#i now pronounce this man a shit goblin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinycaprisun · 4 years ago

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a song about it raining somewhere else

title: a song about it raining somewhere else characters: chuck taylor x trent beretta word count: 3822 part: 1/1 warnings: mild cursing, and like that’s kinda it? maybe mild angst? but also i’m a baby and it becomes fluff by the end? a/n: howdy, this is not another i’m back i’m back piece as much as it honestly is. no, see this time- this is actually a gift! 2 days ago was @trentjinshi’s birthday and i wanted to write him something! so i sat down for like 6 hours with my goopy goblin gay brain and spit out this obvious magnum opus. so, like, don’t hate it please. also hugest happy birthday to emil again!! yeehaw... i’ve technically already sent this to u

You know, of all days to have the soul crushing realization that you’ve secretly been in love with your best friend, Trent should have expected it to happen on Valentine’s Day.

The man had garbage luck anyways, and good things seemingly never happened to him. So when Chuck animatedly told him he had a date that night with some girl, Trent’s heart shouldn’t have blown apart like he had been shot. Sure, he pretended to be supportive of his buddy, returning his radiant smile despite the effect never reaching his eyes, And yeah, he wished him all the best, telling the taller man he hoped it went well.

But did Trent mean any of that? Fuck no! He was dying on the inside, mourning the loss of a relationship and love he didn’t even know he wanted! Perhaps he should have considered himself lucky that he didn’t start bawling his eyes out on the spot. The New Yorker had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the crying really was not out of the question at that moment. But he contained his feelings somehow, moving on through the rest of that afternoon like he was trudging through a snowstorm. Slow, cold, and slowly dying from the inside out.

So that led him here, sitting in his car as the rain started to come down, refusing to turn the damn thing on. He didn’t want to go back to his hotel room. Because if he did, it would remind him of the obvious. He went home alone tonight.

Chuck wasn’t alone. His friend had a probably beautiful person with a perfect personality sitting across from him at a fancy restaurant. A person who wasn’t him. Why couldn’t Trent be his perfect date? He would laugh at his jokes, softly hold his hand as they walked in from the parking lot, pull his chair out for him, admire him like he was the sun-

A harsh banging came from his left, rhythmically tapping against the glass of his car window in time with the rain drops. Trent’s head jerked up from where it had defeatedly slumped against the steering wheel to see who was trying to get his attention.

It was a security guard, holding an umbrella in one hand and wavering him off with another, politely telling him to leave the premises as the arena building they were at was closing. To be honest, getting a ticket from not leaving and instead rotting in that parking lot forever sounded like a far better time than he was having. But, he didn’t have a choice. Story of his life.

Trent started up his car, quickly leaving off into the vast night with only his thoughts to keep him company. And that was rapidly becoming annoying. The singular thing on his mind was one person, and how all this time, his feelings were so obvious. Every time he even glanced in his friend’s direction his heart rate would spike. Before now, he had chalked that up to coincidence or - considering it was Trent and how his body loved to torture him - underlying health conditions. Evidently, it was neither of those things.

One would think he would catch on to his festering crush sooner; considering he thought the entire world of Chuck and whenever he had to go more than a few days without seeing him, he would get a weird sense of longing to be back in his presence, but nothing ever wanted to work out that way. Life thought it would be much funnier if Trent felt like he was being ripped apart at the seams by a simple sentence.

Between the still processing of what it even meant to have a crush on your best friend, and knowing that right now he was out with some other person having the time of his life, Trent was not feeling great as he drove down the freeway. Grumbling under his breath, he flicked the radio on to fill the car with something other than his problems. A song the brunette had never heard before crackled to life, being about part of the way through.

By the time we get there, everybody will be drunk The chairs will be on tables and the band will be unplugged We're gonna look real good, but we're gonna look real rude I'm sorry I'm not sorry that I'm-

Fucking perfect! The last person to mess with the radio in Trent’s car was Chuck, and bastard left it on one of his stupid country stations. Trent didn’t even like country music! That didn’t stop him, however, from a few days ago when they were driving from city to city and let Chuck put on whatever he liked, even if it was something he was going to hate. He would make tiny sacrifices like that all the time for his partner, because he knew it would earn him one of those sunlit smiles. Trent really would do anything to make Chuck happy, and had been since they met.

Late to the party with you Oh, who needs confetti? We're already falling into the groove And who needs a crowd when you're happy at a party for two? The world can wait 'Cause I'm never late to the party if I'm late to the party with you

It... It was a love song?

“Throw me off a fucking bridge.” Trent mumbled to himself as he exited an off ramp. Seriously, who out there was tormenting him and making him have possibly the worst day ever? What omnipotent being did he piss off? He thought he was an alright dude, not getting into other people’s business and sort of keeping to himself. Most days he made an attempt to be somewhat nice to others and never did any of that vile or cruel shit. And yet, he was cursed to drive home while listening to a love song in a genre that he hated, and only helped to remind him more of his best friend.

Let's promise when we get in that we'll try to get right out Fake a couple conversations, make the necessary rounds These kinda things just turn into "Who's leaving here with who?" But I just want 'em all to see me come in late to the party with you

Wasn’t that a funny line. Wanting others to see the person you’re with because of how much you loved them? Trent understood that. Whenever he would go anywhere with Chuck, he would always want people to know he was there with him- whether he realized it or not.

He could talk for hours about him. It could be the simple telling of a funny story, or gushing about how good he was in the ring. Or how great of a friend he was. That made Trent wonder about what Chuck would be like if they were together. His mind wandered, dreaming up scenarios and infinite possibilities as he pulled into his hotel’s parking garage.

The musing didn’t stop when he killed the engine, happily ending that fucking song that was starting to piss him off with how cute it was. Trent pushed himself out of the car, gathering his singular bag from the trunk and wandering inside through the rain. Which, if anyone was curious, was even worse than it was when he left. It was coming down in buckets now, being slung into the New Yorker’s face by the wind.

Checking in was easy enough, having the briefest of conversations with the man at the desk who happened to have a thick southern accent.

Chuck had an accent, but only when he drank a lot. It took about 3 and a half beers for it to come out, but by that point he didn’t care all that much to hide it. He wouldn’t be trashed, as he was a pretty solid drinker and had made putting strong shit back a hobby over the last few years. Trent knew exactly how it sounded, though. A smooth Kentucky accent that always caused him to punctuate the last word of his sentences and pronounce certain things differently. Never anything like “y’all” or something southern like that, after all Chuck wasn’t that dime store cowboy they worked with.

The thing Trent remembered the most about Chuck’s accent was how he said his name. He would draw it out, almost like he was whining, except it was low in his voice and always accompanied by a wide grin. One that’s toothy like Cheshire Cat, and annoyingly sweet like bubblegum. Trent idly wondered if he tasted like bubblegum too, but the thought turned vivid fantasy was interrupted for a moment by the elevator reaching his floor.

The brunette slowly approached his room, still partially entranced by the ideas he had created in his mind as he unlocked his door and slipped in. From there, it felt like he wasn’t even alive anymore. Not in a morbid sense, but as in he wasn’t participating in the concept of reality at that moment. Trent was so disconnected from his actions, it was almost as though he was outside of his body and looking in from somewhere else. So much so, that when he snapped out of his revere from his phone buzzing, he was lying in bed wearing only his boxers.

Not that what was on his phone was of any importance to him. All Trent saw were notifications for things he didn’t care about, the only thing sticking out was a short text from Orange sending him more condolences over his current “issue”. Damn, he was acting like someone had died, not his friend’s heart being broken. Trent didn’t bother responding, tossing the device back on the bedside table and rolling over to face away from it.

The alarm clock on the other stand read “10:17 p.m.”, blinking at him like the piece of shit was broken. It also only now occurred to Trent that he had never turned the lights on while he was basically astral projecting. So he was bathed in darkness, with the only illumination being that digital clock and the street lights below outside the window.

Was he going to fall asleep at a respectable time? Because deep in his bones he could feel the shroud of tiredness creeping through him from all of the emotional energy he drained today. And with that, Trent grabbed one of the unused pillows and wrapped himself around it, cuddling it tightly and not bothering to get under the bed covers.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, Trent could pretend the pillow was something else. --

Who in the hell was knocking at his door at - the New Yorker stopped his angry brain tirade to peek at the clock again - 11:53 at night? He had only gotten to sleep an hour and it was cut short by who knew what. If this was Orange coming to tell him he had broken another hotel microwave by “forgetting to take the metal spoon out of his mac and cheese”, Trent was going to fucking kill him.

Getting up from where he lay, Trent stumbled blearily across the room to the door. In those few seconds, it processed with him that his hair must have come untied while he was sleeping because it was messily draped around his shoulders. Among that, he was still only dressed in boxers, riding rather low on his hips. Maybe he had a restless sleep even though it was quick?

He didn’t care what he looked like though as he slowly pulled the door open with a yawn and blinked from the harsh light flooding in from the hallway. Trent prepared to open his mouth and berate his shorter friend when he heard a sniffle come from in front of him.

Chuck was standing on the other side of the doorway, soaking wet from the rain. By the look on his face, it seemed as though he had been crying as well, with red eyes and a running nose. His eyes didn’t meet Trent’s as he all but whispered, “H-hey, man.”

Did the longer haired brunette care that his friend was ice cold and drenched from head to toe? No. That was why without words, he dragged his friend into the room and hugged him tightly, letting the hotel door slip closed on its own. Chuck didn’t need to be told twice to hug back, nearly crushing Trent from the strength of his shaking arms.

They stayed like that for a good while, with Trent rubbing soothing circles into his back and letting him rest his head on his shoulder when he began to weep again. That was before he slowly drew back, silently taking Chuck’s hand and guiding him to his bed so he could sit. Trent grabbed the comforter and wrapped it around his friend, figuring he could just use a blanket later when he needed to sleep.

“I... didn’t even tell you- what’s wrong..?” murmured the Kentuckian, slouching in on himself and bringing his knees up so they were closer to his chest. He must have been really cold. Trent paused for a moment, looking with a pained yet sympathetic smile.

“Don’t need to. You’re upset, and I gotta fix that.” He wasn’t sure who hurt him, or even what, but just let it be known he was going to destroy whatever it was.

“Well, uh, t-thank you?”

“Yeah, dude. I-” Love you. “Care about you. You’re my friend and shit. Hurts to see you cry.” With that, Trent carefully maneuvered around Chuck and hopped off the bed to go rifle through his clothes for something dry he could wear. And- probably some pants for himself. When he first opened the door, he couldn’t help but notice Chuck gave him the slightest look up and down, with his cheeks going red afterwards. Trent assumed it was only because he was cold, and the warmth from his bedroom had fucked with his internal body temperature.

While digging through his bags trying to find some of the clothes he always packed for his friend - and if it were any other day than today, Trent would have told you it was because he was just being a nice guy. He knew better than that now. - Chuck began to talk again. “Date ditched me...”

“They didn’t show up?”

Chuck sighed. “No, she did. But- when her ex came around... She would’a rather been with him.”

Trent grabbed the extra clothes and stood, turning around to face Chuck who was staring off into the corner. Considering how already destroyed his heart already was from earlier, he was a bit surprised it still had a few more pieces that could shatter at this sight. Coming back over, he set the pile to one side of him, then sat back down on the other. “Chuck...”

“I don’t know what I expected? Every girl, or hell- every guy, I’ve ever tried to date has never worked out for me. I don’t get it.” Oh, Trent should not have been so happy to hear those words. Well, he wasn’t happy to hear most of them, and was hurting for his friend, but two of them in particular stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Every guy. That meant Chuck had been on dates with men. That meant, even though it was fucked up to think about this at the moment, that Trent still had a chance.

“You just haven’t found the right one, man. None of those assholes from before deserve you anyways.” Chuck brought his gaze back over to Trent, eyes glassy and expression- disbelieving. His hair was matted to his head, still wet in some places, but mostly stuck in small spots to his forehead. Everything else about him was still about the same caliber as that, slowly drying and clinging to parts of his body that weren’t being disrupted by the comforter.

“Or maybe I didn’t deserve them...” Something- came over Trent then. There wasn’t a word for the mix of emotions he felt upon hearing that. But what he could feel were his hands taking either side of his best friend’s face and holding his head up to where he would look him in the eyes.

“That’s not true, you and I both know that. Anyone in the world would be lucky to have you.”

Chuck honest to god laughed at that and tilted his head. “Name one person.”

Fuck. For all intents and purposes, the answer he desperately wanted to give was ‘Me’, but that never came out of his mouth. Instead, it was like Trent was suspended in fear, unable to say what he wanted for the thought of being rejected. Or somehow even worse, him thinking it was a joke and getting upset with him. So, Trent said nothing, trying to think of a different response that would be true, but didn’t give himself away.

That was the nail in the coffin, though. Chuck took his silence as an answer, unable to provide a single person who could possibly want to be with him. The other man shook Trent’s hands away from his face, hurt welling up in his eyes with a grimace as he moved to grab the clothes that were gotten for him.

“See,” Chuck hobbled to a standing position, holding the clean garments close to his sodden chest like it was going to protect him from the pain he was feeling. Trent, just say something, anything, he yelled to himself whilst watching Chuck shuffle over to the bathroom and pull the door open. He flicked his eyes down to the floor for a moment before coming back up and locking onto Trent’s. “No one could ever love me...”

“Chuck-” Trent was too late, Chuck had already disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. And God damn it, his stomach had sunk to the depth of his being, twisting and turning like he was going to be sick. He should have said something. Even if it meant ruining the only thing he really had left to care about. There was his job, his other friends, his family and that; and while they meant a lot to him as well, he truly believed in that moment, and probably for some while now, that Chuck was his world.

As goofy and kind of bullshit as it was to hear, that’s what he felt like. That this guy he’s known for a good chunk of his life was his sun, moon, and every star in the sky. And Trent knew he’s never felt that way about another person. He knew that no other person on this Earth - or fuck, any other planet - could beam at him when they pull an upset and win a match together like he could. No one else made his chest feel warm whenever they complimented him quite the same way that Chuck did. There wasn’t a soul who had the same giggle, the wit, the determination, the personality- fucking any of it. No one had quite what his best friend had, and that was why he loved him.

Trent had no idea how long Chuck was going to be in there, or if he was ever going to come out. Knowing him, he could stay in there all night, not wanting to face the world again- let alone his friend. Even still, he got up from where he was and placed himself a few paces away from his bathroom door. Within his head, he hyped himself up, vowing that no matter if he got scared or felt like everything was going to go wrong, the New Yorker was going to tell him the truth.

Approximately 4 minutes later - if you asked Trent it felt like 10 years - Chuck finally emerged from his hiding place, dressed in some of his friend’s clothes and with shockingly drier hair. Not sure why he was so surprised that he had run a towel through it or something, but that didn’t matter. The taller man seemed confused as to why Trent was standing at the door, but before he could ask what was happening, Trent said, “I do.”

Chuck squinted at him with a, “What?” but it came out choked off and shaky, like he wasn’t prepared to speak.

“You said no one could ever love you, and that’s not true. Because I love you,” He wanted to protest, but now that Trent was talking, he couldn’t stop. “And I didn’t realize it until today, but I seriously am so in love with you that I don’t think I could picture my life without you. You mean everything to me and I would do anything for you just to see your beautiful smile or hear you say my name. And I know it sounds like I’m lying and that I’m trying to make you feel better, but I’m not. If I think about it, I feel like I’ve loved you forever but never realized it, and I wish I could have known sooner. Because you need to know that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I would be the luckiest guy in the world to even have a chance with you-”

“Trent-”

“I love the way you purposefully send me a string of those stupid emojis over text because you know it annoys me. I love how you can make anyone feel better with just one smile and your passion for loving others. I love how much you love animals and how every dog you see, you consider kidnapping-'' Trent had become so caught up in his declaration that he hadn’t noticed his friend had moved from in front of him and Chuck’s lips were on his.

Before he could even do anything; not even get a gasp at the sudden action, Chuck was already pulling away, breathing as if he had just run a mile. His face was bright red and his hands were holding either of Trent’s arms as he searched his face for a reaction. Or anything really.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” It felt as though Trent was living in one of those shitty romantic comedies he secretly liked to watch, because he was the one who cut Chuck off while speaking with an somehow even more desperate kiss. He felt him respond almost instant, bringing one of his hands up to Trent’s face to cup it gently as his own arms latched cautiously onto Chuck’s hips. And that was where they stayed, for who knew how long, but every second of it was exactly where they wanted to be.

You know, of all days to have the life-changing realization that you’re secretly in love with your best friend, Trent - and Chuck for that matter - hadn’t expected it to happen on (the day after) Valentine’s Day.

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rabidbehemoth · 4 years ago

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Augh didn't realize that one wasn't yours! I wanna hear about the K/S BDSM at the ski resort!! And also about the erlkoenig sequel...

Aaaaaah @nagia-pronounced-neijia the KS BDSM one was supposed to be some simple kink to work out of my system, but just spiraled out of control. It turned into a whole "how to meet incredibly varied needs in a relationship" thing.

Basic premise: Sakura thinks Kakashi adopted his "perverted" reputation purely as a keep-away measure. Until she stumbles across him involved in some actual kinky shit, and starts to think about him differently. They take an assassination mission together to a ski resort alone. While isolated, her curiosity increases until they negotiate a kind of contract, just gradually pushing boundaries.

Problem is, she's engaged to Sasuke (!!). Their relationship is strained by both their unmet needs (hers sexual, his not). I actually see him as somewhere on the ace spectrum in this fic, but not realizing it, which causes issues for both of them that--wouldn't you know it--the introduction of the right third wheel just may solve.

Sasuke often gets a pretty raw deal in my stories (I, an adult, never forgave him for leaving my favorite fictional ninja village), so this was my attempt to kind of apologize and make him round and full.

To answer your comment @kayparker20, the NaruSakuKaka was so thoroughly eclipsed by this fic idea, which makes a lot more sense to me. KakaNaru is a bit of a hard sell for me as well, but I can see Kakashi and Sasuke both meeting their dramatically different needs through Sakura and bonding with each other, though I don't know exactly what that dynamic would look like in the end. Hopefully everyone walks away happier, haha.

---

For the Erlkonig sequel...Subtilior wrote out all the ideas already! They were just THERE, all planned out to be Sarah's escape from the dream world/coma a la the story of Orpheus! I just wanted to expand on things for my own headcanons. I wanted to explore different parts of the fantasy world while her pregnancy progress and she gradually regains her memory. She could search for the caged bird in a kind of callback to the original Labyrinth, but where the goal is to leave the labyrinth instead of reach the center. And there's a dreamweaving flute in there that she uses??? Idk, I have a lot of feelings man.

I have a few ending ideas but this one is probably my current fav:

Perhaps she gives birth, makes an escape attempt, and fails. jareth makes a deal with her, now that he has her children (twins). He will let her go, on the condition that she does not ____ him. (look back? love him? think of him?) he knows she will fail because he cheats somehow, intercedes. perhaps she makes it to toby, wakes from her coma, memory wiped of the goblin king, but hears music and remembers jareth. she dies, for real, and returns to his arms, having finally given up. bittersweet ending that brings relief but lacks justice.

You know what? JUST TAKE THE OUTLINE, MAYBE SOMEONE WILL WRITE IT SOMEDAY: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15clJk7YJ71xR4HNgE-qwAR9RienxuWC1bpQF4Cn7-Vk/edit?usp=sharing

PLEASE GOD I JUST WANT TO SEE THIS SEQUEL SO MUCH

#my fics

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akechicrimes · 5 years ago

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7 or 71 for either shuake or yukamitsu [big eye emojis]

7. “I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere.”

On Goro’s thirty-fourth birthday at ten-thirty in the morning, Akira calls him at work and says, “Happy birthday, dear. I just got hit by a car, and I need to know what color bike you want.”

On Goro’s thirty-fourth birthday at ten-thirty in the morning, Akira calls him at work (which Goro dubiously eyeballs for a whole four seconds before picking up) and says, “Happy birthday, dear. I just got hit by a car, and I need to know what color bike you want.”

Well, neither Goro nor Akira own a car for Akira to drive, so that means Akira got hit on foot. Goro is very calm, and has no immediate panic response to that, because he’s a rational and responsible adult. “Are you dead?” Goro asks.

“Probably not.”

“And is there a reason you’re calling me instead of the ambulance?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I think I have a bruise on one of my legs, if that counts. But I was riding your bike when it happened, so the bike got totaled, so, you know. They’ve got the same model you had, but there’s tons of new colors, if you want pictures.”

Goro takes a very long, very deep breath. Goro is very, extremely calm. “Anything is fine,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, hundred percent. I even landed on my feet; you should’ve seen it.”

“You should go to the ER anyway,” says Goro, in a voice that is truly the epitome of calm.

“I mean, I guess I could, but that seems like a waste of time. And I don’t want to just leave your bike in the middle of the road.”

“Throw it away if it’s wrecked, then.”

“But it deserves a proper send-off.”

“You’re doing this to me on my birthday, Kurusu.”

“I’ll go to the ER if you go with me,” says Akira hopefully, who is a perennially bad influence who is of the opinion that Goro should have just said he’d be ‘working from home’ and spent the day with him.

Goro takes a look at his calendar, tallies up how many meeting he’d have to reschedule, and waits a whole five seconds before he lets himself say, “Fine,” because Akira just said that he’s fine and Goro isn’t upset and everything is so calm that Goro can wait five seconds before agreeing to leave work. “I’ll see you at Leblanc.”

“Wait, wait, which color for the bike? They’ve got green, blue, a red, a kind of fun rose-gold thing, which is a bit excessive considering it’s a bike, and teal, and a kind of blue and orange Naruto-y thing…”

“Anything is fine.” Goro stops. “Except the last one.”

“Red it is! See you in a bit.”

“Don’t ride that bike back to Leblanc,” says Goro, as if lightning might strike twice on the same day on the same man riding the same model bike of the same color, but Akira’s already hung up. Goro speed-drafts a rescheduling email, copy-pastes it to four different people, and then sprints out the office door without even a goodbye to his coworkers.

Friday, 11:16 AM

FUTABA: hey

FUTABA: hey goro

FUTABA: hey gorororororororororo

FUTABA: HEY MR AKECHI KURUSU

GORO: If it’s about the traffic accident, I heard about it.

GORO: I’m going back to Leblanc now.

FUTABA: no it’s smthg else

FUTABA: well it is about the accident but i got smthg else for u

FUTABA sent MOV19.mp4

FUTABA: ripped this from the traffic cam

GORO: Is this footage of the accident?

FUTABA: yeehaw

GORO: …Thank you for the offer, but I don’t know if I want to see this.

FUTABA: ok i hear u but i promise it’s hilarious

FUTABA: and also u might feel better if u see it

FUTABA: like idk what he told u on the phone but like

FUTABA: look the car even slowed down at the intersection

FUTABA: the dude was obeying traffic laws and everything he was doing something like ten under the speed limit

FUTABA: the car ENTIRELY missed akira

FUTABA: got the bike full on

FUTABA: and then he just rolls up across the hood and up the windshield like a looney toon

FUTABA: rip ur bike tho it just goes cronch

FUTABA: instant pretzel

FUTABA: ty bichael for ur sacrifice

FUTABA: also idk i figured you

FUTABA: might wanna see for urself that he’s okay

FUTABA: like u can see him stand up at the end and he’s not even confused or anything he’s super duper ok

FUTABA: he’s not bullshitting u over the phone and pretending he’s ok when he’s not ok

FUTABA: u know how he does lmao

GORO: …Huh.

GORO: He really did land on his feet for a whole second there, didn’t he?

FUTABA: yeah like a cat

FUTABA: it’s nuts tbh

FUTABA: and then he remembers he’s a human and falls on his ass LMAO

FUTABA: show it to morgana i want his professional kitty cat opinion on the matter

FUTABA: rate akira’s near death experience

FUTABA: also the driver was v nice and v apologetic and he gave akira his insurance

FUTABA: but i have his home address and work address and phone number and the name of his dog if you want it

GORO: Just the insurance will be fine.

FUTABA: kk

GORO: …And thanks for sending the video.

GORO: Even though I already knew he was fine.

FUTABA: you know those like

FUTABA: itty bitty teeny weeny micro dogs

FUTABA: that are like four and a half pounds

FUTABA: but they think they can take any mfer on the block out of sheer will alone

FUTABA: and theyve always got their eyeballs bulging out and they pick fights with 70 pound dogs

FUTABA: and they have only two emotions which are rage and anxiety and they shake constantly because theyre only four pounds and they have So Much Emotion and nowhere to put it so they vibrate at the speed of sound

GORO: Is this a metaphor about me.

FUTABA: it’s a metaphor about you

FUTABA: because i can hear your shaky angry anxious four pound vibrating all the way from the other side of tokyo

GORO: You are the smallest, angriest, most anxious person I know, who regularly picks fights with international hacking organizations and billion-dollar companies.

GORO: And I, somehow, am the angry shaky dog.

FUTABA: your husband got hit by a car on ur birthday

GORO: I know that.

GORO: I do not need to be reminded.

FUTABA: ah yeah

FUTABA: sorry

GORO: He’s fine.

GORO: He said he’s fine.

GORO: And from this footage, he’s more than fine.

FUTABA: he is super double extra fine with a side of fine

GORO: Unless this footage was in any way edited.

GORO: And unless he was faking his call, somehow.

GORO: In which case, I’m going to walk into Leblanc and find out that he was just pretending to be okay so he could hear my voice one last time and Leblanc will be swarming with police officers to break the news the newly bereaved.

GORO: But that’s not going to happen.

GORO: Because Akira is fine, and I’m perfectly fine.

FUTABA: im rly glad to hear my man

GORO: This footage isn’t edited, is it.

FUTABA: no

GORO: Are you very sure?

GORO: Videos are easily modified.

GORO: Would you even know if it was edited?

FUTABA: yes im a literal wizard of course i would know

FUTABA: where are u even getting this idea from

GORO: The entire series of events is unrealistic, isn’t it?

GORO: You said yourself that it was almost like something out of a cartoon.

GORO: The likelihood that someone gets hit by a car and comes out of it entirely no worse for wear is practically ridiculous.

FUTABA: i ripped that film straight from the cam it is entirely unedited

GORO: But how can you be sure? Did you see him in live camera?

FUTABA: i mean no but he texted me

GORO: What if that was his dying text.

FUTABA: i rly dont know if his dying text would have been the “i lived bitch” meme with the cat filter

FUTABA: he’s fine dude

FUTABA: that’s why i sent you the video

GORO: I KNOW he’s fine.

GORO: I’m asking if there’s any solid evidence.

FUTABA: THE VIDEO

GORO: I’m going to call him. Brb

FUTABA: so what he can tell you he’s fine AGAIN and you’ll be like

FUTABA: “oh but what if it was secretly a pod person who stole his body after he died tragically after calling me one last time to hear my voice”

FUTABA: he is FINE

FUTABA: like go ahead and call him if u want but

FUTABA: the only person who was gonna edit that footage was me

FUTABA: and if he were dead i would not be functioning enough to be doing any kinda photoshop like that

FUTABA: let alone LIE to you jesus christ!!!!!

FUTABA: god

FUTABA: i pronounce you King Shaky Dog

FUTABA: the tiniest and angriest and shakiest and most anxious four pound goblin

FUTABA: i will reclaim my title tomorrow

FUTABA: for now it’s my birthday gift to you

FUTABA: the title of Shaky Dog allows you to go absolutely apeshit and nobody will judge you

GORO: You know I hate birthday presents.

FUTABA: did you call akira

GORO: I hate birthday presents so much that I will be refusing my title as King Shaky Dog and will henceforth not be going ape shit.

FUTABA: ok so

FUTABA: i didnt mean to

FUTABA: get snippy with you or anything

GORO: It’s fine.

GORO: I wasn’t… exactly polite, myself.

GORO: So.

FUTABA: um

FUTABA: you really can call him if you want

FUTABA: there’s nothing wrong with that

FUTABA: between u and me……………………. i definitely did that more than once for a lot lesser reasons than someone getting hit by a car

GORO: My stop is in less than thirty seconds.

GORO: I will probably live.

FUTABA: lmao ok well

FUTABA: if u change ur mind about losing ur shit then please know i gave u that footage in the first place because i think if something like that happened to MY partner i would mcfreakin lose it

FUTABA: speaking of her

FUTABA: sumi says happy birth btw

FUTABA: but cuter because u know how she is

FUTABA: “happy birthday crow-senpai~~~~~~~~” in her shy voice that makes u wanna die

FUTABA: ofoogofhghhfoghfhhghfh g gh SUMI ur so cute ilysm

GORO: Tell her I said thanks.

GORO: And stop telling me how much you love her and use the ring you made me go ring shopping with you for.

FUTABA: HHHHH

FUTABA: im being cyberbullied for being a cowardly lesbian

GORO: I’m at my stop, by the way, so I’m going offline.

FUTABA: which tbh i probably deserve

FUTABA: oh kk see u

FUTABA: watch the video again mr shaky dog

FUTABA: akira is fine

FUTABA: everyone is alive

FUTABA: you are one year older

FUTABA: happy birthday goro

The bike is totaled.

Akira isn’t the sort of person to dump a piece of trash right in front of Leblanc, but it’s hard to miss sticking out of the nearby public trash bin. The back wheel has exploded into serrated wheel-spokes and limb rubber bits that Akira’s shoved into the trash as best as he could. The body of the bike is crushed in on itself, exposing its sharp hollow innards; the handlebars resemble a badly-tied knot. The front wheel is left to stick up and out, creaking gently, spinning overhead from half a hinge like a head not quite fully severed.

The cafe is empty except for its usual barista who, of course, is a very normal and mild-mannered barista, who has nothing to do with the several hundred millions worth of dollars of repatriated art hiding in the attic en route back to South Korea. That would be illegal, of course, and Akira Kurusu-Akechi has never once in his life done anything illegal in the name of what’s morally right. “Welcome back, dear,” says Akira, and hangs up a coffee mug to dry, and it’s so normal that Goro is convinced that either he’s experiencing yesterday, or maybe he’s re-experiencing the year 2016 all over again, or maybe Akira really is dead and this is just his ghost.

Goro sits in his usual spot at the bar. Same chair, sixteen years later. Unbelievable. Maybe Goro’s giving him a little bit of a dumbfounded look, because Akira tilts his head, leans across the bar, and pecks Goro on the cheek.

“Where’s Sakura?” Goro asks.

“Having his midday old man nap. So,” says Akira, looking pleased with himself, “either we can close Leblanc for an hour and raid the kitchen and make lunch, or we can close Leblanc and go out and have a fancy lunch. Your choice because I already made dinner reservations and we’re doing those no matter what.”

Goro really means to give him an answer, because Akira really does love Goro’s birthday every year and never fails to pick someplace nice for the day, but instead what comes out of his mouth is: “Did you ride the new bike back home?”

“Yeah, I did. Figured I might as well take it for a test drive. It’s a good bike.”

“Why didn’t you take the subway?” Goro says sharply.

“Didn’t have my card.”

“You just rode the bike all the way across Tokyo?”

“It wasn’t all the way across Tokyo, just a bit away and back… Goro?”

Ah, Goro’s going to become one of those people who has a meltdown any time their loved one gets on a plane or a train or ksomething else associated with heebie-jeebie nonsense magical thinking. Great. Fantastic. God dammit.

“Do you really want me to go to the ER?” Akira asks eventually.

Goro really wants Akira to have never gotten hit in the first place, but people don’t get what they want and sometimes the universe decides to send one bad fucking driver through a red light and take away Akira’s entire life in a split second—one mistake, a coincidence at the wrong place and time, and the boy who fought God and won is a smear of bones on the pavement.

This would be different if it were sixteen years ago, and Goro had the power to bend people’s minds in half until they broke, or dive into the deepest, bloodiest parts of the collective psyche and pummel the worst of them to a pulp—but what’s he going to do here? Lambast a guy who was going ten miles under the speed limit and just wasn’t looking the right way? Is he going to summon a new Persona from his soul and undo time itself?

Can he do anything if the universe decides, one day, that Akira’s time on this earth is up? He spent all those years desperate for power, and then abusing that power, and then desperately guilty for having abused that power, and then desperately trying to get up that power, and now here he is with the power to do jack shit when his husband almost gets run over and if the Metaverse were still around he swears he would have carved Loki from his own soul out of sheer fury alone—

“No,” says Goro sharply, and stands up. “It’s nothing. I’m not hungry, and I’m going for a walk. Please don’t text me unless it’s an emergency.”

“What—hey! Goro, wait, wait—”

“I’m getting some fresh air!”

Akira’s scrambling to get out from behind the bar. “Didn’t you just get here—?”

Goro spins around and points a finger at Akira like it’s his fault: “You were the one,” he snarls, “who promised, when we got married, that we’d always be together. And now you get hit on a bike, and then stand up like it’s nothing and—and get on another bike and go cycling around the exact same streets where you got hit—? Aren’t you scared? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Akira falls silent. “I didn’t go back to the same intersection,” he says at last.

Goro can’t take this. “I’m taking a walk.”

“Wait wait wait, Goro, just—” Akira grabs Goro’s hand and Goro has the sudden urge to yank his arm away, but Akira’s hand is also incredibly real, just like it felt this morning and yesterday and the day before that and all the days Goro ever took Akira’s living, breathing body for granted. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. He was going, I dunno, twenty miles per hour at most. It was an intersection. He’d slowed down beforehand and everything, and I didn’t even get hurt on the fall.”

Right, because Goro’s the one who’s just freaking out for no reason. Right. Okay. Because that’s how he is, isn’t he, always being dramatic over little things. Right. Of course. This is fine.

When Goro doesn’t turn around, Akira moves around to the front to look him in the eye. “Sorry if I made you worry,” says Akira. “But it was really nothing at all.”

“Maybe it was nothing this time,” says Goro forcefully. “But what about the next time—the next car—the next time you borrow my bike? What about tomorrow? Or the day after that? Literally any one of the hundreds and hundreds of days coming up where you could easily die just as easily as you died today.”

“Then I’ll escape death hundreds and hundreds of times,” says Akira.

Goro scoffs.

“I mean it. I was a Phantom Thief, wasn’t I? I escaped death more than once. Did it again today. I’ll do it as many times as it takes until we’re both old and grey.” Akira takes Goro’s hand, but it’s Goro who laces their fingers together.

“Sometimes it doesn’t work that way,” says Goro, like a bad echo of his ten-year-old self, trying to figure out what kind of world would let his mother die.

“I’m just keeping my promise,” says Akira. “I told you that I’d never leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sometimes that’s not your decision to make.”

“It is and I’ve decided I’m immortal until you die.”

Goro scoffs. “Don’t be arrogant.”

“Is it being arrogant? I didn’t let death steal you away from me. I’m not letting it steal me away from you, either.”

“Sometimes…” Goro begins.

“'Sometimes’ what?”

'Sometimes’ what?

Sometimes things get worse. People die early, and unfulfilled; they streak through the sky in a blaze and then wink out, without even a burst of fire to show for it. Sometimes nobody gets a say in what happens, and plans don’t pan out, and wishes aren’t granted, and everything happens for no good reason and no good end.

Today, Goro Akechi-Kurusu is thirty-four years old, about sixteen years older than he ever figured he was going to be. He has a career in a non-profit for maladjusted youth getting reacclimated to school systems and preparing for college, instead of the career in law he figured he’d have if he actually lived that long. He doesn’t just have one friend, but multiple friends. He has, unbelievably, a husband, which honestly still floors him to this day, considering that he was and maybe still is convinced that marriage is a scam devised by asshole men like his father to manipulate young women into a false sense of security. The other day, Akira mentioned that he wanted to get a cat to keep Morgana company, maybe in a few years when they moved into a pet-friendly apartment, and in Goro’s head, it made sense that they would both be alive and together entire years in the future for them to get a cat.

Today is already an impossible day, isn’t it?

“Sometimes,” says Goro flatly, “you say ridiculous things, and I think that you could actually pull it off.”

Akira grins. Akira leans in for their regular greeting kiss when one of them comes home, but this time, Goro closes his eyes, leans into it, really tries to memorize the feel of Akira’s lips on his. Every line and scar on his hands, the odd ends of his fingernails, that familiar way he waits for four beats, then takes a breath through his nose and kisses Goro again, and never can quite seem to avoid kissing him more on the bottom lip than the top. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he says plainly not three inches from Goro’s face. “It’s bad form to leave a calling card and never show up.”

Goro smiles. “Then I won’t let you break your word.”

When Akira pulls away, he kisses the back of Goro’s hand, like a proper gentleman thief of old. “Happy birthday, dear,” he says, and surprisingly, despite the way this awful day started off, Goro thinks that Akira might be able to pull that promise off, too.

#clouis-loumentine #mine #I TRIED RLY HARD TO WRITE YUKAMITSU but it wasnt happening im sry #please take this apology akeshu instead #also yall have no idea how much self control it took for me to write this oneshot instead of #'goro akechi goes bald at age 24 and akira reassures him he still loves him even tho he has shido's hair genes'#honestly i shouldve done that

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filbertsgaymom · 4 years ago

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My thoughts on MAG 181 (running commentary)

Everyone's been pronouncing Mikaele wrong.

Salesa is now my favourite character.

Martin you sweet innocent soul.

Jon is feeling impotent.

Insect things are very bad guests.

Annabelle is just scuttling around doing her thing and it's very admirable.

I love how Martin is just treating Jon like he's a disgruntled lap dog.

Can I have some Annabelle voice please.

Salesa Story Time.

I guess you could say it was a Purse With a Curse.

Salesa is a bad bitch you can't kill him.

HE'S LIKE D'ANGELO WALLACE HE'S ALWAYS RIGHT.

If I don't get some Annabelle soon I'm speaking to the manager.

YES SEXY SPIDER LADY YOU CAN CRAWL UP MY DRAIN ANYTIME.

I mean Martin you're accusing an Avatar of the fucking Web of manipulation.....

Yeah Martin no shit..

Why does Salesa talk like the Monopoly man would.

Goodbye sexy spider lady and objectively sexy Monopoly Man.

That's how capitalism works Martin. Hate to break it to you.

Jon is being drowned in unwanted knowledge. Reminds me of a childhood on the Internet.

Martin is so articulate.

Overall review: 4 Monopoly Men out of 5

Didn't provide quite as many answers as hoped but now I'm just a little perplexed rather than screaming in confusion. Would have liked a little more Annabelle. Definite feeling of impending tragedy, I have a hunch I'm going to need some coping mechanisms.

This running commentary was written by seven goblins in a trench coat.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #mikaele salesa #podcast

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the-golden-ghost · 5 years ago

Note

you can probably guess i'm gonna ask this one, but she ra??? (bonus points if you don't even go into the tags first and just do it based on previous knowledge)

Okay I won’t use the tags for this one I’ll just use my Osmosis Knowledge (and also the stuff I learned from the 80s show)

Plot: Adora (aka She-Ra) needs to Save The Freaking World from a legion of Bad Guy Aliens who are like bad guys

Adora: She-Ra. Got her powers from Gray Skull and like... a magic sword. He-Man’s sister. Lives in a parallel universe to him. Kinda a dork? Wears a red jacket always. A cinnamon roll

Glimmer: I think she’s a princess but idk of what. Sparkle Sparkle powers?! Maybe? Her mom’s name is Angela but they pronounce it stupidly

Bow: Also a cinnamon roll. I think he has gay dads and he’s good at archery (hence Bow) he has a heart on his armor and I think that’s valid. Uhh ends up in Love with Glimmer

Catra: Butch Lesbian Kittycat. Full of Anger. Gets a Zuko-level redemption arc that ends with the Power of Gay. Tsundere. Has claws idk if they’re retractable though. Ends up in lesbians with Adora. Abandonment issues maybe idk?

Hordak: Bad Guy Alien Guy. Has a mean boss he’s always trying to impress. Maybe has clones? Robots? I dunno? In the 80s version he had sinus congestion but I assume that cleared up. I really don’t know anything else other than he’s the Big Bad or something

Shadow Weaver: In the 80s version she was Cool but now she’s Not Cool and is abusive. I guess she’s like a witch? Her design is still dope af though

Sea Hawk: Looks like Bow from the 80s one. Uh... I guess he’s a pirate or something?

Entrapta: She’s the Autism Rep™ for the show and she’s a bad guy even though I thought she was a good guy until three days ago. Also I didn’t know her name until like yesterday RIP. I guess she’s like... fairly nice albeit being a Bad Guy?

Double Trouble: Nonbinary alien goblin thing? Trickster god?

Scorpia: Big Buff Femme and we stan. Gives excellent hugs. Looks very sweet and soft 10/10

Perfuma: I don’t know jack shit about her other than her name and that she exists and I think she has flower powers

Swift Wind: Adora’s horse. He used to be able to talk in the 80s one and they also made a horrible ableist episode about him having a baby that got the show cancelled, either because of the ableism or because of the concept of Reproduction on a kid’s show. Anyway I don’t know anything about him in this reboot, except that he’s there? I think?

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samesongxox · 5 years ago

Text

Savior: Chapter 2 (Falling Fast)

Summary: (Hellboy 2019) AKA Turning a New Leaf AKA Good Samaritans Need Love Too. The B.P.R.D is tasked to infiltrate a black market creature trafficking ring led by a powerful warlock. Hellboy rescues Phyrra who is found being held hostage, a slave for her magic. He must protect her as she is hunted by her master and his gang of monsters. (AU where Broom isn't dead/Abe wasn't found)

It will be rated M, it will include violence, swearing, smuttiness, all the good things in life.

I've just used an LOTR elven translator for Phyrra's language, I wanted her to start off disoriented enough to revert back to her old language and it was the simplest way I could make that happen but I won't use too much of it.

Also, for those wondering, I wrote down Phyrra into a text to speech and the way her name sounded to me was Pier-Rah, I know with phonetics PH makes the F sound, so saying it like Fear-rah, I think could also be correct.

Disclaimer: Hellboy belongs to Dark Horse Comics/Mike Mignola, I don't own anything except the AU and my OC's.

Meanwhile, in a corridor not far away…

Running full tilt down this damp, dark and fucking horrible smelling hallway, Hellboy could think of at least 10 other things he wanted to be doing right now instead. He ran round the corner, stood at the end, and waited for the big bastard who was chasing him to come around it. He had no one to blame but himself, for the situation he was in; the creature stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his target, giving Hellboy the proper momentum to swing his stone hand into the stomach of an ogre.

When dear ol’ dad had said in his usually chastising tone: 'This isn't some simple run and gun mission Hellboy! Our operatives have intelligence that says this ring holds over hundreds of different species and creatures!" He hated when his father looked at him like that, the disapproving glint in his eyes. 'We have no idea what you could find in there, this requires a lighter touch than you're used to.'

The argument had ended the usual way they did, Hellboy stomping away petulantly, ignoring the protects from Ben about his father being right, as always, blah blah blah. Sometimes he wished they never recruited the Major, sure he had chilled out considerably since the whole Nimue debacle, he even accompanied Hellboy and Alice to the local bars on occasion; he never joined in the karaoke, but he gave Hellboy a run for his money in a round of pool.

"You're gonna die today demon!" The ogre gloated, grabbing Hellboy by his jacket. Hellboy grimaced at the stench of its breath, being thrown against the wall was preferable. He crumpled to the floor, shaking off a daze. Charging towards him, Hellboy saw his advantage and swept the creature's legs, bringing it to the ground. Hellboy stood up and brought his arm down on the Ogre's head, rendering it unmobile with efficiency.

It wasn't that he didn't agree with his dad, Hellboy thought, shaking the goop left behind from the head of the Ogre. He knew he dealt better in the aggressive tactics used by B.P.R.D, there was a reason the times they needed to attend some charity function or government funded mixer, Alice accompanied the Professor. She had turned into quite the little agent his Alice Monaghan and Hellboy didn't care for any of that bureaucratic shit anyways. And since the incident, he had been trying his best to see his father's side of things more often.

Hellboy didn't want to admit to anyone he was scared.

He was still had nightmares about it, the sight of his father lying dead had been a shock to his system. For so long he had held so much anger towards the Professor, it coming to a head at the knowledge Lady Hatton had given him. It really sucked to find out your purpose in life was to bring about the apocalypse, and Hellboy was still dealing with the news being something he feared for so long, meanwhile that wasn't even the worse bit.

Still Baba Yaga's curse loomed on his shoulders, he didn't know the details of the curse, he sure as shit didn't want to go back there and ask the witch.

Professor Trevor Bruttenholm was pronounced dead, for 12 whole minutes.

Hellboy thought it was morbid when the agents that rushed in brought a defibrillator, ripping the shirt off of his father's body, placing the charges on his chest. Hellboy protested greatly, bring held back in a surprisingly strong embrace by Ben. So when his father's eyes popped open, to say Hellboy was surprised was a great understatement.

Now things were back to normal, well as normal as there dynamic had been before. Dad always there with a less than kind word with nothing but good intentions towards his 'son'.

The presence of Alice and Ben on the team had cooled them both down considerably, the workload now sectioned off between the four of them, and someone was always there to get in the middle of them and be the voice of reason.

It wasn't like they held interviews for the kind of team that they were, it just kind of happened. Alice was insistent on sticking around with her new found abilities, wishing to hone them, be able to research in the vast codex of ancient knowledge B.P.R.D possessed, but Hellboy knew that what Alice wanted more than anything was somewhere to belong again, and she did at the B.P.R.D.

Major Ben Daimo, after being caught with his curse of the Were-Jaguar, simply realized he was with much better company than M11.

Hellboy, having wiped his arm clean of the gore, took about three steps down the hallway when a "Stop!" Made him growl in exasperation. He turned and was just as surprised when they arrived at this giant fortress like building, this place just kept getting fucking weirder.

Hellboy had never seen a Centaur before, he could check this off the list. The half-man half...appeared to be …. A ram or a bison or something if the horns were any indication.

Hellboy was being charged at again, this time with a much quicker adversary. Hellboy was at a disadvantage of only having two legs as he turned tail, pun intended, and ran once again from a foe.

These were some The Shining level of creepiness hallways, Hellboy deduced, being chased by a Centaur, he called for backup but they had all conveniently split up in the warehouse; but it was hard to hear oneself think in that veritable zoo of mythical creatures. Father was not lying, this Warlock was bad news bears.

The Centaur was rapidly gaining on Hellboy, it was inevitable when he felt himself being lifted by his tail, rude pal, and tossed him into the wall. Hellboy hated being thrown around like some ragdoll, it didn't help that the Centaur obviously had more weight to his throw than the Orge, and Hellboy was left staring at the twinkling lights above him, knowing he was gonna hurt in the morning.

Rhys huffed, adrenaline breaking out into his coat in a thick sheen of sweat. He picked up the currently incapacitated creature and examined him. It seemed to be some sort of demon or other. Rhys was disgusted at the creature to see his shaved forehead where horns should be, Rhys prided himself on his own, and considered any creature that would try and hide his features like that weak and embarrassed at his own lineage.

He threw the impostor creature onto his back and took off in hurried clomps to Elias' office, needing to let his master know about this invasion. Where did this thing come from? Rhys called for Mordecai begrudgingly, but was left with a true silence that meant he was not hiding in some corner somewhere. He was most definitely already with Elias.

His suspicions were correct as he entered the masters domain, seeing the two figures speaking in a quick, long dead language Rhys didn't understand. He hated when the two of them did that, he knew he was out of the loop for a lot of things, but it wasn't like they had to rub his face in it, he was a powerful creature, stronger than both of them combined. He couldn't think like that though, even in his darkest thoughts; he was owned by Elias for the rest of his life, nothing could be done to change that.

What was worse was that Elias didn't even acknowledge Rhys had stepped in the room, or that he had dropped an intruder at the front of his desk. Almost as if he already knew.

"There are intruders in our home Rhys. Go with Mordecai to holdings and deal with them accordingly, leave this with me."

Those were the only words spoken to him, Rhys nodded gravely trotting out the door, knowing at once he had messed up allowing whoever these people were to break so easily into the property.

Elias' eyes trailed down to the pathetic looking creature at his feet, he was having the most awful deja vu. Taking in the tail, shaven horns and red skin, Elias knew who was breaking into his home. B.P.R.D. This had to be the Cambion known as Hellboy.

Elias growled, this meant serious trouble. How did he have such rotten luck, his dejected attitude continued as the beast stirred on his floor. He had to get ahold of this situation.

Hellboy regained consciousness quickly, one minute he was in a haze of pain, the next he flew up from the floor so quickly he thought he'd blackout. Hissing in a deep breath, Hellboy touched his stomach gingerly, diagnosing himself a cracked rib. Standing in front of another mythical nutcase no doubt, Hellboy took in the room.

This dude was seriously fucked in the head. He thought the Osiris Club was bad enough mounting giant heads on their walls, but this room had that one beat clean. Wall to wall the heads of creatures were hung, along with various ferocious animals were on proud display. Dead fairies and pixies beside butterflies and beetles pinned in glass coffins. He realized he was standing on the fur of a Cerberus, Hellboy gasped, stepping ungracefully away from the awful sight. Hellboy glanced at a bowl filled with what looked like mints, and gagged to see that they were teeth.

"Goblin Teeth. A little hobby of mine. As you can see, I am an extensive collector." Hellboy hated him already. The smooth, calm voice, the power he emanated even behind the desk, this was the warlock, no doubt. The owner of this little auction house.

"A demon, how quaint." Elias scoffed in the most condisenting fashion, looking the epitome of ease, fiddling with the golden staff adorned with amethyst from the dwarven royalty. A present for dealing with their little dragon problem so long ago, when species of all kinds were allowed to walk on earth. A time he sorely missed.

"Half-demon, buddy. Get your facts right." Raising his arm to bust the desk, Hellboy was unsuspecting of the staff being more than just for show, he was proven quite mistaken.

A blast of magic so focused hit him, Hellboy was thrown out the room. The magic was a tidal wave of white-hot wind that blasted multiple doors opened in the hallway, tearing wallpaper from the walls. Hellboy was stopped only by the brick at the end of the hallway. Living an indent of his body, Hellboy groaned and peeling himself off the wall. He was bleeding from his head, he realized swiping at the blood that dripped into his eye. Probably concussed.

At the door to his office stood Elias, arms crossed with the staff perched on his shoulder, he didn't have a care in the world. This demon was nothing compared to a being of magic such as himself, and it was laughable the demon got back up, as if he had a chance from this distance.

"Are you as dumb as you are strong, demon? My name is Elias, this is my home and you have most aggressively broken into it. I plan on taking the necessary steps to protect my property."

Hellboy collapsed in half real agony, gritting his teeth, listen to this asshole posture on like some sort of movie villan. Hellboy tried to shake the pain, biting his cheek to focus himself, distracting the warlock enough to grab for his weapon. He took a deep breath and with a reserve of strength he had, pulled and shot off all 6 rounds in the chamber, a special design by the eggheads in the labs, with barbed edges that exploded on contact, shredding the flesh of whatever unfortunate being was on the receiving end of his little gift.

One bullet would of incapacitated him, maybe all 6 of them was an overkill, if the gruesome sight of the warlock gasping wetly from a pile of guts. Better safe than sorry Hellboy always said. Elias attempted to speak, choking on the mess in his mouth, and his eyes slipped closed. An odd, peaceful aura enveloped the area around him, the half-demon went to investigate.

He heard the sound of agents arriving on the scene, there voices calling for him from afar. Obviously brought by the sound of his gun going off.

Hellboy just seemed to keep getting distracting in this place however, for no sooner had he begun to walk towards the body, when a lump on the floor of one of the rooms caught Hellboy's attention.

It was a girl. With a towel haphazardly wrapped around her. Hellboy turned away sharply as his eyes automatically glanced at the slight curve of her breasts peeking from the top with her slow breathing. He didn't mean to do that, it just happened, but Hellboy was left surprisingly winded. Embarrassed.

"Uh.. Alice? You out there?" He called desperately out to the woman in the hallway, distracting himself by looking at the room. It was simple, compared to the rest of the place; stone walls and wooden furniture, a large four poster bed with white sheets. Nothing caught his eye of any interest, and he felt his eyes pulling towards the girl on the floor. Aw Crap. He reasoned he just felt bad if she was injured to just keep her in this position. He gave one last attempt at an "Alice!" Before he turned completely back to the girl.

She was young, that was his first thought. She was petite but she wasn't a little girl, her body, small but obvious curves were any indication. Hellboy felt his stomach clench in horror as the towel slipped further as he came forward, as if it had a mind of its own and was torturing him for looking. Awkwardly one-handed, he knotted the front of the towel more securely as carefully as he could, if his knuckles brushed her skin, he didn't think about it.

Finally finished his difficult task, Hellboy glanced at her head, noticing the long upward slopes of the tips of her ears peeking out from her hair, an elf. She also had some of the strangest markings Hellboy had ever seen, gold swirl like tattoos covered her body, on her face all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes, in an intricate, almost tribal fashion.

Hellboy glanced up to see a large robe hanging from a hook and shot up like a rocket, grabbing for it grateful for his find; he felt very guilty for continuing to just crouch here and look at her, he felt like a real pervert.

It also occurred to him he never even tried to wake her up. Well he had to deal with the towel falling off, he reasoned with himself, he knew in her position he would be very unhappy to wake up like that. It was much easier to get the robe on her, the distraction of the towel dealt with, and Hellboy felt a kind of accomplishment tying the sash at her waist; He had never had to play caretaker to someone. The whole time she did not awaken, left in some sort of unconscious state, Hellboy gently gathered her up in his arms easily and checked the back of head, pulling the long tawny strands apart, vaguely thinking about their softness, but mostly looking for blood.

Jostling her caused the elf to groan, Hellboy was taken aback when he pushed her away to see her eyes opened. They were very pretty, Hellboy thought stupidly as she glanced around blind in his clutch, before locking her gaze on the one who held her up.

"Cin're hi na rad-nin?" Her voice was a light questioning tone, her breaths quick and pained. Hellboy didn't know how to reply to her, he was struck dumber by her being awake than when he could move about her without that icy gaze focused on him it seemed.

"Uhh...Whatever you say, sweetheart." Hellboy blatantly realized the endearment he mumbled out, but didn't give it much thought, after all it seemed they were speaking two different languages, literally. He really needed to get her out of here, if not to get her checked for a possible concussion but just because this room was creeping him out, it was too clean, to… Much like a prison cell if he was being honest with himself.

"Mui mellon Binx?" At least she wasn't freaking out in his hold, cause she's still weak from the blast, he chided himself. He stood up and was about to cross the threshold with the elf in his arms, she kept saying something: blinks? When he heard Alice down the hall, her voice getting rapidly closer.

"Were you callin' me HB? I thought I could hear-Oh!" Hellboy felt himself flustered as the medium appeared in the doorway, the girl quicker than Hellboy could react to, jumped out of his arms, only to cower behind him, further placing Hellboy in one of the most awkward situations he could recall.

The girl was obviously hurt however, as no sooner had she hid herself behind Hellboy that her clutch had weakened and Hellboy could see her going down again, barely managing to catch her by her waist, again thanking his thinking in getting her into the robe as he pulled her once again into his arms.

Alice watched the whole interaction with a little surprise and much glee, tickled positively pink by Hellboy playing prince charming it seemed, saving this damsel. Alice thanked her internal romantically inclined side, one that she rarely showed, it was hard being the only female on the team at times. She tried to have a friendship with some of the agents, but the women in the B.P.R.D were professionals through and through, not a whole lot of interest in the fun times she could get into with HB, sometimes even Ben, or Major Stick up his Arse, as Alice sometimes called him, always with affection.

"Who's this then?"

"I don't know. I was dealing with Stinky, Hairy and Moe out there and then I just found her. She's an elf." He finished lamely,

Swift as a hummingbird, a creature the same size flew into the room. The ball of light honed onto Hellboy's face, making contact with his cheek. Hellboy stumbled back and looked at the attacker. A Pixie.

Between the Ogre, the Centaur and the Warlock, he was grateful for the size of this one. The thing was speaking a quick lilting pixie speak that Hellboy never understood, they had a textbook of Fae languages back at headquarters, he just never got around to reading it.

The Pixie seemed to know the Elf, she slowly took stock of the girl before pillowing herself on the chest of the unconscious girl, glancing up at Hellboy in a wary gaze.

"I found the little thing down the hall, think she knows her?" Alice chuckled.

"Let's get her to the helicopter. None of the others were put into rooms like this, she must be important." Alice was already at the doorway when she turned around, a typical cheeky Alice expression on her face. "You handle carrying her hero?"

Hellboy snorted derisively at the comment, turning away from Alice with her intense gaze. He ignored the curious gaze of the Agents and met up with Ben in the hallway, the Major raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Don't ask." Hellboy said simply, not wishing to explain the whole crazy turn of events that transpired since they arrived here.

"You guys get that warehouse cleared out?"

"Yes they're loaded into the trucks, on there way to headquarters. It's gonna take weeks to catalogue all these species. Hope you're ready for some paperwork." Hellboy knew Ben was joking, even to the outside it seemed like no humour was coming from the man. You just had to know him enough.

"How dare you touch her!" Hellboy jumped at the screech that came from the puddle that was Elias in position on the floor of his office, he thought for sure he had died. "Unhand her demon, she is not yours!"

Hellboy didn't scare easily, but he would be lying if he said the way Elias was looking at him wasn't causing goosebumps to break out on his arm. It was half crazed, desperate. Very different from the cool, assured master he was not 10 minutes ago.

"Phyrra wake up!" That must of been her name, Phyrra. It suited her, sweet, gentle and exotic, her name sounded like the purr of a cat, Hellboy always liked cats. He didn't like the way Elias was saying it though, the ownership plain, like he was commanding her to wake up.

"So I guess I was right, eh? She important to you? Well you won't mind if we just take her for awhile do ya? Thanks mate," Alice took the warlocks sudden invalent state as an opportunity to tease.

Phyrra also took the moment as a great opportunity to wake back up, as if even in her injured state, she was conditioned to listen to Elias' demands. She glanced around in even more confusion than the first time Hellboy watched her wake up. The warlock brightened at the sight of Phyrra awake, his voice quickly turning into butter, Hellboy cringed at the way he spoke to her.

"Phyrra, pet. Come and help me."She seemed to understand her name, if nothing else. She fixed her gaze on Elias as if she didn't know him from any other stranger currently in the room. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to make some kind of decision, why none of them could really gather, but they didn't have to wait long for a response.

Phyrra didn't listen, what she did instead was wrap her arms around Hellboy's neck and bury herself in the crook of where his neck met shoulder, refusing to look at anything else; Hellboy was left with an elven woman clinging to him. The Pixie flew displeased at losing the perch on her elf.

"Tul-nin awaui o hi near." Hellboy involuntarily shivered at the obvious plea was whispered delicately in his ear. He didn't know what she was saying, but he wanted nothing more than to get her away from Elias fiery gaze, which was getting darker by the second.

"Binx! Don't you let them take her! I'll rip your fucking wings off myself!" Everyone looked on as the Pixie flew over to the warlock, and Hellboy couldn't stop the bark of laughter as the tiny creature, now Hellboy realized what Phyrra had been saying back in her room. Binx threw herself into Elias' forehead, he grunted at the contact, then glared at the tiny thing spitting no doubt terrible insults in its language.

Elias gasped in hysteria as Hellboy began to walk away from him. Getting out a last: "You're going to regret this you devil!" Before Ben did him a service of tasing him, silencing the man before his head popped clean off in his fury.

At that moment, Rhys and about a group of 20 creatures: Goblins and Ogres mostly, crowded into the space, some climbing over the backs of others to fit into the room.

Chaos broke. Fires were shot from the various machines carried by the Agents, tearing through the creatures scrambling to reach them.

"HB, the window!" The gazes of the three main team members individually sought out the broken window to their left, Alice shooting off a quick round from her pistol, cleaning the rest of the glass from the opening, before jumping off confidently. Even in the moment, Hellboy recognized he would have to tell her how badass she'd been in that moment. Before jumping himself out the four story window.

He broke his fall with his body, hoping this was the last time he was going to hit a hard surface today, he didn't know if he could take another one. Hellboy quickly checked to make sure he also broke Phyrra fall, it would be a shame to go through all this to end up squishing her himself. The trio ran towards the helicopter, the blades whorrling signaling its readiness for take-off.

Ben was clipping off the goblins crawling out of the window they just vacated as Alice and Hellboy dealt with the new cargo. Ben jumped in the last minute, yelled to the pilot to get them the fuck out of there and into the air they ascended.

Safely in the chopper, Hellboy's arms felt rather empty after Phyrra was placed carefully into the seat beside him, Alice taking over and strapping the girl in as her head lolled in delirium, she seemed to be coming to again, but only got those glacier depths of her eyes opened before the slumped again. Alice sandwiched her in between the two of them, placing Phyrra's head against Hellboy's arm and he looked at his friend in question.

"What? You won't mind watching to make sure her head doesn't move too much, would you?"

Alice snickered in delight at the cautioning way HB looked at her in the moment, as if begging her to stop teasing him so, which only spurred her on even more he had to realize.

They didn't know anything about this girl, but Hellboy was obviously taken with her.

Alice had been with the B.P.R.D for almost a year now, she'd never seen Hellboy act this way before. Hellboy was a badass motherfucker, he drank hard and fought even harder. It wasn't irony one of his arms was made out of stone, he was tough, inside and out.

That didn't mean Alice wasn't aware of his sensitive side, he saved her as a baby, she owed HB her life. The fact he was a loyal friend was just a bonus. He loved the Professor, Alice could see that plain as day, they were father and son to her, actual parentage didn't matter. Even then, he wasn't exactly the kind of friend you had long soul searching conversations with, except those times one of them got too into their feelings, and too into a bottle of tequila.

So Alice knew HB had the capacity to love, that she was certain. But as far as she knew, Hellboy had never even attempted to go out on a date before, she saw how the female agents of B.P.R.D looked at him, he was a pure specimen of a man. Muscle and stoicism, half-demon be damned.

Alice had asked Lloyd one night, who had been working there for ten years, if Hellboy ever dated anyone or anything, she wasn't gonna discriminate. Agent Reese had asked her in reply if they were an item, on their own date of all times! Alice was annoyed and had answered the same way she always did to the inept question. Disgusting! Like if I wanted to fuck my own brother! Which was correct, but she didn't think she'd see Lloyd again. Lately she had her eye on Agent Colter, she liked men of all shapes and sizes, but it was the blondes viking types that made her weak, which Colter fit to a tee.

Alice tried to slow the matchmaker in her head, immediately writing their names together in the notebook of her mind. First the girl had to wake up.

Elias opened his eyes slowly, feeling the pain immediately. His body was twisted in a most uncomfortable position and as he looked down he realized in a daze his leg was broken. On instinct he called out for Phyrra, before the recent events came back to the front of his memory. She left him. He did nothing but care for her, dress her in the finest things, held her to the highest standard above his advisors and this was how she thanked him?

First Lazarus sends him some would be assassin, and now to have lost his most precious trophy? His Phyrra? Elias felt helpless, something he hadn't felt for many centuries, it was maddening. It simply would not do.

So in his awful, disoriented thoughts, he didn't take notice of the Vampire and the Centaur stepping towards him, one expression of dispassion, one of stunned concerns.

"Master, drink from me." Elias wild eyes swung to the undead man, not for the first time Elias was grateful towards Mordecai, his oldest companion. He sucked in the old blood in thick gulps, feeling it buzz through his system, he will heal much quicker than normal, although his old friends blood did speeden his recovery, it was Phyrra who had the most wonderful touch for mending wounds and broken bones. What to do about Phyrra? It was quite simple Elias didn't have to think for a second about it.

He would get her back.

She will learn, he would teach her, as he always did, the hard lesson he had himself long ago been made perfectly aware of, that she was born to be his pet. That her life before him, the loss, the pain, the agonizing loneliness he knew she felt was because his story began the same. He was meant to teach her everything there was to know about life, about love.

Distracted, he heard Mordecai explain the lost of his inventory, but Elias heard none of it.

Elias instead, felt himself seeth at the memory of her in the demons arm. He would take great pleasure in harming it, peeling the skin from its arms for even daring to touch his Phyrra, he wouldn't stop till he got to bone. Yes, the demon, the whole B.P.R.D, were going to pay greatly for playing with him.

fin

Translations:

1)"Cin're hi na rad-nin?" (you're here to find me?)

2)"Mui mellon Binx?" (My friend Binx?)

3) "Tul-nin awaui o hi near." (Bring me away from this place)

#second chapter #fanfiction #hellboy fanfiction #hellboy 2019 #be gentle

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softshelltaakos · 6 years ago

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alright, folks! if you know me you know that i 1) received the taz graphic novel for the holidays and 2) have hated the taz graphic novel since before it came out, and that 3) actually reading it in no way improved my opinion.

let’s review.

disclaimer: i love the mcelroys. i truly do. taz has gotten me through some very difficult stuff and i have a tattoo. all this to say i’m not doing this because i hate them or because i like hating things — on the contrary, i’m doing this because i care a lot about the podcast and analyzing things is what i do for fun and also because, like, it has issues that i want to talk about!

there are spoilers for the graphic novel and the whole of the podcast under the cut.

this is part 1, in which i’m talking about the actual storytelling and writing; for character design thoughts, you’re gonna have to stay tuned because i’ve been working on this for three and a half hours and i have shit to do. so!

let’s start off with the things i actually liked. there are a few!

the main characters get little intro cards, which i think are pretty cute. this isn’t all of them, but here’s a sampling (forgive my messy collaging):

[ID: four panels.

the first introduces magnus burnsides, a barrel-chested white guy with auburn hair and a fluffy beard and sideburns. he’s saying “trust me, if the law hassles us, i’m the guy you want at the front of the wagon. but look, if you want to drive so bad, i might let you spell me the next time the dwarf has to stop for a pee break.” there is a scroll with his name listed, as well as his race (human), class (fighter), and proficiencies: battle, carpentry, and “everything else... apparently”

the second introduces taako, a skinny mint-colored elf wizard. he’s blonde with pronounced lower lashes and a big pointy nose. he’s saying “hell, no! i’ve got stuff to do. i’ve read the books. adventurers are supposed to, like, forage for food and shit. bor-r-r-ring! no, thank you. not for taako.” the proficiencies on his title card are spell-casting, transmutation, and gastronomy

the third introduces merle highchurch, a brown dwarf with white hair pulled back into a bun and a big poofy beard. he’s saying “i’m studying my cantrips!” and his title card proficiencies are “healing... supposedly,” “religion stuff,” and bleeding

the fourth panel introduces griffin mcelroy, a white human man with brown hair and glasses wearing a collared shirt. he’s saying “guys! it’s me: griffin! your dm!” his title card shows his race as “actual human” and his class as “dungeon master,” while his proficiencies are podcasting, karaoke, and “weaving a rich tapestry of drama.”]

then there are a few cute references to other mcelroy stuff:

[ID: two side-by-side images. the first is a photo of justin mcelroy wearing a bib with “shrimpin’ ain’t easy” written on it in crayon. the second is a close-up of a similar bib on a goblin -- though the text is distorted, it’s the same phrase.]

[ID: magnus thoughtfully says “unless...” and the other boys echo him in traditional mcelroy fashion.]

barry also wears underwear that read ��meloincloths” around the waistband, which i didn’t take a picture of because it was small and also i didn’t really want to take a picture of barry bluejeans’s underoos. but that’s cute!

as it mentions in magnus’s titlecard, there’s a running joke about him being proficient in everything. that gets some play in the podcast but it comes up a lot more here and i think it works pretty well and establishes early on that magnus is cocky and headstrong and all that. it’s actually introduced in the very first panel of the comic, where he mentions his vehicle proficiency, and then it comes up several more times.

there are some moments that shift out-of-character dialogue to in-character dialogue, and i think it works sometimes. notably, it occasionally happens with griffin’s dialogue, which i think is a good way to include his voice without constantly breaking the fourth wall. it’s done some, obviously, but it’s not to the point that it’s intrusive.

[ID: a panel featuring taako approaching the other boys, who are playing cards while they wait for him to scout the next room out. magnus asks, “would you say it is spooky... or beautiful?” and merle cuts in “or spookily beautiful?” followed by magnus finishing up with “or beautifully spooky?”

taako responds “if you were a gerblin you would actually find it a pretty chill den to, like, hang out in.”]

i also like the introduction of the voidfish static. i think it’s appropriately dramatic and does a pretty good job of emulating how it’s presented in the podcast.

[ID: a panel featuring killian, an orc woman with a crossbow. the lighting is dark gray-blue-green and she’s shouting something unintelligible marked by a cluster of consonants and a shaky, brush-strokey speech bubble distinct from the other speech bubbles stylistically.]

the scene where taako grabs the umbra staff is also appropriately dramatic, as is merle trying to talk down gundren/bogard from the gauntlet’s thrall, but those are full page images and very large, so i’m not including them.

then there’s this panel of lucretia, which slays me:

[ID: a closeup of madame director lucretia, a black woman dressed in blue with white hair, though her eyes are out of frame. she’s holding a white oak staff in her hands. she’s stopped mid-sentence and there’s a little jaggedy line near her head indicating surprise.]

this is lucretia turning around and seeing the boys for the first time since she dropped them off at their respective “homes.” she’s caught off-guard and i think this is a beautiful way of noting that without giving too much away, and this is a good moment of foreshadowing that she knows much, much more about them than she’s letting on. she catches herself quickly and gets back into the swing of things, but i think this is a very lucretia panel, and it’s probably my favorite panel in the book.

now it’s time for the negative.

first off, a nitpick: there are moments where the characterization feels very off -- at one point magnus is said to have been the kid who “always reminded the teacher that they had forgotten to hand out homework,” which... does not really match what we know of young magnus. at all. travis describes him as “a good but kind of rebellious kid, like he was probably kind of a little bit of a turd [...] who was kinda sarcastic” (ep. 60, the stolen century part one) which feels super incongruent with the homework thing.

my issues with characterization come into focus most strongly with taako. while a lot of moments get his voice down pretty well, there’s a major issue in his presentation, which is that from the very beginning, he’s bragging about his tv show.

[ID: several panels in which merle and taako are talking. the first is a wide shot with taako’s voiceover saying: “--and then the lights come up, and there i am, standing under a magnificent banner that reads:”

the second is taako posing under a spotlight, speaking in large, fanciful script: “sizzle it up with taako”

panel three is merle asking disinterestedly “so it’s a show... about cooking?” and taako replying emphatically “it’s about life!”

in panel four he adds “...told through the perspective of fine dining.”

another panel collaged in features a cookbook with taako’s face on it labeled “perfection: cook the taako way” and taako excitedly saying “i know that smell!! that’s my recipe for haunch a la taako!! it was in my very first cookbook!]

now, we all know that by the end of the show “taako -- you know, from tv?” has become a catchphrase of his, and i understand the desire to retcon that kind of thing into his personality from the start. it seems like a natural way to add character early on when in the podcast, the boys are still pretty underdeveloped at this point.

here’s the issue. neither tv nor the title “sizzle it up” are mentioned at any point during here there be gerblins. in the eleventh hour (e48, part 8 of that arc) we’re told that we’re six years out from the mass poisoning in glamour springs. while the maxfun donor bonus episodes, like the liveshows, play it a little bit fast and loose with canon, and this episode was the 2015 bonus episode (e48 didn’t come out until september 2016,) that’s the only real explicit sizzle it up development we have until the eleventh hour. i’ve transcribed some of the bonus episode below, as transcripts for it are not available via @.tazscripts.

justin: taako-- i’m sitting in a corner by myself with my hat sorta pulled down low so people don’t recognize me. and i’m just trying to eat my meal but i keep changing the items that i’m trying to eat into different substances, so every few minutes you hear from my corner of the tavern:

taako: damn it!

clint: i hate asparagus!

griffin: i turned this sandwich into wood!

[...]

justin: mainly, i’m just trying to be nondescript.

[...]

justin: the whole time i’m talking to [the tavern owner] i’m like, keeping my face down so he doesn’t recognize me.

griffin: why would anyone recognize you?

clint: why?

justin: well, taako, uh, used to host a cooking show. it was a very, very, very popular cooking show. uh, and--

griffin: what was it called?

justin: what?

griffin: the show.

justin: sizzle it up with taako.

this episode is when the boys take the job with gundren off of craig’s list, so the time gap between this and episode 1 is negligible at best. there is a moment where the other boys recognize taako and he doesn’t lie about his identity, but:

taako: (begrudgingly) yeah, i’m taako, i’m disgraced, you might have heard about the [poisoning] thing.

so... he’s clearly not putting himself on display the way he does later in the podcast. in episode 40 (lunar interlude III: rest and relaxation) which came out in may of 2016, we get the first reference to the poisoning itself:

taako: one time i transmogrified something that, uh… i transmogrified it into something you really shouldn’t eat, ever? for life, to live, i mean? And, uh, a lot of people ate that. and that went... so sideways. um... i-- i just decided i would never again cook for people i cared about, because i couldn’t risk, um, y’know, something happening to them. until i get this under control, i guess.

so we know that even at that point this is still something that troubles taako greatly. one might even say... he’s traumatized! and doesn’t talk about it! he does not go into detail about sizzle it up with anyone over the entire course of the podcast except for june while she is literally possessed by the chalice and forcing him to relive it. So. kind of a weird character take.

to skip ahead a little bit, most of the moonbase stuff is fine, but there’s one omission that feels very weird to me.

[ID: three panels. the left is a shot of the elevator hallway leading to the voidfish’s chambers. thb follow killian towards the elevators; johann is walking away from them. he’s a black human man with natural hair dressed in a silly bard outfit with a violin strapped to his back. he’s carrying a ton of scrolls.]

these three panels are the only time we see johann in the book. in the podcast it’s johann that escorts them to the voidfish’s chambers and inoculates them. it makes sense that this has been changed to lucretia in the gn; it gives her a much stronger entrance and cuts down on scene changes. but it also cuts out a lot of establishing things about johann that are all extremely important and set up not only his character arc but several core plot points.

it’s during that scene that we hear that johann’s greatest fear is being forgotten, and that that’s exactly what will happen to him and all of the other bureau employees when they die. it’s during that scene that we learn the basic mechanics of the voidfish and the mission of the bureau. it makes sense that some of that is going to be handled at the beginning of the next book (presumably) and i’m glad that lucretia is introduced here, but the gn adjusts it so that killian takes the boys into the elevator. that’s johann in the podcast, and it easily could have been johann here. it would’ve been a good chance to establish at least johann’s fears, which would be a weird and creepy setup for the voidfish mechanics when they do get revealed.

it’s just odd to me that johann, who is the reason for the song half of story and song, gets the short shrift here.

i’m gonna wrap up with one last thing. i wanna talk about arms outstretched.

griffin: and you’re both getting pulled into the rift now, and-- but with a 20, taako, you fight against the pull and both of you are flying backwards towards the center of the room, back towards the catwalk. and merle, you’re standing in front of the two liches, one in the form of magnus and one not. lydia just is there in her spectral form. and you’re standing next to a taako who’s gone completely catatonic.

[...]

griffin: okay, then, m—magnus and taako, you two are flying back towards the center of the room. the pull of this rift is still trying to suck you in. and out of nowhere, just merle turns around—turns his back to the two liches—and just outstretches his arms and as he does, you see, like, spectral versions of his soul-wood arm sort of reach out and grab you and he’s also pulling you back in too, now. and he rips both of you towards himself.

i don’t think it’s a stretch to say that this is one of the most emotionally charged moments in the show, and it’s that because it’s a moment where we see, crystal-clear, real character development and growth.

magnus, who rushes in, who has never wanted anything as much as he wants to be reunited with julia, actively resists the pull of death to help his friends.

taako, who’s good out here, who is so selfish that an entire town died because of his ego, risks his life to help his friends.

merle, who can barely feel his holy connection, who barely ever even heals, breaks planar bounds to help his friends.

we’ve been with these characters for 56 episodes. we’ve seen their worst regrets, we know their tragic backstories, we understand why they’ve been the jackasses they’ve been, and now we see them moving past that to work as a unit. one might even say as a family!

arms outstretched is a moment that has been earned over the course of those 56 episodes.

enter the graphic novel.

[ID: a full page. flames are everywhere and panels are intentionally chaotic. dialogue reads:

merle: maybe now would be good?

magnus: i’m a hero, not an idiot.

taako: actually, you’re both idiots!

he outstretches his arm from his position safe in a well.

taako: come on!

merle and magnus reach for taako’s hands. there is a closeup on their arms: merle and magnus each hold one of taako’s with one hand. then there’s a panel showing an explosion.]

this is obviously intended as a way to foreshadow arms outstretched. and typically i’m not against foreshadowing! i think one of the benefits of the graphic novel is that it’s an opportunity to insert foreshadowing in cool ways that were not necessarily possible given the in-progress nature of the podcast -- like i said earlier, that lucretia panel is a really great example of it. you can’t foreshadow arms outstretched in episode one because you have no idea it’s going to happen.

but here’s the thing. you also can’t foreshadow arms outstretched in episode one because it hasn’t been earned. these characters are not those characters yet. they don’t know each other. taako actively shuts down the title of “friend” earlier in the book. they’re not even coworkers yet. and you could make an argument that in the face of death, taako would try to save them, but... would he? really? he’s a pragmatist, and that’s putting it nicely. during the stolen century the only person he tries to get to safety at the risk of his own neck is lup, and, uh... neither of these guys are lup. hell, he doesn’t even know about lup right now, and we see in the podcast that not remembering her leaves him colder and more self-centered. he knows people are dust, but he doesn’t know there are people that aren’t. i truly don’t buy it.

the nature of adaptation is that things are going to change, and that’s fine; but this is such a major shift that it left me really jarred and unhappy with the writing. in the podcast itself, we get this:

killian: c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon!

clint: decision made.

justin: yeah, i follow her.

travis: i follow her.

clint: me too.

griffin: the three of you dive into the well.

it makes sense that the gn adjusts this slightly so that magnus and merle try to pull some heroics and save everyone; i don’t have a problem with that. that’s a good adaptation of character that hadn’t exactly been seen yet, but comes to be a core enough part of the characters that it makes sense to insert it earlier. but even then, they could’ve gotten to the well without taako’s help. it’s just such a weird rewrite, and i really think it weakens the impact of arms outstretched itself.

i’ve been meaning to get my thoughts on this out for nearly a month at this point so if you’ve stuck with me this whole time, wow! thanks! i appreciate it! i’m not a professional, and obviously the mcelroys signed off on this, so i don’t really have space to say “oh, taako would never do this” or “oh, magnus was never like that” on a canonical level -- i know travis says something along those lines in one of the ttazzes. but as i said at the very beginning: this story means so, so much to me, and it’s really deeply frustrating to see an adaptation that handles things so... weirdly.

#prim.txt #tazposting #tazmeta #NEW TAG BABEY

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grimimic-blog · 6 years ago

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The story I made for the game collaboration between me and https://urg-urg-urg.tumblr.com/

Halloween 12 all-stars at the Olympic games team racing, featuring Dante from the Devil May Cry series and Knuckles

AKA A huge Hallows eve!

It was no secret to feyfolk that humans were boring. Nearly void of magic, Nowhere near as attractive as elves, all they ever wanted to talk about was taxes and back pain, and even a starving hill ogre wouldn't eat one because they tasted so awful! Truly the worst species on the planet, but something Gong had overheard earlier in the week while visiting a human tavern had caught the little goblins ears. Human holidays were strange and foreign to many feyfolk. It didn't make much sense to pick an arbitrary day to be wear green and binge drink to Gong. She already did that just about everyday, but this "Halloween" had her full attention. "Fizzy hurry up I don't want to miss all the free shit!" Gong yelled in the direction of her closet. A light thump and some obscured insults preceding the purple fairy fluttering from behind the corner. "Hey you're the one that said we had to "Dress up to get free candy"! I'm just trying to make sure I look good. What happens if I meet a hot guy while we're out!?" "Don't kid yourself Fizz, we both know if you set yourself up for failure you're just going to get drunk and crawl in bed with me again after I fall asleep." "S-shut up! That was one time and I was because I was cold! Just get in here and help pick out something for us to wear!"

the girl's shared closet was surprisingly spacious, but that had a lot to do with all small the girls were themselves. Outfits lined the walls, Hanging from hooks and sitting neatly folded on shelves, but where soon to be scattered on the floor as their owners tried to find the perfect style for the nights festivities. A pair of cocktail dress's that happened to be the nicest thing either of them had ever pull from a dumpster, Some comfy pajamas, A pair of thigh high boots that were actually just regular boots on a normal sized person, and an invisibility cloak that made itself invisible when worn rather than the subject wearing it all lay in a pile on the ground before the girls had picked their outfits for the night. A simple cloth vest skirt combo for Gong, and a long silken dress for Fizzy.

The streets were dimly lit by orange glow of nearby lamp posts. The sounds of screaming children dressed in caricatures costumes of feyfolk that Fizzy and Gong would have found rather insulting if either of them had focused on anything other than their fantasies of what an entire night of free candy would be like. A fantasy that was about to be rudely interrupted by what appeared to be two disheveled, and slightly bloated werecats with plastic ears and tails. "Aayyyy whha-WHAT are you kiz gona do wihou a canny bags!!" Asked the first woman at a volume louder than needed. "Ignore her please. She's had a little too much partying tonight" Said the second stranger, as her friend finished the liquor bottle she was holding. Popping the strained button on her small shorts in the process. "Naht the only one am I!" her overly intoxicated friend replied before giving her soberish friend a hardy slap to the gut that sent the small mound into a sloshing fit. "Alright you're going to home to bed! Stop bothering these Girls." She said before both werecates walked off into the night. "Gong. That woman said something about a candy bag. All of these kids have candy bags! You didn't say anything about needing bags to get free candy!" "Relax Fizz. The bags can't be that important right? Even if they are we could totally kick the crap out of one of these kids, they're only like five years old, and I brought my brass knuckles." "Fine whatever. I still think there's got to be some kind of catch. No one give things away without making you pay for it". The first house of the night was an unremarkable little thing painted white with green shutters. On the porch sat an older looking man dressed as some sort of vampire farmer who called out to the mas they approached. "Ohh aren't you a cute one! What are you supposed to be one of those pocketmans?" "I'm a goblin, and my friend is a fairy" Gong replied. "Oh you kids and your youth! Here you go. A candy corn on the cob for you, and one for you're little birdy there too".

"Now I know why we needed bags" Sneered Fizz as she crammed another head-sized piece of candy corn into her mouth. The purple sprite's middle pushing more, and more outward with each swallow. "We'll be fine." Replied Gong. "We can just eat whatever candy we get as we're walking. It's not like every human is going to give out weird stuff like this right?" "Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you spit everything with me fifty fifty alright?" You're like a fifth of my size Fizz! it already looks like you swallowed a tennis ball, and I don't plan on rolling your fat butt all the way home!" "you're one to talk. I'm pretty sure I heard you pop a seam a few minuets ago." The purple pixie punctuated her point with a firm slap to her companions rounded belly. The girl's conversation was cut abruptly short when Gong nearly tripped over the steps leading to the second house of the night. A modest purple building decorated in little ghosts and uncarved pumpkins. The two girls were about to knock when the door burst open and a particularity unspooky spirit stepped out. "Hey there kiddos! You two sure are in for a treat!" Piped the cheery little ghost. "Dude we're like 26" Replied the deadpan Fizzy. "That's alright! You girls can still have a taste of what's under my sheet!" "I'm calling the cops." "My apple pies are famous around here, but not very good for Halloween; Until this year anyway! I've combined apple pie and caramel apples into the ultimate confection!" Cheered the man in the ghost costume as he pulled two caramel covered disks on sticks from under his sheet, and handed them over.

"These are pretty good you know?" Gong said with her mouth still half full. "Kind of hard to eat, but still good". If Fizzy had been listening she didn't or more likely couldn't answer, but being submerged in a pie near the size of your whole body will do that. The difficulty of trying to carry and eat an entire pie on nothing but a cheap craft stick had forced the short sweeties to rest at a picnic table not far down the street. Each bite forced Gong's belly out farther and farther. Straining her clothes, and forcing her legs apart to make room for it's gravid shape. By the time the last bite of thick caramel and flaky apple pie passed her lips the green girl could have easily been mistaken for some near the end of pregnancy; But goblins may as well have been giants compared to fairies, and the effects of the confection were far more pronounced on Fizzy. The candy corn had already left her more than a little bloated, but as the purple pixie slowly ate her way past the hard caramel shell and into the center of the apple pie her belly had ballooned to dramatic levels. Her clothing stood no chance of containing the beast known as the faerie's gut. She laid prone in the pie tin on her basketball of a belly, naked from the waist down, trying with all her might to force any crumb withing reach into her mouth. "Uhh Fizzy any particular reason you aren't wearing underpants?" "Were you not paying attention earlier? What If I meet a stud while we're out? Panties would only get in the way." "Oh right. I forgot that purple balloons were every man's dream girl." Snided Gong. "Anyway, let's get going. the night isn't over yet, and we've got houses to hit."

Gong rang the doorbell of the third house. clutching her heavy, heaving tummy. If she let go her balance was at risk, and the mental image of an watermelon explosion was one she had to shake away more than a few times. The trudge to the third house was made that much longer by her slow, exaggerated, waddling. Each step a miniature battle with her own full tummy. A purple blimp of a pixie bobbing and swayed as she floated behind her. Her own belly nearly scraping on the ground until a flurry of flapping wins sent her back into the air. The door creaked open. A green sheet that looked distinctively like the ghosts from the earlyer houses poked it's head out the door, googly eyes bouncing wildly. "Who daressss enter the lair of the sneeeeeek?" Hissed the man in very ghost looking "snake" costume. "Nice costume... Dig the color." Gong weezed between breaths. Carrying the extra weight of her turgid gut had left more tired than she realized. "Thankssss friend! I made it myssssself!" Fizzy who's wings were already tired of holding her massive body in air chose to interrupt the two green revelers conversation. "Trick or treat! Now just give us whatever weird candy you've got back there and let us go". If plastic googly eyes could look confused the snake would have looked shockingly bewildered. "There's no weird candy here friends. Just some gummies I'm afraid." Fizz and Gong let out a collective sigh of relief, but apparently it had been too soon as seconds later both of them were nearly knocked over by the enormous gelatinous treats tossed to them by the man in the snake costume. An impressive feat seeing as the costume possessed no arms. "There you go girls, gummy pythons! Hope they're good, I made them myself!"

Bit by chewy bit the gelatinous reptiles were forced into the already packed stomachs of the minuscule monsters as they approached the fourth, and last house on the street. "Ugghh... I swear he must have used a real snake to make molds for these" Fizzy groaned. "I can see the scale prints". "How are we supposed to eat these anyway! One of these is as long as my whole body!" Gong added. "You just gotta slurp it down girl! You've had boyfriends before haven't you?" Fizzy punctuated her insult by taking a large gulp from the tail end of her gummy snake. "Hey Fizz maybe you should be more careful? You might choke....Or explode." Gong said between bites of her own sugary treat. "you're already looking kinda fat honestly. I was only kidding about the whole rolling you home thing earlier... Are you listening Fizz?" Fizzy unfortunately was not listening as she was far too preoccupied with choking on the massive sugar serpent that currently clogging her windpipe. "Oh my Gods Fizz! Don't worry I-I'll help you! Don't die!" Gong tried every idea she could think of but Fizzy's tiny body made the Heimlich impossible, and the gummy was wedged far too deep in the fairie's bulbous tummy to be dislodged by pulling on it. "Ok. Ok. Think Gong. You can do this." The Goblin muttered to her self, voice seeped in panic. "Ohh I really sorry about this Fizzy. Just hold on I've got another idea." Fizzy wasn't even given a chance to reply before Gong seized the end of the gummy snake and pushed it deeper into her gullet. Slowly the candy serpent was forced into the faerie's stomach. The already strained clothing stretched thinner as seams and stitches popped one by one. Both girls silently hoping they wouldn't be joining them in a similar fashion. As the last of the gummy was crammed down her throat Fizzy fell to the ground. Wings no longer able to lift her boulder of a belly. The impact being the final straw for her poor clothing before the tortured garment released its death knell as it torn to shreds. Fizzy was now nude, and grounded by a belly several times larger than her own body, but she was alive, and the sugary serpent was finally slain. "Oh-oh hell Gong! I though I was gonna die!" Fizzy wheezed out between gasping breaths. "do you still want to go to the next house, or should just head home, so you can rest?" Asked Gong. "No no I still want to keep going. There's only one house left on this street, but I...." "But what? "Do you feel sick? Did you hurt yourself?" Gong's voice was beginning to take on it's previous worried tone. "I can't move... My belly is too heavy..." "I told you this was going to happen! Splitting everything fifty fifty was a stupid idea from the start." "Well we wouldn't have had to eat everything while walking if SOMEONE had remember to bring treat bags!" "Fine I'll carry your fat butt around until we get home! Just let me finish my own gummy first." "I'm not fat. I'm full. there's a difference." The fairy mumbled to herself, as her friend resumed eating the candy snake hanging from around her neck. Choosing to take bites proved to be a much better strategy on Gong's part than swallowing the entire sucrose reptile whole, but it was also much slower. Bite after bite the gummy shrank, and Gong's belly grew. The fabric of her clothing pulled tighter and tighter, threatening to tear any second and leave her as exposed as her purple companion. As the last bit of gummy passed her green lips, Gong took notice of the effects it had on her stomach. The gigantic green orb had ballooned to the size of roughly half her body. Cramming it full with a gummy almost the same length as the goblin was tall may have been a bad idea. No it DEFIANTLY was a bad idea, but there was no way Gong would ever waste free candy!

"Ohh hell... This. This is heavy." "see not so easy is it!" Chided the bloated fairy. Her smirk would have left much more of an impact if not for her own leviathan middle. Gong struggled to lift her huge friend into her arms. A slip of her hand eliciting a sharp gasp from the massive Fizzy. "Watch where you grabbing Gong!" "Ha ha. Whoops." Gong responded. Her face red with embarrassment, as she finally succeeded in hoisting Fizzy over her head, and started the long trudge down the street.

Thud, creak, thud, creak. Heavy footsteps pounded against aged wood. The combined weight of the two girls was less than that of a large human, but that didn't stop Gong from having a miniature panic attack as each step groaned in their wake. She laid Fizzy down near the doorstep, making sure the overstuffed fairy wouldn't tip over, and rang the bell. Inside the house hurried footsteps responded to the noise. "Like just a sec! I Need *hic* to get my costume on!" For a moment they considered walking away. Cutting their losses and going home unexploded was by no means a bad idea, but as the door swung open, and and the smell of sugary treats floated out, that thought, and really any common sense warning the two girls about the repercussions of expanding their already massive waistlines was immediately dashed. "Like *hic* sorry about that. Can't hand out candy with out my costume now can I?" Just like the last three houses the owner was dressed in her own variation of a ghost costume, but unlike the others she seemed sort of lumpy around the middle, and Gong swore she could hear the woman emitting a noise that sounded remarkably like faint static.

"Please lady! Just please don't give us anything weird! I can't take anymore. I'm so big already." Groaned The massive Fizz. "Ohh man kid, *urp* like what the hell is wrong with your weird purple dog?" "She's fine don't worry about it. Just tell me you don't have anything on a cob, or a stick, or that you made out of snakes?" "Sorry I don't have any of those. All Ive got is some bags of these fizzy rocks, but they're like old and stuff, so they kind of melted into fizzy boulders." Answered the ghost lady, who pulled two large bags of the candy off the table next to her. They tore into the bags immediately. The woman in the ghost costume hadn't lied when she said the candies had melted together. Large crystalline chunks of candy as large as Gong's head had formed in each bag. Fizzy was devouring mouthfuls of of the hard treat, Seeming to have forgotten the incident with the gummy snake already. Gong ate at a slightly slower, but still noticeably ravenous speed. Half because she wanted this all to be over so she could lay her tired belly to bed, and half because she was too greedy to resist the the gift of free candy. "Ugghh what is this stuff?! My mouth feels all weird, and tingly!" Fizzy whined. "You got anything to drink back there lady?" "Nothing except some orange soda, and I like *hic* totally don't recommend it. "Come on lady we haven't had anything to drink all night. We're dying over here." "Wait here. Said the ghost. After a brief moment she returned from the kitchen with a six pack of orange soda that she handed over to Gong. The first can quenched their thirsts. The second was for fun. The last was because they were both too gluttonous to stop. "I feel- *urp* I feel funny. Fizzy griped. "Aww is *hic* Fizzy felling fizzy?" Gong joked. Oblivious to the fact that both of them were slowly growing rounder. "This *hic* isn't funny Gong! Look at us! We're blowing up!" "I like did try to warn you" Said the woman as she removed her costume. Putting her own bloated stomach on full display. "I've been bloated all night. Those fizzy rocks take forever to dissolve when they get old. "Fizz we need to go now! My belly is *urp* too big! It's getting hard to move!" Gong panicked as the seams of her clothing fought against the inflating green orb inside them. She grabbed Fizzy and waddled away from the house as quickly as her heavy body would allow. Within moments the sound of ripping fabric announced that her clothing had just lost the war against her still inflating gut.

Gong heaved her back into the purple boulder. It rolled slowly, but steadily in the direction of their home. Halloween had not been kind to the goblin nor the fairy. As the last light on the last porch went off signaling the end of the night's celebration both of them were left stark naked, with heavy intensely full bellies, each nearly the same size as Gong was tall. "I was kidding when I said I didn't want to roll you home earlier." I didn't think it was going to be an issue. Gong grunted, as she rolled her friend home. "Maybe your psychic?" Fizzy said. her voice thick with sarcasm. "Can you tell what number I'm thinking of right now?" "No, but I bet it's smaller than your current weight." Gong shot back. "Alright funny girl. Just watch where you going ok? You pushed me into some trash and now I've there's a restaurant flyer stuck to my boobs. What the hell even is a "thanksgiving" about?" "Sorry Fizz. I'll peel it off when we get home. I'm sure it's nothing interesting anyway. You know humans are boring.

THE END

#my stuff #colab #my buddies #my words

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[HR] 1019 Bleeker Street

“We have a 10-16 on 1016 Bleeker Street” stated the voice from the radio.

“I’m on it” I say into the speaker system, responding to the voice. I flip the switch on my dashboard turning the vehicle’s lights on, emitting a flashing red and blue as I make a U-turn coursing me towards Bleeker Street. All the freaks love to come out this time of year I think to myself. I glance out my driver side window as I pass through downtown, my eyes are greeted by the somber realities of boarded up windows, stray feral cats and dogs, and homeless. Poor forgotten bastards I think to myself. I turn my windshield wippers on as the darkened cloud covered sky begins to release a steady amount of rain. But these poor souls are only shadow of civilization, none thing more. It is dusk, a full moon is up casting a lingering glow in the streets and on the buildings.

“No” I growl out loud to myself. I turn the cruiser, entering a residential neighborhood. “Those poor souls are not the freaks I’m worried about” I finish saying to myself. The street lights mix with the rain casting a ghastly glow throughout the sidewalks.

Gremlins, goblins, and unicorns march from house to house – its trick-o-treat night. I haven’t celebrated Halloween in years, no pumpkins, no decorations, no parties. Halloween began to lose its allure for me once I joined the force, once I saw the real monsters of the world. I pull up to the house, 1016 Bleeker street. There is already an office there, police tape around the house. Not the kind of domestic disturbance I was expecting I note to myself as I see a little girl in a ninja costume trying to peak past the caution tape, the little girl’s mom grabs her hand trying to subtly, frantically, pull her along. Yes, move along, listen to your mom. No, don’t worry about that treacherous sight, it’s just part of Halloween dear, it’s not real, tell me about your favorite candy again I internally monolog to myself, imagining their conversation as the mom and girl walk further down the street.

I pull into the houses drive way, scanning the scene for information – for trouble. There appears to be two officers outside, the house door is a-jar and It looks…. What the fuck happened here I note to myself seeing the door. The door looks cracked, beat, and splintered. I start to be plagued by the suspicion that this might not be about a domestic dispute. I put my car in park.

I step out of my vehicle, in my peripheral I notice movement. I turn and see at the edge of the yard, by the caution tape are two men in costumes, not children, probably teenagers. “Odd, I thought I would have seen them when I was pulling in” I mumble to myself. Voyers I begin to think, there are always a couple at every crime scene, freaks who get some sort of dopamine kick out of watching disasters, something to gossip about later during their mundane dinner parties.

“Did you two see anything happen here?” I question them, walking towards them. The two teenagers are even height. Both wearing the same costume; a full head mask of a face, that looks like a deformed elderly man? Almost twisting, and all black hoodies and pants.

They stare. Not saying anything. Not moving. I start to feel uneasy.

“Excuse me!” I say louder. I pull out my flashlight to shine on them for a better look. I hear a loud wailing sound emit from the house behind me. I glance behind me looking towards the house. Where the fuck did those officers go. I turn back facing the elderly masked teenagers.

“Wait here” I command them. I start moving towards the housing. I pull out my pistol. Approaching the door, I scan the environment for more information. The rain is coming down heavier now. Louder. I take in a few additional details. There is a small pumpkin in the lawn close to the door, a jack-o-lantern, not carved but painted, a sticker of a bat and some witches on the second story window.

I walk through the battered door. My flashlight is shining under my pistol. The house is dark. I swear there was light coming from it when I arrived, I think to myself.

I grab the walkie on my chest with my other hand. “Immediate back-up needed at 1016 Bleeker Street” I speak into it. Something feels off…

I slowly walk into the house. I start scanning my light from the left side of the room to the right. I get the light half-way through the room, of what appears to be a living room. I see none thing out of order, no signs of disturbance like the front door. Still no signs of those other two officer I note to myself. And what the fuck was the wailing sound.

I start to walk towards the next room. The floor creaks under me. I hear the rain getting heavier outside. I take a step in to what I assume will be the kitchen. I begin my flashlight scan again. Starting at the farthest left of the room. I see red on the walls, blood? I think to myself. I move the light a little more and see an arm and then a body.

“Shit” I cuss to myself. The body is an office. His face mutilated beyond recognition. I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears and adrenaline rushes into my system. I move the light some more and see another body. The other office. His condition the same.

“Immediate back-up” I repeat into my walkie. “Two officers down, I repeat two officers down. Culprit unknown and still active”.

About 10 minutes later I am sitting on the front steps when the paramedics and other multiple police vehicles arrive. They pronounce the bodies dead and bag them up. Investigators come, they question me and search the house. They are coming up just as empty of clues as I did.

“Go home Frank” The police chief says to me, breaking me free from my thoughts. “You did enough today. Go home and rest, we will take it from here and update you in the office in the morning” He says in his usual logical manner, presented as an option that you are not allowed to refuse.

I take a long sip of the coffee one of the paramedics gave me. I nod. Then I reluctantly get in my vehicle and head home. The trick-o-treaters are gone now, it’s late. The rain has softened to a lower pour.

After 20 minutes I pull into my drive way. I start the feel the fatigue from the night. The adrenaline leaving my system. I turn the car off. Get out, walk to my front door and unlock it. I feel very tired. I bend down and pick up the empty bowl in front of my door. I do not celebrate Halloween much anymore, but I still leave out candy for trick-o-treaters. I’m not heartless. I notice in my peripheral one of the trick-o-treaters, or more likely teenage tricksters, must have left a small pumpkin by my door, painted like a jack-o-lantern. I will throw that out tomorrow.

I shut my door, lock it. Walk up stair’s and then go to sleep.

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paulduncanmcgarrity · 8 years ago

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Ten things you learn as an Archaeologist

1) There are no two phrases that strike more fear into your heart than, ‘light rain’ and ‘the site is mostly clay’

Prepare yourself for slipping, sliding and accidentally flinging your shovel across the site as you realise too late that the grip the clay has on the blade is far stronger than anything you can achieve on the handle. Sure, if you survive being on this site you’ll be walking tall, but only because you’ll have half of it still stuck to your boots.

2) You have a surprisingly detailed knowledge of the B&B’s in Ipswich

It doesn’t have to be Ipswich mind, it could be another out of the way town that you wouldn’t visit under your own steam, but because you spent 7 months there on an away job you know the place like the back of your hand. You also know where they are hiding their comicbook shop and that the Spreadeagle (insert your own bar as applicable) is the only decent place to grab a pint.

3) You know that a trowel without your name on won’t belong to you for long.

‘I just put it down a second ago!’ You’ll scream in the general direction of a passing cloud. ‘Seriously there’s no one else within 20m of me!’ You will lament as you tear at the clothes on your chest. ‘Why does this keep happening to me? I’m a good person’, but you know it’s too late, the trowel doesn’t belong to you anymore, now it belongs to the world.

4) The only thing that vanishes quicker than unmarked trowels is stationery.

Seriously though is there an imp or a goblin that eats this stuff? Or are your colleagues using them to build a gigantic pencil based whicker-man that they don’t want you to see just yet because they’re planning on making you the surprise filling. Either way a pencil is rarer than ship burials and you’d better be ready to fight to the death over a working pen.

5) You’ve discovered that the general public don’t know the difference between an Archaeologist, a Palaeontologist and weirdly an Architect.

“So, like Dinosaur bones?”, “Don’t you have to study for 6 years for that?”, “oh, you mean you are like Ross from friends?”, “What buildings have you worked on then?”. Sigh.

6) You are always skint…

Yet you are always able to find money for beer. You are practically magical in this ability.

7) The public also clearly don’t understand horticulture

Hey Mr Workman, you’ve just leaned over the scaffolding and suggested that once we have done here we can “come and dig your garden”, well I’ve really only got one question; which would you prefer a full strip excavation or just a couple of test trenches, because that’s how we will dig it and I don’t think your herbaceous borders will benefit from the experience.

8) Tea is the single greatest substance on the planet.

You’ll work through rain, snow, wind, hail, freezing fog powered only by this wonder drug. You could be wearing four jumpers, two pairs of trousers and enough pairs of gloves to render your hands almost totally useless but one sip of tea and you are ready to record the shit out of that mid C19th factory building.

9) People will expect you to know literally everything about history

It won’t be everyone, but once in a while when you tell someone what you do for a living you’ll see the unmistakable glint of madness in their eye. You’ll try to run, but it’s too late, you’ve just been caught by a local history enthusiast. The next sentence out of this person’s face will often begin “oh then you probably know all about blah blah blah” before launching into a prepared monologue about a piece of history so obscure even the people who lived through it didn’t know it had happened. They will then ask you to clarify a detail that you have no chance of knowing. When you tell them that you really don’t know anything about the early pencil industry and its effects on English civil war they will scoff and pronounce loudly that you can’t be a very good Archaeologist if you don’t even know basic facts like that, before flouncing off in a huff.

10) You like good comedy

I can’t say this is a universal, but all the Archaeologists who have been to see my show ‘Ask an Archaeologist’ have enjoyed themselves. If you fancy seeing it first hand and making your own judgements the next performance in London is on the 18th March and can be purchased from the ticket link on the home screen of this website. Other dates can be found in the press section.

For weekly archaeology guessing games you can follow me @PaulDuncanMcG

#archaeology history comedy london

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merchanttraderproceeds · 8 years ago

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Slightly hasty notes on my third-ever session of D&D since the next one’s in a couple of hours:

my character got hired aboard an airship whose captain worships the goddesses of luck. high turnover rate? probably!

the party: • Rut Elkthorn (me), half-elf monk/cleric and ship medic. it’s better than working retail, probably. • Ailith, probably human druid. slightly shapeshifty. Currently laying a bit low, since we had to fight things disguised as crew members. Rut’s bunkmate. • Red, a winged tiefling. Shadow cultists hate her! Makes everything glow with one weird cantrip! Gets to fire the cannons. • Karliah, apparently an aasimar*. wears an antlered mask 99.9% of the time except when she needs to bathe enemies in holy light. Red’s bunkmate, where I’m sure they have many wacky hijinks. • Arannis - dashing, dapper half-elf. costumed gladiator by day, costumed vigilante by night, or something like that. in charge of the crew, and bunkmates with… • Shimon - human fighter. reads a lot. Captain (DM) can’t pronounce his name either. has a bad history with dragons.

*I don’t know shit about anything but someone mentioned it last session

Anyway, the ship Fortuna (whose captain is totally not a pirate) had to deliver the goods of some rich dead guy’s estate or something. The first day or so was uneventful. Then goblins, striking from a hidden airship (cloud cover), fired a few of themselves onboard. We took out seven of them.

That night, a crewman was found dead below decks. Investigation revealed two more goblins and a hobgoblin rifling through the inventory. They kept trying to kill Red, mostly because she kept casting Light on everything and they had some sort of shadowstep ability they never got to use. Of course me being a noob who hadn’t actually taken a level of cleric yet and didn’t know medkits mean you don’t have to roll to stabilize someone didn’t help… Also the hobgoblin monk was obnoxiously hard to hit. Turns out they'd stolen a magical silver bracelet of some kind, but we didn't leave it alive to interrogate because man fuck that hobgoblin.

Anyway, everyone lived and hopefully that will continue happening, especially since the ship medic can now actually heal people.

#rut elkthorn's adventure diary

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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1019 Bleeker Street

“We have a 10-16 on 1016 Bleeker Street” stated the voice from the radio.

They stare. Not saying anything. Not moving. I start to feel uneasy.

I walk through the battered door. My flashlight is shining under my pistol. The house is dark. I swear there was light coming from it when I arrived, I think to myself.

I grab the walkie on my chest with my other hand. “Immediate back-up needed at 1016 Bleeker Street” I speak into it. Something feels off…

“Immediate back-up” I repeat into my walkie. “Two officers down, I repeat two officers down. Culprit unknown and still active”.

I shut my door, lock it. Walk up stair’s and then go to sleep.

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