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pareidoliaonthemove · 5 months

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The Pact

A Prequel to 'The Question', this takes place before 'The Long Reach'.

It was late into the night on Tracy Island, even the habitual night owls of Virgil and Brains had given up and called it a night.

The lounge was bathed in the glow of the stars and the moon, the watery blue glow emanating from the pool rippled against the ‘smart-glass’ ceiling and reflected down to the floor, creating a faint and ethereal moving carpet.

Scott Tracy, seated at the desk, noticed none of it. His attention was focused solely on the holodisplay in front of him. Orange light exploded in the centre of the display, flooding harsh light in the room, and temporarily whiting out the other lighting effects.

Scott stared at the virtual screen, his heart clenching once more at the sight. He didn’t know how many times he had watched this recording, over the last eight years, each time, desperately hoping for a miracle, for something other than the explosion.

For Dad to be alive.

And now, he knew, Dad might be.

Scott should have known. Should have had more faith in his father. Should have seen the signs.

In the recording Colonel Casey, the intercept pilot, the Hood, and his father all predicted the massive explosion that would take place should the Zero-X’s engines overload.

Scott stared again at the explosion. It had certainly destroyed his world, and that of his brothers, but it wasn’t the extinction-level destruction that they had all anticipated.

Brains had calculated the failure mode himself; the Mechanic’s calculations had agreed. Scott had learned long before then not to doubt the shy genius his father had hired, and he was grudgingly admitting that the Mechanic’s abilities were not to be doubted, either.

Dad had managed to get the Zero-X to gain altitude, but not enough to avert an extinction-level event; he hadn’t even cleared the atmosphere.

Scott should have known that something wasn’t right. Should have known that his father hadn’t died in the inferno.

Scott shouldn’t have stopped looking.

And now Dad had been trapped in deep space, at the very edge of the solar system for eight years, and he had managed to get an SOS message back home.

Scott watched the fireball bloom and fade again, his mouth dry. His father hadn’t died in the heart of that retina searing fireball; but Scott knew there was a very real possibility that he had died since, in the cold darkness of space.

And it would be Scott’s fault.

Because he had stopped looking.

The vision faded into static, and Scott counted the familiar four second count, waiting for it to restart but the display faded into darkness after the count of three.

And there, standing on the other side of the desk, was John.

Scott started violently, shocked by the unexpected flesh and blood apparition that stood before him, green eyes sharp under frowning ginger eyebrows.

Scott braced for the ear-blistering lecture that a pre-dawn in-person visit by the astronaut always heralded.

“We need to talk.”

Scott stared, his brain freewheeling at the words, conjuring up a rapid succession of disastrous scenarios: there was a problem with the mission timeline, there was a problem with the new Zero-X design, there was a problem with …

“Walk with me, Scott.” And without waiting for a reply, John turned and headed for the stairs.

Exhausted, Scott’s body responded without waiting for his brain’s permission, and he soon found himself sitting on a lounger, facing John, who sat at his feet, straddling the chair, that green gaze pinning him in place like a butterfly specimen.

Scott found his voice. “What is it, John? What’s wrong?”

John stared a moment longer, before speaking.

“You are, Scott.”

When there was no response, John continued. “You’re setting yourself up for a nervous breakdown. Again.” John paused, looking down to his hands, before looking back up to Scott. “It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Scott inwardly recoiled at how bitter his voice sounded. “Dad’s out there, John. Alone. For eight years. Because I stopped looking.”

“No.” His brother’s voice was calm, toneless, and the audible equivalent of words chiselled in granite.

“Yes! I knew all along that that escape capsule was out there. I knew all along that escape capsules are absolutely stuffed with cameras and sensors for the sake of the investigation that the launch of one of those things instigates. I should have looked for it, eight years ago! We could have been launching this mission eight years ago, John! Eight years! What if Dad died waiting for us? Waiting for me!”

“We all knew all along about the escape capsule. You. Me. Virgil. Gordon. Alan. Brains. The Mechanic. Grandma. Lord Hugh. Lady Penelope. Parker. Colonel Casey. Lee Taylor. Any number of the Global Defence Force Analysts and Leadership. Any one of the security people who worked on the investigation after the theft of the Zero-X. Any one of the legal types who participated in the Coronial Hearing that declared Dad dead. Any one of the Tracy Industries engineers, security specialists, incident investigators, or lawyers. Any one of us could have made that realisation, any one of us could have instigated a search for the escape capsule. Any one of us could have recovered that footage.” John stared at Scott. “So why are you the only one responsible?”

Scott had no answer. The list of people who could have made the realisation, the list of people who could have launched the chain of events that would have led to Dad’s rescue years earlier overwhelming him.

John was merciless. “You feel guilty for not realising. I get that, Scott, I do. I feel guilty. I wasn’t able to track the Zero-X beyond that point. I’m the guy who hacks every camera to get you the information you need on a rescue, so why didn’t I think about the cameras and scanners on the capsule? Virgil and Brains, and even the Mechanic, they’re all engineers, and they’re all kicking themselves for not even considering that the Zero-X worked as designed.”

John exhaled nosily. “I’m worried about Dad, too, Scott. I’m worried what we’ll find. I’m worried how we’ll all cope if he’s dead. Hell, I’m worried how we’ll all cope if he’s alive.” John stared up into the sky. “Space does bad things to the human body, Scott. I’ve been laying awake at night because I keep imagining all the medical problems he’s going to have after eight years with no real sunlight, micro-gravity, and god-only-knows what to eat.”

He recaptured his brother’s gaze. “But I’ve got faith, Scott. We know he survived five years, because that’s how long it took for the Calypso to get to its furthest point. He managed to get a signal out to the Calypso, managed to reprogramme Brahman, to send out the SOS, and accelerate the Calypso’s return to earth.”

John laughed softly, then. “Actually, it’s ironic. He exiled himself to the very edge of the solar system prevent an extinction level event, and in trying to call for a rescue, damn near caused another one.”

The thought startled Scott, and an unwitting chuckle escaped him. “When we get him back, let’s not mention that to him, yeah?”

John smiled. “Probably for the best.” His gaze sharpened. “And speaking of for the best, Scott …”

The moment of levity was brief, and Scott felt a familiar weight settle in his chest and stomach. “John …”

“This has gone on too long, Scott. You’ve been tearing yourself apart since we got word of what happened.” John sighed. “We thought maybe this was how you grieve, throwing yourself into doing things. It seemed that way, especially after what you did when …”

John shook his head, unable or unwilling to say ‘when Mom died’, Scott couldn’t tell which. And he was glad for it, because Scott didn’t think he had the emotional resilience to hear the words spoken.

“But it’s more that that. Virgil’s been saying it for years. International Rescue is dangerous, we all know that, and we’ve got the scars to prove it, but you …” John stared at Scott, his eyes haunted. “Scott, it’s like you’re daring death to come get you. Like you want it.”

John stood suddenly, looming over Scott, who, startled, lost his balance, and half fell off the lounger at John’s feet. He stared up at his younger brother.

“I’m going to say this, and you are going to listen, Scott. Killing yourself will not bring Dad back. Killing yourself will not bring Mom back. You shouldn’t have ‘died in their place’ or any such romantic nonsense. You think losing you in their place would have hurt less? You think Alan would be better off having Dad instead of you? You think Gordon would have lived his Olympic dream without you? You think Virgil would have coped? Do you think I would have?”

Scott opened his mouth to protest, but John didn’t give him the chance. “Dad wasn’t always there, Scott, but you were. All those business trips, late-nights and weekend meetings, all those crises and troubleshooting conferences. Dad was at work. You were here. You were with us. You think the family fell apart when Dad disappeared? It was nothing compared to what happened when you did, Scott.” John shook his head. “You never saw us at our worst, because our worst was when you were gone.” John stared his older brother dead in the eye; seeming to will Scott to understand what he was saying with the force of his glare, laser burning the words into the tissues of his brain. “Losing Dad was your worst nightmare, Scott. We had you, we could cope without Dad, we knew that. We can’t cope without you. Please” John’s voice broke slightly “don’t make us try.”

Scott automatically reached out to his brother, his body reacting while his brain was in freefall. John collapsed down against him, hugging him back, clinging fiercely to what he couldn’t bear to lose.

“It’s all I’ve ever known, since the day they told me I was going to be a big brother,” Scott eventually whispered. “Every time Dad went away, it was always the same: ‘you’re the oldest, you’ve got to look after them – don’t let me down’. Last words Mom ever said to me ‘look after your brothers for me, Scott.’ Last thing Dad said before he went out to intercept the Zero-X. ‘Look after them till I get back.’” Scott stared. “How can I do anything else?”

John stared. “We finish the XL and go. We’ll find Dad, and we’ll bring him back. Alive or dead, we’ll bring him back. He will be back, and you will have fulfilled your duty.”

Scott stared out at the ocean, dark under the night sky. “What if he blames me, John?”

“Then he’s not the man I remember. And he’d be wrong, and we will make him understand that.” And that wasn’t John answering, it was Thunderbird Five – all calm certainty, authority and decisiveness. He wasn’t offering an opinion. He was stating a fact.

They sat in silence a long time, before Scott suddenly stood and took a couple of steps towards the cliff edge. “How do we do this, John?”

John moved to stand beside him, a half-arms-length away. “Small steps. First we find Dad –”

“Kind of a big step that, John,” Scott observed softly.

John shrugged. “Not really. We’ve nearly completed the final phase of testing. Navigation options have been calculated and programmed in – final decisions will be made on the day. Launch is in just over 48 hours. Logistically, it’s practically done already.”

Scott grunted, but didn’t comment.

“Next step is to return home. Every conceivable course of action needed has been planned down to a fine detail, what we do, depends on what we find.”

Scott nodded. He knew John was right. Every possible outcome had been considered and planned for. They had top medical teams on standby, even if the medics didn’t know it themselves. Medical treatment plans had been formulated under the guise of Tracy Industries sponsoring a space medicine symposium, with a hypothetical scenario for recovery and rehabilitation of astronauts stranded long term in deep space – an International Rescue initiative responding to the colony on Mars, had been the justification. They had even planned out their father’s funeral, allowing him to be interred alongside his wife and father, with an official public memorial.

“That’s the bigger picture. How do we deal with the … intimate?”

John stared. “We get rid of that recording, for a start. No more home video movie fests of Dad being blown to kingdom come.” John slumped, staring at the paved surface under his feet. “I should have got rid of it years ago.”

“I thought you would try,” Scott confessed. “I took precautions.” He could feel John’s gaze on him like a laser. He smiled, wryly. “Multiple copies encrypted on multiple servers. Physical copies, even, in safety deposit boxes. I doubt even you could find them all.”

“Keep one physical copy.” John decided. “Let Eos hold one digital copy. In case we ever need it. But let her decide if it is necessary for us to see it. Get rid of the rest.”

Scott considered. “And what do I get from this?”

He felt, rather than saw John start beside him. “What?”

Scott turned to face his brother. “I’d be making some big concessions. What do I get?”

John’s jaw dropped. “You’re seriously negotiating over this?”

Scott nodded, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve said what you want. What do I get out of it?”

“You mean other than a longer life expectancy?”

“Nobody’s guaranteed that, John. We both know that too well.”

John frowned. “What do you want, Scott? You obviously have something in mind.”

Scott nodded. “Time.”

“Time? I thought that was what you were getting?”

“Your time.”

“My time?”

“On earth.” John gaped. “Regular rotation to operate from Tracy Island. Later, if Alan wants, you can trade off with him. But you get your butt down here, regularly, and spent time with us, in 1G, not that equivalent centrifugal force you get up there.” He nodded at the sky to indicate Thunderbird Five. “Because as you said yourself, John, space does bad things to the human body.” Scott shook his head. “You said you couldn’t cope without me, and not to ask you to try. But what makes you think I could cope without you?” He reached out and poked his brother in the chest. “What gives you the right to ask me to try?”

John stared. “Okay,” was all he managed, his voice strangled.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what?”

John breathed deeply and swallowed. “Okay, if you will make changes, seek help, and get rid of that video, in order to improve your mental and physical health; I will spend more time on Earth, improve my physical regime, and stick to it.”

Scott frowned, considering the words, turning them over in his head, looking for any loophole his brother could exploit. He couldn’t find any. He held out his hand to John. “Deal.”

“Deal.” John took his hand and they sealed the pact in the same way they had sealed many pacts over the years, as boys and men.

They stood in silence for a long while, contemplating the ocean and the stars, and the future, before finally Scott yawned. As if on cue, John replied in kind.

Scott nudged him. “Bed, John. Sleep.”

John nudged him back. “Same for you.”

They walked together back to the house, separating at the lounge without speaking, Scott to head to the rare luxury of his bed, and John to the hangers so as to return to Thunderbird Five and his quarters there. The next few days and weeks would be disturbing enough for all of them, no point worrying the rest of the family by breaking routine just yet.

Neither knew what the next few days would bring, and how that would shape the rest of their lives, but they had at least the beginnings of a plan, a course of action to start them off and some idea of the destination they were heading towards. No doubt it would be hard work, but individually and as a family they were no strangers to hard work.

And they believed one thing, above all others: that when someone cried out for help, they deserved an answer.

Especially when it was one of their own.

Notes:

Part of the ‘Questions, Answers, and Other Family Matters’ series.

In Part 2 of ‘The Question’, I threw in a line about Scott not being able to see the Zero-X footage anymore, and didn’t think anything about it.

Well, time passed, and I thought about it.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

#fanfic #my fanfic #thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #john tracy #pre 'The Long Reach'#mental health

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aureamoretti · 4 months

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"Maybe she was nobody’s daughter, but she had a mother in the moon."

She is smaller than him, she uses that to her advantage. Smaller and faster, she weaves around him, slipping from his grip to land blows. The moment she stops moving, it's over, if he gets a hand on her it's all over. But he does, slips a hand around her throat and lifts her before the crowd and her eyes drift towards the moon illuminating the arena. She remembers the sound of her mother’s voice calling for her from a ways down the path. They’re taking a walk through the woods, she has wandered off again, that is what she does. Never that far, she wanders back down the path towards her mother, but a noise gives her pause. It’s a singular howl and it makes the hair at the back of her neck stand up. Just the one howl and then there’s another and another until it’s a symphony of sound. She can't give that up. Bones break back into place, snap from wolf to woman and from Valamir's grasp she slips only to once again draw out claws and fangs. It is something far from calculated, sloppy and feral as her jaws snap over skin, tearing into it. This had started as a way to prove herself to no one else but herself. Now she wasn't ready to bow out, the idea of such a thing had gone out the window the moment Nash had stepped away. Face covered in viscera, her eyes go to the crowd, to her watching family, to the wolves of Rome, but most importantly the moon. Shining high, full and even more beautiful than usual. Lycaon and Fenrir step beside her, the crowd is loud, they are declaring her the winner, but she swears she almost can't hear them over the sound of her heart beating in her chest. There's Eoin and Virgil and Tripp, Paloma not too far behind them pushing to get closer to the front of the crowd. Smiling so wide her face hurts, Aurea mouths a "hi" at them as if they were coming to see her slay at Hell's Bells Open Mic Night. She can feel them, all of them. Their strength, their excitement, the adrenaline, the pack is one united heartbeat and it all blurs together, hers and theirs and she kind of hopes the tears in her eyes wash away some of the blood. She throws her head back and she howls. She howls because she is now the conductor of the symphony of sound she'd always heard as a child.

#edit.#self para.#//im still in tears #//thank u for this opportunity

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samwisegamgeeee · 6 months

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hey, I loved your enby poem in spanish so much. you mentioned it being a first draft, I was wondering if you finalized you posted the completed version of it somewhere, or if you're still working on it, if you could let me know if and when you finished ? again I adored it and how you played off of a trait of spanish that's just not able to be translated to english (it reminded me a lot of some of the stuff virgil did using latin in the aeneid and in a massive language nerd)

If you couldn't tell, I'm a massive language nerd too hahaha. I'm so glad you liked my poem! I've copy and pasted the final version below.

“Masculino como el amor, femenino como la espada”

Si tienes que usar el masculino conmigo, usa el masculino como lo usas para el azúcar para el lobo el amor y el mar. Pero si tienes que usar el femenino, úsalo como lo usas para la linde para la tierra la guerra y la mar. Llámame masculino como el día como el melocotón el cuerpo y el cometa. O, llámame femenino como la noche como la piedra la alma y la mano. Masculino como el viento, femenino como la tormenta. El hueso, la sangre. El mito, la magia. El sol, la luna. Si tienes que usar el masculino conmigo, o si tienes que usar el femenino, llámame femenino con la boca y la lengua o llámame masculino con los dientes y los pulmones. O si puedes llámame por mi nombre. Llámame yo.

Translation: Masculine like love, feminine like the sword

If you have to use the masculine for me, use the masculine like you use it for sugar for the wolf love and the sea. But if you have to use the feminine, use it like you use it for the boundary for earth war and the Sea. Call me masculine like the day like the peach the body and the comet. Or, call me feminine like the night like the stone the soul and the hand. Masculine like the wind, feminine like the storm. The bone, the blood. The myth, the magic. The sun, the moon. If you have to use the masculine for me, or if you have to use the feminine, call me feminine with your mouth and your tongue or call me masculine with your teeth and your lungs. Or if you can call me by my name. Call me myself.

#sorry it took me so long to get back to you!!!#i mostly use mobile and it never tells me when i have asks :(#masculino como el amor femenino como la espada #mantha speaks

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tastic-in-its-finest · 7 months

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Strike Midnight

Ao3

For the @tss-october-ghostwriters event, the prompts transformation, full moon, midnight, ancient, and a little bit of magic were used :)

Warnings and tags: Minor violence, tw blood, mentions of murdering/killing, and animal attacks

Summary: To improve an imperfect world, he does what needs to be done. Roman, a human, hunts the feral and out of control monsters in his path while sparing the misunderstood, along with his twin brother Remus.

However, it's hard to hunt a werewolf when it turns out to be your own brother.

Written by: @tastic-in-its-finest, for my lovely Giftee @edupunkn00b

...

He searched every corner and crevice yet couldn’t find it. Roman checked almost every burrow, climbing many trees of the dark and deep thicket of the forest to survey the area. He knew he wasn’t trying as hard as he should. He wasn’t desperate enough to cannonball into a lake just yet. Yet the ancient bracelet he was trying to find seemed unreachable.

He was given instructions by Janus, a snake deity, of which surrounding area to look, and bribing them with the sweet ‘rewards’ to come with it.

He could try to enjoy the rewards, if not for him, then for his brother Remus. He didn’t hate the Janus, harboring only a slight dislike for him since he’d met him, but they bonded over theater and a love for drama. And he wasn’t about to let his brother down, who was enthralled with any ideas Janus had in mind, even if they were clueless of their prize.

He took a short break to wait for the impending sunset, in the middle of a semi-open clearing with rocks nearby, he could mentally hear Janus scolding him. Where is he meant to find this anyway? Janus didn’t tell them too many specifics to find the bracelet; like a key hidden under a rock.

Well, what did he have to lose?

Looking under one, two, three stones, and the fourth, much larger and stuck in the ground. He pulled harder, and harder, before it popped out and he almost decked his beautiful face. It isn’t stuck to mud however, a shiny silver pendant, or bracelet somehow found itself lost. The bastard who stole and threw it away knew where to hide it. It was the exact description he needed.

“Eureka,” he whispered, drying the wet and dirt, wearing the ancient bracelet, golden, fabulous, the smell of metal grazing his wrist, quite charming, preparing to speak with Remus about his discovery.

A hesitant twig broke close, near one of the large bushes. Roman felt eyes prying the back of his head. He wanted to think Remus was attempting to scare him, poorly, but Remus knew better.

The handle of his sword proved a sturdy grip, seethed in his lightweight holster for now, he waited.

“Show yourself!” He yelled, as he swung his sharp sword out and a fast figure tripped him down, standing unfazed in front of him dark and stormy. A sharp face he found all too familiar these days.

“You.” He pointed his sword, finding the means to pull himself up while looking at the unimpressed emo nightmare, V, short for vampire, held an black spider web umbrella one-handed, big enough to cover him completely.

“You’re too easy sometimes… princey,” Roman glared, remaining serious, yet slightly relaxing the tip of his sword towards the vampire's turtleneck.

“What sort of a nickname is that?”

The pale emo grinned, “If you don’t want to be called a prince, don’t act or dress like one,” the vampire gestured towards his favorite red sash over his hunting clothes.

“Should I call you a dark and stormy knight then, cause that’s exactly what you are,” with layers upon layers of black and gray clothing in the hot grueling sun.

“Real original of you.”

“It’s the only thing I can call you, unless you give me a name.”

“In your dreams.”

His name was not V, but he was called Virgil. Stuck in an open area, one of his many obstacles, he ran into him, all of his stamina diminished, the sun already tiring him. The extremely skilled and dangerous monster hunter, his sword resting near his side, ready to strike him at any moment, “What’s your play vampire?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

"My brother will be here any minute. I'd hate for him to kill you before I do,” he playfully tapped him, but Virgil internally wondered if he was being serious or not.

"Lower your sword, then we can talk," Virgil tried to put the most nonchalant voice imaginable, he cringed when he croaked the words out. The hunter listened.

"...Have you been stalking me?"

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not the only reason I’m out here,” he stepped forward, looking distantly behind Roman. The side dense area of trees were difficult to traverse by, more difficult with an umbrella no less, however, he could make a run for it, only, a sharp and cold blade tapped and pressed the tip of his bicep before he could move forward.

He blinked rapidly, “You want to do this now?”

“We don’t have a truce at the moment,” The hunter flashed a cocky grin, stance in the ready. He was testing him, always, but Virgil never wanted to believe he couldn’t be. Didn’t think he noticed the wooden stake slotted near his sword holster. Make sure he never touches it.

“Cocky, princey,” Virgil looked into the deadly rays of the sun, the dark umbrella his only protection, assessing his situation. He put his hood up.

From what he could gather, it was a pure coincidence they met again. But Roman was ready to defeat him this time, defend his honor and beat his brother to the kill.

He took the first swing, missing by an inch, another, another, and another, the monster ducked, shielding the blow meant to strike his face as his back sizzled from a lack of protection. The vampire hissed, scratching Roman’s cheek, burning and painful.

Backing away, Roman got stunned by such a violent reaction, furthermore, V remained in defense. Taking a chance, he kept stepping forward, swinging fast, failing to kick his chest, and swiping his legs from under him with a katana. The fiend stumbled into the grass. He tried stomping to the side of his pale face yet rolling out from under him, swiping at Roman’s spine, getting a hard grip on his hands, flipping him onto his back as his hood fell off.

Groaning in pain, pushing himself up, the monster tried kicking him to the ground while he was vulnerable. Roman ducked, slashing the torn Umbrella. Hissing, cowering and retreating from the sun, Roman rushes forward and trying to pin him to the tree, his head hit it too hard, knocking him out cold.

Roman leaned on the tree, catching his breath, the vampire lucky enough to be left in the shade of the leaves. Seething his sword, somehow without a trace of vampire blood, in his holster, fitting the wooden stake in his hand.

Standing over V, blissfully unaware of what could be a stake about to be driven in his heart, turned Roman’s stomach. He gripped the stake, he could do it, rid the world of one more evil. Yet he blanks trying to search for an evil deed V committed. He isn’t feral. This wasn’t honorable, it felt so wrong. He would have hated to be murdered this way.

The stake is slit in its rightful place, along with neatly folding the umbrella. Leaving after his slight distraction.

…

Remus is having the time of his life. Swinging upside down on trees, squeezing his bum into every burrow, and cannonballing into a lake to find an eensie weensie ancient trinket bracelet thing and the magic to neutralize the strengths of those who weld it. He was given sort of clear instructions by his close friend Janus, an idea of the whereabouts, and the sweet long morningstar to come with it.

Like any good friend, he lamented on a large stone, reeking of wet dog, cuddling his stick and staring at his reflection in the water, throwing small stones that emerged in the water at himself. It was going to be hard to earn his trust back, after what he did. One bracelet and he can have his weapon back instead of using a sad and sharp stick to murder monsters when he needs to, and of course, Janus’ unconditional love that he cherished more than anything. If only he could see how hard he is trying now.

Echoing through the thicket, a low whistle drew his attention, a call to warn him of his twin's return, in case Remus tried stabbing him.

“Back so late?”

“I have what we need, let's go,” Roman’s shoulders were unusually tense, Remus didn’t question it. Pulling out a large map to guide them out of the unfamiliar area.

“Want to make time for hunting feral werewolves or Rougaros?”

“Well, if only he thought about that on a night other than a full moon,”

“Boo, you’re such a bore. We can do both.”

Roman gasped, feigning annoyance. They crowd the map. Only a few paces north to reach Umbra, a magical spirited place, reachable by oak trees where Janus resided most of his time. The journey was easy however long it was, hopefully they could get back to do some proper werewolf hunting.

…

The confusing fuzziness began to emb. The bark was rough on his pounding head and scarred back, the tingling burn on the side of his face slowly reconstructing the skin, remembering how he ran away and the umbrella broke.

The hunter is nowhere in sight, he waited, and nothing came of it.

Virgil huffed, moving the umbrella folded neatly in his lap, flexing the panel, a large obnoxious ripe in the fold, great.

Moving along, he couldn’t believe the hunter let him go with only a mild headache. It could have been much worse. Dying wasn’t too far of an option. Probably sparring him out of pity, he wouldn’t doubt it. Virgil just wanted to leave the clearing.

His boot clinks, glaring down, a round metal bracelet under his foot. He reaches down, probably something the prince owned. He tries it for himself, a sudden wash of drowsiness and fatigue traveled from his arm, a scary amount of relaxation as he couldn’t see sharper or hear farther, he yanked it away shrieking.

He’d rather not touch it ever again, but maybe he really wanted to get back at the hunter, maybe repay him for not killing him, as pathetic as it sounds. He pocketed the bracelet and avoided touching it as he squeezed through the bushes, following an obvious trail left by its rightful owner.

…

The sunset started, yet the sky wasn’t fully darkened. Remus’ watch going off and being silenced immediately to watchfully and carefully listen to any howls from werewolves, ready to use his long stake for one they both heard close by. Whilst his brother preoccupied himself, Roman read the map, not surprised if they’ve been walking in circles for the past hour.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Remus took a peek over his shoulder.

“Of course,” he sighed, “We have a long way to go,” Remus held a manic grin, mussing, “Not too far, we can run there.”

“Too risky,” folding the map in his pocket, preparing to traverse first through the tight narrow trees, sticks stabbing his torso, through the rough patch then another path, passed the building, and arriving at the tree, Roman imagined it all going perfectly, hating chopping through the bark. A high pitched whistle turned his attention.

Remus froze, a finger over his lip. Roman stops moving, confused. While it might have been funny to see Roman become frazzled and get attacked by whatever growled in his ear, Janus would chastise him, and Roman would never forgive him. Roman looks petrified, a hand easing down, reaching for his sword.

Remus turns his head around, a black threatening wolf stalks behind them, big, with human eyes, a werewolf, staring at Remus through the trees, a far enough distance where they can run, the closeness of the trees restricting their movements, they decide to run.

Roman is ahead, breaking and hurting his arms as he hurls himself out of the forest.

Remus can’t breathe, he feels the warm breath and slobber on his legs, fighting, fight to get out, he jumps getting yanked by his leg, a sharp and tight bite on his ankle, he kicks its snout shouting, shielding his face, the long jaw chewing on his tough leather jacket, with no weapon but a stupid stick.

“Roman!” He punches, punching as hard as he can until Roman finally stabs it’s head. The wolf whimpered and cried, scattering away into the darkness.

“Are you ok?” Roman kneels down.

“Where were you?!”

“Remus-“

“You watch me get mauled by a wolf and ask me if I’M OK?!” Roman didn’t know how to respond.

“… Are you?” It quieted, Remus never got so frustrated before, it felt off.

“Sorry. I’m fine, check for bites,” Remus prompts his arm, rolling up the sleeve, Roman finds nothing but a tear in his jacket.

“All good, but your leg…” ominously, his boot is torn, notably a sliver of skin, Remus shrugs, pulling off his boot, no need to roll his socks, exposing a long nasty fresh bite on his ankle.

His heart sunk. Was— was he about to turn? No, no, they had until midnight, reach the Umbra and Janus will cure him before he feels anything.

Remus pushes his boot back on, unable to walk properly, letting Roman support his body with his arm on the path.

“Stay calm. You’re going to be fine, I promise,” it was beginning to turn dark.

Doubt seeped in.

“How much longer?”

“Just a bit, past the building, near the tree.”

Remus starts laughing, “Imagine me turning and ripping into your face, blood everywhere, then both of us wouldn’t make it with Janus’ stupid pendent.”

“Don’t think like that,” Remus was silenced for a moment, giving Roman time to check his wrist for the bracelet. All the rest is bare skin.

He lost it.

“… I don’t have the pendent anymore.”

Remus starts to laugh hysterically, Roman jostles him, “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything. Who cares about the pendent, we need to get you someplace safe.”

He hurries his pace, and Remus goes uncharacteristically quiet.

Numb, unconsciously going from zero to hundred, to hearing every chirp, creak, snap, Roman’s booming echoing voice and his own, to utter nothing. His ankle hot flashes every now and again, aching, throbbing, and in need of rest. Remus should have suggested Roman cut off his ankle in favor of ridding him from turning into.. a werewolf, slowly starting to accept that to be his reality, and how unsafe Roman would be once he does.

He needed to get away from him, away, run, limp as fast as he could.

Remus gently loosens his grip then pulls away from Roman, “Remus! What are you doing?”

He couldn’t let Roman get hurt, or bitten.

Roman holds him in a tight embrace, Remus scratches his face instead, straying away from the path running and half limping, going through a narrow path to lose his trace.

Roman covers his bleeding cheek, regaining his focus and chasing after Remus, weaving through the deep forest, his footsteps getting further away, lost to the wind of the woods. He continued forward. Sighting the large building in the distance, reaching the gate and the entrance to the abandoned boarding school from the map, left slightly ajar, pushing through and closing behind him, an air of death and a bone chilling cold, as if something invisible watched him, the place abandoned for years.

The caved in roof glowed the full moon's light on Remus, curled into himself stomach growling, he is a physical ball collapsed in the room, barely holding himself together. Roman slowly whistles, and kneels, rubbing a comforting circle on his back. Remus looked up to him, his eyes more navelly green and sharp, but he smiled a toothy sharp grin upon seeing him, contracting in pain again, shriveling.

He shushes, calms him down, doesn't let his emotions get to him. They can prevent this from happening.

The door creaks open. He can hear Remus’ breath hitch, the animalistic panic in his eyes, no, he rubs more circles and stares at a surprised and concerned figure, in all black and gray, a broken umbrella in his hands.

He’s going to kill that vampire.

He rushes as fast as he can to not disturb Remus any further, “V, what are you doing here!?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” V backed into the loud door cowering, the bracelet held in his hand snatched from him, “You had this?” Roman couldn’t believe it.

“Leave now,” Roman couldn’t stress enough how in much in danger he was there.

“I wanted to-“

Roman grabbed his neck scruff, pulling out his stake, “Go, I mean it or I will make you!” V’s eyes widened, about to protest or argue.

A large crack interrupted the room, turning around, Remus’ hand was covered in fur, nails sharpening into claws, ears pointing and morphing, screaming in agony, Roman couldn’t look away. Roman lets go, stepping closer, V holds his shoulder, preventing him as his clothes ripped and his back arched of brown fur, except for a silver streak.

(Wolf?) Remus growled, he couldn’t recognize him, and he was stalking towards them as if they were a fresh meal.

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

Wolf Remus snarls and bites the air, they dodge out of the way. Roman held the handle of his sword, but he didn’t feel the urge to pull it out, even with a hungry, feral, and vicious wolf lunging at him, he used his fists, barely able to miss Remus from biting him, scratching him instead. He’s too large, it’s too easy to let him overpower. He couldn’t hurt him, but he needed to defend himself, he took out the stake… he couldn’t do it.

V pushed Remus from attacking Roman again, but dazing him for a bit, “Look, I know that’s your twin, but you are going to need to wake up right now or he is going to have to live with the fact that he murdered his own brother!!” V yelled, bringing all of his attention to him, toying with Remus, giving Roman time to readjust his focus.

Virgil jumps out of the way of Remus’ lunge on the opposite side of the room, letting one of the twins think over his options, to which they barely had any left. He had no inkling of what to do, other than distract Remus until morning, his stamina during the night was exponentially better, yet he could tell he was already losing his focus and Roman would be bit, skilled hunter or not.

At that moment, he remembered the numbness and tingling feeling of the bracelet, making him more powerless than he’d remembered in a long time. It seemed him and the hunter had a similar idea.

“V pin him down!!” Roman waved the bracelet in the air, along with gaining the wolf’s attention. Virgil sprints towards the doorway, gripping his abandoned umbrella, jumping on the wolf's back and blinding him with its leftover remnants. He wiggles and snarls trying to throw him off, a hand on his snout, torso, lightly stepping on his leg and balancing himself.

Roman rushed over, pinning the furry pastern, sliding on the jewelry, holding it in place until it took effect. His escaping efforts faded into slow breathing, enough Virgil removed his blindfold and respectfully removed his strong hands and feet from pinning him, almost lulled to peaceful sleep. It took a long time but then he stopped moving into a slumber.

V and Roman shared a deep breath of relief as they waited until morning.

…

During the night, Virgil and Princey were careful to make a makeshift bed for the werewolf, they debated keeping watch, neither were too comfortable with watching the others sleep and letting the other watch over them, collectively deciding to stay up most of the night.

Virgil zipped up his jacket, needing to leave early to avoid the sun and any prolonged interact with the twins bound to end in despair, seeing the Prince succumbed to sleep either way, he tiptoed to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Prince stared at him, somewhat close to the exit, standing up.

He sighed, “I have to leave before the sun rises, since someone ruined my umbrella,” the hunter blushed in embarrassment, “I apologize for that.”

V couldn’t stop thinking, if he didn’t intrude, he never would have caused such a butterfly effect.

“Look, I feel like a major jerk. Here,” Roman thought he must have been glaring. V rummaged through his pocket, he pulled out a lavender paper colored roll, “What’s this?”

“Wolfsbane bandages, it’ll heal your wounds and his so.. yeah,” V awkwardly walked to open the door.

“V, or, whatever your name is, thank you. Don’t let me catch you,” they shared a smile, the dark of the night beginning to lighten.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

He probably was going to regret this.

“My name… is Virgil,” he noticed the hunter's eyes widen before softening again, mentally assessing the name and accepting it.

“See you around.. Virgil.”

He gave a military salute, “See you Princey.”

He closed the door behind him.

…

The next day in Umbra

Remus felt completely fine, a sore throat and a headache, along with a few bruises cooled by the bandages the hot and mysterious vampire they’ve been hunting for months, given to Roman while he was out cold, were his only issues.

“You can’t move in your state darling. I know it’s going to be impossible. You’re the best couch potato I know, why don’t you stay for a few days?” Janus tried convincing him to remain hostage in Umbra, surprisingly Roman agreed.

The calm and alluring waves of Umbra smoothened his muscles, the hot chamomile tea mixed with potion infusion Janus brewed eased his ribs, and Roman checked on him every now and then while he laid on bed rest. Roman didn’t talk much about what Remus did as a werewolf, his memory went blank, he barely remembered that he had even gone inside the boarding school without one of Roman’s passing comments. But he knew did remember Roman happy to see him awake.

His eyes blared open, blinking ever so slightly to a ruined ceiling laying on the floor. Remus was running, his ankle throbbed, he found a gate, then…

“Remus?” Remus was running away from Roman, he was about to turn into a werewolf.

He hummed in response, the blankets enfolded with his naked body were ragged but warm.

“How are you feeling?” he tilted his head.

Remus grinned, “I’ve never been better.”

...

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic dukexiety #sanders sides fanfiction #:)#tw blood #werewolves #murder mention #tssoctobersubmission2023 #i hope i did this justice

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the-amaranthine-terminal · 1 month

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Welcome to the Amaranthine Terminal! Where shalt thou be heading today, passenger?

I think it's about time I do an introduction post of mine own but I'm not exactly GREAT at them so this will probably be short

Good morrow! Thou hast reached the Amaranthine Terminal! I am your train conductor, you can call me Virgil, Liam, Don Quixote, Moirai, or San and I use sie/hir, toh/tohs, mo/mos, and they/he pronouns!

My favourite colours are purple, green, and yellow! I just think they look pretty neat :D 💜💚💛

Currently into things like Project Moon (mainly LoR and LimbComp since I haven't gotten LCorp. yet...), PHIGHTING!, Decaying Winter, Fundamental Paper Education, killing/death/survival game shenanigans (stuff like YTTD, Kenikari, Ayakashi Akashi, yada yada), LOTSA STUFF that if I list them all here it'll be a whole ass novel 😭

I listen to a lot of things like Mili, Eve, comfi beats (Lilypichu), Feryquitous, and a lot more! All genres of music I love listening to!!!

Erhmmm I think that's it la... If I have more things to add, I'll definitely add them! But until then, enjoy the ride, passenger! ~💜

⚠️ IMPORTANT NOTICE! (please read the passage below!)

My blog is a mature one and not for children (why would children be on this site anyways-) or the faint of heart! I swear, make adult jokes (sometimes), and a lot of times you'll find my drawings including things like blood, gore, all that stuff and I don't always put a warning on them.

So PLEASE! If thou art uncomfortable with all the topics I mentioned, click off or proceed with caution!

Catch me in my silly streams here!

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miirshroom · 3 months

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The Dark Souls Pendant

A simple pendant with no effect. Even so, pleasant memories are crucial to survival on arduous journeys.

I have been looking up the 12 year old discourse over the Dark Souls Pendant item.

People like to bring it up as an example of Miyazaki "trolling" by saying he'd pick a useless item as a starting gift. With evidence being in a later interview saying that was "a bit of an intention to play a prank". I agree that there is a prank happening here, but it took all of 15 minutes for me to read a few wiki pages and think of at least four reasons why Miyazaki would pick the pendant as a starting gift. So. I will go through them.

1) Questline Importance

To draw attention to the nature of hollows, and perhaps generally incentivize people to look at questlines holistically in considering the fail states to be as significant as the successes. There is an NPC in the game named Rhea who drops the pendant item if her quest terminates early by being slain by another NPC - Petrus. If her quest is progressed further to the Duke's Archives (crystal dragon library) she turns hollow and instead upon death only drops her Ivory Talisman - no Pendant. The Ivory Talisman is an interesting thing of itself to be obtained at the end of this quest, considering that its name translates to "the false dreams of the greatness of man" (poet Virgil wrote of receiving false dreams by passing through the gates of ivory, and "talis" is Latin for "so great"). But regardless, turning hollow = loss of the pendant = loss of pleasant memories.

2) For Trade Value

a.k.a. Affiliation with the Blade of the Dark Moon covenant. The Pendant may be traded to the invisible crow "Snuggly" who desires things that are soft and warm. In return, the player receives the Souvenir of Reprisal that is used to increase rank in the Dark Moon covenant. This item has the form of "a blood drained shrunken ear". Some sources say that this use for the pendant was not available at launch and only patched in later, but regardless as the director Miyazaki would have known that this trade is intended. And perhaps this is the extent of the prank - he knew for a fact that the "functionality" of the item literally did not exist but what it does have are its trade value and its lore value.

3) Rejection of the Dark Moon Covenant

The Dark Moon Covenant is unlocked by finding a plain gold coloured ring called the Darkmoon Seance Ring and equipping it to speak with secret endgame boss Gwyndolin behind a fog wall. If you ever cross the fog wall to see Gwyndolin you get kicked out of the covenant. Members of this covenant use the blue eye orb to invade other players who have committed PVE or PVP "sins", where the names of players who have done and their sin level are written in the Book of the Guilty. Altogether quite convoluted. Originally, before the launch of Dark Souls Miyazaki said that he would choose the pendant or "nothing". I imagine because he is not a game character who needs an item to recall pleasant memories - he is a person who keeps his memories in his head. And similarly the Souvenir of Reprisal would be a reprisal on a meta level. Something of a warning against being so willing to trade away happy memories in the service of an intangible entity. Weigh and measure what it costs to devote hours to hunting achievements and secrets and high ranks in video games compared to anything else that you could be doing or thinking about.

4) Foreshadowing

This is also sortof a combination of points 2 and 3. As mentioned, the Souvenir of Reprisal is in the form of a severed ear. And I can't help but notice that Sir Gideon Ofnir's illustration at the start of Elden Ring shows him lying in a bed of severed ears. Ofnir being a name for Odin, who famously has two ravens named "Thought" and "Memory". Considering that the pendant is representative of memory there are some pieces that can be put together here. Also, wiggling at the corner of my mind are the opening lines of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him." Speaking of foreshadowing, put a pin in that for later - it might become relevant when discussing the significance of the Rubicon River and the longest year in the history of the Roman calendar.

But then there is also the Dark Moon covenant, which comes back in Elden Ring in connection to Ranni. It is in the lore snippets that Ranni was affiliated with the Dark Moon, but this is perhaps no longer the case - I find it more likely that she left the Dark Moon behind in Chelona Rise and now merely adopts the aesthetic. She never does use the spell that has her name attached to it. There is no dark moon covenant in Elden Ring - or any covenants - because FromSoft does not care any more to stoke player incentive to grief others or to have a group of players dedicated to griefing the "rulebreakers". People are more than happy to deliver unpleasant memories to other people for free.

So for the people who would accept nothing less than the Pendant being a mechanical key that opens a secret door - they are missing the point of the "trolling". Instead of making a pleasant memory out of exploration and appreciating the artistic work for what it is, they have chosen to make it a negative memory of the time they pushed all of the buttons in a Skinner box and nothing happened. And memetically convey this experience upon other people. Placing external blame on an internal inability to cope with trial and failure to receive a reward that was never actually promised. It is indeed a failure to internalize that basically every time Dark Souls - and Miyazaki himself - "pranks" its players it is to teach a lesson about the themes of the game underlying the lore.

(Also, the Pendant does have a legitimate use in the Dark Souls boardgame. The Pendant image is attached to the "Heroic Action" token that is flipped to indicate usage of the special abilities of each class. The boardgame was designed and released multiple years after the video game, but would have passed approvals with FromSoft, for what it's worth.)

#Dark Souls #Case in point: I got “pranked” by the Capra demon fight too many times and turned off the game #Elden Ring is right there and is a much friendlier place to learn whatever I'd need to actually play through Dark Souls #If I feel like it someday #Because Capra Demon and his two hunting dogs is representative of Orion and oh boy does that come back over and over in FromSoft games #FromSoftware metanarrative #I'm half expecting that pendant = “penned ant” was intentionally spun into the use of ants as enemies in Elden Ring

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