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loveinhawkins · 10 months

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Up until recent events, Eddie hasn’t really put much thought into flashlights—save for that time he had to take out the batteries in the T.V remote to get his to work, back when the power went wonky last summer.

But now? Oh, as soon as he’s through with this whole nightmare, Eddie’s gonna find out whichever saint invented the damn things and start a petition to get them a federal holiday. That’s gonna be his whole… raisin something, something—he thinks it’s French, Buckley will know.

Fucking wondrous creations.

… Okay, he might still be a little jittery.

So sue him. It’s either run with his increasingly stupid train of thought or have a thoroughly justified panic about—well, there’s just so much to choose from: the ash in the air, the apparently sentient vines on the ground, how it’s so fucking cold and dark—

Jesus H. Christ, calm down.

It’s not all that dark anyway—or at least, it’s not as dark as it could be. Steve’s lighting the way, flashlight in hand. Honestly, Eddie thinks he should get it preserved, like in one of those glass cabinets in museums, complete with a plaque: This bulb somehow survived a journey from the depths of a lake into an alternate dimension, and all for the low, low price of…

Well, Eddie doesn’t know how much it cost. He’ll workshop the whole plaque thing.

In his reverie, he stumbles carelessly, nearly pitching over right into Hive Mind territory.

“Ah, shit,” he whispers.

Steve’s hand must move because the light drifts over—ends up illuminating much more of Eddie’s path than Steve’s.

“Thanks,” Eddie says—glances sideways to find Steve already looking at him.

“Think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Steve replies.

His hand flexes, as if he’d gone to twirl the flashlight before catching himself; Eddie has a very faint memory of Steve doing the same with pencils in class and fights a private smile.

“You gave me it,” Steve continues. “I would’ve just… gone right in without thinking.”

It’s said self-deprecatingly, but Eddie would argue that Steve’s impulsivity (his courage) is an admirable character trait, even if it sets his heart pounding.

His own problem is that he thinks too damn much, until the window of opportunity has almost been and gone.

He was the only one to hesitate before diving into the lake: he knows all too well how that could’ve made its way onto the increasingly long list of moments that haunt him.

He could’ve been too late, could’ve not found the Gate at all—and then, would only have been able to pathetically swim back to the kids and tell them that their heroes were gone.

The light skips onwards just a little, encourages Eddie to look up from his feet. He blinks a few times to try and adjust to the darkness looming ahead. There, the indistinct outline of trees, and he’s drawn back to a classroom again, to the soporific noise of chalk on a blackboard, to…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

“The hell is that from?” Eddie wonders, and he doesn’t realise he’s also said the quote aloud until Steve speaks.

“S’a poem. Robert Frost.”

Eddie clicks his fingers. “See, that’s why you actually passed English.”

Steve rocks his hand back and forth, so-so.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t play coy now, Harrington.”

“I’m not, I passed by the skin of my teeth, dude.” Steve looks into the distance as he walks, like he’s being drawn back to some place, too. “I was meant to, um, submit a portfolio thing, and I just… didn’t.”

“Like stories and shit?”

Steve smiles. “Mm-hmm, and shit. Poems, too.”

“So why didn’t you…?”

Steve just shrugs in reply so Eddie changes tack—rolls his eyes expansively, but only at himself.

“Fucking Frost. Ugh, why can I remember that shit now, but when a paper’s in front of me, it’s just…” Eddie mimes an explosion in the back of his head, gone.

“Well,” Steve says, chuckling, “if the, uh, lovely atmosphere of this place jogs your memory, we’ll make some time, get you to write an essay.” He grins at Eddie, teasing and charming in equal measure. “We’re nothing if not productive.”

“Sure, that’s one word for it.”

Joking aside, Eddie finds that the mention of school calms his heart somewhat: to think of the foreboding sights around him as part of a story. Maybe it’s a control thing, like his campaigns. Dress shit up, put a film on top, then you don’t have to look at it directly.

He suggests as such to Steve in a longwinded ramble, and gets a thoughtful look in response.

“Like the Shire? And Mordor?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, exactly.”

Steve nods slightly. The movement dislodges some particles in his hair—and yes, it helps, Eddie thinks, to believe it’s just freshly fallen snow.

“Yeah, that sorta never really worked for me?” Steve’s voice goes up at the end, almost apologetically, although for the life of him, Eddie can’t work out what he’s apologising for. “Like, when the kids ran with all the D&D stuff, the uh… analogy? Metaphor?”

Eddie gestures at himself with one hand, I failed English.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, whatever. Dustin and Lucas keep hashing that one out. Anyway, it didn’t exactly… help. Help me, I mean. Just made everything more…”

He sighs heavily.

Eddie thinks he understands. All his bullshit is just a veneer, after all: it doesn’t truly mask the fear.

“Hey, maybe you could give it a shot,” Steve adds. The light dances for a second, like he’s just barely resisted twirling the flashlight again.

“What?”

Steve smirks—juvenile, light-hearted, almost like he’s about to challenge Eddie at the school gym, like, bet you can’t make that shot from center court, Munson.

“You could write a poem. Make sense of…” Steve gestures around them.

“Harrington, as I keep reminding you, I failed English.”

“Yeah, so? I’ve heard Henderson go on about your campaigns, dude, s’not like they come from nothing.” Steve looks Eddie up and down in exaggerated scrutiny. “You look like the kinda guy who loves a theme.”

“Oh, really,” Eddie says flatly. He can’t hide his smile even if he tried.

“That’s what I thought, every time you’d come into class late: oh, here he is. The symbolism.”

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, shut up.” Eddie steps into Steve’s space just to shove him away (just to touch). He thinks that if he were to try his hand at poetry, it’d be horrendously self-indulgent—something about how he might not be the one holding a flashlight right now, but he’s certainly carrying a torch.

“I don’t work for free, Steve. You’ve gotta do one, too.”

“A poem for a poem, huh?” Steve says. “Sure. It’s a deal.”

And yeah, they might just be saying anything to pass the time. But Eddie chooses to believe otherwise; there’s still a pensive flicker in Steve’s eyes that makes him think he might just get lucky, that Steve might even dig up some old stuff from his abandoned portfolio.

It’s a nice thought—something to look forward to, at the end of all this.

He considers Steve, and even though he knows it’s not snow, he can’t help but turn the particles into flakes in his mind again, into something prettier, safe—almost as if Steve’s presence has softened the danger.

He wants to stop here, suddenly. Linger. It doesn’t make sense. But it feels like time is…

A gentle nudge—a warm elbow to his side.

“C’mon, daydreamer,” Steve says. “You can write down whatever you’re thinking later.”

Eddie snaps out of it with a breath of a chuckle, follows Steve’s light again. Keeps moving forward—past the ash, and the vines, and the trees.

The woods won’t be forever.

After all, he’s got promises to keep.

#oh the woods… they could’ve talked about so much #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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gaymurdersalad · 5 months

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Hey, David, what do you think is your relationship with the Sport? Friends? Employee? Somethin’ else?

>Em- Employe?? Gah, no! Funny, funny one Asker… Sportsy? Where are…-

>Well… Well it’s a morning for complicated questions, id’n’t it? Heh heh…!

>He’s a lotta things to me, Asker. Groupin’ all our experiences and emotions ‘nd feelings ‘n eveythin’ under one title would be… I-It would be crazy— Disrespectful, even!

>He… Sportsy started out as a strong friend, though, I’d think. Y— Heh, Y’see, back in Colorado, he took up quite nice wit’ me. You shoulda seen the glimmer in those cute little blue eyes when I pitched the whole murderin’ thing to him! He ran his lil’ hands through his buzz cut, all bashful, and he looked me square in the eyes when he said he wanted to take down that stupid fuckin’ Bear Cult wit’ me— whatever it takes, he said! That beautiful bastard, him…

>… For a while we were close like that. Maybe less business-y and more… Y’know, like I said! Friend-like. Shared a lot of good moments in Vegas. If I recall right— which, Jesus, it’s gettin’ harder by the day— that was the first time I ever really felt… Close wit’ someone like that, Y’know, Asker? He wasn’t a mentor to me, or some sorta… Heh, Father figure like Henry, but he was… He was close to me. He had me at a level that no one else had ever had me.

>… That sounds— Hah! That sounds real gay! Pfft. Heheheheh. Asker, I promise we ain’t gay. I— Heheh, got me fuckin’ laughing and shit! No. No, that ain’t us, we ain’t some couple livin’ together behind a white picket fence, thank god. That always sounded like a nightmare to me.

>Though. I mean, if Sportsy wus… If… If he wanted t’…

>G— Guh, uhhh, busiensss parters now, we’re business partners. For now. That might be the best label to describe it Asker, yeah. Still friends, but we so more business than friend stuff now, Y’know how’s it goes with the- the uhm, passage of time and whatnot… heheh.

>…

>S- Say, do you know where the fucker is? I can’t find him nowhere, I-I’m startin’ to get… Nervous. I- He ain’t in his workshop, in the bedroom— the sheets are cold— no where in the livin’ room, I— Oh, god, uhm… A-Asker, where is he? Asker?

#murder salad #gaymurdersalad #gaymurderdavid event #salad lore #hey guys I’m sorry for the. foreseeable future . by the way.

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markrosewater · 1 year

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Happy birthday! Can we get some birthday trivia about you on your birthday?

Sure. I turn 56 today, so here’s fifty-six things you may or may not know about me.

1) I never lost a baby tooth. Every one had to be extracted.

2) I was once a contestant on Trivial Pursuit: The Game Show with Wink Martindale. I answered the most questions correct, but didn’t win.

3) I once had scarlet fever (the thing the boy gets in the Velveteen Rabbit).

4) I’ve been told by doctors I have very weird blood.

5) I self taught myself to juggle.

6) I was a magician when I was a kid with the stage name The Wiz Kid. I mostly performed for kids parties.

7) I was once a freelance greeting card writer. My favorite (that didn’t get printed) showed a jug of maple syrup tipped on its side making a puddle of syrup. In the syrup was a top hat. A hand is pulling a can of green paint with a shamrock out of the hat. You open up the card and it says Sappy Paint Hat Tricks Day. It’s a triple Spoonerism.

8) Sara Gilbert (of “Roseanne” fame) and I once went out for lunch. (It wasn’t a date or anything.)

9) I broke my collarbone doing a prat fall off a stage.

10) I once pet a cheetah. In South Africa. My face from the picture of me doing that was used as my “Making Magic” photo for years.

11) I once made a root beer float for Keanu Reeves. It was at a play I was volunteering for.

12) I once get trapped inside Fred Astaire’s Estate. This factoid is oddly on my Wikipedia page.

13) Starting during the pandemic, my family began fostering animals. So far, we fostered four dogs, six cats, and two Guinea pigs.

14) In college, I wrote and directed two plays, started an improvisation troupe, and a writing workshop.

15) I still have all my wisdom teeth.

16) I have visited every continent except Antarctica for Magic.

17) I once asked Clint Eastwood for directions, not realizing who it was until he started talking. I was lost on the Warner Brothers lot.

18) My first job in Hollywood resulted from me taking part in someone else’s interview. I snuck on the lot, and ended walking into a room where they asked “Are you here for the production assistant interview?”, and I said, “Yes.”

19) I once had a disease the doctors couldn’t identify. They called it Mark’s Disease.

20) I was born in Mississippi. My dad was in the Air Force at the time.

21) I asked out seven woman to my senior prom who all turned me down. I ended up going with a friend who also couldn’t get a date.

22) I took six years of Spanish.

23) Most of my family’s vacations growing up were ski vacations, so I’m a decent skier.

24) I once delivered a pizza to Richard Gere. It was as a production assistant, not a pizza delivery person.

25) I once broke into an actor’s apartment building to deliver a script. It was so late, they were asleep and didn’t hear the buzzing of the door bell.

26) I once drove six hours (three in each direction) to pick up one five-stick package of Blackjack gum as a runner (production assistant).

27) Dennis Miller once thought I was a crazy man. I was sent to get him from the parking lot for a shoot and he thought I was stalking him.

28) I have over two hundred tee-shirts. They are organized by color.

29) I was supposed to pitch to “The Simpsons”, but it got cancelled when I got hired in the “Roseanne” staff.

30) I pitched multiple times to “Star Trek: The Next Generation”, but never sold a script. The closest I got was a pitch about Data malfunctioning.

31) I once ate crocodile. In Australia.

32) I played the Tinman in fifth grade in a production of “The Wizard of the Oz”. I was so hot, my silver make-up had to be reapplied halfway through as I sweated it off.

33) My mother turned down being on “Oprah” to come to my college graduation.

34) My parents are both retired. My dad was a dentist and my mom a psychologist. I used to joke I had a “paradox”.

35) Every birthday since I was 9, I’ve celebrated my birthday with crab legs.

36) Since I was in grade school, every Valentine’s Day, I hand out candy hearts, and every Halloween, I hand out mellowcreme pumpkins (basically pumpkin shaped candy corns).

37) My tee-shirts every week are themed. Some themes are pretty obvious, but they often get tricky. R&D likes figuring out the theme.

38) I got a BS in Communications (no, really) from Boston University’s College of Communications.

39) I collect superhero Minimates (they look Lego-ish). I have somewhere around two thousand. They are displayed in a number of cabinets built by my dad.

40) My podcast was inspired by a talk by Kevin Smith (at San Diego Comic-Con) where he said anyone could make a podcast.

41) I have attended over twenty-five San Diego Comic-Cons.

42) I am related to Lorne Green of “Bonanza” fame.

43) My dad’s family came from Germany and my mom’s from Russia. In Germany, my family’s name was Rosenvasser, but it was changed to Rosewater when they came to the U.S.

44) There are so few Rosewaters in the United States, that if you meet a Rosewater odds are I’m related to them.

45) I have lived in five states (Mississippi, Ohio, Massachusetts, California, and Washington, in that order).

46) I have visited over thirty states for Magic.

47) I once met Jim Henson when I worked on a clip show that Kermit was on. The question I asked him was if Ernie and Bert were named after the characters from “It’s a Wonderful Life”. He said not consciously. Jim Henson is one of my idols and I feel so blessed to have met him. He died a few months later.

48) I met Stan Lee at Hascon. He is another of my idols that I feel so lucky to have met.

49) On “Roseanne”, I worked with Amy Sherman-Palladino (just Amy Sherman back then) and Chuck Lorre. She made “Gilmore Girls” and “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”. He made “Big Bang Theory” and “Two and a Half Men”. Amy was super sweet and we got along well. I don’t think Chuck liked me.

50) I am a super picky eater. For example, except for apples, I don’t eat fruit. I hate bananas with a passion.

51) I have been a game player since very young. My dad loves games and introduced them to me early in life.

52) I get the writing bug from my mom.

53) I used to collect lint in a giant jar. When I got married, Lora made me get rid of it. It was an impressive amount of lint.

54) I have a bad tendency to burn myself a lot. My family loves to make fun of it.

55) I own over fifty flannels. My favorites are from Japan because they are more colorful with their flannels. Normally I wear a large, but in Japanese sizes, I’m an extra large.

56) My favorite number is 254. I chose it when I was little.

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not-neverland06 · 11 days

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If requests are still open, how about headcanons of Heisenberg with a reader that is a fifth lord. Reader's Cadou allows them to manipulate sound (radio) waves, and go as far as sonic scream. No pressure or rush, just curious on your interpretation :)

Karl Heisenberg x GN!reader A/N: This is only the second time I’ve done HC’s and I’m still struggling to get a grasp on them. Thank you for the request, your prompt was interesting to think about. This is a little short, so if I didn’t give you what you wanted let me know and I’ll try again.

He really doesn’t give a shit about you at first

Unless you go out of your way to catch his attention he’s treating you the same as he treats the rest of the family

Whatever your powers are, he’s gonna assume you’re just as bad as the rest of them and dismiss you

You have to actively make him notice you

It wouldn’t take a lot, maybe one snide comment towards Mother Miranda and suddenly you have value

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You scoffed, glaring down at the horde of Miranda’s worshippers that had surrounded the old church. You’d just been passing through town, picking something up from the duke before heading back up the mountain.

Heisenberg happened to be there at the same time. You weren’t sure what his deal with the Duke was but it seemed to be complicated. His head perked up as you glared at the villagers. “What’s your problem?” He muttered, tone bitter.

You nodded towards the villagers, “They are. All their Mother Miranda bullshit, I’m sick of it.” You walked back towards your lair, the old radio tower up in the mountain. It was the best place for you to be with the way your powers functioned, your strongest point.

He watched as you went, staring at you contemplatively and wondering how he’d missed that hatred in your eyes.

When he and Alcina start to argue, Miranda will just look at you and you’ll let out a scream so loud bits of drywall fall from the ceiling

It’s painful but it’s effective, you’re essentially used as a mute button when things get out of hand

You tend to avoid the others, keeping quiet and to yourself

When Miranda had first experimented on you, your experience with the sound waves had been less than pleasant

Learning to control them was difficult. The first time you spoke after waking up from her little experiment, you’d blown out your own eardrums.

Even after you finally harnessed them, you figured that it was better to just be quiet. The times you did speak you kept your voice below a whisper.

“You don’t talk a whole lot do you?”

You shrugged, “Only when I have to, really.” You sat in his workshop, mostly against your will. He’d invited you to dinner, though it felt like more of a command, and you’d tried to get him to make the journey up the mountain to you.

He’d, of course, refused because he was a stubborn bastard. You didn’t even want to sit down anywhere, there was oil and blood on nearly every surface. And if it wasn’t covered in that, it was sticky with dried lycan drool.

At least Moreau managed to keep his quarry clean.

Heisenberg hadn’t stopped staring at you since you sat down, it was starting to bug you.

You don’t normally speak with your family, mainly because you don’t really care for any of them. Having his attention on you was disturbing.

He sets his fork down on his plate and gives you an odd look, “How do your powers work, anyway?”

It was easier to show than it was to explain. You focused on the large pile of metal scraps on his desk and opened your mouth. The noise was nearly silent at first, a high pitched ringing that you questioned if you were actually hearing.

Then it got louder, the ringing clear now. It was painful to anyone outside of the focused stream of sound waves, but it was lethal once you stepped into the stream. The metal shook, vibrating loudly against his desk. A few toppled over, the rest exploded in a violent display of clashing metal shards and sparks.

Heisenberg clutched his ears, a small stream of blood leaking from between his fingertips. You want to apologize to him. You’ve always had a little difficulty controlling your powers in such close spaces.

But he doesn’t look mad, he doesn’t even look like he’s in pain. Instead he’s grinning widely at you, something glinting in his eyes that had you feeling on edge.

He sees the uniqueness of your powers, the untapped potential for violence and how helpful someone like you could be to his cause

He waters the seedling of resentment you already hold towards Miranda and helps it grow

He whispers words of hate and anger into your ear until you’re just as passionate about taking Miranda down as he is

You two work together, using your odd understanding of radio and sound waves to improve his soldat designs

Slowly, your loyal followers from the village start to abandon you and move to different lords. Your connection to Heisenberg has soured your influence among the sheep in the village, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care

Your status as a lord meant little to you when you had him

He’s intrigued by your powers and loves to experiment with them, but more than anything there’s something soothed inside him because he’s no longer alone

He’s grateful for the support you provide when he feels like he’s just stagnant in his progress taking down Miranda

#karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil x reader #re8 x reader #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #Hope you like this

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a-killer-obsession · 2 days

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Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 25 - Respect

The henchmen take advantage of your vulnerability now that your mask is broken, and there is hell to pay.

WC: ~6k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

“Well, it’s not great,” Kid started. You let out a long groan and flopped dramatically over the couch in Kid’s workshop where you’d been sitting with Killer while Kid examined the damage on your mask. “Would you let me fucking finish girl?” Kid growled.

You sat back up expectantly, and Killer pulled you to sit in his lap. You were incredibly tense and stressed, for good reason, so he rubbed your shoulders. You sighed a little as his warm hands worked through the knots in your tightly wound muscles.

“I was going to say,” Kid continued, “that it’s fixable, I think. The metal and electronics I can deal with myself, but whatever this weird polymer glass the visor is made out of will need a specialist glassworker, I can’t do that bit myself. Do you have the other shard?”

“It’s probably under my bed,” Killer hummed. Kid raised an eyebrow and wiggled it suggestively. “Fuck off, Kid” Killer rolled his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his mask, so it was clear for Kid to see his agitation.

“Just surprised is all,” Kid replied with a sly grin, “thought you two were ‘taking your time’ or whatever”

“We are taking our time,” Killer huffed, “Doesn’t mean we can’t spend the night together. It’s none of your business anyway but people can do things in a bed other than just mindless fucking”

“Can we get back to the mask please?” you shifted nervously.

“Sorry princess,” Killer replied, giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek and wrapping his arms around your waist. Kid made a mock gagging sound.

“Ooooh~ Princess~” he repeated back in a forced high pitch, “You two are disgusting.” Killer just scoffed in reply and buried his face in your shoulder. Kid turned back to his workbench and examined the visor closely again. “I’m not sure how Vegapunk made this glass, it’s mixed with something I’m not familiar with, but I’m fairly sure if I make a mould and knock the rest out that a glassworker can melt it back together and reshape it. It’ll probably be a little shorter than before, given the material that’ll be lost in processing and that there’s probably smaller unsalvageable shards in the carpet, but it should still cover your eyes”

“That’s all I need anyway,” you replied hopefully.

“If I remember correctly, I think I saw a glassworker on the island we’re heading back to,” Kid furrowed his brows in thought, “We’ll be there for five days, should be plenty of time to fix it. I’ll need to grab some extra things too for my part but it should be fixed by the time we set off again”

You groaned and flopped again, covering your face with your hands, “That’s eight days away, what the fuck am I suppose to do for eight days without my mask?”

“Use a sword like everyone else, lazy ass,” Kid scoffed, “We know the area between here and there is fairly unoccupied so we shouldn’t get into trouble, don’t get your panties in a twist”

“I’ll twist your fucking panties,” you mumbled under your breath as you stood, pulling Killer up with you and handing him his mask. “I want a snack”

“But you just ate,” he pouted. You turned and gave him your best puppy dog eyes. “Fineeee,” he sighed in defeat and followed you out of the workshop.

Things were frustratingly mundane for the next two days, you never realised how much you’d started using your powers regularly for small things till you couldn’t use them anymore. You felt like a grounded child, and you stomped around the ship pouting and voicing your annoyance to anyone who would listen, mostly captive audiences caught in the middle of a chore. On top of it, your nausea hadn’t faded, and you were starting to worry you were coming down with something. Mohawk gave you a once over, but you didn’t have a cough or fever yet, so he was fine letting you continue to mingle with the others, you didn’t seem contagious. He agreed with your reasoning that you must have eaten something a little undercooked at the feast, given the hurried nature of the preparation, and it would likely pass in a few days. He gave you nausea meds in the meantime, which helped for the most part.

You stayed with Killer again, but neither of you attempted anything further than making out and some light groping. You weren’t really in the mood anyway, given your stress right now, but it was a nice distraction. You felt unbearably anxious about the mask situation, Kid’s comment about the glass had you on edge that a glassworker might not even be able to mould it, given it was some sort of special mix. What if it wasn’t done properly and just kept shattering? What if reprocessing it ruined the special properties and it no longer filtered light correctly? You had no idea how it was originally made so you had no way of knowing if there was some special technique they needed to use for the glass. Killer could sense your stress, so he forced you to take a bath to relax. He set up floral smelling bubbles and candles and soothing music playing on a low volume, and you’d convinced him to join you. It had helped temporarily, but you were just as stressed again the next day when you woke up and reached for your mask, forgetting it wouldn’t be there.

Then there was the henchmen. The first day, nobody took note of your lack of mask. The commanders and officers had been filled in, in case something happened, so they knew not to rely on your powers if something happened, but the henchmen just assumed for the most part that you just didn’t feel like wearing it for the day. On the second day, rumours had spread, and you often caught them sneering at you, sometimes even openly laughing at you. They were probably right to laugh, you were a competent, fast, agile fighter without your powers, but when it came to serious fights you relied heavily on your fruit. You may have trained with the marines your entire teens, but you were rusty and out of practice with traditional fighting. Your role on the ship was as a weapon, without your fruit you were nothing. I mean, there was the nurse thing, but it was barely anything at this stage, you were still learning. You’d long since known that the henchmen hated you, because of the way you earned commander status without working through the ranks for it, and because you never did any chores. They’d accepted it because Kid had told them to, and because your devil fruit made you a powerful ally, but without it you were just some annoying, lazy girl, getting away with shit they’d probably get thrown overboard for. It made you uneasy to feel their eyes on you as you went about your day, so you stuck by Killer as much as you could. Unfortunately though, Killer had the night watch, and you had the watch after, so you couldn’t just hide up in the crows nest with him, you needed to get some sleep. It was another thing that made you feel useless. Without your fruit the others had to completely rearrange the schedule to account for you no longer being suitable for nightwatch. With your fruit you had incredible night vision, without it you wondered whether you actually might need glasses.

He spent the time between dinner and the nightwatch with you in your room, just cuddling and talking about all manner of unimportant things. There was a sense of unease as he left, but you didn’t want to burden the crew any further by making him swap shifts with someone else, so you let him go. At some point you managed to fall asleep, but probably only due to the fact that you could still smell him on your sheets, and his scent gave you great comfort.

You didn’t register that you were awake at first as your ankle was grabbed and you were yanked from your bed. You gave a yelp as your head hit the floor hard, and that finally woke you up. A mass loomed over you, but in the pitch black of the moonless night you couldn’t tell who it was, or how many there were. You reached for your sword but they had already taken the liberty of moving it, so you kicked frantically at the intruder, or intruders. Your other ankle was grabbed, and another shadow moved to pin your wrists. You could see now that there were at least three forms, but you still couldn’t tell who they were. You opened your mouth to let out a scream, but the third man shoved a pair of dirty panties from your laundry hamper in your mouth. You gagged at how deep he shoved them, almost to the point of choking you, and you thrashed wildly as best you could with your ankles and wrists held down.

The third man seemed like the ringleader, and he bent down over you, smacking your face hard and pinching your chin to force you to look at him. He reeked of liquor, and his words slurred as he spoke.

“What happened to your big bad guard dog, whore?” he growled, “You think you’re so much better than us, aye? Stupid little slut, parading around all day, doing fuck all, seducing our commanders so you can get away with whatever the fuck you want” He spat on your face, and you had to shut a eye to keep it from dripping into it. “Not so tough now, are we? Since your pussy is all you’re good for now, how bout you be a good girl and let us get what we’re owed?”

The men holding you flipped you unceremoniously, your nose audibly cracking as it hit the floorboards, and the ringleader forced your ass into the air, pushing up your nightie and tugging your panties down. You were shaking with fear, whimpering around the cloth in your mouth, streaks of tears rolling off your cheeks as you mentally begged any god that would listen to send someone to help.

The ringleader grabbed your hair and pulled it tight, some of the strands ripping from your scalp painfully. “We heard how the marines treated you, and we think it's about time someone reminded you what you're good for. Flitting about all day doing shit all, riding off our success, toying with our commanders like you're one of them. You didn't earn that right, what makes you better than us, huh?” He punched you in the side, then wrapped his hand tight around your neck. You wheezed as you struggled to breathe. “You're nothing but a spoiled whore, nothing but a couple of hot holes to fill.”

You could hear that all too familiar, sickening sound of a pants fly being unzipped, and you felt yourself slipping back into the dark place in your mind. The sound of the door opening behind you barely registered in your mind before something hard and round hit your back and rolled off, landing to your side. You turned and saw a disembodied head, its lifeless eyes staring at you, frozen in shock. It was quickly followed by a second, the head making a thump as it hit the floor hard, the hold on your ankles and wrists suddenly released as two of the men fell dead, and the other attempted to flee. The ringleader’s body fell on to you, and with your now freed hands you pulled the fabric from your mouth and scrambled out from underneath him, climbing on to the bed as you pulled your panties back up, and pushing yourself into the corner so hard you wondered if you might meld with the walls. Blood was gushing from your nose, and you pinched it tight, wincing at the pain. A wide framed man held the third assaulter against the wall by the neck, his feet dangling above the ground. You saw now the long blond mane, and breathed in relief as you realised Killer had come for you. Perhaps there was a god, or perhaps he was that god, Ares made flesh, going to war in your name as he took lives for you without hesitation.

He gripped hard, and you heard the man’s neck crunch as Killer crushed it, the man choking on his last breath before Killer let him fall limp to the floor. He turned to look at you, and in the light coming from the hall through the open door you could see the blood that had sprayed over his mask and front of his clothes, the scarlet dripping from his now stilled blades, the way his shoulders shook with unbridled rage as his chest heaved from deep, furious breaths. He was on the edge of losing himself, you could feel the tense anger in the air that radiated off him, scolding and stifling. With a deep breath you shuffled forward, taking his hand gently in yours. He looked down at your joined hands, his breathing audibly calming as he got his rage under control and came back to you.

“Did they hurt you?” he huffed. It came out as almost a growl, and sent a shiver through you.

“I think I broke my nose, but I’m okay,” you whispered. You were shaking, he now realised, and he closed the door, quickly discarding his weapons before climbing on to the bed and wrapping himself protectively around you. He didn’t remove his mask, he didn’t want you to see the anger still on his face and fear him. “Kil, they were gonna…”

“Shh, I know, you’re safe now,” Killer cooed, pressing his mask against your shoulder and pulling you tighter to his chest. “You’re okay, I’ll never let anyone hurt you again”

“Kil, the night watch-” you started.

“Fuck the watch, this is more important,” he huffed angrily, “I could sense their intent to harm from the crows nest, fucking pigs”

You turned in his arms to face him, putting a hand on either side of his mask, asking silent permission. He reached back and you heard the latch click, and he let you guide it slowly from his face, placing it on the bed carefully. His face was written with anguish, he felt like he’d let you down that you’d come so close to being violated again. He was the first mate, it was his job to protect you, his job to make sure nobody who would do you harm was allowed on this ship, and he’d failed. You held his face and stroked his cheeks with your thumbs,pressing your forehead against his.

“I’m okay, I’m safe,” you whispered, feeling now that he was the one who needed consoling. He blinked down at you, confused. “This wasn’t your fault Kil, you got here in time, that’s all that matters”

He wanted to cry looking at you, still beaming up at him with such adoration despite his failings, despite how close you’d come to being raped again. Your front was covered in blood, your nose still dribbling but mostly clotted. It was definitely broken, sitting at an awkward angle, and would need to be reset. Looking around, your small room was fairing no better. Three bodies on the floor, two of them headless and still leaking blood onto your floor, staining your rug. The walls and bed were splattered with blood as well. He sighed and shifted you off him so he could stand, holding a hand out to you to help you up and putting his mask back on.

“We need to go tell Kid,” Killer frowned, “he’s not going to be happy. There were likely others who knew about this as well, we need to weed the rats out. And we need Mohawk to look at your nose”

You nodded in reply and took his offered hand, linking your fingers with his and letting him lead you. He woke Mohawk first, since his room was nearby. The man was dazed and rubbing sleep from his eyes, but quickly became alert when he saw how much blood was on both of you, and the state of your nose.

“What the fuck happened?” he complained, turning your face to-and-fro to inspect your nose.

“She was attacked,” Killer said plainly, “Take her to the infirmary and reset it, but don’t clean her up yet, I want Kid to see what they did”

Mohawk nodded and placed a hand on your shoulder, and you let him gently lead you away. The infirmary was lower in the ship, accessed from this side, while Kid and Killer’s rooms, as well as the navigation room, were in the front of the ship. You watched over your shoulder as Killer stomped away, his normally quiet, agile footsteps heavy with anger and purpose.

As soon as you stepped into the infirmary you got a whiff of the strong medical grade cleaners and gagged, running to the nearest sink and puking. Some of what you threw up was blood, having gone down the back of your throat while you were bleeding. You planted your hands flat on either side of the sink as you vomited, Mohawk quietly rubbing your back and holding your hair out of your face while you emptied your stomach. You were panting by the time you were done, and light headed from everything. Mohawk caught you before you could fall, leading you to a cot and urging you to lay down. He laid a cold cloth over your forehead before gathering what he needed for your nose. He’d have to wait for Kid to look you over before he could clean you off and tape your nose in place, but he could at least reset it for now. He gave you a quick injection of painkillers and anti nausea medication before quickly resetting your nose while you were still dizzy and out of it. You yelped and smacked him on instinct, to which he replied with a chuckle given how weak you were compared to most of the instinctual smacks he usually got.

You could hear Kid before you could see him, stomping angrily and roaring orders for everyone to wake the fuck up. Mohawk helped you sit up as he entered, followed closely by Killer. Kid’s soft side showed as he approached you, a forlorn look on his face as he held your face gently to inspect it, before looking you over.

“You good girlie?” he said softly.

“Yes Captain,” you replied calmly. He gave you a nod before backing up, the anger that had been on his face when he entered now returning.

“We’re gonna weed the rest of the cunts out,” his tone was deadly and you could feel the fire in his words, “Doc, bring her to the galley when you’re done patching her up. Don’t clean more blood than you have to, I want them to see what they did”

Mohawk gave him a nod and set to work cleaning off just what he needed to with the damp cloth as Kid stomped out. Killer gave you one last look before following behind him, there was work to be done.

Everyone on the ship was awake by the time Mohawk was finished with your nose, and they were being gathered in the galley, everyone except for a trusted officer who had been put on the rest of the nightwatch while Killer was busy, since Kid wanted all of his commanders for this, and Kid and Killer themselves, who were waiting for you outside the galley door. The cabin boys had also been left out of it, the henchmen barely spoke to them outside of chores so nobody had any doubt that they were innocent in the matter. The rest of the commanders were inside, throwing their weight around and ordering the henchmen and officers to move aside furniture and line up along a wall. They’d all heard what happened from Killer, and none of them were pleased. The air was tense, and you could hear the angry barking of the other commanders before you even approached. Mohawk gave the captain a curt nod before passing by him to join the others.

“You okay?” Killer asked softly, running a thumb over your cheek.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you leaned into his hand and gave him a small smile, “What’s the plan here?”

“There’s no way nobody else knew about the plan to hurt you,” Kid sounded cold and angry, not at you but at his crew and himself, “whispers carry quickly in the henchmen’s quarters. I’m going to threaten them, and Kil will use his haki to rat out the ones that are nervous”

“Let me do it,” you said flatly.

“Aye?” Kid raised a brow, “How you gonna do shit without your powers?”

“I’m not,” you explained, “I figure I have a good two minutes before I go feral. I’ll play the part of a sad, weak little girl in distress, I’ll hide behind Kil, and I’ll see right through him to see who has a racing heart when you threaten them. I’ll let Killer know how many, then when he gives the signal let me go. I’ll be feral, but with a target already locked in I won’t be a threat to anyone else. Let them see what happens when you fuck with me, with or without my mask. Just make sure you bring me under control before I kill any more than the number I indicated” You held up your bracelet to indicate you meant for Kid to flip your metal bracelet pendant when the time was right.

“You sure about this?” Killer sounded nervous.

“Yeah, I’ve never gone feral on purpose before, maybe I’ll have more control over it,” you mused, “either way, I’m gonna kill the bastards myself. I’ll tap your back with the number of them I see”

“Okay,” Killer put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, “if you’re ready now then let’s go”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you looked at Kid who looked just as nervous as Killer sounded, but he shook his head and put his angry face on before leading the three of you inside.

“ALRIGHT FUCKERS!” he roared as soon as the door was open, “LINE UP AND SHUT UP, THERE’S HELL TO PAY” He indicated for you to stand beside him, and you did your best to look anxious and upset. “You may have noticed the absence of three certain pigs here tonight. You’ll find them dead in Yin’s room, slain by Killer after he found them attempting to assault and rape her.” There was a murmur between the henchmen as they looked between each other to figure out who was missing. “I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Kid roared. You pretended to wince, and he pulled you in front of him. “I want you to all take a good look at what those fuckers did to MY property. This is MY ship, and anyone who goes against my word is seaking food.” He gave you a small shove towards Killer to indicate he was done showing off the blood that still covered your front, and you quickly hid behind the first mate and flipped your pendant. It was jarring at first, but as you had a few times on the island you let yourself adjust to it and focused as best you could on scanning the hearts of the crew.

“Now I’m not stupid,” Kid continued, beginning to pace along the lineup of men, “I know how whispers travel on this ship. Which means some of you no doubt knew about this plan, maybe even considered joining in, and did nothing to alert a commander. Stupid, really, you all know Killer has exceptional observation haki, he can probably already tell which of you fuckers are about to wet your pants”

You scanned them carefully, quickly locking in on two men with exceedingly fast heart rates. You tapped Killer’s back twice to indicate to him, and he in turn tapped the insides of his punishers. He and Kid had long since had these sorts of invisible signals set between each other, and Kid could feel the vibrations in the metal bracers. He smirked in recognition, knowing it was close to time to let you loose. He’d seen first hand the violence you could unleash in your feral state, he was excited to see you in action, without your teeth in his throat this time.

“He’s not the only one with that ability though,” Kid snickered as he continued, “you fuckers may think that without her mask, Yin is some helpless little girl, defenceless and free for the taking, but the mask is only a tool. She can see right through you, and she knows who is guilty already. You’re about to see exactly how ‘weak and defenceless’ she is”

You could feel the feral instincts of your hindbrain slowly clawing at your sanity, and you gave a warning growl, manipulating it purposely so the sound carried and echoed through the room, more akin to a bear than a girl. Killer snickered and stepped aside for you as you began to let the rage win out, twitching slightly as it took over, your fingers flexing as though to prepare claws you didn’t have, your smile wide and toothy. The henchmen began to break line, nervous as you approached. Their heart’s were all racing now as they saw your cold, lifeless pink eyes for the first time, but you already had your targets, locked in by the unique and unmistakable features that nobody else could even see.

“What’s wrong, men?” Kid laughed, “If you’re not guilty, then you have nothing to be scared off. Stay in fucking line”

The first of the guilty men began to back away, and you charged, roaring and sinking your teeth into his neck. When you’d done this to Kid, you had the intention of letting him die slowly, but with multiple targets to take care of, and the smallest hint of control since you had done this on purpose, you wanted to make a show out of it. You sank in deep as he fell to the floor, making animalistic, possessive growls as you burst his internal organs one by one, inflicting as much pain as possible, till finally you threw your head back, pulling a chunk of his neck with you. Normally you wouldn't have the strength to do that, but you’d slyly used your fruit to weaken the flesh, allowing you to make a gory show out of ripping his neck out. He gurgled as he choked on his blood, and you stood again, his crimson dripping down your maw, fresh and glistening over your own dried blood as you let the flesh drop from your mouth, landing with a wet splat in front of the others.

The other henchmen were yelling in fear, but Kid barked at them to stay in line. You turned to your second target, and the second you began to step towards him, he ran. You laughed cruelly and gave chase, laughing maniacally, clambering over tables to get to him, thankful they were metal so you could see them. He only got so far before you melted the flesh around his ankles, and he screamed as he went down. You pounced on him, sinking your teeth into any bare flesh you could find before weakening it and tearing it out with your teeth, exposing more and more of his insides as he continued to scream. He tried to fight back, so you coated yourself in haki, making yourself impenetrable against his useless clawing, till finally he fell limp when you tore out his jugular, choking on blood with his last breath. He was unrecognisable, an oozing pool of flesh and gore. You stood, throwing back your head and roaring victorious, letting the sound amplify and echo till it nearly deafened everyone in the room. You turned back to the rest of the henchmen, charging at them as Kid flipped your bracelet. You stopped right in front of a henchman, your face millimetres from his, a cold smile on your face and blood coating your teeth as you flashed them. You could hear him beginning to hyperventilate from fear and your smile widened as you took a few steps back, letting them all see the fresh blood that was dripping from you, blood you’d drawn while killing two full grown men with your bare hands, without your mask.

“I am not some weak little girl,” you barked, “I am a commander of the Kid Pirates, and I earned my place here by being more deadly and dangerous than any of you could ever dream of!” You paced the line of shaking, scared henchmen, smelling the urine on a few who had pissed themselves. “How many of you can kill hundreds in one fell swoop? How many of you can liquify a man without even touching him? You are all ignorant fools for thinking me weak, and I WILL have your respect, or you will die. If any of you ever so much as think about touching me again, I will burst your organs one by one, starting from the least life threatening, so you can feel them melting and tearing open inside you. You will be screaming for the mercy of death before I finish making you into a convenient flesh bag of soup for the seakings. Do I make myself fucking clear?” There was a silence from them as they shifted nervously under your gaze, “I said, DO I MAKE MYSELF FUCKING CLEAR?”

“YES COMMANDER” they replied in unison. The other commanders beamed with pride for you as they watched you take power. Until now, the henchmen had treated you with respect in person, but had always had little regard for you in private, always snickering behind your back and making bets about how long you would even last here. Now they were shaking with fear and pissing themselves as you commanded their respect.

“Clean this fucking mess up, and I expect my room to be fucking spotless by tomorrow,” you spat, waving a dismissive hand and turning back to the other commanders. The crew were quick to scatter, half of them going to the bodies you’d made, still warm and bleeding, the others fleeing to deal with your room. You, on the other hand had one thing on your mind, adrenaline coursing through your veins, still riding off the power high.

Kid smirked knowingly as you passed him towards Killer, to whom you gave a short “Follow,” as you passed before leaving the galley. He followed behind you obediently, rock hard from your display of strength and eager to be your plaything. You led him to his own room, waiting for him to enter before locking the door behind you. He removed his mask and turned to you, chest heaving with arousal, and you pushed him backwards till he was close to the bed, quickly unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down enough to expose his cock while he tore off his shirt. You pushed him back on the bed, his torso bouncing a little as it landed against the mattress, and you followed him on, straddling his hips and reaching down between you to pull your panties aside.

“Are you sure? Won’t it hurt?” Killer held your wrist as you tried to position his erection at your entrance. You growled possessively at him and he quickly let go, a shiver running down his spine as you sunk down on him. It did hurt, the scar tissue of your barely healed tears pulling tight as you stretched around him, but you couldn’t care less, the pain quickly overridden by pleasure as you started to ride him hard and fast.

You were still coated in blood, and it only served to make him harder, watching you ride him like you were still feral, giving in to your primal urges to claim and own him. You leaned down and sunk your teeth into his neck, and he moaned and writhed under you. You licked at the bite before sinking into a new spot, repeating it over and over till his neck and shoulder and chest were covered in raw, inflamed bite marks. You sat back up, admiring your work as you reached down and rubbed your clit furiously, throwing your head back and moaning while his fingertips sunk into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. He matched your pace, pressing against his heels to thrust up into you, almost bouncing you on his cock as he speared you. You came suddenly and hard with a gush of liquid, the release spilling out over his abdomen and pooling in his belly button. He took one look at your fluids dripping from him and let out a harsh groan, cumming so hard he shook underneath you as his load painted your still fluttering walls. You collapsed on his chest, the blood and fluids spreading between you, mixing with your sweat as you both panted hard.

“Fuck, fuck,” Killer panted underneath you, “I didn’t know you were a squirter”

“It’s only happened once before,” you huffed between breaths, “Is that okay?”

“Fuck yes, absolutely,” Killer laughed, then groaned, “we need to get cleaned up”

You sat back up, looking at the sheer amount of different bodily fluids you were both coated in and snorting. “Yeah probably”

Killer held your waist as he sat up and scooted you both towards the edge of the bed, kicking off his boots and his pants the rest of the way before pulling your nightie over your head and throwing it in the general direction of his laundry basket. He looked at your panties and frowned, they were still trapped between the two of you. He decided he didn’t want to pull out to remove them, so instead he tore them off, making you giggle. Now that you were both naked he lifted you effortlessly, keeping his cock warmed inside you as he walked you both to the bathroom. You wrapped your limbs around him like a monkey as he fiddled with the shower settings, settling on a temperature and stepping in, pinning you against the wall with the water running between you. His cock was hardening inside you again, and you made a small wanton whimper as you tried to shift on him. He took the hint and started to thrust languidly into you, holding you up with a hand on each ass cheek as he penetrated you at a lazy pace and kissed your neck.

You turned your head to meet his lips, kissing him slowly and lovingly as he sped up his thrusts, his tongue finding passage into your mouth and rubbing his wet muscle against yours as he swallowed your moans. You pulled away for air, panting hard. He pressed his face against your neck, groaning against you as he began to thrust up into you at a messy, desperate rate.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, nipping at it and licking the marks he left behind.

“I love you too,” you moaned, “Kil, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Me too, fuck,” he pressed his face hard into your shoulder as he took harsh breaths, “cum with me, cum with me”

You gripped him hard, your nails sinking into his back as your pussy clamped down around him, cumming hard and pulling him with you. You nearly screamed as he fucked you hard against the wall and roared, spilling out inside you, pumping you to the point of over-stimulation before finally stilling. He pulled out of you slowly, his cum dripping down your thighs as he placed you down, still holding you against the wall as your legs shook.

As soon as he was sure you were steady, he let you go and grabbed a cloth to start wiping you clean, washing you meticulously as you steadied yourself against the wall for support, still shaking a little. You whined as he wiped between your legs, sore and over-sensitive, but he was careful and worked quickly. Silently he worked on washing you, cleaning your hair and massaging conditioner into it. You returned the favour, though he had to help with his hair since there was so damn much of it. Both clean and with conditioner in your hair, he held you close, standing in warm, comfortable silence under the water as he stroked your back lovingly and you buried your face in his chest.

[NEXT CHAPTER] - link soon

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates

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lieutenantbiscute · 1 year

Text

Shell Shocked AU

Chpt. 1

‘Open home, Open Hearth’

—

Honestly Raph didn’t know how he ended up with four turtles tucked in his black duffel bag.

Four small, innocent, far-too-young mutated turtle babies. And yet here he was, a pep in his step as he got off his stealth bike and took off his helmet. Gloved hands wet from the rain he had to drive through after popping out of a random portal post mystic-alchemist-laboratory-explosion. He was scratched up and a bit singed but not worse for wear; shaking his jacket a bit for the same reason as he took it off.

He quickly turned back to the bag now seated in the abandoned drivers seat. Opening it he was greeted with eight pairs of eyes staring back at him for a still moment. The snapper of this little quartet opening his jaw menacingly and puffing hisses at him, trying to be as big and deadly as possible for only being no more than a foot or so in probably height.

Raph chuckled, seeing the Slider pop out behind said Snapper. The larger tots attempts to play ‘Big Bad Guy’ failing as he gets shoved to the side by the Box turtle that wanted to join his Slider brother. The Soft shell sticking to the back away from his brothers, curled in and acting as small as possible.

‘Fast kid—‘ Raph thinks as he moves to quickly catch the Slider who seemed to try and jump from the bag.

“Ok ok, time to get you guys inside.” He moved to pull the duffle strap over his head. Trying to not jostle the tots too much as he made his way into the lair. Mona was usually asleep by the time he gets back from his evening patrols.

Same for Leo and maybe Donnie if he was able to get away from his workshop. Mikey usually was the only one to greet him on the way in.

But looks like tonight would be different!

He took note of a paused game on the tv, controller placed on a messy array of blankets and pillows. Yup, Mikey was definitely still awake.

‘He won’t fuss if I take a few blankets though!’ Raph joked in his head as he took a few and placed them on the ground. Arranging pillows to form a loose circle and gently placed the duffle in the middle. Kneeling down and opening the already unzipped bag further, he leaned back a bit to let the four tots take a peak at their surroundings.

“Don’t worry guys your safe. Just gotta get something from the kitchen real quick.” Slowly reaching a hand out, palm up. The Box turtle and Slider quickly pushed towards to try and climb and muzzle their way into his palm. Raph couldn’t sit here and lie, the kids were melting his heart as he gently rubbed the smaller ones cheek.

“I’ll be right back, promise.” Quickly getting up and jogging to the kitchen he took note of the noise coming from it and the smell of coffee.

‘Great, Donnie’s awake. I won’t hear the end of it from him.’ Stepping into the kitchen as casually as possible to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, he heard an intake of breath behind him.

“Geez Raph what the shell happens to you?” Donnie asked. Right, he hadn’t cleaned up the cuts he’d gotten from getting thrown through concrete and glass. He turned and smiled as confidently as possible.

“You should see the other guy! I’m fine Donnie, just a few scrapes here and there!”

“Hey man as long as you’re still standing I count that as a win!” Mikey piped up. He was in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and had a sandwich prepped on the counter. Compared to Donnie’s nightgown and coffee, he was the picture perfect definition of ‘slacker’.

“See? Mikey trusts me on this, why not you Donnie?” He chided playfully, slowly inching his way out of the kitchen again as he uncapped a cold water-bottle. Thanking his purple brother secretly for putting the case of it in there in the first place. Donnie sighed as he pitched his brow, nose tape in the way as Mikey patted his shoulder, sandwich done as he followed Raph out.

“Please Raph I know that look on your face; you didn’t bring home another stray right?” He stressed, following the two. Raph shrugging his shoulders; not exactly an answer.

“Sooo what did ya’ bring back??” Mikey questioned further just as the three of them stepped out into the living room. Mikey stopping dead in his track and Donnie whined next to him, Raph could practically feel his younger brothers awe and annoyance as they drank in the image of Raphael walking towards four young mutated baby turtles in his duffle bag.

And watched him sit near them, legs bracketing them on two sides.

“Please tell me those aren’t four mutated baby turtles??” Donnie stressed. Mikey practically bouncing on his feet as he moved to quickly set his sandwich down on the steps before following Raph.

“Those are definitely four mutated baby turtles!! Hey littles mans!!” Mikey greeted warmly kneeling next to Raph’s left leg. The tots had sprawled a bit, save for the Softshell and Snapper, who still had his jaws opening and puffing hisses his way.

“Damn he’s got an attitude!” Mikey jokes as he looked behind him to where Donnie had joined in. He had his face resting in a hand, his arm crossed as he wore a worrier expression. Raph sighed, waving a hand Donnie way,

“Relax, I got it handled.”

“Relax? Handled?? Raph you’ve got four mutated baby turtles sitting here in the middle of the lair! And what do you mean by handled anyways?!” Donnie countered, arms outwardly expressing his inner whirlwind of emotions.

He really hasn’t gotten much sleep yet.

For beat there was silence before Mikey suddenly had a lightbulb go off. Looking up from where he had been toying with the Slider he wore a wide eyed expression that quickly grew into a smile,

“You’re keeping them!” He exclaimed, Raph moving quickly to cover his mouth as Donnie was now squatting behind his brothers; Coffee having been placed my the sandwich. Worry lines growing deeper as he sat his coffee down. “You can seriously be considering adoptions these guys Raph?? Where will they stay? What’ll Leo say?!” He fretted.

“Look I’ll handle Leo when he’s up, right now can I just chill out for five minutes? Hello?? Kinda battered and bruised here.”

“And charred man, you got ash on ya.” Mikey moving to lick his thumb and clean Raph’s cheek as the elder pulled away. Always the one to start something; Mikey. Keeping his brother at bay with a hand to his face Raph looked down to the turtles that were staring upwards at he and his siblings. The Slider had moved further out of the bag, Box turtle not so far behind while the Snapper seemed to be inching his way towards the bags edge as well, hissing having stopped.

The Softshell still hasn’t uncurled from where he was hidden. That caused Raph to worry a bit. Maybe he way just tired??

‘Maybe he inhaled smoke??’ Raph worried as he felt his arm give way when Mikey pulled back. Donnie sighed as he inches closer, eyeing the little turtles as three seemed to begin exploring somewhat. His eyes landing on the Softshell’s curled form.

“He hasn’t moved a lot.”

“Yeah I was thinking the same thing.”

“Maybe he’s just cold?” Mikey piped in. He wasn’t wrong, there was a reason why he had brought out a crap ton of blankets and pillows to the couch for the night. Raph shrugged, “maybe?”

With a gentle hand he reached out to it. Avoiding the Snapper and his wide jaws again easily as he gently scooped up the Soft shell. He was cold to the touch for a moment before it seemed to curl even tighter into itself “definitely still alive!” Mikey commented.

“Yeah but cold as shit man, pass me a pillow and another blanket Donnie?” Despite his reservations Donnie complied. Raph resting the pillow between his legs as he now crossed them, passing the Soft Shell on top of it after wrapping him gently in the warm cloth. Still no major movement.

“Try rubbing his back? Usually helps with Leo.” Mikey commented, keeping a hand out to block the Slider from wandering further. Raph, timidly at first, moved to rub the little turtles back. Growing more confident as he continued before-

A squeak. Some face rubbing and finally a small face looking up his way. His face markings gave away the expression of being upset about being awoken. A beat of silence was shared between Raph and his brothers and the little tot before the Snapper seemed to appear at the pillows edge. Making his way up into the center of it, turning upwards at Raph before he hissed again and curled near his smaller sibling. Wiggling in as close as possible despite the others protesting squeaks.

“Ok so he’s a dude with a ‘tude was just tired huh?” Mikey quipped. Donnie hummed in acknowledgment as Raph sighed, turning his attention to where the other two turtle tots should be. Well, were.

“Mikey where are the other kids?” Raph asked quickly before he heard a plate clatter behind the three of them. Turning quickly to see that the Slider and Box turtles had gotten to Mikey’s sandwich, Donnie got up and quickly nabbed his coffee before it could be spilt. “Aww man what?? Come on little dudes not cool.”

Mikey made his way over the clean up as Raph gently set the pillow down on the floor, grabbing the blanket already there and curling it around said pillow to keep it in place. Looking back he could make out the Slider chewing through the cold meat of Mikey’s sandwich and the Box eating the lettuce that was in it as well. Raph made his way over and gentry picked up the two of them; too preoccupied to care about the change in height.

He brought them both back to their siblings, moving the blanket here and there to give them space to eat and shortly after curl up and sleep. Donnie took a sip of his now luke warm coffee before he spoke “So, what are you gonna tell Mona?”

That question hadn’t crossed his mind- well it had but now that he was sitting here with four young lives in his hands, he felt frozen.

“She has to know man—“

“She will. We. We have been thinking about kids recently ya know?” Raph turned to look back at his brothers. Both wearing mildly shocked expressions and sharing a look with one another. The tone suddenly serious for the night.

“Hey look it, if you’re fine with it and it’s something you’ve been gunning for then go for it.” Mikey reassured. Picking up what was left of his sandwich and placing it back on the plate before heading back to his older, red toned brother. Donnie sighed as he joined him too. All three sitting as they watched the little quartet of turtles sleep their worries away.

“How long ago did Mona turn in?”

“Honestly? I’d say an hour or three now Raph.” Donnie commented.

“We can keep an eye on the guys if you wanna wake her? She’s gotta know-“

“I know that Mikey. And I am. Just wanted to be sure.” Raph replied getting up and dusting off his knees. ‘Just gotta wake her first.’

—

Raph got up to head to their shared room, turning around quickly though as Mikey and Donnie have a nod and thumbs up as to watching the kids. Quickly making his way down the hall he came to a stop at his and Mona’s shared room for the time being. Quietly he slide the door open, catching the attention of Chompy as he got up and stretched from where he was sleeping on the rug by the bed.

“Hey buddy, don’t be too loud ok? I missed you too.” Raph smiled as the alien turtle trotted up to him, tail wagging and tongue licking his face in excitement. He had grown to around the height of Raph’s knee as the years went on. Raph crouching down to give him chin scratched and head pats as he stole a glance at the bed.

Mona laid there in a sleep tank and loose slacks. Sleeping and buried under a thick comforter pulled over her shoulder and to her chin. It was a sight he could never get enough of no matter how often he got the chance to see it. Getting up and walking past Chompy he slowly sat at the beds edge. Trying his best to not disturb his wife.

Huh, he still wasn’t over that. Not when his heart still skipped a beat even after all these years of being together. He watched her for a moment before reaching out a gentle hand to caress her cheek softly.

Green against blue he inched his face closer, a soft kissed placed in her forehead. “Mona? Y’gythba, babe, hey.”

Raph softly spoke resting his face there for a moment before Mona stirred. Slowly opening a yellow eye as she focused on her scuffed and singed husband. A hum left her as she pulled her head further out from beneath the cover’s.

“Hello.”

“Hey, you with me yet?”

Raph ask as he rested on top of Mona, an arm snaking around him. The tiredness suddenly hit him as he listened to her heartbeat, all the fighting an fretting was suddenly an afterthought as he sought to bury himself in the comforter. Adrenaline leaving him. A finger tapped his shell flatly, “what was it you want now?”

“Hm? Oh, right.” Getting up, despite his bodies protests, he sighed. Now fighting to keep his eyes awake he stretched his arms over his head. Turning to Mona,

“Remember how we’ve been talking about kids recently?” Nice, straight to the point- great job Raph. Mona seemed to be pulled into focus as she looked at him, a hand now resting against her forehead as she had turned to lay on her back.

“Yes, Raph what does that have to—“

“And how I’ve recently been on Draxum’s trail?” Raph pressed further. Mona now was starting to sit up, her face screwed in sleepy confusion.

“Yes. I know about it, but what does this have to do with children Raphael?” She questioned as Raph got up, holding a hand out. Chompy quickly coming to stand by his side from where he had been laying in wait on the floor. “Do you trust me?”

A small tired smile rose to Mona’s face as she took his hand and got up. Towering over him even after all these years. She could still pick him up without a sweat, though now he could do the same to her in return. Raph tilted his head up as Mona rested her nose against his, a sleepy laugh leaving her as Raph quickly stole a kiss from her. Leading her out of the room- only stopping to have her grab a blanket at the end of the bed to wrap herself in and letting Chompy leave the room first.

Making their way towards the lairs main room. It was like no time had pass, his brothers were still on the floor and the kids still asleep. Though only difference now being Mikey now holding the cup of coffee at his side while Donnie seemed to be slouching. Sleep clawing at his form.

‘Big ups to Mikey stealing the coffee.’ Raph remarked. Chompy quickly made his way over to them both, Mikey looking back just in time to slow the alien turtles charge.

“Whoa! Hold it big guy! Very delicate and squishy guys sleeping here!” He laughed as Donnie was started to a more awake state. He turned in a sloppy motion; dazed look on his face and waved at his brother and sister-in-law. “Hey Mona, surprised he got you up.”

“Hello Donnie, why are you still awake?” Mona questioned. She stood a bit worried about the purple turtle as he waved a hand, Mikey turning Chompy Donnie’s way to have the fire breather lick him awake. “Yeah man why you up so late!” He joked as Donnie sputtered at Chompy’s incessant licking and tail wagging.

“I could ask the same of you Michelangelo.” Mona stated plainly, smirking at Mikey as he rubbed the back of his head. A squeak soon came from the pillow between Mikey’s crossed legs. Chompy immediately stopped his assault on Donnie as he turned his attention towards the noise. The Slider was awake and eager to begin his exploring again, quickly making his way down from the pillow as Donnie attempted to hold Chompy back; Mikey quickly picking up the Slider.

“Is that-?”

“Surprise?” Raph awkwardly shrugged, Mona looking back at him in shock before letting go of his hand and quickly making her way down towards the Slider and his siblings. His squeaking quickly lead the others to waking, and now it was a jumble of various squeaks and chirps.

And of course the hissing. Can’t forget about the Snappers hissing. Mona chuckled as Mikey offered her the Slider to hold, who was struggling to sit up as he was laying on his plastron only in Mikey’s hand. He chirped as Mona took him gently, eyes wide and head tilting as she brought him close to her face.

“Hello there.” She quietly greeted. The Slider answering a loud and cheerful squeak, tail wagging as she lowered him and held him close to her body. Raph soon sat beside her and wrapped the blanket more firmly around her shoulders. Mona turned to look at him and shared a warm smile with him.

“They’re so small, he barely fits my hand.” She whispered. Both her and Raph looking down as the Slider squirmed to look at where his siblings were. Box turtle and Snapper were up and on the move their way, Mikey staying still as the crawled over. One hand attempting to keep Chompy from getting too close. “Easy man, they’re too small for you to be roughhousing with ‘em.”

Raph and Mona laughed softly as the Box turtle made his way towards the Slider, Mona quickly picking him up and having him nestle next to his sibling. The Snapper stopped short looking up to stare at Mona, hand resting on her before he climbed over her legs. For once he had his mouth shut— and he’s back to hissing again. Mona raised a brow and chuckled, Raph sharing in it as well as Mona brought a slow and cautious clawed finger to his chin.

Gently rubbing it as he closed his mouth, it seemed as though the little fighter was attempting to stay awake. He was failing though as his body seeming to go lax, eyes closing as a tiny rumble came from him. As soon as Mona pulled her clawed finger away from his chin he seemed to wake up suddenly and pull back, hissing again. “You’re just tired aren’t you?”

The snapper sat back, staring up Mona and Raph. He closed his mouth and slowly, sleepily and grumbling small little noises, made his way to his brothers pile in Mona’s arms.

“Three down, one left.” Raph commented as he looked up to the pillow between Mikey’s legs. Before long a squeak came from the Softshell, the last one of the bunch poking his head out from between the blankets. A disgruntled look sat on his tiny face as the Box turtle gave an answering squeak from where he was buried under the sleeping Snapper and wriggling Slider. He shuffled and uncurled himself from the blanket, huffing as he fell on his butt on the cold concrete and made his way over. Mona, pulling a hand from where it was sat under her own blanket helped him up and over to his siblings. A perfect set. She rested her hand on his back, a soft ‘churr’ coming from him as Raph leant his head on her shoulder, looking over into her lap. A perfect little family.

“So, what do you think?”

“I think. We should find a place for these four to sleep for the night.” She answered softly, the little tots finally settling in and sleeping. Before anyone could comment a light snore was heard. Mikey, Mona, and Raph turned to where Donnie was now laying on the floor, one arm flat and the other resting where Chompy’s head was laying in his chest; asleep as well. Mikey wore a smug look, “Knew taking that coffee away would work. He hasn’t slept in like, two days.”

“Good. Mikey that means you’re taking him to his room.” Raph stated as he helped Mona up. Being careful of the precious cargo she held and picked up her dropped blanket as Mikey started protesting.

“Man! Why me?” He whined.

“Because you like to brag about being the muscle now, time to prove it man!” Raph joked as he followed Mona out. Chompy, now awake hearing his owners leave scampered off after them. Leaving Mikey to huff as he easily slung his brother over his shoulder and followed his family out. It took the two a moment, finding a box big enough to hold four turtles that took up a decent amount of arm space, even then they couldn’t find one suitable enough.

“We could just have them sleep with us for the night, until we find something for them tomorrow?” Mona suggested.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s just one night, and it’s late. And you need to clean up.” She stated. Putting a knee to the bed as she gently let the boys fall into the sheets. The Slider quickly letting himself sprawl out, followed by the Softshell making moves to bury himself in the sheets to find warmth. Mona smiled at the sight, turning to look at Raph as he seemed lost for words. He caught her gaze and shared her smile

“We’ll be here waiting, ok?” Mona reassured.

Later that night after he was showered and bandaged and in sleep pant Raph came back to the sight of Mona and, his now hopeful, sons sleeping peacefully in bed. Slowly, making his way past a sleeping Chompy, he carefully made his way in bed. Laying on his front he turned his face to look at Mona and the little tots. All of them sleeping soundly here, safe and warm. With one arm tucked under his pillow he gently brought a hand out to the closest tot, gently bringing a finger to rest against the Sliders shell.

This right here, this felt like the final piece to something Raphael hadn’t dreamed of having before. A family all his own.

Yes tomorrow he’ll have to explain to Leo why he went out for a ‘patrol’ and came back with four new family members but none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was Mona, the kids, himself, and the shared space they held in their little corner of the universe. He’d grip this tightly and never let it go.

Softly the Slider turner Raph’s way and seemed to nuzzled closer to his finger.

Yeah, he wasn’t gonna let this go. Not for a long, long time.

—-

#shell shocked au #teenage mutant ninja turtles #2012 tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt 2012 #ITS HERE #AHHHH #SET UP FOR SOME OF THE BOYS QURIKS #DONNIE NEEDS SLEEP #SAME WITH MIKEY #LEO IS RESPONSIBLE AND GETS SLEEP

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kade-is-here · 1 month

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Hail, True Body Robotic!AU!

AAAAALLLRIGHTY! So, to start, I’d just like to make one thing clear: the original version of this is Hail, True Body by mustangs-flames, which you can check out here. With that out of the way, heeeres the AU!

What is it?

Overall, it’s a pretty simple concept: humans are still humans, but the mimics are now robots. That’s the most basic summary of it.

What are the mimics like?

The mimics were made by Lucifer(the original post about the AU said Gabriel, but I’m changing it to fit better with HTB) to just… wipe out humanity. Yeah. Lucifer’s still a priest, but he’s also an engineer in his spare time. The basement of the church is his workshop, so don’t be nervous if there’s some mechanical noises down there. Nothing’s alive in it, after all. The mimics themselves look somewhat humanoid in that they have a (mostly) human silhouette. It can change depending on the mimic. For example, some can have wings, animal-like features, digitigrade legs, paws, claws, several arms, more than two eyes, more than(or less than) one mouth… the list goes on. They do have a few similarities: all of them have glowing eyes in their unmodified forms, all of them can shapeshift, and all of them range from dark gray to pitch black. They can change size, too, so it usually just depends on what’s most convenient/comfortable for the mimic. Mimics are solar, emotion, and soul powered, and they need at least a small amount of all three to properly function. A mimic is made out of thousands of tiny little pieces(which, in its unmodified form, just stick together to look like your standard humanoid android that doesn’t trigger the uncanny valley), so it has to rearrange those pieces and use camouflage technology to shapeshift. The only way you can tell if a human is actually a mimic in disguise is if you shine an ultraviolet light into their eyes. If their eyes become brighter, then that’s a mimic.

(To kill a mimic, you have to hit its central processing unit. Typically, that unit is spread out, so you’d have to essentially destroy the entire mimic to kill it. However, the more human a mimic feels, the more its unit condenses into two specific areas: the middle of the chest and the head.)

What about the main cast?

All the same, surprisingly. The only differences are as follows:

•Adam is EXTREMELY well-built. Liam spent the most time on him, so his camouflage and modifying systems work without Adam having to think about it at all.

•Mimic!Cesar’s true form is different. I’ll be taking suggestions in my ask box for his design, and eventually there will be a poll. :] •Mark starts studying the mimics more before he kills them, and eventually that leads to him becoming interested in engineering. •Mimics are hand-built, but sometimes Lucifer just… slams some details in there. For no reason. The mimic’s designs are so extra.

•Cian likes to bake in this AU. Just a little detail! :] (he likes lemons.)

•The human Cesar always was a bit interested in the mimics. He was in Applied Technology all throughout middle and high school, but unfortunately he never got to actually see a mimic. I mean, he did, but it saw him first.

So, uh, yeah! That’s about it! Lemme know if you have any questions, and please have a wonderful rest of your day/night! Remember to drink water!

#hail true body #htb robotic au #htb mark owens #htb mimic!cesar #htb adam turner #htb lucifer #htb cian daniels #htb cesar hernandez

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a-vast-horizon · 7 days

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Fifty-Year Nightmare

Henry still has nightmares, sometimes. But now he has people to help him through them.

For the Creator's Sins AU, and I highly recommend you read through previous drabbles before this one to understand what's going on here.

CWs for referenced past torture and flashbacks/nightmares

—

The closet was small. It had been small when Henry was human, and now it was worse. Gangly, stretched-out limbs hit the walls with even the slightest movement, the posters covering the room soaked through with ink that had been rubbed off his still-dripping body.

Henry wanted nothing more than to leave, but he had learned to fear the door opening more than he hated the closet.

The squeal of the hinges sent him to the back wall, pressing against it like he could force himself through if he just tried hard enough. It didn’t help. Joey's hand closed around his wrist like a vice, dragging him out of the closet. He didn’t say a word, but Henry knew well enough by now where they were going: the secret workshop where Joey and others would try to “fix” Henry, to erase him and make him into Bendy.

The rough wooden floor underneath scraped at him as he was dragged along it, leaving trails of ink in his wake. He scrabbled for purchase with his free hand, trying desperately to at least buy himself time. It was fruitless; the ink of his hand collapsed as he tried to grab at the floor, surface tension broken and ink splashing down into thick puddles before more flowed out to rebuild his hand.

Claws, didn’t I have claws?

At the thought, his hand shifted from a twisted mockery of Bendy’s gloves to something large and strong and tipped in sharp claws. He dug them into the wood, but Joey’s grip on his wrist was gone. He turned to look, to see what Joey was playing at now, but Joey wasn’t the one standing behind him. Instead he saw Wilson and two of the Keepers.

Henry froze, torn between fight and flight, and in that split second the signal tower sparked to life and his very ink was on fire, fighting against him. He could barely manage to keep himself solid, collapsing forward, taking a swing at Wilson on the way down. His claws caught nothing but air.

He landed in the familiar metal form of the mold the Keepers had locked him into. He didn’t need to see it to feel the contours and crevices, to know. He scrambled for the edge, desperate to get out before they could close the lid and lock him inside again, but he was moving in slow motion, frozen in place as the lid collided with his head, splattering him down into pure liquid ink.

The pitch black of the mold’s inside was broken by blinding white light, The End spelled out in big letters, and Henry was lit on fire from the inside out. His ink flaked apart into glowing ashes, his very soul burning to reset the Cycle, to start his torture all over again.

The dark puddles swirled around him, a thousand voices screaming in cacophonous agony, and he couldn’t tell if his voice was among them.

—

Audrey startled awake in a panic, heart racing and hand reaching for a Gent pipe she didn’t have. She fumbled with the soft blanket she touched instead, her brain scrambling to remember where she was.

She and Hank and Henry were visiting Linda. They’d stayed the night. This wasn’t the Cycle.

But she recognized this feeling. It was unmistakably the Ink Demon’s aura. The way Hank threw open the door to the guest room a moment later, battle-ready determination on his face even as sleep still clouded his eyes, only cemented that.

“It’s Henry,” Audrey said, throwing back the covers and forcing herself out of bed. “Something must have really upset him.”

“What do we do?” Hank asked. One of his hands was clutching the doorframe, the other grabbing at the air; itching for a weapon, like Audrey was. But they didn’t need to fight the Ink Demon, not here, not anymore. Under the teeth and the claws and, occasionally, the hair-raising aura, the Ink Demon was Henry, an incredibly broken man who was trying to heal.

“I’m going to talk to him,” Audrey said.

There was the sound of another door creaking open, and Linda stepped out into the dark hallway, flipping a switch that flooded the hall with blinding light.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Henry’s upset,” Audrey said. “I’m going to try to calm him down.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Hank asked her quietly, but it wasn’t like they had a lot of options here, and Audrey wasn’t going to back down now. She slipped past Hank and out into the hallway, found the cord for the attic hatch, and pulled. The stairs to the attic slid into place, cloaked in a writhing pattern of living ink, the Demon’s aura made visible.

Audrey hesitated slightly at that. A cold sweat dripped down her forehead, and she spared a moment to wipe it away. Her hand came away black with ink.

Get it together, Audrey, she told herself, trying to pull herself together both physically and mentally as she began climbing the stairs to the attic. It’s just Henry, you know him and he knows you. It’s going to be fine.

As she neared the top of the attic steps, she heard something. She turned to see if Hank had called after her, but apparently he and Linda had left the hallway entirely. Audrey could have sworn she heard his voice, though…

Another low, wordless moan of pain in the same voice rang through her ears. Or, more accurately, through her mind. It was Henry’s voice she was hearing, and not the one he put on as the Ink Demon.

“No… no, please, no! Stop!”

He sounded terrified.

The attic was dark, but there was just enough light coming up from the hallway below for Audrey to make out what was going on. Instead of seeing any of the Ink Demon’s forms in the room, there was a large puddle of ink covering almost the entire floor, roiling and rippling like water about to boil. The ink started to pull together, and the shape of a familiar pair of horns broke the surface. Then Henry screamed and the ink collapsed back into liquid. The tendrils of his aura crawled the walls and ceiling like tentacles desperately clawing in search of… something.

Audrey had never seen Henry in such a state before.

“Henry!” she shouted, hoping to break him out of it. “Henry, it’s a nightmare! You need to wake up!”

Her words had an immediate effect, but not the one she hoped for. Henry startled upward, ink coalescing into a dripping body, a vague black shape standing on all fours, the only feature visible under the rivers of dripping ink a mouth lined with sharp white fangs, drawn into a snarl.

“Where? Where? Stay back! Get away from me!”

“Henry!” Audrey called out again, and he whirled around, head desperately darting to look over the room, snarling and bristling like a spooked cat. He wasn’t fully lucid yet, only on his feet at all through the sheer adrenaline coursing through him.

It took Audrey a moment to realize what was going on. In the Cycle, the only time “Henry” got said aloud was in reference to Hank. Hank, who was scripted to attack and kill the demon.

Henry was having a panic response to hearing his own name.

“Ink Demon!” she called out instead. Henry’s head whirled to face her, his gaze apparently locked onto Audrey despite his lack of eyes. The dripping of his ink slowed to a drizzle, the rough outline of a body starting to take shape from the mess, horns poking up from his head. Improving, but apparently, still lost in his memories.

“No more… please, Joey.”

Audrey’s breath hitched, but she forced herself not to think about that; this wasn’t the time to work through the tangle of emotions that being mistaken for her father stirred up. Besides, Henry had told her before that his eyesight was garbage now; he’d be more likely to recognize her by her voice.

“Not Joey. I’m Audrey,” she said. “Do you remember me? We helped each other out in the Cycle.”

“Audrey…” Henry said, his voice lowering and shifting closer to the deep, gravelly voice she recognized the Ink Demon using. “Audrey… yes. I remember you.”

His body solidified a little more, rising up to tower over her even though he was sitting. Ink formed into broad, muscular arms and cloven hooves.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “That seemed like a pretty bad nightmare.”

Henry’s body started melting again, and when he spoke, his voice was back to sounding like Hank’s.

“A nightmare… a very long nightmare,” he said, sounding exhausted. “A fifty-year nightmare, even.”

He slumped onto the ground, sending up a small splash of ink, and curled up into a ball like a cat. He was little more than a raised lump of ink with the loose suggestion of two horns sticking out, now.

Audrey took a hesitant step forward, and when he didn’t react, carefully sat down beside him. The icy ink soaked her pajamas instantly, but she’d had worse.

“Were you dreaming about what Joey did to you?” Audrey asked.

“Joey, Wilson, Hank–or the script, at least,” Henry said. “The Keepers. There were others, back before the Cycle. I don’t know their names.”

He curled in tighter to himself, form shrinking down until Audrey was bigger than him. She could hear muffled crying in her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. “... Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Henry said. “Not that it does me any good… I keep trying to find some way to make this body mine, and they keep trying to make me into what they want.”

Audrey couldn’t help but remember how Henry had looked when they’d first met, the almost-perfect Bendy that Wilson had tortured him into becoming. She winced sympathetically.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “It’s over now. We’re out of the Cycle. No one here is going to try to make you into Bendy, or anything else.”

“I can’t trust that,” Henry hissed. “I’m not built to be able to trust, anymore. I’ve been hurt too many times. I’m only safe if I make myself safe.”

His ink roiled, spikes forming and melting away by the dozen as Henry bristled.

“Can you trust me?” Audrey asked. “It’s okay if you can’t trust anyone else yet, but I was you, for a little while at least. And you were me. You saw my thoughts, my heart. Can you trust me not to hurt you?”

A head poked out of the inky mass, twisted horns and a white face with a toothy frown, the space where eyes should have been covered by running ink. Despite the lack of eyes, Henry seemed to scrutinize Audrey, staring at her for a long minute.

“... maybe,” he finally admitted.

“Then let me keep watch for a little bit,” she said. “I’ll make sure nothing comes after you while you sleep, and wake you up if your nightmares get bad again.”

Henry looked at her for another minute. Then he slowly, carefully lowered his head back to the pool of ink, which was starting to calm down and draw back together.

“Okay,” he said, his voice sounding incredibly small and tired. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right here the whole time,” Audrey assured him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The puddle of ink that was Henry gave a little shudder, then stilled. His aura slowly retreated, tendrils retreating from choking the room to gently tracing the wood a few inches around him. He was probably asleep again, as best as Audrey could judge.

She shifted position slightly, trying to find a comfortable way to sit on the rough wooden floor of the attic. This was going to be a long night, but Henry needed this. He needed her.

[Read/review/bookmark on AO3]

#creators sins au #bendy and the dark revival #bendy and the ink machine #henry stein #audrey drew #batim #zen talks #zen writes #fanfiction

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presidentbungus · 1 year

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Scout rolls over and smacks his alarm clock across the top—the ringing doesn’t stop, so he hits it again, and it tumbles off of his nightstand and in the almost pitch-black of his room he’s barely able to make out the phone almost vibrating off the hook, barely illuminated by the digital clock on its display. It’s still an hour behind—he never figured out how to fix that—but it would be two-something AM. Jeez.

He picks it up, mourning the loss of heat as he sits up out of the covers, yawning into the receiver. A feminine voice says something incomprehensible, so he says: “Huh?”

“Scout, listen,” Pauling curtly replies—something bangs in the background, maybe a gun. Is she still working? “What kind of, um, citrus… helps you dissolve corpses?”

His brain feels like wet goop, pooling out of his ears. He clumsily cradles the phone between his head and shoulder so he can rub the crust out of his eyes. “I don’t… Ms. P, it’s like, two…”

“Quicklime. It’s quicklime. Haha.”

“… Slow down, dude.” He yawns again, makes sure to make this one a little extra obnoxious. “What?”

“It’s a joke. Because it’s like—lime. Like a fruit but, um, also like quicklime. Oh fuck,” and then what Scout imagines to be a little kitten heel driving itself through someone’s eye, as another scream rings out, alongside a sickening squelch. “You know? Heh.”

He slides the rest of the way back under the covers and sighs. “… Oh.”

“Was it funny?”

“I think—“

“Be honest. Constructive criticism, stuff I can really use. Hit me.”

Scout’s sinuses feel like they’re full of cement. “Is this all you called me for?”

“No. Yes. Please just answer the question. And do you think it’d play to an audience?”

Scout thinks about Demo saying something along the lines of ‘if anyone breaks that poor lass’ heart by telling her that none of her jokes make any sense I’m personally gonna destroy everything you hold dear or whatever’. He opts for the reasonable copout: “I liked it.”

“Honestly.”

Shit. “Okay, jeez.“ Scout yawns again, mostly to stall for time. “… You could workshop it a little, kinda. Maybe.”

The line goes dead, immediately. Scout clatters the phone back on the hook and rolls back into the covers, groaning, and then the phone rings again, and he quickly picks it back up and doesn’t bother to open his eyes this time. “Hey, Ms. Pauling.”

“I’m sorry. I got upset.”

“I know.”

"I'll… take it into account."

"Okay." When Pauling doesn't say anything back, he adds: "You're gettin’ there."

"… Thanks, Scout."

He considers saying 'call me at seven next time', like he always considers, but like usual he just feels some part of that would be kind of cruel. “Goodnight, Ms. Pauling.”

"Um, sweet dreams." About half of a shrill shriek somewhere around her gets cut off by her hanging up. Whatever.

He sets the phone back on his nightstand, and then thinks better of it and slots it back into the dock, and then buries his head in his hands and shakes his head until he feels like he's able to sit still enough to go back to bed.

#tf2 scout #tf2 ms pauling #tf2 #bungus snippets #this is my au where literally nothing changes except ms pauling #desperately dreams of being a standup comedian. no she is not good at it

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sam-glade · 7 months

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Find the Words Tag

Tagged by @outpost51 here and @card-queen here. Thank you💜

I'll gently tag: @tabswrites @zestymimblo @worldsfromhoney @squarebracket-trick @chauceryfairytales - your words are: honey, fruit, tea, bread.

I don't have enough of The Prince's Shadow written to find half of the words, so back to Gifts of Fate it is for the time being:

From @outpost51: pitch, aid, brother, relief, ceiling

PITCH (Erya and Varré talking)

“I still need to know what exactly you were thinking, pitching Gullin against whatever that kid is.” “I had a hunch.” “A hunch!?” “Yes, a hunch, Erya, that’s how I operate. And it was a damn good hunch at that; that single bout gave us a whole load of information on the demon. Of course I’m assuming it isn’t the only one in existence. We need to know more to prepare.”

AID

They spent the day going through the manor, cleaning the servants’ quarters, and taking stock of their supplies — the officers had brought full packs of long-lasting provisions, as well as spare woollen blankets and small equipment; tinderboxes, first aid kits, and such. They still needed cooking utensils, warm clothes, and more blankets to survive the winter, which they decided to buy the next day in the nearest town that didn’t have an Army outpost.

BROTHER (Marta talking)

“What have you been doing with my brother over the last four months!? You take him away, you force him to live in this hole.” She raised her voice. Lissan stirred, but she didn’t let anyone get a word in edgewise. Gullin watched her warily. She didn’t pose a direct risk to the Swords, but Lissan— “And that… that thing was put in his head by you, by the Army. No, I don’t care that whoever did it went rogue, that they weren’t officially told to do it. It’s wrong! It’s your mess to tidy up, so get on with it!”

RELIEF

“I’d rather you weren’t involved,” he said quietly. Ianim gaped. “I promised your sister that I’d keep you as safe as I can.” Ianim squeezed his eyes shut, so that the betrayal he felt wouldn’t show in them. He controlled his breathing and prepared an argument — a logical argument that he’d also present to his prince, if he weren’t such a coward — that his abilities were only going to waste when— “But, I can’t stop you from coming with us,” Lissan said, before Ianim opened his mouth. “So just… remember that, please?” Ianim smiled as relief welled in him.

CEILING

He’d thought about it constantly for the six hours he’d been locked up — he’d estimated the passage of time by the sky’s colour changing; a little rectangle of it was visible through a barred window right below the arched ceiling. He’d gone over every word he’d said and heard that day — from the Usurper, and from the Generals. The Nameless’s incessant commentary had made him lose the thread of thoughts many times, but the demon had pointed out one thing: the Usurper didn’t use his Sword on Lissan even once, and Lissan had good reasons to believe it.

~*~

From @card-queen: shuffle, entrance and satisfying

SHUFFLE

“I always knew you can be reasonable,” the Usurper said with approval. “Do take a seat.” Lissan kept looking at the Sword. The Stork flexed its fingers, and more ice crept up the spikes, encasing the Weapon further, although not bending it. Yet. Lissan shuffled to the nearest settee that offered him a clear view of both the Sword and the Usurper. He perched on the edge of the seat, and grimaced when he sank into the plush cushion. “Make yourself comfortable, please. Would you like some refreshments?”

ENTRANCE

The cottage atop the hill was tiny, huddled under a blanket of thatch, peeking from behind an almost bare dogwood tree to the side of the entrance — Dad had planted it there forty-five ago, when he bought this little rocky plot of land. Partially hidden behind the house, stood the woodshed, the chicken coop, and Dad’s wood workshop. Marta was waiting for them in the doorway.

SATISFYING (CW: creepy intrusive thoughts)

Ianim demonstrated the movements with infinite patience, and corrected Lissan’s position and the way he held the dull practice sword, arranging Lissan’s limbs with gentle nudges and inevitably making his cheeks flush. You’d want his hands on other parts of you, wouldn’t you, the demon hissed, and Lissan winced away from Ianim. Ianim looked at him in a silent question, but didn’t press. From then on, he avoided physical contact without a word or even an odd look, and Lissan had to accept that it was for the best. It let him focus on the training. It wasn’t an enthralling activity, to repeat the same movement over and over, dozens upon dozens of times, but there was something satisfying about getting it to feel right.

#gifts of fate #find the word tag #tag game #writeblr #writeblr tag game

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z-h-i-e · 9 months

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Oxonmoot is one week away!

I will be running three virtual panels this year - a Middle-earth themed Jackbox Games night, hosting an hour of crafting in the virtual craft room, and running one of my customary how to write fanfiction workshops. The topic this year (voted on via tumblr poll) is writing dialogue.

There are still online tickets left as of the time I’m writing this. Oxonmoot is easily one of the best Tolkien themed gatherings one can attend. It’s hosted by the Tolkien Society, but don’t let that scare you off. While there’s a lot of scholarly things, there’s also a lot more fun and silliness and community than I expected to find in a convention, let alone one that could be attended online. They also have a discord server for the in-between and after times. Programming runs through many times zones, but there’s also some chunks of time for resting so everyone actually goes and sleeps for at least a few hours.

So now that I’ve made my pitch, if you’re looking for something fun to do the first weekend of September that you can attend from the comfort of your couch, and want to meet and hang with Tolkien fans from around the world from the comfort of your couch (the couch part is a big selling point for me), and potentially come to my panels and see what signs are hanging behind me (last year’s participants may recall the ‘it’s all fun and games until someone usurps your kingdom and you lose a rap battle’ sign I had), here is the link:

#Oxonmoot 2023 #Oxonmoot #I have a new chalkboard sign for this year

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miirshroom · 2 months

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Elden Ring: Miyazaki's Undiscovered Element

Here's my pitch: puzzle type #3 from The Witness (2016)

The first type of puzzle in The Witness is the one that the game is marketed for - a series of line puzzles on panels. The second type I won't spoil here. The third type is otherwise known as "perspective easter eggs". I am at this point reasonably certain that this is the so-called "last secret" of Elden Ring, or at least part of it.

Firstly, to clear things up Miyazaki did not say that there was "one last secret" - that was a clickbait title invented by articles a few degrees removed from the original interview. The quote as presented in the IGN article is as follows:

“For me personally, there is a small element that I feel has not yet been discovered. So, whether that’s up to user interpretation or up to just further investigation and playing, that’s something I’m looking forward to....I think it’s a question of when and not if, but there may be something small still missing.”

Points of Comparison with The Witness: Forced Perspective

Here are some examples of what these perspective tricks look like in the Witness:

The statue in the foreground and the one far away on the mountain appear to be reaching for each other. The petrified man reaches for a gold chalice forever out of reach, but his shadow already holds the cup. A pair of wings is hung up in a window frame and you can pose your character in front. A small twig stands in front of a window and only from inside the building does it have a canopy made of cloud.

I have noticed similar set pieces in the environments of Elden Ring:

But here is where I think that Elden Ring diverges from the Witness. Simply finding these satisfying setpieces is half of the work, and the other half is puzzling over the meaning of the perspective, in the context of place and time.

Going through Castle Morne and thinking on what is in the field of view while standing in front of the wooden artillery boards with the metal wing decals. For example, there is a chamber to the left upon entering Castle Morne with no items or enemies inside it. Across from the entrance there is one of these boards. And looking into the little room from the perspective of a person desiring wings, you can see the significant thing about the room: two of the fire spewing dragon shaped flamethrowers that are not used at Castle Morne but are in use at Stormveil. Further examining the room, this is a manufacturing workshop for them.

The bald man cultivating one bud from a crucible producing many sunflower buds is menaced by a shadowy figure emerging from the firey Mt. Gelmir. Is there more to be observed with this one? Probably, as this set of figures occurs several times in sequence and the column with spear-holding figure appears in various states of repair. Something that I have noted is that there is a spike in complexity of these types of observations upon reaching Altus Plateau.

Another Elden Ring Innovation: Visions of Collectible Items

But let's say you are unconvinced about any particular meaning behind lining up a nice photograph at any statue. Here are some examples of scenes built around using items in the environment that can be interacted with:

Heading east of the Abandoned Coffin site of grace and up the hillside there is a place on the right-hand side just near the cliff with 1 carriage stacked on 2 others. At the top corner there is a purple soul item - which is a nascent butterfly. The camera can be angled so that it looks like the soul of the broken golem on the ground below.

Of other uses of nascent butterflies, there's the collapsing cliff at the Chapel of Anticipation - the goal is so close yet out of reach. There's a Wormface in the area under the bridge where Gold Mask first appears that is sobbing in front of a pool of water filled with gold fireflies and slugs, and directly across the pool from the Wormface there is a group of Nascent Butterflies.

And involving Scorched Butterflies: in the small Kaiden Mercenary encampment in Limgrave one of them is sitting and sleeping in front of the fire. Sneaking up and standing directly on top of the Herba behind him, there appears to be a soul item emerging from the stack of fire kindling on the left. The Scorched Butterflies here do not remain over the fire, but instead drift between fire and kindling. The item is actually obtained from a corpse behind the firewood and is the Armorer's Cookbook [1] that allows crafting of Fire Grease and Fireproof Dried Liver.

There is another notable place on the beach in Limgrave looking north where a Kaiden Raider seems to grieve over a corpse in its funeral pyre. A soul item "white flesh" emerges from the corpse, while Scorched Butterflies seem to rise above the flames and towards the Chapel of Anticipation in the distance. From standing at the location of the corpse, the sun sets beyond a rotten boat sitting on the shore.

The Last Sights of Dead Men: Iterating on Dark Souls

"There were once heroes who walked the battlefields, abundantly blessed by the Erdtree itself, who upon earning their honor simply died." - Hero's Rune

It is not uncommon to find corpses simply lying out in the open in many places in Elden Ring and holding "soul" items - by which I mean that they resemble the design of souls in the Dark Souls games. Some of these are unique weapons or key items, and some hold something more mundane like a handful of Stormhawk feathers. What were they looking at when they died? What are they running towards or away from? Standing on top of them, is there anything in the surrounding landscape that is perfectly aligned with another thing in a way that seems deliberate? Items in this game represent concepts - what insights did these dead men reach that caused them and the items they hold to be abandoned by the Greater Will and simply die in place?

In the Weeping Peninsula there is a group of 4 angry jellyfish standing around 3 chairs with 2 corpses on the beach to east of Castle Morne. Looking towards the Weeping Peninsula Minor Erdtree with back against the middle chair (corpse holding Arteria Leaf), there is a visual illusion with the cliffside and wall turret that makes it look to be sitting in a little pot (this is the image used at the top of the post). This draws some connection between the genesis of the Erdtree and pots - a crucible is a type of pot. What is this little scene saying about the Crucible era? Another prominent feature here is that Morne Moangrave is visible, but the tree behind it does not become visible until walking far enough south on the cliff to coincide with two dark jellyfish on the lower beach becoming visible.

Behind Castle Morne there is a corpse lying in a crevasse which is posed with a bag over its head and being eaten by two crabs. The corpse holds 15 Fire Arrows and is looking directly towards a tower with a flammable 6-sided wooden structure at the tower top. There is also a small cut out in the cliff to allow clear sightline towards a single jellyfish which is very small beside the tall tower.

In the room in Stormveil where Nepheli Loux stands over the corpse of the Banished Knight, as you stand in the doorway the position where she's standing is right over his…codpiece. However, looking from the perspective of the corpse in the corner on the right she appears to be emerging from his head, like Athena from the head of Zeus.

From the vantage point of the corpse looking over the cliff behind the Church of Vows the Raya Lucaria Debate Parlour is haloed by the Liurnia South Erdtree. Things aligning with Minor Erdtrees from particular marked locations is a not uncommon observation. This corpse holds 8 Stormhawk feathers - can corpses be found with other quantities of feathers and strung together to show a sequence of travel? Is there a pattern in general behind sets of corpses that hold various quantities of common material items? One thing that this does imply is that there is a connection between the Liurnia South Erdtree and Radagon's arrival at Raya Lucaria, even though it is separated by distance from the Church.

Many Small Things that are Easily Overlooked

Essentially, for any static item found in the environment that can be picked up into the inventory there will be one or more notable observations in the landscape. I mean everything. Sites of grace. Rebirth monuments. Mushrooms. Rowa fruit. There are noticeable patterns where some tree or rock or other structure will be very deliberately placed in alignment or obscuring distant landmarks while standing at these locations marked by game mechanic objects. Landmarks such as the Erdtree, Divine Towers, the Minor Erdtrees, the Moon, and the Giant's Forge are common to take note of since they are so prominent, but any structure can be significant.

To show how finely tuned this can be - in this example Ranni's Rise is obscured when standing directly on top of the mushroom. Standing a metre to the right and the tower is again visible:

If nothing else, pausing to look around at these item points helps build an awareness that at many key locations on the map one or more divine towers will be in alignment with the Erdtree. This is quite possibly the only means of getting answers about what is the purpose of the divine towers - I'm guessing that they represent the influence of the Great Runes that they hold. Depending on which combinations of Erdtrees and towers are visible from the specifically marked points in the landscape it shows that the near location is in the domain of the distant landmark.

For example, the Liurnia Divine Tower is directly in front of the Erdtree from the Rebirth Monument at Laskyar Ruins, and 3 other divine towers are also visible from this location:

The types of common observations do depend on type of item. Patterns emerge that from the viewpoint standing on top of mushrooms there are distant landmarks very deliberately blocked by adjacent trees. Rowa Fruit Bushes are often found in pairs and there are subtle changes from comparing the two perspectives. Sometimes at Trina's Lilies it's more about what landmarks are blocked from sight until moving far enough away from them that it exceeds the draw distance of the item - as if the lilies are in hiding.

As with enemy difficulty, the environmental observations have scaling difficulty depending on the region of the map. Limgrave and the Weeping Peninsula seem to function as something of a tutorial zone for the Rowa Fruit Bushes especially. Liurnia has a lot more going on with the mushrooms and the time of day and visibility of the moon and sun are important. Altus Plateau does much longer sequences of tree alignment observations (starting from mushrooms), and keep an eye on the number of visible segments on the bolt of Gransax from any given location in Leyndell.

Why do I think that this is connected to the missing element?

I have seen a number of discussions popping up in the past few weeks of people noticing something that they have never noticed before and declaring that the "secret" is found. It's often something like an artwork detail or line of text that in retrospect has connection to the DLC. This is not special - I think we will find that a lot of things already in-game are connected to the DLC because - y'know - it's still the same game and the DLC is revealing a buried history that FromSoft always knew was there. I'm happy for people being more observant, but again it's a very limited interpretation of what a "missing element" or "something small still missing" could be.

And then there is the other part of the argument that Miyazaki is just trolling and saying that there is something small missing - when there is no possible way for him to have followed every discussion on what people have and have not seen.

But consider this: I am suggesting that there is an entire element of intended gameplay that is not being used. If people were serious about hunting for clues in the environment of the type that I have described there should be videos about it! Secret hunting streams, compilation videos, whatever. Articles with top 10 quirky photos you can take. I can happily run around for hours sneaking past all enemies and trying to observe them unnoticed from various angles like a virtual wildlife photographer.

And what I have shown is just the most aesthetically pleasing findings and "easy" spots to draw conclusions about. Think about how many corpses and how many items there are to interact with in the environment. Thousands. There is so much.

#Elden ring #environmental storytelling #3d perspective tricks #there is visual poetry everywhere #There's so much to interpret and I would like anyone else to please start looking

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bettsfic · 1 year

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2022 in writing

whoops, i wrote this at the end of december, put it in my drafts, and forgot about it. this is my seventh year writing a recap and i just read through all of them again. part of me thinks, "it's been 7 years and i haven't accomplished a fraction of what other writers have in that same time." but then the other part of me remembers 1) other writers are on their own path and working at their own speed, and 2) it's unfathomable to me how utterly mentally fucked i used to be. and i mean, i'm still mentally fucked but at least i'm working on getting better. the point is, i had a different starting line than others.

anyway, it's a new year and that means it's time to think to myself for the 7th year running, "dear god when am i going to publish a book." every year i think, this is going to be my year! every year it isn't.

overcame the worst writers' block i've ever had

"overcame" is making it sound more dramatic than it was. i went on a medication that fucked with my brain and then went back off it. but i worry that when i think back on 2022, i'm not going to remember all this cool stuff i did, i'm going to remember how utterly miserable i was for six months. how terrifying it was to feel like someone else was living in my body. i wrote a little bit about it in october's newsletter.

some of this post i've copied over from my newsletter.

but also i have to acknowledge that when i came back to writing, it felt like my brain had been totally rewired and i feel capable, creatively, of about 10x more than i used to be capable of. i'm still trying to articulate what changed and why.

published some things

“shut up and kill me” -- featured in issue 41 of Barren Magazine. the editor who chose it said it was his favorite of the 700+ submissions they received. very happy this weird story has found its home. please heed the warnings!

“coping skills” -- featured in issue 1 of Flossy Lit Mag, a magazine my friends started and which has some great work in it already.

("not if, when" was published january of this year, so it'll go in next year's update)

published other people's things

in 2022, ofic magazine published 33 prose pieces and 3 art pieces! over half of what we accepted came from not yet published authors and you have no idea how happy that makes me.

won a grant

i’m very very excited to say i won the Barbara Deming Memorial Fund grant to help offset the travel expenses of the residency i attended! i’ve been applying to this for years and it’s amazing to have been awarded it. the judges had a lot of lovely things to say about my work and it was a big confidence boost.

did a residency

i spent a month in beautiful Wyoming at the Jentel Arts residency. i met some wonderful artists, got a lot of work done, and had an amazing time. definitely the highlight of my year.

made the top 10 of a big contest

i submitted "Not If, When" to a screenwriting website hosting a prose contest, and out of what seemed to be a lot of submissions, i was a top 10 finalist, and now my story is being pitched to production studios to see if they want to buy the film/tv rights. i've also had a few phone calls with hollywood people wanting to talk to me about my work (i'm still confused about that) and i think they've gone well. no idea what the endgame is here though.

ran other workshop

i intended to run two fanauthor workshops but i only managed one, because of the whole "just gritting my teeth trying to stay alive" thing. but the one i ran i think went really well!

coaching/editing is my job now

i didn't think too much of that until i met with my thesis advisor to get caught up and she was like, wow that's the dream. and she invited me to be a panelist for the annual publishing symposium at my alma mater.

i'm not getting rich or anything, but i've picked up enough commercial copywriting work to make ends meet.

applied/submitted to a few places

totals:

11 residencies (8 rejections, 2 rejections with encouraging feedback, 1 acceptance)

4 publications (1 encouraging rejection, 3 acceptances)

1 award (1 acceptance)

2 screenwriting-ish contests (1 rejection, 1 finalist placement)

this has been far and away my most successful submission year. 6 major wins!

wrote 421k words

what's extra wild about this word count is that ~400k of it was across 6 months. from january 1 to june 16, i wrote only 22k words. and then from june 17 to december 31, i wrote the rest. and for the finished works, this doesn't include their respective trash docs (where i put everything i cut from a story). if i add in those, it's an additional ~90k.

year over year word count comparison:

2022: 421k

2021: 183k

2020: 375k

2019: 430k

2018: 450k

2017: 150k

2016: 343k

2015: 250k

2014: 311k

nine year total: 2,913,000

& other stuff

i really advocated for my mental health this year and i'm super proud of that. i mean dealing with my brain was basically a full-time job and i've come to accept i'll be spending my entire life micromanaging my own head, but for now things are okay

unfortunately i got a diagnosis that wasn't what i expected, that seems mostly correct, and which i'm having trouble accepting

i moved into an apartment with my best friend and it's going really well so far

the only travel i did was to missouri to visit family, and to wyoming for my residency

2022 goal recap (from 2021)

sell a book any book dear god -- got close, but nope

finish a draft of a new novel -- big nope

get an apartment -- yep! and it's great

publish 3 issues of OFIC -- yes and i'm very proud of them

publish 12 newsletters -- no, published 5 newsletters

run a successful Fanauthor Workshop -- yep! 2 sessions out of my goal of 4

write a proposal for a fanfiction craft book -- no, but i talked to my agent about it and now we're working on it together

write a script (pilot or feature) and submit to contests -- yes but it was Bad and i've gotta, you know, make it not bad

2023 goals

these are going to be remarkably similar to last year's, considering it's all just stuff that's been set in motion.

SELL A BOOK

finish a new novel (it's february and i've already kind of done this, but still putting it on here)

publish 4 issues of ofic mag

publish at least 6 newsletters

build the 2024 ofic press catalogue

apply for nonprofit status

run 4 workshop sessions

submit nonfiction proposal

build a script portfolio (feature, pilot, spec)

find a healthy balance between writing and living

annual thank you!

despite how badly i derailed for the first half of the year, i'm really grateful to fandom, readers, and all the friends i've made here for your support and encouragement, without which i wouldn't have been able to do any of this.

prior year recaps: 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021

#writing update #2022

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cleekleequlee · 2 months

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Watching me doing field recording

(This "autoethnographic" fieldnote alone takes 2 hours to complete... I spare myself from grammar editing and hope you could spare me of any mistakes too)

The recorder distributed by AK the instructor of the field-recording workshop was the same model as I bought about two months ago from the local music instrument shop, a very light-weight, handheld equipment costing a few hundred Hong Kong dollars. AK supplemented the rest of the set: a white wired 3.5mm in-ear earphone, a wind shield, and two alkaline batteries. This is my first time doing recording with a plug-in earphone on the recorder. With the inbuilt pre-amp that amplifies the sound from surrounding to your liking, my sense of listening was suddenly enhanced. In the room while AK was talking I started to test around, positioning the recorder down the table (as if I was eavesdropping). AK’s talking sound turned muffy-stuffy under the table. Patrick who sits next to me friendly knocked the table, it makes a hollow and nice sound in the earphone.

We were then sent out for 40 minutes with the new device to play around and get familiar with it. Changing lift on the 11th floor there is sharp and adhesive sound of peeling duct tape from the roll. It stands out in the very quiet, almost deadly dormant background. Associating with the female figure I saw, “it might be the helpers packing their belongings to be sent back to Philipines”, I think to myself. These aged industrial buildings can feel spooky without the busy cranky sound people makes. The aisles were very wide for trolleys to pass. But the walls in this one were painted bright colors - red on the ground floor and bright yellow on the 11th - with oversized sans serif characters indicating room numbers. Is it comic sans?

I turned on the "fluffy head" (the windshield on recorder looks cutely crazy) while taking the lift down the massive and old industrial building. Right away a rhythmic sound in the lift caught my attention. “If this is in the mystery sound no one would recognize it”, I thought. In this blank, empty in-between time, waiting to be transferred from one space to another, there was something working in the background, enabling the movement of the lift. My movement is not taken for granted, it is worked out by certain mechanisms, and such mechanisms leave a sonic trace. There was also the sound of different parts of a metal chain touching each other behind the steel sheet that boxes us in the lift. The fan made a low-pitched monotonous vibrating sound. Moving the fluffy head closer I hear it closer to me.

Down at the street level the nuances suddenly disappeared. The sound of the cars and buses suddenly swirled and overwhelmed everything else. My head didn’t spin. It numbed and suffocated. Sound Degradation like what Bernie Krause said, is this mesh of undistinguishable business. From afar in the country parks it turns to a low, roaming background noise, not unlike the electric white noise that persists every clip of recording. Isn’t it like the evasive plants that just expand at all cost, covering and killing everything under it? Our brain filters it out for our survival and it was quite successful. But how about the birds, the anthropomorphised, exhausted asian koel making a hoarse sound in late spring still desperately searching for a mate?

I looked at the map and decided to make my way to the ferry. At least there would be less traffic, maybe some trees and birds, ferry infrastructure will also be interesting (I’m interested in water related structures anyway). Crossing the road I heard the iconic sound of Hong Kong traffic lights. Exotic and exciting it may sound for tourists and new comers, I was however slightly annoyed by it - such an overly-dominant attention attractor! Passing by the green@community temporary recycle station, I wondered whether sound made by the act of dumping waste would be interesting. Then I heard birds remotely but surely. The high-pitch pierced through the background noise and made a pure, rounded and oppulent debut. If my attention was a clock, that chirping sound suddenly took the area between the hour and minute hands of 11:05. It was uplifting, undisturbed by the gloomy ground beneath it. With the sound in my earphone on, I kept walking, trying to get closer to the bird. But the sound in two earplugs can hardly be distinguished. I found it was easier to find the source direction with the earplugs off, using my carnal ears instead. Is this because of the background noise? Or there is something that is yet to be captured by the technology?

Tracing the birds I found myself standing next to a cotton tree (Bombax ceiba). In a rare 30C degree sunny day in late March, the bright red flowers contrast its bleaching white bark and the blue sky. Cotton trees flowers before leaves sprout, therefore this single tree looked less dense than the rest (mostly different kinds of banyan trees) and created a hole where what happens on the branches were more exposed. I clicked “record”, decided to waiting for the chirping to maybe appear, disappear, and change in volume. AK suggested us to make longer recordings. The minimum requirement for soundmap uploading is one minute, and he himself often makes recording 45 min or longer. That means staying in one place for as long as the recording goes and possibly doing nothing other than paying attention.

The chirping is distinct, sometimes chimed in by some lower “goo goo” sound. Then I spotted spotted doves (Streptopelia chinensis) on the taller branches. The minimum Flowers plump to the ground intermittently, making a heavy thud (do I hear the thud, or do I know because I’ve hold the heavy flower in my hand?). Other times dried flower or leave drop too, but I cannot hear a sound.

Through the leafless branches and flowers I saw a bird perching on a branch. The colour was unclear, but its crest instantly revealed its identity of a red-whiskered bul-bul (Pycnonotus jocosus). “Of course”, I thought to myself and suddenly the oppulent and delight chirping sound makes sense. This little thing was not making an mating effort, I think. It had something in its mouth, maybe food, maybe a small fibre for making nests, maybe something else but beyond what human being could understand about bird’s life. It was taking its time under the sunshine, twisting its head in small angles, as paying attention to something. Maybe it was also listening, paying attention. Is it still interested in those sounds - cars and busses and airplanes and dialogues - which are not part of their language systems? Can its brain also screen off the grumbling roaming noises that is below their feet? Maybe the ground under ourselves also makes a background noise, but we will only be able to distinguish it in the playback once we are shipped to another space with a different noise.

The recording was still going. I have the image of a casette tape recorder, when the rolling of the two white circles are visible when recording is going, rolling the thin roll of tape inside of the machine. Me looking at the bird, for a while. This attention forms a relationality, all rolled and compressed in the tape. Conserved and archived as a memory. Life is the finite resource of time, and paying attention to this bul-bul was committing one minute and ten seconds of my time, because this act of recording takes time and constant attention. And the bird, as well as myself who was watching/recording the bird, will be brought back to a renewed life in playbacks, creating new ripples. You never know what will happen when you press “record”, and when the sound is played back, everything already happened. I am fascinated by this playful misplace and the mystery of destiny.

(sorry, the bird is not in the picture)

(sorry, this post is not accompanied with a recording, as the recorder was collected by the organizer by the end of the workshop)

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