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ahungeringknife · 8 months

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367: May 16

Despite perfect dark vision the corridors leading to Kinox's chambers was softly lit by glowing fungi and swaying cordyceps. Barely enough to make a difference in the gloom but for Noornoon's two eyes it was all he needed. A little extra light to see what his missing third eye missed. The walls bloomed in gore and magical growth as he walked to the locked gate enblazed with Wizard magic. Rust red lichen like blood crawled up the walls around him, racing to caress his claws as they brushed against the locking rune.

"Eager huh?" Noornoon rumbled to himself, rubbing the lichen off his fingers as the lock shivered open.

The door slid open and he stepped in. The chambers were better lit in here. Crystal growths hung from the ceiling and crawled along the walls, producing a thin yellow light that lit the space in a harsh imitation of sunlight. The parlor was empty but he could hear Kinox humming softly in another room. He set aside his weapon and went to go find her. Where he walked the rust lichen crawled across the walls and floor like a living carpet, reaching out to him like a lover's caress. She was in a good mood today.

He found her several rooms deep in a chamber he'd previously been forbidden from entering. It was a fairly small room all things considered and at the center was something like a coffin, or a canoptic jar, huge and fluted and covered in red lichen. He could feel it crawling up the back of his leg, filling the space between his tibia and fibia. Kinox hovered just above the opening, hands grasping the edge of the canoptic jar, humming to herself. It helped her see as she had no eyes like her mother, she wasn't old enough, hadn't changed enough, hadn't been allowed to become a Deathsinger proper.

"What has you in such a good mood?" he asked. Kinox shrieked in surprise, falling back momentarily.

But only for a moment.

His arms caught her as she rushed to him. Embracing him. Her claws finding all the familiar spaces between his chitin she could dig into and feel his flesh under her hands. "More-moon," she said in a teasing hiss as he held her, "you have returned to me. And so early."

"The Prince decided he didn't have need of me. He'd rather sate his teeth on a Knight. Fool," Noornoon said.

She laughed. "Father knows better. He must be in a mood," she said, a hand curling around the ragged horns of his Acolyte morph. Bigger than most but nothing like the extravagant horns of his Kinox or the tricorn affixed to a Knight.

"Perhaps. And what has you as such, hmm? You could hardly wait while I was outside," and indeed the red lichen was still climbing up his legs, coiling around it like thick red veins. "Eager, hmm?" he teased her.

"Only because you satisfy my every desire," she crooned and leaned heavily on him. He held her easily, like she barely weighed anything. "But now," and she pulled away from him. He reluctantly released her and she floated back over to the interest in the room. "A champion has emerged," she cooed.

"Hmm?" he stepped forward, snapping the lichen off his legs. It fell away as flecks of rust and grit as he approached the canoptic jar. Kinox hummed as she peered inside. He came up beside her and looked in.

It was a larva. Fat and strong, weaving itself a cocoon. He could see the place where a worm had burrowed into its flesh, triggering the first transformation. He knew the worm. It had once belonged to Saigik, Kinox's brother. He'd fallen in battle some time ago and his worm had been... saved. It still sometimes sat ill with him. The dead did not deserve a second chance at life. They had failed the Sword Logic. But Kinox had loved her brother so much. There had been many larva produced to see which would be strong enough to allow Saigik's former worm habitation but this was the first. A first born at last. Despite his trepidation Noornoon felt great pride in creating something that could withstand death. A champion for the Hive indeed.

"Finally," he said.

"There have been many struggles but at last," she hissed in unabashed delight. "My sisters said I was a fool. I can't wait to rub it in their faces," she laughed her beautiful shrieking laugh. "Now I will have a champion and they will still be childless hags," she was beyond delight. Her schemes at come to a fortune. In that moment Noornoon thought she looked like the Witch Queen herself Savathun, pure cunning and scheming. Radiant in success of a plan seen to completion. It stirred something slumbering within him.

"What is his name?" Noornoon asked, partially to distract himself. Hopefully not something that would give away her plot.

"Ulg'Urin," she cooed and reached into the canoptic jar to gently stroke the larva that had stopped for a moment to rest. It was halfway wrapped in its own threads. It looked up at the two of them with large green eyes, squirming slightly.

"A strong name," Noornoon said agreeably. Not that it mattered to him. He was simply a piece in Kinox's grand plans and he was happy to play his part. There were great rewards for him to do so after all. Least of which was Ulg'Urin because despite it all he would be born untested. He'd have to take whatever he could to live up to his mother's lofty expectations of him.

"Yes. I spoke about it with mother," though Omnigul did not know that the worm of her late son was now within her daughter's brood. "She suggested it."

"He will not be Saigik," Noornoon said, reminding her.

She hissed at him. "I know who he will be," she snarled. "He will be ours," and she released the top of the jar, allowing Ulg'Urin to continue coccooning himself alone. She floated over to him and laid a hand on his chitin. "And yes, I was eager for your return," she said, other hand briefly sliding up his neck like she was about to slit his throat. It made him shutter, a pleasurable tingling sensation through his body.

"I am quite aware, my love," he said as more red lichen was once more crawling up his form. "Perhaps I can help you with your growing condition," he said, looping an arm around her, drawing her close. "Before it stains my chitin."

"Ha! All it would do is mark you as mine eternal," she said, cupping his face in one hand, pressing their bodies together.

"I would have it no other way. But appearances must be maintained," he reminded her gently.

"Ugh!" and she threw him away, floating out of the room. "You sound like my father."

"Well I'd hope I sound like someone's father," Noornoon called after her in amusement and followed after her.

#365 #writeblr #writblr #fanfiction #destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #Hive #Crota #Kinox #Noornoon

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merklins · 1 year

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Hi merky! Just know I'm going to bed now but I have ideas for the drawing prompts!!! Im considering drawing both, but ive actually never watched ToH.. im taking your ask however as the final sign that i should so i shall share my thoughts with you >:] I'm also gonna try and snap some minecraft pictures tomorrow, but I didn't cuz my brain was sooo fucking tired and I forgored [and also have to figure out how to take screenshots on my computer ;^^]

I built a huge house though!!! It's three stories but kinda narrow? It's got a kitchen, an attic (which will be my room) and a really tiny bathroom that's just for afk ^^; im also planning to make a living room! I've also got a really nice exterior going which I adore!!! #o(>♡<)o# so many plants and shrubs... there's also a really big and nice basement, but I didn't build that! I just mostly worked on the house, which started as a temporary dirt hut and kinda evolved into something more elaborate over time!

Anyway, I hope your day was well! I care for you and im here if you need anything!! ^◇^-Ollie

WAIT YOU HADN'T ALREADY?? I sent you Raine as the alternative because I was trying to pick out something from another fandom you were in and VAGUELY remembered seeing an Owl House reblog from you. OH WELL! It's a neat show and I'm sure you've heard more than enough about it already so I'll spare you from any more haha. I got a couple prompts of my own sitting in the inbox right now, so if any of those were yours, then good news! THE IDEA IS IN MOTION! ( After spending. an embarrassing amount of time deciding which card and what flowers I was using)

Also your Minecraft house sounds lovely and I can't wait to see pictures of it!! I can't promise it'll work on every kind of computer ever, but usually pressing fn and f2 at the same time will take a screenshot for you. You'll have to go fishing around in the game files to find your screenshot folder, but it gets the job done! If you have a printscreen button that'll send a screenshot right to your clipboard, but if you don't play in fullscreen it'll capture your taskbar too so be careful of that.

NOW INFO DUMP UNDER THE READ MORE FOR MY NEATO MINECRAFT WORLD <3

OK so I don't actually have much built on this one yet because I've been busy surviving BUT I have big ideas!! IMPORTANT CONTEXT BEFORE I GO OFF HERE my world has a mod on it that realigns all the Minecraft code so being underwater is GOOD that's how I'm supposed to play! It's fun and safe and I can do all the stuff I need to down there! BUT ON THE OTHER HAND being in air does the little bubble popping and eventually kills me. Context over!

First big question right off the bat. WHAT HORSES... Horses don't do water Minecraft! WELL WELL WELL One day I had Minecraft open in the background during a thunderstorm and a skeleton trap spawned right over my cave. I triggered the trap by accident while collecting kelp aaand after defeating all of the riders I now have a bunch of skeleton ponies (: Skeleton horses are cool because in Minecraft Skeletons CAN'T drown. So these guys cruise around the caverns like it's nothing! I can ride them too, which. isn't any more effective than swimming because I swim VERY WELL with this mod. But it's the thought that counts! Companionship is hard to come by down there so I LOVE these freaky little guys. They scream horrid sounds from the abyss while I work and I just <3 those are them!! I haven't given most of them names, but one is called Fibia (Fibula + Tibia. I was tired and forgot those weren't one word)

I've been working on re-shaping the caverns before I start building, because while the caves and cliffs update is EPIC there are just sooo many nooks and crannies to get lost in. THANKFULLY the caverns have so many openings to the surface that I can usually swim back around to my base of operations (first cave in the cavern that I dumped all my junk in while I build). I'm going to grab some screenshots once I'm done with all that terraforming and sketch out some ideas, but right now I'm thinking that I should hijack some kind of sunken research facility. I'm talking fallen vessels, abandoned equipment, THE FULL SHEBANG! It's going to look so cool and be the perfect use for all of this copper I keep digging up.

So if you happen to find any cool submerged architecture and technology in your travels I would LOVE to be tagged for that kind of stuff! And also. I left you hanging on the bird thing. I WILL GET YOU THAT BIRD PHOTO!! I don't have any of them yet because I haven't been taking my camera out with me, but the next chance I get I'll see if I can snap those guys!

#m asks #m craft #< my tag for my minecraft world #Hi hi! It's nice seeing you in the inbox (:#Same goes here! Whatever Whenever? I'm your! . ! Person for the job!#I don't usually do custom tags for askers here. but if that's something useful for you then just let me know and I'll come up with some!

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doubtingdebispoems · 9 months

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How often do you walk or run? Unfortunately not enough. I really loved to jog when I was younger. I grew up when it was all the rage. Walked as I got older until I broke my left Tibia and Fibia and that put an end to it. Now I do very little.

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#dailyprompt #dailyprompt-2060

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unlovelyfrankenstein · 5 years

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I have absolutely no idea who wants this ... but you know who you are.

https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/6499104-its-a-mad-mad-mad-monster-party

#Mad Monster Party #Little Fibia and the Tibias #rankin bass #halloween #classic monsters

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dweemeister · 4 years

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Mad Monster Party? (1967)

You may not be aware of who Rankin/Bass are, but if you have seen a Christmas television special in the last half-century, chances are you have seen one of their works. In an increasingly fragmented popular culture, those Christmas specials remain touchstones. Among those specials from animation director-producers Arthur Rankin Jr. and Jules Bass are Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964), Frosty the Snowman (1969), Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town (1970), The Year Without a Santa Claus (1974). Primarily known for their stop-motion animation television specials, Rankin/Bass also made theatrical films at the height of their popularity. Their third feature film, despite not being released in mind for Halloween, extended the studio’s stop-motion wizardry for the first time to all things spine-tingling and spooky.

Distributed by Embassy Pictures, Mad Monster Party? is a bizarre comedy that will delight the youngest set (frankly, I have never encountered a Rankin/Bass production that wasn’t bizarre), perhaps introducing some of them to the most famous monsters in film and literature. For Rankin/Bass’ older fans (or those not acquainted with their work), this film is one of their most ambitious projects; but it is underseen, rarely televised or programmed by independent movie theaters.

Residing in a castle on the Isle of Evil is Baron Boris von Frankenstein (voiced by Boris Karloff in his final Frankenstein-related work), who also cohabits the castle with his Monster (Alan Swift, who voices all other non-female characters in the film), the Monster’s more intelligent mate (Phyllis Diller), assistant Francesca (Gale Garnett; whose character might be the most buxom Rankin/Bass character ever), and the head zombie butler Yetch (who looks and, thanks to Swift, sounds like Peter Lorre). Baron Frankenstein has just successfully concocted a formula that can destroy any matter and, as the head of the Worldwide Organization of Monsters, wishes to announce his discovery and his retirement from the organization. A who’s who of monsters receive summons: Count Dracula, the Mummy, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, the Werewolf, the Invisible Man, Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde, and “The Creature” (the Creature from the Black Lagoon). Francesca notices there is one name on the list who is not a member of the organization – a pharmacist named Felix Flanken (Swift impersonating James Stewart). There has been no mistake, assures the Baron, because Felix is his intended successor. Francesca, who wanted the Baron’s position, is upset and plots to disrupt the succession. But when Felix arrives late to the mad monster party, Francesca is surprised to find that the heir apparent is inept, asthmatic, astigmatic.

Due to the filmmakers not wishing to pay royalties, some of the monsters that appear are called alternate names, even though each one is recognizable. Occasionally, Frankenstein’s monster is referred to as “Fang” (a reference to Phyllis Diller’s comedy acts, as she referred to her husband by this name during those acts); the Bride of Frankenstein becomes “The Monster’s Mate”; the Creature from the Black Lagoon is simply the “Creature”; a well-known monster that will go unnamed here due to spoilers is “It”; et cetera.

The screenplay by Len Korobkin and Harvey Kurtzman (a writer for and the founding editor of Mad magazine) contains plenty of comedic padding. Thus, Mad Monster Party? feels like an hourlong Rankin/Bass special that cannot justify its additional half-hour. Not that I minded too much in this case, despite the redundant character introductions and overlong slapstick scenes. Felix’s cluelessness onboard the ship ferrying the Baron’s guests to the Isle of Evil is situational hilarity. The variety of characters attending Baron Frankenstein’s gathering provides plenty of opportunities for them to interact with each other as a collection of dysfunctional colleagues. Their factionalism and widespread distrust between each other result in scheming and dry one-liners (including double entendres!) that complement the signature surreal humor of Rankin/Bass productions.

In a decade where monsters were having a resurgence in American popular culture (capped off by Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!), the relationships between the monsters in Mad Monster Party? feel influenced by earlier television series like The Addams Family (1964-1966) and The Munsters (1964-1966). Other influences and references will pass over the heads of most under a certain age; behaviors such as slapping a hysterical woman to make her come to her senses is deeply rooted in outdated ‘60s behavioral norms. Mad Monster Party? is funnier if one understands that there are stand-ins for certain actors: Baron Frankenstein resembles and is voiced by Karloff, Felix sounds like and acts like a Jimmy Stewart character from every romantic comedy he starred in, Yetch is obviously Peter Lorre, and the Monster’s Mate looks like and acts like Phyllis Diller. The band that plays at Baron Frankenstein’s dinner party seems to be a parody of the Rolling Stones. Though these decisions may need explaining to younger viewers and draw out the film’s runtime, the film’s comedy is just as weird as anything Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer offers. This is especially true in the final third of the film, defined by an out-of-left-field romance and an uninvited guest that wreaks havoc. These scenes give Rudolph’s “elf practice”, the reindeer’s interactions with each other, the Woodsman, and the Island of Misfit Toys a run for their money.

For almost all of Rankin/Bass’ television and film productions, the animation was entirely outsourced overseas. Such was the case for Mad Monster Party?. Using Rankin/Bass’ “Animagic” process, the film’s animation was spearheaded in Tokyo by Tadahito Mochinaga (Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, 1965’s The Daydreamer) of MOM Productions. In tandem with the character designs sketched by Jack Davis (an original artist for Mad magazine), the Japanese animators under Mochinaga meticulously moved the six-to-eight-inch puppets frame-by-frame – building open the advances pioneered by George Pal’s Puppetoons series of short films (1934-1947). The dolls’ realistic motions (or at least as realistic as such motion can be) were accomplished by using live actors standing nearby as reference. Mouth movements during dialogue was expressed using fine Japanese paper pasted for one frame and removed for the next. Each doll cost about $5,000 (just over $40,000 in 2020’s USD) to make and the animation itself was time-consuming.The production design for Mad Monster Party? represents some of the art direction in any stop-motion Rankin/Bass piece – especially the moody, cobweb-filled interior of the Baron’s castle.

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Interspersed across Mad Monster Party? are several songs composed by Maury Laws (1964’s Return to Oz, The Year Without a Santa Claus) and lyrics by Jules Bass. Like almost all songs from Rankin/Bass pieces, the songs are not well-integrated into the story, but it is nevertheless difficult to imagine skipping any of them. The songs – though a vast majority are novelty songs – provide a bolt of energy where dialogue may have been trite. “Do the Mummy” by Little Tibia and the Fibias (reportedly real-life band Dyke and the Blazers) has absolutely zero lyrical interest along with its funk rock keyboard melody – but hey, we get the puppets to dance! “One Step Ahead” is just as repetitive, but arrives with the added benefit of Karloff speak-singing his parts (and who doesn’t want more Boris Karloff?). Phyllis Diller gets a solo number as the Monster’s Mate in “You’re Different” – a number to chastise Frankenstein’s Monster for his “roving eye[s]”.

But there are two songs by Laws and Bass in a different league than the rest. The first is the title song, “Mad Monster Party”, sung by jazz singer Ethel Ennis. On my first viewing of Mad Monster Party?, I never expected an opening tune as badass as this – replete with blaring brass, stabs of percussion, and string flourishes. It sounds like it was composed by John Barry for a James Bond movie; it makes a lyric like, “Did you sell your soul to Mephistopheles?” not feel awkward. “Mad Monster Party” is a snarling, unorthodox accompaniment to the monsters’ initial introductions over the opening credits – and the most pleasant surprise of the film. Almost as brilliant is a song for Francesca, with Gale Garnett singing the ballad “Never Was a Love Like Mine”. If only the context for that song (which I will not reveal to those who haven’t seen the film) was not so peculiar.

Upon viewing the final cut of Mad Monster Party?, executive producer and Embassy Pictures founder Joseph E. Levine expressed his disappointment in the picture and decided to limit the film’s theatrical release. The half-aborted theatrical release destined Mad Monster Party? to Rankin/Bass obscurity, even though it would be carried by select American television stations as a holiday special. The studio would remain focused on Christmas material, but would infrequently dabble in non-Yuletide projects. In 1972, Rankin/Bass directed a cel-animated television movie entitled Mad Mad Mad Monsters. The film is a “prequel of sorts” and includes many of the characters from Mad Monster Party?. To this day, Mad Monster Party? exists in the shadow of the better-known Christmas television specials. It also does not help that, since Rankin/Bass’ ultimate dissolution in 2001, the studio’s theatrical feature films have been separated from the rest of the Rankin/Bass library (pre-1974 specials are owned by Universal; specials from 1974 and after are owned by Warner Bros.). At the time of this review’s publication, Lionsgate holds the rights to Mad Monster Party?.

For a time, Rankin/Bass’ stop-motion animation films and television specials were popular in North America – their projects standing out from an animation industry beholden to cel animation perfected by Disney. Mad Monster Party? is Rankin/Bass craftsmanship (and lunacy) at a feature length, and necessary viewing for students of stop-motion animation. The film plays on the horror archetypes that audiences are now accustomed to, amid some of the most beautifully-designed sets in the studio’s history. It is an ideal Halloween viewing experience, but unfortunately it does not seem it has ever reached the audience that it deserves.

My rating: 6.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#Mad Monster Party #Mad Monster Party?#Jules Bass #Arthur Rankin Jr.#Rankin Bass #Tadahito Mochinaga #Boris Karloff #Alan Swift #Phyllis Diller #Ethel Ennis #Gale Garnett #Len Korobkin #Jack Davis #Harvey Kurtzman #Maury Laws #stop motion #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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visceryl · 4 years

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Age of Corruption - D&D

Here’s a little short story based on a Dungeons and Dragons campaign our group runs. I absolutely adore this group with all of my being. Liam belongs to @angrynar. Elijah belongs to @kas-voton. Safin belongs to @noceurro. Benny belongs to @zuulosdovah. Fennorin belongs to me. Sar belongs to someone off of tumblr!

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“Excuse me?”

Fennorin’s voice rang out in cold shock as white wisps of hair coated red from battle hung down in his face. His chest heaved, the fists locked around his longsword trembling with effort.

He watched the lanky boy of sickly pale skin hover over a drow. Liam sported a grin sharp and wicked enough to make a heart jump twice in shock, then recoil of fear. A spell buzzed upon his fingertips, the will of the weave tainted black with necrotic misuse. It raised the drow’s veins to the surface of his skin, crowding them with boiling agony.

The captive yelled out in his mother tongue. A rough, deep language that turned to the sad wails of a creature mourning its emintent fate. The open cavern of the Underdark did little to dampen the echoes of his begs.

“He deserves to die!” Liam barked back. “They all deserve to die!”

Even Elijah shifted nervously behind the servitor. A fresh ooze of blood filled the spaces between his fingers as they pressed between the loops of his armor where a blade had embedded in flesh.

“No, Liam!”

The servitor of Corellon staggered forward a step, his foot dragging over bones that littered the floor. Skulls, ribs, fibias, tibias. From wicked beasts that hunted the unofficial layer escaped from hell to surface dwelling races dragged to the belly of its depths. He stumbled, letting his sword crumble from his hands.

Steel on stone pierced the tension with a resounding clatter.

“This isn’t you! This isn’t what Kainan would have wanted!”

Liam’s lips curled upon the holy worshipper’s approach. He hated him. He hated the elf that made his insides boil simply by being around him. He hated the way Fennorin always put himself in the way of his nature, parading himself around like a saint when he’d done no better a time or two.

He wasn’t holy. He put Kainan in the ground and would do the same for anyone here, but not Liam. Death didn’t have to be the final line. He knew how to bring them back even if it wasn’t the same. His fingers curled tighter into the drow’s hair, wrenching his head back to look upwards into his own hellish gaze.

“You’re wrong. I’ve always been this.”

“I know that’s not true. I don’t care what’s in your blood, Liam. You will always be my family, and I will not let you do this alone. We will get you through this together, whatever those fanatics say, they’re wrong!”

Fennorin was close now. Close enough to reach out for the mage.

For a moment, Liam’s grip on the drow sagged, letting his head turn back to the floor. He leveled his gaze on Fennorin, jaw clenched so tight it jumped with strain. No one said anything. No one even moved.

The battle had nearly wiped everyone out. Elijah, hanging at sanity’s edge as he waited for any chance to step in if needed. Safin on the ground with Benny’s head in her lap as she eases the bleeding from a nasty wound. Sar pulling on his ears and cursing Allustan for dragging him into a mission he was too faint of heart for. They were all so tired.

Liam skimmed his gaze over them with wavering resolve. He’s wrong. He lies. He just wants to get you to turn yourself over so he can finish you. The voice lingered maliciously in the back of his head. Hostile and full of blinding rage. His fingers twitched in the drow’s hair, the spell held at ready surging wildly once more.

“Please,” Fennorin begged, his voice softer. The pale skinned elf reached a bloody hand out for his friend to take.

Not this time.

Jet black fogged over Liam’s eyes and the drow dropped discarded to the floor. His own hand leapt up, latching to the servitor’s and the spell released. It shattered through the elf’s defenses.

A scream lit up the silent cavern as visions of hell warped and tore at Fennorin’s mind. Liam held fast. His dark energy challenged the divine glow rooted at his friend’s core, watching veins of black crawl up Fennorin’s arm, corrupting.

The elf’s footing quickly caved and a skull splintered beneath him as his knees crashed to the ground. Blood began to soak through his trousers around the area, but the pain went unrecognized up against Liam’s influence.

Elijah fumbled for his blade in a panic. Fingers slipped slick over the pommel before pausing in hesitation. Could he truly raise his sword up against his friend? No. For all the fear coiling tight in his stomach, he knew the blade would never pierce Liam’s skin. But he held it aloft, leveling the mage threateningly.

“Let him go, Liam! You don’t want to do this!”

Black eyes flicked mindlessly to the large boy. “Except I do.”

He released Fennorin with a shove far beyond his own strength. Like a god swiping down on an ant, the elf was sent crashing back into Elijah, narrowly avoiding the sharp end of the raised blade.

It was immediately dropped for strong arms to coil around Fennorin. Elijah staggered back, brandishing the weight as the elf struggled to find his footing. He could feel the heavy breaths rattling in Fennorin’s chest, the shivers of mental exhaustion trembling in every muscle.

Liam didn’t wait to level another spell at them. His fingertips curved into wicked claws, his teeth elongated and carnivorously sharp. Rivulets of blood clung to his lower lip and whitened teeth from shredding through the inside of his own cheeks. The spell cracked like a whip, a jet of ebon darkness striking the both.

Kill them. You don’t need them.

He watched as Elijah’s grasp on Fennorin loosened. A gasp parted the brunette’s lips, his body arching in a twist of anguish. Both were back on their knees in an instant. Fennorin’s weight rocked onto his forearms as they brandished upon the cold ground. An awful choking strangled in his lungs, strings of blood pooling his mouth and dribbling down his chin.

“That’s enough,” Safin finally declared. She eased Benny from her lap, her palm facing outwards to Liam as a small wooden splinter began to enlarge at the center.

“Don’t.”

Fennorin’s voice scraped out raw, his shoulders shaking. He rose from his curled position like a ghoul from the ground, pallid features turning up to Liam. “It’s not him, Safin. Please don’t hurt him.”

Safin’s gaze flicked between the two wearily. There was the slightest hint of hesitation as if a consideration of ending it had been taken. But she trusted their healer. Fennorin wasn’t perfect. He was stubborn and sometimes blinded by his own faith, but he always got them through everything.

She grimaced and lowered her hand.

Liam’s lips parted in a toothy grin that spanned ear to ear and while her’s lowered, his raised. Another flare of magic readied to smite down the servitor. He stepped past Elijah who lay unseeing, invisible nightmares plaguing his waking mind.

His footsteps stopped in front of Fennorin, an air of disgust wrinkling his nose. The mage knelt down to level them both, the hand flaring with mana coming to rest gentle upon the elf’s cheek. “You should have let her,” he whispered. “This is me now, Fen. Accept it.”

The hand scalded at Fennorin’s cheek. He forced his gaze to remain on Liam’s, his own hand fumbling within his robes to latch onto something solid hung at his neck.

“I can’t accept that.”

Liam’s features contorted into an angry snarl. His hand burned hotter on the elf’s cheek, near branding him with necrotic energy. “Why not!?”

Tears surfaced in Fennorin’s eyes like he’d already accepted he could very well die here trying to save Liam’s soul. A sob strangled in his chest. He tore the silver chain from around his neck and feebly lofted his holy symbol up.

It was met with the psychotic laughter of a devil.

“That won’t work on me, Fennorin. I’m still very much alive.”

“That’s not what it’s for,” Fennorin presses. The salt of tears mixes with the taste of metal heavy on his tongue. His cheek leaned towards Liam’s touch and he managed to grab hold of his other hand, forcing the holy symbol of Corellon into his grasp. “Whatever is in your head, it’s not your god, Liam. Real gods don’t ask their followers to change who they are for them. You have not been abandoned.”

Liam curled his fingers around the symbol carved of pure silver, threatening to bend it in his iron grip. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

Something twisted in Liam’s chest as he stared down his friend. How did he answer with such certainty even facing death itself? How did he just sit there and take it? He was the Spawn of Bhaal. A visage of true evil to spread death and destruction in the wake of his angered and forgotten god while Fennorin was a visage of true good. A healer to uphold the light even in crippling darkness. They couldn’t have been further opposites. Why did he care?

“I’m not lying, Liam. The dark gods are cruel. They’re devils disguised as holy beings, and all we can do is endure them, but I promise you, the real gods would never abandon you. You’re no elf. You’re no healer or student of the arts. But Corellon loves you. He loves you because I love you and every night I pray to him to save you! I pray for him to protect you from the devil infested blood running through your veins because blood is not a defining quality! It is a building block of life that gives you the sentience to be your own person. And the person you are is one of my best friends. For that… you will never be abandoned. Corellon will protect you even long after I’m dead.”

“Shut up!”

Liam’s voice raised in an angry roar, his hand lifting from Fennorin’s cheek only to connect again in a vicious slap that tore claws across his cheek.

The elf yelped out, his head snapping to the side as skin split beneath the force. It almost burned as much as the magic had. “I will always love you,” he repeated, the words forced through tears.

Another slap.

Then a fist. It sailed into Fennorin’s gut.

Liam couldn’t think. The anger that boiled inside him shifted gears to someone else. That voice. The lingering catalyst to his demise. A noise tore from his chest, sounding of a wounded animal in the night.

His body shuddered before giving out. He collapsed against Fennorin as the black faded, returning the whites of his eyes and the subtle stormy blue of irises. The holy symbol remained clutched in his grasp as sobs overtook him. He pressed himself closer to the warm glow of the servitor who’s fresh wounds left him complacent against the boy.

“I’m sorry,” he finally gasped. “I’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”

Fennorin swallowed the rock lodged in his throat, releasing a breath that shook his entire being. Arms worked around Liam with an exhausted squeeze, swathing him in an embrace. He pushed his face down to the mage’s shoulder.

The magic holding Elijah released as Liam lost himself in clinging to his friend.

“I forgive you.” The words that tumbled from the elf wrenched another sob free from Liam and fingers twisted into robes. Desperate. “We’re going to fix this. I’m not going to abandon you. Ever.”

The two held each other fiercely, Fennorin soothingly stroking Liam’s hair until finally the sobs faded and breaths evened out. Sleep took the mage like a silent lover in the night, coaxed by the warmth of his friend.

#D&D #dungeons and dragons #dnd #writing #short story #liam ravenloft #elijah smenk #fennorin #safin #sar #benny morow #age of worms

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garbagewhump · 4 years

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Live Feed - Break

[prev] [here] [next]

Tw: Humiliation, dehumanization, manipulation, discussion of self injury to escape bondage, broken bones.

It wasn’t nearly as long as before until he had a visitor again, but it was long enough that his throat was beginning to ache with each swallow again.

This time around, his captor had another bottle of water and a bowl of... oatmeal? At this angle Dale couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, it had a disturbingly lumpy texture while still sloshing about in the bowl. His empty, cramping stomach didn’t care about what it was, just so long as it was food.

“So, you’re not allergic to nothing right? Gluten sensitive, keto, paleo?”

Dale blinked as he struggled to process the question.

Taking his silence as answer in and of itself, apparently, his jailer smiled at him and sat down like they were having a picnic, languidly sprawling. “So,” he continued, “I bet you’re hungry by now. Brought you a little something something.”

Notably, he didn’t move to release his wrists. Of course not. At this rate Dale was certain when he got free that he would waddle around with his arms out behind him like some stupid chicken for the rest of his life. When he got free. When he escaped. How would he manage it? There was a trick, he knew, to dislocate the thumb to escape handcuffs, but these were thicker, more like proper shackles than handcuffs. Would it work? And even if it did, he had no idea where he was. Middle of nowhere, or the basement of a suburban home on a cul-de-sac.

Fingers snapped in his face. He jerked back to the present situation with a flinch.

“Earth to boomer,” his captor sang. “Now where was that head of yours?”

“Why are you doing this?”

The man didn’t respond at first, openly studying Dale instead with pursed lips. He was baby faced in the way of a college freshman who just realized beer has calories, with faint stubble along his jaw that only exaggerated the soft illusion, and it made him seem all the younger for it. Maybe he was actually not yet twenty.

“Gonna have to have you be more specific, old man,” he said finally. “Cuz, you know, usually when people ask that sorta question it’s when I’ve got the knife to their throat or, you know, something like that. Not when I’m trying to make your stay here a little more palatable.”

His expression darkened as he began crawling closer to Dale on all fours.

“I mean, we could always go back to no water. Lock you up in the dark. I’m a lot of things, but I’m still human, boomer. You can’t just act the victim every time something doesn’t go your way. You can’t tear down an entire people just to feel good about yourself and then get angry when they don’t conform to your ignorant stereotype.”

Dale’s heartbeat pounded in his throat. The man was inches away from him, face in his face. Up this close he could see the individual flecks of gold and green and brown in his irises. Feel his hot breath on his skin. His whole body prickled with the overwhelming need to get away, but he didn’t dare move. As it was, his wrists were still sore and swollen and it’d be too easy to fall on them as it was.

Then the man smiled wide.

It was disgusting. He looked like any young college student with a bright and promising future, grinning like he’d just gotten his acceptance letter to his top choice.

“You’re gonna get learned, boomer,” he whispered. “And I’m gonna fucking teach you.”

His throat felt painfully dry. Despite his best efforts to maintain a steady breathing pattern, his lungs hitched and every breath shuddered.

“Am I clear?”

He so desperately wanted to lick his lips before speaking, just out of habit, but didn’t dare to. “Crystal,” he rasped.

“Good!” The man finally backed off. “Now, let’s start with the basics in my book of manners. When someone offers you a delicious home cooked meal, what do you do?”

That did not look delicious. Maybe home cooked though. “Thank you.”

“‘Thank you’...?” He trailed off meaningfully.

His entire being protested. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists as tightly as he could, relishing in the distracting pain, he stayed silent.

The man’s smile slipped away. “I said, what are you gonna call me, boomer?”

No. Absolutely not. Sir was a term of respect and he had none for this sadistic freak.

In a flash, he was on him. Their combined weight crushed his bound wrists again— fire burning up his arms and shoulder. He’d broken enough bones, and his arms often enough, as a child, to know the sensation.

The pain caught in his throat, a strangled whine.

Uncaring of that and the way Dale’s legs strained at this angle, the man straddled him.

“What do you call me, boomer?” he demanded. “What do you fucking call me?”

His knees felt like they were about to rip apart. He was too old to be going from kneeling to mostly flat on his back. A whine crawled up his throat, pushing behind his tongue and teeth. “Sir.”

One syllable, and it still felt like an utter betrayal.

But then the man straddling him jerked back in surprise. “Whoa now, don’t go all pillow princess on me,” he protested. “My name is just fine.”

No. God, that wasn’t fair. He’d said it and it was wrong to boot. “I don’t know your name,” he snapped.

“Jesus, and whose fucking fault is that? Don’t get mad at me because you can’t figure out how to ask someone their damn name. Shit, your manners are fucking awful.”

He wouldn’t be in this situation at all if it wasn’t for this creep. Dale didn’t owe him manners. He didn’t have to be polite to people like him.

“Ask me my name, boomer. You can’t just decide some people are worthy of respect and others aren’t. Everyone deserves some. It’s how society works.” The man snorted and sneered at him. “Though, with how you’ve taken society out back and fucked her senseless, I’m not surprised you can’t be bothered.”

Don’t rise to the bait, he reminded himself. He’s trying to get a rise out of you.

Too late, he realized the other man already had. “What is your name?” Dale growled, fury bubbling under a saccharine veneer.

“Ugh. Weak AF. But fine, baby steps. I know it’s hard for people like you to learn better. It’s how you were raised, blah blah blah.”

Dale breathed through the growing strain of tendons pulled too far for too long, of broken bones untreated and metal cutting into swelling flesh.

“Oh. Right! Jaden, my name is Jaden.”

Dale spat, “Thank you, Jaden.”

Jaden smiled at him, all wide and innocent, and half dragged, half pulled him to a sitting position again. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

He refused to speak.

“Alrighty, time for your gourmet dinner!”

His stomach weakly roused at the thought of putting something inside, even after all this, and despite himself and the unappetizing appearance, he began to salivate.

There was a spoon, but Jaden made no move to release him from his bindings, and it was only when the younger man made airplane noises that he understood.

The whole indignity and shame of his potion burned him from the inside out. Was he really that hungry?

“Here comes the pwane!”

No. No, absolutely not. He’d sooner die.

Huffing impatiently, Jaden pressed the spoon to his closed lips. It was cold and slimy and left a sticky residue on his mouth as the younger man smeared it on his face.

“Yeah, okay,” Jaden said calmly. “Fuck you.” He chucked the spoon across the room and set the bowl down out of reach.

Dale waited for what pain this temper tantrum would bring, then stiffened as Jaden positioned himself behind him. Trying to turn to keep him within his line of sight had the other man laying heavy hands on his shoulders.

“I’ll compromise,” he said. “Because you won’t meet in the middle, I will be the bigger person.”

Just what did a man like Jaden think a compromise was?

A boot to the back. That was compromise.

Dale blinked away stars and spat out the blood from bitting his tongue. Arms behind his back, belly down on cold concrete. Like a farm animal tied up for slaughter.

“Crawl,” Jaden ordered.

He could. It would be horribly undignified but— considerably less so than being spoon fed by a lunatic. So he did. To the backdrop of Jaden’s puerile mockery — “Why are you running? Why are you running?” — he shimmied himself across the floor like he was crawling under barbed wire.

And like a dog he put his face in the bowl and licked out the congealed lumps of unseasoned porridge.

Remembering what had happened the last time he had his face in a bowl, he kept an ear out for Jaden’s footsteps. This bowl was ceramic, and he didn’t doubt it could crack easier than metal.

But he was able to fill his stomach without any further incident, discounting the humiliation of having food smeared all over his face. If he could just get a better angle he was sure he could wipe it off with his shoulder.

“You know how when all the leaves fall there’s that sweet spot when you can run through them and hear them crunch underfoot?”

He swallowed. Suddenly the food weighed heavier than a stone. Dale cried, “Wait a minute!”

“CRONCH!” Jaden shouted.

It did crunch. His bone - tibia? Fibia? - gave way under superior force. A ragged, agonized scream bounced around the room, echoing, and the rancid scent of bile stung his nose. Gulping down air, he realized he had screamed, he had thrown up.

“Gotta love the crunch,” Jaden sighed happily. “Oh shit! I shoulda video’d that and posted to r/oddlysatisfying. Get me some of that sweet sweet karma.”

Tears pricked his eyes, and he bit down hard on his lips to keep from sobbing.

“Oh well. Next time!”

With that promise, Jaden poured out the water bottle into the bowl and left Dale alone to wallow in his misery.

#tw humiliation #tw dehumanization #tw emotional manipulation #lf dale gibson #lf jaden pierce #live feed series #29 days of whump #young whumper #older whumpee

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i-upset-to-dead-65 · 5 years

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I'm too lazy to type right now so I'm using talk to text so pardon me if this sucks or is illegible. So I have a lot of bug bites on my ankles and I just wanted to share a helpful tip to anyone trying to sleep and not scratch their own skin off. What I do is close my eyes, lay on my back, and vividly imagine sawing my own legs off.

Now this isn't just a little "oh quick little saw saw, you're done" cuz that won't work. No, you have to close your eyes and imagine the Jagged Edge of the saw blade resting on top of your leg and then it start to move back and forth and cut into your skin. Then it will move into your flesh and when it gets to your bone it has to go harder and more vigorously sawing. You saw through your tibia and your fibia and imagine a break between each bone as you saw through it and continue down until you get completely through the bone and you get to the last bit of Flesh and finally you have sawed completely through your leg and you can now remove your leg. I suggest you go below the knee or wherever the itching is.

This works quite well because once you imagine how excruciatingly painful that would be, a couple little bug bites and scratches don't hurt that bad anymore. You're welcome.

#graphic #tw gore #dont actually saw off your leg #just imagine it #its gotta be vivid though #i apologize for the graphic description #should i do an asmr of this?

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sneakydragon · 4 years

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Sneaky Dragon Listening Party - Ep. 53 - Part 2

Hello, partygoers!

Welcome to Part 2 of the Listening Party’s Halloween Spooooooktacular!!!! We know it’s more in line with American Thanksgiving, but due to some bad planning – like when a character returns to the haunted house at night instead of in broad daylight – we ended up with a show that outstayed its welcome more than the demon in The Exorcist. So – like the neck of a teen who’s just had sex – we severed the show into two parts, and this week we present the grisly remains.

Once again, our remit: To counter Sneaky Dragon co-host Ian Boothby’s claim that there is only one Halloween song and that song is Bobby “Boris” Pickett’s “Monster Mash”, we decided to put together a selection of Halloween-themed or Halloween-adjacent tunes for your next Halloween party or summer camp bloodbath! Also, we read and respond to a bunch of your great comments.

This episode we are spinning:

The Diamonds – “Batman, Wolfman, Frankenstein or Dracula” – Mercury Records 45” b/w “Walkin’ the Stroll”, 1959 – 16:05

The Five Blobs – “The Blob” – Columbia 45” b/w “Saturday Night in Tiajuana (sic)”, 1958 – 24:16

Bobby Please and the Pleasers – “The Monster” – Jaime Records 45” b/w “The Switch”, 1959 – 39:43

Joe South – “The Purple People Eater Meets the Witch Doctor” – National Recording Corporation 45” b/w “My Fondest Memories”, 1958 – 46:03

October Country – “My Girlfriend Is a Witch” – Epic Records 45” b/w “I Just Don’t Know”, 1968 – 56:42

Hans Conreid and Alice Pearce – “The Invisible Man” – Monster Rally, 1959 – 1:05:55

Bill Buchanan – “Beware” – United Artists 45” b-side to “The Night Before Halloween”, 1962 – 1:21:51

Tarantula Ghoul and Her Gravediggers – “Graveyard Rock” – Meadows Records 45” b-side to “King Kong”, 1959 – 1:30:08

Little Tibia and the Fibias – “The Mummy” – Mad Monster Party? (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack), 1998 (1967) – 1:49:54

Dr. Shock – “Let There Be Fright” – Cougar Records 45” b-side to “The Bloody”, 1970 – 2:00:02

Also playing on the old Victrola:

Cat Stevens – “Portobello Road” – Matthew and Son, 1967 – 30:42

Fangs for listening!

We invite you to attend the Mad Monster Party? !!!

youtube

Sneaky Dragon Listening Party – Ep. 53 – Part 2 was originally published on Sneaky Dragon

#Bill Buchanan #Bobby Please and the Pleasers #Cat Stevens #Dr. Shock #Hans Conreid and Alice Pearce #Joe South #Little Tibia and the Fibias #October Country #Tarantula Ghoul and Her Gravediggers #The Diamonds #The Five Blobs

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drjasonjones-blog · 5 years

Text

Meeting My Future

Jason:

The night was dragging slowly tonight, ER was busy but not with anyone who was seriously injured. Patients rolled in and rolled out, the bays cleaned up for the next patient and paperwork had been written up. This was my last shift before I had a three day break, but there was nothing at home for me either. I was born and raised in Caldwell, trained as a doctor and landed a job at the St Francis Hospital. My parents would've been proud of me if they were still here but fate had other ideas, they were both killed in a horrific car crash after a drunk driver had smashed into the driver's side, the car was written off and my parents were pronounced dead at the scene. That was ten years ago, since then I lived my life as a survival process, eat, drink, work and sleep, never met anyone who struck me dumbfounded. Ever.

This night was going to change everything, paramedics came rushing in, a man on a stretcher who was unconscious “BP 70/40, been given morphine as he has a break on his lower left leg, both fibia and tibia” “Bring him into bay two” the paramedics and nurses were on either side of the man “After three. One, two, three” They all pulled him onto the bed. The paramedics gave me his chart and left the ER. “Let's have a look at you” My breath caught in my throat, there was a scar that went from the middle of his forehead, down his nose and an S shape curve to his top lip that made it distorted. “You certainly have been in the wars, but this cut looks like an old injury” A nurse had taken his jacket off and it thudded to the linoleum floor. What the fuck? The nurse bent down picking it up “It weighs a ton, I'll go through his pockets to see if he has any ID” “I doubt it, with his looks and the weight of his jacket I bet he's involved in gang, drugs or both” The nurse went through his pockets taking out guns, daggers, extra clips, a length of chain and a wad of money. “No drugs or ID but with this money I bet he's already sold his products” Right back to the game. A male nurse proceeded to cut his leathers up his broken leg, the break was clean “Let's get this straightened out before a blood clot forms and travels to his heart, lungs or brain”

After straightening his leg and strapping it up I went in all doctor mode on him, there was no other injury on his lower body. That's when I had noticed the holster across his chest, handles were facing out. Unsheathing one of the handles, the blade emerged, it was beautifully crafted but I didn't have much time to admire the craftsmanship. Handing the blade over with the other arsenal I unclipped the holster and took it from his body. I grabbed the stethoscope, putting the buds into my ears I placed the metal disc against his chest above his heart. That was odd, taking the disc off his chest and put it on my own chest, I heard my heartbeat. “Anything the matter doctor?” I placed the disc back onto his chest, there was a distinct echo “Get me ultrasound here now, there's an echo in his heart”

The night couldn’t have gotten any worse. After having woken to #Bella in our mated bed, not that he slept much, if at all. She started in on him. We need to pick a male, she is getting close to her transition. No male was good enough for his young. Didn’t Bella understand? Did no one understand? This was his young gets the best and that’s it, nothing more and nothing less. After storming out of our chambers, Nalla, was the next to get on him. Thinking that she could wrap him about her finger, about joining the program. He wasn’t going to have HIS young out there fighting. She needed to be protected. Rhage let Bitty yes. Hell she went and talked to everyone about it. Z, loved his young with every fiber of his soul. But we all knew that there was a lot that was different in growing up for Nalla and Bitty. All of this, it was just to much, and he hadn’t even been up an hour. He needed to get out and clear his head, or he was going to snap.

Leathers, shitkickers, weapons and money. He was ready. He at least told Wrath he was going out. There was no need to explain why. Wrath knew what was going on. Hell the whole mansion knew. Dematting downtown next to #ZeroSum. He was itching for a fight. His eyes already black, from the normal, well it was now normal, yellow eyes. He stalked the dark streets, the bass of the music washing over him. It only fuled him more. He hunted for what was his prey. The fuckers that would see him and his dead. Lessers. Not that he needed to wait that long. Once he put some distance between him and ZeroSum. The strong smell of baby powder hit his nose. He smirked, it was time to play. He stalked right for the smell, coming around the corner of the ally. A group of 5 lessers, this was just what he was needing. They all turned as he smirked at them. His heart raced, the blood pumping. They ran at each other, and a deadly dance of blades began.

The next thing that he knew, he was in pitch blackness. A beeping and voices in the distances. What the hell had happened? He couldn’t remember anything at the moment. The only thing he could do was trying and fight against the blackness that wanted to drag him down. He would fight like hell to get back.

Jason:

Having the wand of the ultrasound in my hand, I squeeze some gel onto the end and some gel on his chest by his heart. Placing the wand onto his skin I look at the image on the screen. This couldn't be right, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6, his heart had six chambers, that would explain the echo. I had heard of a three chamber heart, a throwback like if the human race was evolved from lizards.

I took several pictures of this man's heart, he would be a medical wonder to us all and it will help us to understand why he had this mutation. But for now he was in need of my care to get him healed up, he was going to be here at the hospital for some weeks with that clean break. Now that I had him comfortable I had him wheeled down to room 5 where I can give him another check on him. Moving the covers off his broken I saw that his bones had healed already. How can this be? What was he?

Stunned and shocked at this man or whatever he was in front of me he would be a medical marvel, someone to study to test how his healing powers are so advanced to ours and the heart with its six chambers. I'd love to get to know this man or whatever he was better in a medical sense. I have to admit I was fascinated by him, I was drawn to him, I was attracted to him. What was I feeling? I looked up above me as if God would give me the answer.

Hours, minutes? He didn’t know how long time had passed. In the darkness time didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. But he fought like the warrior that he was. He had to get back to his young, yes his young. She was waiting for him to come home. He couldn’t leave her, he loved her to fucking much for that. He also had to protect her, the race and the king. Slowly, he started to pull from the darkness. There was a smell that filled his nose, going deep into his lungs. It was the most intoxicating smell. One that he wanted to be closer to. There was a growing need to see where this scent was coming from. Who this scent was attached to.

Slowly his eyes opened, yellow eyes burned. They landed on a male, as he was looking up to the heavens. His heart sped in his chest. All he could do was stare at this male before him. He took a deep breath, breathing in the male. Fuck it was going to make his whole body hard. He didn’t even notice where he was. The world had fallen away. All he could was the male. Yeah he was fucked. He hadn’t had these feelings in such a long time. It was a little disarming.

He had hidden a big part away from everyone, even his own brother. He was gay, males had always done it for him. He mated Bella to hide that fact. Yes he loved her on some level, but he didn’t feel like this. No. It was never this intense for him. Shit. He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do. Maybe he should scare the male away, it would be safer for him. He wanted to protect him. And he didn’t know why in this moment. That a male would come into his life, and now he would have to figure all this shit out. It was going to be mess if he didn’t do it right.

Jason:

Hearing rustling I looked down to the man laid on the bed, his eyes open. O my god, they were a beautiful shade of yellow. Yellow? No one had yellow eyes, he must be wearing contacts, but why would he cover up his eyes? "Are those contacts you have on your eyes? But why cover up your eyes?" I wanted to see his eyes close up, I bent at my waist getting closer to him, I noticed a scent, a line forest scent. Who plugged a Glade air freshener in the room?

I looked deeply into his eyes and came to the conclusion that they weren't contacts "Your eyes are so beautiful, I've never seen eyes that colour before. Who or what are you?" I didn't expect him to answer me, for all I knew he could of been a foreigner who didn't speak English. But then I remembered his jacket full of weapons and money "Are you in a gang? Was it's rival gang who broke your leg?" It wasn't fair of me to bombard him with questions but I had to know more about him, one thing I was certain of was that he had lead a hard life with the many scars on his body and on his face.

Straightening myself I checked over his body again, the break had completely healed in the time I was talking to him, he was a miracle. I had to get to know him more, I wondered if I made the excuse to do a follow up check on him I'd get to know more about him, where he is from and where he lives. I had this feeling that he was getting under my skin, I was literally breathing in his essence and I wanted more.

Fuck me. He noticed that he had come around and was staring at him. When his eyes met his, damn. They were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. He didn’t even answer him, when he threw all the questions at him. They were just noise when he was staring at the male before him. Should he speak now? Hell he didn’t know. Never in his life had he had this before. Wanting to pull the male closer, just breath him deeper into him. The moment that he got closer. Oh that wonderful scent. He almost reached up and pulled him closer. But he gripped the sheets in his hands. Was it bad that he wanted to kiss the male and make him his own? Yeah it was bad, because he was human, and in his world. Humans could get hurt or worse killed.

Beautiful? He wasn’t beautiful. His body was fucked up. Slave bands wrapped around his wrists and neck. His face was fucked up. The scars that littered his body. Nothing about him was beautiful. The male wouldn’t understand, how could he? All these questions proved to Z that he couldn’t have anything with the male. Even though every fiber of his being wanted to be with him. Mine, screamed in his head. Oh fuck. This wasn’t good, but fuck it he wanted this male. What would everyone think about all this? Did he give a fuck? No he didn’t. But one way or another he was have this male as his. He would have to see if he was up to deal with Z himself.

Now was the time he was going to get his answers. His voice gruff at first. “A gang?” He wanted to laugh. “Maybe…” He smirked at the male. “Do I have a broken leg now?” He knew that his leg was healed. His race never took long to heal, and he had fed, so it wouldn’t have been a problem. Z, sat up on the edge of the bed, standing at his full height, as he pushed off the bed. He stepped close to male. The smirk no longer on his lips. “I’m not beautiful in any form. Look at me.” He was daring him to. “I’m fucked up.” He took another step forward to the male. “I’m something dangerous.” If he showed any fear, he would smell it and see it. This was his chance to prove to Z if he could handle him.

Jason:

The man spoke, his voice was beautiful, like an angel. It wasn't what I'd expected from him, I expected a deep rumbling voice but his was sweet and it was soothing. He'd asked if he had a broken leg "Yes your fibia and tibia were broken, it was a clean break. Do you remember how it had happen?" I could see by his expressions he was having a war with himself about what I didn't have a clue, so I asked him the dumbest question of all "Are you in pain?"

The man got to the edge of the bed and stood to his full height, I was near him if his knees buckled but he stood there solid like a tree. He took a step forward and then another, closing the gap between us. Yes I was feeling crowded but I showed no fear to him, then he said that he wasn't beautiful, that he was fucked up "Tell me who isn't fucked up anymore. We all hurt from our past. Some more than others" He grinned but his top lip always remained over his top teeth like he was hiding something. Do I take the plunge and ask or do I remain silent. Before I knew what was happening I opened my mouth and the words tumbled out "What are you hiding from me?"

I was mentally kicking myself after the words escaped my mouth. Fuck now I'd done it. His face contorted as if he was in two minds to show me. Then I remembered his words about being not beautiful "To me you are beautiful and what's that scent? It's like a pine forest" I inhale once more, that scent burrowed itself deep into my bones "What are you doing to me? Are you trying to gas me, have me black out and then kill me and dump my body where no one will able to find me" My own words had me scared bit I stood my ground and showed no fear to him.

Pain? In pain? He shook his head, he wasn’t in any pain. In some ways he might be. Not able to touch him, to bring him close. His soul ached. Because he knew that it wouldn’t be simple to be with him. There would be so many things to deal with. The biggest? Him being human. Yeah Z had a thing from feeding from humans. Once he thought he was dirty, unclean. Now, now he felt that he was once again. Not good enough. This male before him needed a life free of danger. For him to be with Z, he wouldn’t be able to live his normal life again. He would never be safe again. He didn’t want for the male. Something better than him.

Z moved the male, through movement, his back almost hitting the wall. He placed his hands on either side of his head. He leaned in a little bit. “Hiding? Now why would I hide anything.” He smirked, the tip of his tongue licked his upper lip, teasing the scar. “If I showed you what it could be. You would run screaming from this room.” Maybe it was best that he told him what he was, scare him shitless. They he would be save from Z and his world. It would be the best for the both of them. Then why didn’t he just show him, get it over with? There was something that was keeping him from doing just that.

What shocked Z, is that the male could smell his scent. Was there something special about this male? He didn’t let the shock show on his face. What was really a slap in the face. That he would think that he would kill him. Yes. He was a cold blooded killer. The scariest motherfucker of the brotherhood. One that you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. For some reason it hurt him to hear those questions. To hear what he actually thought. Not that he would understand why Z felt the way he did. Hell Z himself didn’t even understand it. Yellow eyes meeting his. “If I wanted you dead. You would be laying on the floor right now.”

As much as it killed him, he pulled himself away from the male. Taking a few steps back. He needed to get out of here, wipe his memories and poof out of his life. He looked around the room. “I need my shit.” once he had it he would be out here like a lesser with a dagger through the heart.

Jason:

He came closer, putting his hands on the wall my head between them. This close I smelt more of that scent and his eyes. O my god I could get lost into those eyes. Everything faded, it was just him and me, nothing mattered but him. Then he abruptly broken the connection that had us tied together for that brief moment. "Where's my stuff?" "I'll go get them for you"

Coming back into the room with his clothes. "I'm afraid your leather trousers had to be cut to gain access to your leg. The only thing I have are hospital scrubs" Handing over the clothes I moved back towards the door, I thought giving him privacy was what he wanted. He dressed quickly, his face showed disgust at the scrubs, I had a feeling that wherever he lived would be stocked up with more leathers. "It's coming to the end of my shift, will I ever see you again?" For the first time I had feelings for another being, pity he was in a gang. That was my luck for you. Before he could answer I exited the room, I didn't want to hear his rejection. I quickly got my things from the locker and headed to the car park.

Getting into my car I had the feeling I was being watched, it wasn't like his stare. This was more threatening. I started the car up, dropped the feeling and drives out of the hospital grounds. Along the back road that went to the suburbs of Caldwell the feeling came back, I looked out of the rear view mirror and saw a minivan. I couldn't really see the driver but my feelings became uneasy, I had a feeling I had just stared at pure evil. Putting my foot on the accelerator, I tried to get to my destination before anything would happen. Round the corner a Ford Taurus was stopped blocking the road, I slammed on the brakes. Taking a look in the rear view mirror the minivan had stopped. Men were getting out and coming towards my car. The door of the Ford Taurus opened and out got a man with pale hair and skin. What the actual fuck? My door was opened by one of these pale freaks "He smells of vampire but he's not one of them" "kill him. We can't have witnesses, the Master will be angry if there are any" I prayed for a saviour to come and save me. The pale freak beside me raised his fist and punched me squarely in the face. Blackness came rushing, surrounding me, swallowing me down. I didn't know if I was alive or dead.

#MeetingMyFuture

#DarkParables

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kitstwistfellau · 6 years

Text

Sins of the Past, final

Read on AO3 HERE.

Summary: A bittersweet reunion.

Warnings (contain spoilers): LV issues, off-screen violence and death, issues of self-worth, oblique references to rape, references to poisoning, references to regicide. Explicit--not non-graphic--mention of very serious, debilitating illness/poisoning.

The door opened, and Sans stared at the other skeleton. His brother, but so changed. The right side of his face was shattered, the socket cracked and his eyelight dead. “…Papy?” he asked, not wanting to believe that this was his brother. What had she done to him? What happened, after Sans was ushered out and sold off? “Is that…is that really you?” The stranger in his brother’s bones smiled broadly, and Sans’ soul clenched as tears gathered in his sockets. “Papy!” he said, certain now.

Papyrus knuckled the top of his head, but his eyelight remained fixed on Undyne. “Ya really brought ‘im, then?” he said, something like wonder in his voice, “I thought…I thought it was a trap. But ya really….” He stopped speaking and coughed, stepping aside so Sans could come in out of the cold. “Not you, fish,” he said, holding up a hand to ward her off. “I ain’t ‘bout ta let the captain ‘a the guard inta my house. Here’s what ya came fer.” He reached into his inventory and pulled out a thick file folder. “Everythin’ I know ‘bout the Spider Gang. Now get the fuck outta my town.”

She took the file. “Don’t get uppity, squirt. After I roust the Spider, I’m coming after your boney ass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving her off, “ ‘m shakin’ in my boots, sweetheart.”

She flipped him off but left without protest. Sans watched her go, briefly wanting to run after her. She’d been one of his only friends in the castle, after all. But…his gaze fell on the folder in her hand. Would she really have delivered him to his brother if Papy hadn’t agreed to share his information with her? Had he, once again, been bought and sold by people he trusted?

Did it really matter? It was the way of their world, after all. This was just the way things were. Had he really expected something better?

His brother ushered him inside, and as soon as the door shut, Papy swept him up into a hug, checking him over as he brought him to the couch. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Sitting down, Papy pulled at his shirt and the cuffs of his pants, studying his tibia, fibia, ribs, and arms for any sign of damage. Then his gaze fell on the collar around his throat. He shifted it, revealing the network of small scars it hid.

“I have the key,” Sans said, voice small and ashamed. With shaking fingers, he reached up to pull it off…but his fingers stuttered and fumbled. Carefully, Papy took over, twisting the key in the lock. The collar opened and he flung it into the corner of the room, again studying the scars around Sans’ neck.

“Oh, Sans….” His voice sounded so soft and mournful.

It was too much. Sans inhaled sharply, chest hitching as he started to sob. Papy gathered him in and rocked him, arms tight and solid and there. Both of them started projecting, a confusing muddle of /JOY/care/LOVE/warmth/AFFECTION/security/strength/stability/. Papy’s projections weren’t as strong as they used to be, though, and Sans Checked him on a hunch.

His LV had shot up by 3. From 12 to 15 in less than a year. Seeing his HP was like getting a punch to his nonexistent gut, however. He was at full health, but the base stat was much lower than it had been when Sans saw him last. Gaining LV should have raised his HP, not lowered it. Which meant his brother…happy, cheerful, hopeful Papyrus…had started to lose HoPe. Sans’ soul ached, and he couldn’t keep silent anymore. “Papy? What happened?” he asked, running fingers over his scarred face. “What did she do to you?”

Papy sighed, pulling Sans’ hand away from his face and folding his fingers around it. “’s not important, bro. ‘m fine. An’ yer back. We’re t’gether again. Tha’s what matters, right? We’re t’gether, an’ we’re safe.”

For the moment, Sans didn’t argue. He buried his face in Papyrus’ chest and allowed himself to be held, still crying in relief, in joy, and out of bone-deep sorrow. Only after he was all cried out did Papy show him around the house. One of the upstairs rooms had been prepared for him. A handmade set of shelves was pushed against one wall, a few books already tucked inside—astronomy books, mostly, but a few looked like puzzle books. The bedframe was handmade as well, stars and moons cut into the headboard. The walls and ceiling had been painted a deep blue, precisely painted constellations arcing across the pseudo-sky.

He sat down heavily and Papyrus sat beside him, both of them looking up at the stars. “Figured since we can’t see the real thing…I could make a substitute fer ya.”

Sans couldn’t say anything. He just stared up at the ‘sky’, soul aching. He suspected that, if he were to check them against the star charts in the astronomy books, they’d be shockingly accurate. Papy could be almost obsessively precise when he had a project, and Sans could easily imagine him working feverishly. Skipping even those brief naps that served as his semi-regular sleep schedule in an attempt to distract himself from everything.

He leaned against Papy, and the larger skeleton threw an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. They slept in the same room that night. Well. Sans slept. Papy rarely slept a full eight hours, but he was there when Sans fell asleep and he was there when he woke up, taking apart what appeared to be a coffee maker. When Sans sat up and greeted him, he blushed and looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Still ain’t much fer cookin’. Place down the way sells cinnamon bunnies—not half as good as yer skulls, but tha’s ta be expected—and sumtimes I can talk Grillbz inta—“

“I can make breakfast.” He hesitated, and Sans understood. “Papy, this is my home, isn’t it? I’m not a guest. You don’t need to look after me. Not like that, at least.”

A sheepish smile—and it hurt to see that familiar expression on a cracked and broken face; stars it hurt more than Sans could say—touched his mouth, and he chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, yer right. So—whaddaya need?”

“Eggs, milk, butter, sugar, and flour. Maybe a can of soda, if we can scrounge it up.” Soda gave pancakes a nice, fluffy texture that nothing else could quite match.

“Right. I gotta go ta the store. I’ll be back.”

It occurred to Sans that his brother probably hadn’t had a good, home-cooked meal since they’d been separated. Was he thinner? So hard to tell, since they weren’t fleshy monsters. “Can I come too?” Papy wouldn’t be skipping meals or trying to live off whatever he could scavenge again. Not with Sans here.

Papy hesitated, then he thought about it. With a shrug, he stood and said, “Don’ see why not. Ain’t nobody in Snowdin stupid ‘nough ta fuck with ya, not with me ‘round. Get dressed an’ we’ll head out.”

When Sans pointed out that he only had the rather revealing sweet-piece clothing he’d arrived in, Papy smirked and marched over to the closet, throwing it open to reveal a few hoodies and some tennis shoes. There were undershirts and pants in the dresser, as well as socks. “Found what I could fer ya. Later, we can head ta the dump an’ see what we can find. Or we can try ta trade what we got. Up ta you.”

Grateful, Sans ushered him out so he could get dressed, then they both headed out into the snow. Sans looked up at the ceiling, watching the snowflakes flutter down. He held out his hand, catching them. The warmth of the mana in his bones caused the flake to melt in his palm. The way the snow flaked as he kicked it made him smile, and he wondered if they could try out some of those winter activities he’d seen in human videos. Making snowmen. Snowball fights. Snow angels. The possibilities—

He looked up with a smile, ready to babble excitedly, but Papy’s features were sharp and cruel, his ever-present grin manic and nothing but pure threat. Menace radiated from him and the monsters they passed went pale and ducked away as soon as they saw him. They were afraid of him. More so than they had been even in Hotland. Combined with his jump in LV, it painted a disturbing picture.

The reminder of just how brutal their world could be sobered Sans immediately. He knew what it cost, to take hold of a stretch of territory. And what it took to keep it. Papy had called this ‘his’ town, and Sans hadn’t questioned it, hadn’t considered the implications before.

Oh, Papyrus.

He resisted the urge to reach out and take his brother’s hand. In public, at least, such soft displays would not be welcome. It made his soul ache to think of, but he could only steel himself. This was the way of things, wasn’t it? This was how it had to be, right? This was just…the way things were. Hoping for something better would only lead to disappointment.

Bile rose up, but he pushed it aside, following his brother into the general store. The snowbunny behind the counter jumped when she saw him, whiskers twitching. She stepped forward, pushing a rabbit kit behind her back. “Papyrus!” she said, too loud, too high-pitched. “How…?” She cleared her throat, taking a breath. “How can I help you?” she asked, forcing a smile.

Papy planted one arm on the counter, propping his chin on his fist. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he said, grinning. “I ain’t doin’ the shoppin’ taday, matter ‘a fact. ‘s the little guy.” He jerked a thumb at Sans, and the bunny’s nose twitched. “Mind helpin’ ‘im out?”

“Of-of course!” She jumped, coming around the counter to look down at Sans. Her kit tucked himself underneath the counter, hiding. “And what do you need…um….” She froze, realizing that she didn’t know his name.

The whole process made Sans’ soul ache. He glanced at Papy, who was feigning boredom. He knew his brother, though. It had to kill him, playing the bad guy. And…Sans would be expected to fit the role too, wouldn’t he? Or was he supposed to cower before his own brother and play the victim? And exactly how much would that hurt Papy?

It made him sick. The whole thing. His soul roiled and his bones chilled. He tried to speak, tried to fill the role he was assigned…but the words caught in his throat. He swallowed them down and tried again, only to find himself rendered mute.

He couldn’t do it. He simply couldn’t. Couldn’t abuse the already beaten-down shopkeeper. Couldn’t treat his brother—his HoPe already damaged, his LV already obscenely high—like he was a bad guy. Maybe Sans really was nothing but a sweet-piece. Maybe he simply wasn’t cut out for life out in the wider world…. But he couldn’t be anything else, anything other. So Sans looked up at the bunny monster and offered up his sunniest smile, even as his soul felt like it was cracking. “My name’s Sans! The Sensational Sans!”

Papy quirked a smile, and Sans’ soul relaxed. “Doncha mean ‘Sansational’, bro?” He giggled, delighted at the pun. He’d been afraid Papyrus would be embarrassed or upset with him. Upset that Sans wasn’t a real monster. That he was nothing but a sweet-piece.

“I suppose so,” Sans agreed, then refocused on the bunny. She looked between the two of them, obviously still nervous and unsure of this whole situation. “What’s your name?”

She glanced at Papyrus, who just raised an expectant brow-bone. She swallowed and, shifting uneasily, said, “Bonny.”

Sans was not bold enough to ask after her kit. He didn’t want to spook her. “What a lovely name!” he said cheerfully, “And—are you the one that makes the cinnamon bunnies?”

Another glance at Papyrus. “I…I do. Yes.”

He giggled. “I like to make cinnamon skulls. We should compare recipes sometime.”

“I…I suppose.” She kept darting glances at Papy as she spoke, afraid he was going to snap at her. “What…what can I help you with, then?”

“Oh, right! I was going to make breakfast, but my brother doesn’t keep a well-stocked pantry. So I’ll be needing some basics for now. Flour, sugar, butter—“ He started listing things off on his fingers, careful to keep his tone cheerful and light. Trying not to be demanding. When Bonny confessed that they were out of butter—there was a shortage, and the capital was starting to impose rations—Sans waved it off as if it didn’t matter. “Vegetable oil should be fine, then,” he said, bright and happy.

She still wasn’t at ease when she rang them up, but she wasn’t as nervous as she had been when they first came in. Her kit was peering at them from behind the counter, and Papy spotted him, saluting with a genuine grin and a wink. Bonny inhaled sharply, but the kit just waved tentatively back. Then Papy’s eyelight caught on the kid’s bandana, and he met Bonny’s eye. “Ya got any ‘a those fer sale?”

Instead of answering, she just plucked the bandana off her kit’s neck and handed it over. Sans frowned, about to protest, but Papy knelt down and tied it around his neck, hiding the scars his collar left behind. He reached up and tugged on it, a familiar gesture. The soft fabric slid over his bones, soothing rather than cutting. It felt like an anchor. A reminder of his freedom. Unable to stop himself, he flung himself into his brother’s arms and held tight, fighting down relieved tears.

Papy returned the hug and met Bonny’s eye again. “Thanks, sweetheart. Won’ ferget this.”

For the first time, she looked at Papyrus with something other than fear. She lifted her chin and nodded once. “You’re welcome,” she said, then looked at Sans. “I’ll send word when I get the next shipment of butter in.”

They left once Sans had control of himself, and as they walked, he looked around again. Watching everyone flinch away from them. Taking in the high palisade that surrounded the town. It hurt his soul, seeing the fear and suspicion in their faces. Maybe that’s why, when he next baked cinnamon skulls, he went out and delivered them to the guards, the snowbunnies, the green fire elemental his brother called ‘Grillbz’, and anyone they passed on the way.

The first time, only Grillbz and Bonny were willing to give the skulls a try, but he made a weekly ritual of it, and soon enough, the others grew more courageous. He started to visit whenever he heard someone was sick or injured, bringing soup and biscuits. In time, he became a rather popular figure in the town, earning smiles and waves when he went out. He ignored the whispering that often followed him. The leers. The jeering and the comments. He was a sweet-piece; what else had he expected?

All the while, Papy insisted on acting as his escort, and in the woods outside Snowdin, he took the time to teach Sans how to defend himself. They talked—once—about gaining LV. While sitting on a rock out in the forest, Papy ate one of the cinnamon skulls to regain the mana he’d lost in a recent scrap. Dust floated in the air around him, but he’d used snow to scrub his hands clean. Sans’ hands were pristine. No need to scrub snow between the phalanges. Papy had made sure of that, and Sans wasn’t sure what to make of it. Didn’t Papy want him to gain LV? To be useful? To be stronger? He didn’t really want his brother to be nothing but a sweet-piece…did he?

“If I gained LOVE,” Sans started, tentative, “I’d be stronger.”

Papy paused, eyeing him. “Would ya?” he asked, picking at the skull.

“My attacks would be stronger,” Sans said, “And my base stats would be higher….”

Papy nodded, still picking at the pastry. “Yeah,” he agreed, jumping off the rock. “But would that make ya stronger?”

“I….” Sans looked up at him, uncertain. “Yes?”

Papy knelt in front of him, scrubbing the top of his skull with sticky fingers. Sans frowned and batted at his hands, earning a grin. Then Papy’s expression sobered. “Yer stats’d be higher, yeah, but you’d be brittle ‘round the edges. Maybe not the first time. Er the third time. Er the tenth. But ‘s an easy slope ta slip down. ‘fore ya know it, feels like everythin’s slipping ‘tween yer fingers, an’ yer not even sure ‘a what ya used ta be. Stats ain’t everythin’, bro. Sure as fuck ain’t the most important thing. Don’ sacrifice the important shit fer a string ‘a numbers. It ain’t worth it.”

Sans looked at him, soul aching all over again. “But you….”

Papy smirked. “Aw, darlin’. Ya really think I give a shit ‘bout stats?” Before Sans could ask why he’d gained so much LV, if not for the stat-boost, Papy scooped up a huge handful of snow and dumped it down the back of his shirt. Screeching, Sans twisted and turned, trying to shake out the snow as it melted against his spine. Papy took off running, and Sans chased after him, screaming.

They didn’t discuss LV after that. There were a lot of things they didn’t discuss. Papy refused to give him a straight answer about his new scars, and Sans was reluctant to talk about his time in the palace, though he knew Papy assumed the worst because of it. They didn’t talk about the days Papy would come home with dust and magic on his hands, knuckles bruised. Or the fearful glances townspeople shot him. And they never talked about the way Papy’s HP would dip and swell by turns, unstable and unsteady.

They didn’t talk about it, but Sans noticed, and he well knew that something had to change. The Underground’s problems were so extensive, though, so far-reaching, and he was nothing but a small skeleton tucked away in an isolated corner of the Underground. Weak. Helpless. Nothing but a sweet-piece.

…but even a sweet-piece could have a few tricks up his sleeve, couldn’t he?

He’d thought it would be more difficult, really. But Papy was happy to help him turn the old shed into a makeshift greenhouse. UV lamps provided plenty of ‘sunlight’. Raised beds made the best use of the limited space. Getting the right seeds was the most difficult part, but Bonny was more than happy to place a few special orders. Papy’s extra-curricular activities provided enough money to grease the necessary palms, and soon enough, Sans had a thriving indoor garden.

Among the tomatoes and carrots and potatoes, he’d planted some of the herbs and flowers the sweet-pieces had taught him about. Lavender and chamomile to help a restless monster find sleep. Echinacea for simple colds. There were other plants, too. All of them with medicinal purposes at a certain dosage. He didn’t limit himself to plants, either. Along the back wall, he grew mushrooms as well. Most of them were edible.

His most important project was confined to the basement, though. He’d talked with Papy about his idea, and while he’d been reluctant at first, he’d caved eventually, agreeing that something needed to change. Thus, the basement transformed into something that looked more like a chemistry lab than anything else. Claviceps purpurea could be cultivated in isolation, he’d been happy to learn, afraid he’d need to find a way to grow a field of rye. It wasn’t easy, though, and the fungus was temperamental at best. Thankfully, once he’d harvested enough, it was much easier to get a message to Undyne, even if Papy wasn’t exactly happy to play messenger.

She sat down to tea in their kitchen, warily eyeing Papy even as he did the same to her. Sans pushed a tray of teacakes toward her, smiling brightly. “Thank you so much for coming, Captain!”

She grunted, still glaring at Papy. “I came because he said you needed me,” she said, finally turning to regard Sans. “Are you okay? Did something happen? Is he treating you well?”

“Yeah. Brought ya ‘ere ‘cause Sans says ‘m abusin’ ‘im. Go fuck yerself—“

“Papy,” Sans chastised, earning an eyeroll and a huff. Clearing his throat, Sans turned back to Undyne. “We’re…well enough. As well as can be expected, at least.”

“Hmph.” She took a sip of her tea, still keeping her eye on Papy. “So? Why am I here?”

“Bro, I c’n talk ta ‘er. Ya don’ need ta be ‘ere. Don’ need ta risk—“

“Papy, it was my idea. My plan. If Undyne feels the need to charge me with treason, then so be it.”

Undyne put the cup down, tea sloshing over the sides. “One of you better start talking right now,” she said, voice low, “or you’re both going to be arrested. You for illegal gambling and smuggling and who the fuck knows what else—“

“You can’t prove shit, fish-bitch.”

“—and you for wasting my time,” she said overtop Papy, pointing to Sans. Papy opened his mouth to retort, but she continued without pause. “So? Who’s gonna explain?” She looked between both of them, and Sans finally pulled out the capped bottle. He pushed it toward her. She eyed it, brow raised.

“You’re familiar with Angel’s Fire?”

“Of course.” The disease came and went Underground, all depending on the state of the wheat harvest. It had grown less common as the monsters grew more experienced with farming underground, but it still cropped up on occasion. Not all monsters were affected, of course. The carnivores, who didn’t eat the contaminated wheat, survived the outbreaks untouched. Skeletons and elemental-types weren’t affected because they didn’t have blood vessels. In fact, only the omnivorous or herbivorous mammals were affected.

So it wouldn’t be that suspicious, if only a single monster were to fall ill. Ergot was not a traditional poison in any case. It was an agent of disease, not murder. Certainly not regicide.

He tapped the vial. “This is the fungus that causes it. Powdered for easy use.”

She looked between him and the vial, shaking her head slowly. “Look, squirt, I don’t know where you’re—“

“You and I both know Prince Asriel would make a better king than his father.”

Undyne went very, very quiet. She took the vial, considering it. “Angel’s Fire, huh?”

“Everyone knows Angel’s Fire is…capricious.” The way it passed over one house, only to devastate another had earned the disease a somewhat supernatural reputation, even after they came to understand how it spread. More than a few monsters would whisper to themselves that the old King had done something to displease the Angel. That the Stars had cursed him. “And the symptoms…?” He raised a brow-bone. “You and I both know he’d be deposed. Fast. If he’s not smart enough to step down himself.”

He watched her, noting her considering look. Hallucinations. Convulsions. The sensation of burning in the extremities. Not to mention the more serious effects—gangrene, vision trouble. Possibly death, though Sans didn’t think it would progress to that. No matter what, though, a monster suffering those symptoms could not rule the Underground. Not as it was. A gentler populace might not take advantage, but as things were….

Sans did take some small satisfaction in the knowledge that Asgore would be a victim of the systemic brutality he’d taken such pains to foster.

“And what do you want me to do with this?” Undyne asked, eyeing them both. “What’s the deal here, huh? I…use this. And—what? What’s in it for you two?”

Papy stepped forward, laying a hand on Sans’ shoulder. “There’s no deal, fish. No price. ‘s a gift. An’ not one either ‘a us expect ya ta repay. Or ta use, if tha’s what you decide.”

Her brow crept higher. “I don’t understand.”

He and Sans shared a look. “We’re jus’ a pair ‘a gutter-rats, sweetheart,” he said, grinning when she bristled at the pet-name. “Politics’re a bit above us, doncha think?”

“So this…?”

“Is for you to decide,” Sans said, shrugging. “Papy’s right. I didn’t even spend a year in the palace. I can see that something’s wrong. Very wrong. And not just in the palace—everywhere. We’re tearing each other apart, and something has to change. It has to. But….” He gestured helplessly. “I don’t know what or how. You be the judge, Captain. You’re strong. Intelligent. Principled. I trust you to know what’s best for us. Take the vial. Do whatever you think is best. It shouldn’t spoil, so you can take your time.”

She looked at the vial and pocketed it. She stirred her tea but had apparently lost her appetite—she didn’t take any of the teacakes and she didn’t drink again. “This meeting…?” she said slowly, as if it was a question.

“Was my first interview for the guard,” Sans said, and she jumped, brow-bone raised.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He beamed at her, demeanor sunny and sweet. “Certainly not, Captain! I am very dedicated to making the Underground a better, safer place! I would be delighted to serve in the guard—if you’d be kind enough to consider my application.”

He passed the application to her, still beaming. She eyed it. Eyed him. Then finally eyed Papy, who just winked. “C’mon, Cap’n. Ya know my bro’d be a good choice. Who better ta keep the riff-raff in line than the Sensation Sans? Sure does a good job ‘round ‘ere, doesn’ he?” Grabbing the application, she shook her head, torn between annoyed, amused, and thoughtful.

After she left, the brothers regarded each other silently. “Think she’ll do it?” Papy asked, and Sans shrugged.

“Don’t know,” he said.

“Think she should?”

Another shrug. He dipped his finger in his tea and used the water to trace patterns on the lacquered wood. “Papy?”

“Yeah, bro?”

“…do you think things can get better? Or is this…is this the best we can hope for?”

To his surprise, his brother’s face split into a wide, genuine grin. “Aw, darlin’. Things ain’t that bad, are they? We got each other. Got a roof overhead. Got plenty ‘a food. Things’re already better’n they were, right?” He scrubbed a hand over Sans’ skull, scratching at his coronal suture. He sat beside him and snatched up a teacake, wiping off the frosting with his finger before popping the cake into his mouth. When Sans just continued to trace patterns on the table, Papy pulled Sans’ chair beside his, draping an arm over his shoulders. “Wha’s on yer mind, little bro?”

He snuggled into Papy’s side, ready to cry. “I…I just. I hate this. I hate feeling so helpless. So small. Like…nothing I do matters.” Like a sweet-piece.

Papy’s brow-bone lifted. “Like nuthin’ ya do matters,” he echoed. Then, wiping off his hands, he drew Sans up and pushed him out of the kitchen. “C’mon. We’re goin’ on a field trip.”

Confused, Sans allowed Papy to guide him out into the snow. They passed a number of monsters as they went. Some of them leered at Sans, earning a vicious glare from Papy. Others waved and stopped for a moment, moving on when they realized Sans wasn’t in the mood to talk. Sans paused when they reached the shop, trying to figure out what Papy was up to. He didn’t protest when Papy brought him inside, though, or when he called out, “Heya! Anybody ‘ere?”

Bonny and Cinnamon—her kit—came in from the stockroom, grinning when they saw Papy and Sans. “Well, hello!” Bonny said, while Cinna ran over to hug Papy’s leg and beg Sans for a treat. “Cinna! Don’t be rude!” she chastised, but she was smiling. Looking at the two skeletons, she asked, “And how can I help you today?”

“Jus’ a social call,” Papy said, “Wan’ed ta know how it’s goin’ ‘round ‘ere. Any gossip fer me?”

A sly look crossed Bonny’s face, and she sidled closer to share what she’d heard. While they talked, Cinna took Sans’ hand and brought him to the box of toys Bonny kept under the counter for him. He was a pretty quiet kit, but he was happy to push his toys into Sans’ arms and tell him all about them. Sitting on the floor, Sans smiled gently, not fully able to understand what the kit was saying but happy to sit and listen, nodding as appropriate. Had Papy brought him here to cheer him up? He supposed talking to the little kit did make him feel somewhat better….

They didn’t stay long, going on to visit the Innkeeper and Grillby. The Librarbian got a visit too, as did the guards. All of them were pleased to see him, even if they glared at Papy or threatened him. Sans supposed it did cheer him up a little, talking to the people he’d gotten to know since his stay in Snowdin. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk, but their smiles did make him feel a bit better.

Finally, as they started for home, Papy asked, “So…still feel like nuthin’ ya do matters?”

Sans blinked, looking up at him. “I…uh? Y…yes?” He didn’t know what he was supposed to say, so he told the truth.

Shaking his head, Papy pushed open their door and brought him back inside. “Sans…think back, yeah? Months ago. Ya remember what it was like ‘round here when ya first arrived?” Slowly, he nodded, and Papy grinned. “Ya made a difference ta them, didn’ ya?”

Sans huffed, impatient. “That doesn’t count.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because—I’m not—I didn’t—I was just nice to them. That’s all.”

Scrubbing the top of his skull, Papy said, “Ya gave ‘em a friendly face. Food they could trust. A kind word. Ya gave ‘em sumthin’ ta believe in. Sumthin’ ta hope fer. ‘s jus’ a bunch ‘a little things, yeah. But they mean more’n ya think, bro. Mean a lot. Ta them…an’ ta me.” Kneeling down, he framed Sans’ face between his hands. “Long as yer ‘round, I’ll always believe things c’n get better.”

The words stunned him. He hadn’t even considered that such small things could mean anything. Chest hitching, he leaned into Papy and started to cry. “I-it’s so hard,” he said, forehead pressing into his brother’s chest. “Why’s it so hard?” Papy ran a soothing hand up and down his spine.

“I know,” he said, holding him close. “Hope hurts,” he said, chin resting on top of his skull, “but ‘s worth it. Promise, sweetheart. ‘S worth it.”

Sans wasn’t sure if he believed him. Not at that moment, at least. He simply allowed his brother to hold him, taking comfort from his solidity and strength. But the next time he went out to deliver cinnamon skulls, he took note of the smiles he received. The thanks. He saw the way the other monsters’ shoulders relaxed, how they invited him to stay and talk. Others still called him ‘sweet-piece’ as they passed, and Papy’s fierce glares wouldn’t ever quiet them. Sans chose to block it out, clinging to those little signs.

He wasn’t sure how to react when Undyne sent a messenger, ordering him to report for guard training. They’d only meant for that to serve as a ruse. A cover story. But it was nice, spending time with her. Sparring. Cooking. And talking about ways the Underground could change. Could be better. Could be different.

But his first real glimmer of hope came when—months later—King Asgore stepped down and allowed his son to take the throne. There was no mention of illness or Angel’s Fire. And when Sans next visited Undyne, he didn’t ask. But he accepted the stack of posters she passed him—slogans like ‘Spread love, not LOVE’ printed on bright backgrounds—with a smile.

“Your first order as an official guard-in-training,” she said, “is to post these around Snowdin. Think you can handle it?”

He saluted swiftly. “Absolutely, Captain!”

For the first time in a long time, Sans actually had hope that things could change for the better.

#sins of the past #twistfell #twist sans POV #twist papyrus #twist undyne #twist asgore

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fraidycat-art · 7 years

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Can you help me understand Corrin’s dragon form? If Corrin took off their armor, would the armor not appear on the dragon as well? How the hell do the arms work?? Are they bent like a horse?? Or just straight up backwards human elbows like it looks?? And the face? An egg with Horns and movable lower jaw?? How do you bite? I mean maybe this is just a partial dragon form? Because they get jaws in their half-state during crits (from their arms)

Can you help me understand Corrin’s dragon form?

yes but we’re gonna need this.

If Corrin took off their armor, would the armor not appear on the dragon as well?

I mean, from how I understand, its a very real possibility. Proceed with warning because every dragon!corrin model is different i cannot make that distinction loudly enough, their differences are mostly skin-deep but on the sm4sh corrin model, there is a clear difference between flesh and scales - all in places that aren’t easily analogous. This makes it easy to group them when drawing, though!

The long neck, the tail, and the upper thigh/hips are particularly noteworthy for your idea. They are clearly muscled. You can also see it partially on the wings, but the torso plates stretch to it. Its particularly possible if you want to explore that area! I think that armor-swap versions of the dragon would be rad as hell.

How the hell do the arms work?? Are they bent like a horse?? Or just straight up backwards human elbows like it looks??

WELCOME TO MY SPECIAL HELL. This keeps me up at night! This very question has ruined me. That’s been the question every single time that I’ve drawn dragon!corrin (hence why I’ve drawn so many lately) but I think I’m finally settling on an anatomy that lets me rest. They are bent like a horse, and Corrin tries to move like a horse, it is not horse anatomy, but he is not structured like one. I’ll explain.

First off, let’s look at corrin with human-ish anatomy. Two arms, two legs. Normal stuff.

I use this most of the time, it allows for the front legs to twist enough to meet what Corrin does in cutscenes. The elbow is possible in theory, I try not to think too hard with this - its a simple re-arrangement at the elbow so that the radius lifts upwards. Up until rececntly, I really liked using this - its easy to remember and put my fucking soul to rest. Its really good, without collarbones the shoulder can be twisted any which way - the beauty of a girdle! I figured this was as close to what the actual inspiration was… until I really, really started thinking about why everybody thinks about horses first, and why human arms just… didn’t work. So come with me down this garden path, and look at this corrin with horse legs.

Horse legs are beautiful. They are nice and straight, they bear weight, and they have many points of articulation perfect for motion. Corrin does not have that, Corrin has one major joint and a wrist. See that horizontal bone under the scapula? that’s the radius, together with the scapula that makes the shoulder and the armpit.

However… corrin does not have a visible shoulder. Corrin also does not have an armpit. There is ribcage and then there is leg. That keeps me up at night. I had no explanation! Everything above the tibia and fibia do not exist in corrin. Every animal has that, but It just doesn’t fit! But… it works. When you look at corrin, you see a leg, and you see something along the lines of a horse. Here’s the kicker: there’s a reason you think of horses - despite everything.

for context: Here’s Spirit, an animated horse and source of my artistic inspiration! Dreamworks put a lot of time, effort, and money in order to animate Spirit as anatomically correct as possible. As you can see, it has the correct knee bend for Corrin, but it has a definite shoulder and armpit. So… why are we all thinking about horses when we see Corrin?!? He doesn’t have those!! He also doesn’t have hooves, or even a pastern! This was the first thing that ever struck me about Corrin - I’ve seen those legs on horses before. I’ve seen those legs a lot and I screamed every time I saw them. So why? Why are we thinking about horses when we look at Corrin?

Horses in anime are animated while extremely simplified. It saves on budget, but this means that it trickles down into manga - and eventually into regular art as well. Now take a look at Corrin again…

… I know… I know. Some dude in the design chair saw a huge quadrupedal animal, thought about horses, and drew the anime budget horse leg. Its actually a really prevalent trope! Corrin’s weird legs have been incorrect horse legs this entire time, right under our noses. I know dude - it flies in the face of all comparative anatomy, its wrong, no animal has hind legs for front legs. So the more you think anatomy for Corrin, the more misguided you become. So with this in mind, I personally threw anatomy away - yet it came back and hit me in the face again. Yeah you could get away with human arms for front legs, but… if we’re going for what the inspiration was…. if we’re cutting to the bone…

The front leg is a human leg with the toe bones re-arranged and stretched into a hand. It works better than human arms, in my opinion, as the extremely stout palm on the hand suddenly makes sense. The heel bone gives something for the thumb to anchor to. There is a tibia and fibia for rotation. There is a KNEE. A god-forsaken real knee. There is no scapula. There is no radius. There is, however, a brand new ball-in-socket joint in Corrin’s ribcage, which will wake me in a cold sweat once a month - but by god - THERE IS AN ANSWER.

As well, the human-leg-for-front-leg theory allows for the chest fuckery that the 3d models display. In both Sm4sh and Fates corrin is able to rotate the leg outwardly from the body to a truly startling degree. I briefly played with the idea of a two-hipped dragon. Corrin is a disaster and I love him.

A note on the hind legs: Its the same mystery, but not one as enthralling as the horse connection. its another artistic trope found in folks who are just starting with animals (particularly cats and dogs) to have the femur and tibia+fibia all curled up like that w. elongated metatarsals - this makes the hind legs INCREDIBLY LONG, however it happens to match what our eyes see in an animal’s sillohuette.

(note: yes, corrin’s thighs are incredibly beefy as a dragon.) This isn’t fully extended in my opinion! with the human arm theory, I couldn’t tip the ribcage upwards due to the scapula, but I’m not joking when I say that Corrin can likely rest his whole body on his chest without losing touch of the ground with any limb. The hind legs are gigantic, but the proportions are too far away from a rabbit’s to be used for hopping. This is why in most cutscenes, animations, ect of Corrin he usually has his hind legs parked behind him or to the side of him. They’re too long! Corrin’s resting state for his hind legs is a crouch.

(pictured: corrin’s beefy dragon thighs. note the wide stance and parking! intsys why… i dont understand… why is the dragon thicc? to be analogous to corrin? is corrin thicc?!?)

TL;DR: Corrin’s legs do not have a comparative anatomy to any one singular creature, mostly due to its complete reliance on artistic tropes instead of actual anatomy. That doesn’t mean we can’t make sense of it with bones, however.

And the face? An egg with Horns and movable lower jaw??

Egg is a strong word for the shape Corrin’s face is. The sm4sh model is generous, face on and left-to-right, the head is so close to being spherical that it might as well be. north-to-south there’s a bit of a hump on the topside due to the exposed spine, it thins out near the nose just a smidge - but its a very, very slight egg shape. My rule of thumb is to just draw a rounded neck, pinch the end just a touch. There’s no notable jawline under the faux-jaw, thought the throat-latch may hang. If anything the base of the ear-tendrils could create one if need be but? for the most part, I really do just… not draw a head.

if it looks like a ding-dong, you’re doing it right.

(see what i mean about how round it is? bonus: peep those front legs! posed as human legs would be, startled animals are stilt-legged. and the hind legs, as you can see, are struggling to exist.)

The jawbone is layered under the antlers. It hinges where the droptine from the eye meets the jawbone. I made the jaw a little long here, but the tooth area of the jaw never rests against the head. It doesn’t touch the head at all! Well, except for maybe near the jawline - again, just so I can sleep at night.

How do you bite?

Make no mistake - in reality Corrin cannot actually bite anything if he tried! A bite requires a scissoring of teeth, and Corrin doesn’t even have molars/carnassials - if he did, he could at least apply pressure from his head/neck and force it over the teeth but no... If he had an upper jaw, he could use a hatchet-style bite, but as-is the only effective bite would be more like a toothy uppercut. Note: both sm4sh and cutscene corrin detail the outline of teeth! however, heroes and game-model corrin do not.

the top of the ‘eye’ is longer than the bottom of the eye! This is true for every model of corrin. However, the actual size of the ‘eyehole’ is variable. Heroes corrin has a massive eyehole, sm4sh corrin has a very very tiny one. The actual antlers are a story for another day - they’re simpler than they look, but tough to explain.

I’m hopefully going to be making reference sheets for corrin! There needs to be more corrin in the world, and if i gotta pave that road… SO BE IT.

I mean maybe this is just a partial dragon form? Because they get jaws in their half-state during crits (from their arms)

GOD. THIS KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT STILL. I WISH CORRIN HAD ACTUAL JAWS. MAYBE HE DOES? MAYBE HE’S JUST HIDING THEM? LIKE I WANT THIS TO BE REAL SO BADLY. WHERE DOES THAT MOUTH COME FROM CORRIN!?? YOUR WHOLE DRAGON IS BASED ON BEING ENTIRELY UNNATURAL AND WRONG WHERE DID YOU GET THAT MOUTH??

#corrin #dragon!corrin #dragon corrin #dragon!kamui #dragon kamui #i try so hard not to spam the actual corrin tag with my dragon garbage but i mean??#can you love the man and not the beast?

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