#source: off-the-white-violin

[grokebaby]

Siru tries to gather more about Pesticinger without it knowing. Things she'd rather hear from other perspectives - other opinions. Other details..

An elderly field guard shakes her head at Siru. "You shan't be asking about things like these, fledgling", the old grouse craws. "Knowledge helps ward off danger that ignorance attracts.." responds Siru, and gets somewhere. The old grouse insists that the common courtesy is to stay silent in the presence of this plague. To not address it, nor respond to it. Silent treatment altogether, and preferably, stay far away. This is how field guards typically operate with plagues - don't entertain, don't engage. Siru nods. Someone who avoids Pesticinger like the- well.. You know.. Can't know too much about her. Siru moves on.

A lowly scavenger, a crow villager with the voice of a gull, takes her up on her questions much better. It's best to ask people who Siru couldn't be traced back with - so frequents and familiar faces are out of the question. The gull voiced rogue posits that a screaming match is the most efficient way to deal with Pesticinger. Make it loud loud loud, and it can't steal your voice. Do not stop talking. That would let it steal. Very opposite advice to the previous one, Siru thinks, and stops to wonder which source is the more reliable one. The scavenger asks for goods in exchange for more information, and Siru has nothing more than fox bread to offer. It earns her one last tip: Never volunteer any new or useful words to the plague. Repeat back nonsense only.

Siru's search grows wider.

She spots a giant grasshopper in the far fields, leading to Maggots den. It plays it's violin - a scratchy, wandering tune. And it sings of humans. A musician must be more knowledgeable about someone like the white winged bird. Siru seats by a rock near the grasshopper, offering herself as audience. She begins to listen of a singing tale that speaks of insect hordes - Something the composer itself has little interest in participating. It tells tales of Pesticinger offering grubs of all kinds a residence inside the ear canals of humans. They would feed there, until they're full enough to cocoon, and the humans drive themselves mad trying to claw the grubs out. Mad, and notably deaf. The grasshopper sings a tale of Pesticinger, with her grandiose Orchestra of songbirds, keeping entire human towns awake, night in and night out, with their ceaseless singing. They've become more hesitant of this practice upon discovering the humans have their own noisy tools to counter: they call these guns.

Siru wants to ask of Pesticinger more after the show, but the huffy grasshopper asks for a tip in exchange for it's music. Siru, unsure what else to give, teaches the grasshopper a rhyme, staying shut about who she first learned it from (You might already guess).

She heads home, late.

Passing the far ends of the village, she is startled by the sudden passing of white wings above her head, but not to worry. It is the local stork, an assistant of one of the plagues, and true to myth, carrying a bundle in its beak. Siru levels her breathing, and asks has the stork seen any other big white birds around lately. The stork recounts Pesticinger serenading it this past spring - complimenting it's delivery work. The stork, earnest, offered to work for Pesticinger as well, though she seemed less enthused by this. The stork, confused, wonders outloud why she would request it's company, if not for chicks. Siru is a little taken aback to learn something like this about Pesticinger, but figures whatever bird play it might have is probably none of her business. Siru respectfully bows out of the conversation, especially seeing as the small bundle the stork carries, starts chirping.

Siru only feels slightly more informed by the end of the day.

#Pesticinger Tuholaulaja #Siru #My ocs #My writing #oc poetry #Oc writing #Cryptid oc #Yay I wrote! :) #I've had many ideas kiiinda like this but I would like to do more similar writings

[alby-rei]

Comte's Ghost Mansion (IkeVamp; Luigi's Mansion AU) Part 2

a/n: Decided to get this one out soon since Part 1 was more of a prologue. Happy reading! ✨

Tags: Humor, Crack treated seriously, Luigi's Mansion AU, Spooky scary spectral vampires, Ghostbuster MC WordCount: ~1200 words Characters: You, Ghost!Mozart, Comte (mentioned) Previous: Part 1 Next: Part 3

~*~

You lifted the oil lamp given to you by Sebastian to fight off the cold gloom of the mansion, shielding you with a warm, orange barrier. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness eventually. Trotting up the stairs, you opted to explore the east wing first.

A long hallway stretched before you, similar to the one you woke up in, if not the same one. Framed pictures hung against the wall that you passed by. Most of them were generic landscape paintings. You stopped at one that had a name engraved under it.

'Le Comte de Saint-Germain.'

It was terribly dusty. Curious, you removed the dust with the vacuum.

The force of its suction was much stronger than you expected. It latched onto the painting so hard you feared it would crumble and tear.

You, being an amateur at this, could not escape the dust storm that ensued from prying the vacuum off, sending you into a sneezing fit. You stumbled, crashing into something with your elbow. The crash of something fragile froze you in place. It sounded like porcelain.

Little embers illuminated the crime scene. You vacuumed the floor as well as you could, but the larger pieces remained as incriminating evidence. You pushed them under a chair, your sole witness, and hurried along. 

“What Sebastian doesn’t know won’t hurt me,” you convinced yourself.

You peeked behind you, discerning if it was hidden enough from a distance. The darkness helped. For now. 

Turning the corner, you slowed down to catch your breath. Oddly enough, lively piano music could be heard at the end of this new hallway. It was a catchy melody, one that had you walking in step with the tempo. It was hypnotizing in the way it made you forget what happened earlier. You followed the sound to its source, opening every door on the way. They were all locked.

“Aha!” Right outside where the music was loudest, the click of the doorknob meant you could go through.

You were met with a lone fortepiano in the middle of a pristine white room. Along one wall were instrument cases, probably for violins or violas. You struggled to tell them apart. From an arched window, moonlight peeked between the clouds, reflecting off the white keys in a heavenly glow. Little wispy particles danced in the air as the piano keys played themselves.

You stepped closer, mesmerized by the music, cheerful and uplifting. Familiar, the kind of merry tune that gathers dancing folk at a festival. The day before you visited the Louvre museum, you attended an orchestra concert celebrating Mozart’s 268th birthday. That must be where you heard it.

The piano played its last chord, drawing out its sound until it faded naturally. Scribbles appeared on sheet music paper leaning against the piano's rack, transcribed by a floating ink-stained quill. You blinked and tilted your head around the empty seat. Out of curiosity, you pressed some of the keys.

SLAM!

You jumped back and recoiled your hand, for a couple of reasons. One, the piano was out to get you for using it without permission. Two, there was now a fuming phantom-like figure sitting at the piano. His entire form was wrapped in an ethereal light, and you could see through him at certain angles. 

“You dare interrupt my creative process?” His voice echoed in the room. “Have you no respect for a musician’s craft?!” 

A gentleman, around the same height as Sebastian, stood up (he had no legs, you noted, so perhaps “floated up” may be more apt) and fixed a glare upon you. His white hair reached past his ears with a fringe swept in an arc, partially obscuring his striking lilac eyes. But it could not conceal the ire behind them. His figure towered over you as he drew near. If he was not about to kill you, you may have called him handsome.

“Hey, let’s talk about this,” you stalled as you fumbled to get your vacuum back on. “What you played was beautiful, I just didn’t notice that you were there.”

You could say he lacked stage presence, but you kept that to yourself.

He narrowed his eyes, keeping his distance from you. “That machine… Hmph, I won’t let you capture me that easily.” The instrument cases unzipped themselves, releasing floating violins from their sleep. They hovered beside the paranormal performer, who blocked your path to the exit. The violin strings acted as a crossbow for violin bows that materialized from thin air. They followed your every move.

You ducked just in time, and a violin bow zipped past you and shattered against the wall into a thousand sparks.

This ghost was not messing around!

At last, the vacuum whirred to life. It vibrated incessantly against your back, like a massage chair. Dodging with the machine proved difficult. You used the piano in the center as a shield, but you knew you had to confront the phantom eventually.

Your aim was shaky, but you managed to redirect the violins away from you. They took time to aim each shot. Once you figured out the rhythm of the attacks, you leveraged the downtime between each one to target the paranormal performer.

The tube latched onto his cravat, bending his figure like a boomerang. He flailed and stretched his arms beyond human proportions in search of an anchor. Struggling against his resistance, you cranked up the strength with an unsteady hand.

Stumbling around the room, you strained to keep the tube locked on its target. Try as he might to wiggle his way out, the paranormal performer proved no match against the Poltergust’s power. His shrieks filled the room, oddly melodic like he was singing his last goodbye to the world. Once he was fully captured, only the blare of the vacuum remained.

You breathed heavily, whirling around expecting more ghosts to pop up. Your whole body shook. You blamed the machine’s vibrations against your back. Seeing no further threats, you switched it off. The shaking didn’t stop.  

“So,” you said. “Sebastian really was a ghostbuster, then.” And now, so were you.

You picked up the ink-tipped quill that the paranormal performer held. Beside it was a key. You twirled both items between your fingers. Normal to the touch, nothing magical about them.

“Was that one of the ‘esteemed guests’ I was supposed to avoid disturbing?” You scoffed. “Maybe he shouldn’t have disturbed me first!”

Feeling justified in your self-defense, you grabbed the sheet music and the quill and threw them into your item pouch. They seemed ‘of interest’ enough by your standards to return to the butler. At the very least, you had more questions for him. You kept the key in hand, maybe it would unlock one of the doors you passed by.

Stepping out of the room, you walked with a spring in your step. You just faced a ghost! And lived to tell the tale! Now knowing what you were up against, you kept your eyes peeled for any more irregular movements.

After reaching a dead end, you walked back by the broken porcelain in the first hallway. The painting of ‘Le Comte de Saint-Germain’ was still intact. You sighed in relief, and you could actually observe the painting properly.

The subject of the portrait gazed at you with mysterious amber eyes. There was wisdom behind his gaze, like that of a timeworn tome, and a touch of melancholy. His smile was warm and inviting but didn’t quite reach those eyes. Illuminated by the lamp, recognition washed over you. You’ve seen that same sweeping blond hair and tailored suit before.

It was the same man who you met at the Louvre!

~*~

Back to Masterlist

#ikevamp mozart #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire comte de saint germain #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire #ikevamp x reader #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ghost mansion au #luigi's mansion au #crack treated seriously #ikemen vampire x reader #humor #ikevamp writing #spooky scary spectral vamps #ghostbuster mc #alby rei

[grimmmviewing]

S1E5: “Danse Macabre”—B+ (Watched 2/16/24)

“You cops?”

“Yeah, we’ve been called worse.”

There’s a lot to like about this episode: a pretty grody-looking corpse; plenty of shots of adorable rats scampering around; character interactions, like Sergeant Wu and Hank together at a bar or Monroe trying to mentor the hot-headed Roddy, that feel like a treat since they happen outside Nick’s immediate orbit; the hapless rich teens descending into what looks like such an obvious trap while essentially bragging to one another about how many times their parents have tried to call them for some delicious dramatic irony; Roddy playing what amounts to electric violin to direct his rat army in this massive underground room lit with candles. The combination of his rave-hosting “DJ Retchid Kat” tech and big, goofy, pink cat mask-head with the ominous, old timey light sources and the visual of the multitudes of rats in this space that’s got this turquoise and orange look is a real potent mix. The show continues to be quite entertaining, and particular lines or visuals demonstrate a certain flair and sense of fun or creativity.

This one is almost great—I just wish it had more to say about some of the themes it flirts with, even though I’m not exactly surprised, given that this is network television.

Maybe I thought I’d make it longer without using the word “copaganda,” but here I go (using it). Grimm is part of a long tradition of media that gives cops a whole lot of credit. I know it’s also a fantasy show where your refrigerator repair man turns out to actually be some sort of man-sized rodent… man, but it’s still got all the usual police procedural baggage, and outside the context of a fantasy show, the irritation and desperation Roddy and his dad express about their treatment by the system/police is pretty messed up (and accurate). The courtesy call Roddy gets late in the episode, where a dispassionate male voice tells him “I have to inform you, your father was injured when he refused to enter his cell,” is just so brutal: Like his dad just got stepped on by the universe or something and wasn’t abused by human beings doing their so-called jobs?

“I’d like an answer before politics screw things up,” says Nick’s boss at one point, which is… great.

Classism is another theme here that is ultimately not exactly paid off satisfactorily. Roddy was targeted for being too poor to have such talent or a rich girlfriend:

“You’re gonna pay.” / “Some of us can afford to.”

“That boy does not belong in our school.” / “Or in your neighborhood?”

(That second pair comes from a rich white mother and Hank, the show’s nearly singular Black character.)

Those are some excellent lines that feel perfectly barbed in the moment but are perhaps gesturing at things that are a bit too big (and dangerous) for this show to do anything meaningful with them. It’s a bit like Monroe’s blustery, abortive man-to-man talk with Roddy in that it says some things but misses a whole lot as well.

#nbc grimm #tv series #review #rewatch

[siriannatan]

Hidden Talent - Wither Husbands

Well. Funny where procrastination leads you. For example, creating Star Rail Alt, and seeing Kafka mock play violin what leads to a random one-shot. I might have also wanted to write more half-dragon Sausage.

While fWhip would usually just send a messenger to his allies tonight he found himself in Mythland. Apparently, Sausage's court did not appreciate having to talk to him through messengers even if their king did not mind in the slightest. It was not the easiest for fWhip to visit his allies, being a vampire and all that made travelling slightly inconvenient.

For example. His current trip. As much as he enjoyed Sausage and his company, the half-dragon king was, unlike what most thought, an excellent conversationalist. And didn't mind fWhip being a vampire. Even Gem was a bit weird about it and she was his sister. Back to the topic, as much as he liked Sausage and his company he did not like that he was stuck there nearly four nights. And he didn't even get any good official greeting. Just a couple of courtiers came out and showed him and his entourage to the prepared rooms and not even hiding their annoyance at the late hour.

Wasn't Mythland the most devoted to the Blood Sheep out of the whole Alliance? They should be excited that someone blessed by her with vampirism was visiting. Sausage was certainly excited about the whole thing and very eager to help fWhip with getting used to the change. And now he wasn't even there to greet him. Not that fWhip was offended. He understood Sausage was probably busy the whole day and was too tired to stay up and wait for fWhip and his entourage. His court though, should have prepared a proper greeting for the leader of the alliance.

Not that any of it really mattered. The talk about trade routes and protecting them from bandits was much more important. Even the Blood Sheep Festival Mythland wanted to introduce to other empires of the WRA was more important. But he was still a bit disappointed he didn't see Sausage and his dumb smile and dark green scales and his tail smacking his advisors when they said something their king did not like. His solution for his frustration, since he could not tinker and the castle library was closed, was walking around the silent castle with moonlight as the only source of light.

About half an hour of just walking past portraits of former kings he heard music. It was nothing new for Mythland. Sausage inherited his ancestors' love for grand balls with live orchestras playing and many sweet snacks fWhip would miss for a very long time. But a lone violin at midnight? That was very new so he focused his enhanced hearing and made his way to the source of it.

What he found was a small - by Mythland castle standard, playroom open to the rose garden. Summers in Mythland were warm even during the night. And of course, he also found the source of the music. King Sausage himself. Dressed down from his usual multi-layered robes, instead dressed in simple pants and an off-white shirt with a long dark green sleeveless cardigan. Humming along as he played a soft and mildly sad, from what fWhip interpreted and knew about music, song.

While fWhip knew better than most that Sausage was more than the braggadocious king they knew this was very known even to him. So new in fact he didn't know what to do. He really, really didn't want to offend his friend by just standing there like a creep, he also really would like to listen to him play more. A performance like that no doubt took a lot of practice and talent. But he had no idea how to announce himself without startling the other ruler. So he just stood there thinking about what to do until Sausage was done and set the violin aside. And...

"Agh, fWhip... umm. I had no idea you arrived already, the courtiers were supposed to let me..." Sausage instantly straightened up and put himself between the violin and fWhip as if to hide what he was just doing.

"No, no, that's fine, we arrived rather late. I should be apologising for sneaking around your castle," fWhip stopped him with a toothy grin. Sausage's blush was really making him wonder is it okay to think if it okay to think about asking my best friend if it'd be okay if we kissed..." And he said it out loud... "I apologise I should go," he quickly said.

He was about to leave as quickly as he politely could and maybe start trying to figure out how to damage control that random thought slipping out. But he was stopped by a strong arm with some red scales poking out from under an off-white shirt pulling him up close to Sausage. "You meant that?" the king asked as he buried his face in fWhip's coppery hair. What was he supposed to say? If he had a beating heart it'd be beating out his chest at the moment. But he was technically dead so no heartbeat going out of control for him or blushing, speaking of.

"What if I say 'yes'?" fWhip asked, ready to turn into a bat and flee faster than polite. All the way to Grimlands. Hide in his workshop and never leave. Rot there until everyone else dies and is replaced. A couple of times. Maybe five hundred years would be enough. Maybe thousand?

"Then I'd say it's perfectly fine, and ask if maybe you'd accompany me for breakfast," Sausage said, slightly tightening his hold on fWhip. "And if you still want that kiss after that, then you can have it," he added. fWhip would swear Sausage placed a kiss on the top of his head. No time for that at the moment. For now, he needed to string together an answer.

"Sure..." he mumbled. All his eloquence and education have apparently decided to leave him. He understood that decision. If Sausage wasn't holding him he'd run away ages ago... "I had no idea you play the violin," he rambled as Sausage remained silent.

There was no answer for a second until soft snoring... How long did Sausage stay up waiting to be informed fWhip has arrived? With a sigh, fWhip freed himself from Sausage's arms by turning into a bat and back. Catching his friend and easily picking him up. He more or less knew where Sausage's bedroom was. And was strong enough to carry both him and his instrument. And even leave a note promising he'd be there for the breakfast.

He would never say how happy his entourage was when he told them where he was going in the morning.

End Note: This might be a good reference to what Sausage plays.

#my stories #my stuff #fanfic #fanfiction #empires smp #empiresshipping #fwhip #empires fwhip #mythicalsausage #empires sausage #empires mythicalsausage

[becomingbuffypodcast]

Hush, Identity, & the subversion of the female scream

We have talked before about how music and the absence of music are critical to the Buffyverse, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the episode, “Hush.” Season 4 is all about identity, shown through the Scoobies discovering who they are in this new season of life, and their conflicts and the monsters they face often highlight this through the theme of identity theft.

Sunday & her gang feed off the insecurity of incoming freshmen while also stealing their things. Kathy steals Buffy’s soul in an effort to form a new life away from her family, Buffy tries on Parker in an attempt to have a normal life, Xander and Giles try new hobbies and jobs in an effort to figure out where they belong, and the entire premise of the Initiative is to change the demons and monsters—taking their basic instincts and making them something else.

In “Hush,” the writers cleverly continue this theme of identity, not only through Buffy and Riley revealing their secret identities to each other, but through the Gentlemen and their silencing of the most human expression of identity—the voice.

Because of this, the music plays a significant role in not only accentuating the silence of the characters, but also in revealing the insidious nature of the Gentlemen. Joss Whedon and “Hush” composer, Christophe Beck, drew inspiration from multiple sources, including Tim Burton and composer Danny Elfman, as well as the orchestral accompaniment of silent films. But the biggest influence undoubtedly comes from “Danse Macabre,” the piece that accompanies Giles’ non-verbal presentation of the Gentlemen.

Written in 1874 by French composer Camille Saint-Saens, “Danse Macabre” is a tone poem, originally composed as an art song, to be played while someone recites an old French superstition. The story was an old legend about Death appearing at midnight every year on Halloween. Death calls forth the skeletons from their graves to dance for him while he plays his fiddle until dawn. Beck cleverly calls back to the piece in his music for “Hush”—the solo violin reminding us of the devil’s fiddle, while the use of dissonant intervals, known as the devil’s tritone, reminds us of the devil himself. Beck will utilize a similar trick in writing the theme for Wanda in Wanda-Vision, where his use of devil’s tritones hints at her darker side.

Coupled with the many phallic symbols and Joss Whedon’s original intent for them to represent a certain class, the Gentlemen can be seen as a repressive patriarchal symbol, and a metaphor for classism, sexism, and even assault. They penetrate, violate, and silence their victims, tearing out their hearts and stealing their voices. Their nice clothing, smiles, and even their names convey an idea of white-washed social assimilation, yet their lethargic mannerisms and precise medical tools betray a calculated and intelligent malevolence. They are able to get away with their abuse due to their silencing of not only the victim, but the community as a whole.

The book, “Music, Sound, & Silence in BTVS” makes a comparison between the scene of the Gentlemen stealing away the town’s voices, and Kathy trying to steal Buffy’s soul, arguing that these correlating images show that “the voice represents something of the essence of a subject and its materiality brings to life an enigmatic element of the individual. This visualization of voice, disembodied from its source but still “live,” marks a clear appreciation for the voice as a material body in itself—a physical trace and a distinct object.”

So often in film and media, the cry of women is shown as that of the conquered, not the conqueror. French film theorist and composer, Michel Chion, in his essay “the Screaming Point,” asserts that “the female scream, the woman’s cry, represents a misfortune and a sexual vulnerability available for the pleasure of the male spectator.” Yet in true Buffy form, the show subverts the female scream and imbues it with strength. “Music, Sound, and Silence” writes, “Buffy’s scream is more in line with what Chion describes as the male “shout,” imbued as it is with power and mastery. Buffy wields this masculine shout as she does the phallic stake: both are her weapons for penetrating and obliterating the Other—the monster, the demon.”

In the end it is the cry of the victim, a woman, that exerts her dominance and destroys her oppressor.

[daughter-of-fire-and-dreams]

Concerto

In a town that’s clinging to hope. Filled with broken people, troubled people, lost people, different people. A lone Viera takes to her proverbial stage, the public gardens. Absent is her usual bulky cloak, replaced with a close knit red jacket and leathery vest. One could only wonder if she was freezing like that, with how weak her health was when it came to keeping warmth. 

Gone was her bunbushka look, clothes and hats having been torn apart to tend to the wounded during their dire need. 

Her hair for once, is actually neatly combed, and. Honestly, she might look like a different person all along when actually looking presentable. But those amber eyes and black rimmed glasses are hard to miss. 

She quietly and unceremoniously dropped a bag on the ground, and then set an instrument case carefully overtop it and opened the lid, revealing a high quality violin inside. Rhua retrieved it with all the care that a musician would do as she started fiddling with the chords with a gloved hand. No luck. What little sound came out resembled the faint wails that would be occasionally be heard in the distance of the town. Had she been the source this entire time?

With a low exhale, she stripped off her left hand’s glove, revealing a mechanical limb underneath. Her worst kept secret around town. A cold breath permeated the prosthetic as she brought out a screwdriver and carefully started dismantling the plates that formed the fingertips of her left hand. One by one, small white plates hit the snow as a hand looking less than human remained. 

Though not for long as she then searched through her belongings to pull out a small case with transparent attachments within. Little by little, silicon caps were placed on each digit to cover them back up, simulating a softer texture on them. 

Fiddling with the cords a little more with this new set up revealed the sounds of eloquent arrays of notes still in the process of being harmonized. One could argue that a trial by fire was not the best choice when it came to this new arrangement on her arm. 

But everything had been coldly calculated….

As she carefully plugged a wire into the violin, it was clear that this one was of garlean make rather than a purely classical one from Eorzea. Upon closer look, the wire would lead back inside the rest of Rhua’s bags, and the faint outline of the ‘cannons’ she’d been hauling around when the ex legion had attacked was discernible. 

She… wasn’t planning to blow Alvarium’s eardrums out… right?....

But no. She took a deep breath, violin on her left side, bow on her right as she started this concerto at the end of times. 

Songs of sorrow, songs of happiness, idle songs, songs from orchestras, eastern songs. A song that no one but her knew. And a lullaby. 

Every single song that she’d collected up to this point from the people of Alvarium had been mixed into a single composition. And anyone that might have shared or requested something out of her would recognize their part in this. 

Yet at the root of this chorus of ‘voices’, was but a conversation between all of them. Confusion, sadness, anger. 

Grief. 

It was interesting how a tiny variation on the original version as well as the player’s own interpretation could shift the overall feeling of such simple compositions. 

It was grief, it was sorrow, it was anger, and it was fury. 

How did all this happen? 

How was so much lost? 

How did we end up like this?

Question after unspoken question came through the notes that she played. Amidst the mix of melodies, she’d pause for a moment. Right hand forgoing the bow as she manually plucked at the cords, mimicking very familiar sounds that once were abundant in Alvarium among the drones caring for people. 

Yes, even the A.I.’s ‘voice’ was within this composition. Monotone. Yet keeping a sense of harmony amidst the rest. 

Are you all listening? 

Are you all reminiscing? 

Are you all hurting? 

Are you all hollow from loss?

Then keep listening,

keep feeling, 

keep up like this. 

Realize what’s around you, remember and feel, feel and reciprocate. You are all here, you are all feeling exactly the same thorns wrapped around each and every one of you. 

Rhua’s song was a chorus of voices lacking the wish for hope that Max had given. This was an entirely different feeling. But, did this one belong to Rhua herself? The outsider that was foreign to war and the silly conflicts that everyone insisted on arguing over?

It didn’t matter. For she was the one playing this grief out loud. 

The melody didn’t have an exact beginning, nor an end. It just went on and on until she’d run out of addendums from everyone. 

You all feel the same, no matter the background. No matter what was taken from you. Listen and realize that before an ultimate end, none of us are different. 

Death doesn’t discriminate. 

Just as abruptly as she’d started playing, she suddenly stopped. 

Had she earned the gazes of other people?

Had she managed to poke at everyone’s unhealed wounds?

Who was watching her?

She could only direct a few curious gazes at the drones around Alvarium and the few heads poking out of the lodgings. 

It was time. 

She raised the violin once more to speak for herself. Mechanical fingers gripping the instrument with newfound conviction and strength that on more than one occasion made her pause in fear of breaking the delicate wood beneath digits. The melody that came was nothing short of sheer emotion tangled with rage, fury, sorrow, indignation, and. Most of all. Longing. 

Are you going to end like this? 

Are you going to stay the way you are? 

Are you going to be consumed by hatred and pride while the world burns down? 

Don’t you want peace? 

Don’t you want to live rather than just survive? 

Aren’t you angry?

Then rage and fight back, live. Continue to live. Move on. Press forward. 

What’s more important? 

Snark and pettiness? 

Or the safety of a new home?

 A new beginning?

Anger. Use that emotion to survive. And then live. And then worry about your menial things. 

Each note, fast paced and intermixed with so many shifts of the cords was nothing short of how a machine would play. Practice taken to it’s very limit during the times of solitude she’d spent in the cells, with only a select few having been witnesses of what happened behind curtains. 

Except… The faint shifts in tempo were nothing short of fury incarnate. A repetition of emotions boiling together and exploding in the most intricate and defiant song that she could play. If one was to look closely, they’d notice Rhua almost seemed on the verge of tears, yet not a single one fell down. Her eyes remaining as dry as they could be despite her expressions saying exactly how she felt. 

Words unsaid, words held back, emotions hidden. 

Everything was being laid bare right at this very moment. 

Madness, longing. A flicker of a flame that had been burning low for too long, waiting to be ignited again. To blow up like a bomb that had arranged the right materials. 

She was just a conduit to reminding everyone of the defiance needed to stand before the Final Days…. By using herself up in the process. 

Somewhere in the far side of Alvarium. A Viera dressed in white fabrics and furs watches and listens in sheer awe and silence. 

……………………….

“Mommy, what is grandpa like?” a little girl with messy hair asked her mother. 

She sat beside her brother on a stool before a grand piano. Her mother’s construction and abomination to their settlement, for these resources could have been spent on the survival of the town rather than on menial hobbies. 

“Let’s see… ‘Tis hard to translate that to music you know… What do you think your mother sounded like just now?” the Viera asked her two children, both sitting side by side next to her as her hands hovered over the piano’s keys. 

“Sweet!” the girl immediately answered with a raised hand. Her brother though, did not seem to agree about this as he kept quiet. 

The mother hummed lowly as she pondered over this answer. Certain words were better left unsaid.

“I see… Hmm… About your…’grandfather’. Let’s see if this conveys what he is like.”

Without warning, she started playing an uncanny amount of notes in rapid succession. The song barely giving a moment to register. Precise and unfeeling. Yet so intricate that one might miss a beat if they breathed. It didn’t leave room for error. It was as if the entire succession had been predetermined the moment her fingers had touched the keys. 

Just as fast as the mother had played that string of notes that had only taken one hand, it was over. Leaving in mystery how the entire melody would even sound like if it had been played out completely with both hands.

All that was left were two children looking almost terrified at the manner in which their mother had played but for brief seconds. 

…………………………………

“....................” a Viera in white fabrics and furs continued to watch in stunned silence. She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding as she continued to watch Rhua’s performance. 

Wild, burning, tangled. 

“....’Father’. Is this what you saw in me when you decided to take me in?” she asked to no one in particular as she continued watching. 

The one standing in the gardens was the devil’s violinist. Terrifying, weaponizing it’s own emotion to stir everyone else to feel the same. Playing like a woman possessed. 

Except…… the devil should fear for their lives and what they’d created. Because this violinist would come for them and reclaim a soul that had not been sold but swept away in this madness that we call life.

One could only ask, what would that cost?.....

#Meam Rhua

[kalebishop96-blog]

Cuphead Fanfic "Say it!"

Photo is a work in progress

Summary: Cuphead won't admit it, but he loves Mugman and Elder Kettle very much. His family on the other hand wants him to just 'Say it!' He does 'Say it' once, but Cuphead also shows the different ways to express that, especially to his best friend and partner in crime.

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Crickets sang upon the starry night sky, and the white moon smiled down upon the isles. The brown mushroom house within the dark atmosphere had light shining from the windows and smoke coming out of its chimney. Thunder rumbled from the living room, particularly from the TV.

The happy brothers Cuphead and Mugman were in the living room sitting on a couch side by side, watching Frankenstein on TV. Elder Kettle peacefully rocked back and forth on his chair knitting a half complete mystery cloth of red wool.

On the black and white TV image, the scientist flicked the switch allowing the lab roof to open to a stormy sky. Lightning wreaked havoc on the atmosphere, and the scientist laughed maniacally at the sky. A stream of lightning struck the antenna sticking out in the middle of the opening, and electricity surged through a complex network of makeshift wires connected to the metal bed, into the cloth-covered corpse on top that sparked and jittered.

On the couch, Cuphead leaned on his knees, grinning in awe, while Mugman grasped his knees nervous, gently biting his lower lip as the blinking images fill their eyes.

After a long laugh, the scientist flicked the switch off, which closed the creaky doors of the metal roof in slow agony.

Lightning sizzled through the corpse as it was cut off from its source; leftover sparks of electricity surged through every stray wiring and every material that could conduct it. The scientist coughed from his long fit of laughter and the smoke as he hastily put his specs down on his research table. He took a step towards the cloth-covered corpse, mantis-like hands motioning forward as if he wanted to touch the corpse itself.

The corpse's arms jolted up, accompanied by sudden loud violin music. Everyone in the living room was startled. In an agonizing low moan, the corpse sat up, the white blanket dramatically fell from its upper body, and its ugly distorted face growled onto the screen.

"Aaah!" Mugman clutched both his hands to Cuphead's nearest arm, causing Cuphead's chest to jolt at the sudden grasp.

Cuphead and Mugman looked at each other, then to Mugman's clutching arms, to which Mugman then let go in an instant. Snickering and then laughing, Cuphead pointed his finger at his brother.

Mugman rubbed his arm in embarrassment and fake chuckled. "Whoops." He said unenthusiastically.

Cuphead pushed his brother's shoulder. "You were scared."

"I wasn't scared!" Mugman looked at Cuphead irritated.

"Yeah you were. You were like 'Aagh!'" He imitates Mugman's sudden arm clutch to Mugman's left arm, causing Mugman's chest to jolt as well.

Cuphead slapped his knee as he laughed, while Mugman just looked away and rubbed his left arm up and down, ashamed and upset. While laughing, Cuphead's arm rested on his own forehead trying to compose himself. As his eyes peeked at Mugman, he stopped laughing, noticing Mugman was upset.

Eyebrows creasing in concern, Cuphead reached for his brother's shoulder. "Hey… Mugs."

"Don't touch me!" Mugman pulled his shoulder away, eyes strict on his brother.

"Mugs! I'm sorry!" Cuphead said louder, fingers splayed out in offering.

"You know how horrible I feel about teasing and laughing about my scaredy-cat feelings and you do it anyway!" Tears flowed out as Mugman blinked; his eyebrows scrunched in anger.

Cuphead breathed in and folded his lips to speak out… but no words came to him. He knew his brother was right. He sighed and looked the other way rubbing his forehead in frustration, while Mugman just looked down and tried to relax his shoulders.

Cuphead looked at his brother. "I'm sorry Mugs. I… I was just…"

Mugman rubbed his nose sniffling. "Trying to have fun…"

Cuphead blinked in surprise, but he felt slight comfort to be understood, although frustrated.

"I just…" Mugman sighed. "I just can't help it bro. I'm… I'm really trying."

"I know." Cuphead smiled with empathy. "I know." He rubbed Mugman's back gently.

Mugman breathed in and sighed. "This isn't even a horror movie and I just jumped like that…" He grunted and palmed his forehead. "I'm… I'm such a-"

"Shh!" Cuphead put his finger on Mugman's open lips. Strict eyes looked straight into Mugman's eyes. "You know how I hate it when you do that to yourself."

Mugman just looked at his brother surprised and gently let his lips fold to a smile.

Cuphead grinned endearingly. "Hey. You know what's scarier?" Cuphead raised an eyebrow, to which Mugman responded with an eyebrow raise of his own. "Beppi."

Cuphead waddled his arms sideways, and his tongue in a circular motion while making annoying tongue sounds, causing Mugman to half-cover his mouth as he snickered and grinned.

"Beppi?! Nah bro." Mugman flicked his hand downwards. "Cagney." He pointed to the air.

"Oh yeah. He goes like this." Cuphead leaned back with his best Cagney grin impression and then spearheaded forward, sticking his tongue out with a noisy "Bleaugheaugheaugh!"

Grinning and giggling, Mugman leaned back pretending to dodge it as they did back when they fought the said flower; Cuphead's drool sprayed on his brother's happy face. Cuphead retreated back and sat with one leg over the other, his finger tapping on his lips while he thought of other things scarier.

"The Ghost Train." Mugman suggested, eyelids relaxed.

Cuphead shivered as he grinned. "Which part?"

Mugman giggled and then gently grasped Cuphead's head handle. "May I?"

Cuphead shrugged his shoulders, held the sides of his head and pulled it up, detaching his head with a 'pop!' Mugman held his own head handle and then lightly yanked his own head out of his neck with a 'pop!' Mugman's hands hid both of their heads behind Cuphead's back.

"Ohh I get it." Cuphead said from behind his own back. His body's right index finger pointed up in realization.

They giggled together.

"On three." Mugman signaled. "One, two, three."

Mugman's arms jerked out both of their heads and Cuphead and Mugman roared. Mugman chomped his teeth like a shark while Cuphead stuck his tongue out and waddled his face with the same noisy "Bleaugheaugheaugh!" causing Mugman to laugh again.

"Why do you do that?" He asked amused.

"I dunno, it's my mood. You like it?'

"Ye-heah!"

Together they waddled their faces, flayed their salivating tongues out, and made "Bleuagheaugheaugh!" sounds with their silliest faces. They both laughed as they put their heads back to their necks, patting them attached and secure.

"Who else?" Cuphead thought more.

Mugman's smile frowned seriously. "The Devil."

Cuphead gasped as his mind flashed back to their fight with the devil. Giant fires blazed from the bottomless pit below, rocks crashed from above, bats swarmed the air, and giant fiery casino chips dropped on them.

Screams of townsfolk erupted from the TV; the image now showing Frankenstein seemingly attacking the people. Cuphead shivered as his flashbacks ended, and he huffed to the fear he felt. Mugman rested his hand on Cuphead's shoulder and he smiled at him, proud. Cuphead smiled back with endearment. Arms behind each other's necks, hands on each other's shoulder, they jerk-pulled each other's heads together for a loud toast of their heads.

Mugman offered his hand, and Cuphead held it, interlacing fingers, swung it around, and let go with wiggling fingers and a soft "whoo!"

Deep inside Cuphead felt warm and fuzzy, and he felt silly that all it took to feel that way was to be forgiven by his brother. Mugman just gazed back at him, his eyes full of trust and his smile just… full of joy and pureness… It bugged him that he doesn't deserve him at all and yet he has him as a brother.

"Hey…" Mugman giggled. "I know that look." He teased.

Cuphead raised an eyebrow. "Wh-hat?" He asked with a chuckle.

Mugman shook Cuphead's shoulder. "Say it."

"Say what?"

"You know." Mugman rolled his eyes. "How ya feel right now."

Cuphead grinned, amused, his eyebrow still raised. "I do-hon't get it."

Mugman giggled. "Come on! Don't tell me those goo-goo eyes you just gave me right now didn't mean anything."

Cuphead leaned back away a little, lips straightened in surprise and blushed a little, but he also felt the end of his right lip smile, impressed.

Mugman laughed. "Yeah." He tilted his head towards Cuphead. "I can read you like a book bro. I know that look you give when you become affectionate, so just spit it out. Say it!"

"Uh uh." Cuphead shook his head, smiling playfully.

"Why not?" Mugman gently shook his brother.

"Cuz…" Cuphead scratched the back of his head. "It's so cheesy."

"Aw c'mon." Mugman rolled his eyes, grinning. "You give me cheek kisses sometimes."

Cuphead's chest jolted up while his arms shivered and jerked away from Mugman. He thrust his hands to cover Mugman's giggling mouth, strict eyes looking at his brother.

"You never say that out loud!" He hissed.

Mugman's gentle hands remove Cuphead's hands with ease. "We're in the house genius!"

"Yeah but grandpa is there!" Cuphead hissed; he nudged his head towards Elder Kettle as he said 'grandpa'.

Immediately after Cuphead spoke, Elder Kettle chuckled. The twins looked at Elder Kettle; Cuphead was curious while Mugman was smiling. They both expected he was paying attention, but he seemed busy knitting the red cloth which now looked like an unfinished scarf.

"Was he listening?" Cuphead whispered.

"Oh yeah." Mugman smiled, eyes calm.

Cuphead slapped his forehead groaning while Mugman giggled. Meanwhile, Elder Kettle looked at Mugman, stopped his knitting, and tapping his index finger on his lips mutely saying 'shh'. Mugman snickered and imitated Elder Kettle by placing his index finger on his own lips. As Cuphead sighed and lowered his hand to his knee, Mugman grinned in sweat and swiped his hand behind him before his brother could notice.

"I'm still not saying it." Cuphead pressed his brother's big blue nose. Mugman smirked and folded his arms while Cuphead kept pressing.

"Hey, grandpa!" Mugman peeked past Cuphead.

While continuing to knit, Elder Kettle chuckled. "I thought I told you boys to call me Elder Kettle."

"Nah!" Mugman flicked his hand down. "Grandpa sounds cuter and more affectionate."

"And it's two short syllables." Cuphead interjected sassily.

Elder Kettle chuckled as he put his knitting down on his lap. "You want me to say it?"

Mugman beamed. "He-yeah!" His fists pumped in excitement.

Elder Kettle smiled. He spread his arms inviting a hug. "I love you Mugman."

Mugman's eyes moistened and glimmered, his pupils seemingly shaking with awe and affection. He jumped off the couch and ran to Elder Kettle to catch his anticipating arms into a big warm snuggling hug.

"Want me to say it?" Mugman tilted his head up, making eye-contact with Elder Kettle using his own big cute and precious eyes.

"Hotdawg do I?!" Elder Kettle tilted his head.

Mugman cherished and kissed Elder Kettle's nose spout. "I love you grandpa."

"Aww."

Mugman and Elder Kettle shared one big hug mixed with soft moans of 'Mmmmmm…' All of a sudden, little Mugman was scooped up into Elder Kettle's arms and the latter began pecking giggly Mugman while cradling him.

"Grandpa-!" Mugman giggled. "Let me!" His arms trying to get hold of Elder Kettle's cheek.

"No."

Elder Kettle continued pecking all over Mugman's head, while Mugman just gave up, cuddled up, and giggled.

Amid the pecking, Elder Kettle stopped abruptly. Feeling a little short of the sweetness, Mugman looked to Elder Kettle to ask why he stopped but then noticed Elder Kettle was smug. He looked towards his right, the direction where Elder Kettle smugged, and then smirked as he caught Cuphead resting his head on his palm, elbow on the couch, smiling like an idiot at him and Elder Kettle.

A few seconds later, Cuphead blinked back to reality and shook himself awake.

"What?!" Cuphead looked at them strictly, a slight blush on his cheeks, his fists placed on his own hips.

Mugman and Elder Kettle laughed and then looked at each other.

"I think he's jealous." Elder Kettle suggested.

Mugman gasped. "Yeah!" He smirked at Cuphead.

Cuphead's mouth squiggled as his body backed off and his arms were raised defensively. "Nnn-no!"

Mugman and Elder Kettle giggled.

"Come on Cuppy just say it!"

Cuphead's cheeks flared red as he heard Mugman say his toddler nickname. "No!" He pumped his fists down in defiance.

"Say, it!" Mugman moved his fists up and down while chanting. "Say, it! Say, it! Say, it!"

"Say, it!" Elder Kettle joined in the chanting and moved his fists up and down as well. "Say, it! Say, it! Say, it!"

Cuphead cringed as the chanting continued, and he tried to muffle it out by covering his ears while ducking behind the cover of the couch's armrest. 'Say, it! Say, it!' the chanting echoed in his mind.

"No! No no no no no! Get out of my head." Cuphead squeezed his ears, trying to shut out the noise.

"Say, it! Say, it!" "Say, it! Say it!" The voices shifted from the actual voices of Elder Kettle and Mugman to his own thoughts. He began to giggle.

"Oh no…" He giggled to himself, admitting defeat.

"Say, it! Say, it!" "Say, it! Say, it!"

Cuphead sighed. He peeked his head from the cover of the armrest. "I… love you." He said weakly.

Mugman and Elder Kettle stopped chanting. "What?"

Cuphead laughed, rubbing his face and grunting as if he was going crazy. He popped his head up. "I love you!" He grinned.

Mugman and Elder Kettle smiled at each other, then back to Cuphead. "Who?"

Cuphead slapped his forehead and laughed. "Both of you!" He splayed his palms as if he revealed it was them.

Hearts warmed, they smiled and took an inhale as if they breathed in the words that echoed towards them.

"Really bro?" Mugman asked with a smile, flattered.

Bashful laughter came out of Cuphead as he kept hiding his face behind his own hands. It was so infectious that Mugman and Elder Kettle laughed too.

"Come here Cuphead." Elder Kettle invited.

As Cuphead peeked from his fingers, he saw Mugman and Elder Kettle, the former lying across Elder Kettle's legs, spreading their arms and inviting him for a hug. He sighed, feeling that his guards were broken.

Mugman giggled. "Come on bro. Give us some!"

Cuphead grinned cheekily, and ran into the arms of Elder Kettle and Mugman's, giving each other a big hug with a loud 'Mmmmmm!' Mugman sits properly on Elder Kettle's knee while Elder Kettle scoops up Cuphead to sit him next to his brother.

"I love you Elder Kettle." Cuphead Elder Kettle's cheek while the latter hugs him back.

From his hug, Cuphead opened his eyes to look at Mugman who just looked at them smiling in affection while patiently waiting. Cuphead smiled and spread his arms to invite a hug, to which Mugman gave into in an instant. The two twin brothers cheek cuddled each other.

"I love you bro." Cuphead said.

Mugman chuckled. "I love you too bro."

Elder Kettle then wrapped the two boys into a hug and kissed both their straws, causing them to feel a slight tickle.

"Well, that wasn't so bad was it?" Asked Mugman.

Cuphead just glared at his brother, slightly irritated. "Don't ruin it."

"Aw come on you like it." Mugman teased.

Smiling, Cuphead exhaled two puffs of 'flaring' air from each nostril as his brother just giggled. "I hate it when you get to enjoy teasing me. I mean, since when do you do that?!"

"Aww." Mugman kissed Cuphead's cheek. "Give and take bro. Give and take."

"Heh. Whatever bro." Cuphead just kept cuddling.

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"Clink it! Pt 1"

Mugman yawned and fluttered his eyes open to a completely sky blue world, he waved his arms and could feel the resistance of water slowing his movements. Curiously looking around, there was really no way to tell which direction was up, down, left, right, or where the centre of gravity was.

"Wow." He managed to say and as he did bubbles came out of his mouth, which made him cover his mouth in surprise. Slightly uncovering it, he sang a tone, and bubbles came out, followed by a few giggles of excitement.

A shadow towered over his head. Looking towards the source, he saw Cuphead from a distance swimming towards bubble to bubble in a network of large bubbles the size of their heads.

"Cuphead!" Mugman greeted, waving to him.

Cuphead noticed him and grinned mischievously.

Amused, Mugman folded his arms and wondered what crazy idea his brother had in store this time.

Snickering, Cuphead pulled out a large bubble from the network and then rubbed it like glass. A colorful image played out, with the sound of the echoing laughter of Mugman's own voice… and someone else… a pretty girl? Cuphead laughed hysterically.

Curiosity bit him like a bug and Mugman eagerly swam towards Cuphead who lost his balance and began slowly spinning backward while laughing. The bubble was released from Cuphead's grasp, and it floated idly towards Mugman. Mugman held it and rubbed the bubble. An image of Cala Maria faded in, smiling at him. Mugman blushed. Cala Maria slowly moved her finger back and forth, beckoning him to come closer; Mugman swore he felt her finger rub under his chin, but as he looked under, it was actually Cuphead grinning mischievously while his finger scratched it.

Cuphead laughed while Mugman scrunched his eyebrows and smiled in amusement. As Cuphead flicked his fingers towards himself, the large network of bubbles zoomed towards them and surround them. Small schools of bubbles swirled around Mugman's head as his eyes try to follow their movements in wonder.

"I love tickle fights!" His own voice echoed near his head.

He turned towards the direction of the voice, but he only saw more bubbles twirling around him; some bubbles fiddled on Mugman's sides of his body causing him to laugh at the tickles. A large bubble to his left faded in an image of Cuphead tackling him and tickling him with glee while Mugman himself just laughed, his mouth gaped wide open.

Mugman gasped as he looked at the image.

"I wish I could be as brave as you Cuphead!" His own voice echoed from another bubble.

He turned and saw him having a tender moment with Cuphead; both of them sat side by side on a bench watching the moon.

"I… just think Cala's pretty."

Another bubble fades in an image of that same day Cuphead tried to hide his photo of Baroness Von Bon Bon and Mugman himself tickled all the secrets out of him.

Mugman covered his mouth in shock realization, feeling a sense of being exposed. These bubbles were all memories of the secrets he had shared.

Cuphead laughed villainously and captured his brother's head around his one-arm hug. "Tell me more." He said intrigued, eyelids narrowed to Mugman.

Mugman blushed and gently shook his head.

A giant shadow towered over them, and as the boys look towards the source, Cuphead grinned villainously and Mugman gasped, covering his mouth behind his knuckles while his eyes bugged out. Cala Maria floated by and waved at them. Mugman's breath slowed into heart-stopped exhales.

Cuphead laughed menacingly. "Or better yet show me." He held his brother's shoulders and pushed squeaky and panicky Mugman towards Cala.

"No! Bro-!" Mugman's mouth squiggled as he smiled and squealed giddily.

"Aww come on. Look at her bro. Grrr." Cuphead clawed the air in flirt.

Mugman sighed dreamily. "She's perfect." His pupils shook, beholding Cala Maria herself. Her sea-green tail, her purple lips, her charming eyes, her soothing songs...

Cala Maria swam closer. "Hi boys." She greeted with her smooth voice.

Mugman took an inhale. "H…H-" His arm shyly reached out to wave hi.

"Heya!" Greeted Cuphead, his arm wrapped around his brother's neck. "I think my bro wants a suh-moo-chah (smooch)."

Mugman squeaked in fright, looking at Cuphead in shock.

"Sure!" Cala swam closer and put her finger under Mugs' chin to rub it. "Come here cutie."

Mugman's smile gaped open and he squealed like he was gonna cry. Cuphead giggled and swam behind his brother, back to back. Cuphead held Mugman's hands, interlacing fingers. Mugman looked behind to Cuphead, following him curiously.

"Pucker up pal." Cuphead winked.

With the back of his handle, he pushed Mugman's head, sandwiching his brother into Cala Maria's sweet squeaky kiss. Mugman's entire body jolted like he was electrified and his hands squeeze Cuphead's hands; Cuphead laughed as he felt every shivering sensation his brother made on his hands, his back, his butt, and even his head handle. Cuphead teasingly pushed Mugman's entire back including his head and his butt with all three of his own and rubbed them against Mugman like he was dancing a lindy hop while he cooed a teasing tune and he sandwiched Mugman more into the kiss.

Paled pupils in shock, Mugman thought of so many things, but all of them constantly being blurred as he felt Cala Maria kiss him, and his brother's constant pushing, rubbing and singing. He wanted to hit his brother with a punch... well, one that wouldn't hurt him, but at the same time, he was heart-meltingly grateful for how supportive he has been. With all things considered, he couldn't help but give in to the sweet bliss and close his eyes.

Cala Maria let go with a sweet "mwah!"

"Boop!" Cala Maria poked Mugman's nose gently and swam away.

Heart-shaped pupils, and a squiggly mouth, Mugman sank down swaying like a falling leaf towards Cuphead's ready arms. Mugman sighed as the feeling of a dream come true lingered. Cuphead smiled and saluted goodbye as Cala passed.

"So…" Cuphead's eyes narrowed. "How does it feel?"

Mugman sighed. "Awesome…"

Cuphead giggled and bumped his cheek on Mugman's. "In more detail please."

Mugman sighed, his eyes glued to the infinite blue above which turned into the night sky full of stars.

He sighed on every other description he could say. "Floating away on a cloud… your butterflies… my choir of angels… fireworks… electric sparks… and a little bit…." His eyes closed and he grinned on the last thought… but then flashed his eyelids open realizing the last thought would prompt Cuphead to do something crazy.

And Mugman was right; Cuphead was grinning at him evilly while wiggling his fingers in the air at the ready.

Mugman's mouth squiggled into a wide smile. "No…" He shook his head slowly.

"Aw come on… you deserve it, pal." He winked. "And with Cala on your mind… you know-" Cuphead playfully poked the sides of Mugman's stomach, causing him to laugh. "you…" Cuphead poked, and Mugman laughed again. "… wuv it." And again.

Mugman inhaled and tightened his fists that squeezed against his chin. "A teeny…" He squeaked. His head winced backward, smiling in excited anticipation. "Weeny…. Itty-bitty-little bit… tiny…"

Cuphead giggled. "Come on!"

Mugman grinned. "Tiny winy….. tickl-"

Bam! Fingers poked into Mugman's sides, causing him to laugh and snort with tears coming out of his eyes.

"I heard tickle! I heard tickle!" Cuphead teased.

Tossing and turning his body on the cradling arms of his villainous grinning brother, Mugman laughed, snorted and jolted multiple times away from the fingers that fiddled through the tingly parts of his side body, but whichever direction he jolted to a finger would poke at him. He was practically pincered. If Mugman would try to reach his fingers for Cuphead, his brother would raise his eyebrow and just slyly slide his hand to his armpits, forcing him to clip his arms just to try to stop Cuphead's hands from moving… but Cuphead would still wiggle his fingers with his mischievous grin and Mugman would laugh with more tears.

"Ya thinking about her yet buddy?" Cuphead teased.

Mugman responded with a large laugh and a head shake of defiance.

"Nnno? Aww but Cawa wuvs you." Cuphead put more force in his tickles as he said 'wuv'.

Louder than loud Mugman laughed and snorted as he felt his cheeks flare up and his milk boil while cushioning his jolting head on his brother's stomach, causing Cuphead to laugh in reaction.

"Calaaa…." Cuphead sang.

Tired of laughing, but just letting his brother's fingers kept tickle him, Mugman just laid his heavy head on his brother's stomach, letting himself get lost in all the tickles and all the laughter.

Suddenly… his forehead was covered with a hand. The tickles were gone, Cuphead went silent. In fact, he felt he wasn't cradled on Cuphead's knees anymore. He awkwardly stopped laughing.

"Uhh… Okay."

The mysterious hand kept patting and pacing around his closed eyelids and forehead. Occasionally the hand would grasp. It then patted its way to Mugman's nose, and then grasped it gently, making it hard for Mugman to breathe.

Mugman's eyes popped open to see Cuphead in the dark bedroom, wearing his barely distinguishable blue and white striped pajamas, kneeling on the bed, eyes closed, grinning while patting Mugman's face with his right hand and Mugman's chest with the other, grasping Mugman's red and white striped pajamas periodically as if he was looking for something. All this time Cuphead was dreaming… Mugman stared blankly in annoyance at the ceiling.

Cuphead let out a giggle. "Come out Mugs…" He whispered.

Mugman raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

Cuphead gasped and then tossed his body away from Mugman, back onto his own pillow, facing the wall across him. Mugman let out a sigh, and watched his brother carefully, feeling the annoying obligation of watching out for his brother in case he falls… though, on second thought, he smiled knowing it would've been hilarious to see. Cuphead raised his hands close to his chin and wiggled his fingers. Amused, Mugman smiled showing a partial grin, knowing that his brother does that when he wants to tickle him.

Still dreaming, Cuphead laughed weakly. "C'mere Mugs…" Cuphead began grasping the air and moved his arms up and down as if he were climbing.

Mugman grinned. "Aww." He let out a couple of chuckles.

Cuphead stopped climbing, rested his hands on his legs as he huffed, and groaned, but was still smiling. "No fair… I found you." Cuphead inhaled as if he were catching his breath after a long run. "Come here and… get what you deserve." Cuphead chuckled softly.

Mugman just kept grinning, trying to figure out his brother's dream.

Cuphead then gasped. "Oh… it's on!"

Suddenly, Cuphead kept kicking the bed with his heels, causing the mattress to shake. It caused Mugman to giggle.

"Go get 'im bro." Mugman whispered, and as he remembered that it was himself being chased in the dream, he cuddled his own pillow, shutting his eyes while giggling.

Cuphead suddenly made two big kicks to the mattress and started sucking the air. Mugman's eyes widened and he grinned in excitement.

Cuphead's arms pounced forward. "Gotcha!" He whispered. Wiggling fingers fiddled the air as if he were tickling it, and Cuphead giggled as he did so.

Mugman's eyes relaxed, and his mouth calmed back to a smile as he saw a happy ending. "Good job bro." He said softly as he relaxed his head into the comfort of his own pillow.

Cuphead giggled, his last giggle ended with a hiccup. "Snorts." Cuphead kept fiddling his fingers.

Mugman snickered, a snort escaped from his nose at the end, and it prompted him to cover his grin of embarrassment as he giggled. Sighing, his eyes drooped back into drowsiness. He let his mind back into that dreamy state and hoped he wouldn't think of dreaming the same dream and give his brother a reason to attack him with tickles the following morning.

Tickles. Bubbles. Cuphead's naughty laughter. Cala. Clouds….. panting. Panicking. Grunting in pain. Mugman popped his alert eyes open, to see Cuphead panting in a cold sweat.

On his pillow, Cuphead began tossing his body more quickly and even waved his finger gun around, all while whining and groaning in fear.

Mugman jolted to a sit, untucking his blanket. Mugman gently shook his brother's shoulder.

"Cuphead, I'm here!" He said, urgent.

Only the silence heard him. Cuphead's finger gun waved and pointed in every direction, flicking it as if he were firing. In one instance Mugman ducked when it pointed to him, but in other instances, he ignored it and only focused on his brother. And then Cuphead froze petrified… he stopped breathing.

"Cuphead!" Mugman said louder, hands at both his brother's shoulders.

Still like a statue, closed eyes glued unknowingly towards his brother, a tear poured down Cuphead's face. He sobbed. His fists balled in anger, regret, and frustration.

Mugman shook his head, it was getting worse.

"Cuphead, snap out of it!" Mugman shook Cuphead's shoulders with more force.

Huffing, breaths filling with rage, Cuphead started growling. His right-hand finger gun glowed yellow and hummed with power.

Mugman gasped, he knew Cuphead was going to fire. He grabbed Cuphead's arm, turned around, mounted it over his shoulder like a rifle, and aimed for the corner of the wall above their cabinet. Cuphead's yellow charge shot fired in a loud "zhoom!" and exploded the cement wall, blasting a hole on what probably was also their bathroom wall.

Huffing. Scared. Face flushed with adrenaline. Mugman let out one last big exhale, knowing he averted a disaster. Mounted over his shoulder, Cuphead's arm trembled. Mugman shook his head awake, this wasn't over yet.

Turning around, Mugman brought his arms back to Cuphead's shoulders and gave him a hard slap on his face.

"Ow!" Cuphead reacted.

"Cuphead!" Mugman yelled.

Cuphead blinked his eyes open as he panted awake. His eyes squinted, focusing on what was in front of him.

Mugman brought his hand to rub on his brother's face, on the spot he just hit. "Cuphead." He said gently.

As Mugman spoke, Cuphead's blurry vision cleared into his brother looking at him with worry, rubbing the aching part of his face. Eyes widened in disbelief, Cuphead reached his trembling hand to the same hand of his brother's which rubbed his face.

"B…bro?" He managed to choke out.

Mugman smiled, calm. "Yeah… Yeah it's me."

Cuphead's hand, on Mugman's hand, reached towards Mugman's face, and then he stopped midway; the latter watched his brother's hand curiously. In doubt, he closed his hand, but then extended his index finger and poked Mugman's nose, causing Mugman to blink in surprise.

"Hey!" Mugman smiled, amused.

Surprised. Relieved. Overjoyed. Cuphead's mouth turned from gaping disbelief into a trembling, curling, forced smile that let out a forced laughing fit like it was some sick joke that he felt obliged to laugh at. Smile fading into a frown of concern, Mugman tenderly held his brother's face, and Cuphead held his brother's caressing hands in trembling desperation as tears flowed down his closed eyes, trying to take in everything. Laughter… turned into sobs… into wails. Cuphead crashed into his brother's chest, screaming into it as his hands desperately clung to Mugman's shoulders.

Mugman felt his eyes well up too, but he knew he couldn't cry now, he wiped off the tears with his fist knowing he had to be strong. He wrapped his arms around Cuphead's neck, gently bringing his brother to his left shoulder, and he leaned his head towards Cuphead, and Cuphead did the same. Their heads looked like two cups brought to a toast.

"Shhh… shhh..."

Cuphead snuggled on his brother's shoulder and he hugged his brother's stomach, while he let Mugman cradle and gently sway him. Mugman tightened the hug carefully as his brother wailed his heart out, a level of crying which he never thought he would hear.

From behind Mugman, the light switched on from the hallway. Slow walking footsteps approached, with the echoes of a walking cane.

As the shadow of the person approaching loomed over them, Mugman slowly looked behind him to see the dark figure of Elder Kettle in front of the light looking back with worried eyes. Elder Kettle leaned forward to inspect the wall on his right, which was damaged with a hole still dripping off tiny rubbles. Mugman just looked at him, confirming what had happened, and then turned back to resting his head into his brother's head while closing his eyes.

Elder Kettle, with his walking stick, walked over to Cuphead's side of the bed and sat on it, making the bed sink a little.

Noticing the sudden weight on the bed, Cuphead looked back from Mugman's shoulder and hugged Elder Kettle as his wails turned into practical screams.

"Shhh…" Elder Kettle cooed as he patted the back of the boy's head.

Mugman rested his hand on Cuphead's shoulder, and as Cuphead looked back, he looped both his arms around his brother and his grandfather. Tight and desperate, Cuphead's arms clung onto both his family. Mugman tenderly hugged his brother, cuddling his cheek on Cuphead's cheek. With his long arms, Elder Kettle wrapped both the boys into one tender and a warm hug. Mugman and Elder Kettle closed their eyes as Cuphead wailed.

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"Clink it! Pt 2"

In the living room, on the couch, eyes closed, wearing his blue and white striped pajamas, a warm blue towel draped around his shoulders, Cuphead sat trying to relax from the big crying spell he let out earlier.

Elder Kettle walked in with a Japanese cup of hot tea and handed it to Cuphead. The boy took the cup gently into his hands, inhaled the fragrant aroma, and hummed in enjoyment.

"Jasmine." Elder Kettle said.

Cuphead inhaled the tea one more time, letting himself chuckle and grin. Taking the string of the teabag, he pulled it out of the cup and placed it into his 'cup head'. He shivered a little while the sensation of a foreign object touched his very soul, and then relaxed as the flowery flavor and aroma filled it.

Elder Kettle chuckled, and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "If it gets bitter just pull it out."

Cuphead grinned, calm and a little tired. "Thanks grandpa." He took a sip from the Japanese cup and hummed in relaxation.

Sitting next to Cuphead, Elder Kettle patted his grandson's back with his free hand, the other still holding his walking cane.

"I'm sorry grandpa…" Cuphead squeezed shut his eyes, feeling regret. "You were right about the casino."

"Shhh…" Elder Kettle smiled gently as he rubbed Cuphead's back. "All that matters, is that you're safe at home m'boy."

Cuphead smiled and tilted his head towards Elder Kettle, snuggling under the caring hug of the old kettle.

"Where's Mugs?" Cuphead looked up to Elder Kettle.

Elder Kettle looked behind. Outside their window, Mugman is sitting on the edge of the island, looking up to the sky.

"Outside m'boy. Stargazing."

Cuphead giggled. "I thought you'd put 'im in bed by now."

Elder Kettle smiled. "After that fright you gave 'im, I wouldn't be spooked if he couldn't doze off."

Cuphead frowned, remembering what had happened about half an hour ago. He tried to look out the window, concerned for his brother, but Elder Kettle's body was too big. Elder Kettle turned back to Cuphead, noticing his attention towards the window.

Chuckling, he Elder Kettle shook Cuphead's shoulder. "Tell 'im."

Cuphead made eye-contact with Elder Kettle. "What will I say?"

Elder Kettle shrugged his shoulders. "Everything." His smile grew to his cheeks. "I think your brother knows you better than I."

Heart-warmed. Grateful. Cuphead closed his eyes and smiled as he recalled how close they were as brothers.

"Just… say it."

Cuphead turned to Elder Kettle, scrunching an eyebrow while raising the other and smiling, intrigued.

Elder smiled cheek to cheek. "There's nothing wrong with saying it m'boy."

Relaxing his eyebrows, he smiled at his grandpa. He took one last look to the outside window.

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Outside the house, Cuphead closed the door as his slippers stepped into the grass, stained with orange candlelight from the hanging lamp by the front door. A cold wind blew into his sky blue and white striped pajamas, causing him to take a steady grasp on them to keep them from flapping.

"Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Never let it fade away…

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Save it for a rainy day…"

In wonder, Cuphead watched the music notes from Mugman's gentle song ride along the wind currents, which carried the song up to the smiling full moon that bobbed gently to the rhythm with closed eyes. He looked back at Mugman smiling. He walked towards the gentle song, bobbing his head along with the rhythm while the grass crackled beneath his slippers.

Arms and legs spread wide like a star, Mugman laid on the grass watching the star-struck sky while humming the verse of the lyrics he forgot.

"Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Never let it fade away…

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Save it for a rainy day…"

His eyes traced the constellations of blue stars while trying to avoid some red and orange stars mixed with some milky and some energy-filled nebulas. Clouds floated on by, blocking some of those he traced, and although annoying, he shrugged his shoulders and shifted his eyes to the next constellation... which was blocked by the towering shadowy figure of grinning Cuphead peeking in.

Mugman giggled and grinned. "Hey! You're all better."

"Yeah…" Cuphead scratched the back of his head. "Almost."

Mugman's grin closed into a relaxed smile.

"You…" Cuphead knelt down. "You wouldn't mind if you sang me that to sleep would you?"

Mugman shook his head. "I'd love to."

Cuphead beamed, grateful. "Though to be specific…" His voice sounding more teasing. "I like the one you just sang. No rock, pop, hip hop, or jazz."

Mugman laughed. "Gee Cuphead, I wish I had your sense of humo-oh!" His smile widened as his mind clicked with a joke. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Mugman covered his excited laughter, which caused Cuphead to laugh as well.

"Come on!" Excited, Cuphead shook his brother's right shoulder. "What is it, what is it?!"

"Uh!" Mugman raised his two hands, the index and middle fingers joined together, the thumb sticking apart, and the ring and pinkies were folded. "Catch a falling star! Uhuh Uhuh! Put em in your pocket! Uhuh Uhuh!" He started to bob his hands up and down like a rapper.

Cuphead unleashed a large holler of laughter, which was probably loud enough to wake the neighbors. Mugman laughed too, letting snort after snort out, which caused Cuphead to laugh even louder.

"Shhh!" Someone yelled from behind.

Laughing still, Cuphead and Mugman covered their mouths, muffling them. Looking behind, Cuphead saw Elder Kettle lowering his finger from his shush while the other hand pushed the circular living room window open.

"Sorry!" Cuphead whispered loud, hands coned on his mouth like a megaphone.

Satisfied, Elder Kettle smiled and raised his two curved hands together to form a heart.

"Aww." Cuphead placed his right hand on his chest, flattered.

"What?" Asked Mugman.

Cuphead grinned at Mugman and showed his own heart-shaped fingers to him. Heart-melted, Mugman's smile curled. Doing the same, he curved his own fingers into a heart and raised it high above, making sure Elder Kettle saw it.

Looking back to Elder Kettle, Cuphead showed his own finger heart as well. Elder Kettle smiled and nodded. He turned his gaze back to the full moon, which winked back at him.

Smiling, Cuphead turned his attention back to his brother to show his grin. Mugman patted the grass on his left, inviting his brother to lay next to him. Cuphead got up from his knees walked over to the spot his brother patted. Carefully, he moved his feet so as not to step on his brother's hand, which moved out of the way, and laid down with his arms spread wide like a star, however, his backhand hit Mugman's chest by accident, to which Mugman just chuckled it off.

"Sorry." Cuphead whispered.

Cuphead moved his right hand to the grass, next to Mugman's open palm. Casually, as if out of habit, Mugman, whose eyes were fixated on the stars, flipped that same palm onto Cuphead's right hand to rest on it. Cuphead then folded his fingers to hold it.

In awe and wonder, Cuphead watched the starry night sky, trying to make sense of the complex star system before him, but with how much he knew he could only draw a snake.

"Quite the dream you've had." Mugman said, amused.

Cuphead huffed. "You have no idea."

"Bro, I think you were playing hide and seek with me."

Cuphead shot a glance at Mugman, surprised, while the latter rolled his head to Cuphead to connect eyes with him.

"Okay, creepy." Cuphead teased.

Mugman giggled.

"Like, I get it when we coincidentally say the same thing and we try to out 'jinx' each other sometimes…" Cuphead rolled his eyes in different directions while remembering. "But this is some witchcraft mojo going on." His eyebrows scrunched in intrigue while his eyes looked straight to his brother.

"Or…" Mugman's pupils looked at the upper corner of his eyes, then back to Cuphead. "You move and talk when you sleep." Mugman stated as if it were a fact.

Cuphead blinked in realization. "I was that into it?" His eyebrows scrunched in curiosity.

Mugman grinned. "Like a dork playing superhero."

Cuphead grinned, intrigued. "Like you, after reading a comic?"

Mugman laughed and nudged his elbow to Cuphead's elbow causing the latter to chuckle. They both turned their gazes back to the stars.

"How…" Cuphead turned his head slightly towards Mugman, eyes still fixated on the stars. "How much do you know?" Cuphead asked.

"Well…" Mugman did the same, turning slightly to his brother without looking away from the stars. "You were climbing after me, then running," He nodded. Grinning, Mugman focused his eyes at Cuphead. "Then you caught me…" Mugman said, amused, causing Cuphead to grin and make eye-contact with him. "Tickled me!" Eyebrows scrunched, Mugman jerked his free arm to tickle Cuphead's stomach, causing his brother to jolt and laugh. Cuphead, eyebrows scrunched too, raised his free arm ready to tickle him, until he noticed Mugman was looking downwards with a face of worry, which caused him to stop and frown in concern. "…And then you started crying…. And-" Mugman's pupils shivered as he tried to form the words… but he just sighed.

Worried. A little heart-broken. He knew the face of his brother that usually teared up seconds later; spaced out, pupils shaking, and a much frowned Mugman. But Cuphead did not see his brother shed any. He gently tightened his grip on his brother's hand. His index finger poked between the gap of his brother's fingers, and Mugman opened the gaps of his fingers, allowing their fingers to interlace with each other.

Suddenly Cuphead pointed towards the bush on Mugman's right with his free left hand. Mugman rolled his head to look at the direction his brother pointed at.

"It happened there." Cuphead started. "I was fondling and pushing away the branches to check if you were hiding…" He scratched his chin, confused. "Funny, in my dream, there was this giant berry on the bush which looked so plump and juicy."

Unamused, Mugman rolled his head stiffly and glared at Cuphead. Cuphead squinted his right eye, confused at his brother's reaction… but then gasped in realization a few seconds later.

"Ha Ha Ha bro." Mugman said sarcastic, waving his head left or right in every syllable he spoke.

Like a hyena, Cuphead laughed in high pitches. He began patting his Mugman's nose, inspecting it, grasping it, and lightly squeezing it as he did in the dream, causing his brother to snicker at everything he did to his nose, and then he gasped. "Golly, that really was you!" He then continued laughing in the same pitch.

Mugman smirked and fake yawned, his free hand patting his open mouth. "I'm going back to bed." Mugman pushed himself up.

"No!" Laughing, Cuphead tugged his brother's hand, the one which was still holding his own. "Come back come back come back I'm sorry-" He squeaked into a hiccup then continued laughing.

Mugman, halfway up, looked back to his brother, smirking and scrunching an eyebrow. Cuphead, using his free hand, held steady his own forehead as he laughed.

Mugman laid back down as Cuphead's laughter calmed. Cuphead looked at his brother, beaming.

"That better be your last." Mugman said.

"Aw come on." Cuphead booped Mugman's nose, causing the latter to blink. "I know you like it when I tease you." Cuphead giggled.

Mugman's smirk grew an involuntary grin. "Then what?"

Trying to remember the story, Cuphead tapped his lips. His head jolted, and he grinned as he remembered. "You peeked out from that tree" He pointed towards the tree, behind the bush, which Mugman turned his attention to. "I think I said something like 'Come out, I know you love what comes next when I find you'."

Hand covering his grin, Mugman let out a chuckle. He turned back to Cuphead.

"I turn around from the bush, and I catch you grinning like a goofball, but as soon as I did you ducked back into the leaves a little." Cuphead giggled. He raised his left hand. "So I just grinned like a devil and wiggled my fingers at you to hint at what's coming!" He jerked his left hand at his brother's left armpit, causing Mugman to buckle it, laugh, and grip the hand that held his brother's hand tighter.

"And then… you started climbing the tree, throwing some raspberries at me like 'pbffftbfft!'" Cuphead his tongue out and made raspberry noise while waddling his goofy face, causing Mugman to laugh.

"And I climbed after you, like a lion!" Cuphead formed his left hand into a claw, scratched the air and growled while leaning towards Mugman. Mugman's shoulders jolted up while he grinned. Cuphead continued. "Clawing his way up and growling at it!"

Mugman's grinned stretched in excitement. "Until you reached the top, right?" Mugman asked.

"Uh uh." Cuphead shook his head. "You kept climbing… and climbing, and climbing."

"What?!" Mugman's head leaned closer in reaction.

"He-yeah!"

Mugman's mouth gaped. "How tall was it?"

"Taller than the clouds!"

Mugman imagined himself, laughing and giggling while climbing the foggy branches of the tree, and Cuphead growling and climbing after him.

"Wow…" Mugman said, his eyes fixated at the sky in wonder. "Then what?"

"You jumped off." Cuphead casually shrugged his shoulders.

Mugman's eyes bugged out and he shot a glance at his brother. "Golly what?!"

"Yeah!" Cuphead grinned. "Well, you landed on a cloud." He said as if it was something unexciting.

"Oh for crying-" Mugman began tickling his brother on the stomach, causing the latter to laugh.

"Made ya-! Made ya freak out!" Cuphead managed to squeak, trying to point his trembling his finger at Mugman who just giggled and tickled his brother more, making his brother laugh louder.

Mugman stopped and held his brother's shaking hand steady while waiting for him to calm down. Sighing, Cuphead looked up to the starry night sky.

"Okay, so I was on a cloud, then what?"

"Hmm" Cuphead tapped his chin. "As soon as I got to that branch you jumped from, I shouted something like… 'Come back here! I found ya so ya gotta get what ya deserve!' Aaand, as I said that ya threw more raspberry tongues at me."

Mugman giggled, spit his tongue out, and made raspberry sounds. "Like that?"

"Ye-heah! That annoying sound which was enough to trigger this cup." Cuphead pointed at himself.

They both shared a laugh.

"So I said 'Oh it's on!' and then I jumped after ya and then you…" Cuphead hummed while tapping his chin in thought. "What do you call that you…" He gritted his teeth in cringe. "You kinda panicked?"

Mugman cringed. "I don't think I panic when we play."

"No no no." Cuphead swished his hand as if he were erasing something. "It was like a panic… but you do it when I chase you… and you laugh while you're at it."

"Ohh, you mean when I'm having fun and I try not to get tagged?"

"Yeah, that. What do you call it?"

Mugman tapped his mouth. "I think you mean 'thrill'?"

"So…" Cuphead pointed his index finger as if trying to make a point. His pupils on the lower left corners of his eyes in thought. "You shivered in thrill, fell on your butt on the cloud, crawled and scrambled through the puffs… with thrill, and then dropped to the edge falling to another cloud below."

"Uhh… we'll workshop that." Mugman waved his hand laid flat on the air.

"Okay, just pretend I didn't suck at storytelling for a sec and we're good."

Mugman snickered.

"So then… we went cloud hopping! You bounced off cloud after cloud away from me while I chased after you… in your case you hopped with thrill."

Mugman laughed.

"And then Grim Matchstick flew by, he was flapping his dragon wings and waving at us with his paws." Cuphead waved hello as he did in the dream. "Followed by Hildaberg, laughing with her 'Heh heh heh heh heh'… like a villain… no thrill."

Mugman laughed and nudged his left elbow on Cuphead's arm, which was strong enough to push him a little.

"St-hop abusing that word!" Mugman grinned.

"What?! I learned a new word from you… it's so thrilling!"

Back heads pushing the grass, they both laughed, almost as loud as when Elder Kettle shushed them, but they immediately covered their laughs before they could reach that level.

Cuphead sighed out his laughter. "And then… where was I?"

"Heh heh heh heh heh." Mugman imitated Hilda while his head danced.

"Oh yeah. So while I was hopping after you, Hilda noticed that I was chasing you, came close to me and then said 'pss wss wss wss wss'."

Mugman's smile gaped, his eyebrows scrunched. "Wh-hat?!" Mugman laughed.

"Bro!" Cuphead giggled. "I'm not kidding. That's exactly what she said. Aaaand for some reason I understood that as 'suck in the clouds.'"

"Maybe it's because you understand 'psswss'-glish. You're quite the natural bro." Mugman laughed.

"Pss wss wss?" Grinning, Cuphead tilted his head closer to his brother.

Mugman tapped his chin twice. "Psssshh" Mugman shook his head, apologetic.

Cuphead inhaled. "Pbbfft!" He said like a sigh while sticking his tongue out and making raspberry sounds.

Mugman laughed. "We are soo doing that later."

"Wiiith… Elder Kettle?" Cuphead raised an eyebrow.

Mugman gasped. "Yeah! But… what if he doesn't get it?"

"What if he does?" Cuphead teased.

Mugman's mouth gaped. Their mouths, in sync, grew into a big grin and they laughed, shaking their fists in excitement without breaking their hand-holding.

"Buut… if it doesn't-" Cuphead pointed his index finger in the air.

"We'll just tell 'im!" Mugman interrupted, smiling calmly.

Cuphead gasped and then grinned.

Giggling, Mugman shrugged his shoulders. "I doubt we'll have to. Now that ya mention it, he's been really good at catching our humor lately."

Cuphead laughed softly. "Now… where was I?"

"Pss wss wss." Mugman danced his head.

"No!" Eyes bugged out, grinning with thrill, Cuphead's free hand pushed Mugman's shoulder, causing the latter to laugh. "After I said- 'Suck in the clouds!'"

Mugman laughed. "You really do understand that." His voice squeaked.

"Shut up!" Cuphead laughed as he pushed his brother again. He kept knocking his own head, trying to remember the story. "Suck the clouds, suck the clouds… Ah!" He snapped his fingers. "You were cloud hopping!"

"Pssswss!" Mugman nodded.

"Damn it Mugman!" Cuphead pounded the grass with his left fist.

They both shared a loud laugh, Cuphead with his high-pitch clownish laugh and Mugman with his gentle giggles that would either squeak to high-pitches or turn into snorts occasionally as he held his forehead back trying to compose himself.

"Go back to bed!" Cuphead pointed to the house door.

Shaking his brother's shoulder apologetically, Mugman laughed. "You su-hucked in the clouds!"

Cuphead's lower lip clamped shut trying to hold back his titter and grin that stretched end to end, trying to hold in his stupid idea…. until he shut his eyes and said "Psswsswss!"

Hollers of echoing laughter, fast and hysterical. Mouths gaped wide open. Fists banging on the ground. Heads and bodies rolling around, trying to control their funny bones. Milk splashed and spilled on the grass. Breaths heaved for air to try not to suffocate themselves. Their laughter calmed a little… And then... creeping in their minds...

'Psswssswss'

With hyena-like laughter, Cuphead's back head pushed into the grass, his gaping mouth pointing to the sky. Mugman's gentle and innocent laughter rattled on, turning into high squeaks and snorts, causing Cuphead to laugh louder and faster with his hiccups and squeaks. Tears were being wiped off before the other could see. Their hands were still holding each other, desperate for an anchor to hold onto, and in the midst of their laughter they decided to pound them together on the grass. Their heads hit each other, making a clink sound, and they just rubbed the pain away with snuggles. Although they were still laughing, the thought of Hilda was fading, and they wanted to finish the story.

For a moment they looked at each other and sighed from the laughter... and then Cuphead sneaked in a "Psswssswss."

Grips of their hands tightened as the joke danced back in their heads and they burst out laughing. Teeth ate back their hollers, and they gritted they tried to hold back their laughter until it was too sweet to hold shut and they burst out laughing again. To hell with the story. Cuphead started coughing, causing Mugman to laugh even more and eventually cough as well, which caused the former to laugh even more. Laughter, which was fast and hysterical, turned into sighing and quick heaving. Hands sweaty and aching from the strong grips they've shared. Heaving for breath turned into soft giggling, with occasional inhaling, and a very tiny bit of crying from so much laughter.

Eyes opened towards the night sky, and in a half-second, a shooting star dashed across the milky nebulas.

They both gasped, caressing each other's grip gently. They looked at each other grinning.

Mugman nudged Cuphead's elbow with his own. "Make a wish." He whispered.

Eyes glistening in gratitude, pupils shaking, Cuphead rubbed his sniffling nose. He looked back at the sky, the spot where the shooting star was, and closed his eyes. He thought of the things he had wanted the most: all the money, all the ice cream, all the rides… 'psswssswss'.

Cuphead giggled. "I… I don't what else to wish for Mugs…" He opened his eyes. "I've got everything I need to be happy."

Mugman raised an eyebrow. "Not even money?" He asked in disbelief.

Cuphead grinned and then snickered. Eyes watched the stars. "Why bro?... Why do you make me feel like I don't need it right now? We could buy all the candy with that!"

Mugman smiled and felt himself tear up a little. He looked back at the constellation and watched the stars in awe.

"I'd like to think… That shooting star was us though." Cuphead turned his head towards his brother. "Just… you and me laughing like that… probably forever… and it wouldn't hurt because it was never too much."

Mugman turned to Cuphead and smiled.

Cuphead made eye-contact with his brother. "So… I sucked in the clouds…" The eye-contact, the pause, and their smiles growing in sync again made it so distracting that he was thinking about the annoying whispering sound they invented.

"Do-hon't say it!" Cuphead pushed his brother's shoulder.

"No you don't say it!" Mugman pushed back, grinning.

Cuphead laughed, soft and tired from his fit earlier. "You ran in place on the cloud with thrill…" Cuphead paused, realized what he just said, and cringe-bit his lip. He couldn't help but grin and share a few giggles with Mugman. He squeezed his eyes just to force the thought off. "I mean, you were running in place because I was sucking in the- Argh! Damn it!"

Mugman and Cuphead laughed; the former heaved one big sigh in the middle of his laugh and pointed his finger to Cuphead, while the latter cried tears of defeat.

"Okay okay!" Cuphead puts his free hand up. "The wind kept pulling you back, and all the clouds with it. You were getting giddy…" Cuphead's pupils paced around his eyes, wondering about what he just said.

Mugman giggled. "Yeah, I think that's the right word."

Cuphead's grin stretched, his lower lip clamping his mouth again.

"Cuphead no!" Mugman giggled as he pushed his brother.

Cuphead snickered. "Just… one more."

Mugman laughed. "We-he'll never finish."

Cuphead sighed. "You were getting giddy over the fact you were being pulled towards me. I swallowed each and every cloud I saw, and you just kept running on air while the wind kept pulling you back. And when you were near enough… 'Gotcha!'" Cuphead's free hand tackled Mugman's right shoulder, causing the latter to giggle.

"Ohh…" Mugman realized. "We were falling?!" He asked, excited.

"Yeah! And… falling, and falling and falling. Nothing to fall into but the blue sky." Cuphead grinned, mischievous. "All the more reason to tickle you…" Cuphead poked Mugman's armpit, causing him to giggle. "and tickle you…" He poked Mugman's side stomach, making him giggle again. "and tickle you…" This time, he wiggled his fingers on his brother's stomach.

"Aaaand you started snorting." Cuphead said as if it was a normal unexciting thing.

Coincidentally, Mugman let out a snort, which he covered with his hand in surprise.

Cuphead laughed. "Yeah, like that." They both shared a gentle giggle. Eyes looked down, Cuphead smiled, cherishing that same dream. "I really wished… at that moment, we'd stay like that… even for just a dream."

Pupils shaking in flattery, Mugman smiled calmly. He moved his left hand, the one which had been holding his brother's this entire time. He made them stand on their wrists and began to slowly dance it left and right. Cuphead took notice too, and began to dance it as well, making their hand-dance lighter and more festive-like, though occasionally he would reverse direction or make it heavier and cause Mugman to giggle while he pushed and tried to maintain the dance momentum. Cuphead, however, with a smirk, made it unmoveable, and Mugman grunted and giggled as he tried to force it to move.

In longing, Cuphead sighed. The game started becoming easier; Mugman danced and wrestled his brother's practically lifeless hand. Concerned, Mugman looked at his brother, who now wore a face of regret… and his eyebrows creased in fear. Fingers began to tremble in between the fingers of Mugman's firm and supportive hand that slow-danced to a still-standing stop.

Mugman slow-blinked as his fingers tightened and 'hugged' his brother's hand. "When did it… get bad?"

Cuphead's pupils were shaking, focused on their hands. "We were laughing… but someone else was laughing too. The sky turned sunset orange… no it was more… fire orange… with hints of blood red. We stopped laughing, we both got scared."

Cuphead paused.

"His voice was everywhere… just laughing... like he was happy we were going to… to die... we looked above our heads… and he was there. King Dice's giant head, probably as big as one Inkwell Isle."

Cuphead's hold firmed.

"We both fired our finger-guns to his head, but our bullets weren't chipping 'im… and he just kept laughing, while we kept falling into his mouth full of fire."

Mugman shivered, and Cuphead felt his brother's shiver with his hand. Cuphead rubbed his index finger on the back of Mugman's hand, comforting it.

"Everything went black for a moment. The next time I opened my eyes… we were back on those floating islands that kept us from falling to that bottomless fire pit below. I've never been so afraid and so… careful in my life… And then, the devil's giant head rose from the fire, laughing at us… and his body, his arms, and his… giant fork materialized…" Cuphead huffed as if he tried to chuckle but nothing came out because of the heavy fear. "I might've butchered that word." He tried to smile.

"No no. Keep going." Mugman's eyes remained serious and concerned.

Cuphead exhaled. "He raised his fist, about to squish us. We jumped off to the next island and dodged the blow while we fired at his face… but then… he made a fist with the other… we were still midair… he was gonna hit us."

Mugman noticed his brother's pupils shake more.

"And then you-" He exhaled abruptly as if he sobbed instead of breathing. "You pushed me back! You… you saved me you…. You…" Tears started forming in his eyes. "You smiled as you kept going…" Cuphead sniffed. "You landed, and… just like that he…"

Mugman imagined himself being crushed by the devil's giant fist. He wasn't scared, but he was more concerned for his brother.

Cuphead sobbed, and forcibly wiped his tears away. "I wanted to save you… I jumped to your ghost to parry you but… The devil he… swatted me away… I just watched you float up… and..."

"...I couldn't do anything..." Mugman thought of what Cuphead would've said.

Mugman reached his hand to hold Cuphead's left side of his chin, to which the latter leaned on to rest.

"And I believed it… you were gone. Those…" Cuphead blinked off tears, and he slowly shook his head in regret. "Those same words just kept echoing in my head… 'he's gone…' 'he's gone…' 'he's gone…'"

Sobbing. Trembling. Cuphead held for dear life onto his brother's hand that held his own chin. His breathing became rapid heaves for a moment, and as Mugman rubbed his fingers to calm him, Cuphead took a deep breath.

"I just…" Cuphead's grip on their hands tightened in anger, to which Mugman gritted his teeth in pain until it lessened into a tolerable level. "I had nothing left to lose… there was only one thing left to do."

Flashback. Cuphead's growls of rage. His finger gun humming with power. The scream of anger. Mugman aiming his finger at the wall. The explosion.

In silence, they both shared, laying on the grass. The chirps of cicadas filled the air. Ocean waves bobbed on the island.

"And then…" Cuphead's grip on his brother's hand softened, giving Mugman's hand relief. "I woke up… with a slap to my face." His eyes rolled, saying the last phrase with sass. He looked to Mugman, who was smirking. He grinned. "And you were alive."

From a smirk, Mugman smiled relieved as he heard the happy ending. He let go of his brother's hand and wrapped Cuphead in his hug while the latter caught Mugman and snuggled his chin on his brother's shoulder.

"You okay?" Mugman smiled.

Cuphead sighed in relief. "I'll be fine. It was… it was only a dream."

"Yeah."

With one last tight embrace, they shared a sigh and laid back onto the grass with arms and legs spread like stars.

"So… that dream was… quite the thrill." Mugman grinned cheekily at his brother.

Frowning. Unamused. Cuphead rolled his head slowly on the rustling grass to look at his brother while Mugman just grinned wide, with a drop of sweat coming out of his forehead. Mugman felt insecure, self-doubting if he did something wrong, or he told a really bad joke, and apparently, Cuphead's blank face was showing him he did…. At least… until a smile slow curled on the left side of his lip and struggled to stay frowned. A snort escaped from his mouth. His chest, shoulders, head jiggled as if he was laughing. Soon, the tiny smiling lip curl spread as if it fought its way to Cuphead's entire stubborn mouth. Cuphead covered the curly smile with his hand.

Mugman giggled in mischievous 'hee hee hee', his confidence growing. He flashed his best Cuphead-like grin of confidence while snapping his fingers and pointing them to Cuphead with an "Eyy! Winky winky!" He winked twice.

Looking at Mugman, Cuphead burst one big snicker which then continued into muffled laughs and squeaks. His eyes squinted in repeated blinks as he tried to divert eye-contact, but his stubborn annoying curiosity for more would bring his attention back and forth. His lower lip seemingly devouring his upper lip trying its best to keep his laughter in.

Mugman giggled. He moved closer to his brother. "Come on bro." He smirked, wrapping his arm around Cuphead's neck; Cuphead looked at his brother, happy eyes half-begging him to stop. "You know you want to." He poked Cuphead's stomach.

In reaction, Cuphead's legs buckled as tears started welling in his eyes. Defiant and stubborn, he shook his head.

Mugman giggled. He tapped his chin in thought, and then snapped his fingers as he thought of an idea.

"So…" He said softly to his brother's non-existent ear. "What did Hildaberg have to say to make a tornado?"

As he listened and as the question swirled into his head, Cuphead's lower lip folded over his upper lip even further up to his nose. His muffled laughs became louder as the answer became clear. His tears flowed down as he closed his eyes. More intense, more defiant, his head shakes caused his milk to splatter on the grass and some to his giggling brother. Mugman just laid there, grinning and waiting until his brother stopped shaking his head. Meanwhile, Cuphead's left fist started pounding the grass again. Tiring out and due to headache, Cuphead stopped shaking, but his stubborn silly snickers continued. Grinning mischievous, Mugman pulled his brother's head closer, clinking their heads.

Mugman turned his head and brought his lips close to his brother's ear…. Silence. Snickers. Cuphead's fists closing; his right squeezed his chin while his left arm squeezed close to his side. He squeezed his eyes shut. Listening... Waiting... Waiting... Waiting... Wai- "Psss wsss wss!"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Cuphead jolted up into a sit, his mouth gaping wide open.

All the laughter he had tried to contain burst into one huge hysterical hyena-like holler that escaped into the night, startling the once calm, relaxed moon now irritated. Mugman, in grinning glee, covered his ears with his hands from the loudest laugh that he has ever heard, all while sharing a few giggles and laughs himself. His grin stretched as he listened to the sweet and rowdy music of victory.

Cuphead crashed his back onto the grass, laughing and pounding the ground with his two fists, trying to get the tickling joke out of his brain. Yelling, laughing, yelling, rolling around then laughing again. Wrapping his arm around Cuphead's neck, Mugman tugged his brother closer as he shared their loud laughter.

"Noooohahahahaha!" Cuphead yelled as he pounded the grass. "I refuse! I refuse! I re-!" His laughter hijacked what he was supposed to say.

"Yeahhhahaha!" Mugman pumped his fist in the air. "Eat that bro!"

Cuphead landed one very weak punch to his brother's stomach, to which Mugman just proudly took.

The house door creaked open. Immediately Mugman hugged his brother's head close to his chest, muffling the sound of his laughter, leaving Mugman's soft, innocent, high-pitches to laugh alone.

Elder Kettle stood by the open doorway, annoyed that they did not obey him.

Mugman controlled his laugh into snickers. He held two 'peace' fingers in front, towards Elder Kettle. "I'm sorry-" He managed to speak before he snickered into laughter and collapsed on the grass.

Elder Kettle sighed, then took notice of Cuphead, who looked like he was either smothering himself or cuddling on Mugman's chest while he laughed, body shaking while at it. He smiled, knowing that Cuphead was very okay, shrugged his shoulders, and then closed the door.

As he heard the door close, Cuphead popped his head off of Mugman's chest, took a deep inhale, and let out a cackling fit.

"Why-h-! What did Hilda have to say to make a torna-Hahahaha!" Cuphead slapped his forehead, trying to sit upright.

Mugman laughed. "What?"

They both inhale. "PSSWSSSWSSS!" Tongues and faces waddled around, splashing milk and saliva.

Laughing. Crashing. Rolling on the grass. Cuphead laughing and squeaking with hyena-like pitches. Mugman laughing and snorting with his innocent low pitches. Clinking; their heads accidentally bumping into each other while they were rolling around the grass. Gasping for air. Mugman holding his own forehead trying to keep himself from rolling out of control. Cuphead just rolling, wherever he pleased carelessly until he managed to lay on top of his brother's stomach.

Their laughs calmed into slow heaves, with the occasional cackles, and then eventually the noise settled into exhales and sighs after having a good laugh. Cuphead, although struggling, wrapped his arm around Mugman's shoulders and managed to pull his brother in for a clinking hug.

"Golly-!" Mugman laughed. "This is -! The happiest-!" Mugman laughed. "You've ever been!"

Cuphead laughed, gasping for air. "My-!" He inhaled. "My stomach hurts." He squeaked.

They shared laughter and a head toast; the rims of their heads touching. The last of the tickles in their funny bones finally started to rattle out, although they did long for a bit more fun.

Cuphead glanced at his brother, who had his eyes closed and was letting out a few laughs while heaving steadily.

Mugman opened his eyes, smiling at Cuphead. The latter, after looking away in hesitation, cuddled up to his brother's cheek. Mugman brought his arm around Cuphead's shoulders, mimicking his brother's hug.

"Say it." Mugman said enthusiastically.

Cuphead chuckled. "Wh-hat?"

Mugman lightly shook his brother's shoulder, laughing. "Say it!"

Cuphead blinked, smiled, understood what his brother was talking about, and looked away feeling shy.

Mugman giggled. "Say, it! Say, it! Say, it! Say-!"

"Okay! Okay!" Cuphead sighed. "I…. I…."

Cuphead kept his mouth open, trying to say something but then sighed, defeated.

Eyes searching Cuphead, Mugman's eyebrows creased, confused. "What's stopping you?"

"Okay… hear me out." Cuphead held his hands up. "Honestly, I'd really love to say it…" Cuphead paused, while Mugman smiled and patiently waited. "But… I don't think it cuts it you know?"

Mugman blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Cuphead's grin stretched wider. "You're my bro! My best pal! My… my hero!" He grinned. "You get it? Three words aren't enough."

Flattered, Heart-melted, Mugman felt his smile show a grin. "Well… how do you wanna say it?"

Cuphead tapped his lips in thought. "Like… a high five." He raised an eyebrow and his right hand.

Eyes glinting with excitement, Mugman high fived his brother's open hand.

"And… a low five?" Cuphead brought his open palm low.

Mugman clapped his brother's palm with his hand.

"And… a parry five?"

Mugman giggled. He consciously formed a hand at the top of his straw and waved it to Cuphead. Grinning, Cuphead morphed the tip of his straw into a hand and then high-fived his brother's straw.

"Then maybe… a clink?"

Mugman giggled more. They lightly bumped their foreheads together.

"Hmm..." Mugman's eyes brightened with an idea. "Do all four?" He grinned.

Cuphead grinned too. "Yeah!"

The boys jumped from laying in the ground to a stand.

"High five!" Cuphead shouted.

They both high fived, giggling.

"Low five!"

They both low fived.

"Parry!"

They both jumped into a front flip, their straws morphed into pinkish hands and high-fived each other, and then they landed on their feet.

"Clink!" Cuphead opened his arms, inviting a hug.

They both ran to each other and toasted each other's heads into a cuddly hug.

"Bro!" They both yelled out.

They both laughed and closed their eyes to indulge in their hug.

"I love you." Cuphead tightened his hug, as he pressed against his brother's cheek.

Mugman squeezed his eyes shut and grinned wider as he heard those words. "I love you too bro." He pressed back to his brother's cheek.

They hummed in comfort as they tried to squish each other in their hugs. Crickets and cicadas chirped. The bobbing ocean waves. Exhales of relief as they relaxed their hugs.

Cuphead yawned, his mouth opened wide.

Mugman peeked his left eye open. "Sleepy?" As he said it, Mugman yawned.

Cuphead smiled, opened his eyes, and offered his arm to Mugman. With open eyes, Mugman smiled and hooked his arm around his brother's arm and then they buddy-walked back to the house.

"Hey." Mugman whispered.

"What?" Cuphead whispered.

"Catch a falling star. Uhuh-uhuh. Put it in your pocket. Uhuh-uhuh." Mugman whispered while bouncing his head and pointing his right index finger down as if he was rapping.

Snickering, Cuphead used his buddy arm to push his brother away, as he began laughing again. Mugman just grinned and put his fists on his hips proudly... but he wished he had some shades to wear to look cool on his victory.

Bonus:

"Mugs?" Cuphead asked.

"Yes?"

"Where did you get that 'uhuh-uhuh' from?"

"Well…. You have my heart. And we'll never be worlds apart…" Mugman sang.

Cuphead snickered, pushed his brother away and began laughing again.

#cuphead #cuphead and mugman #mugman #fanfiction #cuphead fanart #cuphead fanfic #wholesome #family #comfort #brothers #brotherly love

[auxiliarydetective]

Kassandra Hargeeves' Scenes, S01E10: The White Violin

The house comes crashing down, with the world soon to follow after

Collapsing

Suddenly, the entire house started shaking. All doors flew open at once. In an instinctive reaction, Luther, Klaus, Diego and Kassandra almost ran into each other in the hallway.

“Yo, what the hell is going on?” Diego asked tensely.

Klaus looked around in confusion and fear. “Are those explosions coming from-”

“Vanya”, Pogo said grimly, appearing behind them. “We need to get to safety. Outside the academy.”

The noise wouldn't cease. Explosions, crumbling walls, grinding of bricks and groaning of beams…

“I knew this was a bad idea”, Kassandra whispered.

“Don’t forget Mom”, Luther told the others.

With a decisive nod, Diego, Klaus and Kassandra started running for the exit. Around them, the walls started to crack. Dust rained down from the ceiling. Suddenly, Kassandra stopped dead in her tracks.

“I need to talk to Vanya”, she declared.

Both Klaus and Diego stared at her in disbelief.

“You’re crazy”, Diego stated. “Vanya is about to bring the whole house crashing down and you think talking to her will fix things?”

“I need to try”, Kassandra insisted.

“Listen, Kass”, Klaus cut in, “I’m usually all for crazy things but this is just downright suicidal. We need to get out of here!”

“Then you get out. I’m going to find Vanya. She’s listened to me before, there’s a chance she’ll listen again.”

“Kassandra…” Diego said firmly and took her by the arm to pull her onwards but she yanked herself free.

“Look, Diego, I’m sorry”, she sighed with pleading eyes, “but I need to do this. I promise I’ll make it out alive.”

With that, and without looking at her brothers again, she hurried down the hallway. Thoughts were racing through her mind, her own just as stressful as those of others, her feelings tearing her up from the inside. She had to be there for Vanya because she had always been there for her, because she had been through so much and because she had to be so lost and confused. On the other hand, she knew Diego and Klaus were right. This was madness. Especially in the light of their recent losses, she felt horrible putting her life on the line. On top of that, she was scared. Scared of the state she would find Vanya in, scared of dying, scared of losing her family again. Still, she forced herself to focus. She found Vanya’s thoughts and followed them to their source. Soon, she could hear voices. Vanya and Pogo.

As she stepped into the salon, her blood went cold. There she was. Vanya. Her skin had turned sickly pale and her eyes were like alabaster, cold as stone. Wind and vibrations swirled around her, reaching into Kassandra’s body to stir her soul. On top of this, Vanya was not herself. Her mind had become unreadable, ice cold. But what was the most terrifying was what was happening in front of Kassandra this very instant. Pogo was lifted up into the air as the winds grew stronger. Then, he shot through the entire room, right into the large antlers along the wall. A wave of nausea hit Kassandra as she saw their scarlet tips tear through his chest. The fabric of his suit turned a deep red. Then, his eyes met hers. The noise of the collapsing house faded for a moment. Kassandra wanted to go to him, hold his hand as he went, but-

“Kassandra.”

Vanya’s voice pulled her gaze away from him. Kassandra had to be wearing her emotions clearly on her face, despite how much she tried to be strong.

“Vanya, I… I’m sorry”, she stammered. “All of this has gone far out of control.”

“You mean you can’t control me anymore.”

“No, I-” She realized she had no clue what to say. All this time she had had to prepare and now nothing came out. “We never should have done all those things to you. We’ve given you a horrible life. To know the truth now… I can’t imagine how you feel right now, but… I could if you let me try…”

Shakily, she pulled off her gloves and reached out her hands to the white being that her sister had become. There had to be a way out of this. A peaceful solution. This couldn’t be the end.

“You knew about my powers all along and you didn’t tell me”, Vanya said coldly.

“Yes, I knew, but you know that I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to!” Kassandra cried out, her voice breaking. “Please, Vanya, this situation is messy enough as it is. Let me try to help you. The amount of mistakes that has been made is too big to just forgive and forget, I know, but we can try to take this one step at a time. I don’t want to lose my sister. I still love you! I-”

Her words got stuck in her throat as she felt herself be lifted off the ground. Her lungs felt like they were being compressed, her throat sewn shut.

“Vanya, please-”

But it was no use. With a shock wave, Kassandra was hurled backwards and crashed through the front doors. As glass shards and splinters flew around her, everything went black.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

Breaking Down

“Kass! Kassandra!”

Hurriedly, Diego picked her motionless body up from the ground, cold shivers running down his spine. It felt like time went in slow motion. But when he finally heard quiet breathing, a sigh of relief escaped him.

“Hey, she kept her promise!” Klaus remarked in a tone that sounded scared, incredulous, glad and like he was trying to lighten up the situation somehow.

His attempt failed but… it was good to know at least one person had made it. Allison leaned against Luther, holding on to his arm. With a quiet groan, Kassandra’s head moved slightly.

“Take it slow”, Diego whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open, first filled with drowsiness, then confusion, then gratitude.

“Diego, you’re alive!” Kassandra gasped.

She sat up slowly and looked around, a smile spreading across her face as she looked at each of her siblings.

“You all made it!”

But then, her smile faded. She had to have already picked it up from the others’ thoughts. Still, Luther took it upon himself to deliver the bad news to her:

“Mom and Pogo didn’t make it.”

Kassandra’s eyes went hollow. She nodded lightly and got up, only to stumble and almost collapse. Immediately, Diego and Klaus were at her side to catch her.

“Let’s sit you down somewhere”, Klaus suggested.

They moved her over to one of the pieces of the entrance gate still standing. As they walked, even these few steps, they noticed she was shaking. Her breathing was becoming more shallow. Then, she choked. The moment they sat her down on one of the stones in front of the entrance, they noticed she was crying. Kassandra, who had always been there for others, who had always taken the others’ pain, who had always listened to them cry, who herself had never cried in front of them - or anyone as far as they knew - since she was five years old. But now it had happened. Crumbling her face in pain, Kassandra covered her mouth to muffle the sound of her cries. She doubled over as if trying to spit out her heart right then and there.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay”, Klaus said quickly, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let it out.”

But her breathing kept getting shakier and more and more shallow. Klaus recognized too well what this meant.

“Breathe, Kass, breathe. It’s okay, we’re all okay. We’re safe. Just breathe.”

Quickly, Allison wrote down some things on her notepad and held it up to Kassandra. When she realized she wouldn’t read it, she nudged Klaus. Breathe. 3 in, 3 hold, 3 out, 3 pause.

“Okay, let’s do a little exercise. Kass?”

But Kassandra wouldn’t listen. Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos.

“Guys!” Five called, running to the group. He had a newspaper clutched in his hand.

“Not now, Five”, Luther said dryly.

“This is it. The apocalypse is still on, the world ends today.”

“Five, this is not the time.”

“Of course, it’s the time, we- Oh, shit.”

Kassandra’s state had only gotten worse at his words. Diego took a deep breath. This could either make things worse or make things better and he had no idea what this would be like but he had to try.

“Kass… I’ll take your hand, okay?”

He took off his gloves and carefully wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Immediately, he could feel a surge of panic come on. So the telepathy did work the same both ways, Kassandra had just always locked her feelings away. Now, she couldn’t anymore. To his surprise, Kassandra moved her hand, allowing him to hold it. Her panic swept over to him even further, but knowing that it wasn’t his helped him deal with it and he hoped that his state of mind would somehow help Kassandra too. If not, hopefully at least the touch of his hand would. He tried to be gentle, just like she always had been, and just like he remembered himself doing with her time and time again, she squeezed his hand, looking for support.

“There we go… Now let’s breathe together, okay? Three seconds in… three seconds hold… three seconds out… three seconds pause… And again. That’s it.”

Really, her panic slowly started to ebb away. Her breathing became calmer, deeper, less stiff.

“You’re doing great, Kass”, Klaus encouraged her.

Finally, she swallowed the lump in her throat and wiped off her tears but she didn’t let Diego’s hand go. Gently, he rubbed his thumb across her skin. They didn’t talk, but their connected minds gave them a special kind of bond. For the first time since their birth, Diego felt like he truly understood his sister - and he felt sorry, but also very grateful. Grateful that she had gone through everyone else’s troubles and sorry that she had gone through hers alone. But not anymore.

“Are you feeling better, Kass?” Five asked, hands in his pockets but still looking genuinely concerned.

Kassandra nodded with a sigh.

“Good, because I’ve got bad news. I was wrong. The apocalypse happens today. This newspaper I found in the future the day I got stuck. The headline hasn’t changed.”

“No, that doesn’t mean anything”, Diego said quietly, half in the moment, half in his mind - or their mind. “Time could’ve been altered since that newspaper came out this morning.”

“You’re not listening to me. When I found it I assumed this place came down along with everything else. But here we are, the moon’s still shining, the Earth is in one piece, but not the Academy.”

In the distance, a helicopter whirred and sirens blared. Klaus pulled the newspaper out of Five’s hand, mumbling: “I’m confused.

“Then listen to me, you idiot”, Five insisted. “Vanya destroys the Academy before the apocalypse. I thought Harold Jenkins was the cause but he was the fuse. Vanya is the bomb. Vanya causes the apocalypse.”

With those words, Diego could feel Kassandra’s mind be whirled up again. He squeezed her hand lightly.

“We have to find her”, Luther declared.

Suddenly, they were in the middle of a searchlight. Bright, blinding almost, and pointed directly at them. Immediately, a jolt went through Diego’s body

“We gotta go”, he announced. “Now!”

He jumped up from his seat and pulled Kassandra up with him, tightening his grip on her hand. This was no state to leave her alone in, especially not in a situation like this.

“Regroup at the Super Star”, Luther ordered. “Go!”

With that, everyone started running off in different directions.

“Take care of her!” Klaus called after Diego and Kassandra.

“I will!”

He would. He had sworn it.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

The End

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You’re looking at it. A 58-year-old man inside a child’s body, so there’s that.”

“Well, I think that’s not too bad”, Kassandra remarked, her heartbeat thumping against her chest at the thought of the chunks of the moon raining from above. “I liked being a child. It’s a lot better than dying, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, what the hell, I’m in”, Diego declared.

“Yeah, whatever”, Klaus shrugged. “I’m in too.”

“Me too”, Luther said. “Allison?”

Allison nodded.

“What about Ben?”

“Great, yeah, he’s in”, Klaus announced.

“Okay, great. Luther, grab Vanya”, Five ordered.

This was it. It was time travel or nothing.

“Wait, should we be taking her?” Luther interrupted. “I mean, if she’s the cause of the apocalypse, isn’t that like taking the bomb with us?”

“A bomb can be defused”, Kassandra said, putting a hand on Vanya’s forehead. For now, she was unconscious. Peacefully asleep. “If we take her with us, we get a chance to undo the mistakes we’ve made, or at least try to mend them.”

“Kass is right”, Five declared. “The apocalypse will always happen and Vanya will always be the cause, unless we take her with us and fix her.”

Kassandra took another look up at the moon. Its fiery image made her shiver. Quickly, everyone gathered in a circle, taking each other’s hand. Their tenseness flooded into Kassandra, but for once she made no effort to hold hers back either. Instead, she let herself ease into the fact that this meant she wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to go through this all by herself. Above them, blue light flickered and thunder crashed. That crack in the sky that had given them Five back would now take them away. Kassandra didn’t care what the consequences of this would be. As long as they made it and as long as she kept her family, she would accept anything. Finally, maybe in their last moments on this Earth or at least in this time, she could feel everyone’s hearts beating in the same rhythm. Finally, after all these years, she could feel a seventh presence again. Ben was here, he was back. Finally, the entire Umbrella Academy was back together.

With a loud whooshing, Kassandra felt herself be lifted off the floor, up into the light. Then, everything disappeared.

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua oc #oc: kassandra hargreeves #fanfiction #kass rewrites #fam: your tears are mine #fam: stand by me #fam: the silence is so loud

[ohc-and-the-music-tapes-archive]

Interview with Julian Koster about Chocolate USA in Flagpole, July 14, 1993 [source]

transcript:

CHEWING THE CHOCOLATE CUD

Chocolate USA is more than a band; it's a concept, and, according to Julian Koster, vocalist/writer/musician, it's an attempt to bridge the gap between fan and band. “Chocolate is more a ‘thing’ than a band. It's an idea,” he said while spooning out the sour cream from his chicken burrito while we sat at Compadres. “When I was a kid the bands I listened to opened me up; they were like my best friends.” He went on to describe the intensity of emotion and intimacy one feels when connecting with the music. So many bands build walls around them and what Chocolate would like to do is “make something without a backdrop. The idea is... the world has to be limitless.”

We originally drove off towards town in Chocolate’s newly acquired red van with white paint sloshed in swirls along the sides. The van is the band’s current prized possession once belonging to Bar/None, Chocolate’s record label. Performers such as They Might Be Giants, Freedy Johnston, and others have graced its exteriors and left their marks in the guise of bumper stickers and stage passes plastered on the metal sides and dashboard. A Soul Asylum all access pass looms from under the radio while bumper stickers proudly proclaiming “My other car is a penis" and “Bush Wishing Well — please give a shit about greedy Republicans” cover the sides of the well-worn vehicle. There's a Freedy Johnston backstage pass, and a few others with handwritten band names, now smudged through time.

There's also the cow... and our reason for driving downtown in the first place — to find paint that will cover the Wooden Cow Guest House insignia in the middle of Julian's four foot high wooden cow. “I'm into a cow phase at the moment,” he said while we walked towards the art shop carrying the cow. “It’s the imagery of cows on the side of the road — no matter where you tour, there are cows on the side of the road. I used to pass this cow pasture all the time when I was in high school so it brings back certain memories to me,” he said. I asked him if he had written any ‘cow’ songs. He began singing one, to no surprise.

Their debut album, All Jets Are Gonna Fall Today, was released by Bar/None records just a couple of months ago, yet the material for the album was written and recorded several years ago while Julian was at the high point of his adolescent angst. “Bar/None took it as is. Most people block adolescence out of their heads, I released mine nationally!” It turned out that Bar/None was Julian's favorite record label at the time. “I was a huge fan of They Might Be Giants, Yo La Tengo, Ordinaires — they were my three favorite bands. [Bar/None] responded right away to the LP. They are the neatest, funniest people I've ever met working with indie rock. [With All Jets] we preserved the time and what was there. We're definitely a Bar/None band — we fit in that mindset.”

The band currently has 25 songs to weed through for their second release planned for January, some of which are partially recorded. In the meantime the band is planning to release a vinyl only EP in the fall. But for the past two years Chocolate has been running their Chocolaty Good Smash Hit of the Month Club. What you get when you join is a personalized mini album with covers made by the band “Nothing in the club will ever be anywhere else.” Julian is also working on radio play ideas, characters involved with the band — both real and imagined — and has worked with real life characters such as Eugene Chadbourne and Daniel Johnson on projects. The current Chocolate lineup is Keith Block on drums, Allen Edwards on guitar, Paul Wells on bass and mandolin, Liza Wakeman on violin, and Julian on guitars, mandolin, concertina, and turntables. “I'm inspired by George Clinton and the Parliament and Funkadelics. They were very much a family. Our ultimate goal is to bring the band’s garage and the kid's bedroom closer together.” Julian asked for the time while smashing a bite of burrito into his mouth. Evidently he had two other phone interviews to take care of and he was already late for one of them. We rushed out of the restaurant, not forgetting the cow, and descended back into the heat and the red van “Did I tell you what I'm going to do with the cow?” he asked. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. “We're going to put it on stage with us — do something with it — I'm not sure what....” We got back into the van and drove off, securing the cow in the back seat.

I had to ask: How did this cow fetish come about? “During the time we were recording All the Jets, the cow stuff was coming into effect,” he said. “I fell in love for the first time at age 16.” Evidently seeing cows brings back the memory of the cow pasture Julian used to walk by during his high school days, when the love bug first struck... “It was a case of unrequited love. It blew my mind — about love and what we were going through at the time. It was during adolescence and about adolescence. There was no perspective. I was in the middle of the ocean and I was swimming without a life jacket. That was adolescence — that was love.” Hillary Meister

Chocolate U.S.A. are playing at the 40 Watt for their Athens album release party on Wednesday, July 14. They play rarely in these parts and are about to embark on a national tour. Catch them now before they travel down the winding pastured road...

#Chocolate USA #articles #interviews #Julian Koster #Keith Block #Allen Edwards #Paul Wells #Liza Wakeman #1993

[loganmarloe]

Prompted Writing #7

A prompt from Love, Death, & Robots creator Tim Miller and supervising director Jennifer Yuh Nelson:

Write or draw something that seems normal…

until it isn’t.

----------

Tarja is on the way to the grocery store, but he’s peeved about it. His mom should have gotten the cabbage yesterday when she went shopping. She should be going out to get it, not interrupting his D&D session with his friends online.

Scuffing his shoes as he walks, he sees his reflection suddenly in a puddle of water. He shoves his unruly black hair out of his face and straightens up a little. He looks around to see if anyone caught him being vain, but nobody’s there.

The street is nice and quiet right now, meaning Mrs. Tan isn’t sitting outside, critiquing the neighbor kids’ clothing or how they wear their hair. The trash truck is gone and the dogs all seem to be napping. There is the odd group of kids, playing basketball with an improvised hoop tacked up on a telephone pole. Then there’s Mr. Tandy’s violin student, who actually seems to be getting better. The sound isn’t quite like a cat in heat anymore.

He gets down to the corner and turns left. As he walks along the new street, he ends up in his own head, going over some of the scenarios of the game.

He looks up from the sidewalk just in time to see a white cat cross his path. He thinks it’s weird, as he’s lived in this neighborhood for all of his 19 years and he’s never seen a cat so white around here and hasn’t heard of anyone moving. He shrugs mentally. Cats are pretty weird, so who knows where it came from, though it’s pretty strange that the cat has one black paw. It reminds him of Mrs. Paulson’s cat. Mister Muffin is black with one pure white paw on the same leg as this one.

He just gets past the little apartment building that only has six units when he notices the building is a slightly lighter color of brown. He stops and stares. He’s heard of colors fading in the sun, but never so uniformly - or fast. It was darker just two days ago and it doesn’t look like new paint. He stands there for several minutes, trying to process this when one of the neighborhood kids comes tearing around the corner on his bike, headed back to his house. Over his shoulder, the kid yells something indistinct. He seems scared.

Tarja shakes himself and continues toward the little store on the corner just a few blocks away.

He’s nearly there when he smells something strange. He can’t quite place it, but it seems to be related to some pale mist or smoke that’s coming out of a big truck’s tailpipe. He knows pale exhaust means something is really wrong with an engine, but it sounds just fine as it pulls away. The smell sticks around after it’s gone, so he looks around for the source.

After a moment, he sees a puddle of something cream-colored. He thinks it’s probably the proverbial spilled milk, though it doesn’t smell like milk - spoiled or otherwise.

He goes in the store and looks for the owner, Lani Orrison. When he can’t find her, he goes up to the clerk, who’s unfamiliar, and asks where Lani is.

“Who?” the clerk says.

“You know, Lani, your boss?” he says. The clerk just looks at him with knitted brows and tightening lips. “The owner? Lani Orrison?”

“I’m the owner, wise guy,” the clerk says. “Who are you, anyway? Haven’t seen you around here before. How would you know who own this place, anyway?” His voice rises as he finishes the last question.

“I - I’m sorry,” Tarja stammers, not wanting to piss off the large gentleman who said he owned the place. “I just wanted to tell her - ah, just mention that there’s a puddle of some weird, white stuff outside that smells suspicious. That’s all.”

“Weird white stuff? You mean the oil leak? That’s been there for a week. My supplier was supposed to come fix that. What’s so weird about it? It’s not even dirty, so don’t worry about it, okay?”

Tarja doesn’t know how to process this information. Oil? What does he mean, oil? Oil isn’t white, he thinks. He decides to drop it, as he’s extremely worried that this guy will rearrange his face if he keeps pressing. He can practically feel the heat coming off the guy.

He decides to just buy the cabbage and go home. When he gets to the produce aisle, however, the cabbage is a weird peach color. He’s never seen cabbage that color and wonders if it’s safe to eat. He’s about to go ask the guy about the funny color, but he stops himself.

He doesn’t want to bother him again and, besides, the colors of everything seem off.

He starts to look around - really look around - and discovers other things that are weird, not just the colors. The produce bins, which are normally a green plastic, are painted yellow wood. And the prices look like they have numbers on them, but they only look like that from a distance. Up close, the symbols are pretty different.

He goes to another aisle and sees the cans of tomatoes on the shelves right were they always are, but they’re square and the lettering of the label is just a bit wrong. At least they’re still red, he thinks. He backs up and bumps into a woman pushing a cart with a little kid in it. The cart has inflatable tires and it’s their quiet operation that caused him to not notice it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and veers off down another aisle.

He scans the shelves of skin care products, but doesn’t really see them. He gets to the makeup section and realizes that makeup comes in different colors, anyway, so it wouldn’t seem strange. Then he catches a look at himself in one of those little mirrors with a handle, hanging on its post and stops dead.

He feels like he can’t breathe. His mouth opens and closes to no avail. His eyes are riveted on the image in the mirror. He knows he should see himself, and he does, but not quite. His cheeks are softer - the edges of his jaw seem, well, gone. His nose is a bit shorter and his lips are a bit fuller. He reaches up and touches his ears and finds they’re as small as they look. He finally reaches the end of his oxygen and sucks in a deep, heaving breath.

That’s when he notices something else. When he breathes, he can see his chest - without looking down. He lets his hands drop from his ears and hesitates just below his collarbone and then touches his chest right where his pectoral muscles should be.

His hands press on soft, yielding flesh. He pulls his hands away in a hurry and looks down. Breasts!

He suddenly can’t breathe again. His mouth opens and closes as fast as a fish that’s just been pulled out of a stream.

All of his thoughts are a jumble of strange colors and shapes. He notices the edges of his vision are growing darker and then he faints dead away.

When he comes to, he finds the clerk/owner bent over him, along with the woman he bumped into. The little kid is pointing at him from the cart seat and babbling.

“Ma’am?” the clerk says, eyebrows knit together again, but slightly higher on his face. “Are you all right? You fainted.”

The woman takes off her sweater and starts to bundle it into a pillow. “Here, let’s get your head off the linoleum, hon.”

Tarja sits up suddenly, causing a mighty pain in his head and looks down at himself again. He finds that he’s still, well, female. He screams. It comes out in a high pitch he’s never heard himself utter. He jumps to his feet and bolts out of the store and into oncoming traffic. 

The truck driver never saw her.

#writing #original writing #fiction #writers on tumblr #tarja the d&der #writing prompt #fantasy #something strange

[carpe-astra]

Saying Goodbye

Kára Eriksdottir

-night and day bleed into one another for those who experience loss so great they can no longer feel the gravitational curse of what it is to be a living creature. or unliving. you are nothing, floating in a void of numbness. for Kara, those sort of sensations and sentiments have long evaded her after time. though that doesn't mean she is completely devoid of emotion. one moment Spektor is alone, in whatever devolved state she's succumbed to. then, she's not-

-a pale hand touches her shoulder-

Spektor Iocaine

‡She had been placed in a room, and there she had remained. At first in the bed, to heal. Still and disinterested in the world, and the people who came and went. Sustenance untouched, the few gifts given in the beginning left where they had been set on the table. One night she had shifted, found herself in the armchair, with the violin case at her feet, still open from the night she'd played. Once vibrant eyes dull, stared blankly, even when a presence made itself known. Kara wasn't the first to touch her, to try and gain her attention. Kara wasn't the first either, to be ignored.‡

Kára Eriksdottir

-a moment's more of peace, or whatever dark silence Spektor had become wrapped up in. A coating of grief so thick it hardly allows her to progress further toward acceptance. then, the hand is gone- Hannah.

I need your help.

Spektor Iocaine

‡The world is a little more kind this way, when there's nothing but the silence and the darkness. A veil of mourning that becomes both coffin and sanctuary. Nothing is quite so raw and jagged as the sound of her name in the wrong voice but it pulls her unwillingly into the present. Fingers twitch, the first sign of life in the undead, and it's cold, gloveless fingers tracing the edge of a cowboy hat in her lap.‡ With. ‡A toneless word, the memory of a proper reaction.‡

Kára Eriksdottir

A nightmare. -is the only distant reply Spektor receives from the darkness around her, the source of the voice seemingly no longer in the room. it echoes faintly from a hallway, leading the ghost of a woman toward something. but the choice is ultimately up to her. if she does find herself moving, getting up to follow the invisible trail like a stiff, sad marionette, she ends up outside. out back. in the dead of night. Kara stands in shadow, the dark tendrils of lightless motion all around her. beside her is a stack of crates, and on top of the wooden boxes is a copper bowl filled with what appears to be white paint-

Spektor Iocaine

‡A nightmare. What could be worse than this? Hands curl, then relax. Afraid to damage the hat in any way, more than it had already been. It feels like her bones should creak as she rises, but it's soundless as she sets the hat down in her spot, and follows. A shell of what was, that comes to find Kara in the darkness outside with her bowl.‡

Kára Eriksdottir

-she glances at Spektor, giving more time to study the woman and what she has become-

Do you remember his mare?

Spektor Iocaine

‡Unchanging as their kind were, there was little different. Closer perhaps, to the corpse she ought to be, and like she'd been frozen in time, she hadn't changed. Hadn't wiped away the Vitae. Old streaks of rust tracked down her face. There was nothing poetic, or pretty, about the grief that clung to the woman. The question was so out of the blue, it was disorienting. Hardly the first thing to come to mind when she thought of him, but she does nod.‡ I do remember.

Kára Eriksdottir

-she nods too, then looks out into the empty alley nightlife- She was lost before he ghouled her. A forgotten creature wandering the Dreamlands, feared by those who did not understand her. Now...-she pauses, face unreadable- Now that he is gone. She is stuck again.

-she looks at Spektor once more, eyes cold and unyielding- Now only we can send her off.

Spektor Iocaine

‡It's like she's the wounded animal all of a sudden, this idea of sending off the beast Knox himself had ghouled.‡ And how do we do that?

Kára Eriksdottir

Do as I do. -she dips her hand in the bowl until the paint covers her entire palm, fingertip to wrist. then she mutters several curt phrases, softly in some old Nordic language-

-then she lifts her eyes to the night again- Dark mare, of shadow and fear. Through ridder and under moon, come.

-the shadows swell before them. then, from the mouth of the alley, a street lamp goes out. and bright shining eyes like two small moons appear. the rhythmic strike of hooves make their way toward them. and the night mare appears, the same as she was when Knox last summoned her, riding her hard and fast to get to a kidnapped Spektor. the woman hadn't been there to see it...but by now she would have heard what happened-

Spektor Iocaine

‡A part of her, some old human sliver recoiled from the entire thing, as if she didn't do it, ignored this, it wouldn't be so final and concrete. A long moment passes before she finally coats her hand in the paint, and it's not enough to rid herself of the feeling of Knox's body disintegrating against her fingertips, the first and last time she'd touched him without gloves. Looking up as Kara speaks, she finds the bright eyes of the beast... Her first time seeing it for herself, her gaze wanders over it, taking in some last connection.‡

Kára Eriksdottir

-she says something else in Sami as the beast settles in an agitated stance before them- Born in shadow, painted by the fears of mortal dreams. Original legends describe her kind as witches, able to take the form of a pale horse. A temptress to guile men to their doom through dreams. -she reaches out and touches the black horse, leaving a hand print of white paint- Knox could see the tortured, abandoned phantom for what she truly was.

That was his gift. Seeing more clearly what was right in front of him, more than I ever could.

Spektor Iocaine

‡How like Knox it seemed to stand in front of something so seemingly dangerous, and then tame it so easily. Spektor could feel the paint drying against her palm, increment by increment. It would take quite a long time, with how thick it was. The prospect didn't bother her, if it meant not doing this. But ultimately some part of her knew that things had to move.‡ It really was. I couldn't hide anything from him, even when I tried. ‡She moved like Knox had taught her, to let the mare grow used to her before finally pressing her hand onto the dark pelt to leave a print behind too.‡ He was always so sure about it too. Like there was never any question or doubt.

Kára Eriksdottir

He loved you. More than anything. -she looks at Spektor- More than me.

You have to say goodbye now, Hannah.

Otherwise, what comes next...could fail entirely.

Spektor Iocaine

‡There are no words for what Kara says, and how could there be? Not when it feels like all the breath has been stolen from her even when there isn't any, like everything had been carved out of her chest and what remained had been left to rot. Her throat aches, growing tight while her eyes sting. A bloody trail dashed away as she finally found enough air to make the words come out.‡ Saying goodbye feels like giving up. Giving him up. I don't want to give him up.

Kára Eriksdottir

You must. -she fully turns to face Spektor. body and soul- He is dead. He died. He turned to ash, and that cannot be undone. -the horse, as if sensing and sympathizing with Spektor's pain, grows more agitated, striking heavy hooves on the pavement- We are past anger. There can be no bargaining. A long and dark depression has stolen you away from us. From me.

You have cried already. But you have yet to let go.

Spektor Iocaine

I know that. I was there. I watched that thing cut his head off. I tried to stop him from crumbling. Tried to catch all the ashes. Held his bones. I know he's gone, I know he's not coming back. That there was nothing I could do and nothing that can be done. ‡Useless, and helpless. She'd begged Liliana, and she didn't have the ability to do anything either. She pressed a hand to her face, swallowing down the thick ache as the horse expressed what she couldn't. If she let the anger out, she'd incinerate.‡ What am I supposed to do when I let go? ‡People were there, waiting... Kara, was waiting. But it didn't feel the same anymore.‡ Kára Eriksdottir

You move. You either burn yourself alive, live the way he would have wanted you to, or avenge him. But by the gods, you move.

You are not the ghost you make yourself out to be. -the Methuselah almost sounds angry-

Spektor Iocaine

‡Kara had experienced far more loss than she had, Spektor was sure. She'd almost feel foolish, if she didn't feel so damn cold and hollow.‡ You're right. Ghosts don't hurt like this. ‡Maybe in a few years.. a decade, she'd be grateful for the time there had been, but damn if she didn't wish she could feel nothing at all right then. With the hand not full of paint, she stroked over the nightmare's flank. There was an idea though. There was what Knox would likely want for her, but there was what Knox would do if things were reversed.‡ What is coming next?

Kára Eriksdottir

-whatever icy rage might have surfaced like the tip of a glacier quickly fades beneath the stony veneer of the elder. she dips her hand in the white paint again and smears another print across the horse's dark flesh- A rescue.

When I took Knox's blood as punishment for what he did to Mael, I used it in a ritual on the Diamonori.

If you remember, it turned from violet, to red.

An old Tremere ritual that would allow the soul of the blooded to transfer to the artifact if the circumstance of final death were to take place.

This is not hope. -she looks at Spektor with what looks like preemptive disappointment, as if already envisioning the woman's reaction- This is not your bargaining stage.

If he is returned...it will not be the man you knew.

Which is why we must say goodbye. Once and for all. -she looks at the horse- But it is something to fight for.

Spektor Iocaine

‡Hope does burgeon, but it's the kind of hope like a broken bone splitting skin. Jagged and painful, and it slips under the current as Kara slices out those thoughts with the precision of a skilled surgeon.‡ Who will he be? ‡Something is better than nothing, there was no refuting that. But if it was something that still couldn't be hers, was unrecognizable... well, the thought was terrifying. But something was better than nothing at all. This fragment hardly touched the grief, but it was something to fight for, just like Kara said.‡

Kára Eriksdottir

I don't know. -her gaze is far off now, watching as the white on the black horse begins to spread on its own. in the darkness, the pale flesh blossoms. the night mare returning to its origins- But there is a balance in everything.

A life for a life. A death in equal parts. -she looks down at her hand- A hand for a gift.

A relative for a loved one.

Being captured on purpose. To learn Konstantin's ritual.

-she lowers her hand again- It may be a deformity. Physical. Mental. It may be his very being. I don't know. I won't know until the very end.

All I ask is you have a little faith in me. Just for a little while longer.

Spektor Iocaine

‡There's a bitterness on her tongue. A selfish wondering of why it had to be that way. But more than that, there was a feeling that made her weak - a kind of relief that Kara had done what she had done. Spektor didn't want to let go, but there was something to turn to. She set her hand on the mare's long forehead, watching the white spread out like spilled ink in reverse. Not pulling away until the very end when she's forced to - but doing it all the same. Eventually angling a look to Kara, eyes so red, with hunger, with a sheen of raw emotion and blood.‡ I have faith in you, Kara.

Kára Eriksdottir

-she doesn't say anything more. she touches the horse one last time, but not to smear paint. she has wiped most of it off on her furs. but now she simply caresses the pale hide of the mare that has become calm as first snowfall- Goodbye. -the horse shakes it's mane, flowing with white smoke. it nudges Spektor's elbow before finally trotting off, disappearing into the night. free at last-

-she watches it go, then turns and heads in the opposite direction- Goodnight, Hannah. Get some rest. -then she's gone in a burst of speed-

Spektor Iocaine

‡The word is too difficult to say out loud, but it echoes in her head all the same despite everything. Knox was dead and gone, and what remained wouldn't be the same. And there would be a difficult road ahead to get to that point in the first place. She gave the mare one last pat before it trotted away. She wasn't certain she was quite ready to be Hannah yet, not anymore. The decision had been easy when Knox was alive, but Hannah was a softer creature that wouldn't survive what was coming.‡ Goodnight, Kara. Thank you. ‡Several minutes go by, the busy life of the district beyond winnowing into white noise. Until there's a loud shout, and she comes out of the reverie, disappearing back into the club.‡

#spektor iocaine #Hannah whitewood #knox t wilder #kara eriksdottir #vtm #vampire the masquerade #consequence by night

[luthers-crusty-cum-sock]

Mugger: *pulls out a knife* give me all your money

Klaus: well this night took a sharp turn

*later*

Ben: the paramedic said she’d never seen this many stabs on one person before

#the umbrella academy #source: off-the-white-violin #incorrect umbrella acadamy #umbrellaacademy #klaus hargreeves #umbrella academy #netflix #tua klaus #klaus

[salty-ironstrange-shipper]

Mugger: *pulls out a knife* Give me all your money.

Tony: Well, this night took a sharp turn.

*later*

Peter: Doctor Strange said he'd never seen this many stabs on one person before.

#ironstrange #tony stark #stephen strange #supremefamily #strangefamily #peter parker #incorrect-ironstrange #incorrect quotes #mcu #marvel #endgame #infinity war #source: off-the-white-violin #irondad #doctor dad

[kpopincorrect-quotes]

[detectives]

Taeil: It appears that the victim has drow-

Donghyuck: looks like they died trying to drink this entire swimming pool

#source: @off-white-violin on tumblr #kpop #kpop incorrect quotes #fandom #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct 2020 #ot23 #nct incorrect quotes #nct 127 incorrect quotes #nct dream incorrect quotes #wayv incorrect quotes #nct u #superm #taeil #donghyuck #haechan