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funnywormz · 1 year

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watched the whole of guillermo del toro's cabinet of curiosities and figured i would make a lil post abt it since i watched the whole thing lol. im gonna put it below a readmore link so i won't annoy ppl with it bc it got sorta long........ this isn't a proper review or anything just my silly lil thoughts. there are minor spoilers below, jsyk

my episode rankings from best to worst + rating out of 5:

1) the murmuring 4.5/5

2) the viewing 4/5

3) the autopsy 3/5

4) the outside 2.5/5

5) lot 36 2/5

6) graveyard rats 1.5/5

7) pickman's model 0/5

8) dreams in the witch house 0/5

my overall rating is probably like. 2.5/5. i was hyped up for it bc it's guillermo del toro yknow....... but i was disappointed honestly. it's mediocre overall. if you're gonna watch any of it i would definitely recommend the murmuring and the viewing, but i can't rlly find it in me to recommend the rest LOL.

an overall pattern with the episodes is that they have good build up and atmosphere for the first 30 minutes or so, but completely fail to follow through after that. the two aforementioned episodes are the exception, i rlly liked both of them and felt they delivered well.

a little summary review of the episodes in order:

1) lot 36

lot 36 had great build up and an awesome atmosphere. i liked the set design and the general message of it was really good. however the last few minutes were honestly just. stupid. and i found it a little boring to watch bc the main character was such an asshole it was difficult to relate to him or care abt the fact that he was about to get eaten by a demon. it wasn't bad but it was just sorta eh

2) graveyard rats

this one was honestly more of a silly dark comedy than actual horror imo. but it wasn't really campy or silly enough to hold my attention, so it just straddled this awkward zone between not being scary enough to be horror and not being funny enough to be a dark comedy. it got boring fast, there are only so many minutes of a guy crawling in a tunnel and whimpering you can make me watch before i get tired of it and this episode definitely exceeded that limit LOL. if you're into gore and body horror that side of it is pretty decent, but personally that's not the main thing i look for in a horror story so it just wasn't interesting to me.

3) the autopsy

the autopsy was another episode with great build up that just failed to follow through for me. the atmosphere was great, i liked the vibes and the initial autopsy scenes, i had some pretty high hopes for it. but the last part just felt silly and too much in poor taste for me. like maybe if you're into body horror you'd like it more? but the whole "super scary spooky evil alien getting his rocks off on human suffering" thing was just. too stupid for me

4) the outside

i LOVED the set design and general setting for this one. once again, great atmosphere, great build up, stupid ending. the message of it was honestly just kinda outdated as well. the main character was likeable at first but quickly became obnoxious and impossible to root for or empathise with which made the episode boring to watch. her husband was so blatantly meant to be a stand in for the audience and a "voice of reason" type character that it was hard to get immersed into the story. the characters in general were just. not great. and the "twist" of "it was a creature!" at the end was just so stupid imo sorry if that's harsh lol. i appreciated the visuals and how weirdly horny it was for no reason lmao but honestly it didn't have many other redeeming qualities

5) pickman's model

this one just didn't grab me at all. the characters weren't charismatic or interesting and the plot was just so obvious and overdone with the whole "what if there was a scary painting BUT IT WAS REAL!!!!!" thing. the scene where the creature appears and drags pickman off was pretty cool but other than that it just sucked honestly. extremely boring, not scary whatsoever and not interesting or fun or anything else.

6) dreams in the witch house

oh boy this shit sucked so bad LOL. just right from the beginning it was silly (but not in a good or fun way), poorly acted, boring, and extremely not scary. the only bit that even vaguely scared me was the "OH MY GOD IT'S INSIDE ME" part but that's just bc it's a trope that always freaks me out (i still can't watch the chestburster scene in alien lmao). the dialogue was predictable and cheesy and the characters were bland as hell. it was just not good sorry

7) the viewing

FINALLY I CAN BE POSITIVE ok this one ruled i loved it. great performances from charlyne yi and eric andre especially. it has a slow build up but makes up for that with an awesome atmosphere and amazing set. the characters are all clearly established with their own motivations and personalities. the direction the plot goes in is a little bit predictable, but that's probably the biggest flaw it has. it's also darkly comedic in a way that works in this episode, unlike some of the others. and the creature design rules

8) the murmuring

they definitely saved the best for last in this anthology. this one is awesome. great acting, and you can really feel deeply for both characters. it takes just the right amount of time building up the tension. the setting is so wonderful and atmospheric, it's visually brilliant. there were also some moments where i felt genuinely scared and tense which is more than i can say for most of the other episodes. it was possibly a little rushed at the end but nothing major. some really creepy off-putting moments combined with great visuals and a compelling plot and setting. if you're more of a body horror/slasher/etc type of person then this episode might not be your thing, but personally i prefer a "creeping feeling of dread" kind of horror so this was right up my alley.

obv these are just my personal takes and i know a lot of this is down to my own personal taste and preferences. ive read some reviews where the reviewer has the exact opposite of my opinions on every episode lol. if you liked episodes i didn't like then please don't take this personally or anything, and in general i don't want this post to be interpreted as some kind of attack on the series. i just wanted to share my personal thoughts on it, and unfortunately this one wasn't rlly for me overall, but that doesn't mean that there isn't someone out there who will love it!

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twstedstoryshop · 2 years

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AAAAH, oh my god, this is such a sad start at first with the baby eels going rabid at one another but at least it ended on a happy note, somewhat... This was a lovely story sent into me by @letmedisolveintomoss with baby Jade and Floyd. Be mindful of their warning. -Shopkeep

Moss: And finally, the tweels horror based story that I promised ages ago! Tw for blood, graphic violence, cannibalism, gore, and implied starvation. It does have a happy ending, don't worry!

A tiny elver lay as motionless as it could in a crevice only it could fit into. It was the runt of its clutch, and this is the only way it could survive, watching the onslaught take place just beyond its hiding place.

Its siblings tore each other to pieces in a massive feeding frenzy. And yet, there was an oddity among them. It had its eyes trained on one that seemed to be the strongest, and yet only attacked if provoked. It had to restrain itself from swimming out and hiding behind its larger sibling. Fear kept it paralyzed.

At least, that was what was supposed to happen. Another sibling darted out from behind some kelp and choke slammed the sibling it had been watching to the sea floor. It grabbed a nearby splinter of wood, rushing over to stab the assailant through the heart and off its sibling.

The pain had suddenly stopped. Looking to its side, it saw an absolutely miniscule elver. It must have been at least a fifth its own size. It wasn't even that it was small, it was painfully thin too. It could see its stomach through it's translucent skin, and it was shriveled and empty. Looking through its sibling that had saved it (and was now repeatedly impaling the one who had attacked it with a splinter), it saw another one, looking for an easy kill.

Moving quickly, it crushed the skull of the new attacker with one hand. No one was going to lay a finger on the one who saved it.

The battle raged on, until eventually, it was just the two of them left in red stained water. The one who saved it was still stabbing the lifeless corpse of the one who attacked it. Gently, it put a hand under the upper arm of the one who saved it, stopping it on its downswing.

It turned its head and dropped the splinter. An olive right eye and a golden left, tears flowing out of them. Little did they know that their faces reflected each other. Tiny, dark ribs rapidly pushed against skin and hugged the bones tightly. The larger of the two tried to offer a dismembered arm for sustenance, but the smaller pushed it away.

It blinked once.

Twice.

The larger looked around rapidly before locking onto a suitable target. The kelp. It had seen other, larger creatures eat it, so maybe the tiny elver would eat it?

It tore off several large chunks and swam back to its smaller sibling who had half buried itself in the sand at this point.

It shoved out what it had collected towards its sibling. It smiled widely as its sibling cautiously took a bite from one of the chunks of kelp. Its smile grew ever wider as its sibling began to devour the kelp ravenously.

Mangrove Lilly-Leech anxiously swam around the nursery, making sure everything was in place. The ribbon eel huffed as she checked everything over for the nth time. November fifth. The day had come to collect her baby, and she wanted everything to be perfect. As much as she wanted to take care of all 57 of the elvers that hatched from the eggs she laid, she knew logically that she couldn't. She ran her hands through her short, blonde hair. One more check wouldn't hurt, right?

She was stopped by her slender giant moray husband, Maximilian Leech, pulling her into a slow dance.

"Dear, you're going to tie yourself in a knot at this rate. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?" His long tailfin slid across her waist gracefully, pulling her closer as she leaned into his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I'm just… worried. What if our baby doesn't like us? What if we're not good enough?" She knew her worries were silly, but she still frowned at her husband's stifled laughter.

"My love," he started, those two simple words gripping her heart "you have nothing to worry about, if it takes after you in any capacity," he leaned forward, long dark hair and eyes engulfing her view "then it will have enough heart to love the whole sea"

Mangrove buried her face her husband's chest, muttering a half hearted "fuck you", causing him to break out into fully fledged laughter, holding his wife close. She could feel the stress melting off her, joining in on his laughter.

They had arrived at the designated breeding grounds for the Leech family. Mangrove slowly swam down, being careful to not accidentally startle or squish her baby. She began to search for where it might be hiding, brushing away kelp and checking in crevices.

When she finally found her baby asleep hiding in a crevice right next to the seafloor, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Hi there baby, it's me, your mama" she said, reaching out and stroking its back, which was now opaque. Bleary, droopy mismatched eyes looked over its shoulder, and it unfurled slightly, revealing that it was holding and cuddling another, translucent, elver half its size. The smaller made a whine and snuggled in closer at the unwelcome loss of contact.

Twins.

It was exceptionally rare among eels to have twins, more than any other genus that existed on the planet. Having twins for eels is less than one in a thousand. It's considered a sign of extremely good fortune to have twins, and a hubbub and celebration like no other is thrown to honor the rare occasion.

Mangrove started crying, muttering that she had twins under her breath as her two new precious bundles of joy swam into her hands. She quickly clutched them to her chest, like they were the most precious jewels in the world.

"Maxie! Twins!" She shouted up to her husband. His eyes widened as he shot down to where his wife was laying. She unfurled her fingers to reveal their two new beautiful babies, who had already fallen asleep again, clutching each other. Maximilian gasped.

"Not just any twins, but one's a runt too. The exceptional kindness.." He trailed off, eyes wide with excitement. He gripped Mangrove's arm "We need to get these two home and tell the rest of the family immediately. I think a celebration is in order."

#submission

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

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LOVE ME, WRESTLE ME.

Boyfriendrry blurb of some smutty and fluffy thought.

Taking online classes, resting, doing assignments, then spending some time with Harry and watching a movie at night that always ends up in a good fuck isn't boring but it's insipid.

The cooe of rain outside's soothing and tranquil enough to fill in already comfortable silence between you people, your lips murmuring around the instinctive words from the scrabby page of the Oscar Wilde's; The selfish giant. Your knees are hiked up sitting in the love seat opposite to where Harry's sitting on the messy-ly made bed since you both were feeling a tad lazy and in mood to procrastinate house chores.

You're constantly loosing your focus, because you're terribly horny at the moment and Harry in a baggy yellow pawy sweater spread on his tummy over the bed doing nothing but staring at you like he'd swallow you whole isn't helping at all with the ache between your thighs.

So, you do what was needed to be done.

His eyes follows your commotion as you leave your spot kneeing up on the edge of bed, your crotch against his face and you look down at him with a witty smirk.

"Wrestle me." Your voice challenging. You arch your brow with profound irritation when he intentionally dismisses you off by rumbling his lips to blow away the curls falling over his dooey eyes.

"Pardon?" He creates a noise, within a click of his tongue or his hand against your bare thigh (fondling the soft skin he's obsessed with) that dries your throat with hunger. He heard it right. There was no wavering in what you invited him for.

You guys have this game where he has to make you cum within two minutes and you've to wrestle him off, if you loose and cum you've to keep him warm and sloppy in your mouth until it turns into a nice blowie so it's a win win either way.

You fail every time. Most of it is very obvious.

But, right now he's trying to rile your nerves up by acting like an utterly supine cow.

"Hmm?" The questioning hum turns into a giggly squeal when he grabs your ankle and throws you onto the mattress like a rag doll, "S' fuckin' insatiable all the time ..." He growls towering above you, pushing your thighs apart with a tight grip to your soft fleshy insides that makes you hiss. A laugh pits up in your belly from the thrill of shutting them back and fighting him off to piss him further.

Ofcourse him being stronger than you fails you to do so and a loud moan bubbles around you when he licks his palm till the tips of his fingers and smacks your already soaking centre harshly.

"Fuck." You mewl softly sinking into sheets when he yanks your shorts down leaving you in nothing but his large hoodie, your pussy lips flutter from the heated sensation of your stickiness coming in contact with the sting of his chilly rings.

He pins your wrist atop your head and fits himself between your wide opened legs grinding his hard (trouser clad) prick against your heating centre in vigorous rubs, leaving a burn with every stroke and making you loose your stance with the growing desire to have his fingers inside you.

"C'mon fight me now." He grits. Glowering down at you sternly and your tummy coils against his's pelvis with each nasty roll of his hips, you gasp around a sob when he nips at the soft skin of your jaw. He wants you to surrender yourself to him but your ego's more than that so with a trick of pulling at his hair you flip him on his back and crawl up to straddle his torso jerking his shoulder down.

"Aha!" You grin in a victory. His brows pinches down furiously and before you know his calloused hand came spanking your butt-cheek making your face smash into the crook of his neck with an unexpected vulgar series of moans, "Bratty little fuck doll." He grunts landing another spank right where the first one left crimson imprints, again and again till you're a squirming crying mess.

He slides his two fingers down your puckering rim to where you're dripping with wetness and teases your entrance by never dipping them in till the end but rather stroking the spongy wall of your soppy cunt.

You squeal when he flips you on your tummy and leans all his weight over your back to glide his hand between the compact space of their bottoms, he patches breathy kisses to the side of your neck leaving love marks, sliding in his fingers deep inside that when you feel a certain crack resonating to your ears and shooting pain till your toes making them jelly.

You're fucked.

It all happened from your arm placed at the weird angle while he had your hips in air.

"Harry, I think. I might've broken my wrist." You stammer in a calm voice though, barely able to speak when the pang in your joint's inflaming like a wildfire along with the pleasure that's subsiding into an akward spasmy feeling as you pulsates around his fingers.

"Sucha bullshit excuse to mice outta yer defeat." He rasps to you smugly. Your face scrunches up in pain and your head falls into the throw pillow.

"No . ." You shake your head quickly gulping down the thick tears down your throat and when his head clears out from the fog of lust, noticing the weakness in your words he immediately pulls his digits out, "Holy ... Fuck." You try to stay placid knowing his insides are ticking in panic and is about to explode in one, two and —

"Baby -– how — how are y'so calm? Is it hurting? Show me." The shift in his demeanor is adorable as minutes ago he was about to rail you to unconsciousness and now he's the softest cutest caring boyfriend.

Tears prickles at your waterline when he presses his thumb into your wrist bone ever so diligently and it jolts severe pain up your arm.

"I think it's, 'm so so sorry baby. We should go to hospital. Stay here, yeah?" He tells you cupping your cheeks worriedly and rushes to fetch a wet rag when you nod through a sniff and wobbly lips.

He cleans you off, shushing you with tender kisses to your ankles when the throb got overwhelming. Helps you wearing your jeans and shoes being careful not to hurt your wrist any further in doing so.

"It's okay, you're okay lovie —- if the pain's too much —--- dunno we should probably run to hospital." He's out of breath snatching the keys and his coat taking glances of you after every second to make sure you're okay, more like assuring himself, "Bub it wasn't your fault. It was an accident, I can endure a lil bit pain." Through the whole call ride he was jittery and twitchy waiting for to reach the clinic speedily.

He has you embraced by his side with a careful support of his palm under your wrist so it wouldn't dangle that much as he walks you inside.

The doctor sitting infront of you two stares at the way you both are flushed, rosy cheeks, ruffled hair and sheened skin radiating 'we were in the middle of having great sex.' But, she chooses not to speak as you shrink to Harry's side timidly from the embarrassment and shyness.

Harry just passes you a nervous smile squeezing your shoulder to cheer you up and nudges you when the doctor asks the ever awaiting question.

"So . . . How did it happen?"

"Cupboard —-" You speak.

"She fell of —-" And he speaks at the same time.

You look at eachother with wide shocked eyes but then he clear his throat allowing you to speak, "I was putting some dishes up in the cupboard when I lost my footing and knocked my wrist against it." The doctor surely didn't give into your guys shit. Nodding along to your made up story.

You guys feel exposed when the doctor spoke inspecting Y/N wrist, "The injury caused from the pressure of weight, splinting the bone away and tearing the muscle too ... nothing that wouldn't heal in two weeks. You'll be good with an arm cast and these pain killers."

When you step out into the waiting corridor it feels like your secret has been revealed to every single person sitting there and you pull the strings of your hoodie to cover your face and Harry chuckles kissing your head at your silliness.

Once in the privacy of car he speaks looking at your cast properly, "One thing fo' sure that game isn't made fo' us -- you're too delicate to play it just fo' fun and thrill. Next, time just ask me to fuck you baby and I'll surely do it happily." He sighs a puff of breath kissing your cast and patting it lightly jerking back in horror when you yelp.

"Ouch!" He takes your jaw to kiss your lips upon seeing you grinning at your own misheviousness.

"Ye' batty little creature, stop messin' with your poor boyfriend!" He grumps cheekily at your playfullness.

"'M sorry, daddy will you take care of me?" You blink sickly coy through your lashes. Pouting up at him innocently and he shakes his head bopping your nose.

"You just wait and watch." He kisses the side of your head while reversing the car.

"How about we start from drawing dicks on ye' cast, hmm? How bout that?" He smirks and you gasp surprised at his antics.

"Harry!" The car fills up with laughter and giggles until he takes a rough turn.

"You better drive safe else 'm walking home!"

#harry styles imagines #dirty harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry angst #harry styles fanfiction #dom harry #harry styles #cute harry #fluff #IDK IF YOULL LIKE IT BUT THIS IDEA WAS SWIMMING IN MY DIRTY HEAD FOR SO LONG UNTIL IT ENDED UP BEING A FLUFF

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 4 years

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do you read any fancomics? i feel like there aren't any good ones other than yours so if you like some maybe I'll like them too

There are TONS of good fancomics, but the thing is, everyone has different tastes to everyone’s ideas of what is ‘good’ is going to be different.

Here’s some fancomics in the SU-sphere that you can check out!

Disclaimer: A few of the comics mentioned below contain heavier themes dealing with things like abandonment, abuse, grief and death. Although I believe these themes should be explored in art, they have the potential to be stressful and I have done my best to put warnings on all of them. Please READ THE WARNINGS. There is not anything wrong with reading about difficult or dark things, but you need to be conscious of how/what you are consuming and how it’s affecting you emotionally. Part of consuming content responsibly is knowing when to stop consuming, take a break, and put your mental health first.

Without further ado!

SU Fancomics

SU-B-Sides: A Steven Universe AU fancomic that reimagines the Crystal Gems as a different team - Bismuth, Lapis and Peridot take the center stage! This comic is wonderfully expressive with true-to-canon silliness and opens up a fascinating world of possibilities while staying true to the direction of the show! (Read here!)

Twiniverse: A Steven Universe AU fancomic about twin half-gems - Steven and Nora! When Rose discovered that she was pregnant with twins, she was devastated by the prospect that only one of the children would inherit her gem. Pearl fused with her instead and as a result, Nora now has Pearl’s gem! (Read here!)

Bad Prediction AU: This Steven Universe AU follows the timeline where Sapphire’s vision from The Answer came true - the Rebellion stopped 5750 years ago. Pink Diamond was captured and forced to be a puppet government figure, stripped of her power and instead given the Zoo to watch over. She still met Greg and had Steven - who has now grown up as a Diamond. (Read here!)

Tourmaline: A fan comic of Cartoon Network's 'Steven Universe', set in an alternate universe where Peridot never got caught. (Based off of PhantomRose96's story by the same name.) (Read here)

YellowDiamond!Steven AU: An AU that reimagines Steven as the son of Yellow Diamond. (Read here)

Pressure: A fanmade comic of the time Lapis and Jasper spend together as Malachite. Intense amount of action as well as a fascinating look into both characters’ psyche. Warning: This comic deals with a lot of trauma and includes violence and body horror. (Read here)

SU AU Gone Wrong: If you like dark stories - and I do mean DARK, as in ones that address *major character death* - you can venture into this comic. I need to stress that this deals EXPLICITLY with death, loss, grief and etc. WARNING: Death, blood, gore and very realistic depictions of grief and mourning. Do NOT read if you know you are not in a state of mind to consume this kind of content.

. . .

Original Fiction Webcomics:

I actually read very little of original webcomics lately but I feel I should recommend the ones I do know of:

Stand Still Stay Silent: This is one of my favorite comics and I own two hardback volumes of it. The story is a bit darker - set in a fantastical post-apocalyptic nordic landscape full of creatures the humans no longer have an understanding of. It’s beautifully illustrated and incredibly poignant.

Warnings: It does feature heavily in death and leans a little bit towards horror. (Read it here!)

The Strange Tales of Oscar Zahn: Follow the journey of the world's greatest paranormal investigator - Oscar Zahn. Friend to lost souls, enemy of evil, he may lack a body but that doesn't mean he's missing a heart! This one fits into the slightly-spooky-but-not-quite-horror category. Loved the atmosphere of it when I read it. (Read here!)

Lady of the Shard: This comic is one of those that bread the barriers of the medium it’s in and absolutely grow onto you despite the fact that you’re only reading it on a screen. The story has it all - heart, kindness, beings that seem beyond our understanding but end up being more human than meets the eye... and love. (Read here!)

17776 aka What Football Will Look Like In The Future: I hesitate to call this a comic because it’s more like an immersive web novella. Or rather, it’s more like a time capsule from the future that ends up being silly and moving and sobering and inspirational all at once. If you like satellites developing personalities, if you like humans fighting through the boredom of immortality by inventing and reinventing the game of football into more and more convoluted ways of playing it - this story is for you.

Warning: The very beginning of the comic contains multiple animations, and starts with a web-page morphing into something else that might be disorienting/startling for some. (Read here!)

Barbarous: I will sheepishly admit that I started Barbarous back when it came out and never caught up - but maybe recommending it will help me restart again! (Read here!)

This is, of course, a non-exhaustive list and I’m sure I missed many wonderful comics. Feel free to drop recs in the comments but please tag and warn for non-general themes so people can know what they’re clicking into.

#comics #webcomics #fancomics #fancomic #webcomic #recommends #recs #chekhov recs #Anonymous

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autumnslance · 3 years

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"In the five years following your sudden disappearance from the Carteneau Flats, your ever-faithful chocobo spent each waking moment galloping across the realm in search of [his] lost master. [His] myriad adventures are nothing less than fantastical and heartbreaking...but that is a story for another day." - Legacy Chocobo mount description.

((Animal love, loyalty, and those bonds woven by fate. So there’s some animal angst and injury, but also a happy ending. Crossposted below for those who prefer Tumblr:))

“I need you to stay here,” her person said, rubbing her beak and scratching the white feathers of her neck.

She kweh’d softly, not liking the request but because he had asked it, she would obey and listen for the whistle binding them together, when he needed her to come to his aid.

The not-a-moon hung low and burning in the sky. The land’s aether tasted funny, the smells of nature were all wrong. Any creature with sense hid as fiends roamed.

People had little sense, she’d found. Especially her person; in his armor, his axe pulled from his back, he would throw himself into the fray with a shout to fight anything that harmed others. Normally, she would be right there with him, beak and talon and wings alongside his weapon, helping him.

“That’s my Snowlight, my good girl,” he crooned, leaving a kiss on the end of her beak before turning to join his comrades.

She had been injured in their last fight, trying to keep him safe, and so she couldn’t join him in this one but he still said she was good and that was what mattered.

She kweh’d encouragement after him, satisfied he turned back to wave one more time, before joining all the other people leaving to fight.

—-

The not-a-moon broke apart and released Horror. There were flames and pain and ear-splitting roars.

The stables were on fire.

Snowlight was too injured to fight, but not too injured to herd the frightened silly-headed carriage chocobos out of the flames. Not too injured to find the coughing stablemaster, knock a fallen beam aside, and herd him out, too. She even found one of the barn kittens, confused and afraid, carefully picking it up in her beak like a chick.

Snowlight was a good girl. Her person helped others, and so would she.

The Horror was over the field where she knew her person was. It was malms away and he hadn’t called but her heart fluttered wildly and she ignored the grooms and handlers to dash through the burning woods.

He needed her, she couldn’t let him—

The world went white, then red, then white again, and finally black.

—-

The world’s aether tasted thin and strange, like weak juice left out too long.

She pulled herself out of the little hollow of debris and ash, casting a cure on instinct at the twinges in her wings and legs and neck, the injury on her side--the one that had kept her in the stable to begin with--throbbing again. The cure helped.

Snowlight blinked, trying to get a sense of where her person was, the location of the whistle attuning them to one another.

She couldn’t find it.

She shook out her feathers and limped on to where she thought maybe she had last felt it, in the direction he had left with his friends and all the other people, toward the setting sun--though it was currently obscured by angry clouds and more ashes.

Familiar places looked strange, though Snowlight couldn’t really put a talon on why or how. The forest was oddly silent, slow to wake from the disaster. The Elementals seemed especially distant.

She foraged for berries and greens, then slept. She was cautious of water she found but had to drink; the rain that fell later helped a great deal, though it was also heavy with dust and grief. She foraged more, and then slept more under a rocky outcropping.

The pass to the north felt wrong, cold winds blowing from the hills. So she kept heading west, through the less familiar hills, to get to the gloomy place.

Snowlight could always find the gloomy place, especially when the wind blew right. It felt like a scab on the world, the magic—and Something Else—waiting under the lake’s surface. It was an easy place to find, if weird.

It took a couple days for Snowlight to reach the gloomy place; slower than usual, but she was still recovering from her injuries and the paths through the woods were not easy to navigate. There weren’t as many fiends roaming around, at least, and the ones that were could be easily avoided.

The other creatures were waking and coming out of hiding again, too. She was a little less lonely, with the small birds singing.

The gloomy place was more of a mess than usual, a crystal spire piercing the air and giving off waves of suppressed magic. The corpse in the center of the lake continued to sleep but she gave the shore wide berth, both for its slumbering guardian and for the poison filming the water.

Snowlight continued west and a bit south, still not sensing her person, nor had he called for her on the whistle. She couldn’t teleport without the pull of the whistle. Her feet hurt but she kept picking her way through the ruins of machina parts.

She went to the camp for food, but it was empty, the aetheryte exploded in size and twisted in shape, the tents and supplies torn and burned. There were no people anymore.

Snowlight kweh’d sadly, rummaging through the wreckage for anything edible. She was rewarded with burnt gysahl greens, tasting faintly of staticky aether, but it was enough to raise her flagging spirits. After considering the twisty former aetheryte for a long moment, she decided one of the half-fallen tents at the edge of the old camp would be all right for sleeping in. There was still enough man-smell to keep wild creatures away.

—-

“Well ain’t you a beauty,” the big man with the rough voice said. “Fetch a good price at market.”

“To hell with the market,” the skinny man whined. “I’m starved and it’ll feed the whole bloody camp.”

“C’mere—” the scarred lady reached for Snowlight.

She beat her wings and shrieked. The trio swore and threw up their hands to protect their faces.

Snowlight was almost to the terrible place, full of twisted aether and death. The last place she knew her person had been. This trio had come upon her as the noon sun struggled to break through the thick clouds. They smelled of blood and offal and desperation, and she did not trust them.

The whiny man ducked close, so Snowlight leapt and kicked him, throwing him into the lady with a shout.

The big man managed to snag her neck, his arms squeezing. “C’mere you overgrown chicken I’ll—”

Snowlight shoved back and up; she couldn’t fly far with the aether currents so warped, but it was enough to startle him, and now he clung to not fall even the few fulms she had lifted him. She bucked until he slipped off and then she flew away as fast and as far as she could.

There was a whistling noise and a sharp pain in her flank but she swerved and pushed faster, hearing the hissing whistle of more arrows. She fought against the weird currents and her own weary wings, risking crossing a high bank that abruptly dropped into a narrow ravine, almost like a frozen wave of earth instead of water.

On the other side she landed heavily and ran, feeling warm liquid trickle down her leg, the arrow still lodged but loose enough to shift and pinch with every motion. Even so, she pressed on.

She was close.

Spots crossed her vision. She no longer heard the mean people; only the wind. Panting, she stopped finally, swaying on her trembling legs.

Where was he?

She spent a bit of strength to cast a cure, the arrow forced out as the flesh healed. She had to rest, but the mean people might still chase her. And she had to be close to where he was. Surely it was simply the damage caused by the Horror that was obscuring the connection, his call.

He had to have tried to call her. He couldn’t go this long on his own.

There were more people dotting the ruined plain, but they were easy to avoid now that she knew she had to be sneaky. She picked her way through smoldering magitek and torn earth and twisted structures that felt Wrong and smelled Strange. There were bodies, but none of them the one she looked for, thankfully.

A whiff of his scent caught in her beak and she kweh’d happily, seeking more. Still he did not respond, it was merely the scent of his previous presence. Perhaps he was among the people.

She drew as close as she dared to the tents. To the warm, gentle pulse of the Seedseer.

His scent was not among the camp.

Snowlight pondered this as she tried to retrace her steps to where she had caught that whiff. The field was scorched, the ground rippled from the blasts of competing magic. The aftertaste of the old mage lingered on her tongue, though it had a more bitter endnote than she recalled. Snowlight kweh’d again, digging for the scents of her person and his companions, catching hints and traces, but not finding them. Not finding him.

A voice called. She looked up and saw a yellow-clad man pointing in her direction. She turned and jogged away before the Adders could come close. While they would likely be more friendly than the bandits earlier, she had not the time for them.

She still had to find her person.

—-

Snowlight found hiding spots, keeping away from the Adders and adventurers still lingering. The taste of healing magic hung over the camp, competing with the blood and pain.

The camp was the best place to find food, though; this terrible place had none naturally anymore, blasted away or warped beyond recognition.

Snowlight was a good sneak; her person had often said so, when she played the hide and seek game with him. She would hide something he used and he had to find it. It was always great fun. She had also used it to swipe food before, risking a scolding but it was her person’s own fault for trying to deny her treats when she needed them.

Her sneakiness came in handy as she maneuvered herself into the Adders’ flock and helped herself to some of the feed provided. The destriers were too tired themselves to snap or fuss and besides, she could easily fight any of them into submission and they knew it; she was an adventuring bird, after all.

She was careful to keep the others between her and the soldiers, to not let them notice or catch her. It was tricky, given her bright white plumage compared to most army chocobos. But Snowlight was a good sneak, and managed to avoid getting caught. She had things to do, after all, and had to be ready if her person called.

She still couldn’t sense him. She still had not heard his whistle.

Snowlight slipped out of the flock, leaping the makeshift fencing while the handlers were busy. Then she returned to searching the broken plain.

The Adders were getting ready to break camp; there were few bodies left amid the wreckage of the battlefield, few new wounded found. They had worked tirelessly for over a sennight, the Seedseer and the conjurers sparks of the natural world amidst the carnage.

Snowlight returned again to the place where she had scented her person and his friends. She circled around it once more, a periphery she had scratched into the ashes as she tried to figure out where they had gone. How they had gone.

“They aren’t here,” a gentle voice said.

Snowlight warked and jumped, whirling to face the weary Seedseer as she leaned on her staff. Even exhausted, power thrummed through the padjal’s frame, a barely held summer storm. She smiled at Snowlight.

“I think I recognize you,” the Seedseer said. “Yes...I can’t quite recall…” She frowned. “I don’t remember their faces. Their names. But I know you were with them, once.”

Snowlight listened, keeping still. It was only polite in the padjal’s presence. As the Seedseer paused, though, Snowlight asked a tentative “Kweh?”

The Seedseer shook her head. “I don’t know where they have gone. One moment, they were there. I know I must have seen them. But all I remember are their silhouettes in the light. And then…” she trailed off, a perplexed look on her face. “I only know they’re gone. I’m sorry.”

Snowlight chirred in frustration, ruffling her wings. She didn’t understand, and usually the padjali were easier to comprehend than other people. What the Seedseer said made no sense.

“I know, it’s difficult,” the Seedseer said, voice cracking in grief and weariness as she reached out a hand. “But come; we can take care of you, and—’’

Snowlight was a good girl. Usually. The Seedseer was to be respected. Usually.

Snowlight shrieked and reared, flapping her wings as she backpedaled from the startled padjal.

“Wait—” the Seedseer called as Snowlight whirled and dashed, avoiding the soldiers who followed the padjal, who tried to catch Snowlight on their mistress’ command.

A soldier stood in her way. Snowlight warked a single warning before barrelling over and past him, ignoring the shouts.

They were hard to hear through the rushing, pounding feeling in her head, the ache in her heart that already felt like it had run for malms.

She ran up a tilted piece of machinery, a giant wall that had fallen from the not-a-moon and flapping her wings took off, flying toward the boggy saltmarsh to the north.

Her person wasn’t there, but neither were the soldiers, or the Seedseer and her painful words.

Snowlight would rest. She would eat. She would recover. Then she would keep looking for wherever her person had gotten to.

She had to. Snowlight was a good girl.

—-

Snowlight was so tired.

Her plumage was not as bright as it had once been; she had not had a proper grooming in a long time, and injuries and life in the wild had left her more ragged than she had ever been. Her person had often called her the prettiest chocobo in Eorzea, though she looked nothing like that now.

He still had not called. She still could not sense him. She still searched, though; the Seedseer was wrong, and he was just lost. He had lost the whistle in that Horror. He was waiting for Snowlight to find him.

Sometimes, curled up under a tree or in an abandoned building or an old cave, she would sleep and dream of the days they had rode together. Of their adventures, their games, his laughter, his scritches. His warmth as he leaned back against her side while the campfire crackled, his voice as he talked about so many things. She almost never understood, but he had such a nice voice. She missed hearing it.

The dreams were happy, but waking from them was sad. Snowlight stood, ruffled her feathers, and kept looking.

She had sought him out in the ruined reaches of the western marsh and the terrible place, through the gloomy place and its unsettling waiting feeling. Through the Wood, the Elementals barely whispering anymore, rarely waking from their slumber. She crossed the scrublands and burning sands, even risking the golden plains and the lizardmen who rode across them. She picked her way among the rocky mountains, and into the frozen land in the north, the wind and ice aether unrelenting even in the height of summer.

Snowlight was not yet certain how she could cross the strait to the island; it was just about the only place in the realm she had not looked over the last five summers and winters. The Seedseer’s words echoed in her memory again but Snowlight shook them away.

Her person was somewhere. She just had to find him.

She was back in the Wood. She would have to head west past the gloomy place and the salt marsh. If she didn’t want to be caught, anyway; she would have to find a way across the sea that did not involve people.

Sometimes she found people in trouble; beset by fiends or bandits, lost children crying alone, hurt people needing a cure. Snowlight had once been a good girl, and her person had helped people. So she scared off the fiends, fought the bandits, cast a cure on hurts, and guided the lost to safety. She sometimes, warily, took food and rest from those she helped. But then they would try to keep her—or worse, turn out to be mean themselves, and so she left as quickly as possible. Some wanted her for her plumage, some for riding or working, some for food. She wanted nothing to do with them as they were not her person.

So simply best to avoid people now.

Snowlight was tired, and so missed the snare that entangled her feet, triggering a second that caught her wings.

She flailed and shrieked. There was a prickle on her neck and she felt very woozy. It was getting dark again, but that couldn’t be right as the sun had just come up.

“Finally got ‘er,” a man’s voice said from...above her? When had she fallen to the ground? She warked and tried to struggle as careful hands gripped her. “She’s a tough ol’ bird for sure, but once she’s broken in…”

The world went black, and Snowlight dreamed of running across an open windy plain, her person laughing and whooping on her back.

—-

“Gods take you, you miserable bitch!” the stablehand yelled, clutching his bitten hand.

Snowlight just chirred a warning low in her chest, her feathers ruffled up as she glowered at him, beak clacking another warning.

No one here called her a good girl. Snowlight did not feel like being good, when they kept her hobbled and more often than not in the stable. The most experienced hands would put a lead on her halter and let her run alongside them for too brief a time in too small a pen each day. Most of them were kind, and she usually felt bad after snapping at them with her beak, or scratching them with her talons.

But none of them would let her go to find her person, and her person had not come for her here, so she didn’t want to stay.

A quiet presence stepped up behind the stablehand. He turned to the slim young woman. “Nevermind this one; she mighta been some adventurer’s bird once, but she’s gone wild. Don’t like anybody, this ‘bo.”

The woman simply took the lead and approached the stall.

Snowlight turned her eyes to the woman, and her rumbling ceased. There was something oddly familiar here, but Snowlight wasn’t sure what. Tall for the kind of person she was, midnight hair, and…

Snowlight tossed her head and kweh’d, confused but excited. She had caught a scent, a scent she had only ever smelled on her person before! This woman had the same underlying tone; a warm spice that left Snowlight trembling. She barely noticed when the woman snapped the lead onto her halter.

“Good girl,” the woman said quietly, pitched in a way only Snowlight could hear—just like her person used to do, and though this woman’s voice was higher and gentler, there was something in the way the words were shaped, something in the timbre of her voice, that felt right and familiar.

It had been so long since someone had called Snowlight a good girl.

The stablehand was boggled as the woman opened the stall and led a quiet, nearly docile Snowlight out and to the exercise pen. Snowlight paid him no mind; she was trying to figure this out.

The woman led Snowlight to the pen and let her jog on the long lead. She didn’t get fussy or scared when Snowlight stretched and beat her wings. It would be easy to escape any other handler who allowed that.

But Snowlight knew the woman was an adventurer, and adventurers were strong and tricksy. And there was a quiet strength and unrealized power in this woman.

She felt like Snowlight’s person did.

The woman offered her some gysahl greens and scratched her neck just the way her person used to, finding exactly the Right Spot. Snowlight sighed.

She was so tired.

“Been awhile since you trusted someone,” the woman said. Her accent was definitely the same as Snowlight’s person, and the same tone if higher. Her scent was the same too; not just soaps and the smells people put on themselves, but deeper, in blood and bone. When Snowlight peered at the woman, here in the daylight, there were ways she moved, the way she smiled, the color of her eyes, that were the same as his.

The woman let Snowlight run a little longer, putting her through paces using the same foreign words her person used to, the ones meaning “slow down” or “speed up” or “stop” and “go.” She gave Snowlight more greens and pets and then led her back to the stable.

The other handlers were confused, whispering, uncertain. One came close and Snowlight snapped at him out of habit. “Shh,” the woman said. She didn’t scold or jerk the halter, just laid her hand on Snowlight’s neck. “We need to brush you down.”

Snowlight did feel itchy after exercise. Still, she didn’t want the others muddling things up, not when she was trying to figure out this woman and why she felt as right and familiar as Snowlight’s person had.

The woman took her time, giving Snowlight a thorough bath and brushing. She did not let the woman trim her talons though, or check in her beak; not yet. There were limits.

Snowlight’s stall was clean and there was fresh feed and cool water. The handler she had bitten earlier shook his head, hand now bandaged. “Dunno what you did, but thank you. Poor old girl was running wild for years, near as we can tell. One of many who lost their riders in the Calamity, is my guess. She’s had it rough and won’t let folks near—until you.”

The woman shrugged and smiled.

“Well thank you. You’re welcome to return and help anytime.” He was only partly joking.

The woman simply nodded, retrieving her bow and quiver from the hooks where she had left them, before she turned to go.

Snowlight lifted her head from the feed bin to kweh a goodbye to the woman. The woman turned and smiled, waving to Snowlight.

When Snowlight fell asleep that night, she dreamed of her person, as usual. But the woman was also there, her laugh joining his.

A couple days later, Snowlight was kicking a ball toy in her stall, bored until it was time for the handlers to come take her to exercises again. She stopped kicking the ball and perked up at hearing a certain step, catching a certain scent. She kweh’d toward the quiet presence entering the stable.

“Hello,” the woman said to Snowlight. “Did you want to train again?”

Snowlight kweh’d and ruffled her feathers happily. She liked this quiet woman who reminded her of her person. She thought perhaps they were from the same clutch. After all, Showlight could tell when two chocobos were related, and while people were different they had their own families too.

The woman hung up her weapons and picked up the lead rope. Snowlight allowed the woman to guide her out into the exercise pens and they played for well over a bell. Then the woman bathed and brushed Snowlight again, before bringing her back to the stall, freshly cleaned by the other handlers.

The woman stroked Snowlight’s beak. “Good girl,” she said.

Snowlight preened.

The stablemaster was nearby and shook his head. “No one’s been able to get near that bird for moons. You come along and she’s docile as anything.”

The woman shrugged. “I didn’t do anything special; just treated her nice.”

“All any of us tried,” the stable master sighed. He peered at Snowlight. “She ain’t changed her attitude to the rest of us, neither.”

“I should be back in a few days,” the woman said. “I can help again then.”

“We appreciate it,” he said. “Maybe she’ll calm down with repeat visits from someone she trusts.”

The woman nodded, and gave Snowlight one last scritch before heading out once more. She turned and waved again when Snowlight called to her. That was nice.

—-

It had been nearly a moon since the woman’s last visit.

Snowlight had gotten used to the woman coming by every few days, looking and smelling and sounding so much like her person had; it was like having a part of him back as they trained and played and cleaned up together.

But now, after those handful of visits, the woman had not returned, just like her person had not, and Snowlight was so tired.

She no longer snapped and scratched at the handlers, but now they could not coax her to eat more than the bare minimum, or play, or train.

They were good people, really; they just weren’t hers, and she wasn’t theirs. The people Snowlight wanted simply hadn’t come back.

Snowlight dozed in her stall, ignoring the sunny day and the other chocobos and handlers. Then a certain sound caught her attention, a familiar step. She blinked awake, catching a familiar scent, and kweh’d.

The woman rounded the corner and smiled as Snowlight bounced and trilled excitedly. The stable master followed, smiling too.

“Can’t say you don’t deserve it, though you sure this is the bird you want?”

The woman nodded, a giddiness to her usual calm presence that made Snowlight even more excited, too, though she did not know why. “I think she and I get along just fine,” the woman said to the stable master, turning finally to Snowlight. She scritched Snowlight’s neck. “I even have a name picked out. My brother and I used to come up with them as children, when dreaming of having our own chocobos.”

“Well much luck to you both,” he said, holding out his hand.

Snowlight trembled with excitement when she saw what he held; a whistle, just like the one her person used to have. The whistle that had tied them together, made her always able to find him--until she couldn’t.

The woman took the whistle, then looked back up at Snowlight. “Do you want to be my chocobo?” She asked, almost sounding nervous.

Snowlight thought about it. She had a person--once upon a time. He was gone now, but this woman was so much like him, possibly from the same clutch...So maybe it was all right. Maybe this person wouldn’t leave Snowlight behind--and if she did, Snowlight would do her best to find her.

After all, Snowlight was a good girl.

“Kweh-Kweh!” Snowlight agreed, bouncing excitedly. She would be an adventuring bird with a person of her own again!

The woman grinned, and after a few moments, the spell was complete and the aetheric bond formed.

Snowlight’s new person led her out of the stable, accepting the fine reins and saddle the stable master offered. “After all you’ve done for Gridania, not to mention taking on Ifrit himself, it’s the very least we can do,” he insisted. “And I’m just happy to see this girl get a fresh start and a good home.” He patted Snowlight’s shoulder. “What are you gonna name her? For our own records.”

Her person smiled. “For a white bird my brother and I could never decide between our favorites, so we combined them,” she answered. “I’m going to call her Snowlight.”

“A fine name,” the stable master said.

“Kweh-Kweh-Kweh!” Snowlight cheered, the last shadow of doubt faded; her new person even knew her name! This was the best day since…

Well, since her first person had chosen and named her.

Her person swung onto the saddle, thanking the stable master again. Then she leaned forward. “All right, girl; let’s go!”

Snowlight dashed out of Bentbranch, her person laughing on her back, to begin their adventures together.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Chocobo #Seventh Umbral Calamity #Kan-E-Senna #Warrior of Light #Lyn Writing #Snowlight #Zaine Striker #Aeryn Striker

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meat--grindr · 2 years

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Opinions on Malignant? 👀

I took me forever to get around to this one, but holy fucking shit!! The camera work, the atmosphere, the acting (Anabelle Wallis picked me up, dropped me into a pringles can and shook me around! Her performance was stunning!!), the TWIST!! HOLY MACKREL!

No spoilers (aside from the villain's name if you count that) but I'm gonna put my longer thoughts under a cut to cut down on your scrolling. We're respectful in this house.

Physicality is something I really love about acting, especially in horror movies. I love when people and creatures move and you just go 'EW!! HOLY FUCK WHY ARE THEY DOING THAT!' And it was utilized to the fullest extent here with our villain Gabriel (which is where I love to see it the most, honestly) Everything from the way he crawled about like a scary little demon to the way his shoulders moved when he breathed had me HANGING off of my seat. The way he moved was certainly not something I'd ever seen before. When you stop and thing about it the concept it a little silly, but it never looks or feels as silly as it should thanks to some top tier choreography and camera work! Wowza!

The twist was partially spoiled for me on here before I got to see it, which sucked, but as it turned out, I really didn't know the half of it and I still startled yelling when the full reveal came out. And I think even if I did have the whole thing spoiled it still would have been scary and fun. That being said, watch this shit as blind as you can, and if you can't do that and know the twist, find someone who doesn't and watch it with them just to see their expression. I'm sure it'll be worth it.

I also think they did a really good job of balancing the really tragic elements of this story with the scary ones. It didn't go fully down the Hereditary/Midsommar grief and bad choices are all consuming and inescapable route, and doesn't just ignore that trauma has an impact on people. Sometimes I find characters in movies will throw all their emotions out at the audience in a single scene to show they are feeling a certain way, or that something that happened to them impacted them, then we don't ever see it impacting them again. It's like we're just supposed to remember that they feel that way even when they take actions that would suggest otherwise. But I didn't think this was true in this film. Maddie's emotional state seemed to build upon itself like real a real person's. It was really nice to see.

I know a lot of people were not impressed with this one, but James Wan had me utterly enthralled the whole way through not gonna lie! It wasn't at all what I thought it was going to be because I (sort of on purpose) only saw one promo for it--I thought it was going to be more of a girl falls victim to the matrix-esque hellscape of her dreams type situation, which it really, really isn't. That would have been really cool, but I cannot say I was disappointed to be wrong.

But I think my favourite thing about this film is the fact that it doesn't take itself super seriously. The concept is balls to the wall crazy and though the tone of the movie is over-all serious, you can tell the people had a ton of fun making it and that they all really believed in the project. It just has a ton of heart <3

This movie is a fucking trip and it is definitely an instant favourite!

#i really really liked this movie okay?#I could talk about it forever #I love james wan so much akshdlsjdhla #maybe someday if I can figure a few things out I'll add gabriel to the list

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not-wholly-unheroic · 3 years

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Viewing Disney’s Peter Pan Through the Eyes of an Adult

Recently, I’ve seen several posts floating around talking about how Disney’s Hook is difficult for people to take seriously and is much too comical for what Barrie had intended. I grew up with Disney’s Hook. He was my first introduction to the character and the reason why I became interested in reading classic literature, writing fanfic, and seriously delving into the analysis of complex villainous/antagonistic characters, so he has a very special place in my heart and I’m prone to be quick to defend him. Rather than writing a long-winded reply to these individual posts, I decided to just make my own explaining why Disney’s Hook can be viewed as just as tragic and sympathetic as any other version. (You can also read some of my earlier posts defending Disney’s Hook here and here.)

*takes a deep breath* *cracks knuckles* Buckle up kiddos! You’re in for a long ride!

My view of Disney’s Hook as a tragic character lies primarily in my sympathy for him when he switches from a proud, elegant, dangerous character to a shivering mess of a man when the crocodile comes around. Let me attempt to elaborate--but first, a bit of a necessary digression.

Every film/book/play, etc. can be viewed from several perspectives. Typically, there is one character that we are meant to like and who becomes the primary focus of the story. Anyone who opposes that character is automatically an antagonist, if not a villain. Usually, even if the point of view is omniscient, we can still tell that it is not, perhaps, entirely objective in its portrayal of certain characters. This sort of situation happens all the time on the evening news--the interviewer is, in theory, supposed to be a neutral reporter on an incident, but it is often obvious that they favor one side of an issue over another, and as a result, the public's view of the situation and those involved is skewed. The lens through which we view a certain character tends to do the same thing. For instance, in Les Miserables (another favorite story of mine), Javert is viewed as an antagonist because the book is primarily concerned with the redemption story of Valjean; however, if the story was flipped and instead focused on the inspector's character and his transition from a strict legalist to a man so broken by the idea of morality that he commits suicide, he would, perhaps, be viewed instead as a tragic HERO instead of a tragic ANTAGONIST. Javert likely does many GOOD things in the name of the law as well during his career, but we don't see most of them because he isn't the main focus of the book. Similarly, I think Disney’s Hook can be more greatly appreciated as TRAGIC instead of COMICAL when we consider the lens through which we are viewing him.

Disney has always been geared toward children, so naturally, when they tell a story, they want the material to be attractive to a younger audience. This means not only that certain more frightening or upsetting elements of a story may be left out, edited, or altogether changed, but also that WE VIEW THE CHARACTERS THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD. (For example, in The Little Mermaid, King Triton's opposition to Ariel going to the surface world is presented in such a way that he seems extremely harsh when, in reality, he is father trying to keep his daughter safe. True, he DOES overreact, but remember, Ariel is only sixteen--not even LEGALLY an adult--and wants to run off with some guy she hasn’t even had a conversation with. But kids can relate to overbearing parents who, in a moment of disagreement, seem like they are being "mean," so that is how the audience sees Triton.) Peter Pan, especially, with its protagonist(s) as a child/children, really magnifies this perspective to the point where, unfortunately, some of the characters become almost caricatures of themselves. When children are legitimately afraid of something, they react one of two ways: Either they run from it/avoid it altogether, or they make-believe that whatever is frightening them is actually a lot less terrifying than it is so that they appear brave. I remember when I was younger, I used to be TERRIFIED of Monstro, the whale from Pinocchio. I couldn't watch the film without getting nightmares. But I didn't want to be afraid of watching the movie, so with my overactive imagination, I decided that I could fix that by turning him into a less scary version of himself and making him into an imaginary friend who more closely resembled Willy the anthropomorphic opera-singing whale from Make Mine Music than the terrifying creature we see in Pinocchio. Anyway, getting back to the point--I overcame my fear of the character by choosing to imagine that he was less scary than he was. This is what a lot of children do, and I think it's why Disney's Hook comes off as being comical.

The first time we see Disney Hook on screen, he actually comes across as pretty terrifying. He literally shoots his own crew member just because he didn't like the guy's singing! Rarely do we actually see Disney villains successfully kill another character on screen, but Hook does not even five minutes into his introduction. Immediately, we get the impression (or at least, a child should get the impression), that Hook is a genuinely dangerous guy. He also seems to regard his loss of a hand as "a childish prank," which further gives us the impression that he apparently has a pretty high pain tolerance and isn't afraid to do horrible, gruesome things to his enemies. If chopping someone's hand off is "childish," then what sort of serious damage does he inflict on his victims? However, this is Disney, and rather than having Hook gut someone or do something else which might scar a kid for life, we soon see he has a weakness...the crocodile. At this point, the Darling kids have been watching Hook for several minutes from their perch up on the cloud and are, probably, starting to have some second thoughts about fighting real pirates when they seem so scary...so what do they do? They do the same thing I did and turn him into a less-scary version of himself. They find his weakness and latch onto it. And since we're viewing things primarily from their perspective, that's how WE start to see Hook too. Hook's fear of the crocodile becomes comical for the audience because the Darling kids are trying to focus on that aspect of him so that they are can forget how terrifying he really is. We see this more frightening side of Hook come out a few more times, such as when he plans to blow up Pan's hideout...and at this point, we even catch a brief glimpse of the more sinister part of Smee when he asks Hook if it wouldn't be more humane for them to slit his throat...AND THIS IS SMEE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE!!! The LEAST frightening of the pirates in ANY version. But I think Disney throws this in just to remind us that Smee is still a pirate, and if HE'S willing to do something THAT bad, Hook is a thousand times worse. However, for the most part, Hook still remains a rather softened, comical version of himself because we are viewing him through the child-lens. Remove that lens, though, and things become more complicated.

Forget, for a moment, that we are supposed to be rooting for the Darling children and Pan, and look again--not as a frightened child who is trying to laugh in the face of danger but as an adult who can feel Hook's pain. I remember one time when I was driving back from the airport in a busy city in the dark and the road was icy...I'm not used to driving in ice, and I'm a naturally nervous driver...At one point, I skidded into the next lane... I literally spent about the next hour hyperventilating, practically rocking myself back and forth, praying, and trying not to cry because I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to see the road. It was horrible... Take that sort of feeling, and I believe it's what Disney Hook is experiencing when the crocodile shows up. Through the "child-lens" it may be funny to see a frightening character in a vulnerable situation, but viewing it as an adult who understands just HOW helpless and terrified one feels in such a situation, you can't help but empathize with Hook. Every move he makes, every tremble in his voice, every look of absolute horror in his eyes tells you that he is not mentally or physically really functioning at the moment. He's on autopilot--he's in survival mode like a wild animal that freezes in hopes that it won't be seen by the approaching predator. Take away the crocodile's obviously silly "theme-music" and Hook's slightly overdone expressions, and you're left with something similar to what we see Hook experience in the novel near the end of the chapter, "The Pirate Ship." ("Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap...he crawled on his knees along the deck as far from the sound that he could go...'Hide me,' he cried hoarsely.") Now we can start appreciating him for the tragic villain that he is supposed to be.

Viewed through the eyes of the Darling children, Hook represents all that is frightening and bad about the grown-up world. If Peter is ice cream parties and summer vacations and catching fireflies in the dark, then Hook is cancer and broken dreams and being worried about being able to make enough money to put food on the table. Barrie, however, tells us that there is much more to both characters than that. Peter has a dark side--a selfish streak that forgets all pain at the cost of never learning from the past, never growing from his experiences and becoming a better person. He is stagnant not only in physically growing up but also in mentally facing reality, which is just as damaging as Hook's attitude of regretting a childhood apparently gone too soon. Hook, too, has a lighter side that loves soft music and flowers and other such things (representative of the good things about being an adult--falling in love, pursuing one's passions in a professional sense, having children of one's own). Disney, of course, doesn't quite do this to the same extent as Barrie since we're given a skewed view of the characters, but it DOES still make a few points which, when stripped of the "child-lens" effect, gives off a similar impression. Peter, for instance, brags to the mermaids at one point about cutting off Hook's hand and feeding it to the crocodile. Though we never get to hear him finish the tale, it is rather unsettling to think that Disney's Pan is capable of such horror. (Personally, no matter WHAT the circumstances of the situation were, I think any real-life child who took such great pleasure in slicing off a body part of another person and then having the presence of mind to feed said body part to a dangerous wild animal would probably be considered a psychopath in need of some SERIOUS counseling.) Disney, of course, glosses over this little inconvenience by having Hook show up before he can really get any further into the story. Again, the child-lens is going up; Wendy doesn't want to see this side of Peter, and neither does the child-based audience, so they choose to look away. However, we see a brief glimpse of this side of Pan again at Skull Rock. First, we see it resurface when he hands Smee a gun and then flies up directly in front of Hook--knowing that he can move out of the way in time. Again, through the child-lens of the audience, it seems funny to watch Smee doing his best (and failing terribly) to aim at Pan...but when you think about it from an adult's perspective, it's actually pretty disturbing. Peter legitimately wants Hook dead and doesn't care if it happens to be at the hand of one of his own crewmen (and arguably, in the Disney universe, Hook's only real friend). When Hook "dies," Peter simply takes the hat and says nonchalantly, "What a pity, Mr. Smee. I'm afraid we've lost the dear captain." It doesn't even phase him that a man might have just died and poor Smee is probably feeling absolutely HORRIBLE because it was (sort of) his fault. Even Wendy's child-lens falters a little here... While Peter is celebrating Hook's death, she at least, has enough of an adult's heart to have compassion on their fallen enemy and turn her face away with an, "Oh, how dreadful!" It happens again a few moments later when Peter is getting ready to kick Hook's hook off the ledge so that he falls into the waiting jaws of the crocodile. (The captain, at this point, is of course, squirming like--to use Peter's phrasing--"a codfish on a hook.") Again, Pan has no sympathy, but Wendy, who is starting to gradually open up her eyes to the truth that maybe staying a child forever isn't all it's cracked up to be and maybe adulthood isn't entirely bad, is losing her "child-lens." Not entirely. Not to the point where she doesn't continue to view Hook as comical to keep from being afraid. But enough to know that what Peter is about to do is wrong. She expresses this verbally when she shouts, "Oh, Peter, NO!"

It is at this point, shortly after the crocodile chase, that we start to see Hook become more of a legitimate threat (and a legitimately sympathetic character) again. Why? Because Wendy, as the protagonist and the one whose eyes we are looking through even more so than Pan, is starting to grow up and face reality for what it is--scary or not. As she sings "Your Mother and Mine" and tells her brothers that they NEED a mother--that Neverland has been fun but they NEED to go home--Hook is throwing Tinkerbelle in a lantern and planning to kidnap the kids and blow Pan to smithereens. And then we get the "slit his throat" reminder (mentioned above)... Also, as a side note, when Hook is ill after the crocodile chase, we hear him lamenting how Pan has made him look like a fool yet again. This is also something that I think we can appreciate more as adults. All Hook's crew wants is to go back to haunting the Spanish Main, but Hook refuses to leave Neverland because he feels that he has to remain there until he can regain his pride...which in and of itself is admirable, since many people who have been played the fool simply hang their head and walk away in shame. Here's this guy who has been bested by a child no more than twelve or thirteen--and possibly much younger... How must that feel? I have been in an emotionally abusive relationship where I was constantly reminded how I couldn’t do anything right, and it felt SO degrading. I literally just wanted to go hide away in my room and cry because I felt so incompetent and useless and just plain stupid. So how does Hook feel? Probably the same way. But he doesn't give up. If there's one thing we can say for sure about Disney Hook, he's a fighter. So, I guess you could say that, in part, one reason I find Disney Hook so sympathetic and tragic is because I can identify with him in his crippling reaction to fear and admire him for his bold attempts to reclaim his pride.

Anyway, getting back on track with the storyline... As we near the end of the film, Hook once again appears to lose face at the final showdown. At first, this doesn't seem to make sense if Wendy is, in fact, beginning to lose the child-lens. However, although Hook is defeated, we are never actually shown that he dies (and obviously, from the second film, in the Disney universe, he doesn't). I remember reading somewhere that when they were originally working on Peter Pan, Walt Disney chose to keep Hook alive and just have him "going like hell" rather than actually dying because, "the audience will get to liking Hook." And by this point, we have...those of us still looking through the child-lens love to hate him as a character we can laugh at, and those of us who are more grown-up love him for being just like us--an adult who is STILL growing up, in some ways, who is STILL afraid of certain things and hasn't always learned his lessons and isn't perfect but also isn't willing to give up even when everything is against him and everyone is laughing at him and nothing seems to go right.

Now, I said that at first, it doesn't seem to make sense for us to view Hook in a comical light in this scene if we are viewing the movie primarily through the eyes of the Darling children--particularly Wendy, who is starting to grow up and realize that adults are supposed to feel things like compassion for one's enemies. However, Wendy is still a child. She IS still afraid of growing up. In fact, she's terrified. And that comes out when the kids are all mocking Hook. He's still frightening to them. They still need the security blanket of pretend sometimes, of focusing on his more comical, vulnerable side...but they don't defeat Hook by killing him in this version, and I think that's significant. As representative primarily of the "scary" parts of growing up, Hook is temporarily cast aside and shoved to the back of their minds, but he IS NOT DEAD. The kids (and even Pan) know he may come back. They know he isn't gone for good. One day, they will have to face adulthood. One day, Hook--in the guise of mortgages and taxes and wars and sickly older parents--will return. But for now, they have defeated him...not just by pretending but by choosing to accept the responsibility of growing up eventually, in their own good time. Even Peter starts to reflect this theme by beating Hook, "man to man" without the use of flight. Wendy, who wants to be the good grown-up but who isn't quite ready to let go of childhood, warns Peter against it, thinking that it may be a trap. She even goes so far as to shout at him to fly when he has the chance even though he has promised not to. But Disney Pan is a bit more mature than some (maybe Wendy's better judgment is wearing off on him), and he keeps his word. He beats Hook "like a man" NOT like a boy. Pan's victory here symbolically reflects the Darling children's decision to face adulthood by going back to London. Thus, Hook is defeated because adulthood is no longer an obstacle which causes a fear is so crippling that the kids can't face it. When Wendy returns home, we get one last glimpse of this truth in Mr. Darling--the real-world representative of all things frightening and frustrating about growing up and, as I'm sure you know, also (significantly) voiced by Conried--who has done some "growing up" himself. Mr. Darling, it seems, is willing to allow Wendy a bit more time to enjoy life as a child, remembering his own childhood fondly, even as Wendy has chosen to accept the responsibility of growing up. Mr. Darling, who much like Hook, was viewed previously by the kids (and by extension, the audience) as a bit of a bully and an object of ridicule, is now the object of Wendy's affection as a mutual understanding is reached. Adulthood is frightening in many ways, but Wendy has also come to realize that it is necessary to take responsibility for one's actions and feel compassion for others just as Mr. Darling has realized that sometimes, it's okay for kids to be kids and enjoy the moment. Essentially, what I'm saying is--borrowing the idea that Hook and Mr. Darling are two sides of the same coin--Hook in Neverland, chased away by the crocodile, appears as comical in the last scene only because he effectively gets one last serious scene through his London counterpart, staring wistfully out the window with a loving wife and child by his side. Wendy isn't quite yet grown up, so she still sees through the child-lens on occasion, but she is learning, gradually, to embrace that which she once feared. She no longer needs Hook, an imaginary figure, to personify that fear. She now has her father back, and though she now RESPECTS what he stands for, she is no longer so terrified of growing up that she can't appreciate the GOOD side of the future (such as having a husband and a family of her own someday) and look forward to it.

#peter pan disney #disney peter pan #captain hook disney #disney captain hook #disney #disney villains #captain hook #james hook #captain james hook

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rivenchu · 4 years

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A Curious Fish

AN: Credit for this AU goes to @mintyfrosty ~

Read the Copperight Merfolk AU post and this whole fic popped into my head as is. I may have changed a couple things to make fic-flow sense, but I hope you like it Minty! Thanks for letting me write it~ Lemme know if something is too far from your AU and not okay. :3 I’ll wider tag this / AO3 if source approved!

Summary: They say curiosity is bad for a cat and it’s true for Merfolk too. Reginald was just curious about flotsam he saw during a storm. It was only natural to get a closer look. He didn’t mean to get stuck and he certainly didn’t mean to end up on dry land where none of his kind were allowed to go.

A curious fish.

That's what everyone always called him. The elders always warned him to not be too curious, to not wander close to dry land, and more importantly never get near the the floating crafts that skimmed over the ocean. Remaining unseen from 'dry landers' was the safest choice for their colony.

He'd listened and never done any of those things, but.

But.

They never said anything about parts of the sailing ships.

Reginald watched the long stick and strange white flaps with it's many tentacles. The storm had ripped it off the adrift vessel and he followed it. It was alone, none of the beings on it (he never could see them well, they were a mystery) were nearby... long as he watched out for the tentacles he'd be fine.

Making up his mind he swam up to the far side and broke the surface. The rain didn't bother him, though he always wondered why it tasted different than regular water.

Reaching out he marveled at the texture. Slippery with strange bumps, but not slimy at all. Drifting closer he blinked at a hole and poked at it, had it been carved in? There were more leading up. Wandering further Reginald craned his neck to see how far they went. He couldn't see the end of the giant stick, but he almost could.

Just a little further.

Something curled around his tail.

Fear coiled like an eel as he ducked back underwater. He'd strayed too far up.

Just one tentacle, he could handle that. Everything would be fine.

Diving deeper so the stick wouldn't hit him (storms made the ocean surface move so much), he unwound the coarse limb and sighed. That had been close. He should go.

Turning to look up at the strange object one last time, he could barely see it against the surface. He had wanted to look at it more, maybe if he had climbed on it he could have spent longer.

Something brushed his shoulder. Jerking back Reginald's eyes widened. It was the connected multi-tentacle net. He hadn't gone that far had he? Was it the storm pushing it faster than he thought?

Twisting around he began to swim fast as possible back to the safety of the depths.

For a moment Reginald thought he made it.

He screamed as agony shot up his tail, swimming stalled. He floated dazed for a few seconds before the adrenaline kicked back in.

Wincing he glanced up at his tail, tangled again. Reaching over to yank at it he wished he didn't leave his cutter tool at home. This one was tighter, it wanted to hold. Sticking out his tongue to loosen the cord and ignore the pain he tried to work fast.

It wasn't fast enough.

He froze when he felt his back brush up against something. Looking up he realized he was drifting towards more tentacles. His tail seized up and refused to move with anything less than blinding agony.

Reginald was many things, witty and clever, curious and mischievous, but he was not known for his bravery.

Terror dulled the pain as he thrashed against the cursed coils drawing him in. He knew they weren't alive, but he could still die to them.

No one came when he called for help as the storm blew him further away from home.

Dread settled in as he grew tired. There was no way he could escape now. He was entanged and his tail hurt worse than before. He was drifting to the dry lands. Memories of the horror stories the elders told drifted across his mind.

They'll take you from the ocean to never return. They'll keep you in a water bubble to stare at you. They will never listen to you, we're just fish to them. They ate all kinds of fish up on the dry lands.

Reginald shivered and closed his eyes. He shouldn't have wandered.

~*~*~*~ That was a storm to remember. Lots of trees were down, roads were a mess, and he'd have a few days of solitude. There was much more in damages, but he didn't care enough to look into it unless he was getting paid.

Right didn't mind he liked being alone. It's why he lived out of the city and did whatever odds and ends he could to keep food on the table.

Like combing the beach for anything interesting washing up after a storm. He'd find some nice lost cargo to sell a few times and made a habit of checking.

He walked around a boulder and raised his eyebrows at a partially beached broken mast. Bad news for whatever ship it was formerly attached too. There were no boxes nearby, but he could get some use out of it surely.

Walking over he rested one foot on the mast so he could rest his elbow on his knee as he surveyed the debris. Sails seemed intact, he could sell those. Wood and rope he could keep for himself, the rope ladder could be repurposed into a net.

Not a bad find.

Nodding to himself he set to work wading into the surf at cutting a sail free. Yanking it it up to dry land he folded it up and put it in his sack. Halfway done he walked the the next and cut the top connection off.

...was that hair?

Oh, he sometimes found dead bodies too. Or bits of them. He buried any... partials and brought intact ones to the city. If it helped someone find peace, it was worth it even if he didn't get paid.

Grimacing he knelt down and lifted the sail higher.

A wave washed up to his shins and Right sighed. No reaction to the wave, no cough or sputter to show they were alive. As the water pulled back he reached down and rested a hand against the corpse's forehead. Wasn't warm, definitely dead.

New plan, use sail as temporary corpse barrier.

Cutting the last sail connection and some additional rigging he hefted the body in front of him and walked back to the beach. He was going to stop by his house first for a bite to eat. Hopefully the mast would still be around when he got back, but the less bodies were left around the better for everyone's sense of smell.

Strange he wasn't getting a whiff of decay, must have been recent.

Trekking through the woods he was familiar with he tilted his head. There was strange sound following him. If he didn't know better he would say it was someone struggling to breathe. Wildlife wouldn't get close enough to him to make that noise, there were no injured animals nearby and he was keeping company with a dead person.

It moved.

Right paused. He'd been sure the poor soul was dead but dead things don't usually move.

Swearing he broke into a jog glad he lived nearby. There was a first aid kit he could use if there was a chance of saving a survivor.

Throwing open the door he lowered the person to the floor and threw the sail off.

...

...what?

...

It had brown hair, frills on it's arms, moving gashes on it's neck, and a full blown fish tail from the waist down. The bright purple caught his attention as he stared down the length ending in the wash of warm colors fins.

It'd gotten caught in the ropes, some digging in painfully from the missing scales and red skin. No wonder it had been fine in the surf, any higher and it would have been dead already.

Movement caught his eye as it reached up to it's throat fluttered it's brown eyes.

Fish, water. Fish die out of water. Oh he made a mistake. Oh he didn't want to kill it. Oh no he wasn't near any ponds or rivers.

Scooping up the not-corpse he kicked open his bathroom and dumped it into his bathtub. In preparation of the storm he had filled it just as a precaution.

Stepping back to lean against the doorway he ran a hand up the side of his face and knocked his hat off. He'd heard stories of merpeople, never believed them of course. It seemed silly that fish people would exist but there was one right in his bathtub.

~*~*~*~

Gulping down water Reginald wanted nothing more than the curl up. His tail hurt so much, why did it feel like it was out of water? And the... water tasted funny, like rain does? He surrounded by white?

Pushing himself up with his one free elbow he looked up. The water wasn't deep, he didn't have much room to either side of him. He still had the coils trapping him. Slowly he turned over and pulled his tail into the different tasting water.

This wasn't the ocean, but maybe it was close by?

Reaching up the smooth wall he felt air and curled his hand around the edge and pulled himself up to look around.

It was mostly brown, bit of red on a normal looking face, but it was just there on dry land. It was on dry land. It was a dry lander. Pushing back as far he could in the tub Reginald screamed.

Dry lander made a noise and fell out of the room.

Reginald screamed again.

He was tired, hungry, in pain, and trapped. No matter what angle you looked at it from, this was bad. He was never going to get away now. Looking around the room he swallowed, was this where they kept fish for awhile?

Actually... he didn't want to look right now.

Sinking back into the water he curled in the corner and trembled. He... wasn't going to get out of this was he?

~*~*~*~

Clutching his chest, Right wheezed. That was far louder than he expected, not that he had an idea of what to expect from a mythical creature in his bathroom. He jerked away from the bathroom door at the second screech.

Well, he wasn't going to town now. Not sure what to do.

Guess he could fold up the sail, that was something he could do while his brain was reeling from his new discovery.

Merpeople existed. Science types would love to study it, nobles would want to showcase it, and who knows what criminals would do to it.

Right sat down on the floor staring at the folded sail.

It didn't seem right. There had been fear on it's face, and if he thought about it that was fair. Waking up in a strange place with someone staring at you would spook anyone. Plus it was still tangled up.

That he could help with.

Grabbing a knife he stared at it, on the other hand he'll look pretty scary. Nothing new there, people found him intimidating even if he was minding his own business.

Intentions would get across when it realized it wasn't getting stabbed. Better be quick.

Stalking into the room he winced at expected scream but didn't stop. "Not gonna hurt ya."

It didn't believe him, eyes widening more as it turned to flee out the tub. What it hoped to accomplish beyond that was questionable considering the lack of water.

"No you don't." Reaching over he caught a rope and pulled it back over the tub. He took a deep breath as he heard distressed whimpers. It couldn't reach him with it's free arm.

He felt guilty for trying to help now. Maybe he should have waited, but he was committed now.

" 'm just gonna cut the ropes." he sighed and started to saw carefully. He didn't want to injure it if it made any sudden movements. Instead it hung there defeated, which he decided was worse. When the rope snapped it fell back into the tub and he stepped back just in case it attacked. Cornered beings tended to be unpredictable and fierce.

Instead the brown eyes broke surface and stared at him. Scanning.

Yeah, bit smarter than an animal, they would have gone back to panic. This was questioning and uncertain.

" 'm gonna cut some in front. Yah should be able t' get most of it off unless it's on there good." Right stood there and watched for a reaction. Maybe it didn't speak, that would make sense. Different culture and.. talking mediums? How would someone talk underwater?

Walking back up to the tub Right paused to see if it would try to flop out in fear again.

It was just warily watching.

Reaching down slowly Right watched for any sudden movement - he didn't want to get bit or hit with that tail.

Grabbing a knot he lifted it out of the water so he could better look at the mess. It was actually impressive how it managed to tie itself. A cool grip on his hand caused him to look up as it lightly held his wrist and it bit it's lip. Understandably nervous, but he had ropes to cut.

This time when he cut through and it dropped back into the water he walked to the far side of the room to put the knife down. Space while it worked itself free.

Water sloshed over the edge in the next five minutes as it worked to freedom. Finally a mass of ropes was thrown over the edge, with a single line running back to the tub.

Before he could say anything the vibrant tail shakily waved out of the water, the last rope tangled near the base of fins. Grimacing Right walked forward to look at it. That would leave a scar, maybe the back fin would heal.

Fetching his knife he reached out almost touching the tail before looking down. It was watching him again. Taking this as an affirmative he lightly grasped the tail and started making small cuts. The rope was wound tight and the wound already painful, he didn’t want to make it worse.

After a few minutes the rope fell away and he let go of the tail. It sunk out of sight and the merperson stayed submerged. Fair, poor thing had a rough time of it lately.

Gathering the rope he walked out and left the knife in his sink. Sitting down he ate an apple as he pondered his new situation. He had an injured merperson in his house. He had helped it after almost killing it by dragging it away from water.

Merpeople were real and he had one in his bathtub still.

~*~*~*~

Laying at the bottom of the white shell Reginald rubbed his right arm. He was glad to be free of the deadly coils, but his tail was still painful. He was still stuck, but the dry lander hadn't hurt him. It could have done so easily.

He was still alive. Plus he felt pain down to his fins, so it wasn't as bad as one of the elders who couldn't move their tail anymore nor feel it. It would heal in time.

Wrapping fingers around the edge of container he pulled himself up and looked around. There were so many things he knew nothing about. What were they used for? Did all dry landers live in places like this?

Crossing his arms on the edge Reginald rested his head as he let his mind wander with questions.

The dry lander stopped at the door and was staring at him. There was something he was dragging behind him.

Pulling his arms back into the water he blinked up at the other. The brown layers were strange and moved funny, like a covering? Why would they need a covering?

"Not sure if you'll like smoked fish, but thought yo might be 'ungry." Walking in the dry lander held out a fish within easy grabbing distance.

He was starving. Taking the fish he sighed, he... was being rude. The other had done nothing but help him and deserved a proper response.

"Thank you." He missed the stunned expression on the dry lander's face as he tore into the funny smelling fish. The flavour was concentrated, with something he had never tasted before!

"Y-you're welcome." Taking a seat the dry lander still looked dazed at the new discovery. Merpeople could talk.

"Uh... want another?" A second fish was offered.

"Please." Accepting the fish it disappeared as quickly as the first.

"My name is Right." He held out a hand to his formerly-mythic-but-totally-real guest

Glancing down at the extended hand then back up Reginald held out his hand with a tentative smile, "Reginald, it's nice to meet you Right."

Of course a merperson wouldn't know about shaking hands. A smile crept up on Right's face, "It's good to meet you too Reginald."

#mintyfrosty

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hottestthingalive · 4 years

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Ok, fake tic tittle, cause I love your writing, do with it what you please: “The five times (side) faked their death on purpose, and the one time it wasn't their fault”

Ah, y e s!

(Cinder from the future here: Sorry this one took so long, anon, I’ve been using these as a sort of reward system for completing school work and I was procrastinating... Hope you enjoy anyways!)

-It’s Roman. It is 110% Roman.

-DLAMP because he deserves so many boyfriends and so much love, with bonus platonic creativitwins.

-My ideas for Roman fake-dying are as follows, not necessarily in this order:

-During a performance he’s putting on with the other sides (a musical, maybe?) Roman’s character dies. They all cry. He’s an excellent actor and they’d gotten very attached to both his character and also, yknow, their boyfriend. Patton gives him roses after and tells him how brilliant he was and Roman cries too then.

-Pretending to die dramatically on the couch when bantering with Jan. “Your words have greviously wounded me, agh, bleh” the whole thing. Janus thinks its adorable, even though he’s simultaneously having this whole conversation with the other sides about “just kicking the body under couch, its fine, we’re imaginary” and roman “resurrects” all offended.

-Splattering blood all over himself on April Fools and lying down in front of Remus’ room like he was dead (after warning the others so they wouldn’t freak out.) He did it to Remus because he thought his brother wouldn’t care: then Remus is crying over his ‘dead’ body and Roman sits up like “wtf” and then they talk about their feelings and hug it out.

-Playing dead when sword fighting someone (maybe Virgil? I feel like he’d be great at fighting and stuff, what with fight or flight, and his natural talent would probably be a good match for Roman’s training and skill), falls over and goes very still, Virgil’s like “Roman? Roman?” and leans over to check on him and that’s when Roman ATTACKS and Virgil’s all like “you scared me bad” and Roman’s just gloating that he won.

-one time for logan’s birthday he sets up this whole murder mystery plot and he’s the mr. body and it’s just very very very silly sherlock holmes-clue shenanigans. The body disappears halfway through and Logan’s having loads of fun figuring it out and Roman appears at the end in the kitchen like “Haha! I faked my death! What do you think of that, Detective?” and then they kiss and have birthday cake and there’s still a picture of them in their little detective/victim outfits over the mantle.

-and then the + 1.

-angst angst angst~

-So Roman goes off to fight the Dragon Witch in the Imagination. Not an unusual thing. He leaves that morning, sword on his hip, blows kisses to his partners in goodbye, promises to be back by dinner, if not lunch. Remus tells him not to get his butt kicked by the dragon witch, cackling from the couch. Roman flips him off, and then he is gone.

-He’s not back by lunch, but they think he’s just gotten sidetracked, again.

-It is only when Roman is still gone by dinner that they get worried. Virgil insists they go looking for him, but if he hadn’t, one of the others would have. They are all worried.

-(“What if he’s dead?” Remus whispers to Janus, biting his nails frantically. “What if he’s dead, and my last words to him were making fun of him? What if he’s lying alone somewhere, bleeding out in a ditch, being torn apart-”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Janus says firmly. He has always been a liar.)

-It is not the Dragon Witch they find him fighting when they arrive. Rather, it is an army of shadows, faint ideas of villains that must have broken through the barriers between the twins’ Imaginations and encountered the prince instead of the duke, become strong in the passing. The Dragon Witch fights beside Roman, however, and between them, they are just managing to hold their own.

-They look exhausted.

-“Roman!” Logan shouts despite himself, so, so relieved to see him alive. Roman turns, distracted for just a moment, but it is enough.

-And so the prince falls, and the dragon roars, and she is downed not long after.

-Remus screams, and lunges forwards with his morningstar in hand. Later, he would joke he’d seen red, although privately he knows he hadn’t, and that was the problem -- his rose-red brother, his twin, his family, disappeared beneath the creatures which had been nothing more than living shadows in Remus’ realm, empowered by Roman’s fantasies into full-fledged villains before he’d known to stop himself from picturing them as such.

-Patton has never been so angry before, not that any of them have seen, and his anger makes him strong, his righteous fury fueling him, fighting to avenge his prince. His need to avenge in this place of creation makes him nearly superpowered, his belief in his own ability for vengeance making it possible.

-Then there is Logan, who has always been able to find the cracks in dreams, who uses the logic of the Imagination against the beings within it. He manipulates the rules so whichever creatures he focuses on are once again shadows, or harmless shapes that float away in the end, or black beetles he crushes underfoot with vicious glee.

-As for Janus, well, he has long defended Thomas against the horrors of the world with sweet lies, with his own creations that are not quite imaginary but close enough. He too can manipulate the Imagination, but does not find it necessary, instead whirling among his opponents, shifting between forms so quickly it is impossible to pin him down, his shepherd’s crook the only unchanging element of him.

-And Virgil, Virgil who had vowed to protect all of them with his life a long, long time ago, Virgil who is fast as wind and strikes like lightning, who rages with all the fury of a storm, who knows shadowy villains well, especially the imagined kind, and has always founds them easier to defeat with his family by his side... Well, the army of shadows finds itself battling a hurricane, and they fall at his hand.

-And when they least expect it (when they are on the verge of defeat, despite all their power, when Remus has lost his morningstar, and Patton has fallen, and Logan is surrounded and cannot unreason them all, Janus halfway between snake and side and entirely exhausted, and the darkness that has long clung to the underside of Virgil’s eyes spread to stain all of his skin and forming a pool around his feet) a sword slashes through the being standing above Patton.

-“Sorry, hon,” Roman says. He is an absolute mess, bloody and bruised and sporting a black eye, and their prince smiles tiredly, and Patton thinks he has never been more beautiful, for he is alive. It is all over quickly after that.

“You’re not allowed to do that ever again,” Virgil tells him when they reunite, pulling Roman in a hug and refusing to let him go, and Roman agrees easily.

-After that, there is no more faking of deaths, purposeful or accidental, in the Mindscape. The walls are eventually brought down between the halves of the Imagination, the Thomassphere permanently changed, and though there are other battles, other wars, Roman always has his family to fight beside him.

-He wins them all, of course, for he is their prince, their hero, their Roman, and the hero must always live to see the end of their story, and the end of his story is still far, far away.

Ohhhh, that was fun!!! Thank you, anon!

Send me a fake fic title and I’ll tell you what I’d write for it!

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phantomofthepairofdice · 3 years

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Double Features 2: Splatter, Splicer, Slander, Slasher

Considering the fact that we’re locked down and most folks aren’t going out much, why not settle in on a weekend with double feature. As part of a series of articles, I’ve decided to suggest some titles that would make for an interesting pair. It’s a time commitment like binging a few episodes of a TV show, and hopefully these double features are linked in interesting enough ways that it has a similar sense of cohesion. They also can be watched on separate occasions, but the lesser the distance between them, the more the similarities show. Do it however you want, really. I’m merely a guy on the internet, and that qualifies me for absolutely nothing! Enjoy at your own risk.

This template is back! I wanted to suggest a few more double features, but this time keep them in a specific genre: horror. I love horror movies, and I realized that I hadn’t really given them their due on this here blog, so I wanted to remedy that by showing a lot of love across a lot of different movies. I’ve put together some international movies, some classics, some that are silly, some that are serious, and even a bonus suggestion hidden in one of these blurbs. So without any more ramble in the preamble, here are four new suggested double features.

Note: The pairs are listed in the order I think best serves them being seen.

Hausu & Evil Dead II:

Hausu aka House (not to be confused with 1985 American horror film of the same name) has sort of transcended cult movie status to become a staple of off-center horror-comedy. Directed by recently deceased Nobuhiko Obayashi, the film shows his roots in advertisements with every shot designed for maximum effect, a (still) cutting edge approach in the edit, and a joyous, playful approach to special effects. It’s a gauzy and dreamy romp about a group of schoolgirls who head to the countryside on vacation. While staying at one of their aunts’ house, the supernatural hauntings begin, and heads start to roll (as well as bite people on the butt). It’s the type of movie where the main cast of characters are named Gorgeous, Kung Fu, Melody, Prof, Mac, Sweet, and Fantasy and they each have corresponding character traits. I was lucky enough to catch this at a rep screening at the Museum of Fine Arts a few years ago (further proof that this has gone beyond the cult curio status), and this is absolutely a movie that benefits from having a crowd cheer and laugh along - but it’s fairly easy to find and still has lots of pleasures to be enjoyed on solo watch. I’m pretty much willing to guarantee that if you enjoy it on first watch, you’ll want to share it with others. Now, where does one start when talking about Evil Dead II? Sam Raimi is rightfully as well known for his start in the hair-brained splatter genre fare as he is for his genre-defining Spider-man films. The influence of the Evil Dead movies is nearly unquantifiable, apparent in the work of directors like Edgar Wright, Peter Jackson, Quentin Tarantino, and the Korean New Wave filmmakers like Bong Joon-ho and Park Chan-wook. There’s a reason that the second film of his Evil Dead odyssey is the one that people hold in highest esteem, though. There is an overwhelming gleeful creativity, anything goes, Looney Tunes approach to it that makes the blood geysers, laughing moose heads, and chainsaw hands extend beyond gore and shock into pleasure. It’s been noted over and over by critics and Raimi himself that the Three Stooges are probably the biggest influence on the film, and by golly, it shows. Evil Dead II and Hausu are pure in a way that few other movies can be. Both of these movies are an absolute delight of knowing camp, innovative special effects, and a general attitude of excitement from the filmmakers permeating through every frame. They’re a total blast and, in my mind, stand as the standard-bearers for horror-comedy and haunted house movies.

Total Runtime: 88 minutes + 84 minutes = 172 minutes aka 2 hours and 52 minutes

The Thing (1982) & The Fly (1986):

Feel free to roll your eyes as I explain the plots of two very famous movies. The Thing is John Carpenter’s body horror reimagining of Howard Hawks’ The Thing from Another World and the story that was adapted from, “Who Goes There?” by John W. Campbell Jr. The film is centered around a group of men in an arctic outpost who welcome in a cosmic force of shape-shifting annihilation. What ensues is a terrifically scary, nihilistic, paranoid attempt to find who isn’t who they say they are before everyone is replaced with the alien’s version of them. The film is a masterpiece of tone in no small part due to Dean Cundey’s photography and Ennio Morricone’s uncharacteristically restrained score. The real showstopper here, though, is the creature effects designed by Rob Bottin with an assist from Stan Winston – two titans of their industry. There may not be a more mind-blowing practical effects sequence in all of movies than Norris’ defibrillation – which I won’t dare spoil for anyone who hasn’t seen it. The story is so much about human nature and behaviors, that it’s good news that the cast is all top-notch – anchored by Kurt Russell, Keith David, and Wilford Brimley. While The Thing is shocking and certainly not for anyone opposed to viscera, David Cronenberg’s The Fly is the best example of a movie not to watch while eating. Quite frankly, it’s got some of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen on film. Chris Walas and Stephen Dupuis’ makeup effects are shocking, but the terror is amplified because this builds such a strong foundation of romance in its opening stretch between Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis in what might be their career-best work. The story is simple: a scientist creates a teleportation device that he tries out himself, but unknowingly does so with a fly in the chamber with him. When he reatomizes on the other end, his DNA has been integrated with the fly. Slowly his body begins to deteriorate, and he transforms into a human-fly hybrid. While this is first and foremost a science-fiction horror film, it’s truly one of the most potent love stories at its center. The tragedy is that the love, like the flesh, is mutated and disintegrated by the hubris of Goldblum’s Seth Brundle. Here are two remakes that – clutch your pearls – outdo the original. They both serve as great examples of what a great artist can bring by reinterpreting the source material to tell their version of that story. The critical respect for Carpenter and Cronenberg is undeniable now, but both of these movies make the case that there are real artists working with allegory and stunning craft in less respected genre fare. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to transpose the thematic weight of the then-new AIDS crisis onto both films, but they both have a hefty anti-authority streak running through them in a time where American Exceptionalism was at an all-time high. If you want to get a real roll going, fire up the ’78 Invasion of the Body Snatchers first to get a triple dose of auteur remakes that reflect the social anxieties of the time and chart from generalized anxiety to individualistic dread to romantic fatalism.

Total Runtime: 109 minutes + 96 minutes = 205 minutes aka 3 hours and 25 minutes

Theatre of Blood & The Abominable Dr. Phibes

That old Klingon proverb that Khan tells Kirk about revenge being a dish best served cold is challenged by these two Vincent Price tales of the macabre. They posit that revenge is best served in extremely convoluted and thematically appropriate predecessors to the Saw franchise. Where Saw trades in shock and extremity, though, these classic horror tales offer an air of panache and self-satisfied literacy. In Theatre of Blood, Price plays a disgraced and thought-dead stage actor who gets revenge on the critics who gave him negative reviews with Shakespeare-themed murder. There’s good fun in seeing how inventive the vengeful killings are (and in some cases how far the writers bend over backwards to explain and make sense of them). It’s a little rumpled and ragged in moments, but Price is, of course, a tremendous pleasure to see in action as he chews through the Shakespeare monologues. Imagine the Queen’s corgis with a chainsaw and you’re on track. Phibes came first and, frankly, is the better of the two. The story is about a musician who seeks to kill the doctors who he believes were responsible for his wife’s death during a botched surgery. The elaborate angle he takes here is to inflict the ten plagues from the Old Testament. I hesitate to use a word that will probably make me come across as an over-eager schmuck, but it really feels best described as phantasmagorical. It’s got this bright, art deco, pop art sensibility to it that’s intoxicating. It also has a terrifically dark sense of drollery - it knows that you can see the strings on the bat as it flies toward the camera. Aesthetically, it feels adjacent to the ’66 Batman show. The music is great and the indelible image of his tinker toy robot band, The Clockwork Wizards, is a personal obsession of mine. Both Theatre of Blood and The Abominable Dr. Phibes feature great supporting turns from Diana Rigg and Joseph Cotton, respectively. Settle in for a devilishly good time and enjoy one of cinema’s greatest vicarious pleasures: getting back at those of criticized or hurt you.

Total Runtime: 104 minutes + 94 minutes = 198 minutes aka 3 hours and 18 minutes

Blood and Black Lace & The Bird with the Crystal Plumage

The final pairing comes from beyond American borders and, to some, beyond the borders of good taste. Mario Bava and Dario Argento are likely the two biggest names in Italian horror, and that’s for very good reason. Bava, who started as a cinematographer, has made loads of movies (even the film which gave Ozzy Osbourne and crew the name their band name) that have tremendous visuals and terrific sense of mood. Argento, probably most famous now for Suspiria, emerged onto the Italian film scene a handful of years later and picked up that baton from Bava to crystallize the dreamy logic puzzles cloaked in hyper-saturated colors. These two films are regarded as quintessential in the giallo genre – named for the yellow covers of the pulp crime fictions that inspired them. As someone who loves the flair that can be applied to make a slasher film stand out amongst their formulaic brethren, I found that the giallo made for a smooth transition into international horror. Blood and Black Lace is a murder mystery that’s as tawdry and titillating as its title suggests. Set in an insular world of a fashion house in Rome, models are being murdered. The plot feels like a necessity in order to create a delivery system for the stunning set pieces that revolve around a secret diary. Bava puts sex right next to violence and cranks up the saturation to create something thrillingly lurid. Six years later, Argento made his first film which has often been credited for popularizing the giallo genre and already is playing around with some of his pet themes like voyeurism and reinterpretation. Built around an early set piece (that stacks up as one of the best in thrillers) in which a man is trapped but witnesses a murder, the film sees said man trying to find the piece of evidence that will make the traumatic killing make sense. Like Bava, it blends sex and violence with tons of flair, including a score by the aforementioned Ennio Morricone. The film is absolutely on a continuum between Hitchcock and De Palma. If you’re looking for a pair of exciting horror/thrillers, or even an entry point to foreign genre cinema, this is an accessible and enjoyable place to start.

88 minutes + 96 minutes = 184 minutes aka 3 hours and 4 minutes

Well, there you have it. Eight movies, and hours of entertainment curated by some guy with no real qualifications. If you’re interested in some more suggestions (in horror and other genres), stay tuned for the next entry in this Double Features series. And if you’re looking for a way to watch these movies, I highly recommend the app/website JustWatch where you can search a title and see where it’s available for streaming or rental. Happy viewing.

Thanks for reading.

#evil dead #evil dead 2 #hausu #hausu 1977 #the thing #the fly #theatre of blood #dr phibes #blood and black lace #bird with the crystal plumage #double feature

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars CXVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: You guys have no idea how attatched I am to this fanfic idk what I’ll do once it’s over omg -Danny

Words: 2,506

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Somebody Else’ by The 1975

Chapter Sixteen: The Agreement.

Mel felt the cloak fall off her and Harry tried to move, but Hermione held to his wrist.

"Not yet! She might not be gone yet."

"She's goin' back ter the castle," Hagrid replied, peering through the window. "Blimey... inspectin' people, is she?"

"Yeah, Trelawney's on probation already..."

"'Mountain's scenery'," Mel scoffed. "That old cow, I wish I could put her in her place..."

"Me too," Harry sulked.

"Um... what sort of thing are you planning to do with us in class, Hagrid?" Hermione inquired anxiously.

"Oh, don' you worry abou' that, I've got a great load o' lessons planned! I've bin keepin' a couple o' creatures saved fer yer O.W.L. year, you wait, they're somethin' really special."

"Erm... special in what way?"

"I'm not sayin'. I don' want ter spoil the surprise."

"Look, Hagrid," Hermione said tensely, "Professor Umbridge won't be at all happy if you bring anything to class that's too dangerous —"

"Dangerous? Don' be silly, I wouldn' give yeh anythin' dangerous! I mean, all righ', they can look after themselves —"

"Hagrid, you've got to pass Umbridge's inspection, and to do that it would really be better if she saw you teaching us how to look after porlocks, how to tell the difference between knarls and hedgehogs, stuff like that!"

"But tha's not very interestin', Hermione. The stuff I've got's much more impressive, I've bin bringin' 'em on fer years, I reckon I've got the on'y domestic herd in Britain —"

"What now?" Mel asked in fear.

"Hagrid... please... Umbridge is looking for any excuse to get rid of teachers she thinks are too close to Dumbledore. Please, Hagrid, teach us something dull that's bound to come up in our O.W.L..."

"Lis'en, it's bin a long day an' it's late," He said tiredly patting Hermione on the shoulder. "Oh — sorry —" He stopped when he noticed he was forcing her to almost kneel. "Look, don' you go worryin' abou' me, I promise yeh I've got really good stuff planned fer yer lessons now I'm back... Now you lot had better get back up to the castle, an' don' forget ter wipe yer footprints out behind yeh!"

As they made their way back, Ron spoke.

"I dunno if you got through to him, 'Mione..."

"Then I'll go back again tomorrow," said Hermione determinedly, then looked at Mel. "You with me. We'll plan his lessons for him if we have to. I don't care if she throws out Trelawney but she's not taking Hagrid!"

"I agree with you," Mel sighed. "I guess I could help you by keeping Umbridge busy with other stuff."

"Like what?" Ron raised a brow.

"Maybe it's time I take your brothers' offer..." She said quietly.

Fred caught up with her before breakfast that Sunday.

"Hi," She said awkwardly. It was her first time talking to him after the Quidditch match. "What's up?"

"I just..." Fred started, "we never set a time for our... you know?"

"Oh," She grimaced, looking around the Great Hall. "Right."

"Is it okay if we have it today?"

"Right now?"

"After breakfast?" He shrugged.

"Okay?"

Fred wasn't doing anything that could be taken as inappropriate but he was, however, sitting far from his twin and Lee Jordan, which was extremely rare. No one had tried to sit on the empty place next to her, which let her know people was definitely avoiding them.

"Fred?"

"Hmm?" He replied chewing.

"Does everyone know what we did?"

Fred snorted, swallowing his food and smirking.

"Was it supposed to be secret? Sorry lady, but if you kiss someone in the middle of the Quidditch field, people will see you."

"Not always though," She mumbled.

"What?"

"I don't understand why are they being so weird!" Mel frowned. "It was just a stupid kiss! We didn't turn into aliens or anything..."

"What's an alien?"

"Nevermind that," She pushed her plate away. "I've lost my appetite..."

"That's unlike you," Fred raised a brow. "You're sure you're okay hanging out after this? If you're not feeling well–"

"It's not that," She said. "I just... I don't like it when they stare at me like that."

"If it makes you feel better, they're all staring at me. They hate me."

"Pfft–" Mel snorted. "How could anyone hate you?"

"It's true!" He said. "They hate me because you kissed me, you didn't choose them."

"What a terrible loss that must be!" Mel said dramatically. "All those broken hearts!"

"Half the school hates you too," Fred added teasingly.

"I know that," Mel smirked. "But what's the reason now?"

"Because you snatched me away from them!" It was Fred's turn to be dramatic. "I had thousands of options but you've stolen my first kiss! Now I belong to you, I can't do anything about it."

"That wasn't your first kiss!" Mel exclaimed.

"It was, I swear!" Then he added cheekily. "It was my first as much as it was yours."

Mel's eyes widened in horror. "Who told you?!"

"Blimey, no one!" Fred's mouth fell open. "I was joking!"

That made her face turn redder.

"Fred!"

"Please, tell me you didn't kiss Flint–"

"I'd never kiss—!" Mel stopped, people were starting to stare more intently now. She continued in an angry whisper. "I didn't kiss Flint!"

"Ron?" Fred scrunched up his nose.

"Knock it off," She groaned.

"Harry?"

"..."

Fred frowned. "I have more questions..."

Mel stood up.

"Time's ticking, Weasley. You better use it wisely."

"You'll clear my doubts?"

"If they're all about Harry, then no," She glanced at him, trying to ignore the whispers as they walked past their classmates. "It would be weird to talk about him with..."

"With whom?" Fred smirked. "One kiss and you're planning our wedding? A bit forward if you ask me—"

"Oh, shut it," Mel rolled her eyes. "Don't you think it's weird?"

"I'm just trying to get to know you," He shrugged. "The romantic side of you– You know, if I'm going to take any part in it..."

"We'll see," She raised a brow. "You're allowed to step out of this if you want and so am I."

"Fine."

Fred continued to walk next to her with ease. He had a soft smile on his face, enjoying himself. Of course he would, he'd always liked the spotlight. Mel was having a more difficult time, this didn't feel like the attention she would get from her friends, this felt like cold analysis, they were measuring her and Fred, trying to form an opinion.

She felt a bitter nostalgia about the way things had unfolded with her and Harry a few months back, this was exactly what they'd managed to avoid, but she had messed up this time.

"So..." She started. "Tell me about your first kiss..."

Once he replied, Fred asked her about hers and she made him promised he wouldn't say a word to anyone, not even George. When Mel finished her story, Fred wasn't that surprised.

"Well, no one caught you kissing or anything," He tilted his head, "We could see there was something going on, but none of us felt the need to confirm it."

"As it should be. Some people are so nosy! Take Skeeter, she gets paid for making up rumours! This wouldn't happen if we could just mind our own business..."

"Life would be boring without a little bit of drama," He nudged her arm playfully.

They sat on a bench, right under one of the trees near the lake. It was cold but not freezing, and they were wearing their robes, so they would be fine for a while before the wind could become a problem.

"My turn again!" Fred said enthusiastically. "Why did you kiss me?"

For some reason, the question caught her off guard. She knew why she'd kissed him, but she didn't want to upset him. Ginny reacted badly when she'd thought Mel was using her brother, how was he going to react?

"I... uh..." Mel fumbled with the end of her scarf, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. "You know I'm fickle..."

"Not as much as before! The only times you lose your temper now is when you talk to Harry. Which is weird, because—"

"I know, I know," She huffed exasperatedly. "Because I was always soft around him! Ugh! I know I had him as this knight in shining armour–"

"Knight?" Fred asked with a smirk.

"I won't fall for it again, all right?" Mel crossed her arms, feeling cornered. "I won't let him get to me this time."

Fred's smile faltered.

"Listen, I know you're not one to play with people's feelings," He scratched the back of his head. "That being said, right now it feels like you only kissed me to prove a point..."

"I do like you," She said, gazing at her shoes. "Not that way though... but I think you're funny and nice— Don't let it get over your head, but your flirting was really good too, even if you were joking..."

"I was joking at first, just to get a reaction from Ron's," Fred gave her a small smile. "But then you kissed me... I mean, I'm confused, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to try..."

"It could," Mel sighed. "Whatever happened between Harry and me... Fred, I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Me neither," He admitted.

"This is a bad idea..." She reflected. "I don't think I'd make a good girlfriend right now."

Fred stayed quiet for a moment.

"How about we keep it casual?"

"What?"

"We don't have to call ourselves anything if we don't want to."

"What do you mean?" Mel frowned.

"Kind of like... well, you know Eddie Carmichael?"

"Yeah?"

"He has this thing with Lisa Turpin," He moved on his place to face her. "They don't date but... well, they do plenty of things without being exclusive."

"Fred," Mel bit her lip to avoid laughing. "You're asking for a 'friends-with-benefits' thing?"

"No!" He said, then added. "Yes? Well, you don't want to date me!"

"I said I'm not sure!"

"You're in love with Harry," He stated. "Don't deny it. I get it, you were snogging seven months ago—"

"We weren't snogging—"

"You're not someone that takes this lightly. I'm giving you a choice, Mel, if we insist on making things formal when you clearly don't want to be with me like that, things will get messy, but I still want to make you feel better. Going out and having lots of fun is a good way to heal."

"So you're taking one for the team and decided to be the one who shows me what I've been missing?" Mel joked.

"We must make sacrifices once in a while," He sighed. "It hurts me, giving up my virtue, but you're my friend and your wish is my command."

Mel snorted, nudging his side playfully.

"I'm pretty sure I'd heal even if you don't snog the grief out of my body..."

"You're talking nonsense already!" He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Mel. I'll take care of you..."

He cupped her cheeks and kissed all over her face -but stayed far from her mouth- which caused her to laugh in a way she hadn't laughed in months.

"Okay! Okay, I get it!" Mel pushed him away. "We must set ground rules, though."

"How about... since you're still a lovesick mess for Potter, I'll try to keep him off your mind as often as I can, that way you can focus on other things."

"Like you?" She teased.

"Maybe," He smirked. "But also like the D.A.— You're a great teacher, lady. Your students can't have you moping over a boy."

"Okay, but you won't try to kiss me unless I say it's okay."

"Sounds a bit tough," Fred pouted. "You're a good kisser—"

"Also," She continued, speaking a bit louder. "If anyone asks, just say we're dating— even if it's not entirely true, it'll keep a few people away from me and that's wonderful, I don't want their company..."

"You mean Goldstein, don't you?"

"Merlin, the boy is so annoying," Mel murmured.

"You have to help my brother and me with our pranks and products," Before she could argue, he added, "my girlfriend would want to help me succeed! Others might find it strange if you don't spend time with me, they'll think you don't care!"

"They'd be right."

"That's no way to treat your future husband, Lady Dumbledore."

"Finally," She said, standing up and offering her hand to him. "No one can know about this agreement. If we start to date for real at some point... it's our business and our business only. Understood?"

"Yup!" He stood up, holding her hand with a pleased expression. "One last thing?"

"Yes?"

"You can put an end to this anytime," He said. "This is meant to be fun, so if you change your mind or it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me. I promise our friendship will remain intact."

"You can't promise that," Mel said quietly. "You can't know."

"Look at me— I swear it won't change."

She stared at him carefully.

"...We're just fooling around, right? It's nothing serious?"

"Just fooling around," He conceded. "And we can stop anytime you want, just say the word. I only do this for the same reason I asked you last year to the Yule ball. I think we could have a lot of fun."

"This is not the type of fun you were thinking of the first time, right?" She asked doubtfully. Fred laughed.

"Not at all!" He admitted. "But I don't mind this either..."

"Yeah," Mel looked down at their intertwined hands. "I don't mind it much either..."

Mel had to endure the whispering and glances towards her for the rest of the weekend and the entirety of Monday. Fred was having perhaps too much fun with it, and if he was present during the whispering, he would loudly flirt or mess with her.

She was torn between enjoying his attention and mortified at the fact that they were lying to their friends. Sure, they had an agreement, but ever since their talk, Mel had been very careful not to be seen alone with Fred, and she became really quiet about her private life even though all their friends were bombarding her with questions about her 'relationship'.

One thing that she wasn't expecting was Harry's reaction to the whole thing. Sure, she wasn't doing this to watch him throw a tantrum and yell at Fred about betrayal and all, and she couldn't be sure about him not being hurt, but overall, he was handling it with utter indifference.

He would talk to her and share notes while studying or preparing the classes for the D.A. but gone were the hours spent talking about nothing and everything from years prior. Harry was just another classmate.

The others thought that the sight of Mel without Harry was strange, but the pair were warming up to the idea. Truth be told, neither Harry nor her knew what it was to live in the other's shoes anymore.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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ickle-ronniekins · 3 years

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- u n d e r n e a t h t h e w i l l o w t r e e -

Age 10 The summer breeze picks up its speed; eagerly, she jumps to her feet and brushes the grass off of her shorts before running forward. She presses the bottoms of her sneakers into the trunk of the willow tree, not listening to the calls from her sister. “You’re silly!” her sister calls, sticking out her tongue. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Of course she doesn’t listen, because when has she ever let people dictate what she should and shouldn’t do? Never. She’s halfway up the tree and she can feel the roughness of the thick branches digging deeper and deeper into her skin, but she wants to keep going. She’s got to get to the top.

Perhaps she should have listened to her older sister though, because suddenly the wind whips her hair into her eyes and she loses her grip, tumbling through the leaves and branches and crashing dramatically on the thick bed of grass beneath her. She wants to scream, because the truth is that the pain of the fall is almost unbearable, and her sister is already screaming in horror at the sight and immediately runs inside for their parents.

And then someone appears next to her: the boy from across the street, the one who’s always fiddling with some type of baseball playing cards on the bus with his friends. The one with the turquoise eyes and the blonde hair. The one who likes to cook with his mom. The one who always waves to her when they’re both playing in their driveways. He peers down at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

She huffs in annoyance. “Does it look like I’m okay?”

In response, he giggles. “Glad to see that the fall hasn’t affected your ability to be funny!”

And alright, she can’t help it: she laughs. And he does too. The dimple on the right side of his face is quite noticeable, she realizes.

“How come you didn’t listen to your sister?” he asks, kneeling down next to her. “She was right, you know.”

“She may have been right, but I was gonna climb that tree whether she liked it or not,” the girl announces, folding her arms across her chest. Then she winces in pain, cradling her ankle that’s already beginning to swell. She’s forcing herself to not cry, not cry, not cry. She’s about to get up when the boy places a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t try and move. Trust me. Your sister went to go get your mom and dad. I’ll stay here with you until they come, is that okay?”

She nods slowly. Then he sits down next to her and leans back against the tree. To her surprise, the tears fall down her cheeks, but the boy doesn’t say anything. Instead he smiles at her and says, “I would’ve climbed that tree, too.”

And to think: this entire time, he’s been right across the street. Why haven’t they been friends this entire time?

Age 15 “Don’t you see!” she squeals in horror, staring at something in the mirror he can’t quite see.

He’s standing behind her with an expression filled with confusion, his hands in his pockets. The bus will be soon and we haven’t had breakfast, he wants to say, but he knows if he rushes her, she’ll lash out. So instead, he impatiently says, “Um... no?” except, it kind of comes out as a question.

The girl throws her hands up in annoyance and violently rubs a brush along her jawline, careful to cover whatever it she sees that the boy cannot. “I’m going to look like such a fool! The first day of high school, and I can hardly even cover up the disaster that is my face. Why don’t they just lock me in a dungeon and be done with it! Clearly I’m ugly enough to be kept in one, far away from society!”

The boy, who’s now speedily following his friend down the steps of her house as she makes her way begrudgingly toward her refrigerator, which she opens and stares into without saying another word.

“You’re too pretty to be locked in a dungeon,” he says suddenly, catching her by surprise. They lock eyes and for a moment, things between them become still -- weirdly still. Then he clears his throat and scoots past her to grab the milk for his cereal. “Come on, it’ll be fine. You’ve got me, haven’t you?”

“You’re supposed to say that, you’re my best friend,” the girl replies, stealing the piece of toast from the toaster oven that is most definitely meant for her sister. Then she turns back to her friend and lowers her voice a bit. Her eyelashes flutter as she asks, “Do you really mean it? That I’m too pretty for a dungeon?”

The boy stops for a moment, his mouth full of Cheerios, and he wonders if she’s able to hear the steady, drumbeat pounding of his heart. He swallows and speedily stuffs another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Nah,” he replies jokingly, “Actually, you fit the description of ‘dungeon creature’ quite perfectly, actually.”

He supposes he deserves the giant shove from her that nearly knocks him off his stool, but the two of them laugh anyway. He stops for a moment to watch her as she turns the piece of toast over and over in her hands, as if she’s examining it for any minor flaw. He realizes now that she was probably peering into the mirror, looking for flaws of her own. He wants to tell her that she won’t find any, no matter how hard she tries to look. But maybe now isn’t the right time.

“It’ll be alright,” he says finally, grabbing her attention. She doesn’t want to start high school, and he knows it. Elementary school was so easy, wasn’t it? High school has heartbreak waiting to happen. And so he tries to be as reassuring as he can. “And if it isn’t, and the world does lock you away in a dungeon, I promise to join you down there.”

Now, the idea of being locked away in a dungeon sounds better than high school ever has.

Age 18 She’s not sure when she started crying. Maybe it was when things had started to feel a bit off a few weeks ago, and she tried a bit too hard to get him to tell her what was wrong. Maybe it was when he started canceling dates, telling her he’d reschedule, but never did. Maybe it was when she found him with her, tucked away in a corner of a restaurant, when he’d told her that he had to work that night. But either way, she’d been crying forever over him, this stupid boy from school who lead her on and lied, and never, ever comforted her when she cried.

She finally opens her eyes for a moment to look at the world around her, hoping it won’t look as dismal and awful as she feels. But the purples of her walls are duller than usual, her bed unkempt and messy, and she can hear the rain and the wind outside whip furiously through the trees. It’s mimicking her, the weather. It’s a carbon copy of how she feels inside. And yet, through her blurry vision, the sight through her windowpane is as clear as day: the boy from across the street, jumping through puddles and pulling his hood tight over his head, and within seconds, he’s sitting himself down next to her on her bed, tentatively placing a gentle hand to her shoulder.

The two of them sit in silence; it’s been eight years since they first met, and they’ve become strangely comfortable being together in complete silence. He lets her cry. He lets her throw things at her already broken closet door. He lets her start to yell and relay the whole damn story through bouts of anger, before she starts crying again. And he lets her fall into his shoulder and cry some more, her tears staining the collar of his button down shirt.

The clouds have turned dark and the rain has subsided, and her parents are calling for the two of them that dinner is ready. He’s absolutely starving, but she doesn’t feel like eating, she says. And so he stays put on her bed, massaging gentle circles into her back and speaking in soothing tones so she won’t be able to hear the grumble of his stomach.

“He wasn’t the one, you know.” he tells her, and she finally peers up at him with tears in her eyes and a small grin painted onto her face.

She nods slowly, and her lip wobbles as she opens her mouth to speak. “I know,” she squeaks, and he can hear the future cries that have yet to escape her. “I just wanted him to love me. I just want to be loved.”

“You are,” he replies, “and you will be.”

She snorts a little, and he’s trying hard to contain his laughter. He’s always found her snorts wildly hilarious. And then an involuntary, hoarse cry escapes her once more. “When?”

She peers down at her shoes, and she doesn’t know what exactly what he’s thinking, but his eyes are speaking the words he wouldn’t dare too: not here, not now. It isn’t right. And so instead, he says,

“He’s on his way, and he’s getting here as fast as he can, alright? I promise.”

Except, he’s already here, isn’t he? At least, he hopes he is. The truth is that he realized it a long time ago, and he’s been holding it close to his heart, along with her and every single small thing about her. The way her hair falls over her shoulders, the way she scrunches her nose at the sight of fish, the nervousness in her eyes when change is on its way.

It’s up to her to realize it now.

“You’re always helping me,” she whispers, not quite certain of why he’s always there in her rearview mirror, with all the drama she brings.

He grins. “Yeah, and don’t you forget it.”

She snorts again and throws a pillow at his head, and he begins to see shades of his old friend again, his friend before the heartbreak.

One day. One day he’ll speak the words he’s just swallowed, and one day, she’ll realize it, too.

Age 26 It’s funny, the way things can unfold.

Through injuries after falling out of trees.

Through painful days of high school, when kids can be so cruel.

Through failed tests, awful jobs, and a whole bunch of firsts: a first school dance, a first kiss, a first driving lesson. A first heartbreak, a first chance encounter, a first realization.

There were boys who lied and played with her heart, and there were boys who cradled it as if it were the most precious jewel in the entire world.

It’s funny, how things should have been like this years ago.

But perhaps they needed to go through all of these things to find one another, right?

These things that were theirs: like endless ice cream sundaes after being hurt by groups of friends who were manipulative and catty, like Friday nights in with tons of movies to help ease the pain of a broken bone from a rough game of football, like countless mornings watching the sunrise, just because they could.

Like that time they tried to bake a cake from scratch and they nearly added salt instead of sugar. Or the time that they (he) backed his dad’s car into the mailbox and needed to quickly come up with a story as to what had happened. Or all those times he swallowed his feelings for her, just to be a good friend.

She wished he hadn’t done that, she told him one day, in the spot she figured it all out. Underneath the willow tree.

But he’s glad he waited, he told her. He needed her to realize it on her own, just like he did.

He’s cradled her heart in his his hands for years. Because it’s precious, even more so than a jewel. He never did quite understand why people had treated it with anything but the utmost love and care. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Not when he’s promising to cradle it for the rest of his life.

She thinks she’s yelled out ‘Yes’ before he’s even finished, but the truth is, she said yes a long time ago. She said yes when realization struck. She said yes to him years ago when she let him sit down next to her in the grass, waiting for her parents that time when she broke her ankle, underneath this same tree.

She’s swimming in his turquoise eyes, and he’s getting lost in her violet ones, just like he always has. And after moments of laughter and tears and tight embraces, she looks above her, into the branches of the trees, and teases him. “Race you to the top.”

Him, her fiance, her forever. He grins at her. “You may end up with a broken ankle.”

“Maybe,” she replies, gripping the lowest branch and digging her shoes into the trunk, and suddenly, she feels ten again. “but I think it’s worth it.” And they both think back to that day, the one when they first met.

And to think: it’s been him, the entire time, all these years. The boy from across the street.

#im sad #its fine #writing #prose #my writing #fiction #fiction writing #pls do not steal ok this is very very very close to my heart #prose writing #write #literature #fiction literature #short story fiction #short story

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lunewell · 3 years

Text

The Norwegian Mermaid Association - Part 1

Word count: 1816

Written for MerMay

No TW or CW

Can also be read on Wattpad here

This is a little story I’ve been working on for MerMay, about an actual historical association that operated from 1963-1989. It ended up being rather long, so I split it into two parts, but here is the first instalment (:

Though safely placed a good distance away from the raging waves, the room of sailors and wives smelt overwhelmingly like fresh salt water and newly caught fish. Not that Morten could complain too much, as being served something other than fish and bread was a welcome change, even if it meant being enclosed in a tiny, wooden, scarcely-furnished room with 12 others.

“Doesn't she make the most divine food?” Leif commented to the others, who had creatively spread themselves on any available surface, be it the arm of the worn, uncomfortable chair, or squeezed tightly on the sheepskin covered couch. A chorus of sounds of agreement and nods, made Leif grin widely. He turned to his darling wife: “We should do this every time we return home from sea.” It was said with a semi- teasing smile, his blue eyes crinkled up.

“That’s a great idea, darling,” Hilde responded, tone matching his as she placed a pale hand on his shoulder, “I can’t wait to see you help me make the food!”

“... on second thought, perhaps once a season is more than enough.”

A light laughter came from the room, especially from Hans, Petter, and Kari, who- judging by their empty glasses and off-balanced movements- had already indulged themselves plenty in the alcohol department. Morten smiled too, appreciating the warm atmosphere of the room, and the ease and welcomeness that had swivelled itself within the smells of the ocean.

As not only the youngest but also the newest of the fishermen, he had originally been sceptical of the idea of attending the dinner party, having neither any sort of social smoothness nor a wife to bring with. Not that he wanted a wife, necessarily, as he had never quite considered himself the type.

However, the temptation of shelter and food (and, let’s be honest, the crippling loneliness), had lured him in like a sirens call into Leif’s and Hilde’s warm little wooden house. Lucky for him, it seemed that the others had a sort of strong kinship and bond that let him mostly sit back and observe the others laughing and talking, rather than needing to actively engage in the conversation himself.

“You really do have a God given gift as a housewife, Hilde,” said Ine- or was it Ina? No, definitely Ine, “We at the Norweagian Mermaid Association are so lucky to have someone like you.”

Morten almost spat out his water, ice blue eyes shot wide open. For what was the first time that night, he spoke, in a soft confused tone: “the… Mermaid Association?” He blinked owlishly, face warming up as all eyes- most that same blue colour- met his.

Anne was the first to realise where his confusion stemmed from: “oh dear,” she said, lips curled in an amused smile, “it’s not actually about mermaids. It’s the name of our women’s group, fighting for the rights of wives of seamen everywhere!”

“Oh,” Morten said, sheepishly, “that… uh, makes more sense. Odd name choice, though, considering historically mermaids were dangerous creatures, in line with trolls.”

“Names ‘cause we’re pretty as mermaids,” Kari said, hair messy and a slight slur to her words, “sing ‘s nice ‘s them, too. And-”

“Know a lot about mermaids, Morten?” Thomas interrupted, before Kari could go on her second drunken ramble of the night. Morten twiddled his thumbs, leaning back in the wooden chair and further into the corner, taking another sip from his glass before he answered.

“Yes. Always loved folklore as a child, be it trolls, Nokken, or mermaids,” he turned his head to look out the dirty window and into the fiery sky that implied a stormy morning, “when I was younger, I would dream about swimming around with a beautiful tail. Of course, silly dreams were all it ever was.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from my years on the ocean,” Thomas began, “it’s that there are a lot of unknown things in the water, and what seems like sailor stories, might be closer to reality than what’s comfortable.”

“The old man had a point,” Hilde said with a smile, auburn hair swaying as she nodded.

“You’re not so far from 50 yourself,” he scoffed, earning him smiles and a series of teasing that Morten sat comfortably back and watched, glad to have the attention of him again. It was almost hard to believe that Hilde was 50, as her wrinkles were few, and her sea green eyes were still bright and filled with wonder. Though, Morten thought, perhaps it was simply the flickering candle light hiding secrets in its shadows.

The crimson evening stretched to a cloud covered night, moon shining dimly into the wooden house and the candle lights darting brightly around them. Kari, Petter, Thomas, and Inne had already left, leaving only Anne and Hans-, who, from what he had picked up had sons old enough that they needn’t return til long, himself, and the keepers of the house; Leif and Hilde.

Morten was certainly not at his prime. The exhaustion from the previous weeks on sea had really begun to take a toll; his dark brown hair was sticking out, his eyes were bagged, and he had very quickly moved himself to the brown sofa covered in sheepskin by the dancing fire in an attempt to quell the bone-deep chill that had spread through his body.

In the distance, he could hear Anne and a very, very drunk Hans giving their goodbyes, though he didn’t catch exactly what they said, as he couldn’t concentrate on the sound. In fact, he couldn’t concentrate much on anything right now, the lights blurring in his vision and the decorations around the room- from the plants to what was frankly a concerning amount of mackerel-themed objects, were swimming around him. He could feel the vice of a headache wrapping around his head like the jaws of a beast.

“Oh you poor dear,” he heard Hilde, who he hadn’t even managed to hear come in, sigh, “you look completely worn out.”

He blinked at her, willing his vision into focus. “It’s alright,” he managed to say, voice laced with drowsiness, “I was about to leave, anyway.” He reluctantly got up, gripping his pounding head as black spots entered his vision.

“In this state? Absolutely not,” Hilde protested, already pulling out a drawer to fetch what looked like a warm blanket, “no point in putting a young man like yourself needlessly in danger. This couch is plenty big enough for you.” She threw him a soft, wolly blanket woven in the pattern of a mackerel tail, the strength of the throw making it very clear she was not up for protest.

And even if he had foolishly attempted to protest her motherly instincts, she kept speaking. “Feel free to get some water if you’re thirsty- there’s glasses in the rightmost top cupboard,” she said, before making her way to what Morten assumed was the bedroom. “Goodnight, sleep well.”

There was something in her tone, almost sing-song like, that made him instantly relax and believe that he would, in fact, sleep well that night. It wasn’t long before she had blown out the last candles, smoke being added to the interesting concoction of scents, that he felt the serenity of night, calm as a pond, make him sink into the deep waters of sleep.

————————————

True to Hilde’s words, he slept better than he had in months, being awakened not in a rush like he usually was, but by the sound of rhythmic but hammering rain on the windows. He rubbed his eyes, stretching out and getting rid of the last remaining signs of his journey into the watery abyss. Looking out the window, he saw that true to his prediction, the morning was dark and stormy, thick clouds and heavy rain laying on a sheet that made it hard to see much of anything. Welcome to Stavanger, he thought almost fondly, well used to the city's frankly abysmal weather, only rivalled by a few Vestland cities, most notably Bergen.

He got up from the couch, and glanced at the clock; almost nine. Though comparatively late to when he usually got up, it seemed that Leif had been more exhausted than he let on, as Morten could easily hear his snores from the thin walls. In fact, listening closer, Morten could hear a lot from the thin walls; he could hear the angry seas, he could hear the sounds of talking crowds not too far away, and oddly enough, what sounded like singing.

Melodic, gorgeous, utterly encapsulating singing, sweet as wind chimes, unlike anything he had ever heard before.

In a completely uncharacteristic move, he found himself almost hypnotically making his way out the door and into the weather. Cold air whipped his cheek, but he found himself barely caring, continuing onwards even as his clothes became so soaked that they merged into his baby soft skin.

He made his way further to the coast and docks, walking past swaying trees and winding paths into the dark, wet stoney beach. By now, he was sure his lips were blue, his face wet from the rain, and yet he could not bring himself to feel anything but excitement as the sweet sounds came closer and closer.

And then, at the edge of a rock, at just the right splash zone for the sprays of crashing waves to hit him, he saw it.

Hilde, short, wavy auburn hair, big sea green, aging eyes, was laying on a rock, a mackrell's tail attached to her lower body, and blue scales sprouted across the skin of the arms she rested her head on. Her ears- inhuman, blue, and shaped like fins, perked up, and the signing stopped as she spotted him. Her expression was initially one of surprise and shock, but it washed away within seconds to a warm smile.

Morten gaped like a trout, and stared at her. He scanned her up and down over and over again, his mind having gone completely blank in a way to try to deal with the shock. Hilde took in his expression, and laughed lightly, though he didn’t see what was particularly funny.

“Well, girls,” Hilde said, and to his minds absolute horror, several more heads of scales and weird ears, among them faces he recognised as Anne, Ine, and Kari from last night, popped out of the water, “looks like we’ll be having a guest in the meeting today”

“So,” an unfamiliar brunette with dark skin and purple scales around her eyes said, “is this yet another sailor from your man's crew that will end up with one of our kind?”

Hilde looked directly at him, her smile teasing with sharp teeth. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. But, for now, let’s get back to the matter at hand, and let the weekly meeting of the Norwegian Mermaid Association, plus 1, begin!”

#writeblr #writing #mermay #mermaid #short story #Stavanger #Norway #hope you enjoyed!#part 2 probably coming soon (:

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

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Coastal Waters (1/8/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Valera @autokrates and Madame @usedhearts meet underwater, talk about Madame’s history, eat an eel, and head to the library when Valera discovers to his horror that Madame, an octopus, doesn’t know shit about octopuses. octopodes. octopi.

Madame

The sea. She hadn't even seen the ocean since she was just a girl, let alone swam deep in her waters. The water was warm against her skin, and she flowed through it with an effortless grace that she honestly didn't know she had. It felt good. It felt right, to be among the waves of this alien planet. This was were a giant octopus of a lady should be.

Madame just sat there, under the water, watching curious fish and other creatures flit towards her. She was far larger than any of them, so they were either brave or foolish. A few of the more foolish ones found their way inside her mouth for their crimes. She intentionally kept her skin a pinkish red, wanting to stand out among the reef. A color that said 'Here I am, and I'm bigger than you, so watch out!' It was perfect really. She kept a look out for anyone else going for a swim-- she'd be sure they got a little kraken scare, just for fun.

Valera

Funny, how even on an alien planet, the ocean is still comforting to anyone who loved it. Colorful fish were abundant, the reddish light of the suns lending a faintly pink tinge to the rays coming down through the water.

And here comes Valera to torment innocent wildlife, a flash of silver followed by pink as he chases a mirror bright eel adjacent creature past Madame's resting place.

Madame

Madame's head snapped to the side as Valera passed, and quick as anything, she's off after him. That eel is the target, hm? Well, she wasn't about to let their host have an easy go of it. Tentacles opening and then thrusting back to get her speed, she closed in, trying to get it first-- or at least, make a little game of it for Valera.

Valera

It takes a few seconds for Valera to notice the appearance of a competitor, movement in the corner of his eyes nearly distracting him enough to lose track of the eel. But then the slippery menace turns on a dime, diving into a crevice in the rocks for all its worth. Valera's forced to brake, fins flaring out dramatically as he backpedals just to not smash into the rocks.

He perches on the coral, snorting out a few bubbles as he looks up at Madame. "Damn! Ah well, it'll have to come out eventually. Hello! What's an octopus like you doing in a place like this?"

Madame

Unfortunately, Madame doesn't catch herself quite as quickly as Valera, but she does slow herself enough to not smash hard against the rocks. She winced as she pulled away from them, rubbing her arm.

"Ouch. Them eels are slippery fuckers, ain't they?" She smirked at Val, swimming over to them and perching in a similar manner. "That it does. And thought I'd go for a swim, enjoy it while I can 'n all that. The closest I get to all this is my aquariums at home. This is...heaven, honestly."

Valera

Valera frowns, leaning in to sniff at Madame. Any blood? He can patch up a scrape no problem! The praise for his planet makes him purr, a soft buzz in the water that makes nearby fish start swimming closer to nibble at the pink fish's scales.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself! I was hoping my home would be a place of relaxation, but it seems like it's getting even more of a positive response than expected. If you really like it though, I'll see about inviting you back sometime!"

Madame

No blood, luckily, but she'd probably have a bruise or three later. Octopus skin is durable but not the best when it comes to impacts.

"Oh, I'd simply love that-- even give ya free drinks for life at the Cabaret if that'd sweeten the pot." She winked and laughed, before turning to look up at the surface, watching the sunlight glitter through. She was glad they were surrounded by salt water-- a few tears wouldn't be noticed down here.

"It truly is beautiful. Reminds me so much a home-- I ever tell ya, me 'n Alastor hail from the same place? Good ol' Nawlins, right there on the gulf. Gorgeous city, full of wonderful people 'n the best food 'n the south. When I went west with my husband, I knew I'd miss the ocean, but I didn't think I'd die without ever seein' it again." She smiled as she turned towards him.

"Ya really put some joy back in an ol' lady's heart, Valera, invitin' me here. Didn't think it'd mean as much as it does...but here we are." She laughed, and wiped at her eyes-- before remembering there was nothing to wipe. "Forgive me, gettin' all emotional. We supposed t' be lookin' for an eel, right?"

Valera

"Oh, that eel can go tie itself in knots for all I care, we're talking about this old lady here right now." Valera leans in, a clawed hand delicately patting at Madame's shoulder. "I didn't know you were from New Orleans! I've been there a few times. Lovely place. Very...." He pauses to think, plucking a wandering shrimp off the reef to gesture with. "Lively? Vibrant! You can really lose yourself in that city"

His tail winds around an outcrop, the fish settling down like he was lounging on the finest swooning couch. "So, you were married? Happily, I hope!"

Madame

She took a few breaths, the water filling her chest with warmth, and nodded.

"I was, born 'n raised. Got married a fresh faced youth 'n me 'n the husband decided to try 'n make our fortunes out west. We made it out there too, 'n then he caught ill 'n passed. Left me with a house built and some livestock bought 'n not much else. Started up doin' work on my back, 'n then collected some other girls, some a them like me, others on they own from the start. Home my husband built became my saloon 'n brothel, 'n a whole town sprung up around it. Lovely lil' place.

"But with people come folk what think they the law in a lawless patch a ground. Dumb fucks didn't like me much, and I ain't care for them neither. Startin' smugglin' for local outlaws, hidin' some. The quote-unquote 'law' got it in they heads to burn my place down, cause I was hidin' some poor boy they wanted-- surprised them when the whole thing blew to smithereens cause we was sittin' on a couple boxes a dynamite. Oh, if I coulda seen their faces...." She trailed off and then cleared her throat, laughing a little.

"But then I landed in Hell. And they did too. Strung 'em up by they own insides for I staked a claim on the land I landed on. That's where the Cabaret sits now. The asshole's skeletons're in the aquarium now, housin' crabs and whatnot. Serves 'em right."

Valera

Valera makes a sound more like a dolphin noise than a whistle, crossing one leg over the other as he listens to Madame tell her not especially tragic backstory. "It certainly does. Though I'm sure the short time they spent in Hell came as a rather nasty surprise, if they were going around calling themselves the *law*."

A snort. "It sounds like you've been a woman with a talent for business since day one, Madame. Can't say I'm surprised with the way you run things, but what a story. Sorry to hear about the husband though, losing someone is never easy."

Madame

She nodded, crossing her legs as daintily as someone who was fifteen feet tall could.

"Oh yeah, real nasty surprise for them-- shame I didn't keep 'em around longer, woulda been fun to have 'em strung up on the dart boards or somethin'."

Madame shrugged. "I did miss 'im but, after he died, I realized that I never _really_ loved him. Not like a woman 'n a man 'should' love each other. Dunno why, always been like that I suppose. But we was best friends since childhood 'n it made sense back then to marry someone y' at least liked, instead a some stranger."

Valera

"Hah! I can see it now! Are you a sadist? Five bucks a pop and you can throw your darts at the living dart boards! Ten points if you get them in the eyes, fifteen if you throw hard enough to knock a tooth out! Oh, Hell would have loved that." He cackles, popping the shrimp into his mouth for a quick snack. Mmm, crunchy!

"...Is there a 'should'?" His face twists in confusion. "Maybe it's an alien thing. I was set to bond with my own best friend before I cut that short in favor of running the Autocracy. Romance seems secondary in favor of... You know. Benefits."

Madame

"Dunno. With humans there's always a 'should', it seems. 'Ya _should_ love a man. Ya _should_ marry 'n have kids. Ya _should_ pick yerself up by yer bootstraps 'n get shit done. Ya _should_ know all the right things ta say'." She sighed and shrugged.

"Never much cared for the shoulds. Married because it seemed better'n bein' alone-- and I ended up alone anyways. So, what was the point 'n the first place? I sure as shit don't know. Just lost my best friend, that's all." Madame leaned her chin on her hand, elbow on her knee. "Think I woulda fared better with aliens then humans."

Valera

An eyebrow is raised as Valera turns what Madame said over in his mind. "I don't think marrying your best friend directly resulted in him dying, Madame. But I will admit, you wouldn't be the first human, former or otherwise, to say they would have likely been happier with an alien partner." He's absolutely talking about Pentious. And maybe a few others. He's a popular fish!

"Humans are silly creatures, and I do say that fondly! I've seen very few races as determined to bind themselves to strict social rules and roles that none of them seem to actually enjoy. It's baffling."

Madame

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I know whatcha mean. Most people seem happier when they break social conventions. Makes ya wonder why we even got 'em."

Madame took a breath and smiled. "And I didn't mean it so much as an alien partner as, well, maybe I was just meant to not be a human-- alien in a human body or some such. Maybe it's why I adapted ta bein' a weird giant octopus demon so well!"

Valera

"Your guess is better than mine, I'm only a human when it suits me."

He grins, all teeth. "It wouldn't surprise me. You never struck me as especially *human*, tentacles nonwithstanding. A lovely person? Yes, absolutely. You take good care of all your girls. But human? Not really." Well that's cryptic. But good luck getting him to elaborate, he's already distracted by trying to shove his arm into the crevice where the eel is hiding.

Madame

Madame let out another laugh, smirking as she shrugged and waved a hand.

"I'll take the compliment, and y'know, that reminds me a one of my go-to numbers." She slid off the rock she sat on and floated down a bit, twirling as she went.

"_I admit that in the past I've been a nasty, they weren't kidding when they called me well, a witch_...." She trailed off, giggling. "One of my favorites. That and 'When You're Good To Mama', acourse."

Valera

"Mm, I had you pinned as a contralto day one, my dear Madame." Valera glances over, against the rock up to the shoulder as he scrabbled for the eel. "You run that routine at the cabaret, right? I'll have to swing by to see it sometime! Maybe with my beau, though I don't know his opinion on burlesque just yet."

Madame

"Oh yes! Just tell me when y'all are droppin' by and I'll be sure to add myself to the night's roster." She winked and swam closer, looking at Val's arm, stuck deep in the rock.

"Any luck findin' the squirmy bastard? Or do ya need something a little more dexterous?" She wiggled a tentacle at him.

Valera

He frowns, then pulls his arm back and gestures for Madame to take his place. "I think you may have better luck, my dear. And for more than just that dexterity of yours! Mind the teeth though, those eels aren't the sharpest around, but they bite and do NOT let go."

Madame

Her arms crossed as she slid the tentacle inside, and Madame's face screwed up in concentration. A few moments later she let out a shout.

"Ow! Fucker got me, but I got him too!" With a mighty yank, her tentacle pulled back out, the eel wrapped tight in it, even as it chomped down on her. "What now, Val?"

Valera

"Now you eat him!" He crows, clapping his hands together as the eel gives the most hateful look it can muster. Though, underwater, there wasn't actually any sound to the gesture. "It's your catch, just bite him behind the eyes, nice and clean kill!"

Madame

She arched a brow, but brought the eel closer, moving to get a good angle. Madame opened her mouth and snapped down on the eel's head-- and it released it's own bite on her. She took it in her hands and bit it in half, swallowing down the front half.

Madame offered the other half to Val, grinning. "Here. Only right a guest share with her host."

Valera

He affects a dainty gasp, accepting the eel with a coquettish fluttering of his lashes. "Why THANK you, my dear Madame. Such a gracious guest, my hearts are warmed by your consideration."

And that chunk of eel is gone in a flash, yam yam. "Gods, always a tasty little morsel. Those have a lot of interesting names in various languages here, but my personal favorite is the one that translates best to..." He taps his chin, trying to think of the closest words. "Something like Bastard Snake. Bastard as in abandoned son, not the insult."

Madame

"Nah, I think the insult worst better, cause he sure was a bastard ta get outta there." She gestured toward her bitten tentacle.

"Think he mighta torn a chunk outta me. Ouch..." She brought it closer to inspect and while the chunk wasn't _gone_, it was barely hanging out. "Oh, that's a doozy..."

Valera

He leans in, taking a closer look at the damage to Madame's tentacle with a sympathetic hiss. "Oooh, that looks painful. Want me to fix it?"

A waggle of his fingers, and he extends a glowing hand. That's probably not ominous, right?

Madame

"Can ya?" She asked, her head tilting. "I'd love ta not have to whip out the scar cream for somethin' so small."

Valera

"I can! Healing and barriers are actually my specialty." He trills, looking VERY pleased with himself about that fact. "No strings attached for you, of course."

Madame

"Well, then, thank ya kindly. Yer a lovely 'n gracious host." She beamed.

Valera

He takes her tentacle in hand, smoothing over the wound with a slow sweep of his palm. A brief flash of numbness, heat, and there, good as new. No dramatics necessary! But he's still going to deliver with some SPECTACULAR jazz hands and the cheeriest grin he can muster.

"There, how's that?"

Madame

Madame let out a little 'oh!' at the numbness and heat, and as soon as her tentacle was released, it flexed and wiggled of its own accord.

"Well, that was sure somethin'! Never had a healin' like that."

Valera

"Never? Is healing magic not common in Hell?" Well, either that or Madame just didn't get hurt often. Either seemed possible.

Madame

"Oh no, it's not that. Usually gettin' somethin' healed costs-- usually a soul, or a favor, but always somethin'." She shrugged. "Try not to get into too many fights, cause the healin' is usually worse than the damage."

Valera

He squints, planting his chin on his open palm as he stares at the fixed tentacle. "I mean, I guess it cost something? All I did was encourage your natural healing. A few cell divisions to smooth over the damage, replace the torn up cells. Something that small didn't require actually replacing any massive swaths of material. You'll be hungrier than usual later, but that's about it!"

A shrug. "It would have been worse if you'd actually lost a chunk, but even then, I could have just converted a pebble to matching flesh or something. No biggie!"

Madame

"A pebble? Huh!" She tapped her chin. "That is somethin'. Yer magic's a lot more powerful than anythin' I can channel. Usual I go to good ol' Al for any real punchy magics."

Valera

"You know, people keep saying that. I never thought of myself as especially powerful." He holds up a finger. "Well, no. I have plenty of RAW power. But as far as efficiency goes, I'm absolute garbage. My magic isn't nearly as finely tuned as it could be. I burn tons of it on even small spells. Like, embarrassing amounts. Horrendously sloppy."

A sigh. "What kind of magic do you usually need from good old Alastor?"

Madame

"If I need a costume on the fly, he can magic up some pretty good threads. He's fairly good at some basic healin'-- like if ona my acts sprains somethin'. And of course, the best magic of all-- his reputation. Ain't nobody gonna mess with the Cabaret none if I got the Radio Demon in my back pocket." She paused.

"Don't tell him I said that, he wouldn't take kindly to it."

Valera

He waves a hand, grin turning downright impish. "What, me? Tell an Alastor that his reputation is helping protect his friends? My dear, I would *never*."

Madame

Madame giggled, and winked at him. "Yer a peach, shug." She put her hands on her hips.

"Anythin' else ya wanna tag team, huntin' wise? I'm down for a lil explorin' 'n huntin', if you are."

Valera

Valera sticks his tongue out, slowly unwinding his tail from his anchor point. "No, I'm a fish! But I understand the confusion. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone your mistake." A wink.

"We'll have to browse the local selection, Madame! If you're amenable to a bit of window shopping, that is."

Madame

"I dunno about that, ya ass is pretty peachy!" She cackled, swimming closer to take his arm.

"I'm a fan a any kinda shoppin', includin' the window kind!"

Valera

Oho! Quick on the sass with that one, was she? Good! Keeps things interesting. He politely flutters his fins, turning his head this way and that to scout out a meal.

"You're more of an ambush predator, no?"

Madame

"Think so! Don't know too much bout octopuses honestly? Only what I've been able to figure out, mostly. But it worked earlier!" She laughed.

Valera

... He turns his head back to look at Madame, eyebrows inching up slowly but surely.

"Pardon? You don't know about octopuses? The very animal your soul was moulded after for your eternal punishment?"

Madame

She laughed, oh that look on his face!

"Yup! Thinka how surprised I was when I dropped inta Hell lookin' like this!" She gestured to herself. "Knew things like fish 'n gators 'n the like, 'n even the tiny little octopuses, but never one as big as me!"

Valera

He squints, slowly turning them back towards the shore. Sounds like they're about to make a trip to the *library*.

"I'm sure. So you're not familiar with how octopus brains work? Or the semi-independent "minds" of their tentacles?"

Madame

"Oh, is that why they sometimes do shit on they own?" She giggled again, going along with Val's movements.

"And no, I ain't. Never thought to look it up, too busy buildin' my business 'n keepin' it."

Valera

He snorts. Yes, this library visit is sounding more and more necessary. But he's not above setting a sedate pace. A couple of friends on a relaxing swim, no need to flip.

"Yes, Madame. You'll also be pleased to know that were you an octopus of the male persuasion, one of your tentacles would also be your penis." A pause, and he amends. "Well, theoretically. It gets wibbly when you mix humans and other species. I doubt you'd lay four hundred thousand eggs and then die from a single mating."

Madame

Her eyes widened and she can't help but laugh again. "Oh fuck! Yeah, sure glad I don't do that! Woulda double died a long time ago!"

Valera

"If it makes you feel any better, the Earth fish I most resemble, the lionfish, can lay..." A tap at his lips, give him a moment to recall... Oh, yes, there we go. "Fifteen thousand eggs every four days?"

That's so many. He shudders at the very thought. "I'm not *quite* so prolific. But fret not, my dear. All those facts and more can be safely tucked into your noggin once we find you a book that doesn't read like watching paint dry. I know there's SOMETHING about octopuses being able to tamper with their own biology on the fly."

Madame

"Oh? That sounds interestin'. And yeah, glad we ain't out here layin' thousands of eggs, that's just too much." She laughed, giving his arm a squeeze in hers.

Valera

And off they go, back to shore and beyond, to educate an octopus woman on her own partial biology. How lovely.

#((Internet is still ASS but i managed to get this up yay))#extermination party palace #autokrates #usedhearts

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pinkykitten · 4 years

Text

Forest pt. 1

Castlevania

Alucard Tepes x female! reader

Warning: cursing, violence, gore, mentions of blood

Specifics: chapter fic, romance, angst, fluff, not requested, action, adventure, race neutral reader, human reader

People: alucard tepes, monster thingy from the show

Words: 3,338

Summary: Since Alucard lives in the forest now in Dracula’s castle he meets the reader in the forest and in that moment he starts to have a liking towards her and is very bashful, blushy and romantic towards her and she is a goofball and is very silly and lighthearted. From the moment that they met all Alucard wants to do is protect the reader no matter what is takes.

Authors Note: god alucard is so sexy and so beautiful like god dang! lol sorry im a bit of a horny nerd. anywho its rlly late where im at andddddd i cant go to sleep cuz i slept the whole day so ayyyee. anywho i was inspired idk where but i was inspired to write this bc i think alucard deserves love and someone who adores him like i do. i loved writing this tho and rlly want to write for castlevania more but this is going to be chapters idk how many yet lets just see where the wind takes us i hate planning anyways. IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS THO I AINT EVEN MAD ABOUT IT!!!!! LIKE YASSSSSSSSSS

“Alright so its been almost a month and I haven’t died. That must mean I’m doing something right.” You used a piece of wood you made into a cane to help you get up the steep hills. You were voyaging alone in the forest. You had a family that were settled more outside the town that you lived near. You were a large family and your siblings came down with a sickness. You were determined to find a cure and determined to find medicine for them. As scary as it may have seemed you needed to put on a brave face for the dangers that lay out ahead. You knew those monsters walked around and as much as that terrified you, your siblings came first. At a young age, adventure excited you and you always wanted to prove to yourself and family that you were more than capable of doing things alone.

You saw a river down below. The water rushing past rocks made you relaxed and with a glint in your eyes you smiled. “Aha!” You looked left and right, seeing if anyone was present. “Alone with just the woods and me. I knew mother was wrong. I can very much so take care of myself.” You threw your satchel on the floor alongside with your clothes. “I smell like a pig.” You chuckled at your joke. The cool, clear water was down below as you ran to it, looking forward to the coldness and the feeling of being clean. You jumped in not knowing someone was near.

You dunked your face laughing. “And there’s fish!” You swam behind a light blue fish. Being at awe when you saw the way the fins shone from the sun. You picked it up skillfully and carefully you set it free. Your body delicately floated. “This is the life.” Birds chirped, the wind blew like a whisper against your cheek.

But suddenly, the rustle of the trees alarmed you. You heard the snapping of a twig. Your head snapped to the noise. Fear bubbled inside you as you thought of all the possibilities. What if it was a bear? What if it were those monsters? Your heart sped fast as you backed out of the river. Your breathing was faster. You needed to get out of here. As you got out your back hit against fur. You quickly turned around as saw a huge demon, monster, you didn’t even know what but you knew it was from Dracula’s army. Its teeth were sharp and its eyes were bright and red. It was your worst nightmare. You erupted a scream as you sprinted around it, climbing the hill to where your satchel laid.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! I’m gonna die!” You didn’t care about your nudeness, all that mattered to you was surviving. You tried to go as fast as possible but the creature landed in front of you, stopping you from escaping. It cornered you against a huge boulder and tree. With everything you had you lifted your cane high in the air and hit the monster. It didn’t even flinch.

“What?” Your eyes widened in horror. The creature picked you up as if you weighed nothing and threw you against a tree. You cried out in pain as your back burned and ached to an extreme level. You then noticed that a tree branch stabbed right through your shoulder. The blood dripped down your arm onto your naked skin. You felt queasy and weak. Thoughts and last words echoed through your mind. The monster was about to devour you but a flash of blonde hair came into your vision and you saw, him.

This young man was nothing you’ve ever seen before. He was stronger than the average person, throwing the monster back and forth. He punched it high in the air and then threw it against the boulder. He was incredible. Full of power. Your eyes were starting to close and your vision grew blurry as the last thing you saw were the fangs that the man displayed.

“Mother I had this terrible dream!” Your whole body shot up. That was a terrible decision as you winced in pain. “It was not a dream.” You breathed hard as you took in your surroundings. The fire was lit making the room comfortable as you were once shivering from being wet. It looked as if you were in the kitchen of somebody's house. “Hello?” Your throat was dry. You were in a stranger’s house. You were in a stranger’s house! “Oh dear.” You were put high onto a table. You jumped off but were still too weak. You landed hard on your knees but caught yourself with your arms. Your shoulder pounding in pain. You became dizzy. You heard footsteps nearing. “Who are you?” You tried to stand up again but slipped into the arms of a man.

“Hold on. You are still not well.” His voice came out almost like a whisper. He picked you up and sat you back on the table. “Also, I’m the man who saved your life.”

“That was you? That was, um, pretty amazing.” You curled into yourself. You were nervous around this man. He intimidated you and made you feel shy. He was very handsome and charming. “You kicked that things as* real good.”

The man chuckled, “thank you.”

You quickly looked at your nightgown. It was too big for you as the sleeves ate your arms and the collar was off the shoulders. Your eyes shot open. You were bashful. “Did you, um, see anything?”

He looked away, “I kinda had to. Sorry. You were naked when I saved you.”

“Great. That’s great,” you inhaled clapping your hands. Suddenly you sensed a throbbing pain on your shoulder and you looked to see a blood stain on the nightgown. “Um excuse me sir. Is that supposed to happen?”

The man looked worried as he laid you back down and pulled the nightgown down enough to see your shoulder. “It does not look good. It seems with that jump you reopened the stitches.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. God, this really hurts.”

He got to work on doing your stitches again as he got his items. “Bite down on this.” He opened his mouth to show the action and you saw his teeth.

“Agh please don’t eat me! You’re a vampire aren’t you?” You flinched away.

The man rolled his eyes as he shoved the cloth in your mouth but before he got started on you he said, “You are right. I am a vampire.”

You spat the cloth out, “I knew it. I also would like to know your name as this may be my last moment and I would like to remember who will either save me or take my life. My name is y/n l/n.”

“The names Alucard Tepes and this is going to sting a little.” With that Alucard poured some alcohol on your wounds. (im sorry i dont know how helping ppl w medical stuff works :(

You shifted and tried pouncing up, fighting the urge to let out a blood curdling scream. But Alucard pushed you down with his hands, shushing you gently. “I know, this hurts.” You could almost sense some love and actual concern in his voice. His brows knitted, “I promise, you are almost finished.”

You looked deep into Alucard’s eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. This man or vampire looked unreal. He looked made up, something from stories you read as a child, like a prince. You felt something go off within you. Not knowing if it was lust or something else but a fire erupted inside your soul as Alucard’s face inched closer to yours to get to work on your shoulder. His smell was intoxicating. Almost like a musk but yet something floral, fresh, mixed in. Your heart thumped faster at the contact.

His plump lips quivered as they looked at your state. No way did he want this innocent soul as beautiful as you looked dying on his table. He already had to deal with a lot recently. He didn’t know why or understand but he had this inclination, this feeling, that he needed to keep you alive. He just had to.

Unable to keep the scream at bay no more you let it out. Your veins protruding from your neck as you became dizzy and once again passed out.

Your eyes opened. Your body was aching. It felt like it went through war. You inhaled as you looked around again, but this time you were hoping things were not a dream as then Alucard would be fake. Remembering his name your head whipped to the side to see Alucard holding a wash cloth stained with blood. He was sound asleep. His head resting against his arm against the table. All the medical stuff was out and about as if he were still working on you. His back was arched at a odd position.

“He must of fallen asleep while working on me,” you whispered to yourself. His hair sprayed out on his shoulders and table. Without a second thought you touched his hair lightly and you were shocked. It felt like silk upon your fingers! His golden eye lashes kissed his cheek as he snoozed so peacefully. You felt bad leaving him to worry for you and to be sleeping in an uncomfortable place. You felt you weren’t that deserving of such treatment.

You kicked your feet out and hopped off the table. Your feet pattered against the hard floor as you walked to Alucard. You snatched him a blanket you saw nearby and draped it over his tall, lean body. You smiled seeing how elegant and graceful he looked sleeping.

You yawned, scratching your head as you looked upon the window and noticed it was raining. Surprisingly in this vampire but also a stranger’s house the rain seemed cozy and it made you feel at peace. It was dark in his house. The trees shook from the tiny wind and rain.

“I must leave but I should thank Alucard for helping me with my wound last night. I probably wouldn’t have last without him.” Your mind wondered back to what happened at the river. Yes, Dracula was gone according to what the towns people said but why was his army still about, his monsters? It didn’t make sense to you. But what did you know? You were just a weak human living in a mysterious world you didn’t want any part of.

You pulled out a chair and got to writing a thank you letter to Alucard, pulling out a pen, ink and a piece of paper.

“Dear Alucard. No, too direct. How about, to a savior? Too high and mighty.” Finally you had written your letter but it sounded very awkward and you were too much of a p*ssy to give it to Alucard. “Ugh this is hopeless.” You crumpled up the paper, throwing it on the floor by the garbage.

You thought and thought and thought until an idea popped in your mind. “I know,” you snapped. “I’ll make him breakfast. My mother always says a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” You crossed your fingers, “lets just hope this man likes human food instead of hearts and blood.” You gulped.

You rolled your sleeves up, washed your hands and brought out the pots and pans and butter. “I’m going to make toast, eggs, bacon, beans and mushrooms.”

You spiced up the food and placed them in a skillet. The sizzle satisfying your ears. The sun started to peak through the clouds as the aroma wafted through the house. You grinned, loving to cook and make a person happy with your hard work. “I hope he likes this.” You were almost finished when Alucard coughed behind you.

You jumped, being in the zone. “Oh hi there,” you waved awkwardly. “My apologies if I woke you.”

“Uh, no I woke myself up,” his rough voice made your knees weak as it was still laced with sleep. He stretched, cracking some knuckles, yawning as well. “What I would like to know is what are you doing?”

“Well,” you started setting up the table cutely. “I wanted to say thanks for helping me back there. I was kind of a p*ssy to be honest and like a wuss so this is just a little thanks for all the help.”

Alucard didn’t know what to say so instead he just smiled.

“Please, sit, sit, sit,” you pointed to the seats. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

Alucard awkwardly sat. Not ever having this type of service. He looked at you as you were preparing the finishing steps of your dish. The sun cascaded around you and you were illuminated like a goddess. You were breathtaking. Alucard blushed madly. You put everything on the table. Seeing Alucard’s expression you laughed, “are you alright?”

Alucard coughed, “yes, thank you for all of this. You really didn’t need to. It all looks beautiful.” He looked at the presentation.

You took the seat beside Alucard. You could of sat anywhere else but you sat beside him. He almost couldn’t hear what you were about to say in that moment from how hard his heart was beating.

“No need to thank me. I think we’ve done enough thanking and now its time to dig in.” You patted his hand.

Alucard just looked at the food and he almost felt tears at his eyes. Nobody ever cared for him like this.

“Is it okay? If its not to your liking I totally get it. You don’t have to eat it. I don’t even know if you like this stuff. I mean who knows maybe you only eat flowers and here I am serving you bacon and eggs.” You became flustered.

“No, no, no this is lovely its just,” he choked back a cry. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me, ever.”

You clutched onto his hand and gave him a beautiful smile. “Then that just means you have to eat double. As much and maybe more than what your stomach can hold.” You giggled.

Alucard blushed again as he started to eat quickly. Enjoying every moment of your company and food. “The beans are delicious.”

“Well I’m glad you liked them. Its my mum’s recipe, she always makes them like this.” You then recalled why you came on this journey in the first place. “My satchel!”

“Don’t worry, its safe.”

You raised your brow, “did you take a look?”

Alucard paused, “no, I would never.” He took a bite out of his bread. Chewing on the piece silently. “Maybe just a tiny peek.”

You pouted, “Nosy. I should of locked it.”

“Why do you have all those books in your bag anyways?” Alucard crossed his legs as he took a sip of his coffee. His light orbs staring intently at you.

Seeing the rain start to become tiny droplets of rain you thought about your family and how you missed them. This was all for them. “My siblings you see are very ill,” your hand shook with anxiety. “My village is very poor and we are limited in resources, especially medicine. We’ve tried everything and nothing seems to work. They just seem to be getting worse. I’ve been researching and trying to find an answer and supposedly, I read that there is a certain flower that only grows in a specific area that may cure the illness. In the books there is a map and that’s why I was led to that river well more like I wanted to take a bath and that’s what led me to the river. But I’ve been on this trail for a while. I’m just, scared because it all depends on me. If I can’t find this flower, if I can’t find a cure and my family dies it will be my fault. I would have killed them.” You didn’t even realize it but you were crying.

Alucard saw you were distressed and held onto your hand. He comforted you through your anxiety. Your teary eyes looked into his and he gave you a toothy smile, “I’ll help you find it.”

“What?” You rubbed your eyes.

“I know the place you need to go. I can guide you there. Besides the outside world is very dangerous for a beautiful girl such as yourself. I can see that this means a lot to you and I want to help.”

You dropped your fork and got out of your chair. “You mean it? You aren’t joking?”

Alucard chuckled, “I promise I am speaking truth.” Alucard flung his hand out to you.

You quickly shook on it and shouted with enthusiasm, “deal!” You jumped up and down laughing as you hugged Alucard. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Can we please leave immediately then?”

“We can leave today.”

You danced, “yes. I’ll go change and get my things.” You brought the empty dishes to clean them as Alucard stood up with a smile on his face.

You were something else, something different. A breath of fresh air in his depressing life. Maybe you were meant to be here. Maybe you were a sign. Either way Alucard thought that these couple of days were to be very exciting. Alucard was about to get ready when a piece of paper in the corner caught his eyes. It was crumbled. “Hmmm, what is this?” He bent down to pick it up and read the words. With just the first word to the letter his smile grew bigger and bigger.

Alucard coughed as he raised the letter you wrote to him earlier but discarded high in the air, “Dear Alucard, to my savior. I would love for you to know that I am extremely appreciative for what you have done for me in saving my life-”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. That letter was not supposed to be read by him especially. It was embarrassing. You dropped a plate in the sink and felt your whole world collapse. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

“When I first saw you I thought you were a prince-” Alucard kept going until you couldn’t take it any longer.

You sprinted and tried grabbing the letter out of his hand. “Alucard, give that to me. Now.”

“Oh you want this letter?” Alucard smirked. “You do sound like an obnoxious romantic whore.”

You gasped, “I do not! That was supposed to be my thank you letter and I didn’t like it and you weren’t supposed to read it. So give it back!” You jumped for it but Alucard raised it high in the air. “Alucard, give it to me.”

Alucard’s face came closer to yours as he pinned you against the table. “Why don’t you come and get it?”

You practically climbed him, snatching the letter out of his hand. “Aha!” But Alucard’s footing was off and he and you fell with a thud.

The birds chirped lightly as Alucard laid under you and you fell on top of him, your arm bracing for the impact. Alucard held in his breath with a red blush as he looked at you so extremely close. You both held that position for what felt like forever. You eyes were wide in horror at the compromising position.

You quickly stood up and were flustered. Forgetting where everything was. “Um, um, um. I’m going to go put my trip on so we can get ready for the clothes.” You quickly ran away.

Alucard breathed quickly as he brushed back his long hair whispering the words. “My savior.” He noticed you were in such a panic mode that you forgot about your letter. It was left and Alucard was not going to leave or throw away evidence that someone saw him in such a good light. He loved that letter because it was from you.

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