the tedious job of a guard needed all the evidence and help they could get. So for the time being, Damon allowed Latif to lead while swallowing any complaints he had.

“So how long do you think this mission’s gonna be?” He spoke quickly as the smaller one, opened the half opened door, the sound of its creaking seemed to startle a home of mice and they ran for the exit, squealing in fright and attempting to get away. Some falling dead as they were crushed, the pair walking passed the river. A roll of the guard’s eye before he took the few dead up and tossed them in. Disgust twitched Damon’s visage at the implied gesture. As if Latif could smell it he turned around with a grin and gestured into the home. “Dinner. We’re going to here for sometime, might as well get comfortable.” Though he was asked to enter the house, he did so cautiously the Xantropn’s claws flexed nervous intent behind them. Crawling to the middle, golden eyes looked around seeing the ferns and vines overtaking the small home. Night vision adjusted, seeing the splotches of drenched blood along the walls and the bones of unknown intent scattered in the corner. ( How could the exiles stoop so low? Didn’t they have pride? ) Of course, it was their fault they didn’t listen to the law and were thrown out of the cities and towns, shunned… a law allowed any Xantrophn to possibly kill them on sight especially, if they were to ever come across a civilized home. The sight of the silent massacre sent a shiver down his spine but Damon refused to show it. Content with the spot, Latif pulled a set of blankets from his pack, setting them out in a nice display. Golden eyes refused to see what his friend was doing, too intent on the markings along the wall, reading the language as if it could be deciphered.

“How come I didn’t think this was real? There’s evidence right here.” His words fell off surprised lips as the sound of fire started, this time he did gaze back to Latif, the flame reflecting in his eyes. Finally the smaller one spoke, low and in a whisper. “Maybe they didn’t want to believe it, like some of us.” His blue eyes were trained on the fire, not caring to look at his friend. “I guess I should be congratulating you. Not a lot of Xantrophns have the gall to be doing what you are at the moment. Discovering a lost story? I like that.” Damon’s words held an admirable tone, before ripping himself from the blood of his murdered subjects. Instead of settling down next to Latif, he placed a hand on the kneeling one’s shoulder, black claws holding lightly as of reassurance. “I’m sure that this will prove your worth, Maulkin. I know it’s hard for you.” Now they mixed with sorrow, before settling down next to his close buddy, hand still on him. “Trust me, it’s been hard for me too, but I’m sure we’ll get through this. Tomorrow, now you eat your little morsels and rest. There’s a big day of adventure in the morning.”

#👑 { resting demon. } #👑 { omitted creature. } #battleborn oc #bbfanficjam #battleborn #battleborn fanfiction jam #👑 { blood brothers. } #drabble #drabbles #( this is forever ago but whatever. still works right? ) #( lol this one just stumped me kinda... that's why it took some time but here it is!! )

[recentnews18-blog]

New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/blood-creator-theres-something-naturally-funny-about-tragedy-den-of-geek-uk/

Blood creator: 'There's something naturally funny about tragedy' - Den of Geek UK

Writer Sophie Petzal struggles with humourless TV drama. “I find it really difficult to watch crime shows where everyone’s bleak and frowny and sad.” We’ve seen too much of it, she says – dilemma-led thrillers full of grave characters whose awareness that they’re in a crime drama saps the entertainment value. “If I don’t get a sense of what you’ve lost and the joy that’s been taken from you, I don’t know what I’m rooting for.”

Besides, she adds, there’s just something naturally funny about the combination of tragedy and family dynamics. “There’s humour in the fact that it’s very inconvenient to be trying to chop sandwiches for your mother’s wake while suspecting your father of her murder.”

There’s humour too, in serving an only-one-left-in-the-bakery children’s train cake at a wake, as youngest son Michael does in Petzal’s drama Blood. There’s also comedy, and pathos, in a pair of siblings sharing a box of Bourbon biscuits—their mother’s favourite—at her graveside. Blood may boil down to “a great tragedy” says Petzal, but it’s beautifully rooted in family banalities. 

Blood is the story of Cat Hogan (Carolina Main), a middle child of three who returns to her childhood home following her mother’s death. Very quickly, Cat begins to suspect her father of keeping secrets, and a satisfyingly compact mystery emerges from there. It was envisaged as a family drama rather than a thriller, but its cliff-hangers, question marks and the odd pulpy flourish give it a foot in both camps.

The series, which aired in its native Ireland in October and was stripped across a single week of November on Channel 5 here in the UK, is Petzal’s first solo drama. She’s written previously on The Last Kingdom, Medici, Riviera, Jekyll And Hyde and CBBC’s Wolfblood, but this project belonged to her and producer Jonathan Fisher, with directors Lisa Mulcahy and Hannah Quinn. 

It’s been a busy twelve months—Blood was story-lined in a fortnight after being green-lit this time last year, and filmed in Ireland this summer—followed by a nerve-wracking few weeks as it aired. Petzal had convinced herself that the Irish broadcast would be the most anxiety-inducing hurdle to clear and that the UK airing would be “much of a muchness” but found that not to be the case.

“The UK is my home and it’s also one of the biggest players in television,” she explains. Airing on Channel 5 as a quality original drama, Blood attracted press attention for marking a recent shift in the station’s programming. “Suddenly you realise you’re not just going to go calmly under the radar and no-one will notice.” It felt as though there were eyes on Blood, says Petzal. “That Monday afternoon before it went out I was sort of unhinged,” she laughs. She locked herself in her flat and watched Disney clips on YouTube just to calm down. (Which ones? Out There from personal obsession The Hunchback Of Notre Dame. “I’m the biggest fan of composer Alan Menken.”)

The response to Blood was hugely positive, with good reviews appearing across the national press and even, to Petzal’s delight, on Fern Britton’s Twitter feed. “That was a funny moment, we thought ‘oh, we’ve made it now!’” Petzal laughs. She’s saved a screenshot, of course. “Then I just spent the rest of the week madly overstimulated and unable to sleep because it was too exciting and nerve-wracking, because what if the next episode is the one where they realise it’s actually shit?!” she laughs.

“It was the fact that we’d gotten away without being called frauds,” she tells me. “The fact that we’d got through the week without being torn apart by a national newspaper or somebody saying ‘this is naff as old fucking boots. What is this?!’ It felt like we’d gotten away with it.”

That sounds unnecessarily harsh on yourself, I say. “I’m not riddled with inadequacy!” she explains, but this being her first solo project made her feel “brand new all over again, in a weird way.”

“Working on other people’s shows, all you learn from that is that you’re good at working on other people’s shows and turning things in on time. You only start to work out what your style and worth and value as a writer is when you’re doing your own thing. I feel like I’m only just at the start of that.” The critical and public response to Blood, she concludes, validated all the hard work.

In Ireland and here in the UK, the drama owes a great deal to actor Adrian Dunbar, who championed the project. “I really don’t think we’d have got that early exposure and press interest had he not been in it and talking about it.” Dunbar is a deeply beloved presence, Petzal says, particularly for his work on BBC drama Line Of Duty. 

Petzal is “a massive, massive fan” of that show. She and her producer re-watched all four series while filming Blood. “We’re massive fanboys and girls, which is kind of embarrassing but Adrian loves it,” she laughs.

Dunbar’s insights into his character, patriarch Jim Hogan, were a great boon to the Blood, she says. “Adrian approaches his characters with a really forensic, academic head on.” Petzal being on set during the shoot enabled conversations to take place that helped the characters evolve. 

“Adrian was always pushing for Jim’s softness,” she explains. He wanted his character to be “a bit more honest and empathetic,” which worked perfectly to the drama’s advantage, says Petzal, because “the more honest and empathetic Jim is, the less people believe him!”

“One news article described Jim as having a smile that never quite reaches his eyes, which is an incredible testament to Adrian’s ability. He was able to play the menace and nuance that we wanted just in the way he stands and looks and delivers lines, which means I didn’t need to go to such an extent to reflect that menace in the lines themselves. It has a far more powerful effect for it.”

She gives “unending credit” to the cast for trusting in the project. “I’m not a known quantity, this is my first gig, I couldn’t point to a load of other things and say ‘my things tend to be a bit pulpy and weird’. Everyone had to hear me say a thousand times ‘Tone. It’s just the tone of it.’ ‘Why am I jumping out at her in a corridor?’, ‘Because it’ll look great, it’s the tone, it’s funny, it’s weird, it’s ridiculous, but go with it.’ No actor likes to be told ‘it’s just funny, do it!’”

The funny moments in Blood build character, helping to bed the drama’s more outlandish genre elements in naturalism and recognisable human behaviour. The aim, says Petzal, was always to avoid having Cat and her family act “like super-clever TV characters.” One trick, she says, was to mine her own behaviour in similar situations. It’s an exposing approach, but one that really pays off in terms of naturalism.

“When characters are arguing—and in Blood there are a fair few heavy conflicts—it’s so easy when you’re writing disagreements for one character to be clearly right and for the other to be clearly wrong.” 

“I found I was writing Cat being incredibly clever and battling the family and withholding all this information that she’s learned. She was keeping the cards close to her chest and was going to play it just at the right moment… then I thought ‘That’s not what I would do.’ That’s not what any normal human being would do.”

That willingness to show vulnerability in the writing, and to include sometimes unflattering honesty makes Blood stand apart from some other dramas. 

“In my heart I’m thinking, if I’m being honest, if this were me, I’d say this really hurtful thing. But often as a writer you’re thinking ‘no, the character is better than me. They’re a TV character. They’re going to do proper TV things.’ When Cat says the wrong thing, or when any character says the wrong or hurtful thing, that’s usually me putting bits of myself in there and echoing arguments and conversations I’ve had.”

One real-life conversation Petzal had that ended up in the finale in flashback involved the strange mating habits of domestic dogs. On screen, it’s a laugh-out-loud moment between husband and wife Jim and Mary, and it comes after one of the show’s most emotional sequences. The idea was to disrupt the dull cliché about women on TV suffering from serious illnesses being “these saintly frail figures. I wanted to give a sense of how Mary is this bright spark who’s hilarious and has a filthy sense of humour and what an unjust robbery this disease is. Funny bright sparks going too young.”

Making fun of serious things comes naturally to Petzal, she says. She wanted to avoid the tragedy becoming too overwrought or earnest. “It’s in human nature to make jokes.”

Knotted in with Blood’s humour and tragedy is a moral. “Without wanting to sound too pretentious, I wanted it to feel almost like a parable at the end.” 

“I’ve had people say ‘why wasn’t so-and-so just honest from the beginning?’ and I have to raise an eyebrow and ask, ‘have you had parents? Are there times in your own family when things would have been simpler if family members had just told the truth?!’

“The moral of the story—which is a rather on-the-nose line delivered in episode five—is “why can’t we all just talk to each other?” and because we can’t, this is what happens.” 

Blood is available now on DVD.

Source: https://www.denofgeek.com/uk/tv/blood/62160/blood-creator-there-s-something-naturally-funny-about-tragedy

[andrea-cristina-travel-blog]

The Elephants are returning: Visiting Cambodia’s Chi Phat Eco-tourism project

Read our wonderful and slightly scary journey to Chi-Phat community based eco-tourism project in Cambodia’s Cardamon Mountains. “The elephants are returning” our guide Leeheng smiles proudly, waving an outstretched arm across the open plain before us. “You know, a few years ago there were none here. They got scared by the hunting and the guns and moved away, into Thailand. Now, they’re starting to come back again”. His smile is one of those enthusiastic ones that sweep you along with it, helping to dissipate the memory of the steaming hot jungle-clad incline we’ve been scrambling up for the last hour. It’s hard to imagine that merely a decade ago, our presence on this peaceful grassy hilltop plain in Cambodia’s Southern Cardamom mountain region would have been impossible at best, deadly at worst. After the collapse of Pol Pot’s murderous communist regime in 1979, his loyal guerrilla fighters quite literally fled for the hills – choosing the thick jungle cover of the Cardamoms as their last stronghold. What followed was nearly 15 years of violent war and chaos for the region; mines were laid, villages attacked, locals murdered in grisly clashes. When the last of the Khmer Rouge fighters were finally driven from the area, the locals who remained were left impoverished. With few options available for survival, many had no choice but to enter the lucrative poaching and logging trades to support their families. Surprisingly, despite the ensuing destruction, the 1443 sq km mountain area has remained home to many a rare and endangered species. Big cats, elephants, gibbons, deer, wild pigs, snakes, and the extremely threatened Pangolin have survived amongst some of the most unchartered flora in the world. A chance at lasting positive change came in the form of an approach to village elders by American-based conservation NGO Wildlife Alliance. Together, they developed big plans for a community-based ecotourism (CBET) project in the Cardamoms and Leeheng’s village, Chi Phat, that set the wheels in motion for Cambodia’s most successful conservation project, transforming the lives of its residents completely. OUR VISIT TO CAMBODIA’S ECO-TOURISM SUCCESS STORY, CHI PHAT  COMMUNITY-BASED ECOTOURISM IN CAMBODIA Today, Chi Phat welcomes fighters of a very different kind with open arms; those workers, volunteers, and travellers interested in the battle for environmental conservation. It’s this goal and a promise of world-class hiking that has brought us to our current grassy plain and the first of our three-day hike into the mountains surrounding the village of Chi Phat. Getting to Chi Phat is half the adventure. It’s a 4-hour bus ride from Phnom Penh to the small highway town of Andoung Tuek, and (having missed the 2-hour boat ride alternative) a white-knuckled 45-minute ride through fields of sugarcane and patches of sand on the back of a local motorbike to this pretty community of 500 families. Colourful bamboo houses on stilts line the two dusty red streets, giggling children wave sous-dey (hello) enthusiastically, and all around us are the genuinely welcoming, happy smiles of locals. Villagers, like Leeheng, who once roamed the forests in search of a quick payday are now wildlife warriors, now lead educational cycling, kayaking and trekking tours, training as cooks, opening guesthouses, learning English and computer skills, and working together to protect their futures.    Under his knowledgeable eye over the next few days we explore the stunning and diverse ecosystems on offer; thick jungle, mountain ranges, grasslands, lush river systems; eagerly observing animal tracks. We camp in hammocks under the stars and swim in refreshing waterfalls.  While we have the time of our lives, we’ll also be supporting a community working tirelessly to protect their environment, helping to provide them with a livelihood far removed from those of their pasts. Read more | Our guide to Cambodia’s capital, Phnom Penh     Leeheng opens up about the huge shift he’s seen take place over the last few years.  A former hunter (mostly deer, wild pig, and Pangolin) and logger himself, he knows first-hand what it signifies for him and his young family.   “It was hard at first, some people had no choice but hunting or logging – we had to make money. “Everyone thought they’d lose their income, so only 20% of the community supported it at first. But now almost 100% support it because the tourists come. We have jobs and opportunities again,” he shares. Not only do they have opportunities again (over 5,000 people have benefited from the creation of sustainable jobs in Chi Phat), they are passionate about sharing their expert knowledge of the area with visitors. That passion has been helped along by intensive conservation and guide training programs established by the CBET and Wildlife Alliance. We pause regularly to inspect the day-old tracks of a herd of elephants, taste a Tamarind pod, discover a new plant species. We eat a meal made from root vegetables found in the forest and drink water from vines one afternoon. “City people don’t know how to do this,” Leeheng winks, “this is something you grow up learning around here”.     As we eat lunch, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a dry river bed one day, we ask him whether there’s a downside to this huge change. To him it’s extremely simple; “In the past, if I killed a deer I might make $100USD. But now if I bring people here and they don’t see any animals, I feel pretty sad. If someone visits and sees lots of animals, they might tell their friends and encourage other people to come here. Our community could earn $10,000, maybe $20,000 USD instead”, he tells us. The community is now starting to show signs of prosperity, and it’s obvious that they realise they have a stake in the protection and health of their home. Last year, the Chi Phat community celebrated 10 years of zero elephant poaching in the Southern Cardamom Forest region; a monumental achievement. We get an incredibly authentic taste of the returning elephants on our second day, when Leeheng stops abruptly in front of us, holding up a hand for quiet. He’s spotted fresh tracks and believes a wild elephant could be in the area – confirmed by the faint sounds of the ground being trampled and low grunts about 300 metres away. Our excitement at the find turns to something a little more serious when he warns us quietly that we have to walk quickly, a sober expression on his normally cheerful face. As we move forward, he swings the back of an axe hard against a tree, a gunshot-like sound ringing out through the thick forest.   Cambodia’s Islands | Why you need to visit them now  The elephants here haven’t forgotten the hunting days when bullets fired by humans would land amongst their herd. It makes them a dangerous animal for a human to encounter in these forests today, but Leeheng hopes their fear of the sound of guns will keep them well away from us. Pausing frequently to take stock, he inspects tracks, listens to the low grunts in the distance. When we come across a strong earthy smell – a mound of very fresh droppings – and damage to ferns, tree trunks and plants reminiscent of a rogue ride-on mower, he gathers us around urgently. He thinks it’s a mother and child, meaning protective aggression is a real risk. “They’re extremely close now, maybe 100 metres. If you see the elephant on the path, drop your bag immediately and run through the jungle. They can’t turn easily, so find the biggest tree you can and run behind it. Then move to the next and do the same. If you get lost, get to the river and head downstream. We’ll find you”. Senses sharpened, we move stealthily along the paths to the nearby soundtrack of grunting and Bush-bashing(while hoping the fact we haven’t showered in a few days won’t give us completely away). With Leehengs help, we escape any face-to-face meetings with a territorial mother – but if our close encounter is the price to pay for CBET and the Wildlife Alliance achieving their goals of protecting the area’s remaining elephant population, we’ll happily take it.   Since its inception, the program has resulted in the reforesting of 733 hectares of degraded areas, cancelled 36 land concessions, and protected 720,000 hectares of tropical forests from illegal loggers and industrial encroachment. It’s a success story that leads the way in eco-tourism initiatives around the world. But sadly, not everyone values their incredible successes; during our time in the mountains, there were whispers of devastating Chinese development threatening to destroy the region with mining and dams. There is a chance that the long-term future of CBET is again at the very real risk of crushing environmental destruction and financial uncertainty.  They’re fighting hard though, with many protests and legal cases underway. In the meantime, the elephants are returning, and the community of Chi Phat is on the rise.   Thinking of visiting Cambodia? Don’t miss Chi Phat for an incredible, unique experience in the Cardamom Mountains. Have you been before? Share your stories in the comments below!  Visiting Cambodia? You might like these posts: Why you need to visit the Cambodian Islands now 16 incredible useful things to know before visiting Cambodia 30 photos that will make you want to visit Cambodia Need to book accommodation in Cambodia? Check out Hotel’s Combined for the best hotel deals Cambodia has some of the best hostels in Asia – check them out via Hostel World FOLLOW OUR ADVENTURES ON FACEBOOK | INSTAGRAM | TWITTER | PINTEREST LIKE THIS POST? PIN AND SHARE IT! JOIN OUR TRIBE & WANDER WITH US Join 30,000+ people and receive travel stories, tips + hacks, and stunning photography to inspire your wanderlust. Straight to your inbox We hate spammers. We'll never be those people.   The post The Elephants are returning: Visiting Cambodia’s Chi Phat Eco-tourism project appeared first on The Common Wanderer.

https://www.thecommonwanderer.com/chi-phat-eco-tourism-project-cambodia/

#Asia #Cambodia #Destinations #Featured #Cardamom Forest #Cardamom Mountains #Chi Phat #Eco-tourism #Elephants #environmental travel #responsible travel #South Cardamom Mountains #Wildlife Alliance

[mysteryfanfictheatre3000]

Back to the Frollo, Chapter 8

Warning: Infuriating racism and ignorance of basic history.

What would have been just another routine Saturday became a weekend to remember. Claude Frollo and I spent the day exploring my favorite northside haunts; in fact, he insisted we do things my way. I took him to antique shops, book stores, and other out-of-the-ordinary places in Broad Ripple Village, a popular northside neighborood known for its quirky, funky ambience. I treated Claude to a nice lunch at Renée's, one of my favorite Ripple eateries, a cozy little place known for its unique, French country decor and scrumptious homemade desserts.

This matters to the plot why?

Afterwards, we took a walk along the Monon Trail, which winded through Ripple and across the canal. "This used to be a... 'railroad'?", asked Claude, as we strolled leisurely. "Yes. It used to go from downtown to Muncie. In my old neighborhood, down by the fairgrounds, my house was just a few blocks away from the tracks. But the trains stopped running and they took up the tracks. Now it's a walking trail. I walk here a lot; I think it's neat."

Frollo knows what railroads and trains are? How?!

I put my arm around his slender waist as we continued our walk. Claude seemed truly fascinated by my little history lesson. "It's amazing", he began, "how much we remember special places and things..." Claude's voice trailed off as if he was lost in thought. Suddenly he asked, "Have you heard from her lately?" I knew he was referring to Fern. "Now, Claude, you know we're still friends. We talk, visit, do all kinds of things together. Fern may a little richer, but she's still my buddy."

He would not understand 20th century slang like “buddy.”

Claude Frollo stopped and looked at me intently. "It's just that I never properly thanked her for bringing you to Paris." I looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Say what? Honey, if Fern had stayed when "the unfortunate incident" happened, you would've showed both of us the way out of town. And I don't think we would've been upright." Claude burst into laughter. "Darling Nisha, our first few meetings weren't THAT unpleasant. In fact, those initial encounters were rather...surprisingly smouldering. "

Oh god, no. I don’t want to hear about their smoldering relationship. NO THANKS.

"Oh really? Well baby, let me refresh your memory." As we continued our walk, Claude and I recalled that first encounter.

* * * * * * * Fern finally had to explain the "device" that whisked us to medieval Paris. Apparently, it was the invention of one of Fern's former students, Jacki Darcey, a math and science whiz who I always said would come up with something fabulous. Jacki was always working out formulas and sketching plans for fantasical inventions. It all paid off as Jacki, as a gift to Fern, restored the '59 Chevy and installed that time-warp device.

I love how they’re using this extraordinary device exclusively for having sex with old guys from the middle ages. Why stop Hitler, save hundreds of lives, hell, even just observe history from a distance to gain a better understanding of it, when you could be courting pereverted rapist creeps?

But I was too flabbergasted to think about inventons and breakthroughs. I was in 1480's Paris and I couldn't even send a postcard home! Fern had a house in town but stashed the car near some old chateau on the outskirts of Paris. And she made sure my stay would be unforgettable as we explored every inch of this fantastic city. All the historical and literary landmarks that I only read about in school were right outside our front door.

… as they would be if you just went to normal modern Paris. You can still see Notre Dame, and with the added bonus of not having to worry about contracting bubonic plague.

Of course, we made friends in the neighborhood, although I wasn't sure at first how folks would take to an oversized, frizzy red-blond haired Hoosier with a hillbilly twang and a smartmouthed, bronze-skinned woman who came along for the ride. As Fern said, I am a true American child, with English, Irish, Cherokee, and African running through my veins. The good folks of Paris had a tough time trying to figure me out. Well, gee folks. If you can't figure out what I am...just keep trying!

Red hair would get you shunned, as people assumed it was, you guessed it, witchcraft. So would dark skin, probably, because people suck.  People were not accepting in the 1400s. This is the main source of conflict in the movie.

But anyway, we made a few friends and I became popular with the kids in the neighborhood. I'd often play games with them, and taught them what I played when I was a kid. I would gather the youngsters in the square near the Palace of Justice and we'd enjoy hours and hours of fun. It was during one of those playtimes that I met HIM.

I know she’s talking about Frollo, but I’m imagining that cross-dressing demon guy from The Powerpuff Girls.

We were just wrapping up an intense game of Red Rover, and, after the kids went home, I decided to take a walk across the square toward the Palace. I'd never seen it close up and decided to check it out. Now I was unaware that my hips swayed as I walked, that I had an old Al Green song playing in my head, and that the slit in my dress blew open in the breeze. I sat down on a stoop just within eyeshot of the Palace's colonnade and studied the building, admiring the stained-glass windows, tall spires, and colonnade. I had just crossed my legs and unwrapped my hair when I spotted a figure upon the colonnade. Even from ground level, I could make out most of his face and form. He was tall and slender, very regal and aristocratic-looking. I could see his triangular hat, the long red veil flowing in the breeze. Grey-haired, fair-faced, from where I stood he looked rather handsome. Then I realized that the person I was staring at was none other than Claude Frollo, the Minister of Justice. I had heard rumors about him from our neighbors, that he was cruel and cold.

“See here the innocent blood you have spilled on the steps of Notre Dame.”- The archdeacon to Frollo while cradling the bleeding corpse of a dead woman Frollo just murdered.

Come on, he's a judge in charge of keeping the streets safe. He's just trying to do his job, and, just as long as I stay out of trouble, he's the least of my worries. But something inside me stirred as I continued to stare up at him. I offered him a bright smile and friendly wave. What's this? He's smiling back and nodding as if he acknowledged my presence. Is he staring at my legs? I knew I shouldn't have worn this dress...

Friendly reminder that the relatively modest dress Esmeralda danced in was considered skanky, and it’s less revealing than most of my peer’s prom dresses. Danisha would have probably been mistaken for a prostitute.

I hastily retied my hair and adjusted the straps on my high-heeled sandals. I had taken them off during the games, but put them on just before my walk. I glanced up at the colonnade but he was gone! My heart sank a bit at the realization that I might never encounter him again. I got up and began to walk back to the house when a soldier tapped me on the shoulder. "Excuse me, madame", he began. What have I done? Is it a crime to walk, sit, or play near the Palace of Justice? I can't even look at Judge Frollo? All these thoughts raced through my mind as the soldier continued, "You are not in trouble, madame. I'm not arresting you. It's just that Minister Frollo wishes to meet you. This way, madame."

And so, the tale of how this immensely stupid couple came to be begins.

Frollo wants to meet me? Why? Oh no! What if he found out about Fern and the car! We'd be branded as lunatics for sure...or even worse. Witches. My heart pounded as I followed the soldier up the steps and through the grand entry hall. My French had passed with the kids outside; now it had to stand up to a conversation with the most powerful man in France next to the King himself.

She’s awfully worried about being accused of witchcraft, yet has taken no steps to blend in at all with the general population.

As I entered my eyes were dazzled by high-vaulted ceilings, soft-colored walls, gorgeous tapestries, and marble floors. The soldier led me to a room and told me to wait. It looked like a study with shelves full of books, piles of papers on the table, paintings and tapestries on the walls. I was admiring one of these textile marvels, studying the stitches and feeling the softness of the fabric, when I heard a deep voice behind me. "I hope I didn't frighten you by sending that soldier, but it was the only way I could finally meet you." He extended his hand. "I am Claude Frollo. And what is your name?" I reached for his hand and told him my name. "I'm Danisha Wood...My family and friends call me Nisha." He smiled broadly and softly replied, "Lovely. I've watched you for several days now. You were in the square with the children, playing games..."

'Cause we all know Frollo loves kids!

“This is an unholy demon. I’m sending it back to hell where it belongs.” -Frollo, dangling an infant over a well, about to murder it

"Keeping them off the streets and out of trouble." I finished. Claude Frollo smiled again and narrowed his eyes as if he were assessing me. "I like the way you carry yourself. Very self-assured, no nonsense. And, while I don't exactly show it, I marvel at your way with the children." I returned the smile, saying, "Just doing what is necessary. To tell you the truth, I can't go anywhere without some kid latching onto me." At once, Judge Frollo burst into hearty laughter. "My dear, my instincts about you were right! You intrigue me. I liked you the moment I laid eyes on you." He put his hand on my shoulder and gazed into my eyes. I felt a shockwave of emotion run through my body when he touched me. Nothing or no-one had ever before affected me in such a way. "Minister Frollo, I'm flattered that you're interested in me...as a friend...but I'm only going to be in Paris for a few weeks. Then I'm going home in August." His Honor asked, "And where is home?" "I'm an American. From the Midwest." He looked blank. Then I remembered that the American continent had only just been discovered for him, and probably not even named yet! Oops! "I mean, I'm from the New World", I corrected myself hastily. "Columbus? The Spanish sailor, Christoforo Colombo?"

He was not Spanish. I also just looked it up, and the musical adaptation at least takes place in the 1480s, meaning Columbus has not yet sailed the ocean blue in 1492. The author claims she is a history teacher. I think she is lying.

He nodded, then raised an eyebrow. "The New World... That explains your accent. Your French is fluent enough, but rather harsh on Parisian ears. So... you are not a gypsy then... but do all New-Worlders have such coloring? That beautiful brown skin, I thought..." "Wait a minute!", I interrupted him, "You thought I was a gypsy? What's next? Are you going accuse me of practicing black magic?"

Yay for racism, I guess? That’s incredibly offensive to Roma.

By now I was getting really ticked. I wanted to be friends but I didn't feel I had to pass a test or something, not in my French, my looks or anything else! I really let him know how I felt and went off on him. I became a dissed sister, a raised voice full of fire and spit. I don't think he knew what hit him.

A dissed sister?

"Why'd you invite me up here then? You wanted to find out if I'm 'illegal'? Well, I am not a gypsy and I am not a witch. Now I know a few folks who dabble in voodoo, but that doesn't mean I'm into the same thing. I really thought you wanted to be friends. You're just wasting my time. May I go now?" After he'd got over my outburst, Claude Frollo suddenly changed from charming host to angered official. "How DARE you talk to me in that tone! Count yourself fortunate that I don't have you arrested on the spot!" He headed for the door and motioned to a nearby soldier. "My lieutenant shall show you out", he said as he seated himself at his desk. "I must say, Mlle. Wood, I am highly disappointed. You seemed so charming.... well, no matter."

He would have probably arrested her if he was in character at all, just saying.

As I walked out the door, I heard him say to me, "Just a word of warning, my dear mademoiselle. Make one more false move, and you're mine!" Once outside, I shuddered at the thought of what could happen once in the clutches of Judge Claude Frollo. Then I thought, who cares? I'll be long gone soon enough. Come September, I'll be home and he'll still be here; we'll never cross paths again.

I wish, lady.

As I walked away from the Palace of Justice, I looked back and saw his tall form in the window. He was looking down at me, not exactly frowning, but not smiling either. He looked rather like a little boy who didn't get his way. Now I wish I hadn't sassed him. For some reason I could hardly figure out, I really wanted to be his friend.

Because you’re an idiot?

#The Hunchback of Notre Dame #Claude frollo #danisha #back to the frollo

[texting-an-alien]

The Welders: Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Murderers, Ninjas, and Snakes. Oh My!

The way I felt when the world shifted was difficult to describe. It’s like when you’re a kid and people tell you that the earth is moving, spinning right under your feet but you can’t believe it because everything is standing still. You got this weird feeling in your stomach just thinking about it. It was as if I was reexperiencing my cousin explaining all the wonders of the earth to me. My stomach was churning and I couldn’t see straight. I fell to my knees, gasping for breath, and willing the vomit to stay where it was.

When everything seemed to settle, I looked up. Everything was normal, the trees were still the trees, the mud was still smelly and sticky, the ferns were still overgrown. It was as if I was the only one who had experienced anything, even the squirrel was still there… dang it. In front of me, lying between a dandelion and mossy branch was the crystal doom ball, without a scratch. I grabbed the stubborn thing and sat up, placing it back in my messenger bag.

I stood and nearly fell backwards from a pounding headache, my hands flailing blindly behind me, suddenly grabbing something cold and rough. As far as I was aware, there had been no fridges behind me so that was out of the question.

I turned around, and found something quite odd and strange that I knew it hadn’t been there before. Not without me noticing anyway.

Behind me stood a 10 foot tall brick and vine wall. As I said, there was no way it could have been there without noticing. If I tilted my head back far enough, I could see a million more trees and something that almost appeared to be smoke.

I know I had said everything about giving up on the stupid quest with the stupid crystal and all that other stupid stuff, but come on, a magic ball that makes brick wall with smoke appear? I take it all back.

I began wandering around the large enclosed area, knowing that for every wall, there was a gate. When I did find the gate, I understood why the crystal ball had been the one to show me this secretive community.

The wrought iron gate was about half an inch over my head, 2 feet wide and twisted with iron in swirls and shapes. In the very center of the gate, was a similar crystal ball,a bit larger than my hand.The gate was sealed with a rusty chain and padlock. On the other side of the gate, well I couldn’t tell. It looked just like the forest behind me, trees and all.

At this point I was really hoping I was hallucinating from biscuits and gravy because after staring at the other side for a while, I could swear on every single one of grams embroidered pillows that I had seen somebody walking through the trees, and it wasn’t a happy thought because they had made no sound whatsoever.

There was no way for me to enter, the lock refused to break no matter who much I pulled and pulled, the bricks were impossible to climb, and I eventually realized I was convincing myself to not just climb the gate. It was a very beautiful gate after all. Plus there was the fact that there could be silent ninjas or murderers in there.

My foot slipped a few times trying to get over, the iron was quite close together so my foot felt like it was going to break each time I stuck it into another space. I made the mistake of trying to get a foothold on the edge of the glass ball and nearly fell to my doom, technically not because I was barely off the ground.

I dropped to the ground and that’s when it happened.

The noise surprised me so much I smacked my head against the gate behind me. There was talking, music, laughing, and some kind of clinging and dinging noise. It was impossible though, on one side there had not been a single noise except for the wind or bird. Here, it was much louder.

I gripped the strap of my bag and began walking forward, and idiot move I know, straight to the voices.

+++++++++

Unlike outside the walls, there was no designated trail, no path that had been walked on so many times that you would have thought all of time square had been there at one point. I was walking straight to the voices with no recollection of how to get back to the gate if there was in fact silent ninjas or murders.

Silent ninjas and murderers who are laughing. I reminded myself. It honestly didn’t make me feel any better because have you heard murderer’s laugh… creepy.

The way the trees moved or the fact that I thought I had seen someone running through here scared me even more than the laughing because I realized, not only did I have no way back, I was possibly trespassing and possibly in a whole nother dimension, no one to stop a bunch of ninjas from killing me. My only hope was that Patrick was a dimension jumping super hero and would save me before I got a bamboo staff in the forehead.

The way the forest looked right now was entirely creepy. Maybe as creepy as a murderer's laugh. There was just enough sunlight that splotches of sun could hit the moss and dirt. It made it look like that was the only place happiness existed in the entire forest. The rest was shaded trees and branches that cast cringe worthy shadows.

The voices and laughing was getting louder, along with the metal on metal noise. I also noticed there was scraping and something hissing… maybe steam or snakes. Probably snakes. Murderers, ninjas, and snakes; this place was looking more and more inviting every time I took a step.

I stopped suddenly when I noticed a brick pillar that went just above my waist. The top was cracking grey marble and it was just a mossy and worn down as the wall behind me. As I looked around, I noticed a few more that were curving, forming a circle in which I couldn’t see the end.

That’s when I noticed the trailer. It was one of those 1960’s metal trailers that were curved at the top with the creepy circular window on the side. It was in the same shape as the wall and stone pillars, dented and ridden with overgrown nature. The only way it could have gotten in was if there was a larger opening or if the wall had been built around the trailer… which was not a happy thought.

For some reason my mind went back to my 5th grade english class where we had to recite poems for a project. This was probably the only class I didn’t fail that year. I remembered part of a poem that Jason Tucker had read, the only poem actually listened to. I think it had also been in some book, so that could also be a reason. It went like this:

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offence.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That wants it down.

Perhaps the reason my mind suddenly decided to have a flash from the past was because I was beginning to think that maybe the wall was meant to keep something in, not keep people out. That definitely scared me more than silent ninjas and murders laughing. Just as I was about to rethink my decisions and run for my life back to the forest, the trailer door swung open and low and behold, there was Patrick.

My legs were moving before I even knew it and I was suddenly right next to the trailer, pressed against it as I watched my cousin walk away from me. Seeing him in possibly a different dimension wasn’t even the most oddest, and possibly most exciting, part of my day.

It wasn’t just my cousins trailer, oh no. There was an entire civilization. Tents, trailers, something that appeared to be a ply wood and rock fort littered the entire space in front of the trailer. Each little camp site had been made out of things that looked like they had found in the forest. A few campfires blazed in front of the houses with pots or sticks with meat cooking, while all around trees sprouted from the ground and chipmunks jumped from branch to branch.

There were dirt trails lined with rocks that went from place to place and not only that, they had people walking on them. Actual people that weren’t wearing all black or swinging around meat cleavers. They were so normal, all laughing and sitting indian style next to the fires. Patrick was currently walking god knows where, past everything like it was completely normal for an entire village to be living in the middle of a forest and possibly on another world.

I was so awe struck by the people and tents that I didn’t notice the two people coming up behind me.

“Can I help you?” A voice said behind me and I jumped up, shocked.

A girl and a boy stood behind me, both with long black hair except the boys only went to his shoulders. Both had a universe of freckles, extremely pale eyes, and it was very clear they were twins. The girl was dressed in a orange sweater, dark blue overalls, and thigh high maroon socks while the boy, despite the cold, was only wearing a pair of denim shorts. Around his neck hung a necklace of a combination of different animal teeth.

“She’s not one of us." The boy said and the girl crossed her arms, tilting her head in agreement. “How’d she get in?”

“Well I don’t know Lee, I was literally standing right next you when you saw her. She could have just been sent here from one of the other camps, maybe the West." The girl replied and took a step forward. “What’s your name? How are you here?”

I was a bit too shocked about getting caught to answer and the girl rolled her eyes, sighing, and putting on the fakest cheesiest smile ever, quite similar to the one Patrick had done the other day. “What’s your name hmm? How did you get here sweetheart."

Okay now I was just insulted. “My names Amy, sweetheart."

“And she speaks. Were you sent here?” The boy, Lee, said.

“Sent here? Definitely not. You mind telling me where exactly “here” is?”

“You don’t know?”

“If I knew would I be asking you?”

“Touche," Lee said and smirked at me.

“Oh shut up." The girl said, I still didn’t know her name. She was definitely more in charge than Lee, that or she was just mean. “Everyone new goes to Barney that’s the rule."

There that name was again, ‘Barney’ I had heard it when grams and Patrick were arguing, something about him and his wife. All I was picturing was the purple and green dinosaur sitting on a throne made of twigs and leaves.

Before I had a chance to reply with some smart alec remark, the girl began walking away and Lee sighed, looking back to me who was still glued to the side of the trailer.

“Might as well follow her, she doesn’t slow down until she reaches where she wants to go," Lee said, trying to be friendly. I very unwillingly released the side of the trailer and took a few steps in the general direction of the girl and Lee began walking, slowly so he could walk beside me.

“You really don’t know how you got here?” He asked suddenly.

“I was following my cousin and then somehow got here."

“Who’s your cousin?”

“Patrick Preston, I think that was his trailer back there."

“I knew one of these days Patrick was gonna screw up. That’s why no one should ever leave the camp," Lee chuckled.

We were walking around the outside of the civilization, not through the trails and tents. These people seemed much to accepting to let a complete stranger walk through their home without any question besides who I was. It was a bit more difficult to walk in the plants that hadn’t been touched by any kind of feet for what seemed a long time. Lee was looking at me funny as I stepped of rocks and logs.

“Don’t have much experience with nature?” He asked.

I glared at him and said, “I live right next to the forest, I’m just used to the trails."

He raised his hands as a sign of mercy and we continued to walk. I didn’t actually expect that village to be this large. Actually I wasn’t sure I was expecting any of this. An entire civilization in the middle of a forest surrounded by a 10 foot brick wall that can only be discovered by throwing a glass orb onto the ground and hoping it doesn’t break.

“How large is this place?” I asked.

“Not that big. Maybe a mile in every direction give or take. Probably take," Lee explained.

“Okay, next question. Why are you letting me walk through here, I mean I could be a mass vigilante that just killed their neighbor," I said and Lee raised an eyebrow at me.

“We get a lot of people through here surprisingly enough. If you do prove to be one of us I might just answer your other questions," Lee replied.

“Like where we are and where we are going?” I asked and he nodded.

His verbal reply came as more of a yelp when he nearly ran into the other girl, she had suddenly stopped in the middle of the non-trail we were following. She looked back and glared at him before beginning to walk again. Only then I saw where we were heading.

There was an extremely large house at one side of the circle of tents. It was amazing that I hadn’t noticed it before. It was a very dark wood, antebellum, with two large white pillars, and at least two other parts coming off of the main part. The roof was grey and with window sills were all white along with the trim on the door. The door, now that was something out of a movie. It was a single brown door with a massive knocker in the shape of a lion and I nearly made a joke about it before I saw both their straight faces.

We walked up two white wood steps that creaked and sagged under our feet, right to the large door. I looked behind me, astonished to see that the camp was a lot smaller then what I thought. I could now see where it ended, where it curved, and everyone and everything inside of it… including Patrick.

He was just standing there, next to a small fire but he looked completely at peace, as if this wasn’t some secret village in the middle of a forest with a gigantic mansion out of a fairytale. The first few letters of his name left my mouth when the girl was suddenly dragging me by the forearm into the house. Patrick looked straight at me as the door slammed behind me.

The building we had just entered look more like a library than a house. The walls were lined with books of all ages and sizes, most bound in leather. There were ladders leading up to yet more floors of books. In places where there were small gaps of peeling wallpaper, maps of the world hung along with portraits of the famous dead. It was all dimly lit, flickering candles contained by glass holders hung on the walls as well as slowly dripping onto stools and desks. As Doctor Who as this is going to sound, the house seemed much bigger on the inside.

Behind a stack of books that were currently stuck to a desk, and didn’t look like they would be going anywhere anytime soon, was yet another boy, flipping through a book and not bothering to look up even though the heavy door had just slammed shut.

He was dressed in a vintage cotton shirt that went past his waist, ripped jeans, hiking boots, and had ginger hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in a week. When he heard the girl take a few steps forward, his head moved upwards but he did not look at us, although I did catch a glimpse of his eyes behind his wire glasses. They were so amber the color was nearly golden.

“You can’t just go bringing people in here Delia," he said, breaking the silence and the smell of burning beeswax. Finally, I now know the name of my lesser companion, Delia.

“Yeah well I have a good reason," she said and he looked up. His eyes were definitely golden. His eyes fell directly on me and he tilted his head and crinkled his nose.

After looking from Delia to Lee, he took a few steps towards me and inspected whatever he was supposed to inspect.

“Who is she?” He asked, looking directly into my eyes but it was clear the question was for Delia and Lee.

“Says her name is Amy," Delia replied, crossing her arms.

“That’s because it is, well it says Amethyst on my birth certificate," I replied, looking away from his quite creepy eyes and to Delia.

“Oh come on, who names their kid Amethyst. Were your parents trying to ruin your childhood?” Delia scoffed.

“I ask myself that every time someone pronounces my name wrong," I mumbled.

“Just because it’s not Celtic doesn’t make it bad. It’s a great name, Amy," Lee said, reassuring me that it wasn’t as bad as it actually was.

“Whatever. She said she’s related to Patrick. Sister or something," Delia rolled her eyes.

“Cousin. And what do you mean my name isn’t Celtic? It is like an offense?” I reminded and asked her. Delia glared just a little bit more than she already was, if that was even possible which was very unlikely but somehow her pale eyes turned even colder. I was beginning to think she was screwing up on purpose.

“Where’s Barney?” Delia said, completely ignoring the fact that I was going to correct her every time she pretended like she wasn’t listening to Lee and I’s conversation.

“Out. Probably won’t be back till later so, let’s get this show on the road then." The boy replied and clapped his hands together. He seemed to change the entire mood of the room when he stopped staring and said, “Hello Amethyst, my name if Ferris and I’ll be making your family tree."

#the welders #thewelders #oregon #book #read #write #writer #fiction #novel #fantasy #magic #wicca #wiccan #witch

[mysteryfanfictheatre3000]

Back to the Frollo, Chapter 6

Warning: useless Tupperware trivia.

The kitchen was full of the warm, savory scent of spicy barbequed ribs. Claude uncorked a bottle of blush wine, while favorably commenting on my home and decor. It was a modest house, nothing like those splendid mansions on Meridian, but it was comfortable and in a nice neighborhood. It didn't have stately columns or an expansive, well-manicured lawn, but it sported a wide front porch with a swing and a fairly spacious backyard full of late fall flowers.

Why does the reader care about the state of Danisha’s house?

I produced the bowl of potato salad I had made for a Saturday afternoon-with-the-girls pitch-in. I guess I'll have to skip our little hen party, I thought, grinning; I'll really have my hands full this weekend. With a flourish, I set the plastic bowl on the table where Claude was sitting.

Who are “the girls?” Are they more members of Frollo’s seemingly endless harem?

He looked at the bowl's lid and loftily said, "Ah, the noble contributions of Earl Tupper. What a fine example of mid-20th century suburban Americana." Then he examined the bowl's shape, spinning it between the tips of his fingers and, after wrinkling his nose, said, "I'm sorry, my dear, but that really is a hideous shade of pink." "Now Claude", I pretended to bristle at his attack on my Tupperware, "I happen to like my bowl. Besides, you don't hear me complain about YOUR dishes back at the Palace!"

He comments on disliking the shade of her Tupperware. Also, how does he know about Earl Tupper? I'm a modern-day American girl and I didn't know him, why would Frollo be able to name him instantly? Why does he have such extensive knowledge of modern America? Even if he's visited Danisha before, when would the inventor of Tupperware ever come up in conversation?

"Touche, my love", he said laughingly, "but I was just making a comment on...Oh Nisha, that looks so delicious!" Claude began focusing on the food as I placed the platter of ribs before him. I learned a long time ago that if all else fails, give Claude Frollo good food and plenty of it. Honestly, I thought, how can one man have such a hearty appetite and remain so slim and trim? Must be chasing all those criminals all day, or just keeping up with all his ladies.

Chasing “criminals,” or murdering innocent women and committing genocide? In my experience it seems like it would be the latter.

"What is so funny?", Claude playfully asked me, for he quickly noticed me trying to suppress a giggle. "Oh, just something that happened at work today." I tried to play it off but I don't think he bought it. He just sat there and helped himself to barbeque, salad, and bread. We enjoyed a pleasant late-evening supper. The wine helped smooth over any awkwardness in the conversation; he didn't discuss his work or, thank goodness, the day's difficulties. Instead he asked me about my family, my work, and my plans for the weekend.

Because he cares about that.

"Mmm, leading question... Are you planning on spending the weekend with me, Claude?" I smiled. "Maybe, maybe not...It depends", he replied with a grin to match my own. "I thought we could take a drive to... Where was that place we visited last fall? Brown County?" "But the colors haven't peaked yet, baby", I said, watching him neatly lick sauce from his long, slender fingers. Claude looked at me and said, "I am aware of that. But it's such a lovely place. All those hills and forests. I can't think of a more pleasant way to spend a Saturday afternoon." With that, he rose from the table, walked over to the sink, and washed his hands. "It doesn't matter where or how, Danisha, just as long as I'm able to spend time with you, my dear".

This is both overly sappy and incredibly stupid and unrealistic. Also, if he loved her and America this much, why doesn't he just stay here? Like I said before, no one in France cares. They'd probably be happy to see him gone. I, for one, would rather have this guy in a modern-day society where he holds no power and murder and rape will get him thrown in jail.

"Well then", I responded, while clearing the remains of our supper, "how about just knocking about town tomorrow? We can go to Lilly Orchard, wander through Broad Ripple, whatever you fancy." "Sounds delightful," he murmured softly. He kissed me and led me back into the living room. We cuddled in front of the fireplace and then one thing just led to another.(For obvious reasons, dear readers, FrolloFreak would rather not go into details)

I don't get what this story is supposed to be. It's like erotica without the smut. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she skipped that, but… why? I thought this was aimed at people who, for whatever reason, have a Frollo fetish. I don't understand the point without the sex.

**************

It was nearly dawn. I awoke and watched Claude Frollo as he slept. How peaceful, how utterly adorable he looks, I thought, as I gently stroked his soft gray hair and traced his handsome features.

Who’s cuter than a middle-aged rapist genocidal maniac?

My mind raced back to that summer. Images of me, Claude, and Quasimodo flashed before me. And then there was Fern. Oh, Fern! My old friend and colleague who, along with others, was instrumental in bringing Claude and me together. What I thought was just another wildly imaginative fantasy brought on by too much heat and humidity became all so real.

This is like My Immortal’s Raven and Tara/Willow and Ebony, but with this author and her friend instead. It's not a good thing.

My flashback was interrupted by Claude's stirrings. "Oh...Nisha, darling", he began as he stretched his long, lean body. "Mmmm?" I responded as I rolled back closer to him. "Good morning, my love", he softly said, kissing my lips. "How long have you been awake? It's not quite dawn." "Not long, Claude. Just long enough to remember..." Claude finished my sentence, "When we met? How we fell in love?"

I don't want to know how, but you can bet your butt this author's going to shove it down our throats anyway.

"Uh, huh." "What are you thinking?" he said, smiling but slightly uneasy, all the same. "Oh, just about how things work out... We didn't hit it off right away. In fact, I made you mad several times, such as that time I smashed your window..."

What? She smashed a window of the cathedral of Notre Dame, where Frollo lives? Because that's not funny or sassy, that's just destroying a historical artifact and a priceless work of art.

Claude exploded with laughter and relief, "Oh that! Please don't remind me! You were very apologetic, but, you displayed a - what's your word? "Sassy"? - you showed a sassy side which at the time I did not find so amusing." "But you soon found out you really cared for me, sweet Claude, sassiness and all", I said, as I kissed his cheek. Claude Frollo just smiled and closed his eyes again. "Let me sleep a little longer, darling. I normally do not get this luxury..."

Again: if he likes the 21st century so much, he's welcome to stay. It's better for him to be here where he’ll get arrested for rape and murder than it is for him to be left alone in Paris to commit genocide against Roma wherever he feels like it.

His voice trailed off as he snuggled next to me and drifted back to sleep. I cradled him as he slept and my mind wandered back to images of a 1990s American woman and a very complex 1480s Parisian man.

Oh, this is set in the 90s. So I guess 21st century should probably be 20th… whatever. The sentiment still holds.

#Claude frollo #The Hunchback of Notre Dame #danisha #back to the frollo

[andrea-cristina-travel-blog]

The Elephants are returning: Visiting Cambodia’s Chi Phat Eco-tourism project

“The elephants are returning to Chi Phat” our guide Leeheng smiles proudly, waving an outstretched arm across the open plain before us. “You know, a few years ago there were none here. They got scared by the hunting and the guns and moved away, into Thailand. Now, they’re starting to come back again”. His smile is one of those enthusiastic ones that sweep you along with it, helping to dissipate the memory of the steaming hot jungle-clad incline we’ve been scrambling up for the last hour. It’s hard to imagine that merely a decade ago, our presence on this peaceful grassy hilltop plain in Cambodia’s Southern Cardamom mountain region would have been impossible at best, deadly at worst. After the collapse of Pol Pot’s murderous communist regime in 1979, his loyal guerrilla fighters quite literally fled for the hills – choosing the thick jungle cover of the Cardamoms as their last stronghold. What followed was nearly 15 years of violent war and chaos for the region; mines were laid, villages attacked, locals murdered in grisly clashes. When the last of the Khmer Rouge fighters were finally driven from the area, the locals who remained were left impoverished. With few options available for survival, many had no choice but to enter the lucrative poaching and logging trades to support their families. Surprisingly, despite the ensuing destruction, the 1443 sq km mountain area has remained home to many a rare and endangered species. Big cats, elephants, gibbons, deer, wild pigs, snakes, and the extremely threatened Pangolin have survived amongst some of the most unchartered flora in the world. A chance at lasting positive change came in the form of an approach to village elders by American-based conservation NGO Wildlife Alliance. Together, they developed big plans for a community-based ecotourism (CBET) project in the Cardamoms and Leeheng’s village, Chi Phat, that set the wheels in motion for Cambodia’s most successful conservation project, transforming the lives of its residents completely. OUR VISIT TO CAMBODIA’S ECO-TOURISM SUCCESS STORY, CHI PHAT  COMMUNITY-BASED ECOTOURISM IN CAMBODIA Today, Chi Phat welcomes fighters of a very different kind with open arms; those workers, volunteers, and travellers interested in the battle for environmental conservation. It’s this goal and a promise of world-class hiking that has brought us to our current grassy plain and the first of our three-day hike into the mountains surrounding the village of Chi Phat. Getting here is half the adventure. It’s a 4-hour bus ride from Phnom Penh to the small highway town of Andoung Tuek, and (having missed the 2-hour boat ride alternative) a white-knuckled 45-minute ride through fields of sugarcane and patches of sand on the back of a local motorbike to this pretty community of 500 families. Colourful bamboo houses on stilts line the two dusty red streets, giggling children wave sous-dey (hello) enthusiastically, and all around us are the genuinely welcoming, happy smiles of locals. Villagers, like Leeheng, who once roamed the forests in search of a quick payday are now wildlife warriors, now lead educational cycling, kayaking and trekking tours, training as cooks, opening guesthouses, learning English and computer skills, and working together to protect their futures.    Under his knowledgeable eye over the next few days we explore the stunning and diverse ecosystems on offer; thick jungle, mountain ranges, grasslands, lush river systems; eagerly observing animal tracks. We camp in hammocks under the stars and swim in refreshing waterfalls.  While we have the time of our lives, we’ll also be supporting a community working tirelessly to protect their environment, helping to provide them with a livelihood far removed from those of their pasts. Read more | Our guide to Cambodia’s capital, Phnom Penh     Leeheng opens up about the huge shift he’s seen take place over the last few years.  A former hunter (mostly deer, wild pig, and Pangolin) and logger himself, he knows first-hand what it signifies for him and his young family.   “It was hard at first, some people had no choice but hunting or logging – we had to make money. “Everyone thought they’d lose their income, so only 20% of the community supported it at first. But now almost 100% support it because the tourists come. We have jobs and opportunities again,” he shares. Not only do they have opportunities again (over 5,000 people have benefited from the creation of sustainable jobs here), they are passionate about sharing their expert knowledge of the area with visitors. That passion has been helped along by intensive conservation and guide training programs established by the CBET and Wildlife Alliance. We pause regularly to inspect the day-old tracks of a herd of elephants, taste a Tamarind pod, discover a new plant species. We eat a meal made from root vegetables found in the forest and drink water from vines one afternoon. “City people don’t know how to do this,” Leeheng winks, “this is something you grow up learning around here”.     As we eat lunch, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a dry river bed one day, we ask him whether there’s a downside to this huge change. To him it’s extremely simple; “In the past, if I killed a deer I might make $100USD. But now if I bring people here and they don’t see any animals, I feel pretty sad. If someone visits and sees lots of animals, they might tell their friends and encourage other people to come here. Our community could earn $10,000, maybe $20,000 USD instead”, he tells us. The community is now starting to show signs of prosperity, and it’s obvious that they realise they have a stake in the protection and health of their home. Last year, the community celebrated 10 years of zero elephant poaching in the Southern Cardamom Forest region; a monumental achievement. We get an incredibly authentic taste of the returning elephants on our second day, when Leeheng stops abruptly in front of us, holding up a hand for quiet. He’s spotted fresh tracks and believes a wild elephant could be in the area – confirmed by the faint sounds of the ground being trampled and low grunts about 300 metres away. Our excitement at the find turns to something a little more serious when he warns us quietly that we have to walk quickly, a sober expression on his normally cheerful face. As we move forward, he swings the back of an axe hard against a tree, a gunshot-like sound ringing out through the thick forest.   Cambodia’s Islands | Why you need to visit them now  The elephants here haven’t forgotten the hunting days when bullets fired by humans would land amongst their herd. It makes them a dangerous animal for a human to encounter in these forests today, but Leeheng hopes their fear of the sound of guns will keep them well away from us. Pausing frequently to take stock, he inspects tracks, listens to the low grunts in the distance. When we come across a strong earthy smell – a mound of very fresh droppings – and damage to ferns, tree trunks and plants reminiscent of a rogue ride-on mower, he gathers us around urgently. He thinks it’s a mother and child, meaning protective aggression is a real risk. “They’re extremely close now, maybe 100 metres. If you see the elephant on the path, drop your bag immediately and run through the jungle. They can’t turn easily, so find the biggest tree you can and run behind it. Then move to the next and do the same. If you get lost, get to the river and head downstream. We’ll find you”. Senses sharpened, we move stealthily along the paths to the nearby soundtrack of grunting and Bush-bashing(while hoping the fact we haven’t showered in a few days won’t give us completely away). With Leehengs help, we escape any face-to-face meetings with a territorial mother – but if our close encounter is the price to pay for CBET and the Wildlife Alliance achieving their goals of protecting the area’s remaining elephant population, we’ll happily take it.   Since its inception, the program has resulted in the reforesting of 733 hectares of degraded areas, cancelled 36 land concessions, and protected 720,000 hectares of tropical forests from illegal loggers and industrial encroachment. It’s a success story that leads the way in eco-tourism initiatives around the world. But sadly, not everyone values their incredible successes; during our time in the mountains, there were whispers of devastating Chinese development threatening to destroy the region with mining and dams. There is a chance that the long-term future of CBET is again at the very real risk of crushing environmental destruction and financial uncertainty.  They’re fighting hard though, with many protests and legal cases underway. In the meantime, the elephants are returning, and the community of Chi Phat is on the rise.   Thinking of visiting Cambodia? Don’t miss Chi Phat for an incredible, unique experience in the Cardamom Mountains. Have you been before? Share your stories in the comments below!  Visiting Cambodia? You might like these posts: Why you need to visit the Cambodian Islands now 16 incredible useful things to know before visiting Cambodia 30 photos that will make you want to visit Cambodia   Need to book accommodation in Cambodia? Check out Hotel’s Combined for the best hotel deals Cambodia has some of the best hostels in Asia – check them out via Hostel World FOLLOW OUR ADVENTURES ON FACEBOOK | INSTAGRAM | TWITTER | PINTEREST LIKE THIS POST? PIN AND SHARE IT! JOIN OUR TRIBE & WANDER WITH US Join 30,000+ people and receive travel stories, tips + hacks, and stunning photography to inspire your wanderlust. Straight to your inbox We hate spammers. We'll never be those people.   The post The Elephants are returning: Visiting Cambodia’s Chi Phat Eco-tourism project appeared first on The Common Wanderer.

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#Asia #Cambodia #Destinations #Featured #Cardamom Forest #Cardamom Mountains #Chi Phat #Eco-tourism #Elephants #environmental travel #responsible travel #South Cardamom Mountains #Wildlife Alliance