#anyway i got the crystal and everything and DIED TO FUCKING GOOD PEOPLE IMMEDIATELY.

[chimkinnuget]

what do u call a fish with three eyes

fiiish

Or, well, in this case. Sebastian.

[miekasa]

daylight’s wasting (you better kiss me)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x reader

↯ genre and warnings: college au, fluff, someone please be gentle with this boy i’m begging you, jean and eren pretending they don’t give a fuck about each other whilst actually being best bros for the win

↯ word count: 2k

↯ summary: based off of that reddit post about some guy talking about his girlfriend washing his hair for the first time + hoping it fills a request for someone asking for reader playing with eren’s hair for the first time :’)

↯ notes: this is cross-posted and edited slightly from another blog in a completely separate fandom, so if you’ve seen it before, no you didn’t </2

Jean can’t say that he immediately noticed a pep in Eren’s step when the green-eyed boy met him in the library, but what he does notice is the stupid, dopey looking grin and starry-eyed gaze in his eyes that he’s sporting while he’s not doing his part for their project. And while Jean considers himself relatively attractive, he knows for sure Eren isn’t shy about making it known that he doesn’t; so the brunette doubts the literal heart eyes Eren has are for him.

“Eren? Eren, bro, are you good?” Jean calls, a dark eyebrow raised above his left eye. Eren barely registers the calls of his name, and it takes Jean waving his hands in front of the shorter’s face for him to wake from his trance, looking up at Jean with that same, longing smile (that’s, admittedly, starting to creep him the fuck out).

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, something reminiscent of a lovelorn cartoon prince, as he rests his elbow atop his notebook and his chin the palm of his hand, “I’m good.”

Jean looks at him, skeptical and confused. He shifts in his seat, but Eren’s eyes don’t follow—he just stares ahead, lost in thought and completely unaware of everything around him. He looks like a lovesick little bitch if you ask Jean. Or completely sloshed.

Slowly, Jean leads forward, eyebrows pinched, looking for streaks of red in Eren’s eyes, “Are you stoned right now?”

“What?” Eren pulls back, almost offended, “No, I’m not high—Jean, what the fuck?”

Jean simply shrugs, leaning back into his seat, “I dunno. Yesterday you were so stressed about your acrobatic salt cycle samples—”

“—Acetylsalicylic acid. It’s basically Asprin, and I wasn’t stressed, they just weren’t crystallizing the they way they’re supposed to—”

“I don’t fucking care. But now you look mellow as hell,” Jean cuts him off, “Just thought maybe you rolled a good one before coming here or something. Not that I’m judging, of course. But you’re much more of a lightweight than you think, so try not to go—”

“‘M not a fucking lightweight,” Eren groans, “You and Reiner are just heavy bodied.”

“Just admit you can’t hold your shit, Jaeger.”

“I’m not admitting shit. Mikasa makes strong drinks, that’s all.”

Jean grits his teeth at Eren’s stubborn antics, but lets it go. It’s not like the conversation was going anywhere, anyways. “If you’re not baked, then what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Eren shifts in his seat now, pulling his hand off the table, and into his lap. Jean’s suspicious eyebrow is quirked again, and that slightly creeped-out feeling is back when he spots Eren’s ears going red.

Jesus Christ, he just asked a simple question.

“Not that I care,” Jean tacks on, feigning disinterest, “But if it’s gonna keep you from doing your half of the project, just spill it already so we can get this shit over with.”

Eren rolls his eyes, but that blush is still there. He looks like he contemplates waving it off for a minute, before he sighs. “(Y/N) and I showered together yesterday,” he finally blurts.

Jean blinks. “Oh. So you got laid—”

“—No, no, it wasn’t like that!” Eren corrects him, the red on his ears spreading to his cheeks slowly, with every word that spills out of his mouth. Eren stutters, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “She just… She washed my hair.”

Eren sighs, flustered and frustrated, and annoyed that he looks like this in front of Jean’s horse-faced ass of all people; but he knows, that no matter how much shit Jean talks, he can rely on him. For better or (often times) for worse.

And Jean, for as hotheaded as he can get, and for as much as Eren annoys the shit of out him, knows how to read a room; and in this moment, he can see that Eren is actually coming to him with genuine emotions, other than masked anger and abrasiveness. So, the both of them concede; pull back from their usual pointed commentary, and listen to what the other has to say. 

“Ah,” Jean comments, lamely; an embarrassed blush of his own growing on his face at his stupidity. The two sit in silence for a moment, before Jean speaks up again, “It’s, uh… It’s nice, right?”

Eren’s eyes snap to him, wide. He almost completely forgot that Jean’s in a committed relationship, too. The two don’t often go to each other for relationship advice, or… relationship venting, but Eren makes a mental note that maybe, just maybe, he should.  

“Yeah,” Eren admits, “I don’t, uh, I don’t know how to explain it. It was just—”

“Relaxing?”

“Yeah. Like all the bullshit from school just melted away all of a sudden,” Eren confesses, “All she fucking did was wash my hair and hum for, like, five minutes, but I feel like… I don’t know. Good.”

Jean hums, acknowledging Eren’s words and mulling them over. “Loved,” he chimes in with an awkward cough, “Pretty sure that’s the word you’re looking for, Jaeger.”

Eren chokes on air, his eyes darting around the room. So, yeah, it’s still a little awkward, talking with Jean of all people about his relationship, and love, and all that gushy stuff; but, even Eren can admit, it’s comforting to know that someone knows what he’s feeling—even if that someone is Jean.

“You should tell her. Girls like that shit, when you tell em what you’re thinking, you know?” Jean comments, picking up his pen to resume scribbling in his notebook. He sounds nonchalant, but from the redness on his face, Eren can tell he’s just as flustered, and probably thinking about his own girlfriend. “Besides, you’ve been together for a long ass time now. Don’t know what you’re waiting for at this point.”

“Yeah,” Eren coughs, pretending to resume his own homework, “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Good,” Jean nods, “Now will you fucking paste your paragraph in the Google Doc so I can rewrite it and make it coherent.”

“Fuck you, it’s coherent as is.”

“As if. I’ve read your shit before, and it sounds like it was written by six year old on meth. You science majors can’t write to save your life.”

“Tough talk from someone who can’t do basic addition.”

“Derivatives and shit aren’t basic addition, they were created by a man who died a virgin. Tells me everything I need to know about them and you.”

Three days later, Eren finds himself alone in your off-campus apartment, laying on your bed, stomach to the mattress, while he tries to convince himself to study for his upcoming biology exam. He finds looking around your room to be much more interesting, though, and takes the time to notice things he hadn’t before.

There’s a small strip of images of the two of your in a clear mason jar on your nightstand—the newest addition to your collection—from the photo booth at the ice-skating rink you went to last week. Eren doesn’t know why you insist on going to every photo booth you come across, but who is he to deny you the pictures.

When he looks to your closet, he isn’t surprised to see two of his hoodies, one of his warm-up soccer uniforms, and last season’s hockey jersey hanging up. What does surprise him, is the way they’re all hung up next to each other, like they have their own little section amongst your clothing; like they were reserved, special almost. He bets they’re all probably washed and clean, too; because you take care of his things like that.

He thinks about how he has a few pairs of sweatpants and pajamas—hell, even a pair of slacks and a button-down from one of your fancier dates—all tucked away in his very own drawer in your dresser. The bucket hats thats you claim are oh-so ugly still have their own place in your room, hanging next to your belts. Even his psychology textbook sits on your desk, clearly set aside for him and taken care of, but still integrated amongst your other belongings. 

You seem to be the only person who thinks Eren and all his baggage can have a place in your life. You seem to always have space for things to fit in, no matter how stupid, or ugly, or tattered they are; no matter how emotional, or lost, or impulsive he is. Nothing is out of place here, himself included. 

Lost in his thoughts, Eren doesn’t register the sound of your front door opening, or your footsteps growing louder. In fact, he doesn’t register that you’re home at all, until you come padding into your bedroom, shaking your backpack off of your shoulders and setting it next to his on the ground.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, almost offhandedly, as you place your coffee down on your desk. He doesn’t mind—actually the element of practiced casualness in your tone brings a kind of warmth to him, and makes his stomach flutter. 

“Hey,” he smiles, a stupidly fond look in his eye as his watched you shimmy your jacket off of your shoulders. 

Eren sits himself upwards, shifting so that his long legs dangle off the edge of your bed as he watching your silhouette move throughout your bedroom. When you’re finished removing all your layers and jewelry, you finally look to him, greeting him a second time as you walk towards him and your bed.

Eren cages you in when you reach him, his ankles wrapped on top of each other as he secures you standing between his legs. He wraps his arms loosely around your waist, while your fingers crawl up the nape of his neck.

“Your hair’s dry,” you hum, your fingers raking through his brown locks as if to make your point, “You didn’t shower yet?”

Eren shakes his head lightly, craning his neck forwards to tuck the cold tip of his nose into your collar. He holds you a little tighter when you smooth his hair down, one of your hands resting against the back of his neck, and lightly scraping at the hairs near his nape.

“How come?” you question innocently, “I thought your classes ended a few hours ago—did your lab go late again? You should tell your TA you have a life outside of trying to culture bacteria in a dish, you know.”

Eren chuckles lightly, but feels the concern in your voice tug heavily at his heart strings. You seem to really hate his lab TA.

“Wasn’t him this time,” Eren mumbles against your skin, “Was waiting for you.”

“Yeah? That gonna be a regular thing, now?”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Eren confesses, words barely audible as he buries his face into your neck. He tries tickle you with his eyelashes, shift the heat towards you, but you move out of reach too quickly; your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sit upright.

He has to look up you, just slightly, and he hopes he doesn’t look like a complete blushing idiot. If he does, you don’t seem to mind, if the way you cup his face between your hands is any indication.

“Well then, come on. I bought two new loofahs yesterday.”

Eren follows you to the bathroom with a smile, borderline giggling with excitement all the way to the shower. When it comes down to it, he relishes in the feeling of your fingertips against his scalp, suds of shampoo cascading down his neck as you find amusement in coiling his hair into a bubbly mohawk.

It’s so mundane, so simple, yet overwhelmingly intimate the way you’re taking care of him—the way you always take care of him. It fills Eren to the brim with emotions he can’t even begin to convey with words.

And when you’ve had you’re fun, and made sure his hair is throughly clean and smells like apples, you take your body wash on the ball of his (his! his very own!) loofah, and scrub away at his back, down his shoulders, across his torso; and Eren can’t stop the tears from falling.

He realizes his must look bizzare, to be standing the middle of your shower, crying like a baby with soap and suds all over his body, but he can’t help himself.

“Eren? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he assures you, hiccuping between his words and sniffling away any more tears that threaten to fall. You don’t seem convinced, and once again, Eren feels his heart swell at just the sheer thought at you’d hold even an ounce of concern for him the way you do.

“You’re crying, Eren,” you point out, voice soft, but clearly concerned, as you reach your hands up to cup his face again, “Did I hurt you? What’s wr—”

Eren cuts you off by wrapping you in a hug, hoping—praying—you know that you could never hurt him. The two of you spend nearly five whole minutes like that, your arms wrapped around each other’s middles, with warm water pouring over your naked skin. Eren can feel you pressing shallow kisses into his chest, and he feels his heart physically swell every time your lips make contact with his skin.

It’s on the fifth, quiet press of your lips that Eren knows he can’t hold it in anymore; pulls away from your embrace to look you in your eyes.

“I love you,” he finally confesses, with wet hair stuck to his forehead, and teary eyes. It’s hardly a picture perfect moment, but Eren can’t bring himself to care; he needs you to know.

But, of course, you already did. “I know, Eren,” you say with a smile, kissing his chin, and then on the tips of your toes, his lips, “And I love you more.”

[raineydaywrites]

Step-Son Zone

Inspired by the TAZ Crystal Kingdom graphic novel and all the amazing jokes about Lucas being Lucretia’s stepson that I have recently seen.

 "Package for you, Luce!" Lup said, entering the family room. She'd gone to get the mail hoping for a package she'd ordered, but sadly, it had not yet arrived. She loved Faerun and everything, but she had to admit she still missed package tracking. Having to go to the actual mailbox every day to figure out if her things had gotten here yet? Like an animal? Gross.

Letters were not an uncommon thing to find in the mailbox, a lot of which were fan mail. Saving the multiverse made one pretty popular after all. When the letters had first started coming, they were an onslaught, though now, months after the start, they were less frequent.

Still, it wasn't exactly unusual to find something  from an address they didn't recognize in their mailbox these days. It was a little more unusual for the mail to be addressed to only one of them, but far from unheard of. Plenty of people liked to address their fan mail to some particular favorite in the family.

That didn't mean that Lup wasn't still pretty curious to see the package, but she had boundaries! She'd at least let Lucretia see it first, before she swiped it for a peek.

"Thank you, Lup," Lucretia smiled up at her from the couch as she took it. Some of their other family members- Taako, Barry, Merle, and Magnus- were also gathered in the family room, but there was still plenty of room to sit down, since they'd designed this room knowing exactly how large their family was and with decades of frustration at the relatively small size of the Starblaster common room in mind. Lup still plopped down immediately next to Lucretia anyway. All the better for reading over her shoulder, and it wasn't like any of them had much respect for each other's personal space anymore.

Sure enough, Lucretia didn't even look over at her at the invasion of her space, just shifting slightly to the left to make a little more space for Lup between her body and the arm rest.

Instead she looked down at the package, read the address it came from, and immediately turned and threw it in the garbage.

"Oookay," Lup said, curiosity even more raging now. "What the hell was that?"

"An admittedly nice gesture that I have no interest in reciprocating," Lucretia said crisply.

"From who?" Magnus asked, glancing over at the trash bin as if he wanted to dart over and grab it, but was restraining the impulse.

"Lucas," Lucretia said, with a long-suffering sigh.

"Miller?" Taako questioned. "What's that dick writing you for?"

"The holiday, I presume," Lucretia said, waving her hand vaguely.

It made zero sense to Lup that Lucas would be sending Lucretia something on holidays, and the weirdness was only compounded by the fact that she couldn't think of any recent holidays that she could be referring to. Glancing around at the confusion the rest of them were displaying, she was pretty sure it wasn't just because she was the least familiar with Faerun holidays of their group.

"What holiday?" Merle asked, scratching his head in confusion. "Only holiday I can think of around now is Mother's Day, but obviously it's not that."

Lucretia's mouth opened and closed in confusion for a moment, before her eyes widened. "Oh. Right. I'd forgotten you didn't know."

"Didn't know what?" Barry asked, head tilted to the side in curiosity and confusion.

"Lucas' mother Maureen and I- we were together. Married, actually," Lucretia said, glancing down at her hands in her lap as she said it. "It was pretty common knowledge, at the Bureau, so I thought you would have known- but I guess I assumed wrong. Which isn't that surprising, really, since nobody mentioned it too much after Maureen's death-"

Lup's had automatically reached out her arms when Lucretia started to sound sad, turning her lean into an embrace before her shocked mind could catch up with what had been said.

"What the fuck, Lucretia! How do you forget to mention the fact that you were married?" Taako squawked, even as he came over to them and gave Lucretia a quick, tight hug.

"I really thought you knew! It doesn't come up much with most people; I assumed it was the same here!" Lucretia defended.

"You thought we wouldn't have anything to say about the fact that you had a wife and she died?" Taako asked, still incredulous.

"Most people don't bring it up. It makes them awkward and uncomfortable," Lucretia said.

"Uh, yeah, obviously, but we talk about Julia with Magnus sometimes!" Lup said, wincing immediately afterwards and shooting a concerned look at Magnus. She hadn't meant to be so flippant about that.

Magnus looked a little shaken and wide-eyed, but he threw her a smile and a careful thumbs-up, so Lup knew she was okay.

"That's different," Lucretia said. "Magnus has been always been less private about his emotions than me."

They all knew what she wasn't saying. And also, Magnus didn't do what she did. And yes, those things were true, but like fuck was Lup going to let Lucretia think that they would just leave her to deal with her trauma and grief alone, just because she had betrayed their trust. They loved her way too much to do that to her.

"So? Being a private person doesn't mean your family isn't going to hug the living shit out of you when you lose somebody!" she said, squeezing her arms tighter to prove her point.

Lucretia chuckled softly, and her eyes got very soft and warm. "Thank you, Lup, but I promise, I'm okay. Now, anyway. Maybe we can talk about it another time?"

"Yeah, alright," Lup agreed, not totally loosening her hold.

"Wait, fuck, okay so it is Mother's Day? That's the reason Miller's sending you shit?" Taako asked, his face shifting from irritation and concern to a shit-eating grin.

"Presumably," Lucretia said. "He's done it before. And usually, when he writes me, it's just a letter, nothing more."

"Oh my god, he's your stepson," Magnus snickered.

"Yes, that is what it means when you marry someone's mother," Lucretia agreed, an indulgently amused look on her face.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us! We've been missing out on some choice goofs because of that, Lucy!" Taako said, faux indignant.

"Again, I thought you knew! I figured you didn't bring up Lucas being my stepson because he is, you know, terrible."

"Solid reasoning, but not quite," Barry chuckled.

Lup let go of Lucretia to push herself up and move toward the package in the garbage.

"Lup?" Lucretia questioned, watching her.

"Just 'cause he's an ass is no reason to throw out free shit before you even know what it is! Come on, Lucy, use your head! Might be something nice, and you don't gotta talk to him to accept free stuff," Lup explained.

Lucretia laughed, taking the package from Lup's outstretched hands. "I suppose you have a good point."

She opened the package and inside was a set of paints.

"Oh," she said softly. "These are- These are my favorites. Maureen used to get me this same set all the time."

"See! Nice!" Lup chimed. "You can just toss the letter and keep the paint!"

"Yes," Lucretia nodded, "you're right."

But she didn't move to throw the letter away.

Instead, after several long moments of internal debate, she said, "Lucas wasn't always such a dick. When he was younger, he could be a real sweetheart. When he wanted."

"Why don't you look at the letter, Lucy?" Merle said, soft. "Seems like you really want to."

"I don't," she said, firmly. "Lucas used the Philosopher's Stone in a way that was insanely risky. He didn't care about how it would affect anyone but himself and Maureen. And that was hardly the least of it, either. Maureen- wasn't always the most cautious when inventing or researching, but she only ever put herself at risk. She didn't hurt people. Lucas was grieving, yes, I understand, but that's not an excuse. And it certainly doesn't excuse what he did to the bugbears or- any of the other incredibly inethical things he did! Maureen would be disappointed in him. And so am I."

Even with the tirade, she hadn't tossed the letter.

"Yeah, that was fucked up," Magnus chimed. "Nobody's going to make you read it or talk to him ever, you know that, right?"

"Uh huh," Lucretia nodded. "I think- I think I'll take these to my room."

She waved the paints as she said it, and only the paints, but she still took the letter up with her. And when she came back down and threw out the mess of packaging on the floor, she didn't have the letter anymore.

(Notes: Okay, so I personally can't really stand Lucas, especially in the podcast with the whole, uh, enslavement debacle, but in a fandom that has so much focus on family and forgiveness and redemption and hope and moving on, it felt weird to just completely shut off any chance of Lucas redeeming himself and being less of an asshole and rebuilding that relationship so. I left it open-ended. Feel free to assume he never does though, if you want!

Additionally, I really wavered on whether to go with podcast canon of the control chips and basically enslavement of the bugbears or the graphic novel canon of intelligence enhancing chips, because the latter is less uncomfortable for me personally, but also the fact that the former is a thing is part of why I wrote Lucretia feeling so harsh towards Lucas, so I decided basically to leave it vague. You can assume the bit about what Lucas did to the bugbears refers to either podcast canon or something shitty in gn canon depending on your own preferences.)

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

-

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

-

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

-

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

-

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Untamed TAZ Balance AU? Don't have to write anything, just consider that (is Wen Ning Lucretia in this or is he too nice for that)

NHS IS LUCRETIA, NHS IS ABSOLUTELY LUCRETIA, I HAVE THOUGHTS, my girlfriend yelled at me for these thoughts.  Hell this got long, I’ve literally been saving it in my drafts until Tumblr fixed the Read More issue.

WWX is Taako, JC is Magnus, WQ is Merle, JYL is in the umbrella (became a lich to keep her brother from doing it), WN is the Red Robe (became a lich because he thought it seemed reasonable), NHS is Lucretia, XXC is Davenport, LWJ and LXC are mutually Kravitz (LXC sets his bro up with the death criminal wizard), Wen Zhuliu is John Vore, LSZ is Angus but also a baby Reaper

ONE

So Wei Wuxian isn’t really a wizard, is the thing.  Like, he does the wizard magic, and apparently he has strong Wizard Vibes because wherever he travels, people ask him if he can solve their magical bullshit problems, but he’s, like, barely a wizard.  He’s an inventor, technically, except that a few years back some stuff went explosively awry while he worked with this traveling show and–yeah.  So he’s working as a wizard because, hey, he can cast Magic Missile and he needs to eat and he’s an Evocation specialist, anyway, so it’s not like he’s out here making food from rocks.  He’s hired on with a couple other random jackasses, a fighter who took a dislike to Wei Wuxian right off the bat and a cleric with a bad temper and an itchy Sacred Flame finger, and they’re doing a job for some dwarf, or whatever.  The dwarf has a guy hired on as muscle, but he doesn’t look like much, all wide eyes and baby face.  He calls himself Qionglin, no last name, and stares at Wen Qing like he’s never seen a cleric before, and Jiang Cheng spends the entire trip to Phandolin messing with his whip, which is the stupidest weapon Wei Wuxian has ever seen.

Well, then everything immediately goes horribly wrong, though, and turns out that Jiang Cheng is pretty okay with that whip.  Qionglin (Wei Wuxian spoke to the man all of one time, but he was sweet, if a little awkward) gets himself kidnapped by a bunch of goblins, and their employer is gods-know-where with whatever a Black Spider is, and suddenly this very boring escort mission is a very not boring rescue mission.

There’s a skeleton in the cave.  Wei Wuxian takes an umbrella from it, and it crumbles into dust beneath its red robe.  There’s a very annoyed man with a sword who calls himself Song Lan and speaks in static, and he’s somehow not the weirdest part of this whole day.

Phandolin doesn’t survive its brush with the Zidian Gauntlet, and neither does Qionglin.  Wen Qing screams when he dies, and Wei Wuxian grabs her under the arms with Jiang Cheng and books it for the empty well in Song Lan’s wake, and they just hide.  

And then they go to the goddamn moon, apparently.

TWO

The goddamn moon is run by an older man with hair still a glossy black, toying with a beautifully painted white fan in his hand.  He calls himself the Director and–after some testing–hires them more or less on the spot.  Something flickers over his face when Wen Qing, bemused by her own upset, makes an offhand mention of a man named Qionglin who died when the Gauntlet brought down so much lightning that it turned Phandolin into black glass.  But it’s not Wei Wuxian’s problem, so he doesn’t worry himself over it too much.  He takes the payment offered to him by the Director’s aide, a blindfolded, stunningly handsome man in Bureau blue and white who rests his hand on his own chest and says “Xiao Xingchen” and not another word.

The Bureau is–weird.  They’ve got a giant jellyfish and a store run by–something Wei Wuxian Does Not Trust and a dorm.  Wei Wuxian laughs and kicks Jiang Cheng cheerfully in the ankle and says “Just like college, huh?” and Jiang Cheng gives him a dark look and snaps “I never went to college.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, blinking.  “Me neither.”

Whatever.  They go on a train adventure and there’s a kid, a kid who blinks and stares at Wei Wuxian like he’s seen a goddamn ghost and immediately walks up to introduce himself as Lan Sizhui, boy detective.

Wei Wuxian fucking loves this kid.  He’s not sure why this wide-eyed fifteen-year-old latched onto him so hard, but he’s smart, funny, loyal, and extremely easy to pick on.  13/10 child rating, in Wei Wuxian’s book.

(Sizhui, for his part, more or less kicks down the door to his father’s offices in the Astral Plane the second the Reclaimers are gone and shouts “I HAVE A LEAD ON WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WORLD.”)

(His father, Lan Wangji, the Grim Reaper, is very interested to hear all about it–especially when his son casually name-drops three of the biggest bounties that the Raven King, his adoptive elder brother, has ever sent him after, with the exception of that absolutely insufferably sweet-tempered lich Wen Ning.)

THREE

So…the Crystal Kingdom.

Is it Wei Wuxian’s finest hour, shouting obscure tentacle-related threats at the second crystal construct they’ve seen in the past twenty minutes?  No, probably not.  But it’s been a stressful day, they’re already down one Regulator and Song Lan is fuck-knows-where with Mianmian and, again, this is the second menacing crystal construct they’ve seen in twenty minutes.  Or maybe it’s the same one? 

Whatever, doesn’t matter.  They’re here to hunt down Meng Yao, a scientist who’s been dicking around with some seriously ill-advised necromancy and also the Philosopher’s Stone, and a crystal construct or two isn’t going to stop them.

Wei Wuxian actually physically cannot help himself, though, when the Reapers appear in the mirror, a matched set of beautiful men, and he grins broadly at the one glaring at him most viciously.  They get let go on a technicality, along with a conduit still containing Meng Shi’s memory of a vision beyond the cosmos, and Meng Yao leaves with his life and not much more.

Later, Lan Wangji is absolutely betrayed by the realization that his brother willfully set him up to be the primary go-between for the completely breathtaking deeply irritating wizard-by-way-of-death-criminal.  And that’s before the whole lich revelation.  (He does get a kiss, though, after he watches his brother pulled under by the Hunger.  That’s nice.  He hopes Wei Wuxian will mitigate the death crimes now that they’re dating.)

FOUR

The seven Relics are as follows:

The Zidian Gauntlet, which can generate a lightning blast so powerful that it can obliterate an entire city.  (Jiang Cheng–he watched the others try to lay in protections, try to make their Relics harmless, and he knew it wouldn’t work.  All the Gauntlet does is damage.  It can melt a city down to black glass, but it can’t be twisted, it can’t be made into any more of a nightmare than it already is.  He’s a fighter.  He knows all about damage, knew all about what he was making.  That doesn’t mean it didn’t kill him by inches to watch it leave a path of destruction–so much that his beloved jiejie tried to seal it away.)

The Oculus, which can make any construct real.  (Xiao Xingchen–Nie Huaisang didn’t take everything.  He doesn’t remember the mission, or his own past.  Something strange got confused in the process, and he lost most of his speech.  But he remembers how to fight, handles his sword as cleanly and effectively as ever, and he remembers that he doesn’t think much of Nie Huaisang’s combat skills.  Or maybe it’s just really obvious that Nie Huaisang isn’t much of a fighter.  Regardless, Xiao Xingchen insisted on accompanying him, before–before.  Then they went into the Felicity Wilds, and…Xue Yang is honestly delighted.  He’s never managed to ruin someone so badly on the way into Wonderland before.  It’s just a shame that Nie Huaisang sent Xiao Xingchen away before they reached the doors.)

The Healer’s Sash, which can manipulate natural forces like the wind, the tides, and tectonic plates just as easily as it can manipulate a heartbeat or a pair of lungs.  (Wen Qing–she prays to Pelor, the Dawnfather, the healer and Lord of Light, but she’s long since lost her faith in him as anything but a contracted boss.  It’s a shock to everyone including her when she’s granted a right arm made of glass and magic after losing it.  She was so determined to make a Relic that could be used for good, but–well.  She supposes she should have known better.)

The Philosopher’s Stone, which can more or less transform anything into anything.  (Jiang Yanli–she’s a Transmutation wizard, she’s been feeding the crew of the Starblaster for a hundred years on whatever she can pull together.  If the right person found the Stone, it would have ended world hunger.  The wrong person found the stone.  Jiang Yanli tried her damnedest to hunt it down, but she found the Gauntlet first, and, well–she already became a lich to stop one younger brother from doing it.  It’s not a struggle to decide that she’s going to take responsibility for saving Jiang Cheng from his own guilt.  Then things go horribly wrong, and she spends the next twelve years in an umbrella.)

The Temporal Chalice, which offers complete control over time.  (Wen Ning–he was a strict scholar until his sister was contacted about the IPRE’s creation, but he always did want to travel, and his theories about bonds were too good for Xiao Xingchen to pass up having on his crew.  Everything he’s done since they lost their home system has been about trying not to leave his family, about trying for second chances, he became a lich for them, he’s done everything to stay with them, of course his Relic is a second chance generator.)

The Animus Flute, which offers control over the spirits of the dead and, in the hands of a sufficiently competent expert, the living.  (Wei Wuxian–he’s watched his brother, his sister, his friends, die so many times.  He’s terrified of immortality, but he’s most terrified of being alone.  He meant to make something that could keep the dead present, so that they would never have to fear being left behind again.  Watching it rip Jiang Cheng’s soul clean out of his body in Xue Yang’s hands is the worst thing Wei Wuxian can remember, even after everything is over.)

The Bulwark, which Nie Huaisang never did explain to anyone, but took the shape of a hand-painted fan.  (Nie Huaisang lost the only person who mattered to him when the Hunger ate their home, and then as he slowly, painstakingly, rebuilt something like a family, he had to watch them suffer and die for a hundred years.  And then he watched them win, and grieve like dying all over again for the winning.  He’s sorry they suffered for his actions.  He’s not sorry for what he did.)

FIVE

Wen Zhuliu didn’t mean to make his whole plane give up.  But he had spent his whole life being used, and it all just seemed so pointless.  It all just seemed so pointless.  There was always someone stronger, always something bigger, always a rule he couldn’t break, always something, and he started talking, started telling people as much, and--

Wen Qing is about the farthest thing in the fucking world from a peacemaker by nature, if you ask her, but she’s a healer first, last, and most of all.  And, she thinks as she watches the sun sink with a very tired man crumbling away at her side, she might be the only person in the worlds who ever noticed that Wen Zhuliu needed a healer.

(They aren’t from the same plane, but--some of the others have found distant family, on their new home.  It’s an unanswerable question, if they might have been family, a few dimensions removed.  Wen Ning still thinks about it.)

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy XIII Review

Year: 2009

Original Platform: PlayStation 3

Also available on: Xbox 360, PC, Android, iOS

Version I Played: PlayStation 3

Synopsis:

On the planet Cocoon, those who come into contact with anything from the planet Pulse are purged to that planet. Pulse is a feared planet full of monsters and strange creatures. Both planets are ruled by fal’Cie, mechanical godlike beings who sometimes brand humans as their servants for specific tasks, called a focus. Those who fulfill their focus are turned into crystals and obtain eternal life. Those who do not fulfill their focus turn into mindless monsters. Lightning is a former soldier whose sister, Serah, is branded by a fal’Cie and taken to be purged. Lightning sets off to rescue her.

Gameplay:

Going to say this now – the worst gameplay in the entire Final Fantasy series.

The battles are Active Time Battles but instead of you inputting individual commands, there are what’s called paradigms. Paradigms are somewhat like Job Classes from the old Final Fantasy games, except less fun and more automated. You can switch to a Medic paradigm in battle and every time you press “Auto-Battle” your character automatically performs a series of necessary cure and restore spells, based on what’s going on in the battle. The Sentinel paradigm specializes in keeping the enemy at bay. The Ravager paradigm uses magic. The Commando paradigm uses physical attacks. You get the picture.

As a result, the gameplay could be best described as:

With occasional switching of paradigms whenever you see fit. You can set up a number of combinations across the characters. Two Commandos and one Sentinel. One Sentinel and one Ravager and One Commando, etc.

The party automatically heals after each battle – you can even press start during a battle and restart the battle.

I probably only used an item once or twice. I honestly don’t see why they bothered putting any items if you hardly ever use them.

You can upgrade your weapons with pieces and junk you find after battles. You find so many of them that you hardly ever think about what you’re upgrading so long as whatever you make upgrades your stats. Is this better? No? What about this? Okay, good. Moving on.

Like Final Fantasy X, the game is linear. Much more linear. You follow a long hallway for about 30 hours of the game before you can do sidequests. The sidequests involve completing other people’s focus. That’s about it. There are no towns, no inns, no villages. You are entirely on the road, constantly in battle (Okay, there’s like one time where Sazh and Vanille are in a casino or something but that’s about it).

I wrote a blog piece a while back about what exactly was wrong with Final Fantasy XIII, and it’s not that it’s linear. We play really great linear games all the time. It’s the automation – the feeling that you’re not really doing anything.

There isn’t an ounce of customization. Leveling up is similar to the Sphere Grid of Final Fantasy X. It’s called the Crystarium but it follows a strict path. You can’t actually stray anywhere or customize anything. If that’s the case, why bother making you open the menu to level up through the Crystarium? Why not just automatically do it? I guess they want to give you some ounce (more like a milligram) of control over the game.

Basically – you’re watching a long movie and occasionally get to move the people around. That’s how I see it.

Graphics:

PLAYSTATION 3 HD GRAPHICS HOMG DO YOU HAVEA BONER YET? LOOK AT THIS. FIRST FINAL FANTASY GAME IN GLORIOUS HD.

Everything is pretty in this game. Everything. There is nothing wrong with this at all.

Story:

The characters appear to reference those in Final Fantasy VII. Director Motomu Toriyama wanted Lightning to essentially be a female Cloud Strife. She’s a no-nonsense, athletic female lead. While Cloud and Squall were introspective and antisocial, Lightning is slightly different by actively ordering people around. She comes off as a dick to everyone, and that’s due to her ex-soldier background. Think of your stereotypical ex-cop/ex-CIA/ex-military action movie hero, like Liam Neeson (Bryan Mills in Taken) or Bruce Willis (John McClane in Die Hard). That’s basically Lightning.

Can we go on a short tangent for a moment to talk about how weird it is that Lightning was also used as a model for advertising in Japan?

Here she is driving a Nissan.

And wearing Louis Vitton.

Cool? I guess? Unless you start to realize that Toriyama wanted to design his own personal waifu, and that he’s completely obsessed with her. That gets really weird. And sad? A little? Anyway.

Vanille has some reminiscent of Yuffie from Final Fantasy VII, although with more character via her inner monologues and narration. Fang is vaguely like Vincent Valentine. Sazh takes the place of Barrett as the token black dude, except instead of being aggressive he’s more like the comic relief and wants nothing to do with anything. Every time you control him, jazz music plays, because black people I guess. Hope doesn’t appear to be reminiscent of anyone – he’s just this boy who yells and complains a lot with Lightning. Snow meanwhile is a ripoff of Zell from Final Fantasy VIII, except somehow even more annoying.

(Every time I see his picture I think about your typical dude bro at a frat.)

The story starts of a bit choppy as you follow almost each character separately, then they run into each other, then separate again, then join again. The first 30 hours or so gives flashbacks of 13 days prior- BECAUSE IT’S FINAL FANTASY XIII GET IT? Vanille actually narrates some events but it’s not exactly clear why or from when – but that’s a spoiler. Along the way, I got really confused because I didn’t know why some people were fighting each other when they were on the same side a moment ago. The concept of the “focus” is really weird and sometimes confusing. People with a focus simply have visions or a general idea of what they’re supposed to do, but they don’t actually know for sure unless they actively seek it. If the gods granted them a focus, wouldn’t it make more sense if the gods just told them what to do? Seemed to work in Final Fantasy XII. 

In short, the narrative weaves around a lot. If you stop playing in the middle and pick up the game again months later, you’re bound to forget what’s going on. I know I did.

The characters didn’t annoy me as much as you would think they would on paper. They all have character development and that’s good. The only character that effectively got on my nerves was Snow. Snow is Serah’s fiancé, and Lightning hates him because of course you need some family drama. I don’t blame Lightning though. Snow shouts cheesy lines left and right, like “Heroes never die!”. He shouts Serah’s name the same way Christian Bale shouts Rachel’s name in the Christopher Nolan Batman films. Snow is quite possibly the most irritating character of all the Final Fantasy games. He will not shut the fuck up about what it means to be a hero.

The rest of the cast works well in that their motives and desires clash with each other. But I’m still sore about the wasted potential for a great character in Jihl Nabaat. Sazh wants his son Dejh back, who was taken to be purged by the sinister and extremely hot Jihl Nabaat.

 Goddaaayyyum. Seriously, look at her.

Too bad, because she’s only featured in a handful of scenes and then dies. Her death isn’t a major spoiler, at least one that I consider, because she hardly does anything except get in the way for a moment. You don’t even fight her. How lame is that?

Then you have this annoying bastard – Primarch Dysley.

When I think of him, I think of Mitch McConnell.

Old. Disagreeable. Been in power for too long. Always in the way of progress.

Primarch Dysley happens to be as annoying as Seymour from Final Fantasy X, so expect to be overjoyed every time you run into him.

Overall, the story isn’t as bad as you’d think. You just have to pay close attention. The gameplay is far worse than the story. I could easily slip into a coma while playing this game and still make it pretty far.

Music:

Final Fantasy XII saw the departure of Nobuo Uematsu (well with the exception of the pop song “Kiss Me Goodbye”). Final Fantasy XIII continues to head into the unknown without the beloved longtime composer. This game’s score is composed entirely by Masashi Hamauzu, who if you haven’t been paying attention, already partly worked on Final Fantasy X.  I immediately saw how “Saber’s Edge”, the boss theme, is similar in nature to the boss theme of Final Fantasy X.

Final Fantasy XIII made the most radical changes to the score. There are no signature themes from the series. No “Prelude” theme, no “Main Theme”, no “Victory Fanfare” theme. Instead, we get a theme called “Fabula Nova Crystallis”.  It plays frequently throughout the game, and almost acts as Serah and Snow’s love theme. In some portions of the game, some woman is singing along. Yes – this is the first time where you roam around a world in a Final Fantasy game with actual pop music playing in the background – “Sunleth Waterscape” to be exact. Final Fantasy XIII’s music gets pretty poppy.

Not saying it’s a bad idea.

Just.

You got pop music playing in the background now.

“Lightning’s Theme” is pretty sick. Her theme plays during the battles in a rendition called “Blinded by Light” – HA GET IT BECAUSE SHE’S LIGHTNING. SO CLEVER.

But Hamauzu was a good choice – the entire score holds up well and sounds like a movie score, with varying motifs running across. It can be a bit more subdued but that’s how contemporary instrumental music is nowadays, especially with film composers like Hans Zimmer.

 Notable Theme:

“Blinded by Light”

Really epic, unique song. I always scat along to it as it plays.

Verdict:

Uff. 

Look, if you just search on YouTube for all the cutscenes, there you go. That’s the game. And it’s entertaining to watch. But it has the worst gameplay that doesn’t feel like you’re even doing anything. No sense of customization or originality.

Direct Sequel?

Yes, two.

Final Fantasy XIII-2.

I started it around the time it first came out, but I’m still in the middle of playing it and I have no idea what’s going on in the story. NO idea. NONE at all. They use time travel but none of it makes sense. Apparently changing things in the future can change the past. I don’t know how. I only understand a vague semblance of a plot with the bad guy Caius. While it doesn’t tarnish the dignity of the original like Final Fantasy X-2 did, it’s still offbeat with its metal (yes, metal) music and utterly confounding story. It’s infamous for this metal rendition of the sweet and innocent Chocobo theme.

Then there’s the third game, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII

I plan on playing it after I finish Final Fantasy XIII-2, if I don’t already die from an aneurysm by then. It’s supposed to be better than Final Fantasy XIII-2 but lacking in graphics.

[crimmson]

ok anyway here’s integris’s shit kinda scratched out. i have to actually catch up on the living story, the last thing I got to was caithe becoming aurene’s bestie

Integris doesn’t really have a wyld hunt or calling of any sort. like a lot of sylvari, she does sort of look up to the firstborn so when rumor spreads that the sylvari are immune to zhaitan’s influence and that Trahearne is building a coalition to travel to Orr and cleanse it, she’s like  “¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i’m not doing anything else” and joins up with the Pale Reavers detachment within the Pact. Gets trained, finds out she’s pretty good at shooting stuff, war is scary but feels like she’s kinda found her groove, and they’re doing the right thing. (There was a theory at the time that maybe the sylvari were a sort of natural defense that Tyria was developing to fight back against the dragon minions, so at the time it was like ‘maybe this is what i’m meant to be doing? maybe this is what a wyld hunt is?)

Zhaitan dies, Integris flits around with the rest of the Pale Reavers, everything is hunky-dory until Mordremoth starts waking up. there’s probably a general air of uncertainty among all the sylvari as mordremoth is waking up but before the actual reveal. I have to imagine they’re hearing or feeling his influence at least a little, even if they have no idea what it actually is.

The actual Pact insertion into the jungle and immediate destruction of the airships sends everything straight to hell. Former squadmates suddenly no longer trust the sylvari, the sylvari can’t even fully trust each other, and they’re forced to work in all-sylvari squads that are easily left for dead by the majority of the other races because nobody else wants to work with them.

Integris becomes increasingly, severely bitter. She’s pissed at the rest of the world for leaving them for dead even as they continue putting their own lives on the line, she’s pissed as she watches her squadmates get dragged away by the jungle kicking and screaming, she’s pissed as some of them give in and become mordrem, and she’s extremely pissed at the Pale Tree for keeping them all in the dark. In her eyes, the Pale Tree is no better than Mordremoth. She thinks that maybe if the Pale Tree had told them the truth about themselves, they could have steeled themselves against Mordremoth’s influence. She hates the idea that any semblance of free will that the sylvari might have had is a fabrication, and that their only options were ever the Pale Tree or Mordremoth.

News of Trahearne’s death hits pretty hard, since she looked up to him and his quest was the whole reason she was in the Pact in the first place. It just kinda cements her “actually fuck mordremoth AND the pale tree, how much of this could have been avoided?” attitude.

(jokingly but maybe what keeps her from turning is sheer unadulterated anger at All Of This)

Post-HoT, Integris is bitter and quiet, and you’ll be lucky if you can get more than a sentence or two out of her. She’s still with the Pact, though she still despises them as a whole for what she perceives as a massive failure to support her people. But being with the Pact keeps her away from the Pale Tree and the Grove in general, which is good. She hates it. She’s frankly not sure what would happen if she had to go back to the Grove. She might straight up strangle the Pale Tree’s avatar. She might burn down the Grove too just for good measure.

And the Pact is still in the business of fighting dragons, so that’s good enough.

Integris knows of Aurene in general but has never dealt directly with her, and is somewhere between indifferent and distrusting. Begrudgingly she will admit that if it’s possible for the sylvari to fight and ignore Mordremoth’s influence, then it’s possible that Aurene isn’t an evil world-ending monster. But she still doesn’t like it. And she ESPECIALLY doesn’t like it when Caithe WILLINGLY gives herself to a dragon, and a bunch of sylvari follow suit. In her mind that’s exactly what they were trying to avoid. That’s exactly what a whole bunch of them died for. Integris has sort of become mildly obsessed with the idea of free will and personal choice. To be honest she probably thinks of Caithe and the rest of the Crystal Bloom sylvari and weak-willed or foolish. Maybe not as much with Caithe, in that case she’s probably more disappointed because of the whole ‘looking up to the firstborn’ thing.

and eventually i will catch up on the living story and see how she would fit in :)))

[mrallnight57-blog]

The Crystal of Mordokia

Chapter 15

      As Litias told the story of Billbo H Hero. The two of them had made there way to the fourth floor. Once there. Litias took Jenny to a room at the end of the hallway, this was the room that Litias slept in.

    Jenny had listened to Litias's story, yet she still had many questions. Once the two of them got into the room. Litias went to her bed, and began pulling a trunk from underneath her bed. That's when Jenny started asking questions. "So this Billbo, he was some kind..."

     Before Jenny could finish the question. Litias turned to her and cut her off. "Shhhh! Don't say his name. He might hear you, and neither one of us are prepared to face him. No... from this point on, just call him The Hero.

      Jenny raised an eyebrow. "He is more like a monster."

     Litias got up into Jenny's face. "No, pretty one. I'm the monster. I am the Dark Witch, the all powerful Ruler of Mordokia!" Litias paused for a moment. Then begrudgingly said in a low voice. "Ex-Ruler of Mordokia."

   Now Jenny was beginning to become more curious about Litias, but she knew that would have to wait for later. Right now she needed to get all the info she could on Billbo, or Litias preferred name for him, The Hero.

     Litias opened up the trunk, and her demeanor changed. It was as if this strange creature was genuinely happy.

     Litias pulled out a old parchment, and more excitement came over the creature. Jenny even picked up a little giddiness in Litias's voice as she spoke. "Ah yes! This is when he battled the ogre king!" Litias put the parchment down, and grabbed another one. This made Litias even more giddy. This is when he found the treasure of Goldoff!" Litias grabbed another parchment with her other hand. The creature's eyes widen, and she got even more excited. "Oh!!! This is when he battled the two headed dragon Korn Tello!!!" Litias gave Jenny the look of someone who had just came out of a fan convention. "Did you know The Hero was only ten years old, when he defeated his first dragon!?!"

      Jenny's eyes widen. "He slayed his first dragon, when he was ten years old?"

     Litias quickly shook it's head no. "Not slayed. Defeated. Korn Tello was still alive, the last time I was on Mordokia." Suddenly Litias spoke in a somber tone. "The Hero didn't believe in killing. Thought everyone deserved a second chance. That is why the Dark magic makes him do it. A punishment for interfering with the Difias's quest.

      Jenny was carefully watching Litias. She couldn't help but feel as if Litias, the creature who claimed to be a dark witch, seemly admired The Hero. Litias was acting like a child telling it's new best friend, about their favorite super hero. The only difference was, Litias was unlike any child Jenny had ever seen, and the creature's favorite super hero threatened to kill everyone in the building.

      Jenny kept her eyes on Litias as it continued to rummage through it's trunk. Not knowing much about Litias, and it's relationship with The Hero. It made her wonder if the two of them had ever met. As Jenny was about to ask the question, Litias cut her off. "No. I've never battled The Hero. He was before my time. You forget pretty one. This all happened over two thousand years ago."

     Jenny's eyes widen. She never actually ask the question, plus now she wanted to know how old Litias was, but before she could inquire, Litias spoke again. "I'm one thousand eight hundred and fifty seven years old." Jenny's was in complete shock. Litias then followed it up by saying. "Apparently, for my kind, that is very young."

       Litias was still pulling out stuff from her trunk, and Jenny was becoming more dumbfounded, it was at this point she thought about Gothic Mirror, and knowing it was this creature that probably taught him everything he knew. She came to the conclusion, Litias could read her mind. Jenny was going to say something, but Litias interrupted her again. "Yes Pretty One, I can read your mind."

      "Can you stop!?!" Jenny finally got a word out, and was becoming frustrated.

     Litias gave Jenny a look of a scolded child. "Meaah. I'm just making sure you don't try to hurt me."

     Jenny settled down. "I'm not going to hurt you."

     "Good." Litias seemed happy with Jenny's response. Then added. "It's not like you could anyways." Trust me when I say, many heroes have tried, and I humiliated every single one of them."

     Jenny smiled. "Well all of them except, you know who."

      Litias shrieked. "Meeaaaah!!! I was never suppose to fight him, and now he is here!"

     The two of them had a awkward moment of silence, but after a few moments, Jenny began speaking. "Look... If you want me help you defeat him. Then I still need some information. So I can fully understand what I am up against.

     Litias gave Jenny a look of annoyance. "Why would you help me Pretty One? I'm a creature of pure evil, and he is a hero."

     Jenny folded her arms. "Well The Hero said he was going to kill everyone if I don't stop him, and you haven't."

     Litias gave a faint laugh. "Not yet."

    Jenny gave Litias a dirty look, and Litias said. "Fine. What would you like to know?"

     Jenny unfolded her arms, and gave Litias another dirty look. "Don't read my mind this time. I want to actually be able to ask the questions."

    Litias, once again acted like a scolded child. "Fine... I see you take the fun out of everything, don't you? Ask your questions."

    Jenny was trying to think what she should ask first. Everything about Litias and it's story seemed unbelievable. Finally she decided to ask some basic questions.

"So I know the hero isn't a demon, what is he exactly?"

      Litias growled, then the creature began mumbling in a language Jenny didn't understand as it stared at the floor. Finally the creature looked back at Jenny, and began speaking. "I hate to have to explain it this way. Have you ever seen," Litias gave a look of disgust. "Lord of the Rings?"

      Jenny let out a bit of a chuckle. "Yeah. I watched it with my dad as a kid. I really only watched it to spend time with him. It was one of his favorite movies." Litias gave another look of discuss. Then Jenny had a epiphany. "Bilbo was the name of one of those little guys, you know, the one with the r.."

     Litias quickly cut her off. "Stop!!!" Litias seemed to be getting angry. "That damn Tolkien! He got everything wrong! For fuck sake he thought Billbo was a Kender, and even misspelled his name."

    Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Kender?"

     Litias rolled her eyes. "Excuse me. I guess you would call them hobbits."

      "Is there a difference?" Jenny asked.

      "Yes." Litias replied. "You see Hobbits, went on a quest, to destroy the one ring in a volcano. Kenders would trade the one ring for a stock of celery."

     Jenny wanted to laugh. She even wanted to ask some follow-up questions about these creatures, but realized she was getting off topic, and needed to refocus. "So if The hero is not a Kender, or whatever. What is he?"

      "He's an Elf." Litias stared at Jenny as she answered her question. Then followed it up with. "At least Half-Elf, but it has always been up to debate, what the other half was."

     Jenny thought about it for a moment, then asked. "I thought Elves were short and fat."

      Litias shook it's head. "No, those are dwarves."

      Jenny was now scratching her head, then she snickered. "Well I prefer the Elves that make cookies, or Christmas presents." Litias just stared at Jenny. Then Jenny followed it up by saying. "Sorry. I tend to make jokes in stressful situations. It's how I keep my sanity.

     Litias continued to stare for another moment, until finally the creature went. "Ha." Then it went back to staring at Jenny.

     Jenny thought about her next question. As Litias sat on the end of the bed. Jenny decided to sit next, to her, but left space between them, before she asked her next question. "You said The Hero, was half elf. Could the other half be human?"

      Litias let out a hard laugh. "That is the problem with you humans. You all want to be part of everything. Earth is the only world I have been to that has humans. Yet when you fools make up stories about my world, you arrogantly put yourself in as the hero."

     "Is that so?" Jenny replied. Jenny scooted just a little bit closer to Litias. "Tell me this then. How are we telling stories about your world, if humans have never been there?"

     Litias let out a little growl, which caused Jenny to move away from the creature. Then Litias began to answer. "You been around the crystal, haven't you?" Jenny nodded. Litias continued. "That sickness you feel, the dread, and nightmares it gives when someone is exposed to it. The crystal has been on earth for over two thousand years. Even though the ones who are closest to it feels it's effects immediately. The orra it gives off still travels. It's possible that over time you humans had succumbed to visions, which turned into stories, creating a entire genre.

Basically, I'm saying, what you humans call fantasy, was once my reality."

      Jenny was now thinking about the story Dan told her earlier. "I heard that those visions, turned nightmares, may have droven some to suicide."

      Litias smiled. "You mean like one of the archeologist that found the crystal?" Jenny nodded, realizing that Litias had probably read her mind again. Litias snickered. "Don't lose any sleep over it. After the man died. It was discovered that he had a large amount of child pornography on his computer."

      Jenny's eyes widen. The only thought going through her head now was, damn! Even when trapped in the crystal. He still found ways to kill bad people.

     Jenny shook that thought out of her head, then came to a realization. "So you're telling me that dragons, elves, dwarves, and ogre all exist?"

     Litias gave a slight smile. "Yes... In one form or another."

      Jenny sat there in shock. Normally she would think that the person she was talking to was insane, but considering the fact, the person she was talking to wasn't even human, made everything it said, far more believable.

    

        Litias stood up and walked to a door that was in the room, she opened it up and it lead to another room. As Litias entered the adjacent room, Jenny followed her. Once in there Jenny noticed Litias had a desk. Litias picked up a parchment that was on the desk and began looking at it. Jenny looked around the room and saw another bed, she then sat down on the foot of that bed and asked. "Is that another one of The Hero's story?"

      Litias turned it's attention back to Jenny. "You're funny pretty one. You must think all I do is sit around, reading stories about The Hero."

      Jenny smiled. "Well you could have fooled me."

     Litias frowned. "It's a spell. Similar to the one that put The Hero in the Crystal. I'm going to need to memorize if I'm going to battle the hero."

      Jenny raised an eyebrow. Why did Litias have that spell on it's desk? Did Litias think there was a possibility of The Hero escaping the crystal tonight?

      Jenny didn't want to think about it to much, she was once again letting herself get off topic. She needed to focus, and figure out what she was truly up against. "Look if we are going to work together, I need to know what kind of powers The Hero has."

      Litias put the parchment down, and began pacing around the room. "He has many. He is extremely strong, and fast. He can summon his legendary weapon out of thin air. Any ability he sees, he can mimic it, and do it better. He can transport himself anywhere he wants. He can even read the soul of anyone he meets."

     Jenny stared at Litias. She was completely puzzled about the last thing, the creature said. "What do you mean, he can read soul of anyone he meets?

      Litias stopped pacing and let out a sigh. "The Hero can look inside one's soul, and see everything they have ever done. Everything they have said. All the knowledge one person has, can become his in a blink of an eye. Afterwards the victim will become disoriented, feeling as if hours have just passed them by."

      After listening to Litias, she began to mumble. "That's how he knew everything about me."

     Litias watched Jenny for a moment, then the creature asked. "Is there anything else you want to know? If not, I need to return to the task of memorization."

      Jenny looked at Litias. "So with soul ability, he can judge whether someone is good or evil, and he will kill the one's he deems evil first, right?"

    Litias growled. "Yes, that's why he can't know I'm here."

    Jenny shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about him coming for you anytime soon. He has plenty of other bad people to deal with tonight."

     Litias eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

     At this point Jenny realized that Litias probably wasn't fully aware of everything going on. "The Gothic Lights are putting on a concert, with a popular band, and has hired a really nasty motorcycle gang to be their security. They are doing this to promote the arrival of the Demon.

       Litias began freaking out. "No!!! That fool Travis promised he would only have a few of his followers here, when I gave him the contract!"

     Jenny didn't understand how Litias didn't know what was going on. "How did you not know about the concert?"

      Litias, who was now enraged, yelled at Jenny. "I was asleep!!!"

      Jenny gave Litias a confused look. "You must have been asleep for a long time not to know about this."

      "Yes!!!" Litias screamed. "I've been asleep for the last six months!"

     Jenny's eyes widen, but before she could inquire further, Litias continued speaking. "I can go many years with out sleep, but at some point I have to recharge my magic. I went into hibernation six months ago. During that time, Travis was suppose to be working on away to get me the crystal, now I see he has been far more busy than I expected."

      Jenny interrupted Litias. "He killed a person, to bring you that crystal."

      Litias looked to be bothered by what Jenny just said. She stood silently for a moment, before mumbling something in a language Jenny didn't understand. Then Litias spoke in English again. "That is none of my concern. My concern is to trade contract for the crystal, and to take my prizes. Once that is done, I will leave your world."

      Jenny raised an eyebrow again. "Prizes? Besides the crystal, what else was he suppose to get you?"

      Litias smiled. "Nothing, I was going to retrieve my other prize myself."

       Jenny became worrisome. "Where is this other prize?"

      Litias laughed. "Don't worry pretty one, I already have it now."

      Jenny knew it was pointless to keep asking her about the other prizes, because the creature apparently didn't want to talk about it, and she knew she couldn't make her. There was still a big problem though. The contract, she couldn't let it get into the hands of Travis, Aka Gothic Mirror.

[365days365movies]

March 7, 2021: Onward (2020) (Part One)

Finding Nemo.

That’s my favorite Pixar film. Real talk, no arguments, and today’s movie? NOT dethroning it. This movie is so hard-wired into my brain, that the second I typed the words of the title, the theme song ran through my head, where it lives rent-free. It will be a cold day when I don’t find an excuse to shout “NEMOOOO!!!! I HAVE TO FIND MY SON!!” at any opportune moment. I will never stop swimming. Whenever I catch a Chinchou or Lanturn in a Pokémon game, I name it “Goodfeeling’sgone”.

SHARK BAIT OOH HA HA

YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE DEPTHS OF MY LOVE FOR THIS MOVIE.

...Ahem. So, yeah, I love FInding Nemo. For the record, the sequel ain’t bad. And also for the record, there’s only one Pixar movie that I consider to be bad, and it’s the one you’d think. You know, the one about ageism. The one where somebody dies by torture? The bad spy movie?

...the second one about cars?

Which means, YES. I DON’T THINK The Good Dinosaur IS THAT BAD! Not exactly good, but its gorgeous, and just kinda boring, not outright terrible. That Styracosaurus, though...that dude is great.

Anyway, off of Pixar for a sec, huh? What about fantasy? I’m a big tabletop RPG nerd, and I’m currently the GM for a Pathfinder campaign, a Pokémon RPG, and a Mutants and Masterminds game, while also playing in a Pathfinder game as well. Yeah, I’m a busy dewd. But what I’m saying is, this movie should be preaching to the choir for me. I’m a Pixar lover who plays RPGs. I’m ready for this. I’m ready for CGI Bright. Which is another way of saying, I’m ready for a version of Bright that doesn’t suck.

So, why haven’t I seen it until now? I mean...COVID-19. This film got FUCKED. But, no matter! It’s on Disney Plus, I’ve got Disney Plus, so let’s get this baby STARTED! Let’s get updated on some Pixar! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

OK, immediately digging the soundtrack over the Disney logo as we jump in here! Very ethereal, very fantasy, very LotR, I LIKE it, I LIKE it! And then...long ago, the world was full of wonder!

We get a view of the world of olde, with magic and many mystical, mythical creatures living together and adventuring. However, as magic wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to use, it eventually gave way to technology, fading away in a world now very similar to ours.

Basically, it’s about the same as our world, except for a few different races, and the fact that dragons are basically dogs, and unicorns are basically raccoons, which is fuckin’ fantastic.

We enter the home of teenage elf Ian Lightfoot (Tom Holland) and introverted now-16-year-old who lives with his mother, Laurel (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) and his older brother Barley (Chris Pratt). Barley’s a tabletop RPG nerd who’s also a fan of the magical past. Said obsessions cause a strain on his relationship with Ian, and with that of his mother’s boyfriend, centaur policeman Colt Bronco (Mel Rodriguez).

After a discussion about Barley’s recent attempt to protect an old magical monument from destruction, he accidentally damages the sweatshirt that Ian is wearing, which was owned by their late father, Wilder. Ian rushes out, flustered, despite Barley’s attempts to bond with him. Well, looks like we have a sense of the plot for this one.

On his way to school, Barley stops to get some food when he meets Gaxton (Wilmer Valderrama), an old college friend of his father’s. From Gaxton, he learns things about his father that he never knew, like that he was bold and standout. From there, Barely pledges to try and be more self-confident, like his father.

Whiiiiiiich, doesn’t exactly work once he gets to school. He fails to stand-up to a jerky guy at school, he fails in his driving class, and he fails to ask other high school kids to his birthday party. But to be fair, Barley helps a bit with that last one when he shows up with Guinevere, his busted-ass van with a unicorn painted on the side. Which is supposed to be uncool...but I kinda dig it, not gonna lie.

After that, Ian completely flubs the invitation bit, confusing the people he was talking to, and disappointing himself in the process. He gets a ride home with Barley, and goes home to talk to a tape recording of his dad. Which is...beautifully sad, and somehow very easy to identify with. So, yeah, it’s gonna be that kind of Pixar movie.

Ian talks to his mom about his father at his age, asking if he was ever unsure. She says yes, but couples this with a surprise: a gift from his late father, who died of a terminal illness shortly after Ian’s birth. The gift is for both Ian and Barley, and was meant to be opened when they were both over 16.

She gets it from the attic, and they unwrap it, where it’s revealed to be a wizard’s staff. Which is weird, because Wilder was an accountant. In a pocket of the wrapping cloth, there’s a letter written by Wilder with the narration from the beginning of the film (that “Long ago” bit).

Also included is a spell, written by Wilder so that he could see who his sons grew up to be. This “Visitation Spell” would appear to be a way to bring Wilder back for 24 hours. Barley, being the magic-lover that he is, tries multiple times to cast the spell with the staff, but fails to do so, much to his and Ian’s great disappointment.

However, when Ian tries to read the spell out of curiosity later, the staff begins to react, and the spell begins to work. Barley comes in as this is happening, and the spell works...halfway. It starts to fail, and Barley offers to help, but Ian pulls the staff away, and the spell stops as the Phoenix crystal inside it shatters.

Looks like another bust, but it’s not a complete failure. And if you’ve seen literally any trailer for this movie, you know what happens.

Although it’s just his legs and feet, it’s still Wilden Lightfoot (Kyle Bornheimer...technically). The boys decide to try and complete the spell, but need another Phoenix Gem to do so. According to Barley’s “historically accurate” TTRPG, Quests of Lore, they will be able to find one by accepting a quest from the place where all quests start: the Manticore’s Tavern. And so, the quest begins!

The brothers and their half-dad board Guinevere and drive to the Manticore’s Tavern. On the way, Barley convinces Ian to practice some spells from the games rulebook, but they don’t work because Ian’s not invoking his passion (or his “heart’s fire”, as Barley calls it). Meanwhile, Laurel figures out where they’re headed, but doesn’t know exactly why...yet.

After the journey, they make it to the Manticore’s Tavern, which is now essentially a themed Chuck E. Cheese’s restaurant, owned and managed by Corey (Octavia Spencer), a very overworked manticore. Which is pretty great, not gonna lie.

They try to get the actual map to the Phoenix’s Gem from her in order to conjure their Dad, but she no longer sends adventurers on dangerous quests, mostly because she doesn’t want to get sued by any injured adventurers. When Ian argues with her about this, she IMMEDIATELY DIVES INTO AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS/MID LIFE CRISIS!

It’s, uh...it’s kind of amazing. Having completely lost it at this point, she basically tears down the entire building with her bare hands and fire-breath. Unfortunately, the map to the Phoenix Gem is burnt in the process of Corey’s literal meltdown. However, as Wilden’s about to be crushed by a couple of falling beams, Ian taps into his heart’s fire.

Nice. They get out of there, and head out for the Gem, using a child’s placemat replica of the real map to make their way to a place called Raven’s Point. However, rather than just follow the goddamn map, Barley decides to go on much more dangerous road known as the “Path of Peril”, once again following the “call of adventure” and his gut.

Which...yeah, Barley’s not really considering the reality of this whole situation, which fits his personality. He’s a dreamer, despite the rational and reasonable solution in front of him. And, in case you weren’t sure, I’m pretty sure that isn’t a good thing.

Ian points out the correct point that what actually matters is that they send enough time with their father, and they do indeed take the straightforward path. Good! Barley listened to Ian’s suggestion after all. However, they hit another snag when the car breaks down, completely out of gas. Problem.

Meanwhile, Laurel makes her way to the Manticore’s place, only to find it on fire! She meets Corey, who tells her that she’s met her boys, and told them about everything...except the curse. Also, there’s a curse. Laurel, who is the best movie Mom ever, tricks a policeman interviewing Corey to diverting his attention away from her, and smuggles her into her car to help find (and maybe rescue) her sons. 

Stuck off the freeway without gas, a desperate Ian asks Barley if there are any spells that can get them more gas. They concoct a plan involving a shrinking and growing spell, but that immediately goes wrong as Barley tries to instruct Ian, only frustrating him further, and causing him to fumble the spell and hit Barley with it, making him tiny. 

They decide to head to a gas station, where a group of pixie bikers has just arrived. This backfires when Barley, lacking basically any common sense, ends up insulting the biker leader, Dewdrop (Grey Griffin) and her ancestors. Nice one, Barley. As they escape from the pissed off pixies, the tiny Barley is unable to drive, forcing the driver’s anxiety-riddled Ian to drive, overcoming his fears from earlier by force, being chased by the pixies all the way. It’s a pretty good sequence, to be honest.

Well, they escape the Pixies...but not the cops. And I think that’ll be a good place to pick up in the next part! See you there!

[leahxx129]

His Name (demon!Dean Winchester x Reader)

This is a submission for the immensely talented @fvckingavengers​ ‘ quarantine writing challenge. Also, I’d like to credit @angelkurenai​ since her soulmate AU imagines provided the main idea for this fic. 

My prompt for inspiration was:

You’re all I need when I’m holding you tight / If you walk away I will suffer tonightI found a man I can trust / And boy, I believe in us / I am terrified to love for the first time / Can’t you see that I’m bound in chains? / I finally found my way / I am bound to you - Bound to You by Christina Aguilera

Summary: Nobody knew why or how, but on their thirteenth birthday every person on planet Earth would start feeling this burning sensation on their left lower arm, which intensifies as the day carries on. By the time the sun goes down, the burning sensation would leave a scar, forming a name. It’s believed to be the name of the person one belongs with. The letters on your skin spell out Dean Winchester.

Warnings: angst, mild swearing

Word count: 3.275-ish

Sam Winchester is staring intensely on the map in the War room as if he watched it closely enough, it would show where his brother went from the last place he’d been spotted at. Sam is tired beyond words – he has spent every waking hour searching for Dean, even though he is not sure that the demon curing ritual would work on a Knight of Hell.

„You know we’re gonna find him, right?” Cas speaks up, making Sam jump a little.

„Cas... didn’t see you there... Uhm, sure, I know. It’s just harder than I thought.” his words don’t really comply with his facial expression.

„Well, I do not know if this is helpful, but Crowley sent me a photo a few minutes ago with a text saying ’Show this to Moose’. It depicts a woman I have never seen before.” he hands Sam the phone.

„Oh my God!” Sam’s eyes light up with excitement. „Why haven’t I thought of that?!”

„Thought of what? I think I’m in the dark here, Sam.”

But Sam is too busy looking for something in his pockets to answer. A couple of seconds later a familiar rattle indicates he found his car keys and he claps Cas on the shoulder.

„We have a long drive ahead of us, buddy.”

It‘s 2. a.m. on a Thursday night, you are wiping the bar counter with a cloth. Nothing out of the ordinary happened all evening. You started your shift around 6 p.m. at the local bar, only the regulars came in. The air was heavy with the scent of liquor and cigarette smoke. Even the old jukebox in the corner and the clatter of billiard balls sounded pretty much the same as every night.

Just as you’ve finished wiping and start washing the glasses, the main door opens then closes slowly with a squeak.

„I’m sorry but were closed! Try tomorrow, pal.” you say without looking at the newly arrived guest. It’s not a rare phenomenon that someone wants to stick around for a couple more drinks after closing time, so you don’t suspect anything. Not until the person begins talking, anyway.

’Really? I thought you’d make an exception for an old friend...”

Hearing Sam Winchester’s voice makes your blood run cold, numbing you to an extent that the glass you are holding slips out of your grasp and shatters to a dozen pieces on the floor.

„Sam...” despite your best efforts you can’t muster anything other than his name.

„I mean, I was hoping you’d be excited to see me, Y/N, but breaking glasses is not necessary. Or safe.” he chuckles, sitting down on a bar stool.

„Shut up, smartass!” you intend to look serious, but a smile creeps on your face, nevertheless.

There’s a long moment of silence. Neither of you want to spoil the joy of reunion so you just look at one another, taking in how the other has changed over the years. You pour two scotches and finally Sam clears his throat.

„I see you’re still covering up his name.” he states, referring to your bracelets that hide most of your left lower arm.

Oh, right. His name. Frankly, you tend to forget about those words burnt in your skin quite easily.

Nobody knew why or how, but on their thirteenth birthday every person on planet Earth would start feeling this burning sensation on their left lower arm, which intensifies as the day carries on. By the time the sun goes down, the burning sensation would leave a scar, forming a name. It’s believed to be the name of the person one belongs with. The letters on your skin spell out Dean Winchester.

You can still picture the day you got it crystal clearly.

It was around 10 p.m. when it finished burning and you were able to read it. Your father’s face turned to an ashy color and he drove you to Bobby Singer’s house where the Winchesters were staying at the time. Hearing an engine die, Bobby and John came out to see who the unexpected visitors were.

“Stay in the car!” your father ordered through gritted teeth as he got out and you obeyed.

John smiled when he recognized him, but his smile soon turned to a painful grimace – courtesy of your father’s amazing left hook.

“What the hell, man?!” he shouted in disbelief, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand. Bobby was visibly indecisive whether to stop the fight or let it play out.

“I could ask you the very same question, Winchester!” your father bellowed in response.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“I’m talking about the name that formed on my little girl’s arm, John! You have some dark connections, you must’ve got something to do with it!”

“It’s Dean, isn’t it?” you could see the epiphany on his face even in the poor light that filtered through Bobby’s kitchen window. “Look, pal... you and I both know damn well that this cannot be controlled.”

A long silence ensued. Only the crickets could be heard.

“Ever since my girl’s name showed up on your boy’s arm, I prayed every single night for it to be a mistake. For her to get a different name when the time comes, and you know I don’t believe in God, John!” your father’s voice cracked. “I prayed for her to get the name of a lawyer, a doctor or a dentist… somebody that’ll provide for her. And she got a hunter. Out of seven billion people, she got a hunter… I don’t want her to end up like Mary, or her Mom.”

John took a step closer and squeezed your father’s shoulder.

“Dean will take good care of her, I promise.”

You banish the memory as quickly as you can. The only thing you’re thankful for is the fact that none of your dads lived long enough to see how much of a lie John’s promise would prove to be.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cover it up.” you answer Sam coldly and he shoots you an apologetic look.

“What about yours? Have you found your, uhm... what’s her face… Eileen Leahy?” your pronunciation earns a genuine smile from him.

“No, not yet. I’m starting to think she’s a myth.”

“Well then, she’s the luckiest myth in this whole damn world, I can tell you that much.”

You down your drink in one gulp and decide to ask what’s been bothering you ever since he set foot in the bar.

“Alright, Sam, honest talk. Why are you here? What’s up? I gave you this address for emergencies and the fact that we’re having a face-to-face conversation right here, right now is a bad sign in my book.”

He looks like he’s contemplating the way to present the situation to you, but you’re having none of it.

“No need for sugarcoating, hot stuff, just spill it.”

“Dean’s a demon.”

You’re not sure if you’ve heard it right or the scotch you’ve just drunk was spiked.

“Excuse me?”

“Dean’s a demon. He died with the Mark of Cain on his arm and he turned into a Knight of Hell. Gone rogue. I want to fix him, but you know Dean... it’s damn hard to find him when he doesn’t wanna be found.” he flashes you a smile but when you don’t replicate it, he continues “I’m here because he’s here, Y/N. Based on my intel, he’s been visiting this bar to see you. Will you help me cure him?”

With a blank stare you pour yourself another drink, now wishing for it to be spiked.

The next day after closing you don’t get into your car immediately; you decide to light a cigarette first. Sam’s words are still echoing in your ears. A demon? And he’s been visiting the bar to see you? Why the hell would he do that? You’re about to stub the remainder of your cigarette when you hear his voice from behind you.

“I always thought you looked incredibly sexy when you smoked, darlin’. Turned me on so much.”

You spin around on your heels just to bump straight into Dean’s chest. He grabs hold of your arms to steady you. His touch gives you goosebumps, but you compose yourself swiftly. You cannot allow him to see the effect he still has on you, even after everything that happened.

“I know, Dean, you made it clear quite a few times with your actions… what I don’t know, however, is the reason behind your little visit... so, a fucking explanation would be nice. But first, let go of me!”

“That’s such an ugly word from such a pretty mouth… and to be honest, I think you know damn well what I’m doing here. A birdy tells me Sammy paid you a visit and I doubt that he didn’t share a few things about me, Y/N. As for letting you go… sorry, no can do.” he smirks.

“What do you mean ‘no can do’, Winchester?!” you ask sharply, panic rising withing you.

“Well, more precisely, I don’t want to. I’ve missed you.” he leans in closer to your face “And frankly, I don’t want you to put those engraved demon cuffs on me that peek from your back pocket, sweetie.” he whispers against your lips.

“Okay. How ‘bout the ones Sam is about to put on you?” you whisper back, causing him to furrow his brows in confusion and lean away. This gives you enough space to headbutt him and he automatically stumbles a step backwards, allowing Sam to cuff him from behind.

With united forces you manage to hustle Dean into the trunk of your car.

“You know, demon or not, it’s nice to know some things never change. You’ve always let your dick do the thinking instead of your brain.” you tell him condescendingly before closing the trunk.

When Dean wakes up in the Men of Letters’ dungeon restrained, at first, he’s perplexed. Then as realization slowly hits him, his face becomes distorted with fury and he starts wriggling in an attempt to break free, but he doesn’t succeed. A frustrated, unhuman-like growl leaves his throat. You watch this with undeniable pleasure.

„Mornin’, sunshine!” you greet him jovially.

There’s a short silence as he watches you prepare some syringes on the nearby iron table.

„So, you’re the one who’s gonna do it, huh? Or at least try...” he says arrogantly.

„Yup!”

„Now that’s funny ’cause you see I thought you hated needl-„ but you don’t let him complete his sentence as you pierce your skin faster than he could finish it. Your blood fills up the syringe in no time.

You walk over to him and sit on his lap in a straddling position.

„I do hate needles, Dean.” You admit „Kudos for remembering. But I’m pretty sure that you’ll hate what comes next even more than I hate them and that makes it worth it.”

Before he could react, you stab him in the neck with the syringe, completely emptying its content into his artery. The unhuman growl breaks out once again, but this time it turns into manic laughter.

„Wow, that was exciting!” he exclaims as his eyes turn black „Almost as exciting as Jo holding me at gunpoint when we first met. But just almost... You know, there were times I wished it was her name on my arm instead of yours.”

 „Interesting. Because there were times I wished it was your brother’s name on mine, but I guess we can’t always get what we want, now can we?” you shrug and walk back to the table, not minding Dean’s pitch-black stare. He thought he could hurt you since Jo was your best friend, but you manage to hit closer to home.

You sit down on a chair, place your legs on the table and put your headphones on.

„What are doing?” Dean asks, clearly upset.

„You didn’t seriously think I was gonna listen to your annoying blabber until the next shot, did you?” he opens his mouth to reply but you turn on the music on your phone and start lip-syncing to ’Dream on’ by Aerosmith.

In the following four hours you administer the next four shots, each at every clock turn. Dean says something insulting each time and you try to ignore him each time - with more or less success.

“Alright, hot stuff, time for the sixth shot!” examining your arm you realize it starts resembling to a needle pillow, but you draw another fix for him all the same.

This time he appears calmer. He’s not trying to pull his head away or even bite you like at some previous occasions. No shouting or growls either. You can see he started sweating, the small drops glisten on his skin like illuminated diamonds. Could the ritual actually be working?

You’re halfway back to the table when he calls you by the nickname he gave you, forcing you to turn back.

“I just want you to know I admire you. I really do, Y/N. Seeing you put this much effort into this makes me wish I put more in our relationship.” he shoots you a sad, crooked smile.

“Careful, Dean. If you don’t stop attempting to manipulate my emotions, I’m gonna punch you in the face. Again. But this time harder.” you warn him.

“I’m not toying with you. I honestly wish.”

“Well it’s kind of too late for that, isn’t it?” you take a step closer to him and pull up the bracelets on your arm. “See these words? They are the sole reason I’m here and doing this. Okay?”

“Who are you trying to fool, sweet thing? Me or yourself?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Your hands tremble when you get back to the table and put the headphones on. You feared this moment would come and here it is. He’s trying to get under your skin. And it’s working.

Later on when you approach him with the seventh shot, he tilts his head to the side, offering his neck.

“Go on.” he encourages you and you take the opportunity. The ferocious, invincible being Sam chained down is nowhere to be seen – a broken man with beautiful green eyes looks longingly at you instead.

“There’s one more to go and you’ll be your annoying self again, hot stuff.” you tell him softly, relenting a little.

“And you?”

“I’ll be on my way to the farthest place from here.” you decide to tell him the truth, which seems to render him speechless for a minute.

“Why do you hate me so much, Y/N?” I mean, I know I’ve never been the high definition of an awesome boyfriend, trust me, but the amount of resentment I sense baffles me.” he asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

The ball of uneasiness in your stomach grows two sizes in the span of a minute.

“You’ve lost your right to ask such personal questions four years ago, Winchester. You’ve lost it when you left that letter on the kitchen counter, and you walked out on us!” you say in a strained voice.

Suddenly, all the memories you‘ve worked so hard to suppress flood back in.

When Sam jumped in the pit, Dean was lost. His self-destructive behavior foreshadowed a gruesome end and you just couldn’t let him spiral down like that. You made arrangements and got out of the life. Rented a house in the countryside and started living like a normal couple. Beforehand, your relationship was stormy to say the least, but settling down steadied it a lot. Everything was picture perfect for about a year - then you found that damn letter when you arrived home from work. Dean explained in it that Sam was alive, and he needed some time to figure stuff out. You didn’t even get the chance to tell him what you learned that day… and this was the last straw. You never contacted Dean Winchester again, nor did you speak to him directly. Your liaison was Sam up until that night in the bar’s parking lot.

Dean’s voice brings you back to reality.

“My brother came back from the dead… I was confused, Y/N. Just like I wrote, I needed time! After a while I was trying to reach out to you, but you refused to even-“he stops mid-sentence “Wait a minute… walked out on you… as in… plural?”

You nod mechanically and his eyes widen.

“Wha-what happened?” he chokes out eventually.

“I was pregnant. Then miscarried. Don’t worry about it.”

Is that really a teardrop running down his cheek, or are you imagining things?

“Don’t worry about it?” he raises his voice in disbelief. “That’s all you’re gonna say about it?!”

“I don’t want to say anything else, Dean. Because if I pull on that thread again, my mind will go to a dark, lonely place and I think I deserve better than that.”

“Goddamnit…” he exhales loudly, then continues “When all of this is over, I want you to stay.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I want you to stay with me. Here. I want a clean slate, a-a new beginning.”

You can’t comprehend what’s happening. One minute you were curing your ex-boyfriend from demonism, and the other he wants to start things over despite your history together. 

Instead of replying, you fill up the last syringe and administer the eighth shot quickly, then deliver the required incantation. Just as you finish, Sam enters the dungeon and you run past him straight to your car. You open the door but before you could sit in somebody closes it from behind. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is, but you do it anyway. Dean takes your left arm and reveals his own name.

“I remember the night you got this thing. I was in the house when you and your dad arrived at Bobby’s and I witnessed the whole ordeal. I know that ‘til now I did a crappy job keeping the promise my dad made to yours but give me one last chance to do it right, okay?”

You look away, trying to blink back a few tears that want to escape your eyes deperately.

“I don’t know, Dean…”

He gently grasps your chin to make you face him.

“You know, when Sam gave me your message saying you don’t need me anymore, I thought – fine. If you don’t need me, I don’t need you, simple as that. But it was a lie. I only realized how big when I became a Knight of Hell… I enjoyed killing, Y/N. I enjoyed killing so much that it scared the crap out of me. But all this darkness and anger brought on by the mark alleviated one night when I accidentally stopped at that bar and saw you…”

“Damn, Winchester, are we having a chick-flick moment here?” you ask, trying to take the edge off the situation while wiping your eyes.

“Yeah…I guess we are. But don’t tell anyone ‘cause it would ruin my reputation.” he whispers the last part.

You scoff loudly.

“What reputation are you talking about, exactly? I think you lost every bit of it back in the parking lot when I kicked your demon ass.”

“Oh, well, I guess you’re right, sweet thing.” he admits with a breathy laughter.

“As for a second chance… fine.  But fail to keep that promise once more and I’ll be gone for good. Understood?”

At first a look of genuine surprise spreads on his face but it soon gets switched up by gratitude. He places a feather light kiss on your lips as confirmation.

Truth be told, you could never leave him just as he could never leave you – at least not permanently. No matter the pain and the misery, you belong with each other. Your souls are bound by an invisible lace that nothing can tear apart.

[hoenursey]

NurseyChow prompt: comic 4.08

i can’t believe you made me look up what fucking comic that was, sending me this like i know shit lol

When Chowder comes home from class, there’s an ungodly stomping noise coming from the staircase, and the sound of someone kicking a cardboard box across the floor. The door shuts behind him, and Ford sticks her head out of the kitchen, smiling apologetically.

“Dex’s decided he’s tired of living with Nursey,” she said in lieu of a greeting, and Chris closes his eyes, fingers coming to the bridge of his nose tightly.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, and joins her in the kitchen, where they’re talking about class of ‘16. Apparently, they’ve moved in together, and now that Dex has exploded, Chowder is strongly considering asking if he can move in with them. He misses Lardo.

Dex moving out takes the better part of the afternoon. In the evening, he stays locked in the basement, hammering and cutting and whatever else people who know how tools work do with them. It’s loud, and more than a little annoying, but no one wants to go downstairs and tell him to stop. Besides, it won’t work.

That’s the first time anyone sees Nursey.

Instantly, he knows something is wrong.

For one, he’s got on basketball shorts in October, which everyone knows he’s morally opposed to. He’s ranted about it several times; he could practically write a thesis on it.

Secondly, his eyes are bloodshot.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, and Chris’ alarm skyrockets.

A chorus of greetings sounds, all some degree of concerned.

Nursey clears his throat. “Uh, i’m going to Annie’s,” he says, trying for normal. He almost accomplishes it. “If anyone wants anything, just text me. My treat.”

“Do you want someone to go with you?” Ford asks anxiously, before anyone can stop her, and Chris manages to kick the foot of her chair in time for her to blurt out, “Uh, to help you carry all those drinks, y’know?”

Nursey smiles wanly. He looks drawn. “Nah, Nicey, i’m good. I’ll see you later, guys.”

Scattered goodbyes go off, and he disappears out the door with hardly a sound.

Bitty turns immediately to Chowder.

“Would you mind--”

“I’m already texting him,” he says, and Bitty smiles worriedly, stacking another few cookies on his plate.

[ text: hot nurse ] hey, would you grab me a jasmine tea? i forgot to buy some at the grocery store !

He watches their chat-- Nursey doesn’t respond, but he does like the message. Satisfied, he taps out a “thanks <3″ and leaves Nursey alone for now.

It’s nearly an hour before Nursey comes back. He knocks briefly on Chris’ door, and he calls cheerfully for him to come in.

“Come on in, close the door! You can go through the bathroom later, I don’t wanna walk all the way over to close the door.”

Nursey nods, silent. Without so much as a greeting, he brings over the drink, mumbling, “here,” and handing it off.

Chris takes it one-handedly-- with the other, he catches Nursey’s wrist, holding him in place and peering up at him.

He looks a little better-- not much, mind-- but his eyes aren’t so red, and he makes eye contact for a few seconds.

“How are you? Really,” he asks evenly. Nursey laughs. There’s very little humor in it.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “Just need some time, y’know.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nursey snaps. “Fine, I feel like shit, is that what you wanted? You wanna know so fucking bad? Did you even want a drink, Chowder, or what? Wanna fucking throw it at me? Did Dex want this fucking drink, and he just didn’t wanna say anything? What?!”

Chris waits until Nursey tires himself out, looking angry and heartbroken, and it hurts him to stay quiet like this, to let Nursey say the negative stuff that festers inside of himself, but he knows intrinsically that the other boy needs it.

Finally, Nursey’s rant ends, and instantly, he looks ashamed of himself, clenching up his jaw and looking away.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t... I didn’t mean to... y’know. Sorry.”

“Do you wanna sleep here tonight?”

He looks back to him. “Huh?”

“Do you wanna sleep here, with me? I just... I thought... I mean, it’s better than sleeping alone, right?” Chris puts on a brave smile, like his heart isn’t thumping, like it isn’t taking everything in him not to tremble at the sight of his teammate like this.

Nursey-- no, Derek, looks... lost. Like the kid they all kind of are, dressed up in grownup’s shoes.

“Dee?” he murmurs, hesitant, and Derek breaks, swallowing tightly; all at once, he nods, the green of his eyes warbling with unshed tears.

Hastily, Chris rises to hold him, and Derek’s weight sags against him the second he envelops him in his hold. He shudders, once, twice, lets out a muffled sob, and Chris squeezes him, presses him to his chest as Derek cries.

It takes time for Chris to get Derek into bed, but he does it, whispering gentle platitudes into his dark curls. Derek drops onto the mattress clumsily, and Chris kneels in front of him, squeezing his hands with gentle pressure. “Let’s get ready for bed,” he prompts, and his friend nods, and goes slowly to his clothing to undress.

Chris strips in record time, finding something for Derek amongst his own clothes. He’s a little bigger, a little more muscled, but he’s always been lean, and Chris himself wears baggy clothes sometimes. A pair of older shorts and a Sharks tee, and Derek is sitting at the edge of his bed, arms around himself tightly.

Chowder lifts the blankets on his side. “C’mon, babe,” he says, coaxing, a hand cupping his elbow. It isn’t until Derek is tucked into his side that Chris even notices the endearment, too caught up in taking care of the boy beside him.

Well, there’s no time for that. If Derek hadn’t noticed, it wasn’t important. He would worry about that... some other time. Sometime appropriate.

“Is this okay?”

Derek tenses; immediately, Chris pulls his arm from around his waist-- or tries to, anyways, but Derek’s hand catches his wrist, pulling him back. His grip is iron.

“Don’t,” he mumbles into Chris’ neck. “Please.”

Chris goes soft, tucks Derek into his arms and holds him while he shakes, while the hot tears drop wetly onto his own warm skin and Derek’s long fingers twist in the fabric of Chris’ tee.

“C?” Nursey rasps, after what feels like hours, and Chris looks down at him, startling.

Oh god, he even looks beautiful when he cries.

It was true: the red rimming his eyes made the green of his irises stand out, framed by tears darkening and crystallizing on his long lashes. Blood had rushed to his cheeks, flushing them, as well as his lips, giving them a reddened, kiss-swollen appearance. Chris’ own face goes hot; Derek bites his bottom lip and he can’t bear to draw his eyes away from it.

“Yeah?”

“...can you kiss me?”

Chris inhales sharply. “We shouldn’t--”

“I know.”

“You--”

Derek surges up and seals their mouths together. Every protest-- token and legitimate-- dies on his lips and is swiped away by Derek’s tongue. 

Every atom of him feels like it’s on fire. His own tongue curls around the expanse of Derek’s mouth, swallowing the hot gasp that pours from it-- Derek’s fingers tighten, fisting the fabric in his grasp near-desperately. His free hand sneaks into Chris’ jet black hair, folding silkily through the pin-straight strands and then, as Chris responds with a groan, catching his lip between his teeth, his fingers tighten, deliciously.

Before he knows it, Chris is half on top of Derek, pressing him into the bed with their lips melded together. By the time he realizes what he’s doing, he’s shoving a knee between Derek’s thighs and dragging him close by the waist.

Fuck.

Chowder pulls away with a curse. Derek’s eyes fly open, half a moan tearing out of his throat-- the pupils are blown black, skin wrought with an impassioned rush of blood. 

“I’m sorry,” Chris blurts out. “I’m sorry, Dee, but we- I- no. Not now, not-- not like this, okay? Not, like, never! But just... just not now. Not when you’re hurting like this.”

Derek swallows. “Right,” he says, suddenly quiet. “Sorry, you.. you probably want me to go.”

“No!”

Derek freezes. Chris gulps nervously, and then sits back on his calves, pulling Derek with him.

“Stay. Please.”

He hesitates. “I...”

“Derek.”

He bites his lip; quietly, after a few minutes, Derek nods. Chris breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank you. C’mon, let’s sleep,” he says gratefully, and Nursey nods again, shifting to allow Chowder space on the bed. It takes time, but after a few moments of awkward shuffling, he pulls Nursey into his chest, fed up with discomfort and stiltedness. Nursey settles into it immediately, taking sharp little breaths that calm when he unconsciously syncs them up to Chris’.

Derek is asleep in minutes. Chris, spooned up behind him, follows just after between one breath and the next.

In the morning, when Chris wakes, he’s alone. Derek is gone. He’s clutching a pillow-- and drooled on it a little, which, embarrassing, he hopes he didn’t drool on Nursey-- and when he sits up, he sees a notebook at the end of the bed. 

It’s nothing to reach for it, so he does, rubbing sleep from his eyes. It doesn’t say much, but it’s clearly from Nursey.

Thanks. -DMN

[hasmashdoneanythingwrong]

Please! The Elder Scrolls lore!

Oh man bad wording on your part, we’re going to start from the beginning and I am going to have fun with this!

The literal blood sweat and tears of creation

So, like all good cosmologies, this one starts with a good old fashion “in the beginning, there was nothing”. And then, from this nothingness came two... let’s call them gods, that’s the closest term we have. Really, they’re more akin to the Greek Protogenoi In that they were closer to sapient forces of cosmic power than anything else. These two gods represented what many will call the great dichotomy: Anu, God of Stasis, and Padomay , God of Change. Another way to think of it is as order and chaos, but more in the sense of “things staying the same” and “things changing constantly”. These two just kind of sat around doing cosmic forces things...

When BAM! Another cosmic force (Likely representing the idea of creation) appeared. Her name was Nir, And she was so sexy that all two other people in creation at the time were like “Holy shit...!” And then Nir looked at Anu And was like “Holy Shit…!” So of course, the two of them immediately hit it off, got to work making worlds, and we’re really really happy together because they exist in the universe before “Being a shitty person to your spouse” was a concept. However, you know what was A concept? Murder and also maybe jealousy. Padomay Looked at the two of them being happy and was like “That should be me, those fuckers!” So he went up to Nir And was like hey you should ditch my stupid brother and go out with me instead we can make all sorts of cool shit. And Nir was like “What am I a cheater? Go away jerk”.

Padomay did not like this. So he went full Yandere and killed Nir and her 12 or so children/worlds.

Anu did not like this, because he helped make those and even in a timeless primordial void life was sacred.

So Anu was like “Stop! You violated the law! Pay the court a fine, or serve your sentence! Your stolen goods are now forfeit.” Padomay obviously said no and Anu was all like “Then pay with your blood!” And started fighting Padomay. However, unlike the average city guard that makes the exact same speech, Anu Was actually a powerful individual, and proceeded to rip Padomay So many new assholes that Padomay died. Then Anu was like “My wife... My Children... There’s only one thing left to do here...!”, took their shattered remains, and began piecing them together into something new. If this sounds weird and/or creepy to you, consider our own real world mythologies, and realize honestly, by creation myth standards, This is pretty tame and actually kind of nice.

But before Anu could really do anything...

Padomay: (DBZ teleport noise) Omae Wa Mou... Shindeiru.

Anu: Nani?!

(Both proceed to explode into massive puddles of blood and soul)

And from there, these massive pools of blood and soul (now named Sithis (Padomay’s Blood, The Primal “Is Not”) and Anui-El (Anu’s Blood, The Primal “Is”)) began to expand out infinitely. Where they touched created this weird sort of… Not order not chaos but also yes order and yes chaos area that we will simply call… The Aurbis.

Of course, truth is this is but one variation of How It’s Made Aurbis Edition. Some versions have snakes, some have Anu and Padomay simply eject their souls into Anui-El and Lorkhan/Sithis, who can say. All of them are technically true and false at the same time anyways. But more importantly, all of these variations are both canon, non-canon, and quasi-canon. Fun!

Hakuna Et’Ada

So in this bloody pit, The Aurbis was not the only thing to come out of this. From these three blood settings (Anu, Padomay, and Mixed) came the original spirits, which later peoples would call Et’Ada. Depending on who you ask, certain spirits originated from particular mixtures, But the reality is different spirits just sorta became different things regardless of which blood puddle they originated from. Some claim what would become the Daedra came only from Padomay’s blood, But if that were the case, then Jyggalag is hella weird since that would make him a Chaos God of Order. And Meridia was a Magna-Ge so... yeah. So for now, lets just assume every named Et’Ada that isn’t Lorkhan came from evenly intermingled blood.

Anyways, as all these spirits came to be they emerged to what is best described as a the metaphysical equivalent of a pyramid made of tesseract spirals colored RedOrangUrPinCyan but also YellOchErmilliFuchIte being formed into a pentagon. That is to say, hella interesting to watch. So the Et’Ada were kind of content to couch potato and watch the resulting three way of the 3rd, ith (as in the imaginary number), and -680th dimensions.

All but one. See, one Et’Ada was purely Padomayic/Sithic, and his name was Lorkhan. And being essentially the embodiment of Chaos and Change, Lorkhan was like “Man this isn’t exciting enough”. So he kept getting bored, until one “day” (day as a relative term since time didn’t exist yet) he got so bored he went to the edge of The Aurbis and saw it looked like a wheel with 8 spokes. He said “huh that’s weird” tilted his head to the side and immediately Understood(tm) because he beheld the letter and concept “I”. Except not really, because as an Et’Ada he could never Understand. But he understood he did not Understand, so he knew how other spirits could Understand. So he was like “I have an Idea” and left to tell/cajole/convince the other spirits to participate. Some didn’t like his idea, bust secretly they kind of did. So they fucked off and made their own worlds out of themselves while retaining all their power. The 13 most powerful became the Daedric Princes, and all together the spirits that did not participate in Lorkhan’s plan became known as the Daedra (An old word meaning “Not Our Ancestors, singular form Daedroth (not to be confused with the crocodile like Daedra)). Meanwhile, all the other spirits thought this totally sounded cool, especially the one who would become Kynareth/Kyne (note that many creation myths have her heavily associated with Lorkhan and/or his equivalent figures, like Shor). One of these Et’Ada, a mighty spirit of mostly Anui-El named Magnus, was of course chosen to be the Architect and planner, for he understood the concept of order and planning better than anyone save maybe Auri-El/Auriel/Akatosh, who was basically Anui-El’s equivalent to Lorkhan. And eventually, after many not-months and a whole lot of untime later, Magnus was like “It’s done, let’s put this bad boy together!”, and Lorkhan was like “It’s Just According To Keikaku”, and unfortunately he said this right as the spirits were in the middle of making Lorkhan’s Cool Thing and realized it was kiiiiind of killing them to do. Also unfortunately for Lorkhan, they all knew Keikaku means plan. So Magnus and his closest followers/diciples/apprentices were like “fuck this!” And tore holes into reality to escape to Aetherius, which is what surrounds the bubble of reality Lorkhan’s Cool Thing exists in. However, Lorkhan immediately said “It’s Just According to Keikaku” again because by doing that, Lorkhan’s Cool Thing was exposed to Magicka, and also that made the stars (with Magnus’s exit becoming The Sun).

Never let it be said Lorkhan didn’t know how plans worked.

After that the remaining gods decided to Convene upon Lorkan’s Cool Thing to decide on how to punish him for saying the old memes and also for nearly killing them. This meeting (called Convention) was held upon what would become Adamantine Tower, aka Ada-Mantia. Eventually, it was decided that Lorkhan was to be executed for being a massive tool who tricked the Et’Ada into sacrificing themselves for Lorkhan’s Cool Thing. They also decided to rename Lorkhan’s Cool Thing to Nirn as they realized that Lorkhan’s creation had sort of recreated Nir as she was before Padomay killed her (I forgot to mention his killing Nir kind of maimed the fuck out of her too) without really bringing her to life again. So eventually it was decided that Lorkhan was to be executed, but that didn’t work out as well since everything they tried to do to him just didn’t work. So Lorkhan once again said “It’s Just According To Keikaku” and Auri-El was like “Anu and Padomay dude what do you even mean by that?!”, to which Lorkhan explained:

“My Heart is the Heart of the World, for one was made to satisfy the other!” (By the way I’m 90% certain he actually said something like this.)

So hearing this, both Auri-El and a spirit named Trinimac proclaimed “If your heart is so satisfied by the world, then the world can have it!” (Not really, But it builds up to what they really did). Then, Trinimac tore Lorkhan in half and pulled the heart out before Lorkhan could be not torn in half, then gave it to Auri-El who fastened it upon an arrow and fired it from his bow.

You may know this bow, it takes a form mortals can use sometimes. Which bow? Think of Auri-El’s other names.

Anyways, as the heart was flying over what would become Tamriel, it’s blood flew all over the damn place. Most of the blood would become the metal Ebony, which is why it’s so powerful a metal as it’s essentially dried god’s blood. Other places, such as... oh, let’s throw out the middle of Cyrodiil for no reason, the blood would crystalize. Oh, and I lied because I threw out Cyrodiil for a reason and that reason is one crystalized blood lump would become the Chim-El-Adabal, and later the Amulet of Kings, a very important necklace.

Meanwhile, the other gods used Lorkhan’s halves to make the Moons, because what else would you do with dead god corpse parts?

Eventually, the Heart of Lorkhan would hit the ocean, where it would give rise to a massive volcano island people would later call Morrowind, and from this volcano Lorkhan’s heart would give one last “It’s Just According To Keikaku”, for this too was planned. For you see, by doing this Lorkhan subconsiously introduced the concept of a straight line to Auri-El, the spirit of time. And by doing that, it forced Time to go from one point to the other instead of doing what it wanted. The first two Towers were made, and Nirn was at last out of Beta and in Release Phase. Bugfixes and stability patches (more Towers) to follow later.

Realizing they could not live forever with their divinity drained into Nirn, the Et’Ada (now renamed Aedra, meaning “Our Ancestors”) began to have descendants, the Ehlnofey (Earthbones, aka Demi-Gods). These Ehlnofey were the creators of the laws of physics, so to speak, known as Truths. Some created gravity, others said “hey maybe all this magicka floating around should be usable” and invented magic, and so on and so forth. These became known as The Earthbones. That said, many Ehlnofey simply had children, what would become Mer (elves) and Men. Argonians, meanwhile, came about because a chunk of one of those old worlds Nir created landed on Nirn in the form of the Hist. And the Khajiit... uh... I have no clue actually, I’ll get back to you on that one. Something involving the moons I know that much.

Towers, the Tacks of Reality

So, I’m sure you’re wondering, since I’ve mentioned the concept at least twice now, “hasmashdoneanythingwrong.com, What are The Towers in the metaphysical sense?”, To which I say… This is actually a very interesting concept. It’s best explained with The Map Metaphor. Imagine, if you will, Mundus (the pocket of reality Nirn resides in within the Aurbis) as a corkboard. Now, lay a map of Tamriel/Nirn over the corkboard. And now, take several pins and/or tacks and place them in areas roughly akin to the following areas:

High Rock’s Adamantine Tower

Morrowind’s Red Mountain/Red Tower

Summerset Isle’s Crystal Tower/Crystal-Like-Law

Cyrodiil’s White-Gold Tower/Imperial Palace

Yokuda’s Orchalc Tower (just imagine it somewhere in the ocean. You may notice a problem here, we’ll get to that soon...ish.)

The Dwemer’s Numidium/Walk-Brass/Brass Tower (pin this one pretty much anywhere on the Daggerfall region, basically somewhere in High Rock or Hammerfell). This one’s weird because it’s techincally in the future but active now. For best bets represent it with a tack made of transparent plastic.

Valenwood’s Green-Sap

Skyrim’s Snow-Throat/Throat of the World

Keep a few other pins on hand in case Bethesda reveals a tower in either Akavir, Pyandonea, or (unlikely but possible) Thras.

So, now you imagine the map, right? These pins, The Towers, hold Mundus/Nirn together and keep them from sinking into Oblivion.

So of course here’s where it all goes to fuck. Do the following:

Remove Red Mountain, Crystal Tower, White-Gold Tower, and Orichalc Tower.

Pull Snow-Throat half way out (while not deactivated it is “damaged” somehow.)

Not a whole lot of pins left, eh? But, one good piece of news: there is one more force holding Nirn/Mundus out of Oblivion.

Do the following:

Put a metric fuckton of gold tacks around the edge of the map, and imagine them being set up to automatically pull the Tower Pins out if they all get pulled out.

What tower is that? None! It is instead Talos, who is secretly holding the world together. Horrifyingly, this means killing the dude in Whiterun that preaches about Talos is bad, as Talos needs worshippers to maintain his power. Which means the Thalmor will unmake reality if they completely remove Talos Worship.

Don’t worry, they know and are banking on that happening. Why do you think that one Thalmor in the College of Winterhold questline was so excited about “the power to unmake the world at [his] fingertips”?

Wait, no. Do worry.

And somewhere, Akatosh is complaining about his neck and his back.

Time is a funny thing on Nirn. Turns out, making Time be based on making a single god know what a straight line is is very... unstable. Unstable enough that it’s possible to Break it. Yes, capital B. A Dragon Break is what they’re called. When a Dragon Break occurs, Time goes back to what it once was and becomes... fucky. Children birth their fathers, mothers divorce men they never met until five years from a prior divorce they never had, and dogs and cats decide now’s a good time to be friends. Fun! So when this happens, the Jills come out to Shout at Time until it bitches down and stops being broken, like a hoard of shitty therapists. If you’re wondering what a Jill is, basically it’s a female Dragon. Well, female by mortal standards. See, dragons’ genders are based on whether they want to fix thing or break things, and I am completely serious on that. So far, the most famous two Dragom Breaks occured:

When the Maruhkati Selectives, a rabidly Anti-Elf cult sect of an already pretty Anti-Elf group known as the Alessian Order, attempted to purge Auri-El from Akatosh because Auri-El was the aspect elves worshiped. As you can imagine, that went horribly.

The endings of Daggerfall, where at parallel points in different timelines several factions attempted to use Numidium all at once. The end result was the Warp In The West, Mannimarco becoming a God of Necromancy, Orcs getting rights, and the Illac Bay not being a massive clusterfuck (mostly). Numidium tends to do that, being the Dwemer’s walking middle finger to reality.

More Fun Facts about stuff available upon request, But for now I need to stop or I’ll make this too long for anyone.

[cotillion-the-rope]

Not Hollow Chapter Four: Search

“We’re going to kill the Radiance,” Hornet said as she strode into the living room where Hollow had seemingly decided to wait.

Hollow looked up at her from where they sat on the couch. It was impossible to even guess how they felt about her declaration or about Grimmchild still hanging limp and unconscious in her arms. The lack of response made her entrance not quite as dramatic as she would’ve liked… oh well.

“I don’t know how yet, nor do I care,” those were things to figure out later, “but we’re killing her.” Because fuck any other plan to deal with her, the only way to make sure she was dealt with permanently was for her to die. “Or at least I am.” It’d be unfair to ask or expect them to face the source of their suffering. Especially since even though she helped them train with their nail fairly frequently, they weren’t anywhere near as strong as they once were. There was a good chance if she brought them into battle with her that they’d end up being more of a hindrance than an asset. … Could she kill the Radiance by herself though? … That was another issue she’d figure out later. “You don’t have to help with the killing her part if you’d rather not face her.”

Hollow nodded as they seemed to relax a little. Good, they approved.

“As soon as Grimmchild recovers, I’ll head out to start searching for a way I can access the Dream Realm.” She needed to make sure Grimmchild would be okay and all three of them needed to eat some anyway. Rushing things unnecessarily wasn’t going to help anyone.

 -

When Grimmchild woke up a few hours later he made his displeasure known immediately, teleporting out of Hollow’s bedroom and flying into the kitchen to make distressed and mildly angry mewling sounds at mostly Hornet. He was scolding her about the whole Ghost thing, wasn’t he? … Well, she did kind of deserve it.

“I know,” she said, hiding a sigh of relief over the fact that he was evidently perfectly fine. “We’re going to fix it, I promise. But first,” she stood up grab him by the tail, pulling him down to her eye level, “you need to understand that you made it worse.”

He flinched. Good, he definitely understood her.

“What made you think going in there was a good idea? It drains anyone who isn’t made of void and that’s you. If I hadn’t gone in there to investigate you probably would’ve died from it. And you caused Ghost to crack.” Not necessarily, it could’ve been something else, but the timing was just too close for it to be a coincidence. “So you made things so much worse for them and everyone else in Hallownest.”

He stopped flapping, letting himself hang upside down by his tail in her grip. Pulling his wings in on himself, he chirped in an almost dejected tone. An attempt at an apology?

She glared at him. “You better be sorry.” Ghost had gone through enough without that … and Hornet had let them. That was besides the point though, she’d had no choice. She’d tried to stop them in Greenpath and warned them in the City of Tears but they’d continued on as she knew they would.

“And now, you’re going to help me kill the Radiance, got it?”

He perked up, making an interested mewl. Then he started flapping again and she let him go. He then flew around her head, making similar sounds to the ones he made when spitting fire but not actually doing so. He was apparently ready and eager for battle, good.

“I need a way to access the Dream Realm though. I know you can access it pretty much whenever, right? So is it possible for you to bring me with you?” That would be the easiest solution.

He paused to think for a few seconds before shaking his head. Not surprising but still a disappointment. That just meant Hornet needed find another way. And now that she’d had some time to calm down and give it some more thought she maybe had a potential lead on how to do it.

If Ghost couldn’t do it naturally – as evidenced by the fact that Hollow couldn’t – they’d had to have learned it or gotten something that let them do it. Either way it was a skill they’d most likely gained sometime after she’d lost track of them in Crystal Peak. It maybe wasn’t the best place to start, especially with how long they’d been out of her sight after that, but it was something. So after a quick nap, she’d head out that way and hope for the best.

 -

Crystal Peak was one of the places she’d explored the least in all her time watching over Hallownest. It was way too bright and the way sounds echoed off the smooth surface of the crystals was unnerving. And at times it seemed as if the crystals let off their own almost ringing sound that was even more unsettling. So overall it was not a place she liked, give her the complete darkness and skittering of unseen things present in Deepnest over this any day. She was here on a mission though so she had to stay.

Except she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. When Ghost had entered Herrah’s Dream to break her Seal, something had flashed in their hand that they’d swung similar to a nail. Her hiding spot hadn’t given her a good view of it and she hadn’t been looking to see it anyway. And she hadn’t been present when they’d dealt with the other Dreamers. So there was no way for her to know what it even was let alone where she might find another one, assuming there even was another one. If not, she’d have to figure something else out.

It only took her about an hour of searching before she felt ready to give up. She didn’t know what she was looking for and didn’t even know for sure it was in Crystal Peak. She’d lost track of Ghost for a while after they’d entered the place, they could’ve gone to a number of other areas and gotten the power from one of them instead. She needed a better lead if she didn’t want to waste time searching every inch of Hallownest. … Would the Teacher’s Archive have information on what she was looking for? Perhaps, it was probably her best bet for any more information. So… off to Fog Canyon she went.

But not long after entering she regretted it as she just barely managed to dodge the exploding center of an ooma. “Are you trying to get us killed?” she growled, glaring at Grimmchild, the one at fault. “I told you not to attack them.”

He mewled innocently at her, even tiling his head a little as if he was trying to be as cute as possible. Well she wasn’t swayed by it this time. She should’ve insisted he stay behind to keep Hollow company, too late now though.

“Never do that again.”

The very next ooma they ran into, he did it again. Leaping away before the fireball even hit it, she managed to dodge fairly well this time. That didn’t make it okay though. And she wasn’t taking a third chance so not in the mood to deal with sending him back home after coming all the way out here, she started unspooling some thread. It didn’t take long to fashion it into the beginnings of a collar and leash combo and muzzle.

Grimmchild flew in to investigate what she was doing, just as she’d hoped for, making it easy to jump him and attach it before he could even react much. As soon as he realized, he yanked back but it was too late. He chirped and mewled in distress, the muzzle letting him open his mouth not even half way.

“I told you twice not to attack them. You’re smart enough to understand my words as well as what’s going on around you so you should’ve known better. Now, let’s go.” She tugged on the leash part of the thread as she resumed walking. He continued to complain and tug against the restraint but she ignored it. He was forced to eventually come along lest he fall to the ground and get dragged because she wouldn’t hesitate to do that. She was not messing around right now, she was on an important mission.

 -

Hornet had been to the Archive a few times before back when it was still up and running. The first time had been with Herrah before the Dreamers had gone to Sleep though she’d been too young to remember much of it other than Monomon was a giant jellyfish and Lurien – he’d been there too, it had been some kind of meeting or something – had been a jerk and she’d bit him because of it much to the delight of everyone else in the room. She hadn’t been back since it had ceased being operational though.

It was vastly different now, didn’t even feel like the same place. The halls were empty except for the occasional floating ooma or uoma and utterly silent. It was almost kind of creepy in a way but she ignored it.

All was going well until she was quickly reminded of that fact that she didn’t know how information was sorted here. And she couldn’t read any of it even if she did know; everything was written in what seemed to be a weird code or shorthand. Which now that she thought about it, Monomon had been well known for doing that, no one but her, her pupils, and any scholars dedicated enough to figure it out could read it.

Scholarly pursuits were not her thing and thus she was completely out of her depth here. But she needed more information and the best place to get that was the Archive so… what did she do? … Well she could ask someone who knew their way around the Archive to help. She knew someone like that even if she’d never properly introduced herself to him. And he was a skilled fighter, he might be able to help with killing the Radiance too… if she decided she wanted help with that anyway. … She hated to ask for help in any capacity though. But at the same time, this wasn’t about her pride, it was about her siblings’ suffering so… off to find Quirrel it was.

 -

She found Quirrel’s nail was abandoned by the Blue Lake. If he’d gone and killed himself, she was going to strangle him. … All right, that didn’t make any sense but she’d be pissed because she needed him.

“I’m guessing you can’t track people, can you?” she said turning to look at Grimmchild. She hadn’t bothered taking the leash and muzzle off yet because she was planning to head back to Fog Canyon with Quirrel as soon as she found him. Naturally Grimmchild was still very displeased about it because he couldn’t attack the husks they encountered either but that’s the price he paid for almost getting her killed twice on purpose.

He mewled dejectedly. It seemed to be a ‘no’ because he made no move to investigate the sword. He was truly useless on this mission which was why she hadn’t wanted to bring him.

Maybe she should just go back to the Archive and wait for Quirrel there since there was a chance he would return eventually, right? It’s where he used to live and work after all. And while waiting, she could work on figuring it out herself. … Nah, he might not return at all and going to find him to do it for her should be shorter than the alternative. So, after collecting his nail, she moved on to continue the search.

 -

She eventually found him in the City of Tears in the clearing that housed the statue of the Hollow Knight. He was with the relic seeker – Hornet couldn’t quite remember his name right now – they were even sharing an umbrella as they looked up at the statue.

Hornet jumped off the windowsill she’d climbed up on to get a good look at the clearing to land in front of them, making them both flinch back a little. “Archivist,” she said, looking Quirrel directly in the eyes. “I need your help with something.”

“I don’t really go by that title anymore,” he replied, his tone surprisingly unannoyed. The look he gave her was filled with suspicion though which made sense. Last time she’d shown herself to him, it hadn’t been the friendliest of circumstances.

“I was unaware you ever went by that title,” the relic seeker said, squinting at him suspiciously.

“It’s complicated.” He shrugged. “And uh… may I ask what’s up with the moth baby?” He pointed at Grimmchild. “It seems kind of cruel to muzzle him like that and why is he with you anyway?”

“He deserves it and he’s with me because… I’m his aunt I guess.” That was probably the best way to describe it. “But anyway, here.” She tossed his nail to him. Why he’d ever abandoned it was beyond her.

He caught it with the ease of a practiced fighter. “I left this by the lake because I’m trying to leave my old life behind.” And now he did sound a tad annoyed. Hornet didn’t care though.

“Well, you’re going to help me kill the Radiance first and then you can do whatever you want with it.”

“Uh… what?”

“You heard me. I need help figuring out how to get to her in the Dream Realm.” She hated to do it but… “And I might need help killing her there too.” The Radiance was a god after all. Hornet was a demi-god but that didn’t make her invincible. “And I’m asking you for help because I need information from the Archive.”

“Well, I suppose I can…” Quirrel began before being interrupted by the relic seeker.

“I demand to know what this is about.”

“I don’t have time to explain.” And Hornet didn’t care to explain to an outsider anyway. It was bad enough that she had to deal with Quirrel, no way was she letting anyone else in on this. “Ask you boyfriend about it when he’s done helping me.”

He flinched at the word ‘boyfriend’. “He’s not… we’re not… we’re just…”

Hornet was tired of this conversation. “Let’s go,” she said as she grabbed Quirrel by the wrist and started dragging him away.

“Uh… I guess I’ll see you at the shop later Lemm,” he said, not fighting her at all. “I’ll try to explain things then. Now uh…,” he directed towards her now, “sorry I don’t know your name but… does this mean that the… vessel fellow failed?”

“My name is Hornet and yes, they failed, just like the first one. And I refuse to stand for it any longer which is why I’m finally doing something about it.” Now that she could. She should’ve done something sooner, like before Ghost had taken on the Radiance but better late than never, right?”

“Hmm… I suppose I’ll help in any way I can then.”

~

And so Quirrel is here now too I guess. I didn't plan for that, it just kind of happened.

A bit past this point is what I had written up to when I decided to start uploading. I have since written more obviously but the next chapter gave me a bit of trouble and I'm still not entirely happy with it so I might do another big heavy edit or full rewrite to the part of it I'm most displeased with. So next chapter might take a bit longer to come out than these other chapters have.

[thanksjro]

Telefunken, A Prequel to Eugenesis: The Future Is Obsessed With Making Babies

OR

All These Materials, And I Still Had To Keep The Wiki Open The Whole Time

This short story was included with the secondary publication of Eugenesis, which happened in 2007, six years after the first run. Yep. He had multiple publication runs. Back when you had to actually go and talk to people about what you wanted published instead of doing everything online. For a novel-length fan fiction about murdering space robots and then having them give birth to tentacle monsters.

I wish I had the friggin’ brass balls Roberts does.

Telefunken as a term doesn’t mean anything in any language, but that doesn’t mean we can’t gain any sort of understanding using context clues.

Tele- as a part of Greek, means “from a distance.” So whatever’s happening is far off. In the future, perhaps? The pre-story quotes certainly seem to imply such a thing.

A couple hundred years into the future, actually. With a list like that, one has to wonder just who the hell can get into Maccadam’s these days.

Funken itself actually is a word- it’s German for spark. So “from a distance” + “spark”. Alright, let’s see where this goes.

Is… is this someone trying to convince someone else to read Eugenesis? Is Roberts making the space robots read this batshit story? Is he threatening them? Because making someone read an entire book’s worth of slaughter of their race sort of feels like a threat.

Okay, moving on to actual story, our narrator starts the day by blinding himself. He turns the input on his optics all the way up and stares at the sun.

I don’t know why.

Once he’s done that, he reflects on the nature of change, and how some things just can’t be fixed.

I see we’ve hit our fascist phase. Because they’re only allowed to enjoy the rejuvenation of the planet if they’re wearing Prowl’s face on their chest, right?

Our narrator seems to have an alternate take on the walls, though- seems more like they’re trying to keep the citizens in as opposed to the ruffians out.

Scene jump, and we’re in the middle of a conversation between two folks about some guy who killed an Autobot and fled. Yeah, no one with dialogue has been properly identified as of yet. All I know currently is that one of the conversationalists is a commander. Something tells me Nightbeat’s involved with the scene.

But that’s just a hunch.

So, looks like the Transformers had a little more room for the war buffet after all, because they’ve had at least two named squabbles in the last couple centuries. Hence, our narrator is off to try and corroborate a rumor that Galvatron is still kicking around.

He heads through the religious sector to get downtown, lamenting that Iacon’s been reduced to a military city-state in order to keep some façade of peace going on. He didn’t go through the hell that was the Eugenesis Wars for this.

Ooh, a dash of fantastic racism to really bring out the acidic taste of Orson Welles 1984. Maybe this is Prowl, actually, which would explain why he hasn’t been explicitly named. Would kind of ruin the whole end of the novel, wouldn’t it?

I’m not saying it’s Prowl because of the racism. More the clean dividing of folks into categories and statistical data.

Our narrator walks through the throng, ignores a homeless veteran, and passes by a crowd of Creationists on pilgrimage, and with that he’s off to Autobot City 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Meanwhile, back with the guys reading this account- yes, turns out they’re outside of this particular story- more details are being revealed.

The Turning, you say.

Vampire robots it is, then.

Back with the narrator, he’s just found what he’d been looking for- an Autobot badge, close enough to the real thing to work for his purposes. He heads inside something called an “ingestion tank”- I’m imagining the fucking eating chairs from IDW2- and oh-so-sneakily adds a few screw-looking bombs to the badge.

Hmm. I’m thinking my guesses are just a bit off-base.

Back at the narrative, our narrator has just arrived at the Ministry, where Sideswipe and his boys are truly living up to the ACAB lifestyle- Sideswipe is literally unloading clips into a crowd of protestors. Apparently this isn’t anything new.

Oh-kay. So. Back in the epilogue for Eugenesis, Wheeljack made an offhand comment about Rodimus wanting to look into streamlining the biomorphic reproductive process, using the power of science. This was something Ratchet really wasn’t thrilled about- he’s the Transformer-equivalent to being child-free, I guess- and let me tell you something: if Ratchet thinks something is a bad idea, it almost absolutely is. But it looks like Rodimus got his way, if our narrator’s cryptic statements are to be believed.

Let’s get fucking weird for a second.

Millions of years ago the biomorphic process was decided to be too slow for the colonial ways of the Cybertronian Empire, so morphing centers were created, where protoforms were basically injected with false memories to kickstart their lives. Think MTO programming from IDW, but more mechpreggy. This practice died out when the shortage of energon caught up with everyone, and was left behind for the most part.

EXCEPT FOR THIS. Turns out that Kup actually wasn’t all that old, he just thought he was. Why did they do this? Assumedly for the preservation of their research. Does it factor into anything ever for Kup? Nah, not really. Also:

🄹🄰🄼🄴🅂 🅆🄷🄰🅃 🅃🄷🄴 🄵🅄🄲🄺

Telefunken really is what makes the director’s cut of Eugenesis. This is where all the really weird shit is. If you ever fucking read this nightmare of a book, you better make sure Telefunken is included, because you will be reeling.

Anyway, the planet can’t handle more than a few hundred thousand robots, energon-wise, so the Treaty of Antimorphism was signed- a sort of “no more mechpreg” agreement between the Autobots and Decepticons. Not sure how they’re going to stop someone’s torso from vomiting up a goo baby, seeing as the process appears to be completely random, but they probably know more about the process than I do.

Yeah, that treaty is broken almost immediately. I mean, come on, we know who’s writing this story, it’s amazing that the idea was even remotely considered.

The Autobots decided that they were going to start underground biomorph rings, where Lifers- y’know, the guys who can actually do this sort of thing- spit out protoforms on command to supplement the Autobot forces, in case more war broke out.

They can give birth on command.

I-

I just-

How-

Okay. Sure.

BUT HOW-

Of course, a lot of people had a problem with this, seeing as they already had a solution to the problem of a limited population, in the copies of everyone’s brains Rodimus had commissioned after the events of Eugenesis. Yeah, that’s the root of the problem right there: it was unnecessary. Certainly not the violations of the free will and rights of the poor bastards who got chained to a table and told to start pumping out new robots at what was probably gunpoint in the basement of some bombed out building. Nope! Just that the whole thing was superfluous.

That was about the time that the Anticopyist protests started- how convenient- and the mind crystals were buried, never to see the light of day. Of course, Star Saber might have had a hand in quietly recovering the crystals, but that’s just hearsay.

It’s all going down the tubes, really- High Commands gearing up for the inevitable civil war that’s about to break out amid all this bullshit. Prowl and Nightbeat are trying to put a stop to things, but what are two guys with crippling depression going to do against all this crap? Not much. Especially now that there are Neogens discovering that they aren’t who they think they are.

The slogan is “maximum speed, maximum efficiency.” I’ll let you take a wild guess as to what these weirdos call themselves.

Sideswipe and his goons get done with killing civilians, and our narrator can finally get on with their mission- an interview with Rodimus Prime, who is dying. Again. We just can’t keep our Primes alive, can we? Can’t keep ‘em dead either, but that’s not the point.

But I thought Cyclonus was key.

…I’m sorry, that was dumb.

Anyway, our narrator gets through security, bombs undetected, and prepares to finish his thesis.

These outside conversationalists are kind of morbid, aren’t they? Still, we wouldn’t have the narrative if they weren’t, so thanks? I guess? For being weird voyeurs of terrorist activities?

The narrator makes his way to the basement, where they’ve got Rodimus stashed.

But how are his tiddies? Are they ridiculously huge? Does he breast boobily down the hall towards you? Too bad First Aid’s dead, he’d be all over this behemoth.

You know, last time we saw Springer, his sole purpose in life was getting high. Wonder how he got to this point in just a couple hundred years. That’s nothing to these guys. Guess he traded in the space-heroin for juicing.

Springer, because I guess he’s kind of an asshole in this story, threatens our narrator, saying that he’s got a joor- pretty much an hour- to talk to Rodimus, and one second beyond that he’s throwing his ass out the door. He makes this point very emphatically, and repeatedly. Springer needs to take a chill pill.

With that, our narrator double-checks that his rigged badge is still there- how many times are we going to blow up Rodimus Prime?- and enters the medvault.

Rodimus isn’t doing so hot.

Despite the obvious lag in his brain, Rodimus is happy to be of service to a young student, and invites the narrator to sit and stay awhile.

Now that’s just cruel, Roberts. You gotta give Rodimus something, you already killed his best friend and most of his comrades. No wonder he’s depressed in every continuity, all the writers are mean as hell to our boy Rodders.

Our narrator starts off by asking about Scorponok, and Rodimus takes so long to answer he wonders if the guy just went ahead and died. But Rodimus, ever a good sport, does eventually answer. He talks about all the major Decepticon players, and our narrator smiles and listens, waiting for the point where Unicron is mentioned. He really wants to hear about Unicron, and can practically taste his presence in the room, seeing as Rodimus is still possessed.

You see, our dear narrator is a space-satanist.

Unfortunately, when Rodimus finally utters the name of the robot-devil, nothing happens.

No, see, if the Transformers had Plan B, none of this mechpreg stuff would be fucking happening.

This is where our outside conversationalists come more into play, revealing themselves to be Star Saber- finally entering the story proper- and Great Shot, who I can’t seem to find anything on. We get treated to the security footage from this point on, getting a lovely scene of our narrator yelling at a dying old man, as the two discuss the Turning. It’s a major point of concern for a lot of the troops, and we’re shown why, as Rodimus starts having a Reagan-from-the-Exorcist-level fit about the same time as our narrator drops his bomb. The room explodes, and our narrator escapes out into the world.

From here on, all of the narrative comes from out narrator’s internal recording. He keeps running, beyond the walls of the city and into the Rad Zone, until he hits Eocra. Eocra is where that chunk of space rock from Liars A-to-D was housed. I guess we’ll find out if it’s still there.

He requests an audience with Servion from a member of the Brotherhood of Chaos whom he doesn’t recognize, and is ushered inside.

Into an underground room with a window showing the stars and just packed with Decepticons. Even Blitzwing’s there- I’d figured he’d been one of the POWs who kicked the bucket, but apparently not. Turns out that door he went through was a teleport. They want our narrator’s thesis. He hands it over immediately.

Go for it, guys, his resume from today alone is beyond impressive. He’s done more in the last six hours than most of your top guys have done in their entire careers.

The Decepticons say that they’ll be in touch, and with that they shove him out of the room. Well, that’s that. Guess it’s time to go and see if the rumors about the losers in Kalis are a bunch of bunk after all.

And that’s the end of his datalog.

Back with the ‘Cons, the boys are gossiping about their new hire. Turns out he’s one of theirs anyway- a Neogen, and his name is Tarantulus.

I checked, it’s a valid alternate spelling of his name.

Over with Galvatron- did you honestly think he was dead?- the edgy bastard’s preparing for the Final Purge. Turns out he’s still under Unicron’s thumb, even after all this time. He’s pleased to hear that Rodimus is dying, and recalls being able to corrupt the Lifecode when he needled the Prime during other desperate moments. He decides he’s going to do that again.

Back with Start Saber and Great Shot, the boys are cooking up some tasty treats in their politically-powered lie kitchen. As far as the public knows, Tarantulus was shot to death by the guards when he approached the wall. Prime’s Turned, which sucks for him, but might work out in Star Saber’s favor. Just too bad that that one guard got in between Rodimus and the bomb blast.

So I guess Star Saber being less than piously heroic is just a Roberts thing. Alrighty then.

That’s the end of Telefunken. This answers as many questions as it presents, leaving us at a net-neutral for understanding just what the fuck is going on. Awesome.

[knives-out20]

Magnetic Pull - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC - Part 10

Fandom: X-Men: First Class (2011)

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Spoilers for X-Men: First Class, Swearing, Repressed homosexuality,

Notes: Karmel may be out-ish, but he still has a long road ahead of him.

Charles followed Karmel until they found a few guards sobbing, scared, and wrapped in metal barb wire."For god's sake, Erik- still love him now, huh?" He asked Karmel, crouching down to tone guard.

"More than anything" Karmel answered, blinded by the rush of relief he got for declaring- and accepting- his love for Erik. His heart beat was running just as fast, if not faster than, he was, and it didn’t look like it was going to slow down anytime soon.

"Be calm" Charles told the guard, mumbling something to him in another language (most likely Russian) until the guard weirdly passed out.

"You can fucking do that, too?"

"I was close to doing it to you a second ago, c'mon" Charles threatened, standing back up. He gestured for Karmel to follow, running around the unconscious guards and into the base."So how did that feel, huh? That big awakening?"

Karmel bolted up the front steps with Charles."Exhilarating!" He cheered, Charles quick to shush him."It- It was amazing, oh my fucking- I'm sorry for the bad timing, though" Karmel cackled."I just...no one has ever made me feel like Erik does, whether it be looking at him, talking to him, or being near him. Everything about him is so- so...great! I dunno, it's so much a-and I can finally fucking accept it, fuck" he explained, face-palming.

"Real happy for you mate, let's go find him, then" Charles huffed, running down a hall."About time you stop correcting yourself and beating yourself up over it, anyway. Human attraction, no matter the gender, is completely natural. Took you long enough to understand that nothing is wrong with you Karmel, truly."

Karmel beamed."There!" He immediately spotted Erik up ahead, feeling as if his eyes would spring out of his head, in the shape of hearts, like he were a cartoon.

"Good eye" Charles complimented, the two catching up to him.

"How did you-" Charles cut Erik off.

"Karmel here had a revelation, I had to go after them because I refused to leave the both of you here. Long story, don't expect me to explain later" Charles growled as he, Erik, and Karmel bust into a room.

A senior Soviet official was sat on a bed, giggling to himself and grasping nothing in the air in front of him.

Meanwhile, a blonde woman clad in white undergarments sat on a loveseat, eating crackers. Her head turned in their direction when she heard the doors open ferociously. 

Charles panted alongside Erik and Karmel, looking just as disgusted as- if not more than- the other two. The three of them exchanged highly-confused looks, the blonde woman looking like she was just about to run away from them."Nice trick" he complimented.

The Soviet official noticed the three new guests, and dropped his hands. His smile vanished, and he grew puzzled. The official asked questions in Russian, sparing a glance at the woman on the couch. He pulled out a gun, just about to shoot until Charles stopped him.

Charles reached an arm out toward the man, "go to sleep" he instructed.

The official slowly passed out, falling backwards on the bed.

The blonde woman got up, her whole body transforming into appearing crystal and clear. 

Charles pressed two fingers to his temple as he kept eye contact with her, the woman approaching the bed.

"You can stop trying to read my mind, sugar" she told.

Charles winced in pain, turning away.

"You're never going to get anything from me while I'm like this."

Karmel turned to Charles, who hesitantly dropped his hand."Beware, it goeth before the fall" he mumbled under his breath.

The two looked at Erik, who was just about ready to pounce. 

The woman ran straight ahead, supposedly making a run for it. She jumped onto the table but Erik and Charles caught her.

Karmel's vines whipped out from his body, tangling around the woman and holding her down. He was luckily able to do this without looking at them.

Charles and Erik harshly pushed her against the bed frame, Karmel's vines untangling and seeping back into his body once they got her down. 

"You guys okay-?" He called, hearing Erik and Charles grunt. Karmel jogged over to them, now beside Erik.

"Peachy."

"Just fine" Erik added. He controlled the ends of the metal bed frames, which he made wrap around her wrists like cuffs.

Karmel's eyebrows jumped, glancing over at Erik as he was desperate to control himself under the current situation. Erik panting with sweat-slicked hair didn't help him, either.

"Calm down, Karmel, god-" Charles groaned, rubbing his temple.

Erik arched a brow, turning to Karmel, who looked embarrassed and turned away."So you can just tell us" he said, turning back to the bound girl.

"Where's Shaw?" Karmel asked.

The blonde woman looked between Erik and Karmel, nodding in slight interest. She tried to free herself from the cuffs, but came out unsuccessful. 

Erik grit his teeth, more metal from the frame latching around her neck.

"Erik-?" Karmel softly called, noticing the metal around her neck tighten. This only gave him flashbacks of himself a week after his parents died, and himself doing something similar in around his mid twenties. At the hands of his powers, by himself, he didn't trust that combo much anymore.

"Erik." Charles repeated, the woman being bound by around her forearms now."Erik, that's enough" he whispered, Karmel's head darting between Erik and the girl.

"What did I fall in..." Karmel thought, not really complaining about Erik's animosity towards Shaw's right-hand-woman; it was understandable, of course. Certainly took his mind off of Erik pulling that cuff-trick on him, for one thing.

Erik's panting became slow, focused. He bare his pearly whites as he focused on the golden snake around the woman's neck, crunching down harder.

"Erik, that's enough!" Charles repeated, louder this time.

Karmel didn't do, or say, anything to stop Erik. He watched as the glass on the woman's neck cracked slightly. 

Slowly, Erik relaxed his body, the frame around the woman's neck coming clean off- as did her whole crystal-look."All yours" he gestured to Charles, stepping away.

Karmel followed his lead, taking a step back."What was that, what did you do?"

"She won't be shifting into diamond form again" Erik explained, bending over a table."And if she does, just give her a gentle tap."

Karmel panted softly."That is...so cool, but it scared Charles for a second" he pointed out, draping himself over the loveseat the girl previously sat on.

"I noticed. Didn't seem to have any affect on you, though" Erik noted as he raised his eyebrows. He offered Karmel a drink, who gladly took it and downed it.

"Wasn't gin, but I needed it" he groaned, putting the empty cup down.

Erik sat down in a chair beside Karmel."Gin's your favourite" he hummed, remembering what Karmel had told him their first night at the facility.

Karmel gulped."Wh-Whatever bad blood you got on Shaw is clear enough. The way you bolted in here for her because she was 'close enough' is something I know I shouldn't really get in the way of. People have their limits: that was Charlie's, but wasn't mine."

Erik processed what Karmel told him, and nodded."Charles said you had a revelation earlier; what was it?"

Charles glanced over his shoulder at that, ready to quickly step in.

"Uh..." Karmel racked his brain, locking eyes with Charles as the blonde grew a smile.

"Ohhh..." She hummed, nodding a bit."I see what's going on here...Gross."

"Shut up, you're a knock-off Dolly Parton" Karmel hissed, turning back to Erik."My revelation was that...I don't like Russia. Hate it here. The energy of this country, disgusting."

Erik opened his mouth, but closed it, unaware of what to say."Alright" he nodded, believing it. For now, at least.

Karmel shifted in his seat to sit properly, leaning his arm on the arm of the loveseat."Uh..." he started, glancing up at Erik's hair."Y'mind if I..." Karmel trailed off as he raised his hands, eyes steady on Erik's messy hair.

Erik glanced up."Sure."

Karmel nodded thankfully, fingers sliding into Erik's hair and fixing it up. He felt his heart race speed up immensely again, and this time let it beat openly. It felt nice, now. As did the feeling of Erik's hair under his touch.

Charles got down on one knee in front of the girl, going back to pressing two fingers against his temple. His eyes went wide.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She teased, as Charles slowly dropped his hand.

"Charlie?" Karmel called, leaning back in his seat.

"This is worse than we previously imagined" Charles spoke softly, head panning over to Erik and Karmel."We're taking you with us" he told the girl."CIA will want to question you themselves."

"Oh, I doubt it" the girl rejected."They have bigger things to worry about right now."

Karmel locked eyes with Erik; that couldn't be good.

[sarah--goff]

Their Dark Materials: Chapter 5; The Labyrinth

Also avaliable on A03 under: Sarah_Goff works

For any suggestions/questions/ etc my email is  sarahgoffmana03@gmail.com

Hello again!

I realise there are a lot of unanswered questions and plot holes, of course, but I promise things will become apparent further on into the fic x

side note: I have already written a few chapters ahead but i want to try and space my posting out so that I don't publish everything in one go and then take weeks to write chapter by chapter, because for *me* as a reader I find that really agonising- if that makes sense.

Also, I edit quite thoroughly so sometimes posting may take a while- unfortunately, I'm not one of those writers who can just whip up a chapter on the bus and post it there and then (if only!)

I'm very conscious of what I'm writing and i want to make it as clear and enjoyable as possible!

-S. G

Hope you enjoy!

Summary:

You enter the Labyrinth, time is ticking to win back your freedom -but not everything is as it seems.

_*_

Damn wretched girl!

Back in his castle, Jareth hurled the crystal at the wall opposite him. How dare you throw his generosity back in his face! After all he'd tried to do for you! Do what you had asked!

Anger bubbled inside him. He'd thought you were smarter than this foolishness, than this childish defiance!

Didn't you see? Didn't you bloody understand?

He'd done it- he thought with clenched teeth- out of the kindness of his heart. Pah! Look where that had brought him!

"What I want is you "  

He'd said it in tender truth and passion.

He thought he was setting you free by binding you to the wish, this way you could escape, with him, but you had taken it the wrong way completely, warped him a cruel villain in your mind...The look of disgust and disdain on your face when he'd said it...It had honestly crushed him.

Jareth had been adamant that you would come so willing.

The way you had held him in your arms on the first night...

A shiver washed over him at the warmth of the memory. It was at that very moment, he'd realised then, in his wretched Raven form, that he'd felt something , something he hadn't felt for eons...

Curse these feelings!

The Goblin King had granted you such a kind gift, and yet, there you were, walking towards the Labyrinth, a challenge you could not hope to win, to run it, from him- the very nerve of you!

It was rare that runners far and wide trialled and triumphed the Labyrinth- what made you so sure you could do it? He scoffed at this thought.

Another bitter thought crossed his mind: You’d forgotten. You’d forgotten everything. The dream. The beautiful dream that you’d adored.

Rage calming, Jareth waved his hand for another crystal to peer into, observing you curiously as you walked up and down the outskirts of the labyrinth, with a hand under his chin.

He gave a begrudging sigh. There was nothing else for it. He would have to make you see what you wanted again, direct you towards him.  

The Goblin King had to admire you for at least giving the task a go.

He drummed his fingers on the arm rest of his throne. Maybe you would give up in the end- you would see how tough and trying the Labyrinth could be eventually.

‘They always do’, he thought.

Then again, the look on your face said resilience. You wouldn’t be so easy to give in.

             _*_

This couldn’t be right. Your feet were already aching and you hadn’t turned any corners. In fact, you hadn’t even entered the labyrinth at all! You were following the high wall, still looking for the entrance! Dammit!

You slam your hands against the wall in frustration.

This wasn’t fair! You at least expected the Goblin King to open the bloody door. You were sure the cheater had started the clock too. You could practically hear the minutes ticking by and see the smirk on his face. Fuck! You kicked the wall.

“Hey watch it!” A stern voice makes you jump, dropping your hissy fit. There were other people here? Couldn’t they get in either? Were they trapped too?

There was a shorter man standing beside you glaring at you. He came up to your knee. You removed your hands from the stones sheepishly.

“Y’ ought to watch y’self- especially in here, that temper won’t get y’ far” he turns back before you can reply, holding a makeshift weapon of some sort, pointing it at something you couldn’t see. “58!” he cried cheerfully.

“In here? But I’m not even in the Labyrinth yet! There’s no door!”

You looked up at the walls as if he saw something you didn’t. What was he talking about?

The short creature stops counting to give you a tiresome expression. “That’s because y’ not looking hard enough- 59!” and then, triumphantly “60! Things aren’t always what they seem in here”

Were the people from here always talking in bloody riddles?

You decided to be patient.

“Well…You must know how then- how to get in?” you offer hoping he’ll just tell you.

He wore a skull hat and shabby  vest, scruffy shoes and trousers, he had long ears and nose. “Are you a gnome?” you say aloud accidentally. A real gnome imagine! An hour ago you would have scoffed at the idea of meeting a gnome. Well there was a king of goblins so why not.

The scruffy man turns sharply “I’m not a gnome, I’m Hoggle!” he snaps.

“Oh,” as if you have any idea what that is “Nice to meet you, Hoglet” you hold out a hand though this really isn’t the time to be making friends. Suddenly 13 hours seemed far too little.

He scoffs, insulted “Hoggle, not Hoglet”.

“Oh, sorry” you falter, already you weren’t getting off to a great start in this place. “I’m Sloane. Sloane Hazel” but like he cares anyway.

“That’s what I thought” he grumbled under his breath pointing the weapon at seemingly nothing and continues counting.

“What did you say?” you follow him to catch up “you know me?”

Hoggle's stoic manner dropped and he looked anxious suddenly, obviously he’d let something slip that he wasn’t supposed to.

“You do ! You know me!”

“Wellll, it’s uh, it’s a popular name ain’t it” he was lying; any fool could see that. He started to walk faster ignoring you by his side.

“Hey come back!” You grab his arm bending at the waist a little to look him in the eye. “You know something don’t you? About me?”

Hoggle twists in your grip “I can’t” he whines “Jareth will kill me!”

“The Goblin King?”  you let him go at the mention of the name, but still keep him cornered “why would he kill you?”

Hoggle seemed genuinely nervous to speak with you “Y’- y' ask too many questions for y’ own good!”

“I’m not leaving until you answer!” you cry, frustration building in you.

He groans realising he’s stuck “we were given strict instructions not to help y’, alright? Now go!”

‘We?’ there’s more like him, here?

“Wait a second, if he told you not to help me then that must mean… you know something important that can help me through here!”

“I’m telling y’ if you don’t stop asking questions then we’re both dead”

“Just tell me where the bloody entrance to this maze is and I’ll go I won’t bother you again”

To your surprise he kicks your shins and you move out of the way to nurse the pain, allowing him to escape. “Hey!” you call after him but it’s too late. “Thanks for nothing Hop-scotch!” you yell holding your leg.

You faintly hear him correct you.

You rest your arm against the wall. This was going well.

A loud screeching noise startles you and you remove your arm to see the wall swing forward, but it’s not a wall at all- it’s the door!

“Oh thank god!” you whoop sprinting through before they closed again. How on earth had you missed that!

You noticed the shift in the atmosphere immediately. The wind died down, there was no noise.

The walls were narrow and both paths to your left and right stretched out far ahead of you. Isolation. The air felt stiff and cold.

You pulled your jacket tighter around you, extremely grateful that you didn’t change into your pyjamas before you slept.

Left, or right?

You dithered between them though they looked exactly the same.

Right.

You strode down confidently, stepping over a tree branch every now and then.

You looked behind you after a good few minutes of walking and seemingly getting nowhere.  The walls and path looked the same you were sure you just stepped over that exact same branch.

“There aren’t any corners!” you huffed coming to a stop . “It just goes on and on!”

There must be some somewhere surely! What kind of maze didn’t have corners or turns?!

You turned back, checking if you were alone or if you had somehow missed a turning- and then began to sprint down the path, maybe there were corners- you were just being too slow to reach them.

You watched your footing, hoping over tree branch after tree branch, suspicious cracks in the stones, hearing your footsteps slap against the path .

Just keep going. You ran for what seemed like forever. There's got to be one somewhere! Still, nothing.

You slowed to a stop, panting slightly.

“This can’t be right!” it felt like you hadn’t moved at all- the scenery looked exactly the same.

It was a trick, it had to be. Ugh!  You slammed the wall and kicked the other opposite with a frustrated shriek. It felt better to get that out.

You were drenched in sweat and your hair sticking to your face, calves throbbing. You were going to waste your entire 13 hours looking for a fucking turn! Maybe he was right, maybe giving up isn’t such a bad idea after all.

No!

What was wrong with you- you’d only been here five minutes and already you were giving in! This is exactly what he wanted. You couldn’t think that way already, you just had to remember why you were in here in the first place. You weren’t about to let a devious, tight-panted overgrown elf get the better of you.

“Fuck” you mutter. You clapped your hand to your sticky forehead, sliding down the wall to sit against it, not caring how grimy it was. You just wanted to sit and stare at these miserable walls.

“You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude!”

You lifted your head to the croaky voice by your ear.

A blue worm on the brick beside you smiled “ ‘allo”

You stared at it . It had a tiny red scarf around its neck and an unsettling pair of red eyes.

"Did… you say ‘hello’?”

You’d met a king of goblins and Hoggle, so a worm talking was not a surprise.

“No, I said  ‘allo’ but that’s close enough” he nodded.

“Oh…okay” you sat up to face the worm fully “you don’t by any chance know the way through this labyrinth, do you?”

He shook his head “who me? Nah I’m just a worm”

Your shoulders slumped, disappointed “oh” was nobody here able to help?

“come inside and have some tea!” the worm offered

“No, thank you, but I have to solve this labyrinth-“ you gestured to the high walls “ but there aren’t any turns openings or anything”

“well you ain’t looking right- it’s full of openings it’s just you ain’t seeing them!” he gave a chuckle and shook his head.

“well, where are they?”

“There’s one just across there, it’s right in front of ya”

You stared dumbly at the brick wall opposite, nothing had changed it was just a wall. What was he talking about? “No there isn’t?” you peered at it but it looked just the same.

“Come inside and have a nice cup of tea” he implored, undermining you very desperate need to find the turns.

You were still staring hard at the wall expecting it to move or something “but there isn’t an opening!”

He laughed again and you felt stupid “of course there is!”

You stood, determined to show the worm that there really was nothing there.

“You try walking through it, you’ll see what I mean!”

You turned “what?” walk through? Like through the wall? You hesitated.

“Go on, go on then”

“It’s just a wall, there’s no way through!” you protested.

“things are not always what they seem in this place- so you can’t take anything for granted”

“So everyone keeps saying” you muttered under your breath, sticking out your hands out in front of you, expecting to smack straight into the bricks.

You were able to walk forward a couple of paces and your eyes focused so that you could see the gaps where the two paths were.

“Hey !” you said gleefully, there they were, the corners! You felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders. You looked left and right down this new path. No wonder you’d missed this! You started down the left path.

“Hey, hang on!”

You peaked around the corner with a relived smile “thank you! That was really hel-”

“Don’t go that way!” The worms voice was hushed and tense.

“What was that?”

“I said, don’t go that way, never go that way!”

You frowned “But why?”

“If you keep going down that path, it’ll lead you straight to the castle” he shivered at the thought.

You gave a winning smile  “No, no, you don’t understand, that’s exactly where I want to go!”

He looked frightened, unsure “are you sure, dearie? That castle…awful place” his eyes widened and you dropped the smile.

“The king. Take my advice, avoid the castle, save yourself” he whispered and turned tail to crawl back into the hole.

“But I need to get to the castle to win!” you called but he was gone.

You were dithering between the left path or the right. Both made you feel unsettled.

Risk it or play safe. Play into his hands you corrected yourself. This was exactly what he wanted, you to second guess yourself -that wouldn't get you far in here if there were more tricks up ahead which you very much suspected there were.

You could spend the next 12 hours in this miserable place- hell, it had taken you this long to find a corner! – scurrying around as time ticked on.

Or  you could go against the advice and follow this path to the castle and it would be over. You could be home before Kari and Brian would even notice  you were missing.

You didn’t need to think twice. You shook off the worm’s advice following down the castle path.

Why was everyone so afraid of The Goblin King here? What was the worst he could do? He didn’t frighten you, you were sure, you’d have to face him eventually.

You strode confidently down the left path “I’ll show him” you mumbled under your breath, the sky was changing the further down you went.

“Dammit” you noticed your shoelace was untied and leaned against the wall to do it back up quickly, you stepped out when the stone beneath your feet flipped over, causing you to fall through the gap and down, down.