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mhdiaries · 4 years

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SDCC 2015 Kieran Valentine Diary

May 1st

When I left Monster High after Draculaura’s Sweet 1,600 birthday party, I was angry, humiliated and stinky from falling into that pit of eternal body odor. I stank so bad, Mom wouldn’t even let me in the house: I had to sleep in the guest room above the garage. Looking back, I can see it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. Even my considerable powers to charm were no match for the power of the stench that surrounded me. My powers slowly weakened as I was deprived of what sustained them: the love I selfishly took from others. I was in a stench-induced imprisonment - rarely leaving the garage - but it allowed me time to do some serious thinking, and I realized I wasn’t being true to myself. Then one day there was a knock at my door, and I opened it to see a little old goblin woman with a cane staring up at me through thick glasses. “I’m Mrs. Goblin, but you can call me “Mrs. Goblin.” I’m a friend of your mother’s.” She said, “you need to get out of that room, and I need some help, so let’s go.” She turned and walked off, and, with nothing left to lose, I followed. It turned out that she ran an unwanted-creature shelter and couldn’t keep up with all the cleaning, feeding and daily upkeep. It also turned out that she had no sense of smell. “Lost it back in ‘72,” she told me. Mrs. G. ran me through the daily routines and gave me the tour. “You can start today,” she said as she handed me a mop and a bucket. It’s hard to believe I agreed, but I didn’t have any other options. The shelter was home to an unusual collection of exotic creatures: gremlins, flying monkeys, lap dragons, miniature manticores, and many others that had been picked up as strays or turned in by monsters who didn’t want them. Even though the work was hard, and not always pleasant, I began to look forward to it. In fact, I usually felt more energized after I finished a day than when I started. I felt my powers returning and every day I got stronger. Eventually, I mentioned it to Mrs. Goblin who snickered, “You emotional vampires never get it - stolen love is just empty calories. I’ll never sustain you for long.” She could tell I still didn’t get it. “Love that’s freely given is the most powerful source of energy in the monster universe. You’ve been coming here every day, taking care of these critters, showing them kindness, and the only thing they have to give you is their love - and believe me, they have a lot to give.” I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. I must have been standing there looking stupid because she said, “Close your mouth before the the flies get in and go clean the flying monkey cage. They’ve been throwing stuff again.” I was in a daze. Why had no one ever explained this to me? Rather than dwelling on it, I was just happy I finally knew.

May 3rd

I now know that I did it - stealing love - because I thought that’s want an emotional vampire was supposed to do. But it never felt quite right. I thought if I kept doing it, it would eventually feel right. But it only made me angry and frustrated. Then when Draculaura called me - well, Toralei, really - I thought that if I could get the heart that got away, it would change me and everything would be fine. But I was just a real pain in the fang to everyone and made a fool of myself. So I’ve come to a conclusion: being myself has to be easier than not being myself, right? Back then, I hated the thought of who I really was, and that conflict made me become someone who wasn’t me. It’s time to be true to myself, but it’s scary.

July 1st

Today was my one-year anniversary at the shelter. As I left the garage, I ran into Mom. She sniffed. “You don’t stink anymore.” It was true - the stench was gone. I gave Mom a hug and told her it must be due to what I’d learned from working for Mrs. Goblin. I thanked Mom for telling her I needed help. Mom looked at me strangely, “What are you going on about? I don’t know a Mrs. Goblin.” What? I ran to the shelter but when I got there it was boarded up and empty. How could this be? I crawled through a broken out window. A thick layer of dust covered everything and it looked like no one had been there in years. Then I noticed a piece of paper on the table where Mrs. G. used to sit and drink her tea. It was a not addressed to me:

There’s nothing more I can teach you. The rest will come when you put what you’ve learned into practice. Know that you are loved for what, and who you are.

Sincerely,

“Mrs. Goblin”

P.S. Do the right thing or I’ll come back and make you clean out flying monkey cages again.

July 2nd

I decided that I would try and “do the right thing” by heading back to MH to try and make up for my mistakes. I thought if I hid in the shadows and helped the couples of MH, you know be a Cupid to what was my destruction of love, I could make a difference and they would see that I was a changed monster. Well, my intentions were good, but things did not go as I had planned. I kinda, no, did, mess things up. Luckily, it all seemed to work out in the end, I guess, just not as I had hoped. I don’t think any of Draculaura and her friends will ever really trust me. And while I hope one day they can see I have changed, I know it will take time, too. I guess I can’t expect them to just forgive me right away. I will say one good thing hopefully came out of it. While attempting to hide in the shadows I bumped into a student I didn’t recognize. He said his name was Spelldon Cauldronello, he had only been at MH a couple weeks as he had been traveling with his older sister. Meeting him totally made me space and forget to send a text that was supposed to help Clawd. He asked if I went to MH and I said I was just visiting, but I would love to go to MH one day if I can. He said he’d keep me up on the groanings on around the halls if I wanted, so I gave him my number. At least the trip wasn’t a total stake. I do wish I could figure out how to make it up to Draculaura and her friends though. I know now that real friends help each other with their problems, not try to solve them for them.

July 7th

I was tempted to stay in my room today and treat myself to a monstrous blue funk, but, instead, I walked aimlessly outside until I found myself sitting on the beach watching the sun go down. That’s when I noticed something unusual partially buried in the sand. I pulled it out and die-scovered it was an ornate lantern caked with seaweed. I brushed it off... and got the shock of my unlife! The lantern began vibrating and glowing, like I had awakened something inside and it was not trying to get out. I dropped it like it was hot and fell back as smoke swirled up and out of this thing. When the smoke cleared away there was a ghoul floating above me. “I am the djinni of the lantern. What is your wish?”

July 10th

The djinni’s name is Whisp and we have something in common: the direction of our unlives changed because of Monster High. We shared our stories and struggles; neither of us has made the beast decisions, but we both want to be better monsters. We talked so much that Whisp had to remind me I had three wishes. I asked her I should wish for and she said, “I cannot tell you what to wish for, nor can I tell you what not to wish for, but I can say be scareful what you wish for.” I laughed and told her that sounded ominous. She didn’t see the humor in her statement. “Wishes are tricky things,” she replied, “They often have a mind of their own and don’t always come true in the way you expected.” I thought for a moment, and wish I could go back to Monster High and fix the things I had broken. Whisp rose into the air, her eyes glowing, and said, “As you wish.” Instantly, I was back at Draculaura’s Sweet 1600 party, only I was dressed like a repairman - tool belt and all. Headless Headmistress Bloodgood stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “You need to repair the barrier around the pit of eternal body odor before another monster falls into it!” This wasn’t what I meant by “fixing what I had broken,” and there was no way I was getting close to that pit again. That’s when the other students saw me. A very large minotaur pointed his finger at me, “There he is again! Throw him back into the pit!” I wished myself out of MH and back in my room just in time to avoid another dunking. Two wishes down, one to go.

July 12th

Whisp has been very apologetic but she needn’t be. I wished for something so general that it could have been granted in numerous ways. What I really wanted was a chance to do something unselfish for the monsters I hurt - to give and not take. When I started working for Mrs. G., there were times I wished what someone else would do the dirty work so I could just play with the creatures. Now I know I just wished it to be easy. Whenever I was in the middle of something particularly loathsome, Mrs. G. would cackle, “Sometimes work stinks, doesn’t it?” The first few times she said it, I wanted to drop everything and go home. But I stuck it out, and, although I still have a long way to go, I’m a better monster for it. Unlife is a lot of work and I guess some problems aren’t meant to be solved by wishing them so. Speaking of wishes, I need to think of something non-ambiguous for the last one...

August 1st

I summoned Whisp today to grant my final wish. I admit I put it off because I was being selfish. I’ve never had a friend like her, and once my last wish is granted, the lantern will move on and I will probably never see her again. I considered freeing her from the lantern, but I don’t think she wants that: she loves being a djinni, appearing in new places and granting wishes. But I know she gets lonely at times, so this was my wish: “Whisp, I wish we could always be friends.” Whisp rose up, her eyes glowing: “As you wish!” I could see her smiling as she turned to smoke and returned to the lantern, which shot up and disappeared. I thought for a second that my wish wasn’t granted, but then my iCoffin lit up and I noticed a new app icon that looked like a little mirror. I tapped it and there was Whisp! Now, not matter where in the monster universe she is, we can talk to each other! “Yes, Mother, I’m talking to myself down here.”

#monster high #monster high diary #kieran valentine #sdcc 2015

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mammons-sugarbaby · 4 years

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Hmmmm... What about a hc about the brothers visiting a zoo?

(I'm also going to reference the paws and claws event which was when I started playing....at the tail end of it lol)

MC's begging finally paid off and Lucifer cracked, agreeing to go on an outing to a human world zoo for the day, and of course the other brothers wanted to go where MC was going!

(this got suuuuuper long so I put most under a read more)

Lucifer

⦁ At first he would see it as something that cut into his busy scedule running errands and doing paperwork for Diavolo, but after getting there and seeing MC so excited, of course he'd soften up.

⦁ He'd tease them about acting like one of the kids running around but would 100% enjoy their enthusiasm. He'd take an interest in the wolf exibit, reading the information plaque about wolves and their familial bonds and feel a sort of kinship.

⦁ Of course he's also heard stories casting wolves in a negative light, in one case humans killing many in a particular area to protect their livestock, and an experiment reintroducing them to the area. The experiment went on to show how vital wolves were to the ecosystem and public opinion changed. They were misunderstood, Lucifer knew that feeling well.

⦁ At the end of the visit, Lucifer and MC were in the gift shop and MC picked up a stuffed wolf and showed Lucifer, saying how it reminded them of him. When they put it down and went to look at something else, Lucifer picked it up and bought it, surprising MC with it on the way home.

⦁ "So you'll have something to remind you of me when we're apart." He told MC, giving them a sly smile and causing them to blush. But Lucifer didn't fail to notice how they clutched the stuffed toy to their chest the whole way back, as well as noticing it sitting on MC's bed whenever he would pay them a visit. He'd never admit it, but it made him happy as well as a little jealous that MC slept with it every night. At some point he'd suggest MC could sleep in his room if cuddling the wolf plush wasn't enough.

Mammon

⦁ He wouldn't get why MC would want to walk around in the hot sun and look at animals all day, but once they get there, he gets just as excited as they do.

⦁ He'd ask all sorts of questions about every animal, and make plans on how to steal some and bring back to the devildom, surely they'd sell for a ton of grim!

⦁ Satan has to remind him human world animals wouldn't survive long in the devildom, and Mammon would dismiss him saying as long as he made a profit, who cares about some dumb animal.

⦁ This upsets MC and they scold him and tell him all about exotic animal smuggling, circuses, and other places that used animals for entertainment even if it caused the animal distress. Mammon feels bad and apologizes for upsetting MC.

⦁ But as soon as he sees the tiger, he is once again thinking of ways to get one, not for profit this time, but for himself. He admired the way they excluded a sort of quiet power, a regality, something beautiful and dangerous. He wondered if he could find the devildom equivalent and just how he'd be able to smuggle it into the house of lamentation.

⦁ At the gift shop he sees MC admiring a tiger keychain and when they walk away he pockets it, planning to give it to them later. While leaving he hands it to MC. "I saw you checking this out and I thought you'd like it." He says, cheeks flushing red as he tried to act nonchalant.

⦁ MC is surprised and brings out a matching one and gives it to him, explaining that they saw HIM looking at it and thought how nice it would be to give him a souvenir. MC laughs and says they have a matching set now, causing Mammon to lose what little control he had and he turns into a blushing, stammering mess. He starts rambling about how they shouldn't have spent so much money on something like that, but inside he was over the moon that MC had thought of him and that they now shared matching keychains.

Levi

⦁ He complains about having to go to such a "normie" activity, he has game events going on! And anime to review!

⦁ He's pouty through the first half hour of being there, until MC's constant attempts to include him in their fun finally win him over. He focuses on enjoying his time with MC, taking note of everything they find particularly interesting.

⦁ They reach the exhibit with the zebras, elephants, gazelles, and giraffes and he notes MC's smile drops when they don't see the long-necked herbevore. However he notices a sign that says "Feed the Giraffes!" with times underneath, he checks his limited edition Ruri watch and sees that it's feeding time.

⦁ "Hey, follow me MC." He says quickly, not wanting them to notice the sign. MC gives him a confused look but follows. The crowd gets thicker and MC falls a little behind, and when Levi notices, he grabs their hand and pulls them along, not wanting to miss surprising MC with feeding the giraffes. ⦁ Thankfully they're able to get there before the line got too long, and the take their place. While standing in line, Levi realizes he was still holding MC's hand and quickly lets go, blushing and stuttering out an apology. MC tells him they don't mind and if it's okay with him, they would like to keep holding hands. This makes Levi blush even harder and he holds out his hand for MC to grab.

⦁ "So what are we in line for?" MC asks, bringing Levi back from his inner thoughts about how it was just like that dating sim 'I took my crush to the zoo and we got separated so when I found them I didn't let go of their hand for the rest of the trip and eventually they kissed me in front of the panda exhibit'. Levi tells MC it's a surprise and they'll see in a little bit.

⦁ When they get to the front of the line, a park worker gives them a large cup of feed and explained how to feed the giraffes and ushered them up the platform. MC looked excitedly at Levi and was practically bouncing with excitement.

⦁ After feeding the giraffes, MC throws their arms around Levi and hugs them tight, jumping up and down and squealing about how he was the best and how it was such an awesome surprise.

⦁ Levi thought it would be the perfect chance to kiss MC like the protagonist in that anime, but MC beats him to it and plants an enthusiastic kiss on his cheek, making the shut-in otaku completely lose his composure and become a blushing, stuttering mess.

Satan

⦁ He actually is interested in going to the zoo, he reads a few books about zoos, what makes them good or bad, and about some of the animals that the zoo may keep.

⦁ As soon as he clears the gate, he grabs a pamphlet for himself and one for MC. He starts pointing to places on the map, explaining what order they should view the exhibits so that they would have time to see them all.

⦁ Halfway through MC's stomach growls and they apologize and ask Satan if he minded grabbing a bite to eat at the cafe with them. ⦁ He agrees and they head into the cafe, and to Satan's delight it was big cat themed. The barista was wearing tiger ears, their coworker wearing cheetah ears and when they turned around, MC notice they also wore a matching tail.

⦁ MC and Satan got their food and drinks and sat at a nearby table, while MC ate, Satan filled them in on various facts about the animals they'd seen that day.

⦁ When they get up to leave, Satan notices a souvenir stand and goes to investigate. MC points at a shirt that reads "Big Cat Cafe" with an image of various large cats curling around a mug below, and tells Satan they think it would be fun to get matching shirts. ⦁ Satan happily agrees and buys the shirts, then he suggests MC should try theirs on and MC tells him they both should change and wear the shirts for the remainder of the visit. So they change, and for the rest of the trip Satan can't stop smiling and thinking how cute MC looks and feels slightly smug thinking about how his brothers would react, especially Lucifer.

Asmo

⦁ He didn't really want to go, walking around in the sun for long periods of time was so bad for his skin. Not to mention the smells, he told MC he'd never be able to get it out of his clothes.

⦁ Nonetheless, MC convinced him and being Asmo, he's pulled out all the stops, wearing a gaudy explorer outfit to "fit in", as well as carrying an umbrella.

⦁ He cooed over various animals, saying how cute they were. Not as cute as him of course, but they had their charm.

⦁ It was then they came to the black bear exhibit, the massive creature lumbering over to the edge of its enclosure before flopping down. I seemed to look up then at Asmo and MC did a wave motion with it's paw.

⦁ Asmo went wild, pointing and dramatically exclaiming that "It recognizes my beauty!! No other animal here acknowledged me! This is obviously a creature of intelligence, class, and culture!"

⦁ MC couldn't help but laugh and after Asmo gave them an offended look, they explained that bears sometimes mimic people in that fashion, usually to get treats. ⦁ Asmo waved them off and continued to fawn over the bear. Eventually the bear wandered back inside, presumably to get out of the heat, and Asmo blew it kisses and waved until it was out of site.

⦁ On their way out, Asmo insisted on stopping at the gift shop, where MC bought Asmo a small teddy bear, since "he loved the bear so much". Within the week, a huge box arrived from akuzon addressed to MC and when they opened it, they were surprised to see a gigantic pink teddy bear that was covered in ribbons and bows. Asmo waltzed in and dramatically called "Ta-dah~~!!! Just a little thank you present for my favorite human~"

Beel

⦁ Beel was happy MC asked him to go to the zoo with them, he enjoyed hanging out with them.

⦁ Once through the gate they picked up (more) snacks so Beel wouldn't get too hungry while walking around.

⦁ Beel asked tons of questions about the animals they saw, and what kinds of animals MC liked best.

⦁ When they came to the lion exhibit, the lions were being fed and MC could hear Beel's stomach growl. He apologized and Mc told him not to worry about it, that if he'd like, they could go grab so more food.

⦁ Beel nodded but told MC he wanted to watch the lions for just a while longer. After a few minutes, his stomach growled again, even louder this time. The male lion's head turned towards them and he let out a bellowing roar.

⦁ They both burst into laughter and had to find a quiet area to calm down. Wiping tears from their eyes, MC asked Beel if he wanted to go to the restaurant now, Beel nodded and took MC's hand and they headed off to find out where the restaurant was.

⦁ While they waited for their food to arrive, Beel chatted excitedly about the various animals they had seen and MC asked if there was a devildom equivalent to a human zoo, Beel replied he was unsure. MC asked what his favorite exhibit was and Beel eagerly replied the lions, because of the moment they shared together.

Belphie

⦁ This boy complained the whole time MC was trying to convince him. At first he was extremely opposed to going to the human world in the first place. Besides, animals usually didn't like demons, unless it was the kind they were connected with.

⦁ Then he'd complain and ask what the big fuss was about looking at some animals in cages, it sounded pretty miserable for the animals. It's just like humans to not care about something unless they got entertainment out of it, even at the expense of what ever was entertaining them.

⦁ He complained even while walking around, though did secretly enjoy seeing MC happy. ⦁ After another round of complaining, he saw MC's smile slip ever so slightly, become a little more forced, it not quite reaching their eyes. 'Damn it, I went too far and now their upset.'

⦁ From then on he tried to keep his bitching to a minimum, though he was getting so sleepy. He didn't see how MC thought he could make it through the whole trip without falling asleep.

⦁ Eventually they came to a sort of petting area where various employees showed off various animals and let visitors touch them while explaining about the animal.

⦁ Belphie saw a bench in the corner and made a beeline for it, he sat down and leaned against the wall, promptly falling asleep.

⦁ He woke up to MC's voice calling his name and he reluctantly opened his eyes before he noticed a weight in his lap. Looking down, a fox had curled up on his lap, sleeping soundly. He was surprised and accidentally moved, causing the fox to wake up and look at him.

⦁ But it just sat there, staring at him as if saying "Why did you wake me up?" He knew that feeling all to well. "Sorry for waking you..." Belphie muttered, then slowly brought his hand up and gave it head scritches. The fox seemed to enjoy this and Belphie ran his hand along it's soft fur, noting a kind of harness on it.

⦁ He was so content he didn't realize a zoo employee come up and apologize for the fox's behaviour, that one was always slipping off somewhere. Belphie shook his head and told them it was no problem, but then the employee brought out a leash and clipped it to the fox's harness and clicked their tongue, causing the fox to jump down.

⦁ MC was bubbling over with excitement and envy on their way out of the park, saying how lucky he was that he got to pet the cute fox. Belphie only heard half of what they said before a fox plush outside of the gift shop caught his eye. He turned and headed towards the shop without warning, catching MC off guard. They soon followed after him and saw him looking intently at a row of fox stuffed animals, he seemed to find one he liked more than the other identical ones and picked it up.

⦁ He then asked MC if they could buy it for him, since he didn't have "human money". The laughed and agreed, buying it for him and smiling at how cute he was clutching at the stuffed fox.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #answered #sorry this took so long!#msb writes

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sepublic · 4 years

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Eda the Beast

Well, a horrible thought just came into my head- But imagine Eda transforming into an Owl Beast the first few times, the first few years into her curse. And in addition to all of the horrible stuff she must’ve gone through… Imagine her turning into an Owl Beast and getting out into public; Being mistaken for just a regular beast, and having Animal Control called on her! Imagine Animal Control abusing and mistreating Eda not as an actual person but as a creature, throwing her into a cage, locking her up… Imagine Eda reverting back inside a cage, scared and traumatized... Terrified by the other animals, especially if she’s put into the same room as some! And then they get harsh towards her, and Eda retains injuries from her time as an Owl Beast, having no idea what happened or what’s going on with her…

Imagine Eda having to deal with almost being put down, or captured and sold to some zoo, or Lilith having to rescue her! Imagine Eda recognizing her situation, dimly, and desperately trying to convey that she is a PERSON, not a pet, not a wild animal to be euthanized or experimented on… Imagine some bullies at school, snidely telling Eda that her sleeves should be orange like her hair; Because an animal like her would surely recognize other creatures and be a wonderful Beastkeeper! And any time she does well with beastkeeping magic, this kind of snide remark of, “Of COURSE the Monster Girl knows beasts well!” is made, discouraging Eda and making her feel self-conscious about her skill there, until she just straight-up forgoes beastkeeping magic, with it ruined for her… And don’t consider bullies sneering and suggesting that Eda could be ‘tamed’ with beastkeeping magic, as the animal she really is! Maybe a few bullies from the beastkeeping track try to pull a cruel prank- And of course Eda still wrecks them, but still.

It’d be so humiliating, dehumanizing, and really reinforce Eda’s insistence on being free and not beholden to anyone, least of all Belos…! Maybe it’d give new background to Eda being King’s friend, because she actually sort of gets and understands that feeling of being treated like a mindless animal to own or do away with, and not as a legitimate person. King wouldn’t know how Eda understands, he wasn’t aware of the curse until rather recently- So then it just leads to him wondering why this random Owl Lady is so considerate, what could she POSSIBLY know about his situation?! Perhaps Eda ends up feeling sympathy for some animals and creatures who are abused, because like it or not, they were right to an extent- Being cursed DID give her some perspective on what it’s like for beasts, and grant some very involuntary and dehumanizing solidarity with them.

Maybe people compare Eda to the Greater Basilisk or whatever, as a monster pretending to be a witch, rather than a witch who sometimes turns into an Owl Beast… And how Eda might get mistreated; The apprehension and distrust towards Demon Hunters, of being killed and maybe even chopped up and eaten by them… Objectified and treated like some exotic piece of meat, or some rare pet to own?! The idea makes me sick. Especially since we’ve seen basically what I’ve described almost happen in Escape of the Palisman… And then King taking advantage of Eda’s cursed state in that episode could’ve come across as a real betrayal to her. But on the other hand, King still tried to treat her with some respect, and you can argue that he tends to command and boss around actual people too, so the treatment may not be all that different; Still, it was NOT a good thing, but at least King apologized and legit changed his behavior.

I can see a lot of people who captured Eda realizing their mistake, but then blaming Eda for ‘tricking’ them or whatever! That kind of victim-blaming and gaslighting would really force Eda to affirm her self-confidence, while recognizing her dignity and where she’s been unjustly insulted and hurt, and to step up for herself- Especially after her and Lilith grew more distant, she really had to learn to handle the curse on her own, and probably with Hooty and Owlbert’s help. Thankfully, I can see Hooty being VERY adept at handling Owl Beast Eda… Then again, she DOES attack and disable him in The Intruder; So maybe not.

Maybe he was just caught by surprise, maybe Owl Beast Eda still attacked Hooty, because he’s just THAT aggravating, y’know? Maybe his voice is really irritating to OBE, so while he has the force to handle Eda, he doesn’t have enough of that sisterly, soothing reassurance that Lilith did. Also, Hooty may have been made a while into Eda’s curse, when she’d already figured out how to handle it with elixirs and not transform as often, whereas Lilith would’ve been alongside her for most of the trial-and-error. Regardless, Hooty is recognized, but he hasn’t done much to earn Owl Beast Eda’s love and affection, either…

Still- Let’s not imagine Owl Beast Eda having to go through the dehumanizing fear of being hunted at night, shall we? Let’s not think of some crowd or vigilantes trying to track down Owl Beast Eda into the woods, or worse- Some people try to lynch her! Of course Eda as a witch could protect herself and even kill in self-defense, but as an Owl Beast, not so much… A lot of bias and prejudice could lead to people doubting if Eda was acting in self-defense, or if she was just giving in to her ‘primal urges’ as a violent, savage beast. Don’t imagine Eda having to be REALLY mindful of how she acts or fights, until eventually she goes screw it, I’m rightfully defending myself and I’m a recluse criminal anyway… And really, I can see this kind of prejudice contributing to her being a recluse, alas. Possibly to get away from the torment, and also to protect herself- And maybe OTHERS, in Eda’s mind…

And it just leads to this idea in her head of separating from others to protect them, which culminates in the Season Finale when Eda tells Luz to abandon her to her petrification- Until Luz very much teaches Eda that she helps and heals and doesn’t hurt, by fighting on, while Lilith’s change of heart no doubt means a lot to Eda and impacts her- As does the crowd’s protest for her freedom. I imagine some people in the crowd recognized that there was a divide between Eda and her Owl Beast form- Or at the very least, this wasn’t something she could control and not something she should be killed for, especially if she can handle it with elixirs. A lot of people likely recognized that Owl Beast Eda’s threat to them was being greatly exaggerated, both by local rumors and the Emperor’s Coven. And that teaches Eda that people aren’t scared of her- Or at least, not enough to let her be executed, which means a lot because it shows that others also recognize the worth and rights of others, even if they don’t like that person.

Did Eda feel self-conscious, about people being afraid of her? And how she handled this in trying to sell things to people; How they eventually realized over the years that despite being a criminal, she hadn’t really hurt anyone who didn’t have it coming? Amidst enjoyment of her wares, Morton appreciating her business… Still, after that brief scene in Grom, I can see some kids regarding Eda with fear as the accursed Owl Beast, and it ends up REALLY getting to her, because the opinions of children tend to feel way more substantial than that of adults. Maybe Eda was a little hurt on the inside when Luz ran away from her in fear, because Eda didn’t immediately recognize that Luz was just a human and everyone in the Boiling Isles is scary to her- So it means a lot when Luz calms down and recognizes Eda as not a monster…

And even when Eda DOES turn into a monster, Luz still acts to incapacitate Eda, not kill or escape her; And Luz doesn’t even bat an eye at Eda when she wakes up. Obviously she was also focused on her first spell, but still! Her medical encouragement and tips towards Eda show that this is something that Luz has normalized, thanks to her open mind and influence from Camila; So it no doubt helps Eda REALLY feel like a person, and feel like normal in the proper way… Not in that conforming manner, but in the “Yes you deserve to live you are not an abomination nor a freak, you are VALID” manner. I’m just imagining Eda having once worried about looking scary to people, questioning her own appearance… And that leads to her learning to REALLY appreciate how she looks, and love her body, reclaim it on her own terms and not let others define it for Eda!

Maybe she had a phase where she tried to look more approachable, or changed herself up so people wouldn’t recognize her as the Owl Beast, before Eda just went screw it and fully embraced the Owl Lady aesthetic! Eda wouldn’t let anyone ruin anything for her, so after a period of avoiding beastkeeping magic, for fear that she’s validating and proving the insults that others say- As the feral Owl Lady, she embraces those kinds of spells as well! And I can see her even playing into that fear and apprehension by others, turning it against them- With Eda seeing a bully make a cruel remark about her being an animal or an infectious werewolf, before she bares her teeth and suggests that she really IS; Scaring off her bullies as Eda plays her own messed-up pranks that relate to her status as the Owl Lady.

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house king #the owl house luz #luz noceda #angst #meta

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

Text

A boy, a girl, and their symbiote...

@tangleweave {{xx}}

It’s quite alright that he laughs ~gently~ at her and not just because she loves the shy sound of it, that she feels she could wrap herself up inside of the sound and experience the same warm comfort as when he allows her to occasionally borrow one of his hoodies. There’s always a reluctance that comes with having to give it back even though she knows he needs it more than she ever will but that’s not really the point. There’s also the fact that she’d been trying to be funny after all and Eddie’s laugh held none of the nastiness she can sometimes hear in other people’s tones when they are trying to be mean right to her face as though she can’t understand what was going on around her. But in all the time she has known him, Eddie has never treated her so shabbily. He has been a gracious friend. Kind. Without the condescending feeling she gets sometimes in the social circles she haunts because she has to. Eddie is different in that he listens to her and to the things she never really says aloud. She doesn’t know exactly how he learned to do that, if it’s a skill he’s taken away from his past or if it’s a natural empathy baked into his very being. It’s entirely possible that it’s an organic blend of both, something she’ll think about later. When there’s time to breathe and reflect, which she does a little too often. Takes their moments together and strings them together into a mental photo album where she can chart the progress they have made from just this side of naked hostility to genial silence, from avidly engaging each other onto the rooftop to trying to coax him into her home like some feral creature that he isn’t, because she’s worried about how cold it gets and if he’s eaten a good meal. Because she wants to know he’s safe, that he has someone looking out for him. He deserves that much. And...now. She isn’t really sure what now is.

She’d never really had the impression that Eddie saw her in this kind of light. None of his actions have ever reminded her of the kind of people who want to capture her like an exotic creature to be put on display until the newness wore off and they found that her meagre charms and her unwillingness to be exactly what they wanted did not hold much value to them. He does not see her as some cute childlike thing that needs protecting from the world and maybe especially from herself, either. She might not feel attraction the way most people do, but she’s absolutely sure that he’s never looked at her in the way that makes her feel like he’s devouring her with a single gaze. So perhaps she’s put it out of mind and got on with being friends, taking delight in just spending time with him, listening to the stories he has to offer, and living in those moments. This isn’t exactly that, though, is it?

When she thinks of Eddie ~far more often than she has any right to~ she has a distinct mental image. There is a sadness that always seems to linger in the back of his eyes especially when he thinks no one is watching. Which would lead to him lowering his face and staring into his coffee and the way that his hands would wrap around the cup always felt like he was afraid to let go. Gives him the impression of searching though she’s never sure for what. Sometimes she swears he’s having some internal debate with himself that comes across as starts and falters of sound, that soft-spoken tone that sends shivers down her spine in the best of ways, but still never really becoming words. And in her own way, she knows what that’s like, having so much inside but no real way of expressing it.

Lately though, it’s becoming harder to see him that way. It starts with the way he makes her laugh. Something she hasn’t really done in a long time, and then follows up with thought-provoking questions, and not ones from his list which had been terribly fun. The way he offers to walk her home when he realises she’s afraid of the dark fits in as well, followed closely with the way he curls up protectively around her on the bus or cable-cars. Stupid touristy things he doesn’t seem to mind at all. The keen and sometimes biting observations that he makes of people and the world that compel a shift of perspective. Murmured against her ear, a private conversation that has the power to weaken her knees a little. And more slowly, maybe, she begins to add...other things. How much she likes his smile when he offers it, and the fullness of his lips. How soft they look even when chapped. His eyes again, this time deep and soulful, how they darken in colour, in emotion. How it brings out the sprinkle of the palest freckles across his nose that like hers don’t show very often. She notices how steady, patient, and most importantly, how gentle his hands are. Eddie is, after all, a handsome man if a little rough around the edges. And maybe she really likes those too, a sharp contrast to her own softness. She wants to know what it would feel like to cut herself on them, and if he would kiss the wounds better. Eddie is an orchid, slowly blooming into a beautiful person right before her eyes. A person she wants to nurture and cultivate. Except maybe those aren’t the right words. Again, feelings she has no right to want. At what point do those kinds of nascent wishes become pushy? Seems like some kind of underlying motivation that has been so very carefully orchestrated so that she might take advantage of him? This is the critical part of relationships that are unfathomable to Beth, something everyone else seems to be aware of but that she missed out. Like there’s some kind of manual and it’s written in a foreign language that she doesn’t speak. And what good does it do to become aware of being increasingly attracted to Eddie...when he isn’t interested? She’s never been able to say he’s been less than a perfect gentleman to her. That he doesn’t go out of his way to carefully broach subjects that might make her uncomfortable and then if there’s any hint of distress, to quickly course-correct. If she’s to act in kind, how does she go about asking if maybe he isn’t a little like her? What did her friend call it? A different kind of umbrella, so to speak. She’s never felt an appropriate time has come to try and figure that out in any serious fashion.

Except... It’s quiet now. The wine still lingers on her tongue and soaks into the back of her mind, easing some of the tension right out of her, even if she’s watching him more intently than she ever has before. Wills him to maybe hear that unspoken question as he sits there, comfortable on the couch because the words escape her. He doesn’t recoil from the tap against his leg. Not that she can imagine he would really do that, but one never knows. And sometimes Eddie has odd reactions to general affection, at least from her and her inability to keep her hands entirely to herself.

And despite the myriad of problems she could catalogue, the subtle vocalisation is enough to have her pause precariously on the edge of the cliff they’re on. She can feel the churning of nerves deep in the pit of her stomach. Rogue butterfly wings pounding to be let out or smothered by any other feeling. By itself it should have no power over her except that it does. Makes her want to hear it again at a much closer distance, letting its echo wash over her. There’s such a power to that, one that gains as much as it gives. She can feel it dance beneath her fingertips, the way it feels like he almost presses back into them though she knows he hasn’t moved at all. It’s the wild flutter of his pulse, the song in his blood. It would only take a little pressure to have it gush over her lips and she’s very aware of that. Which is why she doesn’t listen to every instinct screaming for her to do so. She doesn’t want to take from Eddie, but to share. That’s an important distinction, the only one that would ever feel right. His ha comes out hot against her skin, strong. Tells her so much more about him than a hundred conversations, feels like witnessing the birth of islands and the death of mountains, all the life that comes between the two. And just as she’s on the verge of losing herself in the joy and terror of it all, he utters a single word that freezes her to the very marrow of her bones and her heart plunges somewhere down between her knees. Just like that… Eyes widen as she feels the instant backlash of having made a mistake she can’t take back.

She wants to. She should. She should blame the wine and the proximity and the fact that she read into his query wrong, through no fault of his own. That it isn’t his fault in the least. Anything that might make him laugh again and find her silly and that will make him stay. But before she can get the seeds of her apology in fertile soil he continues on. For a moment she finds herself unable to experience anything that isn’t the exquisite ghost of his touch in return. Pressing hers closer as if for one brief moment they both share the same fear and wonderment. And she has no idea what to do about that.

He’s not pulling away. If anything, he’s encouraging her. At least that is what it sounds like. And it all cascades again. And she finds herself briefly leaning into that caress, the rough pad of a thumb just cresting the arch of her cheek bone. No satin could compete with the delicate nature, and if there’s one thing that Beth knows beyond any doubt it is that touch doesn’t lie. As long as she’s known Eddie, neither does he. Not to her, anyway. Maybe that makes this all a little more unforgivable, but she will deal with the guilt and the consequences come morning. No one, even in her wildest fantasies which are very few and far between, more nameless want than anything else, has ever said something so simple but so full of meaning. Or in a way that eats her alive with newly sparked heat. Because the truth is, most people she knows never put her wishes at the forefront of anything, much less something so delicate in nature. “I…” She shifts. Rises up from the floor to pour herself over him, one slender thigh on either side of his hips, as best as the restraint of her skirt allows her to. Her other hand lifts to cup the other cheek, brushes across the soft stubble of his jaw and from slightly loftier a height, she finds herself looking him directly in the eye a moment, her voice drying up in her throat, forcing her to swallow. It’s her turn to search for something that lacks all definition, that can’t be given shape in words.

She’s forgotten how to breathe. Or maybe doesn’t need to at all, her gaze scouring every inch of his face before returning to his eyes. Because the question is still there. Does she want to do this? Yes. More than he can know. Does she know how? In the most basic of biological functions, also yes. Her lashes drift down to shutter green and gold from the world before she gets closer, and settles her lips to his. She catches the lower tier of his lips between her own. There’s still the same heat and the same temptation in doing so, that has not diminished from her earlier exploration but the kiss is far more gentle. Softer. Sweeter. But with a gradation of intensity that mimicked the pounding of bird wings inside of her chest, against the cage of bone surrounding it. Mimicked below as her hips roll into and against his own but doesn’t offer her any more leverage.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Rumors.”

This one is going to be interesting and contains a list of some random and outlandish rumors. Feel free to comment the rumors you have heard about humans and where, in the galaxy, they came from :)

As it turns out, there are a lot of misconceptions in the galaxy about humans especially from those aliens who have not yet seen a human. I, as a scientist, was interested in learning about these different viewpoints and how they diverge from each other because t-- in my experience -- there are many outlandish and sometimes wildly opposing rumors related to their species.

So as a little experiment, I have gone around the galaxy and asked all of the different species to describe a human to me in as much detail as they possibly can thinking it would be an interesting experiment to compare the different sides.

As a disclaimer, this will not be a full list, because I couldn’t get access to some of the species, but hopefully the scientific community might find this interesting.

Bran: Hulking monsters, that’s what I heard, hulking monsters with an immunity to poison. They can walk through water like it’s nothing, and they are absolutely unstoppable. You can't outrun them, you can’t outclimb them. They have a ravening, raving biological urge to hunt and kill. I have a relative who has met a human, and he told me that if you ever run into a human your best bet is to back away slowly. If you run they have a predatory instinct to chase you, so you have to be careful.

Celzex: The humans are nothing special really. Sure they are rather tall, and they have the proper thoughts of mighty warriors, but when you get right down to it they are merely naked giants. They have very long legs, and strangely enough they are not intimidated by our demonstrations of superior might in battle. Furthermore humans are very touchy-feely. They are always trying to touch you when they get the chance, which seems rather odd since they don’t seem to do it to any other species.

Iotins: Humans are like nothing we've ever seen or known. They are almost like magic, did you know that humans can detect, sense, and identify particles in the air at only a millionth of a percentile. There is no way to hide form a human , and if they want to find you they can do it. Humans are always hungry, and if it weren't for GA laws they would probably eat everyone. As far as a description goes, humans are…… bony and lumpy with legs that are too long and fingers that are too long.

Tvek: They’re beautiful…. Beautiful gods. So graceful like when they move they flow like water, when they smile they light up a room, and when they laugh it's like the twinkling of stars overhead. They are so wise, and just and fair and they understand so much that we never could. Humans are so powerful, and they could easily dominate the galaxy if they chose to do so, but they do not because they are wise and gentle. If you ever get the chance to hear a human sing, you should do it because it is as if the creator of all things lent secret power to their voices. Humans have the power to fly you know and they can control the element of fire.

Vrul: Illogical infuriating, and down right annoying in most cases. Even if you were to learn the human language, you would never be able to understand them because often they say things they do not mean or they say something and mean the opposite. Everything they do is in a strange code, like they will be talking about cats and dogs but really be referring to the weather. Not to mention they have a plethora of bodily signals that are impossible to read. They have too few limbs, to much hair, and an excessive amount of extra senses, like particle detection. Everything about humans is aggressive and violent and they should be treated as such.

Tesraki: Well I’ll tell ou about humans. I have heard so many stories that I might as well be an expert. First of all humans are freaky and hairless with massive holes in the side of their head and sharp bones sticking out of their faces that they use to crush their prey. Their skin is supposedly translucent so you can see their innards from the outside, like veins and stuff under the skin. I heard they are all rubbery and stretchy and their fingers have extra joints in them. They have full laws and you can see their bones protruding ready to break from their skin. Humans can hear almost as well as we do, but they can see hundreds of different wavelengths of color. People say that humans drink meat, but I am pretty sure they don’t drink blood. My uncle tells me that you should never sign a contract with a human because they will probably steal your soul. Oh, and never give a human your true name because they might come find you later.

Burg: Humans! Humans are rotting scum, absolute filth. They are a pathetic squishy maggoty creature that wins all of its engagements through cheating and guile. They have venomous saliva and are a walking biohazard. Everywhere they go they shed disease and dead molecules to permeate the air. I am told, if you live long enough with a human, you will be forced to clean your space of germs and dead human particles built up about your home. They have no honor, and their words are filled with lies. Their skin is soft and they hide their skeleton on the inside, and when they talk it is a grating screech all cut up and sharp. Humans are dul creatures, but they are useful in battle because of how durable they are.

Drev: Humans are strange creatures. They are a great warrior race, though they are small and weak in body. They have no armor to speak of and thus are very easy to kill. However, they grow stronger the more limbs of theirs you remove because they will replace them with machines. Humans are much more vicious than any other species we know because they kill to kill they do not kill for honor.

Rundi: humans are an absolute PR nightmare, that is what they are. Every time there is a human involved you can be sure they are going to do something reckless stupid or scary. Make sure that everything in your vicinity is non toxic to humans because they WILL put it in their mouths. Humans are like children, they are curious in a bad way and they have no issue lying to you if they see the need, especially in politics. If you have to oversee a human you will be constantly trying to justify their mistakes or getting them to behave. They are especially annoying in large groups were their social nature creates unusual hierarchies which are difficult to work with.

Prodigum An inconsequential might. A mere trifling interest. Humans are small, soft and weak, However they do have lovely singing voices. I have a colleague who owns humans. He keeps them in a cage and has them sing to him. Really humans are pretty easy to control as long as you feed them and give them shelter. Other than that they are no more useful than an exotic pet.

Gibb (one of the crazy ones): They are dark gods, dark gods concealed within a flesh prison just waiting to be released. They are a creature of immense power and strength being dampened by the hindrance of a physical form. Why do you think humans are so powerful, why do you think humans have an innate sense of danger because they are connected to the ether around them, and they long to return to the embrace of the universe as a being of pure power.

Gromm: To put it lightly, humans are kind of dumb. I mean they are very brave and they are very generous, don’t get us wrong but they are generally bumbling and like fun more than they are serious. I would suggest having a human as a friend but not a work colleague.

Common rumors about humans.

They drink blood

They eat flesh raw

They have control of fire.

They can divine the future.

They cannot pass through a circle made of ground sulfur.

They can hypnotize you with their singing.

They can hypnotize you if you look them in the eye.

They are really a parasite living inside a human meat suit.

If you make a deal with one, you are bound for life

You should never tell one your true name.

If you use their rue name they can hear you and will be able to find you.

They breathe acid.

They are venomous.

They are magic

They are indestructible.

They have wings.

They can smell fear.

You can fend of humans with talismans made of copper

Feel free to add to the list of myths about humans if I have missed some your help would be greatly appreciated.

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casualmaraudering · 4 years

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Do you have any hcs on Lyall and Hope? I’d love to know what your personal characterization of them is.

Hope comes from a very big family - she has three sisters and three brothers, and she's the youngest of the bunch. kind of chaotic with so many people at home, so she's been out and about the neighbourhood and the woods ever since she was little

Lyall has an older sister, but they're not really that friendly. they are friends, it's just usually they do their own thing without interacting much

they met when they were in their young teens and Lyall hated Hope at first

she was a bit of a troublemaker, she had a skateboard, she was bold and very much out there. Lyall was a quiet boy who very much kept to himself and he didn't appreciate the noise that came with her

ofc that didn't last long. sooner rather than later Lyall would look forward to that noisy girl driving on the pavement right below his window. and Hope loved to throw pebbles at his window just to annoy him

they started dating when Hope was 16 and Lyall 15, and they had Remus about a year, year and a half after that (shit happens, whoops)

Hope actually didn't know Lyall is a wizard until she was pregnant. he kind of panicked and whatnot. she took it well tho (and she took advantage of him having magic, of course. she came to really love that just a flick of a wand did the dishes)

despite being very young parents without much of a plan, Hope was very optimistic about the situation. they lived at Lyall's parents (Hope's family wasn't very happy about her having a baby without being married. they'd only get around when Remus is a couple years old) and yeah it was a bit cramped and a bit confusing, but they were happy together

Lyall took a job with the ministry, and Hope started studying magic theory. not something muggles would usually do, but she couldn't find anything better to do and she didn't just want to sit at home and take care of the baby

and she was quickly very brilliant and the theoretical aspect of magic. Lyall got her books, and was her lab rat in case she needed someone with magic to test her theories, but she was really good at understanding everything. she became very successful at spell creation and modification - kind of a private profession, people would come to her if they needed her services, you know the deal

they had a little secluded cabin in the woods. not that much space, but it was cosy. they had enough money to pay the bills, they weren't exactly Comfortable, but it's not like they cared. they had each other, and that was important

any money to spare, they'd put away for when Remus would be older

Lyall isn't really that good at expressing emotions. he's very much what boys were brought up to be - stern, quiet, doesn't know how to express positive feelings or love. He'd take care of Remus when Remus was a baby, yeah, but Remus would run to Hope first if needed a hug or cuddles or whatnot

but still, he's not a bad dad, he's doing his best ok. he sometimes took Remus to the ministry with him to show him around, and he was always the one to check for any monsters in the closet or under the bed. After the werewolf incident, Remus was afraid of the dark, so Lyall made him a little handmade magical lap (basically lumos in a little cute jar - & Remus added some glitter in there too)

and of course, no matter what, they both really love Remus, he's their pride and joy, despite any hardships

Hope got a motorbike from one of her siblings when Remus is around 5 years old. she loves tinkering with it, riding it (Remus and Lyall were both scared of it) - her dad is a mechanic so she loves cars and bikes. said bike will, one day, be given to a certain boyfriend of Rem's 🤔

Lyall was taught how to knit and sew by his mother and sister, so he's usually the one to fix or alter clothes. (and he'd make baby clothes for Remus sometimes, as a side project)

Hope and Remus are basically best friends. they live in the middle of nowhere so Remus has no one to talk to but his parents, so if he's not out in the woods, he'll be with his mum and dad. when it comes to Lyall, their little activity to do together is being in the woods and trying to catch fairies (usually frogs, but sometimes they'd spot some fun magical creatures)

Lyall is much more distressed about Remus going to Hogwarts than Hope is. the werewolf thing and whatnot, and he's worried Remus won't make friends, and also Remus is a part of their life and now the house will be so quiet and sad.

Remus sends them both letters, though. Hope answers for them both but Lyall keeps Rem's letters and rereads them a lot, especially during the fulls

and they're still quite young, so they also travel a bit when Remus is at school. ofc there's not much money to travel to exotic places, but even just taking hiking trips around the country, or walking through the woods

they buy a dog when Remus moves out. it's huge and white, it sheds like crazy, it barks a lot, but at least it helps a little with the void that is their son being an adult

(the next bit is more specific to my personal rem hcs - trans bi remus - so this is just free real estate for those who like that)

they don't really bat an eye when, after second year, Remus comes home with shorter hair - it's not quite down to his shoulders, but almost there. Remus very excitedly tells them about his friend, Lily who helped cut it. then he asks to be taken to the barber and get it cut shorter - "like a boy's". they don't mind either, it's just hair

Remus never grows his hair long again, and after he's back home before 4th year, he tells them everything. says he doesn't like his old name, that Remus is what he wants to be called, that he doesn't want the girls' uniform or the summer dresses.

Lyall is a bit confused at first - he slips sometimes, but he tries his best. and Hope smacks him if he happens to use the wrong name

Hope goes all out, ofc, she's just that kind of person. within a few weeks, Remus's name is officially changed, all of his clothes are replaced (most of his old ones, he gives to Lily). no matter what, she wants her boy to feel loved at home

Remus dates Lily in sixth year - Hope and Lyall can't be happier. they've both met her plenty of times, she's a lovely girl, would make an excellent daughter in law, all that. sometimes, before going to sleep, they'll jokingly talk about little ginger grandkids

in seventh year, though, Remus dates a boy. Sirius Black, who has long hair and dresses like a punk and has a tattoo and bulky combat boots. he's loud and brash and walks around with far too much confidence in his step

Lyall doesn't like him

and Hope adores him

Sirius, sooner than later, becomes a permanent addition to their little family. Remus makes it clear that they're together for the long run. Lyall doesn't like him any more than at first, but he tolerates him. Hope treats him as her second son, gives him her old bike, jokes about marriage to Remus any occasion she gets

there's plenty of times Hope and Lyall will sit in the lounge, or the kitchen, or talk before bed, and share their worries about Remus. there's just so many hardships for this boy. his identity, being a werewolf, and now dating another man. they sometimes wish there could be something to do to protect him from the world. whisk him away to their little cabin, where no one can hurt him again

but they can't do that. so they just try to be a steady support for him, no matter what he decides to do or who he is

also as much as Lyall doesn't like Sirius - he's enamoured when him and Remus have kids. Sirius has good genes, the babies are adorable with their bushy black hair and Remus freckles and stubborn little chubby faces. you can't not love them

#Lyall Lupin #Hope Lupin #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #wolfstar #minimal but still there #it turned a lot about Remus dhdkdhdj #trans remus #my tag #headcanon tag #rily #ask tag #anon tag #anyone catches the parallel of hope and Sirius and then Remus and Lyall????

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wingedauthor · 4 years

Photo

I am 100% down for the Headcanon that Gavin is a cat person. But I might I also raise him being a bird person?

Meet Dipshit. The foul mouth, bitey, rescued African Grey whom many have compared to his owner. Hates everyone except Gavin (though he still gets bit). Nines is a very rare exception to this fact. Partially inspired by parrot swearing videos like this one.

Headcanon below. Feel free to add:

As stated Dipshit is a rescue parrot. Three years prior to the revolution, they found him during a Red Ice Ring Raid. He was trapped in a small cage no bigger than him in a very dark room. Due to stress, he had plucked out most of his feathers. It was Gavin who found him and let him out of the cage despite the bird’s angry hissing.

The bird bit him of course but having dealt with feral cats, Gavin remained calm ignoring the pain. Dipshit ran up his shoulder then and refused to get off; biting anyone and everyone who got too close to Gavin

Gavin took him to a local exotic shelter to see if they could find him a good home. Dipshit seemed... heartbroken seeing Gavin leave. Gavin stayed in touch with the shelter to see if anyone tried adopting him. Meanwhile he started doing research. After a few weeks of no one being willing to take in the angry bird, he decided to bring him home.

Dipshit was uncharacteristically happy seeing Gavin again. Especially when he took the bird away.

Gavin spent a good chunk of his savings getting the biggest cage that would fit in his apartment and an assortment of bird toys, perches, treats, food etc. That first night together, Gavin learned Dipshit was afraid of the dark and hates being locked in his cage. He pretty much screamed until Gavin turned the lights back on and opened the cage. Though not the best for his health, Gavin decided to just leave the cage door open at all times and leave a nightlight on for bird.

Gavin still has a cat named Asshole. She was curious about Dipshit at first but much to Gavin’s relief, she really has no desire to chase Dipshit. He’s pretty sure Dipshit could take her on in a fight though. Slowly his feathers started to grow back but there’s still a few missing patches. Unlike most birds, Dipshit was quite content going long hours without seeing Gavin. As long as Gavin spent most of his time with the bird when he was home, he was fine. He has free range of Gavin’s apartment though will mostly sit on top of his cage or on a free standing perch in the living room. His wings are clipped just for safety.

Dipshit did not help Hank’s fear of birds.

The bird has picked up Gavin’s dislike of the lieutenant and attacks every time he sees Hank. Connor came over to apartment once to collect some case files and was attacked by Dipshit as well. He completely understands Hank’s fear now of that bird.

Nines was an interesting case. Maybe part of it was Gavin didn’t really have a seething hatred of the newer android and Dipshit picked up on that. The first time he came over, Dipshit put on his threatening dance.

Gavin: Careful he bites Nines: I cannot feel pain Detective but I appreciate your concern Gavin: I’m not worried about you dumb ass. Dipshit can easily bite through your plastic fingers and thirium is extremely poisonous to birds. Nines: Noted.

But Nines showed no fear. Dipshit obeyed a very stern command to not bite and step up. Gavin was completely shocked. Dipshit never listened to anyone. Not even the vets.

To rub salt in the wound, Nines was the first person who was able to give Dipshit scritches. He explained that sometimes angry creatures just needed a kind but firm tone. (Not unlike a certain detective). Nines now visits regularly to help Gavin train Dipshit.

#reed900 #detroit become human #birb #african grey #gavin reed #nines rk900 #digital art #dbh headcanons #connor rk800 #hank anderson #fanart #pets #i know you can't quite see #but hank has paw print socks #a gift from connor #i didn't mean to write so much #i just love this idea too much

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sweetcatmintea · 5 years

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Bitter Chocolate and Night Rain

@inkovert (implicitly) requested a fluff drabble between Whitney and Marcos. I went with a scene that actually comes from the story (I figured it’d be good practice for when it comes up). It ended up kinda,,, angsty <.<;;;; But I’m pretty proud of it and hope you enjoy this scene from A Hare’s Worth. Feedback is appreciated ^u^

Words: 2644 Characters: Marcos, Whitney, Freddy (mentioned), and Mella

The day was long, but eventually, the chittering of the café grew quiet as the patrons shuffled back along their journey, continuing their lives. In one smooth movement, Whitney switched from waving farewell to the final customer to flipping the welcome sign and locking the door to the 6pm Café. Marcos cleared tables as Whitney swept tiles. It was days like these that made her grateful for the evening still. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad had they more help, but with Freddy visiting home and their aunt and uncle surveying a new supplier, the pair had been run off their paws. Marcos ambled towards the kitchen, carefully balancing a stack of plates and mugs, backing through the swinging door. He wasn’t as bothered by the busyness as Whitney, sometimes it was good not to have too much time to think. Not that she was bothered per se, but she would have preferred more time to keep things organised. Just a little would do.

Chocolate and pecans spiced the air, soon to be overtaken by soap and steam. Although the baker had left hours ago, their work lingered. It had been Freddy’s idea to do a promotion each fortnight. A new tea and an arrangement of desserts specifically made to compliment the brew. This time it was an exotic black tea and cocoa blend, resulting in numerous fruity and chocolatey treats for customers to choose from.

Whitney hummed in delight as they cleaned, Marcos washing up and her packaging left over food. “It’s been a good week, don’t you think? I reckon Uncle Antonio will be happy with the sales. The new blend really hit it off with the customers.” Speaking of which… Her palms thumped onto the counter, ears flicking back. “That one woman though. Did you see her? How many times do you have to tell someone you don’t sell burgers at a tea café?! Honestly!” Rant pausing long enough to swipe an errant strand of raw sugar hair out of her eyes, she continued, mimicking the interaction, “’I want beetroot burger.’ Who even eats beetroot? Do I say that? No, I say ‘Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t sell that here. Can I interest you in a toasted sandwich instead?’ ‘No, it has to be a burger. You sell food, why don’t you just make one?’ Oh, I forgot we apparently had a ~secret menu~. ‘We don’t have the ingredients for that.’” Taptaptaptap. Her foot thwapted the floor in irritation. “Then, then! She says ‘That’s fine, you can just go to the corner store and get some.’ Just go to the corner store and get some? Can you believe the that? The nerve! The entitlement! Ugh!” Letting out a huff, she shoved another cake slice into a box, perhaps more roughly than was necessary.

Marcos hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from the sink. She’d expected him to at least chuckle at the dramatics, (even though she was genuinely annoyed at the woman). At least his advice was still characteristically his.

“People are strange. There’s nothing to be done for it now, why don’t you pick out which dessert you’re bringing back to take your mind off it?” A perk of closing duty – taking home unsellable but still edible foods.

“Hm, that’s true. They’ve been really nice this round. The dark chocolate tarts are as bitter as my soul. I love it.”

“There’s no accounting for taste I guess.” Marcos shrugged, a teasing lilt to his voice. That wasn’t the joke she thought he’d made. That was twice he’d curve-balled her. Usually he’d indulge her rants, laughing along as she spouted ridiculous scenarios she claimed she’d definitely do next the time. She thought for sure that he’d say some dumb thing along the lines of ‘you’re mixing up caramel with chocolate if you want it to match your soul, Cottontail’. Then she’d get mad at him for the silly nickname and they’d banter like usual. She didn’t let the concern reach her face.

Marcos drained the sink, readying to leave. “I liked the sweet chai from the last lot better.”

Whitney passed him the desserts she’d claimed, taking the remaining boxes herself. “Haha, we could tell. I didn’t think you’d really be able to eat all of the cinnamon buns you grabbed. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“I’m a growing boy.”

Double checking the store was locked securely, they took the excess food around the back. Kids were already waiting. Some skinny and ratty, others better off but not by much. New laws had been passed preventing Whitney or Marcos from giving food, even that which would otherwise go to waste, to beggars – especially Tainted ones. Instead, they carefully discarded the boxed onto a table specifically for storing such waste, happened to mention aloud which ones had gluten and which had been in contact with nuts, then left. They certainly didn’t smile at a raccoon child who thanked them for their kindness before scampering off. They were good, law abiding teenagers after all.

Although it was still relatively early, the sky was already darkening. Heavy storm clouds loomed overhead. Wind rustled through the trees, green with new leaves, sending flower petals skipping along the street. Whitney huddled into her button-up sweater, pulling it tighter over her body.

“I hope the rain holds off a little longer. Might have to take Mella out for a jog instead of a walk.”

“Maybe you should skip today. You don’t want to get caught in a downpour. Who’ll run the shop if you get sick?” Marcos really was trying to match Whitney’s light-hearted energy, but he knew she was onto him. Having her worry about him (or him burden her) over a funk wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“Can’t slack off. As Mella’s proper parent - we don’t count Freddy and you know it. He spoils her rotten - it is my responsibility to make sure she gets what she needs, and what she needs is a walk every day.” She bounced her shoulder against his side, lips quirked into a cheeky smile. “You could always come with us if you’re worried. I’ll even let you carry me home if I get splashed. Mella too, of course.”

He bounced her back, careful not to topple her over. “Maybe I will.”

“I wasn’t joking about jogging.”

“I know.”

She raised her brow incredulously. “You, jogging?”

“It does happen on occasion.”

If Mella, short for Caramel, had her way, her tardy care takers would have been barrelled over by her unrestrained joy the instant they crossed the threshold back into her territory. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for the weary pair, Whitney really was a good dog mum. Mella had been trained well. Nobody was trampled by an ecstatic rottweiler on that day. Minding her manners, but not curtailing her demands, Mella waited “patiently” at the door, tail thumping and lead in mouth.

True to her word, five minutes and Whitney had offloaded her things, swept her long hair into a pony tail and was out the door again. Mella trotted along, enthusiasm shedding years off her face. Marcos kept pace, quiet save the tapping of his claws against the ground. He’d never liked that feeling. His body was there but his mind was somewhere far away. A world Whitney wasn’t privy to. He’d still smile and nod when she pointed out the funny letter box on Birch Street – ironically a tree had fallen on it leaving it much more squat than it was prior – or when she’d make silly puns out of random objects they passed. She’d have been happier if he meant it.

The sky grumbled, bemoaning its load. The complaints continued as they moved, increasing in urgency until the clouds could hold off no longer. Hounded by sheets of rain pelting after them, they completed the walk in record time. They piled through the door, back to the safety of their home. Sopping wet, Whitney bolted for the towels. Too late. Mella shook, splattering the rustic, but cosy, wallpaper of the front hallway. Moisture seeped in, greeting the stains that had already made home there. She was never quick enough. Very pleased with herself, Mella ran head first into Whitney’s open arms, allowing her to dry Mella properly.

Unassuming hours ticked by. The roaring storm quieted its protests to a murmur of rain. Marcos melted into the armchair, tracing his finger over the vintage bee patterns on the fabric as he listened to the drops peppering the window. He wondered absently if the night creatures had tucked themselves away or if they braved the weather, wagering their lives for food. He wondered if the children waiting behind the café were snug in their beds. He hoped so. He hoped a lot of things. He once believed that was a bad habit. The world needed hope, even a tealight was valuable in the dark. As he blindly gazed out the window, watching the black being overtaken by white condensation forming on the glass, he took the moment to be present. To be aware of where he was – a comfortable home that always smelled of honey and flowers, feet aching and back creaking from a long day. With people he cared for and who cared for him in return. A deep breath to steady his heart, flightful and jittery as ever. The past was behind him. There was nothing he could do for it in this moment. The scars may twinge or open again in a year, a day, even an hour from now, but in this moment, they were okay. He was okay. Another deep breath. What was next? He didn’t know. That was frightening. He felt his hands grow clammy. That was okay. Sadness and pain would be there, that was certain, but they never last forever. One way or another, he would be happy again. He could not change that either. Right now, he was safe. One last deep breath. He opened his eyes, not really knowing when he had closed them.

Whitney lingered at the entrance of the lounge room. Two mugs in one hand, a plate in the other. He smelled the tart and tea before he saw them. The bitterest of chocolate and shy lavender.

“I thought you were going to bed?” His voice was sticky, as though he’d just awoken. How long had he been thinking?

She shrugged the non-liquid bearing shoulder. “I was but I figured you could use some company.” She made her way over to him, ignoring the rest of the furniture.

Marcos took the cups while she slid onto the seat, legs propped over the arm of the chair, bunny tail pressed against his thigh.

“You shouldn’t push yourself. I’ll be headin’ to bed soon.”

She snorted at that, rolling her rose eyes and taking the mug decorated with cute hearts and rabbit ears. “Yeah, and babies come from mail order catalogues. I just brought you some tea. It’s not going to kill me. In fact, it just so happens to be my day job.” She nodded to the tea. “It’s lavender and camomile. It’s supposed to be very calming.

The mug warming Marcos’ hands cheerfully decreed ‘Who’s a sweet potato? I yam!’ He took a sip. She’d added honey and milk – just the way he liked it. “Does it work?”

“It tastes nice.”

“Fair enough.” Either way, he already felt better with her there. She leaned into his chest, taking a thoughtful bite out of her tart. The clink of the silver spoon against ceramic almost inaudible with the rain. For a while, little else filled the comfortable silence they had fallen into.

“Do you want to talk about it?” So Whitney had noticed his funk. Darn.

“About what?”

She pressed her hand into his. “You worry so much about everybody else, let me worry about you for a change.” He made a non-comital noise but didn’t move his hand. Taking it as an invitation to continue, she did. “His birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”

He blinked, equal measures surprised and touched. “You remembered?” Her nod bloomed tenderness in his soul.

“He was important to you. Of course I remembered.”

Marcos shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. I’ll get back to normal soon. I just, I just need a little time.”

“It’s okay to not be okay, y’know. You don’t have to smile and joke all the time. You’re not, you’re not being a burden if you’re hurting.” She squeezed his hand. “I want to help. Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t, but…” Guilt flashed through him. “I think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you wanted to talk to me a while… If, uh, if you wanted to… if you’re not too tired that is…”

“’Course.” A gentle smile to tame the wildest of worries. “Did I ever tell you about the time I went to the beach when I was little and I convinced Freddy that the crabs would carry him out to sea if he fell asleep?”

“Not recently.”

“Okay, fantastic. Well, I think we were seven? Maybe eight? No, seven. And we’d been waiting all year to go…”

They stayed like that well into the night. Whitney recounted tale after tale of her childhood antics. The time the twins had accidentally locked themselves out of the café (with a customer still inside), the time Freddy smuggled Mella into class in his backpack, a disastrous episode with a fan, fresh paint, and carelessly placed glitter. It didn’t take the pain away, it sat a dull ache in his deepest self, but now, surrounded by the soft fluttering that somebody cares, it wasn’t so raw. The feeling settled over his body, dusting red where it pleased.

Whitney’s stories slowly came to a close as sleep over took her. She was almost finished the cupcake catastrophe that nearly got her banned from the kitchen when her words turned into mumbles, turned into quiet breath falls. Her hair had fallen in her face again, and Marcos’ arm, and shirt for that matter. Sitting as they were, together and peaceful, Marcos felt drawn to rest his head against hers. She still smelled like wet dog. Her strawberry shampoo could not overpower Mella. There was little in this world that could. He sighed. It was comfortable. He’d probably never be able to tell her properly how much her words meant to him. Somehow, he felt like apologising, saying he was sorry she ever had to treat him so kindly. It was a strange thing when your gratitude is so much it begs forgiveness. He’d probably never really try to express the pleasant emptiness she left him with. It was so like her though, to notice another person’s pain and busy herself about fixing it. There was something so special about her willingness to sit through it with him rather than force a laugh track to dampen the atmosphere. There was something so special about her. Though, that’s probably why he loved her. Wait, what did he just think? He – His ears stood to attention. He lo- The realisation hit him like a bus with no brakes. He loved her. A furious blush burnt up his neck to the tips of his ears. Oh Stars, he loved Whitney. What was he going to do? Did he tell her? Could she, could she maybe love hi- no that’s absurd. But it might not be. What if it was? Oh stars, what if it wasn’t? He glanced down at her, horrified to see the blush had reached his hands. At least she was still asleep. She hadn’t seen the mess that he was in the current business of becoming.

Too ensnared by the sudden Emotions, he totally missed the secret smile had crept onto Whitney’s lips. It’s about time you realised you silly hare <3

Tag list

@inkovert, @snobbysnekboi

#Writing #story #my story #fluff #drabble #writblr #A Hare's Worth #ask to tag #character mention #Marcos #Whitney #Freddy #Mella #kemonomimi #rabbit girl #hare boy #sunday storytime #animation #gif

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eldritchsurveys · 6 years

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o92.

Are you bored with your life? >> Not generally. Existential boredom happens sometimes, but it’s not necessarily chronic.

Have you ever seen a spirit? >> Maybe.

What's the most supernatural experience you've ever had? >> Friend, I am a supernatural experience.

Do you ever feel the presence of God? >> Some god or another. Usually Wednesday.

Would you rather have wings like a fairy or a fin like a mermaid? >> I think wings would be marginally more useful to me than a fin. I rather like having legs.

Which season would you like to be the goddess of? >> I’d rather not be trapped into the role of being the god of anything specific, especially not a season.

Do you have any spiritual gifts? >> I don’t know. Never really thought about it.

Would you say you are a spiritual? >> A spiritual, hah. Nah, I’m just whatever I am.

Do you believe in angels and demons? >> I knew a couple of angels. One was from Night Vale. His name was Tobias and he was very poetic. Even [especially?] when he was talking about cannibalism.

Do you believe in fairies, genies, or mermaids? >> I’m willing to believe in any of them.

Do you believe that dinosaurs once roamed the Earth? >> Sure.

Does the book of Revelation make sense to you? >> It does, now. It took me a long time to realise that it’s very possibly allegorical (and very possibly about the fall of Rome). In that context, a lot of things in Revelation make a lot more sense to me, and it became easier to swallow besides. But even as a mythological End of Days, or a turning point in mythic time, it makes a lot of sense, too -- there’s at least a few Ragnarök-esque elements in there. For a while I thought of Babylon as the US, and that also makes sense. So, yeah. Revelation makes sense to me.

What's your favorite mystical creature? >> Me.

What's your favorite supernatural book series? >> The Dark Tower saga.

Have you ever encountered an angel? >> Yep, already discussed earlier.

Do demons manifest around you a lot? >> No. I mean, they’re welcome to hang out, but generally I think they prefer more malleable quarry.

Have you ever cast out a demon? >> Nope.

Are demons afraid of you? >> I don’t know, I’ve never asked.

What's your favorite gypsy name? >> I stay away from the use of the word ‘gypsy’, personally.

If a genie appeared to you right now, what would you wish for? >> Nope. I don’t fuck with djinn. They’re much better at wordplay than I am.

What would you say is the most unique about you? >> I don’t know, I don’t really think much about that sort of thing.

If you were to write an original song, what would it be about? >> I don’t know.

As anyone ever asked you if you were an alien? >> Yeah, I’ve been asked that. Or straight-up told that. It varies.

As anyone ever asked you if you were an angel? >> Maybe. I don’t recall.

Do you think you would rather be a mystical creature or a human? >> I yam what I yam.

Do you have supernatural powers? If yes, what can you do? >> No, I have paracosmic powers of creation. Which isn’t supernatural because it doesn’t affect the rules of the physical world.

Do you know any witches? >> Sure, I know plenty.

Has anyone ever cast a spell or curse on you? >> Not to my knowledge. But, I mean, possibly.

Do you know how to break a curse? >> I’m sure I could figure it out with some research.

Do you curse others? >> Nah, I’ve considered it in times of duress but... nah.

Would you rather time travel to the past or future? >> I’d rather not, period. Time’s an ocean, anyway. I’m not tryna drown.

Do you wish you had the power to switch your emotions on and off at will? >> I mean, I don’t have enough problems with my emotions that this would be necessary. I kind of can switch them off.

What superpower do you most wish you had? >> Matter manipulation.

Are all of your needs met? >> Not all of them, not all of the time, but for the most part I’m not suffering terribly in the needs department.

Do you feel like your life is worth living? >> I mean, it doesn’t matter if it’s worth it or not, I’m living it anyway.

If you're gifted, does anyone know it? >> Gifted with what?

What do you do with your gifts? >> ---

Do you feel you live in a place where your gifts are honored and celebrated? >> Man, I don’t even know what you’re talking about, tbh.

Do you wish people acknowledge you and treated you with respect? >> Sure. Most of the time they do, anyway.

Do you wish you had the power to stop harassment? >> I’ve not wished for that specifically, no. But I’d imagine it’d be useful.

How old were you when you found out Santa wasn't real? >> I was never taught about Santa in the first place. It’s really too bad -- that whole legend is historically and mythologically fascinating. But it’s never too late. Plus, I have Russian Santa now (Nicholas St North, from the Guardians franchise -- Rise of the Guardians and Guardians of Childhood).

Can you relate to the story of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer? >> Not really, lol.

Do you hate inequality? >> Not necessarily.

Do people hate you because of your gifts? >> LOL wut.

If you had to give yourself an exotic name, what would it be? >> I do have ‘exotic’ names.

Do your family and friends have any superpowers? >> Not to my knowledge.

Are you a hero or a villain, or neither? Are you a commoner? >> I am a trickster.

Could you ever be a hero? Have you ever done anything heroic and brave? >> Being a trickster means I can fulfill a variety of roles. So yes, I could be a hero, if I found it prudent. (Most of the time, I don’t. ~)

How many villains do you know? >> I don’t know if I know any self-proclaimed villains. I know some self-proclaimed monsters, does that count?

What do you think of this quote: The Gospel is the only story where the Hero dies for the villains. ? >> That’s an interesting quote.

Do you think it was stupid of Jesus to die for the villains? >> I don’t pass judgement on martyrdom. It serves a purpose.

Have you ever rebelled against God? >> Well, rebelling against some notion of God (consciously or unconsciously) is how I spent most of my adolescence and young adulthood, but I’m mostly over that now. I met different gods.

Do you believe Jesus dies on a cross to save us all? >> I think the mythical figure of Jesus Christ certainly did. Whether there was an actual man named Yeshua who did all of that is a matter of much debate, and I tend to err on the side of “probably not”. But he’s a figure of myth, which makes his historical existence pretty irrelevant either way.

Would you be happy if you died right now? Why or why not? >> Hell fucking no, what the fuck. I’m having a ball, leave me alone, Death.

Are you scared of what's going to happen when you die? >> Sure. I try not to give it too much thought, because there’s no definite answer and obsessing over it isn’t going to give me a definite answer, it’s just going to waste my fuckin time.

Have you ever asked Jesus to save you? >> Yeah, I tried that. I don’t know if he was listening or if he did anything, but I did try it.

Have you ever been baptized? If so, where were you baptized? and did it mean anything to you? >> I was baptised at age, like, 6 or 7. I vaguely remember it because the whole thing was lowkey disturbing to me at the time, but I couldn’t do anything about it. It was at an AME Baptist church in Elizabeth, New Jersey. It never did end up meaning anything significant for me, although the baptism allegory did come up again a couple of years ago, during my last todash episode.

Do you enjoy reading about Greek or Roman mythology? >> Absolutely!

Who is your favorite Greek or Roman god or goddess? >> Dionyssos.

Which goddess power do you think you'd like to have? >> Meh.

Have you ever read the Daughters of the Moon series by Lynne Ewing? >> Never heard of it.

If so, what was your favorite book in the series, and who was your favorite character? Which character do you relate to the most? >> ---

Do you feel like you are special? Do others treat you like you are special? >> I’m about as special as everyone else on the planet... which, as you well know, makes the whole thing a paradox. And yeah, some people treat me like that sometimes. I’m special to individuals, which is all right.

Do you enjoy reading Bible stories? >> Hell yeah, I do.

Do you believe in the Bible stories? >> I believe in their mythological potential, in the strength of parables, and in the longevity of the myths in general. I also think most of them probably relate to actual historical events, but were just mythologised.

Do you know anyone who can read minds? >> Nope.

Have you read the Harry Potter books? If yes, did you like them? >> Yeah, and I’m in the middle of a reread right now. I... I do like them, even though I spend a lot of time dissecting the worldbuilding. I wouldn’t even bother if I didn’t enjoy something about them.

What is your opinion on fantasy? Is it of the devil, or is it ok? Do you think it's good? >> I love fantasy.

Why do you think people gave the Harry Potter series such a hard time, when it's fiction? >> Because people are afraid of going against the laws of their religion; because people are afraid of losing control over their children’s spiritual lives; because it was a weird time in the world (and maybe even in mythic time) and people have been very reactionary towards media for a long time anyway. Who knows, man. It hasn’t lessened HP’s impact on culture and society, so.

Do you believe the Bible is fiction or non-fiction? >> I believe it’s myth, which exists beyond the boundaries of “fiction” and “nonfiction”.

Are you prophetic? >> I don’t know. That’s something I’d only be able to conclude in hindsight, and I haven’t really bothered looking back to find out.

Do you speak in tongues? >> Nope. I remember being really disappointed that that never happened to me in church.

What are your spiritual gifts, if you have any? >> Hm.

Are you intuitive? >> No more than average, probably.

Have you ever had a premonition? >> Probably.

Have you ever had deja vu? >> Sure.

Do you see into the future? >> Nope.

Can you read minds? >> Nope.

Can you see spirits? >> Maybe. I don’t know.

Can you hear voices? >> I hear the voices of people in headspace.

Do you believe in the supernatural? >> Sure.

Why do you think churches ignore the supernatural so often? >> It’s often about power and control. To restrict the human experience to only what the religion in question dictates as possible -- only priests can commune with God in a way that goes beyond praying into the void, stuff like that -- is to create an illusion of dependence on the church, which keeps people coming back. It’s kind of unfortunate, really.

Would you ever go see a medium or psychic? >> Nah.

If someone were advertising "free healing miracles," would you go see them? >> I’d probably go to a revival featuring a faith healer because those look fun as shit, but I wouldn’t pay any money to them or anything. I’d just want to see, lmao.

Would you like to receive a prophetic word? >> Eh, I could do without.

What would you like to be healed of, if anything? >> Meh.

Do you feel guilty about anything currently? >> No.

Do you hear from God? >> At least three.

Do you spend time with God often? >> I curl up in the backseat of Wednesday’s car as often as possible. It does take a lot of mental focus on my part, though, so maybe not as often as I could.

Can you feel the presence of spirits in the room? >> Right now? No. Doesn’t mean they aren’t there, though.

Have you ever had a nightmare? >> Sure.

Have you ever had a prophetic dream? >> Probably.

What is the meaning of your name? >> Which one? Apparently “Mordred” comes from the Welsh “Medraut”, which likely comes from moderatus (Latin) meaning exactly what it looks like. Mordred, the Middle Way between Red and White. Seems legit.

Do you feel like your name's meaning fits you? >> Well, apparently I do. :p

Do you think you are a good person? >> No, I think I’m a person. ...Hell, sometimes I’m not even sure I’m that.

Do you think God would consider you a good person? >> I think Wednesday probably thinks I’m a right bastard just like him and his friends. Ravens of a feather, and all.

What do you think Heaven will be like? >> I can’t fathom Heaven. Every description I’ve heard of it makes no sense to me, so I figured it’s not supposed to.

Are you ready to die yet? >> Hell fucking no, stop asking me that.

Do you feel like your life is fair? >> I don’t care if it’s fair or not, I’m still making the best of it.

What would your life be like if you had an unlimited supply of cash? >> I have no idea, that’s unfathomable.

Do you believe Halloween decorations come alive when no one is looking? >> LOL no, but that’d be neat.

Do you celebrate Halloween? >> Sure.

Do you think renessaince faires are of the devil? >> If they are, the Devil has great taste.

Have you ever encountered an ogre? >> Not outside of a video game.

Are you an alien? >> Maybe.

Can you take a joke? >> I can take and give them.

Is there a cartoon character you wish you could meet? >> Sure, Dethklok would be fun to hang out with.

If you could have a date with a cartoon character, which one would it be? >> Charles Ofdensen (Metalocalypse). Although I kinda consider him a Me-Character, so that’d be funny.

Have you ever had a doll that looked like a person you knew? >> Nope.

If you had a voodoo doll, who would you punish? >> I don’t mess with that.

Do you enjoy watching horror movies? >> Hella.

Can you bend over backward like the girl in The Exorcist? >> Nope.

Is your house haunted? >> Most likely not, but who knows. Apartment complexes see so many people come in and out over time, and at least some of those people will probably leave something behind.

Have you ever wondered if your house was haunted? or had nightmares because you thought your house was haunted? >> I’ve lived in an apartment I’ve felt was also occupied by something else.

Have you ever been in the attic? >> No attic.

Is your basement creepy? >> No basement.

Do you believe in ghosts? >> Not particularly, but I’m always willing to entertain the concept.

Do you like ghost stories? >> Sure, some of them.

Do you believe the spirit realm is real? >> I think there’s probably many dimensions to existence.

Do you believe in.... evolution? >> Sure.

reincarnation? >> I think a good argument could be made for it. Eastern philosophies about it seem to make sense.

Heaven? >> I can’t fathom it, which makes it difficult to believe in. Other mythological before-/after-/parallel-to-life realms seem more believable to me.

Hell? >> Same as above.

the afterlife? >> I haven’t chosen a permanent stance yet. Generally I subscribe to the “energy of consciousness is transmuted into something else, and memory does not survive the transmutation” theory of consciousness, so the afterlife wouldn’t really work with that.

salvation? >> From what, though? I don’t think there’s anything in my life I need salvation from, so it seems kinda useless as a concept, personally.

ghosts? >> Eh.

angels? >> Already discussed.

demons? >> ^

fairies? >> Yeah, maybe.

mermaids? >> Mm.

genies? >> Again, if djinn are around, I’m avoiding them.

nymphs? >> I don’t know.

gnomes? >> Hmm.

aliens? >> Sure.

Santa Claus? >> I believe in the mythical figure of many names and various cultures that got sanitised into Santa Claus for our current version of Christmas.

Mother Nature? >> A world-soul, you mean? Sure, that’s a thing I could believe in. Azeroth has one, after all.

gods and goddesses? >> Yep.

God? >> I don’t know about that god in particular, though. The myth is way too murky for me.

Satan? >> I think if HaShem must exist, then so too must the Adversary. So if I’m going to believe in one, I’d have to believe in the other. They’re a BOGO kind of deal.

Jesus? >> I think Yeshua is one of the coolest mythic figures ever, actually.

The Holy Spirit? >> This is actually easier for me to grok than the Father. The Son’s the easiest, though.

elves? >> Sure, why not.

reindeer? >> There are perfectly natural animals called reindeer, so, I mean.

pixies? >> Hmm.

dinosaurs? >> Sure.

dragons? >> Sure.

prophesy? >> Yeah, maybe. I just don’t really want much to do with it.

premonitions? >> ^

intuition? >> ^

mind reading? >> Nah, mind-reading is pushing it.

speaking in tongues? >> I know it’s a thing people do because I’ve seen people stand right next to me and do it. But I don’t know what it is, and frankly, it’s kind of cool as a mystery.

prayer? >> Sure.

magic? >> Sure.

witches? >> Yep.

villains? >> I guess, yeah.

zombies? >> Mm, nah. Although I guess I can’t completely discredit necromancy. The movie The Serpent and the Rainbow has me pretty convinced, ngl.

werewolves? >> One of my friends is a werewolf.

vampires? >> Another of my friends is a vampire. Well, several of my friends, actually.

satanists? >> Yes, Satanists exist, in a variety of forms (theistic and otherwise).

supernatural healing? >> I mean, hey, maybe. I wouldn’t stop taking medication, though.

miracles? >> Sure, it just depends on your definition of the word.

that we live in an enchanted realm? >> I don’t know, maybe? I’ve no basis for comparison, after all.

that we're in a spiritual battle? >> Eh, I’m not fond of this concept because of the kind of evangelistic folk it’s usually attributed to.

that the book of Revelation is a real prophesy? >> It sure might have been.

that we're in the last days? >> Right now? I mean, here’s the thing about mythic time -- it’s so malleable and often cycle-based that you can point to almost any point in human history and make a very convincing case for that point in history having been a dead ringer for Armageddon. I could definitely point to events right now and make Revelation allegories. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything -- or it could mean that Armageddon is an allegory for all Endings, including Endings that we as humans experience all the time. That’s the fun thing about mythology, man. It is always relevant.

that Jesus is coming back? >> He’s probably hanging around right now, smoking a bowl in some backyard somewhere. Hey, the Bible only predicted (and vaguely, at that) a Second Coming. They didn’t say anything about a Third, or Fourth, or so on. He could be on his Five Hundred Thousand and Twenty-Second Coming, for all we know.

that the Blood Red Moons are significant? >> Sure, they’re significant if we make them significant. That’s our power as a storytelling species.

astrology? >> Yep, I love astrology.

that the constellations tell the story of something? >> Well, yes. We drew pictures in the sky and used them to tell stories. We made that so.

that everyone is created equal? >> I don’t believe that everyone is created in the first place, which would mean that we couldn’t have possibly been created equal, either. I think it doesn’t matter either way, how we came to be here. We’re here, and the least we can do is treat each other with some fuckin kindness.

that everybody matters? >> That’s kind of impossible. There are way too many people on this planet for everyone to matter to me, or you, or anyone else. I think we do the best we can to think about as many people as possible, but to try too hard to do that means that you’re just going to end up doing more harm than good.

that life isn't fair? >> Sure, because it’s not sapient. Life doesn’t have an idea of “fairness” because it doesn’t have a brain to conceive of that. We do.

that some people who are poor deserve to be rich and some people who are rich deserve to be poor? >> I don’t believe that because it’s completely illogical.

Do you wish karma were real? >> I don’t know if it’s an actual cosmic force or not. I don’t think about it too much.

Do you make a lot of mistakes? >> No more than the average person, I’d imagine.

How long do you think someone should be punished for a mistake they've made? >> That’s not up to me.

Do you think mistakes should be punished at all? >> I’m not into punishment, myself, but I’m just one person. It seems to be a very popular concept with humanity in general.

Do you like mystery, or do you wish you knew everything? >> I really have no desire to know everything. What little peeking beyond the veil that I’ve tried to do has had a vaguely ruinous effect on me, so I figure I’m better off not pushing it.

Would you rather have horns or a tail? >> Horns, please.

Do you believe in unicorns? >> Sure, why not.

Do you wish you could talk to animals? >> I can. We just can’t understand each other, but it’s not all that important to me to be understood by, like, a cat.

Would you rather be a bird or a fish? >> Nah.

Would you rather be reincarnated as a human or something not human? >> I don’t know. “Not human” encompasses such a wide array of possibilities that I couldn’t possibly say no.

Are you happy? >> Generally? I guess, sure.

Who is harassing you/wronging you right now? >> Nobody.

Who is your knight in shining armor? >> Nobody.

Do you want to be rescued? >> From what? No.

Do you feel like you need to be rescued from the life you're living? >> No.

Do you believe in the story of Adam and Eve? >> The same way I believe in all the other Biblical stories, as I’ve expanded upon earlier in the survey. It’s not one of my favourites, though.

What would you like prayer for right now, if anything? >> I’m good.

What do you need right now that you don't have? >> *shrug*

Who was the last person to really hurt you? >> Oh, who knows.

Are you mad at someone right now? hurt? jealous? missing someone? >> Nope.

Are you a good friend? >> I don’t know.

Which fairytale do you relate to the most? >> I’m not sure.

Who is your favorite Disney princess? >> Moana!

Who is your favorite Disney character, besides the princesses? >> Stitch. Or Claude Frollo!

Favorite non-Disney cartoon character? >> I couldn’t even begin to choose.

Have you ever been to Disney World? >> Nope.

If so, would you say it's the most magical place on earth? >> ---

Do you want to go to the Magic Kingdom? >> I mean, sure, why not.

What country do you most want to visit? >> Morocco would be nice.

What city in the US do you most want to visit before you die? >> Hm.

What country do you live in? >> The US.

If you live in the US, what state do you live in? >> Michigan.

What's your favorite continent besides North America? >> *shrug*

What's your favorite foreign cuisine? (Mexican, Chinese, Thai, etc.) >> Most Asian cuisine.

Have you ever been on a missions trip? >> No, and I’d never go on one. I don’t like the concept.

Have you ever lived in a foreign country? >> Nope.

What is your dream? Do you have anyone who supports you in your dream? >> I don’t think I have one. I’m just livin’.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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booknerdofok · 3 years

Text

The Heavy

I am a little sad today. When I think about stuff, it is easy to get overwhelmed. I think to not be sad a lot of the time requires some super hero level denial about stuff….or at least a super hero level focus on the good things. I think that most of the time I fall into the latter coping situation.

I know that I am in a sad place when I don’t know what to write. I write, then erase, then write, then erase….nothing that goes on paper seems to truly capture the heaviness. I just feel heavy.

Young men are dying for no reason….and they are scared beforehand because they know they may die….that makes it all so much worse…that they are scared.

There is so much noise available to us at any time, that we have to really work to find out what is true….not necessarily factually true, but emotionally true, spiritually true….authenticity is rare in a world where everyone is trying to get paid.

Butterflies and bees, abundant when I was young, are increasingly less so, sometimes a rarity that we have to work to attract. We have plowed under their host plants and spray massive amounts of insect killers in our bid to own the world without regard to its cost…..because everyone is trying to get paid.

People are working their asses off, sometimes in two or three jobs, and are still hungry.Veterans, once lured in by honor to serve, or financial need, live on the streets, hungry, without necessary physical and mental health care services, without care.

First responders from New York, once indispensable in the days of and after 9/11, are suffering and dying as a result of their service, and are now treated as disposable while politicians play games with their lives.

Everything is disposable except for what can be used as a weapon.

Tired of your dog?…its ok, just dump him/her and get another…. I mean it doesn’t have feelings or anything. Dogs are disposable.

Don’t like that 80 year old tree in the backyard, home to wildlife, native to Oklahoma and necessary to the ecosystem?…..its ok, just chop it down and replace it with a tropical annual you saw in a magazine last year….trees and plants are disposable.

Don’t like your spouse, parent to your children, keeper of your secrets, once your best friend but not as fun as when you were in your 20s?...its ok, commitment is a lot of work and there are younger ones out there that won’t call you out on your bullshit….so just dump the current spouse and get a better one….commitments are disposable.

Upset that one of your children isn’t what you expected? Not religious enough, straight enough, smart enough, skinny enough, good-looking enough to meet your standards? Kick them out until they see the light, I mean it isn’t as if they are their own person or anything…..they are your property and must conform to your expectations and requirements….children are disposable.

Got a friend that has become kind of high maintenance lately? Going through personal turmoil, maybe an illness, wanting to lean on you, depend on you, tell you what he or she is scared of? Just send them an occasional inspirational meme on facebook and go hang out with that cool new person from work…..they are from an exotic place and seem to really have it together….most importantly, they are easy to be around and they don’t expect much from you….friends are disposable.

We just toss stuff away without regard for their value. If it isn’t easy, we don’t want it. I find it so peculiar how so many people lament about the lack of depth and meaning in their lives, they say they feel isolated and alone, but balk at the slightest inference that relationships require work…that friendships must be nurtured by both parties….that marriages, legal or not, require compromise and are sometimes hard, and sometimes boring, along with the passion and joy and grace.

Corporations decide what we watch on tv, what we listen to on the radio, what we see in many galleries and art shows….what we once took for granted, the availability of art for art’s sake, is now only found through intentional, sometimes near impossible, action and many times only available to those that can afford it.

Politicians that are supposed to be creating policy to benefit us, all of us, have now become culture leaders so that we reflect them, rather than them being a reflection of us. What’s worse is that most of these politicians don’t really believe in anything other than the growth and retention of their own power.

We as a society claim to covet innovation, but have no tolerance for anyone different than ourselves. Our schools discourage independent thinking, critical review of history, and even fail to share the ugliest parts of our history in order to foster homogeny of thought.

There is so much heaviness….so much that makes me sad. However, it is the moments that I remember the intellectual rebels that exist out there that refuse to succumb to groupthink; the emotionally fortified that will continue to work at relationships even when it is hard, and love all creatures around them even when inconvenient; the spiritually anchored that value faith, of any stripe, that encourages compassion and service to others, both humans and non; the environmentally respectful that understand that all living things are part of a system that will benefit all members if care is also taken by all members; the artists that make art because there is no other way to live; the people who live true and honest and faithful and continue to persevere in spite of everything pushing back…..those moments are the ones that bring me back from the heavy….who bring me into the light….who remind me that I am not alone out here. To you all, I thank you.

#booknerdofok #middleagelaments #heavy

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mhdiaries · 4 years

Text

Diary of Kieran Valentine

You’ll steal my heart if you read my diary.

May 1st

May 3rd

July 1st

There’s nothing more I can teach you. The rest will come when you put what you’ve learned into practice. Know that you are loved for what, and who you are.

Sincerely,

“Mrs. Goblin”

P.S. Do the right thing or I’ll come back and make you clean out flying monkey cages again.

July 2nd

July 7th

July 10th

July 12th

August 1st

#monster high #monster high diary #kieran valentine #alright alright alright #text post #sdcc 2015

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angelicwritingoflesilva · 6 years

Text

Sunday (shh it’s not Monday be quiet), “S.O.S” (completed short story!)

no just because it’s midnight doesn’t mean it doesn’t count (need anymore negatives, angel? xp)

Here it is! Polished, shiny, and hopefully error-free, S.O.S, my first story for my Short Story Summer challenge, is officially completed! I’ve had such a blast doing this, and, although it isn’t excessively sci-fi-y, it forced me to step out of my comfort zone.

What I’ve Learned: hOly cow, exposition is hard in short stories. I do think that, at times, S.O.S suffers from a bog of exposition, but I really shouldn’t edit it anymore considering it’s already Monday,,, ;n;

Also, procrastinating is bad. I am so bad at getting things done it is 12:10 as I am writing this.

Finally, cinnabun characters are so perfect. Ta’hua is meant to be that kind of character, and, if I ever revisit this universe, I think I’ll either set the story in Ta’hua’s past or the life he lives with Ashley and, his now adopted brother, Sterling. >u<

Final Word Count: 5,336

Final Time Spent (Writing/Editing): 5 hrs and 33 minutes

And, now that I have teased the ever living hek out of you, enjoy reading S.O.S

Trigger warning: blood, implied death, suicide, slavery, cruelty, dead family

S.O.S

“S-Sani is dead.”

The words are whispered to Sterling. The young boy’s gaze flicks to the side, meeting the dull, but worried, eyes of his friend, Ta’hua. The young Avian’s head feathers droop in sadness, his hands shaking as he pushes his mop along the deck. Sterling glances down at his own motionless mop before replying.

“How? When?”

Ta’hua turns back to his task, replying quietly. “After br-breakfast. He ju-umped.”

Sterling swallows a lump in his throat. It hurts to do so. Suddenly, his ribs feel much more pronounced, the bags underneath his eyes much heavier. “I’ll look for one this time.” Sterling says. Shoulders sagging in relief, Ta’hua gives an almost imperceptible nod before directing his mop away from Sterling.

When he is sure that his friend is out of earshot, Sterling whispers to himself in a voice devoid of emotion, “Fourteen.” Sani marks the fourteenth body. Over four years, Sterling has slowly killed fourteen different slaves aboard this ship. In the beginning, it was almost impossible to ask for others for their measly food, for their blind labor. It has become so dreadfully easy. He feels little guilt when he begs the kind-hearted, the weak-willed, the elderly, the mothers, and anyone else, for food. No shame rushes him when he manipulates others. Now, it is more of an annoyance than anything else when someone dies, because it means that he has to find a new target. He knows that he should feel guilty, disgusted at himself, devastated, anything but the cool numbness resting in his chest.

But, quite simply, he doesn’t.

He used to amend his guilt by telling himself that he needed this food, that the meals given to the slaves aboard this ship weren’t enough for anyone. While true, it didn’t become true to him until two years ago. Up until then, he would shake in his cot nightly, going insane with guilt. With every person he starved, every innocent victim to his unholy crimes, the only face he could see was his father’s. His father, who only ate enough to make it to the next meal time, just so he could feed his son most of that, who whispered stories late at night about a forgotten life, who died of starvation because he cared too much about his son.

But taking advantage of his fellow slaves now? Easy. There weren’t many weak-hearted slaves on board, but sometimes, newer ones were easier to convince. They didn’t understand the truly horrible conditions, and, before they did, they already found themselves caring about Sterling and Ta’hua. They would begin to form a one-sided parental bond with the children. They would feed them. They would take part of their workload. They would eventually die for them. Sterling swallows another hard lump in his throat. It is no easier to swallow than the first.

He turns to look at Ta’hua. His head is lowered and his back is hunched over his mop. As usual, his body shakes with every step. Everything about him screams that he doesn’t belong on this ship. His sun-like eyes and vibrant blue and yellow feathers speak of island life. His stutter and quiet demeanor are far too delicate to survive on this ship. Every time Sterling looks at Ta’hua, he sees an escape from reality, the rebellious call to something long dead. The only spring blossom untouched by winter’s greedy kiss. A person worth sharing his food with.

A whip cracks over Sterling’s head, causing the boy to flinch. The sudden motion brings instant, fiery pain to the deep sunburns on his face, and he struggles to push back tears. Looking up, a slaver yells at him in a language he doesn’t understand. He stabs a clawed finger at his motionless mop, and Sterling realizes that he had stopped working. He pushes himself to move again. The whip snaps again, although, this time, fresh agony washes across his body. Sterling can no longer hold back tears as fresh blood drips down his back. The blood, at least, cools his burned skin.

Sterling has been watching a certain slave for about three hours now. He works on the hauling team, pulling the net full of diamonds from the bottom of the ocean. It takes a strong set of slaves, at least a hundred, to pull up such a hefty net. The diamonds, which are formed under the ocean’s immense pressure, are said to be worth more than diamonds on earth, due to their rather exotic formation underneath the Oilcean.

Sterling’s mother had educated him all about the Oilcean before they travelled to it. He remembers the wondrous tales she spun about the immensely deep ocean, filled with riches such as diamonds and oil. Every moment she spent with him was precious, simply because they were so rare. It was always his older sister who took care of him and his younger sister. It was she who would kiss them goodnight. Sterling can’t remember her name, her face, or even her voice. Just the warm, cherry-scented comfort of her arms. She loved cherry soap. He wondered where she is now.

He learned bits of Avian from his mother, for which he is immensely grateful. Ta’hua was also taught some basic English and, together, they have created their own language that is a mix between the two. He remembers his first words in Avian. It was a quick “hello” to the bird-like people who welcomed him onto the cruise ship. His mother had been so excited to board that ship.

Sterling blinks, and his mind clears. His back stings a reminder; thoughts have done him no good today.

Instead, he chooses to think about the slave he has his eye on. While the creatures themselves do not call their kind this, humans have dubbed their kind Frog Men, clunkily so. Despite this, the name is apt.

The slave is to the far right of the net--his bleeding hands are proof that he has not yet had time to develop calluses. On top of that, his clothing is not yet caked with blood or stiff with salt. His feet slip against the wave-soaked, peeling floorboards of the ship.

What’s beneficial about targeting Frog Men is that they are given much to eat. This is due to the facts that they tend to have the heavy-lifting jobs and that their massive bodies need plenty of food to function. If Sterling could convince one to share some of his food, he and Ta’hua wouldn’t have to worry about starvation for a long while.

The only trouble is convincing them to help. They’re not the smartest creatures, and there is more than a language barrier between Frog Men and everyone else. It might be too much trouble to coax food out of one. Nonetheless, Sterling has managed to do it before.

The sound of a scream jolts him out of his thoughts. A human is curled over her dripping arm, screeching in pain. The wooden planks beneath her are stained darkly. A mop rests next to her shaking body. Sterling bites his tongue slightly, trying to block out the screaming. Even so, he can’t take his eyes away from the scene. A slaver stands above the fallen slave. His leathery skin stretches to accommodate a widening smile.

The slavers are disgusting creatures. Tall and gray-skinned, their body is covered with wrinkles and spider-webbing veins. Their faces have only a mouth, one that is constantly pulled into a sharp, yellow-toothed grin. Their eyes hang from muscular tubes that sprout off of the top of their heads. Sterling has heard some slaves mutter about tearing off their eyes from their heads. He also holds this wish close to his heart.

Sterling tears his gaze away as the slaver slices at the slave’s exposed neck. Their innate violence scares him; he can never show any reason to be punished. Even the smallest things can have severe repercussions. Plus, the slavers don’t bother bandaging any injuries they cause. Either you deal with it yourself, or you die.

They love to cause pain, but hate to lose. If a slave is caught attempting to jump off the deck, the slavers will torture the unlucky soul for weeks before they put them out of their misery. They would sooner kill the slaves than let any of them escape.

Sterling spots Ta’hua gagging, but still working. It kills Ta’hua to see anyone treated this way. It seems at times that he is the only one on deck lamenting the lives lost. He sings songs to those who pass away, songs from his tribe, meant to guide the dead to their final resting place. But he cannot afford to sing now. For now, he must continue to work. If he stops, he opens the door to pain and death. Ta’hua may be mournful, but he’s no fool.

The deck must be cleaned at all times, otherwise, salt will settle into the wood and rot it. This makes it instantly clear who slacks on their duties above deck. All day, the deck slaves work under the boiling sun on a never-ending task. The boat is so large that it takes fifty slaves just to keep the deck from rotting. Every day, they clean the deck. Scrub it. Ignore the painful splinters that wedge underneath their nails. Avoid the slaver’s wrath. And the next day they do it all over again.

It begins to have a wear on your brain, this life. Sterling has started to forget anything but the boat, but the work, but the endless waves. He can’t even remember the last time the boat was docked at a port, even though he was sure it was less than a few months ago. Perhaps. Or was it last week? He doesn’t know. All he knows is how to push a mop across the deck floor.

And how to manipulate innocents.

Finish your work. Finish your work. Sterling chants to himself.

Finish your work. Finish your work.

A stick suddenly jabs into Sterling’s back. Flinching, expecting further punishment, Sterling draws his shoulders into his body to protect himself.

Nothing.

He cracks an eye open, met by blinding sunlight. Gradually opening himself up again, he turns to meet whatever poked him.

An elderly Avian stands in front of Sterling. Through the layer of thinning red feathers, a pair of tired, wrinkled eyes blearily stare at him. “My apologies, young man,” the Avian says, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I didn’t see you there.” His mop stick is now lowered, away from where it had accidentally bumped into Sterling.

He rubs the spot on his back. The seemingly harmless prod peeled up skin from the sunburn there. Through his shirt, he could already feel specks of blood pushing to the surface. The pain is not unbearable, but it stings badly. He lets his eyes water slightly, biting his lip. “It’s al-alright,” he sniffs. “I’m fine.”

The Avian’s beak twitches slightly. “Good man,” the Avian replies. Underneath all the bumps and grooves of his voice is a tone of deep sadness.

Sterling inclines his head ever so slightly before continuing with his work. Once he hears the old Avian shuffle away, he considers his new option.

Fortune smiled on him today. The old Avian would be a perfect temporary food source for Ta’hua and him. Already, the elderly are among the easiest to convince to share. Thanks to the incident today, Sterling has been able to plant the seeds of empathy in the slave’s heart. Hopefully, within the week, he would feel comfortable enough to give food to Sterling and his friend.

The only issue with the elderly is that, unlike younger slaves, they cannot last long without all of their food. They are also more likely to be punished since they work at a much slower rate than anyone else.

Sterling contemplates his options as he continues to mindlessly scrub the deck. He could set up a temporary food source with the Avian while he worked on the Frog Man’s willingness. That way, they could both be fed and, given some more time, perhaps convince a second slave.

He ignores the pang of a buried emotion, and continues to work.

Sterling lives for the sunsets.

Despite the coldness and unyielding waves, the sunsets on the Oilcean are gorgeous. For the first time all day, the heat abates to let in an embracing coolness. It wraps Sterling in its shivering arms, soothing his burns and splintery hands.

The sun lights up the waves. Bright flashes skitter across the water. The sky is painted in rich purples and delicate pinks, and, as the night progresses, it deepens into the most magnificent starry blue. Sometimes, Sterling feels a quiet desire to know why the sky changes to such beautiful colors.

As if called by the ensuing darkness, phosphorescent creatures rise from the depths. When the sun disappears, thousands of pulsating squids, octopi, and jellyfish take its place. Now, instead of cheerful gleams off of the waves, green and blue lights float regally beneath the frigid waters. Miles upon miles of open ocean are lit up in an underwater celebration of hope and light in the face of darkness.

And, best of all, the sunsets bring the promise of a break.

The familiar hiss of a slaver makes Sterling giddy with excitement. He gets a rest. He doesn’t have to work for the next five hours. His aching muscles and burning skin will no longer need to cry out for a bed.

He gathers up his cleaning supplies--his mop, sponge, and bucket coated with suds. Without a backward glance, he eagerly turns away from his workspace. He is the third in line to the locked door that leads downstairs. A slaver stares at them, his two eyes swinging down by his chin, as he watches the line. Once he deems that everyone is ready, he unlocks the door with a definite click.

The slaves hurry inside. Although relieved to be inside, none run. The last time someone was caught running below deck, they were thrown overboard and fed to the waiting squids.

They file steadily to a large cabinet, in which the mops are neatly stacked in a corner. The slavers will take any opportunity to hurt their slaves, so if anything is out of place, someone is guaranteed a beating.

As soon as Sterling makes sure that his bucket is facing the right direction and that his mop is not leaning against the wall, he quickly walks out of the room. Now that he has stopped working, his stomach begins to growl, as if it is just now noticing that it is empty. Eagerly, he makes his way to the cafeteria.

The gem cleaners and polishers, who work below deck, are already eating their food in silence. Sterling’s gut clenches in anger--they get the easiest job. Never burned by the sun, never doing the hard work, but always first to dinner. They claim the spots by the walls, so their backs are supported nicely. His gaze slides past their gaunt faces and onward to the line ahead of him.

Once he receives his dinner, he searches the line for Ta’hua. The blue and yellow Avian is easy to pick out of the crowd. He stands hunch-shouldered between a human and a Frog Man. His feet drag with every movement of the line. Sterling waits patiently for his friend to receive his meal.

Ta’hua approaches him right away and, without a word, make their way to a part of the room with fewer slaves. They sit down together, Ta’hua’s hands shaking as he holds his food.

“So little,” Sterling murmurs. A bread crust is all they have for tonight. Touching the rim of the crust, where bread once was, Sterling can feel teeth marks and a certain wetness.

He tears the corner of the crust off, places it in his mouth, and chews it slowly. He’s learned that he can trick his stomach into believing that there is more food if he eats it piece by piece. So, every bite is savored, every crumb licked from his hand.

“Di-did you find anyone?” Ta’hua asks.

Sterling shrugs slightly. “I may have found someone to temporarily support us. An old Avian. Red feathers.”

Ta’hua’s head droops further. “Another el-el-elder?”

Instead of getting angry with Ta’hua’s pickiness, Sterling nods wearily.

“Is there an-anyone else-se?”

“Maybe a Frog Man. He’s new.” Setting his head on his knees, Sterling bites his fingernail. “I’m not sure though.”

“I hate it here,” Ta’hua says suddenly. Sterling glances up sharply. Ta’hua’s stutter is gone. Although his words are quiet, each shakes with anger and sorrow. “I hate it so much. I hate what we do. I don’t care if we have to, I hate it so much. I want to go one night without crying or having a nightmare or hating myself so much that I want to die. I want one day to pass where I’m not whipped. I want…” Ta’hua trails off, his eyes dulling with tears. “I wa-ant…”

Despite Sterling’s best efforts, tears form at the reminder that he once had something better. His heart is hollow, his stomach even more so. A sudden wave of disgust at his earlier excitement washes over him.

He remembers his sister. Her comforting words. Her cherry soap. Mom will be back soon, she’s just on a business trip with daddy right now. She always knew what to say. Now it is his turn to know what to say.

“We’re not going to be here forever.” Sterling whispers. He closes his eyes, letting tears drip off of his eyelashes. “It just can’t happen.”

The rest of dinner is spent in silence.

As a bell rings, slaves hurry to stand up. Many just finished savoring their meal. Slavers let whips trail from their claws threateningly. They bark orders in their language at the slaves and, although no one knows what they are saying, their meaning is clear. They file out of the room in a hurry, their heads bowed submissively as they make their way to the slave’s quarters.

They enter the dark room one by one. There aren’t any beds, just rows and rows of wooden shelves. There are at least three hundred sleeping spots packed into a room meant for twenty.

Each slave climbs onto a shelf. There is nothing to stop one from rolling off in the middle of the night. Many prefer to take the bottom shelves so they don’t break a bone. However, the shelves closer to the floor tend to have rat infestations.

Sterling climbs up a ladder to take a shelf in the back of the room. Four shelves up, far enough from the rats but not too far from the ground to take a potentially life-threatening tumble. He bends his knees slightly, wishing to draw them up to his chest. If he did so, he would be too wide for the shelf and fall out. His clothing scratches painfully against his burns and, where there are holes, the wood does the same. The cold is now unwelcome, making his whole body shiver and promising him a restless night.

Nonetheless, Sterling knows that, if he is going to have energy for tomorrow, he will have to sleep. So, he closes his eyes and continues to tremble with cold.

His dream is filled with laughter and light. Nothing is coherent, except for the warm sense of peace and happiness in his chest. His sister holds him close, tightly. It is not painful; he is not burned. He enjoys the hug, nestling into the crook of her shoulder. Her hands rub up and down his back comfortingly. I love you so much, Sterling… Never give up… When tears splash onto his cheek, he looks up. Why are you crying? he asks softly.

Because I’m going to lose you… because I have already lost everyone…

You’ll never lose me, Ash. I promise.

Brave boy… stay brave, will you?

I will.

He sits up suddenly, hitting his head on the shelf above him. The slave above him pounds an angry fist against the wood plank. Sterling drags his legs to the side of his bed, so they can dangle, as he rubs the sore spot on his face. What woke me up…? His dream had been pleasant. No nightmare to shock him out of sleep tonight. Shaking his head, he listens closely to what seems like only waves. But soon, he can hear it again--shuff, shuffff. Shuff.

Heart rising in his throat, Sterling pulls his legs back into his cot. Those sounded like footsteps. Not the confident stride of the slavers, but someone trying to be sneaky. It was either someone trying to escape or--

Someone screamed, and gunfire filled the night.

Instantly, everyone was awake in the slave’s quarters. Some started to wail with fear, others prayed, but most just silently shook inside their shelves. The footsteps above were not so sneaky now. Rather, painful sounding thuds punctuated the crack of pistols and the smooth hiss of a different, more advanced weapon. Something that the slavers definitely couldn’t afford.

Sterling hid. He tried to keep his emotions in check, but his heart was already trembling with hope. Could it be…? Would he finally go back to his old life? He clenched his fists, begging some god unknown to let the attackers win. He couldn’t even bring himself to consider that the assailants could be a rival pirate ship. If all this meant was that a more powerful clan would take him, there was no way he could possibly live any longer.

Suddenly the door swings up, hitting the wall with a loud bang. Sterling’s head pokes out of his cot to see the person, and he instantly pulls it back in as he registers what’s happening. The slaver begins firing shots at the cots, and Sterling covers his ears. Crack crack, thunk, crack crack crack!

His voice is loud, screaming at the slaves as he shoots them down. It hisses and cracks with pure, ungodly rage. What was going on?

Wood splinters as bullets ricochet everywhere in the room. Sterling shakes so hard that he can barely keep his hands on his ears. Is this it? he wonders tearfully. Am I going to die now? Do I die in this awful place?

No.

The gunshots are suddenly cut off, replaced by a strangled gurgling noise. “I found them,” someone whispers.

A tinny voice replies, “Where are you, soldier?”

“Below deck. It looks like everyone is down here.”

Hardly daring to breathe, Sterling sits up. As his eyes travel down the aisles, finally he spots the soldier. The man is covered head to toe in white armor, and orange, glowing glass plates protect his eyes. As soon as Sterling sees him, he forgets the ship.

He forgets his years spent on it.

He forgets his caution.

He cries out, stumbling down the ladder to rush to the man. He is crying so hard that he can barely breathe, his breath hitching every second. As he collapses in the soldier’s arms, he is screaming. After a second of hesitation, the man picks up Sterling, propping up the child on his hip. A cool, armored hand presses against his back. The other rests atop Sterling’s limp hair. The man calls to the room, “You’ve been rescued by the Navy of the Oilcean. We’re here to help you.”

Sterling wails incoherently as the man’s backup arrives. Doctors rush the room, helping up those injured by the wild shooting of the slaver, who now lies dead on the floor. They tie red ribbons onto the toes of the dead and cover them with heavy blankets. It was probably the best cloth that those slaves had felt in years.

The man carries Sterling through the ship. His crying echoes throughout the boat that he had spent the last four years tending. Each pause in his sobbing opens up another painful memory, sending him through the cycle again.

Once he reaches above deck, the soldier sets the child down. “Sh,” he says softly. “We’re here to help. You’re going home.”

“Please don’t leave me,” Sterling whispers, clutching the man’s wrist. Desperation clogs his words. “Please.”

“I--”

“Soldier Ruben!” A voice shouts.

The soldier’s gentle demeanor disappears as he snaps into a salute. “Yes, Senior Captain Ashley!” His voice matches the bark of the first.

“Why are you above deck! Why aren’t you helping with the injured?”

The soldier’s eyes trail down to Sterling, and he swallows slightly. “I was comforting this child, Senior Captain Ashley!”

The Captain marches over to Sterling. She is not wearing white armor--rather, she is wearing a helmet and a strange, scaly looking shirt. There is something vaguely familiar about the round curve of his face. The blonde hair hanging by her chin might as well be his own…

Their gazes meet.

The Captain sinks to the ground, her brown eyes suddenly filling with tears. A trembling hand presses against his cheek. “S-Sterling?”

Sterling’s eyes squint in confusion. “…Ash?”

Sterling’s sister pulls him in for a hug, her quiet gasping sobs scraping past his ears.

The gentle, floral scent of cherries reaches him.

“Sterling,” she pulls back from the hug. Her eyes are still wet with tears, but no more form. “I have to let you go for now. My men need my help. Soldier Ruben will lead you to the submarine. There are people waiting to help you.”

With that, the Captain stands. She heads to the door leading downstairs, her boots cracking the floorboards of the ship with every stride. His reality crumbles with every step she takes.

Crack. Tomorrow I won’t have to wake up before sunrise.

Crack. Tomorrow I won’t have to trick someone into feeding me.

Crack. Tomorrow I won’t have to fear for my life.

When Ashley reaches the door, she looks back once and nods. Then, she disappears into the blackness of the stairway.

Sterling stares after her for a few more seconds before Soldier Ruben leads him to the edge of the deck. A ladder is bolted onto the side of the ship. Above the waves, the top of a submarine cuts through the water as it keeps pace with the ship.

Ruben holds Sterling’s emaciated body close to his chest as he climbs down the ladder. His bony knees knock together with every step. Each rung takes him further away from the memories of death and slavery. Each rung takes him closer to freedom.

Once they reach the submarine, a group of humans takes Sterling. Ruben leaves Sterling to them, off to help more of the rescued onto the submarine. Every moment is a blur. They bathe him in warm water, gently washing away the dirt, dead skin, and grime that have accumulated over years without bathing. They dry him with a towel so fluffy that it practically floats above his skin. Then, they dress him in clothes too soft to imagine.

Sterling remembers staying awake to search for Tu’hua. Eventually, when his friend comes, they sat together and cried. Once their tears are too painful to continue crying, they fall asleep together in the safety of a warm bed.

Two days later, Sterling wakes up in a hospital. He’s dressed in different clothing, and a white blanket is tucked up to his chin. He sits up, his eyes half open, expecting instant pain. When nothing comes, he checks his face for burns. Nothing. He pats his back--only old whip scars.

“You’re awake.” A quiet voice says from the corner.

Sterling’s eyes go straight towards the sound. “A-Ashley?”

The woman sitting in front of him is a far cry to the girl from four years ago. Her eyes are tired, bags worn into her face underneath them. Muscles have formed on her arms, and there is a certain cunning to her eyes that Sterling does not remember.

“Do you remember me, Sterling?” The boy looks down at his hands, which clench the covers of his cot.

“I remember your cherry soap.” He says softly. “I remember the way you would hold me close when I cried because mommy wasn’t home. I… I remember that, even though you’re my sister, you’re like mommy.”

She nods. “Do you remember the day we were captured?”

Sterling closes his eyes. His breathing increases slightly. “Yes,” he whispers. “We were on a cruise ship. Mommy and daddy were celebrating their company’s success. I remember we weren’t supposed to be on the Oilcean, because of the pirates, but daddy gave money to the man that said we couldn’t and then he said we could. And then our ship was attacked, and mommy and Emma… they… they died… and they took you away…”

“Sterling,” Ashley broke in. “I need you to tell me where dad is. I know he went on the same ship as you. Is he alive?”

Sterling shook his head, his eyes still closed.

Ashley fell back in her chair. A trembling sigh brushed past her lips. “That’s it then. You and I are the only two left.” Only a few moments pass before she breathes in deeply, bracing herself against the wall of emotions threatening to crush her. “Sterling, I’m going to tell you what happened to me. Once I’m done, you can ask questions. I’m not going to make you tell me your story.”

Sterling’s eyes crack open to see his sister. She has her forearms braced on her knees, which she leans over. Her hair swings in front of her eyes as she begins to speak.

“When they separated me from you and dad, I almost died with grief and fear. I didn’t know where I was going, didn’t know what would happen, and had no one to tell me what to do. All I could do was what I was supposed to. I was put on an oil rig. I was always covered in the stuff. It was always in my mouth; all of the food tasted like oil. It was awful.

“But, within a year, my oil rig was liberated by the Navy of the Oilcean. I was free, but I had nowhere to go. Dad and mom’s company had already been claimed by one of their heirs, and they shut me out. They didn’t want a lawsuit on their hands. I… I didn’t know what to do.

“I realized that I had to do something with my life. After all, it was saved for a reason. So I looked to you. I had a new goal in life--finding you and dad. The best way to go about that was to join the Navy. I spent every moment trying to make my way to the next rank, so I could start searching specifically for you and dad.

“It was hard, because people easily connected my actions with my past. Many tried to get me fired since they thought I was biased towards you.” Ashley chuckles softly. “They were right, of course. Didn’t mean I could let them get in my way.

“I spent every minute of my day fighting my way to the top. And, once I was there, I spent every other minute fighting to stay there. I was able to trace several ships that could possibly have you onboard. As the years went by, I had to confront the possibility that you and dad might be dead. But… I never gave up.” She smiles sadly. “And here we are.”

Sterling blinks. “Where is here?”

Ashley sits up, and her sadness fades away. “We’re still on the Oilcean. A hospital, in San Paola.”

“Is Ta’hua safe?”

“The Avian you fell asleep with?” At Sterling’s nod, she continues. “He’s doing just fine. He’s been awake for a few hours now, actually. Very quiet, that boy.”

Sterling’s lip trembles. “Am… am I safe?”

Ashley’s eyebrows slant sadly. She comes to sit on his bed, careful not to disturb his legs. She grasps one of his hands. “From now and forever.”

Sterling smiles at her, his eyes filling with tears built up over four years of torture, pain, and misery.

From now and forever.

And there it is! I hope you enjoyed reading my first short story of the summer! Thank you for reading!

- L.E. Silva

#SSSChallenge #short story #writing #writers #writers on tumblr #scifi

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

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[created by: vyvyan86]

Do you or have you ever owned a cup with your name on it? I do.

What's the most expensive crafts tool that you own? The only kinda pricy art related items I have are my sets of Prismacolor colored pencils.

Have you ever woven baskets of any kind (wicker, paper, cardboard etc.)? No.

How do you like Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis? I mean, it’s catchy.

Speaking of Jerry Lee Lewis, have you seen the biopic about him? Nope.

How about the biopic about Tina Turner? No.

Do you like the TV-show Frasier? I never got into it.

What's something you know by heart? A lot of things, but uhh let’s go with song lyric to a lot of songs.

What is something you're greedy about? Hm. Sleep. It’s never enough.

How valuable does a coin have to be for you to bother to pick it up? I might if it’s a quarter.

What would be something you would wait in line to get for free? I’m really impatient, so it’d have to be something pretty good. Or a short/good spot in line.

Has there ever been a leak anywhere in your house? Yeah, under our dishwasher.

Have you ever slipped in the shower? No, thankfully.

Have you ever made any decorative crafts? If so, are they displayed? I’ve attempted stuff in the past, but no I don’t have anything I’ve done displayed.

Is it very humid where you are right now? No.

What is the most suggestive thing someone has said to you? There’s been a lot of instances like that.

Do you have friends who you playfully flirt with? Not anymore.

Doesn't the Z in the Bzoink logo look like an L to you, too? I’m not familiar with the logo.

Did you ever take that 5000 question survey that was circulating Tumblr? Yeah, most of it. I’m actually almost done; I should just bite the bullet and finish it already it.

Have you ever had to change a zipper in your favorite article of clothing? I’ve never attempted to.

Do you prefer buttons or zippers in general? Zippers.

Did your grandma have a box full of pretty buttons? Aw, this reminds me of the tin of cookies she had that actually had like sewing supplies and other random stuff inside instead of cookies. The disappointment was very real every time I found one of those cookie-less tins around the house, haha.

What's the most exotic spice in your spice rack? I don’t think we have any exotic spices.

Do buttons tempt you to press them? Nah. I’d worry about what it was for.

Do you have a favorite television host? I like Ryan Seacrest.

What's your opinion on celebrity chefs? I don’t have much of an opinion about them.

Back when it first started, did you watch ANTM? Yeah, I’ve watched several seasons. I watched the newest ones a few years ago with Rita Ora and then when Tyra came back as well.

Did you know, that there was even a Finnish version of ANTM? I’m not surprised.

Are you accident prone? Kinda.

Have you ever broken something really valuable? Yes.

What do you see as timeless? My favorite songs from various decades.

What is something that you own, that has sentimental value? All my giraffe stuffed animals.

Have you ever had your own website? I’ve made simple ones back in the day that you could make for free. What's something that you finished recently? A bowl of ramen.

What's the smallest town you recall visiting? This random town in California that my grandparents randomly decided to stay at one year when they came to visit. They found an RV park there and I guess the price was reasonable, but the town itself was very small and out in the middle of nowhere.

What's the longest distance you've had to go to work or school? Every school I attended, including the community college and UC I went to, was local and close by.

Would you learn a new language, if you didn't share one with your lover? Yeah.

Do you have friends who are constantly tagging you in challenges on FB? No.

When it comes to chocolate, do you prefer nougat, jelly or caramel filling? I’m not a big fan of filling in my chocolate.

Are you more concerned about winning than just participating? No.

Has somebody you know taken their own life? Some former classmates and acquaintances.

Do you prefer onions, leeks or chives? Chives.

What's the most adult thing you have to do every day? Hm. There isn’t really an “adult thing” that I have to do everyday.

What's the most immature thing you like to do every day? Uhh. I don’t know. I wouldn’t really describe the things I like to do everyday as “immature.”

Have you seen the movie, Clue? If so, isn't it fab? I think I’ve seen parts of it.

Do your cheeks get flushed easily? Yes.

Are there any social cues you miss entirely? I think I understand social cues pretty well.

When someone doesn't smile back at you, what's your first thought? Maybe they’re just focused on something else and deep in thought. *shrug*

Is there a person who melts your heart just by looking at you? My doggo.

Have you ever had tom kha kai? I don’t know what that is.

Have you, or anyone you know ever been rude to a server? I haven’t, but yes I’ve known people who have been. I feel so bad when people treat servers, retail workers, etc badly. People can be just be so damn rude.

What's something you're opinionated and very vocal about? I tend to keep a lot to myself and not speak up much about things. ^When's the last time you had to verbally defend your stance? Hmm.

Have you ever played BitLife? Nope.

What's something you regularly order online? Clothes.

Do you often make friends online? I used to.

Do people ever try to get something from somebody through you? Not generally, but yeah it has happened before.

What do you think when you see a couple holding hands? I don’t really think much about it.

Is there anything you're forced to share with someone else? My living space? I’m perfectly fine with that. I love living with my family.

What's something stripy that you own? My Adidas stuff with their signature 3 stripes.

How about something polka dotted? I don’t think I have anything with polkadots.

What is something you find absolutely appalling? Abuse.

Do you like elevators? Not especially, but I don’t have a choice since I can’t take the stairs.

What's the first thing that comes to mind when I say "midnight madness"? Uhhh.

When you're angry, does it ever get physical? Never.

What do you do, when you're immensely happy? What’s that feel like?

What made you scream out loud the last time you screamed? A big ass spider.

Can you hear your neighbors through the wall? Sometimes we can hear the pipes, like when they use the shower.

What is something that frustrates you to no end? Myself and my health issues.

Do you wear shoes indoors? No.

Who is your favorite stand-up comedian? I don’t have one. My aunt has been showing me some videos from her favorite comedian, Brian Regan, though. He’s pretty funny.

What's the weirdest video YouTube has suggested to you? There’s been many.

What's the funniest infomercial you've seen? Those ones that seem so overdramatic and exaggerated.

Is there a drink that just goes right through you? Water.

Is there a food item you can't eat because it doesn't agree with you? Dairy and spicy food.

Do you playfully compete with someone about something? When playing board games or Mario Kart.

Would you rather swim or run? Neither, please.

Do you like the smell of tar? Ew, no.

Have you ever been to a sauna? No, that sounds absolutely awful no thank you.

Does your doorbell ring unexpectedly often? No.

Is your favorite fictional character a human, an animal or something else? My favorite fictional characters are mostly humans, but some are super humans (superheroes), robots, and other types of creatures.

Have you ever helped a stranger? If so, what did you do? Yeah, like giving money.

Do you share hobbies with any of your friends? What do you do together? My family and I have our favorite shows we like to watch together.

Do you have any flags on display? If so, what flag(s)? I have a huge Swedish flag on my wall.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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darkhymns-fic · 7 years

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So I’ve Been Told

Like nomads they both were. Raine knew that to stay in one place too long - and to believe in another - was to invite suspicion. Besides, only Genis was her family, and nobody else.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Raine Sage, Genis Sage, Dirk, Phaidra Brunel Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3, FF.net Notes: Written for Tales of Symphonia Week 2017, for Oct 9 - Friends and Family. (A day late, sorry!)

What Raine remembered most from waking up that morning was the taste of mana in the air; so light and weak.

“We didn’t sleep much when we traveled, did we?” Genis would ask her sometimes. He’d mutter a spell of flames to put the kindling on the stove to work. Shortly afterwards, there was a scent of spices, topped with freshly cut onions and peppers and parsley, to accompany the buttery rice that Raine held in her own dinner bowl.

“No. You cried every night. Quite a task for a young girl to keep you silent from the wolves, but we managed.” She poked the rice with her fork, ideas of exotic recipes surfacing in her mind. Surely, with rice so soft and fluffy, adding a bit of texture – perhaps of the gravelly kind – would bring about a new dish that people would appreciate. Something to keep in mind when she experimented tomorrow.

Genis was quiet for a moment, taste-testing their meal with a sip from the wooden spoon. “I don’t remember much from that.” He paused. “I’m sorry I was a lot of trouble.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Genis. I’ve already told you.” She took a bite from the rice, appreciating the lush flavors on her tongue, already forgetting her need to improve upon it. “We managed, and now we’re here.”

However, it had not always been that easy.

“An abomination,” one lady had whispered, shutting her door to the starving children. It had not been said as an aside, or as a floating thought that was not meant to be heard by any passerby. It was the words of one filled with utter conviction, whispered like a warding spell that would keep terrible demons at bay. Such words had been thrown at Raine right at her feet, circling around her like a ring of stones, keeping her imprisoned from the rest of the world.

That night once again, Genis had cried.

“It’s okay. It’s alright.” With small hands, the young girl brought forth what little mana she could, inducing calm, wrapped in feathers and cotton, around her baby brother. The patch of the forest they resided in for the night was so dark, and she had thought for sure she had heard the soft sound of padded feet from only a few feet away. Still, even with the world’s lack of mana, she could coax out enough to work her spells. Strange adults had wanted her for her magic, her mother once said. And back home, there was no escaping them.

So she and Genis had left home, suddenly and viciously. When she had woken up, all she could recall was the taste of mana in the air; so light and weak.

Genis’ cries lessened, and he sunk in deeper in his tattered blanket. Yet as he slept, Raine felt tears leave her eyes. She held her only family close, hoping for the sun to rise as soon as possible. There was the village far-off ahead of her, rooftops coated in silver light, thick smoke from the hearths rising into the air. The door that had been shut to her was hidden by the rise of the hill, its doorknob still twisted off its clasp of poor workmanship, its sole-window still stained from age and wear.

It was not a sight she could forget, no matter how much she slept, or dreamed, or wished.

This house was different.

A trek down well-worn dirt paths led both half-elves to the work of a master craftsman. The ivy crawled up the eaves of the home, hanging from it like a tapestry of rich green. It even clung through the slim openings between the wooden planks of the front door, yet not in the ways of an invader. Soft light peered out through several windows on the ground floor, highlighting the potted plants outside. For decoration? No. Raine looked closer and saw they were plants of a medicinal nature, for treating scrapes and wounds if a doctor was nowhere nearby.

They were not nearby anything, except for this large house placed on private land, seeming so warm and inviting in the night.

“Sis?” Genis tugged on her arm. He already spoke clear and well for a child of four. She said nothing, instead fixing his long, silver hair to hide the sharp points of his ear. An uncanny eye could notice the details; the soft hint of bluntness around that point, indicating a weaker link to the blood of those elves, secreting themselves away into forests beyond human knowledge.

They smelled food. It was too hard to ignore.

“Let me talk,” she told him. At fifteen, she could pull off a maturity that most adults found charming – until she let her tone carry her away into rudeness. But she had learned how to make due in their passage, living off the roads and a few strangers’ kindness. It had not felt right to her to impose herself on that caravan, despite their zoological ambitions. She had immersed herself in their self-written academic texts for so long, but could not give much else back – they were only traveling bags, her clothes, and the precious papers in her pocket. Besides, wandering the world had become the norm.

Wrapped in traveling cloaks that she had bartered for in the fishing town of Izoold, both Raine and and Genis passed stores of barrels – more food supplies perhaps, arranged by an owner who knew the importance of sustainability – and made their way to the door. Off to the right, she could see a stable, and hear the soft huffing of a creature. The moonlight reflected off its eyes, yet it did not growl or come forward like most guard animals. Instead, a little whine left its throat, and it retreated further back into its stable.

Raine knocked on the door. What next she noticed – and stored away for future reference – were the heavy footsteps beyond that door, like a boulder that had suddenly sprouted two feet.

The door opened. Her eyes instantly latched onto the cooking pot to the left of an open room, the ladle having been left within its contents as steam rose. Once she focused in front of her, she was thrown off guard once she saw that the house owner only barely reached her height. “Ah, don’t get many strangers at this time of night.”

Raine knew him to be a dwarf, though she had never seen one before. She had read about them in old books that the kindly historian had once let her borrow. The information in such books had been scarce still. Recalling what little she knew, she inclined her head slightly, yet forgone the female dwarven greeting of arranging one’s long braids before her neck – a gesture of openness, that no secrets shall be kept. All the more fitting, she thought. Her hair was short anyway, and her secrets were as long and as hidden as the lower-most roots of the great everwoods.

“Good evening. I beg of you a favor to show me the way,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “Me and my brother are trying to find the path leading towards, Iselia, the village of oracles. The forest has been confusing our senses, and so we have gotten lost.”

Her request finished, Raine stood before the dwarf, unnerved that she had to look down to meet the other’s eyes. She had only ever had to meet such an angle with Genis.

“My, how well-spoken you are, lass! Though if ye want to be more convincing, I’d suggest keeping your eyes rooted to me instead of my dinner!”

Raine could feel the flush rising to her cheeks. She shook it away, hoping it would not highlight the ears she kept hidden beneath the careful arrangement of her hair. “That’s – I apologize. I did not mean to impose. I really am only looking for directions to Iselia.”

“Yet how can you travel on an empty stomach? My forge is still shaping my latest work, and the ringing of my hammer still sits in my ears. Even through all that, I can hear both of your stomachs growling like a mangy wolf searching for his next meal!”

Raine’s voice died instantly. Even through all her travels, she had not met anyone quite like this dwarf – one that caught onto her mind, and who met it straight on with a wide smile. Genis was staring, eyes open and curious, holding tight to her hand while he shifted on tired feet.

“I…” she stopped, then started again. “I do not wish to impose.”

The dwarf waved away her concerns. “Nonsense, lass. I was only cooking some leftovers for myself. My boy ate the last batch all by himself, and now he’s out like a light.” He laughed at that, and there was a genuine happiness there that Raine instantly envied. “You are free to rest yourselves and have a bite or two. I’ve always made it my business to have my home open to weary travelers – though I guess that is so because most of my clients are travelers – traveling to meet with me that is!”

Raine put the information together. She had examined what she could see of the home; the forge that was near the stove, the bundles of swords that lay wrapped in cloth, hanging within a metal basket on the floor. Dwarves were the original metalsmiths of the world, after all.

“The name’s Dirk, by the way. Like the weapon, though I am not as deadly as one! Ya don’t need to give your names if you wish to keep them a secret, but my food is available to the nameless.” He gestured, leaving the door open. So trusting he was. Was it because he was not human? “Come, before you catch more colds than ye already have!”

Genis sniffled at the comment, then did a great sneeze that made Raine flinch. “Sorry,” the child spoke, eyes wandering to that cooking pot.

Raine swallowed.

“I don’t want to impose.” She shook her head. “I must… speak with the priests at Iselia. I have a recommendation.” A secret revealed without her meaning to. She refrained herself from petting the pocket where that paper was kept, scrawled by the kind historian’s writing. “Please. Just show me the way and we will leave you alone.”

She ignored Genis’ sad eyes, tried to brush past the dwarf’s look of slight confusion. She could not let herself stay long here, nor at Iselia, nor anywhere. She would learn, she would adapt, and then she would leave with her brother in tow. Never long enough for one to be curious about their heritage, to question why full-blooded elves would stray so far from their hidden homes.

Dirk seemed to have not heard her then. Instead, he walked over to the cooking pot, reaching out for bowls that were placed conveniently near a work table. Raine was speechless as he proceeded to serve the still simmering food, even going so far as to tear off a loaf of bread that was sitting within a woven basket.

He came back to the door, two bowls complete with utensils in each hand, bread crusts dipped into a concoction of spices, of onions, of peppers and parsley. The ingredients were swimming in sauces steeped from well-tenderized meats, the kind that were probably imported from a butcher’s market. He handed one of them to her.

“For your travels. I can vouch that they will do your empty stomachs good.”

There were suspicions; it would not be the first time a stranger had tried to poison her or her brother, their hatred for half-elves running deep. But none of the tell-tale shiftiness was in the dwarf’s eyes. She took one bowl, and let Dirk hand the other to her brother.

“I will not ask you to stay in my home if you do not wish. But I will say the glade beyond the stream is safe, and a good campsite. No beasts of the night will come near, that I can promise you.”

The dwarf spoke to her as if she were a ready-made friend. Even the kindly historian had taken time to show some hospitality.

“Once you go to Iselia, be sure to ask for Phaidra or Frank. Both she and her son-in-law are good people, and she has the kindliest granddaughter one ever did see. I’m sure that will make your recommendation go down easier, my friend.”

Raine felt warmth in her palms; from her brother’s ever-lasting grip, from the clay bowl she held delicately in one hand. “I hope to teach,” she confessed. “Just for a little while.”

Dirk smiled at her. “Those with brains are what’s sorely needed these days. I’m sure you can teach my son a thing or two!”

She wanted to ask him about his son, suddenly. But she only thanked him, leaving quickly with a stuttering Genis, who could only half-thank him back. The dwarf reassured her to keep the bowls, or leave them by the stream if she so wished.

Past that same stream with the moon shining high, both ate their fill of their meal, savoring the heat and taste, one that never left her through the years. When she woke up the next day, back no longer aching from its rest on the soft grass, with Genis curled next to her, the mana still tasted light and weak. But it was no longer so frightening.

“History seems to be Colette’s favorite subject,” Raine said, arranging her graded papers on her desk.

“Ah, yes. She always asks me or Frank to read a story from one of the Church’s tomes. She loves the tales of Spiritua so.”

Phaidra only rarely visited the schoolhouse, but a newly-arranged priestess took over her temple duties for the day. Raine had guided the old woman to a student’s seat that was just across from her. The imagery seemed a little absurd to her, privately. Here she was, a teacher of only eighteen years, speaking to an elderly, worldly woman in a desk where innocent but juvenile scribbles were drawn.

“Oh my, what a charming picture of a dog.” Phaidra traced one such scribble across the desk’s surface, admiring the detail of the tail specifically. “Is this Lloyd’s work?”

“Yes.” Raine sighed. Even making Lloyd sit at the front of the class could not get the boy to concentrate. “He had been drawing it for Colette.”

“How sweet of him! No wonder she was so happy today.” Phaidra chuckled, still holding onto her gnarled cane in her left hand.

“Anyway… Colette is doing well in all of her subjects. She also seems to be more open with speaking with others, mostly with Lloyd and Genis. Overall, she has been a wonderful student.”

Phaidra nodded before Raine even finished. The knowledge was nothing new, yet she had wanted to hear it from the elf herself. “It is all due to a wonderful teacher such as yourself.”

“Ah… I only gave her the tools. She used them well enough on her own.” The compliment did not sit with her well.

“You have a way with teaching, Raine. Perhaps it is an elven trait, but the village and its children have never been better, I can promise you that.”

Raine only nodded. She shuffled the papers around even more, the peppering of red marks adorning each one, some more than the other.

“I hope that one day you can accept that you have a family here.”

Raine looked up, eyes wide. The old woman only looked on her kindly, dressed in the robes of those who followed Martel, the embossed designs of her dress indicating her high status within the Church. Twin braids flowed past her ears, their shine contrasting the tan wrinkles that was her face.

The elf – half-elf, they will never accept you – swallowed. “Your words are kind, Phaidra.” But Genis is the only family I have.

Phaidra nodded once again. She then leaned upon the cane to stand up, her feet tottering on the hardwood floors. The setting sun reflected off her burnished hair, bringing to mind the young, golden-haired child that Raine could not help but smile at whenever she spoke with her brother. A smile tinged with strain, hoping that her sibling kept his own hair arranged just so, for eyes can be quick and suspicious.

They had already stayed here far too long.

“Then I hope that, at the very least, you can consider us all as your friends.” Phaidra was already at the door of the classroom, startling Raine from her brief daydream. “Colette already believes you are.”

In the morning, Raine woke to the taste of mana in the air; weaker and lighter than the days before.

Her classes would not start again for several days, a fact that gave the children joy, Lloyd most of all. Before she fully roused herself for a cup of coffee, she heard the familiar steps running up to her door, then a swift knocking.

“Genis!” Lloyd’s voice could travel through stone, unhindered, and still as clear as the sky. “Hey!”

Her little brother grumbled from his bed, silver hair in a tangle. She watched silently as he patted it down around his pointed ears – only enough to give his ears their shape if not their details. But few eyes were sharp around here, especially when a high priestess of the Church already gave her word that full-blooded elves would be joining their village. Only truth came from the Church of Martel and nothing but.

After an exchange of shouts between Lloyd and Genis, her brother finally opened the door. An excited human boy – almost as tall as she was – was shifting on his feet in excitement. The red jacket he wore was too blinding for her to deal with this morning. “Come on, already! We have to get to the beach before the day’s over!”

“Lloyd, I wish you would wake up this early for school,” Raine said, knowing such words would fall on deaf ears. Besides, Genis would do enough reprimanding in her place.

“It’s seven in the morning! We have plenty of time. And I need to prepare the sandwiches!”

“Yeah, but we gotta get the best seashells before someone takes them! I promised Colette I’d make her bracelet from the best ones down there!”

Genis shook his head. “I think she’ll like anything you find her from the beach. You could even get her some seaweed and she’d still think it was amazing.” Both continued teasing each other back and forth, silent on the fact that Colette could not join them past the village’s perimeters.

Raine knew as well, and only looked on as both her brother and his best friend left their home to enjoy their day.

I have been here too long.

She curled a lock of hair from her face, placing it behind her sharply-pointed ears – only blunt when you looked past, and when you didn’t trust the words of another.

It was too late. She had already made friends here, perhaps a family if she ever dared, yet that was a fragile concept that she dared not explore.

“Colette thinks of you as a dear friend,” Phaidra once again told her, visiting the young elven woman now aged at 23. Eight years she had stayed, longer than she ever meant to. “And as her friend, I must ask of you a favor.”

Raine set her mug back on the breakfast table. Graded papers met her eyes from the same place, the red marks on them a familiar pattern.

It had taken so long of her to find such friends. How cruel it truly was for her to lose one of them so soon.

#tosweek17 #tosweek2017 #tales of symphonia #raine sage #genis sage #dirk #phaidra brunel #fanfiction #one shot

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