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bloodsong1Go check them out on DeviantArt for fan comic goodness. Labyrinth, Phantom, Le Mis, Middle Earth, Dr. Who, Dresden, it's all there for giggles, great stories, and Inspiration.
Then again, His Royal Sparklyness has been a Muse of mine for YEARS & always around this time of year.
Once a week, she walked past The Apartments. The cluster of buildings had to be capitalized, due to the aura. As a Reiki master, she knew auras. The complex simply REEKED of magic, of potential, of Otherness. She had seen...things. On the roof, trampling the grass, suspicious smoke from the basement windows. She had heard Voices. Powerful, pleading, angry voices. But, it was the Potential that drew her feet to the buildings and tickled her mind. Possibility. Potential. What stories were played out, edited, or completely rewritten behind those windows? What treasures waited beyond the door? She wanted to know. She knew better, craving such knowledge was Very Dangerous. Didn't matter. She was a Jellical Cat in human form.
Perhaps it was the moon, or the stars, or a Story longing for life that carried her onto the property instead of standing on the sidewalk watching. Each step brought a heady mix of Fear ad Anticipation. When she got near the tree, Fear won and she threw herself against the steady trunk, clinging to it.
"What are you doing?" A dark, sensuous male voice asked. She flinched and pressed her face against the bark. She knew that voice. It tickled her mind every Autumn, begging for a Story, a Story where he got what he wanted. He didn't always win. He chuckled, now directly behind her.
"Let's see who we have here," He purred. A snap of fingers and she was spun against her will, caught in his magic. She glared up at him.
"So this is where you live now, Goblin King?" She spat out the words. Fight a Story with a Story and her story had much more pain then his. Rather, it did until she saw his face. A Voice, an image recreated over and over by various artists simply did NOT prepare her for seeing her irksome Muse. His eyes really were different, his mouth a cruel smirk and the aura was saturated with glitter. She gritted her teeth against the rush of fan girl longing.
"Oh! It's you!" He sounded pleasantly surprised. Gritting became grinding. "Is it the Harvest Moon already? Where does the time go?"
"Blown on the wind with the leaves, trickling with the stream and exhaled by mortals and non alike. Time Is," She snarled, a trapped prey hoping aggression would prompt consideration. But this was Jareth, the Goblin King, and her offense only encouraged the cruelty.
"Of course YOU would know, my reluctant Writer. I have so many Ideas for you."
"Keep them! I want no part of yo..." He pressed a gloved finger to her lips and she nearly fainted. The Power! The Potential! It BLED through him into her, past her defenses and into the empty, broken chamber of her heart. The invasion encouraged fury. She slapped the hand away and ducked under his arm, eager to escape. Muses are never kind. Her feet froze after three steps.
"Give me what I want and I will give you your dreams," He purred, reaching over her shoulder to dangle a crystal. A soft sob caught in her throat and she wrenched her eyes away, staring over his arm at the Apartment Building.
"You can't," She said softly.
"I am the Goblin King! It's in the job description." A faint huffiness threaded through the voice. She shook her head, closing her eyes to avoid the crystal.
"You can't bring back the dead."
"I could have it arranged." Oh, he was back to purring. She banged her forehead against his arm and hissed as more Potential flooded her heart.
"No you can't! Not even the Angels can! And even if you could," She folded her arms and put her nose in the air, still carefully NOT looking into the ball, "I won't pay your price."
"But I ask for so little!" She twisted her body as far as she could and pointed a finger in his face.
"YOU HAVE SO MANY FANGIRLS WRITING YOUR HAPPY ENDING I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS PLACE ISN'T DROWNING IN HALF FEY BABIES!" She shouted. He backed up a step, releasing her feet. She overbalanced and toppled to the grass. While the Goblin King laughed, she stood up, dusted herself off and tried to walk away. Again. She made five steps before she was stopped by him poofing himself in her way. She sneezed from the glitter.
"I may have legions of fangirls, but few and far between are the ones who love AND understand. You, Reluctant Writer, have the name, the love and the understanding. Besides, you called ME."
"FOR ONE BLOODY DAY!"
"You have yet to reject me. You call me with your thoughts, with your desire for magic, with your heart. I know what I am to you."
"An archtype. A manifestation of belief."
"A punching bag."
"Wha?" She blinked up at him. He looked petulant, of all things!
"You call me and deny me my story. You vent to me and leave nothing in return. I lost the game, you lost your husband. We are both broken." She clenched her fists, rage filling her again.
"YOU HAVE A CHANCE!" She screamed, unaware of the attention they were garnering. "You have FAITH and LOVE and DESIRE. You get what you want from so many women and probably a few men too! I DON'T HAVE THAT!!! I NEVER WILL!!"
"You could, if you accept my offer." He rolled the crystal around his fingers, images flashing inside. She slapped her hands over her eyes.
"Your price is too high, Goblin King."
"Such a pity."
"HEY! Leave her alone, glitterpunk!" A new voice said. She peeked out between her fingers and managed a small, bitter chuckle.
"Even here, you have her."
"I do not have her. I am toyed with." Another blast of glitter made her sneeze several times. When she lowered her hands, a pretty brunette was offering her a tissue.
"Hey, I don't know how you ended up here, but it's probably best if you leave. This place...isn't normal." She accepted the tissue with a nod.
"No, Miss Williams. It's not and will never be." She looked up and couldn't suppress a smile at the huffy looking barn owl on the branch above her.
"Do I know you?" Sarah Williams asked. She shook her head.
"No. But from one Sarah to another, if you do truly love him, then tell him and make him happy. And if you don't, then kill him and take the throne."
"Wha...How can...How can you say such a thing?!" Sarah Williams retreated a few steps, horrified.
"You keep what you kill. And my world fell down five years ago. It will never be rebuilt." She nodded to Sarah, waved to Christine and Erik the Phantom and walked off the property. At the edge of the sidewalk stood two angels, or rather, Az and Crowley. Az shook his head at her, Crowley clapped her on the back.
"Don't do me any more favors," She snarled as she kicked Crowley in the knee. The Fallen Angel rubbed the abused joint.
"You could have taken his offer."
"And spent my life slaved to his crystal until he couldn't maintain it anymore and everything imploded. No thanks. I'll take my chances with the Real World. I've survived this long." Az nodded and unzipped the air. She walked through and woke in her own bed.
"Don't tell me truth hurts, Glitter Boy. Because it hurts like hell."
Then again, His Royal Sparklyness has been a Muse of mine for YEARS & always around this time of year.
Once a week, she walked past The Apartments. The cluster of buildings had to be capitalized, due to the aura. As a Reiki master, she knew auras. The complex simply REEKED of magic, of potential, of Otherness. She had seen...things. On the roof, trampling the grass, suspicious smoke from the basement windows. She had heard Voices. Powerful, pleading, angry voices. But, it was the Potential that drew her feet to the buildings and tickled her mind. Possibility. Potential. What stories were played out, edited, or completely rewritten behind those windows? What treasures waited beyond the door? She wanted to know. She knew better, craving such knowledge was Very Dangerous. Didn't matter. She was a Jellical Cat in human form.
Perhaps it was the moon, or the stars, or a Story longing for life that carried her onto the property instead of standing on the sidewalk watching. Each step brought a heady mix of Fear ad Anticipation. When she got near the tree, Fear won and she threw herself against the steady trunk, clinging to it.
"What are you doing?" A dark, sensuous male voice asked. She flinched and pressed her face against the bark. She knew that voice. It tickled her mind every Autumn, begging for a Story, a Story where he got what he wanted. He didn't always win. He chuckled, now directly behind her.
"Let's see who we have here," He purred. A snap of fingers and she was spun against her will, caught in his magic. She glared up at him.
"So this is where you live now, Goblin King?" She spat out the words. Fight a Story with a Story and her story had much more pain then his. Rather, it did until she saw his face. A Voice, an image recreated over and over by various artists simply did NOT prepare her for seeing her irksome Muse. His eyes really were different, his mouth a cruel smirk and the aura was saturated with glitter. She gritted her teeth against the rush of fan girl longing.
"Oh! It's you!" He sounded pleasantly surprised. Gritting became grinding. "Is it the Harvest Moon already? Where does the time go?"
"Blown on the wind with the leaves, trickling with the stream and exhaled by mortals and non alike. Time Is," She snarled, a trapped prey hoping aggression would prompt consideration. But this was Jareth, the Goblin King, and her offense only encouraged the cruelty.
"Of course YOU would know, my reluctant Writer. I have so many Ideas for you."
"Keep them! I want no part of yo..." He pressed a gloved finger to her lips and she nearly fainted. The Power! The Potential! It BLED through him into her, past her defenses and into the empty, broken chamber of her heart. The invasion encouraged fury. She slapped the hand away and ducked under his arm, eager to escape. Muses are never kind. Her feet froze after three steps.
"Give me what I want and I will give you your dreams," He purred, reaching over her shoulder to dangle a crystal. A soft sob caught in her throat and she wrenched her eyes away, staring over his arm at the Apartment Building.
"You can't," She said softly.
"I am the Goblin King! It's in the job description." A faint huffiness threaded through the voice. She shook her head, closing her eyes to avoid the crystal.
"You can't bring back the dead."
"I could have it arranged." Oh, he was back to purring. She banged her forehead against his arm and hissed as more Potential flooded her heart.
"No you can't! Not even the Angels can! And even if you could," She folded her arms and put her nose in the air, still carefully NOT looking into the ball, "I won't pay your price."
"But I ask for so little!" She twisted her body as far as she could and pointed a finger in his face.
"YOU HAVE SO MANY FANGIRLS WRITING YOUR HAPPY ENDING I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS PLACE ISN'T DROWNING IN HALF FEY BABIES!" She shouted. He backed up a step, releasing her feet. She overbalanced and toppled to the grass. While the Goblin King laughed, she stood up, dusted herself off and tried to walk away. Again. She made five steps before she was stopped by him poofing himself in her way. She sneezed from the glitter.
"I may have legions of fangirls, but few and far between are the ones who love AND understand. You, Reluctant Writer, have the name, the love and the understanding. Besides, you called ME."
"FOR ONE BLOODY DAY!"
"You have yet to reject me. You call me with your thoughts, with your desire for magic, with your heart. I know what I am to you."
"An archtype. A manifestation of belief."
"A punching bag."
"Wha?" She blinked up at him. He looked petulant, of all things!
"You call me and deny me my story. You vent to me and leave nothing in return. I lost the game, you lost your husband. We are both broken." She clenched her fists, rage filling her again.
"YOU HAVE A CHANCE!" She screamed, unaware of the attention they were garnering. "You have FAITH and LOVE and DESIRE. You get what you want from so many women and probably a few men too! I DON'T HAVE THAT!!! I NEVER WILL!!"
"You could, if you accept my offer." He rolled the crystal around his fingers, images flashing inside. She slapped her hands over her eyes.
"Your price is too high, Goblin King."
"Such a pity."
"HEY! Leave her alone, glitterpunk!" A new voice said. She peeked out between her fingers and managed a small, bitter chuckle.
"Even here, you have her."
"I do not have her. I am toyed with." Another blast of glitter made her sneeze several times. When she lowered her hands, a pretty brunette was offering her a tissue.
"Hey, I don't know how you ended up here, but it's probably best if you leave. This place...isn't normal." She accepted the tissue with a nod.
"No, Miss Williams. It's not and will never be." She looked up and couldn't suppress a smile at the huffy looking barn owl on the branch above her.
"Do I know you?" Sarah Williams asked. She shook her head.
"No. But from one Sarah to another, if you do truly love him, then tell him and make him happy. And if you don't, then kill him and take the throne."
"Wha...How can...How can you say such a thing?!" Sarah Williams retreated a few steps, horrified.
"You keep what you kill. And my world fell down five years ago. It will never be rebuilt." She nodded to Sarah, waved to Christine and Erik the Phantom and walked off the property. At the edge of the sidewalk stood two angels, or rather, Az and Crowley. Az shook his head at her, Crowley clapped her on the back.
"Don't do me any more favors," She snarled as she kicked Crowley in the knee. The Fallen Angel rubbed the abused joint.
"You could have taken his offer."
"And spent my life slaved to his crystal until he couldn't maintain it anymore and everything imploded. No thanks. I'll take my chances with the Real World. I've survived this long." Az nodded and unzipped the air. She walked through and woke in her own bed.
"Don't tell me truth hurts, Glitter Boy. Because it hurts like hell."
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Date: 2015-10-25 02:06 am (UTC)