#i guess well find out when this one either succeeds or just straight sucks

[virmillion]

What Was Missing

me? writing something unrelated to what i’m supposed to be working on again? it’s more likely than you think // aka i had another idea and wrote it down and hopefully it doesn’t suck // TLDR i try to write with some different tools and it maybe isnt terrible but i guess we’ll find out (@ the limericks, im lookin at you)

a n g s t      (or at least my attempt at it)

Pairings: none, maybe prinxiety if you squint

Warnings: blood mention, lots of yelling, character death (sort of), let me know if you see any more

Word count: 4k ish

It started as most problems do in the mindscape—a sudden absence, a feeling that something was missing. Something, someone, who really knew anymore? With Roman gallivanting off to his room every odd day to fight another dragon witch, his booming voice was rarely missed so much as endured when it was present. Logan, research in hand, was oft to chain himself to a desk and not back away until his eyes were burning, eyelids heavier than his textbooks. Patton, so concerned with keeping everything together among the other three, rarely had a chance to shut himself away for some peace and quiet, no no no, his responsibilities were too great. But one day, one certain day that had no peculiar charm nor supernatural air about it, his duties felt… shorter, somehow. There was less to be taken care of, but Patton could not for the life of him tell you why. At least, not until the gaping hole demanded it be noticed, not until it was screaming so hard and so loud, Patton might well have gone deaf in its efforts. The only problem with it being so loud and so insistent lies within its very nature—this absence is not the sort to announce itself, so much as it is the type to slink away quietly, to duck out when nobody’s looking. Maybe this is why Patton initially seeks out Roman to inquire about his relaxed day. Maybe this is why Logan didn’t set down his research quickly enough. Maybe this is why they were too late.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Patton says one unremarkable morning, knocking gently on Roman’s door. The emptiness down the hall screams bloody murder, all consuming to each of Patton’s senses. Maybe this is why Patton is too disoriented to realize that, for once, Roman isn’t the source of the noise. Maybe this is why Roman cautiously eases the door open, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade, only to be met with the concerned face of the moral side.

“What’s up, Patton?” Roman replies, widening the door like screaming jaws as he lets his hand relax a bit from the sword. Not all the way, though.

“Something just feels off, y’know?” Patton struggles to put into words his feelings, his subconscious distracted by the cries and yells and shouts. “It’s as if the last few days have been really, I don’t know, simple? I haven’t had to do as much, and it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Can’t say I understand,” Roman apologizes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there is a dragon witch I really must be off to see. If you could be so kind?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Patton nods, backing out of the room as Roman draws his sword. Maybe the door closes too quickly for Roman to notice the strained look in Patton’s eyes, or the way he can’t quite seem to stop tugging his ear, like too much sound is being absorbed at once. Maybe the finality of Roman’s door slamming shut is what steers Patton away from what could have saved the absence.

    At Logan’s room across the hall, Patton doesn’t bother with knocking on the door that’s already ajar, instead walking straight through the impossibly clean room to the hunched figure in the chair. It jerks awake as Patton taps it lightly on the shoulder, revealing Logan huddled under a mass of blankets, his eyes swollen pits of red and grey from inadequate sleep. The same blanket is bunched around the base of his chair as when Patton put it there two nights ago.

    “What is it, Patton?” Logan demands, his eye twitching gently. Maybe it’s from overworking himself. Maybe he hears the cries, too. “I have very important work to be doing here, as you should very well know.”

    “Well, yes,” Patton admits, “but you look as if the only work you’ve been doing is catching up on the sleep you never get. I had something else to bring up with you, but, um,” he glances over at Logan’s pristine bed, looking as impeccable as if it had never been slept in before. Patton has a sneaking suspicion this might be the case, but maybe he’s just a little tired, too.

    “I have absolutely no requirement for such frivolous endeavours as sleep,” Logan scowls, disgust lacing every word. “You most of all should know that we hardly require any of that human nonsense, from sleep to hydration to food. With all of your silly baking festivities, I would expect you to have figured that out already.” Patton bites his lip before he can make some sort of joke out of the situation, knowing quite well that this isn’t the time. Maybe there’s never really a time to make a joke with any of them. Maybe the yells are in his head, and he just needs to let them pass over, like an angry storm cloud.

    In his own room, Patton takes a few deep breaths, desperate to let the warm lights in his room soak through his skin, make the noises go away. Why should he be desperate, anyway? He’s had so much extra time, he got to see everyone in the mindscape today! Roman, and Logan, and—and—and—and—

    The lights suddenly get brighter, too bright, as the yells crescendo, turning into shouts into screams then back into cries into sobs into whimpers into silence. Patton rubs his temples gently. Maybe he’s just overworked. Maybe he’s just exaggerating the problem. Lots of people hear things that aren’t there. You’re not a person, Patton. Patton knows this. He knows that he’s not human, that there’s no reason for baking or sleeping or drinking, but it’s all in good fun. All for enjoyment. The yelling is not enjoyment. He did not ask for the yelling. In fact, he would much prefer to have the yelling silence itself. Maybe he’ll go take care of it himself.

It’s impossibly cold out here

Way up on the highest tier

Why haven’t they come?

It’s all so numb

Why can you not recall the year?

    “Now where is that blasted dragon witch?” Roman mutters to himself, stalking silently through the cattail reeds, sword drawn. Itching for something, anything, to fight, Roman lashes out at a blade of grass in front of him. Before he can mow it down, the noise returns. Quite obnoxious, to be frank, but indelible nonetheless. It skewers through his skull, screaming as his sword swings, stopping it short to smack the grass blade and allowing the green spike to swipe back at him, scratching the side of his face. Louder, louder, the noise mumbles and moans and mourns and Roman must move on, make more progress meeting his maker in the scaled madam making her monstrosities as Roman remains in the reeds. The noise gets louder. Roman chops through the sea of grass. The screams cut across his clothes, criss-crossing so crassly the prince can almost catch the cutlass in his hand.

    Somewhere ahead, a dragon roars, undercut by a woman’s scream. Not a damsel in distress. This damsel is the distress. Damn. Roman throws his arms over his head, squeezes his biceps, anything to make that screaming shut up. Not enough. He backs carefully out of his room, head pounding, sword thrown haphazardly in its scabbard, and the whole package is tossed into the reeds. That’s a problem for later. Roman’s head pounds harder, hurting, hurts oh God help him he heaves with his hands on his knees hearing every helpless howl hammering through his head help him please help.

    In the lounge, the furthest room possible from the yelling screaming cursing crying, Roman collapses upon a couch. Something under his back, sharp and prodding, makes him sit up. A pair of bulky headphones. Now where on earth could these have come from? Regardless of the reason, Roman slips them over his ears, expecting some sort of punk song to carry him away, tuning out the cries for help.

    Why though? Why does he expect a punk song to come on? He doesn’t even know where these headphones came from, any more than he can explain away the screaming that grows ever louder. Why is it so. Loud?

    “Oh thank gosh Roman you’re out here,” Patton sighs in relief, stumbling into the lounge area with one fist curled against his head. Worry lines etch themselves into his face, deeper than if they’d been there for years. Replacing something else that was there for years. Or never there. “Why are you just sitting down? I’d expect you to at least be doing something exciting.”

    “I am, I’m listening to the—the head—the headphones—the headphones.” Roman’s voice trips over itself, warping and warbling, where were the headphones why wasn’t he holding the headphones was he ever holding the headphones why weren’t they there when were they there?

    “Okay buddy, whatever you say,” Patton smiles, not seeming to notice the little… we’ll call it a glitch… in Roman’s system. “Want some cookies?”

    “Don’t you do anything else besides bake?” Roman sneers. Something pushes at his mind, the yelling, thoughts, something, but it screams and cries to stop, not to get going on an argument he wants no part in. The yelling is louder. “Last I checked, we all had real duties to perform to help Thomas, and making cookies at the drop of a hat isn’t exactly a useful skill to a living person with real thoughts and feelings.” Roman gives Patton a once-over, suddenly standing—when did he stand up he was supposed to be sitting down—and continues, ignoring the hurt welling up in his companion’s eyes. “Oops, I guess that would imply that you, feelings, are real. My bad.” Stop it Roman stop hurting him stop it!

    “Right. I’ll just, um, I’m just gonna be over, y’know, somewhere that isn’t, uh, isn’t in here.” Patton rushes out, both hands pressed against his face now. Roman sags a bit, sitting standing sitting standing kneeling sitting standing sitting standing sitting sitting sitting sit still. Bounce bounce bounce back and forth between being everywhere and being nowhere and being everything in between. The screaming increases. Help.

It’s probably been but a day

You were always just in the way

They don’t know it’s you

Your screams coming through

Forgotten, you may as well stay

    “Honestly, how am I expected to get important work done for Thomas when I’m plagued by that infernal sound?” Logan mutters, whipping the blanket off of his back. Who does Patton think he is, intruding on Logan’s privacy like that without asking? The blanket is still in the way, rumpled in a heap over his feet, so Logan does the most logical thing he can think of—kicking it across the room, getting progressively more pissed each time it doesn’t cooperate by breaking the laws of physics. Is that really so much to ask?

    The blanket finally beaten into submission, Logan makes for the commons, a permanent grimace set upon his face as the yelling recedes behind him. Expecting a calm scene in which he can bask in silence, Logan is sorely disappointed by what greets him in the lounge; Patton staring at a wall, motionless, and Roman sitting standing sitting standing not holding still. How displeasing.

    “Have you two seriously lost your grip so easily?” Logan demands, freezing Roman in place and getting Patton to snap his head over. “Regardless of why this sound is occurring, we all need to work together to resolve it.”

    “All?” Roman asks. Patton echoes him, softer and more unsure.

    “Yes. All.”

    “But we aren’t all here.”

    “I can’t say I understand what you mean. You, me, and Patton. All.”

    “But that’s not, I mean, it isn’t like we just—”

    “Roman, I have never known you to fumble for words so largely as this,” Logan scolds. “All. Three of us. That is all. Now, if you’re done with whatever your situation is, we really need to get back to the task at hand—getting rid of that sound.” Roman casts his eyes down, face burning, but he’s finally sitting down, and staying that way. The cries get louder.

    “Patton, care to share your input?” Patton mutters something about the days being easier, the same spiel he fed Logan not long before. “Not that. Something useful would be nice.” Patton quiets, biting his lip. A tinge of something, regret perhaps, floods through Logan for a split second, but just as quickly, it vanishes.

    “Okay. Alright. What’s missing?” Logan tries. His glasses slip down his nose. He does not adjust them.

    “It’s really loud,” Roman offers, “so it must have been important.”

    “Then why can’t I remember it?” Patton hisses, gripping his forehead tightly. His fingers go white. Louder.

    “Maybe it was just annoying, and this is its lingering irritation,” Logan says.

    “It’s down at the end of the hall with our rooms,” Patton begins, flinching at nearly every word. Too loud. Make it stop. “Maybe we could investigate down there?”

    “I second it,” Roman replies. “It’s as good a place to start as any.” As one, not dissimilar to a hive mind, the trio rises—when did Logan sit down?—and move toward the screeching. Ice cold laces through their blood, frozen fingers creeping down their backs as their ears seem to split. If you asked them later, none of the three could tell you whether their feet walked them down the hall, or the room pulled itself closer, using their agony as a grappling point. Louder. Deafening. One way or another, they arrive at the screaming door, vibrating from the noises coursing through it, all amplified by the door itself. The bravest of the bunch, Roman, cowers in fear. He’s not about to touch that monstrosity. The brain of the bunch, Logan, knows in his mind that the door can’t really hurt him. He does not reach for the handle. Patton. Patton stretches a hand, fingers trembling as the sound leaps across the axons and the dendrites to his nails and skitters through his bones, weaving between muscles and fat to fill him up until he’s gasping, choking, overflowing. Patton opens his mouth to let it escape, and the screeching heightens. Louder. Louder. LOUDER.

    Screaming and crying and shouting and moaning all at once, Patton wrestles the door handle down and presses forward, first with the handle, then his other hand, and his shoulder and his foot and Logan and Roman join in, pounding the door that refuses to give way to their attacks on it.

    The handle shatters in Patton’s hand.

    The screaming stops.

    A soft sigh takes its place.

    Then silence.

They’re actually trying to look

All because your voice is a hook

Here you remain

Your ears unstained

Maybe now you should close the book

    Patton glances at the shards of metal in his hand, then back to Logan and Roman. He’s so stunned, he almost can’t feel the edges digging into his skin, feel the tiny red pearls beading at the surface. He holds them tighter, trying desperately to hold onto what the three all realized before it can vanish again.

    Virgil.

    We forgot Virgil.

    “Patton, your hand,” Roman murmurs, looking at the offending body part that refuses to let go of the handle, refuses to let go of what he can’t believe he forgot. Maybe he doesn’t deserve to remember.

    “We need to get that wrapped up,” Logan adds. He takes Patton gently by his free hand, pulling him down the hall toward the commons, where they keep a few first aid kits, just in case.

    We forgot Virgil.

    Suddenly, Patton is in the commons, barely wincing as Logan carefully wraps bandages around his hand, Roman extracting the shards of metal as he goes. Maybe each stab is a fraction of what Virgil felt.

    We forgot Virgil.

    Maybe Virgil forgot them.

    Patton looks on blankly as Logan finishes, gently tightening the wrapping and tying it off. “We need to help him,” he mumbles. Logan waves it off, checking the floor for any lost metal pieces. “We need to help him.”

    “We need to figure out why he’s gone first,” Logan retorts. “We don’t know why he left, and we don’t want to make it worse. At least it’s finally quiet.”

    We forgot Virgil.

    “Yeah, remember how we left it last?” Roman cuts in. Patton shakes his head.

    “It all kind of went foggy right up until that screaming.” Virgil’s screaming.

    “There was an argument,” Logan begins.

    “Thomas was having a social problem,” Patton continues.

    “He was worrying,” Roman fills in.

    “We told him off.”

    “He went silent.”

    “Didn’t even fight back.”

    “Sank out.”

    “No sarcasm.”

    We forgot Virgil.

    “We need to help him.”

    “We still only have the vaguest of reasons for his disappearance,” Logan says. “We cannot afford to make it any worse, if this is the least we’ve seen of what is involved with a missing Virgil.” A missing Virgil. A thing to be fixed. Not a friend to be found.

    “Maybe the room will tell us,” Patton whispers. Grasping at straws. Anything.

    We forgot Virgil.

    “Right, the room that shattered the thing you need to get inside of it. Brilliant, Patton, truly a work of genius,” Roman sneers, bouncing between sitting and standing again.

    “Not the time for attitude,” Logan reprimands. “It’s the only idea we have to go off of, so we may as well, given the lack of success shown by ignoring the noise.”

    “Not noise. Virgil.” Patton sniffles.

    We forgot Virgil.

    Patton is the first to rise and head for the door with no handle, now a deafening silence in contrast to the aching screams of earlier. Logan follows, all efficiency and strategy, despite the fact that no one is really sure what to do next.

    “Even if we find out why he’s missing, that won’t bring him back,” Roman complains. “Besides, do we really need the Edgelord back?” Patton clenches his undamaged fist in an effort not to do something he’ll regret later.

    Through gritted teeth, he spits, “of course we need him back. He’s one of us.”

    With no small amount of discomfort in the air, the trio makes their way to the silent door, each peering down and squishing in to try to see through the hole left by the door handle.

    Only gaping space beyond.

You know, it’s really not so bad like this

They claim to regret, yet remain remiss

You like being alone

This could be a home

This is how you leave, vanished like a wisp

    “Move aside,” Roman orders, stepping back with his sword drawn. Patton and Logan leap out of the way of the door as Roman charges. He raises his sword, giving a battle cry, and barrels forward.

    The door opens.

    Roman’s momentum carries him through, swinging his sword regardless as the door slams shut behind him. Patton and Logan remain outside.

    His sword goes flying into an endless abyss of stars and blackness. The red sash across his white attire tightens, constricting and squeezing like a viper before completely tearing off at the shoulder. Now a limp ribbon, it follows the sword into nothingness.

    “What’s going on?” Roman attempts, but his voice is too hoarse, too small, lost in everything and nothing. The world around him seems to expand by the second, nothingness multiplying by nothingness exponentially. Silent.

    Where is Virgil?

    Sound.

    Behind him.

    Roman turns to where the door is—was. Gone. Above it, a strip of nothingness with no stars in it. A silhouette against the shining lights. Roman blinks, shakes his head, blinks again, and he’s suddenly beside the silhouette, looking out at an endless expanse of space. He turns his head.

    Virgil.

    Before Roman can open his mouth, offer an explanation, ask for a reason, Virgil punches him in the face.

    Hard.

    Roman goes down.

    Hard.

    Virgil disappears, and the world splinters.

    And shatters.

    “Just shut up! Thomas doesn’t need you dragging him down like this!”

    “I hate to say it, kiddo, but Roman’s right. You really don’t need to be so… much.”

    “Indeed, your excessive overtime is dragging all of us down with you. Don’t you suppose you might feel better if you were to, perhaps, lay low? Stay quiet?”

    They’re always demanding your silence

    They never consider emotions violence

    Their words will bite

    Don’t put up a fight

    Just seclude yourself on your islands

    “Too good to talk back? Come on Virgil, where’s that dry wit? Hit me with it! Hit me!”

    “Roman, don’t taunt him. We don’t want him to get worse.”

    “It may not be in our best interest to discuss this in front of him.”

    You think your words aren’t ringing

    Hatred in their bite stinging

    But please have no fear

    I’ll soon not be here

    Not even a bell left dinging

    “I wish he’d just leave, we’d all be better off and he knows it.”

    “Now Roman—”

    “I don’t think you should—”

    “I hate him.”

    Roman blinks again, finally remembering.

    Why did he say that? It was a moment of weakness and stupidity, and he wants nothing more than to take it back. A little hard to do, given that Virgil is nowhere to be seen. Just space. The vast sky. And Roman. Alone. No sword. No sash. No purpose. What did you do?

    “I just want to know one thing,” a voice whispers, coming from every direction at once. Impossibly quiet, to the point that Roman has to strain to hear it. “Why did you say it?” The drawling, apathetic tone, in a voice otherwise identical to his own, it has to be Virgil.

    “I didn’t mean it, it was just the heat of the moment, I swear—” Roman babbles.

    “I didn’t ask for excuses. I asked for a reason.”

    “I don’t have one! Because I’m stupid, okay? That’s why.”

    “Unfortunate.”

    Roman waits with bated breath for the voice to come back, even just to yell at him some more, anything but being alone in this room.

    Silence.

    Alone.

    Please come back.

    Waiting.

    Waiting.

    “I just wanted to see the stars.” Roman glances to the right—the voice actually had a concentrated source this time. “You all forgot me, but no one forgets the stars.” A constellation takes shape in the distance, a vague silhouette of Virgil, unless Roman is just kidding himself. “No one forgets you.”

    Before he can respond, Roman watches the world fall apart again, depositing him on the ground in an endless white space. He can’t tell where the walls end and the ceiling begins. The only thing standing out in this room, besides himself, is the black lacquer door. Stabbed through its center is his sword, his red sash twined around it.

    The voice doesn’t come back.

    Roman yanks the sword from the door with little resistance, fixing the sash over his shoulder. The door swings open. Patton and Logan are gone. He heads for the common area. Logan’s nose is buried in a book, while Patton stands at the counter icing cookies.

    “Patton? Where’s, uh, where are your bandages?” Roman asks, looking at the hand that appears perfectly healed.

    “Weird joke, Roman. Is that the kind of humor that’s hip with the kids these days?” Patton twirls an icing bag in the air. “I can be hip.”

    “Logan, have you seen Virgil?” Roman asks as he moves out of the kitchen, leaving Patton to his cookies.

    “Seen whom?” Logan doesn’t look up from his reading.

    “Virgil! Anxiety? Hot Topic? Edgelord? J-Delightful?” Logan lifts an eyebrow and peers at Roman over his book.

    “I will admit to not often utilizing humor, but even I know that this is not it.”

    Roman leans against the back of the couch, suddenly unsteady as his mind is hit with too many thoughts at once. The most important one, the only one that truly matters, pierces his skull like so many unheard screams and cries.

    They forgot Virgil.

Tag List:

@sakurahayasaki @erlenmeyertrash @lemonpepperpizza @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @milomeepit  /// im gonna tag some other people that didnt ask to be because everyone knows i c r a v e validation @asexual-trashbag @tinysidestrashcaptain @notafeeling @the-prince-and-the-emo @princeyandanxiety @fallingamor @prinxietys sorry if you didnt want to be tagged feel free to ignore this

[lunar-wandering]

i don’t wanna fight alone anymore - Chapter 4

*(show host voice)* everybody welcome to the stage- Macaque!!!

Word Count: 1.8k

Read on Ao3

-

"What are you doing here?" Wukong hissed, struggling to push Macaque off of him.

"Well now, Wukong, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Macaque asked, a teasing lilt to his voice, and Wukong outright growled, grabbing hold of Macaque's arms and rolling over, pinning him to the ground. Macaque looked up at Wukong, a hint of fear flickering across his face for the briefest of moments, before it was once again replaced with the same old smug look.

"Ha! Nice scar." He laughed, and Wukong let go of one of Macaque's arms in order to use his hand to cover the notch on his eyebrow. "Oh, not to mention the scarf. Copying me huh? What, do you appreciate my style, or are you still jealous from when MK came to me for training, instead of you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Wukong hissed, glancing nervously over at the others, who still hadn't moved, mainly out of not being entirely sure what was happening. Macaque used the momentary distraction to flip their positions once again, putting himself on top of Wukong.

"Heh, either way, that's karma for you." He said, grin still evident on his face, and Wukong, seeing no other option, reached up and raked his claws against Macaque's cheek, drawing a small amount of blood. Macaque yelped, leaning back as he instinctively covered the wound, and Wukong sat up, immediately following up be headbutting the other monkey.

The headbutt, of course, ended up being a mistake, as both monkey's reared back, covering their foreheads as pain washed over them. (Wukong could help but feel that there's been something....off, something cold when they'd bumped heads but-)

"Enough." Pigsy said, suddenly standing beside them, holding a wooden spoon in between the two in order to separate them. "Wukong, what is going on?"

"Ask him." Wukong growled, still rubbing his aching forehead, "He's the one who suddenly appeared out of nowhere and tackled me."

"Yeah, I'm not going to apologize for that." Macaque said, crossing his arms. MK mentally noted that the shadow monkey had, thus far, made no attempt at standing up.

"Didn't expect you to, you bitch." Wukong said, accepting Mei's offered hand as she helped him stand back up. "Seriously, why are you here?"

"What, can't I drop in to check on my favorite student every now and again?" Macaque said, not so subtly gesturing at MK, who sighed.

"I keep telling you, I'm not your student." He said, sounding tired with this whole thing already. Macaque just smirked. In response, Mei kicked him in the leg, and Macaque yelped, bending over as he cradled his leg closer to himself, his fur bristling as he clenched his teeth.

"....I didn't even kick you that hard." Mei said, looking Macaque over again. There were no visible injuries, other than the scratch Wukong had left on his cheek, but she had encountered many a demon, she knew that just because she didn't see it didn't mean it wasn't there.

"Is that it?" Wukong asked, crossing his arms as he looked at Macaque in disapproval. "You got injured, so you came crawling to us?"

"No. I'm fine." Macaque hissed out, rather unconvincingly, considering he still hadn't come out of his curled up position. Pigsy sighed, sensing this would be a long day.

"Wukong, go get the first aid kit." He said, and Wukong, despite huffing in irritation, complied, turning around to go find it. "Sandy- just. Restrain him for now."

Sandy pulled out some rope, and started wrapping it around Macaque's waist, restraining him by tying the other end of the rope to the ship. He didn't wrap it around Macaque's arms, worried about potentially brushing against some unseen injury. Macaque, surprisingly, laughed in response to this treatment.

"What am I, some damsel in distress?" He asked, "You going to tie me to some train tracks next?"

"Don't tempt me." Wukong hissed, rolling his eyes as he came back, passing the first aid kit over to MK, who handed it over to Tang, who, despite Macaque's protests, started applying a bandage onto the scratch on the monkey's cheek.

"I can't treat the rest of your injuries if you won't let us see them." Tang said, after he finished treating the scratch.

"I told you already, I'm not injured. Besides, I don't remember asking for your help." Macaque said, looking away from Tang's face. Wukong, a smirk on his face, snuck up beside Macaque, before lightly poking the leg Mei had kicked. Macaque yelped again, pulling his leg away, an expression of pain flickering across his face. Wukong lightly giggled, then hissed as Pigsy hit him in the back of the head with the spoon.

"Wukong, why would you do that??" Pigsy asked, disapproval in his voice. Wukong couldn't help but feel a bit like a child being chided for doing something wrong.

"...He was being kind of stuck up?" He offered as a response, chuckling nervously when Pigsy's disapproving look only increased in intensity.

"Either way, he is injured." Tang said, "So, Macaque, are you going to let me treat your injuries or not?"

Macaque didn't answer for a few moments, before he reluctantly sighed, a look of concentration appearing on his face-

And then, just like that, a series of injuries appeared on his body. A long gash down his arm that looked only partially healed, a newer cut down his leg (and Mei winced, knowing she had made that injury worse), as well as his fur looking, overall, like a mess. Wukong sucked in a breath.

"What happened to you?" He asked. Macaque rolled his eyes.

"Like you'd care." He mumbled, looking down at the floor as Tang carefully tended to his injuries. MK subtly tugged on the edge of Wukong's scarf.

"Monkey King?" He asked, quietly. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure, kid." Wukong said, letting MK lead him to the other side of the ship. He knew Macaque would probably still be able to hear them anyways, but the other monkey was distracted with Tang, so they should be okay for now. "What's up?"

"It's just....you- you don't think that she did that to him, do you?" MK asked, glancing over at Macaque, at Macaque's injuries.

"No way to know for sure." Wukong said, "He isn't the best at making friends. Could've been anyone."

Suddenly, the look in MK's eyes changed.

"You'd know all about how Macaque makes friends then?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Y'know, while you were on vacation, I ran into Macaque again."

"You what? Why didn't you tell me?" Wukong asked, concern in his voice. MK brushed it off.

"You were busy, remember? Anyways, Macaque said something....interesting." MK said, "He said you two used to be friends. Like, he straight up compared the both of you to the sun and moon."

"He was always over-dramatic like that-"

"And. He said you abandoned him." MK said, "That you forgot about him."

Wukong sighed.

"Is that still how he sees it?" He said, rubbing his arm. "It's- look it was complicated, okay? I, well to put thing's simply, time in heaven works... differently than time on earth, and then the whole 'Havoc in Heaven' thing happened- and just. I never really got the chance-"

"But you were friends?" MK asked, "He can't have been all that bad back then."

"Well- no. He wasn't." Wukong admitted, "...If this is some attempt of yours to get me to trust him, you're not going to succeed kiddo. Not that I'm sure why you'd do that-"

"That's not what I'm- okay, so it's a little bit like that." MK confessed, laughing a little as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just, he's injured, so we can't just let him leave. We should let him stay with us for a bit-"

"MK-"

"It'd be wrong to just let him leave, wouldn't it?" MK insisted, grabbing hold of Wukong's hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "C'mon, Monkey King, at least this way we can keep an eye on him!"

"....I can't argue with you on that, I guess." Wukong sighed, "Fine. But don't blame me when he ends up betraying us in the end."

"We'll pay very close attention to him." MK insisted, "He can't betray us if we know it's coming!"

-

He was going to betray them.

He was going to turn against them.

He would earn their fragile trust, and then shatter it like glass.

He would not let himself get attached.

Macaque kept this mental mantra to himself going as Mei quietly showed him to the room he'd be staying in. They had reluctantly untied him, letting him walk by himself so long as he had someone with him. They would allow him the privacy of his room, but that was it.

Macaque walked into the rather small, empty space, the only thing in there being a bed with plain sheets and a door to what he presumed to be a bathroom. He sighed as he heard Mei close the door behind him, before she turned and walked away, down the hall. He waited until her footsteps faded, and he was sure nobody would open the door unexpectedly.

Macaque went into the bathroom (it was just as small and plain as the bedroom), and let his glamor drop all the way.

They'd trusted him with this room. And that was a problem.

The kid and the others had trusted him, albeit by not much, but they were still going to let him stay.

Wukong, at least, clearly still distrusted him, if the glares he'd noticed were any indication.

Macaque sighed again as he looked in the mirror, trying to mentally prepare himself to play the long con.

He was going to betray them.

He was going to turn against them.

He would earn their fragile trust, and then shatter it like glass.

He would not let himself get attached.

Despite this, Macaque knew himself.

He knew he was going to get attached.

It would be inevitable really, that kid, MK, seemed to drag everyone into his little golden family sooner or later. He was sure that Wukong probably would've outright thrown him off the ship if it wasn't for the kid.

Macaque knew how easy it would be for the kid to drag him in, make him feel like a part of the group. He would resist it, but it would happen.

He tried to brace himself for how much the looks of betrayal on their faces would hurt. Tried to convince himself he would enjoy it. That this is what he wanted. That he chose to do this.

The shine of the blue circlet that wrapped around his head in a vice grip, reminded him that it wasn't his choice to make.

[hypnosisbuttd]

Hypnosis is Bullshit

(A gay Hypnosis Story)

“Alright Campers!” Chris shouts to the contestants in the cafeteria “It’s time for your next challenge!”

“What now?” Duncan asks annoyed.

“Aw what? Do you not enjoy my challenge?” Chris says sadly

“No” All of the contestants say simultaneously

“Rude...” Chris says, faking being offended. “Well it doesn’t matter cause you’re doing it anyways! Meet me out by the cabins! No not your housing arrangements, the OTHER cabins.”

Chris then proceeds to disappear.

The Campers leave their cafeteria, but then Duncan and Trent get into a little scuffle outside the doors.

“Don’t fucking push me dude” Trent snapped

“Well if your slow ass wasn’t taking up the entire doorway I wouldn’t have needed to” Duncan responds

“Bastard, you wanna fight me?” Trent threatens

“Try me bitch” Duncan challenges“

Oh my god, break it up you two.” Heather sighs

“You stay out of this you black haired dog eater” Duncan sneers

“AIGHT BITCH YOU WANNA GO?!” Heather says threatening Duncan as Lindsay holds her back.

“Ha, you’re so easy to get a reaction out of” He laughs

“Ugh! I really wish someone would knock you down a peg you brat!” Heather shouts

“Duncan I really think you should back off” Gwen suggests

“Aw come on you know you love it baby”“Ew...” Gwen says backing off.

“Y’all gonna head over to the Cabins, or Am I gonna have to drag your clown asses over there?” Leshawna asks

“Tch, fine” Duncan reluctantly lets up

(Nobody messes with Leshawna)

The campers settles their conflict and head out to the old cabins in the wood. 6 of them have spirals painted on them.

“This challenge is a 1 on 1 hypnosis challenge, each of one of the former screaming gophers will compete with one of the former Killer Bass to hypnotize each other in one hour. Whoever succeeds will be allowed to do whatever they want with the other, whoever does the most embarrassing thing to the other when the timer is up wins, the judge will as always be me.” Chris explains

“As stupid as this challenge is, there is a slight problem Chris” Duncan calls out

“And that is?” Chris asks

“Hypnosis ain’t real you fucking moron.” He shouts

“Yes it is!” Izzy shouts “Ive seen plenty of government facilities use Hypnosis on Politicians to get them favorably on one side of the Spectrum or on enemy soldier to reveal critical information! But I’m completely resistant to it cause I was born colorblind!” Izzy rants

“And we’re supposed to believe the crazy lady why?” Duncan asks

Izzy growls

“Anyways here are your teams”

“Leshawna and Eva, you’ll go to the first cabin”

“Ha good luck, I have an Iron Will” Eva notes

“Team 2 will be Heather and Bridgette”

“Yeah no, I’m not letting this bitch control me. You’re going down Heather” Bridgette threatens

“Team 3 is Lindsay and Izzy”

“This will go down well...” Duncan mutters sarcastically

“Team 4 is Geoff and Gwen”

“Aight little lady! We got this!” Geoff cheers

“I don’t think you understand this challenge” Gwen says

“Team 5 is Owen and DJ”

“Oh fuck no” Trent and Duncan say simultaneously

“And Team 6 will be Duncan and Trent! Ha ha ha” Chris laughs

“Fuck you and your idiot ass McLain” Duncan says flipping the bird at McLain before waking inside the cabin.

“I could have had it worse...” Trent suggests trying to keep it positive.

The two of them wander inside the cabin and did the room lined with various Hypnosis tools.

Duncan just sighs“God this shit it stupid... I mean look at this” He picks up a ray gun “Hypno Gun? My gif what do they think we are? 5? I’m so done with this. Let’s just wait the hour out I don’t even care if we lose”

“Whatever...” Trent sighs.

Duncan sits down on one of the coaches while Trent wanders around the room.

After a bit of searching however, Trent notices a small tape sitting in the corner of the room, he picks it up and the Tape Reads ‘Easy White Noise Hypnosis’. Trent, wanting a bit of laugh but also not caring, removes the label and replaces it with a label he had on one of his other tapes titled ‘Heavy Punk Rock Favorites’.

He then proceeds to sit next to Duncan

“Da fuck do you want?” Duncan snaps

“Well I decided since we’re going to be here a while, I thought you would like to listen to some music. I know you’re a punk rock fan, so I got some of my favorites.” He hands the tape to Duncan

“I mean you’re choice in Music probably sucks but whatever...” Duncan plugs in a pair of headphones into the tape and begins listening.

“Dude this is just white noise, what the fuck is this?” Duncan asks clearly confused

“It’s a start up noise, it’ll probably take a couple minutes to start up” Trent lied

Duncan relents and continues to sit there. After a few minutes, his expression begins to go slack and he sits there looking confused.

“Dude... This shit is making my head feel... funny...” Duncan slurs. He goes to take off the headphones.

“Up bup bup bup” Trent places his hands on his and keeps the headphones “Just keep going”

“But... I...”

“Ssshhh” Trent shush him. Duncan giggles a little before continuing on.

After a couple more minutes, Duncan is gone full slack. His eyes are crossed and drool is slowly dripping down the side of his mouth. Trent waves his hand in front of Duncan, he doesn’t even react. He just sits there.

Holy shit did it actually work? Trent thinks. He decides to test his theory.

“Duncan can you hear me?” Trent asks

“Yeah...” Duncan mumbles

“Are you willing to obey my commands?” He asks

“Sure” Duncan slurs

“Stand in front of me...” He orders

Duncan stands up and walks in front of Trent.

No way... Trent thinks This can’t be real. I guess the only way to know is if I make him do something so embarrassing that if he’s pranking me he’ll have to let up...

“Alright Duncan listen to me. When I snap my fingers, you will become a Sexy Gay stripper who’s here to strip for me. You love showing your bare ass for people and you’re super horny. Ok?”

Duncan just drools

Theres no way... Trent thinks

Trent snaps his fingers and Duncan wakes up and stares directly at Trent. He then placed Hands on either side of Trent

Yup he’s definitely going to kill me

“Why Hello there Sexy” Duncan purrs

OH MY GOD Trents Mind Screams

Duncan stands up and admired Trent “Damn when they sent me for this job, I didn’t expect my client to be so sexy.” He says seductively

“Thank you...” Trent says trying to hold in his laughter

“Anyways let’s get on with the show shall we?” Duncan says pulling off his shirt slowly.

Trent just stares in awe as Duncan slowly pulls off his clothes. First he tosses off his shirt and lets Trent feel his pecs. Then he pulls off his pants and gives Trent a lap dance. Finally when Trent thought it was going to end, Duncan leaned in by his ear“

Since you’re such a special client case, I’ll give you a bonus show.” He whispers seductively.

Duncan stands up and pulls off his underwear, bearing his ass for Trent to see. He throws the underwear off to the side and exposes himself directly in front of Trent.

“Like what you see?” Duncan says winking

Trent could feel himself getting hard.

Wait what?

Trent looked down to see himself indeed having a hard on at the site of Duncan

What the? I’m straight! What the heck is going on?

Duncan leans in quietly and sets himself on Trents lap“What do you say me and you find the bedroom, and take care of that little problem of yours” Duncan says pulling at the edge of Trents pants

“Alright that’s enough! Sleep!” Trent calls out

Duncan immediately falls limp, his body crashing into Trents chest. Trent realized how Tiny Duncan was especially without the clothes and laughed to himself a little.

Hmm what should I do with you now? Trent thinks.

He looks down at Duncan’s muscular form. And immediately comes up with a devilish plan.

“Alright Duncan… You can still hear me correct?” He asks

“Ye…” Duncan slurs.

“Alright, when I wake you up, you will think you are a professional wrestler. And I am your opponent. You will try and punch and dent but will not have enough strength to do so. Meanwhile when I even slightly tap you, you will feel excruciating pain. And the only way You can make it stop is by me surrendering. Understood?” Trent explains.

Duncan moans.

“Ok… Then go…” Trent snaps his fingers.

Duncan sits up instantly and stares directly at Trent. He smiles and growls.

“Look at you. Little Princess. You think you can beat me?” Duncan sneers.

Trent stands up. “Psh, you’re all talk…” He laughs.

“Oh yeah. Then let’s see how you like this?” Duncan aims a punch directly for Trents face, but when he touches his face, it’s no more than a slight touch. Duncan backs up.

“You’re sturdy…” He mutters.

“Wanna try that again?” He asks

“Grr TAKE THIS!!!” Duncan runs up to him and grabs him around the arms. He attempts to lift Trent up, but fails miserably.

Trent just laughs and flicks Duncan’s nose. Duncan backs up and covers his nose in pain.

“Dude what the fuck?! How did you do that?” He says rubbing his nose.

“Just luck I guess.” Trent slaps Duncan’s back and he collapses to the ground writing in pain.

“OK DUDE I SURRENDER!! PLEASE JUST STOP!!!” Duncan screams.

Trent pulls Duncan’s legs over his shoulders and Duncan writhes in pain.

“Say it!” Trent snaps

“Say what?” Duncan whimpers.

“Say you’re a princess…” He tugs on his leg.

Duncan winces hard. “GAAAH! Fine! I’m a Princess! I’m a pretty little bitch princess.”

“Why couldn’t Mario find you?”

“I was in another castle! Obviously!”

“And what we’re you doing there?”

“Probably getting fucked by You.” He laughs.

Trent stands there silent for a moment as he drops Duncan lies on the ground writhing.

“I surrender.” He mumbles.

Duncan’s pain vanishes and he quietly gets up and turns to Trent.

“You ok dude?” He asks

“Why did you say I was getting fucked by you? Why the fuck would you say that?” He growls.

“Dude, I just think your hot. I’m not tryna make you mad. If anything, I think you’d make a great top!” Duncan laughs.

Trent just sighs. “Sleep…”

Duncan falls forward and collapses into Trents arms. Trent quietly sits him on the floor and sits next to him thinking.

Did he really mean that? Trent thinks

He looks over at Duncan, who’s drooling on the floor and looking spaces out. Trent quietly contemplates for a moment before realizing his final trick. The thing he would do for Chris’s competition.

“Alright Duncan, can you hear me?” Trent asks.

“Mm…” Duncan quietly mumbles.

“Great then here’s what we’re gonna do.”

(Time skip to the end of the competition ton)

“Aaaaaand Times Up!” Chris blows his air horn. “Let’s see what we got now!”

“Duncan was right! You’re bullshitting McLain!” Gwen snaps.

“None of that stuff worked! All of the tools were fake!” Leshawna explains.

“Yeah! And I should know! I know what Hypnosis stuff looks like!” Izzy shouts.

“Really? It was supposedly real when I bought it online.” Chris says nervously.

“Yeah well I can guarantee that not a single one of us completed the challenge.” Bridgette snaps

“Actually I did!” Trent raised his hand.

Everyone turns to look at him in surprise.

“You can’t be serious…” Heather says tiredly.

“I am! And I have proof!” Trent quietly walks down the steps, a small figure crouches down behind him.

“Is that…” Gwen attempts to peak around.

Trent calls the small figure. “Come on, don’t be shy…”

The figure crawls quietly to Trents feet and reveals itself to be Duncan, but he’s different. His usual green Mohawk, now he had his air in a sort of wild style, kind of slicked back, but with a bit of a tip. But that was the least of the Changes. He was completely naked except for a pair of black ears and a large black tail stuck into his ass. And he had a collar with a bone collared name tag on it saying “Damian” attached to a leash that Trent was holding.

“No way…” Izzy says shocked.

“His name is Damian now. He’s a cutie aint he?” He says scratching Damian behind the ears. Damian pants in happiness.

“This isn’t real…” Heather says laughing.

“It is. I Hypnoed him to be a good boy. I taught him a couple tricks while I had the time.” Trent explains.

He points to in front of him and Damian walks up and “stands” on all fours in front of Trent.

“Sit…”

Damian sits like a dog looking at Trent expectantly.

“Roll over.”

Damian lies down then rolls onto his back, then rolls back onto his stomach and sits up.

“Speak!”

Damian barks.

“Wag your tail!”

Damian sticks his butt up in the air, and begins wagging his fake tail. Damian looks at Trent happily.

“Good boy!”

Trent pulls a cookie out of his pocket and dangles it in front of Damian. Damian grabs it and begins munching on the cookie. Once he’s finished, Trent pulls out a large beef bone and hands it to Damian. Damian takes it in his mouth and quietly circles around Trent before lying at his feet and viciously chewing on the bone.

“This is insane!” Owen looks in shock.

“HES SO CUTE!!!” Lindsay squeals.

“Oh how the tables have turned…” Heather smirks.

Chris looks at Trent in shock. He regains his composure and smiles at Trent. “Well then! Congratulations, Trent! You have won immunity!” Chris announces.

“And Damian, he’s my dog, after all.” Trent reaches down and scratches Damian behind the ears again. Damian whines in happiness.

“Ugh… Fine! Damian gets Immunity too… You have to change him back by the end of the week though!” Chris adds.

“Yeah yeah…” Trent waves it off.

(One week later, after Eva is eliminated)

Trent walks up to Damian, who had been quietly sleeping under Trents bunk. He ques for Damian to come out and Damian shuffles out and quietly waits for Trents command.

“Alright welp its time for you to go back to normal…”

Damian frowns and cries at Trent.

“I know I know… But Chris said it’s the requirement…” Trent says petting Damian.

Reluctantly, Damian sits back in normal position.

“Goodbye for now Damian…”

Damian barks one more time and nuzzles into Trents hand.

“And sleep…”

Duncan’s eyes roll over and he returns to sleep mode.

“Alright Duncan, I want you to take all the memories of you as Damian and tuck them safely away. It’ll be there, but you can’t open it unless I ask you to. Ok?” Trent explains.

Duncan mumbles what sounded like a yes.

“And other than that, when I snap my fingers, you will wake up as your Normal self, with all the memories of what you did. Ok?” Trent asks

Duncan nods.

“Ok, and go.” Trent snaps his fingers.

Duncan’s eyes snap back to reality and he looks at Trent in disgust.

“The fuck is up with-“ He stops as his memories come in “OH FUCK YOU!!!” Duncan gets up and lightly shoved Trent. Trent laughs.

“Yup! I got you!” Trent says.

“Oh god! How the fuck did That work?” Duncan asks

“Honestly? I just kinda got lucky! But I wasn’t wasting a golden opportune moment like this!” Trent laughs.

“Tch, whatever.” Duncan crosses his arms. But shockingly his expression softens.

“Hey… about that Damian thing…” He mumbles.

“What about it?” I ask strangely.

“Do you think you could do it again sometime…” He asks quietly.

Trent looks at him surprised “You’re not serious?!” Trent says shocked.

“Yes I am. I kinda like being Damian. I know I act like a bad boy all the time but, to be Damian would be like having just… a lay off of that I guess…” Duncan mumbles.

Trent seems to think for a moment, before nodding and reaching his hand out towards Duncan. “Deal!”

Duncan grasps his hand and shakes it. “Thanks.”

Duncan begins quietly walking out when Trent stops him.

“Aren’t you gonna put on clothes?” Trent laughs.

Duncan looks back at him and smirks.

“Dogs don’t wear clothes”

(END)

[platonic-prompts]

Creatures from Folklore: Slavic Region A-D

You ever need different creatures to base things off of, or just want some legends for a setting? Or heck, you ever just want to chuck a creature at someone and say you’ll figure it out? Well, do I have the posts for you. This one will focus on the Slavic Region but I’ll make more at a later date

Ala are considered to be demons of bad weather in several folklore, including that of Bulgarians, Macedonians, and Serbs. Their main purpose is to lead thunderclouds that produce hail towards fields, vineyards, or orchards to either destroy the crops or to loot and take them. They are very voracious and really like to eat children. Though one shouldn’t assume they limit their tastes to Earth, no. They sometimes try to devour the sun and moon which lead to eclipses and if they succeed it means the end of the world. People who encounter one may find their mental and physical health as well as their lives at risk. It is, however, possibly to gain her favor by approaching with trust and respect. These good relationships can be very beneficial since she (the ala) can make those with her favor wealthy and save their lives if they are in danger. Ala can take on many different forms: black wind, giant creatures with no distinct form, a monster either humanlike or snake like witha  huge mouth, a female dragon, a raven, various human and animal shapes. Ala can also possess people’s bodies. They live in the clouds or in lakes, springs, hidden remote places as well as caves, inhospitable mountains, forests, or even a huge tree. Usually hostile towards humans, they have powerful enemies capable of defeating them like the dragons.

Alkanost have an incredible voice, capable of making anyone who hears her song might forget everything in their search for paradise. A creature of good who resides in the garden of the gods or whatever version of heaven required, the alkanost has the head and bust of a woman and the rest of the body is that of a bird. Sometimes this creature lays eggs which assist in the changing of winter to spring. Basically she wouldn’t sit on her eggs just dump them into the Ocean-Sea and when they reached the bottom the weather would turn fair. Though i think that takes her out of the running for parenting awards.

Anchutka is a small malevolent spirit, residing most often in water or a swamp. Even without wings, it is capable of flight. One of its nicknames is the one without heels. This is a common theme to look for, as oftentimes evil forces have a limp. Though in some storied this spirit has lost their heels because they got bitten off by a wolf. This spirit is often a sidekick to a water spirit called Vodyanoy, and as such you should never say its name aloud since it will always show up.

Aspid, a type of dragon with a beak and other birdlike elements, resides primarily in the mountains, preferring solitude. When it invades a region, nearly always it caused universal devastation.

Baba Yaga: I’m pretty sure a lot of people know about Baba Yaga, the witch who lives in a hut with chicken legs and goes around in a mortar and pestle. She does carry a broom though, but she only uses it to sweep away her tracks.

Bannik is a spirit who rarely does any good for anyone. A mischievous spirit that has the appearance of an old man with long claws, he’s a spirit that inhabits the banya (steamhouse). Whenever people bathed in the banya, they would always leave on the third or fourth session to let Bannik have his privacy. They would leave him offerings of soup and regularly thank him. Bannik had the power to tell the future and if asked a question he would softly touch the askers back if it was a good future or flay it if it was a not so good future. Oh and Bannik, when angry, would claw off the skin of those who annoyed him. The banya was also the place of Russian childbirth, so there were measures taken to keep him from interfering. Part of the midwife’s job was to keep him away. And with good reason. Legends say that he ate or flayed children. So therefore the midwife would dip stones in the water and throw them in the corner to distract the steamhouse spirit.

Bauk hide in dark places and holes and abandoned houses. There they wait to grab, take away, and devour their victims. They have a clumsy gait and can be scared away by light and noise.

Babay, possibly the same thing as the bubak, isn’t often described so children will come up with what is most terrible for them. But despite this, Baby has been described as a black and crooked old man. When he is descibed he tends to have some traits such as muteness, lacking arms, or walking with a limp. He carries with him a bag and a cane. Baby lives in a forest or a swamp or a garden only to come out at night to walk the streets and scoop up the children he meets. He will walk close to windows and watched the children sleep. If they aren’t he’ll scare them with noises. Or sometimes he even hides under kids beds to take them away if they get up.

Błędnica is a forest demoness, who leads people astray before leaving her victims alone in the midst of the forest to die of starvation or be eaten by animals. She is usually described as a young and pretty girl. The only way to chase her away is to use strong spells or to sacrifice something at home or during your hunt.

Blud is a fairy in Slavic mythology. An evil deity who causes disorientation and leads a person around and around aimlessly.

Bukavac lives in lakes and pools, coming out at night to make a loud noise. A six-legged monster with gnarled horns, it would jump people and animals and strangle them.

Bubak is often represented as a scarecrow with a skeleton as frame, which is connected with darkness, it is a type of boogeymen used to scare children. The skeleton often is describes as wearing a heavy black coat where it hides the children it steals.

Cikavac, a mythical creature from Serbian mythology and it kinda feels like a basilisk but way weirder. This thing is a bird that has a long beak and a pelican-like sack. You can acquire one at the low low price of your sanity and clear face. For you see, in order to get one, you need to take an egg from a black hen which a woman now needs to carry under her armpit for 40 days ( is now a good time to note that chicken eggs hatch after 21 days or so) and one cannot confess, cut nails, wash their face, or pray. After that the cikavac would suck the honey from other people’s beehives and suck milk from other peoples cows and then bring it back to their owner. It would fulfill its owner’s wishes and it would allow its owner to understand the animal language.

Chort, a demon or a humanlike spirit in Slavic folk tradition.  They are not exactly evil characters. Yes they try to trick people into selling them their souls in exchange for useless gifts. Yes those people are carried off into hell. But they are sometimes tricked into doing such things as building castle walls in a day. Sometimes is depicted as trying to bring evil characters to hell. A small, hairy man with a tail, horns, and one or two hooves. But due to shapeshifting abilities, the chort is able to appear in nicer forms and tries to trick people while in them. Though these transformations aren’t and can’t be complete, so there’s a way to know if one is dealing with a chort whether it be by small horns in curly black hair or a hoofed leg hidden within high boots. Though they share similarities, a chort is not the devil.

Čuma, aka kuga, is a personification of the plague in Serbo-Croation myths. Typically appears as an old woman wearing white, though in some cases has been depicted as a young woman. Direct mention of them were avoided and were usually referred to by godmother or aunty. According to belief, they lived in a far away land where they came from to infect people. Due to their hatred of dirtiness, if they found a dirty household they would be eager to infect it. Due to this, if a plague appeared,every house and its occupants must be thoroughly cleansed. In addition one could make offerings to of food, clean water, basil, and a comb.

Domovoi are household protectors, generally seen as kind spirits though they would harass the family they protect if said family was rude or unclean. This usually took the form of pulling small pranks until the family corrected their behavior. While domovoi are shape shifters, most depictions show them as small, bearded masculine creatures which are reminiscent of hobgoblins. In order to complete his chores and to fulfill his duty of protecting the house, the domovoi would assume the shape of the head of the household, sometimes working in the yard while the real head of household was asleep. (Guess spirits don’t have to worry about identity theft charges). They were also capable of turning into animals, rarely taking the form of a dog or a cat. Another facet of the domovoi was their ability to act as an oracle. Predictions are as follows

Dancing and laughing= Good fortune would come

Rubbed the bristles of a comb= a wedding would happen soon

Extinguished candles= Misfortune would fall upon the household.

Dziwożona, a type of female swamp demon from Slavic mythology, sometimes called Mamuna or Bognika, who lived in the thickets near rivers and streams and lakes. Thought to appear with foul weather around trees and swamps, they are known for being malicious and dangerous, and usually were previously living humans. Several types of people would be at risk of turning into one after death, such as: midwives, old maids, unmarried mothers, pregnant women who die before giving birth, and abandoned children who were born out of wedlock. Some depictions include an ugly, old woman who had a hairy body, long straight hair, and I quote “breasts so huge she uses them to wash her clothes”. I don’t know what that actually means and I don’t want to find out. She also wore a red hat with a fern twig attached. In case she wasn’t weird enough, she’d watch women with their little children.  Just chilling around making the kid sick and making schemes to get the mother away from the kid when she’d replace the kid with one of her own, a foundling/changeling.

[matoitech]

my hcs for galo and lios families like pre prmr in early childhood (or beyond, depending) r mostly vague but generally i go w single moms for like, every parent hc for things so heres some Brain Canons Ideas

galos family was his mom and grandfather, dads out of the picture we dont talk abt him. his mom looks a lot like him like she definitely has a mohawk and muscles also shes bisexual bc i think it would be cool of her. moms side of the families japanese and his grandfather may have been either a firefighter or historian cuz i like to think galo got the interest from somewhere and inferno kind of implies it anyway

two hcs for lios mom!

FIRST HC is that he was raised by his bio mom who was the mad burnish boss of like the biggest and most powerful mad burnish group, cuz i imagine there were probably multiple who went by the name each w slightly dif goals and ideologies. she has super powerful fire and a very dramatic taste in clothes

she was around for the great world blaze and prob had a traumatic burnish awakening like almost everyone on the planet and joined mad burnish p much right away; mad burnish was more easily locatable then; not rly in hiding quite yet bc it was before the real shit started to hit the fan. was good at what she did so she took charge fast

she didnt rly expect 2 have a kid and decided well maybe he’ll succeed me as the boss or something so at least got him ready best she could to lead or be in charge of something(and lio figured shit out on his own in a ‘ways i DONT want to be like my mother’ way) lio was always the Bosses Son there was little community involvement in his childhood cuz the boss is a little scary.. dont wanna get on her bad side.. besides like, babysitting sometimes for missions (i clarify cuz the 2nd hc does involve more joint raising of a kid)

also shes still alive during and after promare but they dont keep in touch lio ditched cuz he does not get along w her and they had a ‘difference in opinion’ in lios words but it was probably like Big Issues like idk maybe abt the burnish dont kill thing lio has going, or just general disagreement abt the way she was handling leading. i dont imagine they ever rly got along well. lio has conflicting feelings abt her. she wasnt a great parent. i cant say she tried her best but she sure was there i guess

i guess lio happened to be at the right place at the right time to save the world and also just b Around promepolis so he was referred to as the most powerful burnish but his mom is out there.. somewhere..

she looks like lalaco godspeed but blonde in leather and with more clothes but she has a cape bc she thinks they look cool. and shes right. also if she was in promare 2 she’d probably be the antagonist. shes not evil like the promare 1 villain or smth she just seems like she’d b a fun villain and give lio Parental Drama. sucks for him but good for tv

SECOND HC is that lio had some sort of separation from his bio parents after he turned burnish that he doesnt talk about and either found himself or was found by and basically adopted by the boss of one of the mad burnish groups, so yet another single mom except this ones more chill and nicer. to him anyway. she is not chill internally. shes more leniant on the burnish dont kill thing than lio will b later on in his life, since she has killed and will again if necessary but makes more of an effort to not be as blatant about it in front of the kids as lio mom #1

more community raising going on in this since various other members of the mad burnish of his moms girlfriends would help take care of him n raise him. lio learned a lot from them. he sure liked these ppl more than his bio parents. idk it was a shit situation for everyone bc theyre like, on the run, and scapegoated by everyone and the government, but they tried to feign making the best of it for lio when he was younger. lios mom gave it to him straight tho but in like a way u would respect from a parent. she has seen some shit unfortunately, also does not believe shes a good person bc of the shit shes had to do but shes doing the best she can w what shes got. 

im projecting wanting a good parent onto her can u tell

shes no longer alive by the time of promare, idk when she was killed or died (prob killed tbh). lio was obviously rly fucked up over this but was like no no emotions bc hes had to deal w a lot of rly horrible shit before and left the group a short while after that and kinda wandered and did shit on his own for a while, helped ppl out when he could. made up his mind and went to find the mad burnish near promepolis where a lot of the biggest issues were located and where freeze force came from. depending on where u think promepolis is located this either took a while or was fast

im tired these r just some ideas ive tossed around when entertaining backstories n they r not all of them. by far. a lot of its inspired by other ppls ideas which is why u have more extensive lio parent hcs, cuz ppl talk abt his backstory ideas more.

[spockina]

playin' games (with my heart)

ok, so. i wrote this for day 4 of buddie's first kiss week (which was on a dare). but the thing is: i hated it. the more i looked at it, the more i hated it. i don't know why. but it's friday night and i'm home alone in the middle of quarantine wishing i were, in fact, as drunk as most of these people are. this is not what i usually write, so i’m nervy, but here. have it anyway

title is from the bsb song w the same name. it doesn't have anything to do with the story but i hate having to figure out titles

3.5k words / truth or dare / read on ao3

-

The night is young, awfully so. Eddie doesn’t remember ever feeling this young, being this young.

Tonight, he is.

He’s got a drink in hand. He doesn’t know what it is, who put it there. But he’s got it, and he downs it in one fluid motion, enjoying the burn, and laughing to himself; it wasn’t even a shot.

He’s not entirely sure what brought them all here, if he’s being honest. Well, he knows. It was just dinner at Bobby and Athena’s, as they try to do at least once a month. What he means is: he’s not sure how they ended up having a party. It wasn’t supposed to be a party, if he remembers correctly. But suddenly, Harry was off to see his grandparents for the week, Denny had a sleepover and Karen’s mom wanted to have Nia for a little bit, Christopher begged to go to Pepa’s house where his cousins would be for the weekend. May has been in college for six months now, Maddie still has two months to go before the baby comes. It’s adults only.

It’s almost like they all forgot what that was supposed to feel like.

His vision is just a little bit blurry at the edges, his limbs loose in a way they haven’t been in a long time. He feels good, comfortable.

There’s some kind of pop music Eddie doesn’t know playing loudly, Athena, Bobby, Hen and Chimney are dancing in the middle of the living room, Maddie and Karen watching and laughing. Michael, his boyfriend, and Buck are in the middle of some intense conversation on the other side of the room.

Eddie loves them all.

The laughter that escapes his lips is directed at no one; there isn’t even anything funny happening, he’s just… feeling good. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

Buck sidles up to him, out of nowhere, offers him a beer. He takes it, nods his thanks.

“Whatcha laughing at?” He asks. “You look goofy.”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know, actually,” and that sets him off again.

“I think you’re drunk, buddy,” Buck says, but Eddie can tell he’s not that far behind. “‘M not judging!” Buck hurries to add. “Just pointing it out.”

They look at each other for a second, sipping their beers.

Buck’s cheeks are flushed, alcohol working hard against his white skin, making his eyes stand out. He’s beautiful. It’s not the first time the thought has crossed Eddie’s mind. It’s not the first time they’re drunk together, either, but Eddie always makes sure to stay in line, not let his thoughts wander. It’s a little harder when Buck has unbuttoned his black shirt and rolled up the sleeves, tight tank top under it, allowing Eddie to see the flush going down his neck and into his chest; his long legs in some tight pants that Eddie is pointedly not looking at. Eddie can feel Buck’s stare almost like a physical force pushing into his skin, and he has to look away for a second.

“Hey, yo!” Michael yells out, trying to be louder than the music. He fails at that, but succeeds at breaking the moment he was having with Buck, and Eddie’s thankful (and just a little sad about it). Michael still gets everyone’s attention even though the music is louder. “We should be playing party games.”

“Ooh, how ‘bout some truth or dare?” Athena suggests, and Eddie was not expecting that.

“If everyone promises no hard feelings, no matter what happens,” Bobby adds, always awfully reasonable.

“I suggest someone finds fun Bobby so we can play some party games!,” Buck yells back, and everyone cheers.

“Hey,” Eddie quips, “we’re all adults, huh? I’m sure we can work something out.”

“I’m extremely sober,” Maddie says, laughter in her voice, “and I promise you guys I’m gonna have so much fun!”

“As long as you’re happy, baby,” Chim says, and Eddie smiles, so big it hurts.

It feels good to let go, not to worry about Christopher, knowing he’s in good hands, and not to worry about Buck, because he can see him at all time. It feels good to watch his friends having fun, being reckless in a good way.

For the first time in a long, long while, Eddie feels no guilt. No guilt about having someone else taking care of Christopher, no guilt about having fun, being drunk, letting loose; no guilt about looking at Buck and thinking about how fucking hot he looks.

Buck has a tequila bottle in one hand, and a bunch of plastic shot glasses stacked in his other hand.

“Help me out here, Eddie, c’mon,” he says, handing Eddie the bottle, while he passes everyone the tiny cups. “Sorry, Maddie, you don’t get any. Sucks to be you.”

“Thanks, asshole, I’m pregnant.”

“Which is why you don’t get any!”

“Oh, I get plenty,” she says with a wink at Chim, teasing, and Buck scrunches up his face, yelling gross, Maddie!, and she laughs, throwing her head back, while Chim laughs on the other side of the room.

Eddie pours everyone a shot.

“Ok,” Buck says, “everyone ready? On three! One… Two… Three!”

They all drink, and in the end agree to play some Frankenstein’s monster of a game: truth or dare, choosing truth and refusing to answer means taking a shot; choosing dare and refusing to do it means taking two shots – Bobby declares he won’t be refusing anything, to which Athena replies: “Don’t worry, we’ll come up with something equally as humiliating for you”. Being an asshole means everyone can gang up on you. They’re all adults, all car keys have been confiscated. Nothing is off limits. Maddie gets to be the judge of everything.

“Playing sober while pregnant sucks, my friends,” she reasons and, well, she’s right.

They sit in a circle, because they’re mostly drunk and it’s fun. Athena, Bobby, Michael, his boyfriend, Chimney, Hen, Karen, Eddie and Buck.

Their knees are touching, and Eddie feel like a schoolboy, but he can’t concentrate on anything else besides that.

“Ok,” Maddie says. “Chimney’s starting because I’m the judge and I say so! Spin the bottle, baby!”

Chimney rubs his hands and spins. It lands on Hen.

“Henrietta, my love! Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

He smirks. “Who’s your best friend? Me or Athena?”

There’s a chorus of whoa going around, everyone laughing. Hen looks pained.

“No. No, I can’t, pass me that bottle,” she says, dejected, which only makes everyone laugh more.

Hen spins, then, and it lands on Michael.

“Dare,” he says, before she can even ask.

Hen smirks.

“I want you to give Bobby a kiss.”

Buck chokes on nothing, which makes everyone laugh. Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s knee, trying to steady him for a second.

Michael looks at his boyfriend, looks at Athena. Looks at Bobby. His boyfriend nods, playful smile on his lips.

“Go on, boys,” Athena says, a tone to her voice that no one can identify, but they sure can hear. She licks her lips.

Michael nods, goes on his knees. Athena taps Bobby on the knee, and he does the same. It’s mostly a non-kiss. They barely graze each other’s lips before they’re moving back, and Hen, Athena and Chim immediately start booing them.

“Man, y’all suck,” Athena says, but she’s laughing. Bobby’s blush is furious. Buck’s laughter is loud, which gets everyone going.

Michael spins, then. It lands on Karen.

“So?”

“Dare.”

“Give Hen a lap dance,” he says, and he looks incredibly pleased with himself.

“Damn,” Eddie says, and notices his hand is still on Buck’s thigh. He picks up his beer just for a reason to move his hand away, to quit being a creep.

“Whose phone is playing the music?” Karen asks, and she doesn’t look shy at all. She changes the song to something with a low bass, and when Hen sits on the chair, as they all turn to watch, she puts on a show.

“Damn, Karen, my girl!” Athena yells, as Michael wolf-whistles, and everyone laughs.

“God, babe, you’re good,” Hen says, and they kiss.

Everyone sits back down at their original spots.

“Michael, you just had the best idea,” Chim says. He sounds like he’s plotting something. Eddie has the feeling he doesn’t want to know.

Karen spins, and it lands on Chimney.

“Truth.”

“Ok.” Karen looks serious, takes a deep breath. “Chimney. Is it a boy or a girl?”

Everyone explodes in laughter. Maddie, above them on the couch, starts yelling:

“Overruled, overruled!”

“Sorry, Karen, guess I’ll have to take a shot.” He does.

“You’re all super funny,” Maddie says. “Ha-ha.”

Karen blows her a kiss.

“Ok, my turn,” Chim says, and spins. It lands on Eddie.

Chimney slips on a poker face immediately.

“Edmundo. Truth or dare?”

Eddie wants to say truth, he does.

“Dare.”

Chim smirks.

“I want you to sit tight through a lap dance. From Buck.”

Buck chokes. Again.

“How is that my dare?” Eddie asks, but he knows as soon as he says the words that it’s the wrong thing to say.

“You know why this dare is for you, Eddie,” Chimney replies, which. Fair. Everyone knows, probably. Eddie’s suddenly drunker than he’s ever been in his entire life.

Chaos descends. Everyone is laughing, or making some snarky remark Eddie is pointedly ignoring.

“Buck.” Bobby says, low in the middle of the noise, but Eddie still catches it. “Are you ok?”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he grabs the tequila bottle and takes a shot, then another one.

“Alright, Eddie,” he says, “move your ass to the chair.” He turns to Athena, making grabby hands. “Phone.”

Suddenly, everyone’s quiet.

Eddie’s sitting on the chair, and Buck, already taller than him when they’re both standing up straight, is looming in front of him, looking impossibly tall, impossibly broad, impossibly big. Buck shouldn’t even be possible. Eddie is sure Buck is a fever dream he’s having; that’s the only possible explanation to this moment.

God, Eddie is so screwed.

The song starts, and it’s probably not what any of them expected, but it is, somehow, exactly something Buck would pull up.

He cracks his neck, looking down at Eddie. This is another person. This is another Buck, in an alternate universe, where he looks at Eddie like he wants to eat him whole. He’s so damn big.

He starts moving, and Eddie knows he isn’t the only one surprised by just how not gangly he is. He’s never gangly, in life, but Eddie wasn’t expecting him to be able to move his hips like that. He’s not looking at anyone, can’t possibly tear his eyes away from Buck’s body, but he knows everyone’s thinking the same.

Who is this man?

He moves, his hips swaying as he goes, until he’s behind Eddie. He goes down, his hands moving slowly from Eddie’s shoulders, down the length of his arms, and back up. He keeps going, until his hands are on both sides of Eddie’s head, and then he’s tipping it back, making Eddie look at him, upside down. He winks. Eddie’s breath catches. Oh, God.

He moves in front of Eddie again, and starts coming close. Eddie hopes he won’t come any closer, that’s dangerous, but of course Buck does. Of course, Buck pretty much sits on Eddie’s lap, moving his long legs on either side of Eddie’s. Of fucking course, Buck moves his hips. Never learned a thing about control, huh?

He takes Eddie’s hands, places them low on his belly, holding onto Eddie’s wrists, and makes them move up, up, up, until Eddie gets the memo and starts pushing Buck’s shirt off of his shoulders until it falls to the floor.

Somewhere, distant in Eddie’s mind, he thinks about the fact that he can’t hear shit save for the song, loud around them. Their friends are almost annoyingly quiet after all that noise. But, then again, Eddie gets it. Buck’s putting on a show.

And, frankly, the whole thing is going fine. Is Eddie currently sporting a hard-on while Buck is in his lap? Sure. But that was par for the course, right? That was exactly what Chimney was hoping would happen. So, yeah, Eddie is doing fine. He is.

Right until Buck sinks his head to Eddie’s neck and licks a wet, wet stripe up to his ear.

Eddie, who was being a good boy up until now and was keeping his hands to himself, is only human, and cannot help himself as his hands shot up to hold onto Buck’s thighs, hard.

The song ends. Buck stills where he is, and presses a kiss behind Eddie’s ear, where his face is still tucked against Eddie’s neck, and moves up slowly, giving Eddie a second to breath.

Hen’s the first to break.

“Holy shit, Buckaroo! Whew, I’m hot over here, baby, and I don’t even like whatchu got!”

Buck laughs, ducks his head, a blush spreading hard down his neck.

“How you holding up there, Eddie?” Chimney says, teasing, and Maddie throws a cushion at him. “Ow, babe!”

“Shut up, Chim,” she says. Eddie’s thankful.

The music goes back to whatever it was before, and Eddie moves back to his spot quick, grabbing Buck’s shirt of the floor, balling it up, and placing it on his lap. A guy has modesty. Chim won’t stop looking at him, a knowing smirk on his lips – but hey. It’s not like no one else was watching. Everyone knows. Whatever.

He takes a shot of tequila, just for good measure. Then he spins. It lands on Athena.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth for a change, I guess; we need to stay alive.”

He laughs. “Ok. Tell us one thing Bobby would not like for you to tell us.”

Buck’s laughter is the only thing he can hear.

“Oh, Eddie, risky!”

Athena’s face is the look of mischief. “Sometimes my husband over here wants to wear socks to bed, if you catch my meaning,” she wiggles her eyebrows, looks around at everyone. “I don’t let him, of course.”

This just might be the loudest everyone’s laughed so far.

“Hey, I’m old, ok? A guy gets cold,” Bobby tries to go for nonchalant, but his cheeks are almost neon red.

“I’ll tell you guys,” Maddie starts, and Chimney immediately starts groaning. “Mr. Chimney has tried that once or twice on me. Stay strong, Athena!”

They laugh, and Athena spins. It lands on Eddie, but Maddie stops them.

“Nah, he just went, let the guy breathe. Spin again.”

It lands on Karen this time.

“Truth or dare, babe?”

“Truth.”

“Who’s your favorite? Michael or me?”

“You guys really need to quit the favorite thing,” Maddie complains from the couch, while Karen laughs.

“Nah, sis, Imma have a shot,” she says, and does.

She spins, and it lands on Buck.

“Alright, Buck! Truth or dare?”

Buck smirks. “Dare.”

Karen looks at Chimney. They smirk at each other.

“Brave, brave boy,” she says. “Take a shot, Buck.”

He looks confused. “Is that the dare?”

“Take the shot.”

He’s still confused, Eddie can see, but he does as he’s told.

“Good boy, Buck. Ready?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the p at the end.

“Seven minutes in heaven. You and Eddie.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to choke.

It feels as though someone hit the slow-motion button on the universe’s remote. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, can hear as everyone cheers and groans and laughs around them. When he’s able to focus again, Buck is already standing up and he’s offering one hand down to Eddie.

Taking it is both the easiest and riskiest thing Eddie could do tonight.

This has to be a fever dream, right? There’s no way this is happening to Eddie. They’re all adults. All drunk out of their minds, playing a stupid game of truth or dare. There’s no way this is happening.

But, hey. If this is a fever dream, then might as well take the chance while he has it. If he’s hallucinating, then there’ll be no consequences.

He takes Buck’s hand.

Karen and Chimney high five.

Eddie can hear as Athena yells “just go in the bathroom”, but Buck was already one step ahead of her. He locks the door and turns off the light, as dictate seven minutes in heaven rules.

They’re quiet, but they’re breathing heavy. Eddie has his back against the wall, and he’s reminded, yet again, of just how damn big Buck is, especially when he’s all up in Eddie’s space like this, when his hands are bracketing Eddie’s head, keeping him in place.

“Hi,” Buck says, and Eddie can hear the smile in his voice.

“Hi,” he replies, and he hates how breathless he sounds, but the only thing he can think of is the time they’re wasting. Seven minutes. Maybe the only seven minutes with Buck he’ll ever get. The clock is ticking.

“Is it ok, Eddie? We don’t have to do this.” He sounds careful, and Eddie hates it. He hates it when Buck’s careful with him, but what he hates more is the hesitation; hates that maybe Buck doesn’t want this, and that they’ve been forced into this situation by their pushy friends. He feels suddenly sober and he doesn’t like it.

“We don’t have to, Buck. It’s fine if you don’t want to. We’ll be fine.” He can’t help how dry his voice goes, how he sounds like he just lost something. He feels like he has.

There’s a pause. He can feel Buck moving, and suddenly there are big (thick, strong) hands around his jaw and cheeks, and Buck’s entire body is pressed against his, hot like a furnace.

“Oh, Eddie, I want it.”

And then he’s kissing Eddie, hard, his tongue pushing its way into Eddie’s mouth like it has a right to it, and, boy, Eddie is drunk.

Buck keeps his relentless assault on Eddie’s mouth as his hands move down, one settling on Eddie’s waist, and another going lower to grab a handful of his thigh, and Eddie, well. He’d be embarrassed, in any other circumstances, but right now all he can do is let out a small groan that still makes its way out despite their kiss, and Buck pulls away for a minute to laugh. Eddie is about to protest, except that Buck latches onto his neck next, and oh, oh, my God, this is embarrassing, but Eddie is painfully hard in his pants.

He moves one of his hands up where he can’t get a good tangle in Buck’s hair, because it’s so short (and ain’t that a shame?), but he can scrape his short nails against Buck’s scalp and the back of his neck. He learns that that does something, because Buck’s roughly shoving a leg in between Eddie’s, and suddenly there’s the amazing friction that Eddie so desperately wanted. He croaks out a broken get back up here, because he needs Buck’s tongue against his again, right now, or else he’s pretty sure he’s going to die.

He feels like the teenager he never really had the time to be. It’s intoxicating.

Buck’s hands are inside his shirt, moving up so, so slowly, when there’s a knock on the door and the spell breaks.

“Fuck,” Buck says, so heartfelt that it makes Eddie snort.

“Time’s up, boys,” Bobby says on the other side.

Buck squeezes his waist.

“Be right there,” he rasps out, and he sounds good.

Eddie knows he’ll never recover from this.

“We’re finishing this later, right?” Buck asks, and he sounds hopeful. Eddie knows this is their make-or-break moment.

“Come sleep over,” Eddie says, and before he can think, Buck’s kissing him again, hard, happy, smiling against Eddie’s lips.

“Every night, Eddie.” Another kiss. “Every night.”

They stumble out of the bathroom, shielding their eyes from the lights after the darkness inside. Everyone’s quiet for a moment, until Chim says:

“Damn, Eddie, sure you guys were making out and not that Buck was punching you on the neck?”

They all start laughing, and Eddie knows he’s blushing, but Buck hugs him, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck, as he says I’m sorry, and Eddie decides he doesn’t care. He starts laughing with them, because, really, this whole thing is ridiculous. He moves his hands inside Buck’s shirt, moving them up Buck’s back, and holding on tight.

Eddie feels distant, content to be hiding behind Buck’s body, drunk on the alcohol, but also on the smell of him, and nothing matters, until he hears Athena say:

“Does this mean the game is done?”

“The two of you suck!” Hen says, but she’s laughing.

“They sure will,” Chim adds, to which Eddie has to laugh.

“Congrats, Chim, that’s the first joke!” Buck says, muffled against Eddie, but somehow it still makes its way out and everyone laughs.

Maddie gets up from the couch. “Alright, let’s just go back to everyone having fun,” she says.

And they do.

[radical-rat-lord]

Pinky promise

Word Count: 1,905

Warnings: There’s... cursing.

A young king decides to leave his city in the Scarred Wasteland to find other clans and form alliances as his kingdom had been growing thinner and weaker for years. He stumbles upon a Spiral with an attitude and the two decide to work together.

As the newly crowned king, it was Arzael's duty to remain in his kingdom and look over everything that was happening. And as the newly crowned king, he decided he would not be doing that. Instead, he planned to travel through the Scarred Wasteland on his own. The population in his city had been growing thinner for years—he knew it was time to forge new alliances. His father was too proud to realize it... but now that he was gone, it was the time to take action. It took a few weeks to prepare everything, making sure he had enough food and water, as well as protection against the weather. Arzael’s adviser was strongly against his plan, though they also didn’t dare to stop him, and when it came to the residents... Arzael wanted to be a reasonably transparent king. So he let the city know of his search, promising it won’t be long until his return. Most were anxious... They just lost a king, what if Arzael vanished? Who’d become king then? Arzael had no offspring, not even a mate! It was a very worrisome time, but stopping him was not in their power either—and should he succeed, there was the hope of a better tomorrow. And so, finally, Arzael stepped out of the city and onto the untamed Wasteland. Almost immediately, he was filled with a feeling of loneliness and desolation. But he only allowed himself a moment to adjust to this strange sensation, before taking flight with nothing more but a reassuring glance back. He didn’t plan to travel too far—making alliances with a clan that’s not nearby didn’t make much sense to him—but even getting to neighboring villages, towns, and cities wasn’t a task anyone could take on by themselves in the Scarred Wasteland. The scenery was all the same, or so it seemed. Dreadful. How long had he been flying already? It felt as though it had been an eternity with nothing but rot and devastation meeting his eyes. Frankly, it was what he had expected, yet seeing the endlessness of the Wasteland firsthand was certain to strike awe into even the toughest warrior. It was nauseating. Slowly, the sun began to set and Arzael felt a slight disheartenment. He hadn’t seen a single living being. And with the sun going down, he was preparing to begin searching for a hideout over the night. However, he sucked in a breath as his eyes finally caught movement below him, though naturally, he stayed wary. You never know who you’re facing around here. But this little dragon—a Spiral it seemed—didn’t make a very threatening impression on the large Ridgeback. While Arzael was not one to underestimate a foe by their size, this Spiral kept glancing around and seemed rather anxious in general. Perhaps they’re lost? Arzael approached from above and the Spiral’s brows furrowed as a large shadow appeared above him suddenly. Oh, come on, Rin’haal thought. The Forecast Skydancers didn’t predict any cloudy weather today. Dammit, I was counting on- As he looked above, his eyes grew wide immediately at the sight of a large Ridgeback, who unfortunately was anything but a cloud, and he sucked in a sharp breath—ending up as dinner for a starving giant was not on his to-do list for today. Or ever. Instantly, he sped up, trying to confuse the significantly larger dragon by flying in unpredictable patterns. Arzael huffed audibly and slowly lowered down closer to Rin'haal, who gave a tiny squeak before dropping his strategy of confusion and instead started flying straight ahead as quickly as his wings would take him. Arzael frowned in slight frustration, calling out to the small Spiral in his imperious voice. "Wait!" 'Wait'?! Is this guy for real?? Rin'haal would've scoffed, if he wasn't flying for dear life, looking around for any sort of hideaway—but there was nothing here, nothing but a desert of rot. He would have to get rid of his pursuer in a different way. Arzael slowly caught up to him though and Rin’haal’s movements became more frantic now—he was caught off guard by how agile the enormous Ridgeback was. Somehow, the managed to stay just behind Rin’haal, no matter what the Spiral tried. Maybe he could get rid of him closer to the ground, make him crash somehow. Suddenly, Arzael swung his wings strongly to take a large leap forward, covering the last bit of distance between them and reached out to Rin’haal. Admittedly, he hadn’t thought this action quite through and with a loud thump Rin'haal was pushed down against the ground, giving a startled squeak, and he could immediately feel a large weight pressing down on him. As he opened his eyes again, he was greeted by an incredibly large claw right at his face, hindering his movements significantly. He instinctively tried to seem bigger, spreading his wings against the ground and swinging his tail around with a loud hiss as he glared up at what might be the last face he'd ever see. But said face looked more confused than threatening, really. "Why didn't you wait?" Arzael asked, his voice was deep and had a subtle rumble to it. Rin'haal simply continued glaring. This is clearly a trick, some sick mind game. He's not having it. "Sorry, I wasn't interested in waiting to get eaten," he snapped, "Let me go, I'm barely even a snack for someone like you. Or do you just enjoy murder?!" "Eat you?" Arzael repeats in confusion, shaking his large head at the tiny Spiral squirming under his claw. "I’m not going to hurt you. I want to know where you're from. I am looking to form alliances." Rin'haal's brows furrowed in disbelief. What was this guy even talking about. "What?" he blurted finally, pushing at Arzael's claw and keeping up his distrustful glare. "Alliances? What the fuck are you talking about- and get your damn claw off of me!" "Are you going to run if I do?" "No. But I might fly, dumbass." A slight pout grew on Arzael's face at this gremlin’s attitude, though he did finally lift his large paw and sat down in front of Rin'haal carefully. As he was finally able to move again, Rin'haal shook off some dirt and immediately locked eyes with the Ridgeback again. His glare faded just a bit, though it was still clear as day he trusted Arzael as far as he could throw him. "Okay. If you're really just here to talk, maybe don't attack next time," he huffed, readying himself to take off again if Arzael so much as sneezed. "I did not attack you. I was just flying above you," Arzael responded calmly, though raising an eyebrow at the Spiral. "Well. You're fuckin' scary!" "I apologize." Rin'haal remained quiet for a moment, just watching Arzael with an—almost a bit embarrassed—pout. Thinking about it, the large Ridgeback really did just fly above him, up until the whole chasing anyway. He gave a disgruntled sigh, glancing away. "Okay, well. Sorry for assuming, I guess," he murmured, avoiding Arzael's eyes for another moment before finally daring to lift his head again. "Well?" "Right," Arzael nodded, a small smile growing on his face now. "You see, I've recently been crowned and as a king it is my responsibility to make sure my people are happy and healthy. However, my kingdom has been growing weaker lately and my father was too stubborn to see. I am trying to forge alliances with nearby clans, trade resources and protect each other." Rin'haal listened in lingering disbelief. A king... That guy? He seemed barely older than Rin'haal himself. A young adult, still a bit naive even, clearly. "You're... serious about this, huh?" "Very much so! I think it would be beneficial for both sides. The city I come from is fairly large, I'm sure there’s many things and services of interest to your people," he responded optimistically. "Well," Rin'haal began, glancing away again as he thought. Could he really trust this guy enough? Probably not. But somehow he almost seemed a bit dorky in his serious yet enthusiastic way, which was oddly reassuring. "I-... there's... a reason why I'm a bit more... jumpy, I suppose." For a moment he glanced away, though managed to focus on Arzael again before continuing. "I am actually... a prince myself. But... I ran away. I can't stand all the nonsense I had to endure. And I'm certainly not interested in becoming a king." Arzael stayed quiet as he listened to Rin’haal’s words. He did relate to some degree. Most of the royal lessons he went through were pretty boring and seemed to have little to do with what his people needed, which is why he wants to take action so much more now. He won't be like his father. "You can make change," he finally responded after a moment of thoughtful silence between them. Rin'haal raised an eyebrow quietly. Making change sure sounds like a simple task coming from this guy, but somehow he made it sound doable. Though Rin'haal wasn't just gonna go with the words of an overly enthusiastic, young king. "You make it sound painfully easy," he commented quietly. "Everyone was always around me. I couldn't even breathe without someone making sure I was doing it right. And leaving the town like this? Impossible!" "Well, you're here, aren't you?" Arzael counters with a hint of a smirk on his face. "They told me I had to stay put as well, to watch and be a reassuring presence. But I'm the king now—I don't have to listen to them. And watching over my people won't bring them food and it won't heal the sick." Rin'haal was quiet again, thinking deeply about Arzael's words. He himself wasn't a king yet, he was just a rebellious, frustrated prince. But... making change does sound like a goal worth fighting for. "Hmm... well, admittedly... flying around on my own out here is pretty scary. I'm kinda tired of it. So, how about this..." Rin'haal started, glancing around as if to make sure no one heard. "I'm gonna go back and do my best to get my parents to agree to your alliance. But... in return you have to promise me something." Arzael's heart jumped in excitement, though he stayed focused. "What is it?" "If I don't manage to convince them of this alliance... you have to promise to get me out of there again." "Deal!" Arzael agreed without hesitation. Blinking at the Ridgeback for a moment, Rin'haal couldn’t help but laugh. This guy is something else. He didn't even consider how to go about it before agreeing... but for some reason, Rin'haal has no doubt he'd manage to, even without a plan. "Alright, then..." he murmured, lifting his hand. "Pinky promise?" "Pinky promise!" Arzael responded, lifting his own hand with a toothy grin. Rin'haal blinked at Arzael's enormous claw—it was the size of his own entire head—but after a second, a snort escaped him and he confidently shook Arzael's claw. "Great! Let's go then," Arzael exclaimed as he jump up again, taking a few steps ahead... before looking back at his small friend. "It would be better if you took the lead." Laughing softly, Rin'haal took flight again, waving for Arzael to follow slowly. "This way, big guy. We'll be there in no time..."

[whumphoarder]

Flying Blind

Summary: Tony’s never been one to turn down a mission. Even when he can’t see shit.

Word count: 2,194

Genre: light whump, humor

A/N: Happy birthday @awesomesockes!! Hope you enjoy! Thanks @xxx-cat-xxx & @sallyidss for beta-reading and ideas!

Link to read on Ao3

It starts, as bad things in life so often do, with a series of headaches.

Having been prone to migraines since adolescence, Tony doesn’t think much of them at first. As long as the pain in his head and the slight blur to his vision are content to stay ‘irritating’ rather than ‘debilitating,’ he doesn’t complain. He pops some Advil and chugs a few glasses of water, which doesn’t exactly help, but doesn’t not help either. Pepper’s always harping on him about being chronically dehydrated anyway.

Truth is, headaches are so common for Tony that it takes an embarrassingly long time for a man of his intelligence to connect them with all the squinting he’s been doing lately. Or how he’s having to stand a little further back from his holographic images than usual so that he can make out the letters. Or how he’s had FRIDAY increase his screen font size from eleven to twelve. And then thirteen.

It’s simple: Tony’s going blind.

Well, alright, fine—not blind. But old, which is arguably worse. Vision is the first to go after all, and then it’ll be his six-pack, and his memory, and his hair, and before he knows it he’ll be tuning in every afternoon for a new episode of Jeopardy and soaking his pearly whites in a cup of Polident.

Anyway, that’s why, when Tony realizes he might possibly need glasses, he doesn’t request an appointment with SHIELD’s in-house optometrist, nor does he ask Happy to drive him to the unassuming private office downtown that he contacts instead. He just drives himself—which seems like a fantastic idea until he steps out of the office into the blinding brightness of the spring afternoon to find that he cannot, in fact, see shit.

“Well this sucks,” he mutters, blinking multiple times in an effort to clear his watery, stinging, freshly dilated eyes. His vision is so blurred that he trips over an unexpected half-step and only barely manages to avoid face planting onto the sidewalk. He slips on his high tech sunglasses. “Up the tint by fifty percent,” he commands under his breath. The glasses darken immediately and Tony sighs in relief as the strain on his eyes eases marginally. “Now where’s the damn car?”

A route to the parking lot illuminates before Tony’s eyes. He grunts sharply, squeezing his eyes shut against the flash of pain. “Verbal, FRI!” he hisses. “No visuals, just words.”

“Sorry, boss,” she says, and the lenses revert to dark. “Fifteen paces straight ahead, then a sharp right.” Tony starts moving cautiously forward, eyes focused on what he can make out of the ground. “Would you like me to contact Mr. Hogan or Ms. Potts to pick you up?”

Tony pauses. On one hand, he can barely see—there’s no way he should be driving. But on the other hand, the Audi has so many upgrades and added safety features that it basically drives itself. Not to mention, he’s pretty sure that if he calls Happy or Pepper at the moment, he’s never going to hear the end of this.

“...Or perhaps an Uber?” FRIDAY suggests helpfully.

“Nah,” Tony decides. He taps the housing unit on his chest and the nanotech instantly encases him. “Just keep feeding the meter. I’ll take the Iron Express.”

There’s a hint of disapproval in FRIDAY’s voice. “Given your current condition, I would strongly advise against operating any sort of heavy machinery.”

“That’s why I’m not operating it,” he retorts. “You are.”

“Still, I must caution you—” The AI’s voice cuts out abruptly. “I have just received an urgent incoming message from Captain Rogers,” she informs.

Tony’s heart sinks. There’s only one reason that Steve ever uses the emergency override channel, and it’s definitely not to shoot the breeze. “How bad is it?”

“A wormhole has just opened up over Staten Island. Scronquad are invading as we speak,” she reports. “All the Avengers have been ordered to assemble.”

“Fantastic,” Tony groans. He briefly considers sending an empty suit from the Iron Legion in his stead, but then nixes that idea when he remembers that none of his spare suits have the exact same color scheme as the current model. Steve is nothing if not detail-oriented—probably the artist in him. He’ll notice in a heartbeat.

He heaves out a sigh. “Alright, set the coordinates, FRI.”

“Boss—” the AI begins to protest, but Tony interrupts with, “Override code: 6673.”

FRIDAY goes silent. The helmet materializes around him, the HUD lighting up automatically.

“Gah!” Tony yelps, squeezing his burning eyes shut tightly. “What’d I just say about the lights?” he complains. “No lights!”

“Sorry, boss.” The display goes dark, leaving only a heavily tinted view of the fuzzy world around him.

Tony engages autopilot and blasts off before he has time to change his mind.

X

As far as hostile aliens go, Scronquad are about as annoying as they come. They’re anywhere from eight to twelve feet tall, their scales are a hideous shade of maroon and green, and each one of their ten writhing tentacles oozes a gelatinous slime that somehow manages to smell simultaneously of rotten eggs and expired tuna fish. When they move, there’s an ugly squelching sound as their bodies glide across the ground, similar to the sound of pulling one’s boots out of the mud. They’re nefarious, destructive, repulsive creatures, and never in a million years would Tony have dreamed there’d come a day when he missed seeing their fugly little faces.

First time for everything, he supposes.

“Six o’clock,” FRIDAY chirps. Tony whirls around, head pounding, and catches sight of the blurry outline of a massive purple figure. He fires his repulsor at his best guess of where its head is located and receives a garbled roar of fury in exchange.

“Too low,” FRIDAY corrects. “You’ve taken out his seventh and eighth tentacles.”

“Seventh and— what?” Tony sputters. He fires again, a little higher. “Starting where? He’s a fucking cylinder!”

“Starting at his navel—which is located above his middle eyebrow—and moving clockwise,” FRIDAY clarifies. “Duck, boss.”

Tony drops to the ground a split second before one of the alien’s remaining two-hundred-pound tentacles swings overhead.

“Roll left,” the AI continues. Tony barrel rolls to the side, narrowly missing the appendage’s backhand. “Scronquad at ten o’clock.”

Switching gauntlets, Tony shoots a repulsor beam at the blob approaching on his front left side. The alien blasts backwards. He spins back around and spies another blurry moving purple shape—smaller this time—and instinctively raises his gauntlet towards it.

“Hold fire.” Power to his repulsor instantly cuts out. “That’s Barton, boss,” FRIDAY informs as the figure darts across the street.

“Ah.” Tony winces. “Yeah, good call. That would’ve been a lot of paperwork.”

FRIDAY continues rattling off directions, which Tony follows more or less blindly—firing, charging, and evading as instructed. Every blast of the repulsor results in an explosion of light that shoots daggers of pain through his head. The only thing Tony is seeing at the moment is stars.

Tony keeps the team comms channel playing low in the background under FRIDAY’s verbal directions, and they seem to be making headway. According to Cap’s last update, the wormhole has been closed. Only two of the initial six Scronquad remain, and from the sounds of it, Natasha is close to taking down another.

“Overhead,” FRIDAY warns.

Tony shoots directly upwards, but this time the Scronquad is ready. The repulsor blast ricochets off the protective forcefield that the alien throws up at the last possible second. Tony barely even has time to register what’s happening before he’s blasted backwards and collides with the brick wall of the Wells Fargo office across the street.

Then it’s lights out for real.

X

The next thing Tony is aware of is his helmet being retracted. Then someone is tapping the side of his face and speaking to him. It takes a few seconds before the garbled words clear into intelligible speech.

“...with me? Hey? Tony?” a voice—Steve’s, he thinks—asks worriedly. “Can you open your eyes for us?”

That sounds like a terrible idea to Tony. He expresses this with a low groan of displeasure.

“Anyone have eyes on Banner?” Steve demands.

“I see him—he’s coming down the side street,” Natasha calls back. She sounds further away—maybe a few yards to Tony’s left. “Still looking a little green, though.”

Aw, fuck. Tony hates to bother the guy when he’s coming down off a transformation. He should really say something. Or at least open his eyes. He makes an attempt to flutter his eyelids open, but they seem to weigh at least a thousand pounds each and he only succeeds in letting out a small moan.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be alright, Tony,” Steve reassures, patting his shoulder with a heavy hand. “Bruce is coming now.”

Rapid footsteps approach. “I got him, Steve,” Bruce says, his voice a little ragged. Poor guy. From what Tony heard over the comms, Hulk really put him through the wringer today. But Tony’s sympathy instantly dissolves when the doctor pries his eyelids open and shines a penlight into them, causing fresh pain to explode through Tony’s already throbbing skull.

“Gah! Fuck!” he gasps out, squirming away from Bruce’s fingers and clenching his eyes shut again.

“Both pupils are blown,” Bruce says grimly. “The concussion must be worse than we thought. How far out is the Medevac?”

“ETA seven minutes,” Natasha reports. “But there’s no space to land in the alley here.”

“Should we move him?” Clint suggests.

“No, definitely not,” Bruce answers immediately. “FRIDAY was obviously wrong about the concussion—I don’t trust her assessment that he hasn’t sustained any spinal damage either. We’ll have to wait for a backboard and neck brace.”

Well, that’s totally unnecessary. Sure there’s a goose egg on the back of Tony’s skull somewhere and he definitely got the wind knocked out of him when he fell, but he doesn’t need a whole evac —that’s ridiculous. To prove it, he starts to push himself up, but is quickly stopped by a strong hand on his chest.

“Stay still, Tony,” Steve commands, his voice grave. “Don’t try to move yet—we don’t know how badly you’re hurt.”

“Nah, ‘m fine…” Tony groans. He forces himself to open his eyes again and squints up at his worried looking teammates hovering over him.

“Jesus…” Clint whispers, peering down at Tony from above. “He looks like the dolls in that horror film Lila loves. The one with the creepy mother who replaces everyone’s eyes with black buttons.”

“Coraline?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a children’s movie, Barton.”

Clint shudders. “It was terrifying.”

“Hey, guys? Keep it down, alright?” Steve reprimands. “He’s concussed.”

Tony would roll his eyes if they weren’t currently drilling holes into his skull. “I’m not concussed,” he mutters.

Steve scoffs. “Sure, Tony.”

“I’m not,” Tony insists. He props himself up on his elbows and this time Steve doesn’t stop him. “My eyes are just dilated. It’s not a concussion.”

Bruce’s expression knits into a worried frown. He leans in closer to Tony. “Wait, does that mean you, uh…”—he lowers his voice—“fell off the wagon?”

“What? No!” Tony retorts, sitting up straighter. “I’m not high, and I’m not concussed! I had an eye exam, but I must be allergic to those stupid drops or something because I can’t see shit right now, alright?”

A collective snort of disbelief issues from the little group around him, but Tony just continues to glare at them. Well, it’s more of an annoyed squint, really. Then all at once, they all start talking over one another:

“Are you telling me you just flew a mission blind?!” Steve demands.

“Tony!” Bruce admonishes, looking somehow personally hurt by this. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Nat crosses her arms and fixes him with a blank expression. “That’s insane, even for you.”

Clint scoffs. “Is that why you were briefly planning on barbecuing me back there?”

“Well, you shouldn’t wear purple shirts on Scronquad days!” Tony retorts hotly. “Everyone knows that!”

“Why don’t you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up right now, Stark?” Clint says, making a rather rude gesture.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Steve declares over the squabble. He turns toward Clint and fixes him with a stern look. “Barton, from now on, you need to avoid color coordinating with the homicidal aliens.”

“What?” Clint balks. “You’re taking his side?”

“And as for you,” Steve goes on sharply, glaring straight into Tony’s blown pupils. “No more flying blind.”

Tony snorts. “Isn’t that the whole job?”

Natasha smirks. “He’s got a point there, Cap,” she says, eliciting a small chuckle from Bruce.

Steve looks unamused. He grabs hold of one of Tony’s arms and hoists him to his feet.

The change in elevation does nothing to help Tony’s swimming vision. He blinks several times, feeling suddenly dizzy and sick. “You know, on second thought...” Tony mumbles, swaying a bit. “I might be a bit concussed after all.”

Steve sighs and adjusts his grip to bear more of Tony’s weight. “Alright old man, let’s just get you home…”

Link to all my fics

[popwasabi]

“Picard” S1 Review: Doesn’t boldly go but is nonetheless engaging

Produced by CBS All Access

Starring: Patrick Stewart, Isa Briones, Allison Pill, Michelle Hurd, Santiago Cabrera, Evan Evagora, Harry Treadaway

Many fans had high hopes for “Picard” going into CBS All Access’s continuing voyage into the Star Trek franchise.

Fans wanted to see the lore finally expanded into the future after its previous three ventures (Enterprise, Abrams Trek, and Discovery) took place in the past, bring modern themes and ideas to Star Trek’s futurist’s world view in a way that felt fresh and relevant, but most importantly continue the story of the franchise’s greatest captain; Jean-Luc Picard, of course.

(He’s the best captain. This is not up for debate. Don’t @ me!)

In some ways the new series succeeds at this. We get glimpses of the previously untouched world of Star Trek post “Nemesis,” new themes that are resonant with real world events and exploratory, even critical, of the Federation’s worldview, and of course plenty of Picard himself as he navigates the strange new galaxy he inhabits.

But Picard ultimately misses the mark due to rushed storytelling, half-baked side plots, and just plain poor execution overall. It’s sad because “Picard” and this very talented cast and production team have their moments throughout this first season’s ten episode run but somehow even with 10 episodes of content to work with fans still end up with a somewhat jumbled mess.

(Me by like the eighth episode.)

This isn’t to say “Picard” isn’t worth your time if you’re an avid Star Trek fan or just someone who likes Patrick Stewart in this role in general but the first season will leave you still hungry for more and not in a good way.

“Picard” continues the story of the titular captain, now retired admiral, many years after the events of “Nemesis” as a retired Jean Luc reflects on his life in Starfleet and of his late friend Data who gave his life for his. A synth ban has been enacted in Starfleet after a major riot on Mars some years prior and Picard is understandably sour on the idea, given his relationship with Data, while also fighting Starfleet on not helping the exodus of the Romulans after the supernova that wiped out their homeworld in “Star Trek (2009).” When a young woman comes seeking Picard’s aid after an attack by mysterious assailants, revealing that she is an android and the possible daughter of Data, and gets killed, it is up to the retired Admiral to find her twin sister before she suffers the same fate.

Before we get started let’s throw out some of the bad faith arguments on why this series wasn’t all that good.

“Picard” doesn’t suck because it has “politics” in it. At this point, if you are complaining about the existence of social viewpoints and political/philosophical discussions in your Star Trek, or let alone any series for that matter, I don’t know what the hell you’ve been watching the past few decades. Star Trek has always been more than just a show about cool-looking spaceships and laser beams, you neckbeards.

(Hell, even the other “Star” got more going on in it than that.)

It’s also not bad because of female representation or “girl power.” Again, Star Trek has always had this and frankly having a few more instances of the women of Trek taking center stage doesn’t even come close to rebalancing the scales on the overall massive representation of cis white men across the genre and even the series anyways.

Also get the fuck over the use of curse words in this series. While certainly some instances in this show felt awkward, the use of the word “fuck” does not dilute Star Trek’s overall story.

(It would have made earlier season’s funnier for sure.)

Now that that’s out of way let’s get into the real reasons that, for me at least, the series fell short of an otherwise promising goal of delivering great new Star Trek.

The main problem stems from the series overall jumping off point in its first episode. Picard is understandably still upset about the death of Data and having him deal with survivor’s guilt is a great way to bring this character into the future and reexplore the humanist viewpoints Data touched on in the older series. But also having Picard deal with his fallout from Starfleet, both from the synth ban AND the Romulan exodus, creates chasmic diverging plotlines that never quite come together. The story really needed it to be one or the other. Either Picard wanting to advocate for the continued existence of synthetic life or the rescue of the Romulans post super nova. The latter is touched on a bit through the addition of the character Elnor but doesn’t quite work given that majority of the Romulans in this series are portrayed as villains.

There is definitely a post Brexit, anti-immigrant hysteria message being told there but not enough depth and nuance is given to make it look like Starfleet was particularly wrong here to abandon them given that they do end up being spies committing espionage in the Federation and the clear villains of the first season. The showrunners could have brought these two stories together by perhaps making Soji a Romulan bent on bringing down synthetic life because maybe her twin sister died in the riots on Mars, making Picard have to choose between his commitment to both minority groups abandoned by the Federation but of course, that’s not what the series goes with.

Also suddenly shoehorning in a convoluted anti-synth worldview into the already ultra-secretive Romulan empire was muddled to say the least.

(A decent summation of the Romulans, pretty much ever. Also why is the only Asian actress in this scene in Osaka depicted as an alien, Mr Kurtzman?...)

Some of these ideas could’ve been saved through better editing and pacing though but not enough is done in this first season to mitigate these issues. Too much of plot is told through plain exposition; people sitting down and talking for five-ten minutes about prophecies and backstory instead of having the story simply show us instead. It makes the pacing often slow even by Trek standards and grinds the action to a halt even when there are lasers being shot at one another in the next scene.

Many of these plots get barely any attention too. The Borg cube, why it’s abandoned, and why Hugh is working for the Romulans through the Federation is given surface level development at best. Seven of Nine returns and at one point is momentarily hooked up to the Collective and she doesn’t really say much about it after it happens. The new character’s Rios and Raffi both have side stories given to their development that get touched on once and never brought up again. Dr. Jurati straight up murders her lover and is set to turn herself into the Federation and it’s just kind of forgotten about in the finale. And Elnor, well, he gets to do his best Legolas impression slicing and dicing fellow Romulans with his sword I guess.

(He is still best boi though :3...)

The main co-star however, Soji the perfect android, has a particularly rushed development going from a scientist unknowing of her nature, to supposed prophet of doom, to predictably the savior all in one season. Her arc needed more time to develop with perhaps her Romulan love affair with Narek being the first season’s main driving force and her realization as an android being the climax. 

Instead we get basically four seasons of Battlestar Galactica’s Sharon arc crammed into one season and it unfortunately makes the story feel half-baked.

(Ok, Boomer.)

Don’t get the wrong idea, all these new characters have great individual moments as well throughout the season but sooooo much side plot is shoved in already into a muddled overarching narrative that it feels like several seasons worth of storytelling stuffed and edited down into a ten episode arc. Why the series felt it needed to conclude this robust story about synth hating Romulans in “Picard’s” first season feels like an unforced error in this reviewer’s opinion even if Sir P Stew only has maybe a couple seasons of extensive acting left in him anyways.

But the season isn’t completely worthless, as much as this review has been spent dunking on its less than stellar parts. The cast is exceptional, even working with the spare parts they’ve been given. Episode 5’s “Stardust City Rag,” in particular, stands out as a good mix of old and new Trek, with a decent dosage of cheese featuring Patrick Stewart trying on a French accent in a space bar. Santiago Cabrera is delightful as the ship captain Rios while also playing various forms of himself in AI form in equally enjoyable roles. Evan Evagora is fun as the deadly yet somewhat aloof Elnor, even if his character doesn’t do all that much except cut up a few Romulans. Seeing Jonathan Frakes and Marina Sirtis reprise their roles as Riker and Troi respectively in episode 6 was heartwarming and felt the most like TNG out of all the episodes. And Jeri Ryan seems liberated in this series in this version of Seven of Nine, no doubt glad to be rid of that restrictive corset and Rick Berman’s meddling hands.

(Big “Fuck you, Rick Berman” energy going on in this scene.)

The production value is obviously high level as Trek has rarely looked this good on the small screen. There’s some great cinematography throughout the season whether it’s Picard’s chateau winery, the haunting nature of the Borg cube, or the synth homeworld in the season’s final beats. The spaceships look cool as always and the world of the future feels well futuristic.

The musical score is also top notch, with a great opening theme that feels very much in line with Trek at its futurist glimpse into a hopeful cosmos.

The season’s best moments though are between Picard and Data and will remind you why they were more than likely your favorite characters on TNG. Generally speaking, exploring the humanist themes of artificial intelligence in new Trek was a good choice and having Picard deal with survivor’s guilt kept the pulse of the muddled story still beating. Brent Spiner is still great as Data and will remind you all again how talented he has always been as an actor and though his age seeps through the makeup a bit he is nonetheless still a perfect android.

Though the finale as a whole is underwhelming, the characters do share a nice final moment that is both touching and reminiscent of everything a fan loves about Star Trek. It’s a great cap to an otherwise ok return to Star Trek for TNG’s top characters and its truly touching in the best way that this franchise has always been known to be.

(Deactivating my emotions chip because I just..can’t! I just can’t, ok! *Sobs*)

But great acting and high production value can only mask so many flaws with a convoluted plot and “Picard” unfortunately suffers from the bloated and uncooked nature of its many ideas. What the story really needed was three season arc not just ten episodes and it shows. I guess the plus side is with this particular plot wrapped up it leaves the door open for new ideas and a fresh start in the second season but it does feel like an overall miss for Picard’s homecoming back into the universe of Star Trek.

Overall, though there are worse ways a Star Trek fan can spend their quarantine than watching “Picard” and there’s certainly enough here for fans to latch onto and have hope for better things in the next season.

Hopefully things are less rushed or at least more focused in the second season and we can see a more proper return to form for both Picard and future Star Trek.

Here’s hoping the producers and writers make it so…

VERDICT:

3 out of 5

Let’s hope we get a return of Q in the next season.

[zeviews]

Legend of Crystania

Legend of Crystania is a hard pill to swallow I find. It opens with Sir Ashram cursing the Gods for stranding them in the middle of nowhere without water, food, medical aid in the middle of the sea since the events of Record of Lodoss War OVA / Chronicles of the Heroic Knight saw them and the forces of Marmo being defeated by the forces of the combined good. Oh sorry, Spoiler, the bad guys lost.

So, let's get the most obvious thing out of the way first. The animation style is really bad, but it's also good. It exists in a weird borderline of not having had a proper animation budget for it, cutting corner, and making other things very detailed. So you can have character's faces very well-detailed, voice actors of high caliber, but magical spells is more an animated suggestion.

After Ashram cursed the Gods, a God answered him and promised him everything as long as Ashram accepts being a vessel for him. Ashram agrees to this and doesn't see it as a bad idea at all. After this, we're introduced to our viewpoint character of the show, Reddon. He's a twerp as you'd come to expect, he dreams about valiant deeds and being a heroic knight and all that, while his buddy Nasser ( I believe that was his name ) isn't at all interested in valiant deeds, he's only interested in Knowledge. I, I think. The copy I have some times gives me a translation and other times want me to guess what they're talking about, so for all I know he might be speaking about the holy dale of a woman's lower spine to her butt.

Either way, they are both looking at this massive wall known as God's Wall and talk about legends of it. How the Gods slain a giant snake to erect as a wall to it's inside. The Mage is certain that one day, the doors will open to this mysterious place so they can go in and witness the splendor of whatever is inside. At this moment, an overexcited horse makes it's presence known - a signal of the twerp of Knighthood to head back home because Lady Athresia have arrived. Apparently the horse likes to tell his master whenever visitors drop by.

At the Kingdom of Dirt and Sand with some Grass, Lady Athresia is consulting the King in requesting the army to overthrow a vicious dictator, but all he can tell her is to look at his people and see how content they are. The crops are going well, they have food in stock and on the table and so forth. If he were to go to war, it wouldn't be him who would suffer, it'd be his people, and the people don't really care who sits on the throne of the Kingdom of What-Where. Thus he denies her request for army aid.

Later that Knight, a stylish assassin who looks like he's a wannabe Guts ( and curiously close to my own design, hmm.. ) named Orville... Wait, Orville? Anyway, he arrives and attempts to assassinate the old Knight-king but fails for the old man is just too good, he even blocks his hidden knife-projectile with his forearm, he's just that good! But then arrows come through the window and kills the King, turns out the Royal Cavalry themselves turned on the King ( I think..? Again, didn't get the full translation ) and that they had only used Orville with the intention of killing him as well. The King's son come in and immediately jumps the Royal Cavalry alongside some Rogueish friend who blocks another guy while the King's son - Yeah, that's Reddon - stabs one of them dead with a sword through the chest. He then hurries to his father's side who tells him to get out and save himself. Distraught, he's dragged out of there by the Rogue-friend.

As Reddon swears revenge, the word of a God offers him unlimited power if he just comes to him. And the Wall to the Gods open up, allowing them entry into the land of Crystania..

As they enter, a God stops them and acts confused over their presence here, but then he poofs after the other God laughs. Then Lizard people arrive and attack them, and after being saved by Orville who had been stalking them, even giving Reddon the King's Sword, they find out that the people here in Crystania can turn into animals. Specifically, they learn this when they save a man whose protecting this mysterious Dark Elf named Sheru, and he turns into a Lion and fights someone who turned into a Snake. He explains to the party that Crystania used to be a peaceful land, and people devoted themselves to the many Gods who reside here, as they do so, they are given the power to transform into Beast of which the God resides over. Those who turn into Snakes follow the Snake God. Those who Lion, Lion God and so forth. And it was peaceful, until the God Barrados, the God of TIGERS! Acquired a human host about as a vessel.

I have to say, being born in the sign of the Tiger, I feel targeted by this movie. Geez!

Sheru, the Dark Elf supposingly carries the secret on how to stop Barradus but she must be escorted to the village where the rebellion hangs out, known as Fangs of the Beasts. However before they can, Barradus sends a surprise attack, and just to show how powerful he is to Reddon - kills everyone, including his own troops. Reddon is horrified at this, while he had initially been saying that he'd go any length to get his revenge on those who killed his father, this is too much to him. He and Sheru get split up from the rest of the party and he asks Sheru what makes her so special, and she recounts the tale we saw at the start. How her lord Ashram 300 years ago made a pact with the God, and at the start it was all good as Ashram was asleep and she waited for him to wake up, and once he woke up, he no longer was Ashram but Barradus. So she escaped but not before snatching the Chaos Ring, a Ring that some mystic had used to banish Ashram's soul as he was stronger than Barradus had expected and didn't give up.

And for you listening at home, Yes, Sheru is Pirotess. I thought all the way up until this time that she was a child of Ashram and Pirotess, but apparently not. Which is strange considering that’d make for a lot better story as opposed to she just suddenly sporting a different hair and skin color to go along with a different name since you know, that’s kinda a completely different character..

She thanks Reddon for escorting her but she's gotta do this on her own now. Reddon, distraught about what to do- SUDDENLY, Horse Ex Machina! His horse appears in front of him and looks happy, and together they ride after Pirotess and takes her up on the horse and head towards Barradus Fortress. Meanwhile the army of the Fangs of the Beast alongside the other companions have made a valiant charge and cut down all attackers and busted in the door to the castle. While this was going on, The Rogue, Orville and Orville's... daughter? Not sure what she is but she's been around all this, sorry for not mentioning her earlier. They're all locked in a cell, and after Leifon ( that's her name ) gets pissed and summons every Fae she can to blow up the door, she succeeds enough so the Lion guy can force open the door.

Reddon and Sheru arrive at the top of Barradus fortress, and Reddon says they have to leave Garmus ( the horse ) behind as he cannot get down there. That's when the horse decides to do a Skyrim and make a series of super stylish jumps - and break all legs and presumably internals upon landing - just to get his master and her down. The horse coughs up blood and dies, but I guess looks somewhat content in the knowledge he could assist his master. Reddon is once again distraught over this and cries profusely. Understandably, had I been in a different state of mine this would had made me cried too.

They all meet up in front of Barradus in the throne room, and he shows them just how weak and pathetic they are. The Chaos Ring does nothing against Barradus - until Pirotess in her anger throws it at him and he tries to block it with his hand. That causes it to start sucking like a vacuum cleaner, allowing Ashram to struggle. He tells Pirotess to kill him, she refuses, Reddon attempts but it's utterly pointless, his sword does nothing. Ashram commends him for his valor but his sword cannot do anything, and he tells Pirotess to use his sword - Yes, the Demon Sword ‘Soul Crusher’. After a long drawn out Yes No Yes No, she finally draws the sword and stabs him with it, killing Barradus, and Ashram thanks her and dies.

The movie ends with Reddon talking about his father and how his father would never let him hold a sword, and the Mage says that his father would be proud over what he did, and Reddon says Yes.

Legend of Crystania... Is a bad movie. It really would had benefited from a 20+ episode series as opposed to one movie. Bad animations, mixed with good animation, comes off as jarring. Very rushed story elements jumping from place to place at times, and characters dying. Yes, I didn't mention everything that happens in here and skipped some stuff and just went for the rough straight forward parts so you yourself can watch it and make up your mind about this movie.

The ending song Hikari no Chizu is pretty darn good though!

- Zeithri

[kob131]

New "So This is Basically X" video from Jello Apocalypse is on RWBY, and it's a bunch of pretty much crapping on the show.

(Note: read the Edit section for my recollected thoughts. I’d jus rewrite the post but that’d be like covering my mistakes)

… You know what? My dog just died so I am in no mood to tolerate this bullshit.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3vYbF3_TAk

A. ‘Added into the show at the last minute’ he says as his own fucking image directly states that the ‘last minute’ was the fucking Red Trailer. AKA the fucking psuedo-pilot. He had so many other chances like Neo or ABRN or the fucking Maidens but nope decided to do the ONE wrong thing.

B. ‘Hoitty Toitty Princess’ Yeah, because she was abused by her dad for years as well as watched her mother degrade into a lifeless husk. Again, could have made an actual point but decided to just spew out the most basic shit ever.

C. ‘Lose every fight she’s been in.’

*cough* WHITE TRAILER *cough*

Also: Fucking Missed Oppritunity: 3 *ding*

D. ‘Weiss hates Ruby’

That stopped in Volume 1, try again

E. ‘How many ears do they have?’

2 or 4

‘Human ears?’

Always

‘Animal ears?’

Sometimes

‘Neither?’

That’s you

‘BOTH?’

Sometimes

‘Why do some of them only have tails?’

Genetics

‘Humans are racist against the Lagoos’

Says the man who tried guilt tripping half the population through racism accusations.

Missed Fucking Opportunity: 4 *ding*

E. What couldn’t find say bullshit to spew about Yang? Missed Fucking Opportunity: 5 *ding*

F. Those are fucking one offs characters. Homer’s Vegas wife isn’t referred to as a side character, why should most of these be any different?

Also: ‘Never explores any of these!’ *shows team CFVY who are getting their own fucking book*

Good to see you still suck at making a point.

G. ‘Show isn’t about the characters!’

We get it, you’re slurping the anti-RWBY crowd’s cock. Make a valid point that not everyone and their grandmother’s grandmother made years ago.

H. *tries citing Neptune, a character that had about twenty minutes of screentime total as ‘eating up’*

Are you gonna do SOMETHING worthwhile? Because these jokes fall flat with a basic knowledge of the show.

I. ‘It’s about the over the top spectacle fights!’

Which not only were far less frequent in other ‘similar’ shows but they sometimes just #ate up screentime.

Missed Fucking Oppritunity: 6 *ding*

J. *butt metal!*

*cites Flynt, a fucking JAZZ musician*

What’s next? ‘Durr, marvel movie orchestra? BAD1′

K. ‘durr, clipping issues!’

*Slaps Fist Of The Blue Sky: Re:Genesis onscreen*

Come back when you make a point.

L. Jello, at the 2:10 mark you’ve done nothing but either say the same standard bullshit (which gets disproven within a minute of research*) or make shitty Take That! jokes.

About fucking RWBY. Egoraptor’s Ocarina of Time and ScottFalco’s Pokemon videos are mocking the shit out of you because you somehow made a worse version of both, about a less subjective medium with a fucking barrel full of fish. Guess that ‘Vote’ video must’ve fried them braincells huh?

M. Dust is elemental gunpowder, how is such a basic concept too complex for you to handle?

N. ‘Steal Dust and never bring it up again!’

Probably because the ending of Volume 2 was the END GOAL of stealing the dust you dumbass.

O. The magic comes straight from the fucking gods, Semblance and Dust have been used in Remnant science. Or is my cheap ass phone magic because someone from the 17th century doesn’t know how it works.

P. *points behind Jello at the massive burly man with the title ‘Lord of the Rings’ on it’s chest*

Have fun with him.

Missed Fucking Opportunity: 7 *ding*

Q. Wanna bet if the RWBY haters didn’t slurp Chibi’s cock he’d be bashing hibi instead of praising it.

R. *join the plot*

Ruby is the fucking plot.

S. So I’m guessing you’d call Hercules’ rage against Olympus and Hera ‘him getting a little mad?’

That’s okay, just like how you’d say your little ‘vote’ video was just ‘you having a little brainfart; amirite?

T. Ah yes, Volumes 1 and 2, which had the least defined characters, the most wasted screentime, the least plot, the least likablke versions of the heroes, the most side characters (INCLUDING NEPTUNE WHO YOU MOCK)-

Literally EVERYTHING you’ve spewed out your mouth was in the first two Volumes and 4 and 5 are the worst ones. Sure.

Missed Fucking Opportunity: 8 *ding* (Should actually be about 8001)

U. ‘Speaking of garbage *which is a segway I could put anywhere in this video’-

Good to know you’re aware of the piss poor quality of the video. Now if only you’d learn to keep your trap shut.

V. Ozpin was never suppose to be morally grey, next.

W. …

*pulls out Qrow and Ruby and replaces it with Yang and Liar Bitch McMass Murd-I mean Raven.*

Wow, context kicks your ass.

X. Jello.

What is the plot of RWBY?

No ‘Well there IS no plot’ bullshit. Tell me. What. The plot. Is.

… You can’t can you? This is the fucking Vote video all over again. You’re talking about a subject you have no clue about, spouting off whatever you think will get you the most positive PR and did no research whatsoever, Except with the video so infamous you had to DELETE it, politics is an inherently difficult subject matter that is easy to screw up (well, not to your extent.)

This is a web show.

Made by two drunk interns and an animator who took inspiration from BLAZBLUE.

And you have NOT made a SINGLE valid point.

The closest you got was the lip movements but you CLEARLY weren’t talking about the Volumes where it mattered so fucking credit.

Y. Blah blah blah ‘Bumbleby bullshit because pander’

Z. Qrow: ‘Oh ad my sister sold me and the daughter she abandoned twice before to the literal devil. Also why I am saying the bird thing is a curse? I defended Ozpin. My sister is the one claiming it to be a curse. Because she wanted to get away from the immortal pseudo-Greek villian which is a common feeling most people would think to do since it appeals to the inherent pragmatism in humanity but I overcame it through my niece’s determination to do the right thing in the end because just being pragmatic and doing what is most likely to succeed goes against one of the few things that make human beings what we are!

… Now I’m gonna go say my political opinions like I’m an important figure and not a walking punchline only known for mildly entertaining content that has suffered such a drop the Simpsons are looking at me in pity because I have a massive ego. And then when people call me out, I’ll delete the video and mock them like the child I am.’

*cracks open a beer* I don’t care if that’s cruel. He wants to talk like he knows shit? He can take it.

Edit:

https://twitter.com/alle1304/status/1137340212315643904

Well I owe him an apology. Over thinking he was pandering to the hate mob as well as my stupid attitude.

However I still stand by a lot of what I said: He missed a LOT of opportunities to make a good point and instead went with the lowest common denominator stuff. Like with making the joke about Weiss hating Ruby. It’s not funny because the joke is based on heavily outdated information and is just blatantly untrue.

There’s a reason why his ‘Welcome to *Website*’ videos are funny. Because while it is an exaggeration of what happens on the websites, it’s still basically true. Humor works when it strikes hard, either by throwing something so absurd at you that you’re forced to laugh because you don’t understand it, so raunchy that you laugh at the absurdity in which something so wrong was said so earnestly or by saying something so true that you’re forced to laugh to make light of the situation.

Jello’s video doesn’t do any of that. It either says a bunch of basic stuff that doesn’t work with knowledge or is saying things in a satricial way that people , EARNESTLY say, basically invoking Poe’s Law on himself. (The law of ‘Without a clear indication, a satire of X can easily been taken as an earnest belief in X.’)

This isn’t to say I was justified in what I did: it’s just even in a rational state of mind, the video is too flawed to be funny.

(Also no, I don’t regret what I said about the Vote video.)

[beckzorz]

Out of Nowhere (11/21)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OFC Summary: An offhand comment at work draws Jesse Kaplan into the orbit of Bucky Barnes. Bucky’s excited at the prospect of normalcy, but there’s nothing normal about falling in love with the Winter Soldier. Words: 2441 A/N: The song for this chapter is “You Don’t Own Me” by Brenna Whitaker from Brenna Whitaker.

PART 11: “YOU DON’T OWN ME”

Mike led Jesse up a back stairway with his arm still tight around her shoulders. He was over a foot taller than her; of course he could go three steps at a time. And he gave her no quarter to choose her own pace. It was either keep up or be dragged. Her calved burned before they hit the second floor.

From what Jesse had seen, she knew Mike lived on the third floor. But he kept going up three more, then past the last actual story to the roof exit. Why was he taking her so high up? He blocked her into a dim corner. Only then did he step back.

Jesse whipped her sunglasses off and glared up at him. “We’re inside. So talk.”

Mike glanced around, but they were well and truly alone, save the cobwebs overhead. “Look, Jesse…” He worried his bottom lip and crossed his arms tight over his chest. “Jesse, I am so sorry for what happened to you. I wish—”

“Yes, me too,” Jesse interrupted. Mike winced; she continued unrepentantly. “I sure do wish. But that’s not the point. What the hell is going on, Mike?”

“It’s a conspiracy,” Mike stated. “I don’t know what they want. I just work there.”

Jesse’s jaw dropped. “You just… work there?”

He winced. “You didn’t betray me before,” he said. “You saved my life.”

“You helped ruin mine,” she retorted.

“I tried to warn you!” he hissed. “You wouldn’t give him up!”

“What?” Jesse blinked, startled. “Are you talking about…” She trailed off, but Mike knew exactly what she’d meant.

“Of course I am!” Mike ran a hand through his hair, leaving it wild. “What did you think this was about?” He glanced at his watch and swore. “I have to go,” he said. “I have… work.”

“Hell no.” Jesse grabbed his wrist. “You owe me something.”

“And I suppose not ratting you out right now—” he pulled out his phone and held it well above her head— “isn’t gonna cut it.”

“Information,” Jesse blurted, wide eyes fixed on his phone. “I want information.”

“What information?”

Jesse paused. Considered. Then she clenched her teeth and gave a harsh grin. “I want all of it.”

—

Mike left first; Jesse waited an agonizing minute before running down the stairs after him. She burst outside, panting, and knocked straight into someone just outside.

“Sorry,” she muttered, but the man just grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. Jesse blinked up at—Bucky.

“You’re okay,” he breathed. All the tension in her shoulders melted away.

“I told you I would be,” she said. A smile flickered on her face; from this close, she could see the shadow of his eyes behind the sunglasses. Could he see hers? Could he see how glad she was to see him?

“Let’s get out of here.” Bucky put a hand on her back and guided her across the street to his bike.

Jesse swapped Bucky’s cap for a helmet and climbed on behind him. The ride back to his place was quick—it turned out he only lived a few miles from Mike—and Jesse barely had a chance to relax before they were back in the garage and heading up to Bucky’s apartment.

As soon as they made it inside, Jesse made a beeline for the couch and collapsed into a heap. “God,” she muttered.

“What?” Bucky leaned on his hands against the back of the couch. He hovered over her.

Jesse tilted her head back to look up at him. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Shocking.”

“I meant mean.”

Bucky’s face contorted; from her low vantage point, she couldn’t quite figure out whether he was scowling or just screwing up his face. She sighed and closed her eyes.

“I could tell he was sorry. But I didn’t accept his apology.”

“Good,” Bucky said, voice full of disdain. “What did you find out?”

She hesitated, cracked one eye open. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Just spit it out,” Bucky ordered. Jesse took a bracing deep breath.

“He’s got the midnight shift, and he’ll let us into their server room.”

Bucky opened his mouth, closed it. Frowned. After a beat, his frown deepened; he fixed steely eyes on hers. “Us?”

Of course that was the first part he’d settle on.

“Yeah,” Jesse sighed. She opened her other eye. Bucky’s expression was beyond a frown at this point. “I guess I’m his insurance. He said he’d tell them I was out and that you were there if I didn’t go with you. I guess… he assumed you’d be going.”

“What the hell did you say to him?” Bucky said through clenched teeth. His left arm made a faint scraping noise as he squeezed his hands into fists against the couch.

“I told him I wanted information, just like I said I would!” Jesse sat up on her knees so her head was close to even with his. He didn’t look at her. His lips were set in a thin white line; his hair fell forward, blocking her view of his eyes. “I’ll go alone if you don’t want to, but—”

“Like hell you will,” he spat. He whipped his face in her direction; his eyes were narrowed and his teeth bared. Jesse nearly recoiled. “You’re not going. Period.”

“Then you can’t either,” she told him, jaw set. “I don’t want to go. But my god, I can’t just sit back and do nothing! And I’m not going to let you walk in there to an ambush.”

Bucky had opened his mouth to retort, but her final sentence ended into a silence. Jesse raised her eyebrows; Bucky put a hand over his mouth. His blue eyes danced.

“You won’t let me?” he said, laughter bubbling in his voice.

Jesse flushed and sank back down onto the couch. “I mean…”

Bucky’s low chuckle, muffled against his hand, was infectious. Jesse giggled, not taking her eyes from his face. His eyes were crinkled with amusement, and when he glanced at her they both set off on a fresh wave of sniggering.

It was laughable. As the Winter Soldier, Bucky had been programmed for just the type of operation Mike had suggested. Infiltration! Stealing! Criminal organizations! This was exactly his ballpark. The notion of her, a random-ass civilian, making him do something was absolutely hilarious.

“But seriously,” Bucky said, all the lightness seeping out of his face, “you’re not going.” He stood straight and looked down at her. It might have been intimidating if she wasn’t so damn fond of him. She was in no way qualified to infiltrate a presumably secure building, but dammit, if her presence could save Bucky some trouble, of course she was going.

“Mike said he’d rat you out if you went on your own. Do you seriously think I would be okay staying away with so much at stake?”

“That’s only if you trust this guy. I don’t.” Bucky started to pace the length of the couch, fists opening and closing at his sides. “Whether or not the ass keeps his word, he’s not going to be the only person there. Jesse, you’re not going.”

“Mike said he can loop the security cameras,” Jesse told him.

“That’s…” Bucky ran his open hands against his skull. He paused and spun to face her. Jesse had expected aggravation, dismissal, straight-up refusal. She hadn’t expected naked anguish on his face. “I’ve been to the places where I was made—unmade. You don’t want to go there. Trust me.”

Jesse’s breath caught. She instinctively clutched at her neck with one hand. When he put it like that, with that look on his face… If he couldn’t handle it, how could she? He’d been through so much. He’d survived so much. She’d only survived because of him. Her fingernails made little indents against her collarbone.

But Bucky had made it. He’d handled going back into hell—he’d survived, and come out strong enough to talk to a stranger at a fancy benefit at a Midtown hotel, strong enough to go to a strange dance hall and smile at her when she grinned. Jesse didn’t know what Bucky’d had to go back to his roots for, but this foray back to Current Relief wasn’t about her. It was about everyone else. It was about keeping everyone else safe from torture, safe from break-ins and open toilets and nonconsensual shots. Sure, once all of it was over she’d probably have a spectacular case of PTSD, but in the meantime she could do as much as possible to make sure it never happened again.

And of course, whether or not Bucky thought so, she knew that going with him would be better than the alternative. Bucky was right to distrust Mike—hadn’t he known that she’d go through hell?—but what benefit could be gained from lying to her in the stairwell of his building? If Mike ratted them out, he’d be implicating himself too.

Bucky could try to shut her out of this, but he’d never succeed.

A sudden smile grew on her face. “You have to let me go,” Jesse proclaimed. “I won’t tell you anything unless you let me go with you.”

“You are an absolute little shit,” Bucky said. Despite it all, his expression softened from anguish to a sort of aggravated fondness. He vaulted over the back of the couch and in the space of one shocked inhale, he had his arms boxing her in on the couch. His face loomed less than a foot from hers. “You think I couldn’t get it out of you?”

Jesse blinked. His mouth was all soft smirk—too soft, my god, how soft would they be if I—but his blue eyes were serious. “You, ah, could, probably,” she stammered. “But do you really want torturing me for information on your conscience?”

Bucky pulled back with a frown. Jesse leaned forward for the briefest moment, following him, then slumped back. Heat washed through her. She swallowed it away.

“You’re not joking,” he said flatly.

“Bucky…” She pressed her hands together between her knees and stared up at him earnestly. “I can help. Let me help. I can’t just sit here and wait. I did that. It sucked.”

He stared right back at her, jaw moving in little frustrated circles. “Can you follow directions?”

“Yes.” Her lips twitched. “I got pretty good at that, you know.”

Bucky shook his head and flopped down beside her, arms crossed. “How the hell do you have a sense of humor right now?”

Jesse considered this. In the past fourteen hours, she’d been knocked out, she’d gotten a concussion and a gash on her head, she’d confronted one of the people who’d conspired to kidnap and torture her, and she’d had to deal with a visit to the emergency room. Meanwhile, here she was, making jokes. But wasn’t that always the way of things, when there were people around? She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cried in front of her own parents.

“If I wasn’t being sarcastic,” Jesse said, “I’d be in a puddle on the floor. And that’s just not something you need to see. Trust me, this is much better.”

Bucky huffed. “If you were in a puddle on the floor, you wouldn’t be arguing.”

“I’d rather have the moral high ground than the… melodramatic low ground,” Jesse said. “Puddle on the floor, you know.” Bucky raised his eyebrows, uncomprehending. “The floor… low ground?” He shook his head; Jesse sighed. “Okay, fine, that was terrible. But come on, I had to try.”

“Desperation’s not a good look,” he stated.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be so desperate to tell me what to do.”

“What am I supposed to say, Jesse? ‘Sure, come on! It’ll be fun?’” Sarcasm dripped heavily off his tongue. “Hell no.”

Jesse crossed her arms and dug her fingernails into her side. “Why is it okay for you to risk things and not me? Am I supposed to just sit back while other people are getting hurt? What the hell would that say about me?”

“It’d say that you were smart enough to listen to people who know better!” Bucky sprang to his feet and began that sharp pacing again. His shoulders were hunched with tension.

Jesse tipped her head back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling, nails still pinching into her skin through Bucky’s jacket. She’d thought they were getting somewhere close to a consensus, but now Bucky was back to wearing a hole in the floor.

“You didn’t see the weapon they had,” he continued. “It’d put you down in a flash.”

The memory of sitting in that chair, skull burning with white-hot pain, burst out of Jesse’s subconscious. She squeezed shut her eyes and thought hard about dance halls and music and smiling and a warm hand on her back. After a minute, the phantom agony eased away. “I’ve already dealt with that. Maybe not the exact thing, but something damn close. If it means I can help prevent it from happening to anyone else—”

“What makes you so sure that’s what you’ll be doing?” Bucky stopped pacing.

Jesse sighed and turned to look him in the eye. “I know you don’t trust Mike. And logically I know you’re probably right. But he’s got nothing to gain from lying to us now. Not about this.”

“He lies to us, he lies to his people, they ambush us, we fail, you probably die, nothing changes, we can’t do a damn thing,” Bucky rattled off, ticking his fingers.

Jesse stood up and ran her hands through her loose hair down to the base of her neck. “I can’t just sit back,” she said yet again. “Bucky, I can help. For god’s sake, just let me help you.” She stared at him, eyes wide and fingers tangled around the back of her neck. Bucky’s jaw twitched. He opened his mouth, closed it. Heaved a sigh. Jesse’s face pinched as he worked his jaw in frustrated circles.

“I know I’m not… like you,” Jesse said. “But you don’t own me. This is my choice. I want to help you. For fuck’s sake, let me.”

Bucky tugged at his hair, his face a contorted mess. “You already said you wouldn’t tell me a damn thing if I don’t,” he said finally. “And I don’t trust that you wouldn’t just try and follow me if I left you here.”

Jesse’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Damn straight.”

“Fine then.” Bucky took a deep breath. By the time the last of it whistled between his teeth, he was straight-faced and all business. “What’s the plan?”

A/N: I love one (1) drama queen and her name is Jesse Kaplan.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think :3

[silver-falling-star]

Sing me a song, o muse, of your bitter hatred against catcher in the rye bc SAME

Oooooh boy, I smell one of my long winded rants coming on. Strap in folks its about to be a wild ride.

So, Ima preface this by saying that I have NOT read it since I was forced to read it in 11th grade. For like, several fucking reasons. (the primary one being that I don’t want to, the 2nd one being I don’t know which bookshelf my dad stashed my copy on. He stashed all my required readings on various bookshelves after I was done with them. Because we were all given copies for free by the teachers that we were allowed to keep. I’ll chalk this up to private school benefits I guess? I’ve been out of the public school circuit since the end of 5th grade) So basically my memory of like, most of the events that take place in the book are foggy at best and unremembered at worst.

@ my mutuals and followers who like this book, that’s fine you do you, but I personally am not and probably will never be a fan of Catcher in the Rye. My feelings of why I dislike it are my opinions and I’m not gonna force them on you.

Problem 1: Main character is an unsympathetic asshole

My biggest gripe about the book is honestly a gripe I have about SEVERAL books. Unlikable characters, and I don’t necessarily mean written poorly (though I don’t remember being awed by how the book was written, I’ll be honest.) I mean unsympathetic asshole little bastards that make you want to just chuck the book across the room. Other books that share this problem are The Great Gatsby (that book is hot fucking garbage in terms of likeable characters and I WILL die on that fucking hill do not even @ me), Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Main character is an asshole little snobby bitch and despite being a murder mystery written in first person she literally figures things out at such a pace its not fun for the reader because she STILL ends up caught in shit situations she KNEW WAS GOING TO GO DOWN BECAUSE SHES SUCH A SPECIAL LITTLE SHIT- okay that’s a rant for a different post) and The King Must Die. (If you ever want to read a book with shit diction, pick it up.)

Now, as a writer/roleplayer of almost a decade, I’ve made plenty of characters that fall into the unsympathetic asshole role. My problem isn’t with the archetype, it’s often used and often done well (fandoms later trying to apologize for them aside) My PROBLEM comes when that’s either the archetype for the only character given any spotlight, or ALL the characters have that problem. (see, Great Gatsby.) Holden Caulfield(or however the fuck you spell it) is an unsympathetic asshole, and also the character who’s perspective is the only one we get to see, and the only character we really know much about. (Mainly cause he just doesn’t deign to care to give a legitimate effort in giving a damn about anyone else aside from how innocent children/his sister are. More on how creepy that shit is later.) Making a book like this means that I’m far less likely to enjoy it because I want to be able to root for someone. I can root for an asshole, so long as they’re likeable in some regard. Holden is a grade A fuckboy in the making and as such I am not a fan.

TL/DR: It’s possible to have likeable unsympathetic asshole characters, it is almost impossible to do that if that’s all you have exposure too in your cast.

Problem 2: I was really not in the best place to receive such a fucking depresso espresso lesson about life.

Switching gears momentarily from problems with the writing/book itself to problems with the timing of this book showing up in my life. High school was the time when all my trauma I’d successfully… repressed? Avoided dealing with? whatever, basically all my mental health shit suddenly decided to spring itself on me and yell “SURPRISE, YOU’RE MENTALLY FUCKED AND WILL NEVER BE THE SAME!” in 10th grade and it wasn’t until halfway through 11th grade that I even started getting a handle on shit. I almost failed high school and it was *bad*, especially for someone who was just trying to get to college so I could get to vet school and be qualified for a job that requires an ass load of education. So in walks this fucking book and it’s message of “adulthood is a sham, nothing matters and you really should just fuck around and do whatever because it’s all bullshit anyway. Childhood was where it’s at.”

Like???? Alright, that’s not what I need to hear when I’m barely passing high school. Go to fucking therapy and get some help, we all have trauma and therapy is the best path to work through it. I dunno like, yeah okay some people need to hear that message at whatever time in their life they read the book, but that message really wasn’t great to my Anxiety/Depression/ADHD struggling ass trying to just stay steady enough to get into college.

Honestly, even to this day I HATE HATE HATE books with depressing messages like that. I already deal with the struggle of being afraid of failure, getting where I want to be, all that shit. I don’t want that in my literature. Give me a person who struggles but still succeeds and finds some sort of happiness and self-worth in the end. Give me someone overcoming their traumas in such a way that they can at least have a good quality of life afterwards, even if the trauma will never leave, so long as they’re happy. I’m tired of YA novels that try and sell our generation and gen z the message that life sucks. Give me more hope, more heroes, more people making a difference because hell life is short so best make the most of it making a difference.

To quote GotG, why do I care so much about stories that revolve around saving the world, even if that world is just as small as a found family?

And my existence might as well be a happy one and have HOPE GOD DAMMIT.

TL/DR: If a book leaves me feeling like shit after reading it because it ends on a super shitty note, I’m generally not going to enjoy that book. And the fact that most YA novels these days that are given to highschoolers fall into this category is hot garbage when this is around the time they’re trying to find some sort of direction in life.

*Note: I realize that there are times and places for books that give more somber messages. Hell, I’ve even enjoyed some books with messages of such a tone. But media these days, and honestly for most of my life starting in mid to late teenage years (and maybe earlier) has started taking a turn towards the more depressing/somber stuff, and its overwhelming and just bad. And even back then when first reading it this was something I picked up on and didn’t enjoy. It just was not the right time in my life to hear a message so devoid of giving a shit.

Problem 3: Holden is honestly, super fucking creepy.

Okay, we back on the train of the actual book’s writing. Holden the dipshit is honestly, really fucking creepy. Towards women specifically. I have no direct quotes from the book specifically, but I DISTINCTLY remember the way he talked about women (or even young children/girls) being creepy as shit. Like, he waxes lyrical about his kid sister and her classmates and how innocent they are and how he wants to be the “Catcher in the Rye” to keep them innocent and to keep them from realizing how bad the world is. Great, lovely sentiment Holden. Except that the way you’re going about it comes across as being a pedophile.  You’re at the very least sexist as fuck, because you’re objectifying the fuck out of people anyway.

That scene with the sex worker in the hotel room is also one I remember making me feel super uncomfortable. Not because the sex worker is there, but because uh, just, god, that whole scene gave me the creeps. Probably because I felt bad for the woman, coming into the room expecting to be paid for work and there’s just this kid who breaks the fuck down, tells her some depressing shit, and maybe pays her? (does he pay her? I can’t fucking remember, I’d like to think he does, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t, because he’s an ass.) Actually, bigger question IS HE EVEN OF AGE TO HAVE SEX WITH HER LEGALLY? HOW OLD IS THIS KID? HES STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL RIGHT?

…. so I looked it up, he’s 17. SEVENTEEN. HE IS A M I N O R. I’m like 99% sure that the woman he hires is like, twice his age at least. That’s straight up illegal.

god this just gets worse.

TL/DR: Holden is a 17 year old creep who comes off as a pedophile in the way he talks about kids, and also definitely hired a sex worker while he was underage. Idk if that was legal at the time this book was written, but if it was (and I doubt it), that has aged very poorly.

Problem 4: It’s got a lot of male fans who fall into that all too dangerous category of having Fight Club or Rick and Morty being their favorite bit of visual media.

Okay, again, not a problem of the book. But when the majority fanbase (or at least, the most vocal part) are a bunch of abusive men who don’t realize that the message they took away from a work of fiction is incredibly problematic? Or worse, know and don’t care because they think their take is superior? Uhhh, how do I say, big yikes.

Like, this could be your favorite book, whatever, that’s you, I don’t care, but if your reasoning for it is because Holden is, in your opinion, an unflawed idealized version of yourself/your ideals?

thats a nope from me bro.

———-

That’s all I can do off the top of my head without going in and reading the book again. Which I probably won’t do for a long time, because I don’t need to hear that struggling to make a place for yourself is dumb and proves you’re just “part of the machine, the man has made you his bitch.” while I’m still trying to y’know, get to where I want to go.

But there you go, four solid reasons why I really really do not like Catcher in the Rye.

[writers-clique]

Heartless

This is a horror short story I wrote. It’s a bit inspired by the TV show You. If you like a bit of horror, stalker, creepiness or just enjoy reading short stories from time to time, this one’s for you. Happy reading >:)

Heartless

I have been waiting for five years to return it. The fist-sized box sitting neatly in the passenger seat next to me. Its intricate red bow matches the black leather of the container. I listen to the AC’s cacophonous rumble as I look at the endless road in front of me. Normally, I prefer to have silence during long journeys like these. I can ponder about life, the sheer cliché of how meaningless it is and how unimportant each person is, no matter what their mothers, teachers or other equally unimportant individuals have told them before. But alas, the scorching desert sun is too powerful for the little heart inside my box so I turn up the cold air and try to ignore it.

At this point, you may be wondering if you read that last line correctly or you may have missed that specific minor detail entirely, doesn’t matter. Jhona is the only one who has to see it, right there on his kitchen counter, in all its veiny glory. It will be splendid! Watching the color drain from his face the way Mia’s blood gushed onto the tiles. Oh, who’s Mia? She’s just the girl who stole my heart.

*********

Five years ago, a senior going into school for his last day—that’s when I met her. I was walking towards the main doors when they suddenly opened and hit me in the face.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Is your nose alright?” she said, covering her mouth and trying to hide a smile.

“Uh, yes. At least I think so.” I felt a bit of blood drip down my nostril onto my lip. It tasted delicious.

“You’re bleeding! I’m really sorry! Let me help you with that.” She snatched the books from my hands and, for a brief second, I felt her skin upon mine. Warm and tanned against my cold and pale arm.

She insisted on walking me to class, even though she didn’t have to. And whilst we walked, we talked. She turned out to be quite brilliant in ways I didn’t think someone at our school could be. She was into old literature, but wasn’t too picky, listened to good music and looked quite good as well. I knew her soul was bound to be interesting. And so, that same night after graduation, I went online and searched for “Mia Darlington”. And a darling she was. The whole of her Instagram and Tumblr was open for anyone to look at. I mean, it was like I had struck a golden mine of disposable information, all just a swipe and a tap away. That’s where I learned about a party that would be happening to celebrate the fact that half of these morons managed to scrape up enough IB points for a diploma of some sort, while the rest of us would actually succeed to some degree in life (pun intended). It would happen in a fortnight at Braden’s parents’ lake house. The whole thing would last for two days. After that she’d be mine.

In the fortnight that followed, Mia and I got closer than ever, which of course she didn’t know. I followed her around from a distance. She had quite the schedule. Guitar lessons, fitness, drawing, meditating. She had it all. Her bedroom window was conveniently positioned towards the road so my view from a bush across the street was perfect. By the time the party happened, I knew her better than she knew herself.

It had been three hours, fifty two minutes, twenty seven seconds and counting since the start of the party and she still had not arrived. I was growing rather impatient and, dare I say, worried. I decided to strike up a conversation with one of those buffoons who knew her, that way when she finally appeared, I’d have a head start for a conversation. I saw one of the guys from her Instagram. He was peculiar, but simple, one of these football goons. And yet, there he was, staring into his punch cup, looking depressed and out of place. Peculiar. I strategically placed myself near the refills and soon enough he approached. He filled the glass up to the rim with Jagermeister. Pathetic.

“Rough night?” I asked, mimicking his movements.

“Ha,” he took a swig of his drink, “you couldn’t have said that better.”

“Oh, really? Why so?”

“What do you care man? Who are you?” he drunkenly yelled and stumbled forward.

This would be harder than previously imagined. “Look, I’m sympathising with you. This party sucks.”

“It wouldn’t suck if . . . if she was here.” He whispered that last part, but I was closer than his drunk mind let him know.

Just then, his phone rang. The picture was of Mia, one I hadn’t seen before which was once more peculiar. I had gathered pretty much every picture of her, down to the ones she was too small to remember. At this point, he started muttering things to himself, obviously in no state to speak to her. That’s when the dots connected and I decided to use this particular lamentable moment of his to my benefit.

“Hi, who’s this?” I picked up the phone. I decided to play dumb and let her fall for me, believing it was her choice.

“Umm, I could ask you the same thing. Where’s Judah?” She didn’t sound pleased and the fact she didn’t recognize my voice admittedly hurt me.

“He- he’s having a bit of a rough night. It’s Adgar speaking by the way.”

“Adgar? Oh, wait aren’t you that guy I smacked into two weeks ago? I didn’t know you were friends with Judah.”

“Well, you don’t know a lot of things about me.” I thought that was a good line, so I made my voice husky at the end. I imagine that’s what James Bond would do.

She laughed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“So umm, how come you’re not at the party?

“How did you know I was going there?” Suspicion slipped into her voice.

Crap, think Adgar, think you idiot.

“Oh, well Judah’s been crying that you haven’t come all night, so I figured you were going to come originally.” I tried to inject a smile into my voice the way some people do. It worked.

“He has? Well, doesn’t matter. I’m almost there so since you’re taking care of him I trust he’ll be OK.” She sounded distant and didn’t even let me reply before she hung up. That annoyed me.

I looked back for Judah, except he wasn’t there. Great, now I had to babysit a drunk blockhead instead of preparing for Mia. The plan was to find him and then tie him up somewhere in the woods where he wouldn’t cause any trouble. Finding him turned out to be easy. All I had to do was go for a leak, and there he was lying on the bathroom floor in his vomit.

Now how would I get him out without causing involuntary attention? The answer came from a shout of “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” downstairs. That’s right, his equally stupid drunk friends wouldn’t remember a thing either, and they were loyal to him, like a golden retriever to its owner. All I had to do was spin a little white lie about the “unimaginable awesomeness” of them pulling the “greatest trick” in party history - tying Judah to a tree whilst he’s unconscious. I mean, it was honestly laughable how easily they agreed. Good thing they were drunk.

It took three of them to carry him downstairs and into the forest. I mean, I didn’t even touched him. All of the evidence pointed to them. They were so wasted they didn’t notice me drifting back to the house, leaving them in the darkness.

By the time I came back, Mia was there. She was something to see. In her own world. Dancing along to whatever indie song they had put on, drink in one hand. She looked like she’d floated down straight from heaven. A beautiful gift just for me, all wrapped up in a tight red dress, beach curls slightly bobbing up and down.

Now the hardest part was approaching; I had to approach her. I decided to rip that bandaid straight off and just went for it. Confidence after all, is key.

“Hey, you’re the girl who smacked me in the face.” I tried the James Bond voice again.

“Hey, you’re the guy I smacked in the face.” She smiled.

Good, that’s good. Smiling is always a positive thing.

“Care for a refill?” I reached towards her cup.

“Yeah, sure.”

Like taking candy from a baby. People reading this, I’m going to give you a pro tip. Never. Ever. Give your glass to someone you don’t know at a party, bar or wherever. They may just put something funky in there. Sad thing really, she’ll never get to read this.

I had prepared an excuse just in case anyone was to give me trouble: “Oh she was just so tired, poor thing fell asleep.” But, as predicted, they were all too drunk and too self absorbed to notice. She was a bit heavy I must admit, heavier than I imagined. Of course, though, she fit perfectly into the trunk of my car. I was not staying for the remainder of this party and neither was she. What happened next was a two hour long, silence filled car ride in which every speed bump I hit I worried about her. I mean, I loved her. If she got even a single bruise, I swore not to forgive myself.

Once we had arrived home, I placed her in the basement where she would be staying until I knew that her love for me was eternal. I had already prepared the room: soundproof door, mattress, chains on the wall. I laid her down gently and put on her shackles, then I sat on a chair and waited. Waited for her to wake up and for our souls to connect, our love so powerful.

As you may have guessed already, that did not happen. What ended up happening was an intense conversation and double murder.

“Wh-where am I,” she muttered sitting up.

“You’re home,” I smiled. I wanted to reassure her.

“Home? I’m not home! You-you took me here! Why am I chained up? Somebody help, help!” She started screaming. Shaking. Tugging at the chains. Going rabid.

“Now, now. There’s no need for that. No one can hear you anyway.” The effect of my words didn’t convey what I wanted, as she didn’t calm down and become rational, but started throwing herself on the floor, sobbing and yelling harder than before. I decided to give her some time.

One day later, as predicted, she had calmed down. She was also starving and I used that to my advantage, as I did with many things. I brought her a plate of her favorite food - seafood paella - which I’d learned to make specifically for her. She took the plate and started gorging on the warm food. I found that curiously arousing.

“So you’re ready to talk like humans?” I tried a smile, but her cold stare disapproved.

“You’re no human! You’re an animal.” Rice grains fell out of her mouth as she yelled, and I couldn’t help but point out the irony by raising an eyebrow. Once more my humor was not appreciated.

“Let me go! What do you even want from me, you nutcase!?”

“I’m glad you asked me. See, Mia, darling, I love you, and I know that if you give me a chance, you’ll love me too.” I said that with what I thought was my most convincing and confident smile, and yet her eyes widened and her eyebrows formed an angry looking V on her usually beautiful face, turning it into something quite displeasing.

“I. Will. Never. Ever. Love. You!” She threw the plate at the wall, smashing it. The meal splattered on the ground.

“I don’t think I like your tone.”

“I don’t care what you like! I hate you! I only love Judah!”

“Silence! I will NOT let myself believe these lies you are utterring!”

“They’re not lies! I will never love you. Judah is the only person I’ve ever truly loved.”

There it was. The first murder. She plunged deep with her nails into my chest and stole my heart. Devoured it even! For the next several days, she tried everything to escape and I tried meaninglessly to make her mine, but she would not have it. And on top of that, her phone would not stop buzzing with messages from her family, friends and, irritably, Judah. I was losing hope as all she would talk about was Judah. That’s when I finally realized she had destroyed my heart, absolutely pulverized it. No more of that. An eye for an eye, a heart for a heart.

I think she knew the end was coming the moment I walked into the basement. The dark gloves probably gave my intentions away. I decided I didn’t wish to waste any more of my time. I advanced towards her, wordlessly. Silence was the way I liked to do these things. Just like a car ride, slow and enjoyable. She once again started one of her intense screaming sessions. A wailing, powerless shriek. Left on the front door of Mr. Death. At his mercy.

I smacked her into unconsciousness and dragged her towards the bathroom. No blood would be spilled in my basement. Once in the bathroom I decided on a barbaric sort of death for her, the way she killed my heart. I gently opened the toilet lid and placed her head on the seat. What followed was an intense upper body workout resulting in a broken toilet lid and smashed skull. I sprinkled the little bone fragments into the toilet bowl and flushed. I had decided on selling what was left of her on the dark web.  Everything except her heart. You see I needed it. Heart transplants aren’t cheap and since she was the one who’d stolen mine it was only fair she gave one back.

So now that you’re all caught up, let’s go back to present times. I have recently met a girl, even better than Mia. She’s given me back my heart in ways I could never have imagined. We met a week ago. She dropped her purse and I gave it back to her. Her knight in shining armor. I love her. I no longer need Mia’s heart, but I know someone who does.

Coincidentally, once people knew Mia was not coming back, Judah fell into depression. Or at least that’s the theory. Supposedly, he got back from the party, but he didn’t really get back. He left poor innocent Judah behind. He was going to be a football player at some top university but now he spends his days drinking away whatever life is left inside of him and scaring the kids in our little old town.

So I’m giving him a present. Something he’ll cherish and remember forever.

I hope you appreciate this, Judah. I know how much you loved her with all your dying heart.

Love, Adgar.

[ryansfabray]

Guessing Game ft; Ryan & Isaac

Who: Ryan Fabray & Isaac Sylvester ( @isaacsylvester )

What: Scene Week 9

Classes: Switch 102, Sub 101, Sensory Play

Ryan purposefully scheduled her scene with Isaac later in the day. It was to ensure she got some time time in with her music before hand, knowing it would leave her more relaxed and more focused on him, not that it was difficult for him to capture her attention. She was dressed in a simple yet tight black spaghetti strap dress with her  straight hair hanging around her face. Much like before, she greeted him with a smile at the door then lead him into the living room where she had him strip and kneel by coffee table. Four pieces of rope were tied to each of the four legs of the coffee table, ready for the scene she had in place for him. "You look good as always, pet. I want you to lay back on the coffee table so I can tie your wrists and ankles to the table. As you get into position, I would like to remind me of your safeword."

Isaac had asked the people he had previously done scenes with to help out with scene week. At some point he did want to be Domed by other Dom's here but for right now he was satisfied with the people he had previous experience with. "Thank you, Miss," he replies with a smile. If their first scene was anything to go by, Isaac was definitely going to enjoy today. "Yes, Miss," he accepts easily before he's getting onto the table to lay down, his legs and arms spread for her. "My safe-word is Older," he reminds her with a smile.

“Thank you, pet.” Ryan admired his body as it stretches back against the table, and she ran her fingers across his chest as she moved to stand in front of him. First she tied his ankles to the legs of the table, tugging on the knots after to make sure there was a little bit of moving room, but they were still secure. Ryan did the same to his wrists before standing back to admire the way he looked attached to her table like that. “I’m going to use a series of different things on your body to really test your sensitivity. I’m going to blindfold you and you are going to guess what I’m using. You’re working towards a reward of my mouth around your cock, I do love a pretty cock in my mouth, each time you guess right you’ll have earned two minutes, each time you guess wrong I take away one minute. Questions?”

Isaac was relaxed as Ryan tied him to the table he was currently laying on. He looks up at her and listens as she speaks, explaining what will happen in the scene. He can definitely do that, or at least try because he knows having one sense taken away can mess with your head a little bit. "Yes, Miss, that all sounds good to me," he replies. He hopes he gets more right than wrong.

“Perfect.” Ryan has already picked out some tools she’d be using on him as well as a candle and a bowl of ice that was waiting for her in the freezer. She retrieved the silk blindfold from the couch and leaned down so she could tie it around his face, covering his eyes. To get them started and to just give Isaac the opportunity to get used to her touch, she scratched her nails down his torso. All the way down until she wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking it until he was nice and hard. She knew it would be more fun with him hard.

As soon as the blindfold was covering his eyes they slipped shut. It was something he was comfortable with despite the fact it did not make a difference at all, he still couldn't see, he just felt a little more relaxed while it was happening. His stomach tensed when he felt the fingers at his torso and then she was stroking his cock. Little groans and whimpers fell from his lips as she did.

Ryan could visibly see the moment when Isaac relaxed into the blindfold and it was a beautiful sight. She loved the way his body tensed at her touch and the sounds that escaped his mouth as she stroked his hardening cock. She was tempted to lean down and take him into her mouth, to run her tongue along the underside of the beautiful flesh, but she refrained and removed her hand completely when he was nice and hard. Ryan decided to start with something easy, using her nails to scrape against his torso once more, leaving red lines in his skin. "What's that, sweet boy?"

Isaac missed the contact of the Domme’s hand as soon as it left his hard cock. He would have asked for it back if he didn’t know where this scene would be going. “Your nails, Miss,” he responds sensing that she is starting off a little easy for him considering he’s just has the exact same sensation on his torso from her.

"That's two minutes," she replied, knowing that he was going to get that one right. This was a fun little game and she was glad that she decided to go this route. She picked up the next item which was a butter knife and ran it along the top of his thighs. "And this?"

“Thank you, Miss.” He doesn’t know how well he’ll be able to hold up with how hard he is, because of course she had to get him hard first otherwise that would have been too easy. The second item feels a little cooler along his thigh and his leg twitches slightly because he’s a sucker for cold items on his skin. He has to focus then, though, because he got a little distracted by it. “A knife, or fork maybe,” he replies it could be either, could be the end of the fork because he doesn’t feel three prongs.

Ryan realized that she would think all these items were easy to guess, but that was only because she was the one yielding them. She tried to think of what it would feel like to be the one blindfolded and wondered what his current thought process was. "You should have stuck to your first guess, since you mentioned the correct item, even if it was followed by the wrong one, I'll award you one minute." She took the time to flick at his aching cock, not wanting to neglect it. The next item remained in the category of cutlery, but she went a more dangerous route, taking a pizza cutter and very carefully running it down the middle of his chest and stomach. "And this?"

"Thank you, Miss," Isaac responds. Guessing the correct item was a lot harder than he thought it would be, your mind plays tricks on you and you second guess yourself. He was glad Ryan let him have the minute and decided he would only just say one answer going forward. He groans at the slight contact to his cock. He frowns under the blindfold at the next item on his body. He can't decide what the thin object is, he only notes the carefulness of it and the fact this is also cool on his skin. "I honestly have no idea, Miss."

Ryan smirked at his reactions and while she wanted him to succeed, she also liked that this was going to be a challenge for him. “Pizza cutter,” she chimed, rolling it across his torso again. She decided to stay with the theme of things to find in the kitchen and picked up an ice cube from the bowl and ran it along the tip of his cock. “And this?”

Isaac would never have guessed it was a pizza cutter so he wasn’t overly bothered he didn’t get it even though he’d prefer more minutes rather than less. He hisses at the next object and he definitely knows what that is. “An ice cube, Miss,” he tells her without any hesitation at all. He knows that object all too well, loves the coldness on his hardened cock.

Ryan smiled, liking how the game had been going so far. Still it was getting old pretty fast and she decided to change it up. “Correct. That’s a total of 5 minutes. But why don’t we change it up a bit, hm? The rest of these are going to be pretty easy to guess, but a little more intense against your sensitive skin. So instead of guessing, your new task is to remain completely still while I use these items, understood?”

Now that was going to be harder for Isaac, he wasn’t exactly good at staying still, or keeping quiet, when it came to things like this. “Yes, Miss, understood,” he responds with a smile. He wasn’t sure how well he was going to do but he would definitely give it a go.

Ryan noticed the hesitation in Isaac's response, which only told her that the following task was going to be interesting to say the least. She lit the candle that was sitting on a saucer and moved to pick up the feather as the wax from the candle started to melt. She was very tempted to start the feather on his feet, but that would just be cruel, even for her. So instead, she started on his shins, but still kept the contact light and sporadic as she traveled up his legs, over his cock, and over his torso.

Isaac couldn’t see when Ryan would put the objects on him so he couldn’t even mentally prepare for it. It can as a shock to him which wasn’t a surprised and he has to physically stop himself from moving. It got harder to do as the item moved over his cock and he felt his thigh twitch slightly and his eyes squeezed shut under the blindfold. He sucked in a breath, holding still as best he could.

"Such a good boy," Ryan commented. The twitch on his thigh was noticed, but it wasn't enough to warrant a penalty. She continued to move the feather along his inner thighs and back down his legs again, enjoying the way his body clenched in an attempt to keep still.  She moved on to the next and final item, realizing that she probably should have gathered more things to use on him. Though she was thoroughly convinced that this wasn't going to be the last opportunity for them to play like this. Ryan picked up the  burning candle and tipped it just enough to let the red wax splash onto his stomach.

The sudden feel of hot on his stomach made his stomach tighten and a hiss fall from his lips. His toes clenched without permission at the impact. He hadn’t expected there to be a change and his body wasn’t ready for the change.

The hiss was beautiful as was the way his body tightened at the sensation. “Oh you like that, do you?” She prompted, letting small pockets of wax fall along his arms and legs. “I can tell you one thing, it’s certainly gorgeous on your skin.”

Now that Isaac knew what to expect, it was easier for him to force his body still as Ryan continued drizzling the wax on his skin. 

Regardless of how he was able to still himself as she poured the wax on his arms and legs, she noticed the subtle but obvious movements he made when she dropped some on his nipples and cock. She could have lied and said that she was disappointed, but she liked the reaction. She liked it so much that she decided the sensory scene was over and he well earned his reward for following through on her orders. First her mouth around his cock and if he was lucky permission to cum on her face. All while still blindfolded and tied to the table. 

[itsbenedict]

Kingdoms and Koopas: Ep. 2

K&K is a Fate Accelerated campaign set in the Mario universe, which I’m running for three players:

Bee @thebeeskneesocks​, playing Kandace Koopa

Jovian @jovian12​, playing Cozmo Naut

Malky @sleepdepravity​, playing Dr. Chevy Chain

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Previously on Kingdoms and Koopas: a routine hospital visit turned into a quest for magical artifacts, which turned into a less-routine hospital visit wherein the party was summarily inhaled by a Vacuum Shroom victim. After escaping the peril of Lake Stomach, the party escaped to the lungs, “assisted” the Fuzzipede, taste-tested toxic substances, teleported said toxic substances, and acquired information from the Lord of the Guys. Now, they know that the Music Key they’re after is in the heart, so that’s where they’re headed next!

Before leaving the Liver, Chevy checks in with the bartender. She asks how long it’ll take to clean out the rest of the toxin, to which the answer is “several hours, if Kandace helps teleport it out constantly”. She also asks how different parts of the body keep in touch, to which the answer is “the nervous system”. Wall phones, mostly. She gets the bartender’s number, and away they go to the heart.

Now, the heart is a complex organ. It’s got four chambers across two sides, and searching the heart could take a while. Problem number one: there’s two ways into the heart. They could follow the bloodstream into the left side, or they could go against the current to explore the right side. The current, incidentally, being a lot of red blood cells flying by at high speed- like a highway full of flying cars.

Kandace has the bright idea of having Chevy just sort of bite down on a red blood cell and hitch a ride, which... Chevy is not immediately on board with. You want her to bite blood? She’s not a vampire, c’mon. It’d probably taste terrible! And can’t they just ride one without biting it??

Well, some cajoling later, she gives in and they hang on to her chain as she rides a blood cell up to the left ventricle of the heart. They ride up towards the atrium, but then Chevy starts trying to say something with a mouthful of blood cell. Paraphrased:

“Mrrrmm fmmd I mmph gmph?”

“Uh, dude, what?”

“Mrrrmm fmmd I mmph gmph?”

“Chevy, we can’t understand what you’re sayin’!”

“MRRRMMM FMMD I-”

“Stop trying to talk with your mouth full!”

And then Chevy lets go of the blood cell and they all fall and land on a platform in the left ventricle. 

“I said, ‘when should I let go?’”

They search the ventricle but don’t find much of interest, so they get back on Kandace’s broom and fly up to the left atrium, which... uh. It’s dark, so obviously Kandace shoots off a fireball to illuminate the room. To steal a very good joke: “I guess we’re gonna have to give this guy heartburn!”

The fireball illuminates... a ton of Boos. Boos who move to block the entrance to the aorta. Cozmo swings Chevy around like a flail to knock them out of the way, succeeding in busting through. As they enter the aorta, Kandace can sense the presence of the Music Key in the direction they’re moving... until the aorta turns and they start moving away from it. From that information, they’re able to deduce that the Music Key is in the right atrium of the heart.

Problem is... to get there, they’d have to either ride the circulatory system all the way around the body until they entered the right atrium via the pulmonary vein, or they’d have to fly against the current of blood cells all the way back. And... in addition to fast-moving blood cells, there is also a small army of even faster Boos chasing them, attempting to seize them on behalf of “the Master”.

Cozmo tries to shake off the Boos with a firework, but he rolls poorly and the firework goes off on a blood cell. As the Boos close in... Kandace has an idea. She has Cozmo try to lasso one, but he just barely fails- apparently. The maneuver got it into position for Kandace to grab it, and begin using a magic spell to channel its power of intangibility and turn the party intangible. They flee through the aorta wall, and fly through flesh towards the right atrium.

(Hey, it beat the original plan of “just tunnel directly through the walls of this guy’s heart, it’ll be fine”.)

So they emerge into... total darkness. Kandace attempts to reach for the Music Key, which she senses in front of her, but she just barely dodges as the Key moves and something in the darkness attacks her, which she can’t see.

Kandace decides to solve this problem by summoning a swarm of fireflies. I immediately have a really good and really awful idea for how this can go poorly for her- but unfortunately, Chevy thought of the same issue. Namely: they’re really small right now! Is she sure the summoning spell will adjust for size? Or is she about to fill Gourmet Guy’s heart with a swarm of bugs? (She would’ve.) Taking Chevy’s advice, she instead summons a single firefly, which is still bright enough to light... most of the room.

The room is covered in like, wall scrolls and those tied knot thingies that they have in Japanese shrines, and like... all kinds of ninja-affiliated decor. Also, there’s pockets of supernatural darkness and shadow all around. And she can see... a Boo. A Boo with a familiar face, in familiar garb- but not familiar as a Boo.

A bit of background: one of Kandace’s teachers at Kammy Koopa’s Academy for Young Witches and Wizards recently went missing- one Coach Genbu, the koopa PE teacher. PE at KKAFYWAW is still magic-oriented- learning a lot of physical magic skills, and such. Martial arts, ninjutsu, and the like. Since his disappearance- and thanks to Kammy Koopa’s lack of managerial presence- the substitute-less class has just been playing Dodgespell every period.

Now, Coach Genboo is here, having been eaten and digested by Gourmet Guy. His spirit haunts the heart, where he has decided to keep watch over the Music Key. It belongs to Kammy Koopa, after all, and he oughtn’t let any old schmucks take it.

Kandace tries to convince Genboo that she intends to return the key to Kammy, but, uh... Genboo is aware of her aspect “The Wickedest Little Witch”. She is... not trustworthy. Still, she manages to overcome this and sort of convince him to hand it over- if she can first best him in combat. Boss fight time!

So... first, Genboo disappears, leaving the animate shadows in the room to attack everyone. Cozmo immediately attacks the darkness, pulling out an explosive vial and stunning it with a flashbang effect. Genboo, meanwhile, goes straight for Kandace, who would have taken a hit had Chevy not used her stunt to defend her. Uh, accidentally. Chevy has no intention of participating- she spends her turn going over to hang with the giant firefly that occupies half the room. Kandace is annoyed, but manages to ignore her and convince her shadow, Carbonado, to locate Genboo in the shadows.

Cozmo, meanwhile, fends off the attacks of the shadows, punching them as they try to punch him, and doing all kinds of sick punches and backflip kicks and matrix-type moves. It would look super cool, if it weren’t all taking place in the shadows where it’s too dark to see anything. I’m sorry, Cozmo. I appreciate your cool moves.

After Genboo tries and fails to neutralize Cozmo, Chevy attempts to contribute by... heckling Kandace. Which I rule constitutes an attempt to create the “Demoralized” aspect on her. And she rolls high! Kandace spends her last Fate point of the session coming up with a sick comeback, which amounts to “Well, you don’t have any hands!”

Then Kandace successfully blasts Genboo with an ice beam, and he’s just about ready to surrender, when... all his subordinate Boos come charging through the wall, attacking Chevy. They fail to attack Chevy, because she whips the firefly to make it glow brighter and scare them a bit, and then Genboo calls them off.

Genboo, satisfied that Kandace has Proved! Her! Prowess!, hands over the Music Key, which of course swirls around her dramatically before she puts it in her bag. He informs her that she’s expecting her back tomorrow at 3 for PE, and to inform the rest of the class that they’ve all got demerits for cutting class just because it was being held in someone’s organs. She promises she’ll let them know, and succeeds on her roll to keep him from noticing her lie.

Mission complete!

...Except they’re still stuck inside Gourmet Guy. Hm.

Oh, and... Chevy doesn’t want to come with them as they try to escape, because she’s annoyed at Kandace. She elects to stay with the firefly and find their own way out, rather than deal with that bratty kid. And Kandace feels likewise- if this jerk chain chomp won’t apologize for putting their lives in danger (by heckling her during a test being administered by a teacher), then she can just stay down here. Cozmo is uncomfortable with all this fighting, and eventually decides to jump off Kandace’s broom and join Chevy with the firely.

...Which disappears, because the summon spell only lasted ten minutes. Kandace reluctantly rescues the both of them as they begin to fall.

Okay, so, escaping! Kandace has this spell, right? A teleportation circle, with a random target! Great! They can escape with that, and they can of course just assume that if they get out of Gourmet Guy, they’ll return to their normal sizes!

They use it, and find themselves... embedded in a bunch of Lakitu cloud, alongside all the Vacuum Shroom toxin they teleported away. Oops. I guess “random location” means “one specific random location”.

Chevy uses her weight to sink through the cloud, and Cozmo and Kandace manage to dig their way through and follow. As they emerge... several things become apparent.

First, they can’t emerge all the way- the cloud is full of Vacuum Shroom, and so it’s sucking in everything around it. This means there’s a powerful air pressure keeping them embedded in the surface of the cloud. Second- they can see where they are, which is a courtyard at Kam Ekademy, the rival school across the way from KKAFYWAW, run by Kamek. They know this because there are several Koopalings down below the Lakitu cloud, who are desperately trying to not get pulled in. Third, they hear the voice of the Lakitu in question- a student calling himself “the Storm God”, who is actually pleased as punch by this vacuum-related development. He commands the winds! AAAAHAHAHAHAHA! Bow before him, fools!

As Ludwig von Koopa loses his grip and flies hairdo-first into the cloud where our heroes sit, Kandace has an idea. The idea is, like most good ideas, to cast a spell on Chevy against her will. Specifically, this time it makes her heavier- and, whoops, as a side effect turns her into a gravitational singularity that draws in everything even harder.

Thankfully, this includes... the statue of Kammy Koopa that Kandace teleported away the first time she learned the teleportation circle spell, which has since been vandalized and modified by the Kam Ekademy students into a found that shoots water from her nose. The water washes out the toxin from the cloud, as well as everything else- and the party is finally returned to their normal size.

Their normal size, and their abnormal condition of all being magnetically attracted to Chevy’s surface like a katamari.

Kandace dispels the effect, but then, uh... well, they’re surrounded by a bunch of very upset representatives of the school that hates the guts of the school Kandace is from, and which is responsible for their recent misfortune. So that’ll be fun to deal with next time!

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