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burning-clutch · 3 years

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If A Ghost Howls In A Forest…

cross posted to a03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30503925 Danny was hoping his time at a summer camp would be ghost-free, and well, of course not. When would things in his life ever NOT involve ghosts? At least he can hope to get some decent rest tonight, right? RIGHT? Warning: mild descriptions of death

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Prompt by: KC Summer Camps is not complete without a courage test of walking to the haunted woods at midnight. Amity Park campers are weirdly prepared for this. Other campers are not sure how to deal with that

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“Why are we doing this?”

“It’s a sort of initiation type of thing.”

“But WHY?!”

“For the spooks?”

“I’ll get the lipstick…”

“Wait what?”

Danny sighed as he watched Tucker neander off back to their cabin to fetch the Fenton lipstick ray, ignoring the looks of confusion that was shot his way from the other campers that he didn’t know from school. Dash and Kwan had thankfully been, well, not assholes the WHOLE time they had been in the camp. Though to be fair, it had only been a day in this week long fun filled… whatever this was.

Apparently, while things seemed to start out well they were told around the evening campfire and cookout, (which was mostly just them poking hotdogs on sticks and trying not to burn themselves when they ate them,) they were told about a tradition about the new campers being lead up to spend a few hours on their first night on a midnight hike through the ‘haunted’ woods.

Danny was the first to groan hearing this followed by Tucker. Even Dash and Kwan looked unamused as well as the random soccer player that Danny vaguely recognized from school.

To say the councillors were confused by the amity park kids’ reactions would be selling the gambit of expression the councillors had. Teenagers being put in charge of slightly younger teenagers, yeah, nothing could go wrong here, nothing at all…

Tucker came back and tossed Danny a wrist ray while tucking the lipstick he had retrieved into his shirt pocket. A boy from some small farming town an hour’s drive from the camp shuddered. “Haunted Woods? How are you not worried about dark haunted woods? Ghosts are in there!” he exclaimed.

“Cuz it’s just ghosts right?” The Amity soccer player shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean the story they told us said that right? Those hikers that got hurt and died in the woods still haunt it to this day” Kwan supplied with a roll of his eyes. The jock wiggled his fingers doing a decent impression of the box ghost with an even more intimidating “OoooOOOoooOO”

“Yeah, unless they’re gonna be sporting some cool gore this will be lame,” Dash added with a yawn. “Pass.” Dash waved the councillor off before trying to turn and head off.

“Well, you don’t HAVE to go on the hike. But those who skip out will have to endure the punishment tomorrow. If you wanna peel hundreds of potatoes tomorrow morning at the ass crack of dawn you’re welcome to head back…. We’re also going to label you as a coward too so there’s that.” One of the councillors says with a smug smile on their face.

“Has anyone ever seen anything like that?” A nervous looking twig of a boy asked, wringing his hands nervously.

“Oh I won’t say anything on that matter” The second councillor, Jeff says. At least Danny thinks he remembers the name as Jeff. He should probably learn that given this guy was in charge of the cabin he was staying in, “It’ll be better to leave it as a surprise.”

The first councillor, a jock looking guy, built like a brick house with thick shoulders and neck but a tiny waist and legs looking very much like he needed a few more rounds on leg day, eyed the Amity group with a look as though he were going to try to take scaring them as a challenge. Danny looked the guy over, raising a brow when their eyes locked.

Great, he and Tucker looked like an easy target. He knew that look all too well having spent plenty of time being bullied as well as with angry ghosts who underestimated him. More fun tonight will be had by all he was sure.

“Don’t worry We’ll make sure you’ll get some proper spooks.” the brick house says with what Danny assumed the other thought was an intimidating grin.

Dash snorted. “Fenton’s probably the only one who’ll get scared of the ghosts out there. He runs away from all of them back home.”

“Have you seen my parents? Get too close to a ghost and it picks up some contamination you know exactly what they’ll do!” Danny spat back with a glare of his own only barely managing to stop his eyes from glowing in his rapidly souring mood.

The other kids at the camp blink in confusion. “Wait… You guys are from that tourist town that goes way too far with the ghost theme right?” asked a pale kid with brown hair.

“Oh please, that’s just a gimmick” Answered another kid who crossed his arms in a huff.

“It’s not a gimmick dude, we even have our own superhero!” Kwan answered.

“Uh-huh. Well you’re superhero ain’t gonna save you from the ghosts out here” Jeff shot back, crossing his arms. “Right, Tom?”

The brick house, Tom apparently nodded knowingly. “Yep, these ghosts are very dangerous and angry ya know..”

“So? It IS Monday,” Tucker offered flatly, earning a snort from the soccer player.

“Can we just… not do this?” A darker skinned nervous boy whined holding onto the arm of the brown haired kid reminding Danny of him and Tucker from two years ago before they got jaded from ghost attacks.

Kinda made him wonder what could have been…

“Nope we're going, so move,” Tom ordered taking up the place at the back of the line while Jeff took the place at the front.

Danny groaned. “Wonder if there will be any ghosts in there?” He wonders to tucker as they were all forced into a line for their ‘spooky’ hike.

“Maybe it’ll be one of Vlad’s abominations?” Tucker suggested.

“Honestly I wouldn't be surprised.” Danny sighed back with a frown. At least if it was a real ghost his ghost sense would alert him to the danger before they got too close.

They entered the treeline and started heading up a hill and towards the supposed site where the hikers had fallen and gotten trapped by a rock or something falling on them. Their legs were broken and crushed and stuck in place, they apparently died unable to get food or drink and unable to free themselves alone, and not able to scream loud enough for help. They still haunt this area… apparently.

Danny had to admit while the tragedy would be able to spawn a ghost but he also doubted there was one sentient around here if there was a ghost at all. He couldn’t sense very high ectoplasmic concentrations around here. Any ghosts that weren’t purely animalistic in nature wouldn’t last long out here without a boost of ecto-energy.

Which means if there was an animal ghost, that boost of energy could come from attacking humans or eating things as animals tend to do... Again attacking humans but instead of feasting on their emotions, well it’s just getting mauled.

More than anything it meant that if there was a malevolent ghost out there that they would have to be on their toes, and Tucker would have to run interference to make sure no one sees Phantom this far from Amity Park.

Well, at least none of the Amity park residents see Phantom this far from Amity.

As they walked up towards the crescent of the hill they noticed it was significantly colder, though it wasn’t a ghostly cold, at least those from Amity knew it wasn’t. The other kids though?

“Oh, man… Why is it so chilly?!” “You think that means the ghosts are close?” “No way man stop saying stupid stuff.”

“It’s probably the river,” Tucker said simply, pointing to the side where there was a winding stream just below the side of the hill. “The way the winds are blowing it’s cooling this area more.”

Danny smirked at his friend's explanation. It was a neat trick sure, but it wasn’t enough to scare the Amity kids. Frowning but not discouraged, the councillors led their troupe up and around towards a cave that was making a moaning noise every time the wind blew.

“They say this is where the hikers were killed, just at the mouth of this tunnel looking for shelter,” Tom says smirking, enjoying the shudders some of the younger teens were giving at the howls of the tunnel. “If you listen you can hear them screaming still.”

“The wind in the tunnel opening?” Kwan asked helpfully.

“No, it’s the howls of the damned.” Jeff encouraged

“And if you look close enough you can sometimes make out the glowing soul of their spirits,” Tom added ignoring the Amity jock.

“Oh neat! I didn’t know they had Panellus stipticus in this area!” The soccer jock said overly happily.

“Dude, when did you become a nerd.” Dash huffed out teasingly.

“I’m studying Bio to get into Uni for Mycology. Dude mushrooms are totally awesome.” Came the smug reply.

“You would know Kevin” Dash snapped back

“Moving on!” Tom called out before shooing the kids away. This was not going according to plan at all… Why are these Amity kids so prepared for this?! Well, hopefully, the next bit will get them…

As they round the cave towards a small rocky outcropping the councillors do their best to draw the younger teen’s attention towards the crevasse where there was supposedly still a shoe from one of the deceased hikers. “If y’all look hard enough you’ll find it I’m sure~,” Jeff told them.

Frowning the kids shined flashlights down into the ditch looking about before one kid called out, “I found a shoe!”

As they did several things happen at once. There was a roaring sound of pain before someone came bolting out of the woods with yellow and green glowing spots all over them. Tucker raised a brow but side-eyed Danny who shrugged.

The Amity kids watched in more confusion than fear as the ‘ghost’ ran out of the woods towards them and took a swipe at one of the youngest teens in their group. “So that’s your ghost? Lame.” Dash huffed out arms crossed. “It’s not even the right colours.” he added with a wave of his hand ignoring the screeching of some of the other kids who were clearly more startled by the ‘ghost’ than he was.

“So, can we go now?” Danny asked with a yawn as the ghost, or really one of the councillors with broken glow stick goo all over them came close to him with an ‘oooooOOOOoooo’

“You guys really didn’t even flinch?!” the ‘ghost complained.

“Oh hey, there you go now THAT looks more convincing.” Someone says just as Danny’s breath fogged a bit before his face.

The halfa looked to where his ghost sense had pointed him to see a big giant green drooling monster beast glaring at the humans towering over the majority of even the tallest in the group. “Yeah, that looks more like a ghost! How’d you do that?” The soccer player said, (Danny really needed to learn his name)

Tom and Jeff and the ‘ghost’ that was harassing Danny all yelp and take a few steps back while the non-Amity kids scrabble and scatter back the way they came.

“No he’s real,” Danny offers with a sigh of exasperation. “Here Cujo down!”

The beast barked and wagged its tail before shrinking down and giving a yip of delight before rushing over to Danny, legs never fully touching the ground as he flew over to the boy.

“Heel! Sit!” Danny calls out stopping the dog in its tracks before the beast could cover him in glowing green slobber.

Cujo did just that sitting practically on Danny’s feet and wiggling his tail so fast it made his butt jiggle back and forth in the effort. The teen sighed and scooped the wiggling beast up into his arms with little effort, mostly due to the fact that ghost dogs only weigh half of what their flesh and bone counterparts would.

“Figures Fent-freak would have a freaky ghost dog” Dash taunted crossing his arms though when Cujo growled, Dash’s smug smile fell.

“Tha-That’s?” Jeff stammered out, pointing a shaking finger at the wiggling green bean in Danny’s hands.

“A typical Amity park ghost yeah,” Danny replied with a grin. “So it's cool if we call this hike a night I’m kinda hoping to get some sleep, that’s kinda why I wanted to come here to catch up on that more than anything…” Danny admitted the last part a little quieter as he put Cujo back down.

The councillor nodded dumbly, moving back away from the teen and the ghost dog, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to bolt when Danny picked up a stick and threw it for Cujo to fetch.

“Awe man I think I stepped in Fen-turd’s dog’s invisible crap!” Dash complained as they all started moving back, Cujo yipping as he came back with the stick giving a snort at Dash before loyally following alongside Danny and phasing through trees as they walked.

Seeing this, Tom decided that it would be best if he hurried back to the cabins to get them ready for the new campers. Yes, That’s exactly what he’s doing…

“Dude you can’t seriously be thinking of keeping Cujo around here he’ll destroy the camp,” Tucker muttered to Danny watching the little pup chase its tail as he followed them.

“Eh, It’s not really fair to keep him in the thermos for the week. Besides I’m sure I can use this guy to get you that extra helping of bacon you wanted.” Danny bribed his friend.

Tucker’s eyes light up and he grins brightly “Cujo here boy! Come see the T-man!”

Danny rolled his eyes, but so long as that was the only ghost they encountered out here, he might actually have a decent week of sleep ahead of him.

He can only hope.

Besides, using Cujo as a threat to Dash sounded like as good a plan as any, and if the councillors were too scared to go near the ghost dog that they would let him sleep in, all the better for him.

Danny smirked, perhaps camp wouldn’t be so bad after all~

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Complete Total: 2363

#phic phight 2021 #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #camp fun #Danny is done with ghosts #he just wants to sleep

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ka-writes · 3 years

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Notes: I had already started on the second chapter before I posted the first one, so don’t expect updates every day... I also had to do a lot of googling for this chapter.

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Chapter 1 in case you missed it:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warnings: Cussing, needles, character conflicts, intentional poisoning, poisoning, Jaws reference

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“Humans are [and text here]”

Chapter 2: What is this, an interview?

Tommy was now restrained to a chair six feet away from the weird scientist alien. He had a dark brown lab coat with a fuzzy yellow sweater underneath, matched with black pants and black leather boots. His gold rimmed Harry Potter glasses slipped down his nose bridge a bit before he pushed it up and shuffled through papers. He wore a red beanie with a big whiff of his curly chocolate hair. His skin was a weird translucent grayish color with blue speckles decorating it. He had deep brown eyes with an odd electric blue circle outlining the pupil.

His tongue licked his finger as he turned the page. This was a habit that most of the weird teachers and counselors did. It always annoyed Tommy. This time fear was also mixed into that annoyance. His saliva was tinted blue and he had sharp teeth which immediately reminded him of a shark.

“You have shark teeth.” Tommy stated absentmindedly. Clearly, this caught the scientist alien off guard.

“I have what?” The alien asked, confused.

“Shark teeth.. ya know like the weird fish creatures that eat people.” Tommy started rambling causing the shark-alien to become even more confused and slightly alarmed. “I mean I think they eat people. That’s what the shark movie showed… what was its name, Jaws I think? I dunno, my foster mom freaked out in the middle of it and we went home. That lady was weird.. She made us wear itchy clothes and take weird photos before she sent me back to the group home.”

“What?..” The shark-alien asked. Tommy jumped a bit. He forgot he was rambling to a stranger. Alien stranger at that.

“Doesn’t matter.. What's the first question bitch-boy?” Tommy liked the way the alien jumped at the randomly timed insults.

“Er- right.. First off, what’s your name?” The shark-alien asked after collecting himself.

“Tommy Innit. Yours bitch-boy?” Tommy replied.

“Wilbur Soot. Stop calling me bitch-boy!” Wilbur huffed.

“Next question, bitch-boy!” Tommy emphasized the name, getting an even angrier expression in return. Wilbur’s weird blue circle flashed red for a second which caught Tommy off guard.

Wilbur took a shaky breath before asking the next question. “How old are you?”

“Old enough! I am a big man!” Tommy stated. Yet another thing that pissed him off.

“Age?” Wilbur asked, clearly irritated.

“18.” Wilbur raised a brow, “14.” Tommy huffed. His age should only be his business not some alien-bitch who didn’t even have his file.

“If you keep lying, I may have to get the truth serum from the back.” Wilbur half-heartedly threatened. Tommy, the big man that he is, did not get scared at that statement, only slightly unsettled which clearly showed on his face.

“Now, do you have a family?” Tommy tensed at the question. It was a touchy question and was not one that was asked often especially with his reputation.

“I am a big man. I don’t need a family to be great.” Tommy stated, happy with the answer. The alien-bitch shifted awkwardly.

“Right… What is your diet?”

“Umm.. I dunno, whatever I can find. I am allergic to nuts though..” Wilbur nodded in understanding and wrote things down in his notepad.

“What plants are poisonous to you?” Wilbur asked without looking up from his notes.

“Ermm, poison Ivy, poison oak… uh I think parts of rhubarb, and most wild berries. I am not sure other than that.” Wilbur nodded while adding bits to his notes.

“What was the place you lived like?” This time Wilbur glanced up to look at Tommy. This was again another touchy subject… How many times would this alien bitch get into the sad background?

“Shitty.” Tommy snapped. That was the only response the bitch was gonna get.

“Right.. Do you have music on Earth?”

Tommy scoffed, “Of course we have music, dumbass!”

“Can you tell me about the animals there?” Wilbur asked, almost hopeful.. which was weird. What was he hoping for?

“Erm I guess..” Tommy mumbled, trying to figure out where to start, “There’s a bunch of animals. Mainly on land. My favorite would be the cow.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stained Wilbur’s face. This got Tommy excited; he was practically beaming as he started talking.

“Well they are these big ruminants that make milk and have horns. There are a bunch of types too like the highland cow, which obviously is the most poggers one. They are a Scottish breed with really long hair. I met one once, on a field trip his name was Henry.” Tommy rambled on for the next two and a half hours, jumping from topic to topic and explaining anything that wasn’t personal. He usually ended those paths with short insults.

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Wilbur hated to stop the kids' detailed story, but two and a half celestial hours had already passed, and Dream would be coming to check soon. Luckily, he had a couple new poisons that could pass off as a research development. He had even managed to send the distressed signal and no doubt Phil would already be there with the SBI craft ready to fly at any given moment.

“Alright Tommy.” His voice dropped to a serious tone causing the kid to stop his story of how he got poisoned by mushrooms on a camping trip. “You’re gonna have to trust me just for a bit. I am going to get you off the ship at the next stop but in the meantime I need you to tell me how allergic you’re to nuts.” The kid immediately tensed at the question.

“I am mainly allergic to tree nuts.. almonds being the worst. After a few minutes I can’t breathe properly and I usually pass out. The doctor said if I don’t get it treated within 15 minutes, death is most likely.” He took a moment to go through the information. The kid most likely has an anaphylaxis reaction to tree nuts. Meaning either he would have to know the exact time of landing and exactly where Phil was or he needed another poison that was less severe.

“Alright, here is what we’re gonna do. I have a chemical mixture that is similar to that of rattlesnake venom. I also have a chemical substance that numbs any pain you may feel. Side effects would include being very very tired and delirious over the next few days. Along with being knocked out for a good ten hours. To put it simply I am gonna fake poison you, in order to get you off the ship. It’s your choice if you’re willing to do it.” Wilbur paused to study the kid still restrained in front of him. It was odd how relaxed the kid seemed to be in a situation like this. He had no urge as far as Wilbur was aware, to fight against anything that happened. His complaints only being those that touched on personal matters. It was unsettling to say the least, and intrigued Wilbur. He really wanted to unravel the life the kid had lived before this and how he was actually dealing with the situation.

There was a long pause before the kid spoke, “I wouldn’t mind getting away from the weird smiley bitch.. plus you seem nice and to know what you’re doing so sure. Poison me bitch.” He said the last sentence with an enthusiasm Wilbur wasn’t expecting. He took a moment to rethink his plan, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Dream says you better have advanced in your stupid testing. Otherwise he’s gonna kick you off the ship at the next stop.” Stated the rather rude blazeling, Sapnap. The blazeling never liked Wilbur and made a point to argue against any advancements at meals. That led to Dream installing a new system of emails and Wilbur eating meals alone.

“Yea yea, it’s going!” He yelled through the metal door.

“Better be.” The blazeling snapped before making a non quiet track back to his quarters.

“Stupid blazeling.” Wilbur grumbled as he sorted through vials and picked up new needles and measured out the substances. “We are going to start with the anesthetic then move onto the poison.” He softly addressed Tommy.

Wilbur swiftly disinfected Tommy’s shoulder and gave the needle. He then gave the second needle. Immediately Tommy slumped over. Wilbur swiftly took off Tommy’s restraints and moved him on to the patient bed in the back corner of the room. After the transfer was done he clipped the body restraints around Tommy and waited for the alert signaling landing.

After about five minutes the light next to the door turned blue. He moved over to his seat and clipped on the safety belts. The light turned green and the ship shook momentarily before a thud could be felt. Quickly as Wilbur could, he emptied the needles into the waste bin and waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boss to arrive.

Dream stepped through the door and glanced around the room before heading to Wilbur for his report.

“Report.” The dreamon commanded.

“The subject's body would have gone through a painfully slow death and have multiple organ failures if I did not intervene. The chemical mixes used created a conflict in the patient’s body which resulted in the patient falling into exhaustion as they recovered.” He responded in a monotone tone. Dream looked over Tommy. He flinched back in disgust as Tommy grunted in his sleep.

“Is that all?” The dreamon questioned.

“No.” Wilbur swallowed down his panic, “This is the last testing I will be doing with this crew.” The dreamon scoffed.

“I am assuming you’re getting off at this planet?” Dream spit. Wilbur knew he absolutely hated when people left his crew as he saw it as a direct violation of his loyalty.

“Yes.” The phantom stated, keeping his even tone apparent. With that Dream stormed out cursing in Siestian. Somewhere in the mess of words he told Wilbur to get his things.

Without hesitation he grabbed his bag from his quarters, which was held in a small room that branches off the lab. He half sprinted down the short hallway and straight to the bed Tommy was on. He swiftly unrestrained the human and sat him up. He slipped on boots and gloves then tied a cloak around the kid. He pulled the hood up and carried him off of the closest exit. There were faint yells from Dream down the hallway and reassurances from the only two beings that put up with him. And with that Wilbur was off to find the only craft he had ever called home. The SBI ship.

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Chapter 2- End

Words~ 1774

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End Notes: ‘‘twas to lazy to reread... sorry for minor mistakes. Also suggestions are always appreciated!! Please reblog...

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Chapter 3:

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Wilbur:

#my writing #my fanfic tag #wilbur soot #sapnap #dream mcyt #tommy mcyt #dream smp fanfiction #space au

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twdmusicboxmystery · 3 years

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TWD 11x03: Hunted - Details

Okay, let's talk details. At the beginning, nearly everyone gets hurt and then gets separated.

***As always, spoilers abound below for episode 11x03: Hunted. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

I noticed that in the opening credits, we now see the two rows of hanging bodies to represent the Reapers.

Maggie:

Elijah tries to help Maggie but is yanked backward and disappears. We don’t see him the rest of the episode. I really hope he’s okay. ☹

When Maggie is walking around alone, we see a car with an open door that's emphasized. It reminds me very much of this shot from 5x09.

@wdway also noticed some chevron symbols in the parking lot. (Chevron Theory)

She passes the dumpster before she actually gets into the mall building. That might be called back to Glenn. She also uses glass alcohol bottles as a warning system. I'm sure I don't have to explain the parallels there.

There's definitely a rat thing going on here, which is important because of 10x21, but I can tell you that we see (hear) it in episode 11x04 as well. I just noticed the subtitles tell us that there are rats squeaking quite a lot. After finding Negan and Alden, Negan pushes for Alden to be left behind. He doesn’t like being on the road. He says the plan is bad and unsafe.

Then they hear screaming and run toward Agatha. Duncan is hurt and clearly not going to make it. He says, "We were good. We were lucky." Both Beth lines. Maggie puts him down after promising to get Agatha home.

Now, that’s interesting to me. I said yesterday that we’re seeing a replay of Beth through many of these story lines, and I focused on Alden as a proxy. But I think Agatha is one, too. Just the fact that they talk about getting her “home,” makes her a proxy. Meanwhile, she doesn’t make it “home.” She’s bitten by a walker and left behind…in a mob of walkers. This is also where Negan drags Maggie away while she screams, “no!” Maybe indicative of her emotional response (not to mention her screaming in the parking lot of Grady) over losing Beth?

Jumping back a bit, before Agatha’s death, Maggie’s group travels through the woods. Negan and Maggie have an interesting exchange. Negan says of himself, "people change." Maggie says that no they don't.

So once again, it's called back to Beth dialogue, but Maggie is specifically harboring a belief that was the opposite of Beth's. That people don't and can't change. It's obvious that Maggie is on a very destructive path right now. She doesn’t really have faith in people, or faith that everything will work out okay. We can't be sure where this is going, but it's interesting. As I've said before, I'm sure this attitude of hers will probably end up causing drama down the road.

They happen upon a burnt walker that's tied to a tree with the sign that says Judas over his head. This super interesting. I know I have a lot of asks about this in my inbox. My first reaction is that we can tie it to the burnt walkers from 6x06, which was bursting with Beth symbolism. Since it’s obviously the CRM who was responsible for those burnt walkers, you have to wonder if there's a CRM tie here.

We might also be able to tie this to the Governor’s episodes in 4a, where he found several decapitated corpses wearing military attire that also had signs near them like ‘murderer’ and ‘rapist.’ If nothing else, this shows that someone in the area is actually burning people for betrayal and labeling them as Judas. Doesn't exactly bode well for our group. But we don't know whether this was the Reapers or somebody else.

***Update: I wrote most of this post before seeing episode 11x04. I still think we can tie this burnt walker thematically to 6x06 and the CRM, but in terms of what is literally happening in this season, let’s just say this burnt walker will make a lot more sense after watching 11x04. I don’t want to give spoilers beyond that.***

Just before Maggie's group reaches the chapel they end up leaving Alden at, they pass green car. I don't think it's a Gremlin, like the one we saw in 7x05, but it's the same shade of green.

And of course, we see the cross outside the church. Beth was wearing a cross bracelet in the hallway of Grady when she was shot. There are plenty of holes in the roof of the church (Hole in the Roof Theory.) At one point, Alden even says, "I'm dead weight." That was the name of 4x07, the Governor episode where they found the decapitated corpses.

At the chapel, we caught an interesting snippet of dialogue from Negan. He tells Maggie “the sun is going down” and that she’ll have to make a decision. We’ve always thought Beth would return with a dawn theme, which might mean literally that we’ll see her with a sunrise or something. So, it made me wonder if the “night” will be them fighting the conflict with the Reapers and then will return with the new “dawn.” Something like that. It might be literal or just thematic. We’ll just have to wait and see, though.

Maggie finally agrees to leave him behind, but she struggles with it mightily. They even have this really on the nose line where she says, "you better be here when I come back." And he answers, "you better come back." Think about how that would relate to Beth's arc.

Carol:

We see Carol and Kelly returning to Alexandria together. They have this whole thing where Magna thinks Carol is giving Kelly falls hope and wants her stop.

They also seem to be setting up something with Carol and Aaron. I'm not sure what it is. They're kind of at odds in this episode because he wants her to help with the walls and she wants to go track the horses. I thought it was interesting that Angela Kang, during the Inside Look bit, went out of her way to say that Carol and Aaron are not enemies. They're still good friends but they have different ideas about how to deal with the current crisis. I feel like they're setting up an arc with the two of them together.

When Carol was out looking for the horses, she finds Rosita. Rosita is scavenging MUSHROOMS. This part was super interesting because Carol tells her not to pick a certain type of mushroom unless she accidentally wants to make baby cocoa high for about a week. This is meant to be a joke, but it fits into the hallucination theory. I've noticed several mushroom mentions throughout the seasons. It’s an ongoing theme that I think ties into things not being as they seem, or a character to misunderstands or is deceived by something.

As I told my fellow theorists, I sat and thought about this for a minute. It's a little bit odd to me that they included Rosita’s response. When Carol says the mushrooms will make them high, Rosita answers, "yeah, but only for about a week, right?" It's meant to be a funny of course, and it is, but why put in a timeframe for the hallucination?

The only thing I can think of is that maybe it's a hint that the hallucinations or misconceptions people have been laboring under are about to fall away. That includes Daryl and Leah, but we can also extend it to Beth. If she lived, as we think she did, and TF think she died, then their belief in her death fits into the hallucination theory. Just thought that was interesting.

Rosita joins Carol in searching for the horses. At one point, she tells Carol about some dreams she's been having. (Kind of interesting to mention hallucinatory mushrooms and then talk about significant dreams, no?) Apparently, she's been dreaming about Abraham. She says he's trying to tell her something, something she supposed to do, something about Alexandria. But she can't actually hear what he's saying. (Hear no evil.) And just when she gets close enough to hear him in the dream, he gets shot in the head.

This is interesting on so many levels. First of all, dreams. We had the episode 6x12 of FTWD, titles, In Dreams. Abraham is a man Rosita once loved, and has lost. Most obviously, Abraham didn't die of a gunshot to the head. He died when Negan killed him. So, it feels like an excuse to mention someone being shot in the head. And of course Abraham was often a proxy to Beth. I’m definitely side eyeing this.

The other thing about this is that I've been noticing for a while that they have some big arc for Rosita coming up. They’ve done several sequences where she’s searching for weapons but is unable to find them for a time. She usually eventually finds them and uses them to somehow save the day or turn the tide of the conflict.

We saw this in S7, and the weapon she found was Dwight, who defected and helped them win the war. We saw it during the warehouse sequence in S8 where she and Michonne were trying to stop the singing truck from going to the Sanctuary, and Rosita ended up with the rocket launcher. It’s a pattern that’s been happening for a while. I don't know how this dream of Abraham ties into that, but I’m wondering if this arc they’ve foreshadowed for several seasons is about to start playing out.

I don’t have a whole lot more to say about Carol tracking the horses, as I went over the most important stuff yesterday. I'm assuming that in this episode, that Kelly is equating the dead horses with Connie, and that's what upsets her so much.

After we see the horse run away from them, Kelly says, “fourth time’s the charm,” which means that was the third time they’d attempted it. (Rule of Threes).

When they get back to Alexandria, Carol cuts one of the horse’s throats to slaughter it for food. Aaron comes to help her, and he looks at her very compassionately.

This is also where we get the shot from inside the church with the broken window. We see Kelly come out and hug Magna, but then still go with Carol. Just really interesting symbolism there about her not giving up hope of finding her sister. I can't help but wonder if Kelly will go with Carol to look for Connie and end up finding Beth. That would be super interesting.

It also reminded me of something that happened during S9. There was an episode where Kelly got lost in the woods and Daryl and Connie went to find her. They had this really weird before-the-opening-credits sequence where we saw what was clearly a Whisperer, rather than a normal walker, coming up behind Kelly and reaching out for her, as though she was about to get kidnapped or taken prisoner. But that didn’t actually happen.

When Daryl and Connie find her, she's on her own in the woods and just dehydrated. There's definitely hallucination quality to that sequence, but I’ve always suspected it was a foreshadow of something in the future. Anyway, this is just conjecture and I'm just rambling, but these are some of the thoughts I had while watching the episode.

The kids:

There couple of charming scenes of all the kids playing together. We see them play a card game—Slap Jack, I think—at the kitchen table. Many people have noticed that this kitchen table looks a lot like the one in Alone that we saw in the funeral home. And no, it’s not the same. It doesn’t have a diamond on it, but the material and pattern look similar. Which is kind of interesting.

Actually, to me, the design looks a little reminiscent of the All-Seeing Eye, which is often seen on paper currency. So, it could be part of that theme.

Most of these are just cute scenes and Angela Kang says that part of the reason for them is that they wanted to have Judith and Herschel interact a little bit. People have also pointed out to me that when Herschel asks if any of them have ever been on the road like he was with Maggie, Judith says no, “Not like that.” Actually, she has been, but she was just too little to remember it. But this may have been a subtle reminder of 5x12.

Herschel is clearly worried about his mom and the adults who keep leaving. Judith does her best to console him. Not sure what to make of these conversations in terms of what they foreshadow. Maybe nothing. But I did enjoy watching the scenes.

Father Gabriel:

The man Gabriel kills is named Nichols. (Got that from the subtitles.) We hear him reciting the Lord's prayer as Gabe approaches. I also noticed that his shoes are not on. They are on the ground on the other side of the tree from where he’s sitting. Which might be part of the Lost Shoe/Foot symbolism.

He has an arrow in his stomach (it looks like Daryl’s) and he’s bleeding from the neck. The neck wounds are interesting because Father Gabriel got one too. It's almost as if these two mirror one another.

I mentioned this yesterday, but Gabriel says, "God is not here anymore." Just wanted to mention it again because it will be important to remember for next week when we get into 11x04.

Okay, I think that's all I have in terms of details. Anything I missed?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth his alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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themangledsans0508 · 3 years

Text

Entering the Dungeon because Bonnie said so

Read on Ao3

Summary: Marceline came to Bonnie's aide when she called for Finn and Jake. She didn't expect to be going down a hundred floors while dealing with a shady princess.

Basically, I played Enter the Dungeon over the past two weeks and I have been writing this since the second night of playtime. Trying to write things before I forget them and it is following the canon of the game with some creative liabilities taken.

Words: 3616, Oneshot

Warnings: General Depictions of Violence

Characters: Bonnibel Bubblegum, Marceline Abadeer, Flame Princess

Ships: bubbline

Additional Tags: quests, dungeons, childhood trauma, swearing, adventure, conflict, kind of resolved kind of not, I feel like marcy and phoebe would have a neat dynamic, I've never seen them interact so, some of these scenes were legit my reaction, see: screaming

"Well, it looks like Ice King will be hanging around the Candy Kingdom now," Bonnie sighed. Marceline glanced at the dark entrance to the dungeon and shrugged.

"It's better than down there. At least up here, he can't get hurt," she decided. Bonnie looked at the hole as well and then back to Marceline.

"Marcy, I think you should let the boys handle this one," she stated seriously. Marceline shifted the umbrella in her grip and unfolded her legs to touch the ground.

"Why? I'll be fine."

"Well, asides from the fact that you have been returning up here frequently covered in wounds and the fact that Death is seemingly hunting you down, those aren't just any ancient ruins down there."

"How bad can it be?"

"Mushroom war. If my associations are correct from the information you've given me, then the same city you used to live in” Marceline stiffened. "Finn and Jake can deal with this, you just take a breather, okay?"

"No," Marceline shook her head. "I can take care of it. Just some old relics, nothing a woman like me can't face." Bonnie eyed her warily.

"If you're sure," she said slowly. "Please be careful."

"Send me down, Bonnibel."

"What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!" Marceline shrieked.

"Marcy are you okay?" Bonnie's crackly voice asked, her projection appearing from the holo-pendant. Marceline leaned against the stone wall, her breathing heavy staring at her punctured legs that were bleeding.

"Just fine," she said sarcastically. "Almost got staked by some rusty metal pipes. Bonnie, this is post-war technology. What did you do?"

"I have important research down there, I had to defend it at least a little bit."

"The thousands of lost souls weren't enough?"

“It’s to protect it from them,” Bonnie snapped. “If these criminals got their hands on it, the Candy Kingdom would be in danger.”

“Oh, yeah, if the political prisoners found evidence you were a corrupt leader then you’d be overthrown.”

“It’s a real threat!” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. I wished my healing worked down here.”

“Bodily magic doesn’t work because some of those creatures down there have natural magical prowess.”

“Too bad that there are tons of magic weapons down here.” The spikes retreated and Marceline pushed herself up, floating slowly around with her axe prone and ready. “What about the plants?”

“They’ve mutated to become immune to the limitation,” Bonnie explained.

“Speaking of plants, there’s one now.”

Marceline felt the wind leave her body as she was knocked against the wall, the deer’s antlers puncturing her legs and it licked her.

“Gross! Back off!” She kicked the deer’s underbelly and pushed it off her, slamming her axe down on the deer’s neck. She shakily stood up and was grabbed, a muzzle rubbing against her neck. She hissed as she felt new instincts override her other ones. She pushed herself up and slid under the wolf, standing up to hit it with the neck of her bass causing it to recoil. She slashed across its chest and took a deep breath, stumbling towards the stairwell.

She watched as a green portal opened and Death stepped out, a brown satchel on his waist and he tipped his cap towards her.

“I see you,” he said and Marceline braced herself, taking in the area and how much space she had. She dashed to the left and hugged the wall, growling when she felt skeletal fingers wrap around her forearm. She was jerked backwards and she felt Death’s skull touch her cheek. She could practically feel the energy drained from her as she struggled before she finally got her arm out of his grasp.

She dived for the stairs and fell down them, at the bottom turning back to look. Death stood at the top and made finger guns towards her.

“Kiss of Death, baby.”

“Fuck you,” Marceline hissed.

“Bonnibel, how did you get lava down there,” Marceline asked as she watched the wounds heal. Bonnie handed her a vial of a purple liquid that she drank, whatever cursed her fading away.

“Various tunnels and educated usage of pressure and-”

“It was more rhetorical. But I did get burned. And stabbed. And shot. And kissed without my consent.”

“What? Who kissed you?” Bonnie exclaimed.

“Death. He was blocking the stairs so I tried to duke him but he caught me. I did manage to get down the stairs though.” Marceline tapped her cheek in the spot that Bonnie assumed she was kissed. “Good thing I’m already dead.”

“Death shouldn’t be hanging around in the dungeon,” Bonnie muttered. “It’s interfering with the mortal realm and not allowing the natural flow to keep order.”

“Well, you’re throwing people in a dungeon and barring magic. That messes with the natural flow,” Marceline pointed out.

“Shut up,” Bonnie snapped. “Have you found any signs of the hoomans?”

“None. I’m going to head back down though, I’ll find them.” Bonnie grabbed her wrist and locked eyes with her.

“Marceline, you’re getting close to a bad place. A place that you were nine-hundred ninety-nine years ago. I really think you should stay up here this time."

"Bonnibel, it will be fine. Send me down."

Marceline stared at the ruined food truck, a flood of emotions overwhelming her. She listened to the sea of growling and heard a soft humming mixed in. She picked up a rock and threw it at the truck, the old voice box still working. The red siren turned on, illuminating the maze in red light. Her breathing became unsteady and rapid when the oozers began to glow, and she spotted a hooman among them. The hooman saw her as well and started happily skipping towards her.

She took out her axe and started swinging at the oozers, their green insides spilling out onto the ground. When the hooman was close enough, she grabbed her wrist and bolted, bringing her to the fence and kicking open the gate. She looked over at Susan’s grateful face and to the entrance of the maze and sighed.

“I’m booked for this, aren’t I?”

“Marceline! Marceline are you okay?” Bonnie grabbed her arm and started looking over her body, circling her and checking over the exposed skin and where the clothes were ripped.

“Bonnie, I’m fine. I can’t believe they’re still down there.” Bonnie stopped and stepped back.

“I couldn’t get rid of them. If that green goop even touches you that’s it. I just thought if I buried them then that would be the end of it. How the hoomans even got down there I don’t know.”

“Probably something to do with that buff cat chick,” Marceline jabbed her thumb towards Susan.

“Maybe. I’ll ask her later. But Marcy, that one got really dicey. Everyone made it out safely, but you almost didn’t. That swarm could have easily overwhelmed you. Can you please let Finn and Jake take care of this? I really don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I don’t want them to get hurt,” Marceline mumbled. “I’m the best choice for this. I can teleport back to the surface, I know how to fight, I’ve been in all these places before. Plus I can literally eat the red bullets.”

“If you insist,” Bonnie sighed. She pulled her necklace and started fiddling with it. “What floor?”

“Marce, that one was close. This is the seventh time,” Bonnie scolded. Marceline shrugged and leaned on her.

“I’m exhausted,” she complained. “Magic Man hit me with some bullshit.”

“A strength-sapping spell,” Bonnie murmured. She pulled a herb out of her bag and placed it on top of Marceline’s head. “Stand still,” she instructed and counted under her breath before removing it. “You need to rest for at least three hours.”

“No,” she slurred, backing up and swaying on her feet. “I can keep going. I just…” She started falling forward and Bonnie caught her, sighing.

“Will you just go take a nap or something?” she asked. Marceline groaned.

“Don’t let anyone else go in there. I can deal with this myself,” she ordered and Bonnie pushed her back, keeping one hand on Marceline’s shoulder and crossing over her chest.

“Cross my heart,” Bonnie smiled. Marceline raised her umbrella in the air.

“I am going to the corner,” she announced and wandered off towards Choose Goose.

“Marceline, things are looking really dangerous. You keep having to retreat back up here,” Bonnie said softly. Marceline shrugged.

“Whatever, I’m still making it out,” she stated. Bonnie crossed her arms.

“You almost aren’t,” Bonnie scolded. “Do you want some help?”

“Bonnibel Bubblegum fighting in a dungeon? I don’t know.” Bonnie rolled her eyes.

“No, a token per se. Something that’ll protect you.” Marceline shook her head aggressively.

“No. I don’t need any help. None! Send me down!”

“If you say so,” Bonnie sighed.

“Will you accept my offer now?” Bonnie asked, placing her hands on her hips. Marceline put a hand on her forehead and clenched her jaw.

“Fine. Yes. What do you have.”

“Pep-but! Grab the sweater!” Bonnie called. Peppermint Butler came running with a knitted pink sweater folded in his arms. “Thanks, Peps. Marcy, arms up.” She took the sweater from his arms and held it. Marceline used her free hand to motion towards herself.

“Umbrella.”

“You have telekinesis.”

“Oh, yeah.” She let the umbrella float above her slightly higher and she raised her arms. Bonnie slid it carefully over her head and adjusted her collar. Marceline scratched at it.

“This is tight, Bons,” Marceline complained. Bonnie smiled shyly.

“It’s made of the strongest magic out there,” she said quietly. Marceline quirked an eyebrow.

“O-kay. I thought you thought magic was a sham.” She tugged at the hem of it and frowned, her eyes narrowing at Bonnie. “Why can’t I take it off?”

“Well, you see, I had a feeling you might try to take it off, and for your own safety, I may have had it engineered so that you couldn’t take it off until you were in a sound state. Since you’re going back in, it recognizes that you are going to be in harm’s way.”

“I should have known there’d be a catch,” Marceline grumbled.

“It’s in your best interest,” Bonnie stated.

“That doesn’t make it right. Look, I’m just going back down. I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

Marceline carefully pulled the pink sweater over her head and slid it over the umbrella handle.

“I’m not putting that back on,” she growled and sighed. “Everything is covered in your gum down there, you’ve been having fun without me? And since when did you have a giant pink cat thing and a huge gryphon eagle thing?”

“Goliad and Stormo? I’m glad they’re still balancing each other out.”

“I’m not getting an explanation? I should’ve expected that.”

“Also, I’m sorry but your corner is occupied now. I thought you could all use a break from the dungeon and while you may not enjoy the opportunity, the Nightosphere offered a challenge for anyone who felt so inclined. Maybe while everyone does that you can rest?”

“Why are you pushing me to slow down? I’m in my groove right now. You’re not my mom,” Marceline snapped.

“I’m not trying to be your mom! I care about you and I’m worried you’re pushing yourself too hard!”

“Well geez, it’s nice of you to care after all this time! I know my limits! I’ll show you! I’m going to the Nightosphere!”

“Marceline!”

“Don’t come after me,” she snapped and stalked off. Bonnie hugged herself and grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Are you going to calm down now?” Bonnie asked. Marceline kicked the dirt angrily.

“No. But I think I give up for now. That whole jam is ridiculous. There’s so much going on at once. I think the normal chaos is what I prefer right now. You know, I think it’d be cool if you came down too.” Bonnie shifted uncomfortably.

“Someone needs to stand guard here.” Marceline motioned towards the banana guards to either side.

“Found two,” she pointed out.

“It has to be me,” Bonnie insisted. She leaned over and whispered so only Marceline could hear. “You know how incompetent these guys can be.”

“Whatever you say P-Bubs.”

“So, how’d Flame Princess get locked down there, in the lab that belongs to you trapped in a machine you made.” Bonnie shrugged.

“No idea.”

“You can’t keep trying to ruin Finn’s relationship, girl. It’s an unhealthy obsession.”

“It’s not an obsession, it’s a coincidence! It’s a coincidence that she got trapped in my machinery

“You aren’t confirming it or denying it.”

"I don't need to. I'm not that cruel a woman that I would trap a child for a science experiment."

"Actually-"

"Don't." Bonnie held a finger out to stop Marceline from continuing. "There's no reason for me to lock Flame Princess up, especially when she herself is the biggest threat to the Candy Kingdom. It isn't wise to poke the bear with a stick, you know what I mean?"

“Yeah, I guess. She really wants to join the travel party now, so she might still be gunning to destroy the kingdom.” Bonnie placed a nervous hand on her cheek and glanced warily towards Flame Princess, who appeared to be trying to explain something to Finn.

“Could you keep an eye on her?” Bonnie asked.

“I’m not a babysitter,” Marceline snapped and sighed, “but yeah, I guess. I’d rather all of Ooo not be lit on fire. I’ll take her with me.” Bonnie smiled gratefully. “Anything I need?”

“I recommend a fire-resistance charm, in case you get caught in the crossfire.” Marceline nodded and dropped some gold in her hand. “I’ll use the charm, and that armour Finn hates too. Also, let Flame Princess use whatever token she wants, I don’t care.”

“Flame Princess! Marceline wants you to come with her!” Bubblegum shouted and the teen came running, small fires dotting her every step.

“That was exhilarating! So many things happening at once, so many creatures and questions! I knew that Bubblegum was no good!” Phoebe exclaimed.

“Hey, cut her some slack. She’s been at this for a long time,” Marceline growled. Flame Princess looked at her in confusion.

“You can’t honestly look at all this and tell me she’s not evil or at least bad. Look at all this stuff! Living beings forced to stay down here to the rest of their lives. Why? Is what they did really bad enough to deserve this?”

“Yes!” Marceline snapped. “And you don’t know Bonnie like I do.”

“Well, how do you know her so well?”

“I know her so well because-”

“You have done well to come this far,” A voice echoed, startling both girls. Marceline and Phoebe both looked to the speaker.

“Bonnie? What are you doing all the way down here?” Marceline asked.

“Something evil I bet,” Phoebe spat and Marceline whacked the back of her head, ignoring the burning sensation. Bonnibel frowned.

“This is my dungeon,” she said plainly. “And this room is the bottom of it. So, great job! You can go home now, back to the surface or whatever.”

“I don’t think so. There’s probably something in here that you’re hiding,” Phoebe hissed. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“This doesn’t make sense. What’s down here, Peebs?” Bonnie chuckled nervously.

“Nothing! This is the bottom. That’s it. But just to be safe,” she glared discreetly at Phoebe “I need you to promise me you will not touch my desk back there. It has important research on it that you could mess up. This could be your final quest in this adventure, just promise me. Royal promise. No touchies.”

“I’m not promising anything,” Marceline insisted. Bonnie shook her head.

“You have to.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine! Whatever!” Marceline threw up her arms in defeat. Bonnie smiled. It wasn’t one of her normal smiles, not one of the ones Marceline was used to. It was empty and cold. Her eyes were unreadable.

“I think we’re done here then. Thank you for solving the mystery.” Marceline looked her up and down and walked past her, looking down at the table. Phoebe walked up beside her and glanced at Marceline.

“These papers are unreadable,” she whispered. Marceline absentmindedly picked up one of the papers, seeing the words were faded and the pictures were half-erased. Then the wall in front of them opened, showing a dark pink gum tunnel.

“Are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you! Where does this even go?” Marceline shouted. She spun around to face Bonnibel and scowled at the expression on her face. An expression she hadn’t seen in centuries, since they had broken up. Her eyes were narrowed and she had a slight frown. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her and she straightened her back to look at them like she was above them.

You’ll never know where it goes,” she said slowly, “you broke a royal promise. And you know what that means. I’m sorry girls, it’s business.” Marceline saw out of the corner of her eye a fireball that Phoebe had thrown before they both teleported above the kingdom, standing on a cotton candy cloud and looking up at the Gumball Guardians.

“I told you,” Phoebe shouted. Marceline growled and readied her axe.

“Well, at least I’ll get a metal song out of this,” Marceline mumbled. Phoebe scoffed.

“You’re thinking about music? I’m thinking about revolution!” Her hands lit up and she prepared to attack before Bonnibel ran out in front of them.

“Wait! You don’t understand! I know this thing looks like a monster, but you have to listen to me! It doesn’t want to hurt you! It just-” A gum tentacle swung out and grabbed her, causing both Marceline and Phoebe to jump back.

“Bonnie! You’re not getting out of this that easily!” She lunged forward only to get hit in the face with a metal ball, knocking her back. Phoebe dragged her to her feet.

“Think smart!” She barked.

Marceline was angry at Bubblegum, but seeing everyone else rail on her for something she herself had done as well, made her get a bit protective. She’d deal with the lying later.

“Wouldn’t you lie to protect your weird old parents too?” Marceline snapped. She floated down and wrapped her arms around Bonnie’s shoulders, glaring at the entire crew. She glanced at Bonnie for a split second and saw her small smile and she flashed one back. She was still holding her when the mass of gum began to separate.

“Thanks for helping me out, I do wish you could’ve done it without killing my parents though,” Bonnie said. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“They aren’t dead. We can go catch them if you want.”

“No, no. They’ll come back if they want,” Bonnie sighed. “Marceline, come inside. I want to speak with you privately.”

“Okay, sure.” Marceline followed her up the candy steps and through the winding halls, ending in Bonnie’s room. She motioned towards the bed.

“Sit down,” she ordered and Marceline obliged, sitting down with her arms crossed. “I want to apologise to you.”

“For what? For sending me on a wild goose chase? For trying to get your gumball guardians to murder me? For lying to me and tricking me? For literally putting all of us in mortal danger? Which one is it?” Marceline snarled. Bonnie winced.

“All of that, listen, Marceline, I didn’t want to do all that! But responsibility demands sacrifice and the cost kept escalating. I didn’t expect it to get so out of hand before it was already there. I was running out of ways to stop you.”

“Maybe the best way to have stopped me would have been to tell the truth? Did you ever consider that?” Marceline snapped. “Everyone could have died, get that through your thick skull! All of us could have died!” She stood up and sat back down, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking deep breaths. “I don’t even know how long it’s been, all I know is you haven’t changed a bit. You put your own pride over the actual lives of other people.”

“Marceline-”

“No, Bonnie, listen. It’s been like this for centuries. It’s exhausting. I had thought you were different now. I really did. But I guess old habits die hard.”

“I’m trying to change. I really am Marcy. I just- I was scared. You know what it’s like to have to face the potential of losing your parents. You know what it’s like to lose them. I don’t. I just had to come head-to-head with it today. It’s not okay that I did all that, but I panicked,” Bonnie rambled. Marceline stood up and shook her head.

“I’m going home. I have a killer headache and I’m tired. I got up to come help and I did, so my job’s done.” She rubbed her temple and walked to the door, reaching for the handle only for her hand to be grabbed.

“I’m sorry. I want you to know that. I really am sorry.” She hesitated. She looked to Bonnie and inhaled sharply. She did look remorseful, but sometimes remorse was not enough.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” she mumbled. Bonnie looked away.

“I understand.” She quickly hugged Marceline and backed away, walking to filter through her closet. “It’s okay if you never forgive me. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’ve forgiven you for worse,” Marceline stated. “But this one will take me a bit. I’ll text you eventually.” She strolled out and narrowly avoided Peppermint Butler who was coming into the room, getting called some harsh words as she opened her umbrella to make her way home.

#chara writes #at bubblegum #at marceline #bubbline #adventure time

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snarksandsarcasm · 4 years

Text

Goblins

The Green Plague

Styx mentions he awoke in a dried-up lake bed after the Fall of Akenash. The cutscene at that point shows that it isn’t entirely true. A lot of the tower and its inhabitants got pulverized in the process of the fall but there are still big chunks of wall and stones in that dried-up lake bed beneath. The tree as well, due it’s magical properties, remained surprisingly intact, just got crushed and broken under the weight of the structures around it. A lot of amber vaporized (possibly poisoning the area making it very unsafe for non-Amber-creatures to enter), the rest came down in its liquid form to become a shallow lake at “ground zero”. The tree is not producing Amber anymore and will just rot away over the next couple decades.

Within that Amber lake the strange reaction of spawning creatures continued and rakash rise regularly. With every rakash risen the amount of amber decreases so eventually all amber is used up to create all these goblins. That is when the infestation of Styx-duplicates ends. (I think by the time of OOAM this has happened, and all goblins that remain are now those living their regular life, which would mean they could be eradicated if it wasn’t for some independent regular breeding goblins).

Since these rakash were born of the Amber, similar to Styx being reborn in the cocoon, they are fully functional living creatures, free from any mental connections to elves or even each other. But they are all made from the same base model and thus are all male, sharing the same genetics with limited conscience and intelligence. They are like rats… or dogs… following their instincts to eat without consideration and have a distinct violent aspect to their being. But capable of being taught, as Sarkyss shows us. OOAM goblins appear a lot more vicious, the SoD ones more like sad puppies that don’t know any better.

Ground Zero was left alone for a couple of reasons.

There aren’t any survivors other than those who were on airships at the time of the fall or not in Akenash in the first place.

The area got covered with raw Amber that isn’t easily dealt with by humans or other non-Amber creatures. The elves are now for sure not willing to help in any recovery efforts due to the death of their own kin.

There is too many rakash around that will tear any human or other being apart (they may have attacked and potentially eaten their own creator, but other than that they are not cannibals).

The area in general isn’t easily accessible. Akenash was already afloat somewhere in the mountains, possibly for secrecy reasons, far away from the civilisation going on in the mainland. The steep mountain walls and jungle forests probably don’t allow many people to live there and with the rakash roaming about I can imagine even that one big trade route is being avoided for a long time to come.

The Goblins

This is my own take on this but I want these little creatures to thrive as their own race and not be doomed to extinction in this world. What follows is a very short paragraph on how that came to be (and I may cover that in more detail in another time).

Styx had made use of a human the last decade before The Fall of Akenash and taught her some of the things he knew as a shaman, scholar and scientist. After the Fall, this human let’s go of the dream of ‘becoming an Orc once more’ and instead aims to make these new creatures ‘whole’. Nearby ‘Ground Zero’ she utilises an old laboratory of Styx and starts to experiment on female orcs. Ruthlessly and of all ages. (Sarkyss Predecessor!) After two decades the result are 10 - 20 female goblins. A destructive earthquake allows them to escape into the surrounding mountain forest. (Eve was left behind in the only, small cocoon grown to the tiny World Tree that decided to live after the Fall. She escapes some time later, when the other goblins try and fail to recover the small World Tree.)

This group of females lives hidden in the forests of the mountains. The other rakash are not immune to the presence of females and flock around them. The females have the upper hand in intelligence and communication and they run their tribe and developing society with iron fists, so to speak. They have very tribal structures, with the Eldest being the head of the tribe and surprisingly in these critical first years of their existence, disagreements between the females are rare as they share the same existential desires.

The males protect the females at all costs and do little more than hunt for food and wait nearby to be on hand to be a lucky chosen one for the next mating season. Breeding is strictly organised. One female may have several, but strictly the same partners. Their children don’t get to pick and choose. Partners are chosen according to the greatest genetic difference among them (even if they do not know exactly how they make that decision consciously) and cheating/adultery is met with violent death of the next child born to the female.

All knowledge comes from the Elder Females. Many things are instinct, such as knowing that shelter is necessary and being clothed helps to protect from the elements. But making tools and weaving etc comes from their orc lives and they slowly teach the males and their children in these tasks. Basic tools can be crafted and huts can be built. Leaving the tribe is generally forbidden but those who do despite of that, may never return or face being killed. So knowledge from the outside cannot come (back) in. The Elder females are very strict. Since the rakash are going to be around for some time, you may see confused young males wondering why their dads all look the same and can’t speak. But these mute forefathers are certainly always kept in loving memory of every goblin born.

These goblins are Amber creatures and use Amber from the growing Tree in the laboratory. However, they are not as dependent on it as elves are and use it surprisingly not to the extend they could. Thus, these goblins have a lifespan of around 80 years.

Eventually, with the help of Styx, this goblin tribe opens up more and allows knowledge to come in. Aiken brings in the craft of writing and drawing, Styx gives their leather and wood work a boost, Eve can teach them new hunting methods … and well, eventually the goblins start to have contact to other races and maybe a century later they have established trade deals going on and maybe another century later, the first goblins are allowed to enter a human or orc university. xD

Food

I think goblins are primarily raw food eaters and omnivores, with their preferred food being fish, chicken and other small animals and insects, as well as nuts, fruits, vegetables and mushrooms. While Styx and Eve can use fire to cook they actually rarely do so. Lesser intelligent goblins may also have discovered fire for cooking but them too, are not inclined to use it for cooking purposes. When any goblin ‘steals’ food, they don’t take the plate from a nobleman's dinner table… they grab the fruits and fish from the market stalls.

One advantage this has is their oral health. They rarely need to brush their teeth and just take basic care such as removing bones and other large food objects for healthy gums.

Food could be preserved by leaving it to dry, or coating it in a layer of thick Amber or submerging it in an Amber solution (pickled). But generally goblins don’t think ahead like that and don’t preserve food. They aren’t gourmets either.

Goblins CAN eat human as well (see rakash in SoD Prologue). However, they aren’t at all their preferred source of food. They are big and cumbersome to move, to prepare and eat. Preference always goes towards smaller animals.

Since all rakash can throw up stomach content to poison other food, they are naturally protected against most poisonous food that would otherwise kill the eater. Such as certain frogs or mushrooms that humans stay away from, have little effect on goblins.

Health

Since rakash are ‘born’ as adults, leaving the Amber environment behind, they grow old and die eventually. I set that at around 50 years. The Amber will help them over injuries and sickness but as they do not, like the elves, continue their exposure to Amber, they will lose that element of eternal youth.

Age of rakash: 50 years Age of “normal” goblins: 80 years Styx and Eve: Couple of centuries (their intensive training and knowledge allows them to ‘regenerate’ their Amber and use it’s rejuvenation qualities. Not forever, like the elves, but for a long time.)

Amber skills

Both males and females can utilise the Amber flowing in their body, albeit in different ways.

Females can secret Amber like spit in their mouth, which they can use to:

feed others with it (give them an energy boost)

thicken the texture of Amber and create a sticky glue (like bee propolis)

the thicker textured Amber can also be used as an antibacterial and wound-healing substance (that is why it is part of the health potion Styx mixes in SoD) and no-one bats an eye when a female spits into wounds or licks over them

spit on/lick other creatures to temporarily control them / read their thoughts (this requires a lot of training and intelligence)

Males and Females can:

Use Amber vision with a bit of concentration

Become invisible (after training)

Throw up their stomach content to poison

Styx alone can vomit a clone (and with is use the re-materialising through one of his clones skill as in SoD). This is probably linked to him being a directly mutated orc, first generation goblin so to speak.

For some reason, within Styx, the Amber does not display it’s ‘wireless Twitter’ function. This might be because the World Tree from which the Amber came from that is now running in every goblin’s blood, is no longer alive. There is no radio tower anymore, so to speak. Nonetheless, the Amber came from the same source and I think it does still create a connection between the users, especially if they were to actually exchange their own Amber fluids with each other, like during mating. It would be more of a sensual connection, where the emotions, pleasures and pains of the other become clear and part of your own for a limited time.

Mating and Birth

Goblins have an actual mating season at the start of the year. Females are able to get pregnant only around 1-2 weeks during that time. Of course, sexual contact is possible at any other time, too, but during mating season it can be a bit more hectic than usual. xD After around 6 months the ladies give birth to usually one child. Twins are possible but one usually remains underdeveloped and dies after birth. Young are born in a soft/solid amber cocoon, which must be opened straight after birth and is then consumed again by mother or father. This also means, there is no after-birth, it all comes out in one go.They are fed their mothers milk (with a good dose of Amber, obviously) until they are ½ year old.

When a female hasn’t conceived she would in the course of a day, get her period and discharge the empty amber cocoon. This also, she would eat.

While the act of copulation is a private one, the mating season as a whole is celebrated and goblins look with excitement towards the new matches made and the first timers in this this year. Similarly, since all females will give birth to the kids at roughly the same time, the Birthing Season is equally celebrated and well prepared for.

Goblins smell. Surprise. xD No, I mean, pheromones, invisible smells. Lone females, if they dare to travel (Eve….) will always be found somehow by the lads. It is a good idea not to pee anywhere near your resting place, or else the males will have sniffed you out in no time. Although, in all honesty, they just surround the female and start to protect her, bring food and make maybe some mild advanced outside mating season but that’s it. Females can have their sad-SoD-rakash harems.

Also, for males: Amber is part of their body and so also present in their semen. Whether this liquid causes harm to humans and other non-amber creatures, however, I haven’t decided yet. I think it doesn’t turn out as bad as Aaron’s disfigurement, since this Amber may not be the exact same as raw Tree sap. Still, contact with it might cause skin irritation, burning sensation, maybe also some form of intoxication similar to the drug abuse of Amber and other minor side effects. Another little detail: I suppose females enjoy male semen as much as males like the Amber breastmilk or spit of females. Gobs are truly all over each other.

Growing Up

Goblets develop quicker than human children, especially their motor skills. After around a year (when typically the next child can come) they are able to eat, drink, pee/poo, walk, run and climb on their own. Doesn’t mean they don’t need the supervision though. They are like small tiny chimpanzees, they like to play hide/seek, wrestling, brawling, making others fall etc. I think 15 is an age where they’d be treated like adults, the 5 to 6 years prior to that as the age of adolescence. Styx left his tribe at age 30, finally being regarded as an adult free from his father’s reign, but I think that signified more the intellectual independence to know enough of life now to make good decisions. The first century for sure, the goblins don’t ever get that freedom. You are part of the tribe forever, with your small, precise, restricted but safe place within it.

#Styx #styx: master of shadows #Styx: Shards of Darkness #my styx lore

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hiddendreamer67 · 5 years

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Last thought before I fall unconscious: human twins Roman and Remus find some tinies and treat them as toys. Roman dresses them up and makes them kiss like dolls. Remus straps them to the tracks of his toy train. Choo-choo motherfucker >:)

(that last line ‘Choo-choo motherfucker’ gets me every time oml XD anyways here’s the prompt for the week, posted a day early!)

Check out more of my writings at @hiddendreamerwriting!

Warning: gross. Remus being Remus again. Also injury.

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“Alright you two, that’s enough!” Their mother scolded, nearly booting the twins outside the door. “Go play outside for a while.”

Roman glared at his brother. “It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” The child in question gasped dramatically. “You’re the one who wasn’t playing right.”

“Fairy tales are supposed to have happy endings!” Roman stomped his foot.

“That’s boring.” Remus groaned. “Why doesn’t the dragon ever get to eat the hero?”

“Ugh, you’re so gross.” Roman stuck out his tongue.

“You’re the one that’s gross.” Remus stuck his own tongue out. “Who cares about a dumb wedding? That’s a stupid ending.”

“You’re a stupid ending.” Roman retorted creatively. He dodged, watching Remus bring his tongue closer. “AUGH! Don’t lick me! MOM!”

“Mom can’t hear you.” Remus taunted.

“Well then she can’t hear you either.” Roman said, giving his brother a shove.

“Augh!” Remus panicked, grabbing onto Roman’s sleeve and unbalancing them both to go tumbling down the hill.

“Owwwww…” Remus whined, having crashed them both into a bush. Roman was rubbing at his head as well. “That one was your fault.”

“Remus, shhh.” Roman blinked, spotting something just beyond their crash landing. Remus was mercifully quiet, noticing Roman’s conspiring smile.

There, in a clearing just entering the forest, the twins spotted four individuals each hardly larger than their little hands. The group sat atop a circle of mushrooms, levitating tiny teacups between them and giggling as their wings danced in the sunlight.

“Fairies.” Roman whispered, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

“I want the green one.” Remus decided, pointing.

“That’s not green, that’s yellow.” Roman rolled his eyes.

“It’s green if I want it to be green.” Remus stuck up his nose.

“Uh oh.” Roman hushed. “I think they noticed us.”

Indeed, there had been a fluttering of wings, and now the fae were all glancing at the bush that served as their hiding space. The one dressed in periwinkle petals took a few steps forward, trying to peer into the darkness.

On three. Roman and Remus seemed to agree, nodding with their twin telepathy. One…two…

“AAAAAH!” Remus came charging out, startling all the little things so much that it was easy to dive and surround all of them. Roman lunged his arm out, grabbing the one closest to the bush in his fist.

“Don’t crush them!” Roman protested, standing to emerge from the bush. He watched as Remus scooped them all towards himself and made a sort of basket with the front of his shirt.

Remus giggled, his clothing wriggling as he held the makeshift pocket closed. “They tickle.”

Roman couldn’t help but agree. Just the one trying to flutter out of his hand tickled his fingers pleasantly with its nervous struggles. “Aww, you’re so cute!” Roman cooed, bringing the fairy higher. “It’s okay, little fairy, I’m not gonna hurtcha.”

“I’m gonna take these back to my room.” Remus decided, carefully beginning to waddle back up the hill.

“Our room- hey! You can’t have all three!” Roman’s arms swung at his sides, jostling the fairy as he ran to catch up with his brother.

“Finders Keepers.” Remus teased.

“Well, I found them, so then they’re all mine.” Roman argued.

“You can have one.” Remus relented, the twins by now used to sharing, even if Remus liked to take larger portions. “And not the green one.”

“Yellow one.” Roman stuck his arm out. “Wait, stop. You can’t go in the kitchen, mom will see us.”

“…to the window!” Remus cried instead, running towards the side of the house. Here the twins could look through the glass, seeing their room perfectly split in half. On one side the walls were red, with Roman’s golden bed pressed into a corner and an army of stuffies surrounding it like a true knight. On Remus’ side the walls were puke green, and had an assortment of beheaded stuffies that were both his own and any of Roman’s unfortunate enough to find themselves on Remus’ side of the bedroom.

“Ugh, it’s too heavy.” Roman grunted, trying to push open the window with one hand. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, but open your shirt, let me put this fairy in too.”

As much as Remus liked taking off his shirt, he shook his head. “No way! Then all of mine will fly away.”

“All of ours.” Roman growled, already sick and tired of how Remus was trying to claim his find. “So, then what are we gonna do? We can’t have this one flying away, but I need both my hands.”

“I know somewhere you can put it.” Remus’s tone was too mischievous to be taken seriously, and sure enough a moment later he opened his mouth wide. The fairy in Roman’s hand really began to panic then, its eyes wide and a string of chittering bell sounds frantically coming out.

“Stop it, you’re so gross!” Roman rolled his eyes. He thought about closing Remus’s mouth himself, but feared being licked. Remus just laughed, amused at both reactions.

“Alright, um…” Roman looked down at himself, trying to find a solution. His pants had pockets, but none with buttons so surely the fairy could just fly right out. Instead Roman set the fairy on the ground, raising his foot up. The fairy gave a shriek so high-pitched it hurt Roman’s ears, but he just gently set his shoe down so that he was pining the fairy by the wing.

“There!” Roman smiled, proud of his solution as he stood back up. Roman tried to keep his footing secure, not wanting to slip and fall onto the actual fairy as he pushed against the bottom of the window. Finally the panel slid open, leaving a gap big enough for a child to climb inside.

“Me first!” Remus declared, shoving Roman aside to clamber on in. Roman pinwheeled his arms, trying to keep his balance. The boy managed to stay upright, but in his fight to do so Roman felt his foot twist, and the fairy gave another wail.

“oh no!” Roman sunk to the ground, quickly gathering up his fairy. His heart sank, seeing there was now a large tear along what had once been a pair of beautiful, shimmering iridescent wings. “Oh little fairy, I’m so sorry…” Roman’s sadness turned to anger, the boy climbing through the window with the tiny person cradled to his chest. “Remus, you dung beetle, you broke him!”

“Not my fault.” Remus shrugged, looking unapologetic. “You stepped on him.”

Roman kept muttering curses at his brother, setting his fairy on the window ledge while he closed the window. At least he didn’t have to worry about him flying away again.

“Don’t worry little fairy, I’ll help you.” Roman assured him, rushing over to his crafting table. He shoved the mess to the side, clearing a space as paints and glitters tumbled everywhere. “Nurse!”

“Nurse yourself.” Remus responded, busy on his side of the room dumping the other fairies into a pillowcase. He tied it up, giving the container a few shakes for good measure.

Roman grabbed the craft glue, pining the injured wing down with his fingers. The fairy tried to pull away but Roman just shushed him, smearing the sticky substance all over the rip. “Ugh, Remy, you’ve ruined it! His wing doesn’t look pretty anymore.”

“Can I have it then?” Remy came over, peering over Roman’s shoulder. The struggling case was dragged along at his side.

“No, he’s still the prettiest.” Roman declared, pulling out some rainbow glitter. He opened the bottle, dumping the contents onto the glue. “There. It’s…better.”

“It looks gross.” Remus stuck out his tongue.

“Whatever, you’re gross.” Roman looked at the pillowcase. “Remus, let them out, they’re gonna suffocate.”

“You promise?” Remus teased, but the two boys went over to Roman’s bed that was much more clean for the occasion. Remus gave the bag another shake, making sure the fairies were disoriented before dumping them onto the bed.

“I call the purple one- OW!” Roman flinched back, cradling his wrist to his chest. “It bit me!”

“Good boy.” Remus gave a pleased smile, grabbing the purple one to dangle by its leg so its teeth were out of reach. His other hand had possessively grabbed the yellow one, pressing it happily to his cheek.

“Whatever, you can have your messed up fairies.” Roman grabbed the last one, all dressed in dark blue. He seemed to match Roman’s other fairy anyways, almost as if they were meant to be a pair. “Aww, aren’t you cute~? I’m gonna make a home for my lil’ guys.”

“They’re not gonna want to live in one of your creations.” Remus gagged, thinking of his brother’s gaudy structures.

“They’re not gonna live at all if you try to make them a home.” Roman had seen Remus’ handiwork in the past. His dollhouses tended to be more like deathtraps, while Roman liked to make them into mansions.

“Is that a challenge?” Remus smirked. He wiggled the purple one back and forth. “Wanna test your luck in the death castle, little fairy?” The fairy hissed at him.

“Now-“ Roman used his decree-ing voice, sounding very official as he carried the blue one back to the crafting table. “If you two are going to be living together, we simply must have a wedding first.” Roman wasn’t sure if that was a rule, but it certainly should be in his opinion. Who doesn’t want a wedding? Why aren’t there weddings every day, anyhow? Roman had been asking such questions ever since the family attended the ceremony of a distant cousin earlier in the month, and his parents never seemed to give him a straight answer.

“Those are both boy fairies.” Remus pointed out. “You can’t have a wedding.”

“Boys can love boys!” Roman stomped his foot. He would just have to improvise. Roman grabbed his wedding dolls from his bin, holding the dark blue fairy underneath his leg while he worked to undress the dolls. Satisfied, Roman took the fae and shoved him into the tuxedo.

“He looks ridiculous.” Remus gaffed, watching as he sat cross-legged on Roman’s bed.

“Get off my side, you cretin!” Roman screeched, pointing to the other half of the room. Remus rolled off the bed, hurrying over to his side.

“Now, what to do with you?” Remus hummed, holding out both his fairies upside down. The purple one had begun to look a bit purple in the face, being held upside down so long. In fact, like this, Remus thought he almost looked like a popsicle.

What do fairies taste like, anyhow? Remus wondered, turning his fists upside right again to gain a better grip. Remus was no stranger to putting things in his mouth; he was a very curious child and would often test what things were by giving them a good lick. It was not surprising by this point in his life that Remus had consumed quite a large amount of dirt.

So, once the question entered his brain, Remus knew he needed answers. He lifted both of his hands, weighing them like a scale to decide who should go first. Of course, it was really no question, considering Remus had a favorite.

“Ah~” Remus let his tongue hang out of his mouth, bringing the yellow-green one up to his mouth and giving the fairy a big lick. Remus recoiled at the bitter taste, but the fairy’s reaction alone made it worth it. His hair stuck up wildly from Remus’s saliva, eyes wide with shock and mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. Remus gave a large belly laugh, nearly toppling over in his amusement.

“Alright, your turn.” Remus taunted, raising the purple one above his head to dangle above his mouth. It was already flailing, and Remus felt pleasure in watching its struggles increase as he lowered it in.

“Your turn for-? REMUS!” Roman shrieked, looking over to see Remus sucking on something and a pair of purple legs kicking wildly outside his lips. “Spit him out!”

“Mm-mm!” Remus shook his head, and though he cringed at the terrible flavor Remus couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly at his brother through his pain.

“I am not letting you anywhere near mine if that’s how you treat them.” Roman huffed, turning back to his work. The injured one seemed to be glued to the table, and Roman was trying to scrape it up with the edge of a paintbrush. The dark blue one was impatiently waiting in the overturned paint jar, pounding on the glass to get Roman’s attention.

Finally Remus spat the purple one back into his hand. It shivered in the air-conditioned environment, probably extra cold now that he was drenched in spit.

“Alright fairies.” Remus used his own voice of decrees, stomping over to his train table. “I think I know another game we can play.”

“Again, if you lose yours, that’s it.” Roman insisted, shoving a struggling periwinkle fairy into a wedding dress. The outfit had once been white, but Roman had long since scribbled over it in a rainbow of marker to try to make the ensemble less boring.

“They can take it.” Remus shrugged, pulling out some string. He disconnected a piece of track, tying the fairies to it with practiced ease. This was a common game they played, with Roman playing the heroes trying to save the damsel dolls tied to the tracks and Remus being the constructor urging the train on. When they played on Remus’ half of the room, the dolls often lost.

“Wait a minute, I’m nearly done!” Roman whined, not wanting to miss it despite himself. He threw some paper confetti into the air, watching it sprinkle down. “Okay, you’re married. Nowwww, kiss.” Roman took a fairy in each hand, shoving their little faces together a couple times to imitate a kissing motion. Their noses scrunched up, but Roman thought their lips touched once so that was good enough. “Okay my hero husbands are ready!”

“And my victims are ready.” Remus placed the track back into place. He grabbed the controller, turning on the train. The lights turned on and the machine’s whistle sounded, making both fairies tied to the tracks begin to squirm.

“Hey, maybe they actually stand a chance!” Roman perked up, excited by the idea of a happy ending. “I’ll set my fairies down, and we’ll see if they can untie them in time.”

“Fine by me.” Remus shrugged, already chugging his train along at full force. The rumbles it sent through the tracks made the struggles increase.

“Alright, go little fairies.” Roman urged, setting his blue fairies down. Instantly both fairies began tugging at the ropes, trying to save their friends. “So, how do we know if they lose?”

“The train crashes into them.” Remus grinned.

“Remuuuuuus.” Roman groaned. “You can’t do that! We don’t want to hurt them.”

“It probably won’t hurt them.” Remus lied, pushing the train to go even faster. He pressed the whistle again, watching all four tiny people jump. The train was getting closer, the clacking making the fairies’ hands slip as they struggled to undo Remus’ solid knots.

Roman bit his lip, trying to judge how far away the train was. If Remus was going to act all stupid again, Roman didn’t want his fairies to end up in harm’s way. The train rounded the corner, and seeing that the knots were nowhere near undone Roman quickly gathered up his fairies for safety. Both of them struggled, trying to get back onto the tracks the silly things.

“Choo choo!” Remus declared, driving the train full steam ahead. In three…two…one…

“Haha!” “Aww….”

Both boys had very different reactions when the train rammed into the fairy’s side, only to harmlessly bounce off onto the tracks. Just like with the dolls, the train was just not strong enough to drive straight through and likely did no more damage than a little bruising to the yellow one.

“Fate chooses the side of good once again!” Roman gave a victory fist pump.

“For now.” Remus bent over, untying his living toys. He wasn’t that upset the train hadn’t worked; it only meant he could have even more fun with his fairies.

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auroreswritings · 5 years

Text

Day 3 is for... Pumpkin! Some cute, everyday stuff at the agency because they all deserve a break sometimes.

This was very fun to write and I like how it turned out, hopefully you’ll like it too!

Find it on AO3!

The Carving Contest

“-You can set the last ones on this table, Kenji.” Kunikida was gesturing at the blond boy, guiding him to one of the agency’s desks. The teenager let go of his cargo on the table in front of him, careful not to drop anything on the floor. One of the pumpkins rolled to the edge but stopped before falling, almost magically remaining on the table.

Halloween was in just a few days, and the detectives had decided to decorate the agency for the occasion. Fake spider webs were hanging all around, with a giant plushy spider hiding in one of the room’s corners, a few ghosts and bats were swinging from the ceiling, and even a skeleton had been placed at the entrance to greet customers. All that was left now was carving some pumpkins and placing them on windowsills and desks and the agency would be perfectly spooky. Kenji had suggested turning the carving assignment into a contest to see who would carve the best pumpkin, and Fukazawa had agreed; he knew his detectives needed a little break from their work, and as such he had even promised a bag of sweets to whoever could win the challenge, to inspire them further. This only had for effect to give Ranpo maximum motivation, and he probably was now the most excited out of all the detectives, his determination slowly rubbing on all of his coworkers. Rules had been set: each detective would be allowed a maximum of two pumpkins, with three hours to let their genius speak; Haruno and Naomi would be the judges. Now, orange, beige and green vegetables of different sizes were piling on a desk, already hollowed out and waiting to be carved in. All the detectives were at their desks, waiting for the signal to start. Most of them were sporting a resolute look on their face, ready to give their all to win the challenge and the sweets. Even Dazai had a somewhat serious look on his face; he seemed to have been pumped up by the idea of doing some handiwork, or was just in a good mood because Halloween was, after all, a celebration around death.

As Naomi and Haruno announced the beginning of the challenge, all the people around the room almost ran to the pile of pumpkins, trying to get the ones they had set their eyes on before someone else could take them away. They all started to get to work, drawing their designs and preparing their knives and other tools. Some had wondered if leaving Dazai to handle such sharp objects was a good idea, but he didn’t seem to try and attempt anything close to suicide, at least not for now. Of course, he had cracked a joke or two on the matter, but he was now deeply in thoughts, eyes glued to the squashes lying on his desk.

All detectives were busy, trying to finish their artworks in the imparted time. Things had started with a lot of movement and excitement, but now it all had quieted down a bit. They were now about 2 hours in the contest, and not much could be heard anymore, almost everybody being way to absorbed with what they were doing to bother talking or looking around. Almost everybody, because Atsushi was just sitting there, elbow on his desk, cheek pressed on his hand. He didn’t really know what to carve next. He had already done a regular jack-o’-lantern in one of the bigger pumpkins and was now left with a very small squash, and his mind couldn’t come up with a design small enough to grace it in a way that would give him a chance to win the contest. He let his eyes wander around the room: all the other detectives were busy working on their works of art. Ranpo had carved all kinds of candies around his first pumpkin and was now working on the outline of an intricate design mixing up ghosts of all forms, while Yosano was busy carving up some scarily accurate organs on her tall, orange squash. Kyouka had managed to carve in a dog chasing after a couple of cute rabbits and was now carefully trying to slice some spider webs in a small kabocha squash, Kenji had sculpted a cow’s face with its bell and was halfway through the carving of a cute house spirit in a butternut squash. Kunikida had extremely carefully etched some bats above a caldron and had now set himself to the difficult task of representing a vampire’s face on his second cucurbit, and Tanizaki had done a simple jack-o’-lantern as well, which Atsushi thought looked a lot better than his, and was now left with one of the smaller squashes, outlining some cats on it. Even Dazai was done with his first pumpkin and was starting carving through the second one. Atsushi took a better look at his mentor’s first squash. To his surprise, he recognized the design right away. On one side was sliced in the outline and details of a tiger, while the other side was sporting a rather simple portrait, just a weirdly cut mop of hair with the outline of a face, all of which looked extremely familiar.

“-Hum… Dazai? Is it me you caved in your pumpkin?

-Oh, yes, I thought it’d be cute to have a tiny weretiger sitting on my desk.” The taller man hadn’t taken his eyes off his squash, letting his explanation out in the air with a somewhat detached tone, as if this was the most normal thing in the world to say.

However, this wasn’t normal for Atsushi. The younger man’s face flushed at the words, he stuttered a little before falling silent. He was extremely touched by the man’s gesture; he hadn’t expected this at all. He wasn’t used to people being nice to him or even just thinking about him, so having his mentor be inspired by him to decorate his pumpkin in this contest was shaking him up a little. Dazai was focused on his work, seemingly not paying attention to the younger man. In reality, he had been sending side glances his way since the beginning of their carving duty, waiting for the tiger’s reaction to the little him sculpted in the squash. The tall man was not disappointed. He knew Atsushi would get flustered by the gesture, and seeing him all red in the face and unable to speak properly was always a funny and heartwarming sight. He had gotten attached to his junior, and he liked seeing him happy as he knew the poor man hadn’t had an easy life up until now. Pleased with the weretiger’s reaction, Dazai put his attention back to his current work, hands carving up some weird, possibly poisonous mushrooms in his other squash. After some time, Atsushi regained his composure, and with a determined look on his face, he grabbed his pen and drew on his last pumpkin, quickly getting back into the contest before it ended.

“-Time’s up everyone!” Naomi’s voice boomed after a while, the loud ring of an alarm echoing with her words. “Put your tools down, time’s up! Please set your pumpkins at the front of your desks, the judges will now examine them.” She tried to appear as serious as possible, but she couldn’t hide the excitement and playfulness in her voice. All the detectives started getting their pieces of art ready, cleaning up their desks and tools to give their pumpkins all the highlights they deserved. Fukuzawa was standing in a corner of the room, caring gaze set on his fellow detectives, ready to hand out the prize. Naomi and Haruno started walking around the desks, carefully examining their coworkers’ creations. Silence fell around the room, tension rising as the girls did their inspecting. Small hums of approval could be heard from them from time to time. When they reached Atsushi’s desk, they stopped, confused looks on their faces.

“-Hum… Atsushi? What is this?” Haruno pointed at the tiny pumpkin the weretiger had styled last. He had carved some rectangular eyes and a smirking mouth, and had rolled some bandages around the squash, covering a good chuck of it in white fabric. His ears became bright red and he tried covering his face with his hands.

“-I-I-I… I tried to make a Dazai pumpkin…” his voice was shaking a little. He knew he wasn’t the most skilled at drawing or other artsy things, but he thought he had made it obvious that this was his mentor he had represented. Naomi let out a small, amused huff and moved on to Dazai’s table.

After having carefully inspected all the pumpkins, Naomi and Haruno exchanged a glance and without any discussion, Haruno declared:

“-We have a winner! You all did very well, I was very surprised by the creativity you all had, and all of these pumpkins look great. However, only one of you can be number one. I’ll let Naomi announce the result.” All eyes were set on said girl, waiting expectantly.

“-The result is obvious, the winner is… Big brother!” Naomi jumped on her brother to hug him as she screamed his name. All the detectives looked at each other with confused looks, while Tanizaki was trying to get his sister away from him. Haruno went and grabbed her, clearing her throat.

“-I knew this would happen.” She let out a sigh. “I’m sorry Junichirou, but you’re not our winner, I think Naomi just got a little carried away. The real winner actually is… Dazai! Your little Atsushi is so cute, it had to be number one.” As she said this, Fukuzawa approached and gave the detective his prize, a big bag of sweets. Dazai accepted his trophy, a little surprised he had won. Ranpo was eyeing the bag, looking almost devastated. The tall man turned to him.

“-Well, well, looks like I’ll be gorging myself on candies, my dear Ranpo. Maybe I’ll think of you and share some, if you’re nice enough.” He winked at the older detective, mischievous smile on his lips. Ranpo huffed in response, crossing his arms in frustration at Dazai’s playful teasing. Setting the bag of sweets on his desk, Dazai couldn’t help but notice Atsushi’s demeanor. He was sitting again, head down, eyes fixed on the table.

The weretiger still felt a little ashamed. He really thought it would be a good idea to make a Dazai pumpkin, he even thought it’d be funny to have a squash covered in bandages, but apparently no one liked it. Dazai’s Atsushi pumpkin had won the contest, yet no one seemed to care for the one had had done, even if it was in a similar vein. Sad thoughts of that sort were creeping in his mind, and he brought his hands to his face again. Suddenly he felt something on his head. Looking up, he realized Dazai was gently petting his hair, a soft smile on his lips.

“-Don’t worry, Atsushi, it doesn’t really matter if none of the others like it. I like it a lot, this little guy looks like my twin brother.” His eyes were glinting with joy. He knew Atsushi had done his best, and he was immensely moved by what he did. Of course his pumpkin looked a little weird, the eyes weren’t exactly the same size and the cuts were a little wobbly, but Dazai knew the weretiger put his heart in this little piece of art, and that was all that mattered.

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shall-we-imagine · 5 years

Text

Peace. (Elias GoldsteinxLuca Orlem [Platonic ig] *AU*)

A/N: This was supposed to be just a drabble but as you guys might've noticed I cannot control myself and this is longer than a drabble 😂

Genre: Fluff/a bit angsty ig

Summary: Sometimes what you have to do and what you want to do are two opposite things.

(Third point of view)

"You don't understand how it's like! You've always been the perfect one!" Tears blurring his vision, the 11-year-old boy yells at his older brother, who had merely tried to calm him down and had nothing to do with the younger boy's problem whatsoever.

"Elias, could you please listen?" Maintaining a soft, calm voice, the teenager attempts to reason with the child. It wasn't rare for Elias to throw temper tantrums every now and then; being his older brothers, Alfonse and Klaus would always try to coax him into letting them take care of him and comfort him, yet sometimes, today being an example, Elias decides to remain as stubborn as could be and refuse to let them in.

"No!" The boy huffs, "I'm going to see Luca!" He turns towards the coat hanger, grasping his beige jacket and rushing towards the front door.

"Why do you keep saying that?! You know, if you leave now, father is gonna get-" slam! "..angry.." Sighing in frustration, Klaus runs his hand through his soft, curly locks. He contemplated following his brother out but decided against it; he knew he would be back soon, and a lot calmer as well. Perhaps he could find a way to ensure their father doesn't know his 11-year-old son just stormed off though..

"How many times do I have to get scolded for not being good enough?" Elias mutters, struggling to get his jacket on. "No matter what I do, it's always you could've done better." Puffs of smoke leave his freezing lips, and he mentally slaps himself for not taking time to bring along a scarf at least. It was harshly cold, but he had too much pride to go back and layer up before leaving again. Therefore, he forced his mind off the slight shivers of his body and the constant clashing of his teeth.

At the sight of the familiar tree stump, Elias's pace quickens subconsciously. It was their official meeting spot.

Sighing, Elias plops onto the wooden surface that had begun collecting tiny mushrooms all around it. "I miss when your bedroom and mine were merely two windows and a few inches apart. I wouldn't be freezing out here to see you." The blond grumbles to himself, or at least that's what he thought.

"Hey, it's not my fault! I do miss it too though." Elias's head snaps towards the green-haired boy currently taking seat on the same stump. "How have you been, Prince Elias?" The latter grins.

"Luca, you've known me since birth! I'm not royalty!"

"You could totally pass off as a prince though." You'd think the two would get tired of this argument, yet they didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

"Whatever. I had another argument with my father." Elias confesses the reason of his visit, "and Klaus.."

"Man, why do you never visit just because you miss me?" Luca teases the younger boy.

"Because you're annoying." The Goldstein retorts.

"You're just too prideful to admit you missed me; that's all." Orlem smirks, earning a glare from the blond.

"You wish." Elias rolls his eyes, wishing the redness of his cheeks could slide with an excuse of how cold it is. He knew it was true. He always missed Luca but would never say it out loud; hell, he could barely admit it to himself.

"Anyway, you still haven't found a way to leave?" Tentatively, Elias shifts to a more sensitive topic. His gut twisted uncomfortably, as he waited for an answer. Yes or no, whichever it was; he couldn't feel true happiness. Deep down, he was aware he had to be happy for his friend if he'd found a way to escape this lonesome misery, but the selfish side of him set his heart ablaze at the sole thought of saying goodbye one more time. One last time.

Elias swore he caught Luca's smile drop a little, but it was back so fast he doubted himself. "I wouldn't be here if I'd figured something out, would I?" He jokes, but his younger friend knew him too well. He could sense the sadness within the statement.

"You'll figure something out; I'm sure." Elias attempts to comfort the other boy, hiding his own discomfort towards the statement.

"Ah, I'm a restless soul cuz my friend keeps having arguments with his family, so I need to be here for him. I haven't fulfilled my purpose!" Luca's playful self returns, as he dramatically sighs and throws the blame on his friend.

"That cannot be the reason!" Elias argues, but a flicker of guilt finds its way to his heart. "..right?"

"I don't know." Luca shrugs, "I mean I don't feel restless. I just feel bored most of the time, to be honest."

"Can you believe I've gone through this entire forest?" He chuckles, a glimmer of excitement coating his words.

"At least you found a way to enjoy yourself." The younger smiles.

"Mmhm." Luca nods.

An awkward silence fills the dark forest. They were ignoring the elephant in the room. For the first few month, they were both filled with glee at the pleasant accident- an unforseen reunion. However, now it was more of a burden; it was a mistake they couldn't fix- one they hadn't even committed in the first place but still had to find a solution for by themselves.

As much as they loved being able to see each other still, Luca was stuck in the middle of a forest, neither dead nor alive, and that wasn't the most pleasant of postions.

Even though he wasn't told what to do, Elias felt it somehow. The key to Luca's freedom was tightly clasped between the blond's hand, while he pretended not to find it.

Elias's head drops, fixing his eyes on the ground. A trail of ants was what he decided to stare at; he wasn't even sure how the moon was able to make the tiny creatures that clear to him; perhaps Elias's need to look at anything but Luca gave him super vision. Who knows.

His shaky voice barely audible, Elias lets out the thought he kept trapped for his own selfish needs. "I'm going to stop mourning you." He fought against the burning in his eyes and the lump at the back of his throat. For once, he was thankful for being late for a haircut, since his hair conveniently kept his currently moist eyes hidden.

The older lets out a nervous laugh. "Why are you mourning me, prince? I'm right here." He spreads his arms widely, in a way to show his presence.

"You're a spirit, Luca!" The smaller boy sniffles, unable to battle his own emotions.

"So? I'm still your friend, am I not?" Luca feigns hurt, but his goofy nature that always cheered up his friend had failed him this time. The younger remained silent, forcing Luca to speak up again, this time abandoning his humor and resorting to a different method.

"Elias, listen; I know you're scared I'll leave you alone, and I know you feel guilty about it, but it's normal, isn't it? Death is inevitable. Life had somehow managed to give us a chance to reunite- a chance for me to assure you my death wasn't your fault. It should've made you happier not more miserable." His green eyes stared intently at the blond, who for the first time in a while looked up from the ground.

"I know." The younger sniffles. "I want to set you free- I do, but I just miss you, Luca..I miss you so much. You never should've left me like this! I never should've agreed to your stupid idea that day!" By now, Elias's voice had gotten gradually louder. He was tired of bottling up his sorrows.

"Elias, I suggested we play here; my death was my fault- not yours, so for once, listen to me, and stop drowining yourself in guilt!"

"But..if I'd said no then maybe-"

Luca gets off the stump and stands facing Elias. "If you'd said no, I would've dragged you here either way, Elias. It's not like I would've listened. When have I ever?" Adding a small laugh, the older boy peeks at his friend's face.

"You never listen." Luca was left unsure how to feel or act; Elias had spoken the sentence and paired it with a laugh, yet streams of tears raced down his rosy cheeks.

Luca dropped to his knees, "Are you okay, Elias? I'm sorry." He didn't know what he'd done to gain such a conflicted reaction from the smaller guy, but he felt bad nevertheless.

Resolution in his eyes, Elias wipes away his tears (not that it did much to stop the streams spilling out his eyes anyway) and gives a bright smile to his friend. "I'm good. You're right. I'm glad we've had this chance; I'm glad I can say goodbye to you properly."

"I..I don't think you look very glad, Elias.." Luca gave a light, nervous laugh.

It was as if Elias could no longer hear his friend. "I will miss you, Luca, but it's time I let you go. It's time you get to rest."

"Wha..what are you talking about, Elias?" The older boy grew more nervous and confused.

"Goodbye, Luca." A pained yet genuine smile revealed itself on the blond's lips.

A reply was never given. Green eyes bore into purple ones; until eventually, Elias could no longer see the beautiful emeralds that were embedded in his memory by now. And for a few moments, the boy kept staring at the big, plain, lonely tree before him, trying to grasp the fact that he'd just freed his friend.

He was happy, wasn't he? His heart twisted in anguish, but he was content. In some strange, unexplainable way, he felt joy.

"Elias! My goodness, father is gonna kill us all if you don't come back with us now." Klaus rushes to the little boy's side, Alfonse following shortly after.

"Are you..crying?" The eldest asked in the softest voice.

"No." It was a blatant lie, everyone could tell. And even though he didn't try to seem convincing, no one questioned him.

Silently, all three walked out the forest.

Elias almost wanted to remain inside the green space, as if leaving was a confirmation he'd never see his friend again. But of course he couldn't. He followed his older brothers home. They didn't ask questions, and for that he was thankful.

By the time they reached their front door, Elias had cried his eyes dry. His siblings walked inside, but he stayed back for a few seconds and took one last look at the starry sky.

"I hope you're finally at peace." He whispered. Perhaps he'd gone mad, but he was sure he heard a familiar voice whisper back.

Same goes to you, Prince.

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wheresmaldo865 · 5 years

Text

DabixReader Coraline Au

Well here it is! Finally! I had to watch the beginning of the movie about a billion times over to get the set up correct in what I wanted to put. Don’t worry! Art work will be coming soon! I think I’ll doodle some stuff tonight before bed. Feel free to send in anything specific you wanna see!

IMPORTANT BEFORE PROCEEDING ONWARD. FOR THIS FIC CHARACTERS MUST BE AT LEAST 18 YEARS OF AGE. THERE WILL BE NO KIND OF SEXUAL INTERACTIONS. BUT TO PLACE DABI WHERE HE IS WITH HIS SCARS HE IS ALREADY 20 YEARS OF AGE. CORALINE WAS AT LEAST ONLY 12 IN THE ORIGINAL FILMS. THATS NOT THE KIND OF STORY I WANT TO WRITE. IT WOULD ALSO OPEN THE FIC FOR OTHERS ADVENTURES. THANK YOU!

Now that the mini rant it over. I hope I did alright and again. Feel free to comment any criticisms or ideas. I’m open to all of them! Happy reading! And thank you for the already provided feedback!

~Maldo

Word Count: 1,978

Chapter 1: Strangers

The car jolted as it slowed to a rolling stop on the muddy drive way. (Y/N) body rocked forward waking her from much needed nap.

“We’re Heeeeeere!” Hizashi Yamada, Y/N father sung nearly at the top of his lungs, ricocheting the car windows to tremble under his loud and powerful quirk. The sleep quickly depleted from Y/N eyes as her instincts kicked in telling her to run. She quickly kicked opened her car door open sprinted as fast as her numb legs could. Several feet away from the vehicle, safe from any flying glass. Thankfully, the windows came back to a stand still and remained in tacked.

(Y/N) other father, Aziawa grumbled as he stepped out of the driver’s seat of the car. “You break the car windows again, you’re going to pay to get them fixed.” Aziawa warned, slowly wasting not time in making his way up to the house. The long bags under his eyes would tell anyone he just wanted to get the moving part over with and as fast as possible so he could go to sleep.

.Hizashi and (Y/N) looked at each other sheepishly smiling as they recalled the memory of him singing so loudly Aziawa had accidentally slammed into a truck… Neither one of them received any affection from him that night…

The three of them ushered themselves inside and began unloading what was in the car until the mover’s van arrived, almost a whole hour late. Just as Aziawa said it would be.

Y/N) sighed while rubbing the remaining sleep out of her tired eyes. She went out the back door of the house and sat on the porch watching the movers come in and out of the giant house. Bringing with them the mountains of boxes they had packed from their old home.

The whole scene was a saddening experience for (Y/N). She had to move away from her school, friends, and a town she had lived in her whole life. What was familiar to her. The moment Hizashi and Aziawa had told her of the arrangement, she had been slung into a cold pool of loneliness. Something she didn’t know how to deal with, let alone know how to talk to her parents about. She was a bit stubborn to think she was too old to have such feelings.

“Hey munchin!” Hizashi greeted excitedly, even though he had just taken a long road trip, his spirits were still high unlike Aziawa. Who she was sure wanted to crawl into bed and never wake again after today. Though his new teaching job may get in the way of his slumber...

“Hey, Dad.” Came (Y/N) response. She pushed away her negative thoughts for the time being and did her best to crack a smile. Hizashi beside her on the porch. Reaching over and ruffling her hair a bit. She playfully swatted his hands while smiling and laughing at his intentions. Once they gathered themselves again they spoke for a minute. About the things they would have to do and the plans they all had. The interaction made (Y/N) feel a little better. She sensed maybe Hizashi has suspected her struggling with something so new in her life.

Yet, there was still this nagging in the back of her head about the uncertainly. She thought it’s what was making her so nervous. But she would have to think about it later.

“Hey! I have an idea. I heard there was a well around here somewhere. Full all of all kinds of secrets! Why don’t you go scope it out?”

“For villains?” She responded. Her curiosity peeked by his words. The new light in her eyes caused Hizashi to grin wider.

“For villains!” He yelled, the house shaking every so slightly. He quickly covered his mouth while they both looked inside for any sign of Aziawa coming to scold them for being too loud. After a minute had passed Hizashi uncovered his mouth and whispered over to his daughter when the coast was clear. “Better keep it down before he mutes me for a day.”

(Y/N) nodded in agreement. Hizashi gave her a last pat on the head before he headed back inside and shut the door to their new home. She huffed lightly, then stood up and headed out into the large garden gate she has spotted while moving boxes. The site inside made her frown. Everything inside looked dead and had been dead for some time now.

Another low huff escaped her lips as she decided to move on instead of mopping over dead flowers.

(Y/N) eventually found a semi less muddy path leading out into the field near the house. The apple trees were a nice change of pace. They made the world seem less gray. She would have continued admiring it, if the fall of a rock directly in front of her hadn’t startled her senses.

She blinked and starred at it a moment before peering around for someone standing about. There was no one but the yellow grass and naked tree’s around her.

As many horror movies she had seen with her parents, she decided to remain quiet and cautious while she kept walking on the dirt road.

It wasn’t until she heard two hollow steps come from under her that the uneasiness left her mind. She looked down and saw a particular mud patch surrounded by mushrooms and other fungus.

She had to suddenly jump back by several feet when she heard a cat screech as high as it’s lungs could take it. A small dark green fuzzball pouncing into her visions. Her heart raced and pounded against her chest from the fright. Her eyes remained glued to the animal, confirming in her own head a beast hadn’t shown up. Though it seemed the harm had no intention of bringing her harm. Just his own amusement.

(Y/N) had to take several deeps breath before she came back to her senses.

“You scared me to death!” She screamed back at the green cat, watching as it laid itself out, almost as if it was getting ready to defend itself against her. Its big puffy hair bending along with the wind.

She took another deep breath while her eyes never left the cats presence. Its tail happily swayed back and forth, still amused at the situation.

“I don’t suppose you know where the well is? Do you?” She posed. The cat remained silent. His head bowed slightly, and his eyes made a slow-paced blink. She couldn’t help but think he was answering, saying it was under her. Helping confirm her previous speculations. (Y/N) smiled as she looked back down at her muddy feet.

She couldn’t look at it very long when a loud horn caused her to jump. Again! The second her feet landed back on the ground her body whirled around and starred point blank into a spot light. The air around her became unbearably hot and it raised many alarms inside (Y/N) head. She quickly crouched and picked up whatever stick or object next to her.

Right as a shadow loomed over her body, she took all the strength she had along with her quirk and swung as hard she could until she hit something intimidating a skull.

“Ow!” A stranger shouted as they hit the ground harder than (Y/N) had really intended to send them. But in her defense, they had attacked her first.

He took no time in straightening himself back up to a standing position. Even standing a few feet away (Y/N) could tell he was much taller then she. The teasing smile he wore on his face wracked a shiver down her entire body. She didn’t like the way he looked at her with half lidded eyes. Also, the unbearable heat was coming from him, him and his slightly blue radiating hands...

“Let me guess? A water witch? Or maybe a power quirk? Either way, girl can hit…”

(Y/N) brows furrowed into a displeased expression. The scars on his face were a bit difficult to look upon, but it hadn’t been the worst thing she had ever seen. For now, she could look past it until she need to question them further. His dark clothes and bright blue eyes raised another question in her mind…

She took the stick in her hand and threw it, aiming for his head again. However, she became blinded by bright sapphire flames and the stick was no more.

“Try again, girly.” He spoke calmly. Unphased by her actions toward him. She growled becoming slightly annoyed. It would be in her best interest not to try again.

“I don’t like being stalked by Psychos! Or their cats!” (Y/N) proclaimed, her voice echoing through the bare tree limbs. Her reaction gained a smirk from the opposing. He bent down and gently ran his long fingers through the cat’s dark green hair. His smile pulling on the skin around his eyes and mouth. (Y/N) had never seen a condition like it before. She could also see the dark purple tissue on his chest and palms.

“His not really my cat. Kinda ferine ya know? Though, sometimes I give him food. In return he brings me… little dead things.” He stated casually empathizing the use of ‘dead things.’ Not enough to make her run just yet... but the cat had been tailing her before...

“I’m Dabi.” He spoke when she didn’t responed. He stuck a hand out, his eyes edging her on for her to come closer. Daring her to come nearer. (Y/N) could hear her father Aziawa telling her to never shake a stranger’s hand. However, Hizashi had also always taught her to be polite.

She took the few steps to reach his hand and shake it. The contact against his skin made her want to retract her hand away from the dry and bumpy purple texture. She held out till the end. Immediately diving her hand into her pocket to rub against the soft fabric.

“My names (Y/N), (Y/N) Shouta.”

The sound of her last name tripped a mischievous glint in his eyes. Dabi’s brows raised slightly as if his interest had suddenly been peeked.

“Just move in hero? Where from?”

(Y/N) moved away from him again. The way he had asked the question raised another red flag and she decided it would be best to put the well in between them. Couldn’t be too careful around new neighbors...

She bent down and exclaimed it, so she wouldn’t physically show she was intimidated. Either way, it’s what she had come to look at to begin with.

Lifting the lid proved to be difficult. She could only lift it about a foot or so off the ground before she had to let go. Slamming it shut and sputtering mud all over her rain coat.

She heard Dabi hum, amused. Her eyes flickered up to meet his. He still wore the same pleased grin he had since first scaring her. He probably enjoyed watching her struggle. She didn’t want to answer herself to find out.

“Careful girly, they say it’s so deep, if you fell down it, you’d see a sky full of stars in the middle of the day.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) questioned, interested.

He simply nodded and stood up. Ignoring her question. Instead Dabi walked over to the hill where he could see the Pink Palace in full. She waited for him to say something more about his statement, but it seemed it was all he was going to say about the mysterious well.

“I’m surprised she let you move in, my mom, she owns the pink palace. Won’t rent to people with kids.”

(Y/N) scoffed at him. “I’m not a kid. I’m (18/19/20) ((Or older if that suits you)). And what do you mean by that?”

He chuckled and shrugged. Coming back to another act of silence. If all the neighbors were as strange as he was, well. (Y/N) may have a difficult time after all.

In their shared silence and just when she was deciding she would head home. She heard an echo in the trees. A woman calling for someone.

“Touya!”

She saw Dabi’s head flinch and his smile vanished from his face. He didn’t bother to say goodbye or anything for that matter. He was gone before she could think of something to say to him.

What a strange boy…

Before running home herself, (Y/N) wanted to see how deep the well really was. She knew Dabi could only be bluffing, but the idea of his words being true were exciting and could distract her for a moment longer. She scouted out a pebble and dropped it down the hole in the wood. She placed her ear up to it, listening carefully for anything. It wasn’t until a few seconds later she finally heard the distant splashing crawling its way back up the stone walls for her ears to hear.

(Y/N) shivered, unsettled by the sound.

Part 2 is here

Tag lists (Simply message me to be added)

@chims-kookies

#Dabi x reader #dabi is a todoroki #Dabi imagines #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #Coraline Au

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nicoletteduclare · 5 years

Text

These fireside meetings were always a bore, and Maxwell tried not to close his eyes for the brief respite that it would provide if only for the fact he did not need an earful right now. Someone giving him grief for not paying attention would require him to actually reply, and to reply, well, he'd have to cough up the whole reason for this meeting quite literally. That would be a whole new conversation and involve more questions and annoyance then Max was particularly interested in dealing with.

Besides, there was a headache blooming behind his temples, most likely thanks to the flowers in his throat. There were very few people he'd humor with listening to right now. They're all complaining about managing their own (admittedly, rather fragile for most of them) sanity more often. The surprising fact is that he is too. Unlike the lot of them, though, Maxwell is acutely aware of the source.

It would be lovely if they could just finish up already, he can make out some idea of moving camp, seeing as they can't seem to find the source, and he closes his eyes to ignore the shadow out of the corner of his eye, desperately wanting to cough.

This batch seems like it'll be painful. The dark petals are amazingly useful, or, well, they would be if he could actually use the codex more often, but having them come up randomly is quite damaging, even to his own mental resilience. Not to mention his physical state, which is far more delicate. There's been quite a lot of blood lately. Feels like his mouth always tastes of copper.

Even as a child who was far too eager to believe in magic and the fae, even then, Maxwell had considered this a myth. Coughing up petals because the heart yearns for someone and never telling them, being scared to tell them? Absolutely ridiculous, a complete fairy tale. Not to mention that he'd completely been too afraid to tell Charlie for at least a good few months, and he'd never coughed up petals then.

And he absolutely loved her, loved her so much... and then he'd managed to screw the whole bloody thing up and fail to protect her and ruin the both of them. If he'd just... if he'd only...

That always left a bitter taste in his mouth, petals or no petals and Maxwell valiantly tried to shake the thoughts of the past from his mind. That, honestly, is probably the biggest reason for these blasted flower petals, though there are quite a few.

Why get close to someone else again, when all he's ever brought to anyone is misery? Why fail someone again? He's ruined every single good thing in his life through a wonderful mix of no forethought and too much pride. Everything good crumbles in his hands, and who's to say, even if his affections where returned, that it wouldn't blow up in his face, that he wouldn't fail and ruin them the same way he'd ruined Charlie. What if they ended up worse off than Charlie?

What was the point of even considering that it was possible?

He'd rather let himself choke to death on flowers before letting that happen to someone that he cares about again.

There's a nudge from his side, and his eyes flutter open. "I'm really starting to wonder if you ever pay any attention to anything we talk about." Wilson was practically glaring at him, a scowled frown on his face.

He either has to reveal the petals by coughing them up or just swallow them down, and as painful at it is, Maxwell chose the later, looking away from Wilson to speak. "I pay plenty of attention, Higgsbury." Even though his throat ached, probably scratched raw, he managed a dry, even tone, though it was a little strained.

Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose, an annoyed sigh escaping and Maxwell noticed the brilliant flower crown perched quite nicely on his head. "Whatever you say. We're going to start moving camp tomorrow, maybe see if there's something new we've missed that's driving everyone insane. It's been getting pretty bad... though I doubt it even bothers you."

He just nodded along, pretending that whatever it was absolutely did not bother him, and watched Wilson sigh again and get up. A few moments in front of the fire before turning to go off to the tents, and Maxwell is glad they're all scattering, he can feel the urge to cough start to rise.

If only Wilson knew the half of it.

Though, if he even knew... Maxwell bit his tongue to keep from coughing just yet and moved to go find a quiet, private area to discreetly cough up the blasted mess from his throat. If he knew, it wouldn't matter anyway.

It'd been what, a few weeks since they'd completed moving, a setting up the new camp (not too far from the old camp, they'd judged about a half a day's walk back and forth was far enough if it was something new they'd missed that was draining sanity) and yet... Wilson pitched the bridge of his nose. He'd just staved off a headache and the shadows at the edge of his vision, between flower crowns and green mushroom caps. No one else seemed to be fairing any better either.

What a waste of a good chunk of their fall prep period then. They could have stayed put and put more effort into making the best of the fall growing period before winter made any sort of plant growth stop. It probably wouldn't be a disaster, they did have good stores in place already, but it was frustrating that this move solved nothing.

He flipped through his journal to the last handful of pages, where he'd been writing down various scenarios. He still thought that it was something new he was overlooking. Maybe it was small, like a new flower. He wouldn't be too surprised, the roses were something he overlooked until he needed a flower and got thorns in his hand.

Some of the other things seemed a little less probable. He doubted anything underground could affect them up here, and he wasn't sure there actually was a cavern below them. And something they used might have started to drain their sanity, but he really doubted that.

There was a note about feeling better after leaving camp, and Wilson frowned. He'd forgotten about that. Maybe someone had drug something back, and didn't realize what it was doing?

That would be a bit harder to find, really. They may have brought it back to trade with the pig king later, like other new trinkets that occasionally showed up. Or maybe something like the rose pedestal, something that followed light, and hung around camp if you were unlucky to find them.

He could ask Max for help, honestly. This obviously wasn't affecting him, the man rarely ended up in the mental state the rest of them constantly were trying to avoid; Max's occasional careful use of the shadow amulet excluded.

If anything, Maxwell would at least tell him if something seemed completely impossible. While his memory wasn't infallible, he at least could have some knowledge of what one could do in control of this world. Though, stubborn bastard he was, Wilson didn't doubt he might have to bribe him with doing a few hated chores.

Though... that brought to mind the fact Maxwell had been trading off his shifts for night watch for other chores. Hadn't... Wilson thought back. Maxwell had actually asked to trade a shift for going down below for lightbulbs and mushrooms with Wolfgang.

Wilson wasn't sure as to why Maxwell hated the underground so much, but he'd had his suspicions that the enclosed, dark space was uncomfortably close to the throne room he'd found Maxwell in at the end of his little adventure.

So that was one of the chores Max used almost always tried to shove off onto him. And Maxwell usually tried to trade that off for a night shift if he couldn't weasel his way out of it, Wickerbottom might have permanent insomnia, but Maxwell was frequently also victim to it and so it was an easy swap.

He had also been going off on his own a lot, avoiding everyone really, though that wasn't surprising, but he usually had one of his shadow puppets out. Now Wilson tried to remember the last time he'd even seen Max with a shadow clone.

Perhaps Maxwell wasn't as immune as he thought, though the underground thing was still a bit of a mystery. Something was going on there.

He'd have to ask, really. Wilson didn't expect a straight response, Maxwell used to not even let him know when he'd been injured. Fun, discovering that your only companion at the time was incapacitated because of an internal wound. That he'd known of. Weakness always seemed to be something Maxwell hid.

Maybe some of the others would think Maxwell was up to something, and

honestly, a cynical bit of him said he was stupid for not really entertaining the idea. But as much as he argued with Maxwell, he was fairly certain Max wasn't about to stab him in the back.

He could hear someone stiring, a tent rustling as someone pulled open the fabric, and he looked up. It was time for a new shift, and Wilson's shoulders relaxed. It'd be good to get some sleep.

He'd talk to Maxwell in the morning. It'd be a nightmare, but Wilson would either have an assistant (he could almost hear Maxwell denying being one, and the mere thought produced a smile,) or manage to get him to admit that something was wrong.

Death was becoming far too frequent, though it wasn't like any of them really noticed, or at least if they did, none of them pressed it. The most reaction he'd picked up on was Willow muttering something about being irresponsible, and he almost scoffed at her. He couldn't remember exactly what of this lovely floral disaster was the crux of all of his dying, the usual fog of revival masked it.

Since he couldn't remember, and he didn't want to exactly risk being found out, Maxwell fell into the habit of being alone for his own sake, and in some ways, everyone else's as well.

The idea of this... affliction, being found out, was mortifying. Besides the agonizing questions, this did destroy some of the facade he'd worked hard to put up; that none of them meant anything to him. And considering that, the idea that his affections would even be remotely reciprocated was downright laughable in the worst possible way. Much like the rest of his life, a giant cosmic joke.

So, Maxwell had accepted the thorny stems, sharp edged rust red and ink black petals, and the pain that came with it as his penance for even daring to let his heart consider another love after the first one had been utterly demolished by his own hubris. The headaches, the shadows out of the corners of his eyes, the world slowly becoming a gray husk shot through with streaks of red? That was an added bonus. Even as he managed to keep himself from teetering at the edge of his sanity, the world was never quite as vibrant as it should have been.

The time between deaths was getting shorter, and the Maxwell couldn't help but wonder if there was a point where the time between his deaths would be only hours. That, or he'd finally succumb to the terrorbeaks.

Maybe this is what he deserved. It was about time, considering how many years it's been since Charlie pulled Wilson from the throne and threw the two of them together. Besides, the guilt surrounding this mad little game he'd thrown together certainly wasn't enough.

Just as well to have a bloody punishment to fit the crime.

The last death was only a week ago, or was it five days? One of the two, and no matter, even though he couldn't remember the circumstance surrounding the last handful of deaths, something told him this was near the end. He was on his hands and knees at the base of a pine tree.

He'd actually been trying to make himself useful for once, what a joke, honestly. There was a tiny notch in the tree from an axe, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the not-so-tiny pile of blood soaked petals underneath him, more blood dripping from his mouth as he stared at them, eyes trying to focus under the strain.

His arms were shaking to hold up his weight, and yet, as he heard a voice, Maxwell tried to force himself to stand. A mix of pride and self-preservation, he couldn't let this be seen. Especially not by...

"Stars and atoms, Maxwell, what the hell are yo-..." The question was left unfinished as Max's strength left him, collapsing back down as he choked up more petals, an awful gagging noise before silence. Wilson was already next to him as there was a pathetic gasp for air, a warm arm trying to help him up or heimlich, one of the two, winding underneath, but it was far too late this time.

The next thing Maxwell could remember was the cold marble flooring that meant camp, and that frankly, was absolutely terrifying. He hadn't had the materials, or really the strength to recreate a meat effigy since the first death by his affliction; touchstones were his main means of revival while he worked to at least manage the coughing fits somewhat.

Instead of the wood and broken stone around a touchstone, dead pig heads staring at him, Wilson was looking at him in the twilight, a small fire going, his own pack tossed nearby.

The place seemed... empty, for camp. Usually there was a lot more fuss if someone was revived, and while there was a little bit of relief towards that, it was... unnerving until he saw the lack of any of their usual structures, things were broken down to be reused. It was their old, recently abandoned camp, seeing as the fire-pit was still in good condition.

He hadn't gotten up yet, eyes just tracing so he could figure out what to do, but before he could get farther into figuring out the situation, Maxwell was joined by Wilson kneeling next to him.

"Why didn't you tell anyone, you absolute idiot!" He hissed between his teeth as he dug for something. While it was obvious he'd died, the reality of the situation didn't quite set in as he gave Wilson a confused look before pushing himself away in shock, sitting up.

Wilson must have seen him die. Logically, then, Wilson had seen the petals. Not that he could remember the man's reaction, which was probably a good thing, but it was the only conclusion to his words. However, this posed a problem.

Wilson knew.

That was quite frankly terrifying; and while he was trying to process this horribly unlucky turn of events, Maxwell couldn't react before there was a godawful needle jabbed into his arm, the sleeve having been pushed up before he was fully awake.

"How long?" Wilson asked, eyes alert and narrowed as he practically glared at Maxwell, before turning back to the bag, fishing something else out with a mutter of "Frankly, if it wasn't for my mother's stories about her younger sister's death due to this, I wouldn't believe it." Maxwell used the mild distraction of rustling for something to stand up, his own pack was near enough to scoop up, ignoring the wobble in his legs.

"It's none of your business, Higgsbury." Lies are so easy, still, and but this one was quiet, Maxwell's shoulders tensed as he backed up, ignoring the gold chain in Wilson's hand.

It's dropped back into the bag as Wilson stood up, glaring at Maxwell, arms crossed. "None of my business? Really, Maxwell?" Looking away was so much easier then confronting this. Heavens, everything truly does go wrong, doesn't it.

"You think that it's 'none of my business' when this is probably what's been affecting the rest of us? I saw the kind of petals you're dealing with, I'm not stupid. Not to mention that you're wasting resources then. I thought you might have just gotten into a few scrapes, but no, you were hiding this from us. You think that it isn't my business? Really?" It's certainly venomous, and while it looks like Wilson might have more to say, he isn't in the mood for this, teeth clenched to keep himself from coughing up more of the blasted petals right then, before he turned on his heel, not a word, and walked away, ignoring the start and stop of Wilson's voice trying to protest.

It was always a lost cause, he knew that from the get-go, but this proved it far past a shadow of a doubt, and Max knew that he was going to be saddled with this for a long, long time, as he closed his eyes and made his plans, heading for the woods.

Maxwell sorted through the pack, making sure his things had been undisturbed by any other survivor or monster that might have stumbled upon his bones from the last death. The codex was there, despite how useless it was in his condition.

Every little bit of sanity counted, but on the off-chance he was surprised by a giant or something, a shadow fighter might buy him some time to get away. He already had enough deaths to handle.

Then there was his winter gear, traps and tools, water skin, some medical supplies; bandages and salves, plenty of torches and fire wood, and finally, thankfully untouched, was his stash of food. Nothing extremely wonderful, Maxwell wasn't stupid enough to risk being found to stop and make a crock pot, but rabbits and moleworms were easy enough pickings to supply him with meat, along with berries and carrots and the occasional gobbler.

He'd retrieved a few choice materials in the middle of the night, after Wilson revived him, but frankly, he'd already had most of his own supplies. Thankfully, his tent and chest were at the outskirts of camp by choice, and he was quiet enough to head off without anyone noticing. He hadn't actually taken much more then the winter gear and his copy of their maps, the essentials considering that it'd turned to winter only a week after he'd left.

He had a walking death sentence. Carrying more then the basics seemed stupid.

Still, sometimes it was a bit obnoxious, he wouldn't mind having a fur roll to wrap around himself right about now. Instead, he shivered as he slid the vest off the skeleton and retrieved his stupid looking but warm hat. He managed both of them on before pulling out a frozen thermal stone out of the interior pocket of the vest, another shiver wracking his body.

He slid the thermal stone back into his pack to reheat soon, pulling out the map of the underground caves instead, x's through certain locations. He'd have to mark it off properly once he got a fire started, but he mentally noted where he'd been in the caves when he'd woken up. Another touchstone down.

It was obvious that he was going to run out of them soon, but he didn't want to, well, he couldn't really face any of the other survivors right now. Knowing Wilson's inability to keep his mouth shut (far more charming when it was about science, less so when it dealt with... well, this, and he probably had, as he said, it affected everyone,) he had to hope none of them had believed it. He wouldn't have, certainly. Even with the reality of honest to god magic, Maxwell would have scoffed at the idea of this fairytale being real. It was a story, told to children and young adults to warn them away from being foolish with their hearts. To keep people from pinning for those they couldn't be with.

Well, he'd never been good at listening to warnings, had he? His chest ached all the time, these days, probably due to the floral infestation. He'd suffocate on them once again, and waste yet another touchstone.

Maxwell started to cough as he put away the map and stood up, a few petals falling out of his mouth and laying against the white snow. For all the problems the cold had, being tracked through the snow wasn't one of them, at least. The footprints left would quickly vanish, intended to keep certain horrors hidden.

Normally, one would expect to see the tracks in the snow from monsters such as the MacTusk or the hounds, but that made things too easy. It also had the benefit of keeping surviors from retracing their footsteps, and while it had been a pain, now Maxwell was silently thankful for it. All he had to do was keep the petals from leaving a trail, and he was hidden, bones excluded. No one could tell they were his anyway, and he had no space for bone shards.

He couldn't help but remember the first morning this had happened as he gathered up the petals and walked away from his latest death.

The night before this started, the pair of them had been forced into watch after stumbling back into camp late, and they took the time to patch themselves up.

Hound mounds were always trouble, but cactus flowers were too useful to not gather in the summer. However, Wilson had forgotten the territory range, and ventured just a few inches too close for the hound's comfort.

A few shadow clones and a spear were perfectly fine for getting rid of the nuisance, but neither of them came out of it unscathed.

At least it hadn't been the dragonfly, but still. Wilson had pulled a hound off of his back, the last one, thankfully, but it'd torn open the flesh under his shoulder blade.

Normally, he'd have insisted he could take care of it himself, but between the exhaustion and pain, he accepted Wilson's offer of help, besides, it was hard to bandage his back. The normal banter, a few light jabs of 'how do you honestly survive out here, you're paper,' from Wilson, as well as a mutter of being glad it was superficial, hands gentle on the bare skin next to the wound as Wilson looked it over.

It'd been surprisingly... nice, but over all too soon. Wilson had shifted over so they could sit next to one another as Maxwell had looked at the damage to his clothing. He had to repair both his shirt and suit jacket, Wilson had poked at him wearing it in the heat earlier that day.

He was already planning that out before he looked over at his companion. Wilson looked... exhausted, slumped on the log. The permanent bags under his eyes looked darker then normal, and he was well aware of how badly Wilson (and most of the others,) handled the night. It would be worse on an already tired mind.

Before he could really think about it, Maxwell offered to take over fully, a smart comment of "I don't need you falling into insanity on me," dying on his lips when Wilson smiled.

A tired thank you, and between the smile and the slightly wilted flower crown perched on Wilson's head to try and make the night easier had completely derailed any thought besides the soft, fluttery feeling in his chest as Wilson left.

He'd tried very hard not to think about it for the rest of his watch as he repaired his shirt and suit jacket, until Wickerbottom arrived from her nightly reading nook to relieve him. He'd gone to bed halfway through the night with a frankly terrifying realization, and woken up to the start of a nightmare.

Obviously, hindsight was 20/20, unlike his own eyesight. That wasn't the catalyst of his affectionate feelings towards the scientist, but it was moment it finally, really, dawned on him. He'd tried to keep his distance from the other survivors once he was thrown into the mix, but Wilson was apparently a special case, and that was terrifying. Caring deeply about him scared Maxwell down to the very core of his being, and the realization of his feelings came with that terror.

It may have been that feeling, the fear that had buried in his stomach as he repaired his clothing, that brought these suffocating flowers along. Choking on his own fear.

But that fear was warranted. He ruined things so easily... especially Charlie, the last person he'd felt anything like this towards, he'd ruined her life and that was a something he could never make amends for. Maxwell was fairly certain that even on the slim chance that these feelings were returned, he'd destroy it, without meaning to, as well. And with their last conversation, words that still sometimes came up in his thoughts, and another reason for avoiding the whole lot of them... well, at least he couldn't break something that was never going to happen in the first place.

A cold piece of comfort, and he shivered as the wind managed through the layers.

Wilson huffed as he looked at the fractures in the gold flecked rock he'd been working on shattering. It wasn't the first rock of the day, he'd been at this for a while now, trying to get a handle on the anxiety that had come forward in full force this morning. He'd been headed to the rocky field to get some supplies for new thermal stones, some people hadn't been keeping theirs repaired and he had found a new skeleton. There wasn't a satchel or anything of note around it, but it was most certainly new. It was in the normal path to the northern cave entrance that was right near the outcrop of rocks, there was no way it was just a skeleton they'd missed.

It made him sick to see. Stupid, idiotic... he took another breath and looked at the rock again, trying to ignore the knots in his stomach. Maxwell had vanished. He'd been silent and left before Wilson could even finish saying what he'd been trying to get out of his system after seeing the man choke to death on petals.

Hanahaki is what he knew it by, mostly due to his mother. She'd never elaborated, and it was apparently ignored by the medical community as he'd never encountered it in undergrad, but she'd given him a brief description that he decided was just a poetic way of saying that her sister died of a broken heart.

What a horrifying thing to witness, to see the whole thing play out in front of her, in her own sister, and to not even be able to revive her. It had been horrifying enough for Wilson, and he at least could bring someone back to life in this realm. He kept thinking too much about how pale Maxwell had looked, blood trickling out of his open mouth and onto a pile of blood soaked petals on the ground as the man asphyxiated and Wilson tried and failed to get him to breathe again.

He shivered and picked up his pick-axe, hoping he could stop this train of thought again. But, alas. His brain fixated on things too well. Why hadn't Maxwell just said something? To any of them? It didn't have to be the whole camp, but someone should have been told so at least, maybe, they could fix it before it had gotten bad.

Instead, he got to find out with Maxwell suffocating on petals as Wilson desperately tried to get him to breathe. His words after the fact were maybe, well, less maybe and more most certainly, sharp. He'd been angry, it was affecting all of them, but he was also incredibly scared and he didn't know how to phrase it.

Maxwell had used his effigy earlier, and it'd been a tiny bit eyebrow raising, but none of them had questioned it. He'd started to go off on his own before then, he'd probably just bitten off more then he could chew.

Well, he had, but not in the way Wilson was expecting. And then he had the gall to go and disappear! He'd looked for Max, had been for weeks, and the most he'd found were bones. He swung, listening to the rock shatter. Doing these sort of chores usually helped when he was dealing with overthinking, certainly had the last time he'd turned a thought over and over in his head til he could scream.

The physical activity usually wore him down, and that stopped the pacing around. Usually then, it'd shut up or he'd pass out to sleep.

He could only hope that would be today's remedy. Wilson was sure he'd already talked Wickerbottom's ear off about this, she was the only one he'd really discussed Max's condition with at length. He needed to confide in someone, and she was the most likely to have maybe a lick of experience with the illness. Everyone else got a hand waved 'he's sick and being stubborn' because it was the barest truth he could say.

The two of them were understandably concerned about the fact he was coughing up up dark petals, for both the effects on the rest of them, and discussion on what that meant for Maxwell. He was always more steady, mentally, then the rest of them, so there was a point in his favour, but that only could last so long. Which, as Wickerbottom pointed out, was probably why it took so long for someone to find out.

The signs were far more blatant now, but weren't things always more apparent when looking back? Maxwell had been relying less on his shadow clones, he'd ceased using them practically all together before the curtain had been pulled back on his condition, but he'd been using only one for quite some time. It was a little crass, but Wilson found it ironic that when he had a steady source of the material for nightmare fuel, it would be in a way that rendered his clones unusable.

Well, it was more sad then ironic.

They'd talked carefully about it, no need to stress everyone else about it, mostly at night during watch. The one question neither of them posed was the question of who Maxwell was pining over. He didn't want to focus on it, it was an obvious thing really. Who else could it be but Miss Charlie?

He never talked about her very much, some things Wilson had only picked up on from overhearing Maxwell talking to himself. Whenever she did come up in conversation, the guilt and pain was an undertone that had originally been surprising, but it mixed with the sad adoration that was far more apparent. Just through a few short conversations it had been obvious that to him that Maxwell was in love with her.

So Wilson kept his own feelings close to his chest. It was more then a little bit frustrating, an old flame that had started to burn anew. Maxwell had gone from his loved voice on the radio, to a demon, then to a pain in the ass ally, to... well, a soft, unrequited love again. He accepted it with ease at the time when it struck him, that was just how his life always went. There wasn't anything he could do about it; why bother tying himself up in knots about it? He tried not to at least, shoving his feelings to the side and acting like it was the same as always.

That was why he'd just stood there as Maxwell walked off after the initial outburst of frustration. He didn't know what else to say that wouldn't reveal everything. Wilson figured, hoped really, that he'd be back at camp, or something sensible instead of running off. Max refused to be sensible, it seemed.

He had wanted (he still did) to help. Find something to ease the coughing, or at least keep him from dying. It was impossible to solve the pinning problem, really. There wasn't any other cure, the few scraps of knowledge Wickerbottom had pointed towards the only thing that was even remotely close to a cure had a tendency to have side effects relating towards memory loss, even to the point of becoming cold. Wilson honestly didn't understand how that was possible, but it was something to look into. But he'd rather not toy with someone else's feelings.

There had to be another way.

Sunlight was one way to wake up. Waking up from hacking up his lungs was another, and it was never a pleasant way to come out of sleep, but these days Maxwell was getting used to it.

There were some embers still left of his fire. Before it could extinguish itself, he threw the petals from the night and morning onto the fire, the fire starting to properly burn again. That awful straw roll he'd used to sleep on (Maxwell yearned for the days of beefalo wool and rabbit fur now) was rolled up into a tight bundle to sit on. He'd burn it before he left, but he needed to cook on a more controlled flame right now.

A gobbler leg, wrapped in scrap paper to keep the meat from the rest of his bag was today's breakfast. Better then some days, and he sighed as he tossed the paper into the fire and skewered the leg into a stick. Roasting these things was never an exact science, but as long as it wasn't raw.

Semi-burned wasn't too bad, and the meat was far more comforting and filling then a few charred carrots. It made him feel a bit warmer, though the more likely source of that was the thermal stone tucked into his vest being warmed by the fire.

Once he'd eaten, he pulled a few green mushrooms from his pack to roast quickly on a slowly dying fire before tossing the straw roll into the flames. It burst back to life, and he stepped back to keep from letting any of his clothing catch on fire and yet allow himself, and his thermal stone, to bask in the warmth.

Sadly, he couldn't stay too long around the fire. Just long enough to let the thermal stone hit peak temperature as he wrapped his mushroom caps and place them at the top of his pack. He left as the fire started to wane, it would soon die, and the ashes would vanish under the snow.

It felt like they were gearing up for another storm soon, he'd have to head to the caves again. As much of a pain as it was, he rather prefered to not be underground, it was safer during these blizzards, since he didn't have a stable camp. He'd been using the caves to avoid the hounds as well. They'd cleared the areas closest to the entrences of danger ages ago, and he didn't have to go too far into them just to avoid hounds.

Besides, it probably wasn't too long until he died again, he'd want to get closer to the caves so he didn't have to travel too far to retrive his things anyway. He'd had a few good days, and now he was fairly certain that he had at most, three days left. Not that it truly mattered. He was just going to die again.

In order to get away from the places he was more likely to be discovered in, he'd been forgoing sleep (he used to do it all the time, the nightmares in his head were harder to fight off) but a terrorbeak almost solid enough to bite his head off was reminder enough that those days were gone. Staying up all night wasn't helpful for his already diminished sanity.

Maybe it'd be easier to just give up the ghost and let one of those terrors kill him. Oh, it'd be bloody painful, but it wasn't like he'd be able to full remember it anyway. If he was lucky he might not ever remember getting letting himself get to that point until he saw the skeleton.

He'd been hoarding blue and green mushrooms whenever he could find them, and the mushroom forests underground he'd usually have to go through after dying also gave him a decent supply, but maybe it'd just be easier to get it over with. Ignore his health and sanity and just let it happen, again and again until he couldn't revive any more.

Not today though. It sounded tempting, but right now, he wasn't even sure if he had a touchstone left. The map could be wrong, or a more likely option, any of the unmarked ones could be one he'd used when the lot of them were in the caves and he'd made a mis-step. Then, his options would basically be the other survivors. Ghosts were drawn towards the living when there wasn't any other source of revival, and while he doubted any of them would want to bring him back, if they did, he'd just be cornered.

Maxwell would sigh if it wasn't for the need to cough, and he leaned against a tree to hack a batch of the blasted things up into his hand. At least he wasn't too far away from his goal, and the petals weren't too bloody. He'd have to pocket and burn them, better to not leave breadcrumb when you didn't want to be found. He'd make fuel, but he had plenty, and making more then he could carry was stupid, another thing to lead people to him. At least the petals could rot, but Max wasn't taking a chance on that.

It wasn't even mid morning yet, and he could tell there were shadows lurking at the edges of his vision. Maybe he was more out of it then he’d thought, or the petals were making things even worse then they had before. He thought that barely being able to last a day, not to mention the nights, was bad enough, but just a few short hours?

He shuddered and started to cough again, petals not caught this time as they instead hit the snow, a bit of blood joining them. Stupid flowers, he thought as he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the tree, watching slightly more firm shadows take their place in front of his eyes instead of at the side.

Mushrooms, he tried to remind himself before the thought slipped away. Right, he needed a cap or two or three to handle this.

He pulled around his pack and pulled the freshly cooked ones out, thankful that he always stuck these at the top. They wouldn't help the pain in his throat, but some more bleeding was nothing compared to trying to fight off shadows, and as much as he entertained the idea earlier, he really didn't want to die to one of those.

He'd barely gotten to swallow the first one down when there was a crunch, the icy layer of the snow being broken through by something. He hadn't heard any howls, so it couldn't be the hounds.

Maxwell swallowed again as he slowly turned to stare at Wilson, who was staring back, bearded and looking quite concerned.

He barely thought, just turned and ran, ignoring the cry for him to stop, please. He wasn't that far from the caves, he could lose him.

Once again, Wilson had gotten himself gently kicked out of camp for a few hours for pacing. Even the kids knew something was bothering him, and he had a feeling most of the adults in camp were ready to throttle him. Wickerbottom had her usual calm demeanor, but Wilson wasn't blind, he could see the tension underneath. They were all fed up with his hand wringing, and she'd kindly asked him to go chop some wood, as Woodie had watch tonight and so was dozing off for a few hours. It was something useful to do at least, even with the approaching nightfall.

So, now here he was, in the midst of a quiet woods, his small campfire the main source of noise around. The light it gave was enough to keep him safe from the night as he worked on chopping down a lumpy pine.

These chores were becoming rather frequent, more so then hunting or gathering food, but it was probably a good thing. Being away from everyone sometimes gave him a better perspective, and the repetitive swing of an axe or pick axe was surprisingly soothing. The steady rhythm of hits was background noise as he thought about solutions. None of them were actual solutions, but he figured the more he chopped at it, much like the tree, he'd find something useful.

Not that any actual solution would be much of any use if he didn't find Maxwell first and foremost. But there had to be a way to keep him alive, even if the flowers had to stay, a way to keep him from dying so frequently at the very least. Something to ease it, if not solve it, living with flowers in your body had to be better then dying to them by choking them up. Maybe even keeping them from affecting everyone else.

But, once again, the biggest problem was finding the man. He'd kept an eye out, and the only sign that Maxwell was even alive was that people kept stumbling upon new skeletons, nothing around them. Nothing else. He was surprisingly good about covering his tracks.

Still, the number of skeletons gave him a bad gut feeling. The latest one he'd found himself, heading off to get rabbit fur from the caves, yet another chore he did alone to keep his relentless pacing down. His stomach sank at the thought of dying out here alone, freezing while choking up blood and petals and stems and such. Even though they've all died on a fairly regular basis, going back to dying alone and scared was something unimaginable these days. Not to mention the possibilities of dying to terrorbeaks and crawling horrors.

He had no one, and it'd been so long since Wilson's been well and truely alone that anyone going through that was hard to think about. Maybe back when it was just a shoddy alliance between them, and he was waiting to be back-stabbed, he'd find some dark bit of humor in Max suffering like that. Now, it was just depressing. No one to lean on or force him to accept help for once.

Well, he was going to force him to take help when he found him. And it was a when, not a if. There couldn't be that many places around to hide, even the longest trek from from camp was a handful of days, not to mention wormholes and beefalo. Someone was bound to encounter him at some point.

Another few whacks, and the tree started to fall. Wilson stepped back and felt the audible thump as hit his the ground, taking a second before he start to peel the branches off to feed his fire.

Stars, it didn't help he still felt like he should have done more, said something better after he'd revived the moron. Bit back the anger, expressed the worry underneath the frustration of Maxwell hiding things. Maybe he'd have saved himself all of this anxiety .

He huffed and capped his axe into the stump of the tree before starting to gather up the now peeled off branches. He'd gather up the logs he'd made later, the stump could stay for now.

Even with all of this, even with knowing exactly who was at the heart of Maxwell's pining... his chest had a dull ache in it just at the mere thought of him dying alone. Even now, he couldn't shed the unrequited feelings. Oh, he'd worry if Maxwell was just a friend, sure. But somehow, the man had managed to make him care about him again.

It was never going to happen, and that was something he had to keep reminding himself, he'd accepted it, sure, but the thoughts still crept in. Wilson had managed to put it under lock and key for the most part.

Instead, he enjoyed their stupid, petty arguments that were mostly for the sake of arguing until they went too far. He greatly enjoyed the times Maxwell would actually talk about magic, few and far between, but it always was insightful. It was nice, when he wasn't being a cagey bastard. Then there were the times that Maxwell ended up being the voice of reason when something new had cropped up and Wilson was over-eager to test it, though at times, it was the reverse.

They both had the tendency to get in over their heads, and when Wilson did, Max pulled him back. Once again, it was his turn to pull Maxwell back and help him, because he was most certainly in over his head.

His fire was starting to flicker, and Wilson threw another branch into the flames to feed it. At least the chores were physically exhausting. Maybe after some food he could get some actual rest. It'd be nice instead of staying up all night overthinking everything.

Thankfully, his pack had more then his usual jerky for travel. They'd had plenty of vegetables sitting in the fridge that he'd made a stuffed eggplant, along with a few morsels. Warming it wasn't exactly easy, but he'd done it before, and after skewering some morsels, he had a warm, filling meal.

With luck, he'd sleep.

Before that, though, he gathered up the last of the excess tree limbs and threw them into the fire, making sure that he'd have light through the night. Between that and his fur roll, Wilson felt like it should be quite comfortable, granted that it didn't start snowing.

He watched the flames dance for a few moments after lying down before turning over, the fire warming his back and his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The last thought before he slid into sleep was that he hoped Max was managing to stay alive.

Maxwell was once again on his mind after being woken up by the sunrise and groggily trying to suss out what he was up to the night before. After fishing out a piece of jerky from his bag, he could only assume that the best place to look was probably around the caves. The entrances to the vast underground below their feet had been where quit a few of the new skeletons had been showing up.

He bundled the logs into the bottom of his bag as he settled on a plan. He'd check the entrance near the rock field before heading back to camp, he could check in on the closer one in the evening before he got back. It wasn't a walk to look forward to, but maybe it would put his mind at ease, even if he didn't find Max.

The last thing he had to do was pull the axe from where he'd left it in the stump, and that was easy to put away, right into the little loop he'd added to his pack. Kept a spear or axe handy without cluttering up the space he used for torches, as well as leaving his hands free.

Useful in the winter, he could shove his hands into the vest to stay warm. At least they hadn't had another late winter snowstorm yet. Walking in the old, refrozen snow was hard enough without an extra layer of white, fluffy snow. And even without the new layer of snow, tracks never seemed to stay. It seemed to be some joke of the Constant to keep you from following your own tracks back home, or discover a monster before they snuck up on you. The snow was nothing more then a hinderance, but at least it wasn't knee deep yet.

Besides, the wind was cruel enough, snow or no snow. Even a full beard didn't keep his face warm. It always seemed like no matter how much he prepared for this weather, it never was enough.

The walk was uneventful, really, the winds were bad but nothing else . Mostly, Wilson had to turn out of the wind for a few moments when it whipped up into a harsh breeze to keep his eyes and nose from turning into icicles, otherwise, it was a quiet, if long, walk. It'd been a few hours since he'd woken up, and Wilson was fairly certain he was almost out of the woods and into the empty clearing before a rock field that would have one of the entrances to the caves. Then he'd turn around and head back to camp along the tree line, staying out of spider nests and trouble in general until about the area where there had been the grass geckos. He'd take a left and go look at the other-

Wilson's train of thoughts went right out the window as he heard a distinctively harsh hacking in the distance. Oh. Relief and some panic mixed together as he tried to silently walk over. It was an impossible task, but he didn't need to sound like a hound or something gallivanting over to maul him.

Maxwell was leaning against a tree, hunched over and shaking as he coughed, dark colored blobs against the ground which could only be petals. As he stood up, the man looked panicked, still shaking slightly, glancing around like he was surrounded. Wilson could only assume that he was, quietly watching with an ache in his chest as Max pulled his pack off to grab a packet of mushrooms, stuffing one into his mouth as he swung it back on.

He stepped closer, thinking about what he had in his own bag that might help.

That was what alerted Maxwell. His back tensed, and Wilson winced before the other spun around and they both just stared at one another. The moment felt far longer then it was, but he also wasn't expecting Maxwell to turn on his heel and bolt like a scared animal.

He didn't even pause when Wilson shouted "Wait, stop! Maxwell, hold on!"

So instead Wilson followed. Through the last bit of the woods and across the clearing he'd been headed towards and down into the caves themselves, both of them not even hesitating to pull out a torch and light it, too much practice to need a moment to stop. The cave was abnormally dark, not even light-bulb flowers in the distance. That, or all of them were withered at the time. It didn't matter much, Maxwell wasn't slowing down, and Wilson wasn't about to stop and lose him now.

"Maxwell! Seriously, stop, please!" There wasn't any response to his shouting as they turned a corner into a narrow causeway. He wasn't stopping as he turned a corner marked by a crossed out rectangle, one of their crude markings that meant dead end. He must have missed it while in a panic to get away. While the dead end was useful, he really didn't want to trap Maxwell to get him back to camp.

There was a rumble around them, and Wilson almost stopped to regain his balance as the cave floor shifted under him, if this dead end caved in... "It's a dead end, Max!" He shouted, trying to be heard over the rumble as he headed forward. At least if it caved in and they were together he could get them out of it.

At least it looked he'd already hit the end of the corridor. Maxwell was leaning against the back wall, coughing so hard is seemed like he'd cough up his lungs first, torch discarded onto the floor. Wilson winced as he caught a few stones on the arm as he rushed to catch up. Closer, it was obvious gently pushed down on his shoulder to get him to sit as the man caught his breath. The moment he did, however, he started into another fit, petals in a growing pile in front of him.

For all the planning, Wilson felt very helpless in the moment, kneeling down to rub the other's back with his free hand until the fit started to calm again. He hated this. Hated feeling like there was nothing he could do, that nothing was going to work... "Do you have any water?" He asked quietly, shifting to finally get a good close look at him in the torch light. He kept looking everywhere, scanning for things that weren't really there, not yet, anyway, though Wilson could tell it was bad enough that he was starting to notice things out of the corner of his eyes.

Wonderful. He didn't want to fight the damned shadows here, so Wilson gently pulled Max's bag from his shoulders. He'd had a mushroom earlier, hopefully he had more.

There were more, thank the stars, and there was a water-skin as well, half full. he took both things out and handed the mushrooms over to Maxwell first, before moving away to start a fire before his torch burned out. At least he'd been cutting wood, there was plenty of cords to keep a fire going it they had to stay here a while.

The cave had gone silent, but with the last of his torch's flame, he lit the logs and sighed in relief at a fire going. It wasn't as cold without the wind, but the cool rock sapped heat away quickly. At least they'd lucked out with the earthquake, but here they were. Maxwell wasn't even looking at him, pointedly looking towards a wall, his water skin in hand. "You've been gone awhile, you know?" Wilson said, trying to get the man to look at him, trying to be reassuring, that there was something that could be done.

Maxwell just made some sort of noise that sounded like it was agreement at the sentence, and nothing else. He didn't even look towards him. They were going to do this again, Wilson wanting to help and Maxwell just... refusing it.

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

Oh, this was absolutely fantastic. Maxwell leaned back, his eyes closed, silently condemning everything. Why did it have to be Wilson? Any of the survivors would be a problem, but when it just made his chest ache worse... some force of the universe must enjoy him suffering.

Not to mention the man was quietly trying to ease the pain... it was exceedingly comforting, unfairly so, to have someone care. Not to mention that it was Wilson of all people, but Maxwell was fairly certain that this was bound to end up going from comforting to questioning. Wilson had expressed some sort of familiarity, he remembered that much from the last time they'd been a few feet from one another. Family, if he was recalling it correctly. He'd only known about it from fairy tales, the more glamorous accounts. Roses and peonies and other lovely flowers falling from pining maids and princesses' mouths, for some dashing prince or knight or brave peasant boy or something. It glossed over the wretched details.

If Wilson knew more about this then he did, well, it was to be expected that it would go poorly. There was bound to be a inquiry as to whom it was that captured the 'heartless Maxwell's heart.' He could even hear the gentle ribbing in Wilson's voice just thinking of one of the many epithets the other used. The taunting had become comfortable and expected.

His 'whom' was currently staring at him, evaluating him, and Maxwell was continuing to avoid his gaze. Ever since he'd given him something that was barely a reply, Wilson was just watching.

Couldn't this just be over already? The last coughing fit was more violent then the last, his throat was raw... and the cherry on top was the fact he'd been followed down here and the most Wilson had done was make sure that he didn't hit the rock bottom of his sanity, a few quietly, oddly concerned words. Why? He didn't deserve by any long shot, wasn't he the one 'affecting everyone else' and such? Wasn't Wilson just making things worse on himself anyway? Why did he care? Maxwell made sure that it, and by extension, himself, were no longer any of Wilson's business. Wasn't that what he wanted?

There was that familiar urge rising in the back of his throat, and in barely any time he was back to hacking up a lung, he pushed forward to keep the blood off of his clothing. The petals past his lips felt larger this time around, something that felt like a full flower a well. The pain was contrasted with the warm hand on his back again, steady circles. The urge to shove him away was as strong as the urge to lean into the hand.

He took a breath and opened his eyes, looking at the mess of blood and flower petals, tongue tracing the cuts on his cheeks and gums, there must have been brambles and thorns mixed into the batch. Maxwell sighed and tried to quell the shaking in his arms. The world was dull, even the fire seemed dull before he closed his eyes, trying to gather his wits again. Heavens, he was exhausted.

His eyes shot open at the sound of a music box ringing in his ears. "Wils- Higgsbury, the fire." He managed out, voice raw as he saw a shadowy hand start to snake towards the fire, and Wilson left his side immediately, a few curses at the dratted thing before he also grabbed some things from his bag. Maxwell figured it was more logs and closed his eyes again, bone deep exhaustion settling in.

There was a gentle nudge at his shoulder, a small mess of mushrooms handed over, including some blue ones, one roasted, one not. Once those were in hand, Wilson wandered back to the fire, and it was silent. He saved the raw one til last, eating the cooked green and blue caps first, before letting the healing properties from the blue mushroom soothe his sore mouth and throat.

Wilson was quietly weaving a flower crown, the silence was... stifling, to put it mildly. But, Maxwell didn't doubt that it was probably because Wilson needed the flower crown if he had any hope of keeping himself together. The pile of petals he still hasn't gotten up to burn looked like it was the equivalent of a whole ring of evil flowers. He tried not to stare, instead turning his head to watch the light and shadows on the cave wall, but he could see a glimpse of that focused, narrowed in on what he was doing look that Wilson tended to have when he was working on something important to him, something he'd been quietly fond of seeing. It made him close his eyes and ignore the painful want in his heart. Why didn't he just leave already?

Instead, there were footsteps coming closer, not away. Maxwell silently debated trying to shove him away somehow but before he could even figure that out, a flower crown was gently settled on top of the awful winter hat he had to wear to stay warm. "We're going to head back to camp." Wilson said, putting a certain insistence behind the 'we.' "I'll see if we don't already have supplies for an effigy or life amulet, if not, well... I'll have to make you a heart or something as back-up. Don't need you hovering around as a ghost for a while if this gets worse."

Maxwell finally opened his eyes, looked up at Wilson and instantly regretted it. Wilson had a sad smile under all that awful beard, and if he was a hopeful man, it almost could have made him think there was something else closer to love there, instead of pity.

The cynic in him said it wasn't even pity. There was probably something he was needed for, though it wasn't completely sensible, considering that everyone's own sanity was in jeopardy if he was around them. The honest truth was probably Wilson being unable to leave a problem alone combined with his tendency to extend help to people. After their initial fist fight after being thrown into the same world, Wilson had passed him a kebab after everything he'd done.

Granted, this was after a day of both of them mulling over everything (acting like children, really, though he'd never admit it,) but it was still surprising. But it meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Wilson didn't want to have someone's death on his conscious, they didn't exactly care much about one another then.

So this didn't exactly mean much of anything either, now did it?

He just nodded, all the fight gone from him, as much as he should push Wilson away. Instead, Maxwell just gathered all the petals from the cave floor and threw the whole lot into the flame. They at least burned well, they were as good at fueling a blaze as they were at making nightmare fuel. Wilson pulled another torch from his pack and lit it with the fire and started down the pathway.

Maxwell took another second of warmth before following to keep in the light's radius. Didn't need to die in the dark after everything, though... no, it would be pointless. Instead he just tried to keep distance between them, arms crossed to conserve heat as he felt the air grow colder as they made their way back to the exit. The urge to cough was coming back, but thankfully, not bad enough that he couldn't hold it back to swallow the petals down. There wasn't the time for that.

Swallowing the petals was also a bad idea for his sanity, but it was better then making a scene and having Wilson react with the same pity from earlier.

The pair of them shivered the moment they hit wind, right at the mouth of the cave. It was snowing again, and it seemed like the wind was picking up. One last horrible storm before the winter was up.

Still, Maxwell reasoned, if Wilson was dead set at getting back to camp today, they'd just have to brave it. He was too tired to argue against it, not like it mattered much anyway.

If he died again, then he died again.

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formerlyrunephoenix6769 · 5 years

Text

Thought I’d dust this off. Vamp Verse. written back in 2014,

CHARACTER : LUCINDA FABRAY.

VAMP VERSE.

The streets of the forest hugging town were deserted, the lanterns and torches long ago extinguished, the lantern boy no doubt not seeing the point so late at night and fighting a losing battle against the cold, damp autumn air. Better he stay wrapped up warm in his bed rather than risk a bout of sickness that would render him useless and cost him his wages.

Lucinda drew her gloved hand through her ash blond, chin length hair as she patiently waited, concealed in the shadows, her hazel eyes never leaving the two story building across the thoroughfare. Inside, she could hear a number of relaxed heartbeats, normal for humans slumbering, and the slightly faster flutter of a something else..

It had been surprisingly easy to locate her mark.

A 5"6' refined lady of delicate stature with a fine bone china face that looked as if it had been created by the finest craftsmen, making inquiries as to her estranged, dear friend's whereabouts tended to loosen most men's lips and if that didn't work, coinage could always be trusted to deliver.

Her own kind had been quite eager to divulge whatever snippet of information they thought might be useful to help an irate Vampire on her way.

It would seem that on his travels her quarry had not made many friends, or rather he had, they were just the wrong sort.

Still, she had expected it to be a bit more of a challenge.

The non descript town was exactly the type of place she expected to find the snivelling, little turncoat. The surrounding dense forest would more than provide for his dietary requirement of mushrooms, nuts and worms, and he could steal all the milk he wanted.

That's how she had tracked him through the lush countryside. Strange phenomena of dairy curdling in its buckets and cattle turning dry early had reached her ears and she had set off in hot pursuit.

It would seem he had learnt a trick or two over the years, mastering the art of masking what he truly was.

The varmint was passing himself off as a travelling merchant dealing in woven bracelets and charms that warded off evil spirits, fairie folk and Witches, fashioned from useless beads and baubles.

Of course some of the simple farming folk had fallen for it, fuelled by the fear of the sickness and sermons full of evil doers, helped long by the disgusting creature's curses upon the live stock of those that didn't buy his trinkets or had insulted him.

Thinking himself safe, the spiteful creature hadn't even bothered to cover his tracks.

Well, he was about to find out just how much his hubris was going to cost.

Peering from under the lip of the lentil, Lucinda observed the night sky. The moon was in its first phase and it's weak rays couldn't penetrate the heavy bank of clouds that had rolled down from the dense forest.

Good. She grinned, tugging at the thread of catgut, checking the slight resistance of the spool concealed in the sleeve of her shirt.

The lack of light and cold, heavy moisture in the air were the perfect conditions to stalk the creature she currently had in her sights. .

Her thoughts flickered briefly to Bridget and Santana, who were probably entertaining themselves at someone else's expense.

Maybe she ought to have brought them along. It would have been good practise for the pair and a rare opportunity to educate them both that there were more species in the phenomenal community than just Mystics, Vampires and Versipellis.

She could only imagine what Bridget's reaction would be like when she found out that Fey folk genuinely existed. The French girl had been convinced that she had seen fairies in the gardens of House Dubois which as Lucinda knew simply wasn't possible.

Yes, they existed. And the Justice Keeper had a unique experience.

The Fabrays had once been the proud owners of a banshee who had screamed and wailed the evening her sister, Charlotte, died and then returned seven months later when Lucinda lay agonised on her death bed due to a cursed draft she had stupidly believed would rid her of her sister's ex, and now her, husband's seed.

The bitch had wailed, gnashed, shrieked and moaned when all the dying woman wanted was a bit of peace and quiet.

Years later when their older brother had passed due to old age, Lucinda had caught up with the banshee, giving her one hell of a wallop and warned her, if she ever so much as made a peep ever again, she would cut out her tongue and sell it on the underground. The banshee had feebly shook her chains and then stopped when she caught Lucinda's glare.

Then there were the illegal markets she had seen as a novice that had sickened her to the stomach. Fey folks pelts and bones were said to contain potent magic and there was much money to be made if you could procure such things.

No creature deserved to be treated in the fashion she had witnessed.

She had heard rumour that eons before she had been re-birthed the Fey folk used to frequently visit the mortal realm, for want of a better word, but now because of the fear of capture, they tended to stay in the Summerland out of the way of prying eyes and they most certainly didn't flit about in peoples back gardens willy nilly.

However, that was not to say that on occasion one might get curious or some idiot would piss them off and they would come out to play.

Normally it was just small things, like wrecking the house or scaring the be jesus out of the family pet. Sometimes it leaned more towards the dark side, like say kidnapping or 'borrowing' as they called it.

Everybody knew the stories, a young maiden or a man would wander into the woods, disappear and then years later return, having not aged a day. Some returned enfeebled and old.

But the one thing that was agreed, was that they came back 'changed'.

They would continue their lives, some would marry and in turn have children, who would probably have an uncanny ability with animals and plants, or an aptitude for playing haunting melodies. They made excellent hunters, fur trappers, cheese mongers and dairy maids.

All in all, usually they were relatively harmless and caused the Justice Keepers no trouble. The Mystic's tended to bring them into the fold anyways. However, once in a while something would turn up, like Gunther.

He was a nasty piece of work said to have Goblin somewhere in his ancestry...

On one rare occasion, Lucinda had come across a Goblin at one of the underground markets. It had been rammed in a cage meant for a chicken, its arms and legs twisted. When she had approached it had hissed in fear and tried to shrink back as far as its small cell would allow. She had unlocked the latch murmuring assurances that it would not be harmed, holding out mushrooms to coax it from out of its confines. She had just about been able to make out large, bright eyes from beneath its bushy eyebrows and long wispy beard before its long, spindly arm whipped out and the fungi had disappeared from her palm.

She had watched fascinated as razor sharp teeth decimated the mushroom with in seconds. It had cocked it's head and regarded her owlishly before attempting to wrap its tongue round the foreign language, asking, timidly,

"M-Or-E "

When she had produce a handful of mushrooms from her pouch, its ugly face had lit up with glee and it had knuckled, with surprising speed, out of the cage, grabbing the morsels with both its over large hands, stuffing them into its mouth.

The shape of the creature was enough to make her eyes water, its deep brown skin looked leathery, its shoulders and back sprouted with coarse dark hair much like a hog. It barely came to her knee. It had licked its fingers before suddenly darted up her arm clinging to her shoulder and back, much like a terrified child, and had remained there as she traversed the rest of the market until she had to reluctantly hand it over to the Mystic whose job it was to help return them to their homes.

She hadn't been able to get the stink or the stains of its drool out of her clothes and so had settled on burning them.

If only Gunther had been like that, instead he had be human too, and it was the human part that turned him into an obsequious wretch. .

The click of a door opening roused her from her thoughts.

Pressing back further into the gloom, she coolly observed as a bandy legged man of small stature stepped out on to the thoroughfare, closing the door of the dwelling very carefully behind him.

As much as she adored the two Green Horns and wished them to share the experience, this was something the Senior Justice Keeper needed to take care with no distractions.

This was personal

Checking her charms were in place, she waited until he had hurriedly travelled some distance before leaving the confines of her hiding place and began to make her way, fleet footed, through the damp, cobbled streets.

Up ahead, Gunther began to veer off, hopping in and out of alleyways and sometimes retracing his steps. Occasionally he would drop stink bombs in a weak attempt at masking his scent. Not that did him any good, the stench emanating from him was enough to make Lucinda's eyes water.

The Vampire was in no rush, as she knew exactly where he was heading, besides if she wanted to follow him at close quarters all she had to do was listen out for the yowls and screeches of the town's feline population to signify his passing.

It hadn't been hard to locate his lodgings, a modest caravan set in a traders paddock on the outskirts of town. The horse already harnessed to the braces, ready to leave at a moments notice in the dead of night would have been a major giveaway if it hadn't been the only wagon there.

The Justice Keeper ducked into an alleyway and propelled herself onto a roof, watching keenly as the scrot quickened his pace, no longer making any pretence of his destination.

As he galloped up the road towards the gate, throwing worried glances over his shoulder, the ash blonde darted along the outside wall, coming to a halt twenty feet away from her marks abode on wheels.

The Gabfling's hands flew over the leather harness checking for any sabotage. Finding none, he seemed to visibly relax before pulling himself up into the driver's seat, clucking his tongue and giving a flick of the reins.

The piebald mare flickered her ears, ambling across the paddock and out through the gate onto the road.

Like liquid silk, Lucinda slid over the wall, covering the distance to the moving caravan in a blur and neatly hopping on the back trellis.

As Gunther was attempting to sneak out of the town, without alerting the inhabitants to his hasty departure, Lucinda loosely held on and checked all her pockets, taking stock of everything she had at her disposal.

She had her trusty gauntlets, the left stake replaced with a spool of catgut. Wrapped around the waist of her corset were two brown leather pouches. The front one that rested on her hip was full to the brim of Clover dust and the other contained the amethyst crystals and charmed beads. Her dagger lay tucked in its padded sheath against her thigh and her right boot was decidedly heavier than the other.

Tucked into the breast of her corset, nestled in between the leather and the fabric of her shirt underneath was a penned affirmation, protecting her from his heathen tongue. Also against her breast, but against the skin, she wore her Velysian stone.

There were a handful of ways you could get rid of a Gabfling, many of which would not be uttered outside of the covens, leaving her with limited options

Gabflings as a rule were wickedly strong, on par with true born Versipellis and definitely equal to a Vampire.

If she was lucky, she would catch him unawares and it would all be over.

Taking the right-hand fork that led out into rural areas, the caravan swayed gently making tiny creaking noises that mingled in with the sound of the wheels upon stones. From inside the caravan, she could hear the banging of pots and jars sliding in their shelves

Hoof beats became muffled and the cart lurched forward as the mare picked up pace, trotting on the earthen track, her harness jangling. Countryside began to whip by, sweeping pastures on the left and trees on the right.

Peeking round the side of the caravan, she could see the track hugged the tree line before disappearing into a heavy coppice.

The thick foliage would provide cover, making it the perfect place to strike.

Remembering that this fucker liked to fight dirty with a penchant for gouging eyes, Lucinda pulled down from the crown of her head, a pair of clear screened goggles, fixing them in place and checking the tightness.

Holding on with one hand, she took a huge breath, grinning from ear to ear.

She felt the familiar anticipatory tingle start in her gut, embracing it like an old friend as it spread through her like fire, muting the voices that plagued her.

This was her purpose.

She loved the addictive feeling .and smug satisfaction of winning and knowing that she was the best at what she did and nobody, not even her chosen, older sister, could rival her.

This was her domain.

As the cart trundled into the coppice, Lucinda nimbly climbed up the tiny, wooden slated ladder, easing her slender but powerful frame on to the slightly curved roof, hoping to drop down on the unsuspecting Gunther.

She wanted this quick and neat.

Lying flat on her stomach, the Justice Keeper silently shimmied over the smooth, wooden surface, working her way towards the front of the wagon. The cool, brisk wind whipped at her hair and face and she was grateful for the protection leant to her by the goggles. The last thing she needed was a fly or piece of dirt impairing her vision.

Slowly, she teased out the thread of catgut from the spool, wrapping it three times round her right hand and then repeating it with her left. Bunching her muscles, she manoeuvred into position, ready to reach over the lip of the caravan.

Suddenly, the roof behind her exploded sending up a spray of splintered wood and a clawed hand locked onto her ankle, tugging her hard.

Terrified, the horse bolted, breaking into a gallop.

Gripping on to the wagons roof as it began to bounce over the uneven track, Lucinda turned her head to look over her shoulder, kicking at the hairy hand that was squeezing the delicate bones in her ankle.

Using all his weight, Gunther yanked her backwards through the hole in the roof. She screamed as the jagged planks tore into her thighs and lower stomach not protected by her corset.

Her leather belt snagged on the wood, stalling her trajectory for a split second before the snarling, Gabfling tugged once more, flinging her harshly onto the floor of the cabin.

Instinctively, Lucinda drew her forearms protectively to her face and upper chest as a set of claws raked the leather of her gauntlets. Kicking out wildly, she grinned in triumph when she felt the heel of her boot connect with a doughy stomach and a mixture of a gurgle and a groan reached her ears.

Scrambling to her feet, she steadied herself, narrowly avoiding being hit by the flying debris of crockery and knick knacks jostled from their homes.

Vampire and Gabfling eyed each other across the minuscule space. Swinging pots banged and drawers rattled all around them. Feathers flew up as a lone chicken squawked and flapped in its cage. Lucinda yelled, derisively, over the noise,

"Really Gunther, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

The ash blond's eyes raked over the creature. He stood at 5ft, and would probably be a little taller if he's sinewy legs weren't always bent outwards at the knee. His long, lank hair was thinning on top and his brown tinged skin looked like it was covered in a layer of grime. His thread bare jacket was two sizes too big giving his chest a concave appearance, but she was more than aware of what power lurked under the off black material. He'd gained some weight round his waist and in his cheeks since she had seen him last.

Business must have been very lucrative indeed.

Set between two swamp green eyes was a long but bulbous whisky nose, tinged red. He grimaced at her with off kilter, yellow and brown teeth set within at least a few days stubble. He rasped, clutching his stomach,

"Friends knock!"

Bracing herself, she spat back,

"And friends don't sell each other out, you snivelling little rodent!"

Gunther smiled broadly, showing his foul teeth as he shrugged, whimsically,

"Business is business, Miss Fabray!"

Despite his carefree attitude, she could smell his nerves in the form of an over powering stench of body odour. The enclosed space reeked of it and for once she was grateful for not needed to breath. Trying not to taste the rancid air, Lucinda bared her fangs, snarling,

"So you're a business m.."

The caravan tipped heavily to one side, throwing Lucinda off balance and slamming her head brutally against the sharp edge of one of the numerous in built cabinets. Reeling she was vaguely aware of high pitched shriek before a strong shovel like hand encompassed her skull, violently bashing her head through the flimsy wooden wall.

Once more the wagon banked to the other side, throwing the Vampire and the Gabfling back across the living space. Quickly, Lucinda flipped round only to be caught in a bear hug.

Gunther squeezed, his nose inches from Lucinda, breathing his rancid breath as he gurgled and giggled. This close, she could see his teeth had become jagged points and his eyes oily black discs reflecting her image.

He continued to exert pressure, swinging her round and round as if they were dancing, cackling into the night, banging her off every surface available.

Lucinda screamed at the excruciating pain of her ribs buckling and her spine twisting as he mercilessly tenderised her. Her vision blurred with spots and colours.

She needed to get him off her to give her body time to heal.

Feebly she thrashed and the soles of her boots skidded through the oils on the floor from the smashed jars. Straining her wrist, she struggled to hook her fingers through the loop in her dagger as he dashed her shoulders through the counter top, sending the contents of the drawer beneath flying up into the air.

The Gabfling snickered,

"Not so smart are we now?"

With one last push, she felt her finger slide through the solid metal loop. Deftly flicking it out of its sheath, she drove the tip of the blade forward feeling it meet unresisting flesh.

Gunther let out a yowl, releasing her. Staggering back, she fought the urge to vomit at the sensation of her displaced bones slowly returning and knitting back together.

"You cut me!" He screamed, over the rattle of the cart, spittle flying from the corners of his lips.

Cradling her aching ribs, Lucinda managed to mutter,

"Did I? Who would have thought?"

Instantly the Gabfling was on her again, the force tipping them backwards, out of the front of the caravan.

Gunther hissed and snarled, gripping her outstretched arm, banging her hand against the metal rimming step. She felt her bones shatter and her dagger fell from her useless hand.

Dirt and small projectiles of stones, flicked up from the mares hind hooves as she continued to gallop over the track. The panicked horse began to make the sharp turn. To Lucinda's left came the creaking of stressed and weakened wood.

They both grappled on the floor, grunting with the effort in the narrow space, knees, elbows and fists attempting to find their target. Gunther caught her by the front of her corset, driving his head forward. Lucinda quickly shifted to one side and there was a hollow thunk as Gunther's forehead connected with the floor instead.

The left hand brace, broke with a sharp crack as the mare made the acute bend, the right hand wheel still stuck in the solid, deep groove of the track. The leather reins slide past Lucinda's vision as the harness became loose, the broken brace bouncing erratically of the ground.

With a squeal, the mare kicked out, dislodging the rest of the traces, taking off into the darkness. With no horse to make the turn, the wagon continued on its trajectory at full speed.

Both the merchant and the Justice Keeper, her head craned back, peered ahead into the gloom at a bank of thick trees fast approaching. They shared a shocked look of realisation as the left wheel shattered under the strain, tipping the cart forward, flipping and propelling into the air.

Lucinda scrunched her eyes and braced herself as, upside down, the wagon descended, crashing into the ground and breaking into smithereens.

Blinking her eyes and shaking her head to get rid of the fuzzy ringing in her ears, Lucinda crawled on her hands and knees, dragging her bruised and battered body from out of the wreckage.

The forest was quiet, broken at intervals by the sounds of one of the wheels squeaking as it continued to turn on its axel and the occasional squawk of the newly liberated chicken.

Wincing at the sharp, stabbing pain in her kidneys, the ash blond woman collapsed back into the damp, earth and leaves, murmuring under her breath,

"Just a few more minutes… Few more minutes."

Why the hell hadn't she just threatened the Mystic into selling her the spell? It would have made the whole thing a damn sight easier.

Pushing herself off the ground, she flopped onto her back, immediately regretting it as stars exploded behind her eyes. Rolling uselessly on her side, she reached back onto to have her gloved hand return drenched in dark maroon.

Closing her eyes, she prepared herself, as she gripped the sliver of wood protruding from her lower back. Gritting her teeth, she gave it a yank unable to stop the shrill cry escaping her lips, echoing round the glade.

The offending shard of timber was at least the length of her foot and the width of two fingers and she could only imagine the internal damage it had caused. It could have quite easily of punctured her higher, perforating her heart and turning her to dust.

She was exhausted and drained. All she wanted was to be back home with her family.

Methuselah, she would even give anything to hear Bridget and Santana going at it hammer on tongues.

A manic giggle erupted from her chest at her choice of words as she tossed the makeshift stake back into the debris.

The hollow sound of moving timber and a muffled, agonised moan caught her attention.

Iron-willed, she staggered to her feet, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to ignore the smart of her injury. Stumbling over the wreckage of timber, twisted metal, scattered clothing and household items, she made her way towards the noise.

What remained of the caravan had lodged itself deep into the dirt

Rounding what little of the caravan was still intact she spied Gunther trapped behind it. He lifted his head, jet black globes swivelling to her as she approached,

"Help me!" He wheezed, holding out a grimy hand.

Standing back, Lucinda crossed her arms over her chest and observed the scene before her.

A nasty looking piece if twisted wrought iron had embedded itself into his chest and his face was covered in oozing cuts and dirt. She hadn't thought he could get any uglier but she was being proved wrong.

Never taking her eyes off him, she manoeuvred the remnants of what had once been the merchant's home to one side and wasn't surprised as it crumbled to pieces.

He made a feeble attempt to sit up on his own before collapsing back in a heap, grimacing as the unrelenting metal spike moved. The Gabfling begged,

"Please."

Removing her goggles, she gave him a soft smile before circling behind him, hooking her hands into his armpits and dragging him over to rest against a nearby stump. If she was quick and got him to a Doctor in time, he would probably survive his injuries.

The ash blonde knelt on the stump behind him teasing out a length of catgut as she lulled,

"Not the night either of us planned, eh old friend?"

She listened as he rambled, his words broken by coughs and sputters as she lovingly wrapped the thread round both her palms and pulling out more to make a wide loop.

"I'm sorry." Gunther gurgled and rasped, "If I had known, I never would have… Sebastian. He was offering good money and you know.. "

Dropping the loop over the unsuspecting Gabfling's head, until it came to rest every so lightly against his collar bone, she finished his sentence, icily,

"Business is business, Gunther."

His little brown head, bobbed,

"Exac….."

Lucinda yanked the catgut, swift and hard.

Gunther struggled, feebly attempting to grasp the thread round his neck, his other arm flailed wildly behind him, searching. Lucinda jammed her knee in between his shoulder blades keeping the pressure taunt. She heard the sickening crunch of his windpipe collapsing.

He convulsed and gasped, his hands scrabbling and heels digging into the soft earth beneath as he fought for his last breath.

His fragile body gave one last twitch before ceasing to move completely

The Justice Keeper gave one last tug; hard enough to slice into his flesh as the smell of fresh urine assaulted her.

Unwrapping the catgut, were it quickly snapped back into the spool, she removed a small knife from inside the calf of her left boot, nicking his jugular, just to be on the safe side, before allowing his body to fall limply to the forest floor.

Rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands, she let out a deep sigh before climbing to her feet and brushing the dirt from her already destroyed outfit.

Her muscles ached with fatigue.

She would give anything for a stiff drink and a soft coffin.

Satisfied that if anyone what to happen upon the carnage they would figure it just a horrific accident, she set off back across the glade, reminding herself to keep an eye out for her lost dagger.

Stepping over the debris, a twinkle of bright metal caught her attention. Pushing the busted cabinet to one side, she let out a bark of laughter as her eyes landed on an unassuming ladies travel chest.

The sneaky bastard!

Rummaging through the numerous pieces of clothing strewn over the glade, she found a sheet, tipping the contents of the chest onto it, unable to stop the broad smile from stretching across her face.

With tinkle of metal coinage upon metal, she twisted the corners of the blanket together before swinging her makeshift sack over her shoulder.

Glancing up at the night sky, she gauged she had just over an hour before sunrise. With her Vampire speed it wouldn't take her that long to get back to her lodgings, she might even be lucky enough to be able to slip in a quick feed, which would be much more nourishing than a thrall.

Fixing her goggles in place she whistled a merry tune as she limped down the road back towards the town, dreaming of sumptuous life force.

"All in all, she mused, not bad for a nights work."

@those-lesbian-ships @smttnpegasus

#formerlyrunephoenix6769 wip #vampverse #vampverse drabbles #oc #formerlyrunephoenix6769 oc #og work #wriblr #rune writes

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ssocatherine · 6 years

Text

100 OC questions - Answered!

@hobbithorsewhat you asked for this

1. What do they smell like?

Catherine smells like lavender all the time, she is obsessed with natural scents like essential oils and is constantly putting lavender oil on. Sometimes, she smells a little like cigarettes.

2. What is their voice like?

Catherine has a somewhat gravely voice, with a light Irish accent.

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Catherine is most motivated by the peace she finds in nature. Her way of life is that she believes that in life, do what you can. This doesn’t mean go and search for ways of changing huge things in jorvik or the world, she just focuses on helping who she can at the time.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

Catherine’s most embarrassing memory is when she was first learning to ride, she and Justin decided to take a little trail ride. She was so distracted staring at him, she didn’t see the low branch in the path and ended up hanging onto it with her arms when her horse walked right out from under her. Justin had to ride under her and lift her off of it due to her fear of heights.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

Catherine is a big baby when it comes to pain and has little tolerance. When it comes to emotional pain, Catherine is very good at hiding it and doesn’t expose her feelings to many people at all.

6. What do they like to wear?

Catherine really likes to wear leather jackets, sweaters and denim. She also appreciates lace. Most often, she can be found in a cozy sweater, jeans, her black leather riding boots.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

Justin was her first real friend on the island and he taught her how to ride and even convinced his father to sell her her beloved Thorn. She never stops worrying for Justin and often draws him in her sketchbook, wondering what he is doing.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Probably octopus.

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Catherine sleeps on her side, tucking her knees to her chest and holding a stuffed lobster her mother gifted her as a child.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

Catherine’s favorite food is undoubtedly corn beef and cabbage. Her mother used to cook this for her every holiday and eating it feels special.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

Catherine is insecure about very little, but if she had to pick something she would probably say her hands, only because she has somewhat thick, calloused fingers.

12. How do they like to dress?

See question 6

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

The guilt will bother Catherine until she makes right what she has done wrong.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

When Justin betrayed Catherine she was filled with rage, and threw out many of the things she had drawn of him. Knowing what he went through now, she regrets it but probably would have done the same thing if it happened again.

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Catherine believes her greatest achievement is savings moorland stables. She can’t imagine Jorvik without it and still keeps her horses there.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Very cranky

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Catherine doesn’t drink, but if she did she would be very honest when drunken and probably reveal secrets she meant to keep to herself.

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

Indie-rock and pop. She likes passion pit a lot.

19. Are they right or left handed?

Right handed

20. Fears?

Stable fires, losing her ability to ride, public speaking

21. Favorite kind of weather?

Fall, nice and cool and sunny

22. Favorite color?

Black and red

23. Do they collect anything?

Catherine collects gems and geodes and also herbs

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold

25. What is their eye color?

Blue

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

White

27. Hair color?

White-blonde (light brown naturally)

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

Absolutely

29. Are they a morning person?

Yes!

30. Sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

A little bit of both but mostly organized

32. Pet peeves?

She hates when people hurt those who cant fight back like animals, and also unwarranted advice.

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

Justin’s jacket tbh

34. Least favorite food?

Tuna fish

35. Least favorite color?

Purple

36. Least favorite smell?

Cooking mushrooms

37. When was the last time they cried?C

Catherine doesn’t cry often but after Justin was arrested, she went home and had a good cry.

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

She fell off of a green appaloosa, her horse Flurry to be exact, and broke her wrist.

40. Do they have any scars?

A scar under her eye from a dog bite, and a cigarette burn on her upper arm

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

Anxiety is somewhat prevalent but getting better.

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Smoking

43. Why might someone dislike them?

Catherine can be somewhat annoying in the fact that she doesn’t like to be told what to do, so if someone told her how to do something she might annoy them by not doing it that way or not listening.

44. Why might someone love them?

Catherine is very kind and devoted to those she loves. She is selfless and beautiful and dedicated.

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Absolutely

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

Yes, though Catherine would trust her life to very few people they do exist.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Yes, Catherine is deeply crushing on Justin Moorland and has been since day one.

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

Things between her and Justin are confusing right now, and she hopes that he makes a move soon because waiting is growing more difficult.

49. Do they like surprises?

Yes!

50. When is their birthday?

November 8th

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

Not really

52. Do they have any family?

Yes, a mother and a sister

53. Are they close to their family?

Geographically, no. Emotionally, yes.

54. What is their MBTI type?

The doer

55. What is their zodiac sign?

Scorpio

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Hufflepuff!

57. What D&D alignment are they?

Chaotic good

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

Very often, and they’re often about her horses being stolen for some reason

59. What are their views on death?

Though she is scared of her own, she looks forward to what comes after

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

A crappy pun tbh

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

She loves to draw and listen to music

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

She would always be outdoors if she could

63. Do they have an accent?

Yes, Irish

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

Probably a grimace, she likes vanilla cake

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

She would probably tell her family she loves them, and tell Justin to have her horses and that she loves him aswell.

66. How do they feel about sex?

Catherine was somewhat of a promiscuous person back in Ireland and enjoyed the act but she has had other focus’s in Jorvik.

67. What is their sexuality?

Catherine is Bi but prefers men mostly.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

No, though she is a baby about pain she is somewhat fascinated with blood, sick as it may be.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

She hates mold and rotten food!

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

I honestly cant pick one!

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

To a point. Catherine does like to help, but she hates being taken advantage of.

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Pineapple

73. Do they have a pet?

Many horses and a few cats!

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Yes, but she gets over things relatively quickly. When angered, she will go off in a rant and then storm off, possibly returning to go off again.

75. How patient are they?

Catherine is very patient

76. Are they good at cooking?

Very good! Her mother was a waitress and while waiting for her mom to finish her shift, Catherine often learned from the chef at the diner.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

You idiot! Catherine says you idiot only when extremely angered

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

She will say hello to everyone and practically skips when walking and becomes very generous.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

Depending on the person, she will usually ignore them

80. Are they trustworthy?

Somewhat. Catherine is very kind but depending on the situation, she isn’t afaid to do what needs to be done.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Yes, Catherine often his how she felt growing up because her sister struggled so much she didn’t want to be a burden on her mother.

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Not really, except for riding.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Very. Catherine is beautiful and she knows it.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

Freckles, brown eyes, and especially height.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

She finds men who are kind and gentle attractive, especially when they aren’t afraid to be honest or afraid.

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Yes! Especially ice cream.

87. What is their age?

22 years old

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

Relatively tall at 5’7

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

She sometimes wears glasses just for fun.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

Yes

91. What is their sense of humor like?

She makes very dark jokes but also enjoys a good pun

92. What mood are they most often in?

Happy and content

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People who are inconsiderate

94. Outlook on life?

Be the change you want to see

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

Hurt/dead animals

96. What is their greatest weakness?

Justin moorland

97. What is the greatest strength?

Justin moorland

98. Something that they regret?

Justin moorland

99. Biggest accomplishment?

Moving to Jorvik!

100. What is catherines favorite hobbies besides riding?

Catherine loves to paint, draw, and dance but most presently, she loves to practice shooting her bow and arrow.

#sso #star stable #star stable online

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kinetic-elaboration · 6 years

Note

Hello, would you be so kind to answer points 1, 3 and 23 of the fanfic end of the year asks?

Hello! I thought about these way too much haha.

1. favorite fic you wrote this year:

Hmmmm, I’m going to say, and this is somewhat a surprise to me, if you yell like that, you’ll wake the dead, which was my post-4x11 reaction fic/Jasper’s-death-fix-it-fic. I wrote it in about an hour one evening after getting the idea suddenly on the bus. I think I love it so much because I wrote a lot of fluff this year (??) but angst is really my preferred genre; because it was the rare story that almost writes itself; and because I’ve wanted to use the phrase “I woke up with the taste of metal in my mouth, back from the dead” ever since I read Naked Lunch.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year:

That’s a hard question because I guess it’s good that it is! I’m going to say this passage from Pause; Rewind:

Monty steps out of the tree line first, Bryan a step behind him, and together they tilt their heads back and take in the dropship, sitting there solid and tall, like a strange, unsettling monument in the otherwise undisturbed green. Even to Monty, it looks out of place. The other signs of camp have long been eradicated from the earth. Their tents, the dropship seats they’d dragged outside, the campfire they’d built up every night and the logs they’d pulled in around it as seats, the big bins they’d set up to sort through berries and nuts and mushrooms, the shaky wooden structure they’d built to store their meat, even the wall they’d run themselves into exhaustion to build—gone. Gone as if they’d never been. What the Grounders didn’t destroy and scavengers didn’t pillage, Arkadia itself has come back and taken. No scrap of cloth or old junky piece of plastic too small or too insignificant to put to some good use.

But the dropship itself is immovable. Eternal. Left alone now without context and without history, abandoned, alien, it will watch over their little clearing long after every last one of the final sky-born generation is dead. An oddity for future generations to tell tales of, maybe, or maybe just to forget. And he cannot help wondering if that will happen. If they will forget. He imagines someone finding the clearing again, long after the trail that leads to it has disappeared, and peering up at this scarred block of metal and wondering how it came to sit in this quiet, tranquil circle of grass. Perhaps it will be a discovery for the ages, the start of conspiracy theories and myths.

A kid like Jasper used to be would have a million explanations, enough to spark a strange tale or two in a kid like Monty’s head, and they’d trade their stories over moonshine or earth-grown weed, late at night when all the decent grown-up people are asleep.

An odd feeling passes over him, like being out of his body, viewing himself and his life through the long lens of history, and it so unsettles him that he takes off with long strides across the fresh new grass toward the ship.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t:

There are a lot of these… I have many more ideas than I could ever write down, sometimes because I can’t find the time to get them down before they flit away, but usually because they fall apart in the process of moving from very-general-this-would-be-awesome style ideas to actual-words-on-screen ideas.

When I was reading Cabal by Clive Barker this summer, I wanted to write a fic where Monty returns to post-nuclear-meltdown Earth and finds Jasper as a monster and actually this was pretty solid in my head–I even had an ending–but I can’t remember it almost at all anymore. I also had an even more ambitious idea about pre-original-apocalypse Bellarke living in the mountains…but that’s almost all that actually remains of it.

I doubt either of those will ever be written. There are others that I’m still hoping to get together at some point. I’m very slow but very stubborn and I’ve occasionally resurrected ideas that seemed pretty dead and found something inspiring in them again so you never know.

Thank you for asking!

Send me fanfic asks!

#answers #valexwest #about me

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saeranlover · 7 years

Note

1 to 99 for... iseul?

1... to... 99.... oh my god-

I’ll put it under a keep reading thing, because, uh... This is gonna be long...

1. What do they smelllike?

Iseul likes any sort of soap which smells sweet or sugary,so she often smells sweet – most commonly of raspberries or strawberries, asthey’re her favourite fruits.

2. What is theirvoice like?

She’s rather quiet, and at times, her voice is rather shakyas she doesn’t like talking to people. However, when she is talking to friendsand family, she’s quite a bit louder.

3. What is theirbiggest motivator?

Her biggest motivator is her family – specifically her papa,Saeran.

4. What is their mostembarrassing memory?

Being caught trying out her uncle’s maid outfits - she tendsto do that in secret, and prefers not having anyone witness it.

5. How do they dealwith/react to pain?

She doesn’t like pain. At all. She’ll have a breakdown inresponse to it, and cry for comfort from Saeran, or at the very least, Saeyoung(or, if Saeran is a Mint Eye member, from Rika.)

6. What do they liketo wear?

She likes to wear mostly dark colours – dark blue jeans,dark grey shoes, and a grey sweater which she only has pulled over one shoulder(kinda like the thing Sae does with his leather jacket), but also wears a pinkvest top underneath. Speaking of Saeran’s leather jacket, she wears that attimes for comfort. She will sometimes wear a variety of dresses at times, herfavourite one being a deep red summer dress.

7. Which of theirrelationships have impacted them most positively?

Honestly, the one with Saeran. It taught her that sheshouldn’t try to be bitter about things from the past, or else she would becomevengeful and angry… And she didn’t want her dad or uncle to witness anythinglike Saeran when he was still going by Unknown again.

8. What’s theweirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Anything that Saeyoung makes. Any food her uncle makes isweird to her.

9. Describe the waythat they sleep.

Very broken, very restless. She can’t keep still for thesake of things, and most often, she will only manage two to three hours ofsleep a night. She’s a very tired person because of that.

10. What is theirfavorite food/kind of food?

Sweet stuff, like her dad. However, chocolate chip muffinsare her favourite food, rather than ice cream like him.

11. What do they feelmost insecure about?

Iseul feels most insecure about her social anxiety. But shecan’t stand people, so it’s just a vicious cycle.

12. How do they liketo dress?

See question 6.

13. How do they reactto feelings of guilt?

She won’t physically react. She’ll stop responding to thingsand not do anything about it… But it will dwell and dwell and dwell in her headuntil she has an outburst.

14. How do they reactto/deal with betrayal?

It’s painful to her, and makes her angry to the point thatshe yells things that she doesn’t mean.

15. What is theirgreatest achievement?

Using some of her hacking knowledge to hack into the C&Rwebsite and make it about puppies.

And blaming her uncle for it.

16. What are theylike when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Yawns a lot, and has a tendency to mumble “Tired…” beforeforgetting that she said it, and mumbles it again.

17. What are theylike when they’re drunk?

Issy isn’t old enough to drink, and never will drink becauseof stories she was told about what her grandmother was like.

18. What kind ofmusic do they enjoy?

Instrumental music, and film/game soundtracks.

19. Are they right orleft handed?

She’s ambidextrous.

20. Fears?

She has quite a few… Her main one is leaving places whichshe sees as her ‘safe haven’ (either her home or Mint Eye, depending on whatSaeran’s affiliation is). She also fears abandonment and crowds.

21. Favorite kind ofweather?

Heavy rain. The sound of the rain reassures her and keepsher calm.

22. Favorite color?

Grey

23. Do they collectanything?

No, she doesn’t really. She doesn’t see much point incollecting things unless it holds some sort of sentimental value to her.

24. Do they prefereither hot or cold weather more?

She prefers the cold, because she likes being able to layerherself up in clothes.

25. What is their eyecolor?

Depending on Saeran’s affiliation, it’s either golden yellowor mint green.

26. What is theirrace/ethnicity?

Korean

27. Hair color?

Red, with the tips dyed black by her dad.

28. Are they happywhere they are currently?

As long as she has her dad, she’s happy. He is the oneconstant in her life.

29. Are they a morningperson?

She’s not. She isn’t really a any time person, honestly.Lol.

30. Sunrise orsunset?

Sunrise. She enjoys daylight, so she likes to see thesunrise.

31. Are they moremessy or more organized?

She’s organised, because she doesn’t like holding onto muchstuff anyway.

32. Pet peeves?

When people don’t finish their sentences. She hates beingleft to try and think how they would have ended the sentences.

33. Do they own anyobjects of significant personal importance?

She possesses a necklace, given to her by either the RFA orRika, depending on where Saeran is. It means a lot to her, as she got it forher 15th birthday. She also has a laptop which is second hand, butshe cares for it almost as though it’s her own child.

34. Least favoritefood?

Anything with pasta or mushrooms.

35. Least favoritecolor?

Blue

36. Least favoritesmell?

Burning

37. When was the lasttime they cried?

After having a nightmare where she was all alone, being leftto fend for herself.

38. Were they withanybody the last time they cried?

No, she was in her bedroom.

39. Tell us about oneof the times they got injured?

Iseul was about ten years old when she was allowed to dobaking on her own for the first time. She was excited about it, and was quitejumpy as she got the ingredients together. However… She spilled some of thecake mixture at one point. She didn’t realise it, and she tried to run over tothe fridge to get some strawberries to put on the top. She slipped on the mix,and fractured her ankle in the process. Didn’t stop her from finishing makingthe cakes and baking in the future though.

40. Do they have anyscars?

She doesn’t like doing dangerous things, so she doesn’t havetoo many. However, if she’s with Mint Eye… She’s a bit more of a risk taker,and possesses more small scars.

41. Do they strugglewith any mental health issues?

She has anxiety, and though she does try to deny it, sheshows signs of depression too.

42. Do they have anybad habits?

She tends to pick at her fingernails and toenails, and shealso can’t be left near scissors as she has a slight tendency to give her haira few small cuts… And leaves her hair in a mess.

43. Why might someonedislike them?

Her outright refusal to leave her home unless she wants to.

44. Why might someonelove them?

She’s very affectionate, and would bake for them all thetime.

45. Do they believein ghosts?

Yep, she’s scared that her grandmother’s ghost is hauntingher because of the ‘mystery’ bruises which form on her sometimes overnight, butdoesn’t realise that it’s because of how restless she is at night.

46. Is there anyonethey would trust with their lives?

Her dad, and depending on the situation, her uncle.

47. Are theyromantically interested in anyone?

Not really. She doesn’t exactly experience romance untilshe’s close enough to somebody.

48. Are theydating/married to anyone?

She’s the girlfriend of one of my other OCs, Cheol Kim. (Funfact: I rp as Iseul in a server, and my husband rps as Cheol- Even thoughthey’re kiiiiinda in an on-off relationship because Cheol is yandere as heck attimes.)

49. Do they likesurprises?

Nope. She’ll likely punch anyone who tries to surprise her.

50. When is theirbirthday?

August 29th

51. How do theyusually celebrate their birthday?

With cake and ice cream!

52. Do they have anyfamily?

Her dad Saeran; her uncle 707/Saeyoung; her mother(deceased), and if 707 has children she has cousins.

53. Are they close totheir family?

Family means EVERYTHING to her. She’d be lost without herfamily.

54. What is theirMBTI type?

INFJ

55. What is theirzodiac sign?

Virgo

56. What HogwartsHouse would they be in?

Hufflepuff or Slytherin, depends on her upbringing.

57. What D&Dalignment are they?

Either neutral evil or chaotic good?

58. Do they ever havenightmares? If so, what about?

Isolation or death, and sometimes, of her dad and uncle’spast.

59. What are theirviews on death?

It’s terrifying, but some people deserve it.

60. What is somethingthat they’re sure to laugh at?

Dumb injuries, like the ones they have in clip shows andstuff.

61. When bored, howdo they pass time?

Playing games or hacking. She isn’t too good at hackingthough, so it’s most often gaming. She will bake at times too.

62. Do they enjoybeing outside?

NOPE.

63. Do they have anaccent?

Not really, she’s got a bit of a neutral one.

64. Upon seeing aslice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

“If there is no note saying not to eat it, I’m gonna eat it.Actually, I’ll eat it anyway.”

65. If they knew theywere going to die, what would they do/say?

“Papa… C- Can I hug you until it’s over…?”

66. How do they feelabout sex?

She doesn’t really care for it, but if she feels comfortableenough in a relationship and if she’s old enough, she’d be down for it.

67. What is theirsexuality?

Demisexual.

68. Do they becomesqueamish at the sight of blood?

Yes. She is horrified at the mere sight of it.

69. Is there anythingthat they find really gross?

Salty food.

70. Which TV Trope(s)best describes them?

The person who locks themselves up in their room doingcomputer stuff lol

71. Do they enjoyhelping people?

Not really, she doesn’t like people.

72. Are they allergicto anything?

Pollen – another reason why she prefers the cold, herhayfever doesn’t flare up as much.

73. Do they have apet?

No.

74. Are they quick toanger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

She can lose her temper pretty quickly, and has a tendencyto say “I’ll fuck you up” when in a bad mood.

75. How patient arethey?

Somewhat. Depends on what she’s waiting for.

76. Are they good atcooking?

Yes, and she enjoys doing it too.

77. Favorite insult?Do they insult people often?

“Stop speaking with your ass instead of your mouth, ‘causeyou’re talking shit.”

78. How do they actwhen they’re particularly happy?

She’s very smile-y and hums a lot. She’ll also share her sweet treats.

79. What do they dowhen they learn about other people’s fears?

She’ll do anything to save people from going through orbeing met with their fears, because she understands what it feels like to bescared.

80. Are theytrustworthy?

Yep, as long as you’re on her good side.

81. Do they try tohide their emotions? Are they good at it?

She isn’t good at hiding her emotions at all, so she’ll hidein her room in an attempt to hide it.

82. Do they exerciseregularly?

Does running up and down the stairs for food often count asregular exercise?

83. Are theycomfortable with the way they look?

Sometimes.

84. What are somephysical features that they find attractive on people?

She really likes long fingers, because she’s spent a lot ofher life on a computer and seeing her dad doing things like typing, so handsare the first thing she focusses in on and looks at. She also likes eyes.

85. What kind ofpersonalities do they find attractive?

Sensitive, understanding personalities.

86. Do they likesweet foods?

Sweet foods are her life.

87. What is theirage?

16 typically when I portray her. Sometimes 18, sometimesabout 5. Lol.

88. Are they tall orshort or somewhere in between?

Somewhere inbetween.

89. Do they wearglasses or contacts?

Both. It depends on whether she’s bothered to put thecontacts in.

90. Do they considerthemselves attractive?

Not really.

91. What is theirsense of humor like?

Somewhat dark. She finds it funny when people hurtthemselves, etc.

92. What mood arethey most often in?

She’s often bored, or in the mood to try and tease people.

93. What kinds ofthings anger them?

Her family being threatened, bad internet connection,arguments over petty things, being told that she has to go outside at somepoint.

94. Outlook on life?

She just thinks that as long as she’s accomplished anythingat some point, her life will have been worthwhile.

95. What kind ofthings make them sad/depressed?

Seeing her family upset, people closest to her telling hertruths that she wants to deny (aka what I said before – being told that she hasto go outside at some point.)

96. What is theirgreatest weakness?

Her low stamina, she can’t do too much before becomingexhausted and incapacitated.

97. What is thegreatest strength?

Her adaptability to new technology.

98. Something thatthey regret?

Not wanting to leave her room for weeks on end after hermother’s death.

99. Biggestaccomplishment?

Sneaking into her uncle’s costume closet right under hisnose to try on his outfits.

Wow, this is so long.... Hahahaha........

#mari's ocs #oc - iseul choi

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theinquisitivej · 5 years

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SteamHeart Episode 16 Reactions

Chapter 16: Devastation

You can listen to the full episode here.

The chapter opens with us hearing the rest of Truth’s messages to the group, which we had started at the end of the last chapter. The message details the nature of Thomas & Sarah’s assassination and affirm that the mission must carry on, just as the Arlingtons would’ve wished. Truth asks Annie that she breaks the news to Harry gently, which is a terrible responsibility to be given. The fourth message is for Harry. It offers a sister’s condolences for a loss they both share, and tells her that if she wants to return home, she can.

The next section is a recording of Harry’s reaction to losing her parents, and its as raw and painful to listen to as you would imagine. Laureta Sela uses her familiarity with Harry’s speech patterns and quiet voice to emphasise the shock to her system that this news brings. She conveys Harry’s disbelief in the incomplete fragments of sentences she says at the start, before letting out these soft, hurt sobs that come from someone who’s just lost something they thought they could never bear to be without.

Abigail describes to us what the next few days were like, and how Harry responded to this devastating news. She separated herself from the group and spent her time inside SteamHeart, a place that Harry had built to make people feel safe in. It makes sense that she would want to be here, inside a space where the rest of the world feels closed off. Butler stayed close by, but didn’t press her into speaking, demonstrating how well he has gotten to know Harry and how to respect what she and her mind need in different situations. Though I’m sure that even he wishes he knew what to do to help her in these unthinkable circumstances. Harry’s typical speech is not as fast-paced as James’, but when you hear her vocalise her thought process, it’s clear that her mind is constantly moving, steadily moving on and on as it works out the correct approach or solution for whatever task she has her mind focused on in that particular moment. But Abigail describes her eyes now as being unfocused, her breathing having slowed down, and the air around her being quiet. The mechanics inside Harry which seem to be perpetually in motion have now come to a sudden cold stop, and it pains the people around her to see her be so dramatically affected like this. But they know that this is what needs to happen, and that it should not be seen as something to be avoided, but gently accounted for. So they wait, giving her as much time as they can spare.

Abigail moves on from this to reflect on the experiment with the mushrooms and the differences between the way it had affected her and the way it had affected James. They both came out of the experience feeling not liberated, but trapped, but where Abigail feels she differs is that she still feels a residual clarity of thought towards not only the people she knows around her, but to everyone. Perhaps James has come away with everything seeming even more clouded than it already was for him. It’s as if he’s even more resigned to his pessimistic assessment that he’ll never gain anything useful from this Star-filled eye, and he will never get something that makes up for what he has lost. But whatever satisfaction Abigail had felt from feeling this universal connection, it had suddenly left her as soon as Harry received this news, and Abigail’s intense empathy for other people has caused her own emotions to solely experience a small part of the heartache that Harry is feeling as she grieves. Abigail’s impulse to approach Harry and hug her is reminiscent of the impulse she expressed in the previous chapter to kiss Annie, Butler, and Harry when she was under the effects of the mushrooms. Abigail wants to reach out to those around her, and her desire to share physical contact and affection goes two ways, as she realises that she could do with someone taking her aside, hugging her, and telling her that things will be okay herself. With the Arlingtons gone, there’s a lot of uncertainty, both for the future of the mission, and for what the point of this mission is if two of the people who orchestrated it are now gone.

Annie looks around her to see the devastation on the faces of her teammates, knowing that she has to deftly control her own sorrow to a fine enough point that she appears to be both resolute enough to lift herself up and carry on, yet also displays enough of her sadness to let the people following her know that she isn’t made of stone, and that they can manage this. It sounds like too much to ask of anyone, but Annie knows it’s her duty as the commanding officer on this mission. Indeed, given the reputation that has been put onto her as the heroic and invincible figure leading this now famous group, she almost certainly feels this pressure even more so. But despite her resolve to move forward, the group has stayed in one place for four days. Harry is the driver of SteamHeart, and if the mechanisms inside her stop working, then SteamHeart shuts down as well. Annie wants to help Harry move forward, but she’s unresponsive to any of Annie’s attempts to help her cope. Annie laments the group’s inability to move either forward or backward. Even though Butler has been learning how to drive SteamHeart and believes he can take the wheel if he’s called upon, he nevertheless wants to wait until Harry gives some sort of sign that this is okay. Annie could order Butler to take the wheel anyway to make progress happen, but her compassion and understanding of the human spirit leads to her deciding to give it more time. She summarises this attitude towards the importance of maintaining your internal strength in a powerful way: “there is no point pushing forward if this breaks us. We must heal.” The most sensible thing for the mission right now is for the members of Team Steam to not force progress, but to take the time to mend. This is an outlook that I could do with embodying more in the future during times of physical and emotional stress.

Butler approaches Harry after a week of rest to gently ask if he can at least briefly take control of SteamHeart, to which she agrees. Things progress gently and steadily enough as Butler settles into his role as the backup driver. He takes this opportunity to share his own remorse at the deaths of Thomas & Sarah, two people who, as he points out here, he had gotten to know pretty well over the last few months and the events of Arlington. The friendly and trusting relationship he had built up with the two of them was uplifting to see, and acknowledging the personal things that our protagonists value which have been lost with the deaths of Thomas & Sarah makes the tragedy and the grief surrounding it feel that much more real. Indeed, the writing throughout this chapter focuses on very real observations of what it’s like to experience grief, like Butler’s comments that the grief being shared and reciprocated by everyone in Team Steam made it easier and harder at the same time. Grief is a complicated, messy thing that can’t be neatly resolved, and it leaves you in an awkward state between action and inaction. Everyone’s different, and every loss is different, so you’re left without a clue as to whether you should be doing more, doing less, talking with people, giving them space, and a dozen other things that jab at you as you wait and hope for things to get better.

Butler takes the opportunity while he’s behind the wheel to take a detour north, near Darke County, to drive past some of the sites of his wife’s childhood. Butler suggests they see Annie’s childhood home, not only to see what it’s like and who’s living there now, but to also rest there for the night. Annie turns this down, not irritably, but with genuine certainty that she doesn’t want to see that home from her past again, as she has it in her mind, and in her heart. Butler gently conveys his understanding and accepts this as he turns back to the main road.

Abigail catches glimpses of people in another land during a dream, hearing distorted voices as they conduct their conversation which we can’t quite make out. Readers / listeners of The Princess Thieves will recognise the scene we’re overhearing, but to Abigail this is all unfamiliar, and she wakes up in confusion. She wakes Jeremy up as well, describing what she saw and the colours of the lights she’s seeing quite clearly now while he makes notes. They go through the number and colours of the lights she sees, each one representing a different portal. There’s a green one in England, a yellow one in Egypt, which is the same colour as the Southern Door, and a second flickering light close by to the Southern Door, which, due to its purple colouring, I have to assume is the one to Rama. However, there is apparently a second purple one in West Virginia, so it’s possible that there are at least two portals to Rama that are currently open. There’s another yellow portal to the far north, to which Agent Wilson is currently leading an expedition (it seems there are at least three portals in the world that lead to the Wendigos’ yellow world), and a pale green portal in Missouri.

Abigail further demonstrates what I believe are her developing abilities as an empath as the first thing she describes about the blonde woman in England is that she was upset about something, showing that it’s her emotions which she felt most clearly. After discussing this dream, Abigail asks the right question when she checks to see if Jeremy or anyone in America has any idea what’s going on in England right now. Jeremy’s response all but confirms that he does, and his remark that he isn’t allowed to talk about it, but really really wants to, is as close as he can come to assuring Abigail that he has some idea about the situation of the British Isles as we saw it in The Princess Thieves. He dances around what he actually wants to ask, doing as much as he can to question the specifics of his dream without giving away classified information. This prompts Abigail into remembering that M, from her mushroom visions, was there. Abigail pleads with Jeremy to tell James that the people of his homeland are safe, even if he won’t tell either of them any more than that. Jeremy tells her that he can’t do that, hinting at a plan that Thomas and Sarah had which they can follow once they return to Washington after the mission is completed. What that plan is, what information they have on the current state of the British Isles, and where this might be leading is all enticing stuff, and I’m glad to see seeds for future stories planted here, because I am anxious to see more of Gwen’s story, and how it might connect with Team Steam in the future.

The epilogue informs us that the settlement Team Steam passed was in bad need of a sheriff, and because no one stepped in, two people died who didn’t have to. But even so, “it is perhaps better, on reflection, that Team Steam did not know this”. This piece of information leaves you unsure of what to think, and that’s very much the intention. It tells you very clearly that more was going on than what Team Steam was aware of and, because they did not act on this unseen situation, something dire happened. But it also offers a small piece of judgement, saying that it’s possible that it’s for the best that the crew of SteamHeart didn’t know, especially at this point when they were grieving and doing their best to just set one foot down in front of the other. It asks the question of whether SteamHeart can be blamed for something they never knew about, whether they should have done more, and whether they should or shouldn’t know about what happened in that settlement, but it only says “perhaps”, and so leaves the final verdict on this dilemma in the listener’s uncertain hands.

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