mangledmouth:

i got a gig, telling stories to a gang of witches
they sit semicircle round me, cross legged and i tell them
every mundane detail of my day, draw out my fears
and shakes and angers and small, desolate disappointments
like strings of sugared candy. recount momentary crushes
on strangers in alleyways, on buses, in half-open coats
they’re all like—500 years old, give or take a decade
they don’t get these things anymore. some part of you dries up
so they just listen, and then they take me to the door and they put
eighty dollars in my hand, from a chest in the corner
piled high with cash, in layers of color, some older, some foreign
and i think about breaking in. but they could kill me
so easily, and they pay me over minimum wage, so i just smile
and cry on the bus, and feel odd thinking about telling them
next week, about crying on the bus.

i’ve got this girl, a couple weeks now, and i didn’t even mean to
swore i wouldn’t date when i got into this part of town
it’s like being a chip in a hurricane, marveling at the massive
unable to get your feet on the ground. but i got this girl
she’s got teeth made to pierce the important veins, but she swears
she’s seven years dry and she has bags of red stuff in her fridge
so I believe her. but, you know, they say vampires can do that
put thoughts in your head, so maybe i don’t believe her.

i think a lot about love
how it gets in your veins, parasitic
how it fucks up your brain
i think a lot about how it comes on you
about how it pulls the rug out
how it blows foundations open for the marrow
i think a lot about how i don’t want it
i think about that while she puts me on the floor and
puts her mouth on my neck, but doesn’t bite

love’s always coming for you. it’s an invisible force
sure and utter as the divine right of kings
as the bus charging fifty cents more every year

against my will, i am sent to bring you to dinner
against my will, i am in love with you
against my will, i am opening, i am opening
against my will i am opening the door

– urban fantasy; r.m.s


Tags:

#storytime #poetry #witches #vampires #death mention #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what

glumshoe:

glumshoe:

glumshoe:

glumshoe:

I love when fantasy worlds have some nonsensical magical force that prevents technology from working.

Like… how does the magic determine where technology begins? I mean, a gun is just a little house for tiny explosions to live… what part of that process is interrupted by magic? Does gunpowder simply not combust in Magictopia?

What about the wheel? Bifocals? Condoms? Skateboards? Bicycles? Vaccines? Pyramids? Does a flint-knapped knife not count as technology?

Shit.”

“What seems to be the matter?” asked the Elf, in that same insufferably airy tone that would have made it a fortune doing voiceovers for shampoo commercials.

Khalil sighed miserably. “Phone’s dead,” he said, scowling at the shimmering city. “Figures. Of course it lets me take a thousand blurry cat pictures and then konks out on me the moment I find something worth photographing.”

The Elf laughed. Khalil suspected it was meant to be a scornful laugh, but his companion had the emotional inflection of an automated voice messaging system, and it lacked punch.

“Foolish human,” said the Elf. “Your ‘phone’ will not work here. No technology functions past the borders of Faerie.”

If Khalil let his eyes unfocus and used his imagination, the expression it wore could almost pass for smugness. “Now hang on,” he said. “That’s a fucking lie. No way is that true.”

“Foolish human, I cannot tell a l—”

“Oh, shut up. You say no technology works here, but you’re clearly wearing some kind of ritzy elf sword. Are you gonna try to tell me that they grow on trees here? Obviously you’ve got smelting and forges and metallurgy. You’re wearing woven fabric, and you stole a bunch of medicine from that pharmacy in Detroit. We rode my bike over that troll bridge and it didn’t stop working.”

“That’s different,” protested the Elf, a shallow groove between it’s eyebrows betraying profound distress. “That’s not technology.”

“It is, though! ‘Technology’ doesn’t just mean guns and electron—”

There was a hand clamped tight over his mouth, smothering him before he had even registered movement. “Hold your tongue before I cut it out of your head,” hissed the Elf in his ear. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.

It released him, and Khalil stumbled back, staring wildly. It had moved terrifyingly quickly. No doubt it could make good on its threat if it cared to—six years of boxing and he still had no hope of defending himself against something that could move like that.

“What magic doesn’t know can’t hurt it,” said the Elf in a low and strangely unsteady voice, sounding for the first time like a living being. “Be careful what ideas you give it. Some things seem right, and that’s what matters.”

The Elf must have grabbed him hard, Khalil realized, tasting the tang of blood where his lip had been torn open on his teeth. He swallowed, and stared at the Elf in horror. “Are you telling me,” he said slowly, “That your entire magical system, the physics of your entire world… is based… on vibes?”

The Elf grimaced and did not meet his eyes.

As the Elf’s screams grew louder and more frantic, Khalil’s mind alternated between two distinct but equally insistent convictions: first, that this was the stupidest plan anyone had ever advised in this world or any other; second, that it was going to work.

The part of him that was a twenty-seven year-old peace activist recoiled in disgust even as the ten year-old pirate fanatic vibrated with excitement. If I live through this, he thought, I’ll have to tell my mom that all those hours glued to the History Channel weren’t wasted, after all.

Very gently, he tipped a little of the powder down the barrel of the gun. He had no way of knowing the appropriate amount to use and simply guessed; after all, if his suspicions were correct, it might not matter much in this world.

He pried the moldering leather bag out from under the skeleton’s arm and reached inside. A few dozen lead balls clinked together under his fingers, along with a little bundle of greasy cloth. With trembling fingers, he tore off a square of fabric and wrapped it around one of the bullets. Like a swaddled baby, he thought grimly, and pushed it down the barrel until it was nestled snugly over the gunpowder.

Almost ready, he thought. He dropped a pinch of powder into the flashpan on the top of the gun, flicked the frizzen back into position, and rose to his feet.

“Step away from the Fabio impersonator,” he said, kicking the rotten door off its hinges. “Or I will shoot you with my gun.”

Keep reading

“You have the name of a poet,” said the queen, studying him cooly with pupiless eyes as green and unsettling as a neglected swimming pool. “That is a good thing, Khalil of Ann Arbor. We are fond of poets here.”

The queen was beautiful, but she was not attractive. No, thought Khalil, that’s not right. She was attractive—in the way that the lights of beachside cities attract baby sea turtles away from the surf; attractive in the way that hot stoves attract curious children’s hands; attractive in the way that trays of beer attract garden slugs. 

Keep reading


Tags:

#storytime #fun with loopholes #fae

prokopetz:

“Fear not, for neither man nor woman, neither–”

“Okay, let me stop you right there. Nobody ever lists the things that aren’t going to kill you unless they’re trying to hide a loophole.”

“I’m not sure I understand.“

“Bullshit. You’ve totally foreseen what’s going to kill me.“

“… not necessarily.”

“You haven’t necessarily seen what’s going to kill me, or what you’ve seen isn’t necessarily going to kill me?“

“You know, you are just sucking all the fun out of this.“

“Truly, I weep for you.“

“Okay, fine. A duck. You die because of a duck. Happy?“

“You’re serious.”

“I literally can’t lie. Why do you think I do the ‘neither man nor woman’ routine in the first place?”

“Well, of all the undignified– wait. Noun or verb?“

“Oh, you’re good.”


Tags:

#storytime #fun with loopholes #death tw

The Fair Unknown’s Guide to Court

{{Title link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015779 }}

arthurianum:

So you’ve survived the first step, which is getting to court in the first place. It’s harder than it sounds. Horrible things lurk on the roads, preying on would-be knights. Congratulations are in order.

(Congratulations.)

(Really, well done. I hope things continue to turn out well for you.)


Tags:

#Arthurian legend #storytime

Six Times You Knew What Everyone Was Thinking (and one time you didn’t):

sadoeuphemist:

1.

The King sits you down with his other two advisors, has you close your eyes, puts a hat on each of your heads. The hats will be either red or white, he says, with at least one red one. The first to speak up and name the color of their own hat wins the prize.

You open your eyes, see the other two advisors both with red hats staring at you. You all study each other, thinking. Silence. Silence. No one coming to a conclusion.

Ah, but in their silence it is obvious: if your hat were white, surely one of them would have figured it out already. Your hats all are red, of course.

2.

You pass through a tunnel in a group of n where n>2 friends, wind blowing through your hair; you emerge from the darkness to see each of your friends with a smudge of soot on their foreheads. You laugh. You cannot help but laugh. They look hilarious! The moment they realize they have a smudge of soot on their foreheads, they will wipe it clean, of course, but for now all of you are laughing. You all will keep laughing as long as there is a spot of soot left to be seen.

You think, How inseparable you are from your friends, how your minds all work according to the same rules of logic! You can imagine what they are all thinking, right now, in their laughter; and they of you; and you are imaging them imagining you and so on ad infinitum. You watch them laughing and are looking into a hall of mirrors.

You think this is what knowing is.

In any case, so long as your minds all tick along at sufficiently different speeds, eventually, your faces will all be clean.

Keep reading


Tags:

#storytime #philosophy

brazenautomaton:

hey for those of you who liked the smut-theory blog you may want to go check out and spread this link right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394464

I wonder what it contains

I wonder if someone will help me come up with a better summary


Tags:

#hell yeah!! #storytime #story ideas I will never write #recs #sexuality and lack thereof #today (well‚ yesterday) in reasons I never unfollow a blog for inactivity alone #(note: these are not mere crossposts‚ but revised and expanded versions)

archiveofidentityconstellations:

i would never work as a gothic heroine which is a shame because i’ve got the looks for it but the firm presence of mind to gtfo from anything unpleasant

 

archiveofidentityconstellations:

The Phantom: I have heard you sing. I have heard you, my child. I am the A—

me as Christine Daaé: [under my breath as I gather my things hurriedly] Our Father, Who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name

 

archiveofidentityconstellations:

rogue master of the manor: [begins making flirtatious veiled threats towards me]

me, a poor governess: [immediately makes plans to get a different job]

 

archiveofidentityconstellations:

ruined aristocrat who has a dark reputation spoken about only in whispers: May we speak alone for a moment?

me, Aware of things: No thank you, we’ve only just met. My aunt is my chaperone and a lovely conversationalist. Please do come and discuss her seventeen dogs

 

archiveofidentityconstellations:

dark brooding guardian: [makes borderline asinine comments about my blossoming beauty]

me, packing my bags: Time for finishing school!

 

archiveofidentityconstellations:

passionate possessive lover: You shall be mine! [yanks on my arm]

me: [immediately lays down heavily like a corpse]

passionate possessive lover: I am very strong, I can still ca—stop it with the noodle arms!!

me: [slunks down further]

 

archiveofidentityconstellations:

he keeps trying to grab my waist but everytime he leans over me my enormous hat knocks him right in the jaw

he keeps struggling to pull me up but he steps on my dress every two seconds

he lifts my arms over my head and tries to jiggle me into sitting up on my knees but i just looked like a squashed horse stuffed into a dress like :p

he tries to take me by my leg but i just flop back down and my petticoats are silk and therefore very slippery

eventually he gets fed up and calls a stableboy over and the stableboy tries to take me up by my head, yanking at me at the neck, and then my passionate possessive lover is like “no you little idiot! here take one of her feet” and dashes over to take me by the arms but as he leans over my enormous hat knocks him in the jaw

they’re trying to slowly drag me over to his carriage but all of the townspeople have stepped out of their houses and shops

people are slowly looking out of their carriages like “what the fuck?”

meanwhile the stableboy has his grip on my leg and the passionate possessive lover is carrying me by my arms like a ragdoll with his head thrown back so he doesn’t get knocked in the jaw again by my enormous hat and my derrière is skidding against the dirt making a lady-shaped line from one end of the street to the next

 

ebonyheartnet:

“Kidnapping. This is literally kidnapping.”

“Well, yes, but… yes.”

“Someone should do something, right?”

“Oh, only if they manage to actually get her in the carriage. I want to see how long it takes for him to give up.”

“Really?”

“Son, she could decapitate him with that hat.”

“How do you know?”

“That’s what happened to the last ass who actually got her in the carriage.”

 

caffeinewitchcraft:

“This is not very elegant,” my possessive ex-lover pants. With his head tilted back, I can’t see his face, but I can see the bead of sweat rolling its way down his jaw.

“If you sweat on me,” I say. pointing my toe so that my foot runs the risk of slipping out of the shoe the stable boy is clinging to, “I’ll use the hat.”

My possessive ex-lover swears and digs his nails into my arm when my derriere catches on a cobblestone. “Aren’t you already using the hat?”

A boy standing just outside his front door, close enough to have heard my threat, whoops. “She says she’s going to use the hat!”

The ensuing cheer from our onlookers puts the first hint of unease in my ex-lover’s eyes. 

 

a-humble-waffle:

The crowd begins to chant. “Use the hat!” they cry in unison, “use the hat!” I grin wickedly, looking my possessive ex-lover dead in the eyes. “Whatever the people want.” His eyes are huge with panic now. I only grin wider, glare more fiercely. I am going to use the hat. This is a grand spectacle now, and he will not see the finale.

 

dubiousculturalartifact:

#this went places and I’m here for them all  (via @stiltfox)


Tags:

#storytime #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #rape tw? #kidnapping cw #murder cw

a list of very good greek mice names from the battle of the frogs and the mice

thoodleoo:

thoodleoo:

  • Ψιχάρπαξ- crumbsnatcher
  • Τρωξάρτης- breadnibbler
  • Πτερνοτρώκτος- hamnibbler
  • Λειχοπίναξ- platelicker
  • ᾿Εμβασίχυτρος- bowl-visitor
  • Τυρογλύφος- cheesecarver
  • Τρωγλοδύτης- hider-in-the-hole
  • Τυροφάγος- cheese-eater
  • Μεριδάρπαξ- sliversnatch
fad82684da9a8220c99ce09a535fb6deac49e557

the battle of the frogs and the mice! it’s an ancient greek parody of the iliad (some ancient sources even claim that homer himself wrote it, which is impossible but also incredibly charming to imagine)

the plot is that crumbsnatcher, the prince of the mice, stops for a drink of water and meets the king of the frogs, who offers him a tour of his kingdom. but when crumbsnatcher is riding the king’s back through the pond, a snake appears! the frog king goes under the water to avoid it, drowning crumbsnatcher in the process, so the mice declare war on the frogs

it features all the things you’d expect in an epic (epic language, scenes of putting on armor, and even an aristeia for the mice), and it has the most delightful conclusion when zeus prevents the mice from killing all the frogs by throwing a thunderbolt at them and, when that doesn’t work, sending crabs to scare them

sententia antiquae has a delightful translation of it here!


Tags:

#interesting #history #storytime #mythology

thathopeyetlives:

1. “Raven” was an occasionally-encountered name for a girl in the contemporary period, and “Ebony” would be at least recognizable as a name. The other elements of this name are flatly atypical.

2. During this part of the War Period, this character’s hairstyle would not be considered shocking, but it would be viewed as garish and nonconformist.

3. A contemporary music performer known for a melancholy style of music and a gothic and dramatic aesthetic. The title of the work probably comes from one of her songs. However, her aesthetic and attitude has little in common with that in this work, being much more conventional and less garish.

4. A member of the contemporary band “My Chemical Romance”, also notable for a “gothic”, melancholy, and macabre aesthetic

5. i.e. the speaker considers him to be handsome and attractive; despite the pornographic material later in this work, the word “f_______” is here used only as an expletive.

6. Vampires as romantic figures had been increasing in popularity over this period, with a trend away from malicious monsters towards seductive but more benevolent figures, romanticized by their capability of being terrible.

7. Strangely, despite the characterization of this character as a Satanist, “witch” should here be characterized as having meaning similar to “wizard” and not “idolater”, “sorceress”, “maleficar”, or other practitioner of what we today recognize as “witchcraft”. The background material to this work constantly faced accusations of being satanic by an uneducated reactionary public to whom the difference between technology, wizardry and witchcraft was not meaningful (”witch” was sometimes even considered a female equivalent to “wizard”!), which completely failed to diminish its popularity.

8. It is important to understand that “goth” as an aesthetic, counterculture or subculture had a completely different meaning in the contemporary period than it does today – what remains similar is the love of the melancholy, the macabre, the dramatic, the romantic, and contempt for conventionalism. In the mid-to-early-late War Period, “Gothic” people were associated with contempt for morality, certain types of sexual display (usually of a shocking and sometimes fetishistic type), various forms of concupiscence, and a fairly significant connection to the occult and even to outright Satanism, though the latter was all but universally an affectation (this is true of most Mid War Period satanism). See contrast on p 321, The Gothic Movement In the Catholic Church. Moreover, the “gothic” aesthetic as described by this character is a stunted and over-the-top form that has also been corrupted by the counterculture-commericalism that was universal in the Late War Period.

9. A clothing store mostly specializing in counterculture-commercialized and faddist apparel. Critics accused it of being a mercantile vulture that fed by turning more honest and vivacious countercultures into fads.

10. It was almost unheard-of for women in the Mid or Late War Period to wear corsets, but they appeared in the Gothic subculture (which itself heavily borrowed from sources such as Victorian-era clothing, including mourning dress). However, what Enoby is describing is probably not actually a true corset, but a “corset top”, which is essentially a laced bodice. Either would be worn with neither chemise nor overblouse.

11. Probably a nondraped skirt that barely passes her wrist.

12. Hose, stockings, or tights in the form of a wide-open mesh

13. Probably not actually military issue boots; these were tall, heavy black leather boots with lacing all the way up.

14. This character’s outfit would be considered inappropriate for school in the Late War Period, but not shocking to Late War Period mores except by its garishness.

15. Originally meant students at a university-preparatory school; with the extremely high percentage of students seeking to attend university in the Late War Period, this came to mean a subculture of young people who adopted a highly conventionalistic and professionalistic attitude and sought admission to the prestigious and traditionalistic universities in the Eastern United States, often without academics being their true passion. Such people were often viewed as social climbers and sometimes attracted contempt from both their less-professionally-oriented peers and from those who were true intellectuals. 

16. Also known as “giving the finger”; a very rude gesture in the War Period as it is in ours.

18. This phrase went through considerable popular memetic mutation (as did the entire tract): “It was _______ <weather> so I felt ________. A lot of _______ stared at me. I ________ them.” See extra material 34c.

17. I.E. “How are you today?”, “how are you feeling?” as a greeting.


Tags:

#My Immortal #fanfic #storytime #oh my god