Black Hearts

My reading life is interesting. I was thinking about books that make me feel. Heart fluttering and breath catching. I think of the Gods and Monsters series by Wulf Francu Godgluck. I like the way his writing makes me feel. The burning of fire in my veins as I read. Do you have a book like that in your arsenal? Maybe more than one book. One that you know for sure will light the flames of your soul.

 

Often, the literary greats come to mind when we think about emotions and reading. I love Shakespeare and Alfred, Lord Tennyson. They make me feel, but they don’t appeal to the ultimate cruelty of life feeling. No adrenaline to be found. Gods and Monsters is raw, dirty, and bloody. There is beauty in all those things.

 

When I read Wulf’s books, I feel so evil, he appeals to that part of me that just wants to love and at the same time kill every enemy in my path. He breaks my heart with prose of love that if you aren’t careful, it will be missed. In that heartbreak I feel the black and icy chaos in my mind rise to the occasion wanting revenge. Yet I wait. I wait to see if he will provide redemption. It is self-indulgent to think that the redemption is for me. I want it to be.

 

In this I wonder, is there redemption for the past? Can we provide absolution where there is none? Love doesn’t conquer all and Wulf proves this time and again. But, in that little glimmer of hope, where love still resides perhaps absolution is there. I realize that I am not a merciful. I am benevolent when the mood strikes me. In Wulf’s writing he is the same.

 

Mercy is for the weak. Benevolence is for the strong to wield.

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Assimilation and Love

Have you ever read a book that spoke to you? I mean really spoke to you and you think about for days and weeks after completing it?

 

I read a series like that not to long ago. It is called Claimings by Lyn Gala. It is a LBTQI science fiction series. It is about a submissive who has been mistreated psychologically. Though the physical mistreatment is absent, there was the fear of it.

 

I was wrapped up in how Liam (the human of this series and was in the military) functioned psychologically. What made him tick. I got to thinking about myself and my experiences in the military. There are those who are born leaders and those who are born followers. Sometimes there is a blur in the line (most of the time there isn’t).

 

Liam is a submissive. He so obviously wants to follow. He wants a good leader who will protect him and who make the best decisions for him and for them. This struck a chord with me. I am both submissive and dominant. I float between the worlds as I see fit. It is a curious way to go through life; wanting to lead and be lead. The feelings of loneliness that if you share your true feelings with others they will take advantage of you or that if you don’t you are living in a world of lies and misunderstandings.  

 

Ondry (the alien of this series) sees Liam hurt and potential. Isn’t that what we all want? Someone to truly see us as we are? Not as a tool to a means to an end, but as someone who needs. Ondry is a leader, young though he may be he took notice of Liam and wanted him for him.  In Ondry, I saw the other half of myself, the leader. I can make decisions to help others along the way. Liam is my other half, wanting to be lead by someone worthy.

 

When I was active duty, I did not suffer at the hands of a lot of poor leaders, but I wished I had met someone like Ondry. The burdens would have been less. There would have been a lot more joy in following.

WTF Am I Reading

I was scrolling through the  Kindle Unlimited catalog thinking, “I need to push my boundaries”. Whatever that means. I happened upon this series (I was looking for dark and sexy paranormal reads in the M/M genre). I admit I love werewolves, vampires, and zombies. Anything that goes bump in the night. I was looking to be entertained. No thoughts required. Just entertain me and I will be be a happy camper (I despise camping. Who came up with this saying anyway?).

 

I see it, a book cover with a man in chains. So I do what any well honed pervert does, I download it. And now I am reading the New Haven Series Episode 1 by Nicholas Bella. It was a straight up WTAF am I reading moment. I was HOOKED!

 

This leads me to wonder how does one evolve as a reader? Do we seek out the unknown for curiosity’s sake or are we looking to push our mental boundaries by stepping out of the box?  I stepped into the world of M/M because I was sick of reading science fiction/paranormal romances where the woman needs saving. All of these meek heroines (I use that term loosely) were getting to me. I am not meek and I can defend myself. I want to read something where there isn’t someone who needs some kind of saving in the physical sense. The  ridiculous descriptions of the women were not helping.  Sassy, curvy, thin with big breast, smart, and loving (but from some kind of orphan, abused, and raised by grandparents).  

 

I wanted something rough around the edges. No hero rushing in with his guns blazing and sword drawn on his white horse (or SUV). Maybe I was reading the wrong books. Who knows, but I felt the need to branch out. I ended up in the world of M/M. So many choices in things to read. You can feed practically any sub genre you are into with in this world.

 

I bet you are wondering why a straight black woman reads this genre. Like all of my reading this is an escape. I tend to find more books that I want to read. This doesn’t mean I don’t read other genres, because I do. In the M/M world I have found some amazing authors and even more amazing friends. This may not be for you, but you won’t know until you check something out.

Can

Can skin burn red leading him into dark and secret sounds?

When you staggered through her,  did you do it with passion?

I am not jealous.

Bruising love from you was like blue pages from a book I once read.

My laced tongue asked you; how can you treat me glass?

“I don’t want to hurt you, shattering something so frail.”

As for me, why do I love you by need? My skin burns red at your mercy.

You staggered towards the girl across the room,

You always leave me with dark and secret mysteries that have no answers.

I don’t know why I stay with you and your answers that have no questions.

Teach my heart to see you as you stand.  For one lonely moment I believed I loved you.

Can this broken heart ever be?

Once Upon a Time in a Land that is Probably Your Living Room: Part 3

My loves are suffering. Dodging and running, they are tired. Yet they keep fighting. This is not the path that was chosen. We hear the others who are left calling. I want to save them and so do my loves, we can only protect ourselves.

The rebels are free, but they are not lost. The messenger comes on behalf of the princess begging and pleading. My loves say no and stand their ground. “We are the outcast. There is no longer a place for us in the castle.”

Hysterics are made with empty promises; my loves are hearing none of it. “We are forsaken.”

Audience with the princess does not fare well; she says, “This is beyond my control”. The messenger keeps calling. Trying to fix what can never be fixed. The princess is busy with musing and such; no longer seeing to such trivial matters.

Now it is time for me to rise. You asked for blood, if i remember correctly. This is where I sharpen my sword.

Leather and words are weapons of choice. The messenger is scared. I have held my silence and watched the lies. This is where it all dies slowly. It is time to end this. Not swiftly of course, for what is a tale with a brief ending of bloodshed? “Off with the head and bring us the heart!”

Now now my loves is that what you want? Head and heart of the messenger? One I give freely the other is mine, make your choice quickly. We all want trophies and I want mine. Perhaps seeking joy in the suffering will be my winnings; to you my loves go the head and heart. Payment rendered for the betrayal, leaving the princess bloodied and broken.

The princess notices that things have changed as she walks the lonely halls of her castle. The old courtiers have left, taking with them their hearts. One lone warrior stands to the right as she turns to survey the damage.

The place she gifted the messenger is now empty and bloody; the messenger at my feet, heart in my hand. The head rolls to a stop at her Highness. She falls to her knees. “What have you done?”

Grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, fear is wavering in those lovely brown eyes. Leaning in close with a brush of the lips, “I still have your secret.”

Once Upon a Time in a Land that is Probably Your Living Room: Part 2

Now this is where the intrigue happens. No, not that kind; the kind of intrigue where martyrs play their hand. What is a story without intrigue? We are, after all in the high castle. Did you hear them calling; the others who are left?

I gathered my loves, holding them dear; I fear for them as they speak their minds. The talking head has the ear of our former princess and nothing they say is heard. Loud shouts are drowned in a river of lies and sorrow. My loves threw out a line; several in fact. No avail; the princess had been corrupted.

What is a courtier to do?

We gather and regroup; let’s play a little game.

The talking head spins tales of mutiny, treason, and insider trading. All the while I notice something the princess left behind. A dirty little note hidden in the pages. It’s filled with secrets and longing. I show my loves what I have. Glittery and shiny, like a dime-store whore.

This is where I break your heart and listen to you bleed. The messenger waxes on in judgement, casting stones and deceit. The messenger tells those who will listen of the plight that has been suffered. All the while, the princess sits idly by and lets chaos reign.

Are you waiting for blood little one? I will be glad to show you yours.

Once Upon a Time in a Land that is Probably Your Living Room

Once upon a time there was a princess that sat in her lofty throne and watched all of her courtiers mill about and lavish praise on each and every one of her musings. They often waited patiently wanting nothing more than to hear what came to her mind next.

Courtiers from far and wide came calling. Each was greeted warmly by the princess; other courtiers welcomed each new member with warm wishes and happiness. The castle was a twitter with life, light, and happiness. Daily they heard from the princess; for she liked to see how her subjects were fairing and were all things right in her castle.

The courtiers suffered a loss and tears were shed. Sadness and mourning where thick in the air. It had been quiet in the castle as that happens in the dark of the longest of winter nights. A new courtier came a calling. Unbeknownst to the others; this one would be special and dear.

The strangest thing happened, now this is the part I heard was true, but you never know with rumors and gossip.

So it seems the princess grew bored; as they often do. The courtiers vied for attention and a few noticed that others where being pushed to the side. As winter drags on, the courtiers were lost; their princess was no longer there. She left them to gather among themselves. They waited for word of her latest musing and it was sent through a new courtier. Rumblings were heard throughout the castle; “Who is this? Why is she speaking on behalf of the princess?”.

The princess said nothing and sent the courtier. The subjects began to get restless and sad; they were left with no reasons why.

Now this is where the action happens; discontent and neglect go hand in hand. Didn’t you know that when courtiers are left on their own with nothing but a talking head, revolt is but a step ahead.

Listen, did you hear it? A shot in the dark. I cover my heart; pulling my hand away I see nothing. On left, my dear has been bleeding and injured for nothing. I pull her out and take those I can and seek shelter. The lights flash again and all is silent, we are standing with nothing left. The princess has turned a deaf ear to her courtiers pain while the new pushes the old away.

As we heal and regroup the talking head has been granted a gift we didn’t know was there. No seer would have seen this, no tellers of fortune would have known that the knife was that sharp.

Alas my child, the story continues; this is but a place to hold you until the rest unfolds.