#also the best old burnt stump

[awkwardlyaaron]

Went hiking in the owyhees the other day

I found a tiny pond in a hole in a rock with grass growing in it

[margowritesthings]

Ghosts and Smoke

*i wrote this with this song in mind, so please feel free to listen for extra vibes!*

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 2791

warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE END OF RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2, angst, death, smoking, suggested post-sex scene

a/n: y'all i am GONE. it killed me. the end of red dead killed me and all i've done since is cry and write this damn angst. i'm sorry, but i'm also not. hope you enjoy!! also, thank you for all the love on my latest piece! im so glad youre as into this silly cowboy man as much as i am rn.

It was so quiet. You were used to the quiet lately, going it alone, but not here. Not Shady Belle, which was always full of laughter and fire and swearing and gunshots. The leaves rustled and your broken heart beat every so often but other than that, there was nothing. No laughter, no fire, nothing. You’d hitched your horse about a mile away, careful to keep her hidden well, so you were well and truly alone here. 

You looked up at the house, still somehow standing tall amongst the ghosts and smoke and tried your best to take a deep breath. It was about 30 paces away from you, past the campfire, your old tent and the fountain. A twig snapped under your boot as you took the first step, fingernails digging little moons into the palm of your hand. You could do this. Just past the campfire and you’d be halfway there.

═══════☆═══════

“What’re you always lookin’ at when I do this, huh?” Arthur asked, meeting your eye and wearing that amused smirk that suited him so well, sending your heart fluttering each and every time. 

That awful feeling people only get when they realise the other knows you’ve been watching them churned your stomach for a second. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised you were staring. 

“Nothin’. I just… my daddy used to smoke those things. He always tried to teach me to roll them for him and I never could. You seem so good at it.”

Sat around the fire with some of the camp, Arthur had been rolling some tobacco into a cigarette. You always found yourself watching him, finding the way his fingers expertly knew what they were doing somewhat hypnotising. And then there was that moment his tongue darted out from his teeth to lick the paper, which was… a sight to behold, to say the least. 

“I’ve got years of experience… I can teach ya sometime, if you’d like.” 

The opportunity to spend more time with Arthur dangled in front of you, shining like a medal. You reached out and grabbed it, nodding at him eagerly, “I’ll warn ya, my daddy tried real hard. I’m a difficult student.” 

Arthur’s head tilted, a cocky grin dominating his features beautifully before he pulled the masterfully rolled cigarette to his lips and licked down the length of the paper. You tried to remain composed while the air was stolen by an outlaw straight from your lungs. 

“I guess I’ll just have t’work you real hard then, won’t I?”

═══════☆═══════

The camp always smelled like smoke, so the fresh air felt wrong as you stepped past the plot that was formerly the fire you’d spent so many nights beside. The logs and stumps repurposed into chairs still sat around the burnt blackened circle, waiting for people who would never again be together. 

You kept walking, jaw clenched so hard your teeth ached. Your old tent caught your eye, at least what was left of it, singed and ripped canvas still hanging pathetically, tangled in a branch. In and amongst the ruins of your former home, your eye is caught by a piece of metal catching the dappled sunlight above. Kneeling down briefly, you pushed damp soil and leaves out of the way to reveal a metal cup trodden into the ground. For a silly little cup, it hurt far too much.

═══════☆═══════

“God damn it!” You swore, watching the tobacco scatter across your legs. Arthur chuckled, low and throaty, leaning against the tree your tent was hung around and taking a long, leisurely sip of coffee out of his cup. Gathering the tiny leaves back together on your skirts, you scowled at Arthur before starting to load the paper back up again.

“You gotta loosen up. Your fingers are too stiff.” He advised, watching his student intently. Easier said than done, really, hunched over a lantern in a tent, but you didn’t want to sound like you were making excuses. 

“Right, yeah... Got it.” You mumbled, your tongue poking out between your teeth, a sure sign of absolute concentration. It was all in vain, though, as the paper crumpled at a funny angle and sent tobacco flying once more onto your person. 

“Shit!” You hissed, flexing out your hands in a futile attempt to 

“Alright, easy now…” he cooed, earning another glare when you realised you recognised the phrase and tone of voice from when a snake spooked Arthur’s horse.

“I give up. This is hopeless.” You tried to reach up to hand him the paper to roll his own damn cigarette and he stepped forwards towards you. Expecting him to take it, you were surprised when he instead handed you his mug and sat down right up next to you. You hadn’t been this close since he first rode you into camp and you felt so small flushed against his broad shoulders like this. 

“Hold that, warm your hands up and I’ll show you again.” You obeyed your orders, doing just as Arthur said as he rubbed his own hands together, occasionally blowing into them. Without another word, he covered your hands, sandwiching them in between calloused palms and heated metal. The unexpected contact knocks you pretty hard, but you somehow manage to find the composure to mutter a thank you and hope you weren’t blushing too hard. 

You looked up to Arthur, only to find he was already looking at you. When your eyes met properly, it felt as though someone had just lit a fire right beside you. The air felt… heavier? No, lighter. Both? You didn’t know and couldn’t quite seem to figure it out, feeling the fuzziness of 4 whiskies that you hadn’t actually drank.

All from the touch of a hand?

The moment was weighted now, and you both knew it. The quiet between you twisted and grew and almost became palpable, but you physically couldn’t talk, not knowing if any actual words would leave or lips or some incoherent murmurings.

“Here. Let me show you.” Arthur took his hands away and the lack of contact had you almost… pouting? You didn’t have time to examine why you were so disappointed, though, as Arthur sat behind you, his chest right up against your back. His legs pressed against the outside of you and you were worried that he was close enough to hear your heart, beating right out of your chest. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Y’have t’make sure you get it nice and tight, so the bottom doesn’t fall out…” His arms wrapped around yours and his hands cupped yours again. The contrast was stark, his tanned, hardened skin making your hands look even tinier. You couldn’t breathe, wedged between the smell of dried tobacco and coffee on one side and smoked tobacco and Arthur on the other. Your fingers so naturally followed what he was doing, and before you could even register it, you had a perfectly rolled cigarette in your hands.

“Oh shit! I did it!” You twisted slightly, only to see the excited grin on Arthur’s face as he watched you squeal proudly. He took the roll from you, placing it right between your teeth and pulling out a match. A questioning brow raised as he lit a match, suspending it in front of the cigarette until you nodded your permission and he lit it. You coughed. He laughed, chest still pressed firmly against your back.

“I’m real proud of you. Now y’gotta learn to smoke the damn things.”

═══════☆═══════

You left your first tent for the last time, vowing to never look back. Wet leaves clung to your boots, dragging across the floor past the crumbling fountain and some other tents being reclaimed by nature, muddy and covered in ivy. The final path up to the house was so familiar after so many hours watching it, waiting for your beloved to return from a job, wringing your hands with worry. The porch creaked as you stepped on it, the site of so many tear-filled reunions. The door was no longer on its hinges and fell with a bang at your touch, echoing out into the forest and sending the wildlife running. 

You were home. For the last time.

═══════☆═══════

“I’ve got a surprise for you-uuu.” you sang out, hands held behind your back as Arthur stepped the threshold into the abandoned manor. He looked tired, but still managed a sleepy smile as you reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He caught the kiss, snaking a hand around your waist and pulling you closer for a more tender moment. You hadn’t seen each other in 3 days, Arthur off near Strawberry following a lead, so being back encased in his arms felt like home had come back to you.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, gentle smile tugging on his lip, “A surprise? For me? Y’shouldn’t have, darlin’.” The humbleness that appeared whenever you tried to do something nice for Arthur reared its adorable head and you shook your head, one hand still pinned to your back, clutching your gift. 

“Close your eyes!”

“Alright, alright…” Arthur chuckled, holding his hands up in a mock surrender as he closed his eyes. You waved at him a few times, just to be sure, before pulling a single, wonky cigarette out from behind you and tapping Arhur on the chest.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. Nonetheless, his face lit up with pride as he realised what exactly it was that he was looking at.

“You did it?”“I did it!”

“Yes!” He was so excited for you, more so than you’d ever seen him and your heart swelled. This big, scary cowboy, pulling you into a hug and spinning you around because you finally managed to roll something smokeable.

“I’m so proud of you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and never told you that it fell apart before he had the chance to light the damn thing.

═══════☆═══════

The stairs groaned under your weight miserably, each step feeling more and more likely to collapse. It always was the loudest staircase you’d ever heard, impossibly difficult to sneak around on when trying not to let a whole camp know that you and Arthur were both going upstairs. Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you knew if you started now you’d never make it upstairs. You couldn’t break, because there was nobody left to put you back together.

Every step required a more laboured breath, splinters half-heartedly brushing your fingertips as you traced them over the rotting bannister. You were alone, but the ghosts ran up and down around you, laughing and teasing and smiling and kissing and loving and taunting just how alone you really were. 

A few more strides and you were there. His door was closed and for some reason that made it all that harder to breach the barrier and enter Arthur’s room. A shaky hand reached for the handle, twisting agonisingly slowly and pushing through.

Arthur always, always stole the breath from you, but it was always in the best way. Not like this, not how winded you felt seeing the empty, abandoned room. It was never exactly a palace, Arthur being the first to admit to that, but whenever you used to be there it had this… energy woven into the air. You realized, standing there in that moment, that it wasn’t the place at all. The place was… just that. A place, dying where it stood, rotting and filled with ghosts. The air was clean, but it couldn’t fill your lungs. You needed the fire, built by your soulmate, keeping you warm every night. You needed the cigarette smoke he breathed, tickling your lungs and coating his lip. But it was gone, stamped out and extinguished by God’s great plan. It hurt so much that you laughed, just once, harsh and loud, before your back fell into the wall of Arthur’s bedroom and you slid downwards, your legs finally giving in. Your lungs burned for the cry that just wouldn’t come as you pulled your languid legs towards your chest. 

You hugged your legs close for a second, before the exhaustion reached your arms and they dropped to your sides. One hand hit the damp wooden floorboard, where the other hit something much colder, the ring on your finger clanging against it loudly. The sudden break of agonising silence shocked you for a second, instinct and past trauma screaming at you that you were in a shootout, but you managed to calm down quickly as soon as you figured out the cause of such a volume. 

The floor fell out from under you. Not physically, though you wouldn’t have been surprised, but everything around you seemed to fall when you laid your eyes on the little metal box beside you, rust embellishing the corners and hinges.

Arthur’s tin.

═══════☆═══════

You felt the rise and fall of Arthur’s bare chest, your head resting on it as you tried to gain control of your own breath. The blood was still rushing in your ears as you came back down from the intense high what you’d just experienced with Arthur gave you. Limbs jelly, vision fuzzy, you pressed a lazy kiss to his skin. The fingers mindlessly running through your hair stopped, Arthur in a momentary contemplation that resulted in him reaching over and grabbing a cigarette from the table beside his bed.

“Pass the matches over will ya’, sweetheart? They’re in with my tobacco.” 

You nodded, rolling over to your other side to reach over to your side of the bed, where Arthur’s stash tin sat. While Arthur waited, cigarette hanging limply from the side of his lip, you opened the tin and froze. There was the usual hit of the strong scent of tobacco, the little box of matches, and papers, but those were to be expected. What you didn’t expect to see was a charcoal sketch stuffed in there, staring back at you. It was a remarkable likeness, though you were sure you’d never looked as beautiful as how Arthur had drawn you, laughing in a way that lit up your whole face. The emotion was all too much, sitting in your throat and filling your eyes with wet tears.

“Y’alright? Are they in there?” A concerned voice asked, forcing you to swallow the overwhelming happiness for a moment or two, nodding, handing Arthur the matches and closing the tin. You nuzzled back into his chest, swirling a finger around the little hairs that trailed down his abs.

“I love you, you know that?”“I know. I love you too.”

═══════☆═══════

The tin was so cold in your hands, that cold that you could feel it through your shirt as you held it close to your chest, so hard it was though you were willing more into existence than was there anymore, as if Arthur himself was in there. One last deep breath to find the courage and the tin popped open. The smell of tobacco hit your nostrils and infiltrated your lungs and it hurt. The scent was so undeniably Arthur that it felt so wrong that he wasn’t there with it. He was gone, you knew that, but there was some hope in you that you’d find him hiding in the smoke, just like he always was. 

Clumps of leaves were a little damp in your fingers, attacked by the elements, but you managed to gather enough dry bits and pull out one of the papers. It was cold, but your hands didn’t seem to notice. You had to do this, there was nothing else left. No leads, no job, no Arthur. Just you, alone in an empty room in a lonely house.

Your nimble fingers worked slowly, savouring the ritual of sprinkling in the grind, rolling it up and sealing it, just as he taught you.

That’s it. You got it, sweetheart.

Take your time.

You pictured him, arms closing you in as he guided the paper over with you. 

Just one step at a time.

Soon enough, there was a cigarette wedged between your fingers. 

See? Look at you.

The first few matches were duds, ruined by the water, but eventually you got one lit. You remembered Arthur, cupping his hands over the match as he lit to protect the flame from the weather. You did the same, not trusting the hole where a window once stood proud. 

The tip lit and you breathed in. You coughed. You cried.

The last cigarette of Arthur Morgan. 

You got this, darlin’.

You inhaled smoke. You exhaled ghosts, swirling and wisping around you, caressing your cheek just like he did.

I’m so proud of you.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Little less than super, soldier

Basically an oc x zemo fic but I'm going to write it in y/n style because that's what I'm comfortable with ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also I am still working on Avatar and Spiderman fics just taking a self indulgent break because the FOCUStm is on Zemo rn.

Your characters background is clear as the story progresses but if you'd prefer to know it going in this is a post on it! And this is a short fic of that info too ✌

This is a part one... I got so excited and wrote a few more ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary: Sam gets back up from an old friend, meanwhile y/n is struggling to deal with Zemo.

warnings: for now canon typical violence, tho later chapters will contain mild body horror. Warnings will specify.

Nicht - Don't

Tut mir leid - I'm sorry

Soldat - Soldier

(My german is very basic so feel free to correct me!)

next

Sam hadn't seen you in years, not since he watched you walk away from him, Bucky and Steve. He couldn't argue with their decision, it was for the best. You were a wreck and despite his best hopes he knew you were right. If anyone knew you were alive they'd use you again.

Still he wasn't too surprised when you turned up at his house. He'd only been back from dust a few days earlier but he'd heard from others that you'd been there. Stepping up to help when people around the globe needed you. He hadn't realized the broken person he'd met screaming in a cell had so much heart.

Still you were a ball of nerves, being overly polite and stumbling over your questions. It was a far cry from the swearing, snapping venom you'd spit when the Avengers had you and it put him a little on edge. You just wanted to know if he was okay, if they all were and that you'd be leaving again. He'd given your shoulder a squeeze, despite the flinch, and wished you the best. You'd settled quickly under his had and that was the first time he saw you really smile.

He found the number a few hours later. A tiny scrap you'd somehow tucked into his own jean pocket. A small note, "Just in case." He felt oddly proud of who you'd become and kept it into his wallet.

That day passed into fond memory but every so often a little note and number would turn up. A small reminder you were out there and willing to help again. A few times he thought to call but he didn't. No point worrying you or pulling you back for nothing.

Only this wasn't nothing now. He and Bucky were stumped and with the threat of super-soldiers and he knew you'd want to know. Though the idea of dragging you back it was horrible. He felt the weight of his decision bearing down on his shoulders. Sam slumped further into his chair as he eyed the message. Then with a last deep breath in, his thumb tapped the glass.

Sent. Delivered. Read. Ellipsis.

Then nothing. He waited, head in hands, regretting it immediately. It wasn't like you wouldn't be a huge help but dragging you back like this? It just didn't feel right. Even if you came what could you know anyway? Hydra weren't exactly open with you about things whilst in there clutches. Hell you might end up coming to draw gun fire and that thought twisted his gut. Sam watched the screen until his eyes burnt, then let his head hit the desk.

The buzz startled him some time later. He flung out his seat, scrambling to the message. Bucky, whatever he had been up to after visiting Zemo he was ready to meet. Sam's shoulders sagged as he read the text. He wasn't disappointed, not really. He knew he was asking too much by contacting you. The risk to your freedom was eminence. There was no telling who was still out there looking for you, other than SWORD anyway.

Still Sam couldn't help but feel down as he got his things ready. God only knows what Bucky had done and meeting him across town in some garage didn't bode well.

Maybe you'd settled down somewhere, maybe you were happy. He hoped so, that you'd chosen yourself. Sam fortified himself, squaring his shoulders as he headed to the door. No point stalling, he needed to find out what Bucky had been up to.

He swung the door out quickly but found his feet rooted in place. There you were, frozen with a hand in the air ready to knock. A mess of hair, in sweatpants and an old thread bare t-shirt, looking rather stunned. He stared a moment, watching your mouth bob open and shut, over night bag slipping down your shoulder.

"Y/n!" Sam couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. To his relief your posture relaxed and you returned his smile. "Come on, Bucky might have something, we'll meet him across town."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You knew you should try to stop bouncing your leg but every time you lost focus it jumped to life. You didn't want Sam to see you worried like this. He'd always been so kind to you and you didn't doubt he'd let you leave if you asked. You couldn't however, no matter how much it felt like jaws were gonna snap down on you.

He'd been so nice in the car over, being careful to avoid touching you, asking after your life, avoiding making you speak any specifics. You appreciated that, although your run down, rented flat and part time jobs were hardly worth the effort. Hell you'd struggled enough making nice with coworkers, maybe a fresh start would be nice after this.

You'd wanted to call Sam. You'd wanted to check in with him and his family. For a time you even considered contacting Wanda but you never liked someone else in your mind with you. No you'd resigned yourself to the loneliness. Maybe you should get a pet.

"Is it Bucky?" Sam offered, eyes glancing to you before returning to scanning the room. "You know after Wakanda he's..."

"Yes I know." You interrupted, stilling yourself again. You'd actually gone to see him shortly after checking in with Sam. A guilty part of you had felt relieved when he'd disappeared. Though after the five year absence you felt you had to see him too.

He'd been starting therapy at the time, was working, he was doing well all things considered. Still you'd felt the need to check, to be sure the Soldat was gone. You'd left then satisfied that the man you'd known wasn't behind those kind sad eyes and that this Bucky that stood in his skin was not a threat. Still an incredibly able soldier just not of the winter variety. Anyway it wasn't him you were worried about.

When Sam had fully explained the situation you'd blanched. These flag-smashers had access to the serum. Not the same one you'd had pumped into you but a better one. One that left them with the strength and power of Captain America, not just side effects.

Still no matter what it cost, you couldn't leave knowing the serum was out there somewhere. So you'd focus on that, let it anger you, burn away any doubt and drive you forward.

You heard him before you saw him. Loud deliberate steps, Sam must have let him know you'd be there. Unless they were so as not to startle Sam. Regardless there was little more than a tight smiles shared before Bucky led you both further in to the garage.

You wouldn't say you were on comfortable terms with him yet. He was still guilt ridden about the Soldat's memories with you and you were still a little unnerved with a new man wearing the same face. It was nice to see him so happy though. Even in this circumstance his mood seemed far different than you'd ever seen him. Here's to therapy you supposed.

Bucky's plan seemed rather extreme. Break Zemo out and have him help. You had to admit it seemed rather extreme. The ex Colonel was part of an elite intelligence op and had a history of hating Avengers. Though he also hated super soldiers more so that might keep him on their side. Enemy of my enemy and all that.

Except you'd be among the enemy in that case. It wasn't outside the realms of possibility that Zemo didn't know about you. After all his search through the leaked files where rather singular in their aims. Your particular information had been lost or redacted so heavily that without specific knowledge on you it would be hard to link the two.

You continued to follow behind Sam, keeping your eyes on the shadows, watching your back. Some stress was elevated when Bucky flipped the lights on, continuing his back and forth with Sam after shooting a soft look at you. Nothing got past his notice.

If they kept this bickering up you'd be there all day. You slunk over to a car under the lights, perching on the open bonnet. You couldn't help the fondness in your smile as you watched their amusing relationship. Giggling to yourself as Sam rolled his eyes with his whole body, raising his brows to you.

"Look, let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I just walk you through a hypothetical." Bucky started.

"What did you do?" Sam questioned, his brow furrowing as he turned back to face him.

You felt tense again, arms uncrossing from your chest. You weren't quiet sure what was going on now. Clearly Sam had caught on to something you'd missed. Bucky launched into a far too detailed plan and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Every hair stood on end as the dawning realization hit.

"You didn't..." You almost whispered as Sam interrupted again. Then the door was opening and your ears were ringing. Your heart pounded in your throat as Sam charged forward in front of you. You were still stunned, now behind them both as Zemo entered the garage, dressed in a guards uniform.

He caught eyes with you for a moment, taking his hat off before returning to Sam and Bucky's argument. His eyes seemed to drift back to you before he interjected again.

You found yourself standing under his scrutinizing gaze, drifting closer to Sam, inching him further between you and Zemo. You barely followed what was being said, waiting for him to pull a gun or stop staring. Either was preferable in this moment.

"Okay." Sam spoke, defeat in his tone. You clenched your jaw. You didn't like this. If the guy wasn't gonna attack he was going to manipulate his way to his release, you were sure.

Still he seemed cooperative, leading you all back to a larger room filled with old cars. They were expensive things but you didn't let your eyes wander from him. Choosing to break the middle of the pack, you kept yourself between Sam and him. Despite his words and values you wanted to remain vigilant. If you could do nothing else you'd shield Sam.

Other than a few snide comments he seemed true to his word. He drove the group of you to an airport in mostly silence. Peaking back at you and Sam through the mirror.

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam said incredulous at the sight of the privet jet on the tarmac. You'd calmed down a little, walking by him and Bucky's side as you followed.

"I'm a Baron Sam, my family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country." Zemo spat back. You couldn't help but snort at his comment. You regretted drawing his attention again when he stared back at you. You looked away until his attention left, drawn else where.

Bucky and Sam eyed you a moment and the indignation flared in you again. "What? They dropped that city on me." you hissed quietly. You weren't sure you wanted Zemo to hear that. Sam looked stunned blinking at you before he was turned back to the plane. You fell back in step behind the group as you approached.

You suppose you never did tell him about that. Just letting it stew with your general hatred towards your then captors back then. It'd been a huge loss to you. A life built there crashing down on top of you, leaving you broken and pinned for days. You shook the memories away trying to forget the carnage.

Zemo greeted an old butler looking guy at the steps. To your delight he was wearing the little white gloves and everything. Sam awkwardly nodded and you gave the man a genuine smile as you passed. He was just like the caricature on TV. He looked to be 100 and considering his familiarity with Zemo he could've known him all his life.

It soon set you on edge to be at his mercy 1000 feet in the air. With a knowing look he could fly you all anywhere and you'd be none the wiser. Certainly wouldn't make a change from most flights you'd been on, at least your hands would be free.

Zemo smiled at you as you boarded, gesturing to the seat opposite his own. You ducked your head, shifting quickly to the back behind Sam. If the staring was bad in the garage you sure as hell didn't wanna experience it in direct line of sight.

You didn't catch his name but Zemo spoke to the butler in Sokovian for a moment, implying he'd give out of date food to Sam and Bucky. Angered you huffed, Zemo turning at the sound. You caught his eye, keeping a glare set on his smug expression.

"Nicht." You bit out through gritted teeth. Your Sokovian was rusty but you saw the slightest change in Zemo's expression, before it settle back into a cat like grin.

"Tut mir leid." He nodded, turning back to face forwards again. Sam's head peaked at you from round his seat but you just slumped back into your own. Staring out the window and gripping the arm rests as the plane took flight.

Not long into cruising altitude Zemo angered Bucky. You hadn't been paying them much attention by this point. You'd found yourself relaxing and had become dazzled my the ice on the window and fluffy clouds below. You were startled back by the sudden movement of Bucky. Jumping up and catching Bucky's eye as he took his hand off Zemo's neck and slumped back into his seat, his book back in his hands.

Cursing under your breath you moved to the seat in front of Zemo now. You resigned yourself to a task to keep you awake, stop them from killing one another.

Zemo spoke an apology, but it seemed more probing than you liked. To your relief Sam seemed to turn the conversation back to lighter topics. You slid further into your seat a moment before Zemo began pushing again. You glare into him, not missing the way he glanced at you when he said "innocents die."

A small pang of fear hit you but you bit back a response. He'd clearly caught the hint of resentment you felt towards what happened in Sokovia. Still you kept your gaze level as you bit your cheek and allowed Zemo to continue.

Madripoor, you'd only ever been there in passing. The lawless nature allowed you to obtain some fake documents for relatively cheap. It was too risky to stick around though, too many dangers, too much risk of outing yourself.

Worse still Bucky was gonna have to put on an old mask.

Soldat

[dianaladrislovebot]

gone headcanons that have popped into my unhinged little brain, part 5 : colours edition

hey there besties it’s been long enough since the last hcs post so here’s another one (i promise the next one will be actual hcs). yesterday i asked on both instagram and tumblr what colours y’all associate w the characters bc i mentioned to me diana is a very red character so i thought i’d take a general consensus on the other characters and i got some really good answers so i thought i’d share ! i’ve compiled a few of my personal favourites that i feel are the most accurate, thank you to everyone who contributed ! <3

sam temple : light green

i think sam being light green was the colour most people saw him as (probably due to his power) but i did also see some ocean blue’s which i liked, but green is personally my favourite for sam

caine soren : navy blue

literally everyone agreed on either this or indigo which in my mind are the same thing. there was not a single other answer he IS navy blue.

astrid ellison : baby blue / cream

i did see a couple of other answers for this but i think these two sum her up the best in terms of her personality and characterisation

diana ladris : bright red / royal purple

as i said, i’ve always seen diana as a very red coded character but i did see a couple of purples and i raise you: royal purple, as she is named after a princess

drake merwin : blood red

i use to see him kind of green bc of his connection to the gaiaphage while completely neglecting how red he is. i’ve been a fool.

quinn gaither : sand

i didn’t get any answers for him but i’m glad for that bc i wouldn’t be able to see him as anything other than sand. any other answer would have been wrong

edilio escobar : burnt orange

i originally thought of him as a rich chocolate colour but a friend brought dark orange to my attention and now i believe it wholeheartedly. i look at that colour and see edilio.

brianna berenson : bright yellow / orange

brianna’s a very hyper, overbearing, in your face character so her having such an exuberant borderline obnoxious colour seems fitting

dekka talent : dark purple

i was actually stumped on dekka until i had a few people answer this so i thank you bc you’re so correct she is dark purple

lana arwen lazar : rust red

i don’t even have an explanation for this i just feel it in my bones. she is this.

mary terrafino : baby pink / dark pink

i think mary starts off the fayz a very light pink. a very feminine, childish pink. but as the series goes on and her mental state deteriorated, i think she shifts into more of a dark pink to signify her downward spiral

albert hillsborough : money green

come on. i don’t need to explain.

taylor : hot pink / gold

obviously i know people associate her w gold bc she turned gold blah blah blah but as a character she’s very hot pink. i imagine her very girly and gossipy and such before the fayz, very 13 year old girl ish so hot pink sums that up nicely

computer jack : silver

i had a few people answer this and i’ve honestly never thought about it before but you’re so right and you should say it

that’s all the main characters that i have set in stone and i’m pretty happy w them tbh. once again thank you to everyone who participated and gave me ideas bc somehow you were all correct. i love hearing how different people interpret the characters it’s so interesting

[edward-cabrini]

Character Focus: Fiachra

A man driven by his boundless ambition and his need to climb to ever greater hights. So far we've met:

Maura, his second in command

Reardan, his marksman & morale gage

Ernin, his master-at-arms

Lorcan, his sword

These four are the teeth of his fian. Without them a lot of the tactics he employs would fail. Maura keeps order and directs the battle even when he is far from view. Reardan ensures Fiachra's charisma is felt even in the direst of moments while picking off sergeants, and commanders. Ernin is a steady and dependable fighter respected and trusted to hold any flank through her determination and skill at arms. And then there is Lorcan, a loyal hound with sharps fangs taloned paws. A terrifying beast used to unleash his master's wroth upon any who oppose him. Fiachra's swordsman is not a cunning commander like Maura. Nor is he a warm and friendly beacon others rally to for camaraderie. Unlike Ernin he isn't a soldier that will hold the line, he pushes it constantly until he's no longer able. To Fiachra Lorcan is employed for use as a tremendously violent tour de force of swordsmanship. Where Fiachra is cold, reserved and calculating, Lorcan is impulsive, quick to anger, and brusque. The narrative is almost entirely driven by these two men and their growing relationship. When we first meet Fiachra he's the rígfénnid of a growing fian under the command of King Fearghas of Óirann. All we really know of him is that he's a well liked leader, a skilled fighter, and willing to do and risk anything to get what he wants. A protagonist in his own right able to reshape the world, a young commander int he middle of a centuries long war he may well just manage to do just that.

So where did the idea for Fiachra come from? As with all my characters Fiachra has a little bit of myself. What aspects exactly is secret between he and I. Aragorn of the LoTR books by J.R.R. Tolkien is also a substantial source of inspiration and in fairness a few other characters from those books have traits or aspects lifted up and inserted into Fiachra... You may have realised I'm playing this one a little closer to my chest than I have for my other Character Focus posts, that's because I believe a lot of his impact comes from what the other characters in the book think of him. Unravelling him as the omniscient author I think takes away from what he is... I think it's about time I left you with a quote, this comes from a moment not long after Lorcan has joined Fiachra's fian and the pair are still figuring each other out: He stooped down to pick up the young noble's head. Holding it up by the stump, he showed the face to Lorcan. Blonde wavy locks curtained the young unblemished face. The boy was likely a winter or two younger than Lorcan. "Do you know who this is?" Fiachra asked, raising an eyebrow, Lorcan shook his head. "This is Count Druex's son, a petty noble of imperial nobility. King Fearghas knew he was going to be here through documents I recovered several months ago. His Grandfather took this castle from an old Óirann family. It was lost because the defenders didn't sally out to crush a small attacking force. The defenders ran out of food and were forced to surrender. Knowing how it was lost, this once eager noble would've been keen not to make the same mistake. Of course, I planned on it." Fiachra explained, turning the boys head to face him and inspecting it. "So what? Did you want to keep him alive?" Lorcan spat as he tore off his helmet. Fiachra tossed the head into a nearby brazier. The hair burnt and the flesh slowly cooked. The melting eyes and dripping fat splashing and sizzling onto burning logs. "No, all this to say; I don't know how to use you best."

[frodo-with-glasses]

1 and 3 for Gandalf and Faramir pls?

1. “When I think they became friends”

Cue the “plundering the Appendices” music!

So Appendix A gives us a broad-strokes summary of the family of the Stewards. There aren’t a lot of dates given, but it does tell us that Faramir “welcomed Gandalf at such times as he came to the City, and he learned what he could from his wisdom; and in this as in many other matters he displeased his father."

My clue for the timeline here actually comes at the end of that sentence. The reason Denethor disliked Gandalf isn’t just because he’s a turd (although he is a turd); it’s because mental battle with Sauron through the Palantir meant that “pride increased in Denethor together with despair”, and he became so narrow-minded that he “mistrusted all others who resisted Sauron, unless they served himself alone.” We also know from earlier in the paragraph that Denethor never tried looking into the Palantir until after the death of his wife Finduilas; Appendix B tells us that she died in the year 2988, when Faramir was five years old.

SO. We know that Gandalf visited Minas Tirith every so often by his own volition, and Faramir would take the opportunity to learn from him, and that Denethor didn’t like that. That’s definitely when Gandalf and Faramir cultivated their friendship. WHEN exactly those lessons happened—whether they occurred before or after Faramir “came to manhood”—isn’t specified.

Maybe Denethor was approving or ambivalent to the lessons at first, and only developed a hatred and distrust for Gandalf later in life, as the darkness began to take hold of his mind. If that’s the case, Gandalf could have been present very early in Faramir’s life, before Sauron really began to corrupt his father. But if the first quote I mentioned means that Denethor ALWAYS hated those lessons—as I think it does—then that means Gandalf couldn’t have been in Faramir’s life until sometime after the death of Findulas.

So: Minimum age of Faramir, five or six years old, I think; I don’t know how long it took for that “pride and despair” to grow in Denethor. Maximum age of Faramir, right around the cusp of adulthood. Again, the paragraph discusses Boromir and Faramir’s personality differences in the context of them growing up.

My best guess would be that Gandalf really started to bond with Faramir when the kid was a young teenager; right around the time that kids start to get ideas of their own and break away from mindlessly parroting what their parents taught them.

3. “A random headcanon I have of them”

Faramir is one of the few humans who has ever petted Gandalf’s beard and come out unscathed.

Plenty of Hobbit children have done the same, of course. They’re Hobbits; who could refuse them? But Gandalf would allow very, very few of the race of Men to get into his personal space without a loud threat to singe their hands off and leave them with nothing but burnt little stumps on the ends of their arms.

Faramir is different. Faramir was just a kid. Right around the time they started to get particularly close—but before Faramir was old enough to be embarrassed by it—Gandalf was bent over a map, explaining the locations of old kingdoms and the movements of ancient armies, and Faramir was listening so intently that, without him realizing it, his little hand found the tail end of Gandalf’s beard that was resting in the table, and he absentmindedly petted the unfamiliar texture as he listened.

There was, of course, a split second that Gandalf thought of roasting Faramir’s hands off (or at least loudly threatening to do so), but then he thought nah, he’s just a kid, he means no harm by it, and kept talking.

Faramir never consciously remembered the incident, but the tactile memory sort of molded itself into an undisputed fact of how he understood the universe: Mithrandir’s beard is soft. He didn’t remember how he knew that. He just knew.

This, of course, caused a bit of hilarity several years later, when Pippin was talking about Gandalf and said with a shudder, “he’s terrifying when he’s angry with you, and his beard sticks out all like a patch of thorns,” and Faramir said “but surprisingly soft” and then both of them sat in silence for a second to process what he just said.

“How do you KNOW that?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!!”

FRIENDSHIP ASK GAME!

[halfway-happyyy]

The Autumn Cottage

Happy Saturday friends! Autumn has arrived in full force where I live and I couldn’t be happier about it. To celebrate, I have written a sappy, smutty piece inspired by the current weather and this ask that I received: Can u give us a oneshot about a snuggle fuck w alex in a cozy cottage in the fall?

One of the greater joys in her life had to have been waking up to autumn's fickle fingers trying to desperately to reach her from the comfort of her woolen blanket. She watched, sleepy and bleary-eyed as leaves in shades of crimson and burnt umber drifted past her window in no particular direction. Her fingers roamed over the left side of the bed in search of him. Alexander's silhouette was barely visible through the indigo morning light, though she could make out the prominent line of his nose, and the slight curve of his bottom lip. Unmistakable in the minimal glow of dawn was the familiar glitter in his eyes, the glint that said so much about him and then nothing at all in equal measure.

“Good morning.” She whispered, and even that felt like too mighty of a disturbance in the stillness of their bedroom in the cottage. Though if he minded, he never let it show.

“Good morning yourself, kid.”

She reached the tip of a finger towards him wordlessly and brushed a feather-light touch down the bridge of his nose. Moving lower, she outlined his lips and grinned into the air before her as she felt him smile against her touch. She moved around his face with care, tried to memorize each delicate crease and wrinkle in her wake, tried to commit to memory the aspects that he resented about himself, even if she loved them beyond measure.

“Beautiful,” Alexander murmured as he brought the back her wrist to his lips, kissing the soft flesh there passionately. He brushed the pad of a calloused thumb over the rounded curve of her warmed cheek. “Like watching a flower bloom right before my very eyes.” They stayed like that for longer than either of them cared to admit; she could count on one hand in the past year that she had spent a weekend with him like this- alone and entirely undisturbed from anything and everything. He had broached the subject of a rented cottage in passing one morning a few weeks ago. It was one of those mornings where something had gone awry at every turn, and everything had been a blur. He had been late for something important, that much she could remember. He had rushed around the kitchen in a fury, muted Swedish curse words coloured every second sentence. He was out of breath when he reached the front door, weighed down by his leather laptop bag, but before he left, he turned to her and smiled. “Let’s get away together, kid.” She had taken it with a grain of salt until he returned home that evening, tired from a rather long shooting schedule, but in a fantastic mood all the same. “I mean it. It’s about to be a beautiful autumn. Let’s get away, just the two of us.”

“Shall I make you a coffee, or are we just going to lay in bed and stare at each other all day?” She offered him a cheeky smile and an exaggerated eye-wiggle which he simply laughed at.

“I have half a mind to choose the latter option, but I really do need some caffeine this morning.”

She nodded finitely and leaned in for a kiss, the innate push and pull of it caused a fire to ignite deep within her for him. She could easily spend the rest of her life doing this very thing; loving him fiercely and being loved back just as hard in return. “Alright,” She gasped as she pulled away from the allure of his hot, wet mouth. “Meet me in the kitchen.” She rose from the bed silently and padded over to her suitcase that was propped up on a wicker chair in the corner of the room. She noticed Alexander’s cream Sherpa sweater hanging over the arm of it and she ran a fingertip over the unbelievably soft material.

Alexander must have been watching her because when he spoke, his voice still gravelly from recent sleep, he startled her. “I’d be happy if you wore that, today.”

“You would?” She had been eyeing it ever since he’d brought it home from a shoot a month ago. She longed to wrap it around her frame, the sheer feeling of it luxe and utterly comforting on her bare skin. Especially as the months would inevitably grow colder.

“Watching you wear my clothing does something for me, kid. I love seeing how happy it makes you.”

With a small smile, she lifted the sweater over her head and let it fall into place on her body, the hem of it falling just above her knee. She pulled her hair from the confines of it and let it fall in waves down her back. “How do I look?” She asked.

“Beautiful,” Alexander murmured.

Satisfied with his answer, she made her way down the hardwood-floored hallway to the kitchen. She had thought at first that the silence of the cottage would be too loud; that city life had turned her into a creature who thought she craved noise on a near-constant level. But to her pleasant surprise, it had taken less than twenty-four hours to grow accustomed to it, and she knew now that she would miss it dearly when it was their time to go home. Eliciting a yawn, she stood on tiptoes and tried to remember which cupboard Alexander had hidden the coffee beans. Without warning, a large hand reached up above her head with ease and produced the bag for her with a sly smile. “I’d have found them eventually…” She muttered.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that. But- would you have been able to reach them?”

She shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Cheeky, vertically-adept bastard.”

They made their coffee together in silence. It had been one of the many things that drew him to her in the beginning. Where conversation seemed forced with every prospective partner and lover in the past- everything flowed the way it was supposed to with Alexander. There had never been a need to fill the quiet with empty words and small talk. It was a wonderful change of pace. “You hungry yet, kid?”

She remembered the basket of farm-fresh eggs in the fridge, thought of the loaf of homemade bread next to the coffee machine and her mouth watered tantalizingly. “I could definitely eat.” She watched him move around the kitchen with ease; watched the way his worn sweatpants hung low from the edges of his hips. She watched the way his muscles flexed in the light pouring in through the stained-glass window above the sink. She had always been struck silly by the beauty that this man possessed; but the notion that his soul bested his looks would never cease to leave her in utter awe. “What have you got on the go today?” She asked, a fork full of fluffy scrambled eggs rested in her hand.

Alexander passed a napkin over his lips, swallowed the bite of food in his mouth and shrugged. “Thought I might chop some wood for a fire tonight.”

She could hardly contemplate it now; the thought of watching her man hulk through multiple logs of wood caused her to physically clench her thighs together. “You plan on doing that soon?”

“After breakfast.” He confirmed.

True to his word, after the last dish had been washed and dried and properly put away, he stalked over to the coat hook in the front foyer and threw a sweater over his naked chest. Turning to her, he eyed her up and down and cocked his head to the side; a small smirk pulled at the edges of his lips. “Care to keep me company?”

Reaching for a blanket and the book that she had started yesterday morning, she nodded her head. “Lead the way.”

It was warmer outside than she had originally anticipated, though the autumn wind had picked up a little more voraciously, and she marveled at the falling leaves the same way she had earlier that morning. The sky above her was cloudless and a bright azure blue and she found herself thanking a higher being for the blessings in which she had been given. Opening the book to the page she had last left off on, the sound of an axe ripping through the middle of a log rang out through the clearing and she knew then that she would not be getting any further reading done this morning. Instead, she watched in awe as Alexander lifted the axe high above his head and brought it down with a force she had rarely seen before, the log splitting into two pieces and falling away from the stump. It was poetry in motion, really. Alexander’s hair was the longest she had ever seen it; the sandy blonde tresses were grown out and regularly fell over his eyes but she reveled in it. Of the many years that they had known each other, he had always kept a mostly clean-shaven face but quarantine, and the filming of a particularly brutal Viking revenge drama had rendered him more manlier and distinguished than she had ever thought possible. “You are fulfilling lumberjack fantasies for me that I never knew I had!” She called out to him.

Alexander tossed his head back, a hearty laughter bubbled up from the back of his throat and exited his mouth like music from a box. “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to yourself, kid. I see the way you look at me when I put on my old and holey plaid jacket.” He took a break from chopping wood to wipe the sweat from his brow. “To add to this- you also purchased me a very expensive axe a few years ago for my birthday.”

“Guilty,” She muttered under her breath.

“But rest assured I am elated that this-” He gestured to himself. “Does it for you.” 

The morning continued on in much the same fashion until maybe an hour or two later when Alexander joined her from her perch on the wrap-around porch. Falling into a bench opposite her, he took a few moments to try and regain his breath again. Beads of sweat gathered at the base of his forehead and his broad chest heaved under the weight of recent physical duress. They each viewed each other with a hunger usually only attained after seeing one another for the first time in months. “Come here.” He ordered, softly. She rose from her spot without hesitation and sauntered over to where he sat. He pat the front of his thigh twice, a silent instruction for her to have a seat. She straddled his lap with ease and wrapped her arms around his neck; the heady scent of his perspiration and body wash made her lightheaded with want. It took every ounce of self-control not to grind shamelessly down on his steadily growing erection. As he held her tightly to him, his warm, broad hands rubbed reassuring circles into her back. She shivered into the touch as Alexander kissed his way up the side of her neck, his mouth leaving trails of fire in its wake. “You cold, kid?”

“No.”

He kissed his way up the base of her throat, past the jutting outline of her jaw, and finally to her lips. His mouth still tasted faintly of the maple syrup he had poured over his pancakes hours earlier and the urge to devour everything he had to give her was overwhelming. “You like me like this, don’t you?” He smirked. “All sweaty and dirty from working hard and chopping wood for us?”

“Yes.” Her eyes slid shut and her head fell back as he continued kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. All the while his hands roamed greedily over her sweater-clad body, squeezing, and rubbing as they traversed.

“You want me to take you right here, baby girl?” His voice grew gravelly again, though it had nothing to do with sleep this time. “I don’t even have to touch you to know that you’re already soaked for me.” The wind had picked up again and had begun to blow her hair around her face, the cool breeze a welcome reprieve to her heated body. Alexander was fully erect now, his hard cock throbbed tantalizingly at her thigh. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and lifted the hem of the sweater to reveal her panties, and the wet patch that had grown steadily in the crotch of them. Alexander reached for her and slid two fingers past the flimsy material to her soaking folds. Immediately she leaned towards him to tuck her face into the crook of his neck, but he stopped her with a soft click of his tongue. “I want to see your face when you come for me, baby.” He brought a free hand up to caress her cheek, and as he held her, he brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. She parted for him without thought and began to suckle softly at it as his other hand started to delve deeper inside of her. He had perfected a rhythm with her now; one that no matter how many times he had pleasured her, would always be the fastest way to get her unravelling for him.

“More,” She gasped when two fingers just wasn’t enough anymore. Alexander nodded wordlessly, his gaze searching her own. He added a third finger inside of her, the stretch of it almost too much to bear.

“So fucking wet for me, baby.” He groaned, as he began to pump harder into her. He could feel her clench around him, could feel the soft, wet button of pleasure at the tips of his fingers. She sucked harder at his thumb the closer she neared to her orgasm. “You’re going to come for me soon, I can tell…” He murmured as she started to ride his fingers. “And don’t you dare be quiet about it.” He warned.

These words had helped to spur the wave of pleasure building in her belly and she arched her back against his fingers, her nails digging miniscule crescent shapes into the soft skin of his shoulder blades. “Fucking hell, Alex…”

He nodded up at her. “You look so fucking beautiful like this, my queen. That’s a good girl. Come for me,” He then angled his fingers in such a way that he had her screaming his name into the wind before them, her voice raw with unbridled pleasure. She continued to ride his fingers until she came down from her high, dropping her head to rest in the warm comfort of his neck. She couldn’t be sure how long she had taken solace there, but he eventually patted her bottom. “You came so good for me.” He pressed warm, wet kisses against her temple.

Taking his chin firmly in her grasp, she gazed at him. Unending vast oceans of blue peered back at her and took her breath away. “It’s your turn.” She crashed her lips against his again, the need to have him inside of her entirely all-consuming. He lifted her up in one fell swoop, standing tall from the bench as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep from falling. He carried her into the warmth of the cottage, stumbling down the length of the hallway to their bedroom where he laid her as gently as he could manage, on the bed. He made impressively quick time of ridding himself of his clothing, and as he stood before her, naked and unbearably erect, she realized that she genuinely loved the man before her. It had occurred to her before that she felt this way, but she could honestly say that no matter what they would go through together, no matter the pain he would put her through in future, she loved him deeper than she had ever loved anyone before. “Come here,” She insisted.

Alexander crawled up the length of the bed, holding her head in his hands as he did so. He entered her all-consuming heat with a loud groan, the feeling of him stretching her to maximum fullness was incomparable to any pleasure she had experienced before. Having him inside of her was a comfort that she never knew she needed until it had happened. As he moved inside of her, his head dropped to her shoulder where he scattered dozens of open-mouthed kisses to the skin there. She held him tightly to her as he bucked his hips against her, his cock managing to hit all of the essential nerves each time he bottomed out. He was muttering nonsensical things now, random pieces of Swedish and English found her ears and she smiled into their embrace. She clenched around him after every other thrust, and soon his movements had grown sloppy. “Fuck,” He growled as her fingernails raked through the soft, firm skin of his broad back.

“You feel so fucking good, Alex.” She gasped against his bearded cheek.

He cried out as his hips stilled against her own and she could feel the familiar throb of his cock as he spilled everything he had to give, inside of her. He allowed himself a few more powerless thrusts, and another low whimper before he pulled out of her completely. She found his sudden absence almost painful. They remained like that for an unknowable amount of time, each just trying to catch the breath that they had lost a while ago. Eventually Alexander turned on his side to view her, bringing the back of her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. “I love you, kid.”

A crimson leaf lay next to his head on the down pillow, and she smiled softly to herself. “I love you too, Alex.”

[fermented-writers-block]

Submitted by @sepublic:

So a while back, my pal @fermented-writers-block aired a theory. To sum up the abridged version, they suggested that if the Boiling Isles was allegorical to an Underworld, and the Human World to… Well, itself, then what of a third realm above? What if there was a parallel to an angelic realm, one populated by the show’s equivalent to a race of angels/Valkyries? They speculated that Emperor Belos himself may have been one of them, cast out… And he desires the portal and access to the Human World, in order to access this hypothetical Angel Realm!

In our discussions, we came across the idea that the Human World functions like neutral territory. It is the realm between realms, the buffer/barrier between the Angel Realm and the Demon Realm. It is where the two come together, and where influences from both have leaked in, to inspire real-world myths; A callback to Eda’s line in the first episode! The Portal, as speculated by my pal, potentially is rooted in the Human World, giving it equal access to the Angel and Demon Realms respectively- As a result of the Human World being between both of them respectively!

If the three realms were bus seats, the Angel Realm might be the Window Seat, while the Demon Realm is the set right next to the aisle where people walk up and down across the bus… And the Human World is sandwiched right between! This of course means that in order for either the Demon or Angel Realm to access one another, it would be through the Human World… With only the Human World maintaining access to BOTH realms, instead of just the one!

Ergo… Given the theory that Belos intends to reconnect to this Angel Realm, it makes sense that he wants to access the Human World! To him, it’s merely a stepping stone, not his destination… The ladder he needs to reach the top, it’s his stopping point before he can progress on to the end! He has no interest in the Human World, as he claims, beyond utilizing it as a passageway to something far grander and more interesting.

But now… onto a certain idea behind Belos.

To put it simply; Fermented Writer’s Block and I think that Belos could potentially be a Satanic/Lucifer allegory. A Fallen Angel, in a sense. From a Doylist perspective, this would settle Disney’s concerns over depicting Heavenly characters as negative, as the only truly negative Angel in this sense would be a literal Satanic allegory. It’d be like Doom, in a sense!

I’ve discussed… a LOT in the past, the idea of Luz and Belos being counterparts. Even if we don’t have much within canon, there IS the association with Light, as well as the ability to communicate with the Titan to some degree. Luz’s name literally means Light… And Lucifer means Light Bringer! It’s in the name, Luz-ifer! If Belos is a twisted counterpart to Luz’s guiding light, then perhaps he’s a more literal take on the Satanic allegory…

Specifically, the idea of an Angel who was cast out of their world and fell, plummeting into a realm beneath that of the Human World! We’re already making allusions with Lilith’s name, after all. And I’d LOVE to see The Owl House tackle some more classic, eldritch takes on the Angels of old and their original interpretations, such as the Seraphs!

After all, people have noted the similarities between Belos and the idea of Christian Imperialism. If Belos were a literal ‘angel’, or the show’s equivalent, this would be a fitting twist! Fermented Writer’s Block also observed that on one page of the Unauthorized History of the Boiling Isles, Belos is depicted with almost mechanical wings, in addition to the book being somewhat burnt. What if this could imply burnt wings on Belos’ part? Especially given Belos’ mechanical, industrial motifs and deteriorated nature...

If Belos WERE a Fallen Angel, then perhaps his Wings motif amidst the Emperor’s Coven imagery is intentional. Not only does it hearken back to his true origins and identity… But it could also allude to him having burnt wings, which in itself is symbolic of a Fallen Angel, as someone who was outcast and can no longer fly! The dude IS associated with Fire, to a degree… His throne room is lit by blazing braziers. Amity and Boscha are associated with his Coven System, in a sense… Amity is indoctrinated into its values and wants to join the Emperor’s Coven, while Boscha’s ideas of hierarchy and elitism reflect Belos’ values rather well. Both characters are associated with Fire… Which, helps to serve as a unifying motif among them- Especially with Lilith, who has blue fire and was leader of the Emperor’s Coven!

It’s a contrast to Luz and her Ice, and what she stands for… Her Light is reflective, while the Light of characters like Belos is harsh, dangerous, and off-putting. If Luz were more comparable to a night star, shining amidst the darkness and providing guidance- Then Belos is like the Sun, harsh, bright, demanding attention from all… But also too powerful to be personal with, something to be regarded from a distance, and never closely looked at. This would fit into Belos’ enigmatic nature, and the idea of him heralding Day, while Luz is Night… After all, Owls are nocturnal! And if Belos is a coming dawn, then that could tie into Angelic motifs… Amidst Luz’s Night bringing an end to his Light! It’s a take on that age-old term, about the Sun never setting on the British Empire… And THAT empire is emblematic of colonialism and imperialism as a whole!

It could also allude to the myth of Icarus- A mortal who flew too close to the sun! Of course in this scenario, Belos was in fact an Angel… But there’s still the recurring theme of wanting more, of one’s circumstances not being enough, of being guided by arrogance- It’s shared between Lucifer and Icarus both, to varying degrees. Perhaps Belos tried to lead a revolt in the Angel Realm, or got too arrogant… Either way, he was cast out- He flew too close to the Sun he wished to embody, and so his wings were burnt. Clipped of the thing most emblematic of his identity, no longer able to fly and ascend… Belos fell to the Earth, and then even deeper.

It’d tie into Belos having earthen motifs, as someone who can no longer fly. Him having angelic aesthetics, underscored by demonic motifs and growls, fits into the idea of Lucifer having been a beautiful angel, only to become the literal Devil and leader of Hell and all of its horrific demons! Belos already has a decayed, deteriorated condition to him that implies he’s not in the best health. Perhaps his burnt wings are the cause of this- Or at least another symptom of whatever injuries he suffered in the past? Not only that, but returning to the Icarus motifs… If we want to get meta, we can ascertain that Dana Terrace has read Fullmetal Alchemist. She knows of Hiromu Arakawa’s artstyle, citing it as something Luz would emulate back home- And there’s that other post comparing Father and Belos!

If Belos is like Father, then there’s once again that idea of using a portal to access a heavenly ‘realm’, through the Sun, in order to access a ‘God’ figure, or beings around that level. Not only that, but Fullmetal Alchemist, from its very beginning, made a very pointed reference to the myth of Icarus, likening its main protagonist Edward Elric to him! If Father is in some ways a foil to Ed, just as Belos could be to Luz… Then it makes sense for Dana to have been inspired by Icarus by virtue of his tale being important to the themes of Fullmetal Alchemist! And if Belos IS a Satanic allegory… Well, Lucifer’s name literally means Morning Star. As Belos’ antithesis, Luz brings the sunset to his Day of Unity. They’re both outcasts to the Demon Realm, but from different worlds respectively.

Now, there’s a question- Who are the Angels? What do they look like? And where does the Owl Deity factor into all of this? Well, this gets me onto my NEXT part;

I think the Owl Deity could be the closest thing to ‘God’ in this universe, AKA an all-powerful deity who reigns above all! A while back, a background artist for the show released some art he did, depicting Luz and King resting beneath a spire. If one looks closely at the top, they can see a depiction of Belos himself! And right above it is candles, surrounding an Owl… An Owl above all. Perhaps we’re looking too deeply into this. But it brings to mind a pun, about the God of All Things… Also being the God of ‘Owl’ Things!

If the candles are lit, then this suggests fire’s association with the heavens, which fits into biblical depictions of Angels! Not only that, but Belos is right beneath the Owl… And right beneath him is a fleshy stump, indicative of his own motifs… And it’s connected to what appears to be a giant eye right beneath him! Eyes are a big motif in the Boiling Isles –and amongst biblical angels- so perhaps the fleshy stump, akin to Belos’ constructs, is symbolic? That he’s bridging the gap between the demonic world below, and the heavenly world above?

Regardless, the next portion of this theory suggests that the Owl Deity is a supreme being. Perhaps a neutral mediator between both the Angel and Demon Realms, with the Human World as neutral ground. Perhaps a weapon, utilized by the Angels? Or a powerful deity they managed to sway… More on that later. Regardless, it DOES make one consider the Clawthornes’ connection to the Owl Deity, specifically Eda’s. Her house DOES have the only known depictions of this enigmatic being, after all.

And THAT house was likely fashioned, at least partly, from a tower! Towers are known for their reach towards the skies… Could a Clawthorne Ancestor have been connected to the Owl Deity as a worshipper? A follower? Maybe they were ALSO an Angel, like Belos, albeit not fallen… Or at least, much more well-intentioned! It could bring a dark twist to Lilith’s line about Eda being with her ‘real’ family… Unbeknownst to her, Belos, being a fallen Angel, is arguably ‘family’ in the sense that the hypothetical Clawthorne Ancestor was ALSO an Angel! After all, it might better explain how Eda has access to the Portal. Not to mention that golden, blazing Owl Wraith she summons during her final battle with Lilith… Birds ARE a Clawthorne Motif, after all! And Angels have bird wings.

If Belos IS similar to Father from Fullmetal Alchemist, then it makes sense that there’s a ‘God’ he plans to usurp as a Lucifer allegory. The Owl Deity could be this god, or at least associated with the Heavens that Belos seeks to conquer and return to. That of course gets us into the symbolism behind the angelic motifs of the Emperor’s Coven. Now, when Belos first arrived in the Demon Realm, he would have been acting VERY contrary to the Boiling Isles’ values about magic at the time, and he clearly had to utilize plenty of force and genocide to make people comply. In other words, this is a dude who cares not about conforming to others, but making others conform to him…

So it doesn’t make as much sense for Belos to change his aesthetics to an Angelic one, to appease the Boiling Isles residents if he’s clearly averse to everything else they do! Especially if Angels, or what lingering memory of them there is, is seen as negative by the Boiling Isles… The point being, this alludes to Belos being genuine about his Angelic motifs, and not adopting them to appear more palatable to others; Because all of his behavior suggests otherwise, that he forces others to adapt to him, rather than the other way around!

Not only that, but if the Emperor’s Coven is Belos’ attempt at reinstating his ideal form of heavenly rule/environment on the Boiling Isles… And if the Owl Deity is a god to be conquered, then how fitting is it that his subordinate wears an Owl Mask? Perhaps it’s meant to arrogantly symbolic… That the Owl figure that Belos once looked up to, now serves him! Of course it’s only in symbols; But the idea is there, that the image and motif of Owls has been appropriated, not as a holy being above Belos, but instead as an image belonging to a subservient minion.

Now, this all leads into another question- What about the Titan? What does the Titan have to do with this? And for that matter, what of the giant Titan remains, scattered across the Boiling Seas- We know others exist, but OUR Titan is the only known intact corpse! Well…

In Understanding Willow, Hooty briefly mentions his backstory. It’s hard to discern, but he mentions how it all began with a hunt, and how there were blood-red skies before Eda and King’s dialogue cuts him off and drowns out the noise. There IS the idea of Hooty being a lobotomized and weakened reincarnation of the Owl Deity, or at least a spawn of it… Or having SOME association with it, moreso than most characters! We don’t know what killed the Titans, or why OUR Titan’s corpse is intact. There could be Doylist answers to this, maybe it’s meant to be a mystery that’s never explored, but left to a sublime imagination…

But if not, then this is where I get into a crazy idea here;

Angels are depicted as adversarial with Demons. The Titans would’ve been the first Demons, of the Demon Realm. We know one of them had Magic... And if Belos is any indication as a fallen angel, there may be a heavenly aversion to magic. Hooty recalls it all beginning with a hunt…

What if the Angels hunted down the Titans? It’d explain their sudden extinction… As for why our Boiling Isles (BI) Titan is still intact, well. Perhaps it was a lone survivor! Perhaps its Magical ability permitted it to last longer than others, before it too succumbed to death after the genocide. For all we know, its Magical ability was what drove the Angels to commit genocide upon the Titans, for fear of an uprising! Either they failed to target the Titan actually responsible for finding magic, or they kept them from spreading their craft to others by killing off anyone else who would be willing to learn.

If Hooty has a connection to the Owl Deity… Well, remember when he mentioned being haunted by his actions forever, in Adventures in the Elements? What if the Owl Deity led this ‘hunt’ against the Titans… Either as a creation of the Angels, or as a neutral mediator who was swayed to their ideas of magic being dangerous! Either way, there seems to be a recurring theme of regret and remorse… Perhaps when all was said and done, the Owl Deity rejected its actions, and banished itself to the Boiling Isles? Maybe the Clawthorne Ancestor was connected to/IS the Owl Deity… As for how the Owl Deity died, maybe it simply willed itself out of existence in shame. Maybe it succumbed to injuries from the water. Either way, the Titan didn’t erase all traces of it, which could imply some forgiveness on its part… That, or the Titan was too dead to act in outright vengeance, who knows?

Regardless, the story goes- A Titan discovers Magic, is deemed a threat by the Angels. The Angels lead a mass extermination of its kind, with the Titan the sole survivor. The Owl Deity helps lead the hunt, but comes to regret its war crimes, and dies amidst the BI Titan’s corpse, laying the foundations for the Owl House. As I said, the BI Titan also eventually dies, alone and traumatized, as the Angels head back home.

Owl Deity culls rest of titans, is about to finish the Titan when it realizes the horror of what it did

Either the Titan took it out in a pyrrhic victory, or - more likely - the Owl Deity, being an entity focused on balance and neutrality, allowed itself to be killed/seriously wounded as way to “rebalance” things as much as it can for its nigh complete genocide

We know that Belos claims to enforce the will of the Titan. Well, if he’s a fallen angel… What if he’s persuading the Titan to help it get revenge? What if as a fallen angel, he arrived on the Boiling Isles and approached the Titan’s spirit, proclaiming himself as trustworthy, in an Enemy of my Enemy situation? Belos would point to him and the Titan as being wounded and rejected by the angels to some extent. Belos would have insider knowledge on his kind. If the Angels swayed the Owl Deity, what if Belos swayed the Titan to his side by offering it the chance to strike back at the Heavens for its crimes, and avenge its fallen brethren?

When Belos claims to enforce the Titan’s will, he’s not completely wrong- It DOES feel justifiable anger, though clearly Belos is capitalizing and manipulating this anger, and then passing off the Titan’s actions as solely its own, and not at all a product of Belos’ own manipulations in any shape or form. You know how I likened Belos to Father… And my past theories about Belos resurrecting the Titan, on the Day of Unity?

Hooty mentions it all began with a hunt, with blood-red skies. What if the skies are blood-red once more, on the Day of Unity? As the realms converge or whatnot… What if Belos’ weapon to defeat his Angelic brethren is none other than the resurrected Titan, wielding full access to the powers of Magic, and with vengeance in its heart? What if Belos resurrects the Titan on the Day of Unity, possibly with its body underneath HIS control as a parasite… We could have a scene mirroring that iconic moment from Fullmetal Alchemist, where a continent-sized Father rises from the ground and reaches out to the Heavens, accessing them with the Portal! Just replace Father’s gigantic form with the Titan’s resurrected, magic-fueled body!

Now, this does lead into the idea of settling the Angels as antagonists, once Belos is done and over with. Perhaps a resurrected Owl Deity will be instrumental, with the help of Luz and the others? If she’s the Night to Belos’ Day, then perhaps she needs to set the sun on Belos’ reign, on his Day of Unity! It all begins and ends with blood-red skies, after all. Perhaps with the help of a resurrected Owl Deity, Luz can appease the Titan, or at least sway it to not turn to vengeance and jeopardize the Boiling Isles inhabitants in the process. She has experience with calming down vengeful entities in the past, as seen with Inner Willow… And Luz CAN communicate with the Titan!

Especially if the Angels have grown to also regret their actions, as a parallel to characters like Lilith! Or at least, the Angels can be held in line and prevented from further massacres, with the resurrected Owl Deity. If the Owl Deity is regretful of its actions, then perhaps we could get a scene calling back to Understanding Willow… Where Belos, at the last second, sways the Owl Deity to his logic, and suggests vengeance and annihilation of the Angels! The Owl Deity, frighteningly, agrees for a moment, reminding the Angels that its genocide of them is merely finishing what THEY started, after all…!

But then Luz steps in. Alongside the others, such as Amity and Willow, Lilith and King, Eda, and so forth… She persuades the Owl Deity to have forgiveness in its heart, especially if the Angels show remorse and a desire to fix mistakes! It’d hearken back to the theme of having justified anger, but otherwise channeling it productively into fixing mistakes, rather than simply harming the one responsible for them! It’s about a productive way of tackling issues, rather than focused on punishment; Again, a theme as far back as the first scene, when Luz is punished with the Summer Camp, VS actually having her emotional issues properly addressed, and being given the chance to fix the damage.

Our protagonists could all call back to similar incidents, with Lilith citing how Eda sparing her gave her the chance to fix the damage, or at least remedy it… Instead of JUST dying as retribution! How Willow chose to still retain her feelings, but also spared Amity so the girl could change and improve as a person, instead of just killing her off and calling it a day. It’s about not only recognizing damage, but working to properly fix and recover from it- Recovery is the key word! Fixing the damage together, as Luz said- Productively fixing what was caused, instead of beating oneself over it, the way Amity and Lilith initially did!

This could lead to the Owl Deity, especially if it has Hooty’s memories, being swayed back to a good stance. It’d contrast Belos and his inability to grow, heal, and recover from his emotional and physical wounds! Either way, perhaps the Owl Deity could make peace with the Angels, or at least ensure they genuinely change their attitudes and behaviors. Belos is stopped, and the Titan can finally be laid to rest, its spirit perhaps still communicating with whoever is willing and eager to learn Magic, the same way it did!

Now, this does leave the question- Who was Belos during the Titan Genocide, if he was an Angel? Was he even alive back then? This gets me into the speculation that Fermented Writers Block made, of Private New Guy being an allegory to Belos… If Hooty was haunted by his actions that night, well. Perhaps Belos was just another young recruit, another generic Angel in the hunt- But he was inspired by the Owl Deity, maybe even saw it as someone to emulate? And that’s part of why he’s so power-hungry and bloodthirsty, because of his ‘idol’…

Yet ironically, Belos is merely projecting his idea and desire for what he wants the Owl Deity to be, VS what it actually is- A repentant, remorseful entity with a lot of guilt! Tying into the idea of characters projecting ideas/expectations onto others that just don’t exist, confusing fantasy with reality… Maybe like Private New Guy, Belos tried to seize power in the Angel Realm, and it’s why he was banished? And hey, going into even MORE mindless speculation- What if Owl Mask was MORE than symbolic of the Owl Deity, but outright the same kind of being? Perhaps they’re Belos’ attempt at recreating the Owl Deity albeit young and/or imperfect, an additional asset to conquer the Angel Realm, in addition to a resurrected Titan. Who knows?

Mind you… ALL OF THIS is one hell of a stretch. It’s an incredibly unlikely theory, that hinges on a LOT of factors… But it’s fun food for thought, is it not? And hey, if you never pick up a shovel, one will never find gold even if it IS there! It’s an extension of the Angel Realm theory, while tying together a bunch of other details here or there, and hearkening to past themes, morals, and lessons. I’m sure that even if this isn’t what Dana and the others have planned, what we WILL get will certainly be just as enjoyable- But until then, it can’t hurt too much to guess a bit, and maybe have some outlandish fun or there, right?

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slashers + Jennifer Check x Reader || Oneshot

Title: Peeping Toms and Bets

Notes:

This is a remake and revamp of an old Oneshot request I did in my old blog. I hope you like this! 

Jed is changed to Bubba, because in this shot the character does act most like Bubba then Thomas or Jedidiah ^^ 

The 2 would you rather’s were found online.

Plot: Jennifer has invited you over for a sleepover and you ask her a very interesting question. Oh and the boys are all listening together in and betting on your response to the question. 

Warnings: Suggestive or course language. 

Chucky, walks down the hall, headed for the kitchen while he knows the succubus and her friend are hidden away in the living room, feels a harrowing sense of disgust at what he sees. Well, the disgust being only on a strictly face value basis. Mostly he’s interested to hear the excuses his fellow Slashers have for their camping outside the closed living room door while two teenage girls have a sleepover inside. The first one to notice his presence, when he stops is Bubba who was taking a break from straining his ears to listen to whatever’s happening inside and look down the hall. Where he spots the bright hair and plastic features of child terror. He gasps, quickly and quietly, and alerts the others by tapping spatially on Michael and Stu.

They all turn to see Chucky, and Michael’s shoulders drop heavily in exasperation. Can’t he be left in peace? Why’d all these people have to join him? Stu gasps along with Bubba, before dissolving into a slightly guilty turned down grin, on one side, looking to the floor. Freddy has the good humour to look guilty, too. But isn’t really.

“… what the hell are you two doing??!” Chucky finally manages to spit out, past his pure amusement of the, concerning and slightly horrifying, scene. He raises an eyebrow and feels a tad out of place but stands his ground, when Stu and Bubba ‘Shh’ him, violently. Spit breaking from their mouths, he’s sure.

Freddy nearly panics entirely and immediately smacks Stu’s hand away from his face, looking between those two idiots and the door. “Shut up! Both of you, you were louder than him!” While he goes off on the two, Michael just sighs and opts to look back through the crack in the door that he was peaking though. “And you! Shut it! They might hear you, and then we will all be in trouble.”

“’All’??” Chucky exclaims furiously, eyes wide and wholly incredulous. “I’m not playing peaking Tom on teenage girls as an old man- “

Freddy’s voice is barely a whisper, in fact it’s much more like TV static then a human voice, due to his burnt vocal cords. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, they’re dressed. This is not a porn video. To my knowledge girls don’t, in fact, get undressed to sleepover with each other.” Stu mumbles a quiet ‘Yeah, unfortunately’ and pouts, as a couple of them share a moment of silence for the tragic misconception. Including Chucky and even Bubba. Michael rolls his eyes, still stretching his neck to look through the crack, back against the wall. “Haven’t caught a glimpse. We’re just listening.”  

“And you don’t think they’d mind?” Recovered, Chucky smirks smugly, words dripping with sarcasm. Almost evilly, as if he’s 2 seconds from blowing their cover and telling Jennifer-or, worse. Jason, - what they’re up to.

Bubba looks nervous, at that, touching the tips of his meaty pointer fingers together and looking ashamedly thoughtful. But then Michael makes an audible ‘Pfft’ sound from under his mask like he really couldn’t care less if they minded, causing their plastic acquaintance to raise his eyebrows in surprise, he relaxes. If Michael doesn’t care, maybe he shouldn’t either. Michael is cool.  

What would Jason say, though? Just as Bubba’s thoughts on that are immediately shut off, when the TV inside the living room turns off and silences engulfs the area. Then the girls inside start talking, which understandably makes every boy or man on the other side of the wall turn on their listening ears to level 99 and lean towards the sound.

Chucky makes a split-second decision and joins them on the floor. To tell the truth, he doesn’t give a flying fuck whether the girls mind, either. But he had to pick on these assholes, so if Stu doesn’t stop snickering at him, he’s going to cut out the teenager’s tongue, wrap it up and use it as a stress ball. Stu seems to get the message when Chucky connects gazes with him, slowly touches his own tongue, and then mimes violently tearing it out.

//

After the obligatory 3 movies (One romance, one horror which was a tough decision due to your friends living arrangements of course, and one comedy), you and Jennifer stop to recoup and recharge, and start talking. You’re wrapped in blankets and your favourite pyjama’s, and she’s dipping into her coloured popcorn. The only sugar, to your knowledge, that this girl intakes. Its no wonder she’s so gorgeous. She decides on a diet and exercise regimen and sticks to it. Truly amazing. You? Well… you prefer your snacks to a model perfect body.

Surrounding the two of you are many, many pillows and blankets. Some you’ve come to realise were stolen from some of her roommate’s rooms, due to their particular smell and some concerning stains. Also, the one that evidently belongs to Michael has a violent looking hole in it and has stuffing poking out.

Another is a full size Hatsune Miku body pillow, and you don’t dare to ask whos’ room she snatched that one from. Although, you have your suspects. Confirmation, though, is an entirely different experience. And one that you would rather not have.

As you start talking, you dig into your own chosen caffeine for the night. You’re playing would you rather, of course.

Because its fun, to give your friend two horrible or disgusting options and make them choose one.

“Would you rather have uncontrollable gas at work for the rest of your life or for every first date you have for the rest of your life?”

“Work!” Jennifer decides, immediately, apparently horrified by the other prospect. “If I was an uncontrollable fart machine for all of my first dates, I would starve! Who cares if my stuffy boss smells eggs for the rest of his miserable life.”

She sure has some… strong feelings, about her non-existent future boss. You snigger, sipping your drink through a chewed straw. “Okay, okay…”

“Would you rather have an animal best friend, any animal, meaning if it were a bear or a horse you could ride them around, or be married to someone who is peak attractive for you.”

That stumps you, and for a moment you just sit there with your mouth open, thinking furiously. Jennifer grins wide. “A wonderful pet buddy or best sex??” And at that, she starts to laugh a bit, patting your knee. You’re lost! “Impossible!”

“I know what I’d pick-“

“Yeah I know what you would pick. Evil one.”

She laughs some more.

Evilly.

After a couple of minutes of that, her teasing you and you thinking, you finally decide. Although, you only say it very, very quietly and into a pillow, so no higher power hears and grants it.

After that, you feel the need to be evil as well and think for a few moments deeply about wat to ask her… then come up with something perfect. You smirk at her over your pillow and sit it back down on your lap, still holding it. “If the world was ending, and it was up to you to save it, and you did want to save it, and you had to sleep with someone to do that… who would it be?” She immediately opens her mouth to say a name, but you quickly, mischievously hold up your hand halt her, and add the evilness. “Thing is!! It has to be one of the Slasher boys that you live with. Patrick and Carrie don’t count.”

Like you did before, she stops. Slowly closes her mouth, and looks off into the distance. Stuck. “Uh, so… one of… Bubba, Chucky, Freddy, Jason, Billy, Stu, or Michael?”

Oh, damn. You think, realising you forgot to cast out Billy and Stu. Well, that was a bust attempt at causing her strife-

“That’s impossible! What the fuck??”

Oh, okay. That’s kind of sad for Billy and Stu… But, uh, good for you!

//

The creepy group outside the door, which has grown a few more hands and legs belonging to Billy and Jason. The former only being there as he was trying to stop them from being weird but had given up and got tired, so he sat down. Now he was, apparently, apart of this. Somehow.

Billy is here because his DVD player got jammed.

After hearing Y/N’s question, multiple reactions come from these Slashers.

1.       Chucky and Freddy are very creepy and partake in some wolfish grinning that frightens Bubba and puts off Jason.

2.       Stu goes very, very red, and grins a little goofy. He shut down the moment the question was issued, so he didn’t hear the incriminatingly insulting thing that Jennifer hinted about him.

3.       Bubba also goes bright red, and covers his face.

4.       And Billy pauses momentarily, having caught the ego crushing material, then takes a deep breath and sits up straighter. “Oof, so, lets lay some bets?”

Billy holds up 10 fingers, sitting cross legged the furthest away from the door or wall, in general. “For Jen saying Michael.” The said shape of Haddonfield turns gruffly to the Ghostface original, who shrugs and grins his knowing grin. “I could explain it to you, but then you would think I checked you out.”

“Oh no, but in reality, you just watch his movie once a month- once a week in 91.” Stu narrowly escapes Billy’s wrath, ducking out of the way and practically into Bubba’s lap when his friends reaches for his hair. Michael just deeply sighs, along with Jason and continues to watch.

“Moving on from that borderline embarrassing bit of information that I’m sure we’re all going to ridicule you for later, I have a bet too. Since you think she’ll pick Michael, I’ll put 50 on myself.”

“30 on Billy. Despite, his gayness.” Freddy adds, preoccupied listening into the living room, but never too preoccupied to tease.

“I’m not gay!”

“Its okay, Billy, its 2020. You can be open with us.”

“Fuck you man, you suck, you’re going down on the favourite Slasher list.”

Freddy just giggles at that, turning his full concentration back on Jennifer.

Jason sighs deeply, his shoulders literally raising and falling in an obvious effort to make it noticeable. It is noticeable, its just that no one cares that he disapproves. He sighs again, this time quieter to himself, in hopelessness. He refuses to gamble on this.

Stu holds up a hand full of fingers and a thumb, five. “On Y/N picking Jason.” Michael nods to that, agreeing and holding up both his hands, 4 times. He’s got 40 on Y/N picking Jason. Jason himself looks specifically at his fellow voiceless murderer Michael, in horror. He thought better, of him. Michael only shrugs in response, like ‘You shouldn’t have though so highly of me. That was stupid.’. besides, its October, he’s naturally bound to take more risks. Plus, he’s had an odd inkling, that Y/N’s liked Jason for a while. She comes over a lot for Jennifer, but sometimes she hangs with Jason instead.

Chucky smirks at the interaction. “As I’m obligated to always contradict everyone else, I’m going to bet fifty-five, on her picking Freddy.”

“Oh. Hell no.” Billy butts in, unhappy with these high ass numbers. “I’ve been flirting with Y/N for weeks. It’ll pay off, she’ll pick me.”

Bubba doesn’t bet. He remembers how Drayton and Chop Top get when they used to bet on horses, and it wasn’t pretty. He doesn’t want to be like that, no.

//

Jennifer’s still thinking a couple minutes later, and you’re starting to worry when she finally moves. And flops back on her mattress that she’d had Bubba carry down here for her, in the hopelessness of it all. You will be sleeping on the couch, but you’re on her mattress too right now for until you go to sleep. If you go to sleep. This particular question may take some time.

“Uhh… lets see… “You crawl up to her head and plonk down where you can see her face. She chews on the inside of her cheek, and then starts to think out loud for your benefit. “Billy’s our age, and so pretty,” You nod, understanding. He is very pretty. “But… “

“But?”

“Well, but… Michael is so big!” She throws her arms onto the mattress on either side of her body for emphasis, causing you to open your mouth and raise your eyebrows and the boldness, then laugh and nod at the same time. Yeah… yeah… that true too…

And a very interesting point… You think to yourself, dusting a gentle pink across your cheeks.

“Y/N, no. This is not a laughing matter!” She’s grinning, though.

You raise your hands, playing surrender. “No, no, of course not! I’ll stop!”

“You better.”

//

“Stop fucking around!” Freddy exclaims, not loud enough for either of the girls to hear of course. He grits his teeth. “I’m betting on the outcome of your decision, bitch! Shut up and say ‘Billy’!”

“So… “Chucky starts to rethink his decision to bet. “What happens if they don’t decide? Is the game off, or… ?”

Billy halts for a moment, then looks at Bubba for a second. “Oh, yeah Bubba? You think the money should go to the new TV fund?? Well, if you say so!”

Bubba immediately looks panicked and confused, a serious squawk escaping him aimed towards the others. He didn’t say that! He didn’t even think that! Honestly, he thinks it’s should go towards a chicken coup…

Jason quickly pats Bubba’s shoulder, still in a perpetual state of exasperation and tired, but still wanting to assure Bubba that, they know. Billy’s full of crap, we know you didn’t say that.

//

Finally, Jennifer decides and makes an ‘Ah!’ sound, moving her finger from her lips thoughtfully, to the air excitedly. She sits up and faces you.

Oh, this is very serious. It must be. It demands eye contact. “You’ve decided?

“Yes.” Her finger lowers to her shoulder height. “Okay so, I simply boiled it down to a science.”

“You did?” You ask, just humouring her.

“Yes. So,” She starts counting off Slashers from her list of possibilities with her fingers. “First of all, Freddy killed his wife. So, he’s out.” Well that makes sense. “And Billy tried to kill his girlfriend, so even though he’s sexy, he isn’t trustworthy either, so he’s gone too.” So far so good. “Jason’s rotting away, and ‘Au Decaying’ doesn’t really stimulate me to do anything apart from spray him with anti-bacterial and Hello kitty deodorant, despite his wonderful shoulders.” Oh, yes. Jason does have nice shoulders. “Then Bubba’s flesh mask is a complete turn off, Chucky’s a Good Guy, not a bad boy. And Stu’s a weirdo.”

You nod, a smile reaching your lips and the pure simplicity of her end decision, coming to the only conclusion. “So… Michael.”

“Yeah!”

“I don’t think he showers regularly.”

“Eh, neither do a lot of the boys I eat.”

//

Stu is gaping, very wide and very deeply. “A weirdo??” He looks in disbelief to his best friend and the victor. Michael nods, being hurtfully honest with the kid and Billy comforts him with a shoulder pat. He is also reeling. He hadn’t previously identified his Sydney fiasco as a warning for other girls… maybe he should have. This could be an issue.

“Yeah… man, you are a weirdo.”

“Thanks so much, buddy.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

“Bad boy?” Chucky asks, pleasantly surprised. He turns to Bubba, who’s looking indignantly at the door because his fashion is ahead of their time! “Do I have bad boy energy?”

Freddy sulks. “Oh… I get it… “

Jason rolls his eyes at them all. They’re all ridiculous!

//

“What about you?” Jennifer asks, turning the tables on you.

“Me?” You squeak.

“Yeah, you.”

“Well… “You square your shoulders, ready in the face of a challenge. “Well, lemme see… Well, Jason is strong, and sweet- “

“Oh yes.” You wince, at Jennifer’s sudden cold tone, as she squinty glares at you. “I know you think Jason’s sweet. You’ve abandoned me multiple times, to ang with him the kitchen! Betrayal!”

“Aha… ah… well, moving on! Chucky’s got a very hot aura!” You quickly push on, afraid of your friend’s wrath about Jason. “A-and, um… He’s also very handsome as a human, so I guess it wouldn’t be bad if he were in that form… “ Jennifer breaks out into a grin, glad to have made you stutter a bit, and back to her good mood. You sigh, back muscles relaxing. Evil girl.

“Yes, and the rest…?” Oh, she still wants you to answer the question, okay.

“Well. Stu’s tall, and rich. Which, of course, isn’t a deal maker but it’s a good point to mention.” Jennifer nods solemnly at that. “Michael provides a very nice… well, err, he would make a nice nude model. And Freddy’s got a really attractive voice, which I don’t think he knows which is very good thing, don’t let him know. And, Bubba’s so sweet. And Billy… is Billy. I don’t know what to say, he’s been flirting with me for weeks now.”

Jennifer rolls her eyes. “Mood.”

//

“I’m… Billy.” Billy grins, feeling proud of his persona for a moment and puffing out his chest in pride. Chucky gazes at Jason, like ‘Yeah, I guess he is the whole package… ‘, and Jason himself scotches away from the ginger doll. “I knew she was picking it up! I learnt all I know from movi-“

“Me, you know all you know from me.” Freddy cuts through, deadpanned.

“Which explains why she wasn’t jumping for joy when she mentioned it.” Chucky yawns.

“Hey!!” Chucky gets a chuckle out of that reaction from the two.

“Who cares?! This girl is just after my money!!” Stu exclaims, looking hopeless. He chuckles, haughtily then and crosses his arms. “Well guess what? None of its mine! It belongs to my parents! So, ha!” Michael shakes his head and looks disappointedly at the teenager. That doesn’t help your case… It really does not…

“Well Charlie, maybe I don’t need to flirt. My voice does it for them,” A devious smirk slips across Freddy’s face and he evilly cackles after a moment. Jason looks severely exasperated at him, and Freddy just sticks out his tongue. “Jealous.��

Bubba is touched that they think he’s sweet. That’s nice.

___ NOW MAKE YOUR DECISION! ___

Billy Loomis:

“I’m gonna have to disagree with you, Jen.” You grin and can’t help it. Its sort of a nice thought, to have to fuck Billy. “Billy’s the only choice.”

She scoffs and throws some of her popcorn at you.

//

Billy stretches and yawns, like he’s so very exhausted of that thing called being fuckable, and turns to look weirdly smug at Michael. “That’s right, only competition. She chose me.”

“-Only competition!? Excuse you, former bud!” Stu smacks his friend, scowling.

“Well that is what you get for outing my obsession with the Halloween movies to Michael fucking Myers.”

“You bitter thing!”

Bubba Sawyer:

“Aww, Bubba.” You decide, finally truly thinking about the cinnamon roll. You smile. “It has to be Bubba. He’s the cutest, and the nicest one here.” Jennifer makes a ‘yuck’ face.

“The mask??”

“That can be removed.” You reply quickly.

//

Bubba blushes brightly in the dimness of the hallway, pulling away from the wall he was listening to, between Stu and Jason continues to look bashful and gooey at the floor for a little while, until Jason realises he’s going to have to guide him home to hid basement bedroom and looks deeply unamused about it. But, still kind of happy for his-pseudo brother.

“BUBBA?! Who bet on Bubba?!”

Chucky/Charles Lee Ray:

Lowly, with an embarrassed, dark blush on your face, you mutter. “Chucky… “ Jennifer looks two seconds from king shaming you, so you rush to add. “In human form!! Dear God.”

“Oh… “She doesn’t look convinced, making you roll your eyes. “Yeah, sure. You tell yourself that. You go be nasty on the couch.”  

//

Chucky looks smugly at everyone, in turn, very, very happy with the outcome of that despite not winning the bet. “Yeah.” Freddy scowls at him.

“Don’t you look at me.”

“Yep, me.” Chucky ignores him. “Suck it.”

Freddy Krueger:

Realising who it would have to be, you widen your eyes and consider lying. But of course, decide to be honest. “Uh… well, um, Freddy… yup.”

She raises her eyebrows. “What if he goes batshit and tries to choke you to death?”

You laugh, at that. “Honestly, I do think choking would be a part of it, but in the case of danger I’ll just call you!” You grin cheerily at her. “Best friend!”

“Aye,”

//

“I don’t understand her.” Chucky feels the need to inform everyone. “But I just one the bet so good on her.”

“Four weeks, of my wonderful flirting, and I’m stabbed in the gut.” Billy groans, and throws is money on the floor. Shaking his head, he gets up and leaves, put out.

Stu sniggers, and gets up to follow him, turning back just to tell the others. “He’ll never recover.”

Freddy looks like he thinks he’s just won an Oscar. “I’d like to say a couple words!”

“Oh, christ.”

“I’d like to thank all my competitors for losing, and uh,” he finishes shining one of his knives on the edge of his jumper. “I promise to say hi to Y/N for you all later tonight when I visit her in her dreams.” Michael facepalms.

Jason Voorhees:

Finally, you decide and nod your head firmly. And exclaim, cheerily. “Jason! He’s perfect, I love, what a guy.”

When you look at Jennifer, immediately you let out a ‘YAH!’ scream and jump back, seeing her horrifying aura.

“I NEW THERE WAS SOMETHING GOING ON!”

“Stop itttttttttt!”

//

Stu facepalms. “Why did I only bet five???”

On the other hand, Michael smirks proudly under his mask, collecting his money. Yep, Jason. What a guy, indeed.

Everyone else, looks to the hockey mask wearing Slasher, who this whole time was against their listening and betting. How will he react?

He… has gone into silent shock. He may need some minutes alone. You… him?? You would pick him??? You… would pick him?? He raises his eyebrows under his mask like ‘Oh’. What is he supposed to do with this information?

“Yeah, I know hockey puck. This may be a shock for you, being ugly and all, but- Jason?”

Jason’s already up walking thoughtfully down the hall.

Michael Myers:

“Ahh, I have to agree with you. Totally Michael.”

“Told you!”

//

Michael but sits and experiences his punishment, which is many, many upset Slasher outcry’s.

“Both of them??!”

“Greedy bitch.”

“How??”

Michael sighs, and turns to an indifferent Jason for help. Jason looks at him and feels zero remorse for him, he brought this upon himself. He should not have been betting and spying.

Stu Macher:

“Well, these are all… interesting choices,” You start, cautious. “But, um… I think will go with Stu. Very cute, very funny. Very not connected to anything rotting, and... less stabby, then the others..”

“Well, that’s true. Probably a good choice.”

“Yeah,” You smile. “Okay, so, moving on. About that movie… “

//

Stu has this goofy ass, shocked, love struck look on his face that makes the rest of them a little nervous for about 2 seconds. Chucky takes the initiative pokes him. “Hey, Daffy Duck, what wrong with your fac- “

The 2 seconds ended, and so does Stu’s quiet, as he lunges up and grabs the doorknob, ready to throw it open and rush on in there and blow all their covers. Michael immediately shoots to action and grabs Stu’s leg to stop him, fighting not to let Stu shake him off. Everyone tries to vein to persuade him not to go, shut him up and clam him down, but their efforts are weak compared to the power of a horny teenager.

“Hey, hey!” Chucky exclaims, through everyone’s panicked whispered, grunts and frantic arm waiving, patting Michael on the shoulder. “… he’s gone.” With that out, Chucky shoots down the hallways as fast as his little legs can take him. Michael and Billy follow, because like hell they are going to get caught because Stu’s stupid, and Stu bursts into living room, revealing the other 3 still on the floor in the doorway… Freddy, incriminatingly on his knees just where the crack in the door would be, slowly, awkwardly waives and Jason bows his head in apology.

Bubba bolts.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Hello! I hope you’re having a great holiday. I’m not sure if you’re still taking winter prompts, but I have a specific request. Have you ever written a sad/comfort holiday fic? Doesnt even have to be romantic. Maybe Aubrey is alone on Christmas but gets to video chat with Duck who reminds her she’s not alone - idk. Something like that would melt my heart. Thank you, again I hope you’re having a nice winter season!

Here you go, I hope this fits the bill! And thank you, <3

In retrospect, trying to fly back to Kepler early Christmas morning when there’s a snowstorm AND a pandemic was not Aubrey’s best plan.

She’s been visiting her aunt and uncle, her only remaining relatives on her mom’s side. It was in part because, after returning Sylvain home, it’s hurt a little less to think about her mom, so seeing the family wasn’t the painful ordeal it used to be. But it’s also because the memory of Dani reuniting with her family sits fresh and bright in her mind. Dani was cut off from them for years, wanting to see them but forbidden under the terms of her exile. Aubrey teared up when she watched her girlfriend be swamped in hugs by an overyjoyed, vampiric extended family. She’d never been cut off from her extended family that way, and a voice in the back of her head that’s she’s sure (okay, mostly sure) doesn’t belong to anyone but her told her it was time to reconnect. So off she flew.

Dani was supposed to come so she could meet them, but came down with a cold the day before they flew out. It turns out that Poinsettias are bad for vampires, and one snuck through Barclay’s careful monitoring of the Lodge lobby.

On the plus side, it meant Dani could stay with Dr. Harris Bonkers, who was not permitted as a carry-on for MJN Air and also was pretty clearly not a normal rabbit, something Aubrey isn’t ready to explain to her relatives.

The downside is it means she’s well and truly alone, sitting in O’Hare and cursing her luck, the weather, and over-priced salad she bought at a kiosk.

She’s far from the only stranded traveler, but everywhere she looks, she sees people in groups or duos, huddled up under vaguely non-denominational seasonal lights and tinsel or sipping fancy coffee.

There was a dinner at the Lodge tonight; it was probably the bomb, Barclay likes an excuse to bust out the fancy menu and make a hundred different things.

She picks up the book she brought, but can’t focus on it. Has the same problem with the games on her phone, the fidget snake Indrid gave her, or her favorite Youtube magic trick how-to series.

Dani is asleep, Barclay said she’d been out more or less all day, even though she felt way better, and Aubrey doesn’t want to call and wake her up. 

The shitty bucket seats near the gate that she sat down by at random are killing her, no matter how she perches or sprawls on them, so she shoulders her bag and trudges down the shiny concourse, looking for somewhere to sit.

It’s not that she’s never been alone, though even when she first traveled away from home she had Dr. Harris Bonkers. It’s more that she;s gotten so used to being around a bunch of people. First at the Lodge, then in Sylvain.

She’s gotten used to having a family. Being without it, on a day when everyone says you should be near them, reminds her too much of the first Christmas without her mom.

God, if she start crying in an airport, it’ll suck. In part because blowing her nose still sometimes leads to little bursts of fire. Janelle is still stumped by that one.

A sign on a little wooden post says the place she’s stopped in front of is open until 2 am. That’ll work. She glances at the name.

It’s the Bigfoot Bar and Grille.

She laughs a little louder than she means to, but it’s 10:30 P.M in an airport; no one gives her a second glance, all too busy doing their own weird thing in a liminal space.

The place has wi-fi, and she plus her phone in to the courtesy socket by her booth. She orders nachos and a root-beer float, because why the hell not, she’s in an airport, lonely, and hungry.

Her phone flashes, an incoming video call where the only thing in the caller I.D is a duck emoji.

“Hey, Lady Flame.” Duck grins at her from the couch; he’s in a Christmas sweater, and Winnie is whapping a shiny toy just out of frame.

“Hi!” She waves, “Indrid tell you I was bored?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, he’s asleep. Zonked out on a carton of nog and two dozen cookies. Barclay mentioned you got stuck when we were at the Lodge earlier. Thought you might like some company.”

“I really, really would.”

“Even if I don’t got much excitin to report?”

“I’m, like, this close to ripping out the speakers in this terminal; they’re all playing Muzak Christmas Carols.”

Duck grimaces

“I know, right? Frosty the Snowman is bad enough on it’s own.”

“Yeah, never cared much for that one. Always liked ‘Silver Bells.’“ He mumbles a little on the admission.

“Duck, you’ve never lived in a city.”

“So? Kinda fun, imaginin Christmas in a different place.”

“0/10, would not recommend.”

He snickers, says encouragingly, “c’mon, gotta be a song that puts you in the Christmas spirit.”

“I kinda like the ones from the Rudolph movie, the one with the kinda creepy animation. Mom liked to sing them to me when I was little. She’d be, like, decorating the tree and singing to herself and let me help and-”

She sniffs, not noticing the tear until it falls.

“Sorry. I’m still getting used to talking about her like that to people.”

“S’okay. You don’t have to.”

“I...I kinda want to. Even though I did it a bunch this week, I couldn’t talk to my relatives about the whole fire-guilt-surprise you’re a god thing.”

The view shifts, Duck adjusting the laptop so the small Christmas tree is in the background.

“What else did she do?”

And so Aubrey tells him; about the year of the badly burnt cookies that they ate anyway, of her mom reading her the same picture book, even when she got too old for it, because it was a tradition for the two of them. Of her mom wearing the flamebright pendant at Christmas parties and Aubrey always asking if she could wear it this year.

Eventually, the harried waitress puts her food down before dashing off to cover eight other tables.

“Better let you go, don’t want those nachos gettin cold.”

“Yeah. Cold nachos are sad. Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Any time. And Aubrey? Know it feels like, being stuck there tonight, but you ain’t alone. And I don’t mean in some weird, woo-woo way. I mean we’re all thinkin about you, and we’ll all be waitin for you tomorrow. It ain’t like before you came to Kepler, when there wasn’t anyone waitin for you at the next stop, or the one after that. Where there wasn’t really a home. You got a home now, hell, you got two of ‘em, one on each planet.”

Aubrey wipes her thumb under her eye.

You ain’t alone, Lady Flame, you’re just a little further away than usual.”

“Yeah” the words sink in and she smiles, brighter this time, “yeah, you’re right. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Merry Christmas, Duck.”

“Merry Christmas, Aubrey.”

[ahatintimestorybook]

Coffee Shop AU- Going on a Snatcher Hunt

So as I was in the middle of working on another new story as well as the next chapter of my OtH! AU story. @doodledrawsthings surprises everyone with a new Coffee Shop AU that I fell in love with! So I had to create something for this AU, and ended up with coming up with three ideas for this AU.

Anyways Coffee Shop AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings

“Dad! Dad!” Harriet shouted coming home from school. Luka was in bed enjoying his day off, and not worrying have to go out somewhere, where he would get caught in the middle of transforming. Luka looked up from his book to see his little girl running to him and giving him a hug.

Luka chuckled and hugged his little girl back, “H-hey princess! How was school?” Luka asked.

“It was good, but I got some good news.” Harriet replied.

“What is it?”

“I’m going on my first camping trip!” Harriet cheered.

Luka got up from the bed and looked at his daughter in a mix of surprise and glee. “Camping, with who?” He asked.

“Me, Bonnie and Mu. She’s the one organizing it.” Harriet explained.

Luka gulped hearing Mu’s name. Since moving with his daughter, Mu and her mom Cookie were the first to welcome them into the neighborhood as well as give Luka a tour of the town. She even recommended him to work at the coffee shop right next to her place.

However, while Cookie was a nice lady her daughter Mu was a different case. For one, Mu enjoyed cryptology as well as hunting down his monster form. However, that wasn’t his main concern. Mu tends to be a bit rebellious and snarky getting into fights with kids who pick on her and Harriet,  even older kids. Luka was worried Mu could be a bad influence on his daughter, but he couldn’t say it to Harriet as Mu is her best and first friend she ever made since they were on the run.

“Hattie, I know you and Mu are best friends, but you know how she can be with me, right?” Luka asked.

Harriet nodded knowing how her best friend’s goal is to find her father and prove he’s real. “I know, I know, but this is the first time I got to do a hang out with her and Bonnie.” Then Harriet put her hands together and started to beg. “Please dad. I may not get a chance like this if we have to move again.”

Luka sighed. His daughter was right. They moved so many times, and Harriet never got to have some quality time with friends, or even make friends. “Okay, you can go.” Luka said. Harriet smiled and hugged her dad tight.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She repeated. Harriet then jumped off the bed and ran to her room to grab her stuff she planned on bringing with her for camping. Once Harriet was fully packed she ran into the room to give her father a kiss before leaving to meet up with Mu and Bonnie.

Meanwhile, Mu and Bonnie just left the grocery store buying an abundant of junk food for them to chow down during their camping trip. “Do we really need all this stuff, Mu? Its just one night in the Subcon Woods.” Bonnie explained as she put the candies in her bag.

“You and Harriett never been camping before have you?” Mu asked. Bonnie shook her head. Mu sighed and went on to explain about the enjoyment of camping and why they need all this food. “However, this camping trip is going to be special!”

“Why?” Bonnie asked tilting her head.

Mu grabbed a piece of paper from her pocket and gave it to Bonnie. Bonnie unfolded the paper and gulped seeing it wasn’t only a camping trip, but also a hunt for the mysterious cryptid, Snatcher. Bonnie looked scared, she knew who the Snatcher was and Mu was planing to hunt him down.

“Its going to be fun! Just us in a dark, creepy forest waiting for a ghost monster to show up!” Mu beamed. “Can you imagine if we caught evidence of it! We’ll be rich, the first ever millionaire 9-year olds!” Mu exclaimed.

Harriet walked by when Mu shouted” millionaire 9-year olds” chuckling at the thought of it. She knew why, and while she did get nervous her father would be caught by Mu one day, the thought of her and her friends being millionaires made her laugh.  “Sounds like your excited, Mu.” Harriet said.

Mu froze and blushed in embarrassment when her best friend came by ready for their camping trip. Mu chuckled rubbing the back of her head. “H-how much did you hear?” She asked.

“Everything.” Harriet replied, giving a smug smile. Mu’s face turned red from embarrassment, as Bow giggled as well.

Mu shook it off and grabbed her bag. “Well come on! We need to make it too the woods by nightfall! Us standing here means were wasting time.” Bonnie and Harriet nodded and followed their friend heading to the Subcon Woods for the night.

Bonnie got scared walking around the dark and spooky Subcon Woods. It was dark, creepy, and anything could come out and snatch them away. As they walked, Bonnie held on to Harriet’s arm for protection. “S-so how far are we going, Mu?” Bonnie asked.

Mu chuckled. “Oh were not near the campsite yet.” She replied. Bonnie gulped and held on to Harriet tighter.

“Don’t worry Bonnie, were a group as long as we stick together and not separate we’ll be fine.” Harriet comforted.

“I hope so.” Bonnie whispered as she kept following her friends. The three girls kept on walking as they passed through a log bridge, towards some bushes, into the middle part of the woods.

This part of the woods and dead burnt trees, a few tree stumps where the girls can sit, and a small fire pit. There was also a red hood similar to the one Mu wore hanging up like a flag waving at the wind. “Girls, welcome to my secret campsite, Camp Mu!” She beamed.

“Wow!” Bonnie and Harriet said at the same time. “This is where you camp?” Harriet asked.

“Oh yeah.” Mu replied as she unpacked her stuff including her tent. “Every Friday night I’m here looking for weird creatures, cryptids, and the Snatcher,” she started her explanation. Soon she grabbed a net from her bag, “set up a few traps and hope to catch them.” She explained.

“Wow! Do you think you’ll have a chance to catch it tonight?” Bonnie asked.

Mu nodded. “Yep! I plan on putting traps all around our campsite. Hopefully the Snatcher would fall into one of them.” She explained.

Harriet nervously chuckled. “Y-yeah! And what do we plan to do when we catch them?” She asked.

Mu chuckled. “Like I said Harriet, since you heard my speech. We’re going to be millionaires, leave Subcon for good and go on an adventure around the world!” She shouted.

Bonnie smiled and clapped her hands. She would love to travel around the world and see many sights that awaits them. Though she was more to the sights and adventure rather then going cryptid hunting.

“Oh yeah.” Harriet chuckled, rubbing the back of her head.

Later, the girls got everything set up for the night, and soon by sunset, which was blocked by so many trees that it looked like nightfall came early, the girls were roasting marshmallows by the fire to make s’mores. The girls were chatting, enjoying their junk food and s’mores and sharing a laugh.

An hour or two later, Bonnie started to get tired and retreated back to the tent to get some rest. This left Mu and Harriett to leave traps all over the woods for the Snatcher to stumble upon. Once all the traps were set, Harriett too retreated to the tent to get some rest as well, while Mu stayed up for a bit.

A while later, Harriett woke up to see Mu was still in awake and looked like she was writing something. Harriet got up from her sleeping bag carefully not to wake up Bonnie and slowly walked over to her friend.

“Mu?” Mu jumped giving a squeak, but sighed it was only Harriet who spoke to her.

“Don’t scare me like that again.” Mu threatened.

Harriet giggled. “Sorry. I mean its just us, Bonnie is asleep.” She explained. Harriet sat close to her friend and looked up at the stars. “Do you plan on staying up all night, till you find the Snatcher?”

Mu scoffed. “What do you think?” She asked. “Of course! If I fall asleep I’ll miss it!”

Harriet rolled her eyes. As much as she didn’t want to hunt for her own father, she didn’t like the fact Mu was going to be out here all alone. Heck, even if they do capture him at least she can try and explain to Mu everything that’s going on.  “Think you need some company?” Harriet asked. “I’m willing to stay up till dawn with you.”

Mu thought for a bit and shrugged. “Ah what the heck.” Harriet smiled excited that she and Mu can get closer now. It was quiet, except for the crickets chirping as well as the pages of Mu’s book being turned. Harriet looked over Mu’s shoulder and saw the book she was reading.

The book looked like it was written and had drawings as well as pictures inside it. “Did you write this?” Harriet asked.

Mu nodded. “Yeah. I want to make a series of journals talking about cryptids, witches and wizards, and other kinds of magic paranormal stuff in Subcon.” Mu explained. “This here is my first book!” Mu closed her book and showed the cover with the glowing eyes of the Snatcher as well as a #1 painted on it.

“T-that’s awesome!” Harriet replied giving a small stutter seeing the Snatcher, her father’s eyes on the cover of her friend’s book.

Mu ignored her friend’s nervousness and smiled. “I know! One day I’ll publish my journals so the entire world can read everything about Subcon! I’ll be a famous writer!” She beamed. Harriet chuckled seeing Mu had her future planned.

“You’ll make an excellent writer.” Harriet said.

Mu smiled. “Thanks.” Mu looked at her journal and frowned. “Do you think writing about these conspiracies makes me a weirdo?” She asked.

Harriet raised an eyebrow. “No why do you ask that?” She asked back.

Mu sighed. “Just everyone thinks of me as some dub girl who wears a mustache, looks for creatures that may or may not exist, and goes all cartoony ways to find them.” She explained.

“Your not dumb!” Harriet comforted. “I think its cool your doing this. No one should insult you for doing what you like to do!”

Mu chuckled. “This is why I like you Harriet your just so nice, and positive. You help others feel better, even though you can get jumpy at times.” Mu replied.

“Well that’s just how I am. I want people too feel positive then a burden.” Harriet sighed.

Mu frowned she knew that Harriet’s father, Luka divorced his wife before moving here and from what Harriet told her it was a very messy divorce, so messy that she remembered Harriet was about to cry the more she talked about it.

She also hated the fact, Harriet’s own mother didn’t truly love her like her own mom. Mu knew mom’s had to be caring and kind, and well sweet as sugar, that’s what Mu’s mother explained to her.

Harriet knew what Mu was thinking about, but she had to bring up one question. “Mu.” Mu turned to look at her. “I know you have a mom, and since I told you about my mom. I just want to know where’s your dad?”

Mu froze. She never told anyone about her dad before. She sighed and looked down from her book. “I never met my dad.” Harriet’s head lifted up and turned to Mu. “He...died when I was just 2 years old.”

“M-Mu I’m so sorry.” Harriet whispered.

“I-Its fine. I was really young when he passed, so I don’t have any fond memories.” Mu reassured. She then sighed and looked down again. “But I do miss him, and wondered if he never went on that trip, he’ll still be alive and we can have a close father and daughter bond like you and your dad.” Mu explained.

Harriet sighed, she knew how that felt only with a mom. “I know how that feels. Wish I was like that with my mom.”

Mu put a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. “Hey, if you and your dad need any help just come talk to my mom. We’ll help as much as we can.” She explained.

Harriet gave a small smile and hugged her friend back. Mu smiled and hugged her friend back as well. That is...until a rustle coming from the bushes caused them to let go. Mu smiled widely knowing it could be the Snatcher.

“Harriet grab the camera!” Mu whispered. Harriet was in a mixture of stunned, scared and anxious. Is this the night her father gets caught and Mu finding out she’s been keeping the cryptid she long hunted for from her. “Harriet!” Mu called out again snapping her friend from her thoughts. Harriet nodded and handed her best friend the camera, which she snatched away.

Mu held the camera close as whatever was coming right in front of them was about to jump up. Harriet covered her eyes and hid behind Mu not wanting to see what will happen next. Just as the figured jumped out Mu took the shot.

“Got it!” Mu cheered. “Huh?” She asked confused. From the bushes wasn’t the Snatcher, but a fox.

Harriet opened her eyes and looked over Mu’s shoulder to see it was just a fox passing by. “Aww, what a cute little fox.” Harriet smiled. Mu sighed and sat down on the floor.

“Great! Wasted this time for nothing.” Mu sighed.

“Hey cheer up.” Harriet said putting her arm around her friend. “You’ll be able to find the Snatcher soon.”

Mu scoffed. “Yeah and I thought it would be tonight.” Just as she said that though, she heard someone getting caught in one of her traps. Mu chuckled and ran off towards her trap hoping to see if she had captured the Snatcher.

Harriet followed after her knowing she would have to explain everything if it was her father that did fall into the trap. Or, she could pretend that she didn’t know the Snatcher and could try to get her father to go along with it. Whatever, the case may be she may not keep this secret any longer.

“Sorry dad, but Mu needs to know.” Harriet whispered to herself. Harriet and Mu made it to the clearing and Mu was even more disappointed at who got caught in her trap this time. Harriet gasped at who got trapped, but was relieved at who it was.

Trapped in Mu’s trap was the Snatcher, or at least his human form, Luka Princeton, aka Harriet’s father. “Mr. Princeton?” Mu asked. “What are you doing out here?” She asked.

“Well, Harriet dropped something when she was about to leave and well I had to hand it to her.” He explained showing a golden necklace with an hourglass engraved on it. Harriet gasped and quickly grabbed the necklace from her father and put it on. “Glad I asked your mom where you were otherwise I’d be lost.”

“So I didn’t catch the Snatcher?” Mu asked.

Luka gulped, and shook his head. Mu sighed and cut down Luka from her trap as he landed in a hard thud. “Could you be more gentle with your traps?” Luka asked. Mu didn’t reply and just marched back to camp, mumbling how she never caught the Snatcher, but her best friend’s dad.

“Should I tell her she caught the Snatcher?” Harriet asked.

Luka shook his head. “Nope.” He replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I have a headcanon with this AU on how time pieces with work. Instead of it being an hourglass it be a necklace, and I'll explain more of this headcanon later when I work on the next fanfic for this AU.

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time Ch4 Missing Time(piece)

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!"

That voice. That giant loud, ghostly cackle ghosting through the halls and waking the small girl was his one mistake. While he was busy conversing with Moonboy, he forgot a small problem back on the kid's ship. HIS VOICE WAS LOUD!! And it had obviously stirred the small brownhaired girl who was used to the silence so it did wake her up. Silence once again spiraled through the ship but it was too late. The small girl blinked tiredly and pushed her self up from sleeping on her side and blinked around tiredly at the silent room. It looked absolutely normal lit up halfly by her desktop lam, but she was still startled awake. Humming she rubbed her eyes and peered around the shadowed parts of the room searching for the owner of that loud as space laugh. Was Snatcher trying to scare her awake again? He did it quite a few times when they first met but had eased up, but she wouldn't put it past him to do it again.

"S-Snactcher? *yaaaawwwnn*", she asked the dark room before yawning.

Tiny hands coming to rub her eyes as she peered before blinking tiredly. No ghost or otherwise answered and she almost chalked it up to her dreaming. She almost laid back down and went back to sleep. Almost drifted back off.....If it weren't for her super sixth sense telling her something was wrong. This feeling was special. This sixth sense also happened to be a built in hourglass detector, and a danger radar. Right now something was nagging at the back of her mind and an empty feeling sat in her stomach. And not the 'I'm really hungry. I'm gonna go bother Cooking Cat for a snack.' kind of empty feeling. This was a 'Hey. Something's not right here.' feeling. The blankets ruffled as Hattie pulled them off her and slid off the bed, landing on the bed with a small thump. The thump was enough to wake the other child who sat her head up blinking just as that feeling lead Hattie away from the bed towards the door of her bedroom. It opened with a small whoosh sound and she sleepily trotted down the purple carpeted kid sized hall in her space unicorn pjs. It was still pretty quiet, not that she was surprised. She reached the end of the hall and the other pair of doors opened and closed behind her with another whoosh sound. She was greeted with the familiar sight of her pilot room. With the control panel, window showing the vast world she's come to know as a second home, her trophies(a working train and a plush hamburger), doors to other rooms, the slide to her mail room, the locked time peice vault-.....It all looked really normal and everything, but still something was nagging at her for some reason."HElp mE!!", came a weird distorted robot voice and instantly her tiny head snapped to where the sounds was coming from. The little Roomba was upside down making sweeping noises and sweeping furiously in the air above him.

"RUMBI!!" She shouted out and rushed over to him. The small robot vacuum was soon turned back up the right way and held up eye level to the small child's blue eyes that blinked over the small robot in the dark. "What happened?"

The small thing blinked up at her and answered, "I WaS SWEEpING tHa carpeT and the GHOST TuRnEd mE UPSide DOWn!!

"Ghost? What gho-" She blinked and suddenly had a scowl. "Snatcher!!" She looked around the room scowli, but only the silent dark, peaceful room echoed back at her. As her eyes looked around the place, she noticed there wasn't any ghost or moving shadows or glowing yellow eyes and smiling that would've obviously given him away to the little girl. But what DID catch her eye was the flashing perfect account of '999' hourglasses safe and accounted for in the vault.......Wait! NOT A THOUSAND!? Her eyes practically buldged out of her head and gasped. With a dizzy Rumbi still under her arm she rushed up the platform and up to the screen that showed all the count of hourglasses accounted for. That couldn't be right. This thing MUST be busted! She would've heard someone open the vault door. The thing was too big and heavy to open quietly, it always made this loud as peck metal groaning noise whenever she opened it. And she hadn't opened it since she found the VERY last hourglass on The Captain's ship (which she accidentally sunk but that's not important now). The screen must've been busted!! There was literally NO WAY any one could've gotten in!!

Her poor worried mind raced for any possible explainiation and scenarios. None of which too good. Maybe the screen was broke? But it was working perfectly this morning, so why would it say only one was missing instead of short circuiting? What if that Mustache Girl climbed into her ship and stole one!!?.....Nah. She Mustache Girl Proofed her whole ship after that, and like she said no one would've been able to open the door without making noise. Her mind quickly revolved around WHO. Mafia? Nah. Those meat headed goons aren't too smart and would've broken everything by now. Conductor or Grooves?? Nah. The Conductor didn't even now how to get onto her ship, and they were on good-ish terms now. And Grooves was the nicest bird she knew, he wouldn't do a thing like that. What about Empress?? That crazy old cat swore revenge on her if she ever saw her again.....But she didn't even know Hattie was an alien let alone had a ship. Cooking Cat was really the best option since she came up to visit a LOT and cook her things even if she wasn't around, but she didn't even show any interest in them. And NONE of them could've gotten in unless they could go through walls like-......a......ghost.

A ghost LIKE Snatcher.

Her stomach formed a double pit as her eyes widened and she once again held up Rumbi and shook the poor Roomba more. "Rumbi! Which way did Snatcher go!?"

The robot 'blinked' his screen eyes at her. "i DON'T kNoW. He fLIPPED me OVEr anD FLew AWay."

She looked back up to the lit up screen and panic shot through her as realization hit her. Snatcher must've snuck in and took a time piece!! But why?! What could an undead ghost with seemingly unlimited power want with a time piece? And why only take one? She didn't have time to think it over as what ever the reason, she had a feeling this wasn't good at all. Putting Rumbi down really quick, Hattie ran back down the ramp and back through the door leading back to her bedroom. The doors opened with a whoosh sound as the child zoomed down the dark hallway, and barely registered Bow sleepingly walking down the same hall from being woken up from Hattie waking up. Hattie pushed her aside making Bow, fall onto her bum blinking at the other child running past.

"Hey! What's going on?"

Hattie didn't answer as she still ran through the second pair of doors with a whoosh noise, quickly running to her closet and throwing it open. Digging through the clothes and grabbing her lucky hat and regular clothes, and starting to throw them on just as the doors opened behind her and the curly haired gal walked back in still tired and blinking confused on why Hattie was pulling her purple shirt over her shoulders and trying to shimmy one of her feet into her boot at the same time.

".....What are you doing? *YYYAAAAAAWWWNNN* Is it morning already?"

"No time to explain!", she yelled muffled by her shirt. She pulled the shirt over her head and bent down to force those retched boots onto her feet. "I think Snatcher took a time piece!"

It took a few seconds for Bow's tired mind to register what Hattie said, and in that Time Hattie had already pulled her other boot on, clipped that signature yellow cape around her shoulders and made for the closet and pulled out her old trusty, indestrucable umbrella just as Bow's eyes widened and blinked. "What?! Why would he do that?"

"I don't know." Hattie gave a determined face as she placed the hat on her head and stomped forward to the teleporting telescope in the middle of her room. The one that lead to Subcon forest and grabbing the end you look through. "But he's going to get a time out just like he gives us!"

Bow quickly made for her small pile of clothes by her sleeping bag, "I'll come too!"

Hattie quickly shook her head. "No! I don't know where he is. He might just be pranking us again. You stay here just in case he shows up!"

Bow didn't look convinced but simply nodded as Hattie looked through the telescope. The Subcon World showed itself to her as she looked through it. The giant purple and white parts of the world signaling where Snatcher's forest was and Vanessa's Icey Kingdom. With a stretching lightheaded feeling she was already used too by now, the telescope teleported her down to the purple spooky part of the planet and she shot down in a beam of light. A few seconds later she landed in a random part of the subcon forest with dead trees and glowing mushrooms everywhere-....No wait. She knew this place. A headless statue over there. Some old rotten tree houses. And cursed fire burning everywhere. This was Snatcher's old domain alright. Which meant if she remembered right, his tree home should be somewhere to the left of here. Coughing and shaking her head from the heat and smoke these cursed fires always caused, she began to run towards the left side of where she landed. Passing burning purple trees and stumps, and the occasional mushroom and other ruined buildings. But that didn't stop the girl from running over and dodging all the burning things by now. After all, she was used to most of this forest's terrain by now with how many times she came here and all the exploring she did, still one of her favorite places to go. But as the child approached the non-burnt area, the air became a little less hot and smoky, eventually the sight of the tree with the giant blue mushroom growing on the top came into view right in front of the child, dwellers and lots of Snatcher's minions watching as she passed. With a final leap the small gal exited the line of the fiery inferno, and ended up just a few feet from the giant hollowed out tree. Wearing a scowl she ran towards the hollowed out tree, jumping over the small trench around it and landing on one of the giant, thorned vines leading up to it. It only took another good leap and she landed in the middle of the ghost's home.

"SNATCHER!?,'' she shouted out looking around the empty home. Her narrowed eyes and pouting face scanned over the empty home's details carefully, before deducing he wasn't there at all. She went back to the opening where a few of Snatcher's minions (who she had come to know as Subconites) were gazing confused as she looked around the dark surroundings. "SNATCHER!! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"You're a little late, Newbie," One of the Subconites spoke up nearest to her and she looked at her, "The boss hasn't been here since he took you and your friend home hours ago."

"WHAT?!" She jumped down in front of the female minion. It was hard to tell their gender if it wasn't for their voice. "Where is he?! It's really, really important! Even more important than our BFF time!!"

She exchanged a confused and worried look with some of the other minions before she pointed down an old worn down path. She knew exactly what path that was. It lead straight to Vanessa's Mansion and that icey part of Subcon. Hattie gaped at it, ....oh no. This couldn't be anything good. Snatcher having a time piece for whatever reason was bad enough, but if someone as Evil as Venssa's ghost got a hold of such a powerful item....It would probably make what Mustache Girl did a small toddler tantrum. Nothing good could ever come from Vanessa, especially if Snatcher and a Time Piece was involved. OH!! Where was her Uncle Moonjumper when she needed it!? He was the only one she knew that could get under Snatcher's skin(so to speak) and he'll sometimes listen to him when he told him the girls were upset. No time to think about that now.

She looked back to the minion in horror and pointed down the way she pointed out as if to make sure of this horrible situation. "THAT WAY?!"

The minions all nodded. "W-With Mr. Moomboy too."

"......Uncle Moonjumper?!" Oh thank goodness. At least she knew someone with half brain and reasoning was with him. But the question was, what were they doing?! She jumped over the small group of minions and started running down the old worn path towards the broken bridge umbrella in hand. Running so fast her other hand had to grasp onto her hat as she ran. Running past more dwellers and minions. Turning left when the path divided and started running down the long way towards the manor. Her heart was beating in her ears and sweat was forming on her forehead as she hurried towards the broken bridge. After a few more moments of running at this speed, she spotted the old broken form of the bridge. That didn't stop her, she was only more motivated into running faster and heading towards the thing. The bridge was broken in half over a deep ravine, broken by Snatcher long ago. With her pace and speed, it was easy for her to jump over with a flip and land on the other side with a thud, as soon as her feet hit the ground she kept running and making her way towards the manor. Already she could feel the cursed cold air hit her face as her feet tapped along the other half of the bridge before crunching in the snow. Snow flung behind her as she ran up the snowy hill and came across the frozen remains of the minions village. Houses. What looked like LOTS of house remains, and old frozen cobblestone roads went past her as she ran past, but she still didn't pay attention to the things she'd already scene as she passed. The giant ice walls she had destroyed when she first went there were still destroyed so she had no problems running through the giant ice tunnels past the village. It was still as foggy and cold as she remembered.She shivered and pulled her hat a little lower over her head as the cold nipper her pour body. Maybe she should've worn her coat. The fear in her stomach doubling not only because of the circumstance, but because of the horrible scary vibe Vanessa's domain gave off. Even though Vanessa's curse magically kept her trapped in the manor, her cold heart still reached out all over her old kingdom. She still remembered how scary that woman was and how all the negative, possessive energy distorted the atmosphere around them until she walked into a completely different room. She was pretty glad Bow wasn't coming along on this mission. The blue-white ice walls gave her a reflection as the alien child as she ran. Eventually coming to the black gates. The old black gate gave off metal taps as she ran across it and ran towards the shadow of the giant mansion.

Almost there. She was ALMOST THERE!! Hang in there Snatcher. Whatever you do, don't do anything dumb!!!

She ran as fast as she could, lungs stinging from her pace and the too cold air. The fog clearing just enough to give her a picture of the looming mansion and all it's gloomy, fearful glory. Of course she started running towards it. The feeling of her sixth sense going off like crazy, like an alarm. That time piece was definitely in there. OH!! She was gonna give Snatcher a piece of her mind after th-

BOOOM!!!

A giant energy wave of light and energy game from one of the second floor windows, and that energy hit along with the sudden strange happening was enough for her to stumble and face plant into the snow. The giant flash also blinding her. Sending more chills down her spine. As soon as it came it left, and she quickly got to her feet again. Pushing her hat back and using her other hand to wipe the snow from her face. Looking up panickingly at the window the blinding flash had come from.

"DAD!!"

[thehumanobservation]

Seems like Humans are the problem

T.S. Eliot loves to talk about huminites alienation.

Let us be honest with ourselves; we have all felt that moment where we just feel like we are the only ones in this universe.

However, T.S. Eliot loves the concept of alienation and the sense of being alone that, when reading through his selected poem of the anthology, I could not help but think and feel like being alone. J. Alfred Prufrock, A Games of Chess and Burnt Norton all highlight a sense of isolation in a world that is grandeur and alive.

Reading Eliot's poems during 2020 is haunting as the recent global pandemic event has put all of us under lockdown. We suddenly felt alienated because we have all lost our lives basic need, which is human contact, only to replace it with technology.

The theme of alienation is very dominant in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, where the speaker J. Alfred Prufrock highlights society's alienating people, whether that be due to differences, education and appearance; society will permanently alienate someone for their differences. It then leads the person to question themselves, just like how Prufrock questions his ability to talk to this woman he feels passionate about but yet repeats himself, "Do I dare? and Do I dare?".

The Love Song of Alfred Prufrock eerily reflects in the society we all live in, especially in a digital world where now days having a brand to your name is a verification of who you are. Although the poem's era is in the 1920s, the concept of societal alienation is fundamental as representing who you are determines everything from social status, wealth, and how you are seen in society. However, as we live in a digital age, that has changed everything because of social media and the easy projection of brands and virtual connection. It put us in a position to lead lifestyles that could be fabricated and very isolated.

Yes, I know we all keep hearing how social media is bad for us and how it has damaged our society but let us not forget they are hard facts and evidence out there if why such point even exists. Eliot's point, as I said, is very haunting because, in his view, modernism shows a “disintegration of life and mental stability” and as we are keeping hearing, that is how social media is damaging our society.

With T.S. Eliot other poems, A Game of Chess and Burton Norton, similar themes are discussed about alienation and modernism problems.

A Game of Chess explores humanity's disconnection by having a dark undertone of how we live in a modern world. First of all, this poem's setting is ambiguous, but it is lavish as “the chair she sat in, like a burnished thorn.” So, is the woman in this poem a queen? We will never know because does the woman know herself if she is the queen. The line “withered stumps of time” shows how humans are disconnected. We use a medieval concept of kings and queens and apply it to our everyday lives where everyone wants to be treated like they part of the royal society, which alienates us from reality.  

Similarly, Burnt Norton explores alienation themes by using phrases like “Internal darkness, deprivation and destruction of all properties” Eliot again show how the modern world is doomed. The difference with this poem is the use of past, present and future all coexist and how humans have repeated the sins of the past, bringing it to the present and will continue it to the future (“on its metalled ways of time past and time future”). Relate this to A Game of Chess, and you can see why the use of iambic pentameter starts to lose its rhythm because as time progresses, the structure changes, making it unstable.  

What does the future mean for humans and technology? Krapp’s Last Tape has one perspective

You must have read this title and must have thought, “hmm, what does the future mean for humans and technology?” Humans and technology have had a harmonious relationship throughout the ages where technology has benefitted our species is progressing throughout the world.

However, Krapp's Last tape would say otherwise. It depicts a decrepit old Krapp at his “den” with a “tape recorder, microphone and a number of cardboard boxes containing reels of recorded tapes.”  That does sound very bleak, but it is meant to sound like that because it shows the over-reliance on technology as we progress more into the future. Technology has been used for good like prosthesis, telecommunications, television, the internet, and other things. However, it does raise a question of how much of ourselves are we going to give to technology? Are we willing to let technology replace us? These sort of questions we have to ask ourselves as the future nears.

The tape recorder in Krapp’s Last Tape may seem like an ordinary device at first. Still, it symbolises a much deeper meaning as Beckett points out in the ending stage direction, “Krapp motionless before him. The tape runs on in silence”. The tape is personified; it symbolises a grandeur “being” of immortality, whereas Krapp is just a fragile old man running on his last leg until he is nothing but bones.

Every year there is a new release of technologies that changes everything. Apple, for example, changes the technological landscape with its latest iPhone, iPad and MacBook every year. Thus, it puts this pressure on everyone to buy the newest product because it is so cutting edge even though it is only a slight improvement from the previous model. As humans, we are like guinea pigs to experiment. Look at the other technologies we have, Amazon Alexa, to remind us of appointments, dates, or even just to have a chat.

Now the tape recorder that Krapp has is just a device that stores audio recordings; it may seem harmless and beneficial but look at it this way. Krapp has a collection of his audio recording that he needs to clinch to his memories. It is for him to relive the past, and that is the troubling thing because, as humans, we are wired and programmed to relive memories through a mental image. If we remove that via an audio recording and even pictures, we release our mind's valuable asset.

It is daunting that we live in an age where we are comfortable with having our data like shopping, searches or what we even ordered on Uber Eats sorted and shared across the digital world; it makes me wonder about our privacy and how much is it valued?  It does question that social media has made it easy for us to share our pictures and have them stored there forever for everyone to see and yet to be analysed beyond its initial reason.

Nevertheless, technology will forever shape our future for good or bad reasons, but our ambition will determine our morality and our existence in that future. What will that future look like when we rely on Artificial Intelligence to meet our human needs? If science fiction has told us anything is those good intentions can be lead us astray.

 Do we have a God complex? Or are we just morally driven to a path of ill ambition?

Have you just sat there and thought, “I wonder what it will be like to create a new being?”.  If you have not, then you are not as crazy as Victor Frankenstein. If you have, then you might be as mad as Frankenstein but not as quiet.

Mary Shelly classic Frankenstein is widely known throughout pop culture and the world to the point where every monster and science fiction tale will have an underlying message and recreation of a human creating a grotesque creature. Still, it is not hard to see why it has been recreated so many times.

Human morality is often debated a lot, especially within the scientific community, because how far are we willing to play God? What is God? Moreover, who is ready to stop us? These sorts of questions are constantly asked within our species as we continue to evolve.

“whose future lot it was in their hands to direct to happiness or misery.” What does this mean to you? To Victor, it is an idea that your parents essentially play God from the moment you are born. Like God, the concept of nurture, care, and help you direct to your future, whether happy or sad, is your parents who do it.

It may seem a little far-fetched, but there is a point to this as when we have children, we want the best for them, like how God does the best for us; however, most of us believe

God is sin-free; he can do no wrong as God is above all beings, so whom do we blame for all the trouble we suffer. We condemn the devil.

So, who are we to even think this? After all, we as species are relatively new, only being 250,000 years old,but the advances we have made are astronomical; from creating languages to art and making substantial scientific discoveries, we have evolved quicker than other species lived. Nevertheless, the one thing we have not been able to do is to create a sentient being.

Has that ever stopped us? No, it never has because our race is built on the fundamentals of finding a purpose within this universe. We always ask ourselves the question of are we alone in this universe? If not, then what other beings are out there and are they more advance than us?

What Frankenstein teaches us that we are scared to be alone, so to eradicate that loneliness, we fantasies and makeup beings that will perfect us. However, in some cases, perfection is also our monster, like Victor’s monster, which leads to neglection, alienation, and judgment.  

Let us be honest; humans do not have an outstanding record of celebrating differences. Our history book is full of events that show us how we despise differences, like slavery and the abomination against Black people, the Jewish Holocaust, Islamophobia. Moments we question humanity, and yet in all of these events, the superior majority is always against the minorities and in my view, that is a God complex.

The idea of humans creating a new life that is intelligent and sentient juxtaposes us. They could be a very high possibility that society will reject a new species that we have created because it is not human. If we cannot accept the differences within our race, how will we accept a new race? We will just reject it like the monster or, even worse, kill it, but even then, we are ideally and morally happy to do that and given our track record with animal extinction.

However, on the other hand, we live in a time where acceptance is becoming more and more viable, especially with everyone difference, so unlike rejecting the monster, we come and love it, but that does bring a problem of how accepting are we willing to be? We are human, after all, and we do not operate in a black and white world; our nature and intention will always put us in this grey area, and that is the area were we initially show our true morality and ambitions.

As technology advances and genetic engineering becomes a reality, we have to think about our intentions and our willingness to act like God when it comes to a new life. Are we ready to use gene therapy to eradicate diseases before birth, and if so, what impact will that have on the human race and its longevity? As Robert Sparrow points out, “Just because we have the capabilities to perform enhancements, it does not mean we need to perform it.”

Charles Dicken’s Tale of Two Cities is very much a reality

Charles Dickens is famously renowned for speaking out against a society catered towards the rich and leaves its poor in debt. After all, his famous books Oliver Twist and A Christmas Carol show the people's inequality during Victorian England, but those books were optimistic; they had a happy ending.

On the hand, a Tale of Two Cities does not have a happy undertone, and in my opinion, it does show the grim reality of how we have created a world that favours the few and neglects the people.

Look at the mills that have survived; mills symbolise a strong workforce, productivity, capitalism a well-established economy. They also represent class distinction, poor working condition, and fear. It clearly says in the book, “samples of people who had undergone a terrible grinding and regrinding in the mills”. Less fortunate people had to experience, and no matter if this was in England and France, the message was the same, humans are expendable, and the poorer you are, the less value you will have to your name. Sadly, that is true to this day, where wealth inequality just grows further.

Let me just throw some numbers out there for you. In England, at the end of the 2020 financial year, the wealth inequality grew to a point where the income of the top 20% grew six times more than the most deficient 20%, and the top 10% had an income stream that was 50% greater than the poorest 10%.

That is shocking, but what is more surprising is that this all happened during a global pandemic that resulted in many people losing their jobs. This is to be expected because of how our society has been structured, and figures like Dickens challenged this economic structure, so are we and will continue to do so.

Dickens novel also points out the force of the people as they make the majority of the nation is solid and to be frightened about as “urging one another, and themselves to madness, with the wildest cries and action.”

Events throughout 2020, like the Black Lives Matter to the Indian Farmer protest, is a perfect illustration of movements reforming and challenging society. Dickens' novel mirrors this that no matter where in time and what era, society will always be dysfunctional due to the few exploiting the rest.

[makairodonx]

Keiko and Naranja talk about the Elements

Keiko stood before a tree stump next to Naranja, who said to her, “Can I not see the four natural elements out from your hands, please...” “Yes, Naranja,” Keiko smiled as she laid her hands upon the tree stump. “Here you go..” The red-dressed sorceress conjured a ball of orange flame which wriggled and danced before Naranja’s eyes. “Ooh, Fire!” she said, “ I love that element! it’s my favorite. I’ve kept on mastering that element so many times before - which is possibly why I always wear its signature color, and also for the fact that my name means “Orange” in Spanish...” “And you keep on using Fire to burn down any objects in your path whenever you get angry, don’t you?” Keiko grinned. “Well...of course not...I normally don’t do such a thing whenever I’m angry...but I do know a particularly horrible incident a long, long time ago in which I accidentally burnt down our old wooden house when I was caught in an argument with my older sister Rosa. I started throwing out little fireballs here and there...they set the chairs, tables and the floor ablaze...and then I was scolded by my parents to build a new, fire-proof house...with the help of Rosa..” “Wow...” Keiko’s eyes grew with astonishment, “how sad...At least your current house might have a special sort of spell which keeps it safe from any flames, I guess.” “Of course, Keiko,” Naranja continued. “Now show me Water!” In place of the orange, burning ball of fire Keiko laid out a bright blue ball of liquid matter bubbling before Naranja’s eyes. “The Element of fluidity, this is. It can take on any shape or form, whatever the circumstances, and still be used for flushing out any unwanted objects, healing any wounds, or helping the plants or trees grow to immense sizes when you send it flowing towards their roots. “Nice, Keiko...and is it the mortal enemy of Fire?” “Yes it is, Naranja!” Keiko replied. “Now here comes Air!” Keiko brought forth a purple ball of dancing flames upon the tree stump. “This element is probably the most dynamic of them all, isn’t it?” She asked Naranja. “Of course it is,” replied the orange-dressed girl. “It can assume the form of a gentle breeze of wind...or the form of a powerful tornado which can run down anything unfortunate enough to stand in its path.” “Nice, Naranja...Now here comes Earth, perhaps the strongest and most stable of all the four elements of nature! And can it withstand the attacks of Fire, Water and Air combined?” “Umm...” Naranja replied, “..I do think so, Keiko...Since Earth consists of rock, wood, plants, or anything in between, it can possibly resist those elements and still remain strong.” “That’s right, Naranja!” Keiko replied. “You’re knowing much about which of the four elements works the best, aren’t you?” “Yes I am, Keiko,” Naranja smiled. “I think the element which I’m most good at using is Fire. And what about you?” “Well, I’m good at mastering Molten Rock, which is what you get when you mix Fire and Earth together, Naranja. And that’s also why my dress and hat are both dark red...but anyway my friend Kerstin is an expert on mastering Water and Air....She really likes the idea of experimenting with the qualities of those two elements...And her favorite element above all is Ice, which is a form of Water that is highly solidified with very cold air.” “Good, Keiko,” Naranja said. “I’m currently trying to master all the other three elements with my older sister Rosa, who has an interest with Air and Earth. And would you gladly help us in doing so, my friend?” “Sure!” Keiko replied. “If you and your sister face any difficulties in mastering the four natural elements, I will be there to lend you a helping hand, so that I will help you two check on the growing powers of may of the elements you master.” “Great, Keiko!” Naranja smiled again. “I’ll see you soon!” “And I’ll see you soon too!” Keiko waved back.

[thanks--for--listening]

the pains of the past

why yes i DID binge AWAE in three days and then immediately write fanficiton for it. takes place during season 1 before Gilbert’s dad died. also on AO3

--

It was the smell this time. 

Usually it was sounds. Noises that brought memories from the depths of her mind up into the forefront, paralyzing her until the moment from time had passed. Despite their frequency, they always seemed to catch her by surprise, and afterwards she often spent hours trying to fully shake off their grasp. Still, she felt as if she knew how to handle them, knew how to bring herself back when a sound sent her reeling to houses she’d left behind. 

But smells, she’d discovered. Smells were much worse. 

She felt the world around her slip away. The storefronts, the horses, the shoppers and townsfolk rushing to escape the brisk winter air. All of it melted into nothing. The only thing that existed was the smell of burnt chocolate, surrounding her like a raging fire, taking time and air and Avonlea with it. 

Anne watched as the familiar walls of the Hammond house rose out of the ground around her. She felt herself turn back, shrink from her current thirteen years to just barely eleven. She could hear crying coming from somewhere behind her — she always heard crying when she went back to that house. The yelling always followed, with pain not far behind. 

They’d only had chocolate once. Mr. Hammond had been in a pleasant mood, a rare occurrence in itself, and had dropped the sweets on the kitchen table. “Bake these into something,” he’d told her. She’d tried to tell him that no one had taught her to bake before, that she only knew how to cook, but he’d acted as if her words had disappeared the minute they’d come out of her mouth, and had left whistling an unfamiliar tune. 

Staring at the dessert, she thought she might melt them. She’d read somewhere that those who had time and money often melted chocolate and dipped whatever they could find into it. She’d placed them in a pot, hung it over the fire, but one of the twins started crying, and when one cried the other always joined, and by the time she’d come back to the fire, the pot had turned black and smoke filled the room. The sweet smell had turned bitter, oppressive as it spread across every room of the too-small house.

Mr. Hammond’s mood soured quicker than the chocolate. She’d been thrown into the table, onto the ground, dragged outside before she’d even had the chance to take the pot off the heat. She’d lost count of how many times he whipped her that night. When he finished, he left her outside, locked the door before she could even drag herself off the tree stump. She spent the night there, staring at the stars, begging for sleep to take the pain away. It never did. 

A hand on her arm yanked her out of the yard and back into town. The sounds hit her all at once, and she closed her eyes, grimaced in pain. She instinctively reached to cover her ears, but an arm still held onto hers. She tried to turn, to open her eyes and see who it belonged to, but the memory’s grip relented, and she felt as if it was physically trying to pull her back, back into the cold and dark, into the pain of the past. 

She felt herself moving, the hand on her arm guiding her away from wherever she was. Eventually she felt a wall behind her back, felt another hand on her arm guiding her to the ground. 

It wasn’t until she was sitting down that she finally felt air flowing through her lungs, heart calming down just enough for her to open her eyes and see the boy standing in front of her.

“Gil,” She exhaled, not able to say more than the first syllable and not louder than a whisper. She saw his lips moving, but she couldn’t quite hear him yet. She closed her eyes again, let his words slip into focus. 

“—aren’t you saying anything? Anne? You’re scaring me, Anne.”

“Gil,” She said again, more to herself than to him. She used his name as an anchor, let it settle her back into the present, let it bring memories of Green Gables to the forefront of her mind, in place of the Hammond house. 

“Anne.” He sighed as he said her name, and sat down on the ground in front of her. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, suddenly remembering where she was. When she was. Most importantly, who she was with. 

“Are you sure? Because a second ago you were...gone.”

“Gone?”

“I called your name. Stood right in front of you, and you didn’t move. It was like you were looking through me. Like you were frozen, or asleep with your eyes open. You were here, but you weren’t here.”

“Oh.”

“What was that? What happened to you?”

“Nothing happened, Gilbert. I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, then why are you still shaking?”

She looked down, held her hand in front of her body, and silently cursed at the way it trembled. She quickly put it back down, placed her other hand over it. Willed her body to relax. 

“I’m fine now,” she insisted, “so if you don’t mind, I’ll just be on my way.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“You think I’m letting you walk home? After that?”

“You think you can stop me?”

“Oh, I know I can stop you.”

“I think you’ve gravely underestimated me, Gilbert Blythe,” She said, and she tried to stand up, to storm off and prove her point, but the minute she was upright the world seemed to spin, and only the wall behind her kept her on her feet. 

“Woah, easy,” he said, and she didn’t want to let him ease her back to the ground, but she didn’t have the strength to stop him. She closed her eyes again, let the world realign itself, before she looked back at him. 

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she told him, trying to put as much bite in the words as she could. 

“Well, you’re welcome,” he said, and she did her best to glare at him, but he just seemed amused instead of intimidated. 

“I’m serious,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m always fine. It goes away after a while.”

“What does?” He asked, and she didn’t know why, but there was something in his voice that made her want to answer. 

“The memories.” 

“Is that what happened?” He asked, choosing his words carefully. “You...remembered something? About before?”

“It’s more than that.” She searched for the words to describe it, realizing that she’d never spoken about the sensation aloud before, not this directly and certainly not to another person. “It’s as if I’m truly in the moment again. As if I’ve traveled back in time. Usually it’s sounds that take me there.”

“What was it this time?”

“The smell of burnt chocolate coming from the bakery.” 

“Does it always...make you like this?”

“It usually isn’t this bad,” she insisted. “I know how to deal with sounds. I can snap myself out of it much faster that way, listen and talk my way back into time. The smell was harder to break away from. I’m not sure why.”

“Where…” he started to say, swallowing before he continued. “Where did the smell take you?”

Logic told her to leave it well alone, to shut her mouth before he stared at her like everyone else did when she reminded them of where she came from, but a feeling deep in her stomach told her to continue. “The house I worked at,” she said, “before I came here. The Hammonds.”

“You worked?” He asked, and she nodded. “Doing what?”

“Doing everything.” He made a face, and she sighed. “You know — I cleaned, cooked, took care of the children, chopped wood, helped keep up the land. Normal stuff.”

“How old were you when you started working there?”

She thought for a moment. “Around ten? Maybe eleven? They don’t care much for our birthdays in the asylum, so I lost track a few times.”

“Were they nice? The Hammonds?” He asked, and the way he asked it made her believe he already knew the answer, but wished he was wrong.

She shook her head anyway. “No. They were not nice.”

He looked down, and she could see him thinking of the question, and she knew him too well to believe that he wouldn’t ask it. Even if it looked as if he didn’t want to. 

“What was the memory?” His voice was dark and either sad or angry, Anne couldn’t quite tell. “The one of burnt chocolate?”

She felt it again, that feeling in her stomach that seemed to push the words up onto the tip of her tongue. So she told him. 

He ran a hand through his hair when she was finished, and Anne wondered whether he’d always had that nervous habit, and how she hadn’t noticed it until now. 

“Did that happen a lot?” He asked, but he wouldn’t look at her, and the way he spoke made her think just saying the words caused him pain. “What they did to you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“How could you stand it?” She didn’t quite know what to do with the question. No one had ever asked her that before. Most people, despite their incessant reminders of her origins, seemed to only want to discuss her past in vague references. She’d learned quickly that details pushed people away, made them think about horrors they wished to ignore. 

Yet, here was Gilbert, asking straight out, and she found she wasn’t afraid to tell him the truth. She felt quite certain that he wouldn’t run away. 

“I disappeared into my own imagination. Anne Shirley may have had to feel pain and sorrow, but I could always become someone else, if only for a little while. Princess Cordelia never suffered under the hands of a whip, or felt the stomach pains of starvation, or the sorrow of truly being alone in life. So, as long as I was her, neither did I.”

She looked at him, waited for...for what she wasn’t quite sure. Some sort of reaction, surely. Everybody seemed to have some sort of reaction to her. 

He stayed silent, and she tried to read the look on his face, but it was one she had only seen a few times, and she had yet to identify it. Regardless, she knew what was buried underneath whatever face he currently wore, what was in the eyes of everyone who stared at Anne the orphan.

“I don’t need your pity, Gilbert.” She told him, her words sharper than she intended.

“You don’t have it.”

“Then what’s that look on your face?”

He shrugged. “Awe. I’m in awe of you, Anne Shirley-Cuthburt.”

He stood up, then offered her his hand. She took it, a curious look on her face. Anne decided that she didn’t quite understand Gilbert Blythe, and she was fairly certain there was nobody else like him. 

They walked, and Anne realized they’d been in an alley, hidden away from the prying eyes of neighborhood gossips. He kept his hand in hers, probably to make sure she didn’t fall again, but even when she knew she wouldn’t, she didn’t let go. 

“Please don’t tell anyone at school about this,” she said softly as they rejoined the crowd. “I don’t need to give everyone another reminder that I’m what I am.”

“I won’t,” He said, and they’d stopped walking, waiting to part ways, but his hand still lingered in here. “Will you tell me? If it happens again? I mean, if it’s bad like this one?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think you should have to go through that alone.” 

She didn’t say yes, but she also didn’t say no. Instead, she smiled at him. “Goodbye, Gilbert.”

“Goodbye, Anne.”

She turned to walk away, but paused. She stood frozen for an instant, before turning around. She was surprised to see he hadn’t moved, that his eyes were still on her. “And thank you!” She yelled, turning and running off before she could she the look on his face. Although, the more she thought of it, the more she was certain she didn’t need to — she knew well enough what kind of smile he’d worn when she turned her back. 

[crystalninjaphoenix]

There’s a Cat Now

A Switch AU Story

Welp idk how this happened but it did and it’s cute so here we are. A short drabble about Marvin, JJ, and a cat.

“I don’ recognize t’is part of town,” Marvin muttered, staring out the car window at the streets whizzing by. Not too intently though, he still wasn’t used to how fast cars went now. “Are you goin’ t’finally tell me what we’re doin’ here?”

“Hang on a moment, we’re almost there, just let me park.” JJ carefully maneuvered the small car into an empty space, turning it off with a twist of the keys. “Alright, here we are!”

Marvin looked out the front window at the store they’d parked in front of, reading the name emblazoned on the sign. He squinted. “Is...is t’is a pet store?”

“Surprise!” JJ smiled, accompanied by a joyful fluttering of fingers. “I wanted to get you a pet!”

Marvin blinked. “Why?”

JJ’s smile faltered a bit before he recovered his cheer. “Well, I thought it would help you adjust to this new...environment. And also...” His joyful expression fell once more, becoming serious. “I sometimes worry about you being home all by yourself. It might get lonely, you know, and I can’t keep asking the others to stop by even though they keep saying they’d be happy to.”

“Oh, so you’re saying t’at I can’ be alright wit’out you?” Marvin chuckled as JJ suddenly started stammering excuses. “It’s alright, I know what y’mean. Are you sure about t’is? Pets can be difficult to take care of. I’m okay wit’out one.”

“Well, yes, but also...small animals are cute.”

Another chuckle. “Alright. I s’pose I can’ change your mind once you’ve got it made up. Lead the way.”

JJ paused. “I’d hoped you be a bit more enthusiastic, to be honest.” Marvin didn’t answer, just shrugged. JJ exhaled a puff of air, then continued. “Well, we can’t do anything just sitting in the car. Come on.” He opened the door and stepped out, and Marvin soon followed.

The inside of the pet store was about what you’d expect, a main reception desk and walls covered in cute posters about the adoption process and how to take care of your animals. A few workers wearing blue shirts and nametags were milling about. One immediately walked up to JJ and Marvin. “Hi, can I help you?” she asked.

JJ looked over at Marvin, who gave an indifferent shrug. “Well, we’d like to adopt today,” JJ explained.

“Oh that’s wonderful! Do you know what type of animal you’re looking for? We have dogs, cats, rabbits, birds, snakes, hamsters and gerbils—”

“Cat,” Marvin jumped in before she could list every possible pet that existed. Yeah, cats could take care of themselves. He didn’t have to devote himself to that.

“I’m a cat person, myself,” the worker—her nametag read Kendra—said with a laugh. “If you would follow me through this door I can show you our cat kennels.

Marvin was expecting walls lined with cat carriers, and there were a few side rooms of that. But Kendra instead led them down a hall to a large room with wide windows that was entirely taken up by cat condos and trees, multilayered carpeted platforms with scratching poles and little houses to hide in. There were even a few mounted on walls. Around the perimeter of the rooms were benches for visitors and baskets of cat toys. Naturally, there were cats everywhere, of all shapes and sizes. Brown, white, black, tabby, calico, short-hair, long-hair, and every -hair in between. There were already some people inside interacting with them; what looked like a mom and two kids and an elderly couple.

“This is our playpen. Not all our cats are out right now, but this is a good place to get to know them,” Kendra explained. “If you don’t find one who appeals to you, I can take you into their actual kennels. We also have a selection of toys, beds, and other entertainment items, if you want to check those out.”

“Well,” JJ started, “we might not—”

“Jems, you can go look at those,” Marvin interrupted. “I’m goin’ t’stay in here for a while and see what happens.”

JJ gave him a look, but then said, “Okay, if you insist. Come get us if you need anything. Miss, if you can show me where that is...”

JJ left the room with Kendra, and Marvin immediately walked over and sat on a bench in a corner, near one of the cat trees. He watched the others in the room play with the cats, petting them and picking them up and dangling cat toys in front of their faces. That all seemed well and good, he supposed. But he didn’t really feel any urge to join in himself. So he just watched.

There was a slight movement in the corner of his eyes. He glanced over at the cat tree nearby. There was a pair of green eyes hidden inside the shadows of one of those little house-structures that sat on the tree. They were looking at him. Marvin stared at the eyes for a while more, then looked away, turning back to the room at large. He watched the pair of children entertain a black kitten with a laser pointer for a while. Weren’t they supposed to be bad luck? A cat like that would need a home, maybe if he had to get one he could pick that one up. But didn’t kittens require special care?

There was another movement. Marvin looked back over to the cat tree to see one had climbed out and hopped to the ground. It was mostly shades of brown and tan, with some darker brown stripes. Its muzzle and chest were white. Marvin presumed that its belly and paws were white as well, but given how it was sitting in that “loaf” position, and how its fur was extremely long and poofy, Marvin couldn’t exactly see its paws. Overall, it looked a bit like a burnt marshmallow. A marshmallow that was staring directly at Marvin.

Marvin, in turn, blinked at it. “What is it?” Obviously, the cat did not answer, and after it didn’t move for a while Marvin turned away again. But only a minute later, there was a warm, soft ball pressing next to his leg. He startled, and looked down to see the cat was now a ball of fluff sitting next to him on the bench. He raised an eyebrow. “What? D’you want attention? I can’ really tell, I don’ speak cat body language. I have trouble enough with the human kind.”

The cat kept staring at him with its big green eyes. After a moment, he gently set his hand on the cat’s back. When there was no reaction, he slowly began petting the length of it. The cat squinted its eyes, and after a while, started purring. “You wanted t’at? Well, I don’ mind. You’re very soft, a lot of fluff. Pleasant to touch. And you’re a han’some cat as well.” After a while of petting, Marvin stalled. He hesitated, then started petting the cat’s head.

With a stall in the purring, the cat opened its mouth wide and yawned. Then it shook itself, causing Marvin to sharply withdraw his hand, and climbed to its feet, stretching. Marvin thought it would leave next, but instead it padded even closer and clambered onto his lap, standing there. “Oh!” Marvin gasped, surprised. “Y’could warn a man first.”

The cat kept eye contact, sitting on his lap. And now that it was out of the “loaf” position, Marvin noticed something. He was right about the belly and paws being white, but also...while its left front leg was as expected, its right front leg ended in a stump. Marvin blinked. “Oh, I see. Y’have trouble in t’at area, then? Well, you’re not alone in the world, Mr. cat.” He reached out and scratched the cat below its ears. It squinted its eyes, then it stood up again, walked closer, and vaulted onto its two hind legs, placing its front paw on Marvin’s chest. “Hey! T’is is a nice jacket, don’ get your fur all over it,” Marvin chuckled, maintaining the ear-scratching.

Another slow blink from the cat. This time, followed by a soft sound, a small “mrrp.”

“Oh my goodness,” Marvin whispered, eyes wide. “T’at was the best sound.” His chest was suddenly light and bouncy inside. “Okay, you’re comin’ wit’ me.” He scooped up the cat, which didn’t wiggle at all as he carried it across the room, out the door of the playpen and into the hallway. From there, it was luckily only a short wandering before he found an open archway that led to a room full of various pet products, and as he walked inside he caught sight of JJ and the worker from before, Kendra. She was holding what a leash and talking to him. “—once they’re harness-trained you can take them outside for walks, like you can with dogs. But of course, training takes—” The worker glanced over as Marvin walked inside the room. Her eyes widened. “Sir, you can’t take the cats out of their kennel area!”

“Why not?” Marvin asked. “T’is one is doin’ fine.”

JJ looked over, and the moment he saw the bundle of fluff in Marvin’s arm his face lit up. “Did you find one you like, Marvin?”

“Well, I’d say t’is pretty kitty found me, act’ally.” Marvin bounced the cat a bit. “Walked up to me.”

JJ gasped, covering his open mouth with a hand. “That’s adorable,” he whispered.

Kendra seemed to have recovered from the shock of seeing a cat in an area it wasn’t supposed to be. “That’s Trio,” she said with a smile. “He’s a rescue. Got hit by a car, unfortunately, and a stranger brought him here. He’s a five-years-old Siberian, and he’s a pretty quiet cat. Liable to snuggle with you while you’re sitting, or even sleeping in bed. He’ll go after laser pointers and other toys, but not as enthusiastically as other cats.”

“T’at sounds wonderful,” Marvin said, distracted by the fact that the cat was now pressing his face into Marvin’s neck. “Trio’s an odd name, why is it?”

“Well, because of the...ah...you know...his, ah...situation...” Kendra seemed reluctant to continue, especially when Marvin’s head shot back toward her with a hard stare.

“I understan’ t’at people often name cats after t’eir features,” he said slowly. “But you didn’ see any problem with t’at particular name?” You know, like the only thing unique about this cat was his legs. Like that was the only thing about him that mattered.

“I didn’t name him,” Kendra hurried to say. “And it’s only temporary, if you adopt him, you can change it.”

JJ looked at Marvin, clearly trying to keep a calm expression. “Do you want to? Adopt him, I mean?”

Marvin looked down at the cat’s tiny face. “Y...yes,” he said, his voice a bit softer than normal. He looked back up at JJ’s excited face and frowned. “You knew this would happen, didn’ you?”

“That you’d get emotionally attached to one and love them? Well, I hoped it,” JJ said, a big grin on his face. “I know you were reluctant, but you’re reluctant about a lot of things, Marvin. A cat’ll be good for you.”

“Yes, yes, alright,” Marvin rolled his eyes. “Let’s finish t’is process so we can take him home already.”

About a half hour later, Marvin and JJ were back in the car. There was now a cat bed, a scratching post, and other cat materials in the back seat. Marvin, in the passenger seat, had a cat carrier on his lap with a burnt marshmallow-colored ball of fluff inside. The ball of fluff had a new green collar with a silver label, and was meowing intently at Marvin. “It’s only for a little while,” Marvin responded. “I t’ink we live close by. T’ough don’ ask me how we get home, I don’ know.” More meowing. “Calm down, Mister, it’ll be fine. I can give you a new toy to distract you, if ye want.”

“Did you just call the cat ‘Mister’?” JJ asked, amused, as he started the car.

“Yes, his name is Mr. Fluffington, and he deserves your respect,” Marvin said without even looking up.

“I see. Well, tell Fluffington it’s nice to meet him.”

“Mr. Fluffington, who do you t’ink you are?”

JJ laughed. “Yes, alright then, Mr. Fluff.”

Marvin looked back down at the newly christened Mr. Fluffington. “Jems says it’s nice to meet you. Ye’ll be seein’ a lot of him.” Fluffington meowed. Marvin grinned. “He likes you.”

“I’m glad. And I’m glad you like him too.”

“I wasn’ expectin’ it, if I’ll be honest.” Marvin unzipped the lid of the carrier just enough to reach inside. “But...I t’ink I’ll be happy to have him around.”

Mr. Fluffington nuzzled Marvin’s hand and he laughed. JJ smiled as he watched. He knew this would be a good idea. These two seemed like they would get along perfectly.