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rallamajoop · 3 years

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...and the unironic joys of better living through chemistry

How do I love Venom: The Hunger, let me count the ways…

It’s by far the shippiest Venom/Eddie story to come out of the character’s heyday. It’s the only story of the era to treat Venom’s violent wild-animal instincts not as an immutable fact, but as something that can be managed. It pulls off an aesthetic like nothing else that was being done at the time.

And then there’s the way it says, Does the world around you seem sinister and foreboding? Do you lie awake at night contemplating metaphorical oceans of despair? Well shit, son – have you considered you may be suffering from a mundane neurochemical imbalance, and a round of the right meds could clear that right up for you?

It does all this without breaking the atmosphere, without a whiff that our story has been interrupted for a Very Special Message about mental health.

In the near-decade since I was first prescribed anti-depressants, I don’t think I’ve read another story that lands the message “Sometimes, it��s not you, it’s just your brain chemistry,” so well.

Fair warning: if you have not read The Hunger, I am about to spoil every major plot point. If you have, well, maybe I can still give you a new appreciation for a few details you might have missed.

It’s a strange book, whatever else you take from it. It’s almost the only thing either author or artist contributed to the Venom canon, and it’s so different stylistically and tonally from the 90′s Venom norm that it feels like a tale from some noir-elseworlds setting instead of 616 canon. When you take risks that big with a property, you leave yourself precious little landing space between 'unmitigated triumph’ and ‘abject failure’: if this book hadn’t absolutely nailed it, I’d be dismissing it as edgy, OOC dreck. Fortunately, if The Hunger is nothing else, it is a story that $&#@ing commits – to basically everything it does.

Now, I'm not going to tell you Venom: The Hunger is a story about overcoming depression, because I don't know whether author Len Kaminski even thought about it that way while working on it. There's always space for other readings, and this one take is not gospel. That said: holy shit is this thing unsubtle with its metaphors. And with that in mind, let’s start by talking a little about Kaminski’s take on Eddie himself.

As I may have mentioned before, I like to divide 90′s Eddie into two broad personas: the Meathead, and the Hobo.

Kaminski’s Eddie nominally belongs in the angsty, long-haired Hobo incarnation, but that’s a bit of a simplification: this version certainly has plenty of angst and plenty of hair to his name – but nowhere, not even at his lowest ebb, does he doubt that he and his Other are meant for each other, which is usually Hobo!Eddie’s primary existential quandary.

He’s also taken up narrating his own life like a hardboiled PI.

So that’s... novel.

The only other time Eddie’s sounded like this is, er, in that one other Venom one-shot Kaminski penned (Seed of Darkness, a prequel that sadly isn’t in The Hunger’s league), so I think we can safely file it under authorial ticks.

Then again, Hobo!Eddie’s always been one melodramatic SOB, so maybe this is just how he’d sound after learning to channel his angst into his poetry. You can’t argue it fits the aesthetic, anyway.

We’d also be remiss not to mention Ed Halsted’s art, which I can only describe as gothic-meets-noir-meets-H.R.-Giger. Never before or since has the alien symbiote looked this alien: twisted with Xenompoph-like ridges and veins.

But Halsted doesn’t treat Venom to all that extra detail in every panel. Instead, the distortion tends to appear when the symbiote is separated from Eddie or out of control – and I doubt you need me to walk you through the symbolic importance of that creative decision. More importantly, Halsted’s art provides exactly the class of visuals that Kaminski’s story needs.

Did I mention this is a horror story? You might be surprised how few Venom stories really fit that genre, but if all those adjectives about Halsted’s style above didn’t clue you in, this is one of them.

Anyway, with that much context covered, let’s get into the main narrative of this thing.

As our first issue opens, Eddie’s world has become a dark and foreboding place. He’s not sleeping, though he mostly brushes this off. (Fun fact: trouble sleeping is one of those under-appreciated symptoms of depression. Additional fun fact: the first doctor ever to suggest I might be suffering from depression was actually a sleep specialist. You can guess how that appointment was going.)

Just to set our scene, here’s all of page 1.

Eddie’s narration has plenty of (ha) venom for his surroundings, but the visuals are here to back him up: panels from Eddie’s POV are edged in twisted, fleshy borders and drained of colour, the people rendered as creepy, goblin-like creatures. A couple of later scenes go even further to contrast Eddie-vision with what everyone else is seeing:

As depictions of depression go this is a little on the nose, but then, you don’t read a comic about a brain-eating alien parasite looking for subtlety, do you?

Eddie doesn’t see himself as depressed, of course. As far as he’s concerned, he’s seeing the world’s true face: it’s everyone else who’s deluding themselves. He’s still got his symbiote, so he’s happy. He’s yet to hit that all-important breaking point where something he can’t brush off goes irrevocably wrong.

But he’s also starting to experience these weird... cravings.

He just can’t put a name to exactly what he’s craving until a routine bar fight with a couple of thugs takes a turn for the horrific.

(I include this panel partly to point out even in The Hunger, the goriest of all 90′s Venom titles, you’re still not going to see brains getting eaten in any graphic detail. We don’t need to to get the horror of the moment across. The 90′s were a more innocent time.)

Eddie himself is horrified when he comes back to himself and realises what he’s done.

Or rather, what his symbiote’s just made him do.

Kaminski doesn’t keep us in suspense about why, though. Eddie may have just done something horrific, but there’s a reason, and it’s as mundane as a vitamin deficiency. He’s bonded to an alien creature, after all, and his symbiote is craving a nutrient which just happens to be found in human brains. And if Eddie can’t or won’t help it meet that need, it’ll do so alone.

Now, giving us that explanation so quickly is an interesting creative decision: this is a horror story, and horror lives in what we don’t know. Wouldn’t it be all the more horrifying had the symbiote been unable to explain what’s going on, leaving Eddie without the first real clue as to where this monstrous new hunger had come from?

The Hunger doesn’t take that route though, and I love it. Eddie isn’t a monster, this isn’t his fault: he has a fucking condition, and wallowing in his own moral failings is going to get him nowhere. You might as well try to cure scurvy or rickets with positive thinking. Just like depression can make you feel like an utter failure at the most basic parts of being human, and all the affirmations in the world won’t fix it when it’s fundamentally your brain chemistry that’s the problem. Or like addicts aren’t weak-willed for struggling not to relapse, they’re dealing with genuine chemical dependency – or even like how someone who’s trans isn’t at fault for being unable to reconcile themselves to the bodies and the hormones they were born with by pure force of trying. Free will is more than an illusion, but we’re all messy, biological organisms underneath, and your own brain and biochemistry can and will fuck you over in a hundred wildly different ways for as many wildly different reasons and it’s not your fault.

We aren’t monsters. But if we do, sometimes, find ourselves identifying with the monster, there might be a reason for that.

(Ahem)

I’m just saying, that’s fucking powerful, and we need more stories that say it.

Anyway, in case you missed it during that tangent, issue #1 closes with the symbiote having torn Eddie’s heart in two itself free to go hunting brains without him.

I’m trying not to get too sidetracked at this point talking about Kaminski’s take on the symbiote itself. Suffice to say there are broadly two schools of thought on how it ought to function while separated from its host: the traditional ambulatory-slime-puddle version, and the more recently popular alternative where anything-you-can-do-with-a-host-you-can-also-do-without-one. I’m not much of a fan of the latter, personally: if your symbiote doesn’t actually need a host, I feel you’ve sort of missed the point. (The movie takes the route of saying symbiotes can’t even process Earth’s atmosphere without a host, which is a great new idea that appears nowhere in the comics, and I love it. Hosts or GTFO, baby!)

Kaminski has his own take, and I can only wish it had caught on. Without Eddie, the symbiote becomes an ever-shifting insectoid-tentacle-snake-monstrosity, driven by an animalistic hunger. It’s many things, but it’s never humanoid.

If you absolutely must have your symbiote operating minus a host, I feel this is the way to do it: semi-feral, shapeless and completely alien (uncontrollable violence and cravings for brains to be added to taste).

Issue #2 comes to us primarily through the perspective of the mild-mannered Dr. Thaddeus Paine of the Innsmouth Hills Sanitarium (yes, really).

Yeah, he’s not fooling anyone. Meet our official villain! He joins our story after Eddie is picked up by the police and handed off to the nearest available institution, on account of how completely sane and rational he’s been acting.

Naturally, Dr. Paine soon has copious notes on Eddie’s ‘crazy’ story about his psychic link to a brain-eating alien monster. Fortunately for Eddie, Paine also runs some tests and makes an interesting discovery.

Congratulations, Venom: the ‘vitamin’ you were missing officially has a name!

Finding the right meds isn’t always this easy. I got lucky – the first ones my psych put me on worked pretty well – but I have plenty of friends who weren't so lucky. In fact, the treatment for Eddie's problems is so straightforward it arguably has more in common with, say, endocrine disorders like thyroid conditions or Addison’s disease, which differ from clinical depression but present many similar symptoms (but can sadly be just as much of a bitch to get correctly diagnosed – please do read author Maggie Stiefvater’s account of the latter when you get the chance, because forget Venom, that is a horror story).

‘True’ depression remains much less well understood by medicine, either in its causes or how to effectively treat it. But simply having a name for what was wrong with me made so much difference, and that’s an experience I imagine anyone who’s dealt with any long undiagnosed medical condition could relate to. It put my life in context in a way nothing else had in years.

(I can’t speak to the accuracy of the way phenethylamine is portrayed in this comic – a quick google suggests there may be some real debate that phenethylamine deficiencies have been overlooked as a contributor to clinical depression, but having no medical background, that one’s well beyond me. Either way, scientific accuracy really doesn’t matter in this context – it’s how it works in-universe for story purposes that we should pay attention to.)

Since this issue is mostly from Paine’s POV, we don’t get Eddie’s reaction to having a healthy amount of phenethylamine sloshing around in his brain again, just the assurance that treatment appears to be ‘completely successful’.

He’s still a paranoid, hostile bastard though. Meds can turn your life around, but they won’t make you not you.

But even if Eddie’s feeling better, he’s still psychically linked to someone who isn’t. Symbiote-vision still comes through drained of colour and edged in viscera.

That’s the thing about meds: they won’t solve all your problems overnight. If you’ve been depressed for a while, there are good odds you have problems stacking up. But working meds can be a godsend when it comes to getting you into a space where you can deal with your problems again, whether said problems are doing-your-laundry or all the way into not-giving-up-completely-and-just-accepting-you’ll-die-alone-on-the-street.

For Eddie, ‘dealing with his problems’ begins with stealing a keycard and busting out of the asylum.

Of course, that’s the easy part. How do you solve a problem like a feral symbiote? Like any good 90′s comic book protagonist, Eddie tackles it by putting on his big-boy camouflage pants and kitting himself out with weapons and pouches while quoting “If you live something, set it free. If it doesn’t come back, hunt it down.”

We can add this to the list of things I love about this comic. Even if The Hunger is a weirdly-stylistic tract about depression at heart, it’s also still a goddamn 90′s Venom comic, and not ashamed to be.

We’re into issue #3 now, and back to hearing the story from Eddie’s POV.

Eddie is very much aware that his symbiote has murdered innocent people while they’ve been separated. Even if this is the result of extreme circumstances, there’s a good case to be made that the symbiote is too dangerous to be allowed to live. Plenty of heroes would treat it like a rabid dog at this point.

But Eddie isn’t a hero, he’s a mess of a character and an anti-hero at best, so we don’t have to hold him to the same standard. He’s well aware his symbiote may be too far gone to save, that he may have to put it down – but that’s only his backup plan. He wants to help it. He wants it back. He’s down in that sewer with screamers and a flamethrower because he knows all his symbiote’s weaknesses, but he’s also carrying a large jar of black-market synthesised phenethylamine, because if he can just get close enough...

Depression can’t make you a literal monster, but it can make you an asshole. Miserable to be around, lacking even the energy to care who else you’re hurting. The depression doesn’t excuse that, but it makes everything harder, and it’s that much easier to sink back into your spiral when everyone around you has given up. It can make you think everyone around has given up even if that isn’t true.

So to have Eddie here say, in effect, I don’t care how many people you’ve eaten, I know it wasn’t your fault. I still love you. You’re still worth fighting for – god, does that get me right in the id.

There’s still a whole issue left at this point – we’ve still got to deal with our real villain, Dr. Paine, who we’ve just learned is into eating brains himself and torturing his patients recreationally, and who wants to capture the symbiote for his own purposes. There’s the scene where Eddie and his symbiote finally bond again, and Venom beats up all Paine’s goons while singing David Bowie because like I said, this is still a 90′s superhero comic and this is what Venom does.

But for our purposes, I'm going to skip to the penultimate page of the story, because the way it mirrors our opening page is really lovely.

Remember that shot of Eddie dealing with a beggar back at the beginning of the story, thinking about how these people would 'get their despair all over you'? Here he is again, cheerfully forking over the last dollar in his pocket to the next man to ask him for change. For all the gothic atmosphere and gore, it’s moments like this that make The Hunger easily one of the most positive, uplifting Venom stories ever written. Funny, that. (I could probably write a whole other essay on sympathy for the homeless as a recurring motif in Venom stories, but that... well, whole other essay and all that.)

What’s Eddie learned from this experience? Don’t take your symbiote for granted. Is ‘symbiote’ a metaphor for mental health here, is paying attention to its needs an allegory for paying attention to your own? I still don’t know how literally Kaminski meant us to take this, but it’s a lovely note to end on no matter how you parse it.

At the end of the day, The Hunger isn’t flawless. The conflict with Paine ends on a thematic but slightly unsatisfying note. Eddie makes much of his symbiote's loneliness and desire for union, but when the two of them are finally reunited, the only reaction comes from Eddie's side. In fact, the symbiote seems to have no response to being able to return to Eddie at all, and that’s an omission that bugs me.

But Kaminski is more interested than any other writer of the era in the truly alien nature of the symbiote, in its relationship with Eddie from Eddie’s side, and though plenty of others talk about the symbiote's love/hate relationship with Spider-man, no-one else had the guts to portray their relationship this much like a romance.

And Venom: The Hunger is no less interesting in the context of Len Kaminski’s other work. You don't have to look far into his Marvel and DC credits to pick up that the guy has a real thing for monsters. (“All of my favourite characters are outlaws, misfits, anti-heroes,” he says, in one of the very few interviews I could find with him, “I wouldn't know what to do with Superman.”) He's written for vampires, werewolves, victims of mad science, and all of three at once, littering his work with biochemistry-themed technobabble, melodramatic monologues, gratuitous pop-culture references, and protagonists who must learn to embrace their inner demons. So The Hunger represents more than a few of his favourite running themes.

For our context, his more notable other work includes Children of the Beast, in which a werewolf must make peace between his human and animalistic sides, and The Creeper, in which a journalist must make peace with the crazy super-powered alter-ego sharing his body. In fact, The Creeper and The Hunger share so much DNA (including an evil doctor posing as a respected psychiatrist who uses hypnosis on our hero while he's trapped in a mental institution) that it’s quite the achievement that they still feel like such very distinct entities beyond that point.

The human alter-egos of both werewolf and Creeper even use prescription meds while wrestling with their respective dark sides. The difference, in both cases, is that these are stories where meds play their traditional fictional role – and that's a role that could be as easily filled by illegal drugs or alcohol without making any substantive difference. You see, if a protagonist is using them, it's a sign of unwillingness to tackle their 'real' problems. Even among work by the same author in the same genre, The Hunger represents an outlier. And that's just a little disappointing – at least to me.

In real life, of course, prescription meds are no magical cure-all elixir. Depression meds that work for one person may not work for another, or may not keep working in the longer term. Everyone has heard stories about quack doctors who prescribe them to the wrong patients for the wrong reasons, about lives ruined by addictions to prescription painkillers, or the supposedly-damning statistics about how poorly SSRI's perform in rigorous clinical trials. The proper way to treat depression is obviously with lifestyle and therapy. People will still airily dismiss medications that we all know previous generations got along just fine without, or suggest that figures like Van Gogh would never have created great art if they hadn't been mad enough to slice off an ear. I mean, the fact you think you need those bogus mediations is probably the best possible sign of just how broken you are, right? Who do you think you’re kidding?

Our popular fiction loves stories about manly men who bury their trauma under a gruff, anti-social exterior and come back swinging at the world that broke them, bravely refusing even painkillers that might dull their manly reflexes. Other genres make space for broken people confronting their demons in grand moments of catharsis, finally breaking down into tears when someone gets through to make them face their problems. "I could barely make it out of bed in the mornings until I found a doctor who started me on this new prescription" is not only wildly counter to the accepted social narrative, it's a hard thing to know how to dramatise.

Even other Venom comics have been guilty of this.

Believe me, I recognise all of this, and just how much progress we've made in the last few decades. But I haven't the slightest doubt that for so many vulnerable people, the stigma against prescription medications does infinitely more harm than those same meds could ever do. And just having the right to externalise my problems into it's not you, it's your brain chemistry, may have helped me more than the meds themselves.

(And again, no, being prescribed SSRI's didn't fix me overnight, but I honestly don't know if all the talk therapy and tearful conversations with family members in the world could've got me as far as I've come without them.)

I love Venom: The Hunger. It's no-one's idea of high art, but it doesn’t need to be. There is a whole other post’s worth of things I love about it that I’ve already cut out this one as pointless tangents, and that may actually be it’s biggest drawback as a go-to example: I fully recognise that I would not be making this post if The Hunger hadn't also also grabbed me as a great bit of Venom canon, being the massive fan and shipper that I am. Other people who are just as desperate as me for more stories with the same core theme, but not into weird 90's comics about needy goo aliens, probably won't get nearly as much out of it as I have.

But if it sounds anything like your jam, maybe you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

If nothing else, it proves that you can make a viscerally satisfying story out of a message that shockingly unconventional. And you may even have people still discovering it and falling in love with it 25 years after the fact.

#Venom: The Hunger #Venom #depression #SSRIs #Symbrock #Venom meta #meta #Venom comics #Len Kaminski

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malecacidd · 4 years

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So... Do you have any fic recs? 👀👀👀

Um????? Vi?????? Yes absolutely?????? Ily????? Kfkzkdnsk 🥺🥺🥺 and aaaaaaa I'm sorry if you've read some of these but!!! Here are some recs 🥺🥺 aaaaa

Chaptered Fics

So I'm splitting this into categories between chaptered and one shots because I can. Also if I know the person has a Tumblr I'll be tagging them too kfkskfks

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Turn Your Back on Mother Nature by @siriuspiggyback

Ghosts aren't people. This is something that Klaus learned when he was small. Ghosts aren't people, because people are more than the hate and fear and anger inside of them.

But Ben is different. Isn't he?

/Evil Ben fic that brought me loads of pain/10 chapters/36k words/Rated teen and up with a warning of graphic violence/

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This Is the First Day of My Life by @dyll-pickless

There was a stretch of silence. “Fine,” he eventually said. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

Klaus grinned. “I won’t.”

-OR-

In attempting to find more information on his brother's death, Klaus Hargreeves gets caught up in a lot of trouble with some very powerful people.

/Mob au that I love very very much/14 chapters/40.5k words/Rated teen and up with a warning of graphic violence/

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Unfamiliar by @caedi

A sleep deprived Klaus accidentally stumbles into a difficult discussion with Ben. One that's been haunting them both for sixteen years.

This changes a few things for the 1963 apocalypse. Other things stay the same.

/A kind of rewrite of the last few episodes of s2 that broke my heart and I love very much/4 chapters/25.5k words/Rated mature with no archive warnings/

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What was Lost in the Portal by @is-jus-me

“Five? What happened?” Vanya asked.

“I- I don’t remember,”

Five managed to successfully return to 2019, but there was a problem, not only did he return to his 13 year old body, but he also lost his memories about the apocalypse and the commission.

Basically, life was shit.

/Amazing fic that I love and beta'd mdnsjd/5 out of 7 chapters posted/4.3k words/Rated general with no archive warning/

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last ones standing by penhaligon (on ao3)

Ben's only haunt options are the apocalypse or a cold dark slithering place, and he thinks that the universe must really have it out for him.

/idk how to describe this but basically, 'good' kfkdkdkd it's good/2 chapters/12.6k words/Rated general with no archive warnings/

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One shot timeeeee kfmskdks

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To Be Or Not To Be by AllThoseOtherWorlds (on ao3)

When Five took them back to the start of the week for a re-do, Ben wasn't expecting to suddenly find himself in Klaus's body, but sometimes things like that happen. Now he has to explain some things to their siblings, figure out Klaus's powers so they can switch back, and perhaps most importantly, convince himself and Klaus that switching back is the right thing to do.

/One of my favorite fics/7.7k words/Rated teen and up with no archive warnings/

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A quiet kind of hurt by @whatisthis-whatamidoing

Ben had been having a nice day, eating his ice cream and watching his brothers bicker. Until a friendly dog tried to say hello.

Ben has trauma surrounding animals

/Have you ever wanted pain and sibling bonding all in one fic? Read this jfkskd I love it/2.5k words/Rated teen and up with warning for graphic violence/

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don't forget your lines by @zontiky

Dave goes on a lot of dates, and a lot of people die.

/I can't believe I'm reccing this but it's actually good minus the bit of bave/murder mystery shitshow/2.7k words/Rated teen and up with a warning for major character death/

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the first day of the rest of our lives by hujwernoo (on ao3)

Klaus should really stop coming to the alley. It's not like it helps anyone. Everyone is probably dead, so all he's accomplishing is making himself feel shitty. This is the last time, he decides. After today, he'll stop coming.

Turns out he's real fucking lucky he didn't decide that earlier.

/s2 fix it or rewrite of Klaus' arc in which he finds Allison at the alley and I love/5.2k words/Rated teen and up with no archive warnings/

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Two Presents by @evelinaonline

How does one surprise their dead brother that follows them around everywhere with a Christmas gift? Well, Klaus better figure it out soon, because Christmas is right around the corner and Ben isn't going anywhere.

/GENUINELY IN MY TOP 3 FAVORITE FICS GO READ RN/2.5k words/Rated general with no archive warnings/

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Life After Death, Literally by Tremble (on ao3)

Ben Hargreeves is a lot of things. He’s a brother, an ex-superhero and now an ex-ghost. He was dead, but he “lived” over ten years as a ghost. Becoming a living human, or as human as somebody with eldritch horrors living just under the skin can be, is going to take a bit of an adjustment period.

AKA 5 times Ben forgot he was alive +1 time he remembered.

/The cutest most wholesome shit I've ever read/5k words/Not rated with no archive warnings/

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The Dead Make Better Company Than The Living Sometimes by Scarlet_Nin (on ao3)

“This is a bad idea.”

“You’re such a worrywart, Benny!” Klaus squints at him, shifting on his feet at the entrance of a graveyard. He can hear the faint howls of screams in his ears, the coldness seeping into his bones, freezing him into place. “It’s gonna be fine. As easy as a piece of cake. Hey, you know what? We should go out and eat cake after this. You love cake.”

Ben shakes his head. “Look at yourself! You don’t even want to do this, so let’s leave.”

Klaus glances down at him, sexy boots with heels and his favorite fur trimmed jacket. “I look fabulous. Don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ve been standing here for the past hour, trembling and trying to talk yourself up to take a single step further and yet you’re still standing here. Let’s go home, Klaus.”

Yeah, no. Not happening. He's here to prove something. Leaving now would be a waste of time. It would prove Daddy dearest right and Klaus hates that thought more than what he's about to do. If it all goes well, Five and the others would stop being so stressed and he'd earn himself some browney points in family bounding. Easy peasy.

Or not. Because ghosts in a graveyard are like rabid dogs fighting over a juicy steak.

/The summary is so long I'm so sorry nfjsjdjs/This fic is amazing pls read/8.2k words/Not rated with no archive warnings/

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So, with nothing else to do, Ben drifted. He just didn't expect to be pulled back into where most people go to enjoy their afterlife.

Take Me Home (I've Lost Myself) by @malecacidd

~^~

Reginald dies and god pulls Ben up to let them talk.

/FUCK IT I'M DOING A SELF PROMO BC THIS FIC GOT LESS ATTENTION THAN I WANTED AND I GENUINELY LIKE IT KCJZJDMSMS/2.8k words/Rated teen and up with no archive warnings/

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Okay that's all I'm doing because this is getting long JFJZJDNZNDNSKSK but 🥺🥺🥺 I hope you like these!!

#these are all honestly so good kfkdndnd i love them #fic recs #tua #the umbrella academy #ask #asks

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fletchphoenix · 4 years

Text

Forget What I Said, It’s Not What I Meant

Chapter 14!!!!! I’m not gonna say much other than thank you for your support and onwards with the chapter :) Also late update because I had D&D and then had to study so sorry!

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When Varian arrived at Rapunzel’s house, everyone seemed to pick up on what happened. There were no ‘Where’s Hugo’s or ‘Why do you look so sad?’s or any questions, just everyone treating him like he was porcelain or really really delicate..it annoyed him. Sure, he didn’t want to talk about it, but tip-toeing around the subject and acting as though he’d break down in tears at even the mention of Hugo just felt demeaning. It was his decision, admittedly an incorrect once, but his decision nonetheless. He was the one who initiated the breakup, so why would he be the upset one? That wasn’t to say he wasn’t either, it’s just...agh! Feelings were confusing!

Things didn’t change at dinner, everyone averting their eyes from him as they just sat down and proceeded to shovel food into their mouths as fast as they could, as though trying to avoid the elephant in the room - that being Hugo’s empty chair beside Varian’s. He frowned and ate as everyone avoided eye contact with him. Now this was just a joke. He wasn’t upset- He really wasn’t! Sure, he desperately wanted the other boy back and every second without him felt like agony, but hey! He wasn’t having a blatant mental breakdown at least! He desperately tried to make conversation, but everyone else seemed unbothered, just staring at their own plates, so he quickly relented with his attempts and joined in with their unspoken pack to silence.

After the dinner was done, he sat outside on the porch with the wind slowly blowing through his hair as he shut his eyes and let himself be taken away, deep in thought. Was what he did right? Was his mother being truly honest with him? There was no way Hugo could’ve known that his...well he still didn’t even know the relationship between him and Donella, Hugo had never had the chance to tell him, had done what she did to his mother. He couldn’t have been too old when it happened either, only around five or six so it was unfair to just dump all of his baggage on him and take out all the anger. He just didn’t know if Hugo would even forgive him for how he acted out…god, he’d really messed up this time. He still couldn’t wipe the thought from his mind of how broken-hearted Hugo looked as he screamed at him in the apartment hallway, their happy photos relentlessly staring them down to mock the hurricane of negativity he’d created. He let out a sigh. Maybe he was a monster and everyone before was right..maybe he should’ve been the one to go into a coma, not his dad..maybe-

“Hey kid, you alright?” Cass asked as she sat beside him, a frown on her face before she closed her eyes and let herself relax, Varian averting his eyes and avoiding the question. A weight on his back prompted him to look over at the woman, the hand there rubbing small, soft circles like Hugo used to. “I get it, breakups are hard. And they really do suck when you still love the person you hurt, but...I can tell this wasn’t what either of you wanted. You still love him and I can tell from every little movement you make. So talk to him. Chances are he still loves you just the same as he did before, he just doesn’t feel as though he can express it to you. You’re gonna have to be the one to tell him you still love him if that’s what you want. If he’s what you want. I love you, kid, and you love Hugo. And I sure as hell knows he loves you. Just..do what you think is right to reconcile with him, we all can’t bear to see you sad.” she finished, her eyes still shut as Varian stared at her in confusion.

The rest of the night and the whole of Thursday, Varian had thought about what Cassandra had said, it echoing in his brain to no avail as he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was she right about Hugo truly loving him that much? Surely he couldn’t after all the..less than desirable things he’d yelled at the other boy. Regardless, he’d brought his phone out and pressed Hugo’s contact, immediately typing before hesitating when done. He had the text typed out ‘Hey Hugo, can we meet up at two at the coffee shop? We need to talk.’ but he couldn’t bring himself to send it. It felt like when they first talked, him struggling to even send a simple ‘Hi’, but this time the stakes were higher and their whole relationship depended on it. He sighed heavily and glanced over at his cat, who was sitting in his lap, and he could swear Ruddiger gave him a slight nod. Shakily, he pressed ‘Send’ and prayed to God that Hugo didn’t hate him or ignore him.

---------------------------------------

Today was Friday, and Hugo didn’t know why he’d decided to read the text Varian sent him, or agreed to meet up with the younger boy, but here he was, walking down the pitch black streets of Corona town at two in the morning with the only light emitting from his phone screen and helping guide him through the winding roads. He still wasn’t even sure why he’d even picked up his phone and read the text, let alone agreed, after he’d torn his heart in half right in front of him with seemingly no remorse, but hey, he was on his way so might as well agree. There was no backing out, not anymore. He had to face his problems head on - he was done with running from the other boy, even if he’d caused him so much heartache and trouble in the past few days which he DEFINTELY didn’t deserve whatsoever.

He quickly made his way down the road, the uncomfortable heat and humidity of summer causing his clothes to stick to his back. It felt as gross as it sounded, him cringing at the sensation. He hated summer, he always had. Always way too warm, and the orphanage never had air con, neither did Donella’s house so he suffered this time of year with no remorse from the sun until autumn saved him from his pain. Hopefully it’ll all be worth it, he thought as he opened the doors to the place he knew oh so well, immediately strolling to their signature booth and spotting the raven haired boy already sitting there with two coffee cups: a vanilla latte and a black coffee for him, a familiar sight minus the coffee cups. “Hey, don’t I usually buy the drinks?” Hugo asked, forcing a grin on his face before taking a seat.

Varian still looked as beautiful as the day he’d told Hugo to leave, Hugo’s eyes taking in every detail as all the memories flooded back to him and tears threatening to roll down his cheeks as he let them take down the wall he’d placed there. He missed him so much it was hard to even describe. He’d missed the freckles on his shoulders, the way he’d subconsciously cuddle closer to his boyfriend when watching a horror movie, the way that when he laughed, he’d let out little snorts...he missed all the little things, the little imperfections that he adored. However, there were more worrying aspects now that he looked closer: dark bags under his eyes, his skin unbelievably pale. It wasn’t noticeable if you hadn’t known him long, but..Hugo knew him well enough to know he was troubled. Still, Varian forced a slight smile and shuffled closer. “Yep, well I thought I’d switch it up a little being as I kinda..forced you out of your house at two in the morning. Which..brings me to why I brought you here.”

The boy paused, a look of hesitation on his face before he bit the inside of his cheek, let out a deep sigh and proceeded. “I was wrong, Hugo. I was so so wrong to pin this all on you when you didn’t even know. I don’t want our mother’s pasts to dictate our future, because the truth is..I love you. I still love you and I never stopped. You brought..so much light into my life over the past six months and once I let it go, I couldn't focus again. You may hate me and..I don’t blame you whatsoever, but I adore you with every fibre of my being and I mean it when I tell you that. I love you, Hugo Atkinson.” He concluded, tears building in his eyes as silence followed his confession.

Before he knew it, arms pulled him into an embrace and Hugo placed teary-eyed kisses all over his face, laughing shakily as he kept saying “I love you” over and over to the other, those three words forming a symphony that Varian knew he would never get bored of. He exchanged the kisses with gentle pecks of his own, whispering confessions to the other boy as he finally let himself admit just how much he truly missed the other’s presence in his life. But now..now he had him back and he wasn’t going to lose him.

“I love you too, Varian. I..the past few days have been agony without you. I don’t know how I managed and-oh my god I’m so sorry for yelling at you on campus I-I should have listened to you..it wasn’t fair of me to act like that towards you when you were trying to apologise I just-I felt so alone and lost without you-”

“Hugh..hey, look at me. I forgive you. Now..how about we get outta here and back home?” Varian asked, Hugo nodding eagerly in agreement with what he said. After all, it had been a few days since he’d been back at the apartment and, in all honesty, Varian wanted someone to cuddle with him for the night..

The two boys stood, hand in hand, and completely discarded the two coffee cups on the table as they strolled down the street towards the apartment. It was dark, but they didn’t care, content to finally be in each other’s arms once again and happy. It was all either of them ever wanted for the agonising few days that they were apart, and now they finally had it, neither were going to let it go. Even as the uncomfortable heat pounded down on them, Hugo’s complaints just made Varian laugh and giggle even more, moving closer to the other male and squeezing his hand a little tighter. He could listen to the other complaining all day, but now wasn’t the time.

As he’d unlocked the door to let both of them in, Hugo stood in amazement. Everything was the same, pictures still hung on the walls as they had been before, books still in the same places and his goggles still on the table in the hall where he’d left them beside the bowl they kept the keys in. He let himself adjust to the sight, though it was familiar, it still felt different despite nothing changing. Varian however paid it no mind, simply stating “What can I say? I missed your incessant use of green.” before pulling Hugo along towards their living room.

Almost immediately as they went through the doorway to the living room, Hugo had pulled the younger boy into a passionate kiss, Varian’s hand threading his fingers through his hair gently as he took in the taste of the boy which he couldn’t quite forget, but desperately wanted to remember ever since they parted. It tasted just how he remembered - bitter like freshly ground coffee, just how he liked it. He let Hugo deepen the kiss and pin him against the painted green wall, hands roaming aimlessly over each other as they both reminded themselves of just how much they adored each other, before Hugo picked him up and carried him along the hall towards their room, Varian giggling the whole way across.

Hugo promptly dropped him on the bed and laid beside him, a wide smile on his face as he peppered kisses over his face and shuffled backwards slightly to allow Ruddiger to sit in between them. The cat had gotten a lot skinnier somehow, Varian had assumed Hugo was sneaking him extra snacks sometimes. Ruddiger seemed much happier to see his old rival too, purring and nuzzling his cheek as he greeted his other owner. Hugo also seemed relieved to see the proclaimed ‘fat bastard’ as he gave Ruddiger many many cuddles and an abundance of kisses to his furry forehead. Varian felt his heart fill with more and more love for the boy lying across from him, his hand slipping over his.

“I’ve missed you both so much, I love you so much Varian.” He’d whispered to the boy, cuddling both the cat and the raven haired boy closer to his chest and placing gentle kisses to his forehead too without a care in the world before slowly kicking off his shoes and jacket before laying down again. Varian followed suit, his head now resting on his boyfriend’s shoulder and Ruddiger sitting at their feet as they cuddled even closer than before.

Now everything was how it should be, back to normal with him in his boyfriend’s arms as they both drifted off to sleep. Just how he liked it and just how Hugo liked it, finding comfort in each other with their rekindled love. It felt right. Like the universe was back to normal.

Varian could get used to this.

#varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian x hugo #varian tangled #tangled varian #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varigo coffee shop au

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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submitted by @madameterralupus!

Congrats on 1k!! I love your blog and you totes deserve it!! <3 This seems like a lot of fun so throwing my hat in the ring lol. (this also got way too long and it wouldn’t let me submit as an ask so had to do this… x.x) Anywayssss Hi! I am a smol bean lady (5’1”) with long-ish brown hair and hazel eyes. Around average size? My personality is friendly, silly, and super caring. However I can have a bad temper at times when things go wrong oops. I love to make new friends and help others. I have been called the mom or crazy aunt friend many times in my friend groups. I have anxiety and depression that messes with me a lot as well as some health issues that I feel scare people away :( but I always power through it in the best ways possible. I am a huge fan of traveling to new places or even to places I have been before, my hobbies include crafting, writing, doing photography, occasional gaming and binging tv/movies. I love all sorts of music (pop, rock, country…) and all sorts of different types of genres when it comes to media too (minus horror. I scare to easily lol). I enjoy taking things easy in life (part of that is from being a procrastinator). I am not a morning person either, definitely a night owl. I am an entrepreneur in ways but also a communications major grad. I am a huge lover of animals and while I live closer to the city I have always preferred the suburbs/country. I just wanna be loved and appreciated by someone. Someone who understands me and vibes well with me too ;-; Doesn’t pressure me into things, gives me all the cuddles and more (wink wonk). Ahh the dream… Not sure what else to say. I think I summed me up fairly well? I am bad at describing myself lol.

i would ship you with Din Djarin!

I’m glad you like to travel because you’re going all over the damn galaxy! You’ll hopefully get over that “scares easily” soon because... you are traveling with a bounty hunter, after all. Din appreciates your ability to make new friends, because that means you, my dear, get to be the negotiator! You’d have the most astounding photo collection in the galaxy if you continue photography while traveling with Din.

Grogu takes to you immediately. He wants allll of the cuddles from his new mama. Since you’re a mom friend, Grogu will probably sense that and love that about you! He loves to help you with your crafts- he can make a mean macaroni necklace. Yes, Din will wear it forever once the little green thing puts it on.

Din is a night owl too. He’ll take you for long walks after dark on the local planet, admiring the scenery with you and showing you his favorite spots. He’s suffered with mental illness too- he’s got a lot of PTSD and probably anxiety or depression. He understands the struggles and does everything he can to help, since he hates seeing you in pain.

Yeah, Din can and will rail you. You will be well loved, both sexually and romantically, with the Mandalorian. Of course, he’s all about consent and would never pressure anything from you. He’s a great cuddler after, in those moments without the beskar.

it’s a party! send me a request and I’ll ship you with a Pedro character!

#din djarin #pascalpanicparty #submission

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tristancreed · 4 years

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My Relationship With Tattoos

Art as we know it comes in any medium. It could be a portrait, a scuplture, a dish, a film or even a fighting style. The canvas and the medium may change, but one thing remains constant. It represents something. One's feelings, identity, code, maybe even culture. Tattoos are not far from this. They are pieces of art etched on a living canvas. Just like any piece of art can be viewed differently by the artist, the wearer as well as the mere spectator. The same perception could also be rooted from a personal interpretation/bias, cultural influence, and etc.

The Philippines, while still attempting to develop have yet to change its view on tattooing. To some, it is in fact seen at an artistic light whereas most view them with negative connotations. Some even view tattooed individuals as nothing but bottom dwellers, drug addicts, criminals, anything synonymous with the word undesirable. We even have a senator that says exactly these words about tattooed individuals, as do most conservative folks. Which is ironic considering that tattoos once played a significant role in the pre-colonial history. It often dsiplayed one's role, accomplishments, clan, and even social status. One of our most well-reputed national artists happen to be Whang-Od. To the uninitiated, she is currently the last living traditional tattoo artist around these parts. She is well sought out by visitors both domestic and foreign. In all sincerity, I'd like to see that senator try and publicly call her a drug addict to her face. Like I said, The Philippines has yet to be anywhere near ready to adapt to a modern society. And with it, more progressive views.

(Image is courtesy of La Blouse Roumaine ©)

I for one had a neutral stance on them. I should know, I have four of them and have gone through five sessions all in all. But before that, I remember wanting to get one as far as when I was in college and even intending to get two particular pieces. One being WWE Superstar Edge's Rise Above wrist piece and Toryn Green's sinner and saint ambigram. This what happens when you grow up being a fan of hard rock music, professional wrestling and mixed martial arts. Although what kept me from getting tattooed was the fear of being an ineligible blood donor, as well as the fear of being unemployable in the future.

That however changed after I graduated. Turns out, most corporate environments won't even bat an eye at an upper management figure sporting full sleeves and stretched earlobes. Others may not be as lenient. But it hardly impacted how they're received in the company. I even had a chance to get a session done in 2013 but it kept falling apart.

It didn't cross my mind until 2017 and that's that I finally decided to go for it. I remembered seeing a simple but perfectly symmetrical geometric arrow design. The design was perfect. I also happen to love archery. So I literally had no other issue with it. I later ended up getting referred by my cousin to her artist who did her wrist piece months prior. The three weeks leading up to that session, I let my folks know in advance that I am getting a tattoo. I didn't wait for their approval or anything. I made it clear that I’m getting inked. Furthermore, I’d like to point out that I am a regular subscriber to Aaron Marino’s YouTube Channel (you may know him as Alpha M). I then took some crucial tips regarding tattoos. I had the certainty down as long as I follow one crucial tip. You have a whole sea of skin all over you. So out of all that, just avoid having one on your hands, neck, and face. If you can hide it with a dress shirt, it’s completely fine.

On the day of my appointment, I literally just slapped on a sleeveless Avenged Sevenfold cut-off top, some shorts, with only my phone and wallet in hand before heading out for my session. It happened in a small studio just next to a small school in Pacita. Fortunately, I got there in time and I happened to be his only scheduled client for the day. What happened next was pivotal. I literally watched as the needle first touched my skin and slowly covered my birthmark. The session itself took over five hours. And what turned out to be the final product was an entirely different design. One which was inspired by the concept I sent, but also deviated from it. My parents despite having already been warned in advance were still initially shocked by it. They didn’t think I was actually going ahead with it. So this is the part where I retroactively followed what Jaiden Dittfach (of Jaiden Animations) said when she got her bird Ari. If you want really want something and your parents said no, get it anyway and trick them into loving it. Now that it’s on my skin, there really wasn’t much they could do about it. But at least they know its meaning and that it isn’t anything negative. I did have some issues with the product though and it took three more years before I finally got it fixed. For good this time. At least before the pandemic happened and it was done by a trusted friend. In her defense, she made the best of what she could work with then and even remarked how deep the first needle went. Fortunately, she managed to even out some places that needed to be polished.

The intended design (Image is courtesy of The Style Up ©)

The (first) finished product.

Finally fixed.

In between all of this, I also managed to get three more pieces. It was November 12, 2018, a news shocked Marvel fans the world over. Stan Lee tragically passed away just six weeks shy of what would have been his 96th birthday. It was such a devastating loss of a figure who helped mold the childhoods of many. I wrote about it and posted it here shortly after. During those events, I remembered having come across the Wakandan alphabet before it hit me. But first, I had to consult a few friends in order to make sure that I wouldn’t be committing any act of cultural appropriation. After finally clearing that up, I sent my own design to a friend of mine (Who went on to do all of my ink from that point on) and booked the session. Thanksgiving day later came and I realized that we had no work that day. So I later called her up to see if she was free. Fortunately, she was and I finally had it etched on my right forearm. It was the Latin word “Excelsior” that literally translates to ever upward. It was also Stan’s catchphrase. The feeling of getting that piece was a lot more different than the previous one. This came with a wave of emotion. Because the significance could even be traced from my childhood and I grew up around this fandom and it meant more to me than just entertainment. It helped shape part of my identity. It’s literally the one piece I wish I could have flashed on a camera next to Stan himself. One thing’s for sure both Stan Lee and Chadwick Boseman would have thought it was a wise choice for a piece of ink on one’s skin.

“Excelsior”

- Stan Lee

Upon having gone through a tattoo session, you can only describe the feel of a needle as a sting. But you wouldn’t exactly call it pain. That isn’t an opinion, that is a fact. Another thing one must know upon getting a tattoo is that you will later want additional pieces. Your skin will want the feel of that needle again. And while my parents said that would be my last piece, I simply couldn’t promise that. This time around, I’ve been looking to get a Cthulhu tattoo since December 2018. Of course, being busy as always, I couldn’t find a time to arrange it. I would only do so once I’m sure I’m completely free for that day. I live two lives. Both as a corporate guy and a public figure. Spare time and sleep are luxuries I can’t always afford. And after all the planning, I finally booked it. I literally went to my friend’s place right away to have it done. The session was of reasonable length and it felt different. Both of my previous tattoos were done on my right forearm. Both of which had uplifting personal meanings. A darker piece like that would be completely out of place in that part of my body. So I opted for my left bicep. It was surreal. I’m a man invested into multiple fandoms and H.P. Lovecraft’s universe is definitely in that list. There’s just something about the occult and the unknown horrors of the cosmos that piqued my interest since my formative years. This was me finally marking that on my skin. If there’s one of Lovecraft’s most iconic creations that deserved that spot, it was the famed Dreamer of R’lyeh himself. If the excelsior tattoo gave a rush of innocence that I hadn’t felt in ages, this was different. It had that enigmatic aura around it which made it all the more perfect. The piece came together so well and it was on an arm that a needle had yet to kiss. After the session, you could say I probably found out how the Sam Raimi Peter Parker felt when he first put on the black symbiote suit. Minus the dance when he exited that tailor shop. I also ended up getting a freehand bonus on my right wrist again. Just something Roxy threw in. It was the Latin phrase “Sic Parvis Magna.” which literally translates to “Thus great things come from small things.” or better yet, greatness from small beginnings. Which is another phrase I hold dear considering my humble origins.

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn”

“In his house at R’lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.”

“Thus great things come from small things.”

That certainly wouldn’t be the end of it. Again, while my folks insisted that I got my last pieces, I still can’t promise that. One thing’s for sure, I wouldn’t get any piece that either stands for something that abridges the rights of another human being, nor would any of my upcoming pieces ever wrongly appropriate a culture. Ultimately, I would always advise everyone to at least take Aaron Marino’s advise to heart. Don’t get one that you wouldn’t want to show your folks. You also have a whole sea of skin around you, so avoid having one on your hands, neck and face. I’m definitely not done stepping next to a needle. I still have plans on some pieces. But I always see to their significance. It’s always wise to do exactly that. Getting a tattoo isn’t a joke. It’s a commitment. One that can even outlive a marriage. So it pays to take every choice into consideration. Some of us choose to wear our hearts on our sleeve and some do so literally.

#tattoos #tattoostories #excelsior #cthulhu #lovecraft #inkedlife

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ghostmartyr · 5 years

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SnK 118 Thoughts

Zeke gets shot, Falco gets a hug, everyone who makes sense is out of jail, and for a brief time, everyone is united in being perfectly fine fucking Marley right the fuck up.

Minus the characters who live there.

But all told, for the first time in months, it’s a happy chapter. :)

In a rare turn of events, I think I’m going to specifically aim to talk about things out of order. I say this with no real sense of how I usually construct these posts, I just make blanket assumptions about how they’ve probably gone in the past without corroboration.

SO WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT CUTE KIDDOS HAVING FEELINGS AND BEING DUMB.

The ones who aren’t legal adults, to be clear on the definition of ‘kiddo’ as used here.

Falco.

Gabi.

You get to go back to the hellscape that is your brainwashed existence, I’m so happy for you both.

The complications of Falco and Gabi fighting so hard to return to a world that doesn’t give a damn about them are things that... honestly, I just don’t want to do that this month. It’s a disaster. Marley’s fucked. Paradis is fucked. No one cares about the right things. Every decision is going to blow up in everyone’s face.

But Falco gets a hug from his big brother.

The youngest characters we’ve followed through this are treated with kindness.

This whole chapter is a breath of relief in the sea of unending horrors that we’ve been dragged through to get here. More on the rest later, but for the moment, we’ve got the two little ones.

Nile doesn’t even hesitate to treat Falco as a child before an enemy.

In the outside world, a man Falco tries to help is scared of being touched by him because he’s an Eldian.

Sasha’s family is still worried about the two little Marleyans they picked up and lived with for a time.

After first contact, no one needs to tell Colt not to shoot Nile. He calls the man who hands his brother over “the enemy,” and is shocked by Gabi’s actions, but Colt runs with Gabi and Falco without looking back.

Nile doesn’t follow.

Nile’s the sort of man who looks at Falco and thinks this assault might be about saving a little boy.

Colt’s the sort of young man who thinks Falco being someone who might be affected by Zeke’s scream is somehow relevant to whether or not it happens.

This story, lately, has been relentlessly cruel.

Gabi and Falco run away from home on a suicide mission to avenge and protect their loved ones after they witness the ruthless destruction of their home. Gabi watches people trying to protect her get gunned down. Falco, the kind boy who delivers letters for a wounded soldier, is the spark that enables the entire tragedy.

They reach Paradis, end up in jail because no one knows what to do with them, escape, and have to live under the constant pressure of their guilt and worldview being challenged. The destruction of Reiner’s psyche that takes a sustained undercover operation over the course of years is inflicted on Gabi in weeks, and Falco has to watch the girl he likes suffer over crimes that he aided.

Gabi watches Falco help her over and over again, and when things really start crashing down, there’s not a thing she can do for him.

They’re separated from everything they know and everyone they love, and then each other.

They make their way back to each other.

The world looks at these two tiny, traumatized children, and refuses to let anything happen to them. The world takes Gabi’s hate and uncomplicated joy in being a good Warrior and deconstructs it with kindness. The world takes a little boy like Falco, who only ever tried to help people, and lets him find his brother.

The reveal of Falco being the one who helps Eren isn’t a mark of betrayal. It’s a shared bond of pain that comes from good intentions being unfairly manipulated by people who didn’t care to be kind.

So they’re at least kind to each other.

In a tiny pocket of all this violence, things aren’t complicated. There’s a little girl and a little boy, and they deserve safety. A child who grew up in an internment camp designed to manufacture and slaughter Eldian children dreams of a world where the girl he likes won’t die, and they’ll get married and be happy.

Falco has always been kind and stable to the point of parody, but that’s honestly fine. Good. That should be allowed to exist, even if it doesn’t make total sense. The good things should be allowed to survive.

Gabi’s arc here ends with the realization that her hurt isn’t all there is to the world. Other people--other sides have their own, and they aren’t evil for that. They aren’t devils.

Falco’s trip to Paradis ends with him finally confessing why he followed Gabi to begin with.

There is something so sweet to the way Falco describes it. I hope it’s a faithful translation, because it’s my favorite thing this series has done in some time.

It isn’t just about Gabi not dying. It isn’t just about her having a long life. It isn’t just about them getting married.

Falco’s dream is for the girl he likes to be happy forever. He likes her, but the core of his dream is that she’ll live as long as she wants, and she’ll be happy through all of it.

Nothing Falco has seen in this world should give him hope for any of that.

He hopes for it anyway.

And Gabi rips off his armband.

The Yeagerists’ perverse mirror of what Marley has always done to them--what Gabi has accepted into her life in her fierce chase of changing it--and Gabi rips it off.

Their world isn’t kind. It’s cruel, and harsh.

People are kind to them.

That’s the only thing that saves them.

Naturally, it’ll be devastating when the bad things keep on coming for them, and no, sorry, this is not their finale, it’s just the finale of all the potential happiness they can have, but for right now.

For right now, kids shouldn’t be on the battlefield. So everyone fighting tries to get them out of it.

Look.

Standards.

We spend time with characters with standards this chapter.

It’s. It’s so strange. What is this.

Also, the fact that our time is spent on this instead of letting Eren and Zeke touch makes me astoundingly nervous for what’s coming next. There are very. I don’t want to say few. Uh. There are, thanks to the Founding Titan, potentially many ways for things to end not poorly.

I would say the likelihood of any of them traveling smoothly is. nil.

For instance, the entire scheme Armin concocts to explain away Eren’s behavior in this! Sounds good, sounds nice. Sounds destructive, sounds impulsive. Sounds vaguely understandable by the horrifying standards we’ve come to expect.

Sounds okay. Ish.

Still involves Eren sparking a national incident that brings a big army into their island so they can kill them all using a destructive power we’re only kind of confident in him using safely.

With the side effect of all his friends being in the splash zone.

I realize that even Armin’s kind of on the fence on that making real sense, but it’s not a bad explanation for everything. Eren’s backed into a corner when Yelena does her reveal. He’s held hostage by it, but hey, by playing along, he’s found a way to make things okay.

Even in that elaborate AU Armin came up with on the spot--

--things remain less than good.

Unless we consider most of the MPs and other top brass, the majority of veterans, and assorted civilians turning into titans and possibly dying--unless we consider all of that a good thing.

There’s a school of thought where Eren can just magic touch everything back to Okay, but the levels of Not Okay being pounced in with reckless abandon are a bit. uh. geez, what’s the word...

Bad?

There is a very good chance that this is all very bad, and running might be in their best interests.

In the non-AU version, all of Eren’s friends are scrambling to keep him alive because he has fucked them all over so horribly that literally their only chance at not dying slow (or very fast), brutal deaths comes from protecting the fucker who fucked them over.

And Armin, realizing this, digs down deep to try and find some of that good ol’ fashioned Friendship Power to bullshit all of them into agreeing to this plan of attack for reasons beyond generously optimistic pessimism.

While kind of wondering if Eren maybe wasn’t kidding about killing everyone.

Armin’s whole role in this chapter is embracing a truth that he secretly thinks might be a lie so that his friends have a prayer of feeling positive about this fuckery.

You’re trying so hard, Armin.

I am so sorry for you.

And Connie.

Like, good grief. Falco gets a hug. Someone needs to give Connie a hug. There’s been a serious shortage of Connie hugs since Sasha died, and I realize how that works, but it should really go the other way around.

Realistically, I am so happy that Connie’s the one who’s at his breaking point. He’s always been a team player, and over and over, it turns out that the people he thought had his back weren’t on his team. He’s a simple guy. This is a simple problem.

So, simply, fuck everyone who has anything to do with it.

Connie is Best Boy.

Onyankopon’s okay too.

This is the meta commentary on Yelena qualifying as a serial killer that we deserve. She is so great. All of you new characters with your new disasters are so great.

It’s a little on the nose, because bless this series, it is not subtle about most things, but thank you Onyankopon for injecting some hecking positivity in this here jail cell.

The concept of a future has been humanity’s fight all along. A better world.

Then Paradis met the rest of the world, and was all, “o fuck.”

“o fuck,” has interlaced every inch of the plot in the current day. Whatever hope there was, Eren’s decisions in Liberio tarnished them, and the rise of the Yeagerists threw it into the trash.

This chapter is kind enough to bring it back.

This is what the heroes of this world do.

They look at the impossible odds, and choose to fight. Because to do otherwise means that this is the way the world stays. This is what they’re left with, and that is unacceptable.

We’ve strayed a bit from that point, lately. It’s a relief to have it back in plainspeak.

Then there’s Mikasa, and. Aaaaah.

Armin only truly starts championing the possibility that Eren can still be a force for good when Mikasa comes back to his words about her Ackerman blood. Really, I think he does it for both of them. He refuses to believe Mikasa’s life doesn’t belong to her, so Eren has to be lying, so things have to be salvageable.

Mikasa knows him too well. She knows there’s room for doubt.

She leaves her scarf behind.

Mikasa is someone of great principle. She has a deep sense of responsibility that has been present from day one. She takes charge of Eren. She takes charge of other recruits. She feels the weight of the entire world, and fights for it. Her focus on her family has never made the burdens everyone shoulders disappear in her mind.

I don’t think she has a better explanation for why she can’t let go of Eren than the one he’s provided.

He’s killed children. He, by Connie’s word, laughs when he’s told about Sasha’s death. He abandons them and runs off on his own, risking all of their lives. He spits hateful vitriol at them and throws them in prison, where they would have likely died without someone going behind his back.

How can wanting to protect someone like that be natural?

Her very first argument to Eren is that he wrapped the scarf around her. When the world went cold, he brought warmth and a home back to her.

How does that compare to what he’s done recently?

How could she feel warm at all when she just watched Eren murder people? How, when by his command, she killed for the first time?

She has a genetic predisposition to comply with something like that.

Doesn’t that make more sense than loving this monster?

Children are dead.

Eren killed them.

Her first instinct is still to protect him.

That can’t possibly be right.

Mikasa doesn’t defend monsters. She slays them. That’s who she is.

If she’s defending this one, there must be a reason. Something deeper than just loving her family with all her heart.

To which I’ll say, for my personal stance... sorry, Mikasa. Your love does run that deep. It’s always been at war with your principles. Protecting Eren and Armin at the expense of everything else has always put you in pain. Being willing to let Armin go during the Serum Bowl is almost as agonizing to her as watching him die.

Mikasa’s strongly held principles and strongly held love have always been in conflict, but in the background. In side remarks about overprotectiveness, interspersed with her guilt over what that overprotectiveness has led to.

Eren’s cruelty gives her the excuse.

Here’s how she can be both; one isn’t real.

Whether she fully believes it or not, it’s what makes sense, for a person like her. She shouldn’t still care so much for the fate of this monster. Caring so much is why Reiner is still alive. Caring so much is why Bertolt lived long enough to char Armin to a crisp.

Mikasa learns. Always.

She should be fast enough at taking down the monsters now that they can’t hurt anyone first.

In case I’m not putting this clearly enough, Mikasa is better than anyone in the history of ever, to the point that even she can’t believe how strongly she hold on to things.

And my last comment on the chapter is that Yelena and Armin’s song and dance continues to be firing at max cringe on every cylinder, one of you drop the pleasantries and pull a gun already.

It’s funny, but in the way Jean pretending to be a knife-wielding maniac is funny.

Just stab each other like normal enemies. Please.

So since things are hitting the boiling point here, I guess next month we’re doing a shift in perspective?

Levi and Hange try out their Super Mario 64 skills in not drowning. The results my surprise you.

Nothing good can come from any of this, but you know? Falco and Gabi got to be cute. Plus Colt and Falco hugged. It could and has been worse.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 118 #Gabi Braun #Falco Grice #Mikasa Ackerman #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

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rhysand-vs-fenrys · 5 years

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Hello, I hope you're having a lovely day! I have 3 fic asks, if you don't mind answering. You are such a fabulous writer, & I love all of your stories. Literally. F - Velaris: Fury and Ruin (I just reread that and OH MY, my heart) / I - in general for fics, but if you have specific ones in mind, that'd be cool too! / J - Velaris. Thank you so much!! ❤

It’s been a kind of hilariously bizarre day that began with a drug deal beside me and ended with the whole film crew yelling fake criticisms at the director (a different show director screamed at us last week and was just a dick overall, so we were making fun of him with the other director all day, lots of not-quite-threats). Sounds weird, but it was just kind of a “What is my life?” type day XD

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it (for Velaris: Fury and Ruin specifically)

From Chapter 3, when Rhys has to tell Mor they’re ‘pulling the plug’ on Cassian because he’s effectively braindead:

“He fought for so long, he was brave and strong and kind, he-” Rhys locked his jaw and stared hard at Cassian’s hand, still held in his. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling, and when he finally managed a deep breath, more tears slide down, “He deserves peace.”

Chapter 3 of V:FR was the first time in a fic that I really drew on myself and my experiences for the content, and that line is the heart of it (in terms of dialogue, there is a narrative snippet that is more poetic and important).

My grandmother caught an infection from the hospital she was being treated at and died slowly. My father was by her side, and the last thing he said to her was “It’s alright mom, you can rest now” (she was in a coma at the time, but she died about 10 minutes later). My grandfather (same side) died quite suddenly a couple years later. He collapsed in the yard and was braindead when he arrived at the hospital, but they still had to wait 3 days before they could pull the plug.

So Chapter 3 is “Mor’s Chapter”, but it’s really a chapter about saying goodbye and the guilt and pain you feel when you are forced to “give up” for lack of a better word. We firmly believe that braindead is dead, but when you’re the one who has to say “Ok, end it” there is just a lot that comes with it emotionally-speaking.

“She deserves peace” was what my grandfather said, agreeing with my grandmother’s wishes to stop treatment (it wasn’t going to work anyways). “He deserves peace” is what my mother said to my father to help him make the call with my grandfather, so it was important to me to include that. All of Chapter 3 was about what you feel having to step up and face such an impossible decision.

I- do I have a guilty pleasure in fics (reading or writing)?

I really... really really really like writing horror and gore. It’s what I’ve always been best at and what I love the most. I wrote a 17 page torture sequence for my Original that makes Maeve’s work look like tickle-torture. It might be totally unreadable to any normal person.

Feyre’s torture (so far) in TSON was like a little whiff of a treat for me to write. I have to keep telling myself “Alright, be cool... be cool... don’t scare them...”

J: Write or describe an alternate ending to “Velaris”

When I was writing “Velaris” I kind of talked through with someone how I planned to end it with the revelation that it was Azriel who spread the flower petals.

They told me to cut that scene entirely and end it with the IC (minus Rhys) kind of coming together to drink. They said putting that on Azriel would ruin the entire series and piss off my readers to no end.

I kept it in, first off because that tea scene was no finale, secondly because I wanted it to end where the first steps are taken towards the IC entering the story (since Feyre’s wedding is the crux of it all), and finally I put that as the epilogue because I thought there was a kind of power in Azriel- who has held it together for 50 years- finally breaking when it all ended.

He did something unforgivable and is disgusted with himself for it. Something that changes the course of Prythian’s history. IDK, I just thought him finally shattering in that scene was more powerful than at any other point in the story.

Thank you so much for the ask!!!

Ask Thing: Fanfiction

#Anonymous #ask #ask thing #fanfiction ask #my writing

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katsmoviechats · 5 years

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Why I’m Never Joining a Sorority (a review of Mike De Leon’s Batch ‘81)

“All art is propaganda. It is universally and inescapably propaganda; sometimes unconsciously, but often deliberately, propaganda.”

An allegorical treatise on the nature of facisim, Mike de Leon’s “Batch ‘81” makes its argument largely through facist means. Here he tells the story of Sid Lucero, a first year University of the Philippines Biology student, who is aspiring to enter the fraternity of Alpha Kappa Omega and is subjugated to a six-month long initiation where he and six other applicants undergo initiation rituals that have them endure extraneous humiliation, and physical and psychological pain. In the opening shot we are introduced to Sid, we get a sense of his character, how he thinks, how he sees Alpha Kappa Omega. Sid’s initiation was told and divided into 4 different pagsusuboks or trials, each part preceded by a title card that indicated the name of the trial. The narrative was organized in such a way that it was almost like a storybook, we have our introduction, body, rising action, climax, falling action, and the denouement. Despite the fact that the film was narrative heavy and less stylistic, it made sense for the type of film that it is. The events in the film happened in such rapid succession of each other that it worked in favor of the film, and supported the story as a whole, and made it more true to life, almost comparable to the 2017 film “Lady Bird”, wherein the events in the main character’s life happen so quickly, where the moments felt fleeting at times, much like real life. The tone of the film was set very early on, and my expectations had already began to form as soon as Sid said he wanted to join a fraternity.

As soon as Sid makes his mind up about joining the illustrious Alpha Kappa Omega fraternity, we see the first title card: “Unang Pagsusubok: Pakikisama” or “The First Trial: Fellowship”, here we are introduced to the other pledges; Pakoy Ledesma (the virgin), Santi Santillian (the professor), Ronnie Roxas Jr. (a legacy), Arni Enriquez (Sid’s roomate), Pete Matibay, and Ding Quintos, who are all being interrogated by the members of the fraternity while being blindfolded. The members who are interrogating and conducting the initiation, brothers Vince and Gonzalez, establish their relationships with the pledges immediately, ordering them to call them “masters” whenever they are going through the initiation rituals . It’s interesting to note that Sid addresses the pledges and himself as “neophytes”. A neophyte is described as someone who is new to a subject, skill, or belief; a new convert, and that’s exactly what they are. A new convert. As the film progresses we see them converting into “brods”. The neophytes and the audience are then introduced to the ideals of the fraternity, then the neophytes are told by Gonzales that they aren’t doing this to hurt them, they’re doing this for the good of the fraternity.

The next title card was “Ungguyunguyan….Pagsasama” (Monkeying Around… A Coalition). In this chapter we see more of who the characters are. We’re introduced to characters outside of the fraternity, like Sid and Arni’s girlfriends, Mariel and Tina, and the guys in the other fraternity . The neophytes are presented with more rituals and they begin to bond with one another. We see them streak, go to a dance class, and go to a birthday party that turns into the grossest beer drinking session ever. Roxas becomes convinced that the masters are just making fools out of them and don’t really care about them, while the other neophytes-mostly Sid-try to convince him that it’s all for the brotherhood, and reminds him that his father would be disappointed if he leaves, and basically talks him down from leaving AKΩ.

In this chapter we see Sid adapting the principles and the ideals of the frat, he speaks to Roxas as if he’s convinced that the frat is doing this for their own good, and if feels as if he really does believe the lies they’re feeding him.

We also see how the masters “forced” the other neophytes to turn on Ledesma, and how easily they were persuaded to him. Ledesma then has hurt feelings, and gets mad at his so-called friends. He opens up to them and says that all he wanted was friends, and that feeling of belonging. Santillian opens up and says that if he wants friends, this is where he’s supposed to be.

I found it really ironic that these guys decided to join a fraternity called AKΩ when they were all looking for brotherhood and friendship, when the whole point of brotherhood and friendship is being selfless, but as the story progresses the neophytes act on their selfish intentions.

The third chapter in our film is “Kaisahan...Isang Kalooban, Isang Katuwiran” (Unity...One Will, One Reason) it opens with the neophytes (minus Roxas) all blindfolded as the masters do a roll call. They are ushered into a small room with a table, a couple of chairs, and an electric chair. Roxas enters and the masters explain that because Roxas thought of leaving, he will sit in the chair as a penance for his thoughts of backing out and all of the “sins” that the other neophytes committed against the fraternity. The masters explain that there will be an interrogation and if Roxas answers wrong, he will get electrocuted. A couple of questions were asked until Santillian speaks up against it, and he and his fellow neophytes were asked to be the ones who pressed the button that would electrocute Roxas. And they did what they were asked, Sid pressing the button the longest while holding eye-contact with Vince. Then Magpatibay is called and the masters ask Roxas, “Ang Martial Law nakabuti sa taong bayan, tama o mali?”, Roxas gives no reply and gets shocked anyways. Ledesma is called up and Roxas is asked the same question again. Ledesma frantically calls to a lifeless Roxas to answer and refuses to push the button, he runs to Roxas’ side and stood his ground. The masters yell at him to come back and push the button, but a fight breaks out between the masters and the neophytes (expect for Sid, who stayed behind the masters while his fellow neophytes were fighting with the masters) until Roxas says that enough is enough, and the masters applaud. The neophytes looked confused, because let’s be honest, who wouldn’t be after being told to electrocute your friend, and the masters tell them that they aren’t being told to follow mindlessly, they should still know what’s right and wrong, that they aren’t being tested beyond what they are capable of overcoming.

This film draws parallels to facism, and by extension, the Marcoses regime over the Philippines.

The serious tone of the film is lessened as we witness a musical number that the fraternities have prepared for their annual showcase. The whole sequence feels so out of place with the tone and the story (but for some reason, it works). the AKΩ fraternity puts on a show with Bob Fosse’s decadent musical Cabaret, with Nazi flags and “Berlin 1931” as their backdrop, making another reference to another facist we all know and loathe, Adolf Hitler. It totally reminded me of a number fromThe Rocky Horror Picture Show.

The rival fraternity of ΣOΣ decided to take things differently music-wise they perform this rock and roll number complete with them bringing a dummy on stage and stabbing it mercilessly multiple times on stage.

It then cuts to Sid and Arni making their way home, and they happen to cross paths with Tina (Arni’s girlfriend) on the side of the road. They try to take her home, but the ΣOΣ fraternity show up, and things go south quickly. The three are forced into cars and are taken to a building, upon arriving they dash out and it becomes a game of cat and mouse. The ΣOΣ fraternity finally catch up to them and beat the crap out of Sid and Arni, separating them from Tina, who is hysterical at this point. They then take Arni and drown him, left with a lifeless Arni, the fraternity leaves Sid to grieve his best friend. We really see Sid turning into a loyal member of the fraternity. He seems like he’s so desensitized, he starts blaming Arni and Tina for Arni’s death.

Fueled by rage, the neophytes demand blood, and this is it, the moment we’ve been waiting for, the fight between the fraternities. In a gruesome sequence, all that pent up masculine energy is released, an orgy of gore if you will.

De Leon ends the film the same way Kubrick ended his film 2001, with the Star Child gazing straight through the screen at us, only where the Star Child radiates an air of serene transcendence, Sid Lucero's face-head slightly lowered, eyes level and direct-seems utterly drained of emotion, his lips mouthing the frat's principles with mechanized fluency ("Ang simula at wakas ay kapatiran!"). He is cured all right-of all reason, all intelligent thought, all sign or taint of humanity. He has evolved in the opposite direction from the Star Child, towards total obedience, and has done so of his own free will.

I had no knowledge about this movie beforehand, so I really didn’t have any expectations going into it, but when I found out that it was a film about a fraternity, I instantly felt this sort of dread in the pit of my stomach, and it stayed there for the entirety of the movie. I noticed that there was a lot of foreshadowing that happened during the movie, from the video game that Sid was playing, that conversation that he has with Mariel, to the musical number that the ΣOΣ fraternity put on. The tone of the movie definitely shifts as well, it gradually becomes much darker and more serious.

I had high hopes for Sid, I thought at some point that he would have said enough is enough, but after learning more about the conditions on which the movie was made, it made more sense to the story, that being said, Sid didn’t really show that much in terms of character development, he wasn't completely flat, but he just didn’t exhibit that much of a drastic change, so I felt a little detached from his character, and sort of saw the entire group as the main character instead of just Sid.

Overall, this was a great movie, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I enjoyed it for its allegorical approach to such a serious subject matter, it definitely made it an easier pill to swallow. It was made during a time where it was a silent propaganda, and now how many years later, the message is still as relevant as ever.

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shewhowantsmouseears · 5 years

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Welcome to Spookyville! Chapter 4

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editors, Drucilla and BlueShifted!

This was a huge 'make stuff up as I go along' chapter, as I had ideas for chapters 1-3 and 5, but not 4. As a result, this probably isn't as funny as the last chapter... but what can I say, Donald's such an easy punching bag. One more chapter and we're done!

Summary: Mayor Mickey tries to enjoy his day off, and winds up befriending a cute pink bat. You'll be able to guess the plot twist in a handful of seconds.

For this next tale of happy haunts and horrors, we skip the schools and office-work to find Mayor Mickey just getting out of bed. He was rather sluggish this morning, not exactly looking forward to this day – for it was his day off! As much as he whined about paperwork, he did love his job and was always eager to make Spookyville a better place. But even he knew that too much work would wear him out – his cheerful stalker not exactly helping that pace – and so he was forced to take a day off at least once a week.

How he loathed these days! They were so boring! Granted, he knew at some point Minnie would come and harass him, but even she ran out of spells eventually. What was he supposed to do for the rest of the day? He wanted to be in his office! He wanted to eat Goofy's pumpkin cookies! He wanted to follow Donald's schedule! He wanted to cut a big ribbon in front of a new building – he had a whole closet full of gigantic scissors for such occasions. With a sigh and shuffle, he slipped into his clothes, adjusted his hat, and mournfully ate his breakfast – pumpkin pancakes, pumpkin waffles, and for a change of pace, pumpkin eggs. (Don't ask how, it's a horrifying process.) What to do, what to do?

Maybe he could go for a walk. But if he did that, he'd be so distracted by everyone around him and feel an urge to help them as the Mayor! Maybe he could go fishing. But if he did that, he'd be constantly thinking about water pollution and drafting ideas to clean the lakes! Maybe he could just nap all day. But if he did that, he'd have nightmares about a big-eared witch trying to tie his tail to a giant mouse-trap! It took him a moment to realize that wouldn't have been a nightmare but a recollection, as that did happen last Tuesday.

He mulled and mulled over his options until he heard a very loud THUD at his window. Mickey blinked, wiping off his mouth with his sleeve before rushing to the door to find the problem. There on his flowerbed laid a dizzy pink bat with a growing bump on its forehead. “Aw, poor little miss!” It was a fair guess, given the bat's color scheme. “Hope you didn't hurt yourself too badly. Lemme take a look at'cha.”

Mickey scooped the bat into his hands, holding her up to see her better. The bat sniffled, sitting up in his palms, large ears twitching back and forth. “Least you hit your noggin instead of your wing! I'm sure you'll feel better in a minute or two.” The bat squeaked, perhaps grateful for the reassurance, and Mickey found himself charmed. She was a cute little thing, and didn't seem spooked by him at all. Perhaps this was a domesticated batty, one who was used to human touch. In that case, it was only right to search for the owner. Plus, if she had rabies, surely she would've shown some sign by now.

“How's about we get some breakfast in you, and look for wherever you came from?” Mickey offered, already heading back into his house. “I always make too much for myself anyway. It'd be nice to have some company for once!”

As everyone begins to massively roll their eyes at the really obvious irony and guess the major plot twist already, it should be said that writing anything original these days is hard. C'mon, you have to admit you're kind of curious how this is going to play out.

The bat offered no objection to being in Mickey's house, and was more than happy to chomp away at the remains of his breakfast, even as she got a syrupy mess around her mouth. Mickey wound up laughing, picking up a napkin to dab at her mouth. “I guess you were mighty hungry! Now you've got enough energy to help me look for your owner. Until then, I guess I should call you something...” He tapped his cheek, trying to come up with a proper name. “StellaLuna?”

The bat made an X signal with her wings, as trying to make a trademark signal would have been much harder.

“Foxglove?”

A louder slapping of her wings for this X.

“I'm going to save us some time and say Bartok is no good either. That pretty much uses all the famous bat names.” A small shrug before he finally settled. “Why don't we keep it settle and go with Miss Pink?” The bat gave this some thought before agreeing, before flapping her wings and flying to sit on Mickey's shoulder. He chuckled, affectionately petting the top of her head with a finger. “All right, Miss Pink it is! Don't you worry, we'll find your home in no time at all! Oh boy, I finally have something to do on my day off!”

With a whistle and a skip to his step, Mickey readjusted his hat and walked outside. It was a perfectly sunny day, with the citizens enjoying the good weather and good company, waving to one another and glancing around for any signs of a certain witch. Mickey headed for the marketplace, since he figured this would have the greatest number of people, and thus, plenty of people who might know about a bat. Spookyville's market mostly consisted of cheerful farmers selling their pumpkins and pumpkin-related goods, and Minnie-related insurance.

“Good morning, Miss Clarabelle!” Mickey waved to the cowhand cow, the resident town gossip.

“Goooood morning, Mister Mayor!” Clarabelle waved right back, though she had to watch how hard she moved any part of her body lest it fall off – she was a zombie, and reattaching fallen limbs was always a pain. “What can I do you for? We're offering a special discount on our pumpkins today – 20% off if you find a worm! 30% if you can find my husband's eye, he lost it last night. Again.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could help me with something else.” Mickey gestured to the guest on his shoulder. “I think my friend here belongs to someone, so I was wondering if you've seen her around before.”

Clarabelle thought about popping her eye out to get a closer look, before remembering that the average fanfiction reader does not appreciate emptying their stomach contents while reading. So she settled for simply leaning in. “Hmmm... sorry, Mayor, but she's not a familiar face! I can ask around, but I'm pretty sure this is a new one! A pink bat is really rare!”

Mickey raised his eyebrows, intrigued by this news. “It is? You've never seen one before?”

“I seen a peanut stand, heard a rubber band, I seen a needle that winked its eye, but I be done seen 'bout ev'rything, when I see a-”

“Okay you need to stop, we're not sure if that reference is offensive or not anymore.”

Clarabelle agreed to play it safe and moved on. “She's a real beauty though! I do hope you can find her home soon enough. But speaking of beauties!” She giggled, rubbing her hands together eagerly while hoping one wouldn't fall off. “Long as a certain missy isn't around... I've got an adorable niece who would just die to get her hands on you! I think you two would hit it off perfectly! Why don't you pick her up around eight?”

Mickey would have politely declined the invitation, but Miss Pink decided to do it for him – minus the polite part, and if “decline” meant “launching themselves at Clarabelle's face and trying to claw her to death.” - which would have been impressive, given that the woman was already dead to begin with. “AAAAAH! MY FACE! IT TOOK AGES TO STITCH IT BACK TOGETHER! I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW I COULD FEEL PAIN THERE ANYMORE!”

Mickey blinked stupidly, wondering what had brought that about, and after a few seconds Miss Pink calmly returned to his shoulder as if nothing had happened at all. Clarabelle laid on the ground, trying to reattach everything, which we will not describe here because the narrator is too lazy to raise the rating on this story. Mickey quietly pulled out a few bucks from his wallet and slid it on the harvest table before inching away, mumbling an apology.

Once they were far enough away, Mickey picked up Miss Pink to wag his finger at her. “That was really rude of you, you know! No more attacking people! What set you off, anyway?” In a way, it was familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Sadly, no matter how hard the reader screamed at him, he couldn't hear it. (Only the narrator has that kind of power and she's having too much fun right now!) The bat merely shrugged, and sat herself on his shoulder again. “Hm... maybe you're just allergic to formaldehyde and it set something off.” It wasn't the most unreasonable connection – but it was second to most unreasonable. “We'll try a different place and see if anyone else recognizes you.”

It was a comfortable day at the park, with children playing, dogs being walked, and several bomb shelters being opened in case a familiar witch made an appearance. Mickey tucked his hands in his pockets, happy to see so many people enjoying their best life. “See, this is what I love about Spookyville!” he announced, hands on his hips, taking in the fresh air and joyful laughter. “Everyone getting along and simply being themselves! I'm so proud to be the Mayor of this great town! I love everything about this place! I love the pumpkin patches, I love the sounds of people walking on crunchy leaves, I love children's balls about to smack me on the-”

BONK!

Mickey didn't know why people called pain “feeling smart”, because being smacked in the face with a large red ball made him feel pretty dumb. Miss Pink held onto his shoulder, squeaking worriedly, as Mickey sat up and rubbed his sore snout. “I don't think I'll be able to smell for a while...”

“Aw, gee, mister!” Two small mummy children scrambled over, the brother picking up the ball while the sister looked near tears. “We're real sorry! We didn't see you there!”

“That's okay!” Mickey said pleasantly, popping his hat back on his head. “No harm, no foul! I was kind of getting sick of smelling pumpkin anyway.” After making sure his nose was back in place, he stood up, brushed himself off, and then patted both of the kids on the head. “You two just be careful out there, all right? Let me be the only accident of the day!”

“Okey-dokey, mister!” the children said together, which was cute in a children's cartoon and would've been creepy in an adult horror movie. With their ball back, they frolicked back to their play area.

“What a cute bunch of kids,” Mickey mused out loud, not seeing the large shadow that began to drape over him. “Kind of makes me wish I had kids off my own... or a pair of twin nephews, which is apparently the same thing as having kids.” He then paused, noting a peculiarity. “I thought we weren't supposed to have clouds today.” So what was blocking the sun? He tilted his head up.

There stood the father of the little mummies, huge, hulking, and unpleasant. “Were you just trying to tell my kids what to do?” he snarled, drool dribbling from his jaw.

“Uh.” Mickey faltered, amazed at how he could get in trouble without Minnie's help. “I mean. Technically?” He reached for his cape, ready to use his magic if need be.

“NOBODY TELLS MY KIDS WHAT TO DO EXCEPT ME!” The mummy-daddy roared, grabbing Mickey by his cape and holding him up in the air. “YOU'RE GUNNA PAY FOR THAT!”

Mickey would have tried to gently rebuff that he sincerely meant no harm and that hands-on parenting could be a wonderful thing, except the cape was snugly tied around his neck, and thus the daddy-mummy had him in a chokehold. As such, his reply was, “MUUUGHFBLLBUFF.”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!” The mummy-daddy oh-we-did-that-already-sorry swung his fist back, ready to wreck the wimp, when Miss Pink flew into action, finding a loose strip of wrapping and tugging at it with her teeth. One, two, three tugs – and the entire binding began to unbind. Remember, boys and ghouls, always make sure your wrappings are snug and firm before you head out! Or else you might wind up losing everything and then turning into dust in the middle of the park.

Mickey landed on the grass, caught his hat, and tried not to sneeze from the dead man's powder. He raised an eyebrow at the mess, unsure if this counted as murder or not. He put a hand to his ear, heard aggravated grumbling from beneath the gigantic dust pile, and sighed with relief. “That was a close one. This story has shaky morals already.” Miss Pink returned to his shoulder, and Mickey smiled at her. “You saved my hide back there! Looks like I owe you one. Whoever your owner is, they're one lucky person!”

Miss Pink nuzzled up to Mickey's cheek, and as he walked on, lightly petting her, he began to consider the idea that maybe she didn't have an owner, or at least they wouldn't find them today. If so – well then, Mickey would just have to bear this responsibility and care for her himself! A pet would be nice! It'd give him plenty to do on future days off! He could walk her and teach her tricks and use her as a bodyguard! As much as the thought pleased him, he could only stop searching once he exhausted every avenue, and there was one place he had yet to try.

~*~

“Oooh, look at me, I'm the Mayor!” Donald mocked while swiveling around in Mickey's chair. “I'm the most perfect guy in the whole wide world! I'll let you walk all over me, who wants to use my face as a doormat!”

Goofy poured a fresh batch of tea. “Not still bitter about the last chapter, are you?”

“I'll stop being bitter when I recover from anemia.” Donald stopping spinning around, lazily leaning on the Mayor's work desk. “Besides, it's his day off! He's got no reason to come in today. I allowed myself five minutes on my schedule for goofing off. No offense.”

“None taken.” Goofy began to add sugar, cream, milk, and anything else he could pull from his hat. “But we should still work our hardest, even when he's not here! That way, when Minnie ruins our day, we can at least say we tried our best. Then we can spend the rest of the day putting out the fires she set.”

“She's probably hounding him down right now.” Donald chuckled at the mental imagery – knowing Minnie, she could have made that literal with a giant magical doberman. “And the Mayor's running for his life, tail between his legs, screaming like a little girl, and exactly how long as he been standing behind me?”

“Long enough to dock next week's pay,” Mickey dryly replied, watching Donald slowly slide out of his chair.

“What're you doin' here anyhow, Mickey?” Goofy asked, eyes quickly flying over to the odd looking animal on Mickey's shoulder. “Did you get yourself a new pet?”

“Yes and no.” Mickey held out his hand, and Miss Pink hopped into his palm, happy to be shown off. “I found her this morning and I've been trying to find out if she's got an owner... but if she doesn't, I might just keep her myself! She's pretty cute, ain't she?”

“I'd be very careful about that, if I were you,” Donald warned, eyeing the vermin suspiciously. “If Minnie finds out you like it more than you like her, she might wind up as bat flambé . Which is tasty but also disgusting.”

Mickey knew this was a rational, albeit disturbing, train of thought, but it brought him to another realization. “The funny thing is, I haven't seen Minnie all day! By this time, she normally would be rifling through my underwear drawers, stalking me through the streets, and have launched a love-potion missile down my throat. And that's just if she's not feeling inventive.” Why hadn't Minnie shown her face at all today? Did she, too, get off days from her “work”? Maybe crazy needed breaks too.

“Maybe your little friend is a good-luck charm!” Goofy chirped, always trying to see the positive side of things, despite their most obvious conclusions. “Keep her around and maybe Minnie won't come near! 'Course, we'd lose a whole lot of readers for that, but they're probably just scrolling down to the big punch-line at the end anyway.”

“I'm not making any big decisions until I know for sure she doesn't belong to anyone,” Mickey decided, wagging a finger, which Miss Pink imitated. “That's why I came here! I want to look at all the pet licensees in the town, and see if any pink bats come up! I figured it shouldn't take long. How big's the file anyway?”

Donald flipped through his notebook to find the correct data. “It contains... six-hundred and forty-two licensees.”

Mickey's confidence and finger faltered. “You're kidding.”

“Hmmm... ah, yes, you're right, I was wrong.”

“Oh thank-”

“Six-hundred and forty-three.”

Mickey glanced at Donald's notebook, and then off to the distance. “This... might take a while. Why don't we do one of those fancy line-breaks and check on another character? Go with a 'Meanwhile' and we'll catch up later.”

~*~

Meanwhile, Daisy was... taking a nap in her coffin. Hm. Let's try that again.

~*~

Meanwhile, Mortimer was picking his nose - okay let's go once more.

~*~

Meanwhile, Chip and Dale were by themselves in the busy streets of Spookyville, gratefully not doing anything boring or gross. They had woken up early that morning to help set things up for their mistress, as many witch familiars tend to do. This included laying out her clothes, cleaning up the house, and adding more deranged magazine clippings to the Mayor Mickey shrine in her bedroom. However, when it came time to wake Minnie up, she was nowhere to be found! Unlike the Mayor, witch familiars can't take a day off because they never unionized, so they set out to find her.

Naturally, they headed for the Mayor's house first, but didn't find a sign of her, although they did snatch some flowers from his flowerbed, knowing she'd appreciate the terrible gesture. Next up was Magica's school, but there was still no trace of her in the hallways, in the classrooms, or in the principal's office, where they went unnoticed by the drunken headmaster who was wailing that “HE'S WITH THAT GOLDEN-HAIRED BINT, ISN'T HE?!”

Their last option was the Mayor's office, but since it was still in one piece and they couldn't hear anyone screaming from inside, they decided she couldn't be there either. What to do? They sat on the doorstep, puzzled.

“What could we have missed?” Chip asked, cupping his thin in thought. “Mistress always goes after the mayor, and always leaves a trail of chaos in her wake. What changed?”

“Last night, she did say she was working on a new spell.” Dale replied, copying the gesture. “But I don't remember what it was! Usually when she goes into one of her Mayor-related ramblings I kind of tune out for a while.”

“Do you think it was an invisibility spell?” Chip pondered, trying to imagine it. “Hmmm... No, she definitely would have already tried to wait in his shower, and we would have heard that screeching no matter where we were.”

“Maybe it was a teleportation spell gone wrong?” Dale kept it up, knowing that Minnie's weird powers at times appeared limitless. “Maybe she's landed in some weird world that doesn't celebrate Halloween 24/7. She could be in a world that celebrates Thanksgiving 24/7!”

“Or worse...” Chip paled, the awful possibilities beginning to pile up. “... 24/7 Arbor Day! Dale, we've got to find that spell and get her home! She'll be bored to death!” The chipmunks jumped off the doorstep and headed back home as fast as their little feet could take them, hoping to save Minnie from the horrors of a 24/7 President's Day.

~*~

Well, that's enough of that. Back to what you came to see – bureaucratic paperwork!

“License for a ten-foot-long python named Tickles...” Mickey read aloud, as his companions were doing, the trio huddled around a stack of papers to try and find any trace of Miss Pink's owner if she had one. Miss Pink, for her part, was content to nestle herself on Mickey's head, her face sticking out from underneath his hat. “License for a Capuchin monkey named Cappuccino... I had no idea we had so many people with so many exotic pets, and with such terrible names too!”

“And I ain't seen a sign pink bat in any of these.” Goofy concluded, although his share of the papers were now folded into origami shapes. “I think you might be in the clear, Mickey!”

“This is the last one,” Donald announced, holding his paper high in the air before reading it. “License for a warlock named Donald.” He paused, and then crumbled it up. “All right, I need to have a word with Daisy later...”

“Then she's all mine!” Mickey said cheerfully, popping to his feet. “Oh boy, my first pet! This is going to be really exciting! I'll build her a nice bat-house, with all the trimmings! I'll walk her every day! And I'll get tested for rabies!”

Donald flipped through his notebook, jotting something down and using his magic to bring it to life. “Hang on, Mayor. If you're going to be a responsible pet owner, you need to keep an eye on her! So, here you go, one leash at the ready.” As stated, once he wrote it down, it poofed into existence – extra pink and glittery for all to see.

“Perfect!” Mickey gently picked up Miss Pink from his heat and helped fit the collar snugly on. “There you go, how does that feel?” Miss Pink blinked at the collar and leash, then glanced at Mickey with a strange, eyebrow-wiggling look. “See, she likes it! I'm going to take her home and show her around! Boy oh boy, what a great day!” He headed for the door, waving to his pals, Miss Pink fluttering behind him. “Thanks for all your help, guys! I'll make sure to remember this when it comes time for your bonuses!”

Goofy and Donald joyfully waved back until the door was closed, before their faces fell. Donald cleared his throat. “So... you realize that's Minnie, right?”

“Figured it out forty-five minutes ago when she kept licking his cheek.” A click of his tongue. “Us not telling him is gunna affect those bonuses, ain't it?”

“Probably. But the mental trauma might keep him from remembering for a few days. Maybe we should call the Spookyville Asylum and see if they have an opening? When is that spell going to wear off?”

“When it's funniest, I'd reckon. Which might be...” Goofy took a quick glance at the watch on his wrist. “...In a few minutes. Line break, please!”

~*~

“Dum de dum de dum...” Mickey made up his own ditty as he strolled down the street, fingers entwined in the leash and not a care in the world. A nice pet to love and take care of and keep him company – life was grand! Sure, the leash suddenly felt heavier, and people were staring at him with stunned expressions – one mother even slapping her hand over her child's eyes – but what did those things matter? He and Miss Pink were now BFFs! “Aw, you're gunna love livin' at my place! And I'll even get-cha a dozen leashes, see which you like best!”

“My word!” a scandalized skeleton cried out.

Huh, that was weird. Anyway, he went on, “And if you're on your best behavior, you can sleep in my bed!”

“There are children here!” an alarmed arachnid shouted.

What did that have to do with anything? “But first things first... we've had a pretty long day. I think what you need is a bath! Shoot, we both do, why don't we just save time and take it together?”

What followed was nearly a choir of aghast gasps, lots of incredulous pointing, and several ghouls declaring they'd switch candidates for next year. Mickey was a happy-go-lucky fellow, but even he had buttons that could be pressed, and he stopped walking to put his hands on his hips and glare at the various passerby. “What's got everyone's sheets in a twist? Can't a fellow walk his pet anymore? I tell you, this isn't like my Spookyville anymore! Don't you think, Miss Pink?” He turned his head.

And, to the surprise of nobody who has two brain cells working, there stood Minnie, the collar having magically grown with her to continue fitting comfortably. She grinned, not making any effort to take it off. “Um... squeak?”

Mickey looked at her, looked at the lash in his hands, back and forth, the last sense of trust he had in this waking world dissolving into ash. Now knowing Minnie had, apparently, the ability to transform, he could no rely on anyone or anything being its true self. He would never be bored on a day off again.

If there is a moral to be found in this chapter, it's to be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. Also, if you faint, don't do it on a stone pavement, because you will wind up with a cracked skull, and need to spend several weeks in the hospital, if the crazy witch stalker doesn't insist on healing you herself personally.

Okay, that last one doesn't entirely apply, but you get the idea.

#disney #fanfic #welcome to spookyville #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #donald duck #goofy #clarabelle cow

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alliesweetsong · 6 years

Text

Into Dusk Pt. 2

“Hunting is not a sport. In a sport, both sides should know they're in the game. “

-Paul Rodriguez

(Continued RP from Here. and Here)

“I’m Knight Warden Reyland, what buisness do you have in Duskwood?” the man asks

Allie didn’t know if she should trust this person, it seemed a little too convenient a Knight Warden should happen upon her camp the evening she was to push into Duskwood to Identify a Knight Warden. Was this a trap from Tylo? A message? Shrugging , the void elf dodges his questions, she hated lying but she didn’t trust this.

The sun was setting as the guard pointed to the oncoming storm blowing in and mentioned the face the Rendorei should come with him, it wasn’t safe to be out in one of these storms. Nodding in a hesitant fashion, Allie agrees and begins the short trek back to the town hall.

The sun had already set as the duo stepped into his office, or the clouds had engulfed the sky, it could’ve been either one with how dark it was so early.

“You’re required to fill out a missing persons report now that you have told me someone is missing, what is your friends full name?” He asks as he grabs a piece of paper and pen before looking up at Allie.

Unslinging her rifle and setting it down, Allie begins to protest before shaking her head. She didn’t need anymore attention to this than what had already been drawn, too many hands in it and she ran the risk of breaking promises or worse, losing Raen entirely. That was unacceptable.

“I can’t tell you. I uh, I should probably go.” she says as the elf gets to her feet and grabs her rifle beginning to back up .

Looking up the man’s tone grew hostile “Sit!” he says demanding, “You’re not leaving until you tell me what this whole thing is about. What’s going on, and why you have been continually acting so suspicious.”

“Kill him, save the elf…”

(intense violence and language below cut NSFW)

Allie narrows her eyes as she exhales and relents, setting her rifle back down she moves forward and takes a seat. The leather of her pistol belt straining as she leans backwards against the backrest. “Fine.” she says pausing for a moment before launching into the complete story, not holding out any detail. Describing finding Damien in the forest, being behind Raen and following her tracks. And finally, meeting the mysterious Tylo and finding out about Mackerel. Reyland looks at her, studying the void elf features for a moment as she explains she had gone to SI:7 to procure any documents she could on him but was unsuccessful, the man was like a ghost.

Questioning her for a few more moments, Reyland agrees that something was off and picks up the phone on the desk and begins to speak into it. Allie doesn’t listen much, she begins to fidget with her hands in an impatient manner, she didn’t belong here sitting down, she belonged in Duskwood right now. The anxiety of it was palpable.

The inside of the office was clean, neat and organized, very much a government building. Though the elf rarely stepped foot into these buildings often, it was becoming commonplace for her to do so, first with SI: 7 and just a few days later, here.

“Okay Willy, thank you so much.” Reyland says as he hangs the phone up and looks at Allie and folds his arms. “So..” he begins exhaling slowly

“What was that about Ravenhill and Mana crystals?” Allie cuts him off as she looks up at him

“There was an investigation there about a week ago on the report of the death of some elderly. During the investigation, the wardens discovered a few burnt mana crystals in a grave of an unknown man.”

The two go back and forth for several minutes which only served to raise the Ren’dorei’s anxiety, she needed to go, nothing about this conversation was helping minus what she just learned about the mana crystals. Rubbing her forehead, Allie stands up and growls

“Are you going to do your job!?” she explodes “I don’t have time to be sitting here answering questions I need to find her!”

Reyland blinks in surprise at the outburst and picks up the phone as he holds up his hand “Calm down for a moment. Groaning, Allie rubs her forehead as he calls once more. She wasn’t paying attention to what was being said, she only cared about leaving

“He is betraying you, kill him.”

As Reyland hangs up the phone once more he stands “let’s head out.” he says as the Void Elf doesn’t waste another secord, moving at a quickened pace she exits the building and starts heading east.

“”You need to tell me everything you saw there, and I mean everything” Reyland says as he lights a torch”

“Useless guard force.” Allie says outloud in Thalassian before nodding. “Blood, and alot of it, there was a cage with chains in it, I am sure that is where they help my friend Damien.” she says in an annoyed fashion, she had burnt way to much daylight to get into position on Mackerel to scout him. She wondered how Alyssa was fairing, if she was back in stormwind yet and had got ahold of a new earpiece. It was too risky to try and call out now. That would have to wait.

The sounds of Duskwood come more clearer as the two step over the bridge and head towards Ravenhill, Allie hadn’t been here since she was following Raen’s footsteps the sound of gravel underfoot, the smell of the woods and the distinct lack of any light minus the flame of the torch let the Rendorei breathe out a sigh of relief, she was where she needed to be.

As the two walk up the patch to where Damien and Raen had been taken, they enter the building, still roped off presumably from the wardens conducting their investigation. Most of it had been left unchanged, the blood now dried on the banister, and floor boards. Leading the guard downstairs, Allie shows him the grizzly scene of the cage and chains and pool of dried blood underneath that. She let him inspect it, being down here knowing her friends had been still pained her too much to dare and step closer. Frowning, Reyland turns around and starts walking upstairs

“Lets go check these graves they mentioned.” He says as Allie begins following. She was starting to think he was there to help, that he wasn’t one of Mackerels employees, it was hard to trust but she needed to try.

“Raen does drugs.” She blurts out as they step off the stone path onto dirt. The soft crunch of twigs and flora punctuates their movements. Reyland seems to be taken back by her honesty, looking over his shoulder he lifts an eyebrow

“What drugs?” he inquires

Allie shrugs and bites her lip fearful she shouldn’t have said anything “I don’t know, Damien wouldn’t tell me.” She says as the two to start to enter the graveyard. It was an eerie feeling being in the graveyard at night. The woods surrounding it quiet, devoid of all light, just a big dark wall of nothing. Kneeling down in front of the grave as they come up on it, Reyland starts digging it out search for clues. The bodies and mana crystals were all long gone, but it was worth searching for something the wardens may have missed. Almost as if on queue, the human hits something hard.

Bending down with a grunt the human removes the dirt over the object and pulls it out, revealing a brick with a piece of paper attached to it. As he stands up he holds brick and starts to inspect it. Lifting an eyebrow Allie lunges forward attempting to grab it.

“What’s that, let me see it.” Allie says as she tries to rip the note out of his hand.

Reyland was about tired of the elf’s behavior, shoving her backwards he growls “Hold on!” he yells. The force of the push surprised the Rendorei as she lands on her butt. “It could be a bomb.” he continues as he carefully pulls the envelope free and starts to read the letter.

“Hi Allie.” he reads outloud.

Gasping, Allie stands up and lifts an eyebrow “Its for me?”

Everything from then on happens in a blink of an eye. Blood splatters on Allie’s armor as Reyland screams in pain holding his hand that has a fresh hole in it as the thunderous crack of a rifle report would echo throughout the forest. Allie watches in horror as she realizes someone was sniping at them. Jumping to the right just as the impact of another bullet right where she had been standing moments before impacts the dirt harmlessly as another gunshot would crack out of the pitch black tree line.

Unslinging her rifle, Allie hits the dirt and closes her right eye as she looks through the scope trying to find the shooter, but it was already too late. Reyland screams out in pain once more as a third bullet impacts him on his ribcage sending him reeling into the grave. Breathing heavily as adrenaline kicks in, the Rendorei tries to drown out the man's screams as she tries to find the sniper. But just as quickly as the gunfire started, it stopped.

While Allie scanned the forest for several moments her first thought was to eliminate the threat, she was exposed, out in the open and the sniper clearly had their location dialed it. It was an ambush. Her thoughts didn’t get a chance linger long as suddenly, the forest erupted once more, this time automatic gunfire starts ripping the area around them to shreds.

Allie knew this was too easy, something about this didn’t feel right. Rolling to the side, the Rendorei tries to crawl to the grave to grab the letter and run, but the rate of fire was too much. Pinned down she was forced to watch the letter get obliterated in the chaos. As the gunfire once more stopped and the forest feel eerily quiet she crawls to a nearby tree and takes cover as she peeks out trying to spot any movement. But there was none, as she breathes a sigh of relief she walks towards the grave rifle in hand ready to return fire as she looks down

Labored breaths from Reyland is the only sound that was made around the area save for the haunting howl of a tornado the storm Reyland had talked about earlier. Bending down Allie grabs ahold of the man and starts pulling him out of the grave.

“F...Fuck.” he pants as he’s pulled out.

“What did the note say?” she asks as she starts to inspect the man once on the surface. He had been lucky, the bullet missed a direct impact with his ribs and torso by inches, it was only a graze

“J..Just Hi..Allie.” he says trying to catch his breath.

“Kill the man, save the elf.”

Growling, Allie pulls the hammer back of her revolver in its holster as she looks at the man in a serious manner to show she was being dead serious. “Who was it from?” she asks in a low snarl

“He set you up, kill him, save the elf.”

“I don’t know, it only said that.” Reyland replies as he struggles to his feet.

Allie shakes her head lightly as a few tears starts rolling down her cheek. “You tipped them off didn’t you.” she accuses him as the human looks at her confused

“What!?” he gasps out

“You tipped off Mackerel!” she yells out

“He is of no use, bury him in that grave.”

“Who the fuck is Macker-” he starts to say as Allie tries to push him in the grave. Holding her back he weakly tries to reach for his blade with his shot hand and cringes

“Who do you work for?” Allie snarls out getting increasingly angry.

“End this, save the elf”

“Why are you doing this?” Reyland pleads as his hand tightended around hers on his breastplate “If I would’ve known about this I wouldn’t have even come with you.” he says trying to explain.

Allie rips her hand away from the weakened man easily and steps back pulling her revolver out as her eyes begin to swirl with void energy. “Get in the grave, now.” she snarls in a low threatening voice.

Reyland slowly stood up straight “No…” he replies forcefully “I just took two bullets for you!”

Allie suddenly raises the gun to his head “IN! NOW!!” she screams out

“You shoot me and you shoot your only help!” he yells back

Allie stood there for a moment starting at the man trying to collect her thoughts as her finger moved to the trigger, she already knew the answer to the next question, it was the only explanation for what had just happened.

“Who did you talk to on that phone?” Allie asks in a low voice

The human looks entirely flabbergasted as he stood there “The bloody Deputy-Warden just up the road.” he exclaims.

“Up the road WHERE!?” the Ren’dorei snarls back.

“You are out of time, end him, get to the elf.”

“In Darkshire. That’s where their is post is.” Reyland says before he begins to shake his head “Wait..wait a second, I think…” his voice trails off.

Allie knew it, she was right. By going to him he had called the one person she was looking for and tipped them off, they had everything now, her name, what she was doing..and more importantly how much she knew. It was a complete disaster. Looking at the man with malice in her eyes she slowly begins applying pressure to the trigger..

“It was rigged from the start, and it was happening right under my nose..” he starts explaining putting the pieces together “The person we’re looking for is-”

Once more, blood would splatter on the ground, as a bullet tore through the back of Reylands head, exiting through his temple as nother rifle report sounded in the distance. The sniper was still there. As the human falls over lifeless, Allie loses her patience.

“I’M COMING FOR YOU MACKEREL! YOU HEAR ME!? I’M COMING FOR YOU!!”

There would be no response, no second shot would ring out. The forest would grow dead quiet once more. Looking down at Reyland, Allie takes her right foot and nudges the body into the grave with a sickening thud. Slinging her rifle over her back she buries the man and begins to head back to camp. She had told Sarahni that she would come over once she had completed her mission, but she couldn’t show up to a noble lady’s house covered in grime and blood, too many questions that would put her at risk. That was something the void elf could not allow. As her thoughts wander, Allie stumbles nearly loses her balance. Standing up straight, she looks back and sees another brick, with another envelope. Narrowing her eyes she picks it up and opens the note.

Void energy lightly erupts in her hand holding the note as she begins to crumple it, allowing it to wither into nothingness before tossing the ashes to her side. She needed to go back to stormwind and refit. Enough was enough.

@dardillien-ward @alyssa-ward @earendelduskmourn @thetobaccoman @westfallhandyman @sarahniholt for mentions @thepaletroll @serelia-evensong

#Allie Sweetsong #Raens Arc #ic #rp #wra #world of warcraft

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escape-from-reality-reads · 4 years

Text

New Resident

Warnings: Wound descriptions

----

Ten years is a long time to be locked up.

Ten years is a long time to be tortured.

Kara looked up at the corner of the cell, eyes traveling the same crack that they had for a decade now.

Kade, the son of the man who helped trap her, told her the day before that it was the anniversary of her capture.

The anniversary of her imprisonment.

The anniversary of her life falling to ruin.

She spent the day in stoic sadness, wanting to cry but never allowing herself to. She vowed to never cry again when she turned ten five years ago.

Kara didn’t remember falling asleep, but she awoke in the same position to the sound of the door opening. Casting her glance down the row of cells she waited as the footsteps got louder until a man came around carrying an unconscious girl.

The man himself was decent, living in a place like this for so long you get a read on some people after all, and from what Kade had told her he didn’t want to be working at the facility. In fact, the only reason why he stayed is that his child was sick and he needed the money. Kara couldn’t blame the poor guy for that, especially when every time she saw him he always looked pained with guilt no matter what he did to try and hide it. Today he looked even worse, though that could be because of the new resident they the higher ups had caught.

The girl in his arms looked to be in her upper teens with a skinny build and blonde hair. No worse for wear minus the small puncture wound from whatever drug they used to knock her out.

Taking a quick glance around the man carefully placed the girl on the cot in the cell next to Kara’s, whispering a quick apology before leaving the cell. As he walked by Kara's door he sent a quick look of remorse her way, almost like he was pleading for the fifteen year old to forgive him. There was nothing to forgive in Kara’s eyes, after all, he may be walking the halls but he was still trapped in the same prison she was.

It took about an hour but the girl started to come to, groaning from what was possibly a terrible headache. Kara knew first hand how bad those drugs could be at times, one made her brain feel like cotton for two days after administration.

Once Kara was certain the girl was at least a bit lucid she started to talk, staring at the wall beyond her door.

“Let me guess, something happened to you and you came here for help.”

The girl looked at Kara confused. “Um, yeah. What happened exactly?”

“It’s simple; you came here as a person with supernatural powers or are a supernatural creature yourself, this place may market itself to help people of that status but really they just wind up here. Imprisoned and hidden, only to be used as lab rats till their hearts give out or there’s no use for them anymore.”

“How do you know all of this? You talk like you’ve been here awhile. And while we’re at it why are you only side-eying me?”

Kara smiled, bitterness tainting the gesture. “I know all of this because I’ve been here since I was five. It’s been a decade of watching the same cycle repeat over and over again. As for the side-eye,’ Kara turned to the girl, showing her the right side of her face. ‘it’s not like I can see you any better like this, now can I?”

Blair just wanted help.

She had searched for days trying to find some, growing hungrier as the days continued. She tried to eat, but anything she consumed would be purged within a few hours. The only thing that she could kind of keep down was water, and even that was stretching it at times.

Blair would have gone to a doctor, but how would she explain what happened.

‘Yes doctor I was walking home from the prom when some random guy with sharp teeth grabbed me a bit through my shoulder. No it wasn’t my imagination the guys had long, sharp teeth. Don’t worry I’m never doing that again.’

Like that would work.

After a while of starving, refusing to use the same tactics that the man used, she ran into a guy with brown hair and bright blue eyes that said he knew people that could help. After getting on his bike with her he took off towards what looked to be some sort of facility. All Blair knew is that it had to be important with the high, barbed wire topped fencing.

Once within the compound she was brought to the head scientist to explain her dilemma only to watch the man nod and feel something being injected into her body before blacking out.

She woke up in a dark, cold room on a hard cot, the scent of stone and metal heavy in the air. Glancing around her she found that she was placed into what looked to be a jail cell. It was only when the other girl started talking that she realized she wasn’t alone.

The girl was skinny and pale, almost like she had never seen the light of day. She sat with her back leaning against her cot, left knee pulled close with her arm resting on top of it while the other leg extended in front of her. She only looked to the cell across the hell from her, only looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Her long, brown hair dull, a contrast to her cold yet somehow bright green eyes. Her eyes seemed to stare into Blair’s very core.

Almost like a wolf watching prey.

The girl spoke up again, almost saying the exact situation Blair had found herself in. Something about her rubbed Blair the wrong way, maybe it was the nonchalant way the brunette had described a scenario without being there, maybe it was the fact she wouldn’t turn to look Blair head on, or maybe it was the fact that her and the boy looked so similar it was uncanny and mildly disturbing.

Blair went with the eye contact when she started asking questions. She almost wished she didn’t.

The girl turned her head and it took everything in Blair not to jump backwards with a yelp. Where the right side of her face was unscathed, the left looked like something from a horror film. Light red burn scars covered the entirety of the other side, some showing signs of not healing properly. Where that freaked Blair out, the real issue was the girl's left eye.

Or lack thereof if Blair was completely honest. All that was there was a gaping hole where the eye was supposed to be located.

“To see how much I could take I was burned. Thanks to that my left side is completely covered in third degree burns and my eye was basically boiled out of my skin. Personally I think they had a bit too much fun with that.”

Blair was speechless, She thought that she had it rough, but this girl had been living in what Blair could only think was hell for ten years.

“Anyways, enough of the formalities for now. It’s late and you’ll most likely be tested tomorrow at some point. It’s best if you get some rest before that.”

The girl stood up and laced down on her cot, staring up at the ceiling.

“Can I at least get your name? I’m Blair Horne.”

The girl was silent for a moment before replying. “Kara Storm. Now get some rest. We can talk later. Just don’t die tomorrow.”

Blair wanted to argue, but the drugs hadn’t left her system yet. Instead she was pulled down into slumber.

Kara could only look over at the blonde now known as Blair and pity her. She was about to go through hell all because she wanted help. She sighed and went back to looking at the crack in the corner of her cell. Revising her plans to include one more. The logistics would be hell, but Kara was determined to get Blair out.

Kara could tell Blair was a fighter, as long as Kade was allowed to patch them up she had no doubt the new girl would survive until the plan was initiated.

#oc #ocs #Kara Storm #Blair Horne #prompts from the fictober-event blog

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rosesnoteswings · 6 years

Text

Bravery vs. Determination

The sun was shining, birds chirping, a gentle breeze blowing through. Truly, it was a wonderful day outside. On days this nice, the young prince would be enjoying the weather with his friends and siblings. Amber loved this kind of weather. Copper can remember running across an open field, the young girl on his shoulders, arms spread as if in flight, and his sister running alongside them.

His sister…

His own train of thought brought him back to the present. His memories were so much more inviting. The happy days, before the war, before the barrier, before… this. Before he was standing on a side of an arena, his sister standing at the other. From this distance he couldn’t see her expression, but he could see Amber’s.

His little sister, the light of his life. He loved Amber more than life itself. Not an evil bone in her body. And yet, here she was, dressed in a long sleeved dress despite the temperature, eyes staring straight ahead, and lips pursed into a line. She sat on a raised throne of sorts, a guard standing at her side. Whether he was there to protect her from any stray magic, or to keep her from interfering, Copper didn’t know. He didn’t really want to either.

Across from her, a section of the stands was separated by thin walls. It was where the royal wizards sat, his closest friends. The area was always sectioned off for the wizards, a seperate entrance around the back of the stadium used to access the few rows. While they would normally spread out amongst the rows of seats when they visited the stadium, all his friends were sitting on the two rows closest to the edge.

Copper could see the faint glow of green around Mila’s hands as she seemed to try and calm herself down. She had opposed the strongest to the whole ordeal. Kody seemed to be tapping the railing surrounding the edge of the area that was raised about 10 feet off the ground. Rin was sitting upright, poised as ever. And Roy was sitting next to his brother, both staring at their feet. They were his family, and now they were going to watch him attack his twin in front of his sister.

Copper closed his eyes, breathing in until his lungs hurt, and then slowly letting out the trapped air. Opening his eyes, his gaze focused on the orange haired girl across from him. He raised his hand slightly, his sword materializing in his grip and circular shield on his left forearm. The stands erupted into cheers, aside from the small section where his friends sat. Instead, they all just looked at him, minus Roy, who’s gaze was still fixated on the ground. When he heard the stands shout their approval once more he knew Agate had summoned her spear. Taking that as his cue, he began to walk forward.

He stopped about a yard from the center of the field, Agate doing the same. Her spear head was surrounded by flames that krept down the shaft, stopping at her hand. The flames licked at her skin, but did not burn her. Her shoulders held no tension, she would have looked as if she were simply going for a walk, using her spear as a walking stick, if not for her smile. Her expression wasn’t sorrowful, neutral, or even angry, she donned a wide grin, her white teeth in full view. Copper could only find one word to describe her expression:

Insane.

She wanted this, she wanted an excuse to challenge me for the throne, Copper thought bitterly. Despite his internal frustration, he forced the smallest smile to his face, one full of sorrow.

“May the best win, sister.”

“I intend to”

His small smile dropped at her sharp reply, venom dripping from her voice.

So that’s it then…

Copper got into his fighting stance, knees bent slightly, shield raised, and his sword held out slightly. Agate didn’t move, but her smirk almost seemed to grow. Gritting his teeth, Copper pushed off the ground, lunging forward, closing the distance between himself and Agate, blade ready. With a loud clang, their two weapons met.

With a hard shove, Copper skidded back, dust clouding where his feet skidded. He threw his left hand out to balance himself, stopping in a slight crouch. His eyes flew up to Agate in time to see a ball of orange fire growing closer. He threw himself into a roll, avoiding the flames that crashed into the ground where he had been. She repeated the action, this time he was too slow to see the approaching flames with enough time to roll again, so he raised his shield. The magic fire exploded against the shield, protecting him for the most part. A few stray flames licked his left cheek, making him hiss in pain.

Lower his arm, he launched himself into a sprint, sword held out. Once again, there was a loud clang as his sword made contact with Agate’s spear. This time, she took a step back, throwing his balance off slightly. He instinctively raised his shield, holding it to protect his chest. Instead of attempting to run him through, the wizard had spun her spear so the tip was pointing to the ground. In an upward slash, Copper felt a sharp pain explode just above his left knee.

Gritting his teeth, the prince half heartedly swung his sword at his twin, making her back up farther. Kneeling over slightly, his eyes fell on his would. A shallow cut, blood pooling and beginning to spill down his pants leg. Looking back up at Agate, his gaze hardened into a glare.

Forcing himself upright, he jumped back a few feet, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his leg that felt as if she had cut him again. His eyes seemed to glow red as he raised his sword. He cut into the air three times, the slashes appearing as bright red cressents, flying towards his opponent.

Agate didn’t move out of the way, continuing to smirk as she raised her free hand, sending a ball of orange flame to intercept two of the slashes, the third continuing its course. The wizard stepped slightly to the side, swinging her spear around to intercept the slash, but she didn’t destroy it. Instead, the edge caught on the base of her spear, which she swung around, sending the red crescent back where it came from.

Copper’s eyes widened in surprise, throwing himself to the left. His right forearm was caught by the edge of the slash, pain erupting as he landed on the hard ground. He dropped his sword, the magic item disappearing as he clutched his injured arm, the cut bleeding. A cry of horror made him look up, and suddenly he was afraid.

Standing above him was Agate, the blunt end of her spear raised towards his forehead. She still held her maniacal grin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Amber. Her green eyes wide, mid scream. She was the last thing he saw before Agate brought the end of her spear down on Copper.

Agony was an understatement to what exploded from his forehead. The force had knocked him to the side, leaving him on the ground, pushing himself up slightly with shaky arms. He froze as the fiery tip of his twin’s spear head hovered over his back. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him. His leg and arm stung, and his head pounded so hard it made his vision fuzzy. How did this happen…?

“Goodbye brother,” a sickeningly sweet voice said above his shaking form. Time seemed to slow, Copper’s muddled thoughts beginning to clear. In a moment of clarity, he realized this was not when he would die. He would not leave Amber like this.

He gritted his teeth, his sword appearing in his hand as he rolled, his sword connecting with the flaming weapon held above him. In a blink of an eye, he had his feet under him in a crouch, launching himself up. His shield materialized on his left forearm, ramming it into his sister’s chest. She was sent falling back with a cry, her spear clattering to the ground a few feet away.

In seconds, the tables were turned. Agate was on the ground, unarmed, and above her stood Copper, his sword held to her chest. He could see it in her eyes, he thought he was going to run her through. Copper would be a liar if the he said the thought didn’t cross his mind, but it was gone as fast as it came. He wasn’t a murderer.

Instead, he turned and raised his sword above his head in victory.

At that point, the next few hours were a blur. He remembered watching his sister flee, tears streaming down her face as her now grey hair billowed behind her. He remembered Kody calling after her, jumping out of the stands and sprinting across the arena. He remembered Mila healing him in silence, lips pursed. And he remembered Amber bursting into tears when Kody returned, out of breath, with Agate nowhere in sight.

What have I done?

This is what I believe went down during Copper and Agate’s first fight during Glitchtale Origins: The Black Beast. Didn’t check over for mistakes, so hopefully there’s nothing to bad.

Glitchtale by: @camilaart

#glitchtale #camilaart #glitchtale origins #glitchtale wizards #Copper #Agate #Amber #undertale #copper get the **** beat outta him #I mean #in the video #He's covered in cuts #and then like #Agate is spotless #girl got lucky #poor amber #protect that child

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joyfullynervouscreator · 7 years

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Names for new friends

A sort-of follow up to Shirts... I blame @heartoferebor & @filisleftmustachebraid for encouraging me.

word count 950

Curly-Dwarf was sweet, reminding you of your younger cousin. His eager puppy face just melted your heart. Of course, he was a rascal, always pulling pranks or playing jokes, but what could you expect from a puppy? On second thought, he’d be named Puppy-Dwarf from now on.

Fussy-Dwarf was fussy, though mostly towards Ori, whose name you had only learned after accidentally hollering “Oy, Knitting-Dwarf!” at him one night in camp. Not one of your best moments, to be sure. Fíli – you remembered his name, though you never deigned to call him anything but Blondie – had laughed his head off, joined by most of the Company in short order.

Bilbo was the smallest one, and looked a bit like you’d always thought of leprechauns – minus a top hat – but you still freaked a bit(a lot) every time you looked at his feet. He avoided you, which you thought was both fair and wise after you’d one night – there had been an inn, and a lot of ale involved – asked him if this reality also believed in the ‘Big feet, big you-know-what’-trope. Scandalized had not been even close to describing the way he had stared at you in embarrassed horror, while Nori gleefully repeated your ‘innocent’ question to the rest of them. He was sneaky like that, Sneaky-Dwarf, taking his nickname and making it a personal mission to live up to your first impression of him. Secretly, he was your favourite among the troupe, though you were quite certain Bofur thought he held that spot.

Santa-Dwarf felt like a kindly but slightly distrait great uncle. You half expected him to have a bag of sweeties in his pocket for inquisitive nieces like yourself.

Dwalin – Scary-Dwarf – was far less scary than he appeared, and sometimes you were willing to go as far as to call him no more than a cuddly teddy bear with a sweet tooth. Of course, that would be the moment he’d choose to show off his ability to punch a Dwarf through a tree – surprisingly (or not) that had been Kíli – or perform some other task that showed off his bulging muscles. You liked watching, you’d found, admiring the compact strength of these bodies.

Fíli would never be any other name than Blondie – seriously, he kept checking out your arse, even if it was now concealed by a dress you though belonged at the local ren-faire – and though he had turned out to be quite cute (you were learning not to laugh at the moustache, at least. Apparently, he was very careful with his appearance) you’d still only ever call him Blondie. After all, why give up such a good tease for no good reason?

Bofur – you’d tried to get him to respond to the name lol-hat, but honestly it was a poor effort on your behalf and Bofur was so sweet he deserved to be called his real name. Besides, it annoyed Blondie no end – he spent many a night trying to get you to say Fíli, as if you were a baby learning to speak – which was never a bad thing.

Fat-Dwarf seemed a bit cruel, but ‘Epic ring-beard/hair, dude’-Dwarf was a little too complicated. Finally, you’d settled for Food-Dwarf, and gone to help him cook stuff. By which you meant volunteering to taste test and or peel potatoes. The skinning of rabbits and whatnot, no thanks, Puppy-Dwarf could skin his own kills as far as you were concerned. Preferably far away from you, too.

Axe-Dwarf was the silent, scary type, until you’d actually spent some time with him and realised that he was a total sweetheart. That lasted roughly until the first time you saw him in battle, shrieking and bellowing in berserker rage. After that, you silently thought he might be the scariest of the lot, but by then you’d somehow managed to become friends, even if you were certain – by the sniggers coming from the rest of them – that the signs Kíli and Fíli had taught you were incredibly lewd or rude or both. Bifur was probably the most enigmatic of your new friends, but when he smiled at you, he made you feel welcomed and accepted, which was worth a lot in a world where you knew no one but these 14 travellers and an absent science teacher – wizard – called Gandalf the Grey.

Majestic-Dwarf – you’d begun with General-Dwarf, but it kinda wasn’t powerful enough to describe Thorin – glowered and glared a lot. He also ranted, mostly about elves, complained – also mostly about elves, especially their sense of hospitality – and stared majestically into the distance in way that somehow crossed the point of being spacey/creepy and reached the land of ‘I am a very important person thinking about grave and important matters. Do not disturb on pain of pain/death’. Thorin was a very intense Dwarf – apparently, he was an actual King, which made sense when you thought about it.

Grumpy-Dwarf was related to Medic-Dwarf, though they looked little alike, and apparently bankrolled most of the expedition. You wondered if he’d notice if a squirrel made its home in his beard, but he was friendly enough. You’d been subjected to long – looooong – tales of his beloved wife and child, which was somewhat endearing while at the same time being completely boring. One time, you’d started to lip-synch his ‘My wife is a jewel among Dwarrowdams’- speech, and caused a four-pony pileup when Kíli fell off his saddle laughing. Nori had given you a high-five for that, something he’d taken to heart after you’d shouted ‘up top!’ at him one night and then had to explain the custom.

#the Company #reader insert #crack #GiME #Shirts & Science Teachers pt 2 #Cute #Fluffy

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dakurairakku · 6 years

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Six Months

T-Minus on AO3 T-Minus Art That is an Absolute Blessing Previous Chapter Next Chapter Rating: M Warnings: Violence Summary: Shiro gains a respite amongst the horrors he's experienced thus far. Notes: We're back on schedule y'all! It's also time for a nice break and some info dumping. I promise this'll all be important at one point or another. I just need to get off my lazy ass and get my next Voltron fic done.

This piece is part of the Shiro Big Bang, which can be found on AO3 and at @voltronbigbang

“Earth. It’s a beautiful place. Pink skies in the early morning that turn orange as the suns sets, clouds carelessly drifting in the sky… There is no place on Earth that looks the same. There are places where it’s nothing but green grasses for as far as the eye can see and mountains that have peaks that pierce the sky. Sometimes there are storms, with thunder that shakes the heavens and lightning as bright as day.”

Liara listened as Shiro described his home. She held his prosthetic arm, easing the pain that had slowly crept into his body from his missing arm. Every once in awhile, his hand would twitch, still not used to the sensation of the prosthetic and its sensitivity. A small smile crept upon Liara’s face. “Earth sounds like a beautiful place. I have only been there once myself but for a very short time.”

Shiro looked over at Liara, surprised. “You have?”

Liara nodded. “Yes. My people go to Earth to look for familiars. Earth is volatile compared to other planets, so the best familiars come from Earth.”

“Did you go to Earth to look for a familiar?”

“Yes.”

“And you managed to find one?”

“I did.”

“Then where…?” Shiro let his sentence drift off, hoping that he didn’t impede into something personal for Liara.

“Safe. Cyrus, my familiar, and I were not with one another at the time I was captured. I know that he is worried about me, but he knows better than to sit and wait for me. He will be helping those who are being attacked by the Galra. He will move them far away, where it is safe.” Liara pursed her lips. “I suppose that is not what you want to hear me talk about. Would you like to hear of my home?” Shiro nodded. “Well then, you are called a human, but my people are the Cailleach, a witch, as your people would say. We live on a planet called Foraoise Codlata. The entire planet is covered in trees. The trees have long branches and large dark leaves. The leaves and branches all intertwine and block out light. However, occasionally light does come through, in a special storm we call Tine Réalta. It looks like little fiery stars have fallen through the trees. It rarely happens, but it is magical. I remember playing in it as a small child with my brother.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“I do. I am one eight. Our families are… peculiar. It is not uncommon for spouses to have children outside of the marriage and bring those children into the family. I am a child born within the marriage, so all of my siblings are half related. Two others were born inside the marriage. Meanwhile, my mother had two others and my father three others.”

Shiro smiled. “It’s nice that you have a big family though. Did you get to see them often?” Liara’s pained look told him that he struck a painful nerve. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No. It is fine. In fact, that is part of the reason I was even captured.” Shiro raised a brow. Liara shook her head. “No, they did not give me over to the Galra.” Liara sighed, visibly drooping as she did. “You see, we have something of a hierarchy on our planet. Only the two strongest children of a family may stay on Foraoise Codlata, and that usually happens to be the two youngest. I was one set to stay on my homeworld, I even had a baby sister a year younger than I who was sent away because she was not deemed worthy. But then my youngest sister replaced me, eventually, my youngest brother also became powerful enough to stay. I was exiled from my home, but it was about that time I hear of a powerful magic user. Her description sounded like that of a Cailleach. My heart told me that it must be my sister that was sent away, so I went searching for her. My search led me to start helping those attacked by the Galra escape.”

“And then, when helping with the escape, you got caught.

Liara nodded. “When caught, I heard that Zarkon was working with a witch. I have met her once.”

“And…?”

“It was not my sister. But I have heard rumour that there is another witch held captive on this ship. Should I one day escape, I will do what I can to see if those rumours are true.”

Shiro furrowed his brows. “It seems that your family isn’t looking for you, so why are you looking for them?”

“For one, my sister would not know what she is. As for the rest of my family, I firmly believe we must come together to help overthrow the Galra Empire. The Cailleach have been hiding under the universe’s nose for far too long. It is time we come out from the shadows and fight for the freedom of the universe.”

Shiro pulled his arm away from Liara and clenched it. The pain had finally subsided. “If I ever escape, do you think it’d be possible for me to visit Foraoise Codlata?”

Liara chuckled. “I highly doubt it. Foraoise Codlata is a planet tucked far away. From a distance, it looks like a barren planet. I am not sure what scanners would pick up, but something tells me that the magic there keeps Foraoise Codlata hidden.”

Shiro smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. “Well then, I’ll just take that as a challenge. One day, I’ll pilot a ship and find Foraoise Codlata myself.”

Liara laughed. “I would like to see you try! If you do, tell those you find that Liara sent you. That will surely surprise them-they would not expect to hear that name again so soon!”

Shiro laughed as well. It was nice to laugh again. All he seemed to do these past few months was sit in a cell and steep in fear and anger and unrest. If he wasn’t in a cell, then he was in the gladiator ring. He learned that not all the opponents he faced were big and bad, some were other prisoners that happened to get unlucky. If he wasn’t doing either of those, then he was following Liara around as she helped heal other prisoners, most of which were others he merely knocked out in the ring. He was thankful that’d he got to apologize to them afterwards. But in this moment, he was most thankful that he got to laugh one last time.

#Voltron Big Bang #Shiro Big Bang #Voltron Fic

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