#✽⁞ ❛ ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece ( main ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nukyster-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Changing Course Chapter 22) Crossfire

.-.-.

Ivar was brought back to the shed and dropped on his stomach, although he wasn’t aware of his transition. Unconsciousness momentarily redeemed him from the flaring pain spreading all over his back like a wildfire. The battered skin in between his shoulder blades had ruptured due to the lashes, leaving large bloody gashes.

In a flash, he regained consciousness as his faithful guardian took it upon herself to disinfect his wounds. Although her touch was soft, pain seared through his upper body better than a branding iron.

Bloody cloth after bloody cloth dropped aside Ivar’s writhing body; pain taking over a good portion of his brain. It was all consuming, his mind conceding in agony but aware of the necessity of Piglet’s torture. So he balled his fist and tried his best to lessen the primeval noises that come from his mouth; that of a dying animal.

The pain burned and radiated, it should have shattered his soul but deep down Ivar saw the blessing in his pain, it brought him closer to his Gods, it made him realise he was inviolable.

Piglet applied a salve, which smelled of honey, plantain, and chamomile while humming her song in candlelight. Ivar listened and turned his head so that he could look up to her. The young woman’s face revealed how badly his wounds were; her forehead puckered, lips set in a grim line and her hands were shaking.

“Lay flat,” she said matter-of-factly, which was an unnecessary order, because he wasn’t planning to move, not even an inch. He lay still as hay tickled his face and nose.

Piglet eventually curled up on her side to face him properly.

“Thick-head,” she sneered, eyes clearly upset over the hell he’d put himself through.

“Savage cunt,” Ivar murmured back apologetically.

“Did he come for you?” Ivar asked when Piglet was done rolling her eyes skywards, “last night?”

“No, he walks funny now,” Piglet revealed with a devilish grin, “you’re a mad dog.”

Ivar gave her an all-tooth smile, very pleased with the thought of marking the young ruler.

.-.-.

Ivar’s punishment had caused a change inside the castle’s walls. Although daily routine started as winter swiped through the shed with icy claws like an eagle, the atmosphere was different. The Giant spat his orders into Piglet’s face, but kept far away from Ivar’s box, as if his cripple slave was stricken by the plague.

Ivar had expected the brute to give him another kick after, definitely now that he lay battered and defenseless on the floor.

But the Giant left along with Piglet, leaving Ivar to face boredom and cold. His mobility was close to none, every moment hurt and could cause the cuts to rip further. Being exposed to fresh air would accelerate the healing process; the downside was being awfully cold.

Ivar slept for the most part of the day and was awoken by the fluttering footsteps of the two linen maidens. Both young women seemed anxious to step over the threshold, but eventually curiosity got the best of them.

With large doe-like eyes the two maidens kneeled down at his box and took in every inch of Ivar’s battered body.

Being the main act of their freak show wasn’t actually how Ivar had planned his afternoon, but aside from throwing daggers with his eyes there wasn’t much he could do about it.

One of the two maidens then did something unexpected, she clasped her hands together and started a soft prayer while the other placed two thick woolen blankets next to his trough.

After a brief hail Mary, both maidens hurried to get up and fled the shed, leaving Ivar completely dumbstruck.

That same event occurred two more times with different people. A peasant mother and daughter snuck inside the stable to behold Ivar’s beat down form and placed a bowl of goat milk aside his box before leaving. Two youngsters ogled him for a while before daring to enter the stable and, instead of throwing stones, left one of their most treasured possessions; a sling and a wooden miniature toy horse.

Piglet was less humble about entering and burst out laughing when she noticed all the gifted items. Shaking her head, she nicked the milk and brought it closer to Ivar. It was awkward drinking milk while lying flat, but Ivar managed without spilling too much.

“Ivar the bloody,” Piglet sniggered and drank some herself, “martyr.”

And so, Ivar learned he’d been given a new nickname among the poor population of de Haar. ‘De martelaar’, The Martyr, as Piglet put it. She explained as good as her Nordish vocabulary allowed her that a martyr was someone who suffered persecution and death for advocating a religious belief or for a good cause. Apparently, Piglet’s life was useless, yet her virtue was considered sacred enough to fight and nearly die for in the eyes of the slaves, serfs and servants.

Although Ivar completely despised the way his punishment was now silently considered a holy statement, he did enjoy the benefits; proper food, warmth in forms of decent clothing and blankets. And he must admit, the smoldering eyes of the female population fully in awe of his quote on quote ‘scars of true heroism’, flattered his ego greatly.

Piglet managed to keep her lips in a proper shape and hands clasped together as she registered all the gifts and from time to time ushered spectators out who dared to take too much time of the healing martyr.

After a few days Ivar managed to turn on his side without rupturing the gashes, Piglet wasn’t happy with it, but Ivar had to place himself in another position. Laying still for an extended amount of time caused so much ache in his legs he’d rather cut his own skin open again.

His body was no longer an unblemished canvas, but he had come to treasure his first won symbols of victory. He victored a Christian death, for even his crippled body was stronger than that of the enemy.

Was Ivar simply a stubborn young man, willing himself to survive torture, or did he lay there as something sacred in the punishment brought upon him?

Whatever it was, his new near holy status made it possible to survive the upcoming cold. The Giant did not bother him and stayed away from the shed.

It even placed him on a pedestal of the more fortunate of castle De Haar...

.-.-.

A week. It took Ivar a week to be able to place himself into a sitting position. It hurt, badly and he couldn’t maintain the position for long, for it was impossible to place his back against the solidness of a wall.

But it allowed him to massage his legs. Kneading his calloused fingers into the poor muscle tone of his calves his heart ached for a hot bath. And the warmth of a fire. And the satisfaction of a belly filled with mead.

The fallen prince extended his wish-list and glanced up puzzled as the door creaked. It was an odd hour for his so-called worshippers to risk a peek. Everyone should be working, it was way past lunch.

Cocooned in the finest of silk and furs, the fair maiden desecrated her sandals as she tiptoed into the shed. Ivar’s mouth dropped as she came closer, Kattegat was known for their beautiful women but this maiden outshone them all.

He could not breath, eyes drawn to her golden locks that gently caressed its way down to her neck, reaching her bosom. If her God was real, Ivar told himself, then this woman was one of His masterpieces.

She was scared, petrified. Ivar failed to find reason in her fright, for he was still recovering and enchained for the matter. Her hurried glances over her shoulder revealed her true dread; she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Now, this drew Ivar’s full attention. Why would a noblewoman, with so much to lose, put herself at risk for a crippled? Now this was interesting.

She kneeled down, and with that pulled her cloak around her tighter to stave off the keen wind. Closing her eyes, the fair maiden started to pray, clasping her hands together and bowing her head.

Now this was very interesting. Her submissive demeanor drew Ivar closer. As his chains rattled, the fair maiden hunched further forward and trembled. Oh, she was scared, a lamb willingly walking into a lion's den. And why, for gossip and rumors spread by her lessers?

Ivar edged closer, as close as the chains allowed him. And he waited for the fair maiden to finish her prayer, out of curiosity, for he wondered what she’d do next as she’d face him from up close. Lowering her trembling hands the fair maiden found enough bravery in her heart to look up. And her eyes, they were, in one word, beautiful. Her eyes were a perfect spring sky and along with terror they were incarnated with sanctity.

Ivar found himself bizarrely fascinated by the fair maiden’s utter devotion of her faith. She was risking hers to lay eyes on his skin, for he who was De Martelaar.

With one swift move Ivar grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in. She was close, so close that he could see her heartbeat gallop underneath the fair skin of her neck. She smelled of rose water and jasmine, pure and unblemished.

Ivar looked down at her trembling hands, her ring finger still lacking a wedding ring.

“Poor little lamb, you’re sold off to a monster,” Ivar murmured with pity, “but I bet you already know that.” Their eyes locked like magnets and although the fair maiden couldn’t understand his language, his humble bit of sympathy didn’t go by unnoticed. With wide eyes she watched as the crippled martyr slowly rose his free hand and pressed his index finger down in between her brows. She took in a sharp breath as he drew a small cross and spoke a blessing with sencernity:

“God zegene u.”

They were the words their holy man spoke at the end of every service. Ivar didn’t know the depth of the words, but witnessing how the fear drained from her face and got restored with hope, he knew he did little right today.

“How lost you must be, if you perceive me as something biblical,” Ivar scoffed soft, lips turning in a sideway smirk, very pleased that she still allowed him to touch her. A noblewoman on her knees in filth and animal dung, so desperately in need to find a shatter of hope.

Ivar’s fingers ran down the bridge of her nose fully aware that he was playing with fire, enough to burn the entire castle down.

Ivar did not know what emotion drove him, was it a simple payback in regards to her fiance? Was it selfishness? Weakness? Lust? Or a simple consideration towards a beautiful young woman, to briefly veil her from the terrible truth; that she was going to be married to a monster?

Whatever it was, Ivar kissed the fair maiden and the world fell away. The touch was light and soft, comforting in ways words would never be, for language was their barrier. His hand moved and rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled.

The sounds of a tearing potato bag broke their spell. The fair maiden jerked her head in the direction of the sound and Ivar managed to look over her shoulder.

Piglet lingered in the doorway, holding the torn bag against her chest with a pile of potatoes spread around her feet. Still as a statue the slave gawked at the scene in front of her.

It was the fair maiden who broke the awful silence. As being touched by fire she jolted back, struggling to get on her feet. Shame-faced she whispered something to Piglet and managed to shove something in her hands before evacuating the shed.

Piglet managed a deadpan expression all while striding with large steps into Ivar’s box. There she exploded, beating her fists into his chest and smacking him across the face.

Alongside the curses in her mother tongue she managed to slip in some Nordish:

“Thick-head, do you have a death wish?!” She repeated numerous times before dropping on her knees and staring up skywards.

“IDIOT!” She exclaimed and thrusted her fists into the ground. “Hamar! Stupid idiot!” When Ivar failed to speak she crawled back on her feet and marched off. At the doorway she took a small pause and threw the fair maidens item across the shed.

Ivar played marble until he no longer could see the back of Piglet’s head before reaching forwards in the way. He picked up a woman’s necklace. A golden cross dangling at the end.

.-.-.

A/N Yeah, so this happened. This was not supposed to happen. But then again, Ivar is into blondes so yeah maybe I shouldn’t have let her get down on her knees. Also I didn’t have the intentions of making Ivar a Martyr, but it’ll get the pair of them through winter and c’mon you know how good this is for his ego. Mister God complex. But fuck, why did they had to kiss. Yes I’ll I seriously need to recover from this.

Also ‘God zegene U’, means ‘God Bless you’ in Dutch. So at least he blessed her before making out with the fiance of the guy who’s responsible for tearing his entire back open. I’m team Piglet with this one, he’s a complete and utter idiot.

So, what are your thoughts of our young Prince smoothing up with the WORST OPTION in the entire castle….

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The kickass beta: @Sarahh-Jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless #Ivar the marthy #ivar the bloody #ivar fanfic #vikings fanfic #vikings fandom #alex hogh andersen

36 notes · View notes

angstbullshit-a · 4 years ago

Text

boop

MAIN SHIT :

/ ⠀ 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ dear diary ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ i believe i’m a good person; i think there’s good in everyone.

/ ⠀ 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ psychology ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ i hid my deepest feelings so deep i forgot where i placed them.

/ ⠀ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒆 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ fashion ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ some days you are a shipwreck; some days a tidal wave.

/ ⠀ 𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒙 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ answered ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ excuse me if i seem a little unimpressed with this; an anti-social pessimist.

THREADS :

/ ⠀ 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ in character ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ my mind holds thoughts greater than the galaxies combined.

/ ⠀ 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ show timeline ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ i learned quick that real life sucks losers dry.

/ ⠀ 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ teenage timeline ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ fight the urge to strike a match and set this dumb ablaze.

/ ⠀ 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ adult timeline ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ not to spoil the ending but everything is going to be okay.

VISAGES :

/ ⠀ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ faceclaims ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ i’ve been living in the state of dreaming; living in a make believe land.

/ ⠀ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ show fc ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece.

/ ⠀ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ teen fc ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ my head is held up high and my middle fingers are higher.

/ ⠀ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ adult fc ⠀ ❫ ⠀ * ⠀ SOON.

3 notes · View notes

ask-them-bois · 4 years ago

Text

Vornik’s Fate, pt 2

(We interrupt the main story of Letters to bring you an update on Vornik’s condition!)

Vornik sat very still, trying not to fidget as the village physician peeled back the bandages to examine the wound on his shoulder. His heart was hammering, although he wasn’t sure why. Ever since he woke up in the bronze woman’s hive several days ago, he’d been as skittish as an ear-beast. The smallest noises made him jump, and he longed to go back to the forest. He wanted to go back to his mountain. But, he reminded himself for the hundredth time, he couldn’t.

He was sat in the respiteblock Innocent had laid him in, sitting on the edge of the bed as the doctor sat beside him, gently removing the wrappings and tape.

“Alright, this is looking great!” The doctor’s words made him snap back to attention. “The sopor rub and medicalizer did wonders on you, the bone seems nearly completely healed already. It was your first time using a medicalizer, after all, the first few times always seem the quickest.” They were saying as they prodded gently at Vornik’s shoulder and arm, “You’ll have a nasty, permanent scar, but it shouldn’t be detrimental to any movement. I don’t think you need the cast or bandages anymore, but take it easy for a while, okay? No hoisting antler-beasts.”

Vornik managed to nod, finally turning his head to look at the wound. It was as ugly as the doctor said; his skin was practically stripped away, leaving nothing but a calloused shell of dark grey flesh. His skin looked pinched and concaved, the wound covering a good portion of his upper arm and shoulder. He slowly moved and raised his arm, and felt the skin pull taunt. He dropped his arm again.

“Will I ever be able ?o run wi?h my howl-beas?s again_??” He asked finally, his voice soft. The doctor hummed.

“I think so. Not for a few months, though. You’ll need to build strength back into your arm, and give it time to get used to the scar. Your muscle tissue took one for the team here, keeping the rest of your arm from shattering like your shoulder.” They explained. Vornik nodded, sighing softly. The doctor smiled sympathetically. “Cheer up, guardian. You have the whole village behind you while you recover, and your companion, Innocent, is waiting to take you cave-hunting.”

“I know.” Vornik swallowed, “?hank you.”

“No problem. You’re good to go.” The doctor got to their feet and bowed their head to the young troll, before they left.

Vornik instantly curled up, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his shins. He laid his head on his knees, closing his eyes as he felt his shoulder ache. Thoughts and emotions were swirling through his head like a turbulent sea, and he didn’t know how to swim.

“... Vornik?” The soft voice of his ancestor made him look up again. The older limeblood walked towards him like one would approach a wounded deer, slowly and silently, a backpack hung over his arm. “Are you alright...?”

Vornik managed to nod. “I... wan? ?o go. Home.” He whispered.

“... We have got to find you a home, first.” Innocent said gently, sitting on the bed beside him and settling the second bag in his lap. When Vornik didn’t answer, he continued, “... Your village trolls made you a few things to get you started... They asked that I give them to you.” He held out the bag.

Vornik glanced at it. He hesitated, before his curiosity got the better of him. He unraveled from his ball and took the bag, shifting it to his lap and opening the first zipper. Inside, he found a new set of art supplies- complete with paints, brushes, and a pair of large sketchbooks-, several boxes of caramel candies- his favorite- and a new hunting knife, with a strap to attach it to his leg.

In the second, larger portion of the bag, he found a new change of clothes, several portions of dried meats and fruits neatly wrapped in plastic, and a first-aid kit.

“... There is also... this, that I got you...” Innocent slung his own bag off his shoulders and dug inside, before pulling out a messily wrapped gift.

Vornik set the bag aside and took it, ripping the paper off carefully. When it fell away, he found himself looking at a brand new sickle, similar to the one he’d had. He even saw a catch that would release the crescent blade onto a retractable chain, just as his old one had done. The only differences from his old one is that this one was forged from a black steel, and the pommel was shaped like a howl-beast’s head. The leather grip had his initials, V. G., inscribed.

Underneath the weapon, he found a tanned, pure white howl-beast pelt, that had been turned into a cape. The catch that went around his throat was decorated with a trio of large fangs. He ran his hands over the fur; it was soft and coarse at the same time; a real howl-beast’s pelt.

Finally, rolled up in the cape, was his necklace. The one that bore his and Innocent’s sign. Surprised, he reached up and touched his own chest; he hadn’t realized it had been missing. He clutched the pendant tightly, his throat suddenly dry.

“?hank you, Inno¿en?.” He rasped. Innocent smiled softly and pat his knee.

“I will leave you to get dressed. When you are ready, come find me, and we will go find your new hive.” He murmured. Vornik nodded, and Innocent rose to his feet. He left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Once it was shut, Vornik got up, too. He pulled the new pair of clothes out of the bag and changed into them, tossing his old, ragged shirt and pants into the waste receptacle. The new outfit included a dark green, sleeveless shirt, a pair of brown pants with artificial rips in the knees, and a change of underwear.

He sighed with relief; the new, clean clothes smell was pleasant, and he felt a little better just from not wearing the old rags anymore. He reached for the cape next, when he noticed his hands; they looked rough, calloused, covered in tiny scars and marks, his claws jagged and broken. He stared at them, wondering why he’d never noticed how rough they’d become.

His ancestor’s hands were like that, he recalled, but he hid them with fingerless gloves. Impulsively, he turned to the bag and pulled out the first-aid kit. Opening it, he found a pair of bandage wraps tucked inside. He pulled one out, and began wrapping his hands, knuckles, and wrists with them. When that was done, he packed the kit back in the bag, flexing his hands.

Satisfied, he picked up his necklace and clipped it around his neck, then grabbed the cape. He swung it around his shoulders and clasped it into place, before turning to look at himself in the standing mirror in the corner of the room.

Despite himself, he laughed softly. He truly looked like a wild troll now, he thought with a flicker of pride. He turned back to the bag and packed it up, sliding his sickle through a loop on the side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that made him pause; his painted stone, from the mountain. He quickly scooped it up and packed it, too.

Satisfied, he swung the bag over his back- throwing the cape over it so as not to mat down the fur- and headed for the door.

He stepped out into the hall, his feet silent on the cool wood as he padded into the main room, where Innocent and the bronzeblood were talking quietly. Innocent looked up at his arrival, smiling behind his mask.

“Well, don’t you look handsome!” The bronzeblood gasped.

“... He does, indeed...” Innocent nodded, “... Are you ready?” Vornik nodded wordlessly, and Innocent turned to the woman. “... Thank you, again, for tending to him...”

“Of course, dearie. Us lowbloods have to look after each other, don’t we? Go on, now. I don’t want to see our guardian again until he’s got a place to stay.” Innocent took Vornik’s uninjured arm and lead the younger limeblood out as they were shooed through the door.

Innocent looked down at Vornik, who was looking up at the night sky. His bloodpumper ached for his descendant, and he gently guided him to the edge of the village, where Alphadad was waiting. At the sight of his lusus, Vornik gasped and ran forward, flinging his arms around the beast’s middle neck.

The cerberus howl-beast was elated to see his charge again, all three heads gently nosing and whining at him.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry Alpha, I’m sorry- I missed you ?oo-” Vornik whimpered, pressing his face into his guardian’s fur. Alphadad’s tail thumped the ground, one head looking up at Innocent.

“.... Vornik, Alphadad and I went ahead and went exploring while you were recovering...” Innocent spoke, making Vornik turn to look at him, “... We have found a few caves in the nearby mountains that are... worth checking out.”

Vornik nodded; he was just glad to be out of the village. The feeling of grass on his feet and the sound of the wind in the trees was a relief he didn’t realize he needed. Alphadad shuffled around, and allowed the two limebloods to climb on his back.

Once they were situated, he rose and turned, bounding into the trees. Vornik closed his eyes and raised his nose into the wind, letting it sweep his hair back; he felt his new cape flutter against his shoulders. When he opened his eyes, he saw the beginning flickers of the northern lights, beginning to dance over what remained of his mountain.

As they rode past the rubble, he was overwhelmed with memories.

Alphadad had first brought him to the cave as a half-starved grub, and had to constantly keep him from wriggling off the edge of the cliff. He’d pupated in the cave he’d come to call his home, raised alongside howl-beast pups from his pack.

The mountain had been his shelter from storms, blizzards, and the summer heats. At the top of the mountain, he and Alphadad would howl their hearts out to the moons.

He’d explored the hundreds of tunnels that riddled through the mountain’s insides, painted their walls with every color when he’d gotten into art. He’d made messes and masterpieces side by side.

He met his first matesprit at the base of that mountain. He’d shared their first kiss on the clifftop, under the dancing lights. His mate had lived with him, and died, in that mountain. He’d grieved in the deepest caves, his wails making the walls quake.

He’d race through the forest around his mountain, side by side with his howl-beast brothers and sisters as they hunted. Afterwards, he’d stumble up the tunnel, his front streaked with gore, and collapse in his pelt pile as the sun rose.

And then... like a house of cards, his mountain had collapsed. The hundreds of tunnels had caved in, bringing the mighty mountain crashing down. Where it had once pierced the heavens, able to be seen for miles around, it now stood barely taller than Alphadad’s back, nothing but a hill of ruin and rubble.

Suddenly overtaken by emotion, he fisted his hands into his lusii’s fur, threw back his head, and howled to the stars. Alphadad looked back at him, before doing the same, two heads raising their muzzles to the sky the wail with their charge.

Innocent watched silently as, all around them, other howl-beasts answered the call. They materialized from between the trees to run beside them, howling with their leader and his son.

An old feeling surface in his chest; he’d done this all before, too. When Alphadad- who’d just been Alpha at the time, and had been a thousand year younger- had run with the other beasts, with young Innocent on his back. When the pack- which had been barely more than ten howl-beasts- had raced through the trees at their side. Now the pack numbered in the hundreds; generations and generations of howl-beasts, unchecked by hunters, had flourished in the stone hills. And all of them listened to one young boy and his three-headed father.

His heart suddenly soaring with pride, with the feeling of coming home, Innocent reached up and pulled down his mask. Taking a deep breath, he tipped his head back and howled; his voice wasn’t as pretty, nor anywhere near as ethereal as Vornik’s, but it would do. He sang with his descendant as they wailed their twin grief to the uncaring moons.

Their song finally petered out when Vornik’s voice cracked and he stopped, startled into a hiccup. His shoulders trembled, and for a moment Innocent thought he was going to cry. He reached out, ready to comfort him, but Vornik set his shoulders and sat up, staring straight ahead.

The rest of the journey was silent, although it was brief.

Alphadad came to a stop before a mountain that was overtaken by the forest for most of the way up, before the snow tumbled down to meet it. Running down the side of the mountain was a river, which tumbled over a cliff and thundered into a waterfall. It fell into a basin, before flowing down the rest of the river.

“... There is a cave behind that waterfall. It is very wide, and goes back a few yards, but the trail is slippery and the falls are loud... But it is well protected and hidden...” Innocent explained, even though he already knew it was a loss; both he and Vornik feared water, and Vornik was already shaking his head.

“?here’s nowhere for Alphadad.” He said softly. Innocent nodded, and gently nudged Alphadad with his foot. The beast turned and began heading to the next destination.

They headed deeper into the mountain range, somewhat out of Vornik’s usual territory. The ride was a little longer than the first, but they reached the second mountain in under an hour.

The mountain they stopped at the base of was encased in ice; standing proudly in the middle of the range, the surrounding mountains had protected it from both the sun and the rain, leaving the snow and frost to gather until it solidified into a second skin.

“... Up there...” Innocent said, pointing towards the barely visible summit, “... is an opening in the ice... It goes down pretty deep... and has a cliff, like your old cave. There isn’t a tunnel up to it, though. You would have to climb the ice to reach it...”

Vornik considered the mountain for a moment, before he shook his head. “I don’? wan? ?o slip and break my ne¿k.” He murmured. Innocent nodded in understanding, and Alphadad turned, bounding off towards their next destination.

The third cave, a large burrow at the bast of a mountain, was more of a pit than anything. It, too, was rejected. Vornik wanted to be high up, where he could look down on the forest.

By then, the young limeblood was getting frustrated. He wanted his cave, in his mountain. None of the others felt right; they didn’t feel like home, they didn’t feel safe. For the first time in his life, Vornik was compelled to throw a fit. He wanted to shout and be angry and hit things. But the bright ichor in his veins kept him from that. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he rubbed the blurriness out of his eyes as they rode up on the final mountain that Innocent had found.

Alphadad had to climb a bit of a ways, bit they finally leveled out on a reasonably sized clifftop, next to a relatively narrow cave entrance. There was enough room for the monstrous lusus to squeeze through, but Innocent and Vornik would have to dismount.

“... I saved the best for last. Look...” Innocent put his hand on Vornik’s shoulder and pointed to their right, out over the cliff. Vornik turned; in the distance, he could see the lights of his village. It was further than his original mountain had been- an extra thirty minutes on Alphadad’s back, or four hours to walk- but they were so high up it was just visible through the vast forest.

“Wha?’s so spe¿ial abou? ?his ¿ave?” Vornik finally asked. Innocent smiled, slipping his mask back over his face as Alphadad crouched down.

“... Come see...” He invited, slipping off the beast’s back and heading for the cave. Vornik did the same and followed him.

They slipped through the entrance, and Alphadad squeezed in after them. It was gloomy and dark inside, but with their natural night vision they could at least see enough to know where they were putting their feet. The ground was stone and rocks, but the hardened soles of Vornik’s feet kept him from feeling it.

He did, however, feel when the ground suddenly became dirt. That made him pause. Looking up, he could see a faint light filtering through the tunnel, illuminating his ancestor.

“... We are here...” Innocent said softly. He stepped out of the way so Vornik could see.

They’d entered a cavern so big, Vornik could barely see the other end. They’d come out on a ledge above the cave floor, but the ground sloped down to it in front of them. The ceiling arched so high above that even if Alphadad stood on his back legs, he still would not reach it. Cracks in the stone dome above let the moonlight filter through, which was only amplified by the crystals that hung like stalagmites from the ceiling. But the humongous crystals weren’t what caught Vornik’s attention.

Growing inside the mountain was a forest.

That was probably an over statement; there couldn’t have been more than roughly two dozen trees, but still. It was a forest of giant, ancient trees, that still weren’t tall enough to reach the stone vaulting. Trees that were glowing; the veins between their bark were illuminated with thin, pale blue lines. The leaves, too, gave off their own bluish light. Vornik spotted orange lights racing up the side of one tree. Looking closer, he realized they were mushrooms. Moss dripped off their limbs like wax, throwing the ground into pale shadows.

The sounds of birdsong and insects and running water filled the air, as did the flickering of lightning bugs and beams of moonlight that bathed everything in silver. As Vornik watched, slack jawed, a stag and his doe weaved through the trees towards them, only to spook and retreat back towards the center of the trees, where Vornik could see a basin, into which tumbled a small waterfall that poured from above.

The ground was broken up in ledges and hills, covered in creeper vines, glimmering flowers, tall, waving grasses, and bushes bursting full of fruits and berries. The smell of damp earth, flowers, and stone were heady and lovely in the air, and Vornik sucked down lungfuls of it. He felt a sense of calm steal over him, settling his nerves and previous aggravations. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the hidden world before him; it was like he’d stepped into an enchanted woods, straight out of a fantasy novel.

“I?... I?’s beau?iful, Inno¿en?.” Vornik breathed, awed.

“... You have not even seen the best part...” Innocent smiled, “Come see...” He headed down the slope. Vornik followed him, looking around as he did.

They headed through the trees, carefully stepping around the brush and flowers. They vaulted a fallen log and skirted the clearing where the basin sat. The water in the lake was brilliantly clear; Vornik could see schools of brightly colored fish swimming through the plants and stones at the bottom. The falls threw a fine mist into the air, that stuck to Vornik’s skin and hair and made him shiver.

Finally, Innocent lead him up a slope on the far side of the trees, that twisted upwards, onto another ledge. Here, however, instead of tunnel, sat a cave; a cave within a cave, Vornik mused. It wasn’t as big as his old one- Alphadad could lay longways and still not have his noses or tail touch the walls- but it was still big enough. It was deep, too, going back roughly five yards.

“... What do you think...?” Innocent turned to him.

Vornik didn’t answer right away, studying the walls; they were smooth and cool to the touch... perfect for painting on. He turned and looked out at the glowing trees; a little sanctuary, all his own.

“I ?hink... it’s perfe¿?.” He murmured at last, “I s?ill miss my ¿ave, bu?...” He looked down at his feet, his shoulders slumping, “I know I ¿an’t ever ge? i? back. ?his pla¿e... I ?hink i?’s wha? I need for now. A refuge from the ou?side, while I- I figure ou? some ?hings.”

Innocent smiled softly behind his mask. “... Then, shall we get started getting you settled? ... A hive is not a home until you are comfortable in it...”

Vornik nodded, looking around. “Where do we s?ar?_??”

“... I have a few things I set aside while you were healing, to help you get comfortable... Blankets, pillows, cookware, and the like... I can go fetch them with Alphadad, while you can explore your new den...” Innocent told him.

Vornik looked up at him, surprised. “You... you didn’? have ?o do ?ha?.” He glanced away, his mouth working as he struggled to speak; no one had ever been as kind to him as his ancestor. Except maybe his mate, but- they were long gone.

“... No, I did not...” Innocent conceded, “But you and I are rarebloods... and we are of the same bloodline... If we do not look out for one another, then what is the point?”

Vornik swallowed. “... Are- are you... disappoin?ed_?? ?ha? I didn’?... I don’? know, do more wi?h my life_??” He sat down heavily, staring at his lap as he balled the bottom on his shirt in his fist, “I’ve been ?hinking abou? ?ha? a lo?.” He confessed quietly as Innocent took a seat beside him, “?ha? I ¿ould be... so much more. I ¿ould join a rebel group, or- or s?ar? my own. I ¿ould use my powers for o?hers bu? I jus?... I hide here, in the moun?ains, so ?he drones and highbloods ¿an’t find me. I play pre?end ?ha? I’m a howl-beas? so I don’? have ?o ?hink abou? how I shouldn’? exis?.” Unconsciously, he reached up and rubbed the scar that slashed over his eye.

Innocent was quiet for a long time after Vornik stopped talking; so that was what was on his descendant’s mind.

“... No.” He said at last, “I am not disappointed, Vornik. I... could not be more proud of you if I tried. Do you know what I was doing when I was your age...?” He sat back on his hands, looking up at the crystals in the main cavern, “... I was on the run. I had just lost Ishran, and I did not know where to go... I found the ancestors of your pack, and they took me in. I did exactly what you did; I “played pretend”, until I could no longer... At some point, it became to much, and I chose to leave the pack behind. I kept running.

... I never lead a rebellion, Vornik. I never fought a war, never sought to go to another world, never tried to become a martyr... I only ran, so I could see one more sunset. Watch one last sunrise, eat one more meal. Sometimes... that is all you can do.” He looked down at Vornik, “... Where I ran, you hid. Where I left my pack, you stayed. Where I never made an impact, you have made many... You have a village that loves you, and art that bares your soul to the world. Alternia does not care about us... so it is our only job to make it care, however we choose to do that.

... Incoding and Ruthless are where I found my peace. You have suffered much in your life; you lost a mate, your home, and your hope... I think it is time you found your peace, too. If you need to keep pretending, keep hiding, so you can find your peace- so you can see your next sunset- then by all means, keep doing so. You are not hurting anyone, and that is all I ever ask of you...”

Vornik stared up at him, his pupils reduced to slits. He nodded slowly, swallowing thickly as he looked away. “... ?hank you.” He whispered. Innocent smiled, reaching up to ruffle Vornik’s hair before he got to his feet.

“... I will go fetch your things.” He said, heading to wear Alphadad sat outside the small cave.

Vornik watched his ancestor and lusus cross the hidden forest, before they vanished into the tunnel on the far side. Once they were gone and he was alone, he looked at the walls around him; they were so bare, so naked, compared to his old cave. Sliding his bag off his shoulder, he pulled it into his lap and opened it, pulling out the paint set the villagers had given him.

He opened the jar of bright green paint and grabbed the largest brush. Pulling the wrappings off his right hand, he picked up the brush with his left and set about covering his his palm and fingers in green. Once it was thoroughly coated, he stood up and moved closer to the opening of the cave, where he pressed his hand to the wall.

He held it there for a long moment, before he withdrew his hand to see a perfect, green handprint left on the stone.

It wasn’t much, he thought, but it was a start.

~Vornik is finally reopened for asks!~

#vorniks fate #pt 2 #story time #vornik gorsin #the innocent #long post #very long post #vornik fanart #vornik redesign #conans art

13 notes · View notes

artemis69 · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I saw you took questions and since I love your fics, I just wanted to know what kind of WIP are you working on rn? Do you have one or many? I hope it's not a bad question

Hi, sorry for the delay darling, no it’s not a bad question at all! Although I would not say I am “working on it” so much as trying to? It a work in progress, literally :p So, let me open my WIP file.

First one is a Teen Wolf fic, nicknamed “Ripped at every edges (but you’re a masterpiece), that is 21k right now and it, I would say, 90% done. I just need one last burst of motivation to finish. It’s a fic on “normality”, Pack house, domesticity and comfort (also, Artist!Stiles)

I have a follow up/prequel to Between wolves and dogs, nicknamed “A love like religion”, centered around John and Claudia’s romance, the creation of the Stilinski family and the bonds with the Hale. It’s 50/60% done.

I also have Two teen wolf one shots: one nicknamed “Dragonriders” and the other “Ichor”. Both are 80% done I would say.

The first one is a dragonriders AU, with prince!Derek and magic!Stiles and arranged marriage and pininng!Derek. And dragons.

Ichor is about the Stilinski family being pagan gods, that appear and disappear through generations depending on humans’ belief and thoughts, and how Stiles meets Derek and decides “yep, the grumpy one, I’ll keep this one as my precious”.

Last one is a Harry potter Wing!fic, Harry Draco because they’ll always be my first OTP, where Harry for some reason never materializes his wings, which makes Draco way too curious for his own good. This is 50% done.

The main problem at the moment for me is motivation to write to be honest, so I try to listen to music, read old nice comments and stuff like that but it’s hard. I am very hopeful that I’ll be able to publish at least one soon though!

I do hope that you’ll like some of the new ones as much as the old ones :)

2 notes · View notes

grigori77 · 5 years ago

Text

Top 10 Horror Movies, like, EVER (reissued)

10. THE MIST

In 2007, writer/director Frank Darabont once again proved he does his best work when adapting master of literary horror Stephen King (after The Green Mile and solid gold masterpiece The Shawshank Redemption), this time turning to pure horror with one of the author’s lesser-known early novellas. The result is another tour-de-force cinematic blueprint, a taut, harrowing tale of humanity pushed far beyond the brink by unexplained supernatural events and the monstrous lengths normal people will go to to stay alive, as a small-town New England supermarket is cut off from the outside world by a mysterious, monster-filled mist. The Expanse’s Thomas Jane proves a complex hero, beefy yet vulnerable as local artist David Drayton, leading a high-calibre cast of Stephen King-movie/TV regulars – Jeffrey DeMunn (The Green Mile), Andre Braugher (Salem’s Lot), William Sadler (The Shawshank Redemption) and Frances Sternhagen (Misery) – and “newcomers” – Laurie Holden (who must have really impressed Darabont, since he subsequently cast her alongside DeMunn in The Walking Dead), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy’s Toby Jones (as one of the most unorthodox action heroes in cinematic history) and Miller’s Crossing’s Marcia Gay Harden, pretty much stealing the film as deeply unhinged Bible-basher Mrs Carmody, who goes from unsavoury town nut to fervent cult leader as the situation grows increasingly desperate. Darabont once again proves what an exceptional screen storyteller he can be, effortlessly weaving an atmosphere of mounting dread and knife-edge tension, as well as delivering some nightmarish set-pieces featuring magnificent Lovecraft-inspired beasties designed by The Walking Dead’s creature effects master Greg Nicotero. When cinematic horror was becoming increasingly saturated with “gorno” Saw-derivatives, this was a welcome return to old-fashioned monster movie thrills (Darabont himself was heavily inspired by the monochrome scary movies of his childhood, and longed to make the film in black-and-white – indeed, this is definitely worth watching at least once in the “director’s cut” B&W version he included on the special edition DVD release), and not only proved one of the best examples of King on screen to date, but also one of THE key horror movies of the “Noughties”. Not least thanks to that ending, one of the greatest sucker punch twists of all time – reputedly King was most envious of Darabont on seeing it for the first time, wishing he’d thought it up himself. Coming from the King of Horror, that’s high praise indeed.

9. 30 DAYS OF NIGHT

When Steve Niles, the undisputable master of post-modern horror comics, originally came up with the concept for his definitive work, it was intended for the big screen, but he ultimately wound up committing it to print because he just couldn’t get anyone to produce it. Interesting, then, that the comic’s runaway success led to its optioning by Sam Raimi and his production company Ghost House Pictures, Niles adapting the first volume alongside Stuart Beattie and Brian Nelson, with Hard Candy director David Slade at the helm. Of course, the concept was always a killer – for one month every year, the sun never rises over the Alaskan town of Barrow, a fact that a coven of hungry vampires have decided to exploit in a midwinter free-for-all feeding frenzy. Josh Hartnett manfully crumbles in what remains his best role as town sheriff Eben Olemaun, ably supported by Melissa George as his estranged fire-marshal wife Stella, Memento/Batman Begins’ Mark Boone Junior as hard-as-nails town loner Bo, Ben Foster (one of my very favourite actors) as a mysterious drifter with a dark agenda, and Danny Huston, who created one of the best ever screen vampires with nihilistic pack leader Marlow. It’s ironic that David Slade should have followed this with Twilight film Eclipse (although he was an inspired choice – after all, it’s the one that DOESN’T suck) – this is about as far removed from the toothless, blood-lite young adult series as you can get, an unrelenting, gore-drenched exercise in relentless carnage and ice-cold terror. These vamps wouldn’t be caught (ahem) dead sparkling – they’re man-shaped mako sharks, all dead black eyes and jagged teeth, gleefully revelling in slaughter and playing sadistic games of cat and mouse with the isolated townsfolk. This is definitely not a movie for the faint of heart, and it takes itself deadly seriously right through the unapologetically bleak ending, but it is nonetheless an endlessly rewarding thrill ride for the faithful, paying respect to all the great conventions of the genre while simultaneously ripping them to shreds. Brutal, bloody and brilliant, this is BAR NONE the best vampire movie of the post-Interview age, and very nearly my all-time favourite EVER ...

8. POLTERGEIST

1982 saw the release of TWO of my all-time fave horror movies, and the lesser (but no less awesome) of the two is what I personally consider to be THE DEFINITIVE haunted house movie. Tobe Hooper, director of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, pretty much reinvented ghosts on the big screen with this thrilling tale of a small-town-American family, the Freelings, whose seemingly perfect home comes under the influence of a powerful supernatural force. At first the effects are harmless – moving furniture and the like – until a night-time thunderstorm signals a terrifying escalation and younger daughter Carol-Anne (Heather O’Rourke) is sucked through a portal into the spirit world. Long before he was the dad in The Incredibles, Craig T. Nelson had already become a pretty definitive cuddly American screen father as Steven Freeling, while JoBeth Williams is a lioness defending her cubs as mother Diane; then-newcomer Heather O’Rourke, meanwhile, is a naturalistic revelation as Carol-Anne, her innocent delivery of “They’re here!” becoming a genuine geek phenomenon all on its own, but the film’s real runaway performance comes from Zelda Rubinstein as diminutive Southern belle psychic medium Tangina Barrons, whose every screen moment is a quirky joy. As you’d expect, Hooper’s scares are flawlessly executed, the atmospheric tension ratcheted with consummate skill, even if the director’s characteristic gore is kept to a PG-13-friendly minimum ... then again, this was a summer offering from Back to the Future producers Frank Marshall and Steven Spielberg himself, who was also the main screenwriter. Indeed, his influence is keenly felt throughout – the suburban world the Freelings inhabit is very much in keeping with Spielberg classics like Close Encounters of the Third Kind and E.T. – and there have been consistent rumours that he was all but the de-facto director on set. The film (along with its sequels) has also gained a reputation for being cursed, with no less than FOUR cast members dying not long after (most notably Dominique Dunne, who played elder Freeling daughter Dana, who was murdered by her boyfriend just five months after the film’s release). Whatever the truth behind these rumours, there’s no denying this is a cracking film – taut, atmospheric and consistently terrifying while also displaying a playful, quirky sense of humour and lots of heart, it remains one of the most rewarding and entertaining screen ghost stories around.

7. BUBBA HO-TEP

Bruce Campbell is Elvis Presley! He really is! Although maybe he isn’t ... all right, TECHNICALLY he’s Sebastian Haff, a washed-up, long-retired Elvis impersonator languishing in a retirement home who claims he really IS the King (apparently he swapped places with the REAL Haff because he’d grown tired of fame). Meanwhile one of his fellow residents is an old black man who claims he’s the real JFK, maintaining that President Lyndon Johnson had him dyed black and secreted in anonymity with a bag of sand sewn into the gap in his brain ... confused yet? Well hold on, cuz there’s more – the retirement home in question has been invaded by the malevolent spirit of a cursed soul-sucking mummy, and only these two fallen heroes can save the day ... yup, writer/director Don (Phantasm and John Dies At the End) Coscarelli’s initially criminally overlooked but deservedly seriously cult adaptation of Joe R. Lansdale’s novel is as typically oddball as the rest of his filmography. It’s also his most moving and spiritual work to date – behind all the supernatural weirdness and quirky, offbeat humour this is a deeply-affecting meditation on the pains of growing old and losing your place in the world. Bruce Campbell’s Elvis/Haff is a tragic hero, regretting his current lot and pining for former glories, but he still has the odd little twinkle of his former charm and bravado (particularly during his interactions with his nurse, played with spiky gutsiness by Ella Joyce), while screen legend Ossie Davis is stately and charismatic as “the former President Kennedy”, even when he sounds REALLY crazy. Meanwhile the creature, “Bubba Ho-Tep” himself (Bob Ivy), is a fantastically weird creation, Coscarelli’s skilful use of atmospherics elevating him far above the “guy-in-a-suit” effects – he’s mean, cranky, and just as strong a character as his flesh-and-blood counterparts. Coscarelli really let rip on this one – it’s chock-full of his characteristic leftfield comic-scariness (Elvis/Haff’s early encounter with one of the mummy’s scarab familiars is a particular zany gem), visually inventive and frequently laugh-out-loud hilarious, but in the end plays out on such a heartfelt, genuinely powerful and moving denouement that you can’t help getting a lump in your throat, even while it is one of those movies that leaves you with a big dumb goofy grin on your face. It’d be pretty sweet if Coscarelli and his mate Paul Giamatti ever get their long-gestating “prequel” Bubba Nosferatu: Curse of the She-Vampires off the ground, but this is one that you can’t help loving all on its own. See this if you’re a Coscarelli fan – it’s his best work to date – see this if you love quirky, unusual and original horror ... hell, see this if you love MOVIES. This is a true GEM, not to be missed.

6. DOG SOLDIERS

My favourite werewolf movie is also easily one of the most offbeat – think The Howling meets Assault On Precinct 13 and you’re pretty close to the mark. Before visionary British horror director Neil Marshall had his big break with masterpiece The Descent, he made an impressive cult splash with his feature debut, a fiendish comedy horror in which a six-man British Army unit on training manoeuvres in the wilds of Scotland stumbles upon a pack of hungry werewolves and are forced to take shelter in an isolated cottage. With their ammo dwindling and their weapons largely ineffective against the monsters (not a silver bullet between them, of course), it doesn’t look likely that ANY of will survive the night ... setting the humour dial for JET BLACK, Marshall keeps the atmosphere tense and the substantial gore flying (I was amazed when I saw this in the cinema that it was only a 15 – even just ten years earlier stuff like this was GUARANTEED a solid 18 certificate), while the squaddies are a likeably foul-mouthed bunch with a winning, sometimes enjoyably geeky line in spiky banter (Marshall makes frequent references to everything from Star Trek and The Evil Dead to The Matrix and, in one of my favourite nods, Zulu). Trainspotting’s Kevin McKidd is brawny but enjoyably self-deprecating as nominal hero Cooper, Sean (son of Doctor Who Jon) Pertwee gives great earthy-shoutiness as Sgt. Wells, Darren Morfitt consistently steals the film as mouthy little bugger “Spoon” (short for Witherspoon), and Game Of Thrones star Liam Cunningham injects a strong dose of dark and dangerous as Captain Ryan, the special forces operative with a sinister plan, while Emma Cleasby is far from just a token female as zoologist Megan, who came to Scotland in search of the legend and seems to have found a whole lot more than she bargained for – she’s smart, tough and flat-out refuses to be a love interest, and definitely proved a good trial run for Marshall’s all-female cast in The Descent. It’s impressively paced – after an initial character-driven set-up so we can get to know the lads (including a fun little scare-on-top-of-a-laugh moment), the action kicks in fast and rarely lets up for the rest of the film’s tightly-packed 105 minute running time. The set pieces are thrilling and frequently fun (particularly Spoon’s ballsy little distraction technique), and the werewolves are impressively brought to life through physical animatronics created by Image FX (the Hellraiser effects team!) and a talented troupe of stilt-walking stunt performers – no cheesy CGI here! Altogether it marked a blinding debut for a singular, visionary sci-fi/horror talent who’s still making his presence felt – Doomsday was a delightfully old-school slice of super violent sci-fi in the John Carpenter vein, while tight, gruesome little Roman-era suspense thriller Centurion proved that a historical epic doesn’t have to be 2+ hours long with a big budget to impress, and Marshall continues to garner real acclaim through his extensive TV work on the likes of Game of Thrones. That said, I can’t wait for him to return to the big screen, preferably with more dark, edgy, blood-soaked fun like this ...

5. TREMORS

I’ve always had something of a bias towards horror movies that are also comedies, or at least that have a strong sense of humour throughout, and when it comes to funny horror movies, this brilliant throwback to cheesy 1950s monster movies is KING, baby! While it snuck in under the radar on its 1990 release, director Ron Underwood’s sleeper universally wowed critics, word of mouth helping it to become an impressive cult smash once it hit home video ... which meant I saw it at JUST the right time, the film quickly becoming a firm fixture in my favourites lists and a major milestone in my own geek development. The premise is simplicity itself – giant underground worms with tentacles in their mouths terrorise an isolated desert community – but underneath the goofy concept is a surprisingly sophisticated movie that continues to influence filmmakers today. Kevin Bacon was in a bit of a career slump at the time (Footloose had been SO LONG before), but this gave him both the shot in the arm he needed and one of his most memorable roles ever – odd-jobbing slacker Val McKee, who has to get off his arse and think big to beat the beasties; Fred Ward is the perfect foil as Val’s crotchety “business” partner Earl Basset, while Finn Carter is thoroughly lovable as scientist Rhonda LeBeck, a no-nonsense smart girl who can go toe-to-toe with the boys (and manages to lose her pants WITHOUT losing her credibility), but the film is consistently stolen by Family Ties star Michael Gross as tightly wound survivalist Burt Gummer – this might be Bacon’s movie, but Gross is the real star, deservedly becoming the driving force of the film’s various sequels AND the spinoff TV series. The film opens with a killer of a funny line, starting as it means to go on – frequently hilarious and smart as a whip, consistently defying character and genre tropes and wrong-footing the viewer almost a decade before Joss Whedon started doing the same with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, all the while balancing the belly laughs with some genuinely scary set pieces. The worms themselves (or “Graboids”, if you want to get specific) are spectacular creations, some of the most original movie monsters out there, and they still stand up well today, just like the rest of the film. A cornerstone of the genre that wins over new fans with each generation, this is one of those films that deserves to be remembered for a very long time, and looks set to do just that.

4. EVIL DEAD 2: DEAD BY DAWN

Nobody does screen chaos like Sam Raimi, particularly when it comes to his horror offerings – still his first and purest love. His original debut feature The Evil Dead is rightly considered the DEFINITIVE indie horror, and to this day remains the standard blueprint for all young, aspiring directors starting out in the genre ... it’s also a work of pure, unadulterated MADNESS once it gets going. Raimi upped the ante with this part-remake, part-sequel, the increased budget and proper studio resources meaning he could REALLY let his imagination run riot, and the results are a cavalcade of tongue-clean-THROUGH-cheek, jet black comedic insanity that STILL has yet to be equalled. Bruce Campbell returns as unlikely “hero” Ash Williams, thoroughly out of his depth and failing miserably to hold it together as the ancient tome of evil itself, the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis (“Book of the Dead”), unleashes a horde of undead demons on the isolated forest cabin he’s brought his girlfriend to. Wildly expanding on the supernatural back-story of his original, Raimi and co-writer Scott Spiegel also ramped up the humour, playing the horror on the blackest edge they can, albeit cut with a hefty dose of Tex Avery – Ash’s battle with his own possessed, eventually severed hand is like some demented skit out of The Three Stooges, while the absolute comedic highlight is the ridiculously over-the-top “laughing room” sequence, in which the seemingly inanimate objects in the cabin suddenly come to life and begin to taunt Ash; add in the great wealth of re-view-friendly visual in-jokes scattered throughout and this remains Raimi’s FUNNIEST film to date. Campbell clearly had a ball, throwing himself into the action with everything he had, and he’s ably supported by a meaty (ahem) cast that includes a very pre-Slither Dan Hicks as a seriously scuzzy redneck and Raimi’s own brother Ted, virtually unrecognisable as one of the maniacal Deadites (“I’ll swallow your soul!”). The creature effects from the great Greg Nicotero still stand up spectacularly well today (they remain some of his very best work), from hideous gurning beasts to insane fountains of blood, while Raimi’s direction is pitch-perfect, playing the humour beautifully while still (sometimes simultaneously) building up a near-unbearable atmosphere of unholy dread, and the climax is ingenious, beautifully setting things up for the enjoyably madcap trilogy-closer Army of Darkness: the Medievil Dead. Raimi has finally brought the trilogy the follow-up fans had been waiting decades for with the fantastically bonkers Ash Vs. the Evil Dead series, but this delirious masterpiece remains the franchise’s zenith. Groovy ...

3. JAWS

It may be the oldest film on this list (released in 1975, it’s THREE YEARS OLDER than I am!), but Steven Spielberg’s breakthrough feature has aged incredibly well. Indeed, it almost single-handedly changed the face of big budget cinema, establishing the idea of tent-pole summer blockbusters and blanket-bombardment advertising campaigns (in particularly it was one of the first to make heavy use of television to drum up excitement and interest), ultimately taking over $400,000,000 on its original release (the equivalent of multi-billion big earners like Avatar today) and paving the way for Star Wars two years later. Not to mention the film’s famous negative effect on beach-going for years after ... but under all that there’s a magnificent, masterfully-crafted film, still (rightly) considered one of the director’s best. The plot may be ridiculously simple – New England beach-community Amity Island is terrorised by a man-eating Great White shark – but there’s a stealthily subversive story here, taking old genre conventions and twisting them in new, unexpected directions (which would, ironically, form a template for a great many later horror movies); while the first hour is a slow-burn thriller, the second is more like a light-hearted nautical action adventure with added scares. The French Connection’s Roy Scheider virtually CREATED the everyman-out-of-his-depth hero with his portrayal of Amity police chief Martin Brody, a former New York cop who’s terrified of the water, Richard Dreyfuss is lovable comedic gold as rich kid marine biologist Matt Hooper, Lorraine Gary did a lot with very little as Brody’s wife Ellen, and Robert Shaw effortlessly steals the film as shark hunter Quint, a ferocious, scenery-chewing force of nature in the mould of Moby Dick’s Captain Ahab. The film is immensely rich in great character moments, from Hooper’s rib-tickling arrival on the island and the dialogue-free moment Brody shares with his younger son Sean, to the undeniable high point of the film, where a humorous comparison of scars (which has itself become a popular homage-magnet in film and TV) leads to Quint chilling account of his wartime experience onboard the U.S.S. Indianapolis (the ship transporting the Hiroshima atomic bomb which was torpedoed in the Pacific, leading to over a thousand stranded sailors being eaten alive by sharks); indeed, this is one of Spielberg’s most well-written films, sitcom writer Carl (The Odd Couple) Gottlieb’s polish of author Peter Benchley’s adaptation of his own original novel still zipping and zinging today, although some of the best dialogue was derived from the actors’ own on-set improvisations (most famously Scheider’s now-legendary “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”). It’s also one of his most well-directed, with near-hypnotic tricks in editing and bold, adventurous choices in atmosphere-building, often a result of the shoot’s infamous difficulties – the animatronic shark (affectionately named “Bruce” by the director, and “the Great White Turd” by the crew) created by Bob Mattley (the guy who did the giant squid in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) was impressive when it worked, but this was so rarely that the director had to devise several means of creating maximum tension WITHOUT showing the shark, which ultimately ADDS to the effectiveness of those scenes, particularly the “barrel-chasing” in the second half. None of these tricks, however, work better than the score from Spielberg’s most faithful collaborator, John Williams, based around a deceptively simple four-note melody that evolves into something spectacularly evocative, which has rightly become the film’s most iconic element. Humorous, intriguing, intense and still thoroughly terrifying when it wants to be, this is, bar-none, the finest man-versus-nature horror EVER MADE, and surely always will be.

2. NEAR DARK

I’m a fool for vampires (much like I’m a fool for redheads, but that’s a whole other conversation), so bloodsucker horror is one of my very favourite sub-genres. I’m also a big fan of Kathryn Bigelow – two of her most recent features, The Hurt Locker and Zero Dark Thirty, both pinged VERY LOUDLY on my radar (the former is my favourite war movie of the current decade), while her collaboration with then husband James Cameron, Strange Days (he wrote, she directed), rates high on my list of criminally underrated screen gems. So what do you think happened when she made a vampire movie? The results SHOULD have become one of the most celebrated and legendary features in the genre ... except that it came out in October 1987, two months after the admittedly cool and fun but far more glossy and dumb The Lost Boys. Needless to say in the wake of that, Bigelow’s film got kind of lost in the back chatter, nearly flopping at the box office and all but vanishing into obscurity ... until its subsequent release on video (quite rightly) earned it an impressive cult following. Myself included, because this movie is RIGHT UP my dark and dangerous alley. Collaborating with The Hitcher’s screenwriter Eric Red, Bigelow crafted a (largely) deadly serious modern day supernatural “western”, in which cocky farm-boy Caleb Colton (Heroes’ Adrian Pasdar) hits on cute drifter Mae (Jenny Wright, probably best known for her supporting turn in Young Guns 2), only to get WAY more than he bargained for when her kiss leaves him with a crippling hunger and one serious tanning problem. Pasdar’s all-knowing youthful swagger disintegrates as he tumbles further down the vampiric rabbit hole, while Wright’s fragile beauty compliments her character’s deep, soulful melancholy – the pair make for a compelling, tragic romantic centre anchoring the horrors that unfold as Caleb begins to lose himself to his burgeoning nature; even so, the true dark and twisted soul of the film lies with Mae’s predatory nomad “family” – Lance Henriksen is the definitive “dark father” as nihilistic pack leader Jesse Hooker, while his Aliens co-star Jenette Goldstein is his perfect mate as punk rock femme fatale Diamondback, and Joshua John Miller excels as Homer, the bitter old man trapped in a child’s body ... meanwhile Bill Paxton consistently steals the film as mad dog Severen, chewing the scenery to splinters with gleeful, feral aplomb and stealing all the best lines. It’s a potent, heady ride, taking itself pretty seriously throughout but deriving a subtle, inky black sense of gallows humour from the situation, and the set-pieces are intense and thrilling (particularly the shootout in a roadside motel at dawn, where shafts of sunlight become as lethal as bullets). At times it’s also powerful, soulful and bleakly beautiful, Bigelow’s heavily stylised visuals brilliantly augmented by the spiky electronic score from Tangerine Dream. It also subverts the classic vampire conventions with great skill and originality, with nary a cross, coffin or even fang in sight. Like 30 Days of Night, this is the perfect antidote for anyone suffering from Twilight-overload – the monster can be quite interesting when he’s the hero, but he’s just so much more fun when he’s the bad guy ...

1. JOHN CARPENTER’S THE THING

While I’m sure many will think I’m mad for preferring this over Carpenter’s other seminal horror classic Halloween, this one’s much more my speed, a perfect exercise in sustained tension, paranoia and white-knuckle terror. Critically mauled and under-performing on its release (it was labelled by many as a sort of “anti-E.T.: the Extraterrestrial”, which came out two weeks earlier ... and interestingly this opened the same day as Blade Runner!), it nonetheless became a massive cult hit now rightly considered one of the true DEFINITIVE horror movies. Faithfully adapting John Campbell, Jr.’s novella Who Goes There? (certainly more so than Howard Hawks’ admittedly entertaining but ultimately very kitsch The Thing From Another World), it revolves around the all-male crew of U.S. research station 4, Outpost 31, in Antarctica, who come under threat from a body-snatching alien entity that can perfectly imitate its victims after investigating the mysterious destruction of a neighbouring Norwegian facility. Carpenter regular Kurt Russell (Escape From New York, Big Trouble In Little China) is at his gruff best as helicopter pilot R.J. MacReady, the taciturn blue-collar Joe called upon to play “hero”, Keith David (Pitch Black, Carpenter’s They Live) angrily flexes his acting and physical muscles as hot-tempered researcher Childs, Donald Moffat crumbles as ineffectual station commander Garry, and screen legend Wilford Brimley effortlessly makes the exposition compelling as tightly-wound biologist Blair. The freezing Antarctic atmosphere perfectly complements the razor-edged suspense, the idea that ANYONE could be the creature lending every scene a palpable sense of implied threat, while the science of the fiction is thankfully largely put on the back-burner in favour of the story and scares; meanwhile there’s a cheeky edge of jet black humour throughout, from the scuttling disembodied head to Garry’s explosive reaction to MacReady’s improvised humanity-test. Rob (The Howling, Robocop, Fight Club) Bottin’s fantastically nightmarish creature effects are a magnificent achievement, still looking as good today as they did back in 1982, while master composer Ennio Morricone’s subtle, atmospheric score is a triumph of creepy, insidious subliminal effect. For me, this film is the definition of fear – the idea that the threat could be literally ANYONE, that you could even become that yourself, be taken over completely, body and soul, is absolutely terrifying, and Carpenter executes this potential reality with surgical precision from the intriguing, icy start to the bleak, desolate ending. Perfect.

#the mist #30 days of night #poltergeist #bubba ho-tep #dog soldiers #tremors #evil dead 2 #Jaws #near dark #John Carpenter's The Thing #my favourite horror movies #quality horror #Top Tens #decided I wanted to redo this properly cause finally got the hang of this mess

103 notes · View notes

deadgcrl-a-blog · 5 years ago

Text

☾ ❛ you’re my sister, phee. i can’t help it. ❜ adopted sister, maybe, but that didn’t make her any less FAMILY, and katherine had already lost one. she felt bad that she maybe clung a bit too hard or worried too much when it came to her, the doctor or even jack, but she refused to let anything happen to this one if she could help it. ❛ how about some chamomile? jack if off on work, you wanna stay here with me? i always love a good sleepover. even if we gon’t get much sleep, i’d feel better, at least, knowing you’d be here. get to harass you and keep an eye on you, yeah? ❜ she cracks a smile, giving the other a little nudge with her shoulder.

@theresastargirl continued from HERE.

#✵⁞ ❛ i. ophelia → theresastargirl #✵⁞ ❛ katherine → interactions.#✽⁞ ❛ ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece ( main )#*tbt #❈⁞ ❛ is this a real queue or am i fucking with you ( queue )

11 notes · View notes

linphd · 5 years ago

Text

dabi x hero!reader | everything is blue [angst]

dabi x reader (YES, AGAIN)

gender neutral

There are some consequences of a hero and a villain dating, sooner or later.

warning : angst, mention of death

the lyrics used in this one shot are from colors by Halsey

You were a vision in the morning when the light came through.

I know I've only felt religion when i've lied with you.

You and Dabi had been dating for 4 years, strangely. Strangely, because he was a villain, and you were a hero. But when you started to see each other, you never asked about each other’s job -even though after you’ve been on TV several times, he must’ve already known.

You actually went on a mission and you bumped into him. He gave you an awkward smile when he realized he couldn’t hide the fact that he was a villain anymore, but you decided to attack other villains instead of him. You wanted to have a discussion, after all.

You pitied him, actually. And even if you had some thoughts that maybe he was dating you to have some informations, to know where you lived and such, you didn’t mind. You were friends with a lot of heroes, and all of those were enough to hurt him if it was needed.

You're dripping like a saturated sunrise.

You're spilling like an overflowing sink.

You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece.

And now I'm tearing through the pages and the ink.

However, it had never been needed. He was such a sweetheart with you. Once, he told you that he made the League of Villains change its plans to attack some place you personally liked and where your parents lived close to, to attack another place instead. You just knew he loved you, and he couldn’t help it.

And never an evil plan could take 4 years. But, once you talked about the taboo subject. Not a wedding thing nor a family thing. ‘’What will happen if we bump into each other again, but this time we have to really fight ? Like your League makes plans to kill me ? What will you do ?’’ He sighed, saying he would try to convince them to kill someone else instead. He was a villain after all, he wouldn’t like to avoid the killing.

‘’But never I will leave the League. If I leave it, it’ll be because I want it, and not because of something that has to do with you, okay ? If I’ve decided to be enrolled within it, it’s for personal reasons, and it’ll be against those to leave it.’’ Well, every taboo subjects end with an argument, after all.

Everything is blue,

his pills, his hands, his jeans.

And now I'm covered in the colors,

pull apart at the seams.

And it's blue. And it's blue.

You both talked about it, without planning it to happen someday. You didn’t know how your life would be going on ; will you stay a hero and him a villain forever ? Will you actually settle and have a family ? Because 4 years of a relationship is quite long when you think about it. You were both young, after all.

However, you actually bumped into each other once more. And it was a huge fight. You couldn’t avoid each other. The League of Villains was attacking a huge mountain where some heroes had gathered -it was quite abandoned, so it was better for them not to be spotted on by the paparazzis.

You heard a lot of noises, you saw villains, even some you could tell the names of. But you went deeper in the forest with some other heroes, and all you could see was blue. Oh no. It couldn’t be anyone else ; blue flames. You wanted to tell your friends to go without you so you wouldn’t have to fight Dabi. But what if they killed him ? No, you needed to go.

Everything is grey,

his hair, his smoke, his dreams.

And now he's so devoid of color,

he don't know what it means.

And he's blue. And he's blue.

He was with Twice and Toga. Some random villains were with them, but they didn’t look important nor really dangerous. The other heroes could take care of them, so you ran away. Dabi followed you. He grabbed you by the arm when you were far away from the others. ‘’What are you doing here ?!’’ He said, furrowing his eyebrows. ‘’I told you I had a meeting ! -You could’ve told me it was in the middle of nowhere ! That’s where we like to attack ! Remember those kids from Yuei, the summer camp ?!’’

You pushed him. ‘’Of course ! You kidnapped a child !’’ He sighed, obviously mad. ‘’Yeah, I know, that was an argument we’ve had 3 years ago, let’s move on. You have to fucking hide !’’ You were about to answer, when you heard Tomura walk to the both of you. Dabi grabbed your throat to look threatening. ‘’Dabi. I recognize this one... (H/N). She’s a threat. End her.’’ The boy simply said, walking away as soon as he finished his answer. But Dabi could still feel his gaze ; of course the leader was going to watch if he did his job well.

Everything is blue.

He cupped your cheeks with one hand, hurting a bit. ‘’(Y/N), what the fuck are we going to do now ?!’’ Seeing some tears forming at the corner of your eyes, he sighed and calmed a bit. ‘’Okay, I’m going to intoxicate you with the smoke.’’ You were panicking, so he pressed your cheeks more, getting you closer to him. ‘’(Y/N), listen to me !’’ You sobbed, staring into his eyes.

‘’You know I love you, right ?’’ You nodded, the best you could. ‘’I can’t kiss you, I can’t hug you, Tomura’s watching. But I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.’’ His face was just inches away from yours.

‘’I have to act like I’m killing you. First, I’m going to burn you, then I’m going to throw you close to the flames. They’re not going to touch you, but it’ll be enough to intoxicate you and make you faint.’’ You nodded, listening to his plans.

Everything is blue.

Dabi released your cheeks to put his hand against your mouth instead. After that, he slid his other hand under your shirt -to still have some close contact with you, despise his boss watching- and started to burn you. ‘’I have to go fast, I’m so sorry.’’ It hurt so bad, being burnt. Of course he was kinky and you were used to be burnt a bit because of that, but never he had burnt you enough to hurt like hell and to leave a mark. And you were certain it wasn’t even half of the burns he had himself.

He kept muttering ; ‘’I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, baby.’’ Your face was horrible to look at. All those tears rolling down your eyes while you were staring at him. You thought you were going to die -you wanted him to be the last thing you’ll see.

Everything is blue.

After he was done with the burn, he pushed you towards the flames he had thrown in the forest. Already having trouble breathing due to your tears, it was complicated not to cough fast. However, you managed to talk to Dabi. Still sure you were about to die, you at least wanted him to talk to you. ‘’Dabi ! Dabi, I-‘’ he cut you off, though. ‘’Babe. You’re not going to die.’’ He just said, harshly.

He sounded angry, and was trying not to look at you too much so Tomura won’t see that something was going on. ‘’It’s going to be okay, right ? -Yes. I love you, okay ? -If you keep saying that, it’s not going to be okay !’’ He sighed, before obviously trying not to choke on his words -even though he wasn’t crying.

‘’I promise, everything will be alright. You’re going to faint, and Tomura isn’t going to check if you’re dead or not. We’ll leave you there, and when you’ll wake up, you’ll go back home and I’ll go check on you. Some of your friends will die today, but certainly not you.’’

Everything is blue.

Noticing how certain he was, you nodded and managed to stop crying. ‘’I love you too, so much. I’m sorry if you get troubles because of me...’’ This time, Dabi couldn’t hold back a chuckle. ‘’I’m a villain and I’m the one getting trouble because of you ?’’ You smiled, staring at him. His eyes were even more beautiful when his flames were reflecting within it. ‘’Now, now. Sleep well, my love. Enjoy the sight, blue is your favorite color, isn’t it ?’’ He smiled back.

Everything around you started to get blurry before you could see it turn into a sad smile, though. He then sighed, and started to walk away to find some other heroes. Tomura walked to you. ‘’You didn’t burn her enough, Dabi. -That was enough to make her die, though. She wasn’t that much of a threat like you said.’’ The boy couldn’t tell why Dabi was lying. But, he just grabbed your face. And with his quirk, you were really dead this time. Your face had been broken and decomposed by his boss.

Dabi didn’t watch and managed not to gasp when he noticed what was going on. But, he started to breathe heavily, killing 2 heroes in the process -maybe not to focus on it for the moment. He didn’t want to end this with a broken promise. He wasn’t crying. But he will be when he’ll stop by your house again. After all, you still needed someone to watch your cats... and blue was your favorite color.

i hope y’all cried

i wrote that in 30 minutes I’m really am a Dabi hoe like wtf? I’m just a main Dabi account at this point ig sjqkqk he’s kind of ooc but hey...

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #dabi #dabi x reader

85 notes · View notes