#maybe a gruesome death is absolute shit but a little better if it's in your native land?

[lorethebookworm]

Constantly burdened by the knowledge that Odysseus didn't have to kill Astyanax. Had him just brought him along for the journey back to Ithaca like he proposed in "the horse and the infant", the child would have 100% died anyway. Probably either drowned or starved, but at least an effort to keep him alive would have been made and Odysseus wouldn't have had to hurl that poor little boy down from the city walls.

#also the gods kida suck #zeus makes it a point to tell him that there is not other possivle solution and the boy *has* to be killed right there and there #but it makes no sense #he would have died anyway on the journey #why did they want Odysseus to commit such a crime? #or am I wrong #and for the child to die in the land of his ancestors and his family was actually a small favor to him? #maybe a gruesome death is absolute shit but a little better if it's in your native land? #mythology man #it's something alright #epic #epic the musical #odyssey #odysseus #Troy #the horse and the infant #warrior of the mind #zeus #troy saga #just a man #jorge rivera herrans

[witchymadness]

ONE BED TROPE

(w/ Gwendoline Christie's Characters)

(A/N): literally wrote this for myself bcs I just can't with how hot and sweet this woman is, but I thought you guys might enjoy too! 🥹 literally Stan Gwen for a better life. Did not proof read, pls enjoy.

(also fls this image makes me just want to sin, mame)

Brienne of Tarth

-You're a princess and she's a knight.

-Classic trope.

-You were on a journey and your father, the king, sent his mightiest guard with you in your quest, whatever it may be.

-All that good shit.

-So, one day in your seemingly endless travels with Brienne, you were bound to encounter the following scenario:

-"I profusely apologize, m'lady, but there seems to be only one more room available in the inn. And it only has one bed."

-I mean, it wasn't like you had the hugest fucking crush on this gorgeous-ass fucking woman next to you--

-Right???

-FUCKING WRONG!

-So you arrive at the room and the bed was quite spacious, seemingly a bed for... Couples.

-But your internal screaming was ceased when your amazing (mountain) of a knight offered to sleep on the floor. And of course, you couldn't let her do that!

-NO.

-"Oh, it's absolutely fine, Brienne. I insist."

-"B-but m'lady--"

-'JUST CLIMB IN THE FUCKING BED ALREADY SO I CAN CLIMB YOU, DAMN IT!'

-"It's fine, Brienne. I could use the company."

-*insert internal dying pt. 2*

-You trying not to stare while she takes off her armor was a successful, yet gruesome process.

-Facing away from her in bed because you might just freeze to death if you accidentally met her icy-blue eyes.

-"(Y/N). I understand that you are not comfortable with our predicament. Cease the civilities and let me sleep on the floor, please."

- >:0

-'HOW DARE YOU IMPLY THAT I, FOR ONE SECOND IN MY LIFE, NEVER WANT TO BE NEXT TO YOU?!'

-"Brienne, I-- listen, it's not you that I am uncomfortable with. Well... It is you. But--"

-She let out a quiet sigh as she had started to stand, but you, frustrated and quite tired of the bullshit, grabbed her arm and caused you two to come face to face.

-This slightly took her a back, but she kept her usual composure, propping you up as you still held on tightly on to her arm.

-"Lady (L/N), what on earth are you doing?"

-"I'm not letting you leave. By god, you are as slow as you are gorgeous."

-"I don't understand, m'lady."

-"Brienne, I do wish for your company. Not just this evening, but the evenings ever since I've met you and the evenings in the many moons to come."

-*exe.brienne has stopped working*

-"I understand that I may have been a little too aggressive. But my offer still stands the same. You can have the bed. It's the least I could do for the bravest knight of Tarth."

-"(Y/N)... Are you true?"

-"With every word that I have given you. By the old gods and the new, Brienne. I mean it."

-You saw the spark in her eyes, a spark of hope and maybe... Love? So, you continued.

-"I meant every compliment I have given you, every thanks, every laugh and each of those chaste kisses on your cheek when I tend to your wounds that I wish could be longer. They're all true. I mean it when I say that my bed shall always be yours. And I'll mean it everytime that I tell you how much I love you, my Brienne."

-"I love you too, (Y/N). I always have. I'll always be by your side. I shall protect you and offer my life to you, my (Y/N). Know that in my dying breath, the memories of your smile shall put me into the deep slumber with joy."

-You cried because, whew! Did you guys just get married?

-"Let us sleep then. As I await every tomorrow that I'll spend with you."

-Move over, Will Shaxbeard!

-You woke up with Brienne holding you close and you the same. You knew instantly that that is how you wanted to spend the rest of your eternity.

Lucifer Morningstar

-Little less pure than Brienne.

-So, Lucifer abandoned their post, went down to earth and met you.

-You we're a psychic.

-Supposedly.

-Well, kind of.

-It didn't matter, because Lucifer seemed to think so, so they dragged you along to fulfill their great escape of their father's plan.

-You really did not believe them, but hey, they've got money.

-You we're visiting a demon in Las Vegas.

-Suffice to say that you've seen quite the shit that day and just wanted to get some rest. And probably a beer or two before travelling of to the dreaming.

-Lucifer didn't really like sleeping, and they usually just... Do things while you're asleep.

-They're a very busy person.

-In your slumber, you'd sometimes awaken to the Morningstar cursing under their breath, contemplating their life.

-It was a strange ass mid-life crisis.

-Besides being the Devil, you had to say that they were quite charming. Polite, infact.

-They never bothered you unless they needed to.

-No one ever saw them in their raw form of vulnerability, except you.

-Or atleast, no one ever survived to tell the tale.

-Well, that night in Vegas, you've drank MORE than a beer or two.

-Lucifer said that alcohol never really worked on them. It's a celestial being thing, you wouldn't get it.

-"Well why don't you just get some rest then, angel?"

-That nickname irritated them to no extent.

-"I told you (Y/N), I don't sleep."

-"Like... You can't? Or you just don't wanna?"

-"I--"

-*annoyed Lucy activated*

-Usually, you'd back off. But in this case, you had no control and you were face to face with the Devil, for Christ's sake. Of course you were curious.

-"You...?"

-They looked at you incredulously.

-"(Y/N), just go to bed, angel."

-They did not just say that.

-You burst out laughing. Does the devil have blood? No. Can you see clearly? Absolutely not. But are they absolutely blushing like a tomato? Yes.

-They marched to the side of your bed, demanding you to shut the fuck up but to no avail.

-Going as far as to straddle you and attempted to choke you, out of their childish frustration.

-Part of them knew they couldn't kill you as you were still an evident part of the prophecy.

-But, God they wanted you to shut up so bad.

-It's an itch that grew unbearably annoying to them, to listen to you laugh. And now, especially, that you were laughing at their misfortune.

-"(Y/N), SILENCE!"

-When you realized the position that the two of you were in, you suddenly quieted down.

-Samael was the most beautiful angel in the heavens, and still retained their features even after their fall from grace.

-As the dim yellow light shone a faux halo above them, it was bitter irony.

-Your angel.

-You pulled Lucifer down next to you, then almost successfully straddling them in the same manner they did.

-"You look so beautiful, my angel."

-You couldn't remember what happened next but when you woke up, you were on top of Lucifer, head resting on their chest.

-They were wearing their own silk pajamas and you found it adorable.

-"Good morning, my angel."

-They decided that they liked that nickname better.

Larrisa Weems

-You were a fellow teacher.

-Well, you liked thinking that you were.

-You were just an intern, or as most people like calling you, Ms. Weems' assistance.

-It didn't really bother you as much.

-It meant that you got to spend more time with the Head Mistress, who to be completely honest, you were absolutely smitten with.

-You slept in your own chambers, of course.

-But one day, something completely unfortunate happened.

-A fur just happened to burst into your room while they were morphed, through the windows.

-You were sleeping at the time, but luckily, you only had a few cuts from the window shards, thanks to your duvet.

-Larissa, being the headmaster, had to take care of the whole debacle.

-She dragged you inside her chambers and started patching up your arms and the few stray cuts littered across your face.

-Larissa did look sorta pissed, while doing so.

-"Ms. Weems, I understand that I'm intruding. I can stay with Mr. Ramirez tonight and I can patch myself up, if it's troubling you."

-You offered, as Mr. Ramirez, or Gary, as you knew him, was a friend of yours before getting into the academy. And before Principal Weems, it was him who you spent most of your time with.

-"Wouldn't Gary be fast asleep by now, (Y/N)? Although, it is you. I doubt he would refuse his own girlfriend, no?"

-Girlfriend?

-"Oh, am I imposing? Forgive me. I just see the both of you lovebirds hanging around, couldn't help but notice." she hummed.

-"Ms. Weems--"

-"Larissa, please, darling."

-Ignoring the butterflies dancing in your stomach, you responded.

-"Yes, Larissa. Gary and I are just friends."

-"Oh..."

-Her expression was unreadable, and so was her tone.

-"I suppose you haven't set your eyes on any of our staff, then?"

-"Actually, I have..."

-You let out a small wince as Larissa pressed the cotton ball a little too roughly on a wound.

-"Sorry, sorry."

-Soon after she was finished bandaging up your cuts, she offered to walk you to Gary's room.

-But then you heard loud snoring and after a few more countless attempts to call the man, you gave up.

-"(Y/N), this is getting a tad ridiculous. I wouldn't mind you spending a night in my chambers instead."

-Ignoring the underlying meaning that the statement had, and you wished she meant, you agreed.

-The walk back to her chambers was a quiet one.

-"Thank you, M-- Larissa. Goodnight."

-Without thinking, you placed a soft kiss to her cheek.

-Larissa was left dumbfounded, while sleepiness visited you as soon as your head found the pillow.

-"Goodnight then, (Y/N)."

-She reminded herself to ask you in the morning on who was the staff member you liked.

-Waking up was a surprise, as you found that Larissa's hand had snaked it's way to your waist, while you had your hand on top of hers, keeping in in place.

-That's how Enid pays her 'Thing' Massages.

#gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #larissa weems x reader #lucifer moringstar #larissa weems #brienne of tarth

[sheeluvsme]

John Soap mactavish headcannons !

LETTS GET READY TO RUMBLEEE!! Hi everyone! I saw how everyone really liked my last post about price and Valeria !!! So i figured I’ll do our boy soap next :))!! Who should I write about next? I was thinking könig…lmk!!

CW// This is SFW and NSFW!! there will be female anatomy used Lightly, also NOT proof read LMAOO , ANGST! ( warning nurse! Reader, brief death) semi public stuff? Just let me know if I missed anything!!

When you first met soap , you really thought he was WEIRD AS SHIT

He like completely puzzled you with his jokes 😭

You two met at a pub!! He had claimed to think your face was familiar and you told him you worked for army medical. You were a army nurse ! That’s when it clicked in his tiny little brain, because lord knows he’s been to medical lotssss of times.

The first thing that pulled him in was your laugh. When you finally started laughing at his stupid jokes he couldn’t help but smile like a teen boy.

Soap is also good to you! He i a sweetheart and lovessss taking you wherever you want to go, he mostly likes going shopping with your for two very important reasons 1. To make sure no one fucks with you 2. So he can get his favorite candy.

He actually likes watching you shop and be in your own little world! He thinks it’s cute because when he’s focused he does the same thing.

He knows you have anxiety about alottttt of things and he is right there for you! He knows public places scare you because of germs and also just some many loud people

He finds it funny your so loud and assistive at your place of work but as soon as you hit the public you turn into a shy little thing and he adores it!

Especially when you don’t want to bother people, your sitting there with your cart … waiting for this one person to move… and he’s like “ what you waitin’ for lass?” And you jester to the person in-front of you. He can’t help but smile and shake his head at you “ excuse meh’ ! We gotta get by you” he louder then he should of announced 😭

Soap always says the most random funny shit to you, he knows you have quite a gruesome sad job sometimes , so coming back home with him and his humor really helps!!

One day you absolutely came home in tears , you were shattered, your heart felt so so sore. He couldn’t help but immediately sore to you hold you. “ aye aye ..sweetheart what’s wrong-?! Did someone hurt you? Is it your boss again because I swea-“ you just shake your head no. You quietly explain to him through your tears a kid died on you. There was nothing you could really do but make them comfortable but you couldn’t help but feel sorrow. Because you definitely wanted kids with soap. So this scared you. He just holds you so tightly stroking your hair. “ it’s ok sweetheart. You did your absolute best. It’s ok..”

He always know how to exactly get you feeling better. Even if your sick ! You yell at him to stay away from you because you’re sick and have gross germs!! But he literally couldn’t care he picks you up anyways kissing you and hugging you!

He wasn’t very educated on periods at first but you definitely taught him , maybe a little too graphic because after he hugged you and told you how lucky he is to have a dick LMAOO

On your period he like genuinely calls it ‘ Shark week! ‘

He’s the type to say , when you ask him to grab you pads and says ‘ what size pussy you got ‘ PLSPSLLSL

You catch this man listening to the lady Gaga or Katie Perry 100% AND YOU KNOW WHAT HE LITERALLY HAS NO SHAME

He thinks your just the prettiest thing wearing his shirts !! Makes him secretly go nuts

He admires you a lot , the way you have to be up at ASS O’CLOCK in the morning for work and you still make him lunch or morning coffee???? He wants to be YOU when he grows up LMAOO

NSFW

He also like price has a primal urge to make you his baby momma LMAOO

He loves telling you that during sex “ yeah? Like that? You like when I’m deep inside you hm? Gonna’ getcha’ fucking pregnant with my kid.”

He is a MAJOR bitter

He loves biting you everywhere and leaving his marks on you. It’s his favorite thing getting up after you watching you slip on your scrubs and try and cover your neck bites with makeup. He can’t help but cheekily smile

He is also a MAJOR pussy eater , loveessss eating you like a starved man , especially overstimulation.

He will eat you over and over and over till your literally sobbing and saying you can’t anymore ( he of course respects your request)

He is BIGGGG on in public stuff ‼️‼️

Like if your out for a nice dinner you can’t help but send a glare his way as his hand creeps up your thigh. “ what do you think your doing?” You playfully smack his hand away. “ what dose it look like I’m doing hm?” He whispers. “ it looks like your focused on the wrong food.” You keep yourself together as you sip your wine. “ I’m a man who likes his dessert before his dinner what can I say?” You choke on your wine.

DONT even get me started when your out clubbing together going to a pub with a few of 141 to have a good time , you yourself are having too much of a good time. Your buzzed , warm , and feeling damn good, your make up worked out perfectly and your clothes fit you JUST right.

Soap leaves his eyes off you for one minute and he sees gaz and price chuckling as they point to you , clearly having the time of your life in the crowded dance floor , soap is chuckling too until he notices a guy gawking you and obviously too close for his comfort. Your oblivious to what’s happening honestly there’s so many people smooshed together, your too focused on dancing.

He quickly sets down his drink squeezing through people, quickly apologizing. He grabs your waist quickly pulling you close before looking back at the guy that was very close to touching what’s his. Soap quickly says “ step off. She’s with me.” You quickly turn around to see your beautiful boyfriend and smile “ Johnny!! I was wondering when you’d come out here and show off your sweet dance moves!” Obviously teasing him. Because his ass can not dance 😭

Soap hears you and smiles but he’s quietly brewing. Suddenly he’s dragging you to the clubs bathroom. Thank god it’s a single use. “ wha- cmon was my dancing that embarrassing?” You tease him wondering what the hell is happening. “ no love. Not that. Just..” her huffs grabbing you pulling you close. “ people keep ogling’ whats mine. I don’t take very kindly to it.” Your cheeks heat up. You’ve never seen him like this but your not complaining. You didn’t even notice people looking at you. “ well I promise I’m all yours Johnny..” he quickly sticks his lips to yours. Hungrily kissing you , licking into you. “ soap- every one else is gonna-“ he quickly cuts you off. “ let them. I’m having you right now whether they like it or not.”

Soap seems more dominant but he is half and half sometimes he just needs to be your good boy ‼️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️

He absolutely LOVESSSSS when you top him or sit on his face. If he’s tired but still really wants you THATS when he turns into putty in your hands.

He fucking loves when you pull on his Mohawk ‼️ he can’t help but whimper and god damn is so beautiful.

BIG ON PRAISE let that poor boy know he’s doing good!!! Degrading him just makes him feel competitive, then the tables will turn..

He loves begging you to let him cum in you , “ please- please let me cum in you. Fucking hell!- haa- please please. I want you to feel good-“ of course with him you obviously CANT say no!!

He’s also pretty good with after care, he likes taking baths with you because soap does enjoy a good bubble bath!!

Next morning you wake up late because it’s your day off, he’s gone for work already but you smell something? You walk into the kitchen and he made you breakfast and coffee with a small note. “ gotta take care of my girl after she takes care of me , I love ya ! -your secret admirer” and ofc he spells like half of that wrong but its ok because you do indeed love your boyfriend!

Thank you for reading!!! Hope you enjoyed <33

#soap smut #cod mw soap #cod fanart #valeria codmw2 #cod modern warfare #headcannons #cod headcanons #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost simon riley #soap cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #writing #headcanon #writers on tumblr #sheeluvsmee #Spotify

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Falling - Prologue

A story I had in my WIP for the last few months and in my head since seeing the Old Guard.

This prologue happens in the aftermath of his exclusion of the group.

Booker x Female Reader!with a sister

Warnings: Throughout the story mention of depressive behaviour, endangerment of others and one self, two sisters relationship, smut at some point but it will be signalled, loneliness and angst at first and during, speaking in French because I CAN.

I will publish the prologue this week and then a chapter a week ;).

Day 7

It had been a week since his friends left him. Since he said goodbye to Andy.

“Have a little faith”

Booker could still hear her voice in his nightmares, waking up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night. After the hotel room, he had found a small flat not too far from the Globe. Joe and Nicky used to tell him stories about Shakespeare he ate up as a child would candy. He had not been around for that, but he sure loved to hear the grotesque anecdotes they had about the poet. Sitting up in his bed, the few lights streams through the windows, illuminating spots in the room. Pieces of the worn carpet, the oak dresser in front of the bed, and the scar on his right calf.

For the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he had that scar in the first place. It was before the war. Maybe when he had his first son. Or his second. All he can recall is the grief. The unwavering grief accompanying those memories. Even though he smiled thinking about the first time he taught them about talking to a woman, or the time they all were so happy when pretending they were soldiers in the war.

He never had dared to tell them that it was gruesome. He wanted to protect them from that prospect. His wife always saw through him. A young woman turned bitter after years of loneliness. She had seen him take post after post away from home, barely hugging his children before leaving. She had resented him for it, relentlessly, refusing him their bed when he knew she was giving herself away to others. He had tried to take her by force but was stopped by her tears, her cries, her kicks. He would feel the pain deep in his guts, the guilt. He would then be brought back to his own childhood home, his father forcing himself on his mother and the look of utter desperation on her face, absolute loss of control. And in his soft new childish mind would forge the promise never to do that to his wife. He ran a hand over his face and pulled the cover off, going into the adjacent kitchen for a coffee. It tasted like shit. Nicky’s was better. He had learned the technique from an actual coffee merchant in the 1750s. Or some date along these lines.

The window in the living room is translucent. The day is still young. He can hear the mother next door leaving her flat, peppering her daughter in kisses making the kid giggle and then just outright asking her to stop in what he assumed was an attempt at an adult voice. He waits until their feet can no longer be heard before going to take a shower.

He stays there an hour, not knowing what to do with himself in the meantime.

He falls asleep on the couch and sees the clock turning from 8 to 11 in no time.

He wonders if he should let himself die of hunger this time. Hunger is a death he has not tasted before, maybe it could be more merciful than the others. You slowly lose your lifeforce, drained out of you by your own body pumping blood and nutrients until there’s nothing left. You stop breathing. Almost like falling asleep.

He dresses up and leaves for the grocery store.

Hunger isn’t on the menu for today.

Day 14

The kid’s name is Ophelia. Funny name. He overheard her mother call her that. Maybe sibling? She seemed a little bit too young to have a kid that age.

The tragic name though.

He tries to keep himself sane by going on walks. He tries new recipes. He tries and tries and tries not to let himself lose control over this reality he has to face every day. The loneliness. It was killing him before. It is excruciatingly ripping his heart out now.

He receives papers. Newspapers and administrative papers. He wished letters were still a thing. He misses writing letters to people. More personal than texts or emails.

He feels like an old man. He is an old man. His bones don’t ache right, his back doesn’t give out as it should, and his knuckles bruise so easily but heal so perfectly. He wishes old age would come to take him in his sleep like a long-lost lover.

But it doesn’t. It can’t.

And it’s killing him more than anything ever has in his entire existence.

#the old guard fanfiction #booker x reader #booker x female reader #sebastien le livre x reader #sebastien le livre x female reader #the old guard #tw: depression

[memento-morri-writes]

Could you share a little about the WIP titled COW writing?

Also, happy Tunes Tuesday! Do you keep playlists based on your OCs or WIPs? Want to share some of your favorite songs from them (and maybe the reason why they fit)?

Hello! Thanks for the ask!

I talked quite a bit about the COW writing in another ask, which you can find HERE. (it's the second half of the ask.) Major TW for injury and death, specifically also child death. Also, gun violence and police negligence. So, please, please, please skip it if any of that is triggering to you. (Why I wrote something with all that dark shit in it for an 11th grade assignment, I have no idea. But also, I wrote a story about a human being experimented on by aliens and dying a gruesome death in 7th grade, and thoroughly enjoyed watching people get eaten during Jurassic Park at age 7, so... *shrugs*)

But back to your questions: PLAYLISTS!! Yes, I absolutely have playlists for both Kristopher and Fallon from ATQH, as well as one for their relationship, and yes, of course I will share songs from them!!

Playlist rambles under the cut, cause I talk a lot about music.

Kristopher:

Kristopher's playlist is kind of a depressing one, but it's fitting with his past.

don't worry, you will - lovelytheband

This song fits Kristopher to a T. It's the first song on his playlist for a reason, and I call it his theme song. Fallon is falling in love with him, and yet, the entire time, Kristopher is convinced that at any moment she'll laugh in his face and leave him. No matter how much she shows her love for him, he convinces himself that she will find a reason to hate him.

Half A Man - Dean Lewis

For the same reasons as above, basically. Kristopher hates himself, and he's worried that being around him will make things worse for Fallon. The sad thing is that he's not entirely wrong. Anvia and Oryn already have iffy relations, and Fallon marrying an Orynian Prince, especially one with such a bad reputation isn't going to make things better. People in Oryn are thinking "why the hell would she want him? He's useless." and people in Anvia are thinking "we all know what happened last time."

Fallon:

Fallon's playlist is shorter than Kristopher's, because it's a lot easier to find depressing songs about hating yourself, or songs about being in love, than it is to find songs that fit Fallon's strange life.

Ya'aburnee - Halsey

If "don't worry, you will" is Kristopher's theme song, this is Fallon's theme song. The title translates to "[you] bury me" or "be the thing that buries me" in Arabic, and stands for the hope that you die before your loved one(s) (usually partner or child), so you don't have to see them suffer. And if that doesn't scream Fallon, I don't know what to tell you. Fallon already had to life through her mother's death, her father's betrayal, and later Lavinia. She doesn't want to lose more people she cares about, and losing Kristopher (or her eventual child) might just break her completely.

If You Could See Me Now - The Script

Another song that screams Fallon. The whole song is about losing a parent and hoping that they're proud of what you've done since they died. Hoping that they're proud of you as a person. Fallon is Queen not just because it's her duty, but because it's her only connection she has left to her mother. And she's constantly hoping that she doesn't fuck it up, that she's doing stuff her mother and grandmothers can be proud of her for.

Their Relationship:

I'm not gonna link the playlist for this one, cause it needs some major revisions, but maybe some day.

Flaws - Bastille (you knew I had to put one Bastille song on here, right?)

This song is so very much Kristopher and Fallon. The chorus goes "You have always worn you flaws upon your sleeve. And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground." That's them exactly. Kristopher shows his flaws so much, and is reminded of them so often, that they're all people see of him, and sometimes all he sees of himself. Fallon is so desperate to act like she's fine, and everything's fine that she refuses to admit she has flaws or is struggling. Also the lines in the first verse: "Ones we've inherited, ones that we've learned". <333

STAY - The Kid LAROI + Justin Bieber (forgive me, I have sinned)

I'm sorry. So sorry. But almost every single line in this song fits one or both of them. Literally almost every single line. It's just so perfect.

Future Holds - Bastille, BIM

This is them at the end of the story. "Who knows what the future holds. Don't matter if I've got you." They aren't going to have an easy life ahead of them, but they have each other, and hopefully that will be enough.

#aohendo #Morrigan replies #wip: atqh #atqh: Fallon #atqh: Kris #atqh: FxK #important stuff #character playlists #tunesday

[liddolwhynot2000]

Chains: Part 4

____________________________________

Summary: Both times he's watched a woman hold his heart in their grasp, and walk away without it.

____________________________________

Parings: Levi/Reader, Erwin/Reader

Genre: Angst, One Sided Love, regrets, heartbreak, death, I think I should stop being mean to Erwin woops

____________________________________

ChainsPt1 ChainsPt2 ChainsPt3

Drabble#1

____________________________________

Being a leader was never on Erwin's agenda, not when he started out in the military at least. But he accepted that the only way to achieve his goals was to rise to the top, because there was simply no one he could entrust his dreams to.

He's accepted his role as a monster, the villain who gets innocent soldiers killed for his goals. People throw stones at him, hurl slurs at him, and Erwin thinks it's okay. It's fine.

Someone has to play the devil. Someone has to step up and take the heat. Who better then the man who spouts words like fast acting venom, whose one inspirational speech sends their loved ones to their graves in a matter of minutes?

His own actions lit this fire. His determination to discover what's in that basement, his absolute ruthlessness, they all contributed in him sitting where he is right now.

A one armed, pathetic man, who can't even sit up on his own.

The physical exhaustion is taking its toll on him, messing with his mind. Half of him wants to retire, to settle down in peace. The stress of his job has taken its toll on him. Erwin firmly believes that he shouldn't be alive right now, that his punishment was supposed take place inside the stomach of a titan. Its sheer dumb luck that some soldiers, in their devotion to him, rescued him. Otherwise, his corpse would be rotting away outside the walls right now, missed by no one. He isn't dead right now, and he should be grateful.

Except Erwin wishes he was dead right now.

Most soldiers retire after losing a limb the way he has, but Erwin can't bring himself to take the easy way out. He wants it to be difficult for him- especially since all he's done is get others killed. Some sort of deity-God or whatever is out there, is the reason he's still alive. Was it a sign he should move forward? Or a sign that he should stop and rest? Maybe it was punishment for his lack of humanity. Erwin doesn't know and frankly, he doesn't want to know. Not when it has the potential to jeapordise the mission that gives him the will to breathe.

He comforts himself, reminding himself of his goals. He has to prove that his father was right about the outside world. His entire purpose for living all these years, for pushing and exhausting his soldiers, has to come to fruition. Their efforts couldn't be in vain, their deaths wouldn't meaningless. Erwin is alive to achieve this. His time in hell is waiting for him, but not yet.

Not until he reaches the finish line.

His resolve is a little strengthened, so Erwin allows himself to settle into the pillows. He welcomes the darkness as he closes his eyes, determined to get some rest. He convinces himself to stop wishing for his own death, and allows sleep to finally overcome him.

He also pretends that every fibre of his being isn't screaming for you to be here, sitting besides him, holding his hand.

____________________________________

It's painful, watching you and Levi go around each other in circles. He remembers feeling like shit, having to watch the woman he wants as his own, engage in a soft courtship with someone else. The fact that he has to see Levi everyday at work makes it even worse, knowing that the short man holds the heart of the woman he desperately wants without even trying.

He had been in his position once too, except his loose hold had caused you to slip away from him.

Erwin's beginning to accept his situation, that he'll never have you. He's had several moments of weakness, where all he wants is to storm to your house and tell you how he feels. Beg you to forget about Levi and give him one last chance. But he knows it won't work.

He knows he'll only be making a fool of himself.

So he begins to chain up his own heart. The organ that keeps him breathing, making him live even when his mind wishes he wouldn't, he has to stop it from its philanderous ways. The traitorous thing kept opening itself up, presenting its vulnerability to others, even when he knows better. He's fooled himself one too many times that someone like him can actually love like a normal person.

First Marie, then you. He isn't sure he can take more of this, the hurt, the loneliness.

Both times he's watched a woman hold his heart in their grasp, and walk away without it.

In their defense, it's not like they callously threw it away. It's not like they didn't try for him. The problem wasn't them, the problem was Erwin himself. It was best for everyone if he kept himself on a leash from now on, locked his heart in chains that would take a lifetime to undo.

But, much to his despair, no chain is strong enough to completely keep everything he feels out. He tries and tries, yet when he's on the verge of passing out from overworking himself, he keeps seeing your face.

And he keeps wishing that his mind would stop taunting him about you, why can't he see you smile at him?

Why must he visualize you smiling at Levi, gazing at him as though he's your everything?

Why can't he, even if its delusional and entirely fabricated, see you as his?

Life really is too cruel.

____________________________________

Having known Levi for so long, he isn't surprised by his threats anymore. He's made a habit of being as nonchalant as possible in the face of an irate Levi. It's the only way to keep the man in line and from slaughtering half the people that cross his way for breathing too loud.

He remembers how he and Levi started out, Erwin was the one who extended the olive branch and made a move towards friendship. Despite his concerns about Levi's interest in you, he stuck to his priorities as a soldier and made it a point to befriend the man who would later become the most brilliant soldier the military has ever had.

He doesn't regret it, by any means, not as far as his professional life is concerned. But a part of him, the one that perisistantly tears at those chains, insists that he should. It's a horrible voice, dripping with self loathing, that reminds him how back then, he still had the power to stop Levi from coming near you. Erwin shuts it down of course, because its been years now, and disregarding his prolonged infatuation with you, he does consider Levi his friend.

He's reminded that Levi considers him a friend too, as he tries to stop him from going on the expedition to reclaim Wall Maria. He makes valid points, and maybe if Erwin's goals extended beyond that basement, he would have agreed to sit this one out. To value humanity over himself again.

But he can't.

He's always been too selfish, too reckless. Uptil this point, all his goals have aligned with saving humanity. But the jig is up, Erwin can't pretend that he's a saint anymore. He's not fighting for humanity like Levi thinks he is, it's always been about fighting to sate his own curiousity. To justify his hand in his father's death.

Like a glass shattering, he can see this realisation dawn on Levi. His image of the pristine commander who gave it all up for humanity has been effectively ruined. He now sees Erwin for the piece of shit he actually is. All this time, Erwin imagines, Levi likely thought that Erwin had never pursued you out of obligation to his duty. That he was playing hero by sacrificing his personal wants.

He sees the hurt in Levi's eyes, the absolute betrayal clouding him. He can tell he's questioning everything, wondering how he had never seen through the Commander he had sworn his devotion to so blindly before. The short man is a master of not expressing himself much, so he doesn't let his thoughts show on his face. But Erwin knows that these few minutes have tainted their friendship.

He feels upset about it of course, but a part of him is glad. And as he watches Levi leave his office, his footsteps loud, he feels something akin to relief.

At least there's one person in this world who finally sees him for who he really is, who won't buy into his lies anymore. Someone who he can actually feel some shame in front of while giving out his orders. Someone he doesn't have to look in the eye to lie to and convince them of his intentions.

Even if it meant you would likely find out about it too. But then again, Erwin is a master at earning the hatred of others, to the point that he's sure most people pray for him to die in the most gruesome ways possible.

Although, it feels much more soul crushing to so much as think about you of all people looking at him like that.

The idea of you harbouring that hateful, disgusted expression others do towards him, is far more painful then when he lost his arm.

____________________________________

In all his time in the Survey Corps, many things that should surprise Erwin, have not. Or at least, that's the impression he purposefully gives to the world. His mind is practical, often choosing to immediately think of how to utlize the information he's learned in the best possible way. He's never shocked, never hesitant on planning what's next.

But today, for the first time, he's speechless. There's no plan of action to think of, no battle to jump into. There's no enemy he needs to deal with either. All he has to do is control the chains in his heart, and their increasingly dull resistance.

He's already had to accept that he's lost all of his chances with you, that you'll never look twice at him again. But now, it's even worse. Even his heart can't afford to ache for you, because you're pregnant.

It's history repeating itself at its finest really. He wasn't even this heartbroken when you and Levi got married, having coped with his loss with another binge drinking session and a meaningless one night stand where he could only see you. But this hurts too much, even for a strong man like him.

Erwin is used to being on the recieving end of bad news, so he smiles at Levi and congratulates him with a smile that's seen better days. He ignores the knowing looks from Hange, and the cool indifference with which Levi accepts his well wishes, all the while giving no indication of how he truly feels.

He makes himself follow his routine, to go to his office and work on his papers, and not grab a bottle of alcohol like he wants too. He goes on to solidify the plan for the upcoming mission, and not dwell on the idea of you becoming a mother to a child that's not his.

He works well into the night, before his bones grow weary and his hands scream at him to stop writing. He does his best to convince himself he doesn't need to sleep yet, but ultimately gives in and goes to bed. He thinks of the mission again, while drifting in and out of his dreams

As he embraces the darkness of sleep, Erwin wonders if a man whose dead inside can even classify as being alive.

Because if he survives the mission, it'll only be a victory for his body.

____________________________________

Levi knows him too well, Erwin concludes to himself, as the short man kneels before him.

'.. I order you to die..'

The last time he was ordered to do something was by Commander Shadis, and no ones ordered Erwin around since then. He's been in the military for a long time, he knows how to give and take orders without feeling much. Its been a while since someone looked at him so fiercely and told him to do something no questions asked.

It should irk him, like it secretly used to before. Infuriate him even, that he's worked so hard to get to the top, only to have to be ordered about.

Instead, he's relieved. This order is the first in his life that's brought him so much relief, that's offered him an escape from his demons. His cell in hell is wide open for him, the guard impatiently waiting for the prisoner arrival.

Erwin has no plans of keeping him waiting any longer.

He smiles at Levi, and thanks him out loud. Because Levi has just saved him. He no longer has to be the demon that bears too many sins to count, the bastard that everyone looks to for orders. He'll finally be free.

Free of all responsibilities, of the burden of leadership, of being such a monster. And most importantly, Erwin almost giddily notes to himself, free of watching you and Levi create the family he wants with you.

He's grateful to Levi, who looks at him with a solemn expression. He doesn't want him to die, but if there's anyone who knows why Erwin is so okay with this order, it's Levi. The two of them look at each other meaningfully, aware they don't have the time to say more.

Erwim thinks his eyes manage to get across at least one message.

Take care of her Levi

Because Levi's eyes had looked like they were saying something too.

Of course I will

As he yells and charges towards the Beast Titan, spurring his cormades to do the same, he feels something shift inside of him. The chains stop rattling, going deathly silent. They don't loosen or untangle themselves. Rather, they disintegrate completely, not leaving behind even a speck of dust, let alone any evidence that they had existed before.

It makes him feel light, and fittingly enough, free.

In his last moments, time slows as he sees that rock heading in his direction, he knows his time has come to an end. It feels like ages past in those precious seconds, because he sees you.

He sees your pretty smile, hears your sweet laughter and envisions you standing in front of him, wearing that white dress, and vowing to love him forever. It's a sight that's so wholesome, that maybe he could have died with a smile on his face.

But he doesn't get to be lucky, not after selfishly playing the role of a monster his entire life. Before his lips can curl to express that one emotion, every part of him suddenly hurts. His vision goes black, leaving him aching to see you again for just one more second.

When he wakes up, he's in an endless void, surrounded by metal bars and, ironically enough, wrapped up in chains.

He's dead, and he knows it. Erwin can only bitterly chuckle at the beginning of his well deserved punishment.

____________________________________

A/N: Surprise!! 🎉. Heyooo! I know I said part 4 will be fluff, but in my defense, I just couldn't get the idea of exploring Erwin's heartbreak before he dies out of my head. I have tagged a smol fluff drabble between Levi and reader, set in Chains. It's right here. So do read that!

How much did you guys like that? I felt kinda emotional writing it 😅

#Attack on titan #Snk #Aot #Erwin X reader #Erwin/reader #Levi x reader #Levi/Reader #Heartbreak #Angst #Longing #Death #One Sided Love #I'm very mean to Erwin I'm so sorry

[shimmershae]

So.  Thanks to my new anonymous friend, this is going to become a thing.

Shae’s thinky thoughts about the latest episode--Acheron:  Part 2--beneath a cut. 

Because spoilers, however vague they might be.  

Let’s be real here.  This is more a stream of consciousness than anything else so if that’s not your thing, you are most welcome to nope right on out of this post.  Trust me.  I’ll completely understand, lol.  Sometimes?  I wish I could nope right on out of my own brain and the way it operates.  

That said?  Without further ado--

Episode 2′s opening, though.  Maggie trapped with hungry Walkers converging?  It totally gives me Glenn under the dumpster vibes.  I don’t know if that was intentional or just happy coincidence but way to link Maggie to her dearly departed better half, show.  

Is it just me or has Father G had more OOMPH to him these last few seasons?  Again, I have to ask--Rosita’s influence or no?  Regardless, I bet Seth Gilliam is loving the job these days.  

Side note:  am I gonna have to go to bed early every Saturday night from now until the end just so I that I might be able to SEE?  Something?  Anything?  My curtains are flimsy-ass.  I admit it.  But this is more frustrating than TXF.  Angela, WTF?  

No, seriously.  It’s like complete guess work who’s in these subway scenes.  Some of that has to do with them being overly populated by redshirts and the rest of it has to do with me having to squint and turn sideways to make out their facial features. 

Look at Daryl busting through concrete walls!  Should I call him the Kool-Aid Man considering NR has once again allowed himself to be led right into a biased, shipper trap?  Hmm.  I might.  

Imagine seeking refuge in those dark, filthy subways.  Any second now I expect to hear the skittering of rats.  Will Dog lose his effing mind a la Divergence?  He’s been shown to go off half-cocked that way, lol.  Oh well.  Guess it’ll be in character if he does.  

Impressive graffiti storyboards.  Does it mean something that it immediately cuts to the Commonwealth storm troopers afterward?  Maybe.  Who really knows at this point?  They been trying to gaslight us forever.  

LOL at Princess yet again.  Yumiko is just like da fuq is this person?  

No, really.  LMAO.  “That was her.  From last night.  Did you see how she was looking at us?”  

Then you have Eugene, hahaha.  “Oh God.  Why did he tell off the big guy?”  Like the man is totally me in this type of situation.  Not even gonna lie.  

“That’s right.  We want to talk to the manager.”  

I literally cannot wait ‘til Carol and Daryl meet Princess.  Can.  Not.  Wait.  

How sad is that note on that $100 bill?  Small moment but it totally gives me Season 4 vibes when they were on their way to Terminus seeking sanctuary.  

Hmm.  Remember how that place wasn’t what they thought it was?  I’m sure neither is the Commonwealth.  But I feel like what’s left of Team Family is totally going to do Rick proud, lol, and prove they’re messing with the wrong people if they try something.  

Daryl, Man.  You gonna have to get a better handle on your headstrong Fur Son.  I wonder if Dog would listen better to his mama?  Things to ponder.  

Sounds like Miko has this group’s number.  Or does she?  

Princess and Eugene totally look like they’re waiting their turn for the Principal’s office, LOL.  

“Stop moving!  You’re taking my nerves over the edge to a proverbial 11 on a scale of 10.”  I feel you, Eugene.  I do.  Also you, Princess.  Two of the most relatable TWD characters right there, I’m telling you.  

Princess is me when I really, really, really have to pee.  TMI?  Sorry, lovelies.  LOL.  I just...she’s so relatable.  

LMAO.  “If that fine ass dude in the orange suit...”  Princess and Mercer incoming in 3-2-----

Princess’s excitement over the toilet paper=PRICELESS.  

Eugene, Man.  You desperately need to develop a poker face.  

There’s Daryl getting another cool camera shot.  Angela?  You playing favorites again?  

Carol’s claustrophobia could have never.  I bet that’s in the back of Pookie’s mind.  You can’t tell me it’s not because Carol lives in there rent-free.  

Ohhh.  Back to the subway car.  Looks like we got the Maggie redshirts leading the way.  First sacrificial “lambs”?  

Maggie pistol-whipping Negan was kinda deserved, but he wasn’t all wrong so.  

Damn.  I’m no Gage fan.  He can fuck all the way off for what he did to my baby Lydia.  But Maggie over there with ice in her veins.  

Yep.  I think the dude just got one of the most gruesome deaths in a while.  Yuck.  

I think Alden’s faith in Maggie definitely took several hits.  I feel like he kind of had her on some sort of pedestal dating back to Hilltop times.  Father G, though?  The man is continuing to show himself a SAVAGE MFer.  

Josh gives Eugene such believable tics and mannerisms.  He IS Eugene.  

Thank you, Maggie, for lighting that flare.  I could not see a damn thing.  

What are these bad memories Negan alludes to?  Hmm?  Him being a shit husband to Lucille back when he was still taking her for granted?  

Father G on Gage’s Walker--”All that is, is a shell of a man, who died a coward.”  Kind of ironic considering Father G’s own origins, huh?  Has he any warmth in there for anybody but Rosita and Coco?  Does he equate it with weakness?  

“There are worse ways.”  And Maggie proceeds to paint us a horror story with mere words.  

Dark Maggie really surpasses anything certain fans have ever accused Carol of being.  Is she too far gone?  Who the hell knows?  I think it’s clear that she and Carol are both on a sliding scale of sorts when it comes to being able to compartmentalize shit to survive.  Personally?  I feel like Maggie might have leap-frogged Carol in this episode but it matters none because of the double standards so deeply entrenched in this fandom.  Both women have endured and had to do some horrific things.  It’s not a contest.  But it’s probably going to be turned into a season-long one.  

It’s almost like Kang was like, “Ya’ll bitches think Carol’s dark?  I’ll show you DARK.  Check and mate.”  

Whatever the reasoning, Maggie just got exponentially more interesting to me if not likable.  And before anybody out there comes at me, it’s entirely possible to be on a character’s side in some things and not be all up their ass in love with them, lol.  Like I’m attached to her because she’s family and Glenn loved her.  There’s a loyalty there and she absolutely is justified in her hatred of Negan.  But I’m not going to pretend her shit don’t stink like everybody else’s.  

Speaking of my baby Glenn.  What would he think of this version of Maggie?  I think he would be gutted and heart stricken that events led to her being like this but he’d understand because he’s pure like that.  Don’t mean he’d be A-OK with it all.  

Dog must be protected at all costs.  

Confession.  I know not the fuck who Pony Boy is, but I know him because all my fandom friends have pointed him out to me, lol.  RIP, Man.  I think you’re number’s up or close to it.  

Okay, though.  I admit it.  I am kinda LOVING Badass Father G.  

That scene in the subway car with all of them working to take all the Walkers out was already badass.  Then Daryl arrived and made it, in @freefromthecocoon’s words, HAWT.  LOL.  

Eugene staring at that little black book like it contains torture tools, hehehe.  

“Processed?  As in administratively?  Processed as in bologna or other meat stuffs?  This inquiring (enquiring?) mind needs to know.”  OMG, Eugene.  I admit it.  Even if it makes me look like a lunatic, LOL.  I straight up LMAO at that one.  I mean, ten years later and Terminus still fresh on the man’s mind.  

“You like feeling nervous?”  Well, no.  None of us that do, Mercer?  Do.  

Then he proceeds to make me howl with his “You can’t lie for shit” to Eugene.  

Josh McDermitt?  I love you, Man.  40 year old virgin, LOL.  

All this talk over the seasons of Daryl’s virginity and we have Eugene, hahaha.  But was he telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?  

Finally.  Some daylight.  Where I can see.  

Eugene’s relief at seeing his friends safe and sound was such a beautiful thing to see.  I loved those hugs.  

Mercer’s face when he snarled “beat cop” in disdain to Ezekiel.  I think I’m gonna love this dude.  

“I went to West Point.  Asshole.”  Yeah.  I am.  

I know they probably catfishing Eugene right here because spoilers tell us that ain’t Stephanie.  But my heart still did a little d’aww.  Angela.  Don’t play with his poor heart like that.  

What’s got Daryl so pensive, huh?  Is it that the note reminds him of kids being lost or taken from their family? Or separated from their family?  Is he thinking of those Grimes babies and wondering if Michonne will ever make it back and why and how she was able to leave them behind?  Tell me it ain’t that Find Me nonsense.  

“This place sure has gone to shit since the last time I was here.”  LMAO, JDM.  I mean Negan.  Sorry.  Sorry.  I still hate Negan, but JDM has me entertained at least since they gave the asshole some shades of gray.  And speaking of shades of gray.  I’m loving the gray beard.  JDM’s looking GOOD (hear that NR?  Embrace the gray).  Negan can still kick rocks, lol.  

Anyway.  That scene was CREEPY AF.  Not even gonna lie.  

The Reapers strutting right on up to our group like it’s The Purge:  ZA.  

My bad, Pony Boy. Now RIP.  

Dark, dark episode with loads of tension broken up by some welcome humor by Princess.  The girl is fast becoming a fave of mine.  

My baby’s back next week!!!

I’m just going to plug my ears and pretend they’re trying to capture/recapture the horses because they’re pets.  Not because they’re starving so bad they feel the need to eat them.  La la la la la.  I can’t hear you.  

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

[votederpycausemufins]

No one figured out the upcoming twist, which is going to make the reactions i hope to get so much sweeter. have fun all~!

@petrichormeraki

Techno was the first to push to the front of the group, axe out and at the ready. Dream sat up a little straighter before moving his hand to touch NPG’s shoulder and get his attention. The robot turned to face Dream and the masked man lowered the handkerchief just far enough to reveal his mouth. He then used a hand to block his mouth, and the fact that none of them could hear what he said made it look like he was telling some sort of gossip to NPG instead of whatever he really was saying.

“Oh no! I didn’t! I’m very sorry. I could do that now if you want.” NPG started to stand, but was stopped and Dream whispered again. “Oh, okay then. Technoblade, you need to put your axe away or else.”

“I’m not going to listen to any government. Not even him.” Techno growled, tightening his grip on the handle of the weapon.

Dream stood up and then gestured to NPG. The robot then went over to Techno and tried to take his axe. The hybrid attempted to swing at NPG but Grian was on him in an instant and yanked the weapon away. “NO! I do NOT want you killing another of my kids today! I’m barely tolerating that since you didn’t know at the time, but this is different!”

Techno attempted to take the axe back, but it was held out of reach. “You don’t understand. That’s Dream. The admin of our server.”

Than shocked Grian and he looked back at the man sitting on the throne. Tommy had a problem with masks when he first joined Hermitcraft. If this was their admin, he could see why.”

“Who’s Dream?” NPG asked, making everyone’s heads snap in his direction. “And why do you think that’s him?”

“Because who else would wear that fucking mask?!” Tommy yelled, gesturing to the porcelain piece.

“Wait,” Mumbo started. “Perhaps it’s both Dream and isn’t? This could be his hels version. All worlds have them.”

“But why would he be here?” Tubbo asked, causing a small discussion to stay about the answer to that. But Tommy wasn’t paying attention to that. His blue eyes stared at the brown eye looking back at him. Then he looked down at the handkerchief. It was the same color as the one he was currently wearing. Well, maybe it was a slightly different shade, but the size as well as the rips and tears were the same.

Helscraft housed the hels versions of the hermits. And that’s what Tommy was now. A hermit. The person sitting on that throne wasn’t Dream. It was him.

“What’s your name?” Tommy spoke up, loud enough it made everyone else stop talking. Tommy could swear he saw the fabric of the handkerchief move as his hels copy smiled. He gestured to NPG, who happily gave the answer.

“His name is- well I guess I should use his title too. This is Emperor Theseus!”

“Heeeh?!” Techno asked. “That’s Tommy?!”

The man, or teen they supposed, nodded.

“Well his name is Theseus. I just said so.” NPG said, earning quiet raspy laughter from the emperor.

“Why does he look like Dream?” Tubbo asked. Theseus pointed as his mask questioningly, earning a nod from Tommy, so he pulled it off.

The skin that had been hidden under the mask was slightly paler than everything around it, but part of Tommy expected something more. “So how’d you get that? Kill your version of Dream and keep it as some sort of prize?”

Theseus gestured with a finger, calling NPG back to him, and for the first time Tommy realized that his double hadn’t once spoken. 

“He says no! He was given the mask by his admin.” NPG answered before Theseus pulled him in to say something else. “Also his admin was named Nightmare.”

“Why are you only talking to him?” Grian asked, and Theseus pulled down his handkerchief again, loosening it to reveal his neck. It reminded the group of the scar that Sense had, but much more gruesome.

Before anyone could ask what happened, the emperor was making NPG answer for him. “His admin got really mad at him one day and they fought and he sort of got his vocal cords damaged to the point that now they’re… gone.”

The group cringed and the comment. Even with how horrible their version of Dream was, this seemed like overkill. “But yeah, my mechanics let me read his lips very well as well as understand sign language so I’m able to talk for him!”

Grian smiled. He had forgotten about trying to implement the sign language. He never really got to test it out; it was more because he had learned it back in highschool and didn’t want to forget. Though it took long enough to activate NPG that he did.

“Uh, are you planning to hurt me at all?” Tubbo spoke up, making Theseus look confused. “Well, Tommy and I are friends, but I don’t know, this place sort of seems opposite, so maybe we’re enemies?”

Theseus quickly shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that. Uh, even if he was enemies with his own you, you’re a different you so he wouldn’t attack.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Wait are you and your Big T enemies?” Theseus shook his head. “Alright, because we’d have problems if you did.”

“He would probably have a good reason if he did.” Mumbo said, putting a hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Just was worried after we saw that other guy.”

“You mean Sense?” NPG asked as Theseus scowled behind him. “Well, Theseus said that exile would help make him better.” Tommy flinched at the word exile. “Besides, I visit him all the time to make sure nothing really bad happens!”

Tommy looked up as his double, ready to shout, but Grian was yelling first. “I don’t care who you are or who he is, but obviously you’ve gone through some shit. That doesn’t mean you can just make it everyone else’s problem. I’d stop sooner rather than later before you do something you’ll really regret!”

Theseus glared back at Grian before gesturing to NPG. “Um, he wants you guys to leave.”

“We’re not going to just-” Phil started, wanting to back up the others, but Theseus pulled a weapon and made another gesture.

“No you guys should really leave. He’s saying he could let you be like Sense.”

“I’d like to see him try.” Techno huffed, but Mumbo was trying to be reasonable and helped push everyone out.

“You may be able to keep yourself safe, but I doubt you can do that for all of us.”

Just as the group was almost out the door, NPG spoke again. “Wait. He wants Tommy to stay behind.” Everyone was reluctant at first, but another weapon pulled out by his double made Tommy agree and he stayed behind, NPG closing the throne room doors. 

Tommy stood facing Theseus who sat back down on the throne, regaining his bored look from the start of their meeting. NPG nervously went back to his own chair, not sure how he should be reacting to all this. Everything was eerily quiet as the counterparts stared each other down, but then Theseus took some sort of metal disc out and put it on NPG’s head, the light from his eyes suddenly fading.

“Hey! What the fuck did you just do to him bitch?!”

“Made it easier to talk with you, that is all.” NPG spoke. “Can’t use it all the time with it overheating and potentially damaging us both, but I may not need to use it much longer.”

Tommy nervously glanced at NPG before talking to Theseus again. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

The emperor leaned forward. “We’ll get to that later. Tell me, why were you here to see me? I was told you had a question?” Tommy hesitated, but eventually answered, making his copy nod. “NPG has spoken highly of his family. Had they been here, I would have kept them safe, but they have not been here.”

Tommy cursed. All of this for nothing. “May I ask where you have looked?”

“All the worlds Grian’s lived in, all the worlds Mumbo lived in, where they were made, and here.”

“Then I believe there’s one you haven’t tried yet.” Theseus said and he held the porcelain mask out, making Tommy’s eyes widen.

“No, they can’t be there! If they’re there then they’re with Dream! And If they’re with Dream then-”

“You know, my admin was a horrible person, but he took an interest in me. Possibly because of my family lineage or just because I seemed the best to do what he wanted. He trained me, taught me to be like him. He gave me the mask I have now, a smile to his frown, when he decided I was his equal. I told him I wasn’t. I was better. And so I killed him.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because while those from this dimension can be opposites of our counterparts, we all have the same potential. If I was able to kill, or at the very least surpass Nightmare, then you can do the same with Dream.”

“Right, great pep talk.” Tommy rolled his eyes, but then sighed. “Is that all?”

Theseus shook his head. “I wasn’t the only one Nightmare did this too.” he gestured to his neck. “He attacked my brothers as well. At least the ones he could get to. I’m guessing your dad came to the world Dream controlled?”

“Yeah.”

“He never did for us. He would only come if we called for him, and so Nightmare made sure we couldn’t. I’m not sure it would work, but you are technically me and have the same voice. So I need you to repeat this phrase.”

“As long as you don’t attack everyone back there once you have what you want.”

Theseus held his hands out to make sure Tommy could see them. “I make a promise that none in the group will befall any harm from me or him.”

“NPG too.”

“Yes, NPG too.”

“Fine, what do you want me to say?”

“I call the angel of death.”

“I call the angel of death.” Tommy repeated, and the room suddenly got colder. Behind Tommy, a voice spoke, echoing in a manner that reminded him of Ghostbur, but was districtly Phil’s voice.

“Hello Theseus. It’s been a while.”

If there was one thing Grum absolutely hates, it was that even though he was a robot, he still had a lot of things humans did, like being able to feel hot and cold, getting sore from working too much, and feeling groggy when waking up. And currently two of those three things were happening. The only thing that helped Grum feel better was the fact that he was even awake to be feeling this horrid. He knew he passed out before the charger was complete, but the fact that he was awake now meant that Sam and Jrum had finished it.

Grum rolled over and saw his brother resting next to him. He put his hand on Jrum’s monitor and he shifted. So he was charged too but in sleep mode. That was fine. Grum almost went back to sleep and just cuddle with his brother when he realized the noises he thought were just from random things outside were actually arguing voices.

“I don’t care how many times Puffy gives you the benefit of the doubt, they are children, and we both know what happened to the last one you took an interest in.”

“C’mon Sam, that was his own fault. He was given a chance by his own people to not grief and steal and he did exactly that. I’m not ever the one who sent him away, I gave him company!”

“What you did is force everyone away from him and make it seem like you were his only friend.”

“Oh really? And what proof do you have?” There was silence. “That’s what I thought. He was dangerous, and now he’s gone. I’m just making sure it doesn’t happen all over again.”

The arguing stopped and Grum started to think. That was Sam and Dream. There was someone who griefed and stole and possibly other crimes who was punished. Sam seemed to care for this person, but others knew their crimes were bad and let this person get punished. Obviously, Dream was keeping things on this server safe and Sam was disagreeing with that. 

But what else had the redstoner said? Sam called Jrum and him children and referred to the… problematic individual as the ‘last one’ so they were also a child. Perhaps he didn’t agree with someone so young being punished? Grum could see both sides of the argument. He wished he knew more for a better decision, so he would have to ask around.

Jrum stirred and then stretched, his monitor turning on with a yawn. He saw Grum awake and then smiled. “Morning!”

“Good morning Jrum.” Grum replied, and he heard footsteps approaching.

“Oh good, you two are awake. Glad to see the charger worked.”

Jrum sat up to look at their host. “Thank you for helping! Um, can I call you Mister Sam instead of just Sam?”

“Yeah, I guess you can. Any reason?”

“We knew someone else named Sam.” Grum replied for Jrum. “Well, more we heard about him. We know it is a common name, but we would like some way to distinguish you from that other person.” And that was a thought, wasn’t it? The Sam their dad knew had been around Tommy’s age when he did all those bad things, and for some people, Tommy was still considered a child. Grum supposed that some punishments wouldn’t be good for the crimes the mystery person had done, but there was a chance that they were.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Jrum poked his brother, who realized he had been thinking so hard, his screen had changed his face to a loading circle.

“I am thinking about… something dad has told us. Things about Sam from the past, not this one we are calling Mister Sam.”

“Bad stuff?”

Grum nodded before looking at the Sam here. “The Sam our dad knew was not a good person at all.”

“Oh? We don’t really have the best people around here either.”

“Sam was a murderer in a known hardcore world where murder was illegal. From what I recall, he escaped prison at least once if not more. This is while he was in highschool and not yet even eighteen.”

The skin that could be seen through the visor of Sam’s mask paled. “Ah, that is pretty bad.”

Jrum swung his legs from where he was sitting before moving into the territory of children having no filters. “Yeah, he kinda tortured Dad and made him pretend to be someone else.”

“Uh… good to… know?” Sam wasn’t sure how to react. “Uh, you know maybe we should take you back to see Puffy. I’m sure she’d like to hear this. Did you know she does therapy?”

“Oh! Our daddy does that too! Do you think they would be friends?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Yay! I’m gonna tell her all about Dad and Daddy and- Oh hey! Grum you could talk to her about Iskall!”

“I’m sorry, did you say Iskall?” Sam asked, he had heard that name somewhere before, but where?

“Yeah! They’re our auncle! They’re best friends with our dads! And then their other friends are our uncles and aunts like Uncle Scar and Aunt Stress. And then Xisuma is like our grandpa! But now we have another grandpa because our dad found his dad! And also his brothers! And now Uncle Tommy is like double Uncle Tommy. And Dad says we’ve also got Uncle Techno and Uncle Wilbur.”

By this point, Sam was frozen in place. “Wait. TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade?”

“Yeah! Oh! Did you live in the an-are-ick empire?”

“Jrum, it’s pronounced antarctic.”

“Yeah! That!”

“No, that’s not-”

“Hey Sam, almost forgot something.” Dream spoke up, having poked his head back into the place. Grum made sure his projected face looked normal when he stared at the admin, wanting to glare. He couldn’t tell with the mask in the way, but he could feel the admin looking back. That interruption was too convenient. Something was up.

Tommy caught up with the rest of the group who were sitting around on the ground outside the throne room. “Hey guys! I think I figured out, well, the other me figured out where the bots might be.”

Grian jumped up. “Really! Where?”

“Uh, it’s not exactly the best place.”

“Really? What could be worse than here?” Grian asked, and he saw Tommy look over at those from the SMP. “Oh… Then we need to get there as soon as possible.”

“But first we need to see Evil X so we can get back to Hermitcraft.” Mumbo piped up, but Grian shut him down.

“Nope, We’re going my way.” And Grian started using his Watcher powers. “Next stop, the SMP.”

“Wait Grian! I don’t think that’s going to-” The magic swirled around them and then dropped them in a new universe. “Work…”

There was a putrid smell and everyone covered their noses, Tommy pulling his handkerchief over his nose to help block the smell. “Ugh, what is that?!”

Phil was the one to respond. It was something he was unfortunately familiar with from his long lifespan. “To put it simply. Death. This looks like the SMP, but way more destroyed.”

“That’s what I was trying to say.” Mumbo spoke up, gagging slightly as he could taste the smell on his mouth. “If we try without going back to Hermitcraft, it will probably just take us to the hels version.”

“Ugh… and looks like you’re right.” Grian groaned, quickly taking them back. “Fine, let’s go find Xannes.”

#hermit!tommy #hermit!tommy au #tommyinnit #hels!tommy #grian #watcher!grian #grian xelqua #avian!Grian #mumbo jumbo #technoblade #tubbo #philza #helscraft #helsmits #npc grian #npg #grumbot #jrumbot #awesamdude #dreamwastaken #still not a fan of how dream's persona eminates someone... problematic

[daydreamed-snippets]

The hero came out of nowhere, touching down on the rooftop with a thunderous boom, shattered the concrete, tossing stones, possibly bending the steel roof of the structure. The thief only had a moment to think, to close the roof hatch on his friend before the hero and kicked him into the lone structure on the roof: a small brick maintenance shed. His bag of loot went sprawling, forgotten near the roof hatch.

A gloved hand enclosed around his throat, dragging him from the crumpled heap on the ground and roughly pushing him against the hard brick surface. The thief’s ribs burned in protest,

cracking under the latent power of the hero before him, as his hands, by pure instinct, gripped the arm that held him there.

“You’ve become bolder these days, petty thief,” the hero said.

Shit.

The thief recognized this hero. Anyone could recognize this hero. The small bits of electrical energy escaping the tight curl of his hair, bounding down his forehead like a voltaic crown. The perfectly crafted white uniform, which gleamed in tandem with his pulsating power. He wasn’t just any old, sanctimonious hero spawned by the Covenant. No, this was the Golden Hero. The love child of Relictus City, copulating raw strength with an agility that mimicked those streaks of sparks. The poster child of the Covenant, and personal puppet of the Commissioner.

“Stealing from high-end retail stores doesn’t usually fir your m.o., now does it?” the Golden Hero continued, lightly caressing his thumb over the thief’s pulse, a sharp reminder to stay put. Like the thief was resisting at this point. He could barely get his toes under himself to keep from being choked to death. “What? Was robbing corner gas stations getting too mundane?”

“Get—off me!” the thief sputtered, coughing through the voice modifier in his mask—it sounding clipped and staticky. The modifier held, but the thief could hear traces of their own voice resonate beneath the automated one. It must have been damaged when the hero knocked his head into the brick building. The thief hoped it held out. 

Ignoring his strangled outburst, the Golden Hero leaned in. “Give me your arm so I can scan for identification.”

Shit.

The thief’s mind spun like a top. No, they couldn’t get caught. Not at this stage in the game. Not when their friend, Eoin, clung to the rusted ladder that led to the roof, waiting for the thief to come and get him, to use his powers and teleport both of them to safety—loot in hand. That had been the plan anyway. How plans changed.

What do we do?

The voice was small in his head. Tentative. Scared. Eoin.

The thief had to concentrate over his rising hysteria to properly hear the telepath.

Stay still. The thief thought back. Don’t make a sound. I don’t think the Golden Hero’s noticed you yet, but we can’t risk it. I’ll create a distraction so you can go back down the ladder. You’ll have to find another way out.

What about you?

Good question. The thief tried to hide that part of his mind that lit up with dread. Eoin didn’t need to feel that. The telepath had already burned through his anti-anxiety meds earlier that day trying to stabilize himself after an episode. Hence the heist to steal jewelry so they could cover his prescription cost. He told Eoin not to come with him tonight, that he could handle it alone, but his friend was stubborn. Talking about a bad feeling or something, and the thief couldn’t say no after seeing him so distraught. 

Looking back, the thief wondered if he should have just robbed a pharmacy instead. Granted, the security was usually much more substantial than a department store, but maybe he would have avoided the top tier hero. Still, if they pulled this off, and sold the jewelry, then maybe they would have enough left over to fill the cupboards with food.

Don’t worry about me. Focus on yourself. I’ll figure something out.

Maybe the thief could use his powers. Maybe he could jump, bend the folds of space, will his body to disappear and reappear like he’d done so many times before. Unlike others with similar powers, he didn’t need to look before he jumped. That was a luxury for those who had something to lose, for those who had something to hold onto.

He was sure he could jump to the hatch, grab the loot then teleport inside the building, on the platform under the steps. All he needed was a second. All he needed was to be faster than—

“Ah, ah, I wouldn’t,” the Golden Hero tsked, putting more pressure on the thief’s pulse. The latter’s ears rang high pitched as black crowded around the edges of his eyesight. “I don’t think you can teleport quickly enough before I crush your windpipe.”

“That’s…morbid. For a hero,” the thief choked out, trying to buy time. He laughed dryly, nervously, hoping his bravado wasn’t just surface deep. “So much for your perfect image.”

The Golden Hero paused, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been watching too much tv, petty thief,” he said slowly, almost puzzled. “We both know the media always downplays the more severe aspects of these battles. Though every citizen trusts us to use our best judgment however violent. The general public doesn’t need to know the gruesome details of our encounters. Now, pull your sleeve back. Slowly.”

The Golden Hero unlatched the scanner from his belt; government issued and handheld. Lowering his quarry a bit so he could stand flatfooted, the thief obliged hiking up his sleeve, smile going unnoticed as he held out his arm so that his wrist was showing.

Bare and unmarked.

The Golden Hero blinked for a moment, then, uncharacteristically, gently ran his gloved fingertips over the thief’s arm. The thief shivered at the unexpected contact and pushed down a wave of nausea when the hero’s fingertips scraped against a flap of artificial skin to cover the self-identifying or “SI” tattoo.  

“Take. That. Thing. Off.” The hero growled. “Any more delays or ploys, and I’ll drag you back to the custody suite knocked out cold.”

Gritting their teeth, the thief ripped the piece off with his other hand, feeling the sting of the adhesive on bare skin, exposing the mark that every citizen received at birth. If the Golden Hero scanned his tattoo, then he would know everything. His age, his place of residence, what school he went to, absolutely everything.

Unless…

An idea flickered through his head, setting every part of him on edge. It was a risky move, but it may buy him time. It most certainly would give Eoin enough time to get out of there. 

Get ready to move. The thief thought to his friend.

His held his breath as the hero scanned the code, device beeping as it analyzed. He had one shot at this. Placing both hands back on the hero’s arm, the thief waited for the hero to peer down at the device before putting his full weight on his arm, and bringing up his leg to kick the device out of the Golden Hero’s hand.

The scanner skittered over the rooftop, bouncing a few times before slipping over the edge of the building. Neither heard a crash. They were too far up, and the sounds of traffic below masked all other sounds.  

The Golden Hero glowered at him.

“Ah, my bad,” there was a smirk in the thief’s voice. Some bit of relief flooded back into him. It felt like Eoin had taken that opportunity to run. He couldn’t feel his friend there like he did when they were close. The mental bond straining. This little stunt bought them some time at least. “Another time, then?”

“If only you were so lucky,” the Golden Hero gritted out. Shifting his stance. “We’ll wait here for the Covenant’s guards to collect you.”

“Like this?”

“Do you have a better idea?” he asked, but not really asked. Like how adults ask but weren’t really interested in the answer. “You won’t stay put unless I make you. And I’m not about to let you go.”

“Why do you care? It’s like you said. I’m a petty thief,” he said, trying to think of a next step. “Why’s the Golden Hero getting caught up with a gutter rat like me?”

“I want a win for once. An easy win. And tonight, you’re that easy win.”

They didn’t have anything to say for that.

“It’s nothing personal,” the Golden Hero continued. “The Commissioner has had his hands full lately.”

“With the Commissioner, it’s always personal,” the thief spat, “He ruins lives. What does he expect? Everything to be easy?”

“The Commissioner keeps criminals like you at bay. From further driving this city into the ground with your lawlessness. You steal and cheat and lie, and for what?” He gestures to the bag of stolen goods, “To get money for drugs? Weapons? Hookers?

“Fuck. You.” The thief spat through gritted teeth. “You don’t even know me. None of you heroes know us.”

“Us?” The hero sighed, easing up a bit but not letting go. The thief blanched. “Then take off your mask. Tell me your name.”

Wrong move. He let his temper get the best of him, and now the Golden Hero was studying him, securitizing him more closely than before. The thief felt exposed like his face wasn’t covered with a mask, nor his voice hidden behind autotune. If the Golden Hero wanted to drag that mask off his face, exposing the persona underneath there was nothing stopping him.  

As if reading his mind, the Golden Hero reached towards his face. The thief desperately jerked his face away from that hand.

--And then they were pitched over, falling, the thief landing on his shoulder in a sickening crunch. He screamed in pain, clutching the shoulder. What happened? Was he just thrown to the ground? No, the thief cracked opened his eyes. The hero was on the ground too,

A prodding slipped into his mind. Eoin. 

Run.

Searching madly for the one that threw the stone, the Golden Hero rose to his feet, his back to the thief. Taking the opportunity, the thief jumped, teleporting in short bursts over to the hatch, before reaching down and nabbing the loot bag. A jolt of pain ripped through him. The price of using his power while injured.

Where are you? The thief asked.

On the street. Come down to me. I can keep the hero busy.

Got—

The thief got knocked off his feet again. The Golden Hero was angry now, and that rage showed up in his fighting. Punching, kicking, the thief barely had the chance to reappear before having to disappear again to avoid being hit. In the fury of fists and teleporting, the hero’s gloved fingers managed to pinch the edge of his mask, and it slipped off with ease. The thief backed away in fright, trying to bring an arm up to cover his face. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the Golden Hero.

“Wait, you’re a—?” The Golden Hero started, but the thief didn’t hear the end of that question. With their last ounce of strength, they teleported over to the edge of the high rise and jumped off. Making a series of frantic teleports so the Golden Hero couldn’t track him, and to lessen the impact of their freefall, the thief ricocheted in midair until he collapsed in a back alley.

The last thing the thief remembers is Eoin finding him broken and battered in a pile of trash. Normally the thief would teleport them home, but he could barely stand, leaning most of his weight on Eoin. That's how they traveled back to their apartment high-rise, in stuttered steps, keeping mostly to the shadows, attentive but completely unaware of the hero following them. 

#hero #superhero #writing #snippet #writblur #thief #teleport #teleportation #telepathy #friend #eoin #Golden Hero #Relictus City #not a prompt #its a start

[b1ksh88p]

Be Mine ⛏

Plot Plot: You’ve been in a few relationships, unfortunately all ending in tragedy. You had a reputation for being a bad omen. Truly you were a sweet girl but it seemed like every single one of your lovers ended up dead or horrendously disfigured in the long run. This Valentine’s Day your boyfriend decides to jump ship for some blonde crushing the little hope you had left for your love life. In a slightly drunken haze you sneak into the mines for a rant about the cursed corporate holiday and to drown your sorrows in the solitude of the mines. But it seems like you’ve got a listener.

Tags/Warnings: Lots of cursing | Sprinkle of angst | Fluff

The cold air of the abandoned labyrinth did nothing to cool you down as you ventured further into its clutches. To put it lightly you were on fire. Every part of you wanted to tear someone apart. The auburn liquid sloshed around as you clumsily stomped past heaps of forgotten debris. If not for your drunken stupor you would’ve turned back. Everyone knew the horrific tale of the pickaxe cannibal murder. Although you were sure the story was somewhat embellished you’ve heard worse. Poor fuck did what he had to do to survive. Anyone else would’ve done the same, it’s human nature to do anything no matter how gruesome to survive.

“Give a girl a box of cheap chocolates and a fucking bouquet of withering roses and she’s supposed to repay ya by sucking your fucking dick and acting like yer the best thing since sliced bread.” You grumble.

The deeper you go the darker it gets. Stone walls become suffocating and everything looks like the enemy. A fight or flight response may have kicked in but you were in no place to think rationally. When your heel broke you fucking snapped.

“Stupid Roses, fuck ass chocolates, fake relationships for fake people who wouldn’t know love if it fucking stabbed them in the face!” You yell throwing the broken heel piece deep into the darkness. “A corporate holiday with no fucking insignificance! Just a money plot and a excuse to fuck and act like you like that worthless pathetic fuck you’re dating that you like them. When all 364 days you’ve been with em ya fucking loathe them!” You continue on tearing up the damned holiday in partially incoherent babbling until you hear glass break.

Despite your conditions you aren’t stupid. “Fuck is that?” You call out whilst backing up. At first you’re sure it’s a group of horny teenagers but through the gritty lights you see a single foreboding silhouette. This was where you run. Or at least you should’ve. Instead you squint your eyes like some tourist taking in the sights and step forward. “Bud y’know the mines are abandoned cuz of the poor guy who had to eat his friends right?” You call out. “I mean do you if this is your thing I support it but it’s kinda weird since you look exactly like the serial killer guy. Spot on cosplay.” You compliment. The figure doesn’t move. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. You feel your hairs start to stand up and goosebumps pepper you skin. It seems your liquid courage was fading.

“Welp I’ll leave you be, don’t wanna bore you with the details of this fucked up holiday.” You let out a wry laugh before turning your back on the figure. You get about 12 good steps in before the stride of death crescendos behind you. Now you were running. Your broken heels doing wonders at making this chase the easiest for your attacker. In the midst of running you take them off and throw them off behind you. Now look you weren’t aiming for the guy but when you heard the hit connect and a surprised grunt you got the feeling you were fucked. Instead of running in a straight line you dip into a little crawl space. Maybe he’d give up and fuck off you. To your horror the man crouches down and starts to crawl his way inside.

Without thinking you take the whiskey bottle and crash it on his head. “Leave me alone I don’t even like this fuckass holiday you fucking weirdo!” You cry. He looks up at you and stops trying to fit.

“Why not.” His voice was eerily calm. As if he weren’t some insane pickaxe murderer but a man.

“Well because it’s stupid and to lovy dovy. And because it feels wrong to celebrate it when such a tragedy had occurred.” You explain. “And...and I got dumped today so there’s that.” You huff.

“...You pity me?”

You shake your head. Words weren’t really your strong point and you didn’t need him thinking you were coddling him or anything. Instead you just stare into the glossy eyeholes with your own praying he’d just fuck off. You practically shit yourself when he continued to scramble through and stand up. You grab a rock and stand ready to knock him upside the head with it only have your wrist harshly grabbed mid throw.

“I don’t want your pity.”

This was it. You were gonna die. And it was gonna be painful and super fucking lame. On your headstone it would say:

“Loser girl no one cares about got dumped on Valentine’s Day...also got murdered lol”

Even though you wanted to sob and cry your eyes out you were way to stubborn to go out pleading and begging. “I was being empathetic you weirdo! We do what we gotta do to survive, and you did just that. You aren’t some crazy murderer. You’re just angry and traumatized and that’s ok!” The grip on your wrist only tightened. “Gah! Th-the system failed you dude. The whole fucking city failed you and still is failing you! You ha-have a right to be mad! I’m not excusing what you’ve done b-but shit I would’ve done the same!” You squeal feeling the blood flow completely cease as he tightened his grip.

Suddenly the pain stopped. You open your eyes and rub your poor wrist hoping the feeling would return. He seemed more docile. It was as if his entire aura had changed. The man sat down on a hunk of rubble, his weapon clenched in his grip. If you didn’t know better you could’ve sworn he was crying. It was a silent sob. Nothing overtly dramatic, kind of how like you’d expect a man who’s rarely cried to cry. It was unnerving. The only man you’ve ever seen cry was your dad and that was when he laughed to hard. This...this was gut wrenching.

This monster that was hellbent on killing you seconds ago was now a sad man huddled up in a corner like a child. You could never feel the pain he’s felt, relive the days of utter darkness and skewed rations. Never could you imagine the gritty taste of human flesh. The depravity one must have for themselves. The survivors guilt. The nightmares he must relive. He kept muttering something about the dark and the how he wasn’t a monster. How he just wanted to see the light again.

“It’s ok.”

You weren’t sure you could touch him so you just sat in front of him. He was still shaken up but the sound of your voice seemed to get through to him. “It’s ok and you’re safe. I’m here. I won’t go anywhere I’d you don’t want me to...” You could bare the cold for a night. You’d rather be frozen to death then brutally murdered.

Both of you sat there for what seemed like ages until he moved. You were on the edge of slumber before seeing a gloved hand slither towards yours. You wanted to move it. Make haste and dip but your body had become heavy. Your eyes seemingly weighed down by stones. Before you knew it he was oddly holding your hand. You saw him looking at you intently. Probably waiting for you to scream or pull away but you stayed put. One hand held up your head whilst the other was his to experience. It had probably been awhile since he’s been so vulnerable so you let him have this. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do tonight but sleep and pray that the hang over didn’t beat your ass in the morning. Before you could fall asleep he pulls you into a really awkward half ass embrace against the cold stained suit. It was far more comfortable than the back straining position you were in a second ago but man this guy was bad at ‘snuggling’. You felt like he was gonna smother you! When he found a comfortable position he rested that stupid ass mask on top of your head with a satisfied grunt before you gave up on protesting and fell asleep. How the hell were you gonna get home

When you wake there’s no cold embraces or odd masked men. Instead you find yourself wrapped in some dusty old quilt at the entrance of the mine. For a moment you think everything that occurred was a mere fever dream. A whiskey fueled hallucination. You scramble to your feet and notice a little note that had fallen from the tattered cloth. The paper, or what you hoped was paper and not dried human skin, had fairly neat handwriting. It was short and morbidly sweet.

Thank you.

There was a part of you that was absolutely mortified. The note solidified your suspicions of what had taken place last night. But the other part of you was strangely elated. You turn to the mine and put your hands to your mouth to amplify your words. “THANKS FOR NOT KILLING ME ILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU!!!!!!” You yell happily before heading back into town. You were pretty sure he didn’t hear you but it calmed you to know that he not only spared you but someone actually appreciated your presence.

This was definitely not your final encounter ⛏

#⛏

#slasher #horror #slashers #harry warden #my bloody valentine #slasher x s/o #slasher x reader #im not good at writing lmao #potential series maybe idk #i really loved writing this 🙈 #harry warden x reader

[queer-crusader]

How do you think Silver & Flint's relationship would have evolved if things hadn't ended the way they did in S4? How do you think things would have progressed through time? I tend to think about the what ifs a lot. I'm just curious what your thoughts are on it.

OOFT. I mean i have many thoughts! It’s... very hard to say really. Because i think one thing Black Sails does incredibly well is the way it builds a story and a character. Many choices made in this show are so dependent on what the characters want and who they intrinsically are and how they influence each other (willingly/knowingly or not), and i feel like there are many very complex interwoven roads that led them to the conclusion they got to. Which is one of the many reasons the finale felt like such a tragedy; you know things are going to end badly because you kind of see it coming. And dear god it does hurt, even with Flint being reunited with Thomas.

So. I think there are two ways to answer this question, and you can sort of divide them into canon-ish versus fanon wish. These may not exactly be clearly indicated bc like i said i have Many Thoughts, and i apologise in advance 😅 Another thing i’ll be looking at here is something we had to lay out for our characters when i studied acting - the goals/objectives/motivations of the character, and their emotional/mental state. None of this is meant to be critical against any character. I simply adore analyising them and the paths of the story, and I love each and every character i talk about here deeply.

So, looking at that finale. There’s several things that i could take from what you say about things not ending the way they did - for now, i’m looking at the confrontation between Flint and Silver in the woods, where Silver forces Flint to quit his war and reunites him with Thomas.

Firstly, let’s analyse what we get from the canon, and what i believe motivates these characters to bring them to the point they end up at. There’s that famous line i think of Silver where he says he doesn’t know anymore where he ends and Flint begins - their thinking patterns have become so intertwined, they basically share a braincell. The tricky thing about this is, just because he and Flint think similarly, share tactics, and a knowledge of how to use people in their means, just because they understand each other well, doesn’t mean they share opinions and morals. Flint especially seems to forget this. He believes Silver is with him in his cause to end Imperial rule. But from Silver’s final actions, it’s clear Silver values his personal wants and needs above that of this abstract crowd of people. He’s not oppressed - or hasn’t felt the effects of Imperial/religious oppression (as far as we canonically know) like Flint and Madi have. And that means he doesn’t have the same drive. He’s driven by his personal connections to these people, i believe, purely from his own point of view. Like, i suspect he struggles to place himself in the shoes of Madi or Flint to feel their pain and motivation. He can see it, he just... doesn’t fully grasp it. (There’s also a question of whether he wishes to, but i feel nowhere NEAR qualified on answering that, nor do i think the canon gives us enough material to give a perfectly cut & dry answer.)

So you have this big miscommunication. Flint believes that, because he and Silver have basically become one shared braincell, they have the same goals, while Silver is still driven from a point of selfishness. (Side-note: there was a moment in the show he became selfless! He wouldn’t give up his crew when faced with torture from Vane’s quartermaster! But then he lost a leg over it and it seemed to dampen that selflessness. I think from there on, moments where he seems to be motivated by the good of the crew come instead from an internal need to belong and be loved more so than a genuine sense of brotherhood. That brotherhood may still have been there, but i think he might have suppressed that instinct a little and instead let the more selfish needs take more of a front seat. Understandable and not bad/evil, like that’s super valid of him. But my point is, he’s not exactly ready to fight for another man’s cause he doesn’t have as much of a personal emotional profit in, especially when he knows it’ll end in certain death for everyone he cares about and he knows cares about him.)

So that’s sort of where the characters are mentally in that climax. I may be skirting details and summarising a bit hastily, but it’s also been a GOOD while since i’ve watched season 4, so i apologise. Flint (and Madi as well - she plays an equally important role i think!) is fuelled by a mix of rage born from oppression/discrimination, and a protectiveness for others who may suffer the same fate. Silver meanwhile is fuelled by a need much closer to home - to be loved and to keep those he cares for and deems important to him alive and around. I’ve framed it as their emotional drive, but really it is also their goal, their objective in that finale. Flint and Madi are looking to burn down an oppressive system while Silver... isn’t. For him, their goals stand directly in the way of his. And by the end of the show, he’s gained enough power to prevail in his objective, cancelling out those of Flint and Madi.

So, could it have gone differently? I think, if we wanna play with canon and keep it as close to canon as possible... It seems almost impossible. These people’s goals just do not align. (There’s that sweet sweet tragedy again.) So what you need for it to go differently in short is for one of, if not several, of these people to change their goal. But we’re talking their MAIN objective, their main driving force at this point in the show - so like, the chances of that are slim. ESPECIALLY if we’re talking about the canon characters. After all, for that, the characters would need to look inside themselves and fucking face up to some of their issues and work on them. (This is something which these characters are not very prone to do, bc jesus it’s a mess in there and if that were me i’d preferably not turn introspective either and be forced to look at all that.)

So if we wanted Flint to change his goal, he’d need to come to terms with the Empire being untouchable - which is bullshit bc like my man has a POINT, just because they seem to be able to be brought down doesn’t mean they ain’t - and to accept the homophobia and oppression they treated him and Thomas with, which, yeah fuck that, absolutely not, his rage and his goals are valid as FUCK. If we wanted to change Madi’s - lmao like listen i understand wanting her and Silver happy together bc we ship EVERYTHING in this house, but she’s poc and proper royalty and wants to end slavery. We ain’t touching her goals. So that just leaves Silver. Silver would need to face a part of himself that keeps him from placing Flint’s goals, or Madi’s goals, over his own. (I suspect we circle back to that insecurity and need to be loved, which defo stems from whatever trauma he swears doesn’t affect who he is today.) So for that he’d uhh... need therapy. And a shit tonne of it. But then you still have the issue that Flint and Madi will likely fight their war (bc they DESERVE IT), which may lead to what Silver considers inevitable - that they will die early and horribly, and he ends up all alone.

So, looking at playing with the canon-ish to change things? It’s gonna end in tragedy. There’s doesn’t seem any other way about it, i fear; not with the way these characters were written, with who they are and what drives them and what they want. If it doesn’t end in tragedy in one way, then almost certainly in another.

So what are our other options? What if we look at the fanon wish - whether it’s silverflint, or silvermadi, or madisilverflint, or just to have these kids be fucking happy? Well, you know what? Maybe it DOESNT have to end up in tragedy. Maybe, if Silver does align himself with the goals of the people he loves - after learning to communicate and place himself in other people’s shoes and prioritise the needs of his loved ones and compromising and all that jazz (god this boy needs therapy that only the fanon can likely give him, rip) - he could join them in their war. And maybe, his genius and creativity and quick wit will in fact propel their cause forward and help so much, none of them dies an early gruesome death. It’s not impossible! It just requires that sweet sweet character growth he doesn’t get the opportunity for in canon.

Another option, and this one is perhaps a little more plausible if the show had no episode limit or a desire to end in tragedy and “align” itself with “history” (they’ve played fast and loose with real history i’ve learned, and like,, it’s a story about fictional characters so why did it have to align itself with history?? Okay fine, as a prequel to Treasure Island, it still needed to end in tragedy for Silver bc we know where he ends up. Were there no Treasure Island and no rules and we could do what we wanted with the show and write a new ending, then what?). This one is more popular, you see it in loads of fics and i like it a lot. Silver sends Flint to the plantation. Flint and Thomas break out and get their war anyway. They’re pissed at Silver for a bit for being a selfish dick shitting on Flint’s dreams, but like,, it’s not as if it stopped Flint. (We can even look at it like Silver knew they’d probably fight their war and have better odds with Thomas in the mix, giving them a better opportunity - but like, that’s just a fun headcanon to play with that i don’t think aligns with what he explicitly states to want in canon.) And then, after some years, everyone learns to communicate and talk things out and maybe, maybe, Silver grows a bit and things become healthier between him and Flint.

Listen, the moral of the story is this. I love all the ships in this show. I think they’re all neat, and i love the different iterations in which people bring them to life and try to align them with canon. Do i think that with the canon we’ve been given, silverflint could happen? Maybe. Would it be healthy?? I mean... Probably not 😅 but like, that doesn’t prevent me from shipping it. (That’s not the point of shipping - sometimes you just wanna see that sweet sweet chemistry pay off, even tho u know it ain’t healthy. The characters are fictional. It’s okay. No-one will get hurt - apart from maybe you if you end up romanticising it and taking that into real life but ooft that’s a whole other kettle of fish.) But god, that’s the fucking JOY of fanfics ya know?? It may also be why i enjoy writing my modern au so much xD therapy is an option, and canon means even less than usual. All im saying is, when it comes to the relation between silver and flint, the fan community are a fucking godsend. You want them to be friends?? We got fics for that! Want them to bone? SO many fics for that! Want a sort of father-son role?? Uhh nowhere near enough fics for that, but the fandom’s still active so you never know! Partners in crime?? Hell YEAH that has potential, even in canon i think if u just stretch out fan-written episodes far enough!! (God can you imagine the POTENTIAL?? Ignore the war, the grittiness, the drama. Get me some pirate hijinks where the stakes are low but they’re still sharing a braincell.)

(Hmm. Now i need to add another idea to my WIP list lmao xD)

Anywayyy, hope this satisfies ur curiosity anon!!

#sorry it took me 2 days to answer #i just have Many Thots™ and i wanted to give this the care it deserves #i swear when i saw this question i was like 'you ask MOI???' #thank u so much tho this was so much fun to delve into #analysing character objectives and obstacles was one of my favourite things i learned studying acting #black sails #black sails meta #anne speaks #questions answered #anon #also id like to point out once more that jusr bc im critical of these characters doesnt mean i judge or hate on them #i ADORE a flawed character like thats literally the sexiest thing #okay okay im off to bed #writing ideas

[aion-rsa]

How Malignant’s Monster Calls Back to Stephen King

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Malignant article contains spoilers.

Malignant has a twist so wild you need to see it to believe it. Seriously, stop reading right now if you have even the faintest interest in watching James Wan‘s latest horror offering. You really don’t want to spoil this for yourself. Sure, you’ll either really love or absolutely hate the movie’s batshit third act, but the experience of watching the twist for the first time is worth the price of admission.

If you have watched the movie, maybe you left as astonished as I did. After all, the first two thirds of the movie play like a standard giallo-inspired slasher film before things go completely off the rails. You might say that some of the clues were there all along — indeed they are, maybe you saw this coming from a mile away — but when you thought you’d put it all together, did you really expect Wan to go through with something so ridiculous? I certainly said, “No, that can’t be it” to myself midway through the movie when the clues started adding up. It’s a new direction for Wan to be sure…

But Wan’s first trip into a new sub-genre of horror isn’t necessarily without outside influence. There’s a bit of David Cronenberg mixed with hints of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but for the most obvious inspiration you have to look to the King of Horror himself.

Before we talk about Stephen King, you might be wondering what the hell was going on with Gabriel in the first place.

Gabriel Origin Explained

Safari Riot’s cover of the classic Pixies song “Where Is My Mind” seems so out of place when it first blasts through a scene in the movie, an over-the-top accompaniment to what seems like your standard slasher flick, but it’s actually incredibly appropriate — not just for the massive tone shift but the plot itself. (“Where Is My Mind” is also the iconic tune that accompanies the final scene of Fight Club, another tale of split personalities.) Madison’s (Annabelle Wallis) mind has been playing tricks on her (and the audience) the entire time. She thinks her creepy childhood imaginary friend Gabriel has somehow taken corporeal form and started murdering everyone who had a hand in “separating” him from her. But little does Madison know that the separation was much more literal than her simply forgetting a figment of her imagination when her baby sister Syndey (Maddie Hasson) was born.

It’s Sydney who discovers the truth when she goes back to the institution where Madison spent her early childhood before being adopted by their mother Jeanne (Susanna Thompson). In the basement of the abandoned Simion Research Hospital, Sydney finds the harrowing tapes that reveal Madison’s past with her “imaginary friend.”

Madison was born Emily May to a 15-year-old girl named Serena (Jean Louise Kelly as an adult, Madison Wolfe as a teen) who is forced to give her away to the institution by her mother due to Emily’s…medical condition. In a stunningly gruesome sequence of body horror, we learn that Emily was born with a parasitic twin attached to her head and spinal cord, which allows it to control her movements and thoughts. The doctors at Simion at first diagnose Gabriel as a “massive teratoma,” a malignant tumor that can grow with fully developed organs and tissue, but as we see in the movie’s opening sequence, they soon learn that this is something much worse and decide to cut him out off of Emily for good.

But they can’t get rid of Gabriel completely. Because the siblings attached at the brain, the doctors are forced to remove as much of Gabriel as they can, hiding what’s left inside her skull. Of course that means that Gabriel never truly goes away. He continues to speak to Emily, now Madison, from inside her head, at one point almost convincing her to kill Jeanne while pregnant with Sydney.

While Madison eventually forgets her “imaginary friend” as an adult, Gabriel returns after Madison’s piece of shit husband Derek (Jake Abel) brutally slams her head against a wall during an altercation. (Let’s just say I’m glad he’s dead.) The injury reawakens what’s left of Gabriel, who can reemerge through her head wound to control and contort Madison’s body and go on his killing spree. Madison experiences these murders as visions, as she watches her sibling slash his way through all the doctors that tried to destroy him as well as the mother who gave him away in the first place. Madison’s only able to stop him after he’s already massacred a police station full of cops and prisoners and made his way to the hospital to kill Sydney and Serena. Using the mental link she has with Gabriel, Madison manages to lock her sibling away, promising that next time he reemerges, she’ll “be ready for him,” setting up an inevitable sequel and a new horror franchise for Wan.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Gabriel and the Dark Half

Constant Readers will undoubtedly spend the weekend pointing out that Gabriel’s plot to control his sister in order to go on a murder spree is very reminiscent of one of Stephen King’s most famous books and movies, The Dark Half. The book and the movie directed by the late, great George A. Romero tells the story of Thad Beaumont (played by Timothy Hutton in the film), a writer of literary fiction in a bit of a slump by day. But he has a far more successful career by night as the author of dark crime novels under the pen name “George Stark.�� Yet, the success of his Stark books feels like a curse to Thad, who is driven to heavy drinking and other vices when “the spell” of Stark’s prose. Now, a recovering alcoholic, Thad wishes to leave Stark behind and just write the literary fiction his agent and editor deem “boring.”

When the truth about Thad’s pen name comes out, the writer sees the perfect way to bury his career as George Stark once and for all — by throwing his pseudonym an actual funeral at the local cemetery. But Mr. Stark doesn’t like that very much. Thad’s pen name inexplicably “rises from the grave” to kill everyone he blames for his death — Thad’s editor, agent, and more.

You’re probably thinking it was Thad all along, but this is more than just another case of split personalities. Like in Wan’s latest, Stark was once actually very real, the sibling Thad absorbed in utero…except for a couple of teeth and an eye living inside of Thad’s brain. The “tumor” is removed from Thad’s head as a child, but he’s somehow unknowingly kept the spirit of his sibling alive through the books he writers, undoubtedly under Stark’s dark influence. It’s the kind of gory, supernatural twist King is best known for, and Wan sets out to celebrate the book with style. Mind you, this obviously isn’t a direct adaptation of King’s work but more like a spiritual successor to the book that pushes the plot much further into the ridiculous than even the writer did in 1989. Leave it to Wan to dream up an action sequence where a backwards (literally), contorting serial killer stabs his way through a building full of people to the sound of shredding guitars.

Even if you think Malignant‘s third act twist is an absolute mess, I’d argue it’s at least an interesting mess, a daring experiment in a corner of the horror genre we’ve not seen enough of in the past few years. Will this experiment lead to a new movement in body horror movies just as Saw for better or worse inspired years of “torture porn” movies and The Conjuring brought us the horror expanded universe? That remains to be seen. At the very least, Malignant is the kind of movie you’ll want to debate about with your friends as you exit the theater, even if it’s just to say you absolutely hated the twist. Aren’t you at least glad you saw it for yourself? The twist just isn’t as good on paper.

Malignant is out now in theaters and streaming on HBO Max.

The post How Malignant’s Monster Calls Back to Stephen King appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3twQgAE

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part XX)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI | Part XXII | Part XXIII | Part XXIV

Knock knock knock

Remus was startled from his painting by the sudden knock at the door, nearly dropping his brush on the floor.

"Jesus," he swore under his breath, before straightening himself up and suppressing a grin. "Come in, it's open!"

Remus adjusted his shirt and wiped his face with the back of his hand, hoping that he didn't have any paint there.

"You know," a voice said from behind the artist, "you really shouldn't leave your door unlocked. Not in this neighbourhood…"

Remus took a deep breath and turned around, trying not to seem as eager as he felt. He gave a casual shrug and cocked an eyebrow. 

"Would you rather I get paint all over my door handle?"

Sirius had a wry grin spreading across his lips. He was wearing another expensive suit and his hair was tied back in his usual loose bun, but his demeanor was much warmer than the first time he had visited Remus' apartment. The two men had spent the last couple of weeks meeting at Black and White to discuss the upcoming show, slowly breaking through one another's defenses.

"I mean…" Sirius offered, sweeping his bangs from his eyes. "If it keeps you from getting murdered, than I'd say it's better for business."

Remus knew Sirius' sense of humour by this point; as dry as his tone was, Sirius was definitely joking.

"What are you talking about?" Remus teased, returning his attention to the canvas and away from the gallery owner. "Everyone knows the value of your art goes up if you die. More so if that death is gruesome." Remus grinned to himself as he heard Sirius chuckle. The artist enjoyed making the other man laugh, and it was a skill that he was quickly improving at.

"Well in that case," Sirius droned, approaching Remus and positioning himself right behind the artist. "Maybe I should take a hit out on you? Make a bit more money?"

"Not funny," Remus muttered, trying to hide his grin. "At least let me have one gallery show before my tragic demise."

"Fair enough!" Sirius let out a rare full-bodied laugh that bounced around the tiny flat and settled deep in the pit of Remus' stomach, stirring up the butterflies that had finally settled. "What have you got to show me today?"

Remus turned around to face the gallery owner, only to find the man closer than he had assumed. Sirius was standing a mere foot away from Remus, his back perfectly straight, his chin lifted slightly, the stark blue of his eyes clearly visible. Remus swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to keep his nerves steady. He could feel the electricity in the room, vibrating and palpable, radiating off the two of them. 

Remus almost preferred when they were fighting; at least then he could say that his anxiety around Sirius was caused by hatred. There was no denying it at this point: Sirius was attractive and Remus was molten beneath the heat of his stare. 

"I… uh… yes. Wait… what?"

The corner of Sirius' mouth twisted up and Remus wanted to wipe that smirk off the man's face— whether by punching him or snogging him, he couldn't be entirely sure. 

"I said…" Sirius paused for dramatic effect. It seemed that everything he did was for dramatics in one way or another. "What have you got to show me today?"

Remus nodded, taking a step back— away from Sirius— and collecting his composure. He gestured to the painting that he had been working on, accidentally splattering paint from the brush that he had forgotten was in his hand.

"Ah, shit…" Remus mumbled, leaning in towards Sirius to see if he had accidentally gotten paint on his suit. He knew he'd never be able to afford a replacement. He hastily inspected Sirius' jacket before looking up and feeling his breath catch in his lungs. Sirius' smile was unlike any that Remus had ever seen before; it was almost lewd, predatory, absolutely captivating. Remus took a step back, his eyes dropping immediately to his feet as his ears burned, threatening to betray his emotions. 

"S— sorry," Remus muttered, turning his attention back to his painting. 

"Don't worry about it." Sirius' voice was liquid honey, trickling languidly down Remus' spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.

"So," Remus practically squeaked, trying his best to redirect his mind away from the feel off Sirius' breath of the back of his neck. "Um… art. My art. It's… uh… here."

Smooth.

Sirius didn't seem to mind Remus' awkward stammering. In fact, if Remus didn't know better, he'd think that Sirius was enjoying the situation. 

"Yes. It's a good piece, Remus." 

Again with the Remus.

Remus hated how much he loved hearing his name in Sirius' voice.

"Thanks," Remus mumbled, keeping his gaze affixed to the painting and his hands clenched in  tight little balls. "Is it okay for the show?"

"It's perfect."

The words rang through Remus' mind as the two men stood and stared at the painting. Perfect. That was a word he had never expected to hear from Sirius Black. 

Perfect.

"Well..." Remus started, straightening himself up and turning around to finally face the gallery owner. Sirius' eyes were still focused on the painting, darting back and forth as they scanned the work. His mouth was slightly parted, as if he was completely lost in thought. Remus forced himself to look away, trying to keep his mind off of Sirius’ lips and how they would feel against his own. "Was there… anything else you needed?"

"Oh… uh…" Sirius looked slightly startled at the question and glanced down at Remus, his eyes coming into focus. "No… No, this is fine, Remus. Thank you."

The gallery owner brushed a strand of hair from his face and turned around abruptly.

"I guess I'll see you around, Sirius…"

Sirius turned his head to look back at Remus, giving the artist a once-over. His eyes drifted down to Remus’ shabby, hole-ridden socks, up his stained jeans, his baggy shirt, and finally settling on his eyes. Remus was suddenly self-conscious about how he looked compared to the gallery owner. The smile that spread across Sirius’ face, however, seemed to indicate that he didn’t mind the artist’s aesthetics.

“Yeah,” Sirius purred, his grin growing wider and a flush spreading across his ivory cheeks. “I’ll see you around, Remus.” 

With that, Sirius existed Remus’ apartment, and the artist was left alone to ponder their interaction and what Sirius’ smile really meant.

((Author’s Note: There is one thing (and one thing only) on Remus’ mind! Can you tell what it is? ;) ))

#Black and White #Woflstar #wolfstar fanfiction #remus lupin #Sirius black #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #artist remus #gallery owner sirius #Black and white part 20 #part 20 #part XX #My writing #My art #Remus' art #Wolfstar fanart #I'm sorry it's taken me so long to post this! #Hopefully I will be able to update more often!! #Thanks for sticking with me! #I love you guys!!!

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Sea shells and all the things he left behind 2/2 Summary: Somehow explaining that you were raised by a siren is not an easy task. AN: I wrote a sequel. Wild, i know.

Read on AO3

Dick didn’t have a chance to explain anything to Wally or anyone else at the aquarium until after Bruce was settled. The siren wouldn’t sleep, Dick would be surprised if he did in unfamiliar terrain, but he had calmed again. The boy, Tim, or secret-who-paints if Dick had caught that correctly, was sitting at the edge of the pool, dressed in a new set of clothes. His legs were dangling in the water and every so often Bruce would pull at them, reassuring himself and the boy. Far more often than that though, his large tail fin dragged against Dick’s legs. His scales were sharp, could cut if grabbed incorrectly, but he had never hurt Dick and even now caressed him as softly as he used to. The entire day had been exhausting and nothing short of a train wreck.

Dick wanted to go home and sleep.

The fact that he couldn’t really recall whether home was the apartment he shared or the caves he had grown up in didn’t help his mind either.

His tiredness must show because Roy and Wally both were sitting next to him in the red zone – the five-meter room all handlers were supposed to stay out of unless they wanted a siren to drag them into the water. From experience Dick knew that that space wouldn’t be enough if Bruce wanted to get to them. He was massive, large even by siren standards and more stubborn than anyone else. If he wanted you dead, you’d be no matter how far away from him you truly stayed.

“Dick,” Wally finally spoke up. “What is going on?”

Dick had no idea how he was supposed to start. He hadn’t ever said a word to anyone, not a single living soul. He’d been angry at Bruce when he had left, but not so angry that he would give away all their secrets.

He turned to look at his father and the mer clicked at him. Yes.

“I was nine when that huge earthquake hit Gotham,” Dick heard himself say. He felt like he was miles, years away from this room and moment. “We were performing in Gotham. I think I told you that I used to be part of a circus?”

Wally and Roy both nodded. Dick was pretty sure that even if he hadn’t, they’d have known. Dick would always be flipping, spinning, jumping and flying. Being an acrobat was in his blood.

“When the earthquake hit, we were in one of the underground trains. Gotham was built pretty much artificially. The earthquake shook it up pretty good and the support just broke. There are large caves underground, huge water dwellings. You can cross the entire city underground without ever touching the surface. Paths towards it are far and few and difficult to access. Most of the people living down there are physically unable to reach them. They don’t particularly care about them.”

“People?” Roy inquired.

Dick smiled wearily. “Yes, people. Mers. There is pretty much a second city right below Gotham. The waters there are toxic, mutated after years of waste being stuffed into them so most of the mers never leave. They’re pretty much incapable of breathing actually clean seawater.”

Dick glanced at Bruce again, who held his head high above the water. He’d always been able to breathe air as well, so he wasn’t suffering too much, but it would aid his recovery if he’d be allowed to submerge completely. They should throw some chemicals in the water, up the chlorine levels. Maybe Bruce’s fins would shine as prettily as they usually did then as well.

“But yes, the earthquake hit and the train crashed into one of those caves. Most people died upon impact or were so severely injured that they died soon after. Others drowned in the water.”

Roy and Wally looked positively sick. Dick couldn’t even blame them. He’d gotten used to the sight of bloated corpses, death and bloodshed to a degree that was honestly concerning.

“But you didn’t,” Wally said and sounded like he was half reassuring himself that his best friend was still there.

“I didn’t,” Dick replied. “Bruce saved me.”

The siren in question frowned when Dick’s friends both set their sights on him, confusion coloring their expressions. It was a little funny, to be honest.

“His name is Bruce?”

Roy’s voice sounded almost a little hysterical. He was probably trying to save up his panic attack for when he could afford to lose his calm in the privacy of his own home.

“It’s actually dark-who-swims-with-the-sharks,” Dick pointed out.

Wally mouthed the clicks and thrills Dick had let out so very easily by comparison, but just shook his head and gave up. “Yeah, that totally sounds like Bruce.”

“I was nine, I couldn’t exactly pronounce it either,” Dick defended himself. Bruce had been very proud of him the first time he actually had gotten it right. His name was still too long to use it regularly so the nickname had stuck.

“So Bruce saved you and what? Helped you back to the surface?”

“After a couple years,” Dick answered.

He didn’t want to think too much about it. In the beginning Bruce had been more concerned that Dick would make it through the nights. He had been injured by the fall and Dick almost couldn’t recall how long it had been until he’d been able to move on his own. A month or two? Probably longer. His diet had suffered a lot and he’d lost a lot of weight until Bruce had figured out that he could not in fact live of fish, never mind raw fish, alone. But then Dick had needed to learn how to hold his breath for a longer duration, until he could swim from the cave that was their home to the next and so on. He was fairly sure that if he tested against the current world champion, he’d be able to hold his breath minutes longer than them without any preparation.

“It’s not like there was anybody else and Bruce was the only other person who could understand me besides Alfred.”

Alfred had rarely left Bruce’s side, they were family after all. Dick knew that it was a common misconception amongst humans that sirens were solitary creatures, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. They just usually didn’t go anywhere near humans with the rest of their family and were therefore only ever spotted and caught on their own.

“Who is Alfred?”

“Another siren. Bruce’s sort of parent but not. It’s complicated and doesn’t translate well into English. He raised Bruce after his… owners died. Point is that I spent six years down in there with him until I reached the surface again for the first time. I think I looked like death, there’s not exactly a lot of bioluminescent fauna down there. I left when I was seventeen because I wanted to be amongst humans again. Studied a lot, played catch up with long-forgotten human manners and here I am.”

“Here you are,” Wally echoed, then froze up, realization settling in. “Is that why you didn’t know any TV shows whatsoever?”

“What?”

That was absolutely not the question Dick had expected. In fact, he had thought that at least one of them would run out screaming by now, calling the nearest clinic because Dick Grayson has gone insane! Or if not that, maybe a government office to inform that that mers were in fact as sentient as humans, had a language and one of them even raised a child. Wonder if that would get Dick an entry on Wikipedia.

“And your obsession with spices,” Wally continued. “And fruits. How are you even healthy, your diet must have been the stuff of nightmares.”

“It was okay,” Dick said. “Just because it’s hard for me to get in and out of the caves, doesn’t mean it was for everyone else. Bruce and Alfred brought me stuff they found out in the sea or on the beaches. I had clothes and like bagged chips, dried fruits and instant noodles. Even a couple books once we figured out how to transport them safely and life got a lot better after I could make my own trips upstairs. And then I left.”

That felt like a simplification, but he didn’t want to share all the gruesome details of that period. Sure, he had gotten books and could actually get caught up on school and the like, but he’d almost drowned on the regular making those trips, which lead to fights with Bruce which lead to leaving which lead to this.

Dick turned to the kid who had listened attentively to the conversation, but hadn’t actually added anything to it. He was a quiet boy, silent in a way Dick had never been. He had always been babbling in any language he knew, from English, Chinese and Spanish to Bruce’s language and all the other dialects of it that his friends had taught him.

“Shit, dude,” Roy cursed and buried his head in his hands. “You got raised by a freaking mer. You got raised by a mer. How-?”

The rest of Roy’s question was lost to the overwhelming realization that Dick was not just one of them. He hadn’t ever felt like it, but he had been able to pretend and that had been good enough. There simply hadn’t been another option.

“So you haven’t actually spoken with… Bruce ever since?”

“No,” Dick answered. “No, I have not and now I’d like to know you found me.”

The kid, Tim, apparently didn’t catch onto the fact that Dick was talking to him now. His head was dropping and his eyes fluttering shut. He had had one hell of a day, just as exhausting as Dick if not worse because he was years younger than Dick

“Kid showed up here with a stolen boat and Bruce tucked into the cooler,” Wally said.

“Not stolen,” Tim muttered sleepily. “It’s mine. My parents were on it.”

When he said parents, his voice quivered so badly that Dick thought he was going to cry any second. Bruce picked up on that as well and moved away from Dick to pay full attention to Tim. He tugged on his legs again, trilling softly, and Tim pushed himself off the pool’s edge and jumped straight into the water, into Bruce’s arms. It was straight to see another child cling to Bruce when recalling how he used to hang onto Bruce. The fins on his arms were so long, Dick had been able to disappear completely in his embrace when he’s been younger. Only his black hair had been visible, like it was now with Tim. Wally and Roy stood up in alarm, but Dick gestured for them to sit down again. He supposed it looked frightening to them, the ocean’s most terrifying killers gently consoling a young child.

“What happened?” Dick asked Bruce.

Tim was in no shape of answering now and Dick wouldn’t force him too, no matter how much he wanted an explanation.

“I was caught,” Bruce replied. “I was looking for terror-who-laughs, but secret-who-paints’s parents found me and put me in a viewing glass. Showed me off to other humans, but secret-who-paints is smart, kind. He’s a good child.”

Bruce scowled and the displeasure was apparent. He hadn’t been in a pool since he was twelve and the Wayne’s had died. Being locked up like that again most have been horrible, especially since whoever Tim’s parents were, they definitely wouldn’t have been able to contain Bruce in a pool big enough for him.

“And then venom-in-his-blood came.”

Dick paled. He had hoped that he had misheard Tim before, that the child had made a mistake in his panic, but-

“Venom-in-his-blood? Are you sure?”

“He attacked their ship,” Bruce continued. “Pulled them off, I’ve been on the sea with secret-who-paints on my own since, we only barely managed to escape.”

“But why would venom-in-his-blood show up in the first place? You defeated him years ago.”

Dick remembered that battle vividly. He had been much younger than, small and helpless and had to watch from afar as Bruce and venom-in-his-blood tore into one another.

“He came back,” Bruce spat. “He came back and Gotham’s falling apart.”

“What are you two talking about?” Wally asked uneasily. “It sounds serious but we don’t speak… that.”

“There is a mer, another siren,” Dick began to explain. “His name is-“ Dick sighed in frustration. ”Just call him Bane. He’s dangerous, incredibly tall. Easily the biggest siren I’ve ever seen, bigger than the ones we have on record here. He attacks humans and mers alike.”

“What for?”

Dick turned to Bruce and Tim. Bruce was swimming slower now, just floating on the surface, really. The kid must have fallen asleep.

“Fun and hunger,” Dick finally replied after moments of silence. “He’s a cannibal and once he set his eyes on his prey, he doesn’t stop.”

Which meant that the moment Bruce swam back to Gotham, Bane would attack him.

#batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #tim drake #batman #wally west #roy harper #fanfic #mermay #bet you thought you'd seen the last of me

[gengarprotectionsquad]

bad horror movie ideas i've been compiling b/c @fleetwoodmurk is an enabler:

thankskilling: the family connections of a 19 year old college student allow him to skirt by any substantial sentencing for violent anti-indigenous hate crimes, just in time for him to make it home by thanksgiving. the soothing whispers of how he “shouldn’t have his life ruined for making a mistake” on property staked in stolen indigenous land invite the wrathful presence of autumn’s bounty-- a ghastly, therizinosaurus-like approximation of a turkey powered solely by the anguish of lives taken in the name of american colonialism. after all, if that family wants their son to have some turkey, then he’ll get his eight foot-tall, blade-handed, undying turkey.    

homebody: forced to pull into a run-down motel by a freak storm, a group of friends initially find themselves faced with nothing more harrowing than the occasional cobweb and staff who never meet visitors face-to-face, even finding a note on the front counter that there’s no fee for staying--so long as they “spread the word” if they find their stay satisfactory. but, after waking up each morning to find that they’ve lost clumps of hair, individual teeth, and even a toe among other body parts, they discover the motel’s one and only employee--a colossal, man-like harvestman that severs human tissue with surgical precision (thanks to its spindly, 15 meter arms) in a misguided attempt to better fool human prey by grafting the fruits of its labor onto its own body.     

goliath’s revenge: a japanese kaiju film director finally pushes his luck just a tad too far, killing the suit actress for the lead “goliath” monster as a direct result of the director’s penchant for strenuous, dangerous stuntwork. when his connections allow him to wriggle his way out of the tragedy scot-free, the suit actress’ furious spirit reanimates in her signature costume--now made flesh and blood--in order to exact a vengeful rampage of monstrous proportions that her former boss could only have hoped to have filmed. 

more under the cut!!!

hivemind: a single mother reeling from a devastating divorce seems to find new purpose in her life thanks to a california-based branch of a yoga group that emphasizes the value of both diligence and mindfulness. as the months go by, however, she realizes that she’s so deeply invested her time with the group that she doesn’t even know the names of anyone in her neighborhood that isn’t involved with them. just as she’s having doubts, she’s invited on a week-long retreat to experience what will hopefully become an outdoor facility of theirs, and that even their founder will be in attendance. she and her daughter do indeed meet the group’s founder--a colossal, humanoid queen ant who is rendered inert by her size, subsequently relying on her psychic abilities to indoctrinate human followers to her side and transform them into “suitable workers” that would happily give their lives for her sake   

children of the night: an exorcist, a private investigator, a trio of true crime podcasters, the local sheriff w/ top suspect in tow, a self-proclaimed “vampire hunter”, and a humble gravedigger all converge on the same cemetery when it becomes host to a series of unspeakably gruesome murders--the site being deemed the “vampires’ playground” for the crimes’ bloody nature. but when the self-confessed suspect winds up cleaved in twain at the scene, it turns out they’ll all have to deal with actual vampires--hulking, gorilla-like, hairless bats with the intelligence of a toddler and a permanent, gummy grin filled with teeth far too dull to consume flesh that hasn’t been playfully beaten to a fine pulp beforehand 

think tank: with the untimely death of a silicon valley tech giant who’d racked up a reputation for being as antisocial as he was exploitative, a documentary crew visits his main offices in hopes of interviewing any available employees in order to determine whether or not that open secret had any truth to it. though cooperative enough, the surly defensiveness that seems to increase in prevalence as the crew makes their way up the corporate ladder leads one particularly-intrepid camerawoman to sneak the crew far further into the building than originally intended and into a hidden basement. this brings them face-to-face with the deceased entrepreneur’s dirty little secret, known as the think tank: a captive “psychic existence” brought into being using the harvested, collective brainpower of every employee who refused to take their boss’s shit but was just too talented to let go 

whalefall: the 300 ft tall, walking corpse of a whale dredges its way up from the ocean floor and onto american shorelines, bringing with it tidal waves of pestilence and plague. when japanese fishermen identify the creature as a bake-kujira--a ghostly whale that harbors only misfortune and undead sealife in the wake of maritime disaster--the federal government opts to not only ignore their insight, but outright blame japan and their whaling industry for its presence. their relative inaction in the name of xenophobia and saving face will serve only to prolong the creature’s attack, with entire coastal towns left to deal with the flooding and zombified deep-sea organisms themselves. 

study skin: a group of hunters grow too impatient to wait for their county’s deer season and set out under the cover of nightfall in hopes of snagging a trophy or two. though met with a highway lined with bizarre amounts of roadkill and a totally silent forest, they disregard their unease and set up for the night. they soon discover the true reason for the minimal duration of the local hunting season when they catch a glimpse of an old friend long-thought to have vanished on a hunting trip, bringing them face-to-face with the hidewinder--a mysterious creature that inhabits the skins of deceased animals in search of larger and more complex bodies to call its own, with absolutely no idea how to look or behave “right” in any of its disguises, and a tendency to become enraged once it becomes clear that it doesnt fit in.

calling card: a freelance musician struggling with being sincere and vulnerable in their own work decides to move to a small, quiet town in southern bumblefuck-nowhere to try and clear their head. to their surprise, they’ve practically moved onto the set of a musical--the town’s residents bursting into song at the drop of a hat out of what seems to be the sheer, earnest passion of their feelings. this pleasant novelty soon turns out to be a town tradition established to cope with the presence of lonesome harvey--an upright cicada-man who emerges from underground hibernation every 18 years to rip select peoples’ vocal chords right out of their throats, crudely tying them together in order to fashion a set powerful enough to function as his own (which he uses to shriek out his signature mating call every summers’ night, in hopes of attracting a partner who’ll never arrive). thus, the townsfolk sing their hearts out so that harvey can gauge whose voice he’ll claim for himself (as opposed to having him mutilate everyone in the name of trial-and-error), and the musician has moved into town just in time for ol’ harvey to make his return.

back of your mind: following the very-much-timely (if a tad mysterious) death of their verbally-abusive mother, her only child returns to their childhood home in order to collect any wayward belongings and maybe find some sort of closure in setting foot on the premises one last time. a patch of black mold on the wall that they spot on their way in seems to...change location, somehow. further investigation and attempts to simply wipe away the mold leave it in the blurred image of a gummy, toothy maw--one that begins to whisper to the visitor, claiming to have missed them oh-so-very-much from the day that they left. the strangeness of the situation keeps them coming back everyday, where the mold’s whispers begin to take a familiarly-cruel edge--at first pleading for the visitor to stay, only to take to yelling at them that no-one but the mold will accept them as the “broken, useless husk” of a person that they are.    

miasma: a long line of charlatans and conmen have managed to convince a small backwoods town over generations that their collection of plastic gems and false talismans will heal them better than any medical professional could ever hope to accomplish. with most of the towns residents now being old, grey, and complacently vulnerable to disease, a new con artist moving in with a case of the stomach flu compromises the health of the entire community. and with the enticing smell of illness, comes the arrival of the scavenger--a black-feathered “vulture man” who knocks three times upon the door of his intended target, before politely entering their residence and leaving within the hour, leaving behind a bloated corpse whose orifices are stuffed with posies laying otherwise peacefully on their bed.  

killing stroke: a promising rising star in the fencing scene is tragically slain in the middle of a prestigious tournament, with the cause of death being attributed to a recklessly-modified underplastron. in actuality, the poor youth’s equipment was sabotaged in order to maintain the career of a legendary fencer. on the anniversary of his death, he rises from the grave and dons his old suit in order to infiltrate that year’s iteration of the tournament--his mission being to cut down not only his rival, but anyone who upholds the same kind of narcissistic greed that claimed his life.  

disassembly line: an upton sinclair-adjacent investigative journalist finds herself looking into the inner workings of a 1900s meat-packing factory in chicago, beholding the full disgusting scope of its exploitative, unsanitary working conditions. managing to acquaint herself with a few of the workers, the lunchtime whispers of one particularly-attractive lady butcher point her in the direction of a devious cover-up involving a nameless employee who “accidentally” wound up in the machinery after making too much of a ruckus about his wages. a nameless employee whose steaming, ground-up remains have now crawled out of the rickety equipment in search of postmortem vigilante justice.    

catch of the day: in spite of the sustainability concerns their operation has racked up over the years, a deep-sea fishing company delves into nigh-uncontested territory--a patch of ocean deemed “dead waters” in reference to the sparse results of other companies’ attempts. their first day dredges up only a single pacific halibut, titanic even by the standards of the species. upon further inspection, the flatfish splits open in a mess of bodily fluids and blackened, inedible meat--as if the fish had already been torn apart and had decayed from the inside out. lost in the shuffle was an amniotic sac containing rapidly-growing, amphibious hagfish “mermaids” that had parasitized the halibut as they had almost all of the other fish in those waters, and that have now been unleashed on a lonely fishing boat sitting miles away from shore.    

razorback bridge: a group of teenaged, amateur paranormal enthusiasts livestream their first “investigation” into a local landmark--razorback bridge, rumored to be haunted by the murderous ghost of a local farmer whose crops were so frequently ruined by invasive wild boar that he snapped and devoted the rest of his natural life to slaying the hogs, eventually losing his life to a boar that proceeded to gobble up his remains without leaving a trace. although officials have long restricted access to that part of the woods due to the aggressive nature of the wild boar inhabiting the area, the teens manage to sneak their way onto the bridge and come face-to-face with ol’ rawhide himself--a ravenous, nigh-unstoppable half-man/half-boar that came to be when the hog that consumed the old farmer had its body possessed and warped by the man’s furious ghost, far too angry to accept even the prospect of his own death.    

vigor mortis: a kindly old mortician prides herself on her ability to restore bodies to exactly how they looked in life, enabling their families to have at least one source of comfort during the difficult coping process of loss. one day, however, she is presented with a body so badly mangled in an accident that she almost suggests to forgo embalming altogether and to simply refrigerate the corpse until the burial service, though she ultimately doesn’t when the distraught client begs for the process to be open-casket. try as she might, the mortician finds herself unable to make any substantial restoration on the body. in the few minutes that she steps away from the body in order to think of what else she could do, she turns back to find that it’s...vanished. she soon finds herself being pursued at every turn by the shambling corpse, now enshrouded in a body bag, and is forced to confront both a mangled revenant and a debilitating case of impostor syndrome.

making up for lost time: a conspiracy theory-themed convention is having its first go in philadelphia, pennsylvania--even hosting an artists’ alley selling everything from “ayyy lmao” keychains to collapsible foam JFK heads. when mysterious burn damage begins to show up on the property, however, the inflated egos of the guest panel speakers representing various “unorthodox investigation” groups not only refuse to give up on the convention, but are so prone to bickering amongst themselves and attempting to assume leadership that they only make it harder for the other attendees to respond to the threat of what seems to be a time traveler. that is, the victim of a first attempt at time travel so badly botched that she’s received what is mostly simply put as “space-time carpet burn”: not only is she burning, but her mind, her soul, and the very concept of her throughout space and time are burning, leaving the unreachable chrononaut in a frenzied panic that threatens to scorch everything she touches right out of existence along with her.    

pearly gates: in the midst of a national emergency, a group of local landlords manage to bully their recently-unemployed tenants into coughing up just enough rent to host a get-together at their luxurious gated community. following a constant sensation of being watched and drowsy recollections of blinding light shining through their windows that first evening, the group awakens the next day to find one of them dead--groveling on her hands and knees with her entire skull seeming to have somehow...inverted. they soon realize that they’re being picked off by an angel--one so enraged by their inhuman greed that it wrenched itself free from the heavens in order to exact furious retribution. 

frontera sangrienta: a softspoken chicanx youth sneaks across the american border on a nightly basis under the noses of both his immigrant parents and border patrol agents, for the express purpose of helping mexican migrants safely make their way over. one night, he is met with a family so terrified that he can make out only one word from their panic--”chupacabra”. the legendary mosquito has developed a taste for american blood after devouring careless tourists and escaped goats, and is in hot pursuit of the family considering that the mother is an american herself. the young man--a “mixed signal” to the chupacabra due to his conflicted feelings over thinking of himself as strictly american or mexican--is now the only thing standing between the family and a pitiful, bloody demise.

52: after a saturation diver is violently wrenched from their diving bell in a freak accident and their remains are presumed lost at sea, a marine salvage team is sent in by the chamber’s manufacturers under the surface-level orders to retrieve evidence for the investigation, but with the underlying message really being to “pick all that shit up so we can just sweep it under the rug quickly and quietly”. upon arrival, the crew begins picking up a bizarre frequency that would otherwise be regarded as whalesong...if not for the fact that it is much higher than the calls of any whales known to inhabit the area. the salvage team then finds themselves being picked off one by one by the source of the noise--it turns out that the saturation diver’s sheer will to live allowed their broken body to adapt to the ocean depths, taking on a warped form not too dissimilar to a beluga whale. now the former diver is left to lash out in frenzied desperation, screaming out a cry for help that falls deaf on the ears of both humans and sealife 

i am but a teenage fool who knows nothing about nothing so please do not dunk on me if nothing i wrote here has any accurate basis in real-world experiences or logic. also i’ll update with more if/whenever i think of any 

#horror #bogleech #monster #monsters #horror movies

[ampleappleamble]

reminder: yall on ao3 real nice, also i love you thank you so much

also i’m gonna go ahead and post chapter 5 here in its entirety too (under a cut, natch) just in case. meanwhile, i’m chopping and screwing screenshots into big huge frankenstein images so i can obsess over canon conversations and lore on the go! some of these screenshots are just pure comedy though. post ‘em later! anyway, here it is in case you missed it:

Chapter 5: Home and Hearth

---

Edér wondered sometimes just how long it would take his hometown to finally die.

It reminded him of this dog he used to know when he was a kid, a sweet old hound dog called Tibbeth. She was the Rask's dog, but the whole town knew her, cared for her, fed her scraps. Everyone loved that dog. By the time Edér was old enough to make lasting memories, she was reaching the end of her breeding years, and she only mellowed out further with each year that passed. He remembered her fondly from his childhood: Tibby making him late for dawn church service because she sat on his feet and wouldn't stop giving him Sad Eyes till he rubbed her tummy. Tibby wandering between two arguing friends and licking herself so ostentatiously that the argument was completely forgotten, ending in peals of laughter instead of fisticuffs.

But as he grew into an adolescent, Tibby grew elderly and decrepit. Her teeth and fur fell out. She limped. Her scat was watery and thin, and she tended to let it fall wherever she stood. Her belly distended, and she started getting mean and lashing out at those who tried to touch her, tried to help her.

He had known there was something growing inside of her that was hurting her, and what was worse, he had known that there was nothing anyone could do to help her. But to Edér, the worst thought of all was that she was still in there under it all. Under all the pain and fear, sweet old Tibby was still in there wanting nothing but belly rubs and bits of ham from your plate. It was the sickness made her snap at you, made her shit all over herself and struggle and scream while you tried to clean her up. Made her scared.

And it was this sickness that made his hometown like this, now. And just like with Tibby, there was nothing he could do to help. No way to excise the tumor. His gaze wandered to the corpse-strewn monster of a tree nearby. Nothing left to do but end it mercifully.

But he hadn't even had it in him to watch as Tibby was put down all those years ago. She had scratched and bitten the Gyrning's baby girl, and even though she was old and half toothless, she did enough damage to scar the child for life. He had run away back then, hiding the tears he had been getting too old to shed so freely anymore.

He sighed heavily, barely squinting against the feeble morning sunlight as he gazed out over the only home he had ever known.

"We're both gettin' too old for this, ain't we?" Edér murmured.

Gilded Vale did not answer him.

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end, and he turned slowly, carefully, to look at the tree again. He wasn't alone.

---

The rest of the morning hadn't gone so badly.

She'd suffered a nightmare, she'd explained, and the strange hallucinations she'd told him about before had decided to manifest at the worst possible time: exactly when she had woken up. Hence the... episode she'd had. Understandable, given the circumstances.

Unfortunately, she did still want to go back to that tree. "For closure," she'd pleaded. "It'll only take a moment, I promise you."

They had dressed and packed their meager belongings in awkward silence, making it all the way downstairs to a table with their bowls of tepid porridge in hand before she had spoken up again.

"I'm sorry," she'd stated, stirring the beige mess in her bowl with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner fastening her own noose. "That was probably a... distinctly unpleasant experience for you. And this little detour probably will be, too. ...Please know that I truly appreciate your agreeing to accompany me nonetheless."

She sounded as though she'd been planning this apology all morning, phrasing and rephrasing it in her head until she could strike a palatable balance between being honest with him and maintaining etiquette. Aloth had accepted without hesitation, of course. He had almost apologized to her himself in return, for perhaps having seen... more than she may have wanted a near-stranger to see, but he had thought better of it and remained silent instead. He hadn't wanted to embarrass her by bringing up her strange behavior again. She seemed to appreciate it.

And now he was standing a few paces behind her in the center of town as she stared at a dead woman in a tree.

 They had been standing there for fifteen minutes.

 "She's aff 'er heed, lad."

"Nobody asked you," he sighed through gritted teeth.

---

Axa regarded the new, dark world in which she found herself with fear and wonder. She had expected to see the dead woman, feel a little foolish, and then set off on the road. She had not been expecting this at all.

Caldara de Berranzi's soul looked back at her, smiling a gentle, motherly smile.

"What is this?" She said it, but she didn't, just like in her dream. "What's happened to me?"

And the animancer responded in the same fashion. "Poor thing! You must be so confused. The world is a baffling place, and the world beyond the Shroud even more so. But that world is yours now, too, to bear witness to."

"I don't understand," Axa whimpered. She really, really didn't. She didn't even know if this was really happening.

The dwarven woman's soul smiled sadly at the little orlan, tsked in sympathy. "I know you don't, dear. It's a lot to take in. Here, let me put it this way: Whatever happened to you, it freed your soul from your body, but not all the way. You were pulled into this world--" The dwarf gestured at the swirling morass of essence and void around them-- "the In-Between of Life and Death. But! You must have only been here for an instant. Any longer, and you'd have ended up staying here, like me." Caldara gestured at herself, a bloated corpse dangling from a tree, with a sweet little chuckle.

"Your soul remembers, though. Remembers even after it returns to your body. Remembers how it sees in this world. Souls, their histories, their memories, their paths through the In-Between. All are yours to observe." The animancer nodded sagely.

"You are a Watcher, now," she chirped, "and a Watcher you will stay."

Axa blinked. Watcher. The word from her dream.

 "I... I don't know what that means at all."

Caladara sighed softly. "Oh dear, oh dear. Make yourself comfortable, aimoranet. We have a lot more talking to do."

---

Aloth was starting to feel uneasy.

It had been just over 20 minutes now, and Axa still stood in the same spot, mesmerized by the dead animancer. They were drawing curious stares from townsfolk as they passed by, and he was getting nervous about what might happen-- what might come out of his mouth-- should one of them try to start something.

He glanced around furtively, his open grimoire like a leaden weight in his hands, searching for anything to focus on besides the fact that he'd apparently elected to travel with this woman. A blond man with a pipe, leaning casually against a collapsed wall some distance away, cocked an eyebrow at him. The message was completely unspoken, but easily understood. "Uh, your friend okay there?"

He shot back a look that he hoped said both "Mind your own business, please" and "I have absolutely no idea why she's doing this," somehow.

The man with the pipe shrugged, glanced up at the dead dwarf, then turned away. Aloth took the opportunity to study him a bit further, recognizing him vaguely from his time in town. He'd seen this man around, although not as much in recent weeks. He was vaguely aware of the Vale's day-to-day goings-on, and he seemed to recall seeing less of this particular face around the same time the local lord strung up his latest hapless victim in this gruesome abomination of a tree. Aloth tried to remember exactly who that victim had been...

...before noticing, with a start, that Axa had moved. She'd snapped out of whatever strange fugue state had taken hold of her and she stood before him now, looking for all the world like a child woken prematurely from a nap: confused, angry, morose.

He proceeded extremely cautiously. "Axa? Are you alright?" He leaned a bit closer for privacy's sake. "You seemed... a bit lost, there." For almost half an hour.

Either she didn't notice his attempt at discretion or she didn't care. "According to that dead woman," she blurted, "I'm a Watcher."

He felt his eyebrows leap up to his hairline. "Oh. Well. That... explains a lot, actually."

---

Edér had watched the elf and the orlan the entire time they stood before the tree.

The elf he'd seen around town here and there recently, but he'd never interacted with the man. Of course, he'd heard others talking about him, saying all kinds of things: a haughty foreigner who thinks he can bring his high-falutin' Aedyran ass here and piss on our hospitality. But given the usual kind of horseshit his fellow townsfolk usually spewed these days, he didn't put much merit in what they had to say. At least he tended to mind his own business.

The orlan had just arrived the previous day, and when he saw Raedric's henchman approach her, he'd actually tensed up, preparing for a fight. With everything he'd heard about orlans, he was half expecting her to pull a knife, or maybe even whisper some sort of cipher magic. But instead she'd just shouted at Urgeat, mad as Hel and rightfully so. Edér had been unable to stop himself smiling at the look on the magistrate's pinched-up little asshole of a face.

Then the bell had tolled, and suddenly everyone in town had bigger issues to deal with. She'd looked positively miserable as she'd trudged past him on the way to the Black Hound Inn.

Look at that, he'd thought, watching her plod slowly forward. Practically one of us already.

She'd met his eye for a moment, and he'd raised his pipe to her in a commiserative gesture. "Welcome to our lovely town," he'd quipped. And she had smiled at him in response, even after all that abuse she'd just had to take from Urgeat.

Maybe that was why he'd decided to say something when she passed him again. She didn't look to be in any higher spirits than she had when he'd said something before, but she had smiled at him back then, so what was the worst that could happen this time?

"Seventeen-and-a-half," he called out to her, and grinned. She's a little kith, maybe she'll like this one.

She and the elf turned to him, both of them wearing facial expressions similar to ones they might have had he catcalled them in an especially vulgar manner.

...Off to a great start, Edér thought. Nothing to do but press on.

"Eighteen dependin' on if you count the dwarf woman as a full person or not. ...I think you oughtta."

She approached him then, slowly, scrutinizing him with her eerie slitted pupils, while the elven man followed behind her. "You're saying there are eighteen people hanging in that tree?"

"Last I counted. You mean to tell me you were standin' there that whole time and you wasn't even counting 'em?"

Her cheeks brightened, and she turned to the elf. "Aloth? How long was I-- were we standing there like that?"

The elf, Aloth apparently, winced apologetically at the little woman. "Oh, only about... about twenty minutes. Ish."

The orlan huffed out something between a laugh and a cough. "Only twenty minutes!" She shook her head, grinning, hands on her hips. "Excellent. I was worried I looked like a weird asshole for a minute there."

Edér laughed aloud at last, and held out his hand in greeting. "Edér Teylecg. Although y' may as well just call me Nineteen."

"Axa Mala." He felt soft, fine fur in his hand when she shook it, and with it an extremely confusing mix of emotions. The elf behind her introduced himself as well, as Aloth Corfiser, before she continued. "Nineteen, huh. You mean to say you think you're next?"

Edér smiled sadly, looking up at his friends and neighbors in the tree. "May as well be. Eighteen's my former captain in the war. Was my headman on the farm till Raedric put 'im up there for darin' to stand up for us. For me." He squinted back down at the little woman, clenching his pipe between his teeth. "Bein' honest though, way you were carryin' on with the magistrate the other day, I can't see you makin' it much further than, oh, 22, 23, tops. You seem like the sort of lady likes t' get involved."

She really did, too. For the first time since they'd started talking, her gaze met his, and the intensity of her bright violet eyes almost made him want to look away. Not quite. But almost.

She had a strange, guarded look on her face as she peered up at him. "Do you know what a Watcher is?"

Edér choked on his pipe smoke. This little gal was full of surprises.

---

"Caed Nua, huh? ...Haven't thought about that old place in a long time. Man such as Maerwald, there might be things I wanna ask him. Don't know why I never thought of that."

Obscured One, you have truly outdone yourself this time, Axa mused, a slow smile spreading across her face. This was what she'd been missing after her expulsion: A mission, a purpose, a destination in life.

I was ready to die, and you gave me this gift: an absolutely insane convoluted nightmare scenario, compelling me to try to make sense of it... and in doing so, requiring me to stay alive. I am truly grateful. She closed one eye, sending her prayer to Wael.

It was remarkable how much better she felt just knowing what was wrong with her, having a name for it. Watcher. The knowledge presented new challenges, certainly, but at least now she knew what she was up against. And she even had a tangible, short-term goal in mind:

 Get to Caed Nua. Find the Watcher, Maerwald.

The blond folk, Edér, scratched his bristly beard while he thought about her offer. But she could tell he'd already made up his mind. This couldn't go any other way. She'd seen him in her dream, alongside Caldara. A clear sign! This was meant to be!

...Okay, maybe she was taking it a bit too far there.

"I dunno about settin' out with a couple of strangers. Strange strangers at that." He glanced at Aloth and grinned apologetically. "No offense, cousin."

"I'll vouch for him," Axa smiled, stretching, preparing for the work ahead of her. "It's me you have to watch out for."

Aloth shrugged. "Either way, you're probably better off out there with us than here, being sized up for a noose by every other neighbor."

"Can't argue with that. Aw, what the Hel. Sure, I'll do some sightseeing with you folks." Edér grinned at the two of them, his broad, ruddy face brightening considerably. "Where's our first stop on this little roadtrip? We're buyin' supplies, I suppose?"

Axa winced, clutching at her sad, barren little coinpurse. "Uh. Listen... About that--"

---

#pillars of eternity #fanfiction #fanfic #poe anthem infinitum #watcher #watcher axa #aloth #eder