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softxsuki · 1 year ago

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god i hope i’m not late i was about to sleep but then i remembered your requests and i had to write one!!! sorry for the late request!!!

So my pronouns are she/her. The three fandoms i wouldn’t mind being paired up would be BTS, BNHA, and Obey Me! I would love to be paired up with male characters in a romantic setting.

I am an INFP and my zodiac sign is a Pisces!

I value mostly trust and friendship. I want to be able to joke around and have my lover be my best friend! We need to radiate the same energy and hopefully they will give back the same or even more in which I will gladly reciprocate back. But they also need to be calm and collected because I have trouble doing that. Acts of service and being told I do well is certainly my love language. I prefer taller people but everyone is taller than me lol since i’m only 5’2. I also don’t mind a man in glasses.

Generally when i meet people i am shy and nervous. Don’t really know how to break the ice. With friends, I laugh loudly and love to listen rather than talk about my own life. I love reading, drawing, and writing but spend most of my time immersed in video games. My taste in music I believe is trash because I listen to the same damn songs over and over again and most likely never get tired of them. I also take lots of naps because i tire easily and it’s been difficult because of my chronic illness, lupus. Every day is different and honestly the last month or so I haven’t been feeling the greatest…But I am doing better!

Lastly the type of scenario I would like would be possibly a “first interaction??” or how they would take care of me? I am lover of just fluff and the start of relationships where everything just feels right and new. I would to explore something like that. Thank you so much for doing this!!

1000 Follower Event Matchup #34

This event is CLOSED. The event masterlist is here.

Note: Hope you enjoy, sorry it's late!

***pls note that I no longer accept requests for bts <3 i love my boys but I don't feel comfortable writing fanfics for them anymore :)

I match you with: KIRISHIMA, JUNGKOOK, and DIAVOLO

Runner ups: Kaminari, Jin, Mammon

Kirishima:

Kirishima makes the best lover but also friend for you

It’s like dating your best friend, with the perks of being able to kiss and stuff

He loves joking around with you and playing video games with you and the rest of your friends

Acts of service are his thing–he’s always doing little things for you that he knows you’d like, for instance, asking Bakugou to teach him to cook something so he can make a meal for you, buying you flowers, opening the door for you, lending you his jackets. IT'S THE SMALL THINGS THAT COUNT

He’s an extrovert so he does talk a lot and loves that you listen to him, though he wants to hear from you as well, so he’d ask you questions to help get some answers from you

How does he take care of you?

Kirishima is always watching out for you, making sure you’re doing okay

He’s the type of guy who has a conversation with someone, but is also paying attention to you at the same time

Let’s say you’re both out for dinner with your friends and you drop your fork so you bend down to pick it up

He places his hand along the edge of the table as you bend down, while absorbed in a conversation with Kaminiari, making sure you don’t hit your head on the table when you come back up–he’s always watching you (not in a creepy way lol)

He’s very subtle but exact with his caring for you, he won’t be over the top, but at the end of the day, you’ll never feel insecure that he doesn’t care for you

Jungkook:

Jungkook would just be such a fun boyfriend for you

He’s quirky and lots of fun, going out of his comfort zone to do the most daring things, and he’s definitely inviting you along for it all

I just picture you having the time of your life with him

He’s very daring and adventurous, but he’s also a cutie that believes in love at first sight by hearing a bell chime and I think that is so adorable :(

He’s so pure hearted and kind, thinking of you all the time through everything he does

Jungkook always compliments you on how well you’re doing something, he even randomly says it so you know that you’re doing well and making someone proud, so you should be happy with yourself as well

Jungkook loves to draw with you, you both have fun trying to draw each other or just spending quality time together drawing and playing video games together

There’s never a dull moment with him

How does he take care of you?

Jungkook is very protective over you, so he naturally takes very good care of you

Any ounce of discomfort on your face and he jumps in immediately to take care of the issue (if he can)

He knows you struggles with lupus and does whatever he can to support you, yet doesn’t want you to miss out on the fun on days where it may be harder for you, so he has no problem just being there for you at home, enjoying each others company

Truly perfect, I’m telling you

Diavolo:

Diavolo! It was a close match between Dia and Mammon for me

But I went with Diavolo, because as fun and laid back as he may be, he also knows when to be serious and mature, something Mammon struggles with

Diavolo loves having fun with you; he’s always trying to escape from his mountain of paperwork, sneaking past Barbatos so he can spend some time with you in a place that isn’t his office lol

You both sneak off into town together to get some food

He even likes bringing you to the human world where you can introduce him to some of your favorite things to do and favorite foods to eat

Leviathan got him into games so he likes to practice his skills with you

His go-to is quiet moments with you in his office (since Barbatos always drags him there and he drags you with him lol) so while he does his paperwork, you find a quiet corner in his office (that he has supplied with comfortable pillows and blankets) so you can read

How does he take care of you?

As Future King of the Devildom, he uses his power and connection to get the best doctor for you when your lupus gets particularly bad

He’d go as far as to call help from the human world if the doctors in the Devildom can’t help you

Though he’s incredibly busy as President of the RAD student council and Future King of the Devildom, he’s never too busy for you, and goes out of his way to ensure he can always care for you and be there for you when you need it

He walks you back home (whether you live in his castle or with the brothers is up to you) since he knows how dangerous it can be for you to walk alone since not everyone there agreed with your presence in the Devildom (not that anyone would be dumb enough to mess with the future leader’s woman lol)

But yeah :) I think he’s a great match for you!

EVENT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

REGULAR REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 9/6/2023

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #kirishima x reader #mha matchup #bnha matchup #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts matchup #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #obey me matchups

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marireadshellblazer · 3 years ago

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Hellblazer Issue #20

Welcome back, ya’ll.

So, the cover is once again beautiful. I would love to have posters of some of these.

Ahh, Merc further buttering up Dr. Fulton by calling him by his first name. He’s so creepy, but she’s handling it great. Getting him arrested and getting away. Very smart, very brave.

Normally, I feel like kid characters are not well written and therefore are often written all the same; annoying and shallow. But I do like Merc.

Gettin’ into it now. Once again, if the Masons aren’t mentioned then it isn’t a paranormal conspiracy theory, is it?

“ВНЕБРАУНЫЙ!” seems to mean "bastard!" Though, I'm not sure that this is the right way to use it. In English, words that would be used as an insult might not be used the same way in other languages. Calling someone a bastard might be a major insult in a fight in English, but a different word might be used in that context in Russian. It might still be an insult, but not often used, or something like that. Cultural and historical things play a big part in this. In other words, instances like this can easily expose someone who isn't familiar with Russian language when it comes to everyday/natural use. Like when people translate things too literally or use Google translate.

To be fair, I know very little about Russian. We covered a bit about it on a technical level in one of my linguistics classes, but Slavic languages weren’t my area of concentration.

“ПРЕДáТЕЛЪ.УБИЙЦА. “ seems to mean “Traitor! Killer!”

This man did what I’m sure dozens of people have wanted to do to John. Should we call it a “public service” as opposed to an “unprovoked assault”?

So things are coming together now. It’s becoming very apparent that pretty much everyone in the project except for the few in charge have absolutely no idea what the end game is here. Somehow, I’m not surprised.

I have often wondered what the meaning of Jallakuntilliokan is. It could be just random syllables, but something tells me that it could be derived from something else. Considering Delano’s attention to detail, it wouldn’t shock me. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know.

According to Google Translate, "magi caecus dominari" means "blind sorcerers rule".

John here spittin’ the truth.

Now, unlike a lot of incarnations of John where he just springs “magic is real, lemmie show you!” on people, here we see him introducing the concept pretty slowly. It’s matter-of-fact, it doesn’t belittle anyone, and he doesn’t make a big show of it like some sort of stage magician (no offense to Zatanna, who is actually a magical stage magician). THIS is one of the things I love about Delano’s era. He makes John realistic by making his world, in many ways, realistic. People who subscribe to magic as a reality rarely just pull a magic circle out of their bum and start casting spells. He introduces it almost as a philosophical concept.

Got this fun little group here. Almost feels like a classic mystery now.

Beyond this point things pick up with a murder, a kidnapping, and...another murder. God, watching the kid get strangled....0/10.

I am...having flashbacks to Scooby-Doo again. Ya’ll see it too, right? No?

Words/phrases I had to look up:

Doo-Lally- deranged or feebleminded

Plod- walk doggedly and slowly with heavy steps. In context, I think he’s referring to a beat cop.

#John Constantine #Hellblazer #Issue 20 #Thoughts #reading

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dontbipanicjonsa · 3 years ago

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The Unkiss

TW: discussion of sexual assault

The purpose of this post is to explore how and why the Unkiss came to be, and speculate (poorly) on what purpose it may serve in the future. Read under the cut (thanks @esther-dot )

So, I’m going to tell everyone right away that I’m not a very big fan of the pre-existing theories surrounding the Unkiss. Specifically, I tend to disagree with the “how”. This is partly because I think all the explanations offered are too Freudian (*shudder*) and partly because I’ve had a similar instance myself so I tend to project (sue me).

THE HOW

First, let’s look at the pre-existing theories:

The Unkiss is actually a sexual fantasy that Sansa has confused with the real events that happened (exactly what Freud would say. Creepy fuck.)

Sansa invented the Unkiss to romanticize an otherwise traumatic event so she could cope with it better.

Is there any other theory I’m missing? These are the ones I know.

I’m going to jump straight to the second theory. The issue (for me) in this theory is that it sort of assumes that Sansa herself would consider that kiss “romantic” or that it would somehow help her cope the BoB night.

He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. - Sansa VII ACOK

This is the moment. She is expecting a kiss, but wanting it to be over. It’s very clear that the kiss would have been non-con. More importantly, it looks like Sansa herself would consider the kiss non-con.

Why on earth would Sansa invent a kiss she didn’t want in the first place to make coping with an already traumatic event easier?

He kissed me and threatened to kill me, and made me sing him a song. - Sansa II ASOS

This is the first time we are introduced to the Unkiss, and it shows that Sansa’s memory of that night is perfectly intact. The Unkiss is an addition. It isn’t replacing any other, more traumatic memory (like the threat to her life).

Now this is what I think happened:

Her emotions were running high that night, and her mind muddled up real events with the memory of that mounting (practically tangible) terror.

Yeah, it’s that simple. You know how you get really angry in a fight and then later you can’t recall the exact the words? Memory is unreliable. There are plenty of studies to show the varied effects trauma has on memory. There are plenty of studies to show how easily memory can distort. There doesn’t need to be a great, complex reason for Sansa to misremember a traumatic event. Also remember that Sansa may not be entirely sober for this encounter, since Cersei did make her chug that wine before.

Being stuck in a situation where you’re terrified and anticipating some sort of assault any second? Having a single moment where the emotions peak, where you’re sure the assault is going to happen right that moment? Misremembering if the assault did or didn’t happen later? Yup. Been there, done that. I still don’t remember what happened, and it’s been years. I sure as fuck wasn’t romanticizing shit, so it never occurred to me to think that Sansa might be. So when I heard the theories I went back to her chapters and honestly, I don’t think she is either. Not yet.

Then this happened:

She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak. - Alayne II AFFC

Now this is Sansa romanticizing the Unkiss. She romanticizes the kiss she remembers. That does not mean she invented the kiss to romanticize the BoB, it only means she remembers a non-con kiss from a traumatic night and chose to romanticize it to cope. See the difference?

The kiss isn’t a way for her to romanticize her trauma to cope, she romanticizes the kiss that was a result of her trauma- to cope.

I won’t be so sure of this theory though, because (no offense) but GRRM does seem like the kind of guy who would read Freud and incorporate his ideas in his story. There’s already a shit load of incest and let’s admit it, Sansa canonically has daddy issues. How far or in-depth did GRRM think about the “how” of the Unkiss? We don’t know.

THE WHY

Well, this one has been explained by GRRM himself:

You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom... but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it's a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on. - GRRM

He also said:

File this one under "unreliable narrator" and feel free to ponder its meaning...- GRRM

So, it’s safe to say that the Unkiss is basically being used to establish that Sansa has an unreliable memory. Of course, other characters probably have unreliable memory too (for example: Arya misremembering the name of Joffrey’s sword) but this is still most likely about Sansa.

Sansa has always been considered an unreliable narrator by the GA anyway, since so much of her narration in the first book was at odds with the narration of Ned and Arya, who were both fan favourites at the time. This should probably indicate to the readers that the other characters are unreliable narrators as well, but it doesn’t. People carry on reading simply assuming that only Sansa’s POV is unreliable, or at least the most unreliable. So using Sansa’s POV to lay the groundwork for memory issues in someone else’s POV is...not gonna work.

This doesn’t necessarily prove that the pay-off of the Unkiss is going to come from Sansa’s POV only, but it makes it seem likely. So I’m going to restrict myself to looking at the possibilities of misremembering stuff from Sansa’s POV.

One more thing we need to look at before we start looking at future possibilities:

"It's not the same," Sansa said. "The Hound is Joffrey's sworn shield. Your butcher's boy attacked the prince." - Sansa III AGOT

On the surface, this looks like another memory edit. The situation is remarkably similar; it was a traumatic event for Sansa, she was not entirely sober when it happened, and now she is misremembering what happened. We know that Mycah did not attack Joffrey, Joffrey attacked Mycah. However, it’s not quite the same. For one, we don’t actually know if Sansa believes that, or if she’s just trying to be contrary to Arya.

Also-

"Sansa, come here." Ned had heard her version of the story the night Arya had vanished. He knew the truth. "Tell us what happened." - Eddard III AGOT

Sansa had told Ned what happened. But then she said-

She blinked at her sister, then at the young prince. "I don't know," she said tearfully, looking as though she wanted to bolt. "I don't remember. Everything happened so fast, I didn't see …"- Eddard III AGOT

So.......is she lying or did her memory actually get fuzzy afterwards? What exactly did she tell Ned? Considering that he’s the one who asks her to “testify”, I’d assume she told things as they really happened (as in Joffrey attacked Mycah). Did her memory of the events slowly fade...and then reverse (as in Mycah attacked Joffrey)? Or is she just taking the neutral stance here, and later the opposing stance (Joffrey’s side) in her fight with Arya? We don’t know.

PURPOSE IT MAY SERVE GOING FORWARD

First, let’s assume that the Trident accident really does count as a memory edit. This would mean that Sansa has edited her memory twice now, which makes it very likely that a third memory edit is coming. There are two directions this can go-

The third memory edit has already happened pre-canon (so technically it would be the first edit)

The third memory edit is going to happen sometime in the next two books.

Warning: this is where I get back on my Jonsa bullshit. Turn back now if you don’t wanna watch me make everything about Jonsa.

Pre-canon Jonsa crush

If the first option is true, and Sansa has already edited her memory once that we don’t yet know about, then a pre-canon crush/moment between her and Jon is...a pretty strong possibility.

I’ll admit, I’m very very skeptical of the pre-canon crush, simply because I think there isn’t enough evidence or foreshadowing for it. On the other hand, the groundwork has already been laid, if GRRM were to go in this direction..it would be believable. Shocking, but believable.

We have numerous mentions of kissing games in the godswoods. We have a pre-canon conversation between Sansa and Jon about How To Hit On Ladies. And much more. The possibility is there.

Sansa having a crush on Jon and being so traumatized she replaced Jon with Waymar Royce?? Sansa getting tipsy on watered down wine and giving Jon a blue rose-

There are other possibilities though, for example, a fight between Sansa and her father and/or Arya that she’s not remembering correctly. It would explain her daddy issues (even more) and work to create conflict between her and Arya (why though). But I don’t THINK there’s any evidence for that..? I don’t know I’m just throwing out ideas.

Moving on to the second option- a third memory edit to come

These memory edits are not likely to be nearly as innocent.

One possibility I’ve heard about is Sansa forgetting her identity and sinking into Alayne. No. Very Unlikely. Sansa’s Stark identity appears to be going strong even in the TWOW preview chapter.

Second possibility- Sansa memory edits Lysa’s death.

She was mad and dangerous. She murdered her own lord husband, and would have murdered me if Petyr had not come along to save me.- Alayne I AFFC

It’s...possible? But it looks like she does remember what Lysa said and how she died. She’s just suppressing/dismissing the parts that implicate Littlefinger, which is not the same as a memory edit, where the memory is changed somehow.

More possibilities- Littlefinger will do something and that will lead to a memory edit. She’ll flee from the Vale and run into Ramsay (I dearly hope not) and bam trauma -> memory edit. The possibilities are pretty much endless.

Now let’s assume that the incident on the Trident was not a memory edit. This means she’s only had one memory edit yet....in which case the pay-off is probably something kiss-related, or it is something she remembers, but which didn’t really happen. A pre-canon kiss, or some serious Freudian shit that I’ve been trying desperately to avoid, a Sansa-Sandor faceoff....yea I’m not actually good at speculation.

#jonsa meta #jonsa #unkiss

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something-tofightfor · 4 years ago

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More thoughts on Prospect

so, @the-streamer-girl posted about people’s feelings on the Ezra/Damon dynamic when it comes to Cee ... and it turns out that I have a LOT to say.

So the question of Damon vs Ezra was one that I thought about a LOT when I first watched Prospect, and continued to watch closely with each additional viewing. The simple answer: Ezra is a better role model + influence in Cee’s life than Damon was, even after such a short time together.

The long answer:

I hope this doesn’t jump around too much, but it might. When we first meet Damon, he yells at Cee for exploring because she can’t sleep. She’s a teenager (I HC her to be about 16/7 years old at most) and she’s sassy about the gum/stim stuff, but instead of even giving her the courtesy of an answer, he just tosses the thrower to her and essentially tells her to make herself useful. You can look at it as treating her like a kid and forcing her to learn from her actions - but I view it as him ignoring what she says and giving her busy work to keep her out of his hair. When they’re talking about the Green and mining, he talks down to her. Doesn’t give her the space to ask questions, doesn’t give her straight answers, and seems almost bitter that they’re in the position they’re in - presumably because their family is fractured, which comes down to … the death of his wife - which he is likely reminded of every time he looks at Cee. I personally thought Damon telling Cee that she reminded him of his wife was kind of creepy. I know that it wasn’t meant to be, and that the sleep aid was clouding his brain a little, but the look he gave her and the WAY he was speaking didn’t sit right with me. It was an uncomfortable scene, and again, it featured him talking down to her - about the way she pronounced the name of the planet, about the way she felt about The Pug, etc. That could have been a really important instance of father/daughter bonding, and it wasn’t. I don’t think that it gave Cee any happy feelings to fall asleep to, either. The whole landing sequence, too, was just … him, focused on the task at hand, which is fine. He needed to get them safely to the ground, but at the same time, he treated her like she was just there and only served a specific purpose. The only time he ever acted like a father to her was when they found that first aurelac deposit - and even THAT changed very quickly when he saw how large the gem was. He was short with her about the chemicals and that’s fine with me - it’s a safety issue, so there’s no time for coddling. But as soon as she suggested that they take the gem, get square for the pod, and play it safe, he changes. He doesn’t care what she thinks or wants - he wants the gems and the money and the thrill of the harvest. Again, that’s why they’re there, so it’s alright, but … he’s not even willing to listen to her (And in the future, that makes me question how he would have been with the mercs, because he’s so… short-fused, I guess? He wouldn’t have been able to or willing to negotiate with them the same way Ezra did, and they would have been in the exact same circumstances. They still needed a way home, and I TRULY don’t think Damon would have been willing to cut profits, even if only by a little.)

I’m not sure what Damon’s plan was when it came to Ezra and #2. Yes, he needed to keep Cee a secret, but … what was the end goal? Stealing their stuff and then just running off and hoping that the two of them - with a giant gun - didn’t somehow find them and take revenge? Damon again got greedy - with his daughter standing RIGHT there, and was only focused on what he could gain from the situation. He wasn’t thinking ahead - and it’s what got him killed. Ezra could have shot Cee in that field. He did not. It would have been simple to do so - shoot her, take her filter, go about his business. He hesitated. Damon did not hesitate when he shot #2.

Enter Ezra into the pod. Cee shot him - and I believe that he believes he deserved it. He stays calm and collected, talks to her like an adult the entire time, and provides a logical solution to a problem that they’re both in. He lets her make a choice. Damon didn’t. Damon didn’t listen to her, or give her a chance to make a point, or to decide anything for herself.

Throughout the time they’re traveling to the merc camp, Ezra KNOWS that he is hurt, and that Cee is the cause, but doesn’t take it out on her. He continues to engage her in conversation, to trust her to feed him, to pull off this scheme with him. It’s like he said in the pod; if Damon couldn’t do these things, or understand what was necessary to survive on the Green, he shouldn’t have been there. He would have likely gotten Cee killed at some point, and probably wouldn’t have felt as guilty about it as she did that he was dead.

I firmly believe that by the time they’ve made it to the Sater camp, Ezra feels protective for the girl, despite what’s at stake. He’s coaching her on what to do, speaking rationally to her, and guiding her behaviors in the tent, just because he knows what the etiquette is. He’s very literally being poisoned to death, and still lets the scene play out like it needs to to - just be respectful. But they make a mistake and assume that like so many others, Ezra values the financial gain of this aurelac over human life.

Is Ezra a killer? Of course he is. But he doesn’t seem to be the type to turn to violent first, or just because, and I also believe that the way he speaks is an indication of what he believes in - honor and being a man and making the right choices based on the situation. Damon would have left Cee in a heartbeat for that much aurelac - that’s what, 90-115000 credits, easily? Each gem was at least as big as the original one they found. So he takes those, gets the supplies, LEAVES Cee and still goes on to the Queen’s Lair?

Yes. Then he doesn’t have to split profits. He doesn’t have to argue for two spots on a ride off. He doesn’t have to worry about taking care of Cee into the future. He would have made her some sort of “I’ll come back for you” promise, and wouldn’t have meant it. Ezra’s facial expression doesn’t betray him - yes, he’s interested in the aurelac in the case, but not at the expense of a teenage girl’s future.

When she finds him in the tent, he again trusts her, even after she left him at the mercy of the Sater. Yeah, he needs her, but it’s more than that. He’s still willing to continue on and continue their plan, because he’s still focused on getting both of them off of the moon and back home. It would be easy to go on on his own after she cuts his arm off, or to say “Hey, I might not be able to do this”, but he never loses his cool or outright lies to her about their chances.

He argues for her with the mercs in a way that Damon never would have. He’s rational. He lets her speak. He includes her in every single aspect of it - and the only time he acts in his own best interest is when he attacks with the blade and requires her to act. But they work well as a team there, and she picks up on what she can do to save him/them very quickly. They’re on the same page, and it’s only been a couple of very trying days.

They don’t leave each other. He doesn’t run when it gets hard to let her fend for herself. When they decide how to attack Inumon, they make the plan together - and they need each other for it to work. And yes, he might think that he’s a goner after it goes wrong, but he’s sincere about telling her to go and save herself - he wants at least one of them to get off the planet. She might still be mad at him for Damon’s death, but there’s no way that she would have tried so hard to get him to that ship if she truly blamed him and still had any thoughts of revenge in her mind. She answered his question - are you a killer - and it turns out that they’re the same. Yes. Definitely - but only when necessary. AND I SAVED THE MOST IMPORTANT THING FOR LAST: THE STREAMER GIRL SCENE.

We know that Damon thought what she was doing was pointless and stupid and shouldn’t have been her focus. We know that he wanted her to focus on prospecting and learning “useful” skills all the time. We know that he was set in his ways, and had a certain idea of how she should act. Ezra is the opposite. He encourages her to tell him about the book, and about what she’s adding to it. He listens to her when she tells him why she likes it so much. He’s intrigued about her contribution to the story, and doesn’t think that having these wild ideas and fantastic imaginary interactions is stupid. She’s still a kid, and she needs a distraction, and Ezra doesn’t put her down for it - he encourages her. He tells her to do what makes him happy, and this whole scene might be the first moments of levity that Ezra has had in MONTHS. In the short time they’re together, he encourages her in so many ways that Damon didn’t - that we saw or that we learned from what she said about him. He hasn’t seen a kid in a long time, but it seems like even all of his time on the Green hasn’t jaded him to the same point that a life of odd jobs and rental pods did to Damon. I don’t think Ezra sees Cee as a burden. I don’t think he looks at her as someone simply there to control/boss around. The sunlight in that scene does a lot to show the expressions on their faces - they’re relaxed. They’re open with each other, and it’s a conversation that neither of them will forget. (I was telling @the-blind-assassin-12 yesterday that I think it might be the most important scene in the whole movie.)

I think that when they get off the Green, they would stick together for a while. Obviously, they’re both going to go live their lives at some point, but Cee’s got Ezra now. They went through these traumatic things together, and she’s invested in his life. He - I think - feels protective of her, too, and would want to make sure she was OK on her own when they get back to civilization. Might not be a point in a formal adoption, because she’s so close to being an adult, but I don’t think that’s necessary. So, a short answer to my long answer: Damon was a shit father, and got what he deserved for being so damn greedy. Ezra is a dangerous man, but he wouldn’t ever be dangerous to Cee in the way that Damon’s actions made him dangerous (after the first encounter). She is much better off without Damon, because she needed to be around and influenced by someone that was willing to include her in decisions and let her make her own choices, not boss her around like she’s still 5.

There’s so much more I could say, and I’m sure you didn’t want to read 1500 words as a response do I’ll stop here … but this movie has hit me in a way that I didn’t expect it to.

I’d love to know your thoughts, too!

#prospect #damon vs ezra #damon is a terrible father #absolutely terrible #cee deserved better #ezra (prospect)#ezra and cee #just some self indulgent thoughts on a friday #friday thoughts on prospect #prospect (2018)#pedro pascal character #ezra pedro pascal #i love space cowboy miner dad #the-streamer-girl #i also love ezra more and more each day so there's that #sophie thatcher #cee #prospectmovie

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awesamkiller · 4 years ago

Text

The Zoom Logan Angst Everyone Wanted, :-)

Some music I bopped to, to get in the Vibe.

@nice-im-a-fan @im-a-creepy-cookie @rizzyluke @sashootkahoot @ameliessanderssidesblog @nachosforfree

Have fun. I love writing descriptively, and Logan doesn’t say much for this, so it’s great.

The Zoom chat was supposed to not only keep them safe as they made sure to keep connected, but also, it was supposed to provide an interesting format for their new little video.

The REASON they had to isolate was simple. Thomas could catch an illness and be asymptomatic, but all the sides will instinctively know. If they don’t act carefully, they will all spread the infection. If Thomas catches a cold for instance, and Logan accidentally picks it up, Thomas might be a little more brainless than usual and have more symptoms, if Patton picks it up next, he’ll be easier to get emotional, and once again, symptoms worsen, so on so forth.

And with this new, scary disease running around, and it’s potential effects? None of them wanted Thomas to catch it, never-mind be symptomatic.

So, this is how it’s working. Zoom calls. That’s fine by him. Thankfully, their continuous crisis seemed to have a place for Logic today. When he found a gap in the fast paced, much to fast paced discussion, he began to impart his knowledge.

It slipped from his lips as easily as water bumbled down a beck and into the river, he knew things off by heart and he only had the best intent. That’s all he’s EVER had really, never meant to do anything, or be anything else. He just means... Well.

“Logan?”

“Hm?”

“Can you, uh...” That’s Thomas, trying to word what he’s trying to convey nicely.

Roman cut in, beating him to it, “Shut up?”

Oh.

“Not the word I was going for, Roman,” Thomas sighed out softly, “But yes.” There was silence for a moment. They’re waiting for an answer. They’re waiting for a continuation, or a resignation from his point. And Logan just didn’t have it in him this time. “Oh, I understand.”

Dink! Dink! The sound effects of the mute and camera-off buttons blip through the call as Logan sits back and leans his head up to look at the glow stars Remus had snuck in to put on his ceiling as a ‘prank’ (because he knew Logan was working too hard and seriously). He switched the lights off and stared as them as they were misted over and blurred. He felt the familiar pressure behind his eyes as Janus, their newest call addition, sneered out an, “Oh, wow, over-reaction much?”

Everyone was silent, but Remus was here to fix that one with a sharp quip of, “Maybe make your comments optional again, eh, specs?”

Good nature. It was in good nature, Logan assured himself. Remus cares about him, he did the stars on the ceiling. He’s intrusive thoughts. He can forgive it.

But his friends?

His friends, well, friends...?

His ‘friends’ let out a few cackles and giggles, a collective momentary cacophony of laughter at Remus’s smart quip and good timing, before returning to talk. Logan sat back forward as things were presented, feeling the tears he forced to stay slipping down his cheeks as he took the notes as best and smudge-less as possible. He realised, subconsciously, the tears he’d been suppressing by tilting his head back, were actually slightly cooler than his shamefully pink cheeks.

He realised, also, that a tear not-quite-falling from your lashes, is almost ticklish. That tears want to be wiped because they irritate you and tickle your skin. Anyways, ignore that. Time to write. He took notes diligently, one hand resting over his mouth with his index finger just curled over his nose, the other hand was scratching away at the slowly dampening paper. He let out a few scratchy croaks and sniffles when someone poked fun at his mic being off, or being too sensitive to turn on the camera again.

It took a lot longer without his intervention, but even without Logan, the debate reached a conclusion.

Logan’s conclusion.

He made these points FOURTY FIVE MINUTES AGO.

“Oh,” A voice speaks, soft and laced with a strand of concern. Virgil’s voice. “Logan... Was right.” His voice was soft, but he was close to his mic, so everyone heard.

Dink! Mic only. Logan opened his mouth and tried his best to respond, but it came out as a croaky sob that made him cringe with shame.

The next voice was gentle. Soft, sure, but it had a caring quality to it, too.

“Oh, Lo-”

“Shut up, Pat-!” Logans voice cracked, “Forget it!”

Blip!

Logan Sanders has left the call. Call back?

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maxwell-grant · 4 years ago

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You've talked quite a bit about Shiwan Khan, would be OK with talking about the other villains who show up more than once, Benedict Stark and The Voodoo Master?

The Voodoo Master tends to get overshadowed by Khan by virtue of being less prominent and because, in a lot of ways, Mocquino does feel a bit like a prototype for Khan. Like Gibson was testing the waters of what kind of major supervillain he wanted the Shadow to have, and was gradually figuring details like the hypnotic traps and unique henchmen and mystic background and a fraudulent dark magician figure with Mocquino, before Khan blew it all up to bigger proportions. Twice already we’ve had instances where Mocquino was set to appear in a Shadow adaptation after Khan, and said adaptations got canned before he could show up (and I don’t think it does either character a favor if Mocquino comes after Khan). And of course Mocquino has the problem of being an ethnic supervillain whose identity and name are tied up to grotesque prejudice that twists cultures and beliefs into Hollywood boogeymen, and the novels sadly treat vodou beliefs far less charitably than how the other novels approach tibetan/asian mysticism. It’s definitely a problem, but not without it’s solutions.

Putting that aside, The Voodoo Master trilogy is very fun, the first novel in particular was the number one rated Shadow novel in a fan poll back then. Personally, my favorite is City of Doom because of it’s blend of gothic, urban and industrial settings, great battles even for a Shadow novel, and a spectacular finale, but they all have very strong points. And I do like Mocquino himself as a character. He is historically significant as the first true supervillain of Shadow Magazine (if you don’t count other odd criminals like The Black Master or The Cobra). He is different from Khan personality-wise in the sense that he is more of an old-school supervillain, who likens his conflict with The Shadow to a “game” they play, who likes to boast and brag about his powers and whose goals largely revolve around extortion. He has a vendetta against industrial society (although he himself employs industrial tactics, because he is a hypocrite), and said vendetta being largely just him trying to destroy it so he thinks people will fall in line with his cult more easily. Unlike with Khan, there’s no delusions or aspirations of grandeur and greater purpose here, it always comes down to crime and profit with Mocquino and he barely bothers to pretend otherwise.

He is resourceful and insidious and racks up a bigger body count than Khan on City of Doom alone, and there’s a real creepiness to his zombie minions as they are regular people stripped of all identity and forced into becoming walking meat shields. I think one way to make him work better on his own could be by playing up his ruthlessness and charm, and focus on the mind control/cult leader aspect. Make him the Jim Jones of Shadow villains.

Justice Inc redesigned him to look like Boris Karloff, divorced him of racist trappings, played up his dark magician persona and ballooned up his abilities into outright superpowers, all of which worked quite well as the closest he's ever had to an update And interestingly, there’s some odd Joker-esque aspects to him in his final appearence in Voodoo Trail:

Though almost silent, the explosion was forcible. The tank disgorged a greenish gas that spread like an expanding monster, filling the entire room that the trio had just left.

There was something parched and withery in his face, particularly noticeable when The Shadow saw the Voodoo Master's profile. Mocquino bore the scars of flame, not only on his face, but upon the scrawny arm he extended from his robe. Those burns showed like livid brands: a fitting mark for a supercriminal.

That hissing sound in the zombi cave! It was gas, leaking from underground pipes that led into Manhattan. Filtering through the porous stone, it gathered other chemical elements. Mocquino must have discovered that leakage and noted its effects. He had put the discovery to his own use.

...lips formed a grin so jagged that it was difficult to note where his mouth ended and his scar began.

Mocquino's shrill laugh told that he expected his men to overwhelm The Shadow through force of numbers.

Honestly, “Doctor Mocquino” I think is a better name for him than Voodoo Master. A Rogues Gallery isn’t complete without a major Doctor in there, and divorcing Mocquino of “Voodoo Master” and all that implies could be the better way of making this character work again. Play up the fact that he’s exploiting Caribbean religions and citizens for personal gain and roping them into his crime ring, maybe even have him use similar theatrics as The Shadow to paint himself as this great master of voodoo, but in the end, he’s always just Doctor Mocquino, an evil, rotten shyster who puts his knowledge to use for evil and evil alone.

Responsible for the first and only cliffhanger of Shadow Magazine with the kidnapping of Rutledge Mann, Benedict Stark is easily the single worst scumbag out of all Shadow supervillains. Just this completely horrible, wretched monster who ends up being somewhat dissappointing and frustrating of a villain in my view. Despite having quite a bit going on for him, Stark is not really interesting enough to warrant the 4 novels he gets, and where as Khan and Mocquino usually escape The Shadow thanks to prior planning and last-minute escape and strokes of luck, Stark seems to get away with it only because the narrative says so, not nearly as impressive as the other two despite being far, far worse, which makes it you don’t want The Shadow to match wits with him, so much as you just want The Shadow to kill him as soon as possible. In fact, here’s what Stark gets away with in the first ten pages of The Prince of Evil alone:

He gaslights a man named John Harmon into thinking he was developing amnesia

Gets Harmon to sign away enough money to be bankrupted for life, and no one, not even his wife, believe him when he says he was conned

Causes Harmon to commit suicide.

Then, while Cranston's talking with a friend of Harmon named Jackson who wanted to help him, the two go to Jackson's house to find it completely destroyed, his priceless belongings acid-ruined.

Then, they find Jackson's dog dead, with it's throat slit, and a Bible scattered nearby with the story of the good Samaritan marked, making it clear that this all happened because Jackson tried to help Harmon.

And then, as Cranston tries to stop one of Stark's goons from brutally assaulting a boy who was just paid by Cranston to watch his car, he gets attacked and knocked unconscious.

And THEN, the henchman gives the kid a brain concussion and then hauls him in front of a coming truck, with Cranston just barely saving the kid in time as the henchman escapes.

This is just the first 10 pages. Not even Spider novels usually start with this many atrocities happening all at once. Whatever problems Tinsley has as a Shadow writer, I’ll give him this: He definitely knows how to go from 0 to 100 in ways Gibson never would. The book obviously doesn’t keep this up forever (thank goodness), but The Prince of Evil is really all about building up Stark’s presence as this new ultimate Shadow villain, and I think the build up is quite solid up to a point.

He’s established as possibly the richest man in America. Where as Cranston is a millionaire, Stark is a billionaire, who owns “ailways and steamships, factories and mills all over the United States". Nobody knows what he looks like, nobody’s ever seen a picture of him, and Cranston, who knows everyone and everything, has never once laid eyes on the man. We also know in advance that he uses drugs delivered by chewing gum to turn his thugs into bloodthirsty savages who desire only terror and torture and inflict those at his beck and call, and we get a passage where Clyde Burke ingests one of these gums, experiences it’s effects, and ends up chasing down a mouse and killing it, for no reason other than it was the only living being nearby, much to his horror. And it very nearly develops into something even worse:

He could hear the snoring of a man sleeping inside a cellar apartment. Clyde halted. His fingers tightened on his iron bar. He guessed that the man asleep inside was the building janitor. He fought against a hot impulse that flared anew in his blood.

He wanted to kill that janitor! He wanted to smash at him with the iron bar until the man was battered and dead! Murder seemed so exciting. And so easy! Clyde could picture the terror of his victim as he struck at him. It would be sheer delight to maim the fool before he killed him.

The thing that saved Clyde was the thought of the chewing gum. He knew that the savage whisper that urged him on to murder was not his own brain talking, but the voice of a powerful drug.

Laying the bar on the concrete floor, he ran for the cellar exit. He didn't glance back. He was afraid that if he did, he'd be tempted to pick up the bar and commit a senseless and brutal crime.

The cold bite of the breeze was like a draft of cooling water against his parched lips. He began to get a grip on himself. Once more he was Clyde Burke, a normal human being who would go out of his way to avoid hurting a fly.

Stark has weaponized and mass-produced a drug that creates an army of Mr Hydes at his beck and call, that can turn even one of the kindest and most heroic characters into the series into a sadistic maniac itching to main and murder anything that’s in front of him, and that alone is not just a much more viscerally horrifying kind of mind control than what Khan and Mocquino use, it’s also got a an edge to it more suited for gritty urban drama. It’s an idea I definitely would have liked to see used again even after Stark’s out of the picture.

And then we actually get to see Stark for this first time, and he’s described as a grotesquely deformed baboon man leering at his beautiful secretaries, who deliberately employs the most attractive people to make his own deformities stand out further, and who is cartoonishly vile everytime he opens his mouth. He never really displays exceptional cleverness, compared to other Shadow villains, except for the fact that he keeps suspecting Cranston is The Shadow, and sometimes just seems to get really lucky. Stark tends to get much, much less interesting as the build-up evaporates and he has to stand on his own feet as a character, I barely remember anything he did in the following books. At the time, I thought Stark’s characterization was weak, and I still do.

This text blurb here was used on a promo S&S did for Prince of Evil, and it starts by talking about incredibly well-liked people who are kind and how Stark is the opposite because he's evil. Of course, as we all know, evil and well-liked are not opposites.

Stark may have been a tad more interesting had they went with the angle of him being a horrible monster who's also incredibly popular and beloved and friendly. About 70% of The Shadow’s villains are already middle-aged to elder rich businessmen pretending to be good, so maybe Stark being young and attractive and initially sympathetic-looking, atop being the richest and cruelest of them all, could also help set him apart. Sort of an evil Harry Vincent maybe.

But instead he's so obviously and viscerally awful all the time he shows up, so incapable of restraining himself, that it's impossible to buy him as a deceiver who’s pulled the wool over society’s eyes. At the time, I thought to myself that he was just painfully obvious of a villain and too brutish and stupid for me to buy that he’s supposed to be the richest criminal genius in America.

But then again, nowadays I’m well aware that wealthy and respected figures of society, who are cartoonishly horrible even openly in public, is just what billionaires are like, so maybe Tinsley had a point here.

#replies tag #the shadow #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #shadow magazine #dr mocquino #the voodoo master #benedict stark #the prince of evil

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hrodvitnon · 3 years ago

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Heh, yeah, he probably didn't think Goji being that small would be a problem.

Alright, moving on-I have another little scenario cooked up: it regards Godzilla and his family needing to deal with all of the incarnations (minus Earth) that I mentioned in previous posts suddenly being teleported (along with those they cherish) to the Abraxasverse, and how they need to coexist with one another lest it ends up like this fic:

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12783256/1/Godzilla-Battle-of-the-Ten-Kings (Ignore the outcome that Heisei won)

I also have a pretty good idea how this might affect the routes (don't worry, I won't let you describe how you can't speculate yourself yet-I'll do it myself for this.)

In the Coexistence Route, there's going to be a lot of chaotic confusion regarding around 10 or so versions of Godzilla running around and possibly starting to rampage in response to being taken from their home dimensions; MV!Goji and his family have their hands full trying to stop/talk with the other Gojis to stop rampaging & explain where they are now. Showa might be the most reasonable and will likely help them out, especially with the likes of Kiryu Saga!Goji & GMK!Goji who will resist and try to fight back against those who they see as impostors until Showa & MonsterVerse Godzilla put them in their place and get them to listen. The 2000 twins might accept since they do have equal levels of sapience to Showa!Goji, it's the bigger Godzillas that might pose a problem-with Heisei & Final Wars probably getting into a large & intense fight if they ever met & cause massive collateral damage in the process-not to mention another version of Shin who wouldn't have the same personality or empathy as his Abraxasverse counterpart and will be hostile to anything and everyone around him-including his counterpart because he sees Abraxas!Shin as weak due to his empathy. The Titans & humanity will need to work together to corral and get Heisei, Final Wars, and 2016!Shin to stop and listen to reason (though 2016!Shin possibly will need to be frozen again)-and it might end with all Godzillas agreeing to stop fighting (on certain conditions) , but they need a place to live that is isolated enough to be at peace (GMK will be left out and probably be either killed or vanquished to the Hollow Earth for Kong to finish him off with his axe); with a version of Monster Island to be used as a new home for the Godzillas (with Minilla, Minya, & Godzilla Jr to accompany their respective fathers there). It would end with a wobbly, but peaceful Coexistence.

In the Genocide Route however, things will not go so well....

Because here-the Godzilla incarnations are teleported while MV!Goji is in the process of wiping out humanity-the Titans start to become frustrated & very wary of these other Gojis as they start to pick fights with each other and, whether accidently or not, kill more humans in the process. Of course, MV!Goji will quickly sense the presence of these other Godzillas and immediately try to attack them as a result of his hallucinations blinding his judgement and common sense-resulting in some of the Gojis (Heisei especially) having a bone to pick with him after the fact. It might all culminate in a final showdown after some warmup battles in (very ironically) Tokyo-where all the Gojis show up, destroy the city to get themselves ready-and start to battle one another for the right to be the one true King of the Monsters!(of course, this is actually just to get rid of the competition)

The Titans & MV!Goji's family then watch with bated breath as the 10 Kings duke it out and slowly start to permanently kill each other as the fighting and stakes get higher and higher-with Kiryu Saga!Goji being the first one to die before the others, 2016!Shin does some creepy stuff that might disturb his counterpart, the original 1954 Goji is also in the fight and gets beaten up a lot, and all the smaller Gojis are killed off before the night ends. The larger Godzillas start to unleash their true power as the fighting gets even more intense, a great many beam-lock wars are had-& then the slaughter begins-Shin ends up being the first to die as the other 3 Gojis gang up on him after he potshots them too much, and then, you will likely be surprised-Heisei is then offed. How so? Let me describe:

• Despite their respective powers-Final Wars and MV!Goji (if the hallucinations briefly go away) will recognize Heisei!Goji as having a lot of potential to kill either of them (my interpretation) and team up to take him down-resulting in a complete decapitation to permanently kill him (heh, how's that for irony?).

The former two are the last ones standing-and fight the last fight for their lives. Everyone watches in anxiety and Godzilla's family, despite what he has recently done, pray that he wins this last fight. At first, MV!Goji has the upper hand, having gone feral & finally stopped holding back, and is seemingly very close to killing his counterpart-only for him to reveal he was also holding back and turns the tables on the natural Godzilla, tossing him around-beating him senseless & utterly wrecking him. Everyone watches in understandable horror as Final Wars!Goji then begins to charge up his spines....and they flash crimson red as he then impossibly throws MV!Goji high up into the sky.

Having had enough, Godzilla's family rush to stop what was about to happen....but it's too late.

Final Wars!Goji unleashes his Burning G Spark Heat Ray into his counterpart (here he doesn't need Ozaki's boost to gain the ability), who initially tanks the attack-but it slowly becomes too much for his body to handle....and after a few seconds, he lets out one, final agonized roar before exploding into a fiery ball of light & chuncks of flesh. His family, and the Titans can only watch in silenced shock as their Godzilla bit the dust and was now gone forever......

Meanwhile, Final Wars Goji roars in victory before immediately going to the sea to rest after winning. The only ones happy with MV!Goji's demise is humanity, who sort-of praise Final Wars!Goji as a hero of sorts and slowly start to rebuild what Godzilla destroyed. On the Titan perspective, the other Titans are initially very hesitant to accept Final Wars Godzilla as their new Alpha/King, but after he demonstrates his abilities and power-they submit and look to him as the new ruler of Earth, the only ones who outright rejected his rule were Kong, Tiamat, Barbra, Dagon, Scylla, and Rodan-with the now deceased MV!Goji's family going into hiding in the Hollow Earth to grieve the death of their Godzilla.

Mothra is in complete anguish and despair after the death of her mate, Shin & Junior are in similar states and become depressed, Leo, Manda, & Keeta are mostly unaware of what's happening but do their best to comfort their peers since they can easily detect their sadness, but the one who was affected the most was Monster X, with Viv trying to deny the fact that Godzilla was gone, and San trying anything to comfort her. Kong visits every now and then with Jia to act as emotional support to the grieving family and generously lets them stay in the Hollow Earth as a temporary home until they recover enough to head to the surface.

Mothra heads to an isolated island to be alone after she justifiably rejects FW!Goji as her king, Shin & Junior go with her along with Leo and Manda, Keeta is taken back to his adoptive father, and Monster X starts to develop a bitter grudge against FW!Goji and wants revenge for MV!Goji's death; but even Viv'n'San know that trying to take on the one who killed the other Gojis wouldn't end well for them-so they teeth-clenchingly 'coexist' with FW!Goji until they find a way to get their revenge.....even if they themselves die or it would be for nothing.....

Just to inform you, I can understand if you don't like the Genocide branch-off scenario, so you can simply react to the Coexistence one if you like.

But overall, what do you think of the second long post that I wrote?

Yeaaaaaah, not a fan of the Genocide branch-off... plus I wasn't a fan of the whole Everyone Beats Up MV!Goji thing from previous asks, it's all kinda, well, sus.

...though I'd like to bring up something that Monster X themselves state in Abraxas Chapter 17: They can be good, but can also be a terrible (if necessary) evil, true to their namesake. In this instance, I'd picture them flatly rejecting FW!Goji out of rage and hate because he basically killed what Vivienne saw as a mentor/god, and this cat-faced bastard expects submission from them? Fuck that. He'll get in their face about it like, "I'm your king now. Kneel."

But Monster X just stares at him with the same cold hate they gave to MaNi before mauling and killing him. "KNEEL!" FW!Goji demands. Monster X doesn't even blink. "Even kings kneel before the executioner." FW!Goji scowls at them with fire in his eyes. "You better not be threatening me, you little freak. You saw how I put down that rabid animal you're being such a whiny bitch about."

"Oh no," Monster X says with thinly-veiled contempt, "Certainly not. Just making a historical observation. I'm the Executioner... and no king's reign lasts forever, Usurper." Then they have the balls to turn their back on him and move to the Hollow Earth, knowing that even if FW!Goji wants to throw hands he has no real reason to (unless he wants to be an asshole) and FW!Goji has some measure of reason. Implied Death Threat aside, they never explicitly challenged him and attacking them just for disagreeing with him (when MV!Goji left Kong alone after he refused to submit) will only make him look like a tyrant.

---

For the Coexistence Chaos, I wouldn't consider 2016!Shin to be actively hostile to everything around him; in his home film it's noted that "behaviorally it just moves," he's basically a confused animal that doesn't know what's going on and simply reacts (see also the lyrics to Who Will Know), and he only explicitly reacts with violence once he's met with violence (namely gaining his atomic breath after GBU-57s were dropped on him), so he'll be hostile purely out of self-defense.

Also, regarding the Genocide branch off, let's not forget 2016!Shin's 5th form (the army of small humanoid Shin Godzilla's literal seconds away from branching off from his tail); because 2016!Shin is constantly evolving in a way to combat the threats he faces, it's not out of the question that he'd just spawn the 5th forms so they can scurry off and go into hiding while the other 9 Gojis are ripping each other apart.

#wagrilous 23

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fawkesthefox · 4 years ago

Text

I’m just gonna ramble about The Page and what i think is going on, sorry if this doesn’t make sense

What does The Page say?

Ok, so there’s clearly at least three separate(?) people contributing to this page: A) The original author with the curly font, B) someone who later discovered the page with the all caps lettering, and C) someone who’s handwriting their contributions in some sloppy scribbles (literally)

Person A’s writing says:

The enderwalkers (circ[Scribbled out, possibly by person C] History: ????? Effects: memory, judgement, physi[scribbled out] Classification: genetic?

overall; good, but depends on what has been experienced, however, remain cautious as those who have experienced it have shown that it could be ha[scribbled out, the third letter seems to be an r]

Person B’s writing says:

DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN MULTIPLE TIMES [the “DO NOT” has a scribble over it but the scribble is transparent so is still legible] YOU HAVE ALREADY BEEN IN IT TOO LONG DO YOU NOT REMEMBER [scribbled out, but the first three letters seem to be “DOO”] FIGURE OUT HOW TO STOP IT. [This text is larger and underlined, it is also overlapping the last paragraph of Person A’s writing, making it harder to read]

Person C’s contributions seem to include:

Scribbling out the end of Person A’s title(?) Attempting to scribble out the “DO NOT” from Person B’s words Drawing two crowns, reminiscent of the crown on Ranboo’s Smiley Face Screen An addition to Person B’s last sentence, adding a “DON’T” before it, with a little carrot symbol (^) indicating it is meant to be included in the sentence. Turning the sentence into “DONT FIGURE OUT HOW TO STOP IT.”

Person C may also be responsible for the other instances of things being scribbled out, but those are done with a much thinner and more opaque brush, The scribble over Person A’s title is also done with a more opaque brush, but it is thicker and seems to resemble Person C’s brush more.

So what has been scribbled out?

I did brighten the image to see if I could see anything, but I think most of the scribbles don’t actually have anything under them to prevent us from getting to the text so easily. (Though it is how I semi-confirmed the first three letters of Person B’s second line.)

I believe that the first scribble on the title says “(circa [date])” indicating when the paper was originally written.

The scribble over Person A’s list starts with “physi” so I think It says something like Physical, implying that there are Physical effects/symptoms that come with Enderwalking

I think the scribbles over Person B’s second line may reference say “DOOMSDAY” as the letters we know and the length of the word seems to line up. This would probably be referencing what happened around the events of Doomsday, where it seems like Ranboo was helping Dream with the Doomsday preparations and the appearance of the Dream voice.

The last scribble most likely says something about the Enderwalk being harmful; something like “it could be harmful to the subject.”

What does all of this imply?

Someone was studying the Enderwalk/People who Enderwalk. Which implies that there are other Endermen hybrids, Endermen also Enderwalk, or that Ranboo himself was being studied at some point. This could lead to discovering Ranboo’s origins, and possibly what he’s a hybrid of.

This also means that if Ranboo continues Enderwalking things will get worse, he might start experiencing physical symptoms, his memory problems are already pretty bad so I doubt they’ll get worse (Though they still could), and his decision making could be impaired while he’s lucid?

Personally, I think the “judgement” effect could only happen while he’s Enderwalking though, like how he works with Dream and betrays his friends while he Enderwalks. The other “Effects” could also only/mainly apply when one is Enderwalking, as in Ranboo cannot remember what happens while he’s Enderwalking, but otherwise I think his memory is mostly ok (He still uses his memory as an excuse for some things, like saying he didn’t remember burning George’s house down during the trial but later recalling what happened.)

But I think the potential physical effects could be very interesting, as regardless of whether or not it happens exclusively during an Enderwalk, it will probably leave lasting effects when he’s Lucid (maybe thats why he suddenly started being able to pick up grass blocks?)

Who are the Writers?

Person A is most likely a completely separate person from Ranboo, they might have a history as they could’ve been studying Ranboo and the Enderwalk but Its most likely not Ranboo himself or any part of his subconscious. I don’t think its another member of the server either, (it could be but I can’t think of anyone that it would fit)

Person B could be Ranboo, maybe not Ranboo himself but I think it could be the Dream Voice? It doesn’t seem actually malicious, its just aware and kinda creepy. I think it’s trying to help Ranboo in its own weird way.

Person C could be Ranboo when he’s Enderwalking? Or someone who’s benefited by the Enderwalk/Ranboo while he’s Enderwalking. I think it’s most likely gonna be some part of Ranboo’s subconscious.

#Ranboo #enderwalking arg #The Page #The fox speaks #I am the orist now #This is pretty long under the cut so be aware of that

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 5 years ago

Text

Return Her pt. 5

The Company (and friends) x Reader

Womanly charm and Laketown. The company only hates Bard more and more as time passes.

Bard had you close his jacket around you to hide your odd clothing and sat you next to him like before, telling you quietly to let him do the talking because he’s not too popular with the local authorities.

So you did just that, hanging out by the helm with his jacket covering your odd jeans and shirt while he steered into the port thing with a big gate blocking the way.

You’ve never seen anything like it. A town completely on the water that should be beautiful, only it’s dark and gloomy and reeks of poverty and hunger.

Bard exchanges a few words with the man at the gate, they glance back at you at one point before the new man suddenly declares that everything is in order.

Before the approval slip thingy can be given back, though, a slouchy, long-browed, greasy man slinks up and snatches the paper and hisses, “Not so fast."

This new dark-haired man reads over the papers, then looks up and observes the barrels lined up in his boat, "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm. Only, they’re not empty, are they, Bard?”

He drops the papers and takes a few steps forward, a weird delighted gleam in his eye at having caught the bargeman off guard. “If I recall correctly, you’re licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman.” As he says this he picks up a fish from the barrel that Bombur is in, sneering when Bard replies.

“That’s none of your business."

“Wrong. It’s the Master’s business, which makes it my business- Oh.” He pauses when his eyes suddenly fall on you, his facial expression shifting slightly. “What have we here?"

Bard looks over at you, then back at the man with irritation, "Who she is, is no concern of yours. But if you must know she is the sister of my past wife.” He lies smoothly and you find yourself feeling a bit impressed.

“The sister of your past wife, you say?” He doesn’t seem to believe him as he saunters over towards where you’re sitting, “She’s very pretty if you look past them bruises on her face, but I do wonder why she would live outside of the city when your wife was born ‘ere."

Oh, okay he’s attracted to you. That’s good.

Well, it’s gross, but good because you can definitely put that to good use.

You stand up and rack your brain for a fake name before you remember the name of one of the Elvish guards in Mirkwood, "Hello, sir. My name is Aerin.” Despite not wanting to be anywhere near this man, you take a step forward and offer a dazzling smile.

He seems taken aback by your positive response, but not displeased for he also takes a step forward and bows slightly, “I am Alfrid, the right-hand man of the master of this town. At your service.” After he says that he throws the fish into the water and reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, and you try your best not to cringe.

“Bard, you did not tell me there were such n-noble men living here in your town.” Alfrid wasn’t looking at your face, but if he was he’d see that you don’t look very happy.

Bard stares at you blankly for a few moments. He knows what you’re doing, they all do except for Alfrid apparently, and he just feels so bad for your poor soul.

The slimy man lets go of your hand and steps back, smiling at you with his crooked, odd teeth before turning back to Bard with the same scowl on his face. “Anyways, these fish are illegal."

"Empty the barrel-”

Before he can finish you speak again. “Bard! How much longer is it going to be? I’m simply yearning to see my nieces and nephew again.” You put extra emphasis on the word yearning and look the creepy man directly in the eyes, smiling coyly before looking back at the dark-haired bargeman. “I know that your devilishly handsome friend here is cross with you, but I really must go see Ta-er- Tilda and the other two.” You think you got the name right.

Flattery get’s you everywhere in life, because your seductive euphemism and shameless compliment seem to make him forget all about dumping the fish out over the edge of the barge. “Handsome?” Ugh, he sounds all too happy about that.

“Aerin I’m afraid Alfrid is upset with me, so I’m not sure how much longer we will be.” Bard plays along, crossing his arms over his chest as he shakes his head, “Forgive me my dear, I pray that this won’t take much longer."

Alfrid looks between the two of you a few times before settling to look at your face, a sickly pleasant smile coming to his face, "No, no. I won’t hold you any more.” He walks back a few paces and steps off the boat, raising his arm, “Raise the gates and welcome our new guest warmly."

And just like that the gate is being raised and the lot of you are gliding through the entrance with no further obstacles.

"Until we meet again, my dear.” He says as you pass by, that same unnerving smile on his face.

You release an all too enthusiastic giggle at his words and wave with faux-shyness, turning only once you’re at least a few meters away.

As soon as you’re out of sight you collapse down on the box and start rubbing the back your hand against his coat, “Ewww, I can’t believe I let him kiss me.” You complain while still rubbing your hand in an attempt to wipe away the awful feeling.

“I can’t either. That was quite the performance.” He sounds amused, and when you glare up at him he looks it too with only hints of sympathy, “If I hadn’t known better I would’ve truly thought you were taken by him."

"Ugh, shut up.” You stop wiping your hand on the coat and look down at it as if you expect there to be something smeared all over it from his too wet lips. “God, maybe I should just cut it off."

"No need for that. Allow me.” The bargeman leans down and takes your hand in his, lifting it up so he can press a kiss in the same place. “There."

Holy shit.

Your face goes hot and when he lets go you allow it to fall back to your side, "W-Well now you’ve indirectly kissed him, so while I may be fine now you’re stuck with the knowledge that your lips have technically touched his.”

At your words there is raging that comes from inside the barrels.

Bard grimaces at your words, it seems he didn’t think of it like that, but he doesn’t allow that to deter him, “I need not worry about that for long, because once your friends get out of those barrels I’m afraid I won’t last much longer.” He pauses, then adds with a smirk, “Or perhaps you can return the favor?"

No one can hear it, but you’re screaming internally.

The raging only gets louder, so you shake your head and stutter out, "N-No way, I don’t want your blood on my hands."

He laughs at that, nodding along as he listens to the grumbles and yelling coming from the barrels of dead fish. "If I am to die anyways then surely you can make an exception.”

“You’re really pushing your luck, Bard! Your death is of when, not if anymore."

—

Eventually you did get near his house, but then one of his kids came running up saying something about their house being watched, and so your poor friends ended up having to come through their toilet.

Dwalin came in first, and the glare he threw at Bard was so withering and dark you nearly cried. Not really, but it was scary.

Bard only seemed to find it funny, though.

Everyone is inside and wrapped up in record time (since it’s the only recorded instance of dwarves and a hobbit coming in from a toilet, it’s only natural that it would set a record), and none of them seem to happy about any of this.

You get along with Bards children rather easily, his youngest is a total cutie pie, but ultimately after that fiasco at the gate you’ve got to hang out with the company a bit more so they don’t murder the poor bargeman.

They’re given some extra clothes to change into and you elect to stand outside with his daughters while everyone changes, conversing with the younger one about her hobbies and other things she likes.

Eventually their brother pokes his head outside and says it’s okay for you all to go back in, and when you do you’re met with the sight of shirt dresses and too long coats.

You feel bad for them right away and head over to where they’re all hanging out by the fire, your eyes immediately falling on the shivering Bilbo.

Right away you go to his side and sit next to him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders to share some of your own heat (since you dried off quite a while ago and changed your jeans out for a pair of leggings you had in your backpack). You pull him closer into your side so his cheek rests against your chest, rubbing his arm lightly to create some warmer friction."I hope you don’t get sick…” You mumble worriedly, looking down at his red face. “Oh god, you’re already going red. You’re not coming down with a cold, right?"

There’s some laughter from the others but you ignore it since you’re suddenly feeling very worried for the small hobbit.

He doesn’t have much body-mass or fat, so surely he’s absolutely freezing.

"Oin, maybe you should come check on Bilbo!” You call, looking up to see that they’re all laughing at you and not something stupid like usual.

You pause and look around in bewilderment, “What’s so funny?"

Nobody responds to you, instead they just keep on chuckling and laughing like they’ve just been given an entire stand-up comedy performance.

"Gosh, let the lad breath, Y/N!” Bofur exclaims between laughs, only causing everyone else to laugh harder.

You furrow your eyebrows and look back down at Bilbo, still completely confused, “What are you talking about? He’s breathing just fine, isn’t he?"

This goes on for a few more minutes, you being baffled and asking questions while everyone else takes jabs and makes jokes, before you finally realize what they’re laughing at. And the only reason you realize is because of the very inappropriate comment Kili makes (despite looking a little pale).

"Hey Y/N, I’m feeling rather cold too, can I have a turn?"

And then there’s more boisterous guffaws and unmanly giggles.

You look back down at Bilbo and see that you’ve pressed his poor face right into your breast, and while you definitely didn’t do it to be weird or anything it seems that you’ve successfully embarrassed him.

"Oh you complete idiots!” You yelp, loosening your hold on Bilbo so he isn’t pressed so firmly against you, “He's cold !” You cry disapprovingly, shaking your head at these immature and lecherous jests, “You wouldn’t be joking like that if I were a guy. Or if it were you!” You grumble, looking away from their overly humored gazes in favor of looking at the wall.

They don’t quit their laughing for another minute or so, but when they do calm down you and the poor hobbit are both successfully humiliated.

“And this is why Bard is my favorite.” You hiss at them, eyes narrowed with an irritated expression on your face.

There’s no more laughter after you say that, and you feel smug at the frustrated and angry looks that pass over their faces.

“I can’t believe you let those men kiss you. They’re all hideous.” Dwalin growls, crossing his arms over his chest like he usually does. “You could do much better."

"Kiss me? My hand you mean?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in question, “Hey, if I didn’t play up that charm y'all woulda been found out so fast. You should be thanking me."

"Wait, so it wasn’t an actual kiss?” Bofur pipes up next, an expression that looks way too relieved on his face.

“Um, no. Why would I let them kiss my mouth? I care about you guys and all but I gotta draw the line somewhere."

"Maybe not that other guy, but you sure seem fond of Bard.” Fili grumbles.

“Oh my god, this again? Are we really gonna have this conversation again?” You really thought they were over it. How foolish of you.

Nori sits up a bit and exclaims, “That was before he kissed your hand!"

You groan over dramatically and throw your head back, "Guyyysss,” you begin in a whiny voice, “It was my hand! My flipping hand!"

A few of them huff, but nobody says anything else about it. Thank god.

—

When Bard returns from whatever he’s doing the dwarves immediately bombard him about the weapons they were promised, and he leaves to go get them.

Only, when he comes back he’s met with a lot of outrage cause his weapons are pretty shitty.

You watch from the opposite side of the table as Bard, looking at the weird grappling hooks and stabby 'weapons’ he provided them with. Also some weird hammers too.

From what you’ve seen, these guys only accept the best of the best when it comes to weaponry, so this just ain’t cutting it. "Um, is this all you’ve got?” You wonder out loud, looking at the pathetic bundle of makeshift things. “Like, you haven’t got any swords or fancy things like that? These guys are total divas about that kinda stuff, so…"

The others around you grumble at your slight jab and at the poor quality of the things they were given until they start to complain about paying him for weapons and these being trash, bla bla bla.

Yeah, you totally called it.

They all continue to argue and Bard says something about an armory, but your attention is grabbed by the sight of Kili and his old man walking stick.

He’s struggling to sit down, no doubt from the awful wound on his leg, so you zoom over quietly (but quickly) and say in a hushed voice, "Hey, you’re not lookin’ very good, Kili."

The brown-haired prince doesn’t look up at you right away, but when he does you can see very clearly just how pale and tired he’s looking.

You take a seat next to him and place your hand on his non-injured knee, glancing over to make sure everyone else is distracted before whispering, "Are you okay?"

He doesn’t do or say anything at first, looking down at your hand for a moment before looking back up at your face, "I’m fine."

Fucking liar.

"Kili, come on. Everyone else might just take that and roll with it, but you’re clearly not. You need to rest more."

Your concern only seems to frustrate him, though, for he rolls his eyes and shakes his head stubbornly, "No, I already told you I’m alright. This will pass, and when it does you’re going to feel really silly for being so worried."

You fix a glare at him, not removing your hand still, and shoot back, "And when it doesn’t, you’re gonna get your ass kicked by me. If you’re not gonna rest or deal with this, then at least let me clean it up so it doesn’t get infected."

He stares at you for a few moments as if trying intimidate you into dropping it, but you return the look with a steely glare that says you’re not asking.

Eventually he sighs and drops his head back, "Fine. Do as you wish."

"Good choice."

You pull your trusty backpack off your back and open it up, looking through it quickly to see if there’s anything there that you could use. When you catch sight of some cotton balls your expression brightens. "Oh, nice.” You take the bag out and place them next to you, then grab the water skin that they gave you and some tweezers you kept in your makeup case.

Without hesitation you move onto the floor on the other side of him and kneel down so you’re closer to eye level with his nasty wound.

Ew.

You unwind the wrap slowly, glancing up occasionally to make sure you’re not hurting him, and once you’re done you drop it on the ground and crinkle up your nose at the unsightly hole in his leg. “Yikes, you’re the biggest fucking liar in the world."

He doesn’t get a chance to retort because right away you gently grab the front of his leg to add a bit of press to test just how tender it is and if it’s still bleeding.

It is.

More blood begins to well up and you barely keep yourself from gagging, and he groans quietly in pain.

You take your tweezers and cotton balls and place them on the bench next to you, then go for your waterskin.

A handful of cotton balls and a bit of splashing later, and you’ve got some wet cotton to work with.

The tweezers tips clink together softly when you close them a few times just to make sure they work right, then you grab one of the cotton balls with it and begin to gently clean up the area around his arrow wound.

Very quickly the white fluff of the wet cotton turns red and smushy, so you drop it with the gross bandaging and grab another.

This process of cleaning, dropping, and getting another goes on until it looks mostly cleansed, and once it is you begin to search for something else to bind his leg with.

You sit there and think for a moment before an idea strikes you.

Once said idea comes to your head, you sit up a bit straighter and wrap your arm around his thigh from the bottom, reaching up to touch your shoulder to see if your sleeve can properly wrap around his leg.

"Uh, Y-Y/N? What are you doing?” He mumbles, looking at you oddly.

“I’m trying to see if it’ll fit…” You say absentmindedly, slowly letting go.

He chokes on air and splutters, “What?!"

You don’t reply and instead pull both your arms out of your sleeves, lifting it a bit so your head goes in and you can get your arms out properly, and once both arms are poking through the hole for your head, you pull your head through too and secure it just above your chest. "There we go."

Once that awkward sight is through with, you grab the sleeve of the arm just wrapped around his leg and begin trying to rip it off.

It looks so much easier in the movies.

You pull and tug and even try to bite at it, but it won’t give like you thought it would.

After a minute or so of trying to rip it off with brute strength, you stop and glare at the offending piece of fabric, "Awh, freak…"

You put your arms back into your shirt properly and return them through the sleeves, standing with irritation on your face, "Don’t move a muscle or I’ll cry and tell everyone you called me fat.” You threaten before approaching Sigrid, Bard’s oldest daughter.

The two of you whisper for a moment, then disappear into another room only to appear again minutes later.

You’re now wearing a soft red blouse (one of her nicer shirts) with your long sleeved white (it’s not really white anymore) ringer shirt hanging over your arm.

With quick steps you walk over to Fili, who was speaking with everyone else, and tug lightly at the back of his borrowed shirt.

He pauses in his listening and turns to look up at you, raising an eyebrow in question. “You’re wearing something new.” He comments.

You ignore said comment and hold out your shirt to him, “I need you to get the sleeves off. It’s for Kili."

Before he can ask questions you go back to said brother and kneel back down, taking a dry cotton ball to soak up the blood that had begun to gather while you were busy.

Right before you finish with dabbing at the blood, Fili approaches with your now tattered and destroyed shirt, both sleeves held out to you in pretty good condition (though the same can’t be said for the torso…) all things considered.

"Thank you Fili.” You beam, taking the sleeves from him without hesitation.

With deft movements you tie the ends of the sleeves together tightly, pulling on it to make sure the knot is good, before beginning to wrap it around his leg. “Do I have to do it tightly, or is that not a good idea?"

"Wrap it tightly enough to where it’ll stay on and clot the wound, but not too tight that it’ll make his leg numb.” Fili responds, crouching down to watch as you begin to gently but firmly wind it around his thigh.

“Like this?” You ask, pulling on it a bit to make sure it doesn’t loosen or fall.

“Yeah, that’s good."

Once you’re done, you tuck it under one of the first coils and tie it firmly. "Is it too tight?” You ask, glancing up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

Kili shakes his head, releasing a shaky sigh, before reaching down to smooth his hand over it, “Thank you, Y/N…"

A small smile comes to your face as you get up to sit down next to him. "Where would you fools be without me?” Your voice is good natured and humorous, but he can see the worry hidden in your expression.

“Probably dead.” He jokes, looking over at Fili who laughs lightly.

“That sounds about right."

You wrap your arm around his shoulders much like you did to Bilbo earlier, looking down at the stark white of your now ruined shirt being used as a binding for his leg, "So long shirt.” You mumble.

You look back at Fili and open your mouth to say something, but you cut yourself off when you feel a weight pressing against your left boob.

Fili starts to laugh, and you don’t even have to look to know that he’s trying to be sly.

Kili elected to lean against you much like Bilbo earlier, and though your eye twitches and the thought of flicking his nose passes your mind, you allow it.

He’s wounded, but as soon as he gets better you're definitely going to kick his ass.

And you tell him as much.

“You’re so freaking lucky you got shot.”

291 notes · View notes

crystalirises · 4 years ago

Text

The Final Answer (36 Questions AU 7/13)

Seventh part.

OUR WORD

Fundy coughed, scraping the chair against the wooden floor as he put a bit of space between him and Dream, their moment gone as soon as he had realized what Dream was trying to do. He couldn't himself give in that easily. He just couldn't. He tried not to laugh as Dream nearly fell to the floor at the sudden movement. He looked down at their forgotten meal, shaking his head as he knew neither of them would bite into what was clearly rotten meat.

He picked at the edge of his white shirt, cutting a piece of it off. He hid his scowl, preferring not to send the wrong message to Dream. He needed to stop tearing off pieces of his clothes. This was the fifth one this week. Niki and Ranboo had berated him so many times that he couldn't even count the instances anymore. He shook his head, he didn't need to think about that.

“Sorry, I thought I had a decent food supply. Should have checked this afternoon. I think Niki told me to check but I've been so busy that I mighta sorta forgot? I don't think I have anything else and I'm sure the storm's ruined the farm. Would you look at that, I guess we’ll both starve, huh?”

“I could teleport us to our cabin. It wouldn't be too difficult. No one would have to see you and no one would have to see me. It would be the two of us... I could teleport us... j-just so we don’t starve!” Dream quickly added as those slitted, gold-flecked brown eyes snapped towards him. Fundy's mouth was pressed into a grim line, his fingers gripping his shirt.

Dream sat up on the chair, averting his gaze from his husband’s scrutiny. He didn't want Fundy to think he was trying to lure him back... although maybe he should've thought about that option. He needed Fundy to trust him. Besides, it'll be one night... in their cabin... the cabin where they used to live together. He swallowed down his nervousness, hoping Fundy couldn't hear it in his tone, “I’ve been maintaining the food supply in case you… I assumed you might... I hoped you... I... or you know we could starve, that’s a good idea too.”

“…Have you been staying in our cabin?”

“You still think of it as ours?”

“Dre― You know what I mean.”

Dream forced down his amused laughter, pushing himself out of his chair as he began to take their unfinished meal from the table.

“Sapnap and George are currently mad at me, so I’ve been staying at our cabin. I also thought you might come back if I waited long enough…” He whispered, mostly to himself.

“I can hear you, there’s nothing you can say that I wouldn’t know about.” Fundy’s ear twitched at the top of his head, watching as Dream disappeared shortly into the kitchen. Did he want to go back to their cabin? He sighed, his ears pressing against his head. Was it a trap? It definitely felt like one.

“And… I can’t blame George and Sapnap, they have every right to be mad after that little stunt you pulled.” Fundy tilted his head to the side, sighing as he thought of how George and Sapnap might have reacted.

“I said that in the heat of the moment.”

“Did you also tell them or am I the first person you’re apologizing to?” Fundy nodded to himself, Dream’s silence was answer enough. “You fucked up.”

“…I know.”

“I’ll go back to the cabin with you, if you promise me one thing.” Fundy leaned back, balancing himself on the back legs of the chair.

“We’re only going there to eat. Nothing else, ya? It doesn’t mean anything.” Fundy pointed an accusatory finger at where he thought Dream, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, albeit half-heartedly.

“We’re only going back to the cabin so we don’t starve, okay.” Dream emerged from the kitchen, glancing at the chair that Fundy sat on. He pursed his lips together.

The cabin was… a bit of a mess, though not as horrible as the one they were currently in. He hasn’t had the time to clean. He began to pull at the air, a small holographic panel appearing at his fingertips. Admin magic. It did come in handy at times. As he searched for the coordinates, he spared a glance towards the fox hybrid, “Are we taking the bat with us?”

“Wha― Yes, we’re taking Batry with us! I’m not going to leave them here in the dark… alone… abandoned… unwanted…” Fundy kept his voice low at the last two words, knowing that Dream wouldn’t hear him. He wrapped his around his chest, leaning further against the chair.

One night. At their cabin. Oh, Niki and Ranboo would kill him if they knew. He hoped everyone was asleep or busy doing whatever it is they did in New L’Manburg these days.

“Wait, hold on. I have to grab something before we―”

Fundy let out a small yelp, the echo of wood splintering as one of the back legs of the chair collapsed into itself. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable crash. It didn’t come. He slowly opened his eyes, and nearly fainted out of embarrassment.

Dream had caught him, one arm wrapped behind his back as a hand held on tightly to the collar of his shirt. An awkward silence ensued, both of them floundering for words. Fundy was flustered, his words tangling into an incoherent mess.

“Eh… Uh… Wha… Shit… EHHHH??!!”

“You really fell for me there, huh?”

“Shut up, Dream.” Dream helped him to his feet, letting go as soon as Fundy had his feet firmly on the ground. Fundy looked up, seeing the smirk on his ex-husband’s face.

“That was the chair’s fault, Dream.” Fundy hid his face behind his hands, heat pooling into his cheeks at the thought of… why the fuck did that chair have to break?!!

“Or it could be fate.”

“No. No. No. No. No.” Fundy held up a hand, backing away from Dream. He didn’t believe in fate. That would be stupid of him.

“That was an accident. It’s not my fault you have fast reflexes.” Fundy internally groaned. It just had to happen right when Dream was with him, huh? It couldn’t have happened on any other day, could it?!

“Would you rather I let you fall to the ground?” Dream quirked a brow, watching as the fox hybrid fumbled for a response. Dream didn’t quite know what had happened, one moment he was looking up from the control panel, suddenly he was leaping across the room as he heard the sound of wood cracking through the air. Pure instinct.

“You could just thank me…” Dream knew it was a mistake the moment the words came out of his mouth. He looked down at the fox hybrid, an internal panic circling through his mind. He was going to get kicked out for that.

Fundy gave him a pointed look before leaving the dining room.

“Or not…” Dream sighed, watching the tip of Fundy’s tail disappear down the hallway. Too soon. Shouldn’t have made that joke. He nodded to himself, as if taking note of that.

“Should not have said that, Dream.” Dream ran a hand through his hair, a few bits of sand falling past his fingertips. He didn’t get most of them out… oops. Fundy wouldn’t kill him for spreading sand in his dining room, right?

Batry squeaked, flapping their wings as they settled on the crook of Dream’s shoulder, nuzzling his neck.

“He would, huh?” He petted the bat’s head, booping their little nose as they both waited for Fundy to come back.

“What do you think, Batry? Think I still got a chance here?”

Batry didn’t say anything, merely nuzzling further into the crook of Dream’s neck. So much for support. Dream sighed, guess he’d just have to see where this night would lead to. He reached to comb a hand through his hair, jolting as he realized he’d left his mask in Fundy’s room. Batry squeaked in indignation as Dream bolted out of the dining room, his hurried footsteps loud against the creaky steps of the stairs.

Fundy looked up from the enderchest, his ears pricking up as he heard the thump of footsteps in the hall. For some reason, he waited for the slam of the front door… the all-consuming silence of an empty house… it didn’t come. He could hear the muffled steps from above as, he assumed, Dream walked around. He shook his head, turning his attention back to scouring through his mess of stuff. His fingers grazed the familiar cool handle of a trident… the trident Dream had given him for their anniversary…

He placed the item into his inventory, just in case. He headed back into the hall just as Dream came back down the stairs, mask in hand. They stared at each other, as if they had both caught the other doing a heinous crime. Fundy scratched the back of his arm, wondering if Dream could see his thoughts through his eyes. Batry flew into the hall, setting themselves on Fundy’s shoulder as they gazed at the two of them with curious black eyes. Dream broke the silence first, “I just went to get my mask.”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation.” Dream winced at the quick reply. Of course, there was nothing weird about what he’d done. Why would he think otherwise? Dream leapt off the last step of the stairs, his boots thudding against the wooden floor.

He willed the holographic panel into existence, typing in the coordinates as fast as he could. And if his fingers were trembling, well, Fundy didn’t say anything about it.

“Did you get what you were looking for? What was it?”

“Ya, I did. Don’t worry about it.” Fundy stepped closer to the man, his eyes narrowing as a familiar code of numbers appeared on the command box.

“Back… to the cabin we go.”

“Yeah… it’s been lonely since you left.”

“Well, I am the life of the party so I can see why.” The joke came out dryly, an attempt at humor. Fundy tried not to wince as Dream flinched.

“Ya, just bring us to the cabin. It better not be a mess in there.”

“I make no promises.” Dream entered the code, the air shifting around them as the walls began to melt. Fundy shuddered, pressing closer to Dream as the world around them disintegrated and rearranged itself. Reality fell away, morphing into a familiar room of a house Fundy never thought he’d ever come back to.

“Oh… nothing’s changed.”

Their living room looked just as he had left. The pictures that Dream insisted to place on the walls were the same, those creepy eyes staring down at them in judgment. The flowers he had placed in a vase on the middle of the coffee table were wilted, but that was to be expected. The house still smelled the same, a hint of lime and orange entangled into the air. It felt as if he had never even left.

“I tried not to… change anything. I couldn’t really bring myself to…” Dream walked towards the switch, a flood of iridescent blue light illuminating the room. Dream remembered the day Fundy had installed the redstone for the place, shushing Dream away from the cabin as if he didn’t trust him with something as complex as redstone. He felt a small smile tug at the edges of his lips as he watched his husband look through the space they once shared, “Did… anything change? What’s your verdict?”

“Aside from the flowers, nothing’s changed.” Fundy settled onto the couch, nearly letting out a contented sigh as he felt the soft cushions. The coach he had back in Drywaters was rough and smelt of spilt coffee. He really should steal someone else’s couch at some point. He curled up into the couch, hearing Dream walk away as the sound of a cutlery filled the air. Good. He didn’t really want to cook anything. He placed his head on the couch’s arm, his eyes closing as he let himself reminisce.

Dream wandered into the kitchen, clutching the mask to his chest as he thought of what he could make. What could make this night go a little bit right? He froze, their first date. He rushed to the food supply, hoping that he had the ingredients for filet mignon steak and roasted duck. Though… whether he knew how to cook them was the question here. He just hoped that he didn’t accidentally burn the kitchen down… because that would just be his luck, wouldn’t it? Well. Here’s to hoping he does a good job.

A moment later, Fundy felt a hand on his shoulder. He screeched, bolting out of the couch as he fumbled through his inventory for a sword.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! It’s just me, Fundy!”

Fundy groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “For fuck’s sake, Dream. Don’t do that. That’s how Wilbur used to wake me up during―”

He didn’t continue that. Dream nodded stiffly, placing their meal on the table as he settled on the single chair instead. Fundy hesitantly walked over to the couch, his eyes narrowing at the choice of food Dream had chosen to cook. He was beginning to think this was an elaborate trap. “You fell asleep on the couch. I wasn’t going to wake you but you might stab in my sleep if you woke up here in the morning.”

“You would be correct.” Fundy looked up at Batry who had settled on the ceiling above them, squeaking happily at the change of scenery. Fundy looked down at the roasted duck, wondering how many hours he had been asleep for. Roasted duck does not cook itself in a minute. He spots the black edges of the duck, hiding his amusement at the way Dream somehow managed to ruin roasted duck. “Back to what we were actually doing. Ask me the next question.”

“Right. The question.” Dream wracked through his brain. They were on question nine. He took a bite of filet mignon, the edges tougher than the inner parts of the steak. “Question 9. ‘For what in your life do you feel most grateful?’” He took another bite, wincing as he felt the crunch of a part of the steak he had burnt. After a moment, he glanced back up. Fundy’s silence was… disturbing. Fundy was looking down at his dinner, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Why wasn’t he answering?

“I don’t know, Dream. Maybe… founding Drywaters? I really don’t know what to answer.” Fundy cut a piece of the roasted duck, the knife clinking against the plate. Dream didn’t press him, nodding his head as if he understood. Well maybe he did because he was there as everything Fundy cared about either died or exploded into a million pieces. “What’s your answer?” Fundy wouldn’t be surprised if Dream said something along the lines of power or his plans going right. That seemed like a reasonable answer, right?

“I’m grateful for this chance.” Dream averted his gaze as Fundy looked up from his meal, an incredulous look dancing in his eyes. Did Fundy really expect he’d answer anything else other than that? He cleared his throat. He needed this to be said, “I’m grateful that you’re giving me another chance to prove that I’m the same Dream you fell in love with.”

“The same Dream I fell in love with… okay.” Fundy stopped eating. His appetite gone. It was definitely not because Dream was shit at cooking. “If you say so.”

“Ask me the next one.”

“Question 10. ‘If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?’” It was Dream’s turn to be silent. “Dream? This should be easy for you… y-you said you didn’t have parents.”

“About that…” Dream could feel the putrid taste of his old lie on his tongue. Fundy’s eyes narrowed, his mouth opening in shock and realization. It didn’t matter then. It still didn’t matter now. “I might have lied about my previous answer―”

“YOU LIED ABOUT HAVING NO PARENTS?!” Fundy wasn’t mad, not really, no. He knew a thing or two about shitty parents, he couldn’t exactly blame the blonde if he wanted to forget that part of his life. He was… surprised, is all. “Why? Are they that horrible that you wrote yourself as an orphan? Were you trying to get sympathy points from me? No, that wouldn’t make sense you knew Techno was my uncle―”

“I lied because they didn’t really matter.”

“You lied to me about your parents… because they didn’t matter?” Fundy raised a brow, confusion clouding his mind. He disowned Wil once, sure, but he did to get Schlatt’s trust. He wasn’t sure he could ever bring himself to completely disown the man, no matter how terrible of a father he was. He couldn’t do that to Wil. Dream didn’t share the same sentiment for his parents, “…you hated them that badly?”

“My mother was busy, didn’t quite have the time to raise a child. She would be at the house for one second before bolting out the door the next.” Dream sighed, pulling his chair closer to the table. He wasn’t close to his mother, but he certainly had a better relationship with her than… “My father was… well, people would call him a demon. He even had the horns for it and everything. Hm… He was an alcoholic. A smoker. A scammer. He even had a lot of weird titles he used to name himself… Senile old man…”

Fundy blinked, surprise in his face as he realized how familiar those terms were. He looked at Dream, but saw nothing that could confirm his suspicions. There was… No way… Dream wasn’t… He let out a small croak at the back of his throat. There was no fucking way! Dream stared at him, nodding his head as if he knew what Fundy was thinking. “You’re…” Fundy leaned further into the coach. His limbs growing cold at this sudden revelation. “Oh… wow… that… must suck… I’m so sorry… Oh, fuck―”

“Yeah.” Dream placed his hands on the table, attention fixed on the edge of the wooden surface.

“I am so sorry, Dream.” Fundy pursed his lips together. “You’d probably like to change everything, huh?”

“That would be nice…” Dream sighed.

“What was it like?” Fundy paused, “Your childhood, that is.”

“When I was a little kid, like really little, like 8 or so…” Dream let himself reminisce, the hurried words stumbling past his lips, “I was playing in my father's study. A place in the house I wasn't supposed to go.”

He scoffed, moving on to Mr. Shitty Parental Unit, “My father fancied himself a merchant.” Go dad, woo…

“His study was filled with mystical products. He kept an alcohol bottle on the top of a shelf…” He winced, shivering. “…and it shattered on the ground when I slammed the door. I told my mother everything.”

Dream remembered the cold look on her face, “I told her I was so, so sorry. She told me, ‘Don't cry.’” She didn’t care about the bottle. “’When he comes home tonight, we can make everything okay.’”

He remembers the first taste of a lie on his tongue, “’This is all we have to say…’”

He remembers his father, “’We don't remember an alcohol bottle. It must've fallen off its shelf alone.’” He trembled. “’We know you loved that, we're so sad it's broken, but neither one of us was even home.’"

His father’s face was contorted in unbridled fury… “And it's our word.”

He swallowed down the taste of fear in the back of his throat, “Yes, our word against his.” His father had been disappointed, but that didn’t erase their love for him, if it could be called that. A problem child. His mother wasn’t any better, “So I hid screw-ups from my father. Made up fake awards to please my mom.”

He shook his head, his mind abuzz with memories he had forced down. “Whatever made the steak taste better. Whatever kept the waters calm.” His father was a man who lived by the coin, a stingy businessman who hungered for more than what he already had. More. More. His mother was a busy woman, absent that he could barely recall her face. From a young age, he was raised with the idea that if you wanted something, you would do anything to get it. “I was told to keep their secrets, and in turn they'd keep mine.”

The accumulation of lies he had made hung over his head, a heavy weight that threatened to fall and crush him if he wasn’t careful. “As I got older, I got dumber. I couldn't help but cross the line.” The shit he had gotten himself into, the mistakes that left scars upon his skin. He acted without thinking, assured by his own self-confidence that he never thought of the consequences. Not that his parents ever taught him any different. They praised him for it. “Three times I nearly wrecked my life. Three times I nearly came to ruin.”

It was his own fault for being weak to chase after the advice of a man and woman who knew nothing but lies, “Three times went crying to my parents, who said they'd make it go away.” His father didn’t like anything that disrupted their “perfect” life. His mother didn’t like anything that disrupted their “peaceful” life. It made him sick, knowing he played along with their schemes. He had danced to their little waltz, upon a crimson-stained floor. “Yes, this is all we had to say… ‘We never created a house in Essempy.’”

He could still see the red that stained his fingertips, “’We didn't see that boy the day he died.’”

His father had merely glanced at him as he told him what he’d done. The man gave him a sharp smile, a smile that told him not to worry… “’We haven't been on our boat in some years now, so we don't care what you found inside’.” How was he to know what his parents had done? How was he to know that they would change the whole narrative? Frame someone else for his sins? “And it's our word. Yes, our word.”

The echo of a bag of coins clinking together rang through his ears. “It's our word. Yes, our word…” His father settled matters in the way he knew best, “…against theirs. Somebody was paid to make it go away.”

Dream turned his gaze to the floor, hiding his eyes. “Everyone was paid to make the problems go away.”

It was easier that way. “Doesn't matter who gets screwed, or who is blamed, or what you need to do to clear your name.” Easier to lie. “An inconvenient truth can be easily erased. When I was like, eighteen…”

The immense joy he felt when he ran from home, the freedom he gained as he found a new place to settle. A place where no one knew who he was, a place where he could be himself. “I was living somewhere else. I developed some fun habits…” He met George and Sapnap, the first real friends he’s ever had in life. They taught him a myriad of tricks, dangerous and risky… he enjoyed every one of them. It was the thrill of irresponsibility, the adrenaline in his veins, “…put my many brain cells to work. I remember it so clearly.”

George and Sapnap had gone to look for iron, leaving him alone in the house they shared. “I was parkouring on a Tuesday night. To increase speed, I'd drink some potions…” He recalled the taste of nether wart and sugar on his tongue, the sickly-sweet stench that emitted from the bottle. It wasn’t his first, having drunk a few other potions within the day. He didn’t know why he did it. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew what might happen, “…but couldn't seem to get my mind right. I set a goal and tried to do it.”

He bit the side of his cheek, metallic iron coating the inside of his mouth. His fingers trembled against the edge of the table he didn’t know he had been gripping, “And suddenly became aware, I couldn't bring myself to stop running.” He remembers the chilling wind on his cheek, the panic that blossomed in his chest as he had kept jumping and running. He remembers reaching the top, the world slowing down as his gaze flicked up towards the starry sky, “I screamed as I fell off the edge, and as I laid there helplessly…”

He barely felt the soothing hand on his shoulder, those warm eyes – Fundy’s – that peered up into his own. “A million different thoughts came to me. I saw my parents hearing the news…” Would his parents have cared… if they did knew? “’Your beloved son died today.’ I thought about what they might say.”

He held back his pitiful tears. They probably would have said, “’Our own son, our Dream?’”

His father would laugh, incredulous and lost in a fog of alcohol, “’No, he ran far away. He's very happy now, or so we guess.’” His mother would scowl, insulted at the insinuation that own their son would…, “’He's always been so goddamned independent. Years have gone by and we still haven’t see him.’"

Or maybe… just maybe… "’Our own son, our Dream?’”

He pressed his lips together, his hands clenching into tight fists. “’You must be mistaken. You mean the boy we raised as if our own?’” Would they have denied their relations? Why admit that their own son ran away from them? That would tarnish their reputation, tarnish their perfect little stance on the world. They couldn’t have that. “’We loved him so much he felt like our child, but eventually we had to send him home’.”

He felt hot tears run down his cheek, his hands rising to block out his face, “It'd be their word. Only their word.” He felt warm and gentle arms wrap around his shaking figure, “It'd be their word. Only their word.”

He let himself be consoled for what felt like forever, “On its own.”

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

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#fundywastaken #fundy #dreamwastaken #mcyt

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unicyclehippo · 5 years ago

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Kairos - a propitious moment for decision or action. For beaujester?

There are rules for this world. There are rules and ways of doing things correctly, which means, conversely, that there are ways of doing things incorrectly. For some, this means that they are liable to be caught in the harsh, designated lines of decreed law: things simply are as they are, as they have always been, and to fight against this is... arrogance, some might say and be correct in that. Arrogance and folly, and deeply sad. To struggle, forever, against something that is permanent. Immutable.

There are very few things in this world that are permanent and immutable. There are many things in the world that, upon one’s first, and third, and nine-hundredth examination seem permanent and immutable. For example, on Tarth Wavesinger’s first, third, and nine-hundredth attempt to sing the wind into their sails - and on every attempt between - they failed. On Tarth Wavesinger’s nine-hundredth and first attempt, however, they discovered a shred of a song that, in storybooks and tales is said to have delighted the winds so much that it was eager to help, just to hear what the next note might be. And now, if one is patient, if one has the time and energy and knack for it, if the sky is clear and the wind is not engaged elsewhere, it is possible to call on the eastern wind.

Beau taps the dull end of her pencil to the page, reads over the words again.

‘D’you think this is real? Caleb?’

‘Hm?’

‘This book says that it’s possible to sing a song and the winds will listen to the call of ancient humans, who once sailed the seas alongside their elemental ancestors. Does that - sound like something that’s real, or does it sound like a story? I guess it could be both.’

‘Ja.’

‘Are you listening to me?’

‘Ja.’

‘Do you smell like cat piss?’

‘Ja.’

Beau throws her eraser at him, smirks when it hits his temple, knocking him to the side. ‘Hey!’

‘You weren’t listening to me!’

‘I was, though! You asked about elementals and conjuring wind, and if I was listening, and if I smell like cat urine.’

‘Piss.’

‘it is the same thing, Beauregard. I heard you.’

‘Why do you smell like that?’

‘I don’t know how many times I have to tell you and Fjord this,’ Caleb says with a heated note banked like an ember in his reasonable tone, ‘but Frumpkin is a real cat. Sometimes, he takes a piss. Sometimes, he does it on my coat. If it bothers you so much, you do not have to sit and read with me.’

‘Is that you being polite and you want me to leave, or...’ Caleb fixes her with ice-blue eyes for a second before returning to his books. Beau begins to make all of the most annoying sounds that she can imagine, lounging as she is on Veth’s bunk in their shared cabin. Eventually, she starts to entertain herself by trying to hoot like a monkey, not the same as what Frumpkin had been but more like the raucous creatures that had swung through the canopy of the creepy snake island they’d gone to with Fjord, before Caleb finally caves and lifts his eyes once more. He’d stopped reading a full three minutes earlier but she can admire his determination to ignore her.

‘Beauregard.’

‘Yeah, man.’

‘Please get out.’

‘Aye, aye. Don’t forget to eat something or you’ll get scurvy.’

‘I will eat something.’

Beau rolls off the bunk and, largely unread book on the fucking secrets of the universe or whatever she’d brazenly lifted from the stacks of the Cobalt Reserve tucked under her arm, she saunters from the cabin and up onto the deck. Everything smells heavily of salt and a little bit like smoke and some acrid, chemical scent Beau can’t place until she looks to the stern of the ship where one of their new friends is showing Veth a strange, tube-like device she calls a rifle. The gunpowder used for the cannons smells similar, though not entirely so, and within a few minutes of watching them Beau can ascertain that the contained explosion with the use of the powder packed into it and the small ball-bearing type ammunition would create a propulsive mechanism with the use of - what? flint maybe? - to send a metal ball flying at considerably high-speed and impact with considerable damage.

‘Do you think it’s safe for them to be doing that on the ship?’ Fjord asks as Beau climbs to the wheel where he has taken his place.

‘No, absolutely not. I don’t think you should ever have given Nott - Veth - access to the cannons, I super don’t think she should have been your cannon person, gun monkey, whatever they’re called - ‘

‘Too late to take that offer back.’

‘ - and I think that Luc is gonna get a gun for Summer’s Eve and I can’t - I don’t think I can catch those.’

‘You can try.’

‘I got shot by Veth already once and that bullet is still in my ass,’ she tells Fjord, whose face creases into a strange expression, half laugh, half grimace. ‘I’m not going anywhere near them.’

‘Well, there’s closer to Veth and the weird weapon she’s pointing right at us,’ Fjord says with a true note of fear to his voice, ‘or there is Jester at the front of the ship,’

Back of the ship, then, Beau’s brain immediately supplies.

‘There’s a guilty face.’

‘Huh? What? Who?’

‘You.’ Beau scoffs, loudly, insincerely, and unconvincingly. Fjord looks pained for her. ‘I don’t know what is going on between the two of you,’

‘Nothing.’

‘- but whatever it is, sort it out.’ He gives her a little nudge with his elbow, nods toward Jester. It’s fate conspiring against her that Jester turns in that moment and catches them watching, catches Fjord pointing Beau toward her, because even at a distance Beau can see the way she turns hopefully toward her. And how she draws back, draws closer to herself, arms wrapping around her waist.

‘She looks like I’m gonna hit her or something,’ Beau mutters.

‘You should probably fix that.’

‘I don’t know how, dude.’

‘Maybe, and I don’t know how good of advice this is, but maybe - just putting it out there - you could try, oh I don’t know, talking to her?’ He laughs when Beau shoves at him, pretends that he didn’t actually get shoved several feet off-balance. ‘Go on. It’s not like we have anything else vital to do before we meet up with the other armada.’

She still has the book with her, Beau realises as she makes her way down the steps toward Jester. She still has the book and ink stains over her fingers and she knows she hasn’t washed her hair in days because they don’t have bathtubs on a boat, and she had picked up this book totally at random from the shelves of the Reserve but maybe, maybe, it has some kind of secret meaning in it and she can find whatever that meaning is in the two seconds before she makes it to Jester’s side. Beau has enough time to read the title once - The Accounts of Immutability and Invention - before she is standing beside Jester.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ Jester says back, musters up a smile for her.

The sea is flat and still, as flat and still as the sea gets, which is not so much like the mirror-glass stillness of a lake or pond but more like the slow and lazy breathing of a creature at rest, the water rising and falling and the boards of the ship still sometimes falling away from under her feet. Beau’s stomach lurches as the deck tilts again, and she rights herself with a shift of her feet, rolling with it. The air is still as well, the sails fallen slack.

‘Did you know there’s a song to conjure wind?’ Beau blurts out. ‘It was discovered early in the Age of Arcanum by a human called Tarth Wavesinger and it’s thought to be one of the earliest recorded instances of music being used as a focus for magic.’

Jester frowns. Brushes her hair off from her face. ‘Like, a gust cantrip?’

‘Uh - yeah. Probably.’

‘That’s cool.’

‘Yeah.’ Beau swallows. Flicks her eyes to the ship most closely sailing by The Balleater, a small Dwendalian vessel. She can’t make out the name at this distance but pretends to be trying.

‘Is that it?’

‘Huh?’

‘Is that all you wanted to say?’ Jester asks, and when Beau dares to sneak a look sideways at her, she sees that Jester is holding herself very still and her face is a performance in nonchalance.

‘Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I guess.’

Jester purses her lips. ‘Okay.’

For however displeased Jester is with her - Beau suspects mightily displeased - she doesn’t move away. And as the boat rocks underfoot and as the wind picks up, and falls, and the booms shift overhead as they tack into the fleeting wind, Beau thinks about Tarth Wavesinger singing their song and adjusting it minutely note by note until finally something answered. She wonders how many times she’s spoken to Jester; there have been hundreds of conversations between them now, easily, she knows. Nine hundred? Maybe. Not that it is a magic number or anything, or that she knows what she wants to conjure, or change, if indeed she did want anything to change.

Well.

That isn’t entirely true.

‘Are we okay?’

‘Are we?’ Jester shoots back with barely a breath between Beau finishing her question and her response. ‘You tell me.’

‘I’m gonna go with a no? Just...picking up on that...feeling.’

Jester whirls from the railing to stand face-on with Beau, staring at the side of her head until Beau also turns to face her. ‘Do you really think he’s predatory?’ Jester demands.

‘Oh. Shit.’

‘Well? He’s a god, Beau,’

‘I mean, he isn’t though.’

That was the wrong thing to say. That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Jester’s expression makes that abundantly clear. If there was anything between them that might have happened with this conversation, any fractured paths laid out as possibilities like a great wheel of a ship waiting to be directed, they are all pointing unerringly toward the singular option of Beauregard fucks up.

‘Wow.’

‘That’s - it’s turning out, like, if there were degrees in which the whole situation could be so super shitty,’ Beau holds one hand out far to the left, ‘and like, the best possible options,’ she holds her other far out to the right, as far as her arm will extend with the book tucked between elbow and chest, ‘then, y’know,’ she tries to sound encouraging, tilting her head from one side to the other non-committedly, ‘it’s going not terribly.’

‘So you were basically lying when you said all you said about having chaos in your heart and following him wherever and liking the Traveller and him doing cool stuff and,’

‘I said I’d follow you. I don’t know the Traveller - Artagan,’

‘Traveller.’

‘Artagan,’ Beau says again, more firmly, and when she meets Jester’s eyes it is to see a gleam of hurt too profound for Beau to have been the entire cause of it. She lowers her hands to her sides, steps forward. ‘Jes,’

‘Don’t.’

Beau stops, hand frozen where she had gone to touch her friend gently on the elbow. Guilt claws in her chest. She looks back over her shoulder to Fjord, much too far away to hear anything and yet shaking his head, obviously able to pick up on the fact that she’s fucked it up again.

‘Jester,’

She drops her head to her chest, hiding her face from Beau.

‘Shit. Crap. Please don’t cry.’ Beau shuffles her things around, pulling the cloth belt from around her waist to offer to Jester. She tries not to regret it when Jester blows her nose forcefully into the cloth. ‘Okay. Uh - look - I’m an idiot and an asshole, we know that,’

‘Don’t make me disagree with you when I’m angry with you, Beau.’

‘Okay. Okay. You’re right. Okay. I - am not always...’ Beau pauses, considering her words carefully. ‘I have issues with authority, and dads, and sketchy corrupt figures who tell people to do things and who aren’t around to take responsibility for their actions. I think the people who take all the flak for that, the people who take the fall, the people who are fighting the wars on behalf of generals sitting behind their fucking desks and playing paper wars deserve better. And maybe I’m crossing ideas in my head that don’t need to be crossed and defending you when you don’t need to be defended, but I see this guy and I hear that he found you when you were a kid and I start thinking of all the shit that could have happened and about what he wants you to do for him now and - I think you deserve better,’ Beau tells Jester. ‘I think out of everyone in the world you deserve someone who deserves all of your trust and faith and,’

‘I love him, Beau.’ Jester shakes her head, sniffles. ‘He’s been my best friend forever and I know he’s not what I expected but...no one is. Right?’

Beau sighs. ‘I guess not.’

‘I think...the further away from mama and the Chateau I got, the more people I met, that’s what I keep finding out. That people lie all the time and they’re not who they say they are and they do good things and bad things. And the bad things they do...don’t erase the good things,’ Jester tells her. ‘The Traveller has been my friend for years and years and years and he’s saved my life and yours.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And so, okay, he’s not a god. He was a god to me, and he’s a god to a lot of people still, and maybe it isn’t great that he’s not actually a god and it’s kind of a lot and scary and maybe I’m hurt right now but...he is helping a lot of people with the lie. Lots of people made friends and had fun because of him. That’s not bad, is it?’

‘...No,’ Beau admits. ‘No, it’s not.’

‘So when you think about it that way, do you still think he’s a creep?’

Jester looks up at her with diamond across her skin and diamond motes of light in her eyes, and Beau knows this could be the moment - she could say no, say that she trusts the Traveller and Jester and that everything will be great, and Jester will forgive her and more importantly be happy again, and,

‘Yeah.’

Jester stares at her. ‘Oh.’

‘I don’t trust someone who doesn’t...’ Beau frowns heavily, trying to pick her words. It doesn’t fucking matter at this point, she’s lost Jester for good probably, but she still loathes the idea of hurting Jester worse than she already is, so she picks her words carefully. ‘I don’t trust someone who doesn’t at the core of themself...care. I know what that sounds like coming from me, I do, but Jes, so many things go wrong in this world because people don’t care about other people. And Arta- the Traveller said himself that the only thing that matters is what he wants, right in that moment.’

‘Right, but,’

‘What if,’ Beau suggests softly, ‘he decides one day that he wants to turn every one of his followers into a tree.’

‘That would be cool.’

‘I don’t think it would be. I’m a hundred per cent biased about it, but I don’t want you to be a tree, Jester.’

‘I’d make a pretty tree.’

‘You’d be lovely. But you wouldn’t be Jester. And I don’t know if he would find that fun, or if he could change you back, but if he wanted to do that to people - do you really, honestly think that he would ask first?’ Beau ducks her head, crouches a little, to try and catch Jester’s eyes with her own. ‘Do you think he would ask?’

‘I - yes. I’ve known him forever, Beau, you only just met him. He’s not bad,’

‘I don’t think he’s bad. But I also don’t think he’s good. And there’s a big grey area there that I’m not comfortable with. I’m sorry, Jes. I wish - I really wish I could tell you that I like him and that I’d follow him, I really, really do.’

‘But you won’t,’ Jester says, with a rueful twist of a smile. ‘Because it’s not true. And you never lie.’ There’s a bitter note to the words that stings like salt in a wound and Beau stares at Jester for a moment. She isn’t sure if she’s daring Jester to ask her something, or tell her something, or working up the courage to speak herself. She just keeps staring. ‘I think... I want to be alone for a bit,’ Jester says.

Beau swallows hard. Her mouth is dry, bone-dry and all she can taste is salt.

‘Okay.’

#cr tag #prompt fill #tagging my stories #cr spoilers #in the loosest sense of the tag honestly

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horsepriest · 4 years ago

Photo

I did this OC meme on Twitter and got “Do all 40 and ramble on” as a response. Here is the entire questionnaire and character sheet for Warlord Gresham. This is fairly spoiler-free for Glimpse and is a snapshot of who he is now. Content warning for sadism, torture, and Gresham basically being a sick fuck overall.

Warlord Gresham

Basic stats:

Name: Gresham, AKA The TwinHorn

Serial Number: W.03-c.017

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male He/Him

Height: Approx. 15ft at shoulder. Nearly 20ft standing.

Species: Heavily modified Liberated Vactyr with signs of Other corruption

Size Class: Titan (Does not meet 20,000lbs requirement for Colossus Size Class)

Sexuality: Undefined

Romance: Undefined

Birthday: Jan. 17

Age: 42

Occupation: Warlord of the Firmament-Highest rank of the Off-world Military and direct servant of Adelie.

Weapons: Gresham is a pack hunter with a constantly rotating squad of Lost under his direct command. He keeps a few contained within the large metal pack upon his back, some strapped with weaponry and explosives for the rare times he’s in a pinch. He is heavily armoured and has a wide range of attack with his long sweeping horns. Not many are willing to fight him. He is rarely taken out of battle for long- no one’s quite sure what he keeps in his medic bag. Personality: Overbearing, proud, and sadistic. He is the spoiled pet of a capricious “goddess” who encouraged every depraved impulse from a young age. For his twisted sense of loyalty to Adelie, he was gifted the title of Warlord, and thus dominion over a massive slice of the Liberated hordes. Despite his quadrupedal stance and bestial appearance, Gresham is smarter than one would think. This makes him a dangerous adversary as he can manage his pack with ease.

OC Question Meme

1. How easy is it to make them angry? Do they show their anger or hide it? It is difficult to make Gresham legitimately angry. Disobedience would probably be the best way to anger him, except it grants him the ability to dole out punishment as he deems fit. If anything, he gets giddy when one would expect him to be angry. If someone manages to piss him off, he would not be able to hide it and that person will have a fight on their hands.

2. Do they believe in soulmates? The idea of soulmates is a foreign concept to him. Love does not mean much to him due to his unique upbringing. Of course, he has seen other Liberated pair off to be mates but the rationalizes it as purely a mutually selfish interaction that has shaky longevity at best (and he goes out of his way to ruin the relationship, if possible.).

3. Do they have any pet peeves? Laziness, weakness, and sneakiness irritate him. He picks on the lazy and those he views as weak through forcing them into training and hard labour. He’ll focus intensely on subordinates that show signs of sneakiness or insubordination.

4. Do they have a happy place? Somewhere to go to in their heads when they need to relax? His happy place is his room and the memories of his activities there keep him relaxed and generally happy. Gresham is also happy when around Adelie. She showers him with attention and praise which he drinks up. Gresham is a good boy. In her soulless pits she calls eyes anyways.

5. At what stage of their life were they the happiest? Right after he killed his brother in public combat and proved he was the best and strongest out of the two. His secondary set of horns were torn from his brother’s corpse as trophies. He could stand somewhat normally at this stage and still could see. He looked like a normal, but exceptionally large Liberated.

6. At what stage of their life were they the least happy? Same stage of life as “Glimpse Beyond the Illusion.” His life is painful- trouble breathing and generally functioning as his body has mostly broken down. He relies on his pack for basic needs like getting dressed and keeping clean. He is also suffering from the effects of █████ ██████████ which is different from Mortus’s knowledge of ██████████. Lastly, Adelie takes frequent control of his Liberation to form him to her liking, on top of the changes from █████ ██████████. Due to both of these, he has been barred from ever receiving a breeding permit.

7. At a bar/tavern/pub are they more likely to buy someone a drink, or have someone buy them a drink? He would buy someone a drink, but it’s a trap. Don’t ever accept a drink from Gresham.

8. Have they ever broken any bones? If yes, how? Oh definitely. The guy’s a living tank that takes joy in brutalizing beings on foreign planets and has most definitely broken more bones than your average peaceful human. Due to his medic kit, there isn’t much sign of this on his body. The most obvious broken bone is his docked tail, taken when he reached adulthood.

9. Do they have any memories/experiences they’d rather forget? Not really. Most of the painful memories are washed over by the rewards he has been given as a result of being a twisted ghoul of a being. There are probably quiet moments where he ponders how his life would have been if he were never taken under Adelie’s wing, but they are shoved back down into the dark abyss he dares not look into.

10. What is their favourite memory from their childhood? Earning his first pack of Lost. Little and loyal and they tended to his needs without question. Free friends, captive to him and too stupid to disobey. At first, he regarded them as tools and took good care of them. Once he accidentally killed one (maybe not accidentally), it was replaced. Now they are regarded as intelligent playthings and extensions of himself.

11. Do they have a “type” they are usually attracted to? No explicit type. Any form of love that Gresham is capable of experiencing is extremely toxic and sickening. He is an abject abuser and sadist; he doesn’t understand love. Gresham is capable of obsession and his main obsession is Adelie.

12. Do they have any favourite possessions? His survival knife, his jar of Flow, and his pack of Lost.

13. Do they have any tattoos? If no, would they ever consider getting one? They are not traditional tattoos, but he has faint stripes down his back. They are short and function like Rictus’s, just without most of Rictus’s extra abilities. For instance, Gresham cannot rebuild objects with them.

14. Do they have any piercings? If no, would they ever consider getting one? The thought hasn’t occurred to him, so no piercings. He might not get one, but I could see him forcing them on others in uncomfortable places.

15. What is their dream house like? He would live closer to Adelie with more space to be able to move around comfortably. A space that’s easy to clean and sort his pack into their own cubbies. A much more robust torture chamber with more tools would also be nice.

16. What is something about them that people would not expect just by looking at them? He is intelligent. Gresham is calculated in how he handles his affairs and prepares for most situations ahead of time. For instance, he’ll set out his Lost to lead his quarry to him-typically in a pretty narrow place to discourage retreat.

17. How good are they at choosing gifts for others? Don’t ever take a gift from Gresham, it’s a trap.

18. Do they have a certain skill that they’re particularly proud of? He is insanely gifted with his knife work and butchery. He is proud that he hasn’t yet broken the “Warlord W.03-c.017 is not entitled to cull stud XXX-XXXX” part of his special permits, despite getting his “playthings” very, very, very close to that point. He is also proud of how easily he can take what he wants.

19. How would a stranger they just met describe them? Creepy, pushy, off-putting. They may complain of the smell of his breath and body odour.

20. How would a close friend they’ve known for a long time describe them? A sweet, loyal dog. Trustworthy and cute, in an ugly way. (Adelie)

21. Do they have any personal insecurities? Being caught in a vulnerable position by someone that can then gossip about it. There are a few pilots that lack tongues for this reason. Others (presumably because their mouths were too damned small) are just tortured into silence.

22. What is their highest physical stat? (strength, stamina, defense, speed, etc.) and their highest non-physical stat? (intelligence, perception, charisma, luck, etc)? Easily strength and intelligence. Defense and Perception are second highest. Gresham lacks Stamina or Charisma.

23. How would they react to finding out someone lied to them, even if it was for their own safety/well-being? Gresham wouldn’t like it as it would be a form of insubordination, but insubordination also leads to punishment which is fun for him. He’d let the person lie, then set a trap to catch them.

24. Do they prefer cold weather or warm weather? For █████ ██████████ reasons, he isn’t too bothered by temperature extremes. If given the option, he’d pick colder.

25. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? See number 2. Any proclamation of love isn’t actual love: Gresham doesn’t understand it. Though, he probably tells his playthings that he loves them.

26. How easy is it for them to tell someone about their worries? He would not be close enough to most beings to talk about his worries, but he monologues with the Lost about his thoughts. Much like number 21, those that have caught him in these monologues suffer grave consequences.

27. Have they ever witnessed someone die? Yes, and he takes a perverse joy in it each time.

28. Are they ticklish? No. If he ever was, he got desensitized to it by the Lost climbing him.

29. How high/low is their pain tolerance? Very high. Even before he started developing chronic pain from his many augments, he is still a Vactyr in the Titan size-class.

30. Is there something they secretly wish they could do, but are too afraid to? Getting closer to Adelie.

31. Are they a messy eater or a neat eater? Due to his lack of cheeks and stretched snout, he is a very messy eater. Thankfully, the most common food available to him is the same soylent available to all Liberated. However, when he has access to problematic meat, he eats like a T-Rex. Large chunks swallowed whole.

32. What moment of their life made them feel most unloved? When he’s reminded of his place in the universe. While he is one of the few top-ranked Liberated, he is below every Hirudian. Forgetting this disappoints Adelie who forces him back into his place through her ability to utterly control his Liberation. She is willing to loan that control to other Hirudians, including Hivemind (but never Argiope), much to his great humiliation and shame.

33. What moment of their made them feel most loved? The time leading up to and after getting his augments. Yes, he lost his vision at this point, but he had Adelie’s entire attention as he was prepared for and eventually recovered from the surgery.

34. Which of the senses would they hate to lose the most: vision, hearing, smell, taste, or touch? Gresham already cannot see, and his sense of smell is affected by his helmet. He relies mostly on hearing and the secondary Flow-sense that is boosted by his augments and █████ ██████████ - he can sense where organic and Other beings are.

35. Are they good at small talk? No, not really. He’s a bit too busy to socialize and lacks the ability to fit in with the Liberated Ranks for socialization. His off-putting personality and sadistic nature also pushed them away, many of the pilots carry some trauma from being targeted by him and thus naturally avoid him.

36. If they could ask anyone one question and get the absolute truth, who and what would they ask? To some all-knowing being (so maybe Hivemind): “Am I good?”

37. If they had the chance, would they prefer to travel to the past or to the future? The past. Killing his brother again sounds fun and potentially going back to just before his augment so he can be close to Adelie again.

38. Who had the biggest impact in their life, both positive and negative? Elite Adelie, for obvious reasons. But, Mortus comes to a close second in the next chapter of Glimpse.

39. Would they rather life a life always surrounded by people, or always alone? He requires his Lost to live and takes a perverse joy in ruining other beings’ lives. So, while he could potentially find happiness in a life of solitude if he ever had a chance at a normal upbringing… he would pick having others around.

40. Is there anyone or anything that immediately instills fear in them? He fears a loss of control to a being not worthy of his loyalty. He is purely loyal to Adelie and enjoys his rule over others. Gresham is aware of how easily Adelie can abandon him, he has witnessed her throwing away her other experiments for petty reasons. In some cases, he was how she threw them away. He eventually develops a skittishness around electricity.

#oc meme #the moonlit path #sadism cw #torture cw #violence cw #Gresham is toxic so keep that in mind.

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1104

survey by kaybee-x18

What was the highlight of your day? I mean, Flowers for Vases came out earlier on Spotify Philippines and I had no idea, and I waited all morning thinking the release would be in sync with US timezones so I was in for a nice surprise of a whole goddamn tracklist when I casually checked my Spotify at around 11 this morning haha. The album is beautiful and I’m so excited to take it with me on my journey to healing.

Also got paid today, so that’s shweeeeet. As a reward to myself (since I’m doing a bit of OT tonight) I also recently ordered banh mi and Vietnamese iced coffee for delivery and it’s currently on its way to me :) All in all, pretty solid day!

Do you know anyone who is anorexic? Not that I am aware of, but it’s possible that I do.

Are you dating the person you texted last? No. That would be the delivery rider who’s bringing my sandwich to me, and that is just creepy to think about.

Who has hurt you the most this year? I don’t let Gabie hurt me anymore, directly or indirectly. Everybody else has been gentle with me so far in 2021, which I appreciate.

What's the last insult someone said to you? Ugh it’ll stress me out to think about it again, but last week my mom was asking for some money and I advised her that I might not be able to just for the meantime; she immediately got all condescending, asking me how much I make in a month and what I spend it on. I thought it very rude and tactless, and it ruined the rest of my evening. I know she knows she has a tendency to be tactless, so I don’t know why she never does anything to change that behavior.

Trigger warning on a few questions belowwwww.

Was it a boy or a girl to text you last? It was a boy. Man is more proper actually, but whatever.

Do you wish you were somewhere else right now? Dude, it’s a Friday night and I’m on the rooftop on a chilly night, I’ve laid out a mat with some pillows and a blanket and I’m surrounded by my banh mi and iced coffee while Hayley’s new songs are playing faintly in the background. I’m right where I want to be.

Have you ever given up on someone for good? Yes, and I had no idea how incredibly liberating it would feel :)

Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night? I think it was my mom, since she briefly knocked on my door to say goodnight shortly before I passed out.

How much did your car cost? I’m not sure exactly how much, but it’s definitely in the six-figure range. It’s a hatchback and secondhand so there’s no way it’d be worth a million bucks.

Will you have a boyfriend/girlfriend in 6 months? No; I’ve ended up really liking being by myself. It’ll be a while before I open myself up to love again, if I ever do.

Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts? One of our brand clients recently recruited a new guy to be a part of their team, so as we got acquainted I also got access to his contact details.

When was the last time you hugged someone? It was when Andi was leaving my car as we parted ways a few weeks ago.

What is the last picture you received on your phone of? Pretty sure it was work-related since my teammates share photos through Viber all the time. I can’t be bothered to check, though.

Are you better at remembering names or faces? Can easily spot familiar faces from a mile away, but I’m quite terrible at remembering names.

Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? See: the entirety of my relationship that ultimately failed. I cherished and took care of that relationship as much as I could, but the effort I got was never the same and I ended up being hurt, too. It’s going to take a while before I gain my trust and confidence back when it comes to these things.

Have you ever let someone go because you thought they deserved better? This was Gab’s perspective and reasoning, not mine. I’m starting to believe it’s all bullshit though; that it’s an excuse she used so that I could feel better about myself. At this pont in time, I’m pretty sure she just wanted to be free from this “burden” of a relationship that she increasingly found “exhausting.”

Who did you last share a taxi with? God I have not been in one of those in a long time. My last ride in an actual taxi was with my family; but in the last ride-hailing service I took (like Uber), I was by myself since I was headed to school that day.

Is there anybody you're really disappointed in right now? No, no reason to feel that way towards anyone at the moment.

What do you hear right now? I can hear the faint engine of a motorcycle. I can also hear a couple of dogs barking.

Do you remember the first time you met the last person you kissed? Yes.

Do you like polka-dotted things? Not always, but sure. Sometimes the look can be tacky, but there are times that it looks cute.

Do you do anything to help the environment? In my own little ways, like dividing all my notebook pages into two columns to save up on paper; reusing paper and plastic bags, turn off my car engine when I have to idle somewhere, etc.

What do you think of people who complain about Valentine's Day? I don’t care lmao, it’s not my problem.

Have you ever had to get stitches? No.

When's the last time you did something you knew was wrong? Trigger warning: Self-harm. Last week when I grabbed a key in my room and did stuff to my wrist with it. A few months’ progress down the drain.

What was the last thing you wore that was black? The shirt I am currently wearing is black.

Is your tongue pierced? Nope.

Do you think that you have a pretty smile? Yes, I like the way I smile.

What month were you born in? April.

When's the last time you cried over a guy? Wow lmao, literally no idea. The only instance coming to mind is whenever I miss either my grandpa or Nacho, but I can’t pinpoint the last time I found myself in tears over either.

Are you keeping a secret that would shock people if they found out? I think so.

What pissed you off yesterday? The internet has been going on and off for the last few days.

The person you like at the moment finds someone new, what is your reaction? I don’t know if I like anyone at the moment, at least not anymore. But I think I would still get affected if the word ever gets to me that my ex is seeing someone new, should it happen in the near future. That’s why I’m one step ahead and just stopped talking to her and have muted her on all social media.

Are you scared to lose the person you fell the hardest for? I already did. I was definitely scared and devastated at first, and I was for a while. Once I came to terms with the fact that nothing was my fault and that it isn’t my loss, it became much easier to get over it.

Has anyone seen you in your underwear this month? Nah.

Is your life falling apart or coming together? Coming together.

Is there someone you wouldn't mind kissing right now? When it comes down to it, and considering my stupidity when it comes to love, yes.

Do you know anyone in the army? Yes but just vaguely. Angela’s uncle is a high-ranking...army person. Army official?? Idk how to refer to them but yeah he’s like a general or colonel or something like that.

Do you have any friends that actually model? I wouldn’t count any of them as friends but yeah, I went to high school and/or college with people who have since become influencers and have endorsement deals and stuff. Cheenie is probably the most notable one.

If you could go back in time and change something, would you? Probably.

Do you care about the last person you kissed? Again, when it comes down to it, yes.

Do they care about you? I have no idea but I don’t dwell on it anymore.

Are you for or against gay marriage? Of course I’m for.

Ever kissed someone whose name started with A, B, C, & D? No to all of these.

Is there someone you wish you were with right now? Mmm I don’t think so. I like spending this evening by myself.

Do you still talk to the person you liked 3 months ago? Nope. I don’t have a reason to.

When do you want to get married? I’d love to get married in my late 20s, but I don’t know if that’s still a possibility.

Do you know anyone who’s committed suicide? Yes.

Have you ever imagined how it would feel kissing a certain someone? I think about this with certain people sometimes, but most of the time they are annoying, unwelcome, invasive thoughts that I try to shake off immediately.

Would you fall apart if that last person you kissed died? What’s with some of these questions lmao??? Yeah absolutely.

Is there anyone who doesn't like you? If there is, I don’t know anything about it and I doubt that I would care,

When was the last time you wanted to punch someone in their face? Yesterday when a client was being extra annoying.

What was the last thing you cried about? I stumbled upon an emotional scene from Grey’s Anatomy on Facebook this morning, and I let myself go while watching it haha. It was a great snippet.

Do you have nice eyes? I’m not particularly known for my eyes, like they’re nothing special. I’ve got nothing to complain about them, though.

What are the bad things you've heard people say about you? I’m not sure if I’ve caught anything bad. If I did it most definitely would have stuck and continued to stick with me.

Is there anyone that is jealous of you or anything that you have? Not that I know of.

How many true friends do you have? Right now, I would say two very close friends.

Does anyone disgust you? Sure.

Do you flirt a lot? Never.

Have you ever caught a friend cheating on their bf/gf? I have not, and I’m glad none of them have.

What phrase or saying do you use the most? I’ve said this on a recent survey but I say “Awesome!” a lot, but it’s a habit I picked up from my now-ex.

What mood are you in right now? I’mmmmmmm getting a little sleepy tbh, but I’m trying to keep myself up for a few more hours because it’s a Friday evening.

Have you ever kissed someone that was high? No.

Are you waiting for anything? Not really.

Do you have a good relationship with your mother? It’s civil at best. We don’t get at each other’s throats as often as we used to anymore but I don’t feel the need to improve our relationship, and I’d rather still keep a safe distance from her.

Do you think Jersey people are annoying? I don’t know any of them because I live on the other side of the world, so...

How many exes do you have? One.

Did anyone break up with you in the last 5 days? No. Last five months, sure.

Who was the last person that broke your heart? Cheesy phrase, but Gabie.

Do you love anyone? I love a lot of people.

Do you want to be single or with someone? Not looking for anything at this point in time. I mean I’d really rather be in a relationship when it comes down to it, but I wouldn’t force myself in one for the sake of being in one. If no one fits the mold, then I’d be just as happy being single, and this happens to be where I am right now. I’m okay with that.

What song are you listening to right now? No music.

Why did you kiss the last person you kissed? Because she was leaving and I wanted to say goodbye.

Does your mom think you’re a virgin? Yes.

Is there someone that wants you to give them a second chance? I think my brother, but my mind is set on never saying a word to him again.

Do you hate the last guy you had a conversation with? I don’t hate him; he’s just a particularly difficult client to deal with.

Would you rather get high or have sex right now? Getting high would be a brand new experience, so let’s go with that haha.

Do you know anyone with a star tattoo right by their hip bone? No, I don’t.

Did anyone give you anything last Valentine's Day? Last year, yes. This year, no.

Do you keep condoms in your room? No, I don’t need to.

What do you think about people who party a lot? Like, in 2021?? I would think they are highly insensitive and irresponsible and putting so many of their loved ones at risk.

Have you ever been caught sneaking out of your house? Nopes.

How much time do you spend on AIM a day? I don’t.

Is there a secret you've never told your parents? I hold way more secrets than actual things they know about me.

Ever kissed someone over 30? No.

What size bra do you wear? Baby bra size, whatever the measurement for that is HAHA

Does the person you last kissed still like you? Lmfao no. She hasn’t for a while now.

Are your parents still together? Yes.

Was your first time good or bad? Good.

#survey #surveys

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ghoulgeists · 4 years ago

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I HAVE QUESTIONS!!! ABOUT FLINT!!!! a lot so have fun :D 4, 9, 10, 12 :) 13, 14, 17, 23, 27, 42, 44, 50, 56, 57, 59 (i think i asked this before but i forgot the answer lol), 61, 63, 67 !! also i ask about seaweed boy !! 3, 5 lol, 11, 18, 21, 30, 40, 44, 51, 59, 61, 64 !!! and a few for cadma !! 11, 19, 30, 36, 48, 53, 64, 69

UM HEWWO?!?!? THATS A LOT OF QUESTIONS! I am so excited to answer these...

Answers are under the cut! This will be... Long

Flint

4. If they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

Magic in their setting is a little different, and these questions are dnd centric, but I think I can still answer this! Flint would probably be VERY interested in divination magic, of any kind. So spells that could divine futures, locate objects, or show hidden things.

9. Do they care about their appearance? How much effort do they put into presentation?

In public, appearance is a top priority. They mingle with plenty of people whenever they can, and it's important to them that they give others a good first impression, so Flint's grooming is off the charts compared to most people.

When they're crawling around in the ancient dust of a tomb, however, the way they look isn't nearly as important as grabbing as many valuable burial goods as they can!

10. How often do they lie? What situations cause them to be dishonest?

Flint's no saint, and lies plenty enough to prove it. Most of the time it's white lies to spare feelings or to get out of doing something, but the bigger lies come when people probe about their past. It's pretty obvious they don't want people to know about who they used to be, and the bigger the secret the bigger the lie they tell to keep others off their tail.

12. Have they ever been in love?

Plenty of times! Enough to count on a few hands. It's infatuation that strikes them most often, but they have been serious on occasion too.

13. What do they dislike about themself? Why?

They dislike how weak they can often be, as well as how easy it is to take advantage of them sometimes. It drives them to take the easy way out of difficult situations no matter the cost.

14. What is something they love about themself?

They love their body! All the little details from the way their hair curls, the blue of their eyes, their stature, etc. They're very comfortable, proud, and happy being themselves!

I think this is the first character I've ever made who wouldn't want to change anything about their body for any reason :'D

17. What do they dream about, when their dreams are their own?

Beyond gold and riches, they dream about travelling to destinations both new and old, discovery, and about what stories they'll tell when they're old.

23. How do they feel about nicknames, titles, or labels that have been given to them? How do they feel about their name?

Nicknames are encouraged, but only between close friends and significant others! They don't have any titles or labels because they're not quite that infamous. Everyone who knows them refers to them by their first name, and that's what they're comfortable with because it's what they're used to!

As for how they feel about their name, they don't have strong opinions either way. It's the name they grew up with so they can't just toss it aside, but it has bad things attached to it as well. I'd say they think it's a ledger of all their (mis)deeds, and that's about it.

27. How do they mourn?

They carry on. But they swear to do better.

42. What are three words they would use to describe themself?

Confident, gorgeous, and amicable!

44. What do they need to learn?

To stop sticking their nose into trouble.

50. Can they sing? Can they dance?

Yes, Flint can sing and sings often! They will occasionally busk for lodging funds if they are ever scarce a few dollars, and have a very soothing voice that ensures at least a few people will toss them some coins. As for dancing, it's not something they're interested in, but you could always coax it out of them you can promise you'll be a good dance partner :)c

56. What animal do they most relate to?

Probably a dog? Fiercely loyal and trusting, but with a good nose (figuratively) for who they should let in on their vulnerabilities to.

57. What makes them angry?

Injustice, and the ideology that law and order outweighs the importance of the human condition.

59. What is a quiet passion of theirs?

While not exactly quiet, they have a passion for music! Singing and playing the guitar is one of their favourite pastimes.

61. What kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow?

This is impractical, and they also aren't exactly found in meadows, but they would go for sunflowers. Something big and bold and bright!

63. What fight has scared them the most?

They haven't gotten there yet in the story I'm building around them, but any fight where someone almost dies and they're powerless to help is always terrifying! :^)

67. What makes them laugh?

Clever jokes, outrageous stories, and the thrill that comes from doing something dangerously stupid and getting away with it.

Tangle

3. What is their goal right now?

Two things: serve their unfathomable god to the best of their abilities, and get sweet, delicious revenge on the fishermen that almost killed him. The former is his current priority, because he knows he has plenty of years to hunt down his would-be murderers. Revenge is a dish to be savored :3c

5. Do they follow a higher power? What are their thoughts on divinity?

Before he met his patron the only thing he was concerned about was surviving. There's no time for gods when you're eking out a poor life in some nowhere village, after all!

After meeting his patron, there is honestly nothing in this world he could devote more time and attention to. So their relationship with higher powers and divinity etc all are attached by one string to a single entity!

11. What skills are they proficient in? Why?

Arcana, religion, and insight for obvious reasons! However he's also proficient in intimidation, because while he may look like a sweet boy he's actually kind of creepy (in an insane cultist kind of way), and that's sufficiently off putting enough that he can be rather intimidating.

18. Do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

lmao… definitely a follower.

21. Do they follow their head, their heart, or their body?

HMMM, I am not too sure about this yet, but probably his heart! He seems like he would be easily emotionally driven.

30. What do they seek out from others?

Open-mindedness! People who would be -cough- willingtosubmittotheoldgods -cough- -cough- I mean, people who won't judge him for his faith.

40. Do they enjoy poetry?

Nope! Not that he's had any exposure to the arts, though. I guess it would be more accurate to say he doesn't have an opinion :'D

44. What do they need to learn?

That he's not special, and his devotion to his god means barely a thing. He has in his mind this idea that he's some kind of glorious, special vessel through which his patron does its dark bidding, but in reality he's just a pile of meat labeled "minion." Until he learns that awful truth, he's got an ego about his position.

51. What is the most beautiful thing in the world, for them?

The rotten bones of shipwrecks stuck deep in the sand. They're a good source of materials, a home for the night, and they make lovely silhouettes against stormy seas.

59. What is a quiet passion of theirs?

It's done out of necessity, but they enjoy sewing up and mending clothes!

61. What kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow?

Nothing specific, just any bud or bloom he can find :'D

64. Do they value mercy or justice more?

Probably justice! Although he's indifferent to things that happen to others, he is technically seeking justice for what happened to him, in his own… special way.

Cadma

11. What skills are they proficient in? why?

Athletics, performance and acrobatics because he's an active, swole boi! As well as that he's proficient in stealth and slight of hand because he is a smooth criminal, and he's also proficient in religion for a reason I cannot fathom or remember the reason for.

19. What haunts them? What doesn’t?

Like most of my characters… the past lol… specifically, the people he's abandoned on a whim, and more pressingly his former captain, who kind of wants to spill his guts :')

What doesn't haunt him is his decisions to leave. In every instance he's left people he's found himself in a grander adventure, and he's thankful and at peace with those life decisions!

Essentially, he has the mentality that people only stay in your life for part of the journey. There’s no such thing as a lifelong partner or friend, so while he does remember people he’s left behind he thinks that charting his own course in life is more important that unbreakable bonds.

30. What do they seek out from others?

Damn good company! If you're an interesting person in any capacity Cadma will probably take a shine to you. He can't stand a stagnant lifestyle, and wants to surround himself with people who will bring adventure into his life.

36. What’s a secret they’ve kept?

It's not exactly a huge secret or anything, and anyone with eyes can tell because he has scales, but Cadma is very hush hush about his dragon ancestry and blood. It's caused him no end of troubles and he'd really rather people see him as a person rather than the inheritor of a rare bloodline.

48. What do they see in their future?

Adventure, and lots of it. Maybe a couple near death experiences too, which he is not so keen on but it comes with the job :')

53. Which is more frightening to them: day or night?

Night. Visibility is low and it's too quiet. Fires burn too bright. You have to let your guard down eventually.

It's not a fun time.

64. Do they value mercy or justice more?

Definitely mercy! Cadma believes in second chances, and sometimes thirds. He's needed his fair share of them, so everyone else deserves chances too

69. How would they describe their party members?

Good fun and better friends! He's never been with people so easy to latch onto emotionally, and MAN is he attached to them…

---

Thank you so much for the ask, ilu!! It's so much fun talking about my characters, I love them a lot and the opportunity to get it off my chest has been really nice uwu

I am still accepting asks! And I finally have a page with links to my character's tags, in case anyone wants to peruse!

pwease... talk to me...

#ask #ask meme #sydney-jielin #flint locke #cadma #tangle #ilusm....#wild weast

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dvp95 · 5 years ago

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quiet on widow’s peak (1)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, youtuber phil lester, dan howell is not a youtuber, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter & total) summary: Phil's got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story. Bingo squares: met on tumblr

new wip? NEW WIP.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

The wind is loud in this one. That's frustrating, and it makes Phil's job a lot harder, but he can't control the weather. Be cool if he could. He does his best to level out his voice and the background noise of Mother Nature before he settles in with his good headphones and really cranks the volume.

It's even more annoying to listen to the alternating crackle and whistle right in his ears. Phil has dealt with worse during this whole process, though, so he finds the strength to power through it. He listens to the full thing three times, scribbling a few timestamps down on a Post-It pad as he does. He takes a break after that, does some stretches around his tiny bedroom and tiptoes out to get a snack without waking the whole damn house, and then he's right back in his apparently ergonomic office chair to subject his ears to more of this nonsense.

Wind, wind, and more wind. And sometimes just Phil's own voice. Nothing of note.

Phil is about to give this video up as a loss altogether when he hits one of the final timestamps and... can't figure out what that noise is.

For the first time since he opened this file, Phil grins. He exports the clip and plays around with it in Audacity. Some videos are always more fun than others, and Phil had felt like he was slogging through this one until now.

"Do you hear that, Theodore?" Phil murmurs. The tiny cactus on his desk, thankfully, does not respond.

It sounds like a person. It sounds like a person, whispering, and it definitely isn't the wind, and it isn't Phil's own voice, because he's in the middle of a question in this clip.

Phil might just be going crazy from sleep deprivation or wishful thinking, though. He pulls out his phone and texts the only group chat that doesn't cause him anxiety, which is comprised of the housemates that he actually gets along with. Anyone up? he asks, adding a single eye emoji for good measure.

Even though it's gone two in the morning, he gets immediate responses from all of them. A string of vaguely dirty emojis from Chris, a simple yeah from Sophie, and a cheerfully morbid did you know that insomnia leads to an early death? from PJ.

Wanna listen to a noise for me?

Within three minutes, Phil's bedroom is full of people in various states of sleepiness. All of them are in ridiculous pyjamas - including Phil - and PJ's hair in particular has taken on a mind of its own. Phil's room isn't really big enough for all of them, so there's some awkward shuffling before PJ claims the office chair. Phil sits at the foot of his bed with Sophie and Chris on either side of him, pressed close against each other's shoulders. It's a good thing he likes these people.

"I mean, it isn't the wind," is PJ's confident opinion. "Did you have anyone with you?"

"No, it's just me and my camera against the world," says Phil.

"No need to be a twat," Chris informs him. He taps at PJ's upper arm, impatient. "Let me have a go, then, if there's something there."

Chris is famously bad at hearing things in white noise, but PJ acquiesces the seat easily enough. Phil laughs, watching them do a weird step dance around each other in the small space between Phil's bed and desk.

"I can't hear any specific words," PJ says as he flops down across Phil's pillows, making himself comfortable. Phil just nods, because neither can he.

"How d'you know it's a person, then?" Sophie asks. Her voice is probably the only one soft enough for the hour. Their other housemates hate them for their frequent all-nighters, but Sophie is kind and quiet enough that she slips under the radar.

"You'll see for yourself."

When Sophie goes to respond, Chris interrupts in a hilariously loud voice, as if he's forgotten that having headphones on doesn't mean they can't hear him. "It's some kind of ghoulie or ghostie! I can barely fucking hear it, Philly, why didn't you mic it?"

"Why didn't I mic the ghost?" Phil asks, bewildered. Naturally, Chris doesn't hear him.

Sophie taps Chris on the shoulder and stands, leaning over his shoulder as she takes her turn listening to the sound clip over and over. Chris spins in the chair a few times and gives Phil an unhinged sort of grin.

"You got something this time," says Chris. He sounds like he's having just as much fun as Phil is, now that there's actually a thing to listen to besides his own voice and the loud, loud wind.

"I think so," says Phil. "Why didn't I mic the ghost?"

"I'm saying it would make your job a lot easier if you mic the ghost, yes."

"If I could mic a ghost, I'd be a millionaire."

"Then you better get on it, eh?" Chris laughs, spinning a bit faster. Phil has never seen the man sleep. It's a little bit worrying.

"Sure," Phil says, giving up on trying to teach any logic to someone who's clearly long lost their hold on it. "Next time I spend all night in a graveyard, I'll mic any spirits that might be hanging out."

"Shut up," Sophie tells them, mild.

Chris mimes zipping his lips, wrapping an easy arm around her waist, and PJ laughs.

For the first few months they all lived together, Phil had struggled to keep up with whatever dynamics were going on between the three of them, but he's long since given it up as something he's not going to understand.

After a moment of quiet, Sophie nods. "I hear it," she tells them. Even with the headphones on, she's quiet. "It's not words, I wouldn't put any subtitles over it."

"Yeah," PJ agrees. "Just let your audience duke it out in the comments like they always do."

"Thanks, guys," Phil says, feeling a sort of warmth sink into his shoulders. He notices that Chris is pulling up another application and half-heartedly protests. "Chris, you don't need to edit this one for me. I still haven't paid you for the last video." Or the one before that. Or the three or four previous. Phil has it written down somewhere.

"Don't be stupid," Chris hums, already clicking around erratically. It makes the editor in Phil want to scream, but he has to admit that Chris manages to find more weird visual stuff to isolate than he could on his own.

"I feel bad," says Phil, chewing his lip.

"I've told you," says Chris, "you can pay me back in chores and sexual favours."

PJ's slippered foot knocks against Phil's hip, and he grins brightly when Phil turns to him. "You know, I do have a bit of a laundry backlog."

"Funny thing, that," says Sophie.

Biting back a laugh, Phil shakes his head. "Alright, alright. Everybody leave their laundry in front of my door tomorrow."

"That's a no on the beej, then?" Chris asks, raising a single eyebrow and pointing dramatically at Phil. It has been near two years of this, and Phil is still too afraid to ask if it's a joke.

It's not as if Phil's answer would change if it wasn't a joke, because he's not interested in Chris, and he's especially not interested in becoming entangled in whatever nonsense his housemates have gotten themselves into. But, still, he might be kinder about letting Chris down if he were being genuine.

"That is a no," Phil confirms. "But I will wash your pants."

"Kinky," says Chris. He turns back to the screen and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture. "This is pretty shit. You know that, right?"

Yeah. Phil does know that. It's getting harder and harder to have the same optimism in every video that he'd had when he first started recording his wanderings around the supposedly-haunted places of Rossendale. He'd brought the camera with him when he left, but might have left that optimism behind. Phil only kind of believes in supernatural things - the way he only kind of believes in giraffes or true love - but it's been more fun than anything else to pick up a camera and try to find some evidence.

He's been doing this since he was nineteen, though, and he's getting a little bored by the formula of it all. Go into a haunted place, try to communicate with the spirits, pick up some garbled words or creepy noises, highlight visual oddities like orbs, and let the internet tear it all to shreds. Honestly, he'd have more fun making proper horror at this point in his life.

Phil shrugs and pulls his knees up to his chest. He wants to hide away from the sympathy in Sophie's eyes, from Chris' blunt words. "Yeah. I'm getting kind of... I don't know. Restless."

"Maybe you should ask people to submit things again," PJ suggests. "That went well last time."

It had, actually. Phil had needed to sort through a lot more ridiculous stories and obvious hoaxes than usual, but he'd found some nuggets of gold in all that hay. Or however that saying goes.

"People did like having their stories read out," Phil says slowly. "I'd just need to be extra sure that nobody's, like..."

"Ripping off r/NoSleep," says PJ.

"Yeah, exactly."

"We can help," Sophie says, and Phil could cry at how easily PJ and Chris agree with her.

He really doesn't deserve to have such great people around him. They've got work and lives of their own, but they're always happy to spend time crowded around Phil's computer listening to weird noises together. Phil sometimes wonders what they get out of it. Do they just like helping him, the way he has fun holding the boom for PJ's films or testing Sophie's concoctions? Or are they just as fascinated as Phil by the weirdness of it all? Do they want to see the cool instances of paranormal activity, too? At this point it feels nearly impossible to ask.

"That's going to be a lot of washing pants for me," Phil sighs. He doesn't know how to thank them, not when they always just wave it off.

"Sure is," says PJ. "But you should... ask the audience!"

"Your Chris Tarrant is pretty good," says Phil, only a little surprised by it. PJ's voice is as much of a tool to him as the rest of his body, and it's one he's always been skilled with. The impressions still tend to catch Phil off guard sometimes.

PJ tips an invisible hat. "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week."

At his friends' not so gentle encouragement, Phil makes a few posts on his socials to ask his followers for new creepy things to explore. It might be the middle of the night in Brighton, but he has a feeling that Chris isn't leaving his desk until he's found every instance of an orb or strange shadow in the fifty minutes of currently uncut footage.

It seems like Sophie is on the same page, because she excuses herself to make tea for everyone. PJ leans over Chris' shoulder and watches the clips without sound, his lips moving as if he's murmuring to himself.

Sometimes this feels more like a group effort than Phil is comfortable with. He's never been very good at asking for help. As grateful as he is, he still itches with the need to take back control of the situation. He uses the slow trickle of fan submissions to distract him from that feeling, because all three of them do make his videos better when he stops being so possessive over his footage. Phil flops onto his back and scrolls through the incoming emails, tweets, and Tumblr messages to see if there's anything promising.

For the most part, the answer is a resounding no. Some things are blatant lies - there are countless ripoffs of films or novels that Phil happens to be familiar with, a few things swiped from creepypasta or subreddits, and his usual amount of conspiracy theorist fans insisting that some high profile person or other is a lizard - but most of it, to Phil's dismay, just doesn't grab his attention the way he wants it to.

Sophie comes back with tea and snacks. She leans her head against Phil's shoulder and watches him cycle through his apps, fact-checking idly and sighing every time something easily proves to be a hoax. Her hair smells like coconut and she makes a soft humming noise every time she lifts the mug to her lips. Her presence alone, small and warm and supportive, is enough to keep Phil from throwing his phone across the room and having a right sulk about how his career is in a tailspin because nobody makes ghosts like they used to. At some point in the night, Sophie's breathing evens out to the point that Phil thinks she's asleep, but then she reaches out to tap a tiny finger to his screen.

"What's this, then?" she murmurs.

Phil has been zoned out entirely for at least fifteen, and he blinks back into reality. There's a new message in his Tumblr inbox, one that seems like it must be over the character limit for asks. He must have submissions turned on or something, that's the only possible explanation for an actual essay being sent to him. It's barely broken into paragraphs with very little punctuation and no capitalization, and Phil has been staring at screens for far too long to try and parse this on his own.

"Can you please make sure this isn't, like, the entire Bee Movie," Phil asks, handing Sophie his phone with only a slight twinge of anxiety. He trusts her not to go snooping, but. Still. "I need to pee."

"Mhm," Sophie hums, already apparently lost in whatever stream-of-consciousness has been dropped into Phil's inbox.

The floorboards in this old Brighton house creak, and Phil has always envied some of his housemates for being able to sidestep the noises. It doesn't seem to matter how long he lives here, how much he tries to avoid making any noise, it's like the floorboards are determined to creak under Phil's weight. He winces as he passes two bedrooms whose occupants surely don't appreciate creaking outside their doors at such an ungodly hour.

At least he doesn't run into any walls this time. The nightlight in the bathroom at the end of the hall is the only thing lighting Phil's way, and he tends to stub his toes on absolutely nothing in this kind of semi-darkness.

When he makes his - very, very creaky - way back to his own room, he's bewildered by the scene that greets him. PJ and Chris have joined Sophie on his bed, and all three of them are poring over Phil's phone as though they're looking at a map to the Holy Grail.

"Hello," Phil says slowly, closing the door behind him. It creaks, too. "You aren't going through my pictures, are you?"

"No," Sophie and PJ chorus without looking up.

"You got nudes on here or something?" Chris asks with a mild sort of interest, clearly also too engaged in Phil's phone to put his all into the flirting.

"I don't," says Phil. It doesn't sound convincing, even though it's true, and he waits for Chris to tease him about it some more. When he doesn't, Phil has to admit that he's curious. "So I guess it isn't a meme or something?"

That makes them look up, in almost comedic synchronicity. Sophie blinks a few times, as if she's coming back to herself. She holds out Phil's phone and shakes her head.

"It's not a meme," she says. "And near as we can tell, it's genuine."

Phil joins them and takes his phone back, adjusting his glasses. His bed really wasn't made for four people, but his housemates have never had any personal space amongst themselves, and Phil isn't one to say no to human contact when he isn't getting it anywhere else.

The message is just as hard to read as it was at first glance, but Phil puts his brain to work. If his friends are reacting like this, it usually means he's in for something good.

hi ok so the thing is that this is completely ridiculous and i dont think its what youre looking for at all but theres a building near my uni thats got a ton of stories around it and it only started happening like this year like it isnt an old obviously haunted type of place but theres a lot of weird shit that goes down there so i found all the references to it online that i could and ive summarized them here (w/ sources ofc im not a dick) and its all just this side of strange so it seems like the sort of thing you might be interested in ok here we go SO

And it goes on like that. Phil feels his eyebrows raising as he clicks the provided links in the following walls of text, which are exactly what they're advertised as. Not a single rickroll in there. Just a handful of posts on Reddit and Facebook and independent blogs about various experiences people have had with a particular abandoned building in -

"I know this place," Phil says, surprised. He looks up at PJ's grin, Sophie's wide eyes, Chris' palms rubbing together in exaggerated interest. "I've been to parties here. Well, okay," he corrects himself before his friends can do it for him, "I've gone with Martyn to parties here and left early."

"Yeah, it isn't far out of Manchester," PJ hums. He bounces in place a bit, like he's suddenly energized enough to go jump on the soonest train up north.

"It didn't seem that weird," says Phil. "It's been a few years, I guess, but it wasn't even that scary."

"Sounds like it's only just started, though," Chris pipes up.

Phil isn't sure how much he likes that. The idea of a place he's been a few times, half an hour from his childhood home, being so suddenly full of haunted activity feels... weird. Still, it's catching his interest in a way that nothing else has in months, so.

"I'll look into it some more tomorrow," he decides, glancing at the time. His brother is probably still awake, to be honest, but Phil doesn't want to be that guy asking 'hey, do you remember the Wilkins place?' before dawn has even broken. Again. He has definitely done that sort of thing in the past. "I'll have plenty of time while I do, what, seventeen loads of laundry?"

"Something like that," PJ laughs. "Want us to clear out?"

As nice as the company and help has been, Phil still feels a rush of relief at the concept of being left alone again. He nods, still scrolling idly through the Wilkins place submission.

It hits him, very literally, too close to home to ignore. He wonders if his fan knows that, if this is somehow an elaborate prank that will end up just wasting Phil's time, but he's too curious to leave it alone. He'll just have to ask around, see if anyone else has heard these murmurings.

Til then, maybe he ought to try and get some sleep. Phil's computer, still open on the editing software, tempts him.

Well. What's another couple hours at this point?

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #qowp..... mayhaps i made a mistake w this title......#quiet on widow's peak #YES it's another marianas title what are you the marianas title police?#bingo

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