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ash-and-books · 2 months

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Rating: 5/5

Book blurb: The sequel to the “bloodthirsty, addictive, and searingly romantic”* debut from Sophie Kim is an unflinching roller coaster ride of action, romance, and intricate fantasy lore. *Quote from Axie Oh, NYT bestselling author

Everyone thinks the Reaper of Sunpo—eighteen-year-old assassin Shin Lina—is dead. The only ones who know the truth are her cherished little sister and Haneul Rui, the icily gorgeous Dokkaebi Emperor, who she was sent to kill…and kissed instead.

Now, with the potent Imugi venom surging in her veins, Lina’s returned to right all wrongs. Already her body is changing, growing stronger, stealthier, and more agile, with serpentine scales she can call at will. She is living vengeance, seeking retribution for the massacre of the Talons. She’ll become the sword who cuts down the rival Blackbloods gang, along with their ruthless crime-lord leader. And when she is through, she will take the kingdom as her own.

But there is a mysterious side to Lina’s growing power, a dark voice inside her that whispers and guides her as she slips through the shadows of Sunpo’s streets. One that warns her not to trust the Dokkaebi, especially Rui.

Because if her destiny isn’t to love him…it must be to destroy him.

Review:

The bloody and tension filled sequel to Last of the Talons and the second book in the trilogy. The Reaper of Sunpo is presumed dead... and she's back to get revenge... however after her transformation from ingesting poison in the previous book she is changed...and this change has something talking to her in her head, slowly taking over her body and forcing her to fulfill the prophecy that would make her the Empress of All and lead to many bodies dropping and a war impending... not to mention the possibly destruction of the very Emperor she loves. Shin Lina survived and now she is changed, she now has potent Imugi venom in her veins and a voice in her head that is slowly consuming her. All she wants to do is get revenge against all of those who had killed those she cared for. Yet she is slowly losing her mind and herself to a prophecy that foretells her becoming the new Queen of the Imugi and the one to take it all... Then there is Rui, the beautiful Dokkaebi Emperor who loves her, and whom she's discovered is her red string of fate soulmate... but the string of fate works in two ways.. they may be romantic soul mates or mortal enemies.... only time will tell what happens as Lina slowly loses her mind and control of her own body to the prophecy. Can love win or will revenge cost Lina everything and in the end... can Lina and Rui be tied together by love or will it turn into a war neither of them could ever imagine. This was a heartbreaking and tension filled sequel. I loved how the story grew and how Rui and Lina faced off against a new challenge and how this book really shows that there are stakes and prices to be paid when you seek revenge. I am so excited for the finale in the trilogy and how it all ends, I am rooting for Lina and Rui but after the cliffhanger of what happened in this book I am just hoping they get a happy ending. This was such a good book and this series has been an absolute joy to read!

*Spoiler: Lina begins hearing the Prophecy " a sentient prophecy hell bent on fulfilling itself and taking control of Lina's mind and body". Rui and Lina discover they are soulmates yet with Lina being turned into an Imugi, a Dokkaebi's enemy, can they trust each other. Rui was forced to become the pied piper and kidnap humans for the imugi in order to save his people. Lina is losing herself and can't seem to fight the voice in her head. Rui tries to help her but when one of Lina's enemies kills Eunbi (Lina's beloved little sister) Lina completely gives up and gives the reigns of her mind and body over to the Prophecy. Rui and her do get married before this as Rui needed a way to distract the prophecy controlling Lina while keeping an eye on Lina to make her safe. Rui is determined to save Lina, however Lina is trapped in her own mind now and trying to avoid the grief and lost of her sister. The Prophecy has begun to take over.*

*Thanks Netgalley and Entangled Publishing, LLC | Entangled: Teen for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #bookish #wrath of the talon #last of the talons

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memurfevur-archive · 2 years

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Horrors, Have Mercy

Character(s): Ptillo Uyilst, mentions of Tythus Strigg (@moonlit-trolls), Nyctea and Soliel (@contrastparadoxx)

About: Ptillo says a prayer to her gods...

Word Count: 962

=====================================

Ptillo sat on the edge of the couch stroking Soliel's hair and soothing her to sleep. When she was certain that the child was fit into slumber, she sighed and pushed herself up. Nyctea was in the bedroom already getting ready for rest after such a long night. There had been too many emotional roller coasters. A death of a friend. Anger and rage. Regret and grief. She hadn't had time to grieve properly, she knew this, but when would there ever be an appropriate time?

As she went to join Nyctea, she paused when she nearly passed an owl decoration hanging on her wall. She stared at it numb, her shoulders sinking. She glanced back at Soliel, then back at the decor before falling to one knee and crossing her hands over her breast. A solute, an opening to a prayer, just like Tythus had taught her. A cold chill ran down her spine. She could almost feel him there behind her, watching her. She hoped he was, somehow.

“In the eclipsed nest of Sha'rakla, the Hooting Ones lie sleeping,” she began, “May the horrors carry my words to my masters' dreams. May my words bloom realities.” After she was finished opening the prayer, she lowered herself closer to the ground. Curl in on herself. Raise her hands to the icon. Just like Tythus had taught her. This position had always been hard for her to hold, and he had guided her every time-- push her back gently into place, raise her arms a little higher. The cold was around her again, as if his spirit was doing just that. Oh, if only.

“Oh Hooting Ones, your Herald has joined you in your reality. May his spirit rest fitfully, may his spirit be safe in your talons.” Her voice began to falter with her next words, “Remind his spirit that he is admired, that he is... that he is loved.” Damn it. It was too soon to cry. “Hooting Ones, I have made a grave mistake. I had went against the favor of your Herald. I have fallen from your grace, and I fear... I fear that I am the cause of Tythus' death. I could not have been there to save him. I could not have been there for him until our ends, like we had promised so long ago.” Tears dripped off her jaw. “Hooting Ones, punish me, forgive me, do as thy see fit to me, for I am without my Tythus, and I cannot be more lost.

Remind him, please, and reach inside his spirit so he may enter unto my reality: I love him. Oh, I love him so much, and I was a fool for never telling him. I was a fool for playing all these games for his attention. I wanted... I wanted nothing more than his arms around me, for his lips on mine, but it seemed no matter how many times I had it I could never bring myself to fly. Horrors, curse my cowardice, for now my love is gone and resting in your talons and I had not the bravery to give him my heart.

Horrors, have mercy on Nyctea. He lost his moirail twice, lost him when he had just gotten him back. Be kind to him, for his grief had cost the lives of many of your children. Forgive him, his soul mate had died.

Horrors, guide Soliel to the best moments of her life. Let her not become a demon such as I. Let her learn to live and love dearly, let her learn to be confident for she is much braver than I. So much kinder. Let her realities come to life, O Great Dreamers. Forgive her, she did what she could to survive.”

She took a shaky breath. Why couldn't he be here? Why did he have to go? Why did she have to go? Stupid, stupid! She had abandoned her duty. She had abandoned him.

“Tythus, if you can hear me,” those words broke her down, her shoulders wracking with sobs that she tried to bite down so Soliel wouldn't wake. “I'm so sorry. I... I don't know who I am without you. I'm not sure if I can live without you, for you were the one that gave me life, so where is it now that you are gone? Oh Tythy, may your spirit see happiness in the horrors, may you sleep beside the Hooting Ones, may you live in your reality. And with these words I depart to you: I love you. I love you, and you will always be my beloved. Forgive me for my crimes against your heart, I plead.”

And then her voice went out, cracked and strained. She gulped in choked breaths and couldn't help but cry out her sobs a little too loudly. Her chest hurt. It felt as if red hot knives were piercing through her breast, and that a brick wall had collided with her head. Her salty tears stung the burns on her face. She heard footsteps; Nyctea lingered in the kitchen and watched her warily. Soliel stirred on the couch and stared at the spot directly behind Ptillo. Oh, Ptillo felt so, so cold.

A blanket was draped around her person and arms were wrapped around her. Nyctea guided her to stand and she leaned heavily on him, drained. She didn't deserve his touch. She didn't deserve the kiss he pressed to her head. She didn't deserve his soft words and gentle comforts. She didn't deserve to live. She left her beloved Tythus and the prayer unfinished as Nyctea whisked her away to the bedroom. There was nothing left to say as she sobbed herself to sleep in his arms.

#Ptillo Uyilst #Love Birds #fevur writing #and now i go to bed LOL

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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The Ric Grayson AND Talon storylines both end at the same time, and in the same way:

Great Grandpa Creeper Cobb successfully manipulates Ric into position to be brainwashed and become the Talon that Willie the Weenie has always wanted him to be.....this happens for like, two issues.

Then Grandpa Get Ye To A Graveyard Already fucks up....he accidentally brings Talon Ric within sighting distance of the Court’s latest crop of prospective Talon recruits, including a wee baby ten year old orphan being trained to be a future Talon.

And the essential corn kernel of Dick Grayson’s essence, deep down in his psyche, just fucking POPS like its Orville Redenbacher and someone just nuked it in the microwave.

And the real Dick Grayson comes SHRIEKING to the forefront of Talon!Ric’s brain, nothing subtle about it, and the next thing his Rancid Relative knows, he’s being fucking impaled by his great grandson’s blades as said great grandson, who is SUPPOSED to be docilely brainwashed, wtf, is already halfway across the room, diving into the mass of other Talons like they’re a collection of bowling pins and he’s a wrecking ball straight out of a Miley Cyrus music video, but instead of the caterwauling lyrics “I never hit so haaaaaaaard in love,” Dick’s accompanied by a soundtrack of him screaming:

“I WILL PROTECT YOU SMOL CHILD!!!”

As said smol child is just standing there, staring, like....dude, wut?

And then Dick finishes absolutely DESTROYING everything undead and nefarious in sight like he’s the Tasmanian Devil on meth, and he turns to said smol child and begins the process of Smothering, as his hands flutter all up and down checking for injuries but not touching, like:

“Did they hurt you are you alright you’re safe now cough once for I’m all good or punch me in the no-no’s if I’m making you feel unsafe, I will make sure you are totally safe from here on out, you are my baby now, I have decided, but like, only if you want to be.”

And smol child is decidedly overwhelmed but Man-Who-Speaks-Like-He-Has-Pixie-Sticks-In-Place-Of-Blood-Vessels seems harmless, if weird, and is definitely preferable to the weird Bird Men who kidnapped him off the streets and tried to teach him how to kill people and make death threats out of nursery rhymes. And he doesn’t have a lot of experience in OTHER subterranean lairs to compare this one too, but he’s decidedly not a fan, so when Dick asks if he would like him to take him to see Batman and Batgirl and Robin and other superheroes who can also reassure him there will be no more homework on How To Torture People Good, he’s like....”yeah I guess. If you want.”

And so Dick scoops him up with glee and takes off through the tunnels, yelling back over his shoulder: “Bye Greatly-Gross-Grandpa, hate you lots, don’t call, don’t write, you’re officially off my Christmas card list, hasta la neeeeeeeeeever.”

Thereupon swiftly grappling across the Bludhaven rooftops, yelling PARKOUR! just because he can and its fun, and its weirdly relaxing for his wee passenger, because look, this dude may be weird as fuck, but he’s clearly got the moves to protect him from the Undead Legions of Ornithologists and he seems too....fun to be evil, like not in the Joker kinda way like he’s seen on TV in previous foster homes where its like, jeez dude, try hard much, but more like an adult who just quit a soul-crushing cubicle-dwelling corporate-craphole job and has suddenly been reminded that the sky is blue, flowers smell good, and there IS a Santa Claus, Virginia.

Thus by the time they arrive at Wayne Manor, with no attempt made to hide where they’re going from his wee passenger’s eyes - Dick has already decided he’s keeping the kid, pending said kid’s approval but look, kids like him and he’s determined to bring his A game to the pitch meeting, so he likes his chances - said wee passenger disembarks in the Batcave but stays close by, clinging to Dick’s side in an ever so slight way that allows for plausible deniability later, once he gets his bearings and also his bravado back.

“Dick?!” Comes the chorus of voices from the rest of the family, who are all there already, by great coincidence and in great defiance of the crapfests in their own individual titles, but also who the fuck cares. And Dick puffs out his chest, cuz he’s putting on a good show for his new kiddo, first impressions are important...

“Tis I, fam! The one true Dick Grayson has returned! Huzzah!”

Look, being completely oblivious to his Greatest Dork Energy coinciding with his Times He Most Attempts To Be Impressive, is like, Peak Dick Grayson characterization, you can trust me, I’m a doctor.

And Tim’s like, “Why are you dressed like a Talon?”

And Dick’s like, “Isn’t the better question why AREN’T you dressed like a Talon?”

Which makes no sense but shhh, I’m running out of steam here, don’t question the atmosphere, just let it be.

And Bruce is like, “Who’s your friend?”

With like...designs and agendas already in mind, because said wee Talon-to-be is cute and adorable and bravely trying to act like he is not at all intimidated by his surroundings and is in total control of what’s going on like, he meant to be here, this is all according to plan, yes, excellent, everything is progressing nicely....

Which as everyone knows, are the three key essential traits Bruce looks for in prospective adoptees....

So Dick snarls and later blames it on residual Talon-ness, they’re very territorial bird...assassin....people....anyway, the adrenaline is still high and also he has swiftly become attached because whether kiddo knows it or not, Dick 100% credits him with the brainwash-breaking and thus when factored in with the cuteness quotient, what we have here is an instant recipe for Protectiveness slash Possessiveness that would be creepy and inappropriate if this wasn’t pure crack.

But crack it is, and thus Dick curls a protective arm around the kiddo like the lap-bar on a particularly turbulent roller coaster and applies G-Force sufficient to keep even Superman from prying him out of his hands - but in a gentle, non- ’crushing kinda way that might hurt the kiddo,’ even though physics doesn’t work like that, except look, these are CRACK PHYSICS, they can and they do work like that.

And he’s all, “I already adopted him, so back off, Bruce, I’ll cut you. But also hi dad, I missed you. In spirit I mean, like I had amnesia and then I was brainwashed so technically its probably a reach to say I missed anyone but just roll with it. Also I can haz hugs now, please?”

And then Damian apparates in front of Dick amid a cloud of Disapproval that’s really just a cover for OMG-I-Was-Without-You-And-It-Was-Terrible-And-I’m-So-Glad-You’re-Back-But-Also-Who-Is-This-Interloper-And-Why-Is-He-Stealing-My-Hug.

“Tt. Grayson. Your absence was...less than desirable. See to it that this doesn’t happen again. Also what is that and why is it here.”

“Aww, Dami, I’m sorry. I promise to install a “please have the nearest available psychic reboot my brain in case of future brain damage slash amnesia” clause in my living will, and soon as I get a free second, I’ll break the fourth wall and blackmail the DC editorial staff into declaring me off-limits for all death, brainwashing and/or kidnapping plots for at least the next four major crossover events. I have naughty pictures. They’ll cave.”

“Hmph,” Dami says. He resumes staring pointedly at the kiddo, who juts his chin defiantly and stares back while clinging more tightly to Dick, because he may have very little clue what’s going on, but he’s a quick one and has at least picked up on the fact that Dick wants him and this other kid wants Dick. Which combined with the rescuing and the kicking of bad guy ass means Dick is probably Quality and In Demand and Of Value, and thus he might as well stake a claim now and worry about whether or not to act on that or skedaddle later, once he’s got more intel. He’s a natural Bat, this one, but then, that’s probably why he was in Toddler Talon Boot Camp, he scored high on whatever weird aptitude tests they used to scope out talent, and by talent we mean murder-skills.

“Dami,” Dick admonishes then, “This isn’t an it, he’s a person, and he was recently traumatized so promise me you’ll be on your best behavior or at least your ‘engaging in shenanigans with Jon’ behavior. And he’s not competition, you’re my Dames and my little bro, and he’s potentially your nephew, which is a whole separate category and no threat to you and your baby bro status at all, so retract the claws. If anything, the real danger is Pops adopting him and thus supplanting you as the official Baby Bird of our generation, so make like an ally and help me get that dangerous “I’m gonna adopt this kid so hard” gleam out of Bruce’s eye before it gets any gleamier. We’re still only halfway through my tearful reunion and having to cut Dad before we even get to cake would be a major mood-killer, but I’ll do it, I swear. Also, get your Baby Bird behind over here and hug me already, I have two arms.”

Damian rolled his eyes but obediently disappeared and reappeared nestled against Dick’s other side in the blink of an eye. The proper application of ninja skills has always been the pursuance of hugs and cuddles. Thus sayeth the crack.

“Hey, I do get cake, right?” Dick asked suddenly, looking around dangerously. “I was amnesiac and also brainwashed, I deserve cake, TELL me there’s gonna be cake.”

“Well that answers whether or not we should be worried about this being an attempted infiltration or not,” Jason says, strolling over casually. “No impostor or brainwashing script-writer could ever duplicate the Essence de Dick so perfectly. Hey squirt. Welcome to the madhouse. I’m Jason, what’s your name?”

“Oh right,” Dick realized, cocking his head. “Hey, what is your name?”

“Really, Dick?” Tim sighed, fondly exasperated. “I realize you like to jump from A straight to Z whenever possible, but steps B through Y aren’t usually just mere suggestions.”

“It hadn’t come up yet,” Dick defended himself.

“Yes, why would it have,” Duke mused from where he was leaning over and snapping his fingers in front of Bruce’s eyes, in a futile attempt at tearing his gaze away from the viable adoption candidate within 20 meters from him. It was probably best that they get this adoption thing inked out and signed off on as soon as possible - it was the only thing that was definitively going to get that “Argh, I’ve spotted treasure ahoy” look out of Bruce’s eyes. And Alfred had been very clear :Bruce was forbidden to adopt any more kids himself until he got a better handle on juggling the six he already had. Which. The past year had...probably not met Alfred’s standards on, so it didn’t seem likely he’d be waiving that requirement any time soon.

(And nobody wanted to get in between the Unstoppable Force that was Bruce’s ‘must adopt all the orphans’ and the Immovable Object that was Alfred’s ‘must maintain at least a reasonable fascimile of order in this household, even if it is a total sham, appearances matter.’)

“Hey!” Dick protested. “I’ve been busy, okay? There was fighting and then there was parkouring and now we’re reunifying, and it wasn’t like I was just calling him ‘that kid’ in my head, I was calling him ‘my kiddo’ which is a perfectly reasonable identifier and thus more specific detail just....hadn’t been relevant yet!”

“So uh, bee tee dubs, what is your name, buddy?” Dick asked, looking down. His kiddo looked back up at him for a long, measuring moment, and then he shrugged.

“I’ll tell you in exchange for some cake. You said something about there being cake, but I don’t see any.”

Dick got misty-eyed at that. “See? He already prioritizes like me. This was destiny! Also, you heard my kiddo, do we not deserve cake? It has been a very long day, there was murder and mayhem and more. Also, my creeper great grandpa was there being icksome, and you know how much that weirds me out.”

“Come along, Master Dick,” Alfred said then, appearing out of nowhere thanks to his Bat-Butler Magic. “And your young charge as well. I already have your favorite baking in the oven and it should be done shortly. Lemon meringue with raspberry layers.”

“That’s disgusting and I will not participate in any ceremony that treats that as part of a celebration instead of just a weird kind of laxative,” Jason said loftily, though it escaped no one’s notice that he was the first to the stairs.

“Shut your facehole, its delicious and amazing and you will like it or I will kick your ass,” Dick said, equally loftily.

“Boys,” Bruce said with a long-suffering sigh, as the threat of brotherly bloodshed was enough to finally shake him out of his orphan-induced stupor.

“At MARIO KART. I will kick his ass at MARIO KART, ugh, jeez, B, why do you always assume the worst of us?”

“Precedent,” Tim said dryly.

“Who the hell asked the Oompa Loompa Brigade to weigh in with all ninety of his pounds?” Jason called back from the top of the stairs.

Cass came up on Dick’s left, where the kiddo was one half of the sandwich made by him and Damian on Dick’s other side. She smiled down at him when he directed his still very wide-eyed gaze at her, landing on her after his latest sweep of the cavern and all its contained chaos, as if trying to take it all in - most likely in the hopes that if he could manage that, somehow the last 72 hours of his life might suddenly make sense. He really was adorable.

“Don’t worry,” she beamed at him, reaching out to pat him comfortingly on his shoulder, right above where Dick’s arm was still curled around it like a warm blanket - albeit one with the tensile hold of a python. “They’re all crazy, but only in the good ways.”

Duke scoffed as he slipped ahead of them and started taking the stairs two at a time. “It’s funny how you say that like you’re some kind of exception to the rule.”

“Bold words, little brother,” Cass called after him. He only shouted back from the top in a booming voice, his words echoing down the narrow stone stairway dramatically.

“Am I not Batclan?”

“Oooh, is that a new thing we’re doing?” Dick asked excitedly. “Somebody catch me up, I demand context. I smell a story there.”

“It was Jason’s fault,” Tim said automatically. Dick nodded.

“Sure, that tracks. Continue.”

Bruce trailed after his brood of batlings and birdlets, sidling over to where Barbara was waiting for the elevator. The latter having hung back to watch the commotion with the air of one taking notes for repurposing in the form of future blackmail material. Her ever extending network of spies and informants made so much more sense, suddenly.

He cleared his throat while they listened to the hum of the elevator’s machinery as it descended to their level.

“I wasn’t really thinking of adopting the boy,” he said. Not at all sullenly, nor with a trace of defensiveness to be found.

“Of course you weren’t, Bruce,” Barbara said. She patted his arm fondly, with all the conviction of a kindergarten teacher whose student was attempting to claim innocence on the matter of a paint disaster perfectly matching the paint stains on his hands.

“I wasn’t,” Bruce muttered as she preceded him into the elevator.

Why did nobody ever believe him?

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nv-rivera · 5 years

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Game of Thrones Flash Fiction CHALLENGE

This week Stop Writing Alone host, Nicole Rivera, is challenging the community to a flash fiction writing celebration of George R.R. Martin’s Game of Thrones. Since Nicole has been all wrapped up in series’ conclusion this month, she decided to bring the obsession to the writing community in the form of a writing prompt and challenge. Your job is to write a flash fiction piece (less than 400 words), using the first paragraph of George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones as a model and prompt. Call in to the Stop Writing Alone Voice line at (646)907-9607 before May 13, 2019 to record your story and it will be shared on the May 16th episode of Stop Writing Alone! This technique of modeling prompt has been called Mimicking a Mentor, and is reminiscent of MadLibs except instead of picking new parts of speech without context, you do so with the intent of completing a short story. Listen to this week’s episode of Stop Writing Alone for a complete description of this technique of writing prompts

Mentioned in this episode:

*Any links to Amazon are affiliate links. Using any of these links to make any purchase on Amazon will support STOP WRITING ALONE.*

StoryDam http://storydam.com/

StoryDam Modeling Monday Prompt description http://storydam.com/2012/07/30/writing-prompt-modeling-monday/

#StoryDam on Twitter (tune in Thursdays at 8pm EDT for a chat) https://twitter.com/hashtag/storydam

SO YOU WANT TO BE A WRITER by Vicki Hambleton and Cathleen Greenwood https://amzn.to/2PPqLa9

MadLibs http://www.madlibs.com/

A MadLibs APP http://www.madlibs.com/apps/

A Game of Thrones audiobook https://amzn.to/2GWJgX1

A Song of Ice and Fire book set https://amzn.to/2LhlM32

And now for links to all of the GoT thingies Nicole has around her house these days:

Nicole’s Mother of Dragons t-shirt created by @halfbothered in Etsy https://www.etsy.com/listing/676714767/game-of-thrones-mother-of-dragons?ref=shop_home_active_8

Game of Thrones mini music box https://amzn.to/2Lr5xRo

Game of Thrones coaster set https://amzn.to/2DIpfSj

Game of Thrones wines https://www.gameofthroneswines.com

White Walker Johnny Walker https://www.johnniewalker.com/en-us/our-whisky/limited-editions/white-walker/

Winter is Coming Poster https://amzn.to/2Le8GUb

Awesome toy dragon https://amzn.to/2ZQsa4I

Awesome Eagle Talon toy castle from Imaginext https://amzn.to/2GOOeUA

Buy Nicole a coffee (AKA support the podcast!) https://ko-fi.com/stopwritingalone

Places to connect to the STOP WRITING ALONE community and introduce yourself:

Stop Writing Alone FB Page: https://www.facebook.com/stopwritingalone/

Join the Stop Writing Alone with Nicole Rivera FB Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/2205774733034348/

Stop Writing Alone website: https://stopwritingalone.com/

Join the Stop Writing Alone email list: https://mailchi.mp/fcbe414431f5/tawgiveaway

Nicole’s Instagram (be prepared for lots of #momlife exposure!): https://www.instagram.com/nv_rivera/

Nicole’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/nv_rivera

The Stop Writing Alone voice number (call to introduce yourself!): (646) 907-9607

The EVERYONE CAN PODCAST crew. Here’s a list of podcasts made by my classmates coming out of Cathy Heller’s ECP course. This is one inspiring, creative, and informative bunch:

The Soul Mammas Podcast https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-soul-mammas-podcast/id1393133041?mt=2&fbclid=IwAR1tjUxnEcrG1q_5m35ZzCduaS4fZJT2cYHl53CaWevMuRlcuvxBI6AFb3s

How in the HELL Did I Get Here? https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/how-in-the-hell-did-i-get-here-the-podcast/id1448137091?mt=2&fbclid=IwAR2GyOaw93q3IplQLaF3_GZyzbgwEoxZFzB-uNQAoThKKghAKKCrVKYYohQ

Creativity School https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/creativity-school/id1447571085?fbclid=IwAR28GwcZ9Tu81dH7aLtxFoX68-yYEisH3socPrcjmbN0Xk-YY3REgQ9L1Fc

The Ready Pause Go Career https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-ready-pause-go-career/id1446761976?mt=2&fbclid=IwAR0GXU0O9TjFUcpTTIx_qfypkV1oizQwE_nBjD8hAW4G7x6PXq9PYwgs5IY

Food Tribe https://itunes.apple.com/gb/podcast/food-tribe/id1440417232?mt=2&fbclid=IwAR0dADVs36_TgBDzSHIBmFB5JhY6wgag9RpnaX5B8NWjVvB1QTB7Cz5tkjU

The DaddyBe Podcast https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-daddybe-podcast/id1447237794?mt=2&fbclid=IwAR1wUDvNi9dl3vvWzuGPlGydgxiU7evJWKYJrjY-cgrfaWRPRF_xsralitU

I Have Dreams Dammit! https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/i-have-dreams-dammit/id1449508412?fbclid=IwAR0hmiKzF2ABgaqGwQVskxF-OQTV14v9uj1kTlLydvqFvST3kySb76YrKVw

Lessons from a Quitter https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/lessons-from-a-quitter/id1412305413?mt=2

Do the Damn Thing https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/do-the-damn-thing/id1437481006?mt=2

Creative Cravings https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/creative-cravings/id1451813556?mt=2&fbclid=IwAR3pbdpDTUdZHiowOls8Ixf03l4XraMUaB4bS66F3b9LQYrBe-p3uA6XpMo

Elder & Wiser https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/elder-wiser/id1453289708?fbclid=IwAR34ZTDVUcdIcHtt9tA1b67Z-WhmDtzM2GnTC8x4huJaS-YOowi1ij1Od2o

Hustle Heartbreaks https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/hustle-heartbreaks/id1453207903?fbclid=IwAR2NAhma5OpBfR7P-XjMymAvDJhWVcvnizb5TqjZ5IncJIH4e8U49ai9nh0

Find Your Glee With Dinah G https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/find-your-glee-with-dinah-g/id1451375805?mt=2&fbclid=IwAR1_c5kV2wvsaFxwDe7zCMpyx047mtHl4eqskA0rc-FaPoIw-Hi8p84TYH0

Fiercely Human https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/fiercely-human/id1458152113?mt=2&fbclid=IwAR2naSYYKVM_alyHraRPfggoxpA_UrRVVTw8HhIW8X5PT76bJxYUaqgEIOE

And our teacher…

Don’t Keep Your Day Job https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/dont-keep-your-day-job/id1191831035?mt=2

Check out this episode!

#Writing #writing group #stop writing alone #writing podcast

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rockinrollercoast · 6 years

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What are some specific abilities that are unique to each coaster?

[ this post has actually been in my drafts for a while, so thanks for sending an ask and reminding me to finish it! here’s a basic power guide for the cp coasters. ]- blue: projects light blue energy, mostly in the form of shields and healing magic. not weak by any means, but hardly ever goes on the offensive.  - cedar: earth-based magic. dirt, rocks, small plants, etc. enriches others’ powers using his. can make an opponent feel relaxed (think mantis from gotg2)  - corkscrew: navy blue, white, or red magic that comes in circles or swirls. spiral shields, spiral “cuffs” around her ankles, etc. can also hover-fly at high speeds, dizzying the attacker.  - gemini: red and blue energy magic. can make opponents see double and can stretch their body apart a bit. surprisingly resilient.  - wild: nature-based. must “piggyback” off of cedar’s energy. can grow vines, flowers, small trees, etc. can also spark small “campfire” flames and has an intuitive knowledge of nature. only fights if cornered.  - dragon: basic dragon stuff - fire breath, magic roar, etc. mostly uses his large size to intimidate opponents.  - magnum: smoke-based. has flamethrowers in her hands and jets in her feet to not only scorch opponents but also to create smokescreens to jump in and out of. very heavy hitter melee wise.  - vengeance: as mean streak, his powers were electricity-based. it came out of his limbs as he fought, with or without his cane (which extends into a staff). he still has similar powers, but now his electricity is a deep red.  - raptor: extremely fast flyer. ultra- and infra-sonic screeches capable of incapacitating anyone. sharp claws. uses wings to blow opponents away temporarily. extremely keen eyes.- rougarou: dark green and bright orange magic. howls that can paralyze. sharp claws and strong hind legs.  - ex: smoke-based - must “piggyback” off of magnum’s powers. like wild, only fights if cornered. quick and nimble.  - millennium: projects blue energy. strong shields capable of taking massive blows. energy orbs could knock down someone twice his height. can separate and pull back his limbs to stretch. possibly a tiny, tiny amount of future vision based on his time-related theme.  - wicked: water-based magic. can summon it or use existing water. impeccable balance. unable to be dizzied.  - dragster: fire-based magic. lobs flames at opponents. melee attacks to end all melee attacks. extreme speed.  - maverick: big as a draft horse, agile as a mustang. one kick will send you flying. gallops almost as fast as raptor flies. ambient smoke drifts off his body. eyes that could pierce the soul.  - gatekeeper: golden magic that blinds and dazzles, but also heals. almost as fast as raptor. wings that could kick up a storm. huge eagle talons in the front for slicing, strong lion legs in the back for bruising (can switch up alignment of her limbs - can be all eagle, all lion, or different in front than in back). defensively the strongest coaster due to her obligation as the.. well. the gatekeeper.  - valravn: deep purple and bronze wind-based magic - think a cold wind coming out of a cursed forest in a fantasy rpg. wings for days. nimble. sharp claws and beak. naturally intimidating.

#anonymous #powers

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theafrodeity · 5 years

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Church Belles - Part 3

I glanced at the chrome clock on the wall once again. Only five minutes had gone by since the last time I had checked. Why does time move so slowly when you’re not having fun? Also why did we still have clocks with Roman numerals which delayed how long it took your brain to process time by at least another 2 seconds. The sheer irony of it all! I shifted around in my seat and grunted audibly. Ok, maybe I needed to calm down. “Sena, was there something you wanted to add to that?” Oko raised his bushy eyebrows at me. “No, I think we’ve gone over all our concerns. I’ll draft a letter of agreement and send it over to you by Friday.” My response was shrill as I tried to hide my impatience and irritation. “Sounds wonderful! Me daa se[1].” Mrs. Koranteng beamed, slamming her red talon-like acrylic nails on the conference room table. “Ok, let’s go over their sales numbers again so I can be sure I understand it.” It took all of my will power not to roll my eyes.

Had it been any other day, I would have been thrilled to be in Mrs. Koranteng’s presence. She was such a powerful force in Ghanaian second-hand goods trade, president of the Makola Market Women’s Association, and the main distributor of most household brands in the country. Her diamond rings almost blinded us as the rays of sunlight reflected off of them. Everything about this woman glistened and screamed opulence, from the stone beads bordering her gigantic kaba[2] sleeves, right down to her white teeth which contrasted her smooth glowy dark skin each time she gave me that wide I-have-fuck-you-money grin. Our most valued client, no doubt, and I was impressed by how quickly she had turned her inheritance from her late husband into a fortune at 42 years. Her constant show of affection and warmth masked how meticulous and ruthless she could be in negotiations. Growing up in the busy streets of Kumasi had toughened her up into becoming a master haggler. Her hands were slightly callused, perhaps remnants from an early farm life. Still she was comfortable with patiently letting the experts talk in circles before interjecting with tough questions or a final well thought out plan.

Today’s meeting was no exception. We were providing legal counsel for a new chain of supermarkets Mrs. Koranteng’s company, GyeNyame[3] Inc was acquiring and had presented a very detailed proposal. However, I quickly realized that this meeting might drag on longer than expected since Mrs. Koranteng did not want to spend a single pesewa[4] above what she considered to be a fair price. Then suddenly she glanced at her phone, smiled to herself and changed her mind. “Actually, I have to leave now but let’s schedule another meeting soon. I’ll review them with my accountant tomorrow. Thank you so much Mr. Quartey and Ms. Kondoh.” I could have hugged her in that moment but instead Oko and I shook hands with her and walked her to her Porsche. On the way back we speculated about whether the message on her phone had been from the young actor she was rumored to have been dating. Oko was a cool boss; very down-to-earth with a calm confidence. If he weren’t already married, we could have made a great couple because there was such an ease with our conversations and we rarely ever disagreed about anything. I glanced at my phone and noticed 5 missed calls from Carla. I was late for our bi-weekly nail appointment so I said goodbye to Oko and dashed down the hallway to head out to lunch.

Thirty minutes later, warm bubbles were caressing my feet and Akua the owner of Luxury Nails & Spa was diligently filing my finger nails. “You can’t keep me in suspense any longer. What happened?!”. Carla’s dramatic tone made me chuckle. She was sitting in the chair next to me. Her curly hair was cropped low and dyed blonde. She was wearing a loose colourful graffiti t-shirt which hugged her bra-less C-cup bosom, over ripped jeans shorts. For a second, I let the envy wash over me as I glanced down at my crisp white long-sleeved shirt and grey pleated skirt. Carla sold decorative pieces and modern African print clothing at the Art Centre and sang at the Jubilee Jazz bar to an audience of wealthy politicians on weekends for a living. She was able to afford a nice home and got to wear whatever she wanted during the week, while I worked 60-hour weeks in a skirt suit and still lived with my parents. However, I felt fortunate to still have one of my childhood best friends to hang out with routinely. Like the dating scene in Accra over the age of 30, female friends were also slim pickings as they all disappeared into domestic life after marriage. Somehow, fun edgy Carla insisted that she was living vicariously through me and kept pestering me for details about my date with Fiifi.

“What do you want me to say? We had a nice dinner and some wine and talked about life.” I avoided her eyes.

“Girl! I wanna hear about dessert though!” I burst out laughing at her ridiculous imitation of an African American accent.

Chills cut through my belly, the kind you got on a roller coaster ride, as flashes of the night before came back to me. I was hunched over the back of the sofa and my black dress had ridden up above my waist. Fiifi paused for what felt like a lifetime behind me before pulling my panties to the side and holding on to them like an equestrian gripping on to the reins of a prized thoroughbred. He whistled at the sight of my naked derrière and I felt a cool breeze against my exposed skin. Without warning he grabbed my waist and pushed up against me. The delicious pain shot through my abdomen, my thighs, then down my leg as I felt the first short thrusts. He started off with a slow rhythm, then gradually picked up speed until he was slamming into me. The clash of my wetness and wobbling behind against his muscular thighs created a slurping slapping melody that drove us both wild. “Please” I whispered urgently through gritted teeth. I wasn’t sure what my pleas were for but he seemed to understand because he smacked my ass in response and it sent fresh ripples of ecstasy through my body. He let go of my waist and gathered my braids into a pony tail pulling them towards him and arching my back. I screamed as the thrusts got deeper and felt a little ball of fire growing in my stomach causing me to hungrily push back against him. My vaginal walls instinctively clenched around his throbbing member trying to absorb every ounce of sensation from each movement. Out of nowhere he stopped and bent over to kiss me. I moaned and kissed him back hungrily.

“Seriously, you’re not gonna tell me?” Carla was jabbing at my shoulder now, snapping me out of my reverie. Akua had stopped filing my nails now and was waiting to hear my response too. “Fine, we might have made out a little bit.” I conceded, still flustered. Akua returned to her filing, evidently bored.

“Sena!! You’re so bad. You guys are like a thing now. When’s the wedding?”

“Hehehe. Oh we’re taking things slow. He literally just got divorced.”

“Good point. Things could get complicated. I think you should just try and have fun. You’re always so uptight.”

“Here we go again. Not all of us have sugar daddies sponsoring us low key.” I teased, knowing full well that Carla preferred women. Still she had gotten pregnant five years ago with a former minister who helped set up her shop.

“I wish! I get a few tips here and there but Amina is starting kindergarten soon and that means I need to step it up and make some more money.”

“Wow, she’s grown up so fast. Are you going to reach out to Jessica?”

Jessica, Carla and I had been dorm mates at St. Maria’s High School. Jessica had always intimidated me with how strictly she adhered to the school rules and how often she would scold Carla and I for being late to mass or for not making our beds before class when she was appointed school prefect. Somehow, she and Carla had gotten along fabulously even though Carla was the biggest deviant in our class.

One night I had snuck out of class during prep time, our mandatory night study session, to take a nap in our dorm room. Light sucking sounds greeted me in the darkness as soon as I opened the door - the silhouette of two young women rolling around on Carla’s bed playing out before me. Jessica and Carla panicked when I let out a cough thinking it was our house mistress. They later begged me not to tell a single soul and I had remained tight-lipped for over a decade. Nevertheless, Jessica had never forgiven me for walking in on them and had only grown more distant over the years as if it were somehow my fault for discovering their secret.

“She’s Sister Jessica now, don’t forget.” Carla corrected me. “Yes, I have an interview with her on Friday. Wanna come with? I might need backup.”

“Err…ok. If you insist. I’m still not sure why even you need to go through an interview process to enrol your child.” Carla knew Jessica and I didn’t quite get along. We had even less in common now that she was a nun and the headmistress of a catholic preparatory school.

“Oh I think it’s just a formality. Any excuse to see me, I guess.” Carla and I both giggled knowingly.

[1] Means Thank you in Akan.

[2] A festive traditional blouse for women

[3] A popular saying meaning “Except with God”, a longer translation meaning something can only be accomplished with God’s help

[4] Lower unit of Ghanaian currency, no longer in use.

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write-something-every-day · 5 years

Text

I hear the cries from space. My wounds will not heal. Crucify my demons and leave me alone. They proclaim, this time blood. Next time fire.

When we die we don't turn into angels. No. We turn into moths and fly towards the bright light, where we get burned.

Once even I followed the lost prophets. The prophets hear only the wind blowing through the desert and the sound of their own ego. I know the sounds of the desert. That's where I was raised. I can hear the sounds for what they are.

Monks go down the path to the oasis. Unlocking a door to the garden. Surveying its beauty. Locking the prophets on the outside. To die in the sandstorm. Deserts can be a place of glorified death. Buried beneath the hot, dry sand. Scorpions eating away at the truth. The wind. The fire. All that remains is stone.

We were born with no memory of where we came from. It’s all energy. It’s all living. Life is a roller coaster ride. Hang on tight through every whim. There is no such thing as good or bad. God grants no salvation for our soul; we give ourselves the salvation we request. A dime to the homeless. A donation to public broadcasting. Recycle the Pepsi can. We are the ones living. These are our lives to do with as we please. We only get one chance in these bodies to follow our bliss.

Being alive is only a transitional space. In life we are only moving from one realm into another. There will be no pain or suffering in the next stage.

We are our own. Solitary. The firstborn owl.

Flames will spread. Coyotes howl. Wind will blow. Hear my call.

I don't die for you. I die for my silhouette against the moon. And a glass of a dry, full bodied Merlot. Live for the experiences that life brings.

The hardest person to like, is yourself.

Do you love yourself? Do you at least like yourself? Self-loathing. Pounding on the window. Breaking glass. Letting the blood flow. Cleansing the wound.

A shadow on the ground. Stalking. From the helicopter above. Circling. A rescue mission. People screaming. Crying. Pain and sorrow. Agony of the human spirit. To call upon the strength of the magnificent. The lion's roar. A lion in the sky. Casting his shadow over me. A gryphon. Eating away at the hawks last legacy. Talons full of red lust.

The man wearing a hat approaches the door. Unaware of what meets him on the other side. Should I explain to him that he'll never be allowed out? A captive of Heaven. Never to experience the laughter and trials of life for evermore. Never to make love. Or eat ice cream. No walks in the park. Visits to the zoo. Golf games. Pizza. Books. Movies. Sunshine. Running. Jumping. Playing. Back flips. Water. Birds. Clouds. Life.

Passing one another, without even a glance.

Babies taking their first steps. Not realizing they've ran a marathon in Greece. In other bodies. Getting used to their new bodies. New size. New self. Unsure of how they got there.

I soaked in the blood. My flesh fed on the nutrients of others. Osmosis. The fat messiah. Gurgling. Tearing away at limbs. They fed me.

I asked them to leave. I can collect my own food. But they must worship me. I have no say. They give me their sacrifices. I must accept.

Graciously. For our souls are one.

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