#he looks more like a pirate or something to me rather than a monster hunter

[impact801]

The Sea Beast: General Thoughts

I just watched the Sea Beast not too long ago and just wanted to give my thoughts on it:

Pros:

This movie starts off strong, the 1st act does a great job of quickly giving me a good idea of the world, while also giving a strong characterization of the main leads, Maisie and Jacob. The movie gives the vibe of Pirate of the Caribbean, with a dash of Monster Hunter and it's just awesome. The whole action scene of Crow's crew taking out the monster is beautiful at the start great, from the animation, and the choreography, everything at this point is the movie at its best. It gives strong characterization to Jacob and Captain Crow and what's going to be the major rift between these 2 later on in the story.

Jacob and Maisie make for great leads and bounce off each other well. It's a dynamic of a younger less-experienced character, teaching an older character who's more set in their ways a new way of thinking, it isn't anything new but I think the story does really well here. The story establishes Jacob as your classic hero archetype, he's courageous charismatic, and a natural-born leader once he gets to Beast Island it's funny seeing him mess up a lot, with Maisie teaching him the ropes and a new philosophy on the beasts. Their time on beast island surprised me how much I enjoyed it, and I think it's because the movie doesn't spend too much time there. It doesn't waste its time on funny goofy (and possibly merchandise-able) creatures but rather uses the downtime to give development to both our leads and have the character process the aftermath of the last fight.

Animation and Art style are just awesome, the water looks beautiful the character designs we're top-notch, it was just awesome.

Cons:

It's where we get to Captain Crow and the crew is where I think things get a little sloppy. While Crow's turn to villainy is well set up in the 1st act I feel the movie needed to give more of an idea of why Crow's actions we're morally wrong. The movie keeps saying that getting the weapon from Gwelden(i forget her name) is bad and that he'll lose everything, but we never see how Crow loses something by getting the weapon. It works to incapacitate the bluster and doesn't even kill it, it doesn't hurt the crew either so I don't know why it was a bad move to get the weapon. Crow's decision to get the weapon is supposed to represent his downfall and desperation, but since there is more telling than showing it falls flat for me. This hurts Sarah Sharpe's heel turn too because I don't really feel the gravity of Crow deciding to get the weapon.

I think the last-second reveal of the King and Queen we're behind the dark history between the beast and humans needed a bit more time. It has been set up but it kinda feels like Maisie figures this out way too quickly.

Overall 8/10 really good time! I think the movie may be needed to a bit longer to establish Crow and his crew in the 2nd act.

#the sea beast #sea beast

[glysaturn]

i’m not finishing this one

#overwatch #jesse mccree #should i even tag this crap? idk #this is basically a mix of van helsing from the movie+mccree's cosplay of van helsing from the movie #and a red scarf he has in his new skin whatever the fuck it's supposed to be #he looks more like a pirate or something to me rather than a monster hunter #but i rly like that look from the comic man i had to draw it #(technically i'm a year late gfrhjd but the hype is real) #glysarts

[goingmorry]

Hello! Can you write monster trio reaction to someone flirting with their crush? Please ☀💛

[One Piece Headcanons] Monster Trio -> when someone flirts with their crush

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji Tags: female reader, jealous boys Author's Note: Thank you for the request! I love me some jealous boys. There's something about it that just hits right with me. 💖

MONKEY D. LUFFY

One clueless boi.

Figures out that he has a crush on you when he explains how he feels about you to Usopp.

Doesn't quite know how to express his feelings for you in a way that you'll understand.

Interrupts the other person from flirting with you.

"Hey, I found you!"

Barging in from god knows where, Luffy interrupts the man's playful antics by sandwiching himself in the tight space between you and the stranger.

Caught off-guard, the flirtatious man begins to shove the pirate captain away from his face, resulting in Luffy's muscular torso squeezing against your much softer one. The feel of his solid body against yours is enough to cause you to blush, prompting you to create some distance by pushing him away to the side.

"Listen, pal—" the man begins, about to give the straw hat pirate a piece of his mind for violating your personal space, but not before getting rudely interrupted again.

"Who's this guy?"

"An acquaintance," you pipe up instantly in response to your captain's inquiry, omitting the piece of information where this stranger spent the last twenty minutes hitting on you.

Apologizing for your captain's childish behavior, you give him a brief rundown of who precisely the straw hat-wearing pirate is.

"I'll call him porcupine from now on," Luffy says, pleased with the nickname given to the man sitting across from you, "Since he has spiky brown hair that reminds me of a porcupine!"

"I appreciate you taking the time to ask me out," you address the stranger, grabbing hold of Luffy's stretchy arm in the process, "But I don't think this is gonna work."

Pleased with the way events were unfolding, Luffy flashes you a toothy grin to which you cock an eyebrow in response.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," he says, puckering his lips to the side. A telltale sign of an obvious lie.

You can't help but feel ridiculous for having a crush on the most insufferable pirate captain in all of existence, hoping that he, too, feels the same way as you do.

RORONOA ZORO

Only recently comes to terms with his feelings for you.

Hasn't figured out how he'll confess.

After all, romantic love is uncharted territory for him.

Won't really do anything unless he feels that you're in danger.

Pretends to be preoccupied with something else; ends up eavesdropping on your conversation with the flirtatious individual.

Inwardly though, he's more bothered than he lets on.

"Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee with me? I'd love to show you around town," the man says to you earnestly.

The sound of steel clashing against metal echoes loudly enough to startle people, their heads swiveling toward the origin of the noise.

In the corner of the room, the one-eyed swordsman sits upright, body tense in concentration while meticulously polishing Wado Ichimonji, one of his three signature blades.

Zoro ignores the curious looks thrown his way, focused instead on your interaction with the man in front of you.

The stranger's proposal was genuine enough. Objectively, he was undoubtedly an attractive man. Friendly and polite too from your conversations with him throughout the night.

He just... wasn't your type.

You were more interested in rougher-looking men. Someone who was strong but would never abuse their strength to harm the weak. Someone who was stoic but also had a heart of gold. Someone like—

Zoro glances in your direction, seeing the hesitation on your face in accepting the man's offer.

"Sorry, I don't think I can make it. I promised to do something with a friend," you explain, settling with a half-assed excuse for fear of confrontation.

It wasn't exactly a lie, not really. You did have plans to retrieve some supplies with a certain green-haired swordsman, though they weren't until much later in the day. But this man didn't need to know that.

Zoro wouldn't mind if you used him as an excuse.

The Pirate Hunter's shoulders relax considerably at your statement, switching his attention from you back to his current task.

Face expressing his disappointment at your rejection, the man's posture visibly deflates. "Maybe the next day then?" he adds as an afterthought.

Biting your lip guiltily, you shake your head, stray hair falling across your forehead. "Sorry, I can't. Our crew is leaving tomorrow night."

"Damn," the man says, scratching the back of his head in awkwardness before adopting a fake smile — one you choose to let slide. "I'm gonna miss you. After all, it's not every day that I get to meet such a fine young lady with the guts to traverse the terrors of the Grand Line. You take care of yourself, all right?"

"You flatter me," you giggle, cheeks tinged pink at the man's sincere compliment, "And likewise."

At the sound of your unrestrained laughter, Zoro pauses, deeply craving for the moment that he, too, becomes the recipient of your happiness.

SANJI

The person who flirts with you, his precious lady, better prepare for some ass-whooping.

Technically, Sanji can't call you his — not yet — though he has been thinking of the perfect way to confess to you.

Still, even though you're not officially together, he'll never not be feral when you're involved.

Deliberating for a few seconds before gesturing toward you, the stranger places his order with the barkeep and says, "And anything the pretty lady desires."

Pointer finger circling the rim of your shot glass in consideration, you smile at the stranger in gratitude. "In that case, I'll take another round then."

Exchanging a round of pleasantries and small talk, you and the stranger become reasonably familiar with one another.

Familiar enough to know that this man would rather whisk you away to a more private setting than converse with you under the public's watchful eye.

"I know of a better way we can spend the night together," he murmurs suggestively, low enough for you to hear despite the idle chatter in the background.

"Do you now?"

You weren't returning his flirtatious words, but you weren't exactly declining them either until you spot a tuft of blond hair in the corner of your vision, striding toward you with purpose.

When Sanji arrives, he's gushing praise and amorous advances, all for you. Ignored and uncomfortable with watching another man proclaim his underlying love and devotion to you, your newfound drinking buddy clears his throat to get your attention, earning a scornful glare from the cook.

"Who's this shitty and rude bastard?"

Unsurprising to you, Sanji doesn't even try to act civil. Your drinking buddy, however, is astonished by the cook's open hostility, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Sanji doesn't buy the man's innocent charade, one eye squinting in distrust as he presses on, "I asked you a question."

Leaving out his invitation to you for more lewd nightly activities, your drinking buddy settles for a half-truth, "Just a guy she met at the bar."

Amused with the blond's jealous streak, you decide to cut in before things escalate beyond your control, "Any particular reason you're here, Sanji?"

At the sweet lull of your voice calling his name, the cook resumes his lovestruck behavior with a hint of seriousness when he whispers the sobering news to you, "Marines were recently spotted in town. We're leaving, my dear."

Seizing the opportunity, Sanji offers his hand, palm up, for you to take, and the significance of his action is not lost to you.

You recall his strict policy for only using his hands for cooking — how, as a child, Sanji found solace from abuse by preparing meals for his sickly mother, sparking his lifelong interest in the culinary arts.

Touched, you place your hand in his, a picture-perfect rendition of a prince charming whisking away his lovely bride-to-be. You tell him exactly that, and he graces you with an amused chuckle and a soft smile.

If only people knew the real reason you and him were fleeing the scene.

"Let me be your Mr. Prince then."

Your delicate hand dwarfs in comparison to his larger one, but that doesn't stop you from interlocking your fingers together like two intimate lovers.

Neither one of you says anything else, coming to the same silent conclusion that your growing feelings for each other would have to be addressed sometime soon.

#one piece #monkey d. luffy x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #sanji x reader #monster trio #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #one piece writing #mywriting

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt5)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and betrothed are asses.

“Please I am begging you, not Coruscant. Take me anywhere else, do whatever you like, just don’t send me back to him.” You ramble as you're pushed down the stairs from before and forced into a small cell.

“Sergeant's orders,” The clone shrugs. And tears fall freely, whatever awaited you as Nythons wife has now become impossibly worse as a result of your running. You try to stifle them when you see Tech again, and your hands grasp the cold bars.

“Tech!” you screech like a madwoman, “you said you would help me, you said you knew him!” You see him guilty look away, and pull a crate of medical supplies into his arms.

“Wrecker I need you on the deck, Crosshair needs a stim and you know how he gets…” He says to the larger clone, who must go by Wrecker, making the one called Crosshair presumably the one injured in your saving. Wrecker nods and follows him towards the stairs.

“P-please,” You try once more, standing in a cell, with a ruined dress, gunpowder in your hair, battered muscles and tears leaving the only trails of clean skin on your face.

Neither of them even turn to look back at you.

For whatever kind of terrible wife you may have made, you’re a decidedly worse stowaway. You groan at it all, not even having made it a full cycle hidden on the ship before being caught. And the pain from having smashed into the hull of the vessel itself hurts so much, like all of your muscles are stuck in a permanent cramp. You flop onto the wooden floor of the cage the clones have thrown you in, but refuse to cry again.

Above you, an intense argument starts.

“Wield that thing at me again Tech and you’ll lose your hand.” Someone snaps

“It is a stim Crosshair not a kriffing viroblade!” Tech’s voice is easily discernible for that of a clone. You realise it’s softer, and has less of the gritty depth and rather more of a thoughtful comforting sound. So even when he’s frustrated he still sounds kind.

“Wrecker you’re fucking terrible at stealth.” Crosshair, you presume, states.

“Just take the needle vod you need it!” a deeper set voice chimes in.

“Give it to the girl, she hit the hull hardest, not to mention the iron hold Hunt’er must have had on her.” You hear him sigh after that.

“Cross don’t start something…” Tech warns,

“It’s Volim -kriffing- Nython.” He seethes. “Maker forgive us if we give her back to him.”

“I was not aware you had suddenly become so religious…”

Tech.” Crosshair cuts in, “He used to collect Lekku for fun-”

“I know.”

“And Zabarak horns.”

“I know.”

“How many of our brothers did he kill?” “Crosshair I Know!” You hear Tech shout before everyone falls quiet. You hear mumbling next but can't make out what's being said. “Take the stim or don’t, see if I care.” You hear him slam something down before you hear and see footsteps approaching.

Tech makes his way back down into the brig, walking past your cell to put the medpack back on the furthest wall. And you let him walk by you again before saying something.

“Tech?” You croak out, thinking he will keep walking up the few steps back onto the bridge, except he stops, does not turn to you, but stops nevertheless. “I do not know much about Clones…” You admit gulping. “But at least I thought mandalorians had more honor.”

“And do we look like mandalorians to you?” He counters, not with malice but almost as a genuine question.

“Your armor did.” You say and you watch as he turns. Blocking the light that's coming in from the door, his auburn hair and curious eyes that he knows usually get the better of him. And underneath the baggy pants that are tucked into his boots, you see a flash of the under most shirt, a faded symbol on his chest beneath the white layers of loose fitting cloth.

“How do you know what clone armour looked like, and yet not know anything about clones?” He enquires earnestly.

You take a deep breath thinking about how to phrase your answer, and considering you’re on borrowed time you think it's best to keep it short.

“Lekku and Horns weren't the only things he collected.”

His face plummets before he bolts out of the brig.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

The Captain of the havoc Marauder has just about finished his first flask of whiskey when one of his soldiers comes bursting through the doors to his private rooms.

“Have you ever heard of knocking Tech?” Hunter Inquires, his heavy coat draped over his sleeping area and his hat thrown somewhere amongst his pile of clothes. Leaving him in rolled up sleeves, his red bandana and threadbare pants that desperately needed replacing. From here tech can see his traitor branding on the inner arm and the pirate sigil necklace that he’d nicked from Hondo some years back.

“Captain - Sarge…” Tech says quickly knowing his brothers are probably nosing their ways over here sooner rather than later. “I want to propose an alternate route.”

“To Coruscant?” Hunter asks with a raised eyebrow.

“The Alderaanian trading post.” He states firmly. “We’d be there in a matter of rotations, the wind and the currents are in perfect conditions. She’d be out of our hair in days…”

“I’m not harbouring a fugitive, soldier.” Hunter cuts him off glaring.

“She is not a fugitive.” Tech argues, turning around as Crosshair and Wrecker join him in the captain's quarters before turning back to his captain. “That woman has done nothing wrong.”

“He’s right.” Crosshair says agreeing with someone for once. “The Corellian Run is a straight shot to Alderaan.”

“This is not up for debate soldiers.” He grits out.

“We are not giving her to that monster sarge. We’re just not.” Everyone turns to Wrecker in shock, despite his appearance and love for all things gunpowder, Wrecker is always the one to follow orders, to do what needs to be done - never challenge the hierarchy of power.

“Is this a mutiny?” Hunter threatens,

“This is us not throwing an innocent woman into the hands of Volim Nython!” Tech exclaims and even before Hunter can respond the room erupts.

Well, Clone Force 99 was never really known for its teamwork skills anyways.

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You cast your eyes towards the boards that make up the ceiling of the brig when the yelling starts. For all the subtle differences between each Clone it becomes impossible to pick out who is yelling at whom and what they are arguing about.

Well, given your current predicament maybe it was not too hard to pick out what the crew is shouting about.

With a soft sigh you lay flat on the floor of the ship and close your eyes, rocking with the creaking of the hull and your ruined dress splayed out creating a wonderful contrast to the dark wood floor. Perhaps the sea was not as terrifying as you thought. Your fingers explored the wooden floor, gently as to not catch any splinters. Cracked nails brush over hardened wood and cascade over a cold nail. And you stay suspended in what could be your last moments of peace.

After a few moments of trying to block out the shouting your brain catches up to itself. And you roll to one side, fingers moving quicker now as they try to find that same spot. Where everything else is flush, flat barely a difference between warm wood and the cool metal circles of nails firmly embedded one stands taller than the rest.

You stop your frantic hands before they make contact with the rusty nail, it’ll be tricky to work out of the dry wood, and your likely to cut yourself or start an infection through a split fingernail. So you pivot on your bottom, put your hands behind your back for stability and give the nail a calculated kick.

Your foot does little more than bend the thing, and push your skirts up in an unladylike manner, but with this new angle you can safely work the chunk of metal out of the floorboard. And later rather than sooner you are now sitting on the floor, one rusty nail richer.

The obvious call to action is to pick the lock and you doubt your abilities before quickly realising there’s no better plan in sight. And so you push yourself against the steel bars and crock your arm at the worst angle to start working on the lock. Every large wave threatens to snap your shoulder from its socket. Your knees are bruised, your arm hurts so much, and with every fall you were reminded of the not too pleasant experience from earlier and how much your ribs still hurt. And in some combination of luck, movement of the nail, a crash of a wave and maker only knows what else, that final wave sends the nail into place and you crash through the door to the cell as it swings open.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001

#rex clone wars #clone rex #clone wars headcanon #the clone wars fanfiction #clone wars x y/n #the clone wars x reader #clone wars x you #clone wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #clone trooper hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb tech #tbb echo

[solarianvoidthearoace]

Excerpt#3 of JuPeter Vampire!AU

CN/TW: friendly insults/mocking, discussion of past brawl, misunderstanding of said friendly insults/threats, brief implication of Juno being a trophy wife, friendly challenging

“So you are the lady that occupied the best thief in the entire region for over two months now”, she rested her elbows atop the counter, leaning in to scrutinize Juno. After a while she nodded in apparent approval,

“Alright, come right around Pete, the family’s waiting in the back room.” Straightening back up to her full height, she made her way to said door behind the bar counter. Curious and a bit intimidated, Juno followed by Nureyev’s hand. The back room was surprisingly better lit than the main room of the tavern, a small round table dead center, with three people waiting for them.

“Thief! Long time no see, what brought your mug back in here this time?”, a woman with green hair greeted. It was the fond kind of depreciation that carried in her raspy voice.

“As you can see, I brought lovely company I felt the need to introduce to you. Though I apparently was wrong about all of us being criminal socialites, as he doesn’t recall having heard of the Captain”, Nureyev sat down first, in a room where everyone except for him and Juno seemed to be armed purely by habit. Okay, Juno didn’t know wether Nureyev wasn’t armed, it was a habit he shared, after all, but he at least left his revolver in the mansion.

“Told you not to call me Captain, Pete, I never was your captain and haven’t carried that title in years”, the bar owner sat down next, without leaving a chair empty between her and Nureyev.

“I suppose introductions will be in order then, since Ransom’s companion does not seem to have been told about us beforehand”, the remaining person, a giant of a man, joined them at the table, leaving one chair to the Captain’s left and another one between him and Nureyev.

Juno looked cautiously around the table, his eyes locking on that green-haired woman for a bit, before he took his seat next to Nureyev.

“Doctor, would you kindly join us? I remember you being the one to establish the rule that everyone has to sit if one person sits down first. Wasn’t it about fairness in case a fight breaks loose?”, he waved at the remaining chair.

The doctor scoffed,

“And who’s fault is it we needed that damn rule, eh, Ransom? You’re lucky we work well together and my wife likes you”, she slumped into the seat, crossing her arms.

“So, introductions. I think I should disclose something first”, the Captain smirked a bit,

“I know who you brought along, Pete. One Juno Steel, vampire hunter and detective. I had Jet look into him back when he wasn’t yet agreeing with himself whether to ever leave Hyperion. So, Juno, darling, you seem to be the only one at a disadvantage of knowledge here”, the Captain leaned back.

Nureyev rolled his eyes, sighed and smoothed out his waistcoat before turning to Juno,

“Apparently the honors are mine to introduce what I already told you is this town’s ragtag gangle of criminal legends. This red-haired lady here is Captain Buddy Aurinko”, the Captain’s glare at the title didn’t go unnoticed,

“And next to her is her prickly but highly competent wife, Doctor Vespa Ilkay. And last but not least, Mister Jet Siquliak. As to what our areas of expertise are -“ Juno’s raised hand interrupted him.

“The Captain Aurinko you have been talking about like an old friend for months is Buddy Aurinko? The Buddy Aurinko?! And Vespa Ilkay, as in, the Vespa, infamous assassin and other half of legendary criminal duo Buddy and Vespa. You are on first-name-base with the legendary Vespa and Buddy and you didn’t feel the need to tell me?!” The room fell silent at that.

It was Buddy who spoke first,

“So you have heard of us, darling, that’s good to know.” Juno rubbed at his temple,

“Of course I have heard of you! Sure, I worked as a monster hunter, not exactly a career where pirates and thieves concerned me, but obviously I have heard of you. I mean, who hasn’t? Your desertion from the naval fleet was before I even picked up my first gun but, wow, yea, definitely a criminal legend!”, he turned to Vespa next,

“And you’re basically legendary for revolutionizing field medicine, pretty much every monster hunter in business fell back onto your methods to make it out at one point. And yea, I have heard about some of the kills you managed, holy hell, some of that still sounds impossible to me.” When he finished, Juno noticed the others’ expectant look on him and blinked.

“Ah, so I take it you haven’t heard of Jet, darling”, Buddy took over, leaning onto the table and looking at Juno, who shook his head.

“Jet here used to be someone”, she seemed to be searching for a word,

“Dangerous. There are several novels based around what he was up to in his youth but to us the past is past and all you need to know is that he’s a very capable thief and burglar.”

“So, ageless thief”, Vespa spoke up,

“Why did you bring your lady here? If he’s with you it can’t be that he’s desperate to get a job.” Nureyev grinned at that, a hint of danger in the way he showed his teeth,

“If what my grandfather Peter Nureyev accumulated in wealth can sustain me easily enough, why shouldn’t my lady love profit from that as well?” Juno had to suppress a shudder at how easily Nureyev lied about his true name. Also it didn’t sit right with him that Nureyev put up the facade of a rich kid born into wealth. Juno knew better, after all.

Because the memories he had seen of Nureyev were before he even reached adulthood and therefor probably one and a half decades before he was turned. It hadn’t been pretty, Nureyev had grown up as poor as can be, barely scraping by before being taken in by -

“Juno?”, Nureyev gave him a quizzical look.

“I’m sorry, I got hung up on a thought. What did I miss?”

“Pete just mentioned you would like to get back into shooting”, Buddy gave him yet another scrutinizing look,

“I heard you were brilliant with a revolver and I’m sure we might just be able to get you back on track towards former glory. I would be your training partner, coaching you through getting confident with a gun again.” At that she brushed back her hair, uncovering half her face and the eyepatch that had lain hidden behind the red curls. Juno didn’t miss a beat,

“That’s such a great offer, thank you.” Vespa snorted,

“If you happen to really become half-decent again, we might be able to get you even more of a way to kill time. Getting you out of that ratty old mansion and back out into the world. Might even earn enough to gain independence from that cocky, posh rich kid.” Peter simply rolled his eyes at that, probably used to insults regarding his supposedly inherited wealth in context of his career choice.

Juno on the other hand couldn’t help but growl,

“I’m staying with him because I want to. Because of him, actually. I would probably be three towns over by now if we hadn’t run into each other in this very tavern. Unexpected reunion? Sure. But you can stick what you’re implying there right up your -“, Peter clearing his throat interrupted him.

“Juno, dear, thank you very much for defending both our honor but rest assured, Doctor Ilkay was just bantering”, he gave Vespa a side-eye and his tone changed,

“Probably even trying to look into your intentions with me. A protective sentiment, as unnecessary as it may be.”

“But -!”, this time Vespa’s snort and cackling broke him off before he could get on with it.

“Loosen your tighty whities, Steel. You know why you couldn’t place it if Ransom even mentioned me by the name of Doctor Ilkay? Is because it’s recent”, she shrugged, leaning forward in her chair and onto the table,

“I would’ve to be real stupid to get up in arms against the man who financed me finishing my medical degree. Also from what I heard his grand-daddy Peter Nureyev was from a similar shithole to the one that spat me out, tried changing the system back there, became a folk hero and ended up here, somehow.”

Vespa shook her head, as if trying to make sense of that, before she gave a one-armed shrug and gesture by way of what have you,

“And yea, I called Ransom a cocky arse, because he is, but somehow it’s almost as if he remembers his old man’s roots. Posh rich kid, sure, but somehow with those ideals and morals the old Nureyev had. Not that I ever met the man, though Buddy and I sure are old enough that we should’ve ran into him at least once.” From Juno’s point of view there was a whole lot to unpack in just those last sentences. He felt like he needed to ask Nureyev how the hell that even worked out if Buddy was the one supplying him with literally bottled blood.

But for now, Juno somehow felt really welcome between these people he had only heard of before today. And that reminded him,

“I came to town with my research expert and best friend, Rita -“, Jet cut him off this time.

“Yes, Miss Rita has been introduced to us. We offered her to stay at the rooms in the back of this building, living along with us. Captain Buddy already gave her something to work on which is why she is not with us to greet you.” Surprised as he was, Juno made a noise of acknowledgment.

“Darling, if the Registry does get back to her, you’ll be the next person to know of it. As you might have noticed, word travels fast in small towns and even faster in this one with an established criminal network.” At Buddy’s words, Nureyev smirked and rested his chin on his palm,

“The wondrous ways of the Cerberus Province, isn’t it lovely to be a criminal socialite?” His teeth and his glasses glinted sharply in the light of the room, Vespa snorted, Buddy sighed and Juno felt that maybe this was some sort of family to Nureyev. A family that he had been anxious about for Juno to meet them.

A family, as it turned out, that was all too happy about it’s newest two members. Juno and Buddy made a habit and a statement of meeting twice a week for their firearm training. Rita and Jet became rather inseparable, at least Juno couldn’t remember the last time he had seen one without the other around the Lighthouse. Even Vespa warmed up to the occupational monster hunter, in her rough way of showing it.

“Peter is treating you well, isn’t he, darling?”, Buddy casually started between rounds of shooting. Juno raised a brow, for someone who he had barely met two months ago, she was rather motherly towards him in particular.

“He’s taking good care of me, yea”, Juno couldn’t help his smile if he had wanted to,

“To think he had offered me this life a year ago already, it’s a dizzying thought. But I also think I’m fine with how things went.” Buddy gave him a once-over, looking for something apparently. Whether or not she found it, or even what it was, he couldn’t tell when she spoke again.

“You have made yourself quite the powerful friend, darling. I hope you know as much besides your obvious appreciation for the rest of all that he is”, she leaned back on her stool, relaxing against the table behind her.

“The way I see it, it’s powerful friends. Plural. I never would have thought to even get to meet you and Vespa and now see where I’m standing”, Juno shrugged,

“I’m happy and appreciative to have met all of you. Rita was the only family I have known for so long and now I get to have -”, he had to take a breath, wiping at his eye and resting those fingers against his temple,

“I finally have a family again.” From the warm smile Buddy directed at him, she knew that very sentiment, having carved out her own corner of the world, planted her feet and declared it the Buddy Aurinko Crime Family.

“Ransom should be on his way back by now, what do you say we wrap this up for today?”, she stood, walking past him to the target area of what they had gradually made into a decent shooting range.

“Of course after you hit this”, she held up a playing card for him to see, before taking one of her hairpins and fixing it to the target they had been using. Juno saw her counting the steps on her way back, while he slowed his breath and readied his revolver.

“A two-and-a-half by three-and-a-half inch playing card. To be hit from a 32 feet distance”, she held up the rest of the deck,

“I’m not gonna be picky, darling, I just want you to hit it at all. Afterwards you can go, run off to that dear lover of yours returning home”, if her voice was more teasing than usual, so be it.

“Come on, don’t be shy. Two days ago you managed to hit the target at 25 meters distance dead center. A lady who can celebrate is a lady who can get a shot in on a playing card”, with that Buddy went back to the table, taking her seat. Juno huffed, a snarky reply on the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t as if she had invited him on a drink for that bull’s eye or anything, was it now?

#tpp jupeter #JuPeter fanfic #Juno Steel #peter nureyev #juno steel series #junoverse fanfic #vampire au #au fanfiction #vampire!Nureyev #jupeter #TPP fanfic #Juno Steel AU #vampire #juno x peter #peter ransom

[spookyspaghettisundae]

The Crow or the Sparrow

Drops of blood and footprints marked the snow, visible in broad daylight for even the worst of hunters to follow with ease. But no sane hunter would dare pursue such a trail. Neither animal nor man had left these tracks.

Claws that had slain countless men and women and children. Walking upon two legs.

A slight limp, owed to injuries from which it had bled, pushing forward, ever forward, lurching, and shambling farther and farther away from the city.

Snow crunched under every light footstep taken by two shadowy figures. In pursuit of their inhuman quarry, they strode across uneven terrain, far away from man-made roads and paths. Garbed in heavy jackets, with trouser legs and boots and coattails caked in the white powder of snow, their slender silhouettes almost blended in with the forest around them when they came to a stop.

Even in broad daylight, the canopy of barren trees that made up the sprawling Blackwood sufficed to blanket it in a dreary, dreamy gloom. Little clouds of condensing air puffed away from the mouths of the two hunters, forming beyond the scarves and tricorne hats that covered their faces, then dissipating in the cold breeze.

One of them looked around, as if confused. The other stared at him, then followed his erratically wandering gaze.

Were they being followed by something else?

“You sense something?” asked the other in a hushed hiss. The sound of her voice sliced through the wintry air like a knife. “Is it here? Watching us?”

“No,” Johnn muttered. “It's—I’ve been here before.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at him.

“What is that supposed to mean? You’re a bloody bandit that has been robbing the king’s men in this fucking forest for years. I’d be surprised if you hadn’t,” Nora said.

He almost swiveled, glared at her, then swallowed a response.

The two of them breathed heavily, using the brief respite to recover from their forced march through the layer of unforgiving snow.

He finally replied, with a voice that trembled, “The Blackwood is huge. There’re parts no man has ever stepped foot in. Parts no man should ever step foot in, what with the fair—”

“Shut up. Don’t waste breath on their wretched name. Is this their domain? Is that why we’re stopping?”

“No. Like I said—I’ve been here before,” Johnn repeated.

He pointed to a large boulder, now covered in snow, near a fallen tree, where a tangle of gnarled roots stood out from the ground, where a storm had uprooted the ancient tree. A natural landmark, no doubt.

“You can hear the ocean from here, yeah?”

Nora only nodded.

“And the trickle of a brook nearby?”

“No, what—”

“Well, I can, and I know this place. The brook leads to a cave. You have to dive through water for a bit, then you reach a larger cave, connecting to an even larger one. A cove where some slaver pirates used to hide out.”

“So what? Are you thinking he—”

“I don’t know. But it’s where Terry died, and where I killed their captain. And it is giving me the creeps just thinkin’ about it.”

“Then what in the hell is there to give you the creeps anymore? Thought you Merry Lot did all those windbags in,” Nora said, every word mumbled more than the last.

“I killed Shark-Eyes,” Johnn said, the sentence riding on a sigh. “Have the scars to always remind me and can’t taste sugar anymore where I bit my tongue to break his spell.”

“What—he some kind of warlock?”

“How should I know? The unnatural is your specialty,” he quipped.

Nora’s heartbeat picked up speed when she sensed Johnn smirk underneath his bandana.

“All I know is that he is dead, he used to work some sorta black magick, and his hideout used to be ‘round these parts. Now, what do you think the odds are, that—you know, possibly—the alchemist we’re chasin’ is a bit balmy on the crumpet—what are the odds his magick has got something to do with old dead Shark-Eyes and his warlock—warlockery? What do you even call that shite?”

“I call it bad news. Who cares what it’s called?” Nora said, ending her question on a sharp note that left no question.

Johnn pointed past the uprooted tree and the boulder sticking out of the pristine snow. Before he could say something, Nora said, “Fine, who knows—maybe there is a connection. Maybe not. What say you, though—hear me out—you stop being a poodle-faker, we ignore this for now, and we follow the fucking blood trail we’ve been following since bloody Lesterfield?”

She drew her flint-lock pistol for emphasis and tapped the brim of her hat with the weapon’s fine barrel—now adorned with intricate etchings of crucifixes and mystic seals used to exorcise demons. Johnn’s shoulders heaved and then slumped in a shrug, punctuated by another sigh.

“Fine,” he groaned. “But if we end up following this trail into that cave, then…”

“Then what?”

Johnn stammered several broken sentences that failed to connect, prompting Nora to tell him to shut up. She sprung into motion before he could protest, trudging through the snow. He followed.

Their breathing and the crunching of frosted grounds accompanied them for dozens of paces more, as they gained speed and vigor, staving off the cold. The rest of the forest stayed eerily silent. Not even the crows dared to caw that day.

Johnn murmured behind her, “You could wear a dress if—”

“Shut up.”

He did.

Dozens of paces more they followed the trail. Passing snapped branches, here; holes in the snow turned vermillion, where droplets of blood had fallen, there. And always those lurching motions, like the creature sometimes moved on all fours, then on his legs again. Claws had scarred a tree trunk in his path where the alchemist had braced himself and caught his breath. Now long gone—but the huntress could almost smell the ghost of his presence, only hours ahead of them passing through here.

The trickling sound of water grew louder as they hiked, loud enough that even Nora could hear it despite the noise of their march.

The red dots in the snow and the tracks spoke volumes: Nora read immediately how the transformed alchemist, Baxter Hanrahan, had trampled down the grounds around here, splashing himself with the cold and refreshing water. Cleansing his wound.

A singular bullet rested in the brook, water flowing around it where it jittered. The stream of water was not strong enough to carry it away. He must have extracted that from his injury.

Then he had followed the natural path leading down the flow of the brook. Because it had stopped snowing several hours ago, and these trails had been left after the snowfall, she knew they were gaining on the wounded monster.

Standing still and letting her gaze sweep in the direction in which the thin stream of water flowed, framed by the serene, shining and glistening teeth of ice that lined the brook’s edges, the tracks led right into a small, cavernous opening, yawning with a deep darkness that her eyes could not fathom.

Nora clicked her tongue and raised a hand to silence Johnn before he could utter any stupid remarks about having been right. She swallowed the urge to swear up a storm of profanities that could have made a sailor blush.

More than him having been right, she hated the idea that they had to go search a cave for the damned alchemist. More than that even, she hated the idea that this might somehow be connected to another damned sorcerer.

“We’re better off not going in that way,” Johnn said. “Unless you like your gunpowder wet, I suggest we climb down the smuggler’s cove, rather than crawling through the thief’s entrance.”

Clicking her tongue again, Nora shook her head.

Johnn pulled up his crossbow and she could hear the smugness riding on his voice as he added, “Of course, if you chose to use—”

Pointing a finger at his face and then turning her head to follow the gesture with a furious glare sufficed to shut him up again this time. Seeing only his gray eyes sparkle out from in between his hat and scarf sufficed to convey the smugness he found in his small victory. She knew his face too well.

Then that sparkle froze. His gaze hardened. Stared through her. Past her. At something that only now caught the corner of her eye, like the shadow she always spotted at the edge of her vision. Only tangible now.

Within a split second, they aimed their weapons at the third figure; bodily reactions and instincts that happened without thinking. Nora stared down the sights of her pistol and blinked once her gaze met that of yellow, strange eyes. Wide, with a strip of black glistening wet in them, like looking into the eyes of a goat.

Indeed, the two hunters stared into the eyes of a bestial man, whose face resembled a goat, crowned by a harmonious pair of winding horns, a lot like those of a ram. A figure that resembled a man in that it stood upright, though he stood upon hooves for feet. Garbed in layers of thick linen cloth and a dark red robe, frayed around the edges. His clawed hands clutched an old wooden staff, against which he leaned.

Like the two, this goat-man was frozen. In shock.

Nora recognized the sentiment. She recognized the goat-man.

“No,” she said, clipped.

Lowered her pistol and raised an open gloved palm towards Johnn, adding, “Lower your weapon, he is harmless. Well, maybe not harmless, but—not harmful.”

Johnn’s hesitation surfaced in form of the crack of his leather clad finger loosening from around the trigger of his crossbow, but the tension in his defensive posture remained.

“Isn’t it—isn’t he—”

“Not all fair—not all of them are bad, I suppose. Well, at least he isn’t,” she said, peeling her attention away from Johnn and looking back to the goat-man.

The beast-man tilted his head and his intelligent goat eyes betrayed a fearful intelligence as they darted back and forth in between Johnn and Nora. Cutlery and tiny wooden carvings, hanging from threads of twine attached to his belt, clacked, and jingled softly. How he had appeared out of nowhere, without a sound, such a thing only the fair folk could explain.

Goat-man not only leaned on his staff—he hugged it, as if it offered him protection, yet only rendered his appearance more vulnerable and innocent. Johnn finally, audibly, lowered his crossbow.

Nora had rescued the goat-man in this same forest. Slew a vicious witchcrafter who wanted to eviscerate the creature for his innards, for divining secrets or some nonsense.

Over a whole year prior to this day.

Understandably frightening in appearance to most, Nora still sensed the same softness in the fair creature as he stood before them. The bushy hair on his chin swayed gently in the breeze, almost underlining that notion.

He had helped her before—returned the favor—when she escaped from the penitentiary and almost perished in these same woods, injured and alone, at the mercy of autumn’s chill.

The goat-man nodded his head. Stayed silent, as he always did. A greeting, perhaps?

Nora suspected they spoke no common tongue that they could share. They had yet to exchange any words.

But the goat-man pointed to the cave entrance upon which he stood. To where the brook continued to trickle away, flowing into that gaping shadowy hole. Where a greater, more sinister darkness awaited them.

The goat-man shook his head. With purpose and deliberation, he shook his head back and forth, warning them of the danger below.

“We have no choice, friend,” she said, speaking those words with a softness that felt even alien to herself. She, too, shook her head.

They could not speak to one another in words they understood. Not like this. Yet they both understood.

The goat-man turned slowly, carefully, and raised a hand. He pointed one of his long, blackened claws to the trees behind him, following with his own eyes to draw all attention to it. To where the soothing sound of ocean waves lapped against jagged cliffs.

“Is he showing us where to go?” Johnn asked. “I mean, we would have gone there anyway.”

Nobody answered.

The goat-man turned to peer back at Nora. She nodded deeply at him in return.

“Thank you,” she said.

The goat-man tilted his head again and stood still. Watched.

Nora started in the direction he had pointed to. She shot a glance at Johnn and waved at him to follow.

She stopped again as the goat-man descended from the rocks above the cave entrance, approaching her. Not frozen in fear, but unsure what to expect, she studied the goat-man’s every motion until he halted in front of her, standing only one pace away. He looked so old. So ancient. His fur grayed and silvery. And he smelled of pine resin, and campfires, and a unique, strange musk.

From inside his tattered robes, he produced something, held caringly.

As his sharply clawed fingers unfurled, he presented a tiny object in his weathered palm. There rested a small bird, intricately carved from wood. Impossible to recognize what kind of bird it represented, she locked eyes with the goat-man to discern what this gesture meant.

He stretched his arm out further to her, splaying his fingers to the limit, motioning her to take the carved keepsake from him.

Nora took it and closed her gloved hand around it with the same loving care that he must have applied to craft it. She nodded again to express gratitude and the goat-man mimicked the motion.

They withdrew from him and walked on towards the bluffs, where the sound of the ocean’s upset waves beckoned them.

Looking over her shoulder, Nora found the goat-man to be watching them leave, observing their steadfast march to doom. She found herself studying the carved bird in her palm every few steps.

It reminded her of both of a sparrow and a crow. Which—was unclear.

It felt more like a symbol. Like a charm or talisman.

Spiraling, harmonic patterns, mirroring those upon the goat-man’s staff had been shaved into its surfaces and painted dark, also reminding her of the old ways, the old days of the kingdom that only survived in museums and ruins, driven into fading obscurity by the church’s relentless efforts to quell ancient evils.

She eventually shoved the tiny item into one of her coat pockets and when she looked back to where she expected to see the goat-man still watching them, she only saw the slender black trunks of cold and naked trees. He had vanished. As silently as he had appeared in the first place.

Johnn stared at her till she met his gaze.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Nora muttered.

She trained her eyes on the snowy grounds before her once again. The ocean grew louder with every step, heavier with every herald of the waves. More powerful. Foretelling the danger they knowingly approached. The crunching of snow underfoot ceased once they reached the edge and naked rocks and gravel crackled underneath the soles of their boots.

They overlooked a steep rocky drop to the crashing waves, reaching from one end of the Red Coast to the other as far as they could see. Fog and clouds swallowed the horizon beyond the sea.

Johnn nodded his head to indicate something on the cliff’s face beneath them. A shadow between the rocks. Likely hard to spot from the water, barely visible from their vantage point. Truly, a perfect location for dubious seafarers to hide out.

“Down there. Hard to spot, but that’s where they ran their boats into the cove. We climb down, there’s a natural ledge we can use to enter. Really—watch your step now,” he said.

They did as he foretold. Nora’s hand slipped once, her boot in a different instance, causing a chunk of rocky earth to plummet into the depths, bouncing down the unforgiving cliffs, and disappearing into the waves far down.

But they took their time. If the mad chemist, Hanrahan, was hiding in these caves, then they would execute him sooner or later. Better than tumbling down these jagged stones, breaking bones, and landing in the icy cold embrace of the sea.

Slowly, cautiously, they descended, bit by bit. As Johnn dropped down the final stretch of a few steps, he landed on a rough and natural surface, staggering as he regained his poise, then readying his crossbow and pointing it at something Nora could not yet see from where she clung to the cliff’s wall.

Nora waited before dropping down, ensuring that he had only drawn his weapon as a precaution. He looked up at her and then nodded to confirm she could safely follow. His stern gaze carried the same tension that she felt in her every joint.

Then she followed, descending with continuous caution, until she dropped down herself and landed on the natural ledge with a stifled grunt.

The darkness of the cave here felt far less foreboding and oppressive at first glance.

Broken and shrunken by the ridges that jotted out of the sea in clusters near the cliffs, the waves sloshed more gently at the edge where they stood. The gaping mouth of this hidden entrance overlooked a deep and wide cavern, large enough to house a significant sea vessel.

Standing in stark contrast to how hard it would be to spot the cave from afar, the natural structure opened to almost monolithic proportions. Stalactites hung from a high and vast ceiling like rows of teeth. Very deep inside, far from where they could see, the darkness swallowed the cavern’s depths.

Somewhere, even deeper inside, a small light glimmered. A torch, or a gas-lit lantern perhaps. Its tiny flame danced, distant and forlorn.

Nora’s hand crept to her pistol, then decided against it. Metal rustled against leather as she drew her cutlass instead.

Their quarry was here.

The two hunters exchanged glances and carefully traversed the grounds, weaving in between broken stalagmites and advancing only slowly to prevent any unwanted noise from announcing their arrival. The ocean swallowed the few sounds they made.

Rotten, old wooden planks creaked once Johnn left the rocky ledge and stepped foot onto the hidden pier. He froze in place and waited, as did Nora, both staring into the darkness, letting their aim travel back and forth, expecting their prey to be hiding anywhere where he could pounce from a place of hiding.

Something blotted out the tiny light in the distance for a split second. Just enough that untrained eyes may have missed it. But both Nora and Johnn had noticed. Not a word was exchanged.

The shadows were many. Many blind spots silently stared back at them, unblinking, unmoving. Testing their courage. Nora felt her scarf in between hat and hair growing damp with sweat, colder, and colder as they lurked deeper and deeper into the cavern, until the shadows engulfed them fully.

Hanrahan had ample space and opportunity to hide and hide well. To watch his hunters and gauge the appropriate reaction.

For as slowly as they progressed, their eyes adjusted to the dark. The gloomy twilight of the fog-covered ocean behind them, they crept closer and closer to the tiny light. Entering a meandering, narrow cave, with only the light of the lonesome lantern left as their guide. Just enough to see where they were going, but not enough to discern the depths of branching paths, through which a cold breeze softly whistled, and Nora’s tension grew, expecting the alchemist to attack from anywhere now.

Johnn had taken the lead, advancing with a certainty that reflected his claim of having been here before. He seemed to not notice a roiling fog or smoke that crawled across the well-treaded rock of the cave floors, coiling around their legs like a carpet of misty serpents.

Nora wanted to say something but refused to alert their monstrous quarry to their presence if she could.

As she reached out to grab Johnn’s shoulder, the unnatural fog expanded rapidly, filling the corridors with a thick soup of gray mist, drowning out that tiny light and delving everything into pitch-black. It strangely smelled like honey. Her gloved fingers connected to Johnn’s shoulder.

He slipped from her grip, jolting forward without a word. Tiny rocks crunched under pressure. Something stifled a gasp from her beloved, as if covering his own mouth.

But carrying his crossbow, he had no free hands to do so.

The leather of Nora’s glove cracked again as she clutched her cutlass tightly and withdrew it towards her own body, flipping it down just in case she bumped into Johnn.

In the ensuing silence that draped itself over her, she hissed like a snake, “You will pay.”

The mists swirled as if they obeyed unspoken commands. Unnatural as it was, commanded by sorcery, this fog dissipated, having served its purpose. A presence loomed above, standing atop an elevated platform. There stood Baxter Hanrahan. His humanity long gone, now an abominable creature of unholy proportions.

Hideous lips parted to display rows of crooked, jagged teeth, no longer a maw that resembled a human’s mouth. Garbed only in rags and torn remnants of fabric, most of the chemist’s mutated body stood exposed. In the faint glow of the gas-lit lantern, his skin looked pallid and deformed, thrumming as if disease wracked every limb or multiple heartbeats pulsed inside his chest, bulging with veins and pustules and patches of mangy hair. A third eye blinked upon his shoulder, making Nora’s stomach knot at the sight.

In the clawed clutches of the monstrous creature, Johnn trembled. He had lost his hat and scarf, which now rested together on the stone floor of the large chamber they all stood in. He did not squirm against the iron grip of his captor, whose massive hand clamped down tightly over the brigand’s mouth—the long, blackened claws twitched with dangerous closeness to the artery on his neck. Another hulking arm gripped Johnn tight, crushing his own arms against the creature as it held him, and leaving him no space to wiggle free or fight back.

And the monstrous Hanrahan just leered at Nora. The pistol hanging from her belt weighed heavy against her hip now, and she burned to sling it out. But the creature’s cruel smile said one thing, and one thing clearly: one wrong move, and he would rip Johnn’s throat right out.

Cages made of wrought iron lined the sides of this sprawling cave chamber, where old pirate pickaxes had roughly hewn its walls into shape. The cages all stood eerily empty, manacles dangling lifelessly from their top bars, their floors littered with old straw and stains of human blood and refuse.

Nora sensed the despair of those who had once been kept here and tasted the evil of those who kept them. She raised her blade, but held it sideways, raising her other, empty hand alongside in a clear gesture: to display surrender.

A throaty, baritone guffaw emerged from the monster’s bulging throat. Johnn squirmed now after all, provoking the creature to grip him more tightly. The tips of Hanrahan’s claws scraped against his captive’s exposed skin, drawing out thin rivulets of blood that quickly ran down Johnn’s neck.

Nora removed her hat and tossed it aside. She pulled her scarf down. The smell of sea salt and rust overwhelmed her senses and a quick scan of the room revealed only two exits. The one she had entered from, and one beneath the ledge upon which Hanrahan and Johnn stood, supported by old, wooden, rickety beams.

“I know what you did in the city, Baxter Hanrahan. I know all about you, Outer Wall Ripper,” she said. She clenched her teeth, holding back the anger that welled up from her gut. Good, she thought. It would mask all else. “Like I said—you will pay. If you think taking another hostage will help you, then you have made a grave mistake.”

The creature growled, “I can tell you what I told all before you.”

His voice sent shivers down Nora’s spine, defying her expectations as she had not anticipated such a creature to be so capable of complete and comprehensible speech.

“You will never stop me. You are just human,” he snickered. “You are just—beneath me in every way. Just a woman.”

Teeth still clenched, so hard they threatened to crack, Nora could only imagine how hideous her own grin must have looked now. She would spite this awful creature.

“I have slain ladies, high and low, strong and sickly alike. I have slain men, one of them three heads taller than yourself, and I have sampled the supple flesh of children. You all fight, you all run, you all whimper and beg for mercy, but there is none. You are all game to me. All sport. All walking sacks of organs that can be harvested for a greater purpose. All your suffering amounts to my victorious innovations and to my pleasure.”

Nora kept her eyes focused on the creature, awaiting his first mistake. They always made a mistake. Especially when they talked this much.

Did all monsters enjoy hearing their own words out loud? Vampyria, wolf-men, demons, wraiths, fair beasts—everything she had ever read of in the Bestiarium Nox and seen for herself—they all monologued.

“Yes, yes. Keep talking. There’s not one ounce of this bunk I haven’t heard before,” she said. As the awful toothy grin faded from her face, a melodiously mocking tone entered her next sentences as she rendered them, “We little humans are weak prey for you to play with. Let me guess—you’ll keep me alive for as long as possible, because you have oh-so-much-worse things in store for me. Am I close? I apologize, it is all the same drivel to me. Please do correct me if I’m wrong.”

She shot a lop-sided smirk at the creature and both Hanrahan’s and Johnn’s faces fell simultaneously. One taken aback by the sheer audacity of this short woman—the other surprised and fearful that she was taunting Hanrahan into slashing his neck.

“You know nothing,” Hanrahan snarled. His claws clamped down. Blood refused to exit Johnn’s neck this time, awaiting only the right amount of pressure and pull to slice through his flesh. “What do you know of me? I am like a god amongst men. Alchemy has made me god-like. You are a fool if you’re too blind to recognize divinity in the flesh, staring back into your wretched little soul. Yes, I can taste your darkness, too. You have killed so many that you have forgotten what it’s like to be human, naked in their innocence and justified in their wrath. To one such as you, I am as a god.”

Nora whistled out a sharp tone, just piling on more derision.

“A god you say? You are out of your bloody mind. The last so-called ‘gods’ I met all bled out like the regular jossers who get the tar kicked out of them by sailors in seedy bars. I’ve just had about enough of you petty pretenders. Why don’t you just slash that fool’s fucking neck already and we can get on with this?”

Johnn’s eyes went wide with dread. All air of superiority had drained from Hanrahan’s presence. Only a glimmer of fury remained, reflecting the tiny lantern’s light, now growing into a flame behind the monster’s eyes.

Nora smirked once more and tilted her blade to show the alchemist the sharp edge of her cutlass.

“Come on, you tosser. Let’s see how godly you are after I gut you like a bloody pig.”

The glint on her blade caught Hanrahan’s eye.

This was the moment. The moment she had been building up to.

Time grinded to a halt.

Defying all, she slung out her pistol with her free hand and fired. The flint struck; a cloud of smoke exploded with the bright jet flame shooting out from the intricately marked barrel. The silver bullet might help, but all she needed was the surprise.

Blood sprayed from the platform, splattering the rocky floors, prompting her to sneer, but Johnn had elbowed Hanrahan and broken free from his grasp, tumbling down onto the ground, and coming to rest on his side, chest heaving and struggling to get back up on his feet after the hard landing.

Only little blood pooled beneath Nora’s beloved fool. As he looked up at her, she saw the vermillion dripping from his collarbone rather than his neck, and the spray of blood had come from Hanrahan’s forehead where her bullet had struck.

The alchemist pawed at his own skull to assess the damage, causing the rage in Nora to make way for fear. A bullet to the skull proved insufficient to stop the abomination, and as he saw his own blood in his monstrous palm, his eyes darted up until they locked with Nora's—a fiendish gaze, saturated with murderous intent.

She reacted quickly but not quickly enough. Her empty pistol had yet to clatter against the stony ground when Hanrahan flew at her like a living boulder, catapulting himself at her with unbridled rage. Her hand had gone to grab another pistol from her belt, but the force of a whole horse-drawn cart barreled into her, knocking the wind out of her lungs, and provoking a shriek of pain as she felt ribs crack upon being crushed between iron cage bars and the monster.

In a frenzy of flailing claws and inhuman screeches, Hanrahan quickly slashed Nora’s coat to ribbons, tearing her shirt to shreds and leaving her with countless cuts in a matter of seconds. The blade in her hand sliced as she swung and jabbed and jabbed at the alchemist-monster, barely connecting but forcing him to retreat a few steps.

Pain soared from a deep cut where a claw had lacerated her leg. Nora groaned and one of her knees threatened to give out under her own weight, but she held the blade out in front of her, in between herself and the monster, who now grinned at her again, baring his crooked and vicious fangs.

One wrong move, and those teeth would tear out her neck.

The sadistic smile wiped itself from his face when a barbed arrowhead emerged from his neck. Both Hanrahan and Nora stared at it with surprise, watching blood drip from its pointy tip.

Following its origin, the bolt from Johnn’s crossbow had lodged itself into the alchemist’s neck. Johnn, still lying on the ground, now held his discharged crossbow in his hands, leaned up against a cage, grinning smugly at the monster, his own bloodied teeth on display. That grin also faded when Hanrahan whipped around.

Undeterred by the projectile sticking out of his nape, he grabbed Johnn and tossed him aside like a broken toy, eliciting a pained shout as Johnn crashed into another cage, collapsing as soon as he tried to get back up after smashing his head against an iron bar.

Hanrahan howled in pain, reacting to Nora ramming her sword into his back—and then twisting the blade. He spun around again, shoving her away, thus disarming her with the masterless blade now sticking out of his back.

That throaty and deep laugh repeated itself as Hanrahan guffawed at her. He laughed at their attempts to kill him. His laughter broke and his newfound grin faltered as he choked and coughed, almost sounding human for a moment. Almost pitiful.

Almost.

Giving no quarter, Nora slung out the other pistol from her belt and shot him in the side of the head. The smoke cleared quickly, and something gravelly and menacing emerged from his throat—a furious growl. Blood sputtered from the injury, yet he wobbled only slightly where he stood.

His rage simmered, ready to unleash his full frenzy. Nora could feel it, like waves of heat and hatred emanating from his hulking, deformed body. Up close, he smelled like rotten fruit and excrements and vomit.

She quickly looked around for something, anything, but pulled a silvered dagger from behind her back—it would serve until she could retrieve the cutlass from Hanrahan’s back.

The alchemist ignored her and picked up a small object from the table upon which the gas lantern sat. A metal syringe in his clutch, Hanrahan’s paw dwarfed it. He laughed again, erupting into another hacking, wheezing cough, and then jammed the needle into his own neck. The sickly pale flesh thrummed and pulsed there, and his veins turned pitch-black, like a disease running from the injection and spreading quickly throughout his monstrous body.

The huntress was not going to find out what this meant—the silver-lined dirk in her hand flashed twice, reflecting the small light’s flame as she stabbed Hanrahan twice with quick jabs, trying to circle around him.

But he turned with her and his left arm grotesquely almost doubled in size. The claws tipping his grotesque fingers shot out to twice their length, rivaling Nora’s dagger.

Her heart skipped a beat, and he swatted the knife from her hand. The pain of several cuts on her arm flared up with delay, upon which she clenched her teeth and paced backwards.

Hanrahan continued to grow, all over, hunching over and bracing himself against the floor with his meaty fists, like a gorilla she had seen in the zoo.

“I am not merely like a god,” he spoke, now sounding like four voices spoken in unison, so deep that they threatened to open a yawning abyss straight to hell. “I am god.”

The crossbow bolt lodged into his neck now snapped under the roiling masses of his transforming flesh. The cutlass shot out of his back, clanging as it rattled and rolled across the stone floor. Johnn crawled towards it, but nowhere nearly as fast as he needed to be. His strength waned.

Hanrahan lunged at Nora again, leaving several gaping cuts across her chest despite her attempts to leap back, and causing her to roll backwards across the ground, away from him. The grit and dust burned in the many scratches where stone all chafed against her injured skin.

The dirk had rolled right out of reach.

“Time to die, worm.”

This was it.

Nora steeled herself, ready to finally meet her end. Out of options.

Out of all the places, to die in a dark cave, forgotten by its owners, unknown, unseen, in a haunted place where nobody would find her. Would she join its phantoms?

Hanrahan lurched forward and he arched backwards, raising that hand of lethal claws high above him, ready to bring it down and impale her once and for all. Ready to rip her heart out with the ease his new form afforded him.

Something whipped out at the alchemist. Coiled and wrapped itself around his wrist in the blink of an eye. Something like twine, or ropes. Or rather: vines. Covered in dark, sickly leaves. And thorns.

Thorns everywhere.

He grunted, surprised as much as Nora over this turn of events. He looked from the tangle of thorny vines that bound his arm and yanked at them. Despite his tremendous, ghastly frame, and swollen mass of muscles, whatever had projected these bindings at him proved far stronger. His eyes bulged and he roared like the foul beast that he was, teeth protruding outward and bloody spittle spraying through the air. So loudly he roared that it filled all these caves and left an unpleasant ringing in Nora’s ears.

They both followed the vines to their source, a dark silhouette that stood upon the elevated platforms where Hanrahan had held Johnn hostage, just outside the sphere of the lantern’s faint glow. The flame within the lamp dimmed and nearly went out, as if it tried to conceal the presence.

A woman cackled from there. Awful, piercing, like a fork being scraped across a metal plate. The vines tugged at Hanrahan again, yanking with far greater force, and he stumbled away from Nora, now fully turning to face his greatest foe yet.

The vines constricted around the alchemist’s arm, causing pus and black tar-like blood to ooze out from the grinding cuts. He howled in pain, roared, and thrashed around, grabbing hold of the vine, and then howling yet again as its thorns pierced his fingers when he gripped it. He tugged and pulled with all his might, yanking left, then yanking right, not once managing to counter the unnatural force that had seized him.

And the cackling continued.

Gritting her teeth and stifling her own groans of pain, Nora scrambled onto her side, then back up onto her feet. She limped towards Johnn, who had fallen unconscious with the hilt of Nora’s cutlass buried underneath his hand.

Another tangle of thorny vines shot out from the darkness and enveloped Hanrahan’s ankle. He fought its pull, but it suddenly jerked towards the shadowy silhouette, causing him to lose his footing, dropping him onto his back with such weight that the stony floors quaked.

Nora’s cutlass came chopping down. His incessant thrashing prevented the blow from cutting into his neck, so it shattered his front teeth and hacked into his cheek, provoking more pained howls from his monstrous maw.

Her boots skidded against the floor as she lurched back, right underneath one of his claws swinging at her in retaliation and only narrowly missing her.

More vines shot out at him, seizing that same claw, and limiting his motion. It curbed his thrashing to the point where Nora’s next blow struck his neck, causing a violent crimson explosion to spray her own face.

Hanrahan gurgled, choking on his own blood, desperately attempting to fight back and to utter more inane threats, but Nora continued her dirty handiwork that she had grown accustomed to inflicting upon all these monsters.

The vines multiplied, pinning Hanrahan down and turning the hulking monster into a quivering ball of helplessness. Blow after blow, Nora cut deeper through his neck, until only a deformed spine held body and head together, and even that soon severed after more overhead swings of her cutlass. The same blade that had executed so many creatures before Hanrahan, adding his life to the many it had dulled itself in claiming.

His eyes had lost all light of so-called “divinity”, having made way to terror. And pleading.

No amount of thrashing or resisting helped the alchemist in the end. The vines held him too tightly, joined by more tangles from the platform, restraining his every limb and allowing Nora to end him.

Between heavy breaths and shuddering as she shrugged off the numbing pain, she spat a gob of saliva and blood onto Hanrahan’s twitching remains. The thorny vines loosened, revealing how they had ripped devastating wounds which may have slowly bled out the alchemist, had her sword not removed his head first.

Those same vines now withdrew, controlled by some otherworldly force. They slowly slithered back from whence they came, like leafy, eyeless serpents; rustling and trembling as they moved. Thorns scraped against stone, scritching and scratching.

Still consigned to death, Nora turned to see their source, ready for them to take her next. For whatever abomination had shown such force in stopping Hanrahan, it would have a far easier time in ending her life next.

She winced, clamping her eyes shut to blot out all pain, fires across her body from the dozens of cuts and bruises she had suffered. Blinking, her vision blurred, in part owed to blood flowing into the corner of her eye. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and blinked again.

Wanting to see the face of her killer, she snatched the lantern from the table, where other mysterious metal syringes clanked against each other. She ignored the alchemist’s supplies and raised the lantern high, stumbling forward. The blade of her cutlass lazily scraped across the stone as she lurched forward, mirroring Hanrahan’s final motions. Nora could barely stand.

In days past, that platform supported the slaver captain, housing a wicked little wooden throne upon which he once sat, allowing him to observe his miserable captives in their iron cages.

Whoever now perched upon that platform, Nora could barely make out any features. Though draped in a rugged, dark cloak, the huntress identified a vaguely feminine figure. Devoured by the shadows of a black hood, almost no face could be perceived. Only shriveled, gray skin and chapped lips that had curled into a devious smile. Teeth, rotten and black, glistening wet.

Hands folded serenely before her hunched figure, like a praying woman, and the vines creeping evermore back to her, shrinking in volume, and disappearing underneath her robes, with cloth so deep that no feet could be seen, only fabric sweeping the platform’s wood and the vines slithering into the void underneath the cloak.

“My pretty little birdie,” spoke the hag. A thick accent, one from up north. Raspy, riddled with phlegm, a voice rife with ridicule. “So nice to see my beautiful little monster in full bloom.”

Nora groaned but it spilled over into a clipped burst of laughter.

Another one of these self-indulgent ghouls, she wagered.

“Get in line, witch,” Nora sighed. Truly exhausted, some part of her preferred the thought of instant death over having to hear another monster ramble on. “I’m sure there are a dozen others who all want to take their pound of flesh from me.”

Nora gripped her head and wheezed with another stifled groan. Eclipsing all other pains, numbing all her senses, her head began to throb in agony. That typical invisible knife sliding into her skull again.

The hag cackled once more, sadistic, and amused.

“No, my pretty. I have all I need now, I am quite alright,” replied the hag with unsettling melody in each syllable.

“And just who the fuck are you, now?”

She cackled again in response. Frosthearte never shared her name lightly. Not even to her chosen orphan.

“I am the decay that gnaws at the roots of the world’s tree. I am the curse that haunts wicked men with eternal suffering. I—”

“Oh, bloody spare me already. If you’re going to kill me, fucking hurry it up.”

Nora spat impotently, nearly fell as she lifted her cutlass to point it at the hag. Her cry, more defiant than ever, echoed through these empty caves.

“Come on, then!”

The lips of the hag drooped down, yielding a displeased frown.

“Sparrow, or crow, my pretty. Are you the crow, or the sparrow?”

“Make some fucking sense!”

“Are you the harbinger of death, or the herald of new blood?”

Nora stumbled as soon as she launched her sword up at the hag. The blade’s metal sang as it rang out, clattering across the wooden platform and striking nobody. Nora’s vision continued to blur, never clearing. Blinking again, she saw:

The hag was gone.

“Death awaits you on your path,” whispered the hag.

Nora swiveled, losing her footing, and falling backwards and banging her previously unhurt elbow against hard stone in the process. She cringed.

But no hag had appeared behind her. Johnn lay unconscious nearby, face down in the dirt. Paces away from him, the body of Hanrahan had stopped twitching in his death throes, motionless and devoid of all life.

No hag in sight. Nowhere.

“You must face Death, the pretender,” the hag’s voice continued in creeping whispers, echoing through the halls, and invading Nora’s mind. Riding on that knife of a headache as it sank deeper into her skull.

Nora gripped her head and—unable to escape this hag’s merciless and incessant whispering—curled up into a fetal position, oblivious to all pain as the headache grew so intolerable that it muted the searing agony from dozens of bleeding cuts.

“I will uphold my end of the bargain, and you shall not see me or mine for a long, long time. But the necromancer who dares call himself Death—he shall stand in your way, and you need be prepared. Prepared to put your old ghosts to rest, one last time.”

Nora groaned in pain, almost bridging into an angry shout, but it died in her throat and she gritted her teeth to stave off the incapacitating pain. She wanted to tell the hag to shut up and get out of her head.

The words she spoke made little sense, but the warnings resonated with her.

She knew exactly what ghosts the hag spoke of.

“This is my parting gift for you, my sweet, beautiful monster.”

The last word echoed not only through the cavernous corridors but reverberated in Nora’s thoughts until it reached a deafening crescendo.

Are you the crow or the sparrow?

Those words arrived not in whispers, but echoes inside Nora’s mind. Memories. Older.

Words she had heard spoken before.

She had met the hag as a child. It all came back to her now.

Never forgotten, only buried. Things that made no sense until this very moment.

“Are you a crow or a sparrow?” The hag had sounded so much more pleasant and nice back then.

The weird witch reached out to take the little sobbing girl’s hand. Little Nora’s hand. The little girl who once stood as the sole survivor in a small village, where pestilence had taken all souls to heaven but hers. The hag looked nowhere as frightful then as she did now.

Before Nora even reached the walls of Crimsonport, huddled with the forlorn masses of all the other refugees who sought to escape the Blight, the hag’s willowy hand held hers, guiding her, and nurturing her. Feeding her soup and potions, by the many campfires, providing poisonous words that jaded her from such an early age on.

“They all abandoned you. Not out of malice but borne of weakness. All may crumble under the might of the Blight. All but you, my pretty little birdie. Eat, grow strong. Defy those who wrong you. Trust nobody. None but me. And never surrender. Never stop fighting. Slay all of them and feed the forest soil with their blood.”

I will always be watching you. The shadow in your wake.

How had she survived a plague? Nora’s mind reeled, but the crippling headache blocked the thought from reaching its rightful conclusion.

Curled up into a fetal position, just like when the hag had found her as a child, the body of fully-grown Nora unfurled again, sprawled out as she reclaimed her fading senses. The dim glow from the gas-lit lantern on the desolate table. In this hopeless, abandoned dungeon. The cold, biting air, removed from the wintry outdoors but carrying the smell of rust and sea salt with it. The smell of death all around.

More than anything else, the pain brought her back. The warmth of her own sticky blood. She winced and stifled another groan as she turned over onto her side. And then onto her belly from there. She crawled, dragged herself over to Johnn. Too exhausted to get back up again.

His shoulders heaved softly, rhythmically. Not dead, merely out of it.

Gingerly, she brushed his long, bloodstained hair from his face, curiously absorbed by the old scar that missed his now-closed eye and ran down the length of his chiseled cheek.

Crow or sparrow? Life or death?

Nora resolved to not let those words reach her. To not let them lead her astray. To do as the hag had told, but not in a way she would like. If it was defiance this hag desired, then she would happily oblige.

She refused to play some sinister game. Refused to accept the strict separation of elements thus proposed. Nora’s fingers curled into Johnn’s hair, running through them, until they found purchase on his coat’s collar, which she gripped. She softly shook him. And then again when he refused to awaken.

Seeing opposites aligned, finding together, she would defy such unnatural severance.

Crow or sparrow? Life or death?

Why not both?

Johnn gasped and his eyes fluttered open.

—Submited by Wratts

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #my writing #literature #spooky #fiction #submission #Gothic horror #gaslight romance #dark fantasy #Crimsonport #Red Coast #Victorian #Edwardian #Nora Morrissey #Johnn Von Brandt #Baxter Hanrahan #magick #sorcery #alchemy #mutation #monster #evil #vampire #demon #ghost #fair folk

[elfdragon12]

Hm, I decided to catch up on Tite Kubo’s Burn the Witch. I wasn’t terribly intrigued by the pilot, but maybe it’d be more interesting once he got into the actual story.

While I’ve been thinking of my overall impression of it, I started remembering one thing that Hirohiko Araki talks about in his “Manga in Practice and Theory” book--that being the importance of establishing the protagonist’s goals early on. We see this in a lot of popular Shounen Jump series. Gon wants to be a Hunter like his dad. Luffy wants to be the Pirate King (heck, the entire Strawhat crew have their individual goals). Naruto wants to be the Hokage. Emma and the kids want to live to become adults. Izuku wants to be a hero. Giorno wants to be a gang-STAR. And so on. These goals are usually stated by the end of the first chapter. Granted, this isn’t really a “one size fits all” piece of writing advice, but, it’s a helpful to give your characters goals so there’s something driving them through the course of the story.

So who are the characters of Burn the Witch? ... Hard to say. A one-shot and 4 chapters in and the main pair of girls seem to be primarily characterized by their rather basic red oni/blue oni relationship to each other. There’s some reference to wanting promotions, but there’s not much discussion on what that means to them (or much actual discussion at all, tbh). The third wheel guy has the strongest “goal” and that’s seeing the panties of one of the girls... Thanks, I hate it! I did like Bruno Bangnyfe, but that was more based on his look than his actual characterization. (I can be unfortunately weak for brash and cocky fighter types, okay!) The end of chapter 4 did have me interested in Billy Banx Jr because HALLELUJAH there’s something under the surface going on!

For Burn the Witch being Kubo’s third serialized SJ series, the pacing has been rather frenetic and rushed. It feels like Kubo just wants to get as many fight scenes in as he can. The official chapter one had 3 different monster encounters over 57 pages. One could have easily been sacrificed to give the story more breathing room, better flow, and give the characters more opportunities to just be people.

Ultimately, I just don’t think writing is Kubo’s strong point. I think he should take a look at Yusuke Murata’s book and partner up with a writer.

#essay post #long post #Burn the Witch #Burn the Witch manga #personal opinion

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 17

Greeting everyone, Scene 17 is here and Rosy is finally off looking directly for one of her friends. Obviously being the second episode she won’t be successful yet, but I have brought a character back who has appeared once already. I wonder if anyone will recognize him. I guess the best way to find out is to let everyone read...

Scene Prompt: Rosy finds a flower-shaped (rose maybe) crystal ball.

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    ~One really weird thing I noticed while searching for my friends was that almost everywhere I went there were plants growing over everything. It was really pretty, but really odd too. Especially when it occurred out in the sandy desert.

    ~I hadn’t gone to the desert though to sightsee, even though that was the type of traveler everyone thought I was. Nope, I had gone actually because of a rumor.

    ~Supposedly out in the desert there was a crystal rose in a ruin. No one had removed it yet for fear that it was cursed or that the ruin was trapped at least. I’m pretty sure I could remove it, but I know Fang could as well and that’s why I went out there.

    ~Though no one who I had shown my picture too recognized anyone, there was still a chance that Fang would go check it out. He’s a treasure hunter after all and a crystal rose is quite the treasure. But that means it could attract bad people too. But that’s alright too.

    ~We were attacked by mean sky pirates before we ever ended up in these lands and they kept attacking us whenever they caught up. But the last time I saw my best friend he was fighting them, so if any of the pirates show up maybe I could find a clue to where he is. But I have to get there first, and since I don’t want to spook anyone with my speed that means joining a bunch of other sightseers on a tour.~

    The canvas covered truck bed was full of people, more so than could have been comfortable due to the stifling heat and still air. Rosy made herself as comfortable as she could, but there was only so much room and the sightseers had begun to grow restless.

    “Maybe we could do something to pass the time,” Rosy suggested cheerfully, far removed from the tailgate and any opportunity to see the passing scenery. If she had been able to though the rocky crags and blowing sand did not provide much of interest to view.

    “There isn’t anything to do but share stories, and it’s already too loud in here,” one woman bemoaned the situation.

    Rosy puffed up her cheeks not to be deterred. “Well, I happen to tell fortunes as a hobby!”

    It was a moment of pride for Rosy, but she had forgotten that the lands she currently traveled were not fond of the idea of people practicing more than one role.

    “That’s foolishness,” one mangy sapient cat spat.

    “Agreed,” another passenger chimed in.

    “If you wanted to tell fortunes you shouldn’t have become a sightseer.”

    “Ooh~! It’s just a hobby! A little bit of harmless fun!”

    “Communion with the powers of the world should not be taken so lightly child.”

    Rosy paused as a voice that sounded almost as though it were spoken from somewhere other than where it came from warned her of her actions. Turning to find the immediate source, Rosy lay her eyes upon a curious traveler. They were garbed in a burlap robe that completely concealed them. It was hard to get a read on their size and build as well, but Rosy could tell they were easily taller than her to the shoulder. More peculiarly was the size and shape of their head. From where their shoulders ended their head rose to a point that nearly doubled their height. It was obvious they were a member of a smaller sapient species, but what was beyond Rosy. She cared little though as she found their warning to her rude.

    “They’re my friends, well at least my tarot cards are,” Rosy defended herself and her relationship with the mystical. “They help me out when I ask, and I help them out when they ask. Though they can be pretty scary when they do…”

    Rosy trailed off with a laugh, but the atmosphere around the robed figure completely changed. Where the other travelers had no desire to involve themselves with someone who dabbled in more than one occupation, Rosy now had the full attention of the robed figure.

    “Curious child, you claim to have communed directly with the powers of the world. Are you perhaps a medium?”

    “Oh! I haven’t been called that since before I came to these lands. Hee-hee. Though it was a friend of mine who did, even if he said I wasn’t very good. He actually said I was a very bad medium. That was so rude of him, and just because I use a cat-a-something.”

    “A catalyst,” the robed figure corrected Rosy. “I am intrigued now. So much so I would like to take you up on your offer.”

    ~I had talked with the weird person because it was the polite thing to do, and I was bored, but something about him made my spines itch. He was so weird and didn’t come out of his robe at all. Even when I presented him my deck of tarot cards to split it after I shuffled so the reading would be more connected and personal. It was really weird and unsettling.

    ~Even weirder though was how calm he was when he got a really bad reading. I felt bad, but…~

    “Then my goals will be challenged by a powerful adversary. Amusing, but perhaps understandable.”

    “You’re not a bad guy are you,” Rosy pried, growing concerned more and more with each passing moment. Her concern gave way to the laughter of the robed figure however and Rosy’s emotion was soon shared by the other travelers.

    “I do not know your definition of “bad guy” child, but my goal at this point is but to find an old friend. It is unlikely that he is not well, but the state of the world leaves me curious to his wellbeing.”

    “Oh~! So, you’re like me then!” Rosy exclaimed finding common ground to fend off her growing feeling of dread. She could feel the questioning gaze on her through the robes and answered the unspoken question before it could be formed. “You see, I’m looking for my friends too. We got separated a while back and I’ve been looking for them while I travel.”

    Reaching into the shoulder puff of her leotard where she returned her deck of tarot cards, Rosy removed a folded-up photograph and presented it to the robed figure.

    “See these are my friends! Maybe you’ve seen one of them. I know the Ring Shifts make it hard, but even just an idea of where one of them could be would really help.”

    The robed figure stayed quiet for a long time, seemingly studying the picture through their robes. Before finally speaking, they ran a burlap hidden finger down the center of the picture. “The one you have embraced. I have seen him.”

    “You have!” Rosy nigh jumped to her feet with excitement, her tail wagging energetically. “Where was it, where!”

    “Not here child,” the robed figure vaguely answered. Rosy’s boring eyes however prompted them to clarify. “Rather it was a passing moment in some long-forgotten ruin. The presence of the Rings was powerful upon them, but then they were gone.”

    “I hope your friend wasn’t victim to the monster attacking people with Rings,” one of the travelers spoke up before Rosy could press the robed figure for more information.

    ~And that was the second rumor I had heard. It wasn’t just out in the desert though. Supposedly someone was going around attacking people with Rings. It’s such a weird thing to hear since Rings can’t hurt people. But I guess if you’re scared of Rings it would make it scary. But I hadn’t considered that it had anything to do with the crystal rose. The two seemed further apart than me and my friends. That wasn’t true for the ruins however that held the crystal rose.

~Before I could ask the weird man any more questions about where he had seen Sonic we had arrived at the ruins. Tour guides ushered us away and I lost sight of him. Even as much as he made my spines itch though I couldn’t help but worry about him. The rumors of the Ring Striker were all anyone could talk about as we were led into the dark ruin to see the crystal rose.~

Scene 17 · CLEARED Desert Rumors, to be continued

-----

And there is part 1 for our second episode of Rosy the Traveler. I hope the slower pace isn’t putting people off. The next part will have more action for those who need it, though it’ll have more world building as well. World building in general is kind of the heart of traveling stories like this, so I’ll work on better blending in the action as I write more and more. Of course as always I’ll be asking for you help by providing me prompts to keep me coming up with new way’s to build the story so I look forward to the future and hope everyone else does too! Thank you!

-----

Prompt Submitted by – Skylor-The-Ninja Story Format by Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song - Granblue Fantasy — Lumacie Archipelago Mysterious Forest

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan fiction #sonic au #sonic au series #sonic ring bond #the journey #classic amy #amy rose #rosy the rascal #au amy #amy redesign

[tigerkirby215]

5e Pyke the Bloodharbor Ripper build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Riot Games)

You look familiar... You. You were on my blog, looking at my builds.

Well here’s yet another League build, and yet another edgelord champion. I don’t know if it’s a problem with me or a problem with League but I seem to be drawn to characters with edgy personas... at least lore-wise. In game I spam Sona and Yuumi like an eGirl thot.

And Kayn. And Warwick. Alright I might just be an edgelord.

Regardless Pyke is always a character I’ve enjoyed more for his lore than his actual gameplay. Back in my DOTA days I used to main Bounty Hunter (and I might branch out to DOTA builds someday; who knows?) and while Pyke captures that gameplay to some extent he’s never really been my cup of tea. Gondar was considerably more light-hearted than Pyke and focused a lot more on information gathering than the raw killing that Pyke does. Even so I think Pyke was a great addition to the lore of Bilgewater with the rest of the region seemingly existing only as an excuse to put pirates into League of Legends. (Ironically enough I actually think the other character that displays Bilgewater’s lore the best is Tahm Kench, and considering that most people see him as a meme that’s really saying something.)

But regardless: you’re here for the build, not to read me ramble about why I made it. I can definitely say that if you genuinely want to play Pyke you’re certainly one for the roleplay, though try not to be overly edgy.

GOALS

Harpooner - Armed with an iconic Bone Skewer it’ll find its way stabbed into the stomachs or thrown into the backs of many victims.

Until it all sinks... - Pyke swims in the shadows before surfacing to pounce his prey. He did also swim in the water once.

Did I “support” right? - While we won’t have any healing Pyke has plenty of utility in his own right.

RACE

Officially Pyke is some sort of drowned revenant, and while I know there is a Revenant race in the Gothic Heroes UA it’s rather unbalanced and unfortunately doesn’t really work for what we’re trying to do here. The Gothic Heroes Revenant has a goal, but Pyke’s mind is warped so he thinks his goal is never done. While the health regen is in character for Pyke’s Gift of the Drowned Ones the other features don’t really help us or retain the aquatic theme of Pyke.

With that in mind I had a few ideas: Water Genasi was my first idea to have a character infused with the strength of the sea but unfortunately it’s focused far too much on magic as well as Constitution, both of which Pyke doesn’t have. My next thought was for a Kalashtar to have the spirit of the drowned one infused into you, but they’re tied deeply into their dream lore and less-so into the two-minds aspect.

But then I realized there’s a race that gets infused with parts from the ocean, and even starts out human just like Pyke! This is going to sound mad but you’re going to want a Simic Hybrid from Guildmaster’s Guide to Ravnica. While in-lore they receive their gifts from the deep from science we can reflavor it as gifts from the ocean itself. Anyways Simic Hybrids see their Constitution increase by 2 and a stat of their choice increase by 1: choose Dexterity for a better chance fighting the beasts below before your line is cut. You also get Darkvision up to 60 feet and Animal Enhancements. Since Animal Enhancement is tied to level I’ll be addressing it in the build instead of in the race section because this is getting long enough as is. And for your language of choice I’d opt for Elvish, mainly because it’s unlikely you’ll meet any Vedalken this side of the sea.

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - Fighting the monsters of Bilgewater in their own territory takes a great degree of nimbleness to avoid getting your line cut.

14; CHARISMA - All sea captains fear the Bloodharbor Ripper, and Charisma is a requirement to multiclass.

13; INTELLIGENCE - You need to be smart to hunt any prey, be it a monstrous fish or... more dangerous game...

12; CONSTITUTION - While not in-character for Pyke to be tanky we sadly can’t convert our health into damage in this build.

10; WISDOM - Even if you have to do it to survive jumping into monster-infested waters is not the best lifestyle choice.

8; STRENGTH - While perhaps in-character to drop Wisdom instead we simply don’t need Strength in this build.

BACKGROUND

There are several backgrounds for a man lost at sea but Pirate is the best for one who came back with a vengeance. You get the Athletics and Perception skills to scout out your prey and wrestle with it in deep tide, as well as proficiency with Water Vehicles and Navigator’s Tools to command your own ship someday. But the main feature we’re here for is Bad Reputation so everyone knows that you’re the Bloodharbor Ripper. If you’re in a civilized settlement people will be afraid of being put on your list, and will let you get away with minor crimes. Murder isn’t a minor crime though, so pull someone into an alley if they do end up showing up on your list.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ROGUE 1

Starting off as a Rogue for the extra proficiencies: take Intimidation, Stealth, Investigation, and Acrobatics as your skills of choice. You also get Expertise in two of those skills and you’re going to want Investigation to find your quarry and Stealth to sneak up on them.

But of course the main reason for the expertise in Stealth is so we can Sneak Attack. Once per turn you can do an extra d6 damage with an attack if an enemy is within 5 feet of your ADC or if you have Advantage on the attack by jumping out of water. You must be using a finesse weapon such as your Bone Skewer, which for now would likely just be a Short Sword since you haven’t received your gifts from the deep yet.

But your time in Bilgewater did allow you to learn Thieves’ Cant, a mix of words and phrases that are actually a code among criminals. They may be speaking about the latest big catch but you know what they’re really talking about is cutting your line.

But while you were under the undertow you did receive some Animal Enhancement. As a Simic Hybrid you can choose between three Enhancement options at level 1: Manta Glide lets you fall slowly and glide as you do so, Nimble Climber gives you a climbing speed equal to your walking speed, but Underwater Adaptation is the obvious choice for the drowned man. You gain a swimming speed equal to your walking speed and can breath underwater. You drowned once but it won’t happen again.

NOTE: If you’re playing outside of an aquatic campaign Nimble Climber would be your next best bet to remaining in character. You can also opt to just play a Variant Human instead of a Simic Hybrid if you don’t mind the lack of swimming speed however, since Simic Hybrid was mainly picked for the aquatic implications.

LEVEL 2 - ROGUE 2

Second level Rogues get Cunning Action, allowing you to use your quick wit to Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a bonus action. A Bilgewater Harpooner needs to be quick on their feat and always trust their crew. But when that trust is lost...

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 1

As you’re lost to The Drowned Ones you receive their blessing to become a Warlock. The Drowned Ones could be seen as The Undying in many senses, as they keep you from death to serve them.

WHY NOT LURKER IN THE DEEP? - Lurker in the deep focuses a lot more on using the strength of those below more directly. Pike meanwhile merely serves them as an assassin. Not only that but Lurker in the Deep has far more of a focus on tentacles than knives, which is more of Illaoi’s thing.

Undying Warlocks are considered Among the Dead. They get the Spare the Dying cantrip and have Advantage against diseases, and undead enemies may not attack you as they see you as one of their own. If an undead attacks you they have to make a Wisdom save against your Warlock spell DC or choose a new target, losing the attack if there is no one else to hit. If you succeed on the save or you hit them they’re immune to this effect for 24 hours, so perhaps don’t pick fights with Sion.

But along with Spare the Dying you also get access to more Spellcasting. You learn 2 cantrips from the Warlock spell list: Lighting Lure will let you throw your Bone Skewer out at an enemy within 15 feet. They must make a Strength saving throw or be pulled 10 feet towards you, taking a d8 of Lightning damage if they’re pulled into melee range. Eldritch Blast lets you throw your Bone Skewer further down range - make a ranged spell attack against a target you can see and on a hit they take a d10 force damage.

You also learn 2 first level spells from the Warlock list: False Life comes from The Undying patron list and lets you “regenerate” some health in the darkness. You gain a d4 + 4 temporary hitpoints when you cast this spell. That temp HP lasts for an hour or until it’s cut off of you.

Illusory Script meanwhile is the perfect spell to write your list. You can cast this spell while writing with lead-based ink worth at least 10 gold to imbue the words with powerful illusion magic for 10 days. Creatures you designate can read the message normally but any other creature won’t be able to read it, or will see a completely different message as long as it’s written in a language you know. If the spell is dispelled the message is dispelled, so no one will know that your list is truly unending... unless they have truesight, as they’ll be able to read it under the light of a pink ward.

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 2

2nd level Warlocks get Eldritch Invocations and the only one we really need is Grasp of Hadar. Every time you hit an enemy with your Eldritch Blast you can pull them 10 feet closer, so you can drag ‘em under and get your hands dirty. You other choice of invocation really doesn’t matter: Armor of Shadows can be a good boost to your AC but I personally like Mask of Many Faces to hide behind your facemask before finding your prey.

You also get another spell and Hex will let you mark your prey as a gift to the Drowned Ones. Whenever you hit a target that’s Hexed you do an extra d6 Necrotic damage, and the target has disadvantage on a type of ability check of your choosing. I’d personally choose Strength so that they can’t swim up when you pull them down to drown.

LEVEL 5 - ROGUE 3

3rd level Rogues get access to their Roguish Archetype and the Soul Knife subclass from the Psionics UA will make sure you always have a Bone Skewer. The Soul Knife gets a Psionic Enhancement: you can either have a 30 foot Telepathy, some extra health and Toughness equal to your Intelligence modifier plus your Rogue level, or 5 feet of extra Walking Speed. These all have their uses but while it’s perhaps not in-flavor Toughness is probably your most consistently useful enhancement.

WHY NOT REVIVED? - Revived focuses far more on the manipulation of death, and has a heavier skill focus than the Soul Knife. But put in simple terms Soul Knife has nearly all the abilities I’d want from Pyke without having to multiclass too much. Undying Warlock is already more than enough undeath for Pyke, and it also helps give him some Deep One patrons.

I should also mention I made this build before the latest Psionics Options Revisited UA. This build uses old features so discuss with your DM if you want to use the newer version.

But of course the main reason to go for the Soul Knife is your Psychic Blade. You can create a bone skewer in your hand, or two bone skewers if you’re feeling particularly vicious. You can’t hold anything in the hand you hold the blade but you can choose to dispel them without using an action.

The blade has the finesse and light properties so you can dual wield them and use your Dexterity as your attack modifier. It deals 1d6 psychic damage on a hit and you can throw it 30 feet normally or 60 feet with disadvantage. Regardless of if you throw your knife or stab with it you can proc your Sneak Attack, which now deals 2d6 damage. If you throw the blade as part of an attack it vanishes immediately after it hits or misses, and the blade(s) disappear the instant it leaves your hand or if you’re incapacitated.

You also get another Animal Enhancement as a Simic Hybrid so you may as well get more AC from the Carapace enhancement, which increases your AC by 1 as long as you’re not wearing Heavy Armor. The only other enhancement I’d maybe suggest is Nimble Climber, which you could’ve taken at level 1. But simply put more AC is more useful, and was limited to us for a reason. You can consider the extra AC as the salt soaked into your skin, and your lust for vengeance allowing you to shrug off attacks.

(Artwork by FMM CAT)

LEVEL 6 - ROGUE 4

4th level Rogues get an Ability Score Improvement: increase your Dexterity for deadlier strikes with your Bone Skewer.

LEVEL 7 - ROGUE 5

At 5th level Rogues get Uncanny Dodge, letting them reduce the damage of an attack by half as a reaction. Is a female bounty hunter shooting you? Dive in the ghostly waters and set yourself up for the kill, especially since your Sneak Attack is also increased to 3d6 at this level.

LEVEL 8 - ROGUE 6

6th level Rogues get Expertise in two more skills: I’d choose Intimidation and Athletics. A frightened target won’t be able to lie to you, and Athletics Expertise will compensate for your low Strength score.

LEVEL 9 - ROGUE 7

7th level Rogues get Evasion: if you’re targeted with a Dexterity-based skill shot you can dash out of the way and take no damage on a successful saving throw, or only half damage if you fail. Pyke is far more evasive than the average support, and can get up and personal to do 4d6 with Sneak Attack.

LEVEL 10 - ROGUE 8

8th level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement and we’ll max out our Dexterity for even deadlier strikes with your Bone Skewer.

LEVEL 11 - ROGUE 9

At 9th level you get the Terrifying Blade Soul Knife feature. When you damage a creature with your Psychic Blade you can force them to make a Wisdom saving throw based on your Intelligence modifier. If they fail the creature is frightened of you until the start of your next turn, but on a successful save they become immune to this feature for 24 hours. Traitors run from their past, or face them head on. Regardless you’ll kill them all, especially with a 5d6 Sneak Attack.

LEVEL 12 - ROGUE 10

10th level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement, and you may have noticed our uneven Intelligence score? The Observant Feat will let us see when traitors talk about their coin. You can increase one of your mental stats by 1 (we’ll improve Intelligence) and you can read a creature’s lips to understand what they’re saying as long as you share a language. Your passive Perception and Investigation also increase by 5, so you can be aware of any backstabbers trying to slip away.

LEVEL 13 - ROGUE 11

11th level Rogues get Reliable Talent, meaning that any roll below a 10 in a skill you’re proficient in is treated as a 10. This means that your lowest possible roll with the skills your proficient in is:

25 on Stealth

22 on Intimidation or Investigation

20 on Acrobatics

19 on Athletics

15 on Perception

Your Sneak Attack also increases to 6d6.

LEVEL 14 - ROGUE 12

12th level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement and we’ll want more Intelligence to know how to truly terrify our foes.

LEVEL 15 - ROGUE 13

13th level Soul Knife Rogues can dive into spectral waters with Psychic Veil. As an action you become invisible for 10 minutes. This invisibility ends if you make an attack or if you force a creature to make a saving throw. You can become invisible a number of times equal to your Intelligence modifier and you regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest. Your Sneak Attack also increases to 7d6 now, and just so you know attacking out of Invisibility counts as a Sneak Attack.

(Pyke concept art by Riot Games)

LEVEL 16 - ROGUE 14

14th level Rogues borrow some techniques from the monk in the jungle and get a 10 foot radius Blindsense to chase your prey.

LEVEL 17 - ROGUE 15

15th level Rogues get Slippery Mind for proficiency in Wisdom saving throws. It’s not much but considering that you have a +0 to Wisdom it certainly helps. Your Sneak Attack also increases to 8d6 now.

LEVEL 18 - ROGUE 16

16th level Rogues get another Ability Score Improvement and more Intelligence will lead to more Ghostwater Dives and better Terrifying Blades.

LEVEL 19 - ROGUE 17

17th level Soul Knife Rogues can Rend Mind for a powerful Phantom Undertow. If you have a Psychic Blade manifested you can force a creature you can see within 30 feet of you to make an Intelligence saving throw. The target takes 12d6 psychic damage and is stunned until the start of your next turn on a failed save, but only takes half as much on a successful save and isn’t stunned. If you are hidden from the target it has disadvantage on the save, and one of your Psychic Blades vanishes after using this feature.

You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Intelligence modifier and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest. Pro tip: attacks against Stunned enemies automatically have Advantage so you can use your 9d6 Sneak Attack damage.

LEVEL 20 - ROGUE 18

Our final level is the 18th level in Rogue for Elusive so that no attack can have Advantage against you. "Death keeps spitting me right back out."

FINAL BUILD

PROS

I smell panic - Soul Knife on its own is a very powerful subclass. Having an unlimited supply of weapons that are viable at both melee and range, the ability to turn invisible, and tons of crowd control with both fears and stuns makes for an incredible damage dealer who can provide a lot of utility to the party.

Big Beast - It wasn’t my intention when making this build but for a Rogue you’re remarkably tanky. You have an above-average constitution and Psionic Enhancement buffing your health to a respectable level, and the Carapace Animal Enhancement turns what would be a +5 to AC (from your Dexterity) to a +6. This means that you have 17 AC with Leather Armor, 18 with Studded, and a 19 AC with Armor of Shadows! As a Rogue, meaning you have Uncanny Dodge and Evasion to further increase your survivability! Not to mention you have two Warlock slots to cast False Life is the fight starts to go south.

Crews share the wealth - Expertise in Intimidation and Investigation are helpful, and having Spare the Dying means that your Cleric can focus on stronger cantrips instead. But having 10 minutes of invisibility is insanely helpful for infiltration.

CONS

Every kill makes the voices louder - The two levels in Warlock are done almost entirely for flavor, and while we do get some useful features it does still mean you lose out on Stroke of Luck. If you have a DM who likes roleplay you can take the Magic Initiate feat for Wizards to get Lightning Lure along with potentially Ray of Frost to simulate a long-ranged “pull” and be a Warlock without actually being a Warlock. But the honest truth is that Soul Knife on its own is strong enough and the ability to pull people closer to you is largely redundant.

My list just got longer - Soul Knife uses their Bonus Action a lot more than other Rogues, meaning that you can’t use your Cunning Action to hide as often. Yes you can make two knives at a time but this still means that you’ll have to spend another bonus action to “reload” after throwing two hooks. And if both your hands are full you can’t hold your list!

Swim or Sink - Unfortunately you don’t get to max out your Intelligence modifier, which is needed for a lot of your class features. However the far bigger issue is your saving throws: proficiency in Wisdom saves help but your Charisma and Constitution are stuck at +2 and your Strength is forever at a pitiful -1. While you can compensate for strength checks with Expertise in Athletics your saving throws are less than desirable.

But problems only come for those without a plan. Make your list, check it twice, find out who’s naughty or nice before gutting them. Make sure your crew’s got your back and that they aren’t going to cut your line too. You’ve died before, but it doesn’t hurt not to do it again.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

#DnD 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd #dnd rogue #League of Legends #League of Legends Pyke

[crepuscular-gloom]

Poptropica Island Ratings

okay I saw a post on here a while ago and someone rated the Poptropica islands. I remember agreeing with a lot of them, but they only went so far so a lot of the newer islands were missed out. I came across it again recently and got hit by a wave of nostalgia so I’m gonna do my own now. Unoriginal content very good. i’ll put a keep reading link to stop it from taking up too much space

Early Poptropica - mega nostalgia but kinda boring. I like the original Poptropicans being pixely and there is a goth gf in the sewers however the giant green spider scared the shit out of me as a kid and the idea of an aircraft graveyard made me sad so 6/10

Shark Tooth Island - also nostalgic but I didn’t complete it for a long time for some reason.. very short. it has a story but its there is nasty shark and people stuck on an island so make a calming potion. the medicine man looks like he is from viva pinata so 6/10

Time Tangled Island - VERY GOOD AND FUN AND HISTORICAL FUCK THAT AZTEC THO DICKHEAD. quite lengthy for an island but this is good because that means more time periods to explore. it’s also educational but i just care about restoring time. very legendary the iconic just jumped out - 10/10

24 Carrot Island - stupid pun point taken off. introduces Dr Hare and people are THIRSTY. you can dye your hair with milkshakes. i thought it was creepy as a kid honestly. i think its mind control or something. but i like it, it still has nostalgia value 8/10

Super Power Island - very legend like. i loooove the antagonists, especially copy cat but i think i had to look up a guide to beat her because i was dumb af. you need a licence to be a superhero but you are a superhero!!! very fun i like this one a lot 10/10

Spy Island - i remember sucking at this one as well as a kid.  i think it fucks with peoples hair and i only remember because my character looks fresh 100% of the time and this island fucked it up i think. i don't really remember it tho. 5/10

Nabooti Island - it’s based on a Choose Your Own Adventure book so good premise. go around the world is also good. you have to get jewels i think. ngl i didn’t finish this one because i sucked at it so i’m just going off the wiki and how far i got into it. fuck the animal puzzle 7/10

Big Nate Island - who the fuck is Big Nate. i only remember the school climbing frame and a stink bomb. fuck you big nate we don’t have your comics in England 1/10

Astro-Knights Island - medieval knights.... IN SPACE?!?! COUNT ME IN. crazy jester bard guy antagonist. people are thirsty for him too. i’m pretty sure you end up in another dimension or something. cyborgs and shit 9/10

Counterfeit Island - bruh i loved this island. pretty sure antagonist is also making people thirsty. you have to go back to Early Poptropica Island to complete it, very cool. investigating crime is cool idea it’s l.a. noire in poptropica. the wiki says there is a glitch called anti-social clown and i have to say relatable 9/10

Reality TV Island - i think i completed this like twice and i remember jackshit. you get to see past characters tho so very good. it’s just doing challenges. 4/10

Mythology Island - VERY GOOD. LEARN ABOUT MYTHOLOGY. you can fight hydra and other creatures, you meet Zeus you meet Hades, Aphrodite is a bitch. 9/10

Skullduggery Island - pirates are always good no matter what. apparently it is one of the hardest islands which explains why i never completed it but you fight other pirates and sea monsters for doubloons or some shit sounds cool to me 8/10

Steamworks Island - steampunk is good. i remember completing this and thinking it was interesting and weird to look at. i think the atmosphere is was lonely tho. there’s a boss battle against a plant i think. otherwise i don’t fuckin remember 7/10

Great Pumpkin Island - it’s Peanuts so it’s nice. very nice and simple. it’s just about the great pumpkin except you’re there. 6/10

Cryptids Island - GOD TIER. CRYPTIDS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA. some of it is scary tho. the jersey devil just fucking staring at you from the window was a shit the bed moment for a kids game. also before the islands got rebooted, it was one of the only islands to have sound effects, i.e. when the chupacabra bursts out the box. honestly because of the balls on this kids game to scare children and also being good island 10/10

Wild West Island - the only thing better than pirates is cowboys. i don’t really remember it but you do go against an outlaw gang. i like cowboys 10/10

Wimpy Wonderland Island - Jeff I know you made doawk and poptropica but did you have to show it. ngl i liked it because i like doawk. but it’s kinda... creatively bankrupt i guess. 3/10 2 points because Rodrick is there

Red Dragon Island - i think more time travel but just to old Japan. you have to save a girl. that’s all i remember. also i think there is a nasty samurai guy. but also evil dragon. i can’t remember because for the longest time this was a premium account only island so i never got to finish it for the longest time. that was a dick move 7/10 for that alone.

Shrink Ray Island - cool premise but this island expects me to learn morse code 3/10

Mystery Train Island - detectives? on a train? very nice. basically murder on the orient express except no murder and thomas edison is there and also various other 1700/1800 nerds

Game Show Island - basically Reality TV except it’s to save the world from robots. 5/10

Ghost Story Island - wow iconic. this is the only island with voice acting and it’s to fucking jumpscare you i shat myself.  ghost hunting, very cool 10/10

S.O.S Island - it’s basically Titanic mixed with Moby Dick. it’s ok 6/10

Vampire’s Curse Island - i reaaaally like this one. i like vampires. it has a vampire daddy in it so. he kidnaps a teenage girl tho because he thinks its the love of his life who is dead. kinda weird. he does stop being insane at the end tho and says sorry and dies. the girls bf is a dickhead tho. 9/10

Twisted Thicket Island - i think you’re saving a forest from becoming housing. i really like it because it introduces various folkloric creatures like the nokken. i only remember the nokken because i went on akinator to see if he knew what it was and i don’t think he did so i added it and it’s photo to his database. or maybe it was just his photo but i remember uploading something to akinator. 8/10

Poptropolis Games Island - i don’t think i liked this one 3/10

Wimpy Boardwalk Island - Jeff. 2/10 1 point added because Rodrick is also there

Lunar Colony Island - space is good. do i remember this island tho? no. i think theres aliens tho. 5/10 because i like space and aliens.

Super Villain Island - it brings back the most memorable villains like binary bard and black widow. you find out why they are evil. pretty chill 8/10

Charlie and The Chocolate Factory Island - what do you expect 5/10

Zomberry Island - the last of us except i think people are just eating nasty berries really. i like it it’s spooky 7/10

Night Watch Island - Paul Blart Mall Cop 6/10

Back Lot Island - you make a film. i can’t remeber it like at all. 6/10 because it sounds ok

Poptropolis Games Island Part 2 - fuck off 2/10

Virus Hunter Island - i don’t think i completed this one either. however it is one of those inside the human body things which is always cool if cliche. 8/10

Mocktropica Island - very satirical what if about if poptropica was run by assholes. ironic since a bunch of islands were made premium only for a while. pretty sure the bonus missions still are too which is why i’m not mentioning them. funny tho 7/10

Monster Carnival Island - spooky yes. people thirst over the ringmaster raven guy too. theres a spooky clown on the ferris wheel. i don’t remember much other than i liked it because it was about monsters in a theme park. 9/10 i remember it was surprisingly short tho

Survival Island - castaway except it’s you. i don’t remember it either lmao. i got out of touch with old poptropica real bad by this time so my next ratings might be unfair sorry. pretty sure it also becomes the most dangerous game tho and some guy wants to actually fucking kill you. ballsy. 7/10 because it sounds ok i should maybe play it.

Mission Atlantis Island - i like atlantis but i didn’t play this one either. you see deepsea creatures which are spooky so extra points 8/10

PoptropiCon Island - poptropica’s answer to comicon. now i did play this one for some reason but i don’t remember it too well either. i was 14 when it came out so. sounds like yu-gi-oh so good. 7/10

Arabian Nights Island - didn’t play it i think it’s just telling the story. it’s a cool story so 7/10

Galactic Hotdogs Island - what the fuck 1/10

Mystery of The Map Island - vikings are cool. island seems very short tho. 5/10

Timmy Failure Island - who the fuck. this would be more impactful if i read these fucking things but i don’t. who the fuck are you timmy. i guess it’s called failure for a reason. (that was mean sorry) 1/10

Escape from Pelican Rock Island - prison break, nice idea. you have like a twin in this one. seems a bit repetitive sometimes tho. theres like 7 days of doing similar things. 6/10

Monkey Wrench Island - it was created to be the new tutorial, i.e. an actual tutorial rather than Early Poptropica. very fast and boring, especially if you already know everything. 2/10

Crisis Caverns Island - i know nothing about this. even the wiki is incomplete. maybe that means its shit then. 1/10 the wiki doesn’t even care too much about this one.

Greek Sea Odyssey - more ancient greece is always good. you get to beat the shit out of zeus this time 8/10

Snagglemast Island - all you do is collect coins. another tutorial one. 1/10.

bonus: home island. legit just a hub. points added because you can do a lot of customisation here and pick up a pet that doesn’t cost credits. 4/10

DOUBLE BONUS: the little haunted house mini thing. very good because spooky costumes, spooky house fun little monster party. 10/10

#poptropica #feel free to add your opinions #do you agree #or disagree #i get unfair because i stopped playing a loooong time ago #tho i sometimes jump on #if you see me i'm called chilly skull #edgy i know but i made it when i was 7 #poptropica islands #this felt like writing a goddamn essay enjoy

[realfuurikuuri]

Don’t Look Away

MMHOPH Missing Arm! AU fic

WC: 2,954

Angsty as fuck 

Oneshot

AN: This was a little thing I did using @spookylovesboba MissingArm! AU. It's been a while since I last wrote fanfic(like two years) but this was pretty fun. There wasn’t much to go on The AU gave a lot of room to invert the themes of the original source, which was pretty fun. If I had to place this anywehre on the hypothetical timeline it’d be before he finds the new arm so things aren’t too bloody. The story is a oneshot. I might do more; I might not. Depends on how I’m feeling. I could ramble about this for a lot longer, which I probably will in the tags, anywyas enjoy the fic.

Mao Mao polished Geraldine, holding the sword in his right hand, holding the handle with his tail. Every so often he would turn towards the silent monster alarm before he went back to pointlessly polishing his sword. Badgerclops and Adorabat were out getting… Ice cream, was it? He wasn’t paying much attention when they left. Maybe he should have joined them and actually done something with his day. The monster alarm wasn’t giving him anything to do. 

Ring! Ring! Ring! 

Or maybe it was. He grabbed his sword and headed out the door and headed back in when he realized that it wasn’t the monster alarm. The ringing was coming from the backroom. Covered in dust, hidden in the shadows, was the home phone. Mao Mao slowly walked up to the phone, mind already racing with the unfortunate possibilities. Was it going to be one of his sisters? Probably not, he never gave them his number. Was it going to be his father? Definitely not, Mao Mao almost found the idea of him finally calling commercial. Almost. 

Mao Mao reached for the phone,” hello?” 

“Is this… sheriff, Mao Mao?” 

The voice on the other end was faked, although there was something to it he could almost recognize. 

“Who is this,” Mao Mao asked. 

“Your reckoning. I am here to destroy everything you hold dear! I am here to make sure you get what's coming to you! I am-” 

“-Going to stay out of the mayo,” Mao Mao interrupted. “Dammit Pinky, quit prank calling the sheriff's department!” 

Mao Mao slammed the phone back down without even letting him finish. “Need to have the number changed again,” he said to himself. 

He sheathed his sword and headed for the door. He might as well explore the town. It was better than getting prank called by Pinky. 

* * * 

“He just hung up on me. The ass just hung up on me!” The stranger threw the phone on the ground, growling in frustration. “Can’t even let me threaten him right. Prick won’t let me do anything!” 

“Hey, that was our phone.” 

“Shut it!” The Stranger snapped, voice echoing throughout the Sky Pirates ship. 

Orangusnake didn’t know what to think of this man. Kid more like. He couldn’t have been much older than 16 maybe 17. He was a cat with mostly white fur, save for a patch of black here and there. He was a little taller than the sheriff and even sounded like the sheriff. The only thing the kid had that Mao Mao didn’t was both arms. If he closed his eyes he could easily imagine it was an extremely vulgar version of Mao Mao. 

“So whadda we do now, boss,” Ratarang asked. 

“Well, -uh, first we’ll…” 

“You’ll shut the hell up and let me do my thing,” the stranger said. 

“Hey! You can’t just come to MY ship. And start disrespecting MY crew.” 

“I can when I’ve already beat the crap out of you and tied you up.” 

“You haven’t even beat us up!” 

“Do you want me to?” 

Orangusnake was about to tell him to try it, but the kid’s eyes reminded him of Mao Mao on a bad day. 

“Fine! But you said you could get rid of the blasted sheriff for us, so you better do it.”

“Don’t throw a bitch-fit, I have a plan.”

* * * 

Mao Mao arrived in the town on foot because Badgerclops had to take the aerocycle. He walked through the streets making sure everything was under control. Occasionally he called out their names, but he got no response. It was quit. Too quiet. The town wasn’t on fire, Pigguns hasn’t tried to run him over, and there was no trail of mayo from Pinky. Something was horribly wrong. Did it only affect the sweetie pies? Was it the Sky Pirates? A monster? Did whatever happen also effect the King? Mao Mao gritted his teeth and began to run to the castle. 

He ran as fast as he could up the castle steps. He could hear chatter get louder and louder until he finally kicked down the door. 

“My door,” the king exclaimed, but Mao Mao ignored him. He had to take a minute to wonder what exactly he was seeing. 

The entire kingdom was caught in a net with a misshapen piano hanging above them like it was some sort of cartoon. The group Horde Gaggle Headache of sweetie pies all began to speak at once. 

“Quiet!” 

The headache finally fell silent letting Mao Mao think. He pointed his sword at the King. 

“Speak,” he said. 

“Sheriff, get me out of this mess these… ruffians are disgusting.” 

“What happened? Why you are in a net?” 

“Oh, help me! Help me! Help Me! Help me! The pink… thing is getting closer!” 

Mao Mao was tempted to let the King sit there and deal with Pinky however, he did sign his paychecks, so he had to do something. He took a few steps back before he began to run towards the net, pushing it with his one arm as the Piano began to fall. One swing with Geraldine and the leaf was in two pieces? What? Was Tanya behind this? Was she the one that kidnapped the sweetie pies? Did she do all of that just to mess with him? Why?

Mao Mao was moving towards the net when he noticed that the leaf wasn’t green. It was red. A nice fall red. 

“Sheriff! SHERIFF!” 

The King’s screams snapped him out the daze. He walked over to the net and grabbed the king by the collar. 

“Who did this,” he asked. 

“Who? I don’t know, just let me out-”

“Who did this,” he asked again.

“I said I don’t know, now get me-”  

“What did he look like?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. A black and white cat, maybe. A lot like you, actually.” 

Mao Mao let go of the king with a huff. He turned to the door and began to walk to the door.

“Don’t forget about me. Sheriff? Sheriff? Cut me loose...Please,” the King asked, Mao Mao’s mind too busy to hear; his mind buzzed with thoughts and old memories. 

* * * 

“So, uh, care to tell me what exactly is going on?” 

The Stranger looked up at his captives. One was a rather large badger with an eyepatch and a little blue bat. He knew the bear was Badgerclops although he didn’t know the small one. He expected it would take more than a half-assed ice-cream stand to catch them, but it seemed to work.

“What’s going on is that you'll both sit there quietly and wait for him to show up.” 

“Whose he,” the blue one asked. 

“I don’t know, maybe I would if someone would tell me what’s going on!” 

Orangusnake slunk up to the captives with a wicked smile. “What’s going on is-” 

“Nobody shutting the hell up. That’s what's going on,” The Stranger mumbled. 

“Okay, why are you so rude? I let you into my ship! Then you start yelling at everybody! What do you want?”

“First off, you don’t ‘let’ me be anywhere. I can do what I want and you certainly can’t stop me. Secondly, I’m not rude you all are just insufferable. Lastly, what I want is to finally give Mao Mao what he deserves.” 

“And what is that?” 

The Stranger just smiled and took out more leaves. A flick of the wrist and a puff of smoke turned them into poorly made dolls of Mao Mao, Badgerclops, the blue one and himself. 

“What are those?” 

“The important people.” 

“We aren’t I there,” Orangusnake said. 

“Dude, I literally just said it's the important people.” 

“That… that hurts.” 

The Stranger rolled his eyes going back to his dolls. “First, I kidnap you two. Already done that. Then he shows up and we beat him up. Once he’s all nice and bruised we bury him alive. Let’s see how he likes being locked up without anyone to help him.” 

The Stranger let out a cackling laugh. 

“You’re a lot like your dad you know that,” Badgerclops said. 

The laughter suddenly stopped. “What would you know?” 

“I mean, you’re Jǐngtì Mao, right? Mao Mao’s son?” 

Everyone turned to the Stranger. He squinted his eyes, pushing a finger into Badgerclops’ face. “Okay, its Jǐngtì Keys actually.” 

The blue thing’s eyes lit up like stars. “Oh my gosh! You're Mao Mao’s Kid! WhatshelikeWhereyou’vebeenIsn’thethecoolestwhoseyourmom- wait, if you’re Mao Mao’s kid then why’d you kidnap us?” 

“Well, you see… Blue thing. Mao Mao is… awful. So, I’m going to make use of the only way he taught me to deal with my problems: bury it deep deep down and hope it never comes back up.” 

“That doesn’t sound very heroic.” 

“Well, you see that would be a problem if I was a hero, fortunately, I’m not so I don’t have to worry about shit.” 

“If Mao Mao’s your dad then who's your mom,” Orangusnake asked. 

“Tanya Keys.” 

“Who.” 

“What do you mean who she was here like last week.” 

“Never met her.” 

“Really? Tanuki. Did the stuff with the leaves. I mean you should’ve met her, she’s a bounty hunter.” 

“These guys don’t have bounties on their heads,” Badgerclops added from the back. 

Jǐngtì turned to the pirates then back to Badgerclops. “Aren’t they pirates.” 

“Sky Pirates,” Orangusnake added from the back. 

“Yeah, but they suck so we never really placed bounties.” 

“We’re right here.” 

“Damn, I thought they were strong because mom didn’t catch them.” 

“Nope. They’re bottom of the barrel.”

“We’re still right here.” 

“Why do I even have these guys then?” 

Everyone turned when they heard a loud bang. “Open up Jǐngtì! I know you’re here.” 

“They may not be fighters, but I suppose they can be cannon fodder.” 

* * * 

Mao Mao kept knocking on the hull of the Sky Pirates ship. His one good hand was starting to hurt when the door finally opened a tad. Jǐngtì poked his head over the door, his face covered with the purple bandanna. 

“Son.” 

“You.” 

“It’s been a while.”

“Four years and 156 days. Believe me, I’ve been counting.” 

“How are you even out of jail?” 

“Mom paid bail.” 

“All of it?”

“What do you think she was so desperate for bounties?” 

Mao Mao sighed and scratched his ears. “If you stop know we can have this kidnapping stuff all blow over, so just get down here.” 

“You can’t make me.” 

“Yes, I can.” 

“There’s just one of you and six, maybe seven if you count the snake-monkey as two different people.” 

“You mean the Sky Pirates?” 

“Yeah.” 

Mao Mao raised an eyebrow.”Really? You’re just scraping up wood chips. I beat them once a week, twice if I need to blow off some steam.” 

“See! That’s the shit I can’t stand. You pretend to be better than everyone else when you’re just as awful!” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I make one mistake and you just throw me into jail. You didn't even try to help me. You complain about your dad when you’re not better.” 

Mao Mao didn’t know words could hit that hard. He felt all the wind leave his lungs and pain in his chest. He clenched his fist and closed his eyes before looking up again. “You can’t just do things without consequences. You can’t just do wrongs and expect no justice.” 

“You’re right,” Jǐngtì said,” so let me fucking bury you alive.” 

“Please get down here. And stop cursing, Adorabat’s only six.” 

“The blue thing?” 

Mao Mao nodded.

Jǐngtì turned over his shoulder then back to his father, looking him dead in the eyes. “Shit, ass, fuck, motherfucker, bitch-” 

Jǐngtì certainly inherited his obstinance. He climbed up and swung the back of his blade at Jǐngtì. He dodged the attack, stepping forward to bring down his knife. Mao Mao stuck his sword in the floor, freeing his hand to catch Jǐngtì’s wrist. 

“-cock, fucker, and motherfucker.”

“You said motherfucker twice.” 

“Well, I am fighting you so I guess it was on my mind.”

Jǐngtì pulled a bomb from his bag forcing Mao Mao to jump back. When the fuse burned out the bomb just turned back into a leaf.

“Pirates!” Jǐngtì called out.

Mao Mao was forced to let go and quickly step out of the way of Rammaraffe, he was pushed back by an egg-bomb from boss-hostrich, a small head-tilt was enough to dodge Ratarang. Orangusnake let out a battle cry, leaping forward with battleax brandished. He couldn’t win like this. He dashed underneath Orangusnake, and reached for Geraldine. When the sword was nearly in his grasp it was pulled away. 

“How does it feel to be disarmed again,” Jǐngtì asked. 

“You’re like really mean, you know that?” 

Jǐngtì gave Badgerclops the side-eye before transforming with a  large puff of smoke. “Meh meh meh meh meh, that’s what you sound like,” he said. 

“Hurtful, but why’d you turn into modern art?” 

Jǐngtì raised an eyebrow,” what do you mean modern art I’m supposed to be you.” 

“That’s supposed to be… me?” 

Badgerclops laughed. He laughed and laughed as Jǐngtì’s frustration grew and grew until he exploded in a puff of smoke. “You know what! I don’t see you doing magic! You don’t get to criticize me for doing mine!” 

Mao Mao pinched the bridge of his nose.“ Badgerclops, quit arguing with an actual child and free yourself. Also, hand my sword while you’re at it.” 

“Can’t tied up.” 

“Quit being lazy. You know that’s not even a rope. It's just a leaf.” 

Badgerclops rolled his eyes and stood up, popping the rope around with a puff of smoke. He pointed his arm right at Jǐngtì. “You’re both very demanding you know that?” 

“I suppose I’ll just try burying him alive another time.” 

Jǐngtì pushed Badgerclops arm up. A single misfire blasted a hole right through the Sky Pirate’s ship. He grabbed Adorabat without hesitation, jumping off Badgerclop’s face to start climbing towards the exit. Mao Mao called his son’s name, quickly following after. They climbed to the top of the airship. Jǐngtì held Adorabt in one arm. The wind howled in their ears. 

“That’s enough, Jǐngtì.” 

“Enough of what?” 

“Enough of all this. You have to stop.” 

“Why? Why should I?” 

“Because you literally held an entire kingdom hostage. You teamed up with the Sky Pirates. You’re just becoming a villain.” 

“Like father like son, I guess.” 

“Jǐngtì just… just stop before this goes too far.” 

Mao Mao walked forward while Jǐngtì kept walking back. 

“Before I too far? I already thought I did go too far back in Queens Putland.” 

“You stole from the monarch and stole their crown! You can’t just do that and expect nothing of it!” 

“So, I guess it's justified to leave me in jail without even trying to post bail. I guess it’s fine to just up and move on with your life like you didn't spend 13 whole fucking years with them! Instead, you fuck off and replace me with… this!” 

He shook Adorabat around like a ragdoll. “Careful!” Mao Mao shouted as he took a tentative step forward. 

“Listen I get it I… am a hypocrite, certainly not the best father, but that's no excuse to do any of this.” 

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Jǐngtì reached into his pouch throwing leaf after leaf. 

Some turned into bikes, others into furniture, pianos and anything heavy. It didn’t slow Mao Maod down; he just cut them down one after the other. The final thing he threw was also the largest. A massive boulder that belonged at the slope of a mountain hurled through the air. Mao Mao simply raised his hand, simply grabbing onto it so tightly that it popped.

“Are you done?” 

“No, I’m not done! I never will be until you finally get your shit together! Put action to your words, and try, for once in your life, to do something right!” 

It happened in an instant. A step back when nothing was there. Jǐngtì fell back, too surprised to even scream. 

Mao Mao lunged forward grabbing onto his wrist.

To his horror, Jǐngtì seemed genuinely surprised. “Why?” 

“Does a man have to give a reason to protect his own children?”

The look in Jǐngtì’s eyes gave him hope. Hope that maybe mistakes can be fixed, or at least worked past. He helped Jǐngtì to his feet and placed his hand on his shoulder. Jǐngtì refused to look him in the eye, but he didn’t shrug it off. 

Without warning, he threw down one of Adorabat’s bombs. A cloud of smoke filled the air. When the smoke cleared he was holding Adorabat and Jǐngtì was nowhere to be seen. 

“Mao Mao,” Adorabat said. 

“Hm?” 

“What was that?” 

Mao Mao took a deep breath as he searched for the right way to phrase it. “Adorabat, we all have to deal with the consequences of our actions. You can’t just forget about them, lest we start to hurt the people we’re close to.” 

“Did you forget him, Mao Mao?” 

“You know what? I never could. I never even wanted to. I hope he knows that.” 

A loud crash shook the ship. Badgerclops helicoptered out through a brand new, much larger, hole with his arm cannon at full charge. “Alright daddy issues, that’s enough.” He waved his cannon around, searching for his target. 

“What?” 

“No not you. Jǐngtì,” Badgerclops said. 

“You can put the arm cannon down now. He’s long gone.” He knew Jǐngtì wasn’t. He taught him that disappearing trick, after all. 

“Oh. Well then let's get the aerocycle and go. I have no idea where it's parked.”

“But I didn’t ride the aerocycle here.”

Badgerclops groaned and they shared a laugh as they walked back home

#mmhoph #mao mao heroes of pure heart #mao mao #adorabat #Jǐngtì #Badgerclops #spookylovesboba #armlessAU! #fan child #fan character #fanfic #writing #Time for my ramblings: #There honestly wasn't much to go on #I had to make up a lot of stuff and extrapolate a lot #Jǐngtì especially #I decided to give him Armless Mao's innability to handle emotions #with cannon Tanya's inhabitions #and a teenagers vulgarity #Mao had a lot more to go on #He's less physically violent #but the issues are still there #Might actually post this on Ao3 later #long post is long #rambling in the tags

[gretchensinister]

Blacksand for the ship ask!

·         who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

So, what’s probably going to happen as I answer these is that I will have a version of the story for BOTH options, the story just takes on a very different mood when you switch the characters (after all, we still have to get to 8000 blacksand AUs)

Pitch werewolf and Sandy hunter: this has the potential to be beautifully horrifying, and it’s also like slipping on an old comfy sweater. The shape of this story is Known.

Sandy werewolf and Pitch hunter: Yeah, yeah—Pitch is like this bitter dude who is about as scary as the monsters he hunts, but this story takes a turn for the wondrous as his relationship with Sandy starts to show him that the world of the supernatural isn’t all bad/can offer him what the “normal” world can’t

·         who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

Pitch fisherman and Sandy mermaid: Sandy is already associated with mermaids and this has the potential to fluster Pitch like, a LOT, and that’s good.

Sandy fisherman and Pitch mermaid: I actually did this one where Sandy was a pirate captain that captured mermaid Pitch, Pitch as a mermaid lives at that crossroads of terrifying/wonderful that works so well to draw Sandy.

·         who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

Witch Sandy and Pitch familiar: who doesn’t like a warm, friendly, extremely powerful witch with an unsettling and lanky black cat that only they see as “a big softie”

Pitch witch and Sandy familiar: this however is less expected and more hilarious. Scary evil (or reputedly evil) witch with a fat and fluffy orange cat as a familiar? Imagine a desperate person coming to bargain with Pitch and they’ve got this whole menacing spiel going except that it’s a little ruined as desperate person is getting purred at and strongly headbutted by a giant fluffball

·         who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

Barista Sandy and coffee addict Pitch: Sandy doesn’t actually drink coffee and Pitch is totally baffled by how good he is at making it

Barista Pitch and coffee addict Sandy: Sandy needs the coffee solely to stay awake for his night job, Pitch is desperately trying to get him to appreciate the difference between gas station sludge and all the fine espresso drinks he makes for him, without making it obvious that he’s fallinG IN LOVE EEK

·         who’s the professor and who’s the TA

I’m skipping this one, can’t get into it after a real life situation at the university I went to for grad school

·         who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

Knight Pitch and prince Sandy: Sandy is one of those beloved princes who nevertheless keeps getting into trouble because his head is in the clouds, doesn’t seem to care about the rank difference between him and Knight Koz (because that’s how it starts) and so Koz ends up knowing him better than most others and then Sandy’s the one to rescue his former knight (bodyguard YES) after some magical shenanigans or curse or something turns him into a monster(?) UGH YES I WANT THIS STORY NOW

Knight Sandy and Prince Pitch: Sandy is a very competent (and often underestimated by strangers) knight and Pitch is a rather strange, off-putting prince…the shenanigans here are that Pitch is supposed to get married but all the potential spouses are like, “uhhh…” and Sandy is like, “you buffoons. But also it hurts me to be part of the entourage travelling with Pitch to get him married off” and Pitch is like “none of my suitors Properly Respects My Bodyguard So They All Suck.” Eventually they figure this out. EVENTUALLY.

·         who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

I feel like we definitely had a fairly well-developed AU where Sandy was a teacher and Pitch was a single parent. It was in the fluff side of the spectrum, highly valuable and warming.

Actually the only way I can make this work with Sandy as the single parent is by using book elements to make this a bizarre, soap-opera-ish scenario? Like the kid is still Seraphina/Emily Jane. Something happened and she was assumed to be an orphan as a baby and Sandy and his partner adopted her, then Sandy’s partner died of plot (sorry Sandy and sorry unnamed partner). Sera gets to an angsty teenage stage and researches her bio family and finds out that her bio dad is STILL ALIVE and boy is she PISSED and so she contacts him and then he comes to meet her and Sandy is also there because he’s a responsible father and Sera is trying to deal with this WACK SITUATION which then only gets MORE WACK when her dad and bio dad start to be into each other??? Oh wait Pitch is supposed to be a teacher in this scenario. Uh. FORGET THE OTHER CONTACT IDEA. Maybe he’s like her AP bio teacher or something and when the class is doing a genetics unit something happens in a lab that reveals that they have to be closely related…which honestly their distinct looks kind of makes unsurprising. Marie Kondo voice: “I love mess!”

·         who’s the writer and who’s the editor

Sandy writer and editor Pitch: Pitch is just desperately trying to get Sandy to use real words and write in a way that other people can understand, while dreaming of running away with him and starting their own experimental press

Pitch writer and Sandy editor: Sandy is just desperately trying to get Pitch to understand what the horror market will and will not accept, while increasingly battered manuscripts get used as bath reading and almost dropped in the tub, bedtime reading and both cuddled and shoved under a pillow—it’s all VERY heart-pounding but not in fashion for the genre. They figure it out. EVENTUALLY.

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 2: Ch 1

Summary: After returning to Earth, an unnamed Space Explorer must face the consequences of going past Quadrant 5.

Attempting to write 10k words for part 2 by the end of the week. 

Part 1:

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 3

Ch 4

Ch 5

____________________

I sigh. I watch my breath move away and disappear before my eyes. I shiver, but instead of hugging myself to keep in what little warmth I have, I look down at my shaky hands. I imagine my blood dripping down my fingertips. I then lay them down, hoping to paint the cold floor beneath me. I know full well it’s all in my head, but I try to anyway. I try until I can feel the skin underneath my nails tear. When that happens, I grip either shoulder. This isn’t because I now know it’s best to keep warm. I did so because of how trapped and lonely I feel. 

My eyes move up towards the wall I’m leaning against. I imagine a window and the rich blue sky waiting on the other side. I then go on to imagine how long I’ve spent here. By this point, I could’ve already stayed here for days, weeks, or even months. Time has lost its touch on me. The walls haven’t changed. No cobwebs or even a speck of dust has touched them. Even the door right across from me doesn’t have a sliver of time’s touch. Its knob hasn’t moved an inch since I got here. Even the air vent above lacks any indication of how long I’ve been here. There’s no sound coming from them, especially no voices. It strengthens the lack of hope, though. It causes my head to lower. 

Because of this, I scoff. I scoffed at how lucky I was back then. At least back at the Tauvoxes’ ship, I felt alive. Even if it was fear it’s better than feeling dead. 

Light touched me. It blinded me. I tried covering my eyes with my hand, but with his hand wrapping itself and clutching my wrist it became impossible. 

He led me. I walked by his side and took note of the many doors that stretched from both ends of the hallway. They’re all closed, which meant many others are facing the same torment I had just been released from. I imagine the hundred or so helpless others sitting at the very edges of their rooms with their heads down. Most hug themselves to keep warm or what little hope they had left. Some just lean against the wall, hoping for death to take them away from the mind-numbing torture. Sure, maybe some deserved to be here. Maybe they broke out of the limits of humanity, but no one deserved this. No one deserved the drain. Whatever they had done to get themselves here it couldn’t have been enough to forget they’re human too. They have families. They have friends. Maybe a pet at home like a dog. Maybe that dog used to wait at their front door until they got home from work. Maybe that dog now has their head down and is whimpering because they were promised a walk too long ago. Whatever the case they have memories. They have lives, or at least they had lives before being sent here. True monsters could be on the other side of those doors, but it’s not like they wanted to be one. Life just forces people to become one. I might not be called a monster to most, but it doesn’t matter what most think because in their eyes they see me as one. In his eyes especially. 

He sat right across from me and just like with The Director shades covered his eyes. They showed me the helplessness sketched on my face. “It doesn’t take much to realize you aren’t handcuffed. You can try to run out of here. Hell, you can try to sock my nose. However, if you’re smart you wouldn’t do something so rash. We attached a chip on the back of your neck not too long after your court case. So, if you try to do anything other than answer me you will be electrocuted.”

“Does it matter? Whether or not I answer I’ll just be sent back into that room to be left to myself. To be tortured.”

“Rightfully so. You had disobeyed direct orders, caused the death of your entire crew, and nearly brought all of humanity into another war. Thank God for that band of Space Pirates…”

His words faded from my hearing. Instead of sitting in the interrogation room, I’ve bent down in the middle of a farmers market. Underneath a small rock, a flower sways before my eyes. My hand pushes the rock away, grabs the flower, and plucks it out of the ground. I then ran over to my mother. Well, it was more like scrambling to her as I tried not to trip because at that time my shoes were somehow always untied. Once I’m next to her, I tug her baggy pants. When that doesn’t get her attention, I call out her name. Still, her attention is directed towards the woman running the little shop. They’re laughing as the owner places my mother’s purchased fruits and vegetables into a bag. Because I was just another selfish child, I kicked my mother. This gets her attention, but not the type I wanted. She turns and lowers her head as the owner is talking to another customer. My mother mouths, “When we get home-”

“Here’s your bag,” the owner interrupted her with a soft voice. 

With that, my mother’s demeanor shifted right back into its lighthearted self. She smiles and says her thanks, but that’s the end of that side of her. Once we get home she scolds me. With the flower crushed in my hand, I can feel my throat tighten. I’m crying in front of her as she points her finger and shouts at me. She could’ve scolded me for at least another hour, but a phone call cuts her off mid-sentence. 

I threw the flower down and continued to cry into my pillow. I don’t know how long I cried. Maybe a few seconds. It could’ve been five minutes. An hour possibly, or maybe even two. How long it was doesn’t matter. I calmed down eventually. Well, the crying portion of my emotions ended. From being a tearful mess I then turned to frustration. “You’re always making me cry. I wish something made you cry for once, mom,” I shouted.

It wouldn’t take long for me to regret that statement because what had come next was an explosion. My childhood home was swallowed up in a blaze of fire. I tried looking for my mom, but I was too late. A piece of the roof punctured right through her, but she was still alive. Her body twitched and I saw tears in her eyes. I wanted to help her. I tried to, but I was too weak. So, I ran. I pushed past some crops and ran until I slipped and fell in some mud. 

As I tried wiping off the mud from my face, I cried. I cried until I saw something appearing in the mud, it reflected something. It reflected something unworldly. Looking up, I see a spaceship. 

The trudging soon began. My shoes were covered in mud, grass, and sewage. They smelled and were on the verge of breaking apart. I’ve worn the same clothes for days. We’ve been trudging for days. Blisters sat underneath my feet. Scars scattered throughout my ankles and some even managed to get to my shoulders and chest. The others and I haven’t eaten much. Our rations ended a week ago, so we’ve been surviving on whatever we’re able to find whether that means killing a fox or going dumpster diving. 

It was supposed to end about a month ago, but the hideout was found out. The people that made it there first were either killed by the blast or, if they managed to escape before it hit, became their prisoners. 

“Go west? Are you insane,” our group leader questioned. 

She stood in front of him. She’s about my age, two years older. Her name is Ashley. I, of course, didn’t know it at the time, but she would become the one I risked everything for about two decades later. “Can’t you see they already know we’re heading south?”

We’re all young. Most of the group barely hit puberty. He was the oldest, so it was only natural for us to make him the leader. However, other than me he was the most stubborn. “Even if they do, what other choice do we have? Five hideouts have been discovered in the past month. If we go back west we’ll be shot down as soon as we step foot there, or worse we’ll become their prisoners. Let’s say you’re right. At least south we have some cover.”

“They’ve been hitting in one unit. There’s no way they’d split up in two separate directions.”

“And you know this how?”

“I’ve been watching them from afar. I haven’t seen any of them-”

“Wait. You’ve been splitting up from the group,” he yelled. 

“Yes,” she muttered under her breath. 

He steps closer to her and lifts her by her collar. Because of the huge height difference, her feet are seen dangling. She begins to cry. The others either just watch or look away. “You’ve been sneaking off from the group? For how long?”

Her crying causes my heart to drop and fists to shake. I wanted to do something, but I was just too scared. He was older, taller, and way stronger. 

“I-I don’t know...a few weeks?” The last word in her answer is spoken with a squeak. 

“You could’ve been caught for these past few weeks,” his grip tightens on her collar, “You could’ve given away our location these past few weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. 

Seeing him move his hand into his pocket, I already knew what he was planning to do. So, I didn’t waste any more time. I buried down my fear towards him and instead replaced it with the fear of that knife making it into her chest.

“Stop.” It was my turn to get in front of him. I looked at him with begging eyes, but he ignored me. He pulled the blade back and swung. 

He cried out and let her go. I caught her before she hit the ground. As she and along with the rest of the group tried to process what just happened, I grabbed her hand and led her away from there. The last thing I see of them is them trying to help him pull the branch out of his ankle. 

For months we all struggled. For months it was all about survival. It was about becoming a hunter rather than the hunted. It felt like years, but the years I’ve spent with her felt like hours. She made me happy the first time in a while. It’s the type of genuine happiness that causes your cheeks to cramp from all the laughing. I hadn’t felt that happy since before my father’s death. She was my first in just about everything. She was my lover. We’ve been together for basically my whole life. Until everything crumbled down. It crumbled because of me. 

“And you did it all for her,” he broke me out of my memories. 

“Yes,” I said confidently. 

“One life isn’t worth the lives of millions.”

My eyebrows furrowed. One twitched. The space between them scrunched up. “What are you trying to say?”

“What do you think I’m trying to say?”

“You think I would let her die? You think I would just sit back on my ass and let my wife die?”

“You were the one that caused her predicament. It’s only deserved you-” 

Before he can finish I punch his nose. He stumbles out of his chair and clutches his now crooked nose. Blood dripped out of the site, but I didn’t get to savor his pain for long because the consequences he described earlier began. An electric shock hit me. It went up and down my spine, causing me to stumble out of my chair as well. 

Knees bent and shaking, I cry. I cry for it to stop. It does, but I still feel it. It’s over, but I still feel my spine burning and head pounding. So, I fall to the floor and try to dig my nails in it. I watch my tears splash onto it as well. 

He moves in front of me. He bends down so that my eyes can meet with his shades. “Was it worth it?”

#180 #lost in space #writers on tumblr #creative writing #spilled ink #wlw #fiction #my writing #space

[simonjadis]

Anon I’m ASSUMING that these are from the same person; apologies if they are not

I would say that my feelings are similar to yours, but not quite identical ...

Disney’s handling has been imperfect, and some of the mistakes have been made the highest level (I know that people give Kathleen Kennedy a hard time, but if rumor is to be believed, some of the interference that made IX kind of weird came from higher than that)

for example, Kennedy said in an interview that she tries to find people who just make big, successful movies to make sure that these are also big, successful movies. I can understand that as being a safe bet from a business stand point, but that’s not the same thing as finding someone passionate about very specifically telling good, new Star Wars stories, which we did not really get in the Sequel Trilogy

(one of the most common theories that I saw from TLJ apologists was that people didn’t like that it was new/different than what they were expecting, which was really not the issue for me or my friends. Also it was just a speedrun of parts of Episodes V and VI)

I think that I’m “too close” to Star Wars to see it as a financial asset rather than a beloved universe full of characters and stories that I adore, but I don’t think that “literally just rehash the Original Trilogy for two movies and barely acknowledge any other part of Star Wars until IX” was a good idea

Rey deserved her own story. and Luke deserved to not be retroactively robbed of his

as for George Lucas, I do think that years of backlash over the Prequels sucked the fun out of it for him. Also, who doesn’t want four billion dollars? it was a sweetheart deal for Disney, of course

the sad thing is that this meant the end of Clone Wars, because Disney took one look at Lucasfilm’s budget and was like “OH NO YOU CANNOT SPEND THAT KIND OF MONEY ON A CARTOON” which is why Season 6 was paid for by Netflix and why Maul: Son of Dathomir was a comic

I love Star Wars Rebels and I’m not trying to knock the show at all, but the budgetary difference was palpable. Clone Wars did have it a little easier because of the Clone Troopers (all having the same face), but on Rebels, you notice that 90% of the Imperials are the same guy wearing a hat with his visor obscuring most of his face. market scenes show just a few people (but plenty of Storm Troopers)

the designs of the main characters -- Ezra, Hera, Sabine, Zeb, Kallus, Thrawn, Kanan, etc -- are great and loving and detailed and most of those change a little over time, but there’s a reason that we only see so many planets on Rebels. look at the huge armies and crowds in Rebels. my friend @drunkkenobi​ is the first who pointed out to me that in Clone Wars, you sometimes see lines of ships (Space Traffic) and each ship in line will be unique, distinct from the others

it’s not Rebels’ fault that they didn’t have that kind of budget. that’s also why their space battles (and space ships) never quite look right. meanwhile, for Clone Wars, if they wanted a particular scene or ship that went over their planned budget, all that they had to do was ask Uncle George

eccentric billionaires funding expensive media isn’t necessarily the most sustainable model for storytelling, but it sure worked out well for Clone Wars and for The Expanse

(Jeff Bezos personally called up the head of Amazon Prime programming, who had already been considering acquiring the extremely good but expensive show, and was like “hey the cast from this show is at a thing where I am, I’d love to just tell them that their show is saved, give me it?” and we saw as many new locations in Season 4 as we did in the first three seasons)

but streaming -- where you actually get money directly from customers who then, through their activity on your platform, show you exactly what they want to see aka what is keeping them on your platform -- offers a new opportunity for high quality genre media. remember, scifi and fantasy were EVERYWHERE in the ‘90s and the early aughts, and then because too expensive for regular TV unless they had huge audiences. only through streaming do we have these new Star Treks, The Witcher, and the real possibility of a new Stargate series

why do I bring up streaming? because

The Mandalorian goes to show that Disney can 100% do good Star Wars. Rebels was good, despite its budget, but can you imagine how much better it would have been if it had aired on Disney+

as with the DC movies (three of which are good and I’m also excited for Birds of Prey), the solution to the our-movies-made-a-lot-of-money-but-aren’t-strictly-speaking-good is literally just “let the people who do the cartoons make the movies”

and now we’re getting a final, seventh (half) season of Clone Wars! twelve episodes looking better than the show has ever looked!!

if you’re like me, you probably thought to yourself “gee, only 12?” and, cynically, you figured that it’s a trick -- announced at ComicCon in 2018 to build up the first wave of hype for Disney+

and it is ... but it 100% worked on me, I signed up for Disney+ and will pay anything for Clone War

my HOPE is that this is a test run to see if people really like high-quality animated Star Wars stories enough to continue with it. there’s only so much clone wars that one can cover (my suspicion is that we will see Ahsoka fake her death during Order 66 in these eps, so yep, that’s the end of the Clone Wars right there)

imagine a well-written series with everything that Clone Wars had in terms of content and visual quality, but it’s set after Episode IX. to my frustration, IX ends with effectively the same worldstate as VI which essentially means that nothing much happened in the Sequel Trilogy. but imagine a series set after IX. we could see a new set of (Force-wielding) characters. we could see Rey, Finn, Poe, and Rose during some episodes. Rose could finally get to do something that’s not an insulting fool’s errand (she deserves so much better!!!!!)

we don’t need a new Big Scary Empire/First Order thing, just organized crime and pirates and Hutts and bounty hunters and individual planet systems going to war as the characters try to assemble a NEW New Republic (gods I hate the unchanged worldstate)

now, I know that Star Wars Resistance is not ... reassuring. this is the only screencap that I have from it because I couldn’t get into it. it’s not the animation (I enjoyed Tron Uprising and Iron Man: Armored Adventures and this is the same kind of deal), but three things:

-I watch Star Wars for the Force primarily; other stuff can be cool but I need the Force

-I will never care about ships racing and really I don’t care about an individual ship flying; I’m a Command Ship kind of space nerd

-apparently the writing doesn’t improve much during the first season. people tell the main character to not do something, then he does it, and disaster ensues. that’s ... it’s fine, it’s fine to exist as a show, it’s just not for me

obviously, not all Star Wars media is for me, but when something -- like TLJ or the Sequel Series as a whole (even though VII and IX are enjoyable) or Resistance -- disappoints me, I would never accuse it of “ruining Star Wars”

Star Wars is a whole franchise. the breadth of canon isn’t all wiped away by some disappointments. was the MCU ruined by Age of Ultron? no. it was a bad movie but from the same franchise that gave us The Winter Soldier and Thor Ragnarok. hell, Dawn of Justice doesn’t “ruin” Wonder Woman or Aquaman or Shazam. bad movies aren’t contagious

for the past several years, the Entitled Dude crowd has felt empowered. they were radicalized in the altright/redpill/MGTOW/meninist/nazi/gamergate/comicsgate/etc spheres of the internet and now they just have a reflex where they see any sort of representation and decry it as “SJW,” which they also seem to think is a bad thing

in the same way that well-meaning people on tumblr can get radicalized into being antis/puriteens, people with certain vulnerabilities on reddit or youtube can get sucked into a world that tells them that they are the default and that other people existing is “political” in media and in real life, and that people being upset by outright cruelty towards them is both funny and means that the cruel person is the victor. they need therapy and studios need to not listen to them

unfortunately, sometimes there are movies that are bad despite having things like solid representation. Ghostbusters 2016 was a delight, but my friends and I with whom I saw TLJ (all of us queer feminists) left the theater angry. we’ve bitten our tongues a lot (even if it seems otherwise) because publicly criticizing the film too often leads some incel monster to chime in with agreement, and we’re just like

the redpillgate crowed et all is a natural ally of conservative white evangelicals, even though the former group is generally made up of New Atheists (the short version is atheists who hold socially conservative views because racism/misogyny/transphobia benefit them without using christianity as an excuse). it’s kind of like how terfs will side with conservative hate groups because, though they’re natural enemies, they both despite trans people just for existing

unfortunately, when you’re looking at who went to see a movie or who hated it, not everyone posts with an ID card saying exactly their demographic. which is only going to make studios like Disney even more nervous about including queer content in Star Wars and in the MCU (I mean real queer content with characters whose names don’t have to be searched on a wiki)

that was a bit of a tangent, but yeah. sorry if I missed anything

#star wars #clone wars #anon #ask #anon ask

[omgrachwrites]

May Queen (Loki Laufeyson)

Pairing: OC x Loki

Summary: Astrid, the princess of Vanaheimr relocates to Asgard to seal a betrothal to the youngest prince. She soon finds happiness and a multitude of new friends. Unfortunately treachery and deceit lie in the court of Asgard in unlikely places, and she learns that true love never dies.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death

Words: 2068

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think, I love you all very much! xxx

Part Three - A quiet lake

The sunlight was dappled and patchy as it shone through the cluster of trees, making the dust in the air swirl and dance, the sunlight making it shine like shavings of gold. The princess with the pink roses in her tumble of curls laughed prettily as the fluffy snow white lamb made its way over to her on wobbly legs and all but fell into her gentle waiting arms. Mara smiled at her beautiful mistress as Astrid played with the new born lamb, she was such a kind soul and Mara couldn’t have asked for a nicer young woman to serve. That’s what made Mara sad. It almost made her reconsider what she had to do but she simply had to be with her family again. After all, it was said that blood was thicker than water.

Mara looked down into the clear still waters of the lake, remembering another time when she felt completely at peace though it had been a long time ago. It was also a long far away from Vanaheimr in a similar grove. The young girl sighed in contentment a she flung herself backwards onto the warm bouncy grass, her golden hair spilling around her head like a halo as she basked in the warm sun.

“You know, you don’t have to stay here with me. I know that you’d much rather be sitting in the gardens at the palace with a good book. If you would like it you have my leave to go back to the castle,” her smile was warm and her voice was slow and soft. The spring sunlight made her grey eyes shine almost blue and the lighter tones in her hair shimmered like rippling water.

Mara chewed her lip and turned to look at Astrid, she looked so sincere but Mara didn’t want to just drop her duties, “its okay my lady. I don’t mind.”

“I do Mara, really its okay. I’m certain that I will be just fine,” she smiled, gesturing to the lamb as she kissed its fluffy head. Nervously and slowly Mara rose to her feet, still fearing that this was some trick and Astrid would tell the Queen that she had an undutiful handmaiden.

“Are you absolutely certain my lady?” she asked one more time and the princess nodded with a sweet smile though upon further inspection she noticed that Astrid’s smile didn’t reach her eyes and beneath the depths of them she saw the great sadness that lingered there. She knew why the princess was so sad, the man she loved – Erik – would be getting married in a couple of days. Unfortunately his new wife would be coming to live at court so Astrid would always be seeing her.

She also knew that Astrid wasn’t getting along with Loki, Mara wanted to offer her words of comfort but she feared that it was not her place to do so. Mara chewed her lip and grabbed her shoes from the water’s edge before she walked the short way back to the palace. She had her heart set on a good book, maybe a beautifully tragic tale about a man who loved his brother’s wife or a tale about star-crossed lovers who die in each other’s arms, those were always her favourite.

Servants and lords and ladies alike gave her strange looks as she made her way down the cool castle corridors, it was very unusual for Mara to be without the princess. Finally, after many stares and whispers she reached the carved wooden door of the library and pushed it open, dead set on sitting at her favourite window seat by the large open window that overlooked the rose gardens. The only problem was that there was someone already sitting in it.

A very handsome someone sat on the window seat that she preferred, he had inky black hair and pale blue eyes that looked like they contained the stars. Mara had missed him but she couldn’t. He was intended for her mistress. He hadn’t seen her yet so she backed out of the room and she was almost away until she heard his soft voice call her name, almost as if it was a spell to bring her back to him.

“Mara?” he started, blood rushing to his pale cheeks, “I need to talk to you, please?” he pleaded as Mara chewed her lip and looked away from his entrancing eyes.

“Loki, I-I can’t,” she whispered, “and besides you need to speak to your future wife rather than me,” she didn’t mean for her voice to sound as bitter as it did.

“I don’t want to,” he scoffed like a child and made a face, “I don’t want to marry her, she’s very beautiful but she’s cold.”

“Cold?” Mara let out a snort of derision, “she’s the warmest person that I know, she’s like the human embodiment of the spring itself.”

Loki sighed, pushing loose tendrils of hair back off his forehead, “I don’t really want to talk about Astrid right now, I’ve got so many questions,” he continued when Mara nodded at him, though she had a good idea of what he was going to ask, “why did you leave without saying goodbye? When we met you had wings, what happened to your lovely wings? What happened to you?” he said all of this very quickly and Mara could see that he was getting visibly upset. Mara sighed as she approached him, wondering how she was going to start.

“You can’t tell anyone, not even your brother, promise me?” when she had sworn him to secrecy she lapsed into her story, “some hunters invaded our grove and threatened my family. I lost control of my magic and killed them. Fairies aren’t supposed to kill people, it’s against our laws. The high council exiled me, stripping me of my wings and my powers, confining me to a mortal body. I had no choice but to leave, don’t you understand?”

Loki’s face was impassive, Mara couldn’t tell if he thought that she was a monster for killing people, “I would have helped you,” he muttered before shaking his head, “is there any way that you can get your powers and wings back? I want to help.

Mara looked away from him, he was incredibly sweet for offering but he didn’t know the cost, he’d never agree to help, “I need a soul of a princess or a queen. That’s why I’m here, I hate myself for it but my family means more to me than Astrid does.”

“You have to kill her?” Loki asked, at odds and Mara nodded solemnly, “I’ll help, I’m in the perfect position to help,” when Mara opened mouth to retort she was silenced by what he said next, “I don’t want her to die, truly but Mara, I love you and love makes you do crazy things sometimes. I want to help, please let me.”

“What are you reading?” she nodded at the book he was holding, quickly changing the subject; she didn’t know quite how to respond to Loki’s confession. He smiled and turned the leather bound book over, smoothing his hand over the cover.

“It’s about pirates,” he started, “off to find an island full of treasure,” Mara had read that book before, it was a dark tale full of mutiny, betrayal and most important of all, treasure. She had really quite liked it.

Loki must have seen the longing look on her face for he gestured her over, “would you like to come and join me love?”

Mara worried at her lip with her teeth, she wanted nothing more but she was worried, “what if somebody comes in and sees us? It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“No one ever comes in here at this time,” he paused, “and the book is at a really good part but I understand,” he smirked making Mara giggle.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes playfully and walked over to him, there wasn’t enough space on the window seat for them to sit side by side so Loki pulled her snug against his chest, and she felt very safe as he softly started to read to her.

She turned her head to look at his beautiful face, he grinned devishly at her before he caught her lips with his in the softest kiss. She kissed him back; it felt so good to kiss him after so many years. At the back of her mind she knew what she was doing was wrong but that’s what made it all the more exciting.

——————————————————————–

Astrid smiled at Mara through the mirror as Mara combed through her soft curls, causing them to spring up and bounce. Astrid noticed that Mara wouldn’t meet her eyes and she wanted to know why.

“Mara?” she asked, the girl made a sound of acknowledgement as she started to intricately style Astrid’s hair – perhaps too intricately for a mere lunch with her mother – “Mara look at me.”

When the handmaiden looked at her she was a bit shocked to say the least, there was guilt in her eyes, and it was something that Astrid had never seen before.

“What’s the matter? Are you alright?” Astrid was worried about her; she’d been very quiet for the past couple of days.”

I’m fine my lady, thank you so much for asking,” she said, turning away and gesturing at a gorgeous silk dress that was laid out on her bed, “this would look gorgeous on you my lady, it would compliment your crown beautifully.” Astrid frowned, she never had the fanciest silks to eat with her mother and she never wore her crown.

“Mara, what’s going on? I never wear things like this to merely eat with my mother,” she asked and Mara shot her a sad look.

“I’m so sorry; I’ll leave you so you can dress.”

Confused and slightly wary, Astrid began to dress herself in the fine silks and she adorned her hair with a beautiful crown that sparkled rainbow in the sunlight. When she was ready she called Mara back in so she could accompany Astrid, but instead of turning left into the main dining room Mara carried on walking straight towards the Royal Courtyard.

The Royal Courtyard was a place of magic and beauty, flowers and ivy grew on the balcony that overlooked the mountains and the lake. The courtyard was only used for special guests. Astrid soon saw with great distress that the guests seated at the table with her mother were Erik and a pretty girl that could only be his betrothed though Astrid had thought that she was coming to court after she married Erik. Loki was also there.

“You’re late,” the Queen frowned as she gestured to the empty seat by Loki and reluctantly, with much glaring at her mother, Astrid sank into the seat.

“My apologies,” she spoke with a harsh and bitter voice. The Queen paid no heed to her daughter’s tone; instead she introduced the girl that was sitting at Erik’s side.

“This is Arna; she’s decided to come to court a little earlier than planned.”

Astrid forced a smile and nodded at her, “it’s nice to meet you Astrid, I hope that we’ll become fast friends,” she beamed. Astrid said nothing but she looked over at Erik who was keeping his eyes fixed on his plate.

All the way through lunch the queen made small talk until she directed a question at her daughter, “how are you two getting on?” she gestured between Astrid and Loki with her knife.

Astrid stared sullenly into her soup, “I don’t want to marry him,” she spoke as if Loki wasn’t there, “I’d much rather marry Thor,” Thor was the nicer brother.

Loki snorted with derision and gave her a nasty look, “my father would never consent to marry his golden boy to you. No offense intended Your Grace,” he bowed his head at the queen, “as it happens, I don’t want to marry you either.

Astrid opened her mouth to angrily reply but she was silenced by her mother’s angry words, “that’s enough! Both of you! You’re going to be married one day, you need to start getting along with each other, and you will be attending Erik and Arna’s wedding together and later on the Harvest masquerade ball.”

Astrid glared at Loki, then her mother, spitefully wondering what she’d done to deserve this.

-----------------

@theonelittleone @void-imaginations

#loki #loki fluff #loki angst #loki imagine #loki fic #loki series #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki au #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #au #marvel au #marvel fluff #marvel angst #marvel fic #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #angst #fluff #imagine #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #thor #thor odinson #slow burn romance

[kalinara]

Rip Week #1  The Many Faces of Rip

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything positive about Legends of Tomorrow.  However, it’s Rip Hunter Appreciation Week, which is a time meant for positivity!   At one point this show, and this character, had me blogging meta on a daily basis for almost two and a half years and introduced me to some great people! And I will always be grateful for that.

So the topic for Day 1 of Rip Hunter Appreciation Week: The Many Faces of Rip Hunter.

One thing that still fascinates me about Rip as a character is that, even though he’d only been a central character on the show for 1.5 seasons, we’ve gotten to see so many different sides of the character.  He’s been deconstructed so thoroughly and so fascinatingly, allowing us to really appreciate what makes the character tick.

Let’s start with Rip himself, the baseline number.  The guy who kidnapped a bunch of assholes, brought them to the roof of a tall building (and I still wonder how the stringy little bastard actually managed that) and gave them a sales pitch of a lifetime.

From the opening scene of the pilot, to Rip’s almost goodbye into the sun in Legendary, season one was first and foremost the story of a man broken by grief and betrayal, who slowly, and reluctantly found a reason to go on, and people to share it with.  Rip spent season one a raw, open wound, ugly in his pain and rage.  He tried very hard not to stay focused on his goal. He tried very hard not to care about his team.

He failed pretty much on day one, when he saved Martin Stein’s marriage.  He failed again not too long after that when he abandoned the closest thing he had to a working plan to get Carter’s body back for Kendra.  And he kept failing over and over again.

And they saved him.  They challenged him.  They forced him to look outside of his single-focused obsession and look at the people that they could save around them.  They forced him to take a long hard look at what he was doing when he started to go too far.  And he very clearly and very obviously loved them for it.

I still can’t believe that fandom still tries to claim that Rip didn’t care about his team, when we saw how broken he was after each major loss: Carter, Leonard, even Jax (almost).  That’s not a man who is unfeeling.

We saw Rip as a child: a tiny savage creature who, even when warm and fed, was still ready to stab the nearest adult who threatened him.  It gave a new, fascinating insight to the tension Rip had with both Leonard Snart and Mick Rory.  As well as possibly another reason that he’d bonded with Sara so strongly.  Rip is someone who understands what it means to become a monster in order to survive, and what it means to have to live with that afterward.  It likely does make it difficult when face to face with people who represented the worst of that time (and that’s not even touching on how child Rip probably met a number of people who looked and acted similar to our lovable Rogues, and it likely would not have ended well.)

We’ve never really seen the man Rip was before he was broken.  Except perhaps for a giddy romantic moment with Miranda and that horrible humiliation when they were caught.  We’ve heard a bit more: from that pirate in Marooned, from Magister Druce and Jonah Hex.   We can draw inferences: a man who was capable and skilled (though perhaps not as skilled as his wife :-)), who never the less was a rulebreaker at heart.  Someone who fell in love with the idea of heroism to the point where he almost left the Time Masters entirely.  Someone who, while loyal, wasn’t quite willing to trust his masters with the tool to unmake reality.  But at the same time, someone whose fundamental trust in INDIVIDUALS like Mary Xavier and Magister Druce, survived even when his world fell apart.

At the end of season 1, we got a Rip Hunter who was ready to finally move past his grief, and it will forever be something of a disappointment to me that the series decided to give us a time jump instead of actually showing us Rip learning to be part of a real team.

But season 2 did give us a truly fascinating deconstruction of Rip Hunter as an individual.

One very common plot in almost every superhero’s story is the depowerment story arc.  Who is our hero when he doesn’t have what makes him a hero?  It’s most common for men like Superman of course, but we even get it for folks like Batman or Green Arrow.  What are these men without their money, or their physicality?

What is Rip Hunter without his knowledge, his memories, or his time machine?

Well, we saw him.  And he was adorable!  Phil Gasmer was a hilarious story beat, but unlike maybe certain other storyline elements that we see in later seasons, there was also a point to Phil Gasmer.  Phil Gasmer showed us the kind of man that Rip Hunter is deep down.

He’s creative.  He’s clever.  He’s determined.  He’s a little whiny.  And definitely high.  Rip is a man who would benefit from a little unofficial pharmaceutical help.  He’s a man who, when the world suddenly goes sideways, will first attempt to protect his friend.  He’s a man who, when face to face with a stranger with scary abilities, will try to hit him with a script.  He’s a man who loves his team so much that even when he has no conscious recollection of them, he made them the basis of his movie.  And he’s a man who walked out to face the Legion to save a bunch of strangers who kidnapped him, because it was the right thing to do.

I’d like to think in another universe, Phil didn’t get kidnapped by Eobard Thawne there, but instead made it back on the ship, where the crew actually got the chance to get to know Rip without all the baggage.  I think they’d have gotten along.

And then there’s evil Rip.

“Teammate goes evil” storylines are a dime a dozen, in superhero lore, but there’s a reason for that.  When done well, they can be amazing.  And ultimately, I think the evil Rip storyline was done very well.

One of the things that I always liked about the evil Rip storyline is how it utterly destroyed that pervasive (and wrong!) fan idea that Rip never cared about his team.  Because they showed us a Rip who didn’t care about his team, and he was a fucking scary son of a bitch.

He also showed us how Rip’s best worst enemy was always going to be himself.  Because holy shit, Rip is competent when he’s not tripping himself up.  Turncoat was terrifying in all the best ways, and even that opening of Land of the Lost was amazing.  It’s still very amusing to me that the most effective member of the Legion of Doom was the one Eobard brainwashed into it.

One thing I always found fascinating about evil Rip is that, for all that he lacks Rip’s compassion, empathy and love, he didn’t go the usual scenery chewing sadist route.  He’s a monster, of course.  He was perfectly happy to murder Sara, to carve the spear piece out of McNider, and brainwash the entire knights of Camelot.  But it was always a measured sort of evil.

Evil Rip had a goal, and evil Rip pursued his goal.  And if he could get what he wanted in a relatively non-disruptive and non-violent way, he was willing to try it.  He had no interest in terrorizing the Waverider crew once he had the spear piece from them, even when he saw that Sara had survived her murder.  He tried to trick McNider, only resorting to violence when McNider saw through it.  When he had control of the knights, he just had them stand there, much to Darhk’s boredom, rather than playacting some farce for his amusement as some of the others might have done.

Evil Rip was our chance to appreciate how truly formidable Rip could actually be, and also appreciate those qualities that kept him from turning into that monster again.

My biggest disappointment in this story arc was how little we got to see Rip interact with the other members of the Legion.  His interactions with Eobard and Darhk, in what little we had, were very entertaining.  But we never saw him interact with Malcolm at all (I admit to being intrigued by this, because I thought Malcolm had actually had the most interesting dynamic with Phil in Legion of Doom), and we never saw Eobard react to his capture.  Missed opportunities or food for fanfic?

I don’t know if Doomworld Rip really counts, but I have to admit that, compared to some of Rip’s other coping mechanisms, baking cakes to deal with a year of solitary confinement (Gideon sort of counts, but she’s just a voice at this point), is pretty good for him.  I hope he actually got a chance to eat them.

The idea behind Rip at the Time Bureau really was a good one.  The idea that Rip would have created this organization, but specifically designed it to be the antithesis of the Time Masters: open, transparent, and accountable, is a good one.  But unfortunately, season 3 never really explored that to the extent I would have liked.  

It’s hard to imagine the Rip who recruited Sara before she could die with her sister to Damien Darhk would be okay with leaving Zari in a prison without a very good reason.  But we never got that reason.  Of course, maybe he wasn’t.  He wasn’t in that episode.  We know from Ava that he didn’t want her chasing the Legends, and wanted them given “lenience”.  But if he’s not on board with that, how much of the Time Bureau is actually under his control?

Considering that Return of the Mack told us that Rip allowing Darhk to be resurrected in order to confront him with agents was a “sanctioned” plan (that Rip still ends up in prison for, because Rip is just that good with people), that implies a certain level of oversight.  His and Bennett’s dynamic seemed just shy of outright antagonistic.  And certainly Rip seemed a lot more blase about seeing Bennett meet a grisly end than seems warranted.  This is a man who dismantled the team after Leonard Snart died.

I mean, trying to work out coherent characterization for ANYONE in season 3 is a bit of a problem, but I feel like if the Time Bureau had gotten the same level of focus that it gets much later, perhaps some of these things could actually work.  If, for example, there are multiple factions within the Bureau with their own ideas on what the Bureau is supposed to do, (perhaps tied with the oversight that Rip specifically put in place, because there’s nothing more Rip Hunter than getting hoisted up by his own petard), then a lot of the more confused behavior by the organization could make more sense.

In the end though, Rip is still a secretive, scheming bastard who cares very deeply for his team, and I wouldn't give up that wonderful, almost baggage free friendship with Wally for anything. So it does have its good points.

Ultimately, I think that all of these facets make Rip one of the most well-developed and defined characters in the CW-verse, even when compared with others who have had years and years of screentime.  It’s fun to poke around and explore all of these layers and see how they fit.  And it definitely is food for some great fanfic.  I’m told some other Rip fans will be writing some great fic for #RipWeek.  You should go check them out!

#rip hunter #legends of tomorrow #RipWeek #Rip Hunter Appreciation Week