#to be fair childes already a Strange Character so i doubt they’d think much of it. probably think he’s sending mora which is funny when you
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Notes on the Artemis Fowl movie by yours truly.
Bear in mind I wrote these while watching the movie. There’s a lot of them.
1. If you think the police and/or reporters would ever be anywhere near fowl manor you’re wrong.
2. Mulch isn’t bad so far but he’d never be caught by police.
3. Is our first introduction to Artemis him running? I think not thank you very much.
4. Plus it looks like he’s going to do some water sport. Also wrong.
5. Surfing!!??!!?
6. Artemis doesn’t have even close to the coordination to do that.
7. I don’t even think he knows how to swim.
8. He doesn’t love Ireland.
9. Of course he doesn’t love school! Have you seen his teachers’ remarks on him? They aren’t nice.
10. It was a boys-only school but that’s definitely one of the smaller offenses.
11. He did do the chess thing if I recall correctly.
12. Same for the opera house.
13. He didn’t clone a goat or name anything Bruce.
14. Unusual is an understatement.
15. Dr. Po?!
16. Fake chair! Yeah!
17. That exchange from the Arctic incident wasn’t a bad choice to include. Too early though I think. We’ll see how the rest of the movie goes.
18. He’s got blue eyes. At least there’s that.
19. He doesn’t have a biography!
20. His mom isn’t dead! Disney is just scared of showing mental illness.
21. If you think Angelina Fowl can’t control Artemis you’re wrong. She calls him Arty for god’s sake. He loves his mom.
22. Mysterious absences my ass. He’s the one that should be presumed dead.
23. “This is a sensitive area doctor” sure.
24. Fake chair ftw.
25. The burden of his father’s name?! He’s proud of that name.
26. This scene wasn’t so bad. We’ll see how the rest of the movie fairs.
27. Who does he think he is? He Artemis freaking Fowl!
28. Skateboarding! I’m about to have an aneurysm.
29. Also, why is he wearing jeans? Get this man a suit!
30. He did not like being at home with his dad. Not in the first book anyway. His parent being out of the way allowed him to do what he did.
31. His dad’s actor looks good for the part.
32. His father is a criminal. World-famous. He did not just deal with antiques and rarities.
33. His dad also didn’t care for fairytales.
34. Music’s nice I guess.
35. Why is arty wearing a hoodie?! He would never!
36. Artemis was not taught about fairies. He discovered them himself with basically no help.
37. So much physical contact between Artemis sr. and jr. No.
38. His dad did not believe in any such legends.
39. They shared only a passion for crime and that didn’t even last.
40. He wasn’t determined about any such thing. See point 36.
41. He wasn’t preparing Artemis for anything like that.
42. Fairy stones? What are those?
43. There was no peace made between humans and fairies.
44. Tuatha De Danaan? What is that?
45. Artemis would want to get to the point I guess.
46. His work was not coming to an end. What is going on? Can we meet Holly soon?
47. I’m ten minutes in and suffering.
48. Artemis wasn’t really one to smile unless things were going his way.
49. You are a child! You are still a kid! You’re like a literal baby still!
50. The whole point of him being 12 in the books was that he could still believe in magic as well as science. Wtf is going on?
51. I do know the Hill of Tara.
52. I take issue with “all I really want is to believe in you” but I don’t have time to get into it here.
53. He’s still wearing a hoodie. >:(
54. Hugging his dad. No.
55. I will accept the helicopter on the front lawn if only because it seems one thing that could’ve happened in the books.
56. Where are the Butlers? Why are neither of the fowls being guarded? I need more Juliet and Butler in this movie NOW.
57. And Holly.
58. Pretty sure they don’t have a lighthouse. Also, pretty sure fowl manor wasn’t next to the ocean.
59. Might’ve been near a Forrest. I don’t quite remember.
60. Legos?! LEGOS?!??!!
61. Also, star wars? I don’t think Artemis has ever seen a sci-fi movie. He’s too busy making them a reality.
62. Artemis would also not sleep with a book.
63. Why did Butler’s name in the subtitles appear as Domovoi? You know there’s a whole thing about his name and why Arty doesn’t know it right?
64. So his dad disappeared. Not bad. A little late but okay.
65. Everyone has already aired their grievances about Butlers actor so I shall refrain from doing so as well. I’ll just say one word and leave it at that. Eurasian.
66. Also, fowl manor doesn’t look bad. I can accept this house.
67. No no no. No one should be calling him Domovoi. Only Butler.
68. Also, that isn’t the training he had.
69. He is the butler though? I mean. Only sort of but like. ???
70. No. You could not call him Dom or Domovoi.
71. Very large man in a suit is slightly acceptable.
72. He could totally snap you in half but not without good reason. Come on, guys. He’s a nice guy. Scary, but nice.
73. Like, the dude cooks and gardens and whatnot. How is that not nice?
74. Also, I’m still hung up on the goat thing. Like I don’t deny that he could clone a goat but why on earth would he name it Bruce. Is it a Batman reference or something? I don’t understand this movie.
75. World wide manhunt? Pardon my doubt.
76. Superyacht? Owl star?
77. I get it. It’s a stupid pun.
78. I guess the South China Sea is close enough to Russia.
79. Again. Not an antiquities dealer.
80. Robberies? He ran a criminal empire!
81. Not sure how one would go about stealing the Rosetta Stone or why but sure.
82. I’ve never even heard of Boru’s Harp.
83. Nor the book of kells.
84. Why are you calling Butler Dom???
85. Yes! He is a criminal mastermind! Thank you for slightly acknowledging that!
86. Also, Artemis is not that rash.
87. He’s your dad and a criminal.
88. Why must Disney do this to my boy? He was an incredible character, smart, cunning, and a criminal and now he’s just a sort of smart kid. Lame.
89. I swear if this “raspy voice” is opal I will be so disappointed.
90. What is this? Artemis is supposed to be kidnapping fairies, not the other way around!
91. What is this Aculos and why should I care about it?
92. Also, why isn’t it Christmas? You could at least set it in winter. For crying out loud.
93. That isn’t word for word Artemis. I know you can remember it exactly.
94. I’m starting to think Orion is better than this fool.
95. Why is he wearing a hoodie?!??!???!
96. Just going to have a secret basement full of whatever secret stuff shoved in there because of course.
97. Also. As if butler would know about any of this.
98. Bunch of bottles of water. Okay.
99. ‘Cause Artemis Sr. totally knew about the fairies.
100. This is a stupid basement.
101. I’m so done with this.
102. Ah yes! An important journal! Predictable.
103. Stupid poem. Stupid way of finding the journal.
104. That was opal I see. I’m dying.
105. Beechwood. Isn’t that guy related to Holly or something? Also, not from the books.
106. Yes, Arty fairies exist. Surprising no one.
107. I like how they made the city look I suppose. And they kept the name the same. Of course, it must be noted that not all fairies live in haven. There are other cities.
108. Why is holly a baby? She shouldn’t look like a child. Also, tons of people have already spoken on holly’s appearance as well so I won’t say anymore.
109. Koboi mentioned. It was totally opal.
110. The fairies don’t look bad either. Though I don’t know if the little things are supposed to be goblins or what?
111. I guess not. These goblins also seem way too smart.
112. “You and I would make a great team” foreshadowing.
113. I do think mulch being taller is kinda funny.
114. Briar Cudgeon looks about how I expected. Do you think he’ll get his face melted?
115. Opal and Cudgeon working together. Unsurprising if a bit early.
116. You spy or you die. The CIA’s motto.
117. L.E.P. Recon. Nice.
118. I’m also not going to address the changing of roots gender and the fact that Holly is supposed to be the first female officer because again, many people have spoken at length about that. Still upset though.
119. Kelp and Verbil are around I see.
120. What is the Aculos? Like I get that it’s a weapon by why should I care?
121. Also, I think Root should be smoking.
122. Holly’s father? Why should he matter or even be a part of this?
123. They kept Holly 84. Good.
124. Reinforcements? Juliet?!!!!
125. She’s 12? She’s supposed to be sixteen! No!
126. Niece!!!! She’s supposed to be his sister.
127. Also, screw Disney for changing the fairy alphabet so we can’t read it.
128. Artemis should be able to decode it though. He’s not much of a genius, is he?
129. Foals needs a tinfoil hat and should look way way nerdier.
130. Troll! Time! Yeah!
131. Yeah! Lava chutes!
132. Foaly’s CGI is a little wonky but whatever.
133. So that’s why Holly’s father is important. Stupid.
134. The executors. You mean the council.
135. Don’t just fly over the surface unshielded, you dolt!
136. Butler your camouflage sucks ass.
137. Butler wouldn’t complain.
138. Butler’s eyes are freaking me out. No one’s eyes look like that.
139. The LEP helmets are stupid looking.
140. That isn’t what a troll looks like. Stop it, Disney.
141. Time Stop. Not a time freeze.
142. The magic looks cool.
143. That’s not how a time stop works. But at least it looks cool.
144. I suppose I can accept that’s how they do mind wipes.
145. “This is a strange wedding” is the best joke so far.
146. Why are none of the fairies shielded?
147. Holly has such boring motivation.
148. You shouldn’t just read your dad’s journal Arty. It’s rude.
149. I’m so over arty’s dad already knowing about the fairies as well as this beechwood fellow.
150. Why does this Aculos exist? If it’s so dangerous, why not get rid of it?
151. Opal Koboi. Finally.
152. Like Arty would ever dress like that. He’d still be wearing a suit and be spotless.
153. “They’re real.” No kidding!
154. Fox!
155. I’m surprised they included trying and succeeding to shoot holly.
156. Kinda wish they’d kept the bury an acorn to get magic thing but small fish and all.
157. Now it’s starting to remind me of the real Artemis Fowl story.
158. Cudgeon is slimy and annoying and I’m here for it.
159. That’s a shitty looking cage.
160. “Not happy” I wonder why?
161. Reflective glasses! Yes! Give me the fowl crew in cringey reflective sunglasses.
162. The Mesmer is done nicely. Love Juliet’s glasses.
163. A flannel and reflective sunglasses. That classic Artemis fowl look.
164. So he did decode their language.
165. The acting isn’t terrible.
166. Most humans are afraid of gluten how do you think they’d handle goblins is a good line.
167. Again. Not how time stops work but okay.
168. So let me get this right. Instead of the fairy bible which Artemis poisoned a fairy to get they just replaced it with his dad‘s journal. great.
169. Don’t give Artemis a weapon! He’s gonna cut his own arm off!
170. The time freeze does look cool though.
171. I can appreciate them gathering on the beach. That’s kinda cool.
172. Finally a suit! Get this kid properly clothed!
173. Though that tie is a little sus. Why’s it so skinny?
174. That fight scene wasn’t too bad. Again Arty is definitely not supposed to be good at anything physical but it’s whatever.
175. Flair for the dramatic? This is hardly as dramatic as the book.
176. I hate opal’s voice.
177. Waged war on your people? That was 10,000 years ago!
178. Opal’s motives are also super boring.
179. I’m sad we don’t get to see arty practicing his evil smile in the mirror.
180. In one of those pots. From under the rainbow. Fun.
181. Glad they kept the whole while I’m alive stipulation.
182. Glad to see the goblins still have fire powers.
183. These goblins really shouldn’t be so smart.
184. I hope we get to see mulch unhinge his jaw soon.
185. I do like mulch.
186. This heart to heart is stupid. Artemis wouldn’t trust holly just like that me thinks.
187. I like that mulch is up on all the human pop culture. I do wish he’d make a Gordon Ramsey reference though since he likes him.
188. Mulch not wanting to be tall is excellent character motivation though.
189. Now this is the heart to heart I needed.
190. Is he gonna unhinge his jaw?! I’ve been waiting for this the whole time!
191. Yeah!!!!!!
192. Eat that dirt!
193. Mulch!
194. “What would your parents be?”
195. A really really big dwarf.
196. Sick safe. Nothing mulch can’t handle.
197. That definitely isn’t what I expected from mulch’s hair but that’s okay.
198. Yeah! Holly punched Artemis! Now there just needs to be a lollipop remark.
199. Is that the Aculos? It looks stupid.
200. Also, I do appreciate the inclusion of the iris cam.
201. Opal, you’re so boring.
202. Cudgeon is taking over. Kinda wish it was of his own will because that’s more interesting but whatever.
203. Troll time part two. I doubt butler is going to almost die fighting it. Maybe he’ll wear a suit of armor though. That’d be cool.
204. How is it we’re an hour in and only just now get a d’arvit? Surely many other scenes warranted that.
205. I do like that mulch pickpocketed butler.
206. Don’t just stand in front of the door when A Troll is about to be sent in!
207. The wings do look really cool though.
208. Also, Juliet really shouldn’t be trying to fight a troll.
209. I mean. None of them should but you know.
210. Mulch eating the Aculos is very in character. I’m glad Artemis’s bedroom is being destroyed. It was terrible.
211. While I don’t care for the way the troll looks (Far too human, not enough claws and venom) the amount of destruction it’s causing is appropriate I feel.
212. I guess that’s how the fight can go.
213. Also, Juliet is so smart and strong yet she can’t pull herself over a ledge? Pathetic.
214. Don’t move butler to a completely different room! He’s got a back injury! You probably just made it worse!
215. Butler isn’t going to die. This is stupid.
216. Trouble doing the lords work.
217. I told you butler would be fine.
218. One of the times Butler would nearly die. If we’re following the books then more should follow.
219. Also what is this room they’re in?
220. Butler would not be ashamed to cry.
221. I’m living for everyone’s reactions to where mulch stored the Aculos.
222. I like the way it looks when they get grabbed by the time stop.
223. She’s gonna save Artemis. Obviously.
224. I like the way it looked when the time stop broke.
225. “Breaking every rule in the book” we haven’t even seen your book! Just his dad’s stupid journal.
226. He and holly should not be friends yet. He kidnapped her!
227. Ooh, forever friends how sweet! Get fucked. Both of you.
228. Now are we in Russia?
229. Opal annoys me so much.
230. So are you trying to tell me that this Aculos is the movie’s version of the book? Holly’s saying that poem.
231. This isn’t how magic is supposed to work.
232. >:(
233. I will admit it looked cool. Begrudgingly.
234. Your dad isn’t dead.
235. He’s in the secret basement that still exists for some reason.
236. Also, I didn’t note this before, but I doubt Arty ever called his dad, dad.
237. Opal is thwarted.
238. Why she so ugly looking? Pretty sure she was supposed to be pretty.
239. This is so stupid.
240. Opals accomplices, you mean those two dunderheads she had helping her?
241. How are there still fifteen minutes of this torture left?!
242. Again. Butler would not be ashamed to cry.
243. Just wait until Artemis gets magic of his own.
244. I’m so tired. It’s 12:14 at night and I just want this torture to end. Please god just let the credits roll already!
245. And now they’re famous. Whoop de do. Just tell us how mulch gets captured and escapes and end the movie. That’s all I ask.
246. You know he hasn’t been referred to as Artemis Fowl the Second throughout this whole disaster. What a slight to him.
247. Ray bans.
248. Oh yeah. Brag to opal. Great idea.
249. Criminal mastermind. Juvenile Genius. Same difference.
250. Why is his tie so skinny?
251. Is he gonna fly the helicopter?! Finally something in character!
252. Now just let mulch escape and finish this godforsaken nightmare!
253. Fowls? Protecting us? Pardon me while I laugh.
254. They do the unhinging of mulch’s jaw nicely.
255. And now they mission impossible him out of there. Perfect.
256. I’m dying. Let it be over. Please.
257. No more!
258. Fly off into the sunset. Of course.
259. Thank god! Credits! I’m free!
260. And another thing! They didn’t have the follow-up scene with Dr. Po! That would’ve been a way better ending! And you can’t just have one scene without the other!
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Maybe a story about Norman being a good parent?
Summary: Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was a Polk, and the Polks did not hurt their young, or whatever they perceived as such.
You all knew it was coming inevitably...
---
[[MORE]]
Norman's and Margarite's marriage had come as a surprise to the entire Polk family. A simple signature on a piece of paper, and a pair of battered rings that had belonged to Nanna and Poppop Polk (gifted to him by the former who always knew he'd be a better fit for them). No fanciful ceremony with pretty dresses or suits, expensive cakes and extensive guest list.
A disappointing waste, his mama had proclaimed over the letter she'd sent as a reply to his own that detailed his status as a married man in a far off city. She'd wanted to witness the event, shed her motherly tears as one of her little ducklings became a real man ready to start a family.
But, to Norman and Maggie, the marriage wasn't a motive of celebration like his mama thought. It was insurance against further discrimination towards them. They were, after all, the black couple that lived in a quaint apartment in New York city.
Already that was a challenge of its own, as said apartment was populated primarily by white hot-blooded tenants, with only one more laying vacant for a (hopefully) friendlier family.
Their downstairs neighbor clearly hated them from sight alone, and the others were unsure how the new additions fit into their "perfect" lives in the Big Apple. If any of them were to discover that they both enjoyed the full spectrum of the gender binary, well... Accidents happened in the big city. Accidents that targeted specific minorities for some "unfathomable" reason.
So yes, as shameful as it may be, their wedding was strictly business. Rings for show, public displays of affection to dispell the gossip, and overall just the usual married life arguments in the grocery store to sell the deal (neither of them could care less about which type of sugar made the best apple pie crust, or what brand of soap was better, but it sure made the couples they passed by smile knowingly at the common domestic disputes). There was just one thing left to do to really make a statement on their relationship status.
"Three of my coworkers are getting maternity leave. It's been a few months, I think it's time."
Children were a sensitive topic. Both Norman and Maggie wanted kids, had a vague idea of how many they planned to raise, and were quite certain they'd make beautiful and healthy younglings with one another. The question was: Was it fair to bring in chidren into a farce of a matrimony? What if one day they found their actual ideal partner?
"Yous better be sure it's the right time darlin'..." He'd urged her to think more on the subject. "Don't want to rush things like that now, do we?"
"I'm ready." She'd stared him in the eye with a certainty and confidence he couldn't begin to imagine. He knew she was, but was he? Was he truly ready to bare such a responsibility?
That night he relented to her wishes and they had finally consummated their marriage. Nine months later, little Nancy was born a small but relatively healthy baby. Upon seeing his firstborn for the first time ever, and then holding her gently in hands that dwarfed her little head greatly, Norman immediately understood he was ready to be a parent. And a loving one at that.
-
In total, Norman and Maggie had five children. Three boys and two girls. Nancy was their eldest child and the more levelheaded of the bunch. The apple of her mother's eye, and her father's baby girl, she was the perfect balance of their greatest qualities and teachings. A clever and determined young girl with big aspirations for her future. She wanted to be a doctor.
Aaron was the second eldest child and the one most like his father. Clever and with an eye for detail, enough so that he had taken up an interest that fits his perceptive nature: Photography. The walls of the Polk household were filled with his works, at first done with Norman's own old and battered camera, until he'd bought the young lad his very own fancy new model.
Louise was the middle child, and the troublemaker of the bunch. She was a bit of a tomboy, and liked to scrap with the boys in her class, to the point where it wasn't uncommon to see her with several bruises and band-aids, and haphazardly taped wireframed glasses. She kept both Norman and Maggie on their toes.
Albert was the second youngest and the quietest. A little bookworm that appreciated the art of literature over anything else. He wanted to be a novelist, even at a very young age, and often shared ideas for stories at the dinner table. There was no doubt in Norman's heart that his little boy would write a best-seller one day. Maggie fretted for his social life, however, as he was the least sociable of their children. Far too shy.
Finally the youngest child was Willard. An outspoken young toddler that was definitely as confident as his mama. A little tot with a very big personality indeed, that Norman couldn't wait to see grow up into yet another fine young boy. If any of their children was to ever get what he wanted in life, it'd definitely be Will.
Truly there was nothing in this world that Norman loved more than his offsprings, and indulging in their interests was always an adventure. One to be shared with three other members of the family.
The vacant apartment had been occupied by Norman's younger brother, Alfred, and his own two children. By then almost all their neighbors (minus the one that hated them from day one) had warmed up to them. So another set of friendly faces was a good addition to their home life.
Norman absolutely loved watching over his nephew and niece, especially because his children were delighted to have other kids around their age to play with.
It reminded him of being back home in Louisiana, his own brothers and sisters sparring with him and playing whatever games they could come up with on the spot. Watching Louise and Nelson tumbling about fighting as equally dirty as the other, really stirred up some good memories he had of his older sisters.
"Bite her Nelson! Bite her!" Lydia cheered as her older brother pinned their cousin to the ground.
"Louise tug on his ears! Pummel him!" Aaron called out to his little sister, encouraging her to fend off her opponent.
"Lydia and Aaron! What I tell y'all 'bout encouragin' yous's siblings t'fight all nasty?!"
"Not to...?"
"Exactly."
Granted some play-fighting needed to be monitored when most of the audience were enablers, and neither his middle child nor his nephew had any qualms sending each other to the hospital. They were still learning about consequences after all.
Still, there wasn't anything else in the world that built better character than teaching the children that they were equals to one another in all their shared activities. Respect was an important lesson to be learned. One Norman wished every parent taught their child.
The world would be a better place otherwise...
-
Sometimes the Projectionist would inevitably be unable to fend off sleep. The exhaustion would wear it down and give way to the nightmares of a life it could barely remember. Then it would wake up and scream, trying to rid itself of heinous visions of itself ripping its offsprings apart.
Norman Polk would reawaken inside its brutish body and lash out, hoping to either physically fight away his own broken psyche or perhaps cripple the Projectionist so that it could never fulfil these dreamt up acts of violence.
A Polk was all about family, and the thought of becoming the sort to bring harm upon his own children... Well, Norman had heard the stories. Knew why Poppop was such a taboo topic. He did not want to be the man besides his Nanna in the portrait above the fireplace... One he'd resembled if his eye wasn't wrong and he'd grown out his beard...
The Projectionist didn't have the mental faculties to understand this distress however, but it seemed to recognize that what it saw in dreams was bad. That what it did to the vermin, it should never do to those innocent little youngsters that looked at it with love instead of fear and hatred. So... Why did it do it in dreams? Why did it kill when it wanted to be docile? The children were not a threat, so why...?
It made no sense... But it didn't much care for elaborate existential crisis like that. Norman's consciousness would freak it out, but ultimately loosened its grip and go back to being dormant. The lumbering beast resuming its tiring trek through the endless maze. A cycle that would repeat itself the next time it fell asleep.
It was in the aftermath of yet another nightmare that the Projectionist came across something completely new to it. Something small and living, and very much intruding on its space. Something that very vaguely looked like it...
A living being with a body similar to the ones the horrible botched critters that ran around in packs had, yet with no visible imperfections to it. Its head though... It was kind of like a projector, but not. Square in shape, with a lens, a tube, dial and something very round that kind of looked like a big ear. A camera, like the one Aaron had gotten for his birthday.
It seemed to have gloves, shoes and a belt that sort of looked like the speaker lodged in the Projectionist's torso, but it was hard to tell since the strange being was on the ground flailing about like a dying fish.
The towering amalgam stared at the tiny new thing in dumbfounded silence, unsure how to react to such a strange discovery, until it realized why the thing was flailing about to begin with.
One of its legs was pinned under a crate that appeared to have fallen from a nearby stack, and the Projectionist could tell the limb was broken. Nearby lay a series of Ink Hearts that had been resting on the fallen crate.
On any other occasion it would have simply walked over, raised one heavy foot, and crushed the intruder's skull for daring to try to steal from it. This time however, was completely different... Something primal was urging the Projectionist to do something completely alien to its usually aggressive nature. Something instinctive.
The poor creature grew agitated upon finally noticing the Projectionist's presence as it approached, but its broken limb ensured it stayed put even after the crate was picked up and tossed aside. It shook fearfully once the Projectionist knelt down to pick it up by the torso. It stopped shaking once it was brought to rest against the much larger beast's chest, cradled gently like an infant. The Projectionist rumbling softly so as to reassure it that no harm would befall it.
The little creature, with a head that was not a projector but a distant relative of a sort, stared up with its own dark lens before reaching out to gently pat the Projectionist's "face". It seemed to understand its intention to help it, rather than exterminate it.
The lumbering beast carried on in its path, now carrying a most precious cargo. It would find something to help treat the injury and then it would begin teaching this newly adopted offspring to survive in the studio.
Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was still a Polk, and the Polks cared for their younglings. This tiny sentient camera was its child now, and the beast would protect it from the horrors of this horrid studio.
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Chapters: 15/28
Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana
Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age)
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution
Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit
Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?
Yvanne spent some of her least pleasant hours yet in the hold of a Fereldan cog, feeling fresh new hells of nausea with every heave and sway of the ungainly vessel. Never had she been so tempted to use magic until that journey—if not to cure her nausea, then to at least induce catatonia until the trip was over. But the voyage turned out to be surprisingly short; the cog departed Highever in the late morning, and made port in Kirkwall the following evening. Yvanne had always imagined that any sea journey would be intolerably long—how could it not be? The sea in her imagination was an infinite uncrossable barrier. It seemed bizarre and unthinkable that a ship could cross it in a day.
With the prospect of facing Kirkwall so much earlier than she anticipated, she found herself hesitating. Much as she’d ached to escape the ship in the past day, now she was loath to leave it. She peaked aboveboard to an unfamiliar sight.
Nobody was paying attention to her. The sailors and dockworkers heaved and pulled to bring the cog to bear, and Yvanne, a mere passenger, was extraneous to this business. She went to the captain, a red-bearded dwarf whose name she had already forgotten, for answers. She suspected she’d overpaid for passage—the captain had been a little too eager to take the remainder of her money—but at least now was quite willing to answer her questions. She just wanted to know what this place was called.
The Gallows, he told her. All ships that trade with Kirkwall were berthed here, apparently.
The captain did not notice the change in her expression, the sudden chalkiness to her skin. The Gallows! She had only ever heard of this place in nightmare stories that older children liked to tell back in Kinloch. There had been a group of girls around thirteen who particularly liked to whisper about the horrible place that bad apprentices were sent if they misbehaved— The Gallows. Yvanne had always put on a show like she wasn’t afraid at all, although she was, because Loriel had been a year younger and absolutely terrified, and of course as the slightly older child it was Yvanne's duty to be strong for her—
Yvanne was afraid now, despite herself. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a mage, getting sent here. They could always kill you, or worse, make you Tranquil. But there were laws about that, flimsy as they were, that could protect you. If you were careful. If you passed your Harrowing. But they could always transfer you. They could always send you to the Gallows.
Of course she had known they were here, but not that she would have to pass through them herself to enter the city. She imagined that Kirkwall's Circle would be sequestered somewhere that she would never have to look at, let alone go through. Suddenly she was overcome by the certainty that the Templars here—surely they had better Templars here, stronger ones with keener senses—would sniff out her magic at once, seize her and bind her there, and she would never be seen again.
It was going to happen to her, all over again, just like when she was a little girl. Only this time she would be alone.
No! It was too terrible a fate. She had to get out of here. She had to flee—
No. The way back was closed. The only way onward was through. Not least of all because she had no money left.
She disembarked with her head high and chin forward. Strange how difficult it was now, to not seem afraid. When she had been a girl, afraid all the time, she had cloaked her fear in fury. Rage proved stronger than fear, enough so that she could afford to seem fearless.
But that had never been true.
Still, nobody seemed to notice. She approached the border guard—a Templar, she noted, with dread that she forced to disdain. Where was the city guard?
The sandy-haired pockmarked young man boredly read a set of questions from a parchment.
“Name?”
“Havela Brightgrass,” Yvanne said, easily enough.
“Business?”
“Visiting family.”
“Have you any goods to declare?”
Yvanne raised her arms, gesturing to herself. “I’m clearly carrying nothing.”
The young man repeated in the same exact tone, “Have you any goods to declare?”
“No.”
“Alright. Go on, then. Enjoy Kirkwall, and all that.” And he moved aside to let her through.
“That’s it? You’re just going to let me in?"
“You complaining?”
“No, I just...that’s it?”
“Used to be more, when there were all the refugees from Ferelden,” he remarked, “But that’s slowed down these past few years.”
“Oh.” Refugees? From the Blight. Of course. It had never occurred to her that would have been refugees out of Ferelden. What else had simply never occurred to her?
From the Gallows a ferry took her to Kirkwall proper. From on high the wailing faces of the stone slaves loomed over her. A chill went through her. What was she doing here? This was a city of nightmares, and she had foolishly sailed right into it.
She looked back at the Gallows, disappearing into the mists, and found herself thinking of Anders. Had he come here, after what he’d done? Had he tried to find Karl? Or had he lost too much of himself to remember that he’d ever loved at all?
She hoped he hadn’t. He hoped he’d come here and found his lover, and broken him out, and that they were on the run together even now, somewhere in the wilderness. Maybe living in a secluded cottage, unbothered by the rest of the world. It was rather unlikely. Probably Karl would stay and rot here forever—you didn’t come out of the Gallows. He was probably still in there. Probably Anders had never even come to Kirkwall, whatever his earlier youthful intentions. Probably Anders was a slavering abomination somewhere in the woods now, if he was even still alive.
But it was a pleasant thought to think, so she thought it. Anders deserved to be happy, whatever he was now, because Yvanne doubted she would ever be happy again, and it was only fair that one of the two of them manage it.
Soon enough the Gallows were miraculously behind her, and the part of Kirkwall known as Lowtown swam into view.
So Yvanne entered the city of her birth.
She remembered some of it. Not much, but more than nothing. She hadn’t yet been born when her oldest sister had been taken by the Templars; the only remnant of her was Yvanne’s listless, melancholy mother. They’d had a home here. There had been an inner courtyard with a garden. Revka Amell had liked to sit in it. And then there had been more trouble in the family, more deaths, debts, dealings with criminals, and then Revka Amell had simply disappeared, and what remained of her family fled Kirkwall to live as nameless townies in Ferelden.
Disembarking from the ferry, Yvanne inhaled. Her city. She could almost remember the smell of it.
What a shithole, she thought.
Kirkwall’s Lowtown was different from Highever. Highever had felt colorful and interesting and bright, not so big that it would be overwhelming, but big enough to get lost in. This city felt...grungy. The way some men looked at her made her glad that she no longer had any jewelry to attract attention with.
Now what was she supposed to do?
She had a vague plan to find this legendary Lord Amell, and then she would...what? What would she say? ‘Hello, conditional on you being the real Lord Amell, and real in the first place, I think I might be your cousin. Can I live in your house?’
Ridiculous. Why had she even come here? To rediscover her past? To understand her history? To find her family? It had all seemed so perfectly obvious in Highever, when her choice was either to come here or sell herself to a brothel. Now it felt childish and absurd. She had left her home country to come to this horrible city of chains, and for what?
The heavy darkness settled in her chest again. How could she possibly have been so stupid?
All she wanted was to lay down in the gutter and wait for filth to drown her. But she’d come here to find Lord Amell. She could at least try to do that. He probably wasn’t even really her cousin. This was probably all a ridiculous farce. But if she succeeded—he would take one look and laugh in her face, and slam the door for good measure. And then she would lay down in the gutter and wait for filth to drown her.
But first she would try.
—
Asking anyone for anything in the great city of Kirkwall turned out to be an enormous waste of time. She must have mouthed the phrase, ‘Where can I find Lord Amell?’ over a hundred times that day, and for what? Most people simply acted as though they hadn’t heard her. Others grunted ‘Never heard of him’ and hurried past before she could ask how that could be the case, seeing as the Amells were supposed to be one of the most powerful families in Kirkwall. Some others demanded why she wanted to know, or would ask her what the information was worth to her. Less encouragingly, some people told her that there was no such person as Lord Amell, but if she wanted to talk to Hawke, he was the one currently living at the old Amell estate.
Who the hell was Hawke? And what the hell was he doing in her family’s ancestral estate? Who did he think he was? It was seeming more and more likely that Lord Amell was a fictitious person, and that she’d wasted the last of her money to come to this awful city for nothing.
Even if Lord Amell existed, she doubted she’d ever be able to find him. Kirkwall’s streets were so tangled she didn’t see how anybody got along in them. It seemed like every turn she made sent her into a completely different quarter of the city, and when she tried to backtrack, it was as though the streets shifted of their own accord, as though under the influence of a malevolent mage. Most probably she was just getting lost in an unfamiliar city, but she preferred to blame dark, unwholesome magic.
By the time she finally gave up—when she noticed herself standing outside a pub—she was exhausted and already fully sick of Kirkwall. She hated its sandy walls and crooked streets and rancid smell. No wonder her mother had fled this place and her father soon after. Nobody should live here.
The pub was called the Hanged Man. Now that was encouraging, she thought sourly, and pushed open the doors.
Inside she wasn’t sure if it smelled of piss or of sour ale, but was past the point of caring. She leaned against the counter, eyeing the crowd for lonely looking men. She didn’t have to eye for long. She couldn’t have been standing not-obviously-engaged for more than a few minutes when a bald fellow and a potbelly came up to the counter, placed his hand on the small of her back, and demanded that Corff bring a round of ale 'for the lady.' She let his hand stay where it was. She wanted that drink.
The bald man was doing the usual routine, asking for her name, what she was doing here alone, and so on. Yvanne was answering mechanically, trying to drink fast enough that he’d get the bright idea to buy her another ale before getting bored (or angry) at her reticence and giving up. She wasn’t so sure about this one. Nobody had ever tried to take her by force--but if they ever did, she would end up exposing herself as a mage, and that would cause her no end of trouble.
But she was barely halfway through her prize when they were interrupted by the most outlandish woman Yvanne had ever seen in her life.
“And how do you know her, then?” said the woman. Yvanne struggled not to stare. The woman was dressed mostly in leather and gold and scraps of blue silk. She had not yet drawn any of the innumerable daggers visible on her person, and didn’t seem any less dangerous for it.
The bald man stammered something, made an excuse, and left without so much as a by-your-leave.
“What in the void did you do that for?” Yvanne demanded. “He was buying my ales.”
“Sorry about that, sweet thing,” said the dagger woman, smiling. It was not exactly a pleasant smile, but the woman didn't look like she had the capacity for pleasant smiles. Maybe this was as close as she got. “There’s rough men about these parts. You should be careful.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Yvanne snapped.
The woman arched an eyebrow. “Do you? My mistake, then. Shows what I get for trying to rescue a stray...”
“ Stray?” Yvanne squawked. “You--”
“Hey now, what’s going on here?” Yvanne turned to look at the source of the new voice, saw no one, and then looked down. The person who had spoken was a dwarf, although he looked nothing like any other dwarf Yvanne had ever seen.
The woman rolled her eyes. “Nothing. She knows what she’s doing, apparently. Get another round for the table, would you? I paid last time.” She jingled as she walked away. Yvanne threw the back of her head a dirty look as she did.
The dwarf sized her up, scratching his hairless chin. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t,” Yvanne said. “It’s Havela Brightgrass.”
“Brightgrass, huh? That’s an interesting name. And mine is Varric, Varric Tethras. I make it a point to acquaint myself with interesting persons around Kirkwall, as a man about town. I'm a local merchant, and a very famous author. Maybe you’ve heard of me?
“Sure,” she said, already forgetting his name. “Maybe I have.”
The dwarf chuckled. “Listen, don’t mind Isabela. She didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. Trust me, if she’d meant to cause you trouble, you’d know.”
Yvanne had noticed all the daggers. “I’ll bet.”
“Hey, you’re not busy, are you? Come over and play a round of Wicked Grace. We need a fourth player and half our crew isn’t here. Not much of a game with only three.”
“I don’t know how to play.”
“It’s easy. I’ll show you. Come on—next round on me, since Isabela so rudely scared off your supplier.”
“Fine,” Yvanne said, since the next round was on him. “Sure, I’ll play.”
Isabela didn’t bother to conceal a slight roll of her eyes upon seeing Yvanne again so soon, but at least she didn’t say anything. She was talking to the other person at the table, a Dalish elf with a dreamy expression and a musical voice. She didn’t look much like—like her, but she was slight and dark-haired and elven, and that was enough to make Yvanne angry all over again.
Varric made introductions just as the next round arrived, interleaving tips on how to play the game with pointed questions about who Yvanne was, where she’d come from, what she was doing in Kirkwall. Wicked Grace turned out to be a fairly simple betting game, but Yvanne was so distracted with keeping her story straight that she played terribly. It was a good thing she didn’t have any money to lose; she would have lost it all. But she still managed to lie about her life with practiced ease. As far as these people were concerned, she was Havela Brightgrass, a weaver’s daughter, rogue for hire, looking for work in Kirkwall but hailing from Wycome. Nobody but the dwarf—Varric—seemed particularly interested in her made-up story. Isabela hardly seemed to notice her at all, and the elf, Merrill, wasn’t very good at the game. She kept forgetting what the different cards meant, and Isabela had to keep leaning over to explain her hand to her.
Varric kept buying rounds, and kept asking questions, so Yvanne kept playing, although she didn’t particularly like being around the three of them. They all knew each other, had clearly known each other for years—they kept referencing adventures they’d had together and mutual friends they shared. Every inside joke she didn’t understand only raised her hackles further, but every time she’d finally had enough and made to leave, Varric would ask her another question, or offer to buy her something, and she would end up staying for another hand.
So it continued until a fifth person joined the table—one of the most unusual elves she’d ever seen. She wondered if he was Dalish, though she’d never seen hair like that before.
“Hello, Fenris,” the other Dalish said politely.
The newcomer—Fenris?—ignored her, and barely glanced at Yvanne. “Aveline not coming?” he grunted as he pulled up a chair and leaned his sword against the back of it.
“She’s working,” said Varric. “Blondie’s busy in his clinic, too.”
“Did I ask about the mage?” The elf rolled his eyes. “And I suppose we can’t count on Hawke.” Yvanne wasn’t exactly drunk, though far from sober, but she recognize the name. Wasn’t that the name of the person living at the Amell estate now? Did these people know that squatter?
“He hasn’t been feeling well,” Merill said. “What with…” Then her eyes flicked to Yvanne and she cut herself off.
This was about all Yvanne could take. “Alright, well, it looks like you no longer need a fourth player, so I’ll be on my way. Thanks.” She abandoned her cards and almost managed not to stumble on her way up.
“Oh, come on—” she heard Varric begin to say, but before he could finish, she was out the door.
Night had fallen while she’d been in the Hanged Man, flooding the darkened twisting streets of Kirkwall with specks of moonlight. She breathed the cool air deep and even. Being in that place, among those people who knew each other all so well, had been like poison. She had never felt so much like an outsider. Where were her Wardens now, how were Sigrun and Velanna? What strange places had Nathaniel found himself among? Was Oghren even still alive? How was his child? Was Garahel managing the Keep without her? Who was taking care of them all?
While she roiled in these dark thoughts, she failed to notice Varric approaching her again. “Hey, kid,” he said, startling her out of her thousand-league stare. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, “Fine.”
“Good,” said the dwarf. “So now that we’re alone, how about you tell me your real story?”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Take it from one liar to another, kid--you’re not half-bad, but not nearly good enough.”
She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “What exactly do you think you know about me?”
“That you’re not from Wycome, for one thing. That was the biggest one—you’ve got a Fereldan accent, although a weird one. That tipped me off, and after that you couldn’t keep your story straight. Sometimes you had two brothers, sometimes three, and you kept messing up what your mother died of.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she muttered. “What do you care, anyway?”
“Like I said, I’m a modern man about town. I like to know who the interesting people are in my city, and you struck me as an interesting person. So tell you what—tell me who you really are and what you’re really doing in Kirkwall, and I’ll put you up for the night. Unless you’ve got somewhere to be?”
“No,” she said ruefully. She had nowhere to be, and hadn’t for months. Meanwhile Varric’s manner was so pleasant and avuncular, like he was at any moment about to pat you on the shoulder and assure you that you’d be alright—it made her want to tell him everything.
She wouldn’t, of course. She wasn’t crazy. But she could tell him some things.
“Okay, fine,” she said. “Yes, I’m from Ferelden. I’m here because I’m looking for Lord Amell.”
Varric raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what dealings do you have with such an august personage?”
“None of your business,” she snapped.
He shrugged. “Maybe not, although I make it my business to know everybody else's. But if you want me to tell you where to find him…”
“I...fine.” She swallowed. She didn’t know why this was so hard. “I’m looking for him because—because I'm an Amell, too. I think I’m his cousin.” Embarrassing, the way the stumbled over the admission. “But he probably doesn’t even exist. The rumors I’ve heard—ridiculous.”
“Oho, he exists alright,” said Varric. “You can be sure of that. He’s actually a friend of mine.”
The fact that Varric had so recently described himself as a liar did little to convince Yvanne that this was true.
“Now, nobody going by the title 'Lord Amell' still lives in Kirkwall—unless you want old Gamlen, and I doubt you do. You want Hawke. He's the son of Leandra Amell. Technically he’s Lord Amell now, though he doesn’t like to be reminded of it. You’ll find him in Hightown.”
“Oh.”
“You know what the Amell crest looks like?” She didn’t. Varric scribbled a symbol on a piece of parchment. “Like that. Keep it, go on. It’ll be the big house with that crest on the lintel. You could probably go over there now; I’d bet my beard he’s still up, and he’d love to meet a cousin. You know, assuming you aren’t just an opportunistic fraudster or something. And hey, even if you are, Hawke’s always taking in wayward souls.”
“You don’t have a beard.” And I’m not a wayward soul, she meant to add, although she was, wasn't she?
“That’s the whole trick, isn’t it?” He grinned.
Yvanne looked at the parchment with the crudely drawn crest on it. Her family’s crest. What did it say about her that it wasn’t even a bit familiar to her? “I...thanks.” She hesitated. “What’s he like? Hawke, I mean.”
“Great guy. You’ll love him. All the rumors you’ve heard? Absolutely true.”
“Right. Sure.” She wasn’t sure if he was kidding—and what it meant if he wasn’t. “Which way to Hightown?”
—
She only got lost three times trying to find Hightown, during which time it began to rain. But at least when she finally made it up the broad stairs to the half-decent part of the city, getting around was easier. There were fewer houses, at least.
Finally she found the one bearing the Amell crest, a pair of birds perched on an austere collection of lines. Flickering, warm yellow light poured out from the windows of the enormous house. There could be no doubt about it; this was the Amell estate, and Lord Amell—Hawke—was home.
Suddenly the feeling that this had all been a terrible idea overwhelmed her. What would Hawke possibly think of her, bedraggled, dripping wet, and flat broke, with nothing but her honest word that her name was Amell? He would laugh in her face. No, worse—he would be angry. He would think she was a liar and a fraud. He would call the city guard and have them arrest her, and they’d turn her over to the Templars and she’d be sent to the Gallows—
With trepidation rising so fast it threatened to stop her hand in mid-air, she raised her fist and knocked.
The door opened. It took everything she had in her not to jump. Light poured from within onto the rainsoaked street, revealing a gawky elven teenage girl.
“You’re not Hawke,” Yvanne blurted stupidly.
The elf girl shook her head. “No, ma’am. But this is his estate. Can I help you?”
“I, um, need to speak to him. About a private matter. Assuming he’s alright with being disturbed—of course, it’s very late, I can come back tomorrow—or not at all! You know what, I’d honestly better be on my way—”
“I’ll fetch him right away,” the elf girl said, and disappeared back inside the house.
It couldn’t have been more than a minute between the elf girl’s departure, and the sound of muffled voices and approaching footsteps. But it may well have been a full eternity.
At least the landing of the Amell estate was shielded from the rain.
The door opened again, and the terror seized Yvanne completely, rooting her to the spot.
Hawke stood half-hidden behind the heavy oaken door. His puffy eyes were bloodshot, his dark hair unkempt. He wore nothing but a stained maroon house robe.
“—Isabela, I told you, I’m just not feeling up to Wicked Grace tonight—oh!” He blinked at her, straightening and awkwardly adjusting his robe. “You’re not Isabela. I’m very sorry, I thought...well, nevermind what I thought. Can I help you? Do you need something?”
“I...uh…”
He didn’t look much like her. Light-skinned, straight-haired, tall and broad-shouldered like the stories said, but somehow shrunken in on himself, as though he were hiding. They couldn’t possibly be related. There was no connection between them. This whole idea was idiotic, farcical, she ought to leave immediately—
“My name is Yvanne Amell,” she said. “I’m the daughter of Revka Amell. And I think...I might be your cousin?”
He stared at her. His arms dropped to his sides, and the door to the estate hung fully open.
“My cousin?” he said as though struck over the head with a frying pan from behind a blind corner.
“I know it’s very late,” she said, stumbling over her tongue. “I can come back tomorrow—or not at all—”
Suddenly she found herself being firmly held by the shoulders, her escape prevented. Hawke was looking at her in astonishment. There was mist in his eyes.
“Please,” he said, “ please, come in.”
#dragon age#dragon age femslash#amell#surana#the warden#dragon age 2#please read my wizard lesbian fanfiction
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Like Father, Like Daughter (Part 3)
Also on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967815/chapters/54999472
Where Mayu meets the rest of Riku’s friends and bonds with Zero.
Going through class that day was... an interesting ordeal, to say the least. While for a bit, it seemed normal, like any other day. That was until about a half an hour into class, where Zero began to stir. Or rather, he began to go a bit stir crazy. Apparently, he wasn’t horribly keen on sitting through class with her. After trying to ignore Zero’s comments that were now starting to border on, if not crossing, complaining, Mayu began to wonder if her dad had to put up with this too.
Going through class that day was... an interesting ordeal, to say the least. While for a bit, it seemed normal, like any other day. That was until about a half an hour into class, where Zero began to stir. Or rather, he began to go a bit stir crazy. Apparently, he wasn’t horribly keen on sitting through class with her. After trying to ignore Zero’s comments that were now starting to border on, if not crossing, complaining, Mayu began to wonder if her dad had to put up with this too.
“Do you really spend so much of your day here doing this?” Zero asks as Mayu appreciates the lull between classes, the gap between her literature class and her history class.
“Yeah,” Mayu responds, moving to organizes her notes, “I’m learning.”
“I guess that makes sense...”
“You really don’t want to sit through this do you?” Mayu was getting the feeling that Zero wanted to be just about anywhere other than in school with her. Not that he was really going to have a choice about it. “Maybe you could learn something from this.”
“I guess. What do you have next?”
From the seat to her left, Noa leans slightly, turning her attention to Mayu for just a moment. “Well, ready for history?” She asked, as if to answer Zero’s question. Mayu supposed Noa was always good at that, saying or doing things that always line up with things she would have no way of knowing. Zero makes a startled noise, but doesn’t say anything else.
Mayu nods as their next teacher enters, drawing their attention. Regardless of what Zero had said earlier, he still grumbled or commented throughout the day. At least he’d toned it down, Mayu wasn’t sure she’d have been able to focus if he hadn’t.
By the time school had ended, Mayu was thoroughly tired from what would normally have been a relatively simple school day. Somehow, she was getting the impression that Zero found school more boring than her dad’s job as a salary man, as ridiculous sounding as that was. Still, Mayu had things to do today, beyond just school, they had to meet with Riku, after all.
Mayu and Noa walked to the observatory from their school. It wasn’t necessarily close, but they found themselves making good time, regardless. When they got to where the observatory was, they were shocked to quickly find themselves somewhere else. It reminded Mayu of the sort of things you’d see a tv show, like the main character’s base. There was Riku, Moa, Zena, plus a woman who Mayu vaguely recognized as the woman with the sword from when she was a kid, though she couldn’t remember the woman’s name, and a strange sort of alien in a tracksuit. This was somehow not the strangest thing that she could be seeing.
“Hey Mayu,” Riku greets, “And your friend.”
“Noa,” Noa introduces, remembering they were never really introduced the day before.
They’re introduced to the women, Laiha, and the alien, who was Pega, they were also introduced to REM, who was an AI in Nebula House. Nebula House being this base. Mayu and Noa filled Laiha and Pega in on what they’d told the other three the day before. Then they continued where they left off, explaining how Zero had ended up on this Earth to begin with.
“That Birdon yesterday probably wasn’t summoned by the alien Zero’s looking for,” Riku comments thoughtfully.
“Probably,” Mayu dryly agrees, “Zero just really wanted to try to stop them. Despite the fact that he was hurt.”
“I hope that isn’t normal for him,” Noa adds, which caused Zero to loudly, or as loudly as he could in Mayu’s head, protest.
“It’s not!” Somehow, Mayu wasn’t entirely convinced.
But it wasn’t like Noa or anyone else could hear that protest, so Noa instead continues, “So then, what’s the plan? It’s not exactly like this alien’s just going to show up.”
They discussed the actions they could take, ultimately deciding that Zena and Moa would keep an eye out for an alien that matched the description that Zero gave. In the meantime, Zero could recover, and when he was fully healed from two days before and yesterday, he could help Riku if any kaijus showed up. Not that kaijus were a horribly common occurrence.
But that could change, if this alien could summon monsters, then that could mean an increase in kaijus. After all, in the past two days, there’s been an equal amount of kaiju attacks. While only one of those two attacks was caused by that alien, since they’d already determined that Birdon was just looking for their baby, that was still an increase from the usual amount.
Mayu just hoped that if a monster did show up, or really just when, it wasn’t when she was in class. She couldn’t just leave class after all, although she supposed if there was a monster that would technically be more important than class, but she’d still liked to limit how often she missed class, it was a pain to make up for. Not to mention it would be hard to explain to anyone.
Moa and Zena were the first to leave, as they had other things to do. Since they’d finished talking about the plan and how to deal with that alien, Mayu and Noa were going to leave themselves. Before they could leave though, Riku turns to Noa.
“Hey, uh, how did you figure out Birdon wanted their baby?” He asked, recalling the day before. Mayu didn’t think it was a huge leap of logic, when there’s a baby, the parent’s going to worry. She was pretty sure Noa had an inkling of that even before Birdon appeared. Noa was the one who first wondered if there was an adult monster nearby.
Noa pauses for a moment, eyeing Riku, before she responds, “Parent’s worry. They want to protect their children. If their child disappears, then they worry even more and want to find them.”
Riku thought about her response, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Then he adds, “Though I never thought I see Zero holding a baby, monster or not.”
“Oh no, my image.” Zero groaned, which resulted in Mayu breaking into a fit of laughter. The mental image of seeing, from an outside perspective, anyone as big as Zero holding something as small as that little Birdon chick... It was just a hilarious mental image. Mayu wished she could have seen it.
“To be fair,” Mayu managed to get out through all her laughter, “That was more my doing than Zero’s,”
“What?” Riku asked. Had he never thought that Zero’s host could be in control of Zero’s body too? If Zero could control Mayu’s body, than why couldn’t she control his? It all made sense to her.
“I thought that sounded a bit too much like something you’d say, Mayu,” Noa noted, tapping her cheek with her finger, “Judging by your reaction, I imagine that’s an unusual occurrence.”
“Well...” Riku began, “I mean, I never saw anyone else do that, all the other Ultras I’ve met it’s one or other, if the Ultra is even sentient outside of their host...” So, what they were learning were that Ultras were weird. Okay, not like they couldn’t figure that out on their own.
“Zero seemed pretty confused by it too,” Mayu explained thinking. Riku had added more logic to the shock than just what Zero had said.
Then Zero takes control, the act of removing her glasses in such a strange way no longer unusual to Mayu. Which was probably not a good thing and if she weren’t focused on other things, she’d probably be concerned at how quickly she got used to it. “It’s strange, people don’t just do that.”
“You’re one to talk. If you can control my body, why would I be unable to control yours?” Mayu asked. It’s strange that people think that it’d be so hard, was it really something that unusual?
“If it makes you feel any better,” Mayu decided to give that argument a rest, “You still get to deal with all the fighting. I highly doubt all that many kaijus are going to be that easily subdued.”
“Well, yeah, they probably won’t.” Zero mused, “Still, it’s weird that you managed to do it at all.”
Noa shrugged, “Don’t know what exactly you two are talking about, but I think the two of you will learn to manage.” There was probably also some cause for concern in how easily Noa has taken everything, but perhaps that was just Noa being Noa. It was always hard to tell.
That was... an odd thing to say. Really, it left both Zero and Mayu rather confused. Judging by Riku and Laiha’s face, they were pretty confused too. Surprisingly, it was Laiha who spoke up, questioning, “What do you mean by that?”
“Mayu’s smart and she’s determined, if she wants to make all of this-” Noa makes a wide, sweeping gesture, “-work, then she will. And Zero, well, I don’t know Zero very well, but from what I’ve seen, he’s a good person. He wants to help people, even though his solution seems to be punching the issue.”
Riku laughs, “That’s fair, but Zero’s determined too.”
“Well, two determined people can make quite the team,”
“Hey!” Mayu returns her glasses to her face, “We’re right here!”
Noa laughs, then places a hand on Mayu’s shoulder, “I believe the two of you will do fine.” That wasn’t incredibly reassuring.
Mayu and Noa leave Nebula House, bidding Laiha, REM, Pega, and Riku goodbye. Noa leaves to go her own way once they return to the main part of the city, as she had another friend, she was supposed to spend time with. That was fine, as Mayu had plans anyway. It isn’t until Mayu starts to head to the park that Zero even says anything.
“You’re not heading home?”
With her eyes, Mayu searches the park for the pathway she’s looking for. She continued walking towards it, soon breaking out into a sprint. “There’s somewhere I want to show you!” She said with the gleeful laugh.
Running through the trees of the park’s wooded area, she followed the pathway that was barely visible beneath the underbrush. She jumped over rocks and roots, running the path with precision that told of having ran over it numerable times. Soon she broke through the trees, coming upon a clearing. Sunlight filtered through the tree branches, dancing upon the surface of the pond that sat to one side, a little stream ushering water into and out it. Flowers grew in patches and clumps, coloring the ground with their hues.
“It’s so pretty, isn’t it?” Mayu asks, walking to a rock by the pond, sitting on it. She looks over the pond, picking up and stone and tossing it, an attempt to skip it, though it ultimately just sunk into the pond with a resounding “plunk”.
“It is,” Zero agrees, “Is this what you wanted to show me?”
Leaning her head back, Mayu closed her eyes, letting out a breath. Then she replied, “Yeah, I come here all the time, just to get away. It’s nice. I’ve shown it to Noa, but I don’t really know a lot of other people to show it to.”
Zero contemplated her words. Mayu had taken everything that had happened the past few days in stride, it was odd to think she might have ever needed to get away from anything. Really, she seemed untroubled by most things. Sure, she didn’t want her parent’s to worry, and she was a bit nervous about being his host, but Mayu was very kept together.
“Get away from what?” He finally asks, after letting Mayu lose herself for a few minutes. Mayu shifts, leaning back. Soon she was lying on the rock, sprawled and perched precariously. “And don’t you have friends other than Noa?”
“From the world. From expectations.” She finally answers, “Sometimes you need to be somewhere you’re comfortable being yourself at. And not really. Noa’s the only person outside of family I really spend a lot of time with.”
“’Somewhere you’re comfortable being yourself at...’” Zero parrots, losing himself in thought. It wasn’t like Zero was unfamiliar with the concept, he knew just as well, if not better, than anyone else how tiring it is to keep up appearances. He was a hero, an Ultra who fought the bad guys and saved the day. Sometimes, though, keeping up that image was tiring. Keeping up the image of being the son of Ultra Seven, which in and of itself came with its own set of expectations.
“Sometimes,” Mayu said with a smile, “The expectations of the outside world becomes a bit too much, and you just need to be somewhere peaceful.”
She sits up and slides off the rock, spins in the center of the clearing, then flops down into the grass, lying on her back. She reaches into her bag, pulling out her phone and setting an alarm for an hour later. Then she closes her eyes and relaxes.
“What are you doing?” Came Zero’s voice, filled with curiosity.
“I’m relaxing,” She explained, “Just listening to the wind and feeling the grass beneath me.” She enjoyed times like this, where she was able to just take in the world at face value. But also, at much more, it was such a complicated thing.
“Relaxing...” He sounded uncertain, unused to this type of serenity.
“Try it,” At Mayu’s urging, Zero let’s himself slip into a relaxed state. It was... nice. Honestly, he kind of enjoyed it. Letting everything go, just being there and... being. Being Zero. While Mayu was there just being Mayu.
After the hour was up, Mayu left the clearing, planning to head home. To do so, she had to continue through the park, back the way she had come an hour or so before. Zero had been quiet, apparently still checked out from their relaxing session. That was fine, that was the point.
Now if only this weirdo would leave her alone. “I don’t know you,” Mayu says in her sternest voice, “I don’t want to know you. Leave me alone.”
“Come on,” The man, who Mayu thought had to be aware of how creepy he was coming off, bugging a teenage girl in a park. “I’m a great guy.”
“Go way.”
He reaches for her arm, pulling her to him as she struggled. “Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill.” Mayu found herself wishing she had more strength, to be able to manage to break away from this man.
She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she knew it was Zero. He took control, elbowing the man and soon knocking him to the ground. Zero, not even taking off Mayu’s glasses like he would normally, said to him, “When someone says to leave them alone, you leave them alone.”
Then Zero relinquishes control to Mayu, leaving her to sprint away from the man. When she reaches home, she calls herself on the other side of the door. Deep breaths, Mayu, deep breaths. As she walks further in, she noticed her dad was home. Strange, he must have got off early.
“Hey dad!” She greets, as odd as it is for him to be home this early, she still appreciated being able to see him more.
Her dad looks up, noticing her, then smiles, “Mayu, you’re home.”
“Yep,”
He looks hesitant for moment, before speaking, “Uh, Mayu, be careful out there. With monsters showing up the past few days and that, uh, other Ultraman, returning... I just want you to be safe.”
Oh, he’s worried about her. Well, of course, he probably saw that Zero was here and assumed something bad. To be fair, Zero was there chasing that alien who had been summoning monsters... Maybe he was suspicious as to why he hadn’t heard from Zero?
Biting her lip, Mayu spreads her arms and walks up to him, giving him a hug. “Don’t worry dad,” She said, steeling her voice to be as confident as possible, he didn’t need to know she was fudging the truth here, “I’ll be safe.” To be fair, she probably was safe with Zero, just maybe not from scrapes and bruises.
“Are you going to tell him?” Mayu’s eye twitched. Leave it to Zero to time something like that.
Mayu closed her eyes for a moment, giving Zero a curt response, “Now’s not the time.” She didn’t know when the time would be, but she’d find it, eventually, and tell her parent’s then. Just... not now.
“…Right.” He sounded unconvinced.
Pulling away, Mayu gives her dad a big smile, then leaves him, heading to her room. She enters her room, sitting down at her desk to draw. To relax in a different way than earlier. She very much enjoyed flowers, there was something nice about them. They were pretty and they had meanings. She had a book of them in her room.
“Thank you, for helping me back there.” She said, beginning to sketch on the paper with her pencil.
“It was nothing. You needed help; I gave it. I did something similar with your dad.”
“Well thanks anyway,” The two of them then sit in silence, for a bit.
“What are your friends like, Zero?” Mayu asked after a while, pencil in hand, running it across the paper as the lines made an image take form. This flower wasn’t a flower she’d ever seen, simply coming from her imagination, mostly.
“My friends?” He responds as she reaches for her tin of colored pencils.
“Yeah, you know Noa, my friend, but I know nothing about any of yours.” She confirms, pulling a red pencil out to start giving the flower some color.
“They’re uh, an interesting group. We’re called the Ultra Force Zero.” Zero began, recalling his friends. Mayu continues to color the flower. “There’s five of us, Glenfire, Mirror Knight, Jean-Bot, Jean-Nine, and myself.”
Mayu finished coloring the flower with the red, for now at least and puts the pencil back. “What are they like?” She picks up a blue colored pencil and begins to color another part of the flower.
“Well, Glenfire’s a bit of a hot head. When we first met, he was traveling with some space pirates.” Zero was interrupted by Mayu questioning the existence of space pirates. After assuring her that space pirates were a thing, he continued, “Overall though, he’s a good guy. Likes to try to get on Jean-Bot’s nerves by calling him Yakitori'.”
“He called him Yakitori!” Mayu stopped drawing for a moment as she let out a laugh. She tried to compose herself. “Why did he call Jean-Bot, Yakitori, though?”
“Jean-Bot could turn into a space ship called Jean-Bird. So, I think Glenfire got stuck on the Bird in his ship name and he like to make fire jokes. So, Yakitori.” Mayu had returned to her drawing as she had calmed herself from her laughing fit as Zero explained the name to her.
“What’s this Jean-Bot like?”
“He’s generally pretty kind and caring. He and his brother get along pretty well, despite the rough start.”
Mayu returns her blue pencil to its home. From there she pulls out a green pencil, to color some leaves in. “What’s his brother like?”
“We had a rocky start with Jean-nine, he was known as Jean-Killer – “ And wasn’t that an ominous sounding name, “ – at first, but he managed to overcome his programming to save lives. He’s then embraced his role as a younger brother to Jean-Bot.” Mayu examined the drawing of the flower she had in front of her. Something was missing and she needed to stare at it for a moment, before an answer came to her.
“And Mirror Knight?” She prompts, reaching for her gold colored pencil.
“Mirror Knight is serene. Always calm, but cunning. He wasn’t himself when we met, but I managed to chase Belial’s darkness out of him.” Mayu placed a few marks with her colored pencil, before setting it down.
“Who’s Belial?” She asks quietly. She’s met with an unnerving silence. She picked up the colored pencil once more, putting it away and placing the lid back on the tin. “Not a very good person, I take it?” Between the silence and the rather ominous sounding name, Mayu thought that was an apt conclusion to come to.
“Uh, yeah.” Zero said, “It’s... complicated.”
Mayu picks up the tin of colored pencils and places them on her shelf. “You can tell me later then,” She gestures to the paper she had been drawing on, now that it was complete. “What do you think?”
“It’s a drawing of what you would call a flower.” Zero responded, confused.
Mayu grumbled, “Well, yeah. But look at it, does it look familiar?” Zero looks at the drawing of the flower. The shape of it didn’t tell him much, it looked quite a bit like a generic flower in that regard. But the coloring might have been what she wanted him to look at. The primary colors were red and blue, with little hints of gold here and there. But there was something familiar about the way the red and blue interacted with each other, the patterns they made.
“Is that... Is that based off of me?” He inquired bewildered.
“Yep!” Mayu chirped, “Personally, I like how it turned out,”
“I’m... uh, I’m flattered.”
“Zero, we’re friends. You helped me earlier.”
“Ah, right, we’re friends.” Jeeze, how odd of a thought was that? He could remember when she was six and waving goodbye to him after Belial’s defeat. Now, look how much she’s grown... Zero couldn’t help but feel pride at that thought. Oh, boy, he was getting attached again.
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Some Thoughts on Dealing With Intrusive.....Thoughts.
Some thoughts I threw together while I was working on a more in-depth analysis for this episode.
Well, Thomas isn't okay today. Looks like Virgil's not the only one with dark circles under his eyes this episode.
Oh my God, Logan's shriek and Virgil and Patton's reaction to it.
I'd be willing to bet Logan's "What are you talk-what are you talk-what are you talking about" was a take that didn’t go according to plan that they kept. Good call, if so.
I remember that movie. Mostly for the fact that I was fed up even then with the whole "woman has the gall to spend all her time at work and to not start a family" conceit. And for Jon Heder, whose role in this was his first after Napoleon Dynamite.
Yeah, the sound fading out is a really cool effect. It fits with someone who's gotten no sleep, and captures perfectly that feeling where an intrusive thought sort of...blocks out everything else that's going on around you.
The fingers popping out from behind the tv? Genuinely unsettling. Honest to god though, it took me way too long to realize a new Side had arrived. To be fair, my guess was that Thomas’s intrusive thoughts would be visualized as hallucinations throughout the video for us, the viewers. So I figured that's all the manic looking dude behind the tv was.
First thing I did upon realizing we had a new Side was check his color scheme. So yep, looks like the rainbow theory is all but confirmed. And now I'm going to be thinking of the last dude as Orange Julius until he's shows up and gives us his actual name..
Dude's got a bit of a Snidely whiplash Freddie Mercury thing going on.
Everybody give props to rainbow-sides for semi-predicting this Dark Side.
Damn, I was half-right. I figured we'd get a villain song, but with all three of the Others after they'd all been introduced. But it makes sense that if any of them were going to have one alone, it'd be this guy, seeing as he's Roman's creative counterpart.
Seems I was right about the snake going for back up. Also, yeah I could see already how this episode was going to earn that warning at the beginning of it.
"I'm really stupid right now." I have never related to this man more. And damn I felt bad for him this episode. Dealing with intrusive thoughts and almost no sleep? Someone hug him. Character!Joan, climb out of your coffin, get over there and hug him!
Huh. The creative thoughts Thomas rejected. That's interesting. I doubted that you could make a whole character just out of intrusive thoughts, but those two concepts together work pretty well.
The whole initial argument between Thomas and The Duke feels weirdly meta considering what Joan has said about this episode.
Oooh, I've heard of the white bear experiments. Try it at home! Fun for the kids! Also, I think the fact that the subject of repression keeps being broached could be an interesting sign of where the story is going.
The Others are just Patton's problem children. Prove me wrong.
Can't say I agree with Thomas about creativity. By that logic, no one who ever writes, paints, or sings about anything negative is creative. And we sort of need that stuff, as a society. Given Logan lampshades Thomas's black and white thinking, my guess is that's going to be part of his arc going forward.
The Duke's eyes when he says “Demented” are amazing.
"That....is something Joan would do." I'm cackling.
Yeah, this dude's definitley more than a little reminiscent of our Prince...
There might come a point where the crew delves into it and makes it not funny anymore, but for now I find Logan's repeated dismissal of Thomas' s friends and family strangely hilarious for some reason.
You know, I was already getting sleazy agent vibes from Deceit, but that whole Taylor Swift pitch makes me see it in this guy too. Some one write that AU, please.
Thomas's philosophy about creativity is interesting. But just a little sad. Thomas is focused on making things that'll make other people happy. Making himself happy with his work doesn't seem to even occur to him.
Also, pleasant or not, that first metaphor didn't make any sense.
I'm loving all Virgil's little jabs throughout. Yeah, he knew this guy.
Does the Duke share his curse word with Roman? Now I'm picturing them each wishing each other a Merry Bitchmas.
And we have more of the Others jabbing at Virgil. Looks like that's not just a Deceit thing.
Interesting that Patton (and by extension, Thomas) defines "being a good person" as putting others before himself.
I love how absolutely unimpressed Logan is with The Duke throughout.
Oh my God. Does anybody know who those actors are? Because they deserve some commendation for that, the poor bastards.
The Duke's face when he says "large, sharp knife" is amazing.
"Not acting on every thought that he has isn't faking anything." Yes, thank you Logan.
"Ooh, how fun! You know who could help us with that?" "No! One of you is enough!" Oh my God, yes. I like how Thomas is sleep deprived and out of sorts and still manages a "No, this is all we're doing today, shut that shit down right now, Mister. Or I will turn this car around."
Interesting that Patton is so opposed to lying but has ongoing problems with repression.
Aw, Logan looking out for Thomas and getting the others to listen to him.
Thomas's religious influences were the elephant in the room that I wasn't sure they were going to point out. This is a really intriguing path we're going down, here.
The idea of thought "being a precursor" to action gives a fascinating new perspective on Thomas in general and on the events of S v. S in particular.
Is that why Logan started using "figuritively"? His dealings with the Duke?
Him giving his name away so quickly fits with the character’s impulsive nature. But of course he had to use it to dig at Virgil.
I LIVE for Logan's comments physically affecting Remus.
"S@#%!" Someone give this boy a nap.
Yeah, that screaming....that was definitley just like an intrusive thought.
As soon as they were checking if he was gone I knew exactly what was going to happen. Also, I love how Logan speaks like he's got a lot of experience dealing with this guy.
I also really love the boys see-sawing between genuine horror and just plain old exasperation at Remus's antics. Thomas: *sigh* Shut up.
I relate so much to that moving car thing. For me it's jumping off of high places. I never really thought of that as an intrusive thought, though. More like morbid curiosity. But it's popped up for so many years I'm kind of over it.
How great it is that as Logan describes Remus as a screaming child on a airplane the Side gets more immature and desperate for attention.
Good God I love Logan when he gets all quiet and gentle like this. It's always such a nice surprise considering how brusque he normally is.
Yay, personal growth for Patton.
Virgil's whole speech....! It sort of sounds like Joan speaking to their own intrusive thoughts through him. Which makes the whole thing that much more heartfelt.
Yay, Roman's back. And he's learned some things himself.
I think I'll have more to say about Logan in another post. In the meantime...
God that fun house mirror thing....I need to say more about Roman in another post too. Remus's existence has given us some really interesting insights into Roman.
Listening to the music while Virgil was talking I was actually thinking, "Holy shit, is he going to tell him?" And there we go. It's canon now, and god knows what's going to happen now that Thomas knows. In any case, the Others don’t have that to hang over Virgil’s head anymore.
Whelp, those are my thoughts for now. I have a post I’m cooking up dealing with character analysis in particular and episode analysis in general. Check it out!
#Sanders Sides#Thomas Sanders#Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts#DWIT#Logan Sanders#Roman Sanders#Patton Sanders#Virgil Sanders#The Duke#Remus Sanders#Initial Thoughts
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If My Ugly Had A Shape
[ Drive Link ]
(( the one where a supernatural impostor who murdered a beloved main character is somehow not the focus and is probably off wondering how the fuck the person it is trying to make v afraid and unstable could possibly have so much extra baggage that he can get distracted from being afraid ))
Klavier was only in these boxes because he needed more storage for his own off-hours investigation. Well, he said off-hours, but he was rapidly starting to spend more time on this brand of hell than his actual cases. He wasn’t trying to neglect his work, but every hour, every minute, every second, that passed without him learning something new – something useful – about that impostor ratcheted up the urgency that much more.
And, for all the files he had trawled and ridiculous oddities he’d managed to collect, he didn’t have much helpful information. What he had was circumstantial indications that the impostor was not Wright, but nothing concrete and certainly no way to actually deal with the bastard.
But he needed somewhere to put all of his useless garbage and so that was how he found himself finally going through the boxes of Kristoph’s belongings.
How he found himself in this box of what looked to be journals and old photo albums.
Despite everything, Klavier smiled as he held one of the photo albums, sliding a hand across the soft leather cover. It would be bittersweet to look on, he knew, but he almost wanted the familiar pain of the loss of Kristoph. That loss made more sense than whatever mess he was entrenched in currently.
The early photos were mostly odd landscape and still life shots, though a few had some older or more distant relatives in them. Klavier wondered if he’d see his parents in here, though, with a pang of something in his chest, swiftly realized he didn’t even know their names nor their faces.
He remembered one time, when he was younger, talking to Kristoph.
“Do you remember our parents?” Kristoph had asked, innocuously, at dinner. Klavier remembered shrugging and answering honestly that he didn’t really but could vaguely recall them standing on the back porch while he played outside.
Kristoph had then looked him directly in the eye and asked, “How can you be sure of that memory?” Klavier had thought Kris was opening the floor for a philosophical debate on the reliability of memory and, thus, its relation to usability in a court of law. He had smiled and said that if he had evidence of the event, then his testimony would be stronger. Kris had pursed his lips at that and Klavier remembered the hollow feeling of being wrong somehow and yet not knowing why.
Later, after everything that happened, Klavier had used that silently disapproving reaction as proof that Kris might have been trying to gaslight him. Then again, how reliable is memory as evidence?
Klavier sighed, trying to shake off the memory. He wasn’t doubting himself now; this was not the vague half-recollections of a young child; he could never forget Wright’s face. He wasn’t scouring for evidence for his own sake, but for that of others. Speaking of which, he should get back to his work, but found it impossible to close the album now that he had opened it.
He turned a page and there was a picture of a newborn labelled ‘Kristoph Gavin.’ It was odd to think that his brother was once a fragile, peanut-faced infant or that this fragile, peanut-faced infant grew up to be a murderer. Still, the photo gave him some hope that he would see a family portrait including Kristoph and know what his parents looked like and learn their names.
But no one showed.
There were pictures of what must have been a nanny holding Kris, but she was off center. Even what appeared to be professionally done portraits would have a young Kristoph in the bottom center of the frame with no one around him to complete the composition. The same thing was true even when Klavier came upon his own baby pictures; they only included him and Kristoph.
He slid one of the what he assumed should be family portraits out from the plastic holding it in the album and turned over to the back, hoping there might be a label or explanation. Perhaps it had been a family gag, that for all of Kris’s seriousness, maybe Klavier’s own teasing nature hadn’t fallen far from the tree. A familiar dread was already beginning to curl in his gut, though.
The back of the photo read:
Gavin Family Portrait 2006
(top left), (top right),
Kristoph (bottom left), and Klavier (bottom right)
Feeling panic well in his chest, he frantically checked every picture he’d passed. Some seemed to be labelled correctly, but others had those odd blanks, weirdly placed commas, or directions to someone who was not there. What he thought had been amateur landscape shots were often either blank save for the date or read something like ‘ in aunt’s new backyard’
The last thing Klavier needed was another mystery, but here one sat. Had the same thing that replaced Wright replaced his parents? But the impostor had replaced Herr Wright outright in every photo Klavier had found, not left an utter void where he should be. Was this the progression? Wright had been replaced and would soon be erased completely?
He went back to the 2006 family portrait and kept flipping through the album, unable to drop this thread now that he had it. Around Kristoph turning 18, the photos stopped being strangely labelled and Klavier realized with a start that he actually remembered these photos, remembered living those moments.
He should remember some of those other ones, even if only faintly. Why didn’t he?
The photos appeared to taper off once Kristoph had taken over guardianship and the album became nothing more than page after page of empty plastic sleeves. He supposed Kris had never been the sentimental type. Maybe that wasn’t fair; it must have been hard to so suddenly go from child to parent while in the midst of loss.
Speaking of, there was no hint of where their parents went. There were no photos of empty hospital beds with suspiciously blank labels that might indicate illness. He didn’t think funeral pictures tended to find their way into albums but maybe a newspaper clipping of an obituary wouldn’t be out of place? Then again, if they’d died at the same time then it would have been up to Kris to add such things and obviously, he did not keep up this particular hobby. Probably would have been the last thing on his mind as he watched their parents being lowered into the cold, dark earth.
He wished that Kris was still around to ask.
With a sigh, Klavier returned the album to the box, sparing a glance to the other books held within. His eye caught on a loose polaroid of a sprawling topiary maze but easily slid over it to the other contents. As much as something in him wanted to explore the other albums and journals, desperate for whatever answers were held within, more of him was exhausted down to his bones.
He put the lid back on the box, gently pushing it back into the corner he’d first “stored” it in, resolving to just buy more boxes later.
Later.
It was always ‘later’ when it came to Kris, wasn’t it?
Excuse after excuse, an endless spiral that spent hour after hour and led nowhere.
Not now, Klavier.
We’ll discuss this later, Klavier.
Maybe tomorrow, Klavier.
Don’t make a decision now, Klavier.
Don’t be rash, Klavier.
Be patient, Klavier.
There’s always tomorrow, Klavier.
“Well there really fucking wasn’t.” Klavier snapped out to the silent air before smacking the meat of his palm to his forehead. Now was not the time for this grief and anger. There was far more at stake and he’d wasted his time and energy on some family nonsense.
He laughed.
“I could blame you for wasting my time for the umpteenth time, blame myself for falling for it all like I didn’t know any better. Honestly, though, this case is just as inscrutable as you always were. I’m wandering through a maze in pitch black, trusting that some of the most meager breadcrumbs will lead me to an exit.” He took a breath. “No, there has to be a solution, a way out, a way to deal with this… thing. What I never learned about you hurt far more than the truths I do know. I will figure this all out before it’s too late.”
He has to.
There can be no other outcome.
#(( notwright: wow yer family is fucked up huh#klav: first off how the fuck did u get into my house#klav: secondly yes danke for stating the obvious how would i have known my family is fucked up w/o u pointing that out ))#just a witness | ooc#v { klavier }; breaking point of reason | the stranger#(( yeah this was one of the fics that had a wonky not-quite conclusion for a bit#but i found what i think is a decent way to wrap it up w/o being too hamfisted#maybe there's a little hamfist but like life be like that ))#death mention
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Gaster Theory Response
These are questions that popped into my head as i sat contimplating the things i heard in those three videos. and i will humbly attempt to discuss them..
1. How is flowey connected? He didn't explain the Hyper Goner and how flowey got it. After all, flowey is the product of alphys experiment, not Gaster. The shape of the hyper goner is Gaster's signature, NOT a result from too much determination.
2. How is monster kid goner connected? Monster kid Goner is not one of the G-Followers, he doesn't mention gaster, and his existence literally makes no sense since monster souls CAN'T persist after death. Not to mention, his behaviour and knowledge is too mature and knowledgeable unlike our alive monster kid. How does he know these things? Gaster is related, but how?
3. How can "you two" refer to Sans and Alphys if Sans was the result of his shattering, which means he didn't exist prior to the experiment?
4. How can something "Shatter" in equal amounts of left and right? Shattering is random and unequal. Cutting into two is SLICING not shattering.
5. How can the shattering be "across time and space" if it only created Sans and Papyrus?
6. If "you two" referred to Sans and Alphys, and Papyrus is also a part of Gaster who knows of his existence, why didn't Gaster refer to Papyrus too by saying "you three"?
7. (nobody mentioned this but I noticed it) wHaT ABOUT CHARA? is he related? because let’s be real his story makes no sense. Why did he get sick, what's with his irrational love for evil and hate for humanity? human souls can persist after death, but how can his soul FESTER in other people who let him? How can he be aware of resets and erasing and stuff when he's just a child and he died before he knew these things?
8. what about the determination? if it was in excessive amounts, where did it all go? assuming it’s a drug or a force, and not a "feeling", it’s a substance that was created. if too much went to sans and papyrus, they'd melt like the other monsters. what about the rest? did it all JUST go to sans and papyrus? how can any of this be equal if sans is obviously WAY stronger than papyrus
1, 2, 4, 5, 7 and 8 can all be answered via the following hypothesis:
First of all, answering 4, 5 and 8. According to the G-Followers, Gaster shattered across time and space. Therefore, like Mat said, different pieces of him now exist in time and space, and that should include the excessive amount of determination that caused the shattering. However, the shattering did not merely produce Papyrus and Sans, but also fell in places in different timelines, and affected others besides them as well. Meaning, Sans and Papyrus together are NOT the whole of Gaster, but other pieces of him also exist elsewhere.
I think Lab entry 17 wasn’t made as Matpat suggests as Gaster was breaking apart, how would he even manage that? It also speaks in the future tense.
ENTRY NUMBER 17
*DARK, DARKER YET DARKER.
*THE DARKNESS KEEPS GROWING
*THE SHADOWS CUTTING DEEPER
*PHOTON READINGS NEGATIVE
*THIS NEXT EXPERIMENT
*SEEMS
*VERY
*VERY
*INTERESTING
*WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK?
(credited to the wonderful peeps at reddit, so’re all the lab entries referenced in this shit.)
See there, the experiment hadn’t happened at that point. What does he mean then? Well, A Photon is a particle representing a quantum of light or other electromagnetic radiation. So, when the Photon readings are “negative,” and that it’s getting “darker” and cutting “deeper,” he literally means recreating the power of determination requires A LOT of radiation, ones that are anti-light, in the undertale universe. They don’t seem to exist in our reality, but apparently they were measured by Gaster, who in turn let it get darker and more negative until he reached a value that destroyed him with the amount of whatever this energy is. He used this form of radiation to create the determination extractor.
This is a pretty large claim in term of the other question so I’ll explain myself:
I think it’s quite logical to assume that not all “shards” or parts of Gaster that were broken are in Sans and Papyrus, but where did they go? To answer questions 1, 2 and 8 we must consider what we know about Flowey, Monster Kid Goner and Chara. I’ll do so for each separately.
Flowey: Flowey possesses the Hyper Goner, which is an attack that has Gaster’s signature design on it. That could be explained by how a piece of Gaster had fallen into the flower Alphys had experimented on. While the chances of that happening are slim, as Sherlock Holmes would say, if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbably, must be the truth. This is all very dodgy I realize that, but if it were true, it would make sense how flowey after getting injected with determination has the Hyper Goner, not to mention it means the amount of determination in the ‘shard’ remaining from Gaster’s experiment enabled flowey to be stronger than usual. Because if you think about it, flowey didn’t break into pieces which means Alphys didn’t put a lot of Determination in the flower. And while Sans is aware and can sense time shifts, unlike flowey, he cannot actually manipulate time. So on top of the determination remaining from Gaster that Flowey already got (and let’s not forget whatever remained from Asriel’s soul after he died), Alphys made it so much worse by injecting it with more, thus creating a creature lacking of empathy. But hey, what about Asriel you ask? Fair question. Flowey IS supposedly Asriel without a soul. Well, the answer is in Entry no. 8
ENTRY NUMBER 8 :)
*I’ve chosen a candidate.
*I haven’t told ASGORE yet, because I want to surprise him with it…
*In the center of his garden, there’s something special.
*The first golden flower, that grew before all the other ones.
*The flower from the outside world.
*It appeared just before the queen left.
*I wonder…
*What happens when something without a SOUL gains the will to live?
As you can probably guess from that, this flower she chose was not a random flower. It was seemingly a special flower, from the outside world nonetheless. Who died in a bed of golden flowers outside of the underground? That’s right, Asriel. His soul then is a little stronger than other monsters, it survived briefly in the form of a flower. How did it survive? Well, wouldn’t it make sense that this is Gaster’s shard’s fault? Some of his soul power or Determination (whatever you call it, it’s the same thing) went into the remaining soul lasting it longer. So because the soul was deteriorating, when Alphys injected Flowey, Asriel did not return. Flowey became alive, but didn’t have the soul to feel. Just a fuck load of determination, the will to survive, and a fragment of Asriel that remained in the shadows ever since. Like I said up there, improbable, but quite an interesting idea.
Monster Kid Goner (Or I’ll call him Goner Kid): Unlike Flowey, Goner Kid is straight out a normal monster that we know called Monster Kid. And even though the Gaster Followers are pre-existing characters as well, unlike Goner Kid they speak of Gaster very directly. I’m not sure whether they’re influenced by Gaster’s scattered shards or determination, allowing them to exist in this timeline after being wiped clean, so I’ll leave them at that. On the other hand, Goner Kid is a completely different story.
If you don’t save Monster Kid and Undyne saves him, he says “Undyne . . . You saved me . . .? Yo, I thought I was a goner, haha . . .”
Coincidence?
NO.
If you think about the FUN value and Multiple timelines theory (the one where Matpat explained. U know, if you chose something in a certain timeline another timeline is created for the other option) you’ll realize just as there is a reality where Monster Kid survived, there must be another where his life ended. And that, I believe, is who Goner Kid is. He is Monster Kid from another timeline, from the one he died in. But if he died, how did his soul survive, let alone travel to a different timeline? Since Gaster’s shards traveled across space, and TIME, it’s quite possible one of the shards connected with Goner Kid before/after/during his death. Whichever way it happened, it explains how his soul lasted, how he can travel from timeline to timeline (if he got some determination from the scattered bits as well) so that us players can perceive him in multiple ones (timelines 90 and higher on the FUN value) and it also explains what he says.
Because let’s be real, Monster Kid is just a kid, he’s stupid. Or rather he’s not knowledgeable. Even if his soul survives JUST by the determination, that doesn’t explain how cognitively functional he seems to be when he’s in the form of Goner Kid. In fact, he talks about different universes as Matpat mentioned, but he doesn’t just talk about them, he UNDERSTANDS the weight of them and can conclude that the thought terrifies him. How would monster kid know that, if he hadn’t got that knowledge from having a part of Gaster in him? The fear of being erased, dead, non-existent somewhere else is scary to him. We don’t see that in sans despite sans knowing that. Actually, San’s okay with it, he tells you to say hello to other Sanses out there, albeit tensely in battle. And Papyrus may know about timelines, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. It’s quite possible he didn’t consider what those things mean. Goner Kid embodies Gaster’s fears, worries and doubt about his experiment. He has the part that, after the shattering, is uneasy for the most part, and that translated into Goner Kids’ mind. So, my conclusion is that one of Gaters’ parts also fused with Goner Kid.
Chara: Doesn’t it strike you as strange that Chara, the first human CHILD (keyword being CHILD), hated humanity to the point of wanting to murder them? Like, not in an edgy way, but in a psychopathic way?
Psychopaths, by the way, are shown to have evidence of being unable to physically empathize/feels certain emotions since birth. Such as guilt and remorse. They end up being very problematic children, you can look it up. Chara wasn’t normal to begin with, he was both a human with determination, and probably a psychopath. Psychopaths are also categorized as cunningly manipulative and charming, could explain why the Dreamurr family took him as their own and loved him, he probably just acted. So when how did he get sick, die and survive enough to even inhibit Frisk? With this question we must refer to this, to answer the question as to how Chara was able to possess Frisk, we must remember
ENTRY NUMBER 7
*We’ll need a vessel to wield the monster SOULs when the time comes.
*After all, a monster cannot absorb the SOULs of other monsters.
*Just as a human cannot absorb a human SOUL…
*So then…
*What about something that’s neither human nor monster?
Why would toby go out of his way to mention that in Alphy’s entry? (yes, it’s alphy’s, see proper grammar) It’s seemingly unrelated since she’s talking about the monsters and the bodies, this simile was uncalled for. Unless he’s telling us something about Chara.
What Chara did was not possible for a human.
How did he do it then, if it was not possible just by determination? This also answers the question of how Chara KNOWS what to do with the power of determination, and how to erase the world. Another Shard fell into him as well at some point, which gave him powers and knowledge quite abnormal. Allowing him to seep into Frisk the same way the shard seeped into him and Goner Kid.
Finally, answering questions 3 and 6:
The issues in the questions themselves indicate that
1) “You two” cannot have been referring to Sans.
2) If it was, why didn’t it also refer to Papyrus?
In my opinion, it actually doesn’t make sense that Gaster would do that. If sans is trying so hard to get Gaster back, and Gaster knows Sans exists, wouldn’t that stop him from performing the experiment in the first place? Wouldn’t that be a time paradox? More importantly, wouldn’t Sans himself stop him?
No, I think it’s unlikely they existed. And if they didn’t, how would Gaster know they exist? Because there’s no proof he was aware of other timelines. And if he knew his body would shatter across time and space he wouldn’t do it, seeing as Sans is so PASSIONATE about wanting to go back that life elsewhere seems pointless to him.
I think Gaster didn’t know he’d shatter, it was a bizarre experiment and he took his chances. Since the persons he was talking to in entry 17 weren’t Sans and Alphys, that leaves me with two options (they may be more I hadn’t considered but this’ll do for now):
1. Alphys and Asgore. Why you ask? Well, the obvious answer is that he’s the royal scientist, isn’t he? His job requires him to report to the king new findings regarding to research that has to do with freeing people from the underground. Obviously, he documented it in an entry for purpose of reporting the progress.
2. Alphys and HIMSELF. No, not Sans or Papyrus or anyone, his future self. It is possible it was just a sarcastic joke for his future self to reflect on when he goes through the experiment. Since he’s not aware of the shattering business, if he survives he’ll be able to perceive the results either as a good or a bad thing. During the time he wrote the entry, the experiment was interesting to him, that may yet change depending on the result. So just like someone who writes a message to their older self, asking what they do and how they’re doing, it’s quite possible Gaster was sending a message to himself as well in the future in case he survives.
Important note:
Back to the skele bros, the shattered business is not possible with a right-left brain hypothesis. Because human physiology is sorta useless when it comes to monsters. What proof do we have that their brains are anything like ours, or are devided like ours? Seemingly every part of the skele bros has no muscle and is very dodgy looking. A human brain does A LOT of things besides thinking, it also administers reflexes, breathing, visceral contractions, muscle contractions, hormones and a shit load of sensory stuff. All of which do not apply to the skele bros, except the fact that they bleed. In fact, weirdly enough, we don’t know if Sans resembles Papyrus in the abdomen area. Is he fully skeleton? In the genocide route he’s cut across and the blood is shown through the entire length of his torso and stomach. That’s a weird wound for someone who’s a skeleton completely. So you see, biology isn’t really relevant here, so it’s stupid to say sans happened to have the left brain and papyrus happened to have the right brain, we don’t even know if Gaster had a brain like ours.
Other problems are that despite sans being the left brain, he demonstrates lower frequencies of using higher language (and ends up using casual language constantly) whereas papyrus constantly uses over-the-top fancy words when he speaks. He sounds VERY posh. That doesn’t AT ALL fit with the brain theory. Not to mention, Matpat got it wrong. The game Sans finds difficult isn’t word search, it’s CROSSWORDS. Which is both language AND culture based. Something that needs actual knowledge of random crap, which is why everyone finds it hard. Papyrus ALSO has trouble with it, since he just fills them with Z and never solves them. So that part is kind of false.
HOWEVER, and I will conclude with this, there is truth in this theory. Granted they didn’t purely take one side over the other, but the shattering did favour certain aspects of Gaster’s personality in Sans than Papyrus. Sans got most of the determination, the strength, knowledge, but he lacks thinks Papyrus has which are emotional motivation, caring for others, a sense of justice (lemme remind you Gaster did the experiment to free the people from the underground, no? that sounds pretty self-righteous to anybody. Sans isn’t as thoughtful; he only really gives a shit if it was Papyrus or to an extent Toriel.) and a tendency to use fancy ass words (entry 17 sounds Posh at any rate). Sans knows the scientific terms, but when he talks, he’s awfully casual.
But, they also share many things. They both have the ability to TALK and walk and eat (somewhat, idk how that works but hey I ain’t shaming) they both ADORE puns, though papyrus is less appreciative of it, and they get irrationally obsessed with one thing like Spaghetti, freedom or friends or in san’s case humans.
one question that i couldn’t answer is the following: If the entries 1-16 were written after gaster died by alphys and sans using his blue prints... when did gaster write entry 17, and why is it number 17, and why did sans (the author of all entries after 17) skip the number 17 unless he knew about it...
Disclaimer, i wrote this 1am it’s probably bs and i’ll hate myself later so heh
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Circles and Circles
Words: 1747
cws: haunted/cursed dolls
Part 2
Ryou hadn’t remembered returning to the museum at night, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know why he was there. No- if anything, his lack of memory explained more than enough, and he could only let out a sigh.
Well, he managed to think with a hint of sarcasm, at least the spirit knew to dress properly.
The closing ceremony was nice- or at least, it should’ve been. Everything looked as if it was going to be a quiet and peaceful send-off to a pleasant evening... until the doors slammed shut, and a new voice declared they were all stuck here.
Now, for most people, being trapped inside a museum with a bunch of killer artworks would’ve sounded like a bad thing. However, Ryou Bakura was not most people. He’d always been quite fascinated by the scary and occult, and a good number of cards in his deck were based on haunted paintings and living dolls. Not to mention he was haunted by a malicious spirit… one who seemed to be quite enjoying this turn of events.
“Ha! I thought this was a little boring, I’m glad they’ve decided to finally make things interesting!”
‘Why does ‘interesting’ have to equate with ‘violent’ for you?’
“Oh please, host, you know that’s not true. I have other hobbies.”
‘Such as…?’
“Well, I do enjoy a good game.”
‘The games you play aren’t good. You cheat.’
“It only counts as cheating if I get caught.”
Ryou snorted, rolling his eyes and ignoring the glances a few others shot his way. He wasn’t the only one that had kept calm, but he figured his response must’ve come across as a bit condescending, considering the fact that nobody else could hear the spirit.
“Well? Don’t tell me you intend to be a sitting duck for this killer art.”
‘Of course not.’ Sighing, Ryou reached for a knife he knew the spirit kept hidden on him, and paused. ‘The art here was indestructible before. I… doubt this will do much.’
“Hmm… for once you make a good point, host.” The spirit laughed, and Ryou could almost feel his overconfident smirk work its way onto his face. Weird. “What about tools? This place is full of them. If this is a game, then there has to be rules to it.”
‘What makes you so certain it isn’t just hide and seek? Or killer tag?’
“Because that wouldn’t be a very fun game, now would it? You always have to leave a hope of survival.”
‘…and you’d know better than most.’
Ryou ignored the shiver down his spine as his mind dwelled on the games of Monster World, of friends in comas, of his own temporary death. The spirit claimed he’d changed, but Ryou hadn’t forgiven him for any of that- he wasn’t even certain if the spirit actually regretted it. It seemed more in-character for him to merely regret that he’d lost.
But either way, the spirit was actually communicating with him now, and he’d still take that over inexplicable blackouts and friends in comas. They’d all miraculously recovered, so everything was fine now. At least in a surface-level meaning of the word, anyways.
He wasn’t entirely certain which one of them had been in control of the body, a sensation that was truly unnerving, but they’d somehow ended up near the doll parlor. They hadn’t gone inside, regardless of how much Ryou dearly wanted to- he couldn’t help it. Sure, the dolls would’ve all been murderous, but they were haunted dolls. It was like a horror movie come true, so it was incredibly exciting to the young man.
“And you think I’m strange.” The thief’s laugh echoed in Ryou’s mind, once more prompting an eye-roll. It wasn’t until the mirth sharpened that Ryou was drawn out of his mild irritation, eyes scanning the area around him. “Host. In the darkness there.”
He didn’t question how the thief could see anything in the deep shadows of the hallway- after all, it fit the darkness to know what lay in the shadows. His own eyes strained to see, and after a half a second it felt obvious what he was looking at. Piercing yellow eyes cut through the darkness, staring at him with a dangerously cool expression. In her arms was a marionette of a child, head broken apart, letting out a bone-chilling laugh.
“Oh, hello there.”
“Host, are you an idiot? She might be just a doll right now, but she’s one of the strongest monsters in our deck—”
‘First of all, it’s my deck, spirit. And secondly, she doesn’t seem hostile.’
“So you think. You should know that her greatest strength comes about after being sent to the graveyard, host.”
“Of course I do.” Ryou sighed, responding out loud, before smiling at the doll of his beloved monster. He didn’t feel like he had quite a signature card, like Yugi could claim about Dark Magician or Kaiba with his Blue-Eyes White Dragons, but Dark Necrofear felt about the same for him. She was one of the backbones of his occult deck, and beyond even that, he just… cared about the card. Much like Change of Heart, it was a favourite of his. “Hello there. If you’re intent on attacking me, I don’t plan on sitting still, but it would be nice if you didn’t.”
The doll didn’t move, though the marionette in her arms continued to laugh. It was delightfully creepy, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Jounouchi would’ve responded. He really didn’t enjoy horror- his response might’ve been funny to watch. Though… it was probably mean to think so.
“Hah. I think I’m rubbing off on you, host.”
“I certainly hope not…” Ryou sighed, before the smile returned to his face as he looked at the doll. “Well… may I take your lack of attacking as a sign of peace?”
He certainly hoped as much. His hopes appeared to be dashed as the doll suddenly jerked forwards, the boy bracing himself for an impact- one that never came. Instead, there was a sound behind him of ripping fabric, and he turned in time to see some sort of stuffed animal lying on the ground, ripped apart at the seams.
“Did you… save me?”
Dark Necrofear didn’t move, but the marionette in her arms seemed to be laughing in affirmation this time.
“Huh. Well, I’ll be damned.”
‘You already were.’
“Nobody likes a smartass, host.”
“Well, thank you.” Ryou decided to ignore the spirit for now, not wanting to point out the fact that the spirit was constantly being an ass. After all, he still had control of his body, and he’d like to keep it that way for now. “Would you mind if I picked you up? You were moving quickly there, but it might be easier for the both of us if I let you sit on my shoulder, or something along those lines.”
The marionette nodded agreeably, and Ryou smiled once more. Gently, he placed the doll onto his shoulder- she stood tall, only turning her head for a moment to acknowledge the boy who’d put such care and effort into creating her small form.
“Now,” he spoke aloud to both Dark Necrofear and the spirit, “it seems like undoing the stitching on that stuffed doll was enough to deal with it. So I would imagine that theory about using tools might hold some weight to it.”
“So perhaps you should take a bit more consideration into my ideas then, host.”
“I’ll think about it. Anyways, The knife we have- which I don’t appreciate you hiding on me- should be enough to deal with any stuffed dolls, alongside Dark Necrofear. But I highly doubt it’ll do anything against most of the other stuff here. We’ll need to find more tools.”
As if on cue, he felt the ring stir from where it was resting under his shirt. Carefully he pulled it out, watching as the little spines on the end shook and jittered, before finally the central one pointed down the hall in the opposite direction from where they’d been headed.
“Just this once, we can collaborate. A hammer should be more than enough to deal with the statues, and the ring’s already found one, so follow it. No fucking clue what’ll deal with those painted freaks, though.”
“Odd to see you so agreeable.”
“We’ve no guarantee that your little creations will see me as amicably as they do you.”
“Fair enough.”
“What. Not going to ask her to be kind to me as well?”
“Hmm… I’ll think about it.”
“Host, if we get into a fight and you die, that will be on you then. Got it?”
“You really are just the worst sometimes.” Ryou sighed, grateful that Dark Necrofear didn’t seem to mind the way he was talking to himself. He was keeping to the shadows as best he could, following the ring as it guided them towards whatever hammer the spirit of the ring had deemed useful. “Fine. Dark Necrofear- if I happen to change and start acting differently, please don’t attack? Though, if he tries to harm another person, you can stop him.”
“What, don’t you trust me?”
‘You really do not want me to answer that question.’
The spirit’s cackling laughter rung in Ryou’s ears, and he did his best not to wince at the sound. He could be so annoyingly loud sometimes, it really just wasn’t fair. However, much to his surprise, he didn’t immediately black out after asking Dark Necrofear to be nice. He imagined it had to be due to the fact that the spirit never really cared for busywork- the things that bored him and amused him could be a mystery to Ryou, even though they shared a body.
“I wonder… do you think paint thinner could work? It may erase the ‘paintings’ well enough, considering I doubt we’d be able to simply slash the canvas apart.”
“Hmm… that could do it. But first things first, the hammer. We’re getting close to it.”
“Right.”
Silent footsteps made their way down the halls of the museum, the ghost-like boy sticking to the shadows as best he could. He didn’t want to draw the attention of patrons or paintings, just wanting to sneak along and stay safe. It was shocking how easily his snow-white hair could melt into the shadows once he forced himself to calm down, pulling his earlier loose ponytail into a tight bun.
For now, just get to the hammer. They’d figure out what to do next after that.
#ir event: canvas#♙ / CANVAS P2#○ letters in the sand / { DRABBLES }#○ adventure forth / { IC }#i do plan on doing threads also#but i wanted to get a lil intro drabble going#which turned into a. long intro drabble.
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It All Goes Down From Here
Day 2/31 for Whumptober.
Prompt 8: Fever
Cross-posted to Ao3, dA and Fanfiction.net.
Words: Close to 1500.
Disclaimer: I own this fanfiction but not the characters or game they’re from.
Notes: This is pre-Brotherhood Era, long before he started running, but after his parents started taking their absences.
Summary:
While brushing his teeth, Prompto tried not to think about how back then he had the comforting touch of his mother’s hand through his hair, his dad’s voice while he read him stories, and the gentle promises he would be alright when he was shivering violently from a fever that was being difficult to break and unable to keep much of anything down.
The child’s heart ached and he decided it was from the sickness beginning to settle in.
A pulsing headache was what greeted him on his slow awakening thanks to the chipper tune blaring from his alarm. Not ready to face the morning light just yet, the young boy groaned and reached over sluggishly to shut off the noise. It was so, so tempting to just try and return to sleep, but knowing why he felt this way forced himself to kick the covers back and begin his morning routine for getting ready for school.
Prompto was disappointed but not surprised to feel as he did on awakening; it was something he considered inevitable, even if he truly hoped differently.
The fall season had been upon them and with it had been the cooler temperatures bringing out the numerous advertisements for hot drinks and seasonal soups for the cafe and fast food places around the area, people donning their scarves, sweaters and knitted hats- even Prompto had one, however, he was anything but fond of it. It made his hair look worse than it already did on the windier days and made his head feel far too sweaty to be comfortable.
This time, it had been a rainy start to the season and having only himself to get back and forth to school meant getting caught in the rain more often than not- his umbrella only providing so much help from the accompanying chilly winds. A few times, when it allowed, he ate his fast food dinner in a secluded booth inside the building to wait for the rain to ease up. Most days there was a break in the weather, others not so much, and on those days he had to make a run for it, ending up in the mud on two occasions. While no one else had been around to witness his clumsiness, it hadn’t stopped his face from burning with embarrassment anyway.
The child knew he was not meant for the whole running thing.
Last night Prompto had been having a difficult time concentrating on his homework, dozing much earlier than he normally did and felt very off. The last time he had recalled feeling like this was a couple of years ago when he had gotten a flu that had been going around at his school, before it had set in and left him bedridden for nearly two weeks.
While brushing his teeth, Prompto tried not to think about how back then he had the comforting touch of his mother’s hand through his hair, his dad’s voice while he read him stories, and the gentle promises he would be alright when he was shivering violently from a fever that was being difficult to break and unable to keep much of anything down.
The child’s heart ached and he decided it was from the sickness beginning to settle in.
Both of his parents were out of the city anyway. They’d talked about how important this business trip was and he wasn’t about to ruin this for them because of some bad luck and bad weather. The disappointment the blond imagined on their faces was more than enough for him to steel his resolve and carry on with the day. All he had to do was get through school today and he had the weekend to sleep it off and get better. He could do this.
Determined, the boy finished his morning routine, bypassing breakfast- the thought of it had his stomach rolling uncomfortably, and with his head hung low, left for school.
The trip over had taken longer than usual, barely making it in to his first class before the bell rang. Very badly, he wanted to quietly sneak out of class and go home, crawl under the covers and stay there until the world stopped spinning and things were quiet enough to make concentrating on his work a bit more bearable. As it was right now, his classmates chatter only made his pulsing headache worse. It was hard to listen his teachers since at more than one point their voices morphed into something unintelligible. He took what notes he could, understanding in a distant, accepting way that he likely wasn’t going to get the greatest score on his tests. His grades were better than average most of the time so he doubted his parents would question anything this time around. They hardly ever did anymore.
Stealing a glance at the clock while the teacher’s back was turned, he noticed with some small cheer that it was almost time to leave for the day. Astrals knew he had entertained the thoughts of sneaking out of his classes to return home, curl up and sleep his ailments off. The thought popped up during each class and was no less tempting each time.
‘Just a little longer,’ he reminded himself while also silently encouraging the clock to move faster with his own impatience.
Those last few minutes felt like they had taken longer than they ought to have, he was sure of it. Gathering his school supplies quickly as he could, he left faster than he usually did. Prompto tended to linger, taking his time packing his things away and sometimes took his time through the local park until the sun began to set for the day and he was forced to the sometimes scary, unwelcoming silence of his empty house.
Making his way into the small store, the small blond looked around the aisles for the soups and crackers.
His own knowledge was limited to his past experience and what was shown on the television shows. He knew you slept a lot, drank water, took medication and ate brothy soups. Purposefully, he chose to ignore the parts where the people on tv had friends or family to look after them.
He was a big kid, he didn’t need his parents over this.
Putting his goods for the weekend on the checkout counter, the older woman smiled cheerily at him and commented that his parents must be very proud to have such a good boy help run errands for them.
Paying for his goods, he stuttered out his agreement with what smile he could force, they exchanged generic farewells that most cashiers gave as he left while she moved on to her next customer.
“I’m home.” He spoke monotonously into the empty house out of habit. There was no answer. Hadn’t been for days and wouldn’t be until the middle of next week.
His bed being so close and him being so tired made getting through his next few chores difficult. Prompto put his supplies away, including his setting his packed lunch back in the fridge since he had been too nauseous to even feel like trying to eat it. He wasn’t fairing much better in that area now.
By the late evening hours, his sickness had other symptoms coming out in force. Prompto was huddled up on the couch, shaking in the throw that normally remained on its back for decoration, sniffling and coughing into his chocobo decorated pajamas sleeve while he passed time by watching whatever was on television until the too sweet bubble-gum tasting liquid medication took effect(there had already been medicine at the house, making that easier. The selection he eyed at the store out of curiosity had been confusing).
Food had been out today, the child had been unable to bring himself to try in fear of losing it almost immediately. A little water forced down had been the best he could do and his stomach wasn’t happy about it, making itself known. Hunger combined with nausea combined with the medicine kicking in had left him feeling strange in a way that was uncomfortable and miserable.
A little while later, Prompto was drowsy, more miserable and positive his fever was higher now than before. Shoving the throw to the other side of the couch, he shut off the television and headed upstairs to get ready for bed.
A few minutes later the young blond snuggled up tightly under the covers, shaking and coughing into part of his blanket. The temptation to text his parents was getting harder and harder to resist, but he would manage. They’d been clear on how important this trip was and Prompto told himself he just wasn’t used to them being gone for long, yet. He even entertained the thought of telling them after he was better and how he managed to take care of himself! Maybe they would be proud of how well he had done?
Sniffling, he told himself it was from his sickness.
Forcing his eyes shut, he huddled further into the blankets. He would get through this.
He was a big boy, after all.
#whumptober 2018#prompto argentum#child prompto#whumptober#sickfic#final fantasy xv fanfiction#ffxv#ff15#prompto
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All These Things||A selfie
Jeb stood outside his brother’s apartment, waiting for the older male to show up. He needed to talk, to scream, to maybe throw a couple punches, just get it out of his system. Eventually, the older of the boys arrived, an easy grin on his dark features. Sometimes, it even shocked Jeb how much they looked alike. From their dark eyes to their dark hair to the smirk that always graced their face, they were both a spitting image of their mother. “What’s up, what’s up?” Kai was always so calm.
It pissed him off.
His brother, the one that took the majority of the beatings, the one that left him first, the one that held a grudge for years, was the one that had the easiest time letting time heal him and Jeb couldn’t.
Fucking.
Stand it.
Kai must’ve noticed his solemn look because he quickly changed his tone, letting his baby brother into the building and leading him up the stairs, speaking as they walked. “You alright? Look like you’ve come back from war.” He stated, an eyebrow raised as he unlocked his apartment door and let them in, closing the door behind them and dropping his work gear to the ground. Jeb remained quiet, setting his guitar against the back of the couch and looking around, taking note of the stuff he assumed belonged to Noelle. His heart started racing, his thoughts going from Addie and how he couldn’t make it better for, to their parents and how it was so fucking hard to forgive them even though he was sure they deserved it, to Lydia and her crumbling life and trying to help her deal with the loss of their best friend, to Lulu and how he would never be what she deserved, to school, to his own crushing self doubt. Everything was spinning, and for the first time he wasn’t sure he was in control anymore. “Jeb? You alright?” The boy had his words caught in his throat, tears pricking in his eyes as he looked away from his brother, unsure of how to tell him what was going on in his head.
“Uhmm…” A choked sob finally came from his throat, his chest heaving as he started gasping for air. Jeb didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until then. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong? Jeb, what happened?” Kai’s hand cradled his neck and pulled him in for a hug, and he was grateful for the other body he could use for stabilizing himself; grateful for the comfort of a familiar shoulder. “Shhh… I’m here, it’s alright, you’re alright.”
That was the main difference between them; Kai was never scared to show his gentler side. All the abuse, all the trauma, it made him angry but it made him kind as well. But it made Jeb purely angry and afraid. His older brother fought fear with love and Jeb just didn’t recognize the fear. He pretended it wasn’t there. Everything was a contradiction of their character and it was to much most days. Yeah, he went into counseling, and he talked it out and he got it out in the world, but that didn’t make it better. That didn’t take away the nightmares and that didn’t help him fight the constant, nagging, voice that he wasn’t good enough for this world.
He didn’t even realize how hard he was crying until he felt his legs buckle, gripping onto Kai’s sides to try and keep himself up. He felt like he was a child again, clinging onto his older brother as the thunder shook their house, or hiding in his bed while he listened to their dad scream at their mom.
It was embarrassing.
Kai let him cry it out, letting his younger brother hold onto him as long as he needed. Finally, he had calmed himself, the older of the two ushering him to the couch so they could sit, a worried look on his face as he studied his brother. Kai had never really seen Jeb like this, the kid was always so vocal about his feelings it took him by surprise. After a few more moments of silence, Jeb finally started talking. He told Kai all about Addie and what was going on with her. How he wanted so badly to help and to make it better, but much like their own parents it wasn’t anything he could control. “But I hate seeing her so destroyed. She’s a great girl, Kai… And I really like her, but fuck... I don’t know what to do… And I feel like I need to come up with some solution, because I don’t have any other reason for her to like me back.” He told him about how he was sure he had feelings for her, but how he was also more than positive she didn’t feel the same. How it was okay, but it still hurt like hell. He talked about he usually felt unwanted, how he was positive he’d never be good enough for someone, how he was just so damn good at exchanging one problem for another. Kai’s eyebrows furrowed up as he listened, his own heartbreaking as he listened to his brother’s troubles. For a moment, Jeb was reminded of a conversation he had with Lydia.
After California, after all was said and done with him and Lulu, Lydia came by to make amends. He told her roughly the same thing. How he’d never be able to make the girl happy, because he’d never be able to provide her the things she’s used to. How he wasn’t even her personality type and they’d fight more than they’d get along. How there was really nothing he could offer to keep her around. And Lydia, with all her grace and vibrant red lips and hair to match, laughed. Her bubbly laugh that often rang through the halls of their school was now filling his apartment and he’d never been more confused. “Jeb… You are a smart guy, but you are so goddamn insecure.” She cupped his face, making sure she had his full attention. “You’re worth getting to know in the daylight, and you have plenty to offer. Money isn’t everything, and much like you, our parents can’t tell us anything.”
“And… And Lydia. She’s my best friend, Kai. Next to Holden, I don’t know what I would do without her, and I don’t think I would’ve survived my first year here if I hadn’t of met her. But y’know we’re all still reeling from losing a friend, and she’s not like the rest of us. She can’t go to her parents. And like… her parents aren’t intentionally mean but they have such irrational expectations for her, and nothing she ever does is good enough, and I don’t get how they can treat their kid like that. And she just wants them to be happy for her, to be supportive and it’s not enough. And I think she’s fucking awesome, and deserves better, but she takes home these people that just couldn’t care about her, and she drinks to try and numb herself, but she doesn’t need to. I think she just needs to relax, but she doesn’t listen to me….” He trailed off, an amused grin appearing on Kai’s face, pissing him off even more.
“What?” He barked, his brother adjusted on the couch, slow to speak as he chose his words carefully. “I mean… Obviously, I don’t know you anymore… But I do think you and Lydia sound an awful lot alike.” Jeb shook his head, falling back into the couch, pushing his hair back. “No, we’re completely different… But, look, the point is, all this is happening, and there is nothing I can do to help my friends. We’re getting our asses kicked, and there is nothing I can do, but show up and watch the wreck.” He paused, taking a breath to try and stop the panic attack building in his chest.
“And I am just so sick of watching my friends get pushed around.” His thoughts went to Holden, now wondering what god awful plot life had in store for him, trying to stop thinking about it so he could focus on what was currently in front of him. He debated telling Kai the boy was in town, but figured he’d keep that to himself. Kai probably already knew. “I mean… I think that’s just life, Jeb. It’s not fair, it doesn’t make it better or easier, but I think showing up is all you can do.” He ran a hand through his hair, Jeb taking note that his poor brother was still dirty, and now he felt bad for keeping him from a shower. “You said it yourself, you can’t control it. So just being their friend is probably the best thing you can do and offer, don’t you think?” He didn’t like that. He felt there was more he should be doing, but coming from his brother’s mouth, it did sound reasonable. Jeb slowly nodded, feeling so small in this moment. “I guess… It’s all so funny coming from you.” He teased, his voice a little gravely from all the crying.
Kai laughed, giving a shrug. “I’m older and wiser now. What can I say.” Jeb just laughed, rolling his eyes. “I think you’re just older… I see a few gray hairs in there too.” Kai smacked him with a pillow, laughing a little himself. “Fucker.” The younger brother just laughed again, feeling a little better that he was able to get it out. There was no solution reached, and he still wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this, but it felt good to know that someone he trusted knew what was going on. They talked about his school, and the stress of the last year. They talked about his music and how he wasn’t booking as many shows lately, but he was trying to get back in the swing of it. Eventually, Kai got up to shower and make some food, and Jeb got comfy on the couch, and he didn’t realize it until he woke up with a blanket over him that he’d fallen asleep and been moved. The boy looked around, gauging his surroundings when he realized he was in Kai’s bed. It was comfy and warm and he stayed under the covers just a little longer until he slowly got up, rubbing his eyes. Jeb opened the door, seeing the glow of the tv screen light up the room, going to check and see who was awake.
Both Kai and Noelle were passed out on the couch, curled up under a blanket while a rerun of Chopped played. Strange. The clicking of nails on the floor made him turn and see a dog approach, nudging his hand with his snout, demanding attention from Jeb. He smiled, giving the dog some scratches behind the ear before quietly gathering his things. He didn’t want to be a burden on them in the morning, so he simply put everything together, and turned the TV off before making his way out of the dark apartment. He used the key Kai gave him earlier and locked the door, walking down the stairs and into the cold, 3 AM air. He texted Lydia to see if she was awake, getting no response, and deciding it was best to just go home.
He’d figure out the rest in the morning.
#bc like i have no fucking self control obvs#p:selfie#p:all these things#abuse mention#abuse cw#and i was just feeling all the things for jeb
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