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videogamelover99 · 4 years ago

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Where the Blood Begins (Chapter 1)

A/N: I have been writing things. Many things. One of these things is a jttw fic, apparently. About a villain whose backstory was irrelevant. How on-brand. AO3 link can be found here. Thanks a lot to @dorkshadows for their help with the translations.

They’d found him on the shore one day, drenched to the bone, his fur coated with sand and rib bones poking through his skin, a sure sign of his malnourishment. According to them, he’d looked no older that five months. The monkeys, naturally social and cooperative creatures, had taken it upon themselves to bring him back, nourish him from the brink of death, and let him stay. They’d found plenty of interest in his ears, for none of the other macaques in the tribe had anything like it. But when, aside the number of ears he had, they found nothing at all different about him, the monkeys and apes quickly lost interest, letting him be.

He’d drifted for a while, wandering found troop to troop, belonging to all of them and none of them at once, before he’d decided, with the encouragement of their affectionate disinterest, that he was better off on his own.

That was when he first started hearing things. The call of bird high in the sky, the talk of demons many li away, the whispers of other monkeys. He was a good listener and his curiosity had him spending days away from the rest of his kind, straining his ears to catch a glimpse of something interesting. None of the other monkeys paid this any mind, until, one day, he’d caught the approach of hunters, and had had enough sense to warn the rest of them to hide. Then they were interested. In his strange ability, in the fact that with him, they were safer. And he’d taken his new duty with an appropriate sense of pride, but.

None of them had any interest in him.

“Did you see that rock up on the mountain?”

“Looks like it’s going to crack soon.”

“What do you think is inside?”

“Nothing good, I bet. Better not to touch it. Tell everyone else to stay far away.”

And Six Ear had. He’d avoided the rock, because it was better to live and not know what it was or catch a glimpse of something horrible and end up as food for vultures. He certainly hadn’t gone looking for it on his own. But still, eventually, be it through fate or through sheer dumb luck, the rock, which had stood on the mountain for thousands of years, unmoving, had soon found him.

“Are you lost?”

The monkey had looked just like any other macaque: dull, grey-brown fur, long tail, protruding snout, big, shining eyes. It resembled him in every way, except the number of ears on this macaque was blissfully normal. The monkey didn’t say anything. It sat down on the ground, staring. It looked small, much younger than him. “W-where are your parents?”

It just kept staring. Six Ear reached for the pinecones he’d dropped when he’d been startled, “Look, I don’t have time for- Okay, is this a game? Because there are plenty of others to play with that aren’t, you know, me.”

Apparently, it did understand what he was saying, because the monkey pouted, folding itsfurry arms over its chest.

Six Ear sighed, and turned to leave, the pinecones under both arms. There was a shuffling behind him as the smaller monkey followed. “What,” he bit out, whirling back around, “do you want.” The monkey jumped back, eyes wide, then pointed at the pinecones. “A-are you hungry?” The monkey nodded. Six Ear took one of the cones and handed it to the smaller macaque. The monkey accepted it, then, after a beat, as if it had just remembered, knelt its head in a deep bow. This surprised Six Ear so much he burst out laughing, “okay, fine, have at it.” The monkey was definitely not one Six Ear has ever seen before. It chomped on the pinecone, teeth tearing at the whole of it.

Six Ear dropped all he was holding, dropping his hard-earned dinner into the dirt, and snatched the pinecone away from the monkey, a scandalized look on his face, “What are you doing?!” The monkey hissed and reached its skinny little arms to snatch it back, but he held it high above his head, using his height as leverage. “Look, okay, you eat the seeds,” he then dug his claws into the pinecone, demonstrating slowly. The monkey stopped flailing, looking at him with wide eyes, like he’s suddenly uncovered all the secrets of the universe. Six Ear let it take the pinecone back and watched as it diligently picked out the seeds and popped them, one by one, into its mouth. Six Ear squatted next to it, his foraging mission long forgotten. “Where did you come from, anyway?” he muttered.

The monkey paused its thoughtful chewing and pointed up at the nearby peak. The peak that his kind had been diligently avoiding. “Did you…come out of the rock?” He’d meant it as a joke, but the monkey nodded eagerly, finishing the pinecone and throwing the empty husk over its shoulder. “You’re kidding.” It shook its head. “You’re like a…stone monkey.” It shrugged.

Six Ear suddenly jumped to his feet, yanking the monkey up along with him. “Come on, come on! I have to show you to the rest of them!”

The stone monkey looked excited to meet its kind. It jumped up and down, tugging Six Ear after it. The other monkeys were not as joyous about it. They crowded around the two, keeping a cautious distance, but not cautious enough where one of them couldn’t pop out and prod the newly arrived. The stone monkey found it amusing, giggling all the while and batting at their hands, which made any one of them retreat sharply, tails raised. “This is the one that came out of the rock?” old Jing asked, carefully examining the creature.

“Yeah!” Six Ear could help but puff up with pride. This was certainly an event worth a new pile of gossip. He couldn’t wait to overhear it. “Looks just like us, huh?”

“It is a monkey,” the other observed.

“Bah! I bet it’s a demon. We should throw it over the nearest cliff, before it turns into something horrifying,” someone from deeper in the crowd called.

Six Ear, sensing the tension rising, carefully tugged the stone monkey towards him. “Let’s not.”

Jing frowned. “The next one who suggests throwing children off cliffs will be fed to the tigers.”

The monkeys backed off. While none of them were really in charge, as the oldest in the tribe, old Jing had a voice that was often listened to. Six Ear let himself relax, and stone monkey wiggled out of his grip, seeming unable to keep still for so long, and wandered about, already bored with the commotion its mere presence was causing.

Stone monkey decided, early on, that a good use of its time was to annoy Six Ear as much as possible. The initial excitement of discovering it had worn out. After much question and prodding, the tribe, disappointed, decided that Shiho was, in fact, just as much a normal macaque as any. And Six Ear, still holding the title of the strangest of the apes, was content to let it be. But the little monkey was insistent. It would trail after him, eyes shining with a mischievous glint that was strange to see on someone so young. It’d coo and tug and do anything to get Six Ear to finally acknowledge its presence. And Six Ear, who was used to the others staying ways away from him, had had enough.

“What,” he finally asked, “do you want.”

They were both high up, perched on one of the tallest branches of an old banyan tree, Six Ear’s spot to think. And spy. Sometimes. It was for practice, as he was slowly getting better and better by distance. Up in that tree, his ears could catch any sound coming from as far as the other side of the mountain. If he’d concentrated enough. Unfortunately, with the stone monkey insistently tugging on his tail, that simply wasn’t possible.

The other froze that the words, finally letting go, before pointing down below, where a glint of a small stream could be seen peeking through the forestry above it.

“Then go swim! What do you need me for!”

The monkey gave him a glare, its whole-body twitching with impatience.

“I don’t want to play with you. Find somebody else.” The older monkey closed his eyes, turning away to signal that he was done with this conversation.

But Shiho didn’t take the hint. The smaller monkey wrapped its arms around Six Ear’s torso, shaking him violently. “Agh! Quit it! I thought you were polite back when I met you, but apparently, you’re just a bully!” Like the rest of them, he didn’t add. Unlike the other monkeys, Shiho harbored little interest for the number of his ears, deciding instead that pestering the rest of him was much more entertaining. In that, at least, Six Ear was glad. The little monkey stopped, letting go, and holding his gaze again, pointed at the stream. “Look,” Six Ear began again, “some people don’t like swimming. Some people don’t like playing. I am some people. Now, please,” he almost whined, “go find someone else who doesn’t fit that description.”

The little monkey seemed to listen to his words, because it backed off, slowly crawling to the edge of the branch, away from him. It seemed hurt.

“Oh, come on, don’t look at me like tha-”

Then the monkey sprang forward, arms wrapped around Six Ear’s shoulders as the two, in a show of momentum, toppled from the tree. Six Ear screeched in terror, Shiho in delight as they hit the stream together with a splash. The older monkey flailed around, struggling to the surface, with the smaller one still clinging to his back.

“Why,” Six Ear gasped as their heads bobbed above the water, “would you do that?” The stone monkey snickered in one of his ears, peals of laughter tumbling out in a primate’s screech, high-pitched and gravelly. “It’s not funny!” The laughter grew louder. “We could have died!” A wheeze. “What’s wrong with you!”

“What’s wrong with you,” the monkey shot back, and Six Ear almost drowned in shock.

“You can talk!?”

“Hahahaha!”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?!”

More laughter.

“…You liked to see me struggle with your charades, didn’t you?”

The monkey shrugged, “I didn’t know I could before I did. So, I did.”

“That literally makes no sense.”

“Nuh-uh!” Shiho shook his head vehemently, “I didn’t know a lot of things before I’ve tried them. Walking, looking, talking,” he seemed to run out of verbs, “talking…”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Six Ear heaved himself onto the shore, his fur dripping wet and shivering.

“Where are you going?”

“Away.”

“Can I come?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like you!”

This seemed to give him some pause. “Why?”

“Why what?!”

“Why don’t you like me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he ground out, surprised and the venom in his voice, “you pester, bully and make fun of me on a daily basis. You don’t listen to me, you stick to me like a flea, and your voice is annoying.”

Shiho pouted. “No it isn’t.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Yes,” a voice behind them agreed, “it is.”

Six Ear’s cold, soaked fur stood on edge. Shiho froze in the water. The older monkey slowly turned around, coming face to face with a beast ten times bigger than him. It smiled, its teeth glinting between its strong jaws. The stripes on its face rippled and glinted in the sunlight.

Six Ear’s voice died in his throat.

“Aren’t you a bit far away from the rest of your kind?” the tigress continued, her voice melting with glee.

“We-”

“What’s it to you?!” Shiho jumped out of the stream in one bound, his fur spraying water everywhere. The tigress flinched as some freezing-cold droplets landed on her pelt.

“Bold one, aren’t you? Don’t you know that tigers hunt little monkeys like you?”

Shiho’s eyes widened, like he’d discovered something remarkable. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Hm.�� He frowned, seeming to think, “but you don’t have to. You could eat something else.”

“But why would I, if the two of you are so convenient for me?”

What an idiotic conversation. Six Ear was about to bolt, right when the tiger was distracted, but something stopped him. No matter how annoying, he still would’ve felt bad if Shiho was left to be devoured by a tiger, even if it was out of his own stupidity. “If we stayed in the tree, none of this would’ve happened,” he was compelled to add.

“Shh I’m talking,” Shiho bowed to the tigress politely, “I only learned today,” he explained to her.

“I see…”

“Liu Er doesn’t like it. And, I guess, neither do you,” the monkey gave her a pleading look, “you really don’t like my voice?”

“Hm,” the tigress actually seemed to think on that question, and Six Ear couldn’t phantom why. “I suppose it’s not as bad as I first thought. Sufficient.”

Shiho beamed.

“Liu Er?” The tiger only now seemed to notice the four extra facial features on his head, “on the nose, isn’t it?”

Six Ears looked away.

“I guess,” stone monkey pointed at himself, “I’m Shiho.”

“Shiho…” the tigress seemed to recall something, “you don’t have anything to do with that rock that split open a few months ago?

Shiho nodded eagerly. Recognition seemed to fuel him, “That was me.”

“Ha ha!” she laughed suddenly, low and thunderous, sending Six Ear shaking in place, “So that’s what happened to it!”

“Do you have a name?”

The tiger grinned, “Nuan.”

Six Ear frowned, his terror momentarily forgotten. What an odd name for such a malicious creature to have.

“Are you still going to eat us?” Shiho has asked it like he’d asked about the weather.

“Oh no. How could I eat the one born of heaven and earth?” the tigress shook her head, her eyes crinkling in amusement, “That would be a bad omen.”

The two chatted away as Six Ear trailed behind them, following the stream. He was, well, not lost, no. Baffled. The little stone monkey, who he’d decided was nothing but a nuisance, had not only discovered his voice, but had used it to convince a vicious predator that it shouldn’t murder them, something it had mastered from birth.

A mile later they parted ways, the tigress treading slowly through the shrubbery, the muscles in her shoulders visible under the gleaming fur. And finally, Six Ear let himself breathe. The reality that they were not going to die was too hard for him to grasp. Heart pounding, he turned to the smaller monkey, who watched the tiger go with what could only be described as longing on his face. “You’re lucky she gave you special treatment for your weird backstory. Or we’d both be dead,” he growled under his breath.

“But we’re not!”

“No fucking kidding.”

“Then why are you angry?”

“I’m not-” He wasn’t angry. Or was he? The all-encompassing pull of dread was replaced by something fiery and not quite rational. Six Ear sat down, legs crossed beneath him, tail tucked neatly between, the rough tumble sending a cloud of dust up into the air. Shiho followed suit. The little monkey looked at him, and Six Ear could see the innocent curiosity in his eyes, like everything around him was just a game, a game that he was sure he had a chance of winning. “How were you not scared?”

The other shrugged.

Six Ear sighed, long and hard through his nose, before putting his face in his hands. Shiho jumped from the sudden bark of laughter that overtook him. Six Ear giggled, his back hitting the dirt beneath. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Stone monkey frowned. “No, I’m not.”

The earnest, passionate denial only made the older monkey laugh harder.

“Okay,” he finally said, stifling his giggles, “okay. Come on, let’s go home… Shiho.”

“I don’t know why you hang around him all day,” Ma said, scratching at her chin, “he’s full of it.”

“Full of it?”

“He thinks he’s better than us. That’s why he spends all day holed up somewhere else.”

After finding his voice, it took very little time for Shiho to accumulate more monkeys to be around. It wasn’t hard to see why. The monkey had a naïve charisma about him, and a curiosity that drove every interaction he had. The other young monkeys flocked around him, waiting to see what new, dumb thing the macaque-born-of-rock would do. Six Ear, if anything, found his popularity incredibly irritating.

Ma, the only other monkey that could compare to him in terms of boldness, was the first to claim him. Like she’d decided that without her guidance poor little Shiho would be lost to the world.

“He says he ‘likes being alone’,” Shiho droned, unaware that the subject of their conversation was currently ten chǐ up in a tree, listening in. This wasn’t anything new, hearing the other monkeys’ chatter be about him. If anything, Six Ear usually found it flattering. No one else in their tribe had gained quite the reputation like he had. But then, he hadn’t expected Shiho to do the same. It was irrational, why wouldn’t he? But Six Ear had thought to expect more from the little monkey. And there Shiho was, participating in baseless gossip, like the rest of them.

Ma rolled her eyes. “That’s what someone full of it would say. Tell me, does he ever look like he wants to be around you?”

“…”

“Leave him be. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

It was better this way, wasn’t it? Ma would finally get the stone monkey to leave him alone. No one would pull on his tail, or force him to play with them, or be a general acoustic nuisance with no filter attached, the chatter filling up his six ears like a cloud of gnats.

“He spies on people,” Beng, a black-coated gibbon that Six Ear hadn’t said one word to before, stated gleefully, “and not just for predators or hunters. I bet he’s spying on us right now.”

The group of young monkeys paused to look around nervously. Only the stone monkey seemed unbothered.

“It’s cause of ‘is ears,” Ba, another gibbon, added, “’e can ‘ear things we can’t, so ‘e thinks we’re not worth ‘is time.”

Shiho frowned. “Is that what he told you?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then how do you know?”

From his hiding place, Six Ear snorted.

The other monkeys muttered something under their breaths, but Ma just rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious.”

“Well. I’m gonna ask him.”

Ma sighed. “Do whatever you want.”

Six Ear groaned, already dreading when, later in the day, the monkey would pounce on him from behind, demanding answers to his hapless questions. And yet, some deep tension hanging about him suddenly broke free.

It happened just as he’d predicted. Hours later, after the sun had settled in the western side of the sky, Six Ear found himself on the ground, eating dirt, the flower he was about to consume scattered in bright pink petals. From on top of his back, Shiho giggled.

“With the rate you’re growing, you’re gonna end up crushing me.”

“Eh, you’ll live,” the stone monkey waved his hand up and down dismissively, before stepping off him and offering a hand. Six Ear took it and got up, grumbling as he brushed the dust off his fur.

“What do you want now?”

“You know.”

Six Ear froze. “I don’t.”

Shiho squinted at him, eyes shining with mirth. “I saw you this morning. Up in that tree.” Then he leaned in, teasing, the smile never leaving his face, “you spy on people.”

“No, I don’t!” the bigger monkey spat back, defensively. “You lot are just loud,” he mumbled, glancing at the petals on the ground.

Shiho kept squinting, his hands on his hips.

“Well, what is it? I don’t have all day.”

“Ma said you think you’re better than us,” Shiho stated in that matter-of-fact way of his, “is she right?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he spat back, “I don’t go around spreading around baseless gossip.”

“You don’t spread it, no,” the stone monkey smiled again, “but you sure do like to listen.”

Six Ear said nothing.

Then the smile slipped off the monkey’s face, and he suddenly looked away, all trace of boldness gone. “Tell me,” he asked, eyes cast downward, “do you…actually hate me?”

“I-”. He was going to say yes. But something stopped him. Because at that moment, he realized that it simply wasn’t true. And the way that Shiho was looking at the ground, shoulders tense, bracing himself for rejection, made Six Ear suddenly decide, then and there, that he never wanted to see that expression on the monkey’s face again. “I don’t hate you,” he finally said, quiet. Shiho looked up, wide-eyed. Something in Six Ear’s chest clamped on and squeezed. “You are annoying, yes. And a bully. And terribly loud.” He rubbed his ears in emphasis. “But I don’t hate you.”

A smile slowly spread across the young monkey’s face. Not one of his usual, mischievous smirks. A real smile. And Six Ear suddenly felt incredibly warm, giddy with an energy he didn’t know he had. “So you like me, then.”

Aaand the moment was gone. “Psh! No, I don’t like you.” Six Ear leaned away, arms folded across his chest, eyes rolled back, “get over yourself.”

“You do! You like me!” the smaller monkey cackled in glee, poking Six Ear in the chest.

“And feed that ego? Ha!” Six Ear reached down and poked him back, in the stomach, “where do you even keep something that big?” Shiho flinched away, a sharp cascade of giggles erupting from his chest. Interesting. Six Ear filed that away for later.

“Do monkeys usually go deep into the woods to talk about feelings?” The new voice was familiar, yet Six Ear sprang back all the same, startled.

Nuan smiled at them, teeth bared. It took all his might to suppress the very rational instinct telling him to climb up the nearest tree. “Hi.” He said dumbly.

Shiho, on the other hand, seemed delighted. “Nuan! You’re back!”

“That I am,” she regarded them calmly, “you better be careful.” Her grin grew wider. “There are many things on this island that love to eat little monkeys like you.”

Six Ear shuddered. He was so distracted; he’d forgotten to keep an ear out for danger. Again. If anything, that loud stone monkey was a hazard to their health.

“Don’t worry,” Shiho nudged him in assurance, “if anything comes, I’ll beat ‘em up.”

Nuan’s brow shot up. “Oh, will you?” she purred.

“I’ll get a stick or a rock and whack ‘em over the head.”

“Uh-huh.”

Six Ear put his face in his hands in embarrassment. With how articulate the little monkey’s speech has gotten, he’d forgotten that Shiho was, at his core, still a child, with zero self-preservation instincts. The thought of the reckless little monkey getting eaten by some great beast for his foolishness did not leave the best taste in his mouth. “We’ll go.”

“Ha! You kids are hilarious,” the tigress chuckled, rumbling and low, “You’d better get back before the sun sets.”

At this, the older monkey raised an eyebrow, “are you…babysitting us?”

“Eh, call it whatever you like,” the tigress flicked her tail, “this one,” she nodded her head at Shiho, “sent me flowers. In gratitude for not eating you.” She smiled, “Of course, he didn’t know that flowers were no substitute. But the thought wasn’t overlooked.”

“Yeah, he’s weird like that.”

Shiho punched him in the arm. His little fist hurt more than it had any right to.

The tigress watched them as the two walked away, the smaller one playfully nudging the other. She watched them until they disappeared beyond the trees, out of sight, her golden eyes glowing in the darkness. Then, she left, her form prowling slowly back where she’d come from before she heard the children’s voices. They were an odd pair. Something told her they weren’t quite what they appeared to be.

The next time Shiho had found him, he was back in his tree, listening to the bird calls fading with the last rays of the sun. He strained his ears, catching faint sounds in the corners of his perception. He had learned to listen beyond the boundaries of their small island, had learned to recognize the creak of human ships, the whisper of dragons and gods up above, but anything concrete still eluded his grasp. It took all his concentration, all his energy to focus outward. His breath stilled, his heart pounded, too loud, in his chest. One of his ears twitched, hearing the familiar scratch of claws on bark, but he gave no other sign of notice. There was only one person who knew where to find him.

Still, the quiet surprised him. He finally cracked one eye open, the tiny monkey next to him perfectly still, the only thing betraying his impatience was the sporadic twitch of his tail. “Shiho,” he greeted, the usual hint of annoyance absent from his voice, “what is it?”

“What do you hear?” the stone monkey asked, leaning closer, his arms wrapped around his folded knees.

“Oh, you know,” the older suddenly felt embarrassed, “stuff.”

“What stuff? Cool stuff? Cool stuff you’re not sharing?”

“Er-,” Six Ear looked around, “I…guess...?“

“Can you hear the others? What’re they saying? Are they talking about me?”

“Nosy, aren’t you?” Six Ear smirked, “now who’s spying?”

“Still you.”

The older monkey clicked his tongue, wondering if he could drag out the other’s patience a bit longer. It usually was even shorter than his stature and, judging by how long Shiho had waited to be noticed, there wasn’t much of it left. “I can hear Ma,” he finally relented, and the little monkey scooted closer. “she’s throwing her weight around again,” he suddenly snickered at his own joke, “and there’s a lot of weight to throw.”

The joke sailed straight over Shiho’s head. “What’s she saying?”

Six Ear grinned, fangs showing. “’Oh, would you quit it?! It’s good that there’s someone with some sense around here!’” He strained his voice, imitating her higher pitch and smoother diction.

Shiho scowled, not impressed. “That’s not what she sounds like.”

“Oh really? And here I thought I was spot on.”

“No, it’s more like: ‘When will you learn?! When will you learn that your actions? Have consequences!’ “

“’Where’s that no-good Liù ěr míhóu off to? I bet he’s spying on people! I’m not jealous of his cool ears at all! I’d rather get eaten by a demon than listen to him!”

“Don’t touch that, Shiho! Stay still, Shiho! Why don’t you listen to what I say, Shiho!”

Six Ear caught the sound of her voice again, louder than before, “’Those idiots think they’re so fucking funny,’” he repeated, “’wait ‘till I throw both of them over the edge of the mountain.’”

Shiho laughed, rolling backwards in a tangle of limbs and fur. “Ok, I can see how that’s her.”

“Oh, can you?”

The laughter ceased. The two monkeys looked down, and there stood Ma, hands on her hips, her teeth barred in a threatening grimace, “Why don’t you get down here so I can fulfill that promise?” she growled.

He was going to have to find a new tree.

Shiho, as always, looked utterly unfazed. “Ma! We were just talking about you.”

“I. Heard.”

To Six Ear, he whispered, “why is she so angry?”

“All women are emotional like that.”

Ma’s nostrils flared. “Just because I’m not a freak doesn’t mean I’m deaf.”

Six Ear’s grin slipped off his face. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” she screeched, “what’s your problem!? You skulk off every day heaven knows where, you don’t bother talking to any of us, but apparently have time to spy on us instead! You offer no help whatsoever and you’re a creep! Whoever you belonged to before probably thought good riddance!”

His craws dug into the bark underneath. Something between his ears was ringing.

Down on the ground, Ba appeared from behind the bushes, apparently there the whole time. And he’s the creep. “She’s right,” he added, eager to be included, “Shi’o’s born out of a stone, but at least ‘e acts normal. Dunno why you’re so weird all the time.”

Six Ear heard the sharp intake of breath next to him, but the ringing cacophony in his head was too loud for him to pay any mind to it. He snarled, struggling to form words, then bolted, catching himself on another tree, and another, until his form disappeared completely in the darkening overgrowth.

“That’s right, run away,” Ma muttered after him, her anger suddenly leaving her.

She looked up. Shiho looked back. She swallowed, boldness gone. “Listen, about what Ba said, he’s an idiot- “

“’Ey!”

“And you aren’t-”

The monkey jumped down nimbly, landing in front of her in full height, which she realized now reached just above her shoulder. “Why did you say those things? He didn’t do anything to you.”

“Of-of course he did! You heard him! He was-”

“I made fun of you, too,” he said, “but you aren’t angry with me. Why?”

Ma sighed. “Look, trust me, it’s complicated.”

But the stone monkey shook his head, backing away as she reached for him. “I don’t think it is. I think it’s very simple.”

Ba stepped forward then, “’Ey, kid-“

But the monkey was already gone, leaping through the undergrowth is the same direction the six eared macaque had gone.

“Let him go,” Ma said.

“But it’s getting dark-“

“So you should go home then, shouldn’t you!?” she snapped. Ba backed away, and the female monkey watched him leave before sitting down, under the tree. Waiting.

“Liuer! Liuer!” Shiho called out, his eyes barely making out shapes through the oncoming darkness. In the night, the crickets gathered in a symphony of voices, their abundance driving out even his own. But he knew the older monkey could hear him. He could always hear him.

But if he did, Liuer didn’t bother to answer. Shiho was left, standing in the dark, not knowing if the shadowy figures around him trees or something more sinister.

Willing his heart to stop racing, the little monkey stood still, his ears straining like he’d seen the Six Ear do time and time again. He closed his eyes, making out the crickets, the soft coo of nighttime birds, voices that he did not know the origin of. And then, he heard it. A stifled cry, coming from the trees above. He focused on it. Someone was sobbing quietly.

Fumbling around, the stone monkey found purchase in one of the trees in front of him. “Liuer? Is that you?”

The sobs quieted even more, until they were hardly there. Shiho’s claws dug into the bark as he slowly made his way up. “Liuer, they didn’t mean it!” They did. “Okay, they did, but-” But why would it matter? Six Ear always acted like he never cared what the others thought of him, so why should it matter now? And for the record, why did he care?

It had stung, what they said. He remembered Ma’s mother, and the way Ma talked about her, exasperated at the unwanted attention she was getting. Shiho had remembered, then, that he would’ve done anything at that moment to have someone just as annoying in his life. He wondered if Liuer felt the same.

He’d finally reached the lower branches. Shiho grabbed onto one, blind in the darkness.

The branch moved, slithering out of his grasp before something sharp and hissing pieced the back of his hand. The little monkey let go with a cry, tumbling out of the tree like a stone. The voice above him gasped.

He hit the ground, hard, his body finding barely any purchase before he slid down a steep, jagged slope, one he’d never even seen was there. He shrieked as something in his shoulder gave away, his arm numb from the pain. He heard Liuer’s voice, yelling his name. And then nothing.

Six Ear had heard the sharp cry of the monkey bellow him, jolting him out of his state of self-misery. He’d ignored him, hoping he would take the hint and go away, but that never was how that one worked, was it? The younger macaque never quit. “Shiho?”

He heard the clatter of rock right below him. Shuddering, Six Ear strained his ears, his eyes useless to him in the darkness. But his ears caught nothing. Not a trace of the younger monkey’s voice. The noise of the jungle took over.

“Shiho, where are you?” Six Ear moved to climb down the tree, taking care to avoid the branch that was hissing suspiciously. Silence. “You stupid monkey,” he breathed, suddenly panicking.

He jumped down from the tree, stumbling for balance. He could hear the ambiance of the forest around him, and something just beyond the tree truck, a vast, echo-y emptiness of open space. There was a ravine next to him, buried deep in the forest floor right beneath the tree he took shelter in, that he knew. And he’d heard rocks falling.

“Shiho!” He cried, the panic suddenly seizing him, “Shiho!”

Silence. He was alone.

“Shi-!”

“Would you stop yelling?!” a new voice cried out, Ma’s labored breathing somewhere behind him.

“Ma?”

“Who the fuck else?” she wheezed.

“Why are you here?”

He heard the sharp rustle of fur as Ma stiffened. “You two ran off in the middle of the night. What else was I supposed to do?” she growled, “what happens if you two idiots get eaten, hm?” Then she paused. “Where’s Shiho?”

His heart skipped, the panic returning, “I don’t know,” he wailed, “I think he…fell…”

He nudged her in the direction of the ravine, her outline just visible next to him. He saw her back away slightly. “You let him fall?”

Then he remembered why he was so angry with her. “Don’t pin this on me,” he said, low, “if you hadn’t said anything, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Well, if you hadn’t run away crying like a baby-”

“Well if you-!” he forced himself to calm down, “we need to find him.”

“Obviously, since- hey!”

Not bothering to indulge her in any more useless chatter, Six Ear grabbed her hand, leading her to the edge of the chasm. Carefully, he stepped down, listening for any shifting in the rock that signaled that it could give away. Behind him, Ma was strangely quiet, her rapid heartbeat the only indication of her nerves. They were both stumbling in blind, but while Six Ear at least had his hearing to guide him, Ma had nothing but her reluctant trust in him, that he wouldn’t let them fall. He decided not to think about that possibility, or the fact that they could as well stumble around until daylight, and by then, the stone monkey would be-

He slipped, concentration lost as the gravel under him gave away. Ma tugged him backward to steady them. He couldn’t tell how far down they had gotten. “You’ll get us all killed,” she muttered in his ear, and he shrugged her off before grabbing her arm again.

They’d made it to the bottom. It was crowded with vines, shrubbery brushing against their fur in a way that made them jump. Six Ear couldn’t hear anything, not with the constant ringing in his head.

He crouched down and pressed his ears to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Ma hissed.

“Shut up.” He tried to concentrate. He searched to a pulse, a hint of breath, anything that would give away where the little monkey had fallen.

And then. He heard it. Shallow breath, a few chǐ away from them. Six Ear stumbled to his feet, pushing past Ma into the bushes. “Hey!”

He ignored her. His feet kicked over something soft and hard at the same time, something that gave a low, pained groan as he jostled it. Six Ear fell on his knees, his arms wrapping around the little monkey body, warm and breathing and alive. “Shiho,” he almost sobbed, clutching at the smaller monkey like a child clutching a cloth toy. He heard Ma run up beside him, breathing a sigh of relief. “I found him,” he whispered to her, as if saying it any louder would snatch him away from them.

“yeah, good job,” she replied, betrayed by her shaking voice, “now come on, let’s get out of here.”

Easier said than done. The slope was steep and climbing up was going to be much harder than climbing down. And with Shiho dead to the world, it would be a struggle for the two of them to lug him up there. He paused, trying to figure out a plan, when something moved in the bushes behind them. His ears twitched.

Wait. Was that-

“Get down!” he hissed, crouching low in the foliage, yanking Ma along with him. The latter ripped her hand away, “What are you-” then she saw it. Two glowing eyes in the darkness. The eyes of a predator. The two froze, hearts pounding, hoping it was dark enough for them to blend in.

The creature did not leave. It moved closer, until even Ma could hear its steady, powerful breath. They were going to die. Six Ear clutched Shiho’s still body, wondering which one it would want to devour first. Maybe the it’d go after the stone monkey, preferring injured pray to one that still had a chance of running.

Just then, Shiho cooed, stirring in his grip. Two cat eyes made contact with his own.

In a split second, Ma was no longer there. She pounced on the creature, a branch appearing in her hand, and she wedged it between its jaw, forcing it open. The creature – a leopard, by the sound of it, growled, trying to wretch its head away. “Go!” the monkey cried, “I’ll catch up!”

Six Ear was too busy recovering from his shock. “Are you crazy?!” he finally managed, “You’re gonna get eaten!”

The female monkey snarled, and the sound was more terrifying than ten thousand leopards. Six Ear finally got his limbs to work, and, clutching Shiho tightly to his chest, he bolted, trying to find the edge of the chasm.

He’d almost smacked into it, feeling the rock with his fingers. In his arms, Shiho groaned again. “Liuer? What’re you doing?”

“Saving our lives!” he snapped back, out of patience, “can you climb?”

Shiho stood, his arms reaching up to find purchase in the rock, before he cried out, right hand clutching at his left shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Six Ear heard the chilling roar of the leopard, overpowered by Ma’s furious, desperate screams. They were running out of time. “Okay,” he said, “hop on my back. I’ll take us up.”

Shiho glanced away, toward the fight. “Is that Ma?”

“Yes, now come on, please.”

“W-we should help her,” Shiho’s voice was shaking. “We should-”

Six Ear grabbed him, and the monkey cried out, shoulder thrashing, “What. Are you gonna do? Like this? What could you possibly do?! Stop being an idiot and let’s go already.”

Beneath his hands, the stone monkey was shaking. They were close enough where Six Ear could see his face, wide eyed and naïve and utterly terrified.

“It’s going to be okay,” he suddenly said, his mouth working before his brain had time to stop him, “I promise it’s going to be okay. But you must listen to me, please.”

The little monkey stared him down. Then he nodded, jerking his head, and slumped, weighed down by exhaustion and pain. He let Six Ear help him onto his back, and the older monkey began to climb, blocking out the sounds of the surrounding battle and trying his best to ignore Shiho’s terrified little heart pounding against his shoulder.

They’d made it to the top, where Six Ear collapsed on the ground, wheezing. Shiho still clung to his back, a ball of fur and claws, and the older monkey wrapped an arm around him, stroking his head. He felt the wetness there. “See?” he said, “I told you. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Then Ma came shooting up past them, over the edge of the ravine. The sharp smell of blood struck his nose. Down there, the leopard was not far behind, its claws finding purchase in the slippery rock. With a yell, the monkey pulled out her branch, wedging it between the ground and a large boulder. “A little help?!”

Six Ear scrabbled toward her, and together, they pulled on the branch, the boulder gave way from the loose soil, sliding down toward the creature bellow. They heard a sharp cry, a shriek of pain, and then nothing. Ma collapsed to her knees, wheezing heavily. She clutched her side, which Six Ear was pretty sure was bleeding.

He collapsed next to her, his legs too shaky to hold him up. “I’m not carrying both of you,” he warned.

Thankfully, Shiho was good enough to walk, and the two held up Ma between them, the latter hunched over their shoulders like an empty sack. The little monkey was quiet the whole way, unnervingly so, and even Ma hadn’t said anything save for a well-placed insult when Six Ear accidentally brushed her injured side. Their tribe greeted them with shrieks of excitement and nervousness, Ma’s mother having ripped her away from them the first chance she had.

Old Jing examined the snake bite on Shiho’s hand. “You’re lucky the venom wasn’t lethal,” he said, but it was clear that the effects of it haven’t faded completely, because the little monkey stumbled, disoriented without anyone there to guide him.

“Why’s his arm like that?” Six Ear asked.

Jing frowned. “Come here.” Shiho stepped toward him, only to try to pull away when the old ape took his shoulder. The little monkey shrieked as it was popped back in place, before clamping down on his bottom lip, silent.

It took the rest of Six Ear’s energy to finally get him to sleep. The older monkey wrapped his arms him so the smaller wouldn’t squirm out of the tree, and when Shiho’s breathing finally, finally evened out, Six Ear let himself relax, the exhaustion overtaking him completely.

He woke up with someone shoving at his shoulder. “Liuer! Hey, Liuer!”

“What.” He snapped, and the whispers of his name quieted.

“Where’s Ma?” Shiho asked, looking wide awake.

“Where do you think?! You were there.”

“Oh.” The little monkey frowned in hard thought. “I don’t remember,” He confessed.

Six Ear sat up. He heard of this, from the stories the other demons told each other. When someone hit their head and didn’t remember what happened afterward. Or fell asleep, not to wake up again. Shiho’s eyes were slightly unfocused. “How’s your head?”

The stone monkey touched the back of it, and winced. “Hurts.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked.

Shiho scowled. “I’m not blind. Three.”

It was four.

“Okay,” Six Ear lied. “Now: what the hell were you thinking?!” he hissed.

“…”

“I mean, why the hell did you follow me?! You could’ve gotten killed! You almost did get us killed! Ma got a chunk bitten out of her! Why the hell did you not leave?!”

Shiho burst into tears.

The older monkey held his breath, all the anger and hysteria knocked out of him.

“Hey,” before he knew what he was doing, Six Ear reached out and, with a tenderness he didn’t know he had, wiped some of the tears away with his thumb, “don’t cry, it’s okay.” He cracked a smile, “We aren’t dead yet.”

The little monkey sniffed. “I guess.”

“I think it’s your dumb luck.”

“Or Ma.”

“…or Ma.”

Shiho leaned against his chest; his eyes red from tears. Six Ear stroked him softly on the head. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Her mother.”

“Oh.”

Stone monkey was silent for a long time, long enough for Six Ear to remember that he’s never silent. Not for long. Finally, he said: “Normal people have mothers, don’t they?”

“Normal people,” Six Ear spat, suddenly agitated, “are boring.”

Normal people don’t come from rocks. Normal people don’t befriend tigers instead of running from them. Normal people don’t have six ears that could hear many hundreds of li away.

Then he caught an idea. “We could be brothers.”

Stone monkey frowned, “You weren’t born out of a rock though.”

He might as well have.

“No, I mean, not born brothers, obviously. We could swear Brotherhood.”

The smaller monkey’s eyes glowed in the dim light, shining with a hesitant excitement that fueled Six Ear more than anything else, “What’s that?”

“If we’re sworn brothers,” Six Ear explained, “We’ll promise to look out for one another, no matter what. And we won’t need anybody else, because-“ He was tired of being alone. “Because we’ll have each other.”

Shiho looked up at him. Six Ear held his breath. There it was again, that look that Six Ear could finally place, the one that made him feel impossibly light. A look of pure, unbridled admiration. It was selfish, he didn’t deserve any of it, couldn’t possibly phantom what could’ve done to earn it, but at that moment Six Ear wouldn’t dare let it go.

“Okay. Let’s do it.” Shiho smiled nervously, “How do we do it?”

By Six Ear’s instruction, they stole a dagger from one of the older monkeys, and together, they slit open their palms. Holding hands, they let their blood mix into one. Six Ear picked up the coconut shell they’d used as a vessel, their blood staining the water within. The moonlight fell on his face, casting shadows over his features so that he looked much like the demon they both were. “Now we drink it.”

Shiho made a face. “Gross.”

Despite that, the little monkey practically yanked the vessel out of the other monkey’s hands, drinking it down greedily, as if it would offer some kind of secret power to him if he consumed it fast enough. “Now what?” he asked, tossing the vessel away.

“I…think we’re done.”

“You think?”

“From what I heard,” Six Ear folded his arms, “contrary to popular belief, I don’t know everything.”

“Whose popular belief?” Stone Monkey muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” then the little monkey grinned, his eyes shining mischievously, “Older Brother.”

“See,” Six Ear pointed at the sky, adopting the air of someone important, “now you have to give me respect.”

“No…”

“Hah! I tricked you!”

“Nooooo!”

“You can gather my food for me!”

“Absolutely not.”

Around them, the crickets prolonged their nighttime symphony, draining out the sound of the two chittering young monkeys, the only witnesses to their taken oath. And perhaps their happiness could have lasted centuries, perhaps they would’ve lived their lives side by side, their bond unbreakable. Perhaps that would have been a better story.

But that is not this story.

#journey to the west #jttw #fanfiction #ao3 #sun wukong #six-eared macaque

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antiquechampagne · 4 years ago

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Antique Champagne - CH45 - Riding High

“How do you think Oswald got that little rad rat to sit still like that?” Hancock pulled out a chunk of funnel cake from a box and crammed it into his mouth. He shook the box at Payne. She smiled but refused more ancient sugary confection.

“Didn’t he say the little guy’s name was Murphy? I think you could train just about any animal if you get them young enough.” She gave the box in his hand a little poke. “Isn’t that your second box? You better put it away before you make yourself sick. This time you won’t be able to blame it on a ride.”

They walked together across the promenade as the sun set, the slender crescent moon glowing softly in the color-streaked sky.

After one more small piece of cake, Hancock handed the box to Payne to stash away.

“Where do you think we should head next?” she asked.

“I thought I told you that you were driving today… but since you asked so nicely, why don’t we go on a little safari?”

Something about his tone hinted at something more beneath his words, but Payne only let herself flash a coy little smile. “A safari, huh? That might be fun.”

Just inside the gate to Safari Adventure, they saw Nate talking with a burly shirtless man in a loincloth. Nate waved them over.

“Hey, guys! Did you enjoy Kiddie Kingdom? I’m guessing Oswald gave you the royal treatment given how long you were in there.”

“You were waiting for us?” Payne asked.

Nate glanced at them; a bit confused. Hancock looked at a nearby decaying fake tree before Payne could get a good look at his face.

“Never mind,” the Overboss murmured. He turned to the man next to him, introducing him. “This is Cito. He lives here with his family. Cito, these are my friends, Mayor Hancock and Payne. They’re from the Commonwealth.”

Cito seemed to be studying them, stone faced. He did not move.

Hancock extended a hand, but the man just looked at him. “Nice to meet you too, big guy. Is your whole family as welcoming as you?”

“Cito’s a bit leery of strangers. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you as we show you around. You might even meet his family, if you play your cards right.”

“Cito not play. Cito lead. Follow.” With that, Cito dashed off into the park.

“Ooo-kay then…” Hancock shrugged.

The group ran after him, stopping at a large building.

“Go see monster.” Cito ordered as he pointed to the doors. Nate grabbed a bucket filled with what looked like offal waiting by the front door. The three started to head inside.

Nate turned back. “Are you sure you won’t come in with us? It can’t get out. I promise.”

Cito snorted and stood his ground.

Once inside, the hairs raised on the back of her neck. Instinctively, Payne grabbed her weapon.

“It’s okay. The cage is reenforced. Plus, we feed her all the meat scraps we produce.”

Hancock seemed unconvinced. “Her?”

Though the entry way lay a gigantic cage filled with stagnant water. Payne caught a slight movement under the grime right before a large reptilian form rose from the water, splashing them. Its massive jaws snapped at the bars, exposing row after row of teeth. The creature’s huge muscular arms raked the metal as it hissed and sniffed the air.

“What the fuck is that?” Hancock jumped back. He had left his shotgun in the room, but his knife made a speedy appearance.

Nate motioned for them to lower their weapons. “She’s the last remaining gatorclaw.” He nodded towards the exit. “That’s why Cito won’t come in here. It’s a bit of a story, but the gist of it is Cito and his family were plagued by these monsters. They were all over the park, picking off anything that got near them. See, they were coming from a malfunctioning cloning facility under the building. I destroyed the machines and killed every gatorclaw I came across… but I couldn’t quite find it in my heart to kill her, so I kept her here.”

Nate stuck a hand in the bucket. “Feeding time, girl!” He put the unidentifiable organ on a long pointed stick. The creature quickly snapped up the bits, never taking it’s tiny eyes off it’s incoming meal. Payne watched curiously. She could tell the creature was immensely powerful under it’s armored hide but was starting to grow round in places.

“Gatorclaw…” Payne mused. “Let me guess… someone had the great idea to mix an alligator and deathclaw?”

Nate nodded.

“That’s one hell of a combination.” Hancock remarked.

“You’re telling me… you didn’t almost have your head bitten off by one!” Nate chucked. The bucket empty, the beast slithered back into the water, perfectly hidden in the murky pool.

When they left the enclosure, Cito was still waiting for them. When they got close, he grunted and sprinted off to the next enclosure. Nate explained that, given Safari Adventure was an exotic animal zoo before the war, he had it cleaned up and renovated to house some of the species found only in Nuka-World.

“The herbivores were the easy ones. Brahmiluffs and gazelles took to captivity relatively quickly. Rad-rats took a little longer. Even the gatorclaw, given enough to eat, has become mostly manageable. Cito has even started to work with some of the Pack members in charge of taking care of the animals.” Cito’s chest seemed to puff out the mention. “Some, however, are proving to be more of a pain than they are worth.”

They stopped in front of a metal cage with multiple layers of metal bars, many broken outwards.

“What was here?” Payne asked.

Nate frowned. Cito grumbled. “That was… a mistake.” Payne could tell Nate was not used to failure. “I tried to house a cave cricket there.”

“A cave cricket?” Hancock balked. “One?”

“Bug angry. Not like cage. Kick. Kill many.” Cito bowed his head slightly. “No more bug.”

“That’s right. No more bugs.” Nate agreed. They walked further down the path. Nate turned to Cito again. “So, Cito, what do you say? Can my friends meet your family?”

Cito stopped and thought. “Family de-cide. Come Hat Man. Come Pretty Lady.” Cito led them through a maze of cages to the Primate House.

Nate drew close to Hancock and Payne. “Let me go in first. They know me. We’ll see what happens from there.”

The Primate House was once a sterile series of concrete boxes and metal bars. Not much had changed through the centuries. They could hear movement and noise from inside, but Payne was not expecting to see a dozen or so squat dark furry bodies on the other side. She froze at the sight of, what appeared to be, a full troupe of completely healthy unmutated gorillas.

Cito was greeted warmly by a pair of females. One even had a small face peeking out from between their stocky legs. Cito grunted, sat on the floor, gesturing to them while they groomed each other.

“Those are his sisters. See the baby? He’s about a year old now. Cito is such a proud uncle!”

Payne was transfixed. As she watched she noticed something very particular and familiar. The baby extended two fingers to it’s forehead and gave them a quick twist before clinging to Cito’s calf. Something dawned on her. She started to study the rest of the family.

“They’re signing!” she exclaimed breathlessly to herself.

“What?” Hancock asked confused.

Ignoring him, Payne quickly scooted away, separating herself from the group, sitting quietly on a nearby concrete step before anyone could stop her. A smaller young adult gorilla had also been watching them intently. With Payne by herself, they crept closer, sniffing, vying for a better looking at the strange people.

Slowly, Payne began to sign. “Don’t be scared. I’m a new friend.”

The gorilla’s eyes widened in surprise, before they excitedly tried to answer her back. Unfortunately, the young one’s enthusiasm made it hard to understand, as they bounded excitedly back and forth.

“You can talk! Look! Look! The stranger can talk!”

More primates inched closer, encircling Payne. Even Cito came over, curious over what his family found so intriguing about her.

“You know hand talk?” Cito asked out loud.

“Yeah.” Even though her was thrilled, she knew better than to startle the powerful animals. She did her best to keep her voice calm. “Growing up, my grandmother lost her hearing. We learned ASL… um… hand talk to talk with her.” She couldn’t help but smile, some of the other gorillas seemed to be just as excited as she was. “I never thought it’d come in handy again.”

The young gorilla pulled on her pant leg to get her attention. As Payne turned to see what they wanted, a large commotion rocked the gathering around her. A huge beast of a gorilla burst through the crowd, scattering them. He stared menacingly at Payne, puffing out its barrel-like chest. Even Cito took a step back. This was the family’s alpha, the silver fur on his back like a shining badge of power and authority.

Nate and Hancock reacted quickly, both going to draw weapon until Payne motioned for them to back off. Payne looked down but calmly continued to sit, refusing to move. The leader of the gorillas paced by her, huffing, before eventually sitting a few feet away.

Reluctantly, he began to sign. “Do not speak to my family. Speak to me.”

Payne nodded. “Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to make new friends.”

He seemed unconvinced. Thinking fast, she thought of a way to hopefully smooth things over.

“I brought a gift.” Payne slowly reached into her pack and pulled out the funnel cake box and presented it to the agitated silverback. He sniffed it before snatching it out of her hand. Everyone, human and primate, watched with anticipation. Ripping the box open, he stuffed a handful of cake into his mouth, still eyeing her.

He put the box on the ground. “Too sweet,” he conceded, sat and relax his posture. At that, the situation was resolved. Some of the family fought over the contents of the box, others began to approach Payne. She was quickly flooded with questions from every side. She kept up as best she could. Not only was her sign language rusty after 200 years of disuse, but cross-species communication came with its own hurdles. Gorilla hands could not do everything a human hand could. Plus, over the centuries, some signs had evolved and changed, the intelligent animals even inventing a few of their own.

Payne could hear Cito taking with Nate and Hancock behind her, but in the drive to keep up with the gorillas, she let the men talk without her. It’s not like she could translate everything thrown at her for them anyway. Soon enough, she was being introduced to every family member, shown every resting spot, rubber ball, bucket… generally getting the inside scoop on everything going with the gorilla troop. As one of the older female members of the family asked her where her family was, the infant who had called Cito ‘Uncle’, climbed up her leg and into her lap. When he looked up at her with his gorgeous brown eyes, her heart melted.

“You are so handsome and brave!” Payne cooed as she stroked his fur, his mother looking on.

“Pretty Lady!”

“Hey, Payne?!” Nate called. Every eye in the Primate House looked over. “Um, we’ve got to get going. Can you wrap things up in there?”

Gently, she put the baby on the ground. “Sorry, but I have to leave.” Quickly thinking, she pulled something from her pack. She handed the stuffed sloth toy she had won in the arcade over to the tiny gorilla. “A special gift for a special friend.” The baby’s eye lit up, but he had to wait until his mother inspected the item before clutching it to his chest. He thanked her quickly before clinging, toy and all, to his mother.

Slowly, she made her way back to the door. Cito and a handful of family members showed them out.

“Well, you’ve quite the impression, now didn’t you?” Nate smiled. “I’ve never seen them that excited.”

“I never thought I’d do anything like that. Not in a million years.” Her grin reached from ear to ear. It was as damn near a pure magical experience as she had ever had. “That was amazing.”

“Well, damn. I can’t believe I got outplayed by a bunch of monkeys!” Hancock teased. “Guess I’ll just have to up my game.”

Stepping out into the night, the stars shown bright, twinkling in the dark beyond the lights of the park. As they walked, a raider ran up to them.

“Sir, there is a bit of a,” he eyed the pair next to the Overboss. “situation that needs your attention.”

“One second.” Nate turned to Hancock. “You shouldn’t need me; everything should be ready for you.” He nodded to them before rushing off into the night.

Hancock grabbed her hand.

“Wait! What are you doing? Where are we going?” she asked as he pulled her along leading her towards the heart of the Safari Adventure.

“It’s a surprise!” He refused to say another word.

A huge tree rose above a dilapidated hedge maze. Without Nate to lead them through, it took a moment to find the correct path. It ended at a rickety industrial lift at the base of the tree.

“Your chariot awaits.” Hancock motioned to the lift. All Payne could do was shake her head as she stepped on. It was obvious he had something planned. The metal contraption lurched to life and raised them up into the branches. They stepped out into what was once a well sized camouflaged viewing platform in the shape of an oversized treehouse. At one end stood a wide patio, open to the sky. The other end had a long counter with a raider stooped over a makeshift grill behind it. He angrily grunted as Hancock walked Payne out onto the patio. Under the stars, a single round table was set with a pair of chairs. There was even a long lumpy candle stuck in a Nuka-Dark bottle flickering in the light night breeze in the middle.

Sitting down, Payne looked around a bit confused. “You know you could have just asked me out on a date…”

“Where’s the fun is that?” Hancock has a misogynous twinkle in his eye. “Besides, I got to pick Mr. Pre-war-ice-cube’s brain what would make a proper romantic surprise.” He gestured lightly around them. “This is what we came up with… a quiet intimate dinner made by best grill master in Nuka-World.”

Almost on cue, the raider unceremoniously announced his presence with a single word “Booze” before plunking a bottle between them, then stomping off back to the grill. Payne stifled a giggle as Hancock momentarily struggled getting the corked out. With a satisfying ‘pop’, the bottle was opened, only to find there was nothing to pour the wine into. Taking it in stride with a shrug, Hancock took a quick sip before passing it over.

Payne sniffed it before taking a swallow. It was slightly acidic and crisp, with an almost fruity taste. It went down more easily than anything she had had in a long time.

“Where in the world did you find this?” she asked. “It’s divine.”

“Apparently, Nate got a prewar bottle from the Cabots.” Unaware of the name, she shook her head. “They are an old Boston family.” Hancock explained. “They’ve been living Downtown since before the war. If you take what some people say, maybe literally… but they take great pride in keeping their stuff in pristine condition.”

Payne took closer at the wine. The bottle looked immaculate, the only signs of age the yellowing along the edges of the label. “Well, it’s better than most of the piss people pass off as wine these days, I can vouch for that.”

“Food.” The grill master roughly placed two plates down before them. Just before leaving, he pulled out a handful of silverware from his grimy apron, tossing them on a pile in the middle of the table.

“Uh, thanks?” Payne called after him. His response was a quick middle finger before heading out of sight. “I don’t think he’s getting a tip.”

Looking down, she was met with a huge slab of seared meat, the juices oozing and mixing with the jumble of roasted vegetables. What it lacked in presentation was made up by the superb aroma, something between aged beef and wild game. Even the smell of herbs and garlic reached her. She felt her mouth begin to water.

Neither Payne nor Hancock waited on ceremony. They quickly picked up their cutlery and dug in. The tasty morsels stemmed any meaningful conversation besides a few words of praise and occasional sigh of pleasure.

Once they regained their composure, they caught their breath with sips of the delightfully sweet wine.

“So, how’d I do?” Hancock finally asked.

Between the calm night with glittering stars, the perfect meal and the thoughtful man across from her, Payne was awestruck. She had not felt this cared for by someone in a long time. That’s just not how the world was anymore. She didn’t realize how much she had missed it. Looking at him across the table, she could not help but smile. He was waiting for her answer, but all Payne wanted to do was drink it all in. Nights like this were all too rare.

Finally, she found the words. “All this… it was a lovely surprise. Never in a million years would I think I would be eating such a delicious meal with such a thoughtful man…” Her eyes drifted from his face to the candle casting shadows on it. She quickly realized that, over the course of their dinner, the candle had burned down, the wax melting into a remarkably realistic phallic shape... complete with translucent drops dripping down from the tip.

Her sudden silence and change in expression must have drawn Hancock’s curiosity, because he let out a hearty laugh. “And here I thought had a shot tonight… but looks like someone else has beaten me to the punch!”

They both roared with laughter.

Finally, Payne leaned back in her chair. “You’re not getting anything until all this settles.” Payne patted her stomach. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a fun idea to pass the time.”

Hand in hand, they slowly made their way back to Fizztop under the dim moon.

#antique champagne #payne #ao3 #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #fallout #nuka world #hancock

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generallynerdy · 6 years ago

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Adore (Theseus Scamander X Half-Mermaid!Reader) Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Being half mermaid is a bit of an issue when it comes to communicating with humans. You can grow legs and walk perfectly on land, but only speak Mermish above the water. When a handsome stranger wanders into your place of residence, Newt Scamander’s basement, your inability to speak his language is more than inconvenient.

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (f/c) - favourite colour

Warnings: cursing probably, The Scamander Brothers Are Too Good And Pure, Crimes of Grindelwald? What’s that? (in short, fuck canon)

Word Count: Part 1 - 1909, Part 2 - 2166, Part 3 - 2051

Note: it is complete,,,Happy Valentine’s Day!!!

A few days after Theseus gave you the singing shell, he visited again. This time, as he descended the stairs to the basement, he could not see you wandering the enclosures of creatures. Some waved at him or tried to get his attention as he went by, but he barely paid them any mind. He was intent on finding you before anything else.

The Auror approached the edge of the stone walkway to find that the water was lower than usual, much like the first day he met you and you jumped right into the enclosure. He looked around for some trace of you and was pleased to see you swim right up to the wall.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he said, leaning over the edge to see you.

You waved at him before tossing something up. It hit the stone walkway with a quiet thud, seeing as it wasn’t too heavy.

He raised an eyebrow at you before leaning down to pick it up. He held it up for the both of you to see. It was a small clump of seaweed-like material.

Theseus gave you a curious look. “Gillyweed?”

You nodded, heart thumping in your chest. This way, he would be able to join you for an hour and wouldn’t have to worry about going up to the surface for air. You wanted to show him what it was like under there. You wanted to show him your home and all the other little creatures living there, as well as the Kelpie in its natural habitat.

In response, he shrugged. “Alright.”

With a grin, he pulled off his work jacket, leaving it abandoned on the floor. He then loosened his tie so it wouldn’t be his undoing and removed both his shoes and socks. Without so much as a second thought, he leapt into the water, landing with a loud splash that drew the attention of Dougal from above.

The primate chirped, tilting his head. You smiled and sent him a thumbs up, letting him know that Theseus was perfectly alright and had not just fallen in.

When Theseus surface again, he brushed back his drenched hair and ate the gillyweed, flinching as his gills and webbed appendages grew in. You held him up as they did, making sure he wouldn’t sink into the water and drown. The second he was done, he pulled away to dive under the water. Laughing, you followed him, reveling in his excitement.

The man made it down to seaweed level before turning abruptly to look at you, suddenly realising something.

“Hello,” you said in perfect English. His jaw dropped, making you look away. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What? N -- no, it’s not,” he said unconvincingly. “Hearing you talk, yes. Your voice, no.”

You couldn’t wipe the silly look off your face. You were just absolutely giddy at his presence, hardly believing you had convinced him to follow you. In light of this, you decided it was time to show him the rest of the place you called a home, a part of it he had never seen before.

You approached him and grabbed his arm, pulling him further into the water. “Come,” you told him, “I want to show you something.”

He nodded dutifully and moved your hand to hold his, a rather intimate gesture. You started a slow swim, since he was still getting his sea legs. As the two of you swam deeper and deeper, various kinds of fish passed you by, as well as a few magical water creatures, of which he did not know the names of. There were small squid with human-like faces and hands, which he knew took residence in the Black Lake at Hogwarts, though he didn’t know what to call them. Marveling at all the life in the water, he almost missed the sight before him.

He only noticed when you let go of his hand that there was something in front of you. You swam to the entrance of a small building, one made much like muggles thought it might be. Your people suspected there was a crumb of truth to their myths about your kind.

Theseus followed you inside. It was a small place, with a giant clam for a bed and the ruins of a dresser placed awkwardly against the wall, mirror included. When he looked up, however, he could not help the awe that crept up on him. The ceiling was a mosaic of bright colours, pieces of shells and entire shells used to create a bright sun in a blue sky. The edges of the mosaic were a deep blue and green, likely representing the sea. Theseus swam up to touch the work of art, finding that the centre was actually an open gap for the sun to shine through.

He looked back to you, jaw dropped, while you shrugged. It wasn’t much, you thought as you smiled shyly.

The Auror turned his attention to the dresser up against the wall, where upon stood out an item he knew well. The gorgeous blue and green conch shell he had given you was on the dresser, in front of other knickknacks and clearly holding importance compared to them.

Theseus glanced back at you with a smile. You swam over to him and held it up. “It usually isn’t over here,” you said. “It helps me sleep.”

“Really?” He asked with raised eyebrows.

You nodded almost shyly, “Sometimes, I miss the sounds of my old home.” You quickly brightened and reassured him. “I like it much better here, though. The creatures, the people…”

“The people, hm?” He grinned.

You flushed and smacked his arm, “How does Newt say it? ‘Shut up’?”

Theseus laughed, “I think you know how he says it perfectly well!”

“I did not!”

“Did too.”

There was a shared silence before the man sobered, tilting his head at you curiously. “You said something to me, when I gave it to you. But Newt didn’t say what it meant.”

“It was nothing,” you told him instantly. “Just thanking you.”

He smiled, “I know what ‘thank you’ sounds like and that wasn’t it.” He hummed thoughtfully as he swam up to you. “I think it means more than you’re letting on.”

You grinned almost devilishly, “Well, you’ll have to catch me to find out, Scamander. Up for it?”

“I’m up for anything,” he taunted.

“Catch me if you can, then!” You laughed before giving a powerful lash of your tail.

Within a millisecond, you were out the door, freely swimming in the deepest depths of the enclosure. Theseus tried to keep up, but you knew he was some distance behind you. You had the perfect advantage of experience, which he was unfortunately lacking in. From a distance away, the Kelpie observed the two of you chase each other with great amusement. Sometimes, you would slow down a little just so the poor man had a chance to catch up, but he never even got close to matching your pace. Your tail was far more powerful than his strange webbed feet.

You were giddy by the time you surfaced, looking around for Theseus. You had lost sight of him in a forest of seaweed a while ago. Since then, you hadn’t seen him. After a few moments passed, you grew worried. He wasn’t anywhere near you. Worry bubbling in your stomach, you dived back into the water and to the forest where you had last seen him.

“Theseus? Theseus?” You called his name as you dashed about wildly, growing more frantic.

It was deep in the water, near the floor, where you found him. One hand outstretched toward the surface, his movements were slow and almost pitiful while he tried to swim upward. It was then you realised that his gills were slowly dissipating and his feet had already gone back to normal.

You gasped and raced toward him, meeting his gaze as you grabbed him and started to pull him to the surface. It had been an hour already and you didn’t even realise it. The pair of you had been having too much fun to keep track of time. By the time you had the man halfway out of the water, he was unconscious. As you pulled him to the stone walkway, he coughed up some water, starting to show signs of waking again.

With much effort, you hoisted the now normal Theseus over the side of the walkway, so that he was laying upright. You lifted yourself up on the ground beside him, which was when he instantly started to cough up more water. He shook as he finished, sitting up and groaning.

Are you alright? You asked, unfortunately reduced to Mermish yet again.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, “Thank you. That was close.”

Once he was back to full strength and you had done your worrying, the two of you sat silently on the walkway, Theseus gushing about all the wonderful things you had shown him. With your tail halfway in the water and his legs in a similar state, it was almost tempting the both of you to find more Gillyweed and do it all over again. That said, Theseus probably needed to rest, so you held off for the moment.

“You know,” he said after a while, “You’re the first mermaid I’ve ever met. I think if I met another one now, I would be disappointed.”

You laughed and looked to see if he was serious. You met his gaze and found that he was grinning just slightly. As soon as you caught his eye, though, it changed to a genuine, fond smile. You could not help but feel the warmth of his hand, which was nearly on top of yours. As you did, he shifted, but not to move away.

Theseus lifted his other hand to your cheek, leaving you a blushing mess when he brushed a loose strand of drenched hair back. When he dropped his hand, you knew another question was coming and you knew exactly which it was.

“What you said when I gave you the shell,” he said, “It means I love you, doesn’t it?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. You wanted to look away, to blush like a teenager and leap back into the water to run away from your problems. But this time, you didn’t. You just kept looking at him, to see what he would do.

He chuckled a little and moved his hand to grab yours, blue eyes bright. “I love you, too, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a warm tingly feeling in your stomach. It was like the minnows from earlier, but better.

Before you could do anything stupid, Theseus was leaning in to kiss you. You had never been kissed before, but it was nothing like you imagined. It was fifty times better, his lips against yours as he moved closer. How it came to that from the first day you met him, a pretty stranger in Newt’s basement, you had no idea. However it came to be, you could not have wished it to happen any other way.

Unfortunately, your kiss was rudely interrupted by a massive wave of water crashing against the stone walkway, purposefully soaking you and Theseus.

The pair of you broke apart, gasping and laughing at the sudden disaster. Looking toward the source of the wave, you knew there could only be one culprit. The Kelpie glared at both of you, neighing in a huffy way. You couldn’t tell whether he was jealous of the attention you were giving Theseus or just wanting the both of you to play with him.

“Oi!” Theseus shouted at him, using his wand to throw an equally massive wave of water at the beast. “Piss off!”

The Kelpie neighed resistantly and nickered at the wizard, who only laughed. The green-eyed (and green-skinned) monster disappeared in the water, leaving you and Theseus alone again.

Looking over at you, Theseus Scamander smiled. It was you who leaned in this time, apologising for the Kelpie, but he waved you off. He had you all to himself now that he had finally gotten the courage to dive under the water with you. Just like Newt had told you, Theseus was deeply adored with you, perhaps more than even he knew.

Adore Tags: @justanotherenglisheducationmajor, @avocadooey-alpaca, @willowecho25518, @marsbars101, @abovethyfold

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waitjustaflick · 7 years ago

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Home Run

A short for the first day of Han and Leia Appreciation Week Day 1: Home. I’ve missed this the last couple times, so I am excited to participate! A quick summary: Leia’s pride trumps her pride, and though Han can be a really big jerk, he can also be really helpful when he wants to be.

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

This is for your father, your planet and the Galaxy, Leia reminded herself as she made her way through the hanger. The ships were mostly quiet for the night, dark and hulking, almost stately, like standing sentinels guarding the base in its sleep. She twisted her hands together as she thought about what she was going to ask, her face flaming a little as she remembered their last heated argument.

“If you’re gonna order me around like a slave, you might as well chain me up, Princess. Would make it hell of a lot more fun!”

Han and she had been sniping at each other for days on a fraught mission to Eadu. Leia didn’t know why they kept fighting like this. She would always go in with the best of intentions. Sometimes with affection, and trust, and…even a little anticipation. Moments with the Captain were certainly never boring (and he isn’t too terrible to look at either.)

At first they’d get along fine. Sometimes they’d laugh and tease each other and banter in that way that made her skin prickle with pleasure. Leia had always been smarter than most of the people around her - even the diplomats, senators, and advisors that surrounded her parent’s court. The last thing she had expected would be to find such a worthy sparring partner in an inveterate smuggler who had so obviously been brought up light years from polite society.

But he was smart. Smart as a whip. Maybe he didn’t have the book learning that Leia did, but he was observant, innovative, and had the kind of knowledge only the streets or the space lanes could give. So why did their amusing mental exercises so quickly turn into heated snark?

“It would certainly be safer!” Leia growled back. “If you don’t stop showing off, you’re going to get us all killed.”

“Showing off? Is that what you call loosing the squadron of tie fighters that responded to your bantha-brained comm?”

Leia seethed as she scrambled for a response.

“Well, if you hadn’t insisted on taking that kriffing short cut - on risking all our lives AGAIN in the process - we wouldn’t have been early enough to garner their attention.”

Han gave her an odd look, the scowl on his face warring with the slight quirk of his lips.

“Did you say kriffin’?”

And Leia could have smacked him, the slight flip in the pit of her stomach be damned.

“This isn’t a joke, Captain. I can’t continue to fly with you, if you willfully flout my authority time and time again.”

The smirk disappeared in an instant.

“Your authority? Your authority?! I am not taking orders from a pig-tailed, snot-nosed girl who’s barely reached her majority. I don’t care if you’re a Princess or a Senator or a kriffing Jedi. Han Solo,” he hit his chest like some jungle primate, ��don’t take orders from no one.”

“That’s,” Leia had fought through a heady mix of hurt and fury, “a double negative.”

Leia grimaced at her pathetic comeback as she picked her way, more slowly than she should to his ship. They hadn’t spoken in more than a week. The one time they had crossed paths in the mess hall, neither had been willing to cede Luke so they had both sat silently on the either side of him, only responding to direct address from the flummoxed young Jedi-in-training.

She wasn’t going to admit she missed him. Not in a million years. But, she couldn’t help the relief that melted into her as she got closer to his ship.

What was it about that man? How could she hate him one moment and then…

“GLUUUUggggghhhhh,” Chewie’s greeting rolled through the near darkness.

Leia couldn’t help her smile.  “Hi Chewie,” she said as she came up next to him.

He patted her on the head, a move that would have made her bristle if it came from any other sentient creature.

[Where…been?] he asked.

Leia, a whiz in most languages she heard, had made an consistent effort to trade vocabulary and sentence structure (well, as much as Shyriiwook had) with the Wookie for the last couple years. She was only just beginning to get the gist of his growls and yips.

Her girl’s eyes scanned the Falcon as her politician’s mouth did its job, “I’ve been preparing for a diplomatic visit from a few different planetary officials.”

Chewie gurgled good-naturedly. Leia picked up something about “Pup” and “dumb” and “sorry”.

Leia looked up at the Wookie, suddenly hungry for more information.

“Is he there?”

Chewie nodded, waving towards the cockpit, [Go…talk…sad.]

Leia felt a well of frustration at her piecemeal translations. She really needed to spend more time with the Wookie. Of course, that meant spending more time around his friend.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Leia mumbled, thinking of the way he never seemed perturbed by their arguments. He’d saunter into the mess, laugh with the other pilots, flirt with every woman in the place. All the while she was still steaming, still coming up with retorts that would have been just right. Chewie shook his head, and said something too complex for Leia’s comprehension. She shook her head apologetically, reaching up to finger the bun she wore. No braids this time. Pigtails.

Chewie slowed down this time, [He. Likes. You.]

Leia blinked. She knew that. Of course she did. But as Chewie ushered her up the ramp, she wondered just what kind of liking he meant.

She walked to the cockpit, with purpose though without speed. She suddenly felt so tired. Didn't she have enough on her plate without these skirmishes? Couldn’t he just smile at her and banter with her and put his arm around her the way he did on that mission to Rishi?

The door was open and there he was facing a side panel, absently tinkering with a mess of wires Leia hadn’t seen before. She thought he looked absent at least. He didn’t have his goggles on - the ones that made her mentally chuckle every time she saw them - and his tools were strewn about rather than in his hands.

“Han,” she murmured.

He glanced up and before he could stop it, that smile spread on his face. She secretly called it the Leia smile. He only gave it to her right before he said:

“Leia”

And there was her own Leia smile, stealing onto her face like a thief, responding to the silken sound of her name on his lips.

Why had she worried so much about coming here? They grinned at each other like loons for a moment, before the weight of the last week settled back into the space.

He released the wad of wires and leaned back in his chair. With a lazy hand he gestured to the co-pilot’s chair.

“Take a seat, Princess.”

The Leia smile vanished - off both their faces - as she gingerly picked her way across the graveyard of fallen tools.

“What brings you to my ship? Or, I’m sorry, to my decommissioned manure tank?”

Leia grimaced. She really had said that, hadn’t she?

“At least you got the stink out.”

The side Han’s mouth quirked, and his eyes sparked a bit, even as he crossed his arms in a non-nonsense manner.

“What do you want, Princess?”

Leia sighed. She smoothed down her pants and looked briefly out the cockpit window. It wasn’t much of a view, though she could just make out the door that lead circuitously to her side of the base. She frowned as she thought of Han catching her coming into the hangar. Was that why he was so often ready with a teasing remark or a needling question to stop her in her tracks?

“Well, good conversation,” he muttered, “If you don’t mind—“

“I need you to teach me Smash Ball.”

The silence that followed had the feel of a bad joke.

“Excuse me?” He managed to sound incredulous, amused, and annoyed in the same flick.

“Smash Ball,” she said, somehow retaining an air of dignified authority, “The Rogues are hosting game against our visiting diplomats, and, well, I agreed to play for the visiting team.”

Han didn’t even try to keep the smile off his face this time. But it wasn’t her smile. This one was the shit-eating grin that both aggravated her and attracted her in equal measure.

“And what made you do that?”

Leia wanted to cite any number of logical, cool-headed reasons, but a deep twang in her gut told her that Han wouldn’t buy any of it. “The Rogues didn’t want me on their team.”

Han quirked an eyebrow, and Leia quirked one right back. With a chuckle, he shook his head.

“Just when I think I got you figured out. How’d that happen?”

“I’ve been trying to be more…” the word felt foreign to Leia’s mouth, “friendly. I want to increase camaraderie, support the troops. My father was always so good at that.”

Han’s expression softened infinitesimally as he listened.

“So, when the topic of the game came up and they were short a man, I offered to round out the team.”

“And they said no?” Han sounded both amused and offended in a way that made her aware in a strange way of the vicinity of her heart.

“Not exactly. They sent Luke to,” a blush stained her cheeks as she ground out, “let me down gently.”

Han whistled. “Kid doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

Leia couldn’t help her slight smile and ping of pride. Han knew.

“So, I signed up for the other team. It will be good for relations, after all.”

Han beamed at her and she wondered if there was another Leia coming on.

“That’s right. Wouldn’t want those politicians to feel unwelcome.”

“So you’ll help me?”

There was just a moment, a slight pause, that made Leia want to squirm. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt she could ask him, after the fireworks of the week before and frostiness of the following days.

But Han stretched his hands in front of him, lacing them together and giving them a good crackle.

“Oh, I’m gonna do more than help you. I’m gonna make you the best damn ball player on this side of the Galaxy.”

The warmth that flooded through her as he pulled her up with him was almost drug-like. His hands remained on hers, so big and warm and strong. She suddenly wondered how many sports those hands had played, not to mention that tall, athletic body.

“You got any equimpent?”

Leia nodded dumbly, finding her voice after a slight bit of digging, “We can use the rec room. It’s closed for the night.”

“Well come on then,” he tugged her towards the exit without a backward glance at the mess he’d left in the cockpit. “And grab some caf. We’re not leaving till you hit a home run.”

Leia grinned down at their joined hands then looked up in confusion, “What’s a home run?”

#HLWeek #han x leia #Flick fic #star wars

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junker-town · 5 years ago

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Seven Worlds, One Planet: Episode 2, reviewed by how sports it is

Including a walrus massacre, volcano bears and snakes pretending that they’re spiders.

We continue our extremely important mission to conduct a scene-by-scene review of the BBC’s new nature documentary, Seven Worlds, One Planet, in order to see how sports it is. We determined that Episode 1, which focused on Antarctica, was reasonably sports. How fares Asia?

Episode 2 Asia

Scene 1: Walrus Massacre

Me on my work commute. #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/tZPZFsZTjl

— BBC One (@BBCOne) November 3, 2019

The Pacific walrus is not one of nature’s most appealing creations. They resemble nothing so much as socks left to rot in a garden and then stuffed full of blubber a few years later. And while on land, tusked animals are majestic — the eyes of an elephant convey a deep, thoughtful, almost platonic serenity — the walrus betrays its toothy compatriots, lurching about horribly on land and bringing to bear what is perhaps the animal kingdom’s beadiest stare. The sabre-tusks themselves (I seem to remember being taught that they are of use in rooting out clams, although exactly how was a mystery to me then and remains one now) are a perverse addition to the ensemble. “Well-armed” is hardly a sensible adjective for evolution to bestow upon what is essentially an enormous sausage.

The sausage-ness attracts exactly what you’d expect in the Arctic: polar bears. Both walrus and polar bear are creatures of the ice, and, as I expect you’ve seen from increasingly breathless news reports, there’s less of that around these days. Walruses need a flat surface upon which to rest, while polar bears need it as a platform from which to hunt. With no ice, walruses have to congregate on a few thin, rocky beaches, and that sort of gathering attracts hungry polar bears.

Packing maybe 100,000 tonnes of walrus on one beach sounds like a recipe for severe puncture wounds and indeed several dozen walruses attempt to escape the packed crowds by scaling the cliffs behind the beach. And here is where this scene turns from ominous to outright macabre.

Are walruses good at climbing? No, but they’re persistent enough to scale the cliffs, given enough time. If you’ve ever gone on a serious hike, however, you might have noticed that the descent is just as grueling as the ascent. Now imagine if you weighed as much as a small car, had flippers for limb and were trying to get down a large cliff in a hurry.

The ‘hurry’ is where the polar bears come in. Where a walrus can climb, so too can a bear, and when they reach the top of the cliffs, the walruses instinctively try to escape towards the sea, where they’re more mobile and thus better equipped to fend off attacks. So they race towards the sea, the fastest way possible: by hurling themselves off the cliff. A walrus might be ill-equipped to climb, but it’s even less capable of handling a 100-yard drop.

This rain of soon-to-be-former-walruses rather naturally spooks their fellows, creating a stampede in which many other walruses are crushed or slashed to death by flailing tusks. The Odobenid Vespers — more than 200 walruses die — conclude with a delighted polar bear surveying a pile of corpses, clearly stunned by its good fortune.

NB: This scene is shocking. I’m not trying to celebrate it by writing so much about; it’s just been weighing on my mind since I saw it. The knowledge that anthropogenic climate change is at least partially responsible for these events (Attenborough assures us that they’re still relatively rare) brings the horror home even further.

Aesthetics 9/10

As I’ve mentioned, walruses are hideous animals. But this category necessarily includes atmosphere, and the oppressive grimness of this awful scene carries too much weight to ignore. A bouncing walrus might not have any conventional aesthetic value, but there’s no way we can give this tragic, moving scene any less than high marks here.

Difficulty 10/10

I think that the difficulty of this one is adequately illustrated by the body count.

Competitiveness 3/10

Apart from the early scuffle between a walrus and a bear (in the water, the walrus has the advantage), this is all about walrus versus ground, at speed, and is therefore not competitive.

Overall 22/30

Walrus-diving is sports. Not the sort of sports I want to actually watch, but definitely sports.

Scene 2: Volcano Bears

When you’re desperate to get greens into your diet at any cost. #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #saladwoe pic.twitter.com/mignAvLIbv

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 3, 2019

Bears are incredible animals. Sometimes they’re ferocious, brutal predators, able to rip you basically in half with a swipe of the paw. Sometimes they’re fisherbears. Sometimes they’re honey thieves. And sometimes they perch daintily on top of a volcano, eating grass.

Go find the Kamchatka Peninsula on Google Maps. It’s the thing attached like a stubby tail to the east coast of Siberia. A winter there, you might imagine, is a cold, unpleasant thing. However, Kamchatka is also blessed by a surprising abundance of volcanos, which create unusually dangerous oases in the barren desert of snow.

And so we meet our volcano bears. These bears, who emerge from hibernation hungry, converge on the only snow-free spots around. To find greenery, they must conduct some precarious scrambles above volcanic vents, and some bears have been known to get too close or to slip and fall. Those bears do not have a good lunch.

Aesthetics 7/10

The true beauty of a bear comes mostly in comparison to other animals, and unfortunately we don’t get that here. Instead we have some scruffy-looking critters doing an ungainly shuffling to eat some grass. But ...

Difficulty 10/10

... it’s metal as fuck because they’re shuffling around eating grass that’s growing over volcanic springs which would kill them if they fell in. It’s so metal, in fact, that I’m giving some bonus points in aesthetics.

Competitiveness 2/10

Bear vs. grass? Enh. Bear vs. volcano? Also one sided (and, fortunately, we don’t see that).

Overall 19/30

All sports would be improved, at least hypothetically, if conducted over a volcano. In this case, the aggressive geology upgrades ‘skinny bears eat some grass’ from ‘definitely not a sport’ to ‘possibly sports’.

Scene 3: The Battle of Little Bigfoot

Hearing your parents car in the driveway but you’ve done zero chores.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet #runningforcover pic.twitter.com/Hghyh23hIo

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 3, 2019

The forest of Shennongjia, in Hubei Province, China, is home to some very strange creatures. Himalayan lore is rife with rumours of man-sized, furry apes, averse to human contact. And, well, here they are. Maybe. These are blue-faced, golden-coated, snub-nosed snow monkeys. They’re rare, mountain-dwelling, mostly-bipedal and overly-hyphenated primates whom you could quite happily build that sort of myth off if you were snowblind and suffering from the altitude. Granted, they’re not that much over 2’ tall, but let’s have some artistic license here. Where’s your sense of mystery?

Monkeys are not usually associated with snowy conditions. These ones have a hard time of it in the winter, surviving by huddling together for warmth (given their beautiful, plush coats, this doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world) and feeding on what looks like a miserable diet of bark, moss and associated grime.

So desperate are they for food that when families collide at the edge of their territories we get what this hitherto serene scene desperately needed: a huge monkey fight. We begin with the dominant males baring their teeth and punching the shit out of each other and then descend into a general melee of kicking, scratching and biting.

Fight over, the scattered band must regroup for warmth, so we get another heart-rending monkey hug. Awwww.

Aesthetics 9/10

The snub nose is ugly and the blue skin is very Game of Thrones, but fortunately those considerations are overwhelmed by a) the really lovely golden fur and b) the flying hugs and c) MONKEY BABIES. These snowmen are extremely bominable.

Difficulty 9/10

I assume nobody reading this has ever tried to punch a monkey in the face. Readers, please do not try punching a monkey in the face, even if you have a monkey to hand. It would be cruel, for one, but also I imagine it would be extremely bad news for you, because monkeys are agile, strong, and mean, and seem more than capable of biting off that hand.

Now make this a small army of very hungry, oversized monkeys punching each other in the face. And it’s also freezing. They would kick your ass.

Competitiveness 9/10

The male monkeys looked well matched, and when you add the general chaos of the melee to that you get an intense, hard-fought battle.

Overall 27/30

MMMA is 100 percent sports and I will have these monkeys fight you if you don’t agree.

Scene 4: Spider-Snake

Everyone: Snakes and spiders are scary, but at least they’re mutually exclusive. Nature: Hold my beer…#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/gXpJFQ74yM

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 3, 2019

Many people are terrified of spiders. Many people are terrified of snakes. What this scene asks is: what if we COMBINED THE TWO? Here is a special guest review of the above GIF, by my good friend Harry Lyles:

But let’s back up.

The Dasht-e Lut, in Iran, is not a fun place to hang out. It’s one of the driest places in the world. It’s also one of the hottest. There is no earthly reason to live here, except by accident.

When mishap or sheer bloody-mindedness places critters in these sorts of environments, evolution gets to work. And given long enough, evolution can come up with some absolutely wild shit. The Dasht-e Lut is on the flight path of migratory birds, which provide a rare food source — if they can be got.

Perhaps the best way of catching birds is to get them to come to you, which is the trick used by the spider-tailed horned viper. The scales on the tip of its tail have been formed perfectly to look like a plump, juicy spider with wriggling legs, and when the viper flicks back and forth it really does look like a tasty morsel (if you’re a bird) is sitting there just waiting to be plucked.

But no! It’s a snake, and now it’s going to try to bite you in the head. Have fun!

Aesthetics 8/10

Another relatively ugly scene — the shot of the shrike hovering in astonishment is a particularly cool exception — redeemed by the sheer insanity of what we’re seeing. SPIDER-SNAKE!

Difficulty 9/10

You try catching a bird with your teeth. You can draw a spider on your hand (or hold a spider model, or a real spider). I don’t care. Not happening.

Competitiveness 7/10

Some birds get away, which suggests that this is not as one-sided a match as it might appear.

Overall 24/30

Imitating a spider so that you can catch birds with your face is sports.

Scene 5: Sure, Let’s Watch a Tiny Lizard Fight

Run Forrest, run! #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/DiFZXio2Qb

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 3, 2019

Lizards will go to great lengths for love. In the breeding season, male sarada lizards strut their stuff on the open plains of northern India. They’re brightly coloured and beautiful, and have a dazzling blue and red fan on their throat they unfurl to catch the attention of those lovely lizard ladies. But there’s a problem: saradas are not very big lizards.

Standing (and their gait is quite something when they do) at all of three inches tall, male saradas need some environmental help to be seen. And so battles commence over the small rocks which dot the landscape. Throat-fans are waved with menace, and then the fight begins. Jaws snap, legs flex, and these little lizards go flying through the air, a blaze of shrieking colour.

Aesthetics 9/10

They lose a point for their ridiculous waddle, but these lizards know how to put on a show. Beautiful colours and a surprisingly acrobatic fight scene.

Difficulty 4/10

You might get a nasty bite or two but I’m pretty confident anyone reading this would clean up against a three-inch lizard if they had to.

Competitiveness 10/10

A well-matched fight between two lizards at the top of their game. It’s a shame one had to lose: he left everything on the rock out there.

Overall 23/30

Miniature sports are still sports.

Scene 6: Orang-utans

You...are...the love of my life, and I’ve never felt this way before. #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/RFaosm6JAa

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 3, 2019

Here we get to watch a baby orang-utan try to eat termites (not tasty!), struggle to climb a tree, give up after nearly getting all the way up to the top, and then take a nap on his mother. Then he eats some mangos.

Nothing else happens. It rules.

Aesthetics 10/10

Look at the little floof! I can’t stand how cute the little guy is. The nap absolutely kills me.

Difficulty 5/10

That tree looks like a very annoying but definitely possible climb.

Competitiveness 0/10

A) mother is always there to help out if he needs it and b) nothing actually happens, which is totally fine.

Overall 15/30

It’s adorable, but it’s not sports.

Scene 7: A Miniature Singing Rhino

I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t know these critters existed until I watched this episode. Sumatran rhinoceros are the smallest rhinos in the world, standing around 4’ tall and covered in red hair. They also sing little songs to one another. Or they would, if there was still a ‘one another’ to sing to: Sumatran rhinos are critically endangered, with less than 100 individuals left. So that’s depressing.

Attenborough uses the plight of the rhinos to segue into an illustration of the annihilation of the Southeast Asian rainforest. They contain valuable timber, and that land can also be used to grow oil palm plantations, which produce additives to be used in processed food and biofuels. That last note is particularly depressing: even supposedly eco-friendly technologies and techniques can lead to habitat destruction.

“Huge areas were initially stripped for timber and then a very different type of tree was planted. Oil Palm.” #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/reSWTBBfNW

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 3, 2019

Asian land is increasingly valuable as the population expands, but the growth of its cities, while substantial, cannot possibly account for the scale of habitat loss. In the battered forests of Indonesia and Malaysia, we have monuments to one of the oldest of human foibles: near-sighted greed.

Aesthetics 2/10

The rhino is ugly enough before we pivot into scenes of forests being bulldozed.

Difficulty 10/10

It’s easy to feel smug about one’s environmental footprint when the damage being done on your behalf is conducted out of sight. But we should never forget that while cheap goods come at a cost we might not feel now, the real price will be revealed soon enough.

I’m not trying to guilt trip anyone here: I live in England, and so simply by existing I am personally responsible for titanic levels of carbon generation and general destruction. But the first step in fixing the problem is recognising that there’s a problem.

Competitiveness 0/10

Pretty much beating a dead horse at this point.

Overall 12/30

Just because it’s depressing doesn’t mean it’s sports.

Scene 8: Whale sharks

Whale sharks are the largest fish in the sea. They are slow-moving, friendly filter feeders, and are absolutely enormous — the largest recorded are nearly 60-feet long. As one might imagine, they are easy to catch, and as they have so much meat that they’re extremely valuable. Unsurprisingly, there are not many whale sharks left. In this scene, a whale shark cruises near the surface, edging up to a waiting fishing boat ...

... but this scene is not so depressing as the last. Fishing for whale sharks has been banned in Indonesian waters, and instead of hunting the giants, they throw them their bycatch, causing the gentlest shark feeding frenzy ever captured on film.

Me: Oh no, I’m on a diet. Also me: ... #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/V3lB0GoTFP

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 3, 2019

Just slurping those little fish right in. Yum!

Aesthetics 6/10

Whale sharks are undeniably cool fish. But they are in fact so cool they barely do anything apart from sucking smaller fish into their hungry maws.

Difficulty 6/10

I appreciate the choice of the fishermen have made not to defy laws and go for the easy, hefty catch.

Competitiveness 0/10

Whale sharks against little fish isn’t even fair when the little fish are alive to begin with.

Overall 12/30

Not sports. Cool whale sharks, though.

Overall sports tally: Quite a lot of sports

Four definitely-sports, one probably-sports, and three nos. BBC did a nice job stepping up the sportsiness this episode.

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coffeewithreviews-blog · 7 years ago

Text

From the Earth to the Shadows by Amanda Hocking + GIVEAWAY

The epic conclusion to the thrilling Valkyrie duology by New York Times bestselling YA author Amanda Hocking, From the Earth to the Shadows. While dealing with dark revelations about her life and her world, Malin finds herself with new allies--and new enemies. Her quest for the truth leads her to places she never thought possible, and she's never been one to shy away from a fight. But for all her strength and determination, will it be enough to save the world before it's too late?

Review:

From the Earth to the Shadows follows our badass main character, Malin, and her equally badass group of friends. The story picks up immediately where Between the Blade and the Heart (review for book one here) left off. This conclusion has everything, from romance to magic to action! Like I mentioned about the first book in this duology, it combines mythologies from all over the world to create an epic setting for the story to take place. This book has a more of a focus on Norse mythology, but it was great! Malin ventures deeper into the magical world that surrounds her. Friendships are strengthened, love is found, mysteries are unraveled, and destinies are questioned. The climax till the end of this story had me at the edge of my seat!

Unlike book one, the pace of this book is a bit slower. It takes a while for the story to build, but once it does, you won’t be able to put this one down! Keep in mind, the author spent a great deal of time describing the enticing world that she has built. She’s paid attention to every detail of her world. If you’re into very descriptive fantasy, then this is the series for you!

Just like Between the Blade and the Heart, From the Earth to the Shadows is gripping and riveting! The cast of characters is racially and culturally diverse and there is also LGBTQ+ representation!

Great world-building, dynamic female characters, and representation! What could be better!

Does this series sound awesome or what? If you haven’t read Between the Blade and the Heart, you can read Chapter 1 here. If you have, and you’re dying to find out what Malin and the gang are up to, here’s a sneak peek:

ONE The air that fogged around me was thick enough that I could taste it—earthy and wet, with a trace of salt. It stuck to my skin, which was already slick with sweat, and that only seemed to attract more insects. They buzzed around me, leaving burning little bites in my flesh. I wanted to swat them off, but I couldn’t. I had to stay perfectly still, or the Kalanoro would spot me too soon. The oversaturation of green in the jungles of Panama had been a strange adjustment from the smog and bright lights of the city. Out here, it was an endless emerald sea: the plants and trees, the rivers, were all varying shades of green—even the sky was blotted out by a thick canopy of leaves. This wasn’t where I wanted to be, crouched motionless in the mud with a giant millipede crawling over my foot. Not when Asher was still gone, held captive in Kurnugia by the underworld goddess Ereshkigal and her mad centaur boyfriend, Gugalanna. Not when the fate of the world felt heavy on my shoulders, with Ereshkigal attempting an uprising that would unleash the underworld on earth. It had only been three days since I’d gone to the Gates of Kurnugia, along with Oona, Quinn, Asher, and Atlas to aid me. I’d wanted to avenge my mother—and I had killed the draugr that had killed her—but all of that may have set off a chain of events that would bring about the end of days. And I had lost the guy I … well, not loved. Not yet. But I cared about him. All I wanted to do was rescue him. But I couldn’t. There was too much at stake. I couldn’t let my heart get the best of me. I had to hold it together, and follow my orders. After Gugalanna had pulled Asher down into the underworld where I could not follow, the rest of us had gone to Caana City in Belize. It was the safest city near the Gates of Kurnugia, and Oona needed medical intervention to survive. She was on the mend now, and that’s why I had left her behind, with Quinn and Atlas. I didn’t want to risk losing them the way I had Asher, and I was on a special assignment, coming directly from the Valkyries’ highest authority—Odin. Odin had found me outside of the hospital where Oona was being treated. I had never met him before, and, like most of the Vanir gods, he changed his appearance to suit his needs, so I hadn’t recognized him. He towered over me in his tailored suit, with his left eyelid withered shut. He had a deep rumble of a voice, with a softly lilting accent, and a grim expression. His large raven, Muninn, had been watching over me, but when I tried to press him for a reason why, he had told me that there wasn’t time to explain. “I need you to go deep into the heart of the jungle, where no man dares to live,” Odin explained, as we had stood in the eerily silent parking lot in Caana City. “You must retrieve something for me.” “Why can’t you retrieve it yourself?” I asked bluntly. I wasn’t being rude, but the reality was that Odin was a powerful god, and I was just a young mortal Valkyrie-in-training. He had far more knowledge and power than I could ever hope to have. “I’m not allowed to meddle in the affairs of humans or any of the other earthly beings,” Odin clarified. “But…” I trailed off, gathering the courage to ask, “What is this you’re doing now, then? Isn’t directing me to get something for you the same as meddling?” A sly smile played on his lips, and he replied, “There are a few loopholes, and I think it’s best if I take advantage of one now. If you want to save your friend, and everyone else that matters to you, you need to act quickly.” “What is it that you need me to get?” I asked, since I didn’t seem to have a choice. “The Valhallan cloak,” he explained. “It was stolen centuries ago by a trickster god—I honestly can’t remember which one anymore—and he hid it with the Kalanoro of Panama.” “The Kalanoro?” I groaned reflexively. Having dealt with them before, I already knew how horrible they were. If piranhas lived on land, they would behave a lot like the Kalanoro. They were small primate-like creatures, standing no more than two feet tall, and they vaguely resembled the aye-aye lemur. The biggest differences were that the Kalanoro were tailless, since they lived mostly on the ground, and they had razor-sharp claws on their elongated fingers and a mouth of jagged teeth they used to tear apart the flesh of their prey. “What is the Valhallan cloak, and how will I find it?” I asked Odin. “You’ll know when you see it. It’s an oversized cloak, but the fabric looks like the heavens. The rumors are that the Kalanoro were attracted to the magic of the cloak, though they didn’t understand it, so they took it back to their cave,” Odin elaborated. “They apparently have been guarding it like a treasure.” “So I have to go into the treacherous jungle, find the man-eating Kalanoro, and steal their favorite possession?” I asked dryly. “No problem.” Which was how I ended up in the jungle, alone, in the heart of Kalanoro country—at least, that’s what the nearest locals had purported. In front of me, on the other side of a very shallow but rapidly moving stream, was the mouth of a cave. The cave I hoped was the home of the Kalanoro, but I was waiting to see one for official confirmation. Sweat slid down my temples, and a large dragonfly flew overhead. The trees around me were a cacophony of sounds—monkeys and frogs and birds and insects of all kinds, talking to one another, warning of danger, and shouting out mating calls. Back in the city, beings and creatures of all kinds lived among each other, but there were rules. The jungle was not bound by any laws. I was not welcome, and I was not safe here. I heard the crunch of a branch—too loud and too close to be another insect. I turned my head slowly toward the sound, and I saw movement in the bushes right beside me. Tall dark quills, poking out above the leaves, and I tried to remember if the Kalanoro had any quill-like fur. I didn’t have to wonder for very long because a head poked out of the bushes, appearing to grin at me through a mouthful of jagged fangs and a face like an alien hyena. The leathery green skin, mottled with darker speckles, blended in perfectly with the surroundings, with a mohawk-like row of sharp quills running down its back. It wasn’t a Kalanoro—it was something much worse. I found myself face-to-face with a Chupacabra. TWO The Chupacabra—much like dolphins, dogs, and quokkas—had the uncanny ability to appear to be smiling. Unlike those contemporaries, there was nothing adorable or friendly about this Chupacabra’s smile. It was all serrated teeth, with bits of rotten meat stuck between them, and a black tongue lolling around his mouth. “You don’t want do this,” I told the beast softly, even though he probably didn’t understand English. I kept my gaze locked on the Chupacabra, but my hand was at my hip, slowly unsheathing my sword Sigrún. The name came from my ancestors, as had the blade itself. It had been passed down from Valkyrie to daughter for centuries. Sigrún was a thick blade made of dark purple crystal, so dark it appeared black, but it would glow bright brilliant purple when I was working. It was short and angled, like it had been broken off in battle. Maybe it had—the full history of my blade was unknown to me. But the handle was a black utilitarian replacement. It had been my mother’s gift to me on my eighteenth birthday. Her final gift to me, well over a year ago. The Chupacabra stared at me with oversized teardrop-shaped eyes and took a step closer to me, letting out a soft rumble of a growl. Valkyries weren’t supposed to kill anyone or anything they were not specifically ordered to kill. The one exception was self-defense. Since I was on an unsanctioned mission into territory I had no business being in, this would all get very messy if I had to kill a Chupacabra. But the hard truth was that I was beyond worrying about my career as a Valkyrie. I would do whatever I needed to do. When the Chupacabra lunged at me, I drew my sword without hesitation. Since this wasn’t an official “job,” my blade didn’t glow purple, but it sliced through the leathery hide as easily as I knew it would. I didn’t want to kill the creature if I didn’t have to—after all, he was merely going about his life in the jungle. So my first blow was only a warning that left him with a painful but shallow cut across his shoulder. He let out an enraged howl, causing birds to take flight and all sorts of smaller animals to go rushing deeper into the underbrush. From the corner of my eye, I spotted several Kalanoro darting across the stream back toward their cave. They had been watching me. The Chupacabra had stepped back from me, but by the determined grin on his face I didn’t think he was ready to give up yet. He circled around me, and I turned with him, stepping carefully to keep from slipping in the mud. “This is stupid,” I said, reasoning with the animal. “We should both go our separate ways, and you can go back to eating … well, I think you mostly eat the Kalanoro and birds.” Apparently growing tired of my attempts at talking, the Chupacabra snarled and jumped at me again. I dodged out of the way, but he kicked off of the tree behind and instantly dove at me. I didn’t move quick enough this time, and he knocked me to the ground. Fortunately, I fell on my back, with one of his feet pinning me and his claws digging into my shoulder. I put one hand around his long, slender throat, barely managing to hold him back as he gnashed his teeth. With one of my arms pinned, he was too strong for me, and I wouldn’t be able to throw him off. As his thick saliva dripped down onto me, I knew there was only one thing I could do if I wanted to survive. I drove my sword up through his breastbone, using all my might. He howled in pain, but only for a second, before falling silent and slumping forward onto me. I crawled out from underneath him, now covered in mud and his thick green blood, along with my own fresh red blood springing from the wounds on my bare arms and shoulder. In the mouth of the cave across from me, two dozen or so beady little green eyes glowed. The Kalanoro were crouched down, watching me. So much for the element of surprise. My hair had come free from the braid I’d been wearing, and it stuck to my forehead. I reached up to brush it back, and the Kalanoro let out a squawk of surprise, and one darted off into the woods. That’s when I realized the Kalanoro were afraid of me. I glanced over at the Chupacabra—the Kalanoro’s number-one predator, and I had left it dead and bleeding into the stream. They were right to fear me. I tested my new hypothesis and stepped closer to the mouth of the cave, and the Kalanoro screeched and scattered. Most of them ran into the woods, but a few went deeper into the cave. My fight with the Chupacabra had left them far more skittish than I had anticipated, and I doubted that I would need my sword for them, so I sheathed Sigrún. I unhooked my asp baton from my hip and pulled my flashlight out from my gear bag. I took a deep breath and walked toward the cave, hoping that this wasn’t a trap where they would all pounce and devour me the second I stepped inside. As I walked into the cave, I heard them chittering and scurrying, but it reminded me more of a rat infestation than man-eating primates. Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I shone the flashlight around the narrow cavern. The beam of light flashed on a few pairs of eyes, but they quickly disappeared into the darkness. The entrance of the cave stood well over eight feet, but as I walked, the ceiling height dropped considerably. Very soon I had to crouch down to venture farther. The ground was slick with Kalanoro droppings and bat guano, and it smelled like a musty cellar that doubled as a litter box. Tiny bones of partially digested meals crunched underneath the heavy soles of my boots. My flashlight glinted on something, and I crouched down to inspect it. It was an old pocket watch, the face broken and the gears rusted, but it had once definitely belonged to a human. Near the watch was another trinket—an old walkie-talkie. That’s when I realized it was a trail of treasures, piling up more as I went deeper into the cave. Old car parts, a titanium hip replacement, and even what appeared to be a wedding band. The Kalanoro apparently loved hoarding shiny things. On the ground a few feet ahead of me, I spotted something particularly sparkly. It looked like stars, shimmering and glowing from a puddle on the floor. By now I had to crawl on my knees, since the ceiling was so low. As I reached for those stars, a Kalanoro leapt out from the darkness. Its rows of teeth dug painfully into my right arm, and I beat it back with my asp baton. It took three hits before it finally let go and ran off screaming. I grabbed at the stars, picking up a satiny fabric. The way it glimmered, it looked exactly like the night sky, and I now understood what Odin meant by looking “like the heavens.” This had to be the Valhallan cloak. I hurriedly shoved it into my gear bag. The Kalanoro couldn’t be happy about me stealing their treasure, so I had to get out fast. I raced out of the cave and gulped down the fresh air. Around me, the trees had changed their tune, from the normal song of the jungle to something far more shrill and angry. I could hear the Kalanoro growling and screeching at each other, sounding like high-pitched howler monkeys. They were enraged, and they were chasing after me. It was a ten-kilometer hike downhill, through thick forests, to the nearest village. There I would be able to clean up and catch the hyperbus back to Caana City. Back to meet Odin. The Kalanoro were now alerting the entire jungle to my presence, and even as I hurried ahead, deftly moving through the trees, I could hear them following me. I ran down the hill, skittering through the mud and branches, swatting back giant bugs and the occasional surprised snake. My legs ached and my lungs burned but I pressed on, running as fast as I could. I had to make it to the town before dark, because I doubted the Kalanoro would let me out alive. Copyright © 2018 by Amanda Hocking in From the Earth to the Shadows and reprinted with permission from Wednesday Books.

Amanda Hocking is the author of over twenty young adult novels, including the New York Times bestselling Trylle Trilogy and Kanin Chronicles. Her love of pop culture and all things paranormal influence her writing. She spends her time in Minnesota, taking care of her menagerie of pets and working on her next book.

Author Website: http://www.worldofamandahocking.com/

Twitter: @Amanda_Hocking

Facebook: @AmandaHockingFans

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GIVEAWAY TIME!

You can win a paperback copy of From the Earth to the Shadows! This giveaway is US ONLY. Follow the link below!

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1e76dbf01/?

***An E-ARC copy of this book was provided to us for an honest review by Wednesday Books through NetGalley

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lalobalives · 8 years ago

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*An essay a week in 2017*

I was late to This is Us for no other reason than that I was just was. I’m not one to follow what other folks are watching, but that has more to do with me just not having been a TV person for some time, because I didn’t have cable for a while and then I only had the local channels and then I only had Netflix, and then I didn’t have wifi for a while and so, you get the point… I never got into Game of Thrones or Orange is the New Black or any other those other shows that have taken their turn dominating my FB timeline. It’s why I was late to Grey’s Anatomy (clutches heart) and Jane the Virgin (Gina Rodriguez, I love you, girl) and why I was late to This is Us. I caught up over the last few weeks, and oh my gah, I am so glad I did.

If you’ve never seen this show, please do yourself and start today. Cry with me, fam!

The episode “Memphis” stayed with me in a particular put-a-thorn-in-my-heart-and-twist way. In it, William and Randall take a road trip to Memphis where William was raised. (William is dying of cancer. Randall, his biological son, found him only a few months ago, and they’ve been bonding ever since. Of course there’s a lot more to it but we can keep it simple here.) They return to the house where William grew up with his mother. He doesn’t need a map or GPS to get there though it’s been decades since he’s been there.

Two things in particular stayed with me from this scene:

When they get to the house, William can’t stop looking at the door. He says there’s used to be two doors when he lived there with his mother, but now one of them is bricked up. “Strange thing to be looking at. All these years and it’s a door that’s messing me up.” His son Randall tells him the story of when he cut his afro, trying to fit into corporate America when he made partner at his firm. When he returned home, his daughter Tess who was then three, started bawling, not because she didn’t remember him but “because she was focusing on the door that was bricked over.”

They ask the current occupants if they can enter the house. William goes straight for the fireplace where he had jimmied a brick out and placed what he called “my treasure” — a few toys and three quarters. He says: “I put these here once, and after all these years later, they’re still here. Isn’t that something? Isn’t that strange how the world sticks and moves like that?”

It got me thinking about the things that stick and those that move. The doors we focus on. The things we hold onto. The memories that remain, thick and clinging.

I am thinking about our beach trips to Rockaway when I was a kid. My mother dancing to old school ballads in the sala, the smell of King Pine curling around her, a mop in her hand, her head is thrown back, she is singing Rocio Jurado’s Algo se me fue continuo madre…

My neighborhood in Bushwick, all rubble and poverty and love…

My brother, before the heroin, before the heartbreak…when he was whole.

My Millie, the way she loved me, her lessons on life–”con puños, Vanessa, con puños!”

My sister when I worshipped her, before she too broke my heart.

The people on my block. My first love. The girl that was both my friend and my nemesis.

***

I’ve been thinking about mothers. Truth is I’m always thinking about mothers and being unmothered and mothering. It’s one of my most potent obsessions. Recently, in my Writing Our Lives class, during a lesson on how to write the self as a character, I asked my students: what is something you do or write that you wish you could just stop doing? I shared (because I always share, because I don’t believe I can expect my writers to trust me with their stories if I don’t trust them with mine): “I wish I could just stop writing about my mother. It’s exhausting. She is both my altar and my abyss…”

Have you noticed how many fairy tales are based on the unmothered syndrome? Cinderella, Snow White, Beauty in Beauty and the Beast, they all have lost their mothers. Cinderella and Snow White gained evil stepmothers in the process. In Hansel and Gretel, the mother is not dead but absent. In The Snow Queen, mother is gone because she’s left in search of adventure.

I posted about this on my timeline, and a friend responded: “Mothers get in the way.” I winced.

***

Apophenia: the minds desire to make connections between unrelated events

***

Then I come upon Granta’s First Sentence series where Granta asks authors to revisit the inspiration behind their stories. Here, Kelly Magee writes about her novel “The Neighborhood”:

In the 1950s, Harry Harlow set out to prove the experts wrong. Everyone from the American Medical Association to the government to practitioners of the relatively new field of psychology was of the same mind: love was a menace, and ‘mother love’ was a particularly dangerous brand of it. Babies who were picked up got sick more frequently, so the advice to new parents was to withhold as much touch as possible. Harlow – by all accounts a cold and demanding man himself – embarked on a series of increasingly disturbing experiments to prove that love was real; that babies needed more than nutrition to thrive, that mothers delivered more than just calories, that physical touch was as crucial to primate development as food. The methods Harlow used to prove the existence of love resulted in the torture and death of baby monkeys, and Harlow has gone down in history as being instrumental in both attachment theories and the development of the animal rights movement. He took hundreds of infant rhesus macaques from their mothers and caged them with two surrogate options: a ‘wire mother’ who offered milk, and a ‘terrycloth mother’ who offered only her soft texture. No surprise to whom the babies clung. No surprise that, even when Harlow pushed his theory further by having the cloth mothers shoot out spikes or blast cold air or shove the babies away with spring-loaded arms – he called these the ‘evil mothers’ – the babies still returned to them, held on to their softness for dear life…. I tried to write a wire mother story, but she would not speak. It wasn’t the cold, robotic mothers of Harlow’s experiment that I could identify with, but the flesh-and-blood ones whose humanity had been stripped from them. So instead I wrote a wire children story and gave the question of love back to the mothers. Mothers who had committed atrocious acts toward their own children. Mothers who had made terrible mistakes. I couldn’t separate myself from them; becoming a parent was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, and I’d certainly made my share of mistakes. Given a different set of circumstances, I didn’t know what worse mistakes I might’ve made. But the point of the story was not the characters’ crimes. Rather, it was the question of love. Love after trauma, love in an inhospitable environment, love for unlovable creatures. Harlow proved that primates need touch, softness, nurture. I gave my story’s mothers their own collection of scientists, tasked them with the impossible and set out to see if I, too, could prove that love was real.

***

Last week, my mother texted to ask if she could hang out with my daughter. She was hanging out with her niece, my aunt’s daughter, who is Vasia’s age. I obliged though I was freaked out by the request. When my daughter got home, I laid in her bed and listened closely as she shared what my mother had said: Mom can’t eat bananas or even smell them since her son (my brother) died because they were his favorite. Mom told Vasia about my birth. How I was born chubby, healthy, 11 lbs of baby rolls, & how I went down to a mere 3 lbs in a matter of weeks. “She almost died,” she said. I imagine her saying it, the accent still heavy on her tongue though she’s been in this country for 45 years. She says she prayed that if I wasn’t going to make it, for god to take me now so I wouldn’t suffer.

I tried not to but I couldn’t help myself–I asked: “Did she ask about me?” My daughter, who was getting her stuff ready for school the next day turned to me and nodded. “Yes, mom,” she said. Her face was soft, searching. She knows…

***

My therapist asked me last week what keeps me hopeful. I saw a clear picture of my daughter’s smile in my head. I thought of my love, my work, my students. I thought about the red cardinal I heard that morning, chirping his little heart out. It’s mating season and he’s calling in his mate. I found him on a nearby branch. Puffing out his chest and singing. He survived this recent snow storm that brought ice in its wake. He’s still chirping. I thought of my Loba pack, with all their gutsy and rebellious, and all your raw pain and tears. I thought of our shadows. I thought of this world and our country and the current administration and the heinous things the president is doing. I thought of the good good work that’s coming out of resistance. Not always neat or pristine, but rooted in love &, dare I say, hope. And I came back to my daughter’s smile, how she smiles with her whole face, how she shows two rows of teeth, how her eyes smile just as bright… So yes, there is scary stuff going on, but I remember that there is also love. I remember that love is also a form of resistance. And it’s a powerful one. Word.

***

How delicious, the power these evil mothers had. The boldness of the ogress to demand a child as payment; the fierceness of the witch with her poison apple. They had appetite and desire and ambition; they put themselves first. And yes, they were punished in the end, but their murderous presences called tale after tale after tale into being. They were where the story began. The easy scapegoats, born into villainy, too loaded with their own character to be redeemed. ~Kelly Magee on Grants

***

A few years ago, a woman contacted me after reading my essay “Mother’s Day for the Unmothered”. She questioned why I had to write this on Mother’s Day. She said it was disrespectful and dishonoring to mothers. No matter how or what I explained, she came back to that: how dare I?! In the end, she taunted: “Well, I have a great relationship with my mother.” It was cruel. I blocked her.

***

My daughter held a gem for a few days from her hang out with my mother. We had just had a mommy-daughter breakfast and were on our way home when she said: “Tata told me something else.” Every muscle in my body tensed. My daughter stared at me, the worry line in her forehead grew deep. “Forget it, mom. I’ll tell you later.” I had to insist.

“Tata said she’ll never be happy again now since Tio Tio died.” She also said no one suffers a loss like a mother. She followed that with: I know other people feel it but not like a mother. I imagine her saying this. I imagine her face looking at my daughter’s face. My daughter has my mother’s cheeks. Her eyes, like mine, like ours. My daughter was heading off to hang out with her cousins and then to a craft store to stock up on slime making supplies, including the largest jug of glue I’ve ever seen. She lingered for a while, making sure I was okay. I played stoic. She hugged me before she left. That worry line was cavernous. “You sure you ok, mom?” I shrugged. “Yes, go. I have to write.”

When she left, I curled up on the couch and slept. Later I cleaned and made dinner. I didn’t try to write at all. It wasn’t until the middle of the night, when I couldn’t sleep, still hours away from daylight, that I started trying, and only because I couldn’t silence the obsessive talk in my head and my bladder pulled me out of bed. I stayed up writing and reading until my alarm went off indicating I had to get ready to go teach.

***

I’ve been searching for literature by women who write about torn relationships with their mothers, and the many ways they weren’t held and loved the way they needed; how they’ve come to terms and haven’t; and how they make their pain into art. I decided to create a list of reading just for us unmothered women, because if I need it, I can’t be the only one. This is my love letter to unmothered women, to us. I see you. You are loved.

I began with the work of Jaquira Diaz. Her work has been like a balm over these years of digging into that unmothered wound. Check out her essay, “My Mother and Mercy” in The Sun. It will shred you then give you life.

This is typical of my mother. I haven’t seen her in seven years either, though she does call on rare occasions to ask me for money. She lives alone in a tiny efficiency in Miami Beach a few blocks from Mercy. Because my brother, Levy, works in Miami Beach, he sometimes (reluctantly) takes care of our mother — as much as you can take care of someone like her.

For many years my mother and Mercy, both addicts, kept each other company. Mercy took pills mostly: Xanax, Ativan, oxycodone. My mother prefers crack, cocaine, meth. Both women have been prescribed powerful antipsychotic medications for paranoid schizophrenia. They saw each other every day, bailing one another out, sometimes living on the streets together, loving and hating each other the way addicts do.

Most recently I added “Mother Could be You” by Chloe Cela. This essay is my introduction to this writer’s work, and I am looking forward to reading more.

A year ago I was pretty, people noticed me in the train. I had this way of not looking. That’s the trick, isn’t it? You present yourself, your perfumed body, soft at the right places, a straight back and tall, strong bones. Living the busy life, giving everything but. And that but is what the weak-hearted want. They’ll crawl for it; they’ll kiss your heels. I know this so well. It’s a model of love, handed over from generation to generation. Mothers who say: go play in the street honey because Mother is busy. Mother has her lover waiting. Mother wants to take a nap in the sun. You really want to play with the other kids, but you wait on the porch for Mother to open the door.

***

Years ago, my mother told me that Rocio Jurado wrote “Algo se me fue contigo, madre” to her mother after she died. I searched for the song on YouTube and played it in the background as I was writing. I selected the original version of the song because that’s how my mother used to sing it when I was a child. This was before I knew what happened between my mother and hers. How my grandmother failed her daughter. How my mother has been trying to restore herself since…the wars that have waged between these two women for more than forty years.

I choked up as I listened to the song. When I went back to the window where the video was playing, I choked up even harder as I saw image after image perpetuating the mother myth, again and again.

Myth says that mother does not fail. Mother is self-sacrificing. Mother always shows up, cradles and coddles and nurses and kisses boo boos and sings songs and is consistent and tender and steadfast. Your biggest advocate. Mother is perfect.

I am proposing a panel for AWP 2017 in Tampa: Deconstructing the Mother Myth in Literature. How writers have and continue to deconstruct the myth in their stories and poems. Why they feel the need to. The urgency of it. How they deal with the backlash.

We unmothered women need to know that there are more of us out there. This existence is so lonely. So isolating. I know this is one of my purposes in this life… and yet, sometimes I wonder, I ask myself: Am I focusing on the door that’s bricked over?

Relentless Files — Week 65 (#52essays2017 Week 12) *An essay a week in 2017* I was late to This is Us for no other reason than that I was just was.

#mother myth #mother-daughter relationships #mothers #This Is Us

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