#i once tried to label all of my experiences to each creature and it failed miserably because some of them are so. unexplainable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedinanshiral · 6 days ago

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Bellanaris.

After witnessing Solas' regrets through his murals in The Veilguard many wondered, what exactly was his relationship with Mythal?

Even the Veilguard members had questions and discussed about it.

Spoilers for everything. Goes with this one too, if you want more of Solas analysis from me.

He followed her without question -or reserving the ones he had- and maybe reconsidered that love in their friendship when her crimes with the evanuris outweighed what Solas could stand, when he asked her to run away with him and she declined, and by the time she listened and tried to stop the others it was sadly too late. When Solas started his rebellion he was already carving his own path away from her, but their love was still present and it was because of that love that he warned her, and that she finally decided to listen. She may have been his dearest friend and he did everything for her. When he writes to Ghilan'nain and says "you would not be the first to sacrifice your morals for love" he was talking about himself, he was referencing his personal experience because that's what he did with Mythal.

I'll be blunt, i don't think they were romantically entagled. It's been mentioned in past games that the ancient elvhen related with each other on different levels that present Thedosians may struggle to comprehend. Now knowing they were originally spirits helps understanding things a bit better; spirits are beings of raw, intense emotions, whatever they feel they do so on a much higher degree, and whatever words they used to communicate it once translated fail to convey their real, full meaning.

I think Solas and Mythal were friends, but friendship for them was felt much strongly. There was love between them but not in the sense we'd imagine it now.

They were not equals, there was an imbalance neither were truly aware of until Solas rebelled and maybe then he started understanding their differences and from there his feelings for her changed, as he changed, his purpose twisted from Wisdom meant to guide in times of war, into a rebel leader fighting in what were supposed to be times of peace. He went from being a friend to becoming the enemy.

The romance with the Inquisitor may have been a last minute addition to the game (I have my doubts, it's too perfect and fits too well with everything to have been improvised) but it makes perfect sense only a female elf Inquisitor can sway him like that..because it's reminiscent of his relationship with Mythal, that past bond coming back to haunt him except this time the roles are a bit reversed: he's the powerful god, she's the simple mortal. But Lavellan is far from being a simple creature and she reminds Solas of all he ever loved and cared about and changes a terrible broken world into something that can be fixed, She turns his despair into hope, the fact she came out in such a way from the same world he broke tells him something may still be saved..

In both instances Solas finds himself in the service of a powerful elven woman in a position of leadership trying to save the world. But with Lavellan there's no protocols, there's no real hierarchy, with Lavellan they're more like equals, they're partners. There's no master and servant, there's people on equal standing fighting together for a common goal.

Lavellan becomes Solas' partner in a way Mythal could not and would never be able to.

Mythal was possibly Solas' first relationship, whatever label you'd like to apply there, a loyal friendship sustained mainly on his one-sided devotion to her that he eventually grew out of. While Lavellan is real, realized love, a relationship that may have started out of necessity, finding mutual respect that turned it into friendship, later developing further into something both wanted and neither could ignore. There's no one-sidedness with Lavellan, there's only mutual desire, this love unlike the past one is overwhelming, requited and wanted. Lavellan makes the first move, she's the one that isn't running away and in fact, in Trespasser and later finally in Veilguard, she shows him she's the one willing to run away with him. She's the one willing to do for him the sacrifices he once made for Mythal, even when she doesn't have to, when there's no ancient bond, mandate or obligation of any kind. Lavellan is willing to be with him out of her own free will and for the love she holds for him.

For roleplaying and replayability it would have been great if Solas could have been romanceable by more Inquisitors, but by his nature and personal history it makes absolute perfect sense that only a female elf could. Now we know he was a spirit and spirits are at their core very simple and fixed creatures, interestingly ironic considering they come from a realm where nothing is fixed. Solas isn't just stuck in his ways, he's a spirit! There's a limit to what he can understand and experience, even if he's a spirit of wisdom and is very knowledgeable, his nature is still limited (as we all are), his focus is singular, and a female elf Inquisitor fits right into that singular focus of his. Making other races romanceable for him would have broken that and it would have taken away from the Thedas pattern and his personal pattern as well.

He left the fade to enter the physical world because an elvhen woman he loved asked him to, and he followed her loyal to a fault until he had to break away from her when she chose an abusive status quo over his desperate cry for freedom and justice.

He destroys the world as a result in a desperate attempt to save it, and wakes up thousands of years later to find one person who shows him something of all he loved lives on and in doing so gives him purpose. Spirits need and crave purpose and Lavellan gives him just that.

He falls in love, something he could have never foreseen, an event completely out of all his calculations, but the pattern is shifting, there's no longer an evident imbalance, he's treated as an equal, even when she learns who he is she still talks to him like he's just the man she loves.

And on his lowest point when he's about to repeat a past mistake and destroy a world trying to save it, he returns to the Fade accompanied by the elvhen woman that loved him back with a devotion he was never shown before. Some may argue they're not equals, because he's Fen'Harel and she's a mortal elf he lied to for the better part of a year, that they're not equals because he always kept that secret from her and maybe took advantage of her affection to get what he wanted. But they are equals in the end in the sense that they feel the same way, and are capable of the same sacrifices for each other, and their respect is mutual in equal measure.

Solas may have been mistaken, but had their circumstances been different you know he would have stayed with her, as he wanted to. Most of his dinan'shiral is fueled by monumental guilt, regret, shame and a hurt sense of duty and that's what prevented him from giving in to his feelings for Lavellan, just as he understood Lavellan wouldn't abandon the Inquisition for him, and wouldn't just let him burn the world without opposition. Because Lavellan also has duties she's devoted too as much as she's devoted to him. They're an unstoppable force and unmovable object clashing against their will and if it weren't for the people around them you know a Lavellan that is on equal standing with Solas would have confronted him, maybe neither would have succeeded, maybe they would have died in each other's arms if it came to it.

But fortunately it didn't have to end that way, and yes, I'm sure Solas knows too well he doesn't deserve her (because she's too good), that she doesn't deserve him (because he's such a mess), but Lavellan has always been there to prove him wrong and he welcomes that with a smile.

I headcanon my Gallia Lavellan would be a spirit of Devotion. Wisdom and Devotion make an odd pair, but she's Devotion all around, mostly for him, their love that endured everything, but she's also devoted to the truth, to their causes, to the people, to Thedas, she's devoted to doing the right thing and to doing it as best as possible; she's devoted to continue learning about the world, protecting those she love, and those who have no one to look after them.

She does all that by following him into the Fade, by becoming the fixed point in his life, his North, his Anchor, to remind him what should be done, not only what must be done, to remind him of what truly matters. She doesn't simply follow him into the Fade out of love for him but out of love for the world, which is another thing they have in common.

Lavellan is truly his match, and Solas is aware of it in a way that makes him more ashamed for everything he's done and feel more undeserving of what is yet to come for him by her side.

I don't think Wisdom turned to Pride, I think Wisdom became Pragmatism in the wars, later turned to Regret for most of his life and through Devotion's love and perseverance he returned to Wisdom with a renewed love for life. Maybe he's become Love now, love for her, love for the world he's protecting, love for his people, and for all that love he decided to sacrifice himself, his own freedom, to spend in eternity with his one true love.

And for once in his very long and troubled life i think this time he made a choice he does not regret.

#dragon age #veilguard spoilers #Solas #Lavellan #Solavellan #Mythal

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sp00kworm · 4 years ago

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Silence (Part 1)

Part 2 - Revenant’s Ending

Part 3 - Bloodhound’s Ending

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Pairings: Revenant x Reader, Bloodhound x Reader

Warnings: Mild Violence, Threat and Alcohol Consumption

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Working for a living. How you hated it. Well, it wasn’t as bad as it could be since you owned your own business. The city was quiet this time of night, but the bar was the total opposite. You smiled pleasantly as you served a group of women with cocktails. They were higher class, flashing their credits like it was pocket change. You turned the money into the till before turning back to the task at hand, inventory of the alcohol. Quite a few of the bottles needed replacing and you pulled out your notepad to quickly scribble down the brands of each. The bustle continued behind you as the party of women jeered and giggled in the corner, fluttering their eyelashes at a new group of men that entered the bar. They whistled and rushed over to the bar for their drinks.

“Hey there! A round of beers!” The tallest man jeered at you, laughing as one of his companions rushed over to the group of women.

“Coming up.” You snapped your notebook and pencil onto the bar as you turned to grab the glasses from under the wood, holding them between your fingers before you started pulling the drinks. You watched the men saunter away, leaving two to collect the drinks. You stacked the pints in a line on the bar. They paid you with transfer before joining the women in the corner.

“Rough night?” You jumped as you picked you notepad up, the pencil in your grasp dropping from your fingers as you peered to your left. There was a rogue looking man sat to your left, playing with a coin, running it over his fingers

“You could say that again.” With a small sigh you picked up your pencil, “It’s been insanely busy.” You turned back to note the last few bottles of liquor you needed for restocking. There was an expensive whiskey which you weren’t sure you had in the back.

“Let’s see how much rowdier it gets with those lot around.” The man jabbed his thumb towards the group before looking at the door, grinning over the top of the whiskey you had poured him. The rogue grinned and you looked over to the door in confusion as the lights flickered.

“Maybe there’s another storm...” You muttered as the lights flickered again before the power shorted and everyone was plunged into darkness. Silence.

The shocked murmurs of the patrons quickly turned into upset hysterics from the women in the bar. The men seemed concerned as they continued to drink. All eyes turned on you as the lights remained out for longer than normal. Power surges were normal in this neighbourhood’s the amount of electricity that was used in the robotics plant nearby. It was a job creator but the community sometimes suffered for the privilege of the engineering potential. You looked up at the lights and looked at the bulbs just before a whirring sounded. Black and orange energy crept from the screw fittings of the bulbs, crackling and whirring with unholy noise.

“I guess this is my last stand.” The rogue man stood and flipped the coin in his hand before looking at the result under his palm. He hissed in upset, “Tails. Maybe I lose.” There was a rush of power again before two orange lights appeared outside the glass panelling of the door. The patrons screamed as claws raked over the glass, making a shrill screeching noise as they connected with the metal second.

The metal crunched before a heavy metal foot connected with the hinges, slamming the door open to reveal a titanium covered robot. Then the panic started. Men and woman rushed for the back entrance, streaming past you and the bar, ducking low when the rogue man revealed a Wingman Pistol. He spun the pistol over his hand and snapped the ammo into place as the monstrous robot hunched and climbed into the door frame. You ducked under the bar but peered over the edge as pistons clunked and the creature ducked low. It was then that it clicked. Hammond Robotics’ symbol was stamped onto one of the fingerless leather gloves. You covered your mouth and ducked again as the Simulacrum hummed, orange optics roving over the bar to find the rogue man with his pistol drawn.

“Finally.” The Simulacrum purred darkly, “Another robotics lab-rat for my list.” His hand span into a sharp point before whirring again to reveal claws, “Scream for me, skinsuit. I’ll make it hurt enough for the both of us to enjoy.”

A gunshot made you cringe under the bar, clutching at your head as you listened to the Wingman thunder with shots. They slammed into the walls with cracks and you heard the sound of the Simulacrum’s pistons slamming before he cackled, and his limbs twisted backwards. You looked up as his robotic body slammed into the ceiling, claws and knives slamming into the plaster and metal as he walked over your head, dodging bullets as his arms snaked and rippled in their sockets. His orange eyes peered downwards. You were caught like a rabbit in a predator’s gaze, looking back into the fiery depths as his head tilted, the orange spinning with a swirl of black as he watched you shiver and huddle further back under the bar.

“Duck, skinsuit.” The robot purred as the rogue jumped over the bar and you slid back to avoid having your hands stood on.

“Get back here you fucking monster!” The man howled, “You’re just another failed experiment!”

“Oh? A failure, am I?” The Simulacrum hummed as he detached from the ceiling, his hand spinning into a spear like appendage as he launched himself downwards with a grunt.

The robot crashed into the floor with a great clatter and you peered up at him, crouched before you, trying to gauge whether you were going to be collateral damage as his head span, the red scarf wrapped around his head and neck fluttering as he pushed off and rushed at the rogue.

“I’m the monster? I killed for your disgusting little customers for three hundred years!” He jeered as his hands sliced towards the man, bullets pinging off the plating covering his shoulders and face. One slammed near his eye socket, leaving a dirty black streak over his bone white faceplate.

“You’re killing for fun now. Your programming isn’t…” The Wingman clicked. Empty. The Simulacrum chuckled, his hand spinning as he dashed forwards again and sliced at the man’s guts. A pained cry rang against the walls and you dared to look to your left as the Simulacrum hoisted the rogue by his neck, claws trailing down the soft skin before he dug them into the cheeks, humming before he started to tear away chunks of skin.

“Scream for me then. Make this fun, skinsack.” He peeled away a nice chunk of skin and laughed lowly as he dragged the man across the bar, sending pint glasses flying as his legs thrashed in the air. Beer soaked the bar top as he smashed him against the levers, but the Simulacrum seemed indifference to the stench as his clawed fingers wrapped tight around the man’s throat. The rogue gave a strangled cry as he dropped his weapon and pried at the robot’s fingers in a futile attempt to be free.

“Fuck…you…” He cursed at the Simulacrum, “And fuck…that code…” He choked out as his lips went blue and his eyes ringed with red from lack of oxygen.

“Tell me where it is.” The Simulacrum demanded as his other hand’s fingers formed a sharp spear, linked together in a shining point of titanium.

“Fuck you.” The man spat a wad of spit at the Simulacrum’s faceplate. The robotic man didn’t flinch, but his orange burning eyes flicked to the saliva on his cheek before he growled and slammed the point of his fingers into the other’s gut, humming joyfully as blood poured down his arm.

“What have we here?” The Simulacrum let go of his neck to rummage in his pocket, revealing an access card to the building labelled with the lab he was allowed into. The robotic man scoffed, “You’re barely even a coder but you have sensitive information access…Access to the source.” He hummed and slid the card into a compartment under his scarves, “Ooo.” He cooed, “Is that your spleen?” He questioned. His arm whirred as he squeezed the rogue’s organs. A scream bounced off the walls and you huddled back under the bar, covering your ears until eventually, the noises stopped, and a dead body slumped against the bar top. Silence. You breathed quietly, shaking under the counter before you swallowed and dared to crawl out from underneath the wood. Peering around, you peeked over the bar and tried to ignore the body slumped against the back of the bar beside you, dead eyes looking past you at the liquor cabinet.

“Boo.” The Simulacrum dropped from the ceiling with a snap and hiss of his legs, his weight thudding to the ground as he towered over you, orange gaze burning and spinning before the optics flickered to bright whole light again.

You jumped, grabbing for a glass before he snatched it from your grip and slammed it back down on the bar top.

“Ah, ah, ah, skinsuit.” He waved a sharp finger in front of you, “Not a word. Shh.” The claw tapped your mouth, “Listen to me and listen quick.” He grunted at you, his fingers flaring threateningly under your chin, pointed at your jugular, “You don’t say a word about this to anyone. You didn’t see anything.” He tapped the sharp titanium against your chin once, “Not a soul.”

You swallowed against the sharp edges and nodded once.

“Good.” The Simulacrum looked at the bar and snatched the expensive whiskey the man had been drinking, his skeletal like nose sniffing at the contents before he hummed and opened his mouth. The inside was dark, but copper plating shined inside before he snapped it closed again like a trap. The whiskey disappeared, and there was no noise of liquid dripping onto the floor. The Simulacrum’s mouth remained closed as he spoke, “Good taste.” There wasn’t another word as his arms whirred and the pistons in his legs readjusted before he walked to the hole where the front door had once hung on its hinges, “Thanks for the drink.” And he was gone, past the giant glass windows and into the night, leaving you with a bleeding body as the police entered the bar.

It took far too long for the Apex Games to reimburse you for the damages. There was though, after about a weeks delay, a fat cheque left in your post-box for you to collect. It was perhaps far more than the bar was worth, but you knew it was hush money. Keep quiet or they take everything. That was the threat. A threat because they couldn’t keep their murderous toys under control with the money, slaughter and fame of the Apex Games alone. Revenant. You had learned his name when you watched a match, watching the Simulacrum hiss and spit at the drone cameras when they got too close. It was a slaughter until the other team found the death totem, then the entire match was won by a curious line-up of Bloodhound, Lifeline and Gibraltar. He deserved the electrocution from Lifeline’s drone you decided as you turned on the Holoscreen in the bar for one of your regulars. You had access to the sport channels with the new ariel you’d had installed, and it kept a lot of older patrons coming back weekly for the matches. Softly, you whistled as you pulled another pint and handed it to an older looking worker. He was sooty and probably had spent the day mining ore in the distant mountain. You smiled, took his money and thanked him before continuing with the rounds down the bar, not noticing as it got later and closer to closing.

“Nice bar, skinsuit.” A robotic voice jeered before a bar stool creaked noisily under a heavy weight. You sucked in a breath as you looked into the corner of the bar, meeting orange optics as the Simulacrum seemed to sneer, “Made use of the money I see by upgrading. Nicer décor now. Much more…” He rotated a hand, “Swish, or whatever.” He didn’t seem to really care as he grunted in a poor attempt at appreciation.

With a scowl, you reached to snatch away another customer’s drink from his prying fingers, “Revenant. I learned about you and your escapades after you slaughtered a man in my bar.” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at his chassis, “You have guts showing your face here again.”

The few patrons left ignored your anger and the confrontation that was about to occur, looking down at their drinks and ducking their heads low as the Simulacrum turned his gaze to the crowd.

No one stood in your defence. Revenant's orange burning eyes span with processing before his metal fingers rapped against the bar in two swift pounds. He shifted back in his seat and then looked over at your liquor cabinet.

“What about if I buy a drink?” Revenant grumbled, his eyes moving over your hands as you reached for a tumbler on reflex. You slammed it against the bar a little too harshly and gave him a smile as you gestured to the liquors behind you.

“We have a new Cognac. Or would you prefer something more bitter?” You snarked as the Simulacrum hummed, once again indifferent to your attitude as he leaned around you to look at the liquors.

“Whiskey then. That one I had last time wasn’t strong enough.” Revenant complained with a snort as he reached into a pouch on his hip and flashed his wallet of chips from his winnings. Loaded was an understatement. He placed one chip out worth a thousand and hummed again.

“Yeah. That’ll pay for it.” You pulled a heavy, expensive bottle of liquor down, a malt whiskey and offered him the bottle after pouring him a shot.

Burning orange eyes followed your hands under the bar as you reached for the ice bucket, “Don’t bother with ice.” Revenant rumbled as he rotated his hand backwards, wiggled his fingers, then rotated it back the other way, ignoring you as you slammed the cover back onto the ice cooler a little too harshly.

Your eyes turned away from him as you went back to serve another customer, “The bottle is yours by the way, bot. Try not to get too drunk before closing.”

“Pah!” Revenant scoffed as he reached for the tumbler and swirled the dark fluid inside, “If you think I can get drunk I might have to disappoint you, skinbag.” He snarled before he poured a small amount of liquor into his mouth, snapping it shut as he ran the fluid around over the sensors.

You watched him before raising your voice, “Do you even need to drink or eat? You don’t piss fluid out of your chasis so I assume you can but…”

“I can. So, I do. Just fluids.” Revenant replied shortly, his fingers moving to tuck his scarf back over his shoulder, “If you’re gonna ask if there’s any point. There isn’t. Its…a sentiment.” He hissed, seemingly disgusted with himself before he grunted against and finished the whiskey before pouring himself another one and knocking that back as well.

You ignored him for an hour as the regulars called for their final drinks before paying and packing up to leave with lingering stares at the Simulacrum in the corner with his feet up on another stool and his arms stretching and bending at odd angles as he played with the Silencing orb. The orange and black orb crackled with energy as he threw it up and caught it between two fingers, pointing it threateningly at another patron who looked at him too long.

“Move it skinsuit.” Revenant rumbled as a man with a robotic arm lingered behind him, “This’ll get messy otherwise and I love a good mess on my hands. His fingers pointed into a sharp spear as the ball of crackling energy snapped back into the launcher. The man snorted but took his drink, drank the last dregs before leaving, leaving the bar in silence with just you and the Simulacrum perched in the corner of the bar.

The towel was damp with beer as you wiped the side down before throwing it into the basket for washing and taking out the disinfectant spray. You sprayed down the side and made sure to catch Revenants arm in the mist.

“Watch it, skinsuit.” He grunted as he snatched his drink from the chemicals and poured the rest into himself. The bottle was still on the bar, and he took hold of that and leaned back to let you wipe down the side in front of him.

“You’re really not taking my hint, huh?” You grumbled, “Revenant, its closing time, and unlike you robots, I really do need to sleep.”

“Pah.” Revenant huffed, “I paid for this.” He held up the bottle, “So I’m going to finish it, in peace.”

You opened your mouth to protest just as the front door opened again and a heavily clothed individual stepped inside. They were strapped in belts and pouches and thick leather with heavy furs, their face covered with a pair of goggles and a full respirator. The respirator whooshed with air as they politely closed the door behind them, turning their orange goggled gaze to the edge of the bar as they tilted their head to peer around.

“Oh goodie. They sent the lap dog.” Revenant sneered at the other person, his orange gaze dropping to find the tube of the ventilator to pull if he needed a quick escape.

“You were not exactly hard to track. Your tracks are very ...distinguishable.” A heavy Scandinavian accent was muffled through the respirator, “They want you back before the morn’. We have interviews.” They continued, ignoring you in favour of sizing up the Simulacrum.

“And what, ‘Hound? You gonna drag me home kicking and screaming?” Revenant took hold of the ball of energy, the silence threat hanging over his supposed foe.

“Yes.” The other hummed as they reached for a knife on their belt, “I will drag you back, silent, with both your arms and legs removed, bot.”

“Sure.” Revenant purred, “I’ll look forward to gutting you really slow in the next match, skinsuit dog.” His claws slammed at the bar.

“If you’re going to gut each other, do it outside!” You shouted between the two of them. The newcomer appeared startled as you slammed the bar door up and then back down. Revenant’s optics squinted in glee as you stood between them both, “I want no more bloodshed in my bar!”

The newcomer lowered their head, “I apologise. I am Blóðhundr, you can call me Bloodhound."

Your eyes widened, “Another Legend. Wow. Its an honour to meet you. You’re the three times champion, right?”

Bloodhound nodded their head, “That I am. I am sorry for the intrusion, but I have been sent to collect a rogue maniac.” They sounded smug behind the mask.

“A maniac. That’s got a nice ring to it.” Revenant took another glug from the bottle.

“Are you inebriated, bot? You embarrass yourself.” Bloodhound snapped as they drew their knife and pointed it at Revenant, “I am sure the bartender has had enough of you.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” You rolled your eyes.

“Careful, skinsack, maybe I’ll take more than just this bottle, hm?” The Simulacrum purred, “I can think of a few things I would like more…Maybe your guts as a necklace.”

“Quiet.” Bloodhound snapped, “We go.” They pointed the knife to the door, “Now.”

You looked between them both and took a step back, “Look. Its closing time and I want to sleep. So, again, can you please take this outside. Its cool having celebrities in here, but I don’t need another insurance claim and hush money on my hands.”

Bloodhound tilted their head, “Hush money?” Their goggles looked over at Revenant, “This was your doing then. Slátra in the ring was not enough?” They sounded simply disappointed, “You never fail to give into your programming like some primitive tool.” The insult was sharp but muffled through their respirator.

“Watch it, dog, you’re still a squishy skinbag like the rest of them.” Revenant threatened as he stood up, the bottle in hand as he walked around the bar and loomed over Bloodhound, his clawed hands held up in front of their goggles and respirators. He flicked a bead on their hat before he looked back at you with burning orange eyes, “See you around, bartender.” Revenant hummed as he headed back towards the door, tucking his scarf over the bottom of his face.

Bloodhound snapped their hunting knife back into their sheath on their chest before nodding at you and placing a hand over their heart, “I apologise for the intrusion. Pray, have a good night.”

“Thanks for clearing him out for me, Bloodhound. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.” You smiled as well as you could as you scooped up Revenant’s used glass, “Be safe. He’s… something.”

“Something is perhaps kind.” Bloodhound tipped their hat before they followed Revenant out of the door.

A call of a Raven followed them as the door closed and you were left in peace.

The next game was broadcast over a week later, and you tuned the holoscreen in as a crowd gathered in the bar to watch. The drones were following the last two teams, and it seemed that Revenant and Bloodhound were working together, with Caustic as their third. Gibraltar, Octane and Lifeline were the other squad left alive, hunkered down on the high ground with Gibraltar’s shield stopping the bullets from Bloodhound’s Kraber. It was setting out to be a long and slow final match though Revenant and Bloodhound possessed more rushing capabilities. Caustic was the first to move before Revenant followed, leaving his totem in the guard of Bloodhound as they continued to rain deadly shots against Gibraltar’s defences. Bloodhound span in time for a scan to see Octane moving against them, and they turned with a quick shot, downing Octane with a precise headshot as he spat profanities at them. Lifeline was too far for a resurrection and so Octane was eliminated.

“There are two left, félagi fighters, fight strong.” Bloodhound’s voice sounded over the sound system.

“Great. One less to make a mess with.” Revenant huffed as the drone switch perspective and the cameras watched Revenant storm the shield up high as Caustic laid his gas out below. The Simulacrum slid into the shield and hailed bullets into Gibraltar before leaving a grenade inside and sliding from the roof into the room below.

“Toxic traps in position.” Caustic mused before he snorted, “Lifeline has Gibraltar back up, they haven’t taken the bait.”

“Urgh.” Revenant howled as he was sent back to the totem where Bloodhound was laid on the roof, “Back at the Totem! Caustic, move!”

“Lovely.” Caustic cursed but dropped a gas cloud as he headed towards Bloodhound.

Bloodhound made no noise as they took a shot and watched Lifeline go down, “Move! They are weak.” The other two turned heel to finish the match and the crowd jeered as they won the title of champions.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it would have gone differently if Bloodhound was on the other side.

“Artur, you cannot come in, you know this.” Bloodhound said from the door, their voice hushed as they held their arm outside, “Come now, do not cause me any more problems.” They cooed softly.

“Bloodhound?” You asked gently, “You’re here late?” You questioned as their goggles looked at you, “Who is Artur?”

Bloodhound carefully pulled their arm inside and showed you the Raven. It was perched on his arm and squawked curiously as its beady black eye analysed you, “Artur is my companion and friend.” Bloodhound stroked their finger over the soft feathers of the Raven’s chest, “Do you allow animals in. I’m afraid he does not want to stay outdoors…I believe he can smell the rain.”

“Sure…so long as he doesn’t shit on my floor, he can come in.” You smiled as Bloodhound ducked inside, the beads on their hat clicking as they entered and headed towards the bar with graceful long strides.

“I came to apologise for Revenant’s behaviour. The Simulacrum knows nothing else than the slátra… ah that is… he only knows killing.” Bloodhound sat and let Artur rest on their shoulder, “I know he left a mess, and you were paid for it out of his winnings. I hope that brings you some joy.”

The tracker shifted in their seat as Artur hopped from their shoulder, over the heavy material and leather on their arms before the Raven jumped along the bar, squawking curiously into an empty pint glass.

You watched the bird before smiling and collecting the rest of the glasses from the top, “It felt like a kick in the teeth. No one cared about me, just that I kept quiet about it.” You shrugged your shoulders, “Hey, at least Revenant likes what I did with the place now, huh?” It was a sour joke.

Bloodhound looked at you curiously before their goggles shifted a little with their head, looking at the drinks and liquor behind you, “What he thinks is of little importance.” They stated before a gloved hand pointed at the drinks, “Do you have Brennivín? It is not common.”

Shocked, you stumbled for a moment before turning back to the cabinet. You hadn’t heard of the drink until a rogue group of Outlanders came through some years ago, “Brennivín…” You hummed before you snatched the clear liquid from the shelf, holding up the harsh green label for Bloodhound to see, “It’s a dill flavoured drink, right?”

“Ah. It has been some time since I have seen it.” Bloodhound happily took the bottle from you with careful hands, spinning the glass bottle to look at the back with a small huffy laugh, “The Black Death.” They purred, seemingly happy before they passed it back, “May I have some? A chilled glass will be sufficient. It is best chilled in the snow outside, but we are far from the snow here.”

“I didn’t think you would ah…want a drink.” You confessed as you took an iced glass from the fridge and turned it up on the bar before pouring a generous shot. Bloodhound reached for their pouch, but you held up your hand, “Its on me. Think of it as a thank you for dealing with Revenant.” You smiled and Bloodhound nodded before holding the drink close.

They made no move to drink.

“Wait how are you going to…” You trailed off as they span their finger around in a silent command for you to turn around. You turned around awkwardly in embarrassment and waited, the urge to peer back strong as the respirator hissed with air and they coughed quietly.

“You may turn around.” Bloodhound’s voice was infinitely softer without the mask and you smiled at the exposed mouth and chin.

They were pale and scarred with faint, harsh lines over the lower half of their face, but they gave a half smirk at your look before taking a careful sip of the alcohol.

Bloodhound gave a small hiss before they shook their head and chuckled again, “That is strong. Good.” They gestured to their chest, “Heart-warming.”

“Heart-warming is one word for it.” You held up the label again, “It’s sixty percent proof. I think I got it off some weird Outlands dealer.” With a shrug you placed the bottle back into the cabinet.

Bloodhound took another burning sip and looked at Artur as the Raven hopped back towards him from the glass, he had been entertaining himself with, “Artur. Do you want one too?” The tracker teased, “Can Artur have some water. We have travelled quite far.”

“Oh, sure.” You turned and then whipped back around, “Can he drink out of a bowl?”

“A bowl will be fine, but he may throw water all over your bar.” Bloodhound nodded as you filled a shallow bowl and leaned back as Artur hopped over, dunking his beak into the water to have a drink before he shook side to side and cawed loudly. Bloodhound offered the bird their arm and watched Artur walk back up their arm before taking another sip of Brennivín.

A comfortable silence covered the both of you as you worked through your clean up routine in the empty bar, putting the empty glasses into the back room to be cleaned by the steamer bot you had installed. The robot chugged to life happily, almost like a MRVIN, before setting to work putting glasses into its stomach for washing before organising the others into stacks for the second cycle.

Bloodhound was sat with their respirator back on when you returned, stroking Artur’s soft black feathers underneath the bird’s chin. Artur cooed happily before jumping back to Bloodhound’s shoulder and regarding you with one beady black eye.

“Thank you for the drink.” Their voice was muffled and lower through the respirator once again.

“You’re welcome.” You uttered as they stood.

Bloodhound adjusted their hat before looking around again, taking in the bar one last time before they headed to the door, “Farewell, krúttið mitt.”

Before you could ask them what exactly it meant they were gone, the metal door closing with a thump behind them. You followed to the door and clicked the old school and new technology lock into place, making sure that the door didn’t open before you turned the lights off and went to check in on your dishwashing companion, curious as to just why an Apex Legend had taken it upon themselves to come and check on you.

You watched the games for the coming weeks of the season with an interest in the two Legends that had entered your bar. Revenant and Bloodhound were machines on the field, but often grew too invested in their own kills, which lead to their failure. Bloodhound was less likely to be so focused on one person, but recently with Revenant’s goading, they were easily thrown off in favour of hunting one team for an entire match. Neither of them had a solid win for the rest of the season, they were mostly luck wins where they downed injured teams. You wondered what was wrong with them but tried not to pay much attention as your regular life settled back into place. The bar was busy on match days, and you laughed as new customers became regulars, and learned who liked what drink along with which Legend they loved as well.

“Who are you rooting for today?” Kennedy asked as he sipped his beer, “Your preference for that bot is slightly disturbing.” He laughed.

“Bloodhound is up with Mirage and Wattson today.” You hummed, “Revenant is with Octane and Lifeline. I think Bloodhound has the better option.” You laughed before the games started, wondering just who you should really be rooting for.

#revenant x reader #bloodhound x reader #apex revenant #revenant apex #apex legends #apex #bloodhound #bloodhound apex #apex bloodhound #apex legends bloodhound #apex legends revenant #gender neutral reader #reader insert #apex legend #my writing #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

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morris-magus-merry-miller · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6: The Terrors atop the Tower

I cleared my throat to get the specter’s attention. “Hello there. I apologize for interrupting. I wasn’t expecting to see such a…well known individual as yourself in a place like this.”

I hope I wasn’t bothering Issac petting his fur constantly the entire conversation. It was a brilliant (and soft) distraction from the horror that stood in front of me.

The fetches didn’t move to attack as the ghost of Count McLaurin turned in place to face me. He asked if I’d killed Georgio—to which I quite honestly answered no, he’d simply challenged me to a test of musical prowess.

That he’d exploded afterwards was neither here nor there.

He thankfully accepted this answer. I asked what such a…storied individual was doing in a place like this.

The former Count seemed rather bored with…well, everything. Perhaps it’s because he was a ghost, he had a very apathetic way about him. He answered my question, that he was helping the senior Gladshire with some experiment that involved sticking a banshee into a machine. He felt a certain society would be pleased if they did so.

The society in question we surmised must be the Society of Great Enlightened Ones I’d mentioned previously, which he’d been rumored to be working with in life.

The ghostly Count complained a bit about his daughter, who it seemed botched or perhaps sabotaged his plans which lead to the him dying in an explosion event. Candy had mentioned before I entered the room that she was familiar with the Count and his daughter, as she and her master had once acted as the chefs for a party they’d hosted. Candy said his daughter had been a sweet girl, so I’m inclined to believe my friend’s opinion of her over a viscera eating ghost.

Holding bunny-Issac close, knowing well what I was about to trigger, I thanked him for his time. And offered that perhaps his meal would go better with some merlot.

Issac leapt forward from my arms, returning to his half-orc form. With my hands free, I threw the largest of my fireball beads into the center of the table, catching all of the frosty fletches within the flames. Many survived the initial blast—but not for long, as Vigo stepped into the doorway and let loose an even more violent explosion, which engulfed all of the undead. In seconds only McLaurin was left standing. Floating. What-have-you.

Candy burst into the room. Initially McLaurin didn’t recognize her—and when he finally did he made a rather snide comment about her master, referring to him as a monkey. Wrong move. Very wrong move indeed. Candy let loose a flurry of kicks, empowered by her natural energy to be able to strike even the incorporeal count.

McLaurin went to strike Candy with the life draining touch of a ghost. I had other plans, however. I cast Pugwampi’s grace on the spirit—and thankfully it stuck despite my target being not-all-there. With the curse of misfortune on him, he failed to grab hold of Candy, despite her standing right before him.

Vigo managed to drive the spirit back with a number of fiery rays. Then John entered the picture. He’d been keeping back, as there wasn’t much he had prepared for a ghost. But in the final moment he had a brilliant idea. He pulled a wand from his pouch—a quite simple wand, really, one very common amongst the adventuring sorts.

A wand of cure moderate wounds.

A spell which has the very fine side effect of harming the undead rather than healing them.

With a simple tap of the wand, the ghost dissipated. Not permanently—not yet at least. McLaurin had returned to this plane of existence to win the society’s approval by helping Gladshire Sr. Therefore, the only way to make sure the ghost didn’t return to continue his unfinished business was to make sure there was no unfinished business left to return to. He would only be dead permanently once the elder Gladshire was as well.

With a better understanding of the circumstances, we continued forward. We found a door outside to a courtyard, which lead us to the base of the tower. On the first floor were the servant’s quarters, which has a nifty little enchantment that allowed us to rest and be refreshed more quickly than we naturally could. Feeling up for whatever challenges lie ahead, we began up the spiral staircase.

Upon the first landing Oswald Gladshire spoke to us through the Stone of Farspeech again. He informed us that once we reached the landing, there would be a door up ahead with a lock. He knew the password—it was Elena.

(I felt rather vindicated, as you might recall I tried her name on the lock with the skull earlier)

We moved ahead, believing that we would have a nice straight shot to the top of the tower with the password already in hand.

Ah, but adventure is never so easy, is it?

We found the door, with a lock that had a number of wheels to turn to spell out words. Only four of the wheels were missing.

Not-so-coincidentally, there were four doors in the hallway.

Each had a label: “Circus”, “Interdimensional Studies”

(…? Hm…my notes don’t quite match up here…I’ll get back to that in a moment)

“Alchemy Lab”, “Child Studies”, and “Storage”

We discussed amongst ourselves which door we should search first. My vote was “anything but circus”

…No, yes, it must have said circus then…

Issac was in agreement about that. Vigo and John felt like we should get that door out of the way first. I relented, as I had no strong argument against it except that it sounded creepy. Issac still seemed unsettled, and waited in the back as the others opened the door.

Things…get a bit odd after this. I take excellent notes each time we have a moment to breath. My notes are impeccable. And so is my memory. But my memory of this is…foggy. At best. I feel like whatever happened in this room was a dream. Or, from what my notes describe…perhaps more like a nightmare.

There were chairs set up, and a sign that indicated we ALL needed to come take a seat. The others relayed this to us, and so Issac and Peanut had to enter as well despite their misgivings. When we were all within the room, the door closed. And vanished. We were in a dark space. A light came on, and a strange being appeared before us. I can’t conjure an image of this being in my mind, despite my notes. The only description I gave myself was “creepy unblinking clown woman”. I think I thought the strange encounter would stick in my mind more. Instead it faded like morning mist. Or like a ghost. That seems more apt given the location.

I…vaguely remember she had a very unnerving smile.

Sado told us to show her what we could do. At first we took this to mean she wanted us to preform for her. We used our various talents in a misguided attempt to win her approval and our freedom. She simply smiled and made cryptic comments. Something about a table. My notes literally just say “John left the table?”, I don’t know what it means seeing as there wasn’t a table there for John to leave…

Finally Sado acted. Not as a whimsical performer. She shot Vigo with a hellfire ray.

That…gave me an uncomfortable idea of what this being might have been, although I still don’t know if I was right or not.

Paige attempted to study the being, to understand what Sado was. However when she did—she vanished!

The others went on the offensive. Clearly being hands off had done nothing for us.

I pulled out my research material. I had never heard of anything like this being before. I felt like we needed to know what she was to actually deal with her. I think Paige was onto something, and that’s why she disappeared.

But I knew nothing. It all came up blank. In frustration, I pulled on that language that’s not really mine.

“What are you?” I demanded, in infernal. A language she would know if the hellfire ray truly meant anything.

I remember her wink. I remember for a moment having understanding before everything went black. I don’t know what I learned in that moment. It was gone as quickly as I could blink.

And I appeared in an empty room, with the others, and the first wheel. I found out afterwards that in split second I perceived, the others had still been in the dark space fighting that Sado being. In the end, she grew bored of them, and said farewell—for now.

I really don’t like “for now” in situations like this. “For now” means she’s going to come back eventually.

I don’t know what I found out back there, but if she is one of yours and I haven’t faced her again by the time this book is finished…could you not?

Anyways…

We had one wheel and three doors left.

I really didn’t want to open another door after that other one.

Which by the way said “Interdimensional Studies” on it now. Or maybe it always did. I don’t know.

Candy took point and opened the Child Studies room next. The moment she did a terrifying visage appeared floating in the center of the room. It looked like the twisted ghost of an infant. The specter let out an unearthly wail which nearly chilled me to the bone.

But then it clicked. Something wasn’t quite right about it. The scream of this sort of undead should do more than cause terror—it was normally a deadly creature.

It was merely an illusion. A horrifying illusion I wish would fade from my memory as the last room did. But an illusion none-the-less. With this knowledge in mind those of us not rooted in place by the terror-causing magics the illusion was laced with entered the room and quickly uncovered the wheel. We immediately made a beeline for the door, and the moment it was closed the sound of screams completely vanished—and with it the terror causing effects.

Two doors down—both terrifying and mind-bending affairs. Still two doors left.

We went across the hall to the alchemy lab. I felt trepidation at opening the door unprepared. John, however, felt rather bold, saying he was sure we’d already been through the worst of it.

We opened the door—and somehow I ended up stepping forward first despite it being John who’d been stoking our confidence that the next room would be a cinch.

Inside was a small winged child-like undead creature, of similar height to Vigo. Before I could comprehend what I was seeing, he began ringing a large bell that sat in the back of the room.

And suddenly my vision shifted. I was no longer within the room, but back out in the hallway. John and Issac were next to me, and Vigo was just down the hall. Only the angles were all wrong. I was almost eye level with Issac, and Vigo was far below me rather than a mere head shorter than myself. I tried to speak but only a grumble came out. Looking down, I found I was not myself, but instead Peanut!

From there all hell broke loose. “Vigo” shouted that we needed to catch the guy ringing the bell. The winged person in question tried to shout out a question, before “Issac” and Peanut in my body went after him.

It quickly became apparent that the “Vigo” who was now trying to make his way down the hall was actually the creature who’d done this to us, and the winged person in the room was Vigo. Despite this one of my companions decided to hold down Vigo, incase the creature tried anything funny once we figured out how to swap ourselves back.

With a lumbering bear’s body I attempted to grab hold of Not-Vigo. You have no idea how important fingers and thumbs are to you until you are a large bear who boasts neither. And a mouth shaped for speech. I’m not entirely sure how Peanut talks to us, I couldn’t quite get the words right myself. Much as I’m fond of our bear friend, I will be quite happy if I never have to swap places with him again.

(Spoiler alert that we swapped back, I suppose.)

Not-Vigo managed to slip away from me with Vigo’s mastery of the magic arts. I followed him into the room, where the others had determined that perhaps if they stopped the bell from tolling then we would return to our proper bodies. With that in mind, I lumbered around to one side to try attacking the bell, while whoever was in Issac’s body did the same from the other side. Candy I think? I know Paige was in John’s body because she spilled the beans about the meaning behind John’s tattoo and then immediately took it back (it’s not my place to judge, quite frankly, and John is insistent in keeping up the charade so why spoil his fun if it isn’t hurting anybody?)(Also I am an honorable adventurer and will not reveal what Paige did within the pages of this tome unless it becomes relevant to our adventure, John’s secret is hardly mine to share with the world after all!)

(perhaps in that case I should remove the entire last half of this paragraph, even mentioning his tattoo might have been a bit too much)

Anyways…where was I?

Yes. The bell. Together we managed to destroy the dark artifact, which did indeed reverse the effects of the magic that had taken hold of us. Afterwards we subdued the winged undead and retrieved the third wheel.

Just one final door.

A door I vaguely wish we’d gone through first rather than finally. The tension as we went to open the final door was palpable. After the horrors we’d faced thus far, what could possibly top what we had been put through already?

Candy lead the way, tensed for whatever horrible magic she might trigger. The door swung open with a slight creak. We stepped inside and we found…nothing.

Nothing but a regular storage closet, the final wheel buried amongst cleaning supplies.

I…suppose the senior Gladshire ran out of horrors to throw our way. Or perhaps he is such an upper class creatine that he thought noble adventurers wouldn’t stoop to searching “the help’s” storage closet. Either way, he was quite wrong to underestimate our ability to get through his other three horrors, as we now had all four wheels. It took only moments to put in the password and open the door.

Thus, while uncertain if the worse was behind us or waiting ahead, we began forward, making our ascent to the top of the tower, where the senior Gladshire and his captive Wizard of the Stars awaited us.

#entry #path #pathfinder campaign #Dungeons and Dragons #d&d campaign #Morris 3M

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 5 years ago

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 5 – Frankenstein’s Shadow

‘He wouldn’t give me that murderous glare of his just because it took only 2 days for me to get back here, would he?’ Thought Lunark as she fingered her hair once again, which she had brushed with care.

Although she came with a valid reason – Adne managed to unlock one of Ignes’s files less than 24 hours ago – she could not help getting worriedly conscious of the fact that the new file’s volume was so small compared to that of the first file she had delivered. So small she was not sure if this one even deserved to be labeled a file.

Fortunately for her, she was met with another reason not to chicken out and scram from Frankenstein’s island, upon picking up someone’s presence and tracking it down.

“You...?!”

Lunark exclaimed, identifying a very familiar man sitting by a tree perfumed with mosses.

“It’s been a while, 5th Elder. I mean, Lady Lunark.”

Lunark could feel her brain burning cold as soon as she assessed 3rd Elder’s face as he stood, for she had been dying to run into him.

“Sorry for not recognizing you for a sec. You’re missing a cloak.”

“...Well, on this island I’m not an elder of the Union.”

And no need for the clarification, thanks.

Lunark uttered an inner scorn as she scanned 3rd Elder’s outfit – black long-sleeved t-shirt and white pants. He looked so plain, so ordinary, so unlike a Union’s elder who at the same time used to be the right-hand man of the apex of the Union.

“Frankenstein told me everything. If I remember correctly, from now on you’ll be regularly stopping by in order to collect his old research data, to make use for treatment and rehab of werewolves that survived from... (The 3rd Elder winced ever-so-subtly before continuing.) From Maduke’s experiments... As well as invasion initiated by me and the 1st Elder.”

Lunark curtly nodded to show approval for the excuse she and Frankenstein devised for her visit, on the day she first arrived.

“Indeed. And thanks to a certain someone, Frankenstein and I have turned quite busy. I’m sure you’d know that neither of us has a lot of free time.”

No agreement or disagreement came from the 3rd Elder. He merely let his eyes escalate downwards to his feet.

“Anyways, what are you doing here? Seems to me you were moping or something.”

“Moping, huh...? Yes, maybe I was moping.”

“Really? The 3rd Elder? Moping? But too bad. The only interpretation I can make out of your confession is that you are bluffing in order to hide what you’ve been really up to. I know what you are like. And what you’ve done.”

The 3rd raised his eyes back to Lunark’s face in response to her sneer. However, he did not unzip his lips even a bit, perhaps because he knew he was in no position to prove her words wrong.

“While I’m at it, let me make one thing clear. Since Frankenstein chose to keep you close, I will not lay my hands on you. That I can promise. But in other words, that’s the only reason why I will ever leave you in one piece in the first place. Trust me – whenever I think about what you and the 1st Elder did to my people, I must fight my own urge to rip you into shreds this instant.”

Her audience stood frozen, taking in every syllable of her disdainful speech.

“If you ever plot something against Frankenstein, play hindrance in whatever he does, or take advantage of his hospitality, I WILL make you pay. And if he ever suffers a loss or damage because of you, I swear – I will make sure from then on, you won’t get to lift anything heavier than a spoon for the rest of your life.”

As she warned the 3rd Elder, Lunark’s face was surprisingly placid, her voice toned in its normal pitch. Still, the 3rd Elder could see she was as serious as she could be, for he felt as if he were up against a wrathful wolf about to lunge for its prey’s head.

Ironically, that was exactly what inclined him to point out what he just hypothesized.

“Funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“Please don’t get me wrong – I fully understand what you are saying. It’s just that... It sounded like you were giving a personal warning as ‘a woman caring for Frankenstein,’ not as ‘a werewolf warrior representing the entire wolfkind.’”

At once, Lunark’s pink eyes shuddered as if she were hit by a bullet.

“And it appears there is something more than comradeship or generosity at the basis of your words. Do you... Do you happen to harbor feelings for him?”

“Why would you care?!”

Lunark ended up stunning herself, her retort fashioned much sharper than she had intended.

“Does he know about this?”

And just like that, he completely turned the table on her.

“I’m not sure since when you have developed feelings for him, but I’m afraid your feelings will not be reciprocated. If I dare say, there’s a good chance your heart will wait endlessly for a single touch of light, only to wither into none, just like this nameless flower that has made poor haven under the shadow of this tree.”

“Did you take liking in reading poetry during free time? Moping is one thing, and now here you are, monologuing about flowers and shadow.”

“Yes, I did frame it a bit too fancy, but I was trying to be considerate. Apparently there’s a shadow in Frankenstein’s heart. Ever since we moved into this island, he has been leading an unusually reclusive life. I assume he tends to research and data categorization on this island and accommodates himself somewhere else.”

“...Why would you ‘assume’ that’s what he does?”

“Because he leaves every night and returns next morning, and I have no knowledge of what he does during his absence. I can only assume he fulfills his basic needs outside, since each time he returns in a new attire.”

The corner of Lunark’s eyes creased slightly upon unexpected discovery.

‘I did tell him to beware of the 3rd Elder, but... This is not exactly what I had in mind.’

It did not take long for Lunark to decide that her warning had nothing to do with Frankenstein’s behaviors. After all, Frankenstein and the 3rd Elder had been occupying this island before Muzaka made her his “secret agent.”

‘But why? There’s nothing strange in his caution against his enemy-turned-ally, but why would he choose the inconvenience of lodging himself away from a safehouse that comes with a perfect housing system?’ Lunark inwardly muttered to herself, reminiscing how awestruck she was during her tour of Frankenstein’s safehouse, impeccably furnished in terms of residential aspects that she even suspected he hired an expert designer for the job.

She was momentarily impelled to acquire more information on the matter, but she aborted the idea.

For the 3rd Elder learned something that could work against her in the future, there was no guarantee that continuing the conversation would be beneficial for her.

Therefore, she steeled her voice as she tried to conceal her fluster.

“So what? Like I said, it’s none of your business whether I have a crush on him or not. And what was that about my feelings and flowers? If you have time to come up with stupid metaphors and make yourself sound like 12th Elder before having dinner, just go back to your so-called moping session!”

Lunark turned herself away as coldly as possible. She had to refrain from telling him that if Frankenstein hears a word about this, she will murder him – that would only demonstrate how strong her feelings have grown.

As she kept her back straight and walked on, something caught her eyes. The next moment, her legs stopped altogether upon perceiving she was looking at a flower species she was highly familiar with.

‘This must be wolfsbane. Its color differs from the ones on our land, but the shape it blossomed into tells me it’s definitely a species of wolfsbane.’

As beautiful as it may be, wolfsbane possesses deadly poison, hidden behind aesthetic colors and contours that have won immense popularity among flower-lovers.

Ancient humans evidently were aware of wolfsbane’s toxicity, incorporating its poison in mythology as the beloved invention of Hecate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft and the guardian deity of witches, and historically employing it as a kit to hunt wolves (a fact reflected in the flower’s etymology).

Thus in a way, wolfsbane is a botanical counterpart of a siren; let the creature cast its spell, and one may be irrevocably destroyed by its true nature.

‘And I guess for me, this flower is just like him...’

Lunark sighed heavily, emitting all the air supply she had been stocking, a proof that her life these days has become a total mess thanks to a certain blonde human.

‘I still can’t believe I was actually late to my lord’s recoronation because of him.’

The day Muzaka reclaimed the throne, Lunark was supposed to be in the very front of the werewolf attendants, as a warrior of wolfkind and one of Muzaka’s right-hand servants.

Alas, she was late to the ceremony because of Frankenstein.

At the time, she planned to attend the ceremony as soon as she was done talking to Frankenstein for one last time. Or rather, to be precise, she called KSA so that she could ask the KSA staff to relay her thank-you message for all the hard work he had done.

To her shock and dismay, she was met with a news that Frankenstein was gone, and even KSA had lost communications with him.

Out of severe alarm, she instantaneously requested communication with Tao and asked him what happened to Frankenstein. Tao filled her in about the reason why Frankenstein was gone, but not even he provided her with his location and plan, which were what really mattered to her.

After wasting her time talking to more people than she had in mind, as well as trying to restitch her mind, she realized she was late.

And until next day, until Frankenstein showed himself on the communications monitor out of blue to hand over his communicative coordinates for emergency use, she was on the edge of her seat for every second, like a job seeker waiting for the result of the very last job interview of her life after failing to hear back from dozens of potential employers.

Lunark knew very well that anything concerning the werewolf lord comes in as the top priority for a werewolf warrior.

‘But back then, I couldn’t think of the coronation ceremony at all because of him. Seriously... What have you done to me, Frankenstein?’

Yet she knew what was happening to her. She knew since who-knows-when, Frankenstein had taken property of every seam and corner of her heart.

‘This flower happens to be purple like him. Or rather, purple like that cursed weapon he wields.’

Great, now I think of him even when I see the color purple, thought Lunark, as she once again confirmed she was exhibiting one of those symptoms of love.

“Hopeless... This is just hopeless.”

“What is hopeless?”

Lunark jumped like a cat that spotted a cucumber at its rear end as she turned around in a flash. Luckily, Frankenstein dodged her hair fast enough and avoided getting slapped in the face.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“Says a guest to the owner of an island.”

Frankenstein shrugged, as if he had just heard the funniest thing in the world. And a mere shrug, with the push of his smile, was more than enough to shatter Lunark’s heart once again. Which was why she suffered a delay in noticing that he was not empty-handed.

He was holding a plastic case safekeeping a pair of sanitary gloves and plastic bags for sampling, along with a dirty yet well-honed gardening utensil, which hinted her what he was here for.

“I’m sure you have no interest in pressing flowers or gardening. Are you using this flower for your experiment or something?”

“Not an experiment. It’s for a personal need,” replied Frankenstein, as he kneeled and started poking and shoving around a wolfsbane’s root in a very professional manner.

“Why would you take a wolfsbane plant for a personal need? I don’t count myself as one of those lab people, but I do know that most of flower species classified under the category of wolfsbane come with poison. Well, though I doubt that its poison will be lethal for modified humans or non-humans, even if it is ingested entirely as a raw plant.”

“Right. And some wolfsbane species are so venomous that even a minimum touch on skin can cause traumatizing and even life-threatening effect on human body. However, wolfsbane is also available for medical use. Even these days, wolfsbane is used as painkiller and, depending on the situation, cardiac stimulant in traditional Korean and Chinese medicine.”

Frankenstein answered with a tone only expected from most popular lecturers in doctorate chemistry lectures. Nevertheless, Lunark’s face darkened even before he could finish his words.

“So are you going for the former or the latter? Are you ill? So ill you must carry a painkiller or cardiac drug all the time?”

“If I were to choose, I would say it’s the latter. But not exactly. And don’t worry – I don’t have any pain or heart issue.”

Frankenstein glanced at Lunark and was left with bewilderment as a result. She was staring at him as if he were just sentenced to death.

“...No need to give me that look. Remember that I told you a wolfsbane can be used to create drugs that stimulate heart functions? I have modified and adjusted the use and processing of a cardiac stimulant to instead use this flower as a source of a nerve stimulant.”

“Meaning...?”

“It’s for keeping me awake as long as its effect lasts, without any need for sleep.”

Frankenstein was hoping to relieve her of concerns, but Lunark did not look happy at all. Her forehead furrowed deeply, now her face so dark that in other circumstances, Frankenstein would have concluded one of her kith and kin met demise.

“Are you saying you haven’t slept at all ever since you moved into this island? Just how busy can you be? Do you have to stay awake for whatever you have at hand?”

“...I’m in no situation to indulge in sleep or dreams.”

Lunark bit her lips as the fact sank that she was wrong. When she talked to the 3rd Elder, she was glad Frankenstein was seemingly getting some sleep, at the very least. But he was not.

Lunark was about to amplify her voice to shriek what on Earth he would do outside this island, before she managed to hold her tongue.

Confronting Frankenstein about his activities outside would make him curious of the source of her intelligence, which would lead to a discussion on the discussion she had with the 3rd Elder. And Lunark was not sure if she could lie about her previous conversation, let alone her feelings for him.

In addition, knowing his personality, she could swear he would not listen even if she were to be a mom for him just this once. Given up on reasoning with him, she directed his attention to a speculation that just came up.

“I remember how you drank something from your flask when I first got here. Was that a drug you made with wolfsbane flowers?”

Frankenstein’s hands paused for a second in reaction.

Frankenstein remembered what he gave her as a reply when she inquired what he was drinking; he kept his answer as vague and not-worthy-of-attention as he could. And he surely did not mention to her in what form the tonic came in. Yet here he was, marveling once again that there was a reason why Lunark was made an elder of the Union.

“Yep. That was it.”

“I didn’t think this was what you meant when you said it’s like coffee to you. And I bet you were the one who came up with the recipe to cook up that drug.”

“Of course. The other uses for wolfsbane plant include fever reducer at the most, and apart from the use of wolfsbane, it’s been centuries since human medicine last had its effect on me. And speaking of which, I must go through a revision of my cookbook. The number of wolfsbane plant on this island is decreasing as we speak, so I won’t be able to make any more effective tonic unless I modify the amount of poison to be used.”

“So you’ve been basically feeding on this flower.”

“Yes, but it’s also partially because this island was never densely populated by this flower. Now I basically have to hunt for a needle in a haystack in order to find a wholesome plant.”

“...Want me to bring them to you?”

Frankenstein stopped his hands from pulling out a wolfsbane flower to gape at her.

“Well, there is this enormous colony of wolfsbane flowers near the boundaries of our territory. And no one has ever touched it as far as I know, since we’ve never imagined using this flower for medicinal purpose. And trust me – this colony is big enough to cover the entire Pacific. The thing is, the wolfsbane in our land is probably a different species from this one, because its flower is pink. I’m not sure if you can use it for your ‘recipe,’ but I can fetch one as a sample for my next visit. What do you say?”

Frankenstein was silent. His ears did prick at her suggestion; he could actually hear Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 echoing in his head.

‘But if I say yes... I’ll end up running into her more often.’

Opposed to the obvious outcome, he briefly tried to come up with a way to very courteously turn down her offer, with a legitimate reason that will not hurt her feelings.

But of course, he knew he had no choice. He was aware of the ill effect he will bring upon himself if he were to say no.

“It’s fine. It’s all good as long as it comes under wolfsbane category.”

“So you mean...”

“From now on, bring me three separate wolfsbane flowers, if you please. And each flower must come with complete roots as well, undamaged, and hopefully in a sample bag like this one.”

“Okay. No biggie.”

Lunark had to control her voice so she would not sound too excited for having another defensible excuse to visit Frankenstein. Fighting against her glee, she forced the corner of her lips to stay uncrooked.

Partially due to her mind-numbing elation, and partially due to the fact that Frankenstein turned away as he invited her over to the safehouse, Lunark failed to notice that the shadow on his face thickened by a very slim shade.

*****

That night, Frankenstein walked through the corridor of another island he owned. He was at a stranded island dozens of kilometers away from his lab-slash-safehouse. Unlike the aforementioned island, this island housed not a single speck of green, an unparalleled embodiment of Lunark’s description of “a sandless desert with a gigantic cement appendage jutting out of the ground, prisoned by water at all sides.”

And this is where Frankenstein had been taking care of his basic human needs. And more importantly, this is where he had been secretly endeavoring to handle a dilemma that had lately cast a new shadow upon him.

Finally arriving at the special chamber at the heart of the building, he securely fastened the door in order to face the said dilemma once again.

“Answer to my call... Dark Spear.”

(next chapter)

Aaaaand here it is - the flower from which I came up with the title of this fanfic.

I didn’t plan on naming this fanfic Wolfsbane since the beginning. During the brainstorming stage, I landed upon some details about wolfsbane by pure accident, and as I read about this plant, I came to think this is exactly what represents the relationship of Frankie and Lunark and the progress they will make in this fic (and it’s related to wolf lol). The line in this chapter that says “let the creature cast its spell, and one may be irrevocably destroyed by its true nature” is what I had in mind as I sketched this fanfic.

By the way, there are two things about this chapter that isn’t canon in real life: (1) the fact that wolfsbane is used as a nerve stimulant and (2) the pink wolfsbane that can be found in nature. It is true that in traditional Korean and Chinese medicine, wolfsbane can be used as cardiac stimulant or painkiller. But in reality it is not used as a nerve stimulant; that part is my creation. In addition, pink wolfsbane does exist, but only as human-cultivated species; pink wolfsbane does not naturally occur. So for this fic, I created a wolfsbane species of my own (the purple wolfsbane that you would commonly see upon googling is Aconitum jaluense. The pink wolfsbane species that is introduced in this fic is Aconitum crescentonum). Hope that clarifies!

#fanfic #korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

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snowdice · 5 years ago

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Masterpost (Old As Of 4/7/20)

If you would just like to see all of my writing, I tag everything with #adriana writes on my blog. Click here for everything in chronological order of my posting. Click here for my AO3 account.

Completed fics are marked complete in their summary.

Sanders Sides:

The Prison You Deserve: (On hiatus while I edit the Sometimes Labels Fail Prequel Fic “Gaps in his Files.”) Virgil should have known better. Trying to help only ever ended badly for him. After a misunderstanding, Virgil gets thrown into the most infamous prison across all of the kingdoms, where the most evil criminals are thrown to get what they deserve at the hands of nightmarish creatures from the void. Luckily (for once) Virgil really didn’t deserve it. Trusting that this isn’t just a cruel trick and he isn’t actually going to be tortured though is going to take a while. (In which Patton is a eldritch horror, telepathic nightmare, and still is the sweetest thing on the planet and off it.)

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Is There Anything Left of Patton?: (Zombie AU; One-Shot Series)

Logan has a secret in his basement. Three months into living with him, Virgil finds that secret. He almost wishes the secret was a simple as he first thought it was. Almost.

AO3

Something Left

Someone You’ll Never Meet

Food You’ll Never Eat

Things You’ll Never Do

There are Things You Have Lost

There Are Things That Are Missing

Labeled Universe (A Superhero AU)

Sometimes Labels Fail: (Complete) Logan was good at labels, at categories. Logan sorted the citizens of his city into 6 different categories in his mind: heroes, villains, vigilantes, criminals, government authorities, and civilians, and knew how to deal with each. But… but what was he supposed to do with him. Virgil was just trying to survive, though he didn’t think the part of him that compelled him to throw himself into fights whenever he saw the superhero Bluebird struggling had gotten the memo. His English teacher was right; he really was stupid. When the villain criminal… when Shadow Caster gets injured while throwing himself into the line of fire for Logan, Logan can’t find it in himself to turn him over to be arrested. Luckily, he knows a doctor very, very well. Virgil is going to get kidnapped adopted by the end of it.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Bonus Features

Sometimes Labels Shift: (Post Sometimes Labels Fail stories)

Two Dinner Plates: (One-shot: Complete) A muscle ticked in Logan’s jaw and Virgil tried not to flinch. “We seem to be coming from fundamentally different philosophies on how food should be distributed in a family structure.” In which we finally actually talk about Virgil’s thing™ with food. It goes about how one would expect it to.

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Back to School: (One-shot: Complete) It’s Virgil’s first day back to school after everything and he has some adjustments to make.Aka a blatant excuse to enact the hug Virgil initiative.

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Sticky Note Pandemonium: (One-shot: Complete) There were also sticky notes on the kitchen counter, the refrigerator, Virgil’s backpack, and even the oven, not to mention every wall. There was even one sticky note stuck on Logan’s butt.His husband had gone on a rampage.

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Arguments and other ‘A’ Words: (One-shot: Complete) Logan and Virgil have a row. Virgil’s new family has a weird way of fighting.

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The Things We Haven’t Talked About: (Complete) Patton and Logan have noticed some concerning behavior from Virgil in their month with him. Beyond the flinching and haunted look in his eyes courtesy of his last foster father, there’s something else of concern for Patton and Logan and they really aren’t equipped to deal with it. They enlist some help from a couple of friends.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2

Wind Symphony (One-shot: Complete) Patton and Logan are still trying to figure out how to be parents and are worried about strange behavior coming from their new son as of late. Logan takes measures to figure out what is wrong.

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Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls (One-shot: Complete) Remy meets his best friend/bosses new child and immediately has the must protect at all cost urges.

Virgil’s Birthday: (Complete) Virgil has his first birthday with Logan and Patton and he’s going to get everything he ever wanted.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Mini Fic Series: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Relabeled; Refiled: (Prequels to Sometimes Labels Fail)

Coffee Shop Meet Cute (One-shot: Complete) Is this what falling in love felt like or was Patton just about to pass out from exhaustion? Patton and Logan’s first meeting in the Sometimes Labels Fail Universe.

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Coffee Shop Incident Report (One-shot: Complete) Patton and Logan’s first meeting in the Sometimes Labels Fail Universe, but what Logan put in his files about it afterwards.

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The Things We Never Mentioned (Complete) “Believe it or not, academia and relationships are not mutually exclusive.” That was likely true, Logan knew. It was also not the problem. The problem was his ability to move things with his mind, a blue suit he kept in his bag, and the mountains of red files he kept hidden in his apartment. No one knew that Logan was Bluebird, the cities resident superhero. He hadn’t even told his parents and he wasn’t planning on doing so. Sharing such a secret with anyone was a danger to everyone involved. He refused to do so. At the same time, he knew that starting a romantic relationship with anyone who didn’t know the truth, was unfair to that person. Inevitably they would find out and there would be a disastrous fallout, but beyond that, starting a relationship on a foundation of lies was a horribly cruel thing to do to another person. These two conflicting rules Logan followed had never posed an issue for him before recently, but…But he did like Patton.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Logan’s 25 Step Plan to Ask a Boy Out: (One-Shot: Complete) “No! Logan look,” she said. “He likes you and you like him. You don’t need a list or a plan or schematics for this. Just walk up to him and ask him out before you hesitate so much that he thinks you don’t like him anymore.” | Logan’s eyes widened. “Is that something that can happen.” | “Oh god, this is hopeless.” | How is Logan so good at, but simultaneously so bad at this?

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Gaps in His Files: Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Epilogue

The Origin Story of a Yapping Mop: (One-Shot: Complete) Virgil was not the first living creature Logan carried in his arms to Patton. This is how they ended up with a dog.

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Cops and Not Robbers AU:

You I’ll Come Back For: (Complete) They’d met in a jail cell, you see, but unlike now Patton had not been anywhere near trapped, not that Virgil had been aware of that fact. He’d just seen his sweet little cell mate who’d clearly not done anything to deserve being on that side of the bars. Virgil had said “What did you do to get stuck in this joint?” and Patton had started crying. It had taken zero lies and five hours for Patton to coax out the information he’d needed. He’d thought when he’d pranced up to the bars and told Roman he was ready to leave that the absolutely astonished expression which was quickly slipping into fury would be the last thing he’d ever see of the man whose crimes numbered enough to keep him in prison for the rest of his life. He’d escaped during his transfer to federal prison. (This was a dice fic. It also appears below!)

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Mistaken Identities: (One-Shot: Complete) Roman was just walking out of an ice-cream shop when an unfamiliar man’s irate voice made him pause mid lick and look up. “Dammit Remus, I told you to meet me two blocks that way and you’re getting ice cream?” | Now as an identical twin, especially one with a brother who had a… certain personality, he wasn’t exactly unused to this sort of thing happening. So, he promptly opened his mouth to say, “Oh no I’m not…” | “Remus, I don’t care right now,” he interrupted. “Get in the car.” | “But-” | The man snapped his fingers and a hand descended on his shoulder. “Get him in the car.” | Roman meets Deceit and later Logan when he is mistaken for his brother who is apparently doing SOMETHING with his life.

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Dilemmas One-Shots

Moral Dilemmas: (One-shot) “But that doesn’t make any sense!” he yelled.| “Patton,” Remus said evenly.|“It doesn’t!” he screamed turning on him viciously. “There’s a big difference between not being sad someone’s dead and… and… and no! No! I wouldn’t be okay with seeing someone I hated die. I wouldn’t!”| “Yes, you would,” Remus said, standing up himself. He pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You would! And you know you would! Do you think you are the only one who can get a read on another side when functions cross? Those thoughts in your head are my domain and I knew exactly what you were feeling when I asked that question!” Virgil was forcibly summoned immediately, eyes wide. Patton and Remus have a philosophical discussion and then will have to deal with the fall out.

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Ethical Reasoning: (One-shot: Complete) “What happened Remus?” Remus looked at him for a moment and then slammed the door in his face. “Okay,” Logan growled at the closed door. “I’ve had about enough of this. ”Everyone else has to deal with the fallout from the end of Moral Dilemmas. It isn’t pretty.

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Mismatched High Heel Shoes: (One-shot: Complete) The boys are having fun. (This was for the #magpie500 event.)

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Roll the Dice Event:

Buckets of Roses: (One-shot: Complete) As far as anyone knew, Logan was supposed to be in class right now. Which begs the question of why and how Roman is now in his room with him. (“And now that I have explained why I am currently in my own dorm room, would you care to explain why you are here?” “Not, um, not particularly.”)

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Touch Me Gently: (Complete) He had a total of four soulmarks: not an unheard-of thing, but rather rare. There were purple fingerprints on his wrist, looking like a day-old bruise from where someone had grabbed him too hard. What his mother had seen when he’d entered the kitchen was actually two soulmarks that overlapped slightly: a light blue one that darkened his lips and a yellow handprint that covered the lower parts of his cheek and jaw. The ring finger and the tip of the pinkie hit his lip, mixing with the blue to look like a sickly greenish-yellow bruise. What his dad had seen peaking out of the top of his t-shirt was a dark blue mark in the shape of fingers around his neck. Roman had been overjoyed when he realized what the marks were after the initial confusion. His parents had been a little less enthusiastic. (Roman meets his soulmates one-by-one and it’s not at all what everyone assumed when they first saw his soulmarks.)

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Bonus Features

Markups: (One-shot, Complete) Roman leered down at him, clearly incredibly pleased with himself. “You,” he said as Logan did his best to swallow down the rest of his laughter, “have been criticizing my work all day. Which is basically like you’ve been criticizing me. So…why don’t I return the favor?” He wiggled the uncapped pen in front of Logan’s nose. “You wouldn’t dare,” Logan said lowly. (Logan and Roman do some editing.)

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AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The Horror of Stereotypes: There had always been a certain stereotype about people like him for as long as anyone could remember. After the Heart War of 1963, those stereotypes had been legalized and places like this had been created to enforce the universal truth: everyone had a soulmate. One soulmate. No more and no less. At least they were supposed to. When Remus’s brother gets arrested because of his two soulmarks, Remus risks everything by infiltrating the facility he legally should be in as well due to his own two soulmates to save him. There he meets Logan and it turns out they have a lot in common: they both got hired this week, they both have two soulmates, and they’re both here for the same reason. Oh. And as it turns out, they’re each other’s soulmates too.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Bonus Features

Remains of Memories: (One-Shot: Complete) Patton is about to graduate high school. As his life changes, he figures it’s time to confront some memories with the people he loves.

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Tea, Cookies, and Handcuffs: (One-Shot: Complete) Logan finds a strange man on his property and of course invites him in for tea.

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#master post #not writing #blog organization

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plotbunny-bundle · 5 years ago

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BNHA 262: why nomu are a testament to heroes failure and why I like Miruko and other small essays

This is a great chapter! It had everything! Nomu info! A badass gorgeous woman! A messy fight with consequences! A Potential plot twist I didn’t see coming! I’m so excited!

I’m overexcited so this is going to be like a 3 meta ramble with my usual nitpicking.

Read the chapter here

First off MIRUKO! I love her! She is So badass. She is so cool. She’s also an asshole and a little blood thirsty. But I like assholes. And I love when women get to be tough and nasty. Though I question why she’s fighting with her hair loose and I hate her costume. I normally hate bunny girl character. Hori got how vicious and territorial rabbits can. Female rabbits are Mean. I had one that bit people and made a little kid bleed once.

The fight is great. Despite the playgirl costume Miruko isn’t show in many sexy poses. she gets rough and bloody. She gets beat up! And she keeps fighting. She loses a hand! (Can she get a less sexy costume now that she’s missing a half a limb?) Heroes have some fucked up pain tolerance. Miruko does not look pretty while she fights. She looks Scary. I’m so happy with that. Miruko ripped a nomu’s head OFF! Holy fuck. She is So badass. She takes on 5 nomu. While #6 hero can’t get a hit on one. Miruko for #1 hero!

I couldn’t get a good grip on what the Nomus’ quirks are. The fight was chaos and many of the were using one mainly. I wish the armored Nomu hadn’t died. That guy was cool and pretty smart. Can we talk about how they use

d a warp to cut off a limb? That’s fucking cool and smart. Can Kurogiri do that? Miruko’s last line is about dying. She pretty much said she doesn’t care if she dies and she lives each day like it’s her last. I have to check the official translation but that can’t be a good sign and it doesn’t sound healthy. Miruko has 3 nomu to go and she’s bleeding and lost a limb. Let’s see if she can make it. I hope she lives.

And we get to know how Nomu are made! I’ve been dying to learn! It seems they’re made of dead criminals through lengthy surgeries. Another thing I want to check the official translations on. At least no living person was made into a nomu while conscious.

I’m a little concerned about how the heroes are treating nomu. They call them zombies and mindless corpses but nomu aren’t mindless. The heroes can hear them talking to them and each other yet they still call them mindless. We’ve seen them act without orders. A not even high end tried to save Ujiko. Kurogiri is known to have thoughts, preferences, connections. Yet the heroes act “since you’re already dead I can kill you.” I don’t like it. Just because these things are made of the dead doesn’t mean they aren’t alive. Nomu are clearly alive now. Some of them think and feel. Miruko didn’t hesitate when she took that nomu’s head off. I know I said it was cool (it was) but Miurko is the 3rd hero shown to kill. 3 of the top 5 heroes are capable of murder. That’s unsettling.

Anyways the ways Nomu are made and who they are made from is fucking me up. The fact that Ujiko says he made them from Villains. Dead villains. This super fucked up when you think about it. It means heroes failed badly. There are hundreds of Nomu. That hundreds of people who were killed or who’s bodies were stolen to be made into monsters. Hundreds of people heroes didn’t save because they were labeled villains.

This means All Might’s era of peace is a lie. Crime didn’t decrease because of his greatness. Villains just turned on each other. Crime decreased because villains were dying. Can you imagine how scary that would be? People or bodies are going missing. You can’t call the police for help. They’ll arrest you. No one is looking for them. No one cares about villains. If you try to band together heroes will come after you. It reminds me of Twice words “Heroes only save good people”. Is that line from experiences? What was the underworld like during the “era of peace”? What did the older villains like Twice, Giran, Magne and maybe Dabi (who knows what he was up to) survive? No wonder Shigaraki hates how happy people are and how safe they act. He’s been watching people suffer and knew bodies were being ripped apart to make monsters. I might be going too far but man this is fucked up.

You can say “villains deserve it” and some people will but I say No one deserves that. No deserves to have their bodies cut up and turned into brainwashed creatures that are put down like robots by heroes.

and then we get to the end of the chapter. The heroes are attacking the PLF and Skeptic can’t find Twice. Is Twice there? There is supposed to be a meeting but a Lt. is missing! DId the League Ditch the MLA?!

I’m laughing at the idea! I love it! They could have done the same shit they did to Overhaul! Twice could have played not just Hawks but the MLA! They didn’t let what they did Giran lay!

These bastards may have left the MLA to fight the heroes alone. The heroes are going to beat up Civilians! Who film everything! None of these people are wearing costumes! Without the LOV what can the heroes arreast them for? Fighting back? They can’t call them the League’s accomplice without proof! The heroes are gonna look so bad! I love it!

#bunny reads My Hero Academia #bnha spoilers #bnha #bnha 262

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loretranscripts · 5 years ago

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Lore Episode 32: Tampered (Transcript) - 18th April, 2016

tw: none

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

I grew up watching a television show called MacGyver. If you’ve never had that chance to watch this icon of the 80s, do yourself a favour and give it a try. Sure, the clothes are outdated and the hair… oh my gosh, the hair. But aside from all the bits that didn’t age well, MacMullet and his trusty pocket knife managed to capture my imagination forever. Part of it was the adventure, part of it was the character of the man himself – I mean, the guy was essentially a spy who hated guns, played hockey and lived on a houseboat. But hovering above all those elements was the true core of the show. This man could make anything if his life depended on it. As humans, we have this innate drive inside ourselves to make things. This is how we managed to create things like the wheel, or stone tools and weapons. Our tendency towards technology pulled our ancient ancestors out of the Stone Age and into a more civilised world. Maybe for some of us, MacGyver represented what we wanted to achieve: complete mastery of our own world. But life is rarely that simple, and however hard we try to get our minds and hands around this world we want to rule, some things just slip through the cracks. Accidents happen. Ideas and concepts still allude our limited minds. We’re human, after all, not gods. So, when things go wrong, when our plans fall apart or our expectations fail to be met, we have this sense of pride that often refuses to admit defeat. So, we blame others, and when that doesn’t work, we look elsewhere for answers, and no realm holds more explanation for the unexplainable than folklore. 400 years ago, when women refused to follow the rules of society, they were labelled a witch. When Irish children failed to thrive it was because, of course, because they were a changeling. We’re good at excuses. So, when our ancestors found something broken or out of place, there was a very simple explanation – someone, or something, had tampered with it. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The idea of meddlesome creatures isn’t new to us. All around the world, we can find centuries-old folklore that speaks of creatures with a habit of getting in the way and making life difficult for humans. It’s an idea that seems to transcend borders and background, language and time. Some would say that it’s far too coincidental for all these stories of mischief-causing creatures to emerge in places separated by thousands of miles and vast oceans. The púca of Ireland and the ebu gogo of Indonesia are great examples of this – legends that seem to have no reason for their eerie similarities. Both legends speak of small, humanoid creatures that steal food and children, both recommend not making them angry, and both describe their creatures as intrusive pranksters. To many, the evidence is just too indisputable to ignore. Others would say it’s not coincidence at all, merely a product of human nature. We want to believe there’s something out there causing the problems we experience every day. So, of course, nearly every culture in the world has invented a scapegoat. This scapegoat would have to be small to avoid discovery, and they need respect because we’re afraid of what they can do. To a cultural anthropologist, it’s nothing more than logical evolution. Many European folktales include this universal archetype in the form of nature spirits, and much of it can be traced back to the idea of the daemon.

It’s an old word and concept, coming to us from the Greeks. In essence, a daemon is an otherworldly spirit that causes trouble. The root word, daomai, literally means to cut or divide. In many ways, it’s an ancient version of an excuse. If your horse was spooked while you were out for a ride, you’d probably blame it on a daemon. Ancient Minoans believed in them, and in the day of the Greek poet Homer, people would blame their illnesses on them. The daemon, in many ways, was fate. If it happened to you, there was a reason, and it was probably one of these little things that caused it. But over time, the daemon took on more and more names. Arab folklore has the djinn, Romans spoke of a personal companion known as the genius, in Japan, they tell tales of the kami, and Germanic cultures mention fylgja. The stories and names might be unique to each culture, but the core of them all is the same. There’s something interfering with humanity, and we don’t like it.

For the majority of the English-speaking world, the most common creature of this type in folklore, hands down, is the goblin. It’s not an ancient word, most likely originating from the middle ages, but it’s the one that’s front and centre in most of our minds, and from the start it’s been a creature associated with bad behaviour. A legend from the 10th century tells of how the first Catholic bishop of Évreux in France faced a daemon known to the locals there as Gobelinus. Why that name, though, is hard to trace. The best theory goes something like this: there’s a Greek myth about a creature named kobalos, who loved to trick and frighten people. That story influenced other cultures across Europe prior to Christianity’s spread, creating the notion of the kobold in ancient Germany. That word was most likely to root of the word goblin. Kobold, gobold, gobolin – you can practically hear it evolve. The root word of kobold is kobe, which literally means “beneath the earth”, or “cavity in a rock”. We get the English word “cove” from the same root, and so naturally kobolds and their English counterparts, the goblins, are said to live in caves underground, and if that reminds you of dwarves from fantasy literature, you’re closer than you think. The physical appearance of goblins in folklore vary greatly, but the common description is that they are dwarf-like creatures. They cause trouble, are known to steal, and they have tendency to break things and make life difficult. Because of this, people in Europe would put carvings of goblins in their homes to ward off the real thing. In fact, here’s something really crazy. Medieval door-knockers were often carved to resemble the faces of daemons or goblins, and it’s most likely purely coincidental, but in Welsh folklore, goblins are called coblyn, or more commonly, knockers. My point is this: for thousands of years, people have suspected that all of their misfortune could be blamed on small, meddlesome creatures. They feared them, told stories about them, and tried their best to protect their homes from them. But for all that time, they seemed like nothing more than story. In the early 20th century, though, people started to report actual sightings, and not just anyone. These sightings were documented by trained, respected military heroes. Pilots.

When the Wright brothers took their first controlled flight in December of 1903, it seemed like a revelation. It’s hard to imagine it today, but there was a time when flight wasn’t assumed as a method of travel. So, when Wilbur spent three full seconds in the air that day, he and his brother, Orville, did something else: they changed the way we think about our world. And however long it took humans to create and perfect the art of controllable, mechanical flight, once the cat was out of the bag, it bolted into the future without ever looking back. Within just nine years, someone had managed to mount a machine gun onto one of these primitive aeroplanes. Because of that, when the First World War broke out just two years later, military combat had a new element. Of course, guns weren’t the only weapon a plane could utilise, though. The very first aeroplane brought down in combat was an Austrian plane, which was literally rammed by a Russian pilot. Both pilots died after the wreckage plummeted to the ground below. It wasn’t the most efficient method of air combat, but it was a start. Clearly, we’ve spent the many decades since getting very, very good at it. Unfortunately, though, there have been more reasons for combat disasters than machine gun bullets and suicidal pilots, and one of the most unique and mysterious of those causes first appeared in British newspapers. In an article from the early 1900s, it was said that, and I quote, “the newly constituted royal air force in 1918 appears to have detected the existence of a hoard of mysterious and malicious sprites, whose sole purpose in life was to bring about as many as possible of the inexplicable mishaps which, in those days as now, trouble an airman’s life.” The description didn’t feature a name, but that was soon to follow. Some experts think that we can find roots of it in the old English word gremian, which means “to vex” or “to annoy”. It fits the behaviour of the creatures to the letter, and because of that they have been known from the beginning as gremlins.

Now, before we move forward, it might be helpful to take care of your memories of the 1984 classic film by the same name. I grew up in the 80s, and Gremlins was a fantastic bit of eye candy for my young, horror-loving mind, but the truth of the legend has little resemblance to the version that you and I witnessed on the big screen. The gremlins of folklore, at least the stories that came out of the early 20th century that is, describe the ancient stereotypical daemon, but with a twist. Yes, they were said to be small, ranging anywhere from six inches to three feet in height, and yes, they could appear and disappear at will, causing mischief and trouble wherever they went. But in addition, these modern versions of the legendary goblin seem to possess a supernatural grasp of human technology. In 1923, a British pilot was flying over open water when his engine stalled. He miraculously survived the crash into the sea and was rescued shortly after that. When he was safely aboard the rescue vessel, the pilot was quick to explain what had happened. Tiny creatures, he claimed, had appeared on the plane. Whether they appeared out of nowhere or smuggled themselves aboard prior to take-off, the pilot wasn’t sure. However they got there, he said that they proceeded to tamper with the plane’s engine and flight controls, and without power or control, he was left to drop helplessly into the sea.

These reports were infrequent in the 1920s, but as the world moved into the Second World War and the number of planes in the sky began to grow exponentially, more and more stories seemed to follow – small, troublesome creatures who had an almost supernatural ability to hold on to moving aircraft, and while they were there, to do damage and to cause accidents. In some cases, they were even cited inside planes, among the crew and cargo. Stories, as we’ve seen so many times before, have a tendency to spread like disease. Oftentimes, that’s because of fear, but sometimes it’s because of truth, and the trouble is in figuring out where to draw that line, and that line kept moving as the sightings were reported outside the British ranks. Pilots on the German side also reported seeing creatures during flights, as did some in India, Malta and the Middle East. Some might chalk these stories up to hallucinations, or a bit of pre-flight drinking. There are certainly a lot of stories of World War Two pilots climbing into the cockpit after a night of romancing the bottle – and who can blame them? In many cases, these pilots were going to their death, with a 20% chance of never coming back from a mission alive. But there are far too many reports to blame it all on drunkenness or delirium. Something unusual was happening to planes all throughout the Second World War, and with folklore as a lens, some of the reports are downright eerie. In 2014, a 92-year-old World War Two veteran from Jonesborough, Arkansas came forward to tell a story he had kept to himself for seven decades. He’d been a B-17 pilot during the war, one of the legendary flying fortresses that helped allied air forces carry out successful missions over Nazi territory, and it was on one of those missions that this man experienced something that, until recently, he had kept to himself. The pilot, who chose to identify himself with the initials L.W., spoke of how he was a 22-year-old flight commander on the B-17, when something very unusual happened on a combat mission in 1944. He described how, as he brought the aircraft to a higher altitude, the plane began to make strange noises. That wasn’t completely unusual, as the B-17 is an absolutely enormous plane and sometimes turbulence can rattle the structure, but he checked his instrument panel out of habit. According to his story, the instruments seemed broken and confused.

Looking for an answer to the mystery, he glanced out the right-side window, and then froze. There, outside the glass of the cockpit window, was the face of a small creature. The pilot described it as about three feet tall with red eyes and sharp teeth. The ears, he said, were almost owl-like, and its skin was grey and hairless. He looked back toward the front and noticed a second creature, this one moving along the nose of the aircraft. He said it was dancing and hammering away at the metal body of the plane. He immediately assumed he was hallucinating. I can picture him rubbing his eyes and blinking repeatedly like some old Loony Toons film. But according to him, he was as sharp and alert as ever. Whatever it was that he witnessed outside the body of the plane, he said that he managed to shake them off with a bit of “fancy flying”, and that’s his term, not mine. But while the creatures themselves might have vanished, the memory of them would haunt him for the rest of his life. He told only one person afterwards, a gunner on another B-17, but rather than laugh at him his friend acknowledged that he, too, had seen similar creatures on a flight just the day before.

Years prior, in the summer of 1939, an earlier encounter was reported, this time in the Pacific. According to the account, a transport plane took off from the airbase in San Diego in the middle of the afternoon and headed toward Hawaii. Onboard were 13 marines, some of whom were crew of the plane and others were passengers – it was a transport, after all. About halfway through the flight, whilst still over the vast expanse of the blue Pacific, the transport issued a distress signal. After that, the signal stopped, as did all other forms of communication. It was as if the plane had simply gone silent and then vanished, which made it all the more surprising when it reappeared later, outside the San Diego airfield and prepared for landing. But the landing didn’t seem right. The plane came in too fast, it bounced on the runway in rough, haphazard ways, and then finally came to a dramatic emergency stop. Crew on the runway immediately understood why, too – the exterior of the aircraft was extensively damaged, some said it looked like bombs had ripped apart the metal skin of the transport. It was a miracle, they said, that the thing even landed at all. When no one exited the plane to greet them, they opened it up themselves and stepped inside, only to be met with a scene of horror and chaos.

Inside, they discovered the bodies of 12 of the 13 passengers and crew. Each seemed to have died from the same types of wounds, large, vicious cuts and injuries that almost seemed to have originated from a wild animal. Added to that, the interior of the transport smelled horribly of sulphur and the acrid odour of blood. To complicate matters, empty shell casings were found scattered about the interior of the cockpit. The pistols responsible, belonging to the pilot and co-pilot, were found on the floor near their feet, completely spent. 12 men were found, but there was a thirteenth. The co-pilot had managed to stay conscious despite his extensive injuries, just long enough to land the transport at the base. He was alive but unresponsive when they found him, and quickly removed him for emergency medical care. Sadly, the man died a short while later. He never had the chance to report what happened.

Stories of the gremlins have stuck around in the decades since, but they live mostly in the past. Today they are mentioned more like a personified Murphy’s Law, muttered as a humorous superstition by modern pilots. I get the feeling that the persistence of the folklore is due more to its place as a cultural habit than anything else. We can ponder why, I suppose. Why would sightings stop after World War II? Some think it’s because of advancements in aeroplane technology: stronger structures, faster flight speeds, and higher altitudes. The assumption is that, sure, gremlins could hold on to our planes, but maybe we’ve gotten so fast that even that’s become impossible for them. The other answer could just be that the world has left those childhood tales of little creatures behind. We’ve moved beyond belief now. We’ve outgrown it. We know a lot more than we used to, after all, and to our thoroughly modern minds these stories of gremlins sound like just so much fantasy. Whatever reason you subscribe to, it’s important to remember that many people have believed with all their being that gremlins are real, factual creatures, people we would respect and believe.

In 1927, a pilot was over the Atlantic in a plane that, by today’s standards, would be considered primitive. He was alone, and he had been in the air for a very long time but was startled to discover that there were creatures in the cockpit with him. He described them as small, vaporous beings with a strange, otherworldly appearance. The pilot claimed that these creatures spoke to him and kept him alert in a moment when he was overly tired and passed the edge of exhaustion. They helped with the navigation for his journey and even adjusted some of his equipment. This was a rare account of gremlins who were benevolent rather than meddlesome or hostile. Even still, this pilot was so worried about what the public might think of his experience that he kept the details to himself for over 25 years. In 1953, this pilot included the experience in a memoir of his flight. It was a historic journey, after all, and recording it properly required honesty and transparency. The book, you see, was called The Spirit of St. Louis, and the man was more than just a pilot. He was a military officer, an explore, an inventor, and on top of all of that he was also a national hero because of his successful flight from New York to Paris – the first man to do so, in fact. This man, of course, was Charles Lindbergh.

[Closing Statements]

#lore podcast #podcast transcripts #aaron mahnke #gremlins #gremlin #cryptozoology #transcripts #32

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syntheticmask · 5 years ago

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Questions and Repairs (A Metallic Fate Chapter 2)

Bendy belongs to theMeatly. AU belongs to me. Please let me know what you think! Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net and Ao3.

‘No, no, no no nonononono-' My mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, recollecting memories and connecting two and two together. My most recent experience came rushing back to me, and suddenly I was back as a human.

I had just made it past the Ink Demon and through the vents, sighing in relief as I stepped out of the cramped space. The room was well lit, but I decided to keep the flashlight with me in case of any potential threats. It could use as a useful weapon if needed. To my left was a few steps leading around a fence and to a closed pair of doors, with a couch leaning against the wooden railing. To my right, a stone Bendy statue had collapsed and lay broken on the ground, revealing posters advertising the Briar Label Bacon Soup, and the Hellfire Fighter cartoon behind it. I was still confused as to why Bendy was holding a utensil in each hand for the first poster. A few barrels and chairs were scattered around the room.

In front of me lay a few flights of stairs leading upwards and into a giant Bendy mouth. It wasn't the cutest thing around, and more than a little creepy. A Little Miracle station and a Bendy cardboard cutout lay against the wall next to the base of the steps. Unfortunately it seemed that was the only way up, as entertained by the inky writing on the lopsided wooden board reading, "Come up and see me." I stepped over the large broken stones as I made my way to the stairs. Another writing greeted me on top of the first flight. "Almost there."

At the top was a decently sized room with a large round table in the center. A map of the Bendyland amusement park covered the entire surface, with small simple models sitting atop a few of the main buildings. Bulletin boards lined the walls, filled with drawings and concepts for what appeared to be an amusement park. On the table also sat a tape recording by Bertrum Piedmont. I hit play on the old device.

"For forty years, I've built attractions that stagger the imagination! Colossal wonders such as the world has never seen! I have earned my legacy with sweat.

But right in front of everyone… high level investors. Wall street tycoons, the ever-tactless Joey Drew introduces the great Bertrum Piedmont, as Bertie! Like I was his child.

You may be paying me, Mister Drew! But you don't own me! I'll build you a park bigger that anything YOU could ever possibly conceive! But before you go taking any bows, Mister Drew, know that this grand achievement will belong to me… and to me alone."

I wasn't really all too interested in the recording after a couple seconds. Not much information to obtain. Seemed like his ego was just as big as Drew's. Instead, my attention was drawn towards the lever on the other side of the room labeled with a lightning bolt above it. Seemed like that was the way to power open the door downstairs, hopefully.

I pulled the lever, and I could hear the thick metal doors opening up into the unexplored area. I circled back around the table and made my way down the stairs, briefly noticing that large pipes of ink and cages hanging from the ceiling. Before I could make it much further to the open door, inky veins suddenly lined the walls, and my heartbeat pounded in my ears. Everything pointed to only one thing. Bendy was right behind me!

I took off running, stumbling over the large blocks of stone. I was already halfway across, and there was no way I'd be able to make it to the station by the stairs. His inky aura trailed close behind me, getting closer as I struggled to get to the open door. I could just hear his deep breathy growls. I needed to find another Little Miracle Station, fast. I flew down a flight of stairs, spotting a large sign above the doorway but didn't take any chances at reading it. To my right a few lines of shelves and large bags blocked my access from the rest of the room, and what looked like theme park stalls sat against the wall to my left. An open door right before the stalls caught my attention, and I sprinted through them. A table sat before a few creepy Bendy costumes that hung on hidden hangers. That's all there was in the dead end. I quickly spun back around and bolted forward towards the other side of the room. The inky veins were closer, already past my feet. That detour had cost me some of my lead ahead of him.

The large doors set behind another wooden railing were shut tight, but an open station positioned against the end of the shelf caught my attention. I nearly shouted in glee, until I spotted the door laying detached against its side. In desperation, I took the open set of doors to my left labeled 'Research and Design.’

I was greeted with a balcony overlooking members of the Butcher Gang huddled around a flaming barrel. Two pathways split off either side of the group. Suspended from the ceiling was a giant cartoon arm. The upper floor ended on the other side next to another smaller Bendy statue.

I took my chances with the stairs, sprinting towards the closest path. The left. The disfigured toons gave their best attempts at hitting me. I ignored them, death literally seconds behind me was a much greater worry. Bendy's inky aura quickly took care of them before they even had any chance to run away.

I swung around the corner, barely registering the Lost One's quite cries before my hope vanished from existence. A dead end… and no Miracle Station. Just a lifeless, disassembled robot on the table, a broken Ink Maker, and some more stupid writing on the wall. The deep growls of the Demon were hot on my neck. I scrambled away, dropping my flashlight before my back soon connected with the Ink Maker. I tried to get as far as possible from the inky abomination, and so I dropped down under the table holding the animatronic, not caring about the puddle of ink soaking into my clothes, and curled up against the wall in a fetal position. I was trapped. This was it.

Bendy's smile seemed to vibrate a little more, his shoulders shaking in a silent laugh. He had caught his prey. I wished I could pass through the walls like he could. Instead I only curled in more on myself with tears spilling down my cheeks. The liquid created small, clear streaks down my ink-covered and bruised face, soft hiccups emanating from my throat.

"Please… please no…" It was pointless to try and reason with him. The Ink Demon took his time, seeming to enjoy my quiet plea at mercy. Closer and closer he came, until he knelt just inches away from me. He seemed to try and get a few more pleas out of me, but I remained silent as my sobbing got louder. He huffed in disappointment, instead reaching out his gloved hand of death. Struggling against it was useless, but I still tried to move away from the appendage. My attempt to doge failed. I shut my eyes tightly, and the last thing I remembered was his crushing grip around my throat, and the sickly snap that followed.

I shivered at the recollection, heart racing as I tried to calm myself down. 'Do I even have a heart..?' I held my hand over what was now my chest, feeling for anything underneath the metal… There! A slow, faint, but constant beat. A heartbeat. I sighed in relief. I don't know why I was relieved, but I suppose it was a good feeling to know I still had some part of my humanity left. Everything else was gone, except for my memories. I just held my hand over my chest, the beat calming, and I took a moment just to zone out everything else… A minute passed, and then two. Once I had almost completely calmed down, I opened up my thoughts again, focusing on my current situation with a new curiosity.

I was alive… somehow. My body, or soul at least, took refuge in this animatronic. That's what I was currently assuming. I had no clue why, or how. From my previous conversations with other ink creatures, souls who have died down here are claimed by the ink, and are often trapped in a well of voices. Most have experienced it for themselves, and some of their minds have broken because of it. I had no recollection of any such thing. Either I didn't remember it, or I was never trapped there.

The dark liquid leaking from my severed ends was ink, not oil. Well, I was certainly made of ink now, at least on the inside. I tried to answer a few of my questions about the matter. I mean, why did my soul choose this body? 'Likely because it was the closest thing around, as well as the fact that it could be used as a vessel despite being disassembled. Less work.' How did it manage to inhabit the robot? 'Probably something to do with the ink.' How did ink even get inside this thing? That I was stumped on. There was no exposed pipes around the area, at least none that I recalled that were leaking. Though I definitely could've missed something from my blind panic earlier.

I decided to take a breather from all the questions floating around in my head. I glanced back down at my partially dismembered body, which reminded of the puddle of ink under my spine. Was.. was I bleeding out? Worry started forming in the pit of my stomach again. I was tired, and weak, but it could have just been from the body transfer in general, or the ink loss... Or both. The ink seemed to have formed some sort of clot over the open wounds, or otherwise I would likely have bled to death before I even had a chance of waking up. I was extremely thankful I hadn't.

'Breath… just breath.' I told myself, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly. Seems that I also had lungs, that was a good sign. I wondered what other organs I still had… I mentally shook myself off that topic. I could answer those later. For now, a plan sounded like a good idea. I liked being organized. 'Let's see…'

"First step..?" Looks like I could still speak too, not that shouting out of sheer bewilderment earlier was any indication. I was very glad about it, I would have hated to be mute. My voice sounded… odd though. Still young and feminine, but there was something else I couldn't put my finger on… hold on, didn't the robot have a speaker for a mouth? It certainly looked like it earlier. But, my voice sounded just fine, like I had a regular voice box, and a normal moving mouth and jaw. I knew for a fact that my body didn't have any method of moving its mouth earlier. I reached out my hand to feel around the unmasked part of my face. My teeth felt just like those big blocky ones Bendy had, and they seamlessly split apart when I opened my mouth. Surprisingly the ends felt sharper than I would have expected. I could also feel a tongue hiding behind my teeth as well.

I felt around the side of my face next, finding a circular hinge where my jaw would have been. It rotated whenever my mouth opened and closed. My body must have generated these parts while I was out, there was no other explanation. I then felt around my masked side of my face. My teeth felt the same, but my jaw opened without creating any gaps. It was as though my mask stretched downwards to fit over my jaw, no matter what position it was in. Also, how could I pronounce words without lips? "Cartoon physics…" It was a reasonable answer to the oddities. I didn't really feel like putting much more thought process into trying to figure it out, it was already weird enough.

"Where were we again…? Right, planning." Speaking out loud helped me think. "First step…" I looked down at my legs again. "Reattach my legs. Secondly, get a good look at my surroundings once I can actually stand up…" 'If I can stand up.' I quickly moved passed my doubts. "Thirdly, find something to eat. Pretty sure I still have a stomach." On that note, I was starting to feel something along the lines of hunger. "Fourth step, find a weapon, and possibly a mirror." The last part was a hopeful thought. I really wanted to get a better look at myself. "Fifth step, see if I can talk to anyone around here. Being alone for a long period of time won't do any good for my mental state…" 'Like that Lost One over there.' I noticed the faint cries of inky being were still audible. I supposed I was too focused on myself earlier to notice. I decided that was a good enough plan for now.

Alrighty, first step. Legs. There was no denying that I wouldn't be able to do much of anything without them. One missing arm was already annoying enough. The problem was… well, I think it was pretty evident. 'How the hell am I supposed to do that?' It was a damn big problem. Well, firstly, I needed to actually align the two pieces. And so, with my right arm, I pushed myself over to my legs. After some straining and realigning my torso, I managed to line myself up decently enough.

I remembered there being a toolbox on the edge of the table, one of those small rectangular ones that were littered all over the place. I spotted it to my left. I tried to hook my left arm underneath the handle… it was too thick. If it was cut off at one of the thinner pieces, I would have been able to do it. Oh well, not that I wanted more of my arm missing. Instead, I had to hook my arm over the handle, catching it between my thinner and thicker sections. I dragged it closer, careful not to tip it over. Soon enough I got it close enough where I could open it with my right hand.

Inside lay a variety of wrenches, screwdrivers, nuts, bolts and screws. I wasn't much of a mechanic, but I was decent enough with tools to know how to repair most common devices. I propped myself up on my partial left arm to reach inside with my right. My metal hand didn't seem to interfere with my sense of touch, oddly enough. As I was rummaging through the many choices, however, an odd feeling started to form from the base of my spine. When I looked back in confusion, my eyes widened in surprise.

Tendrils of ink protruded from the end of my spine. They stretched forward, and I could feel them moving over the metal and finding holds on the other pieces. They worked around the broken wires, pulling severed ends together and wrapping around the damaged metal. Wires fused and metal mended, all while I watched in astonishment. After what seemed like a few minutes, the ink seemed to melt away, leaving behind a repaired spinal column, almost like it was never damaged. What remained was a thin ring of dark stained metal, similar to a scar, with dried lines of ink pointed towards my legs.

Feeling slowly began to return to my legs. It felt as though whatever ink was stored up inside of me was flowing down into my reattached part. Before I could continue on with my train of thought, a wave of dizziness suddenly hit me. I leaned my head back against the table, closing and covering my eyes with my arm to avoid staring directly into the bright light and to clear my foggy mind. As the ink in my body continued to work on filling and repairing my lower section, my mind decided to take a short break from consciousness. A nap sounded wonderful right about now...

#batim #batim au #batim fanfic #bendy animatronic #bendy and the ink machine #A Metallic Fate #Chapter 2 #alternate universe #Just starting to get interesting #OC #Original Character #bendy bot

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rox-the-proxy · 6 years ago

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Happy Hearts Day

God I don't remember posting via phone being this much of a pain??? Either way, here is more of me filling the TerraVan shape void in my heart with a Valentine's day fic! Hope you enjoy!

Was it a bit stereotypical to be watching Vanitas as he slept next to him at two in the morning? Yes, maybe it was. But Terra was a bit of a romantic, always had been. Sue him for every penny he's worth because as many of their friends had stated before; he was probably the most romantic man they had ever met. It was a double edged sword when it came to this....thing he had with Vanitas. He wasn't even sure if it was a proper relationship considering Vanitas did everything in his power to remain hidden and unnoticed by the other Guardians of Light. He had said it was to avoid another huge fight considering he was still recovering from the huge fight against the thirteenth vessels of Darkness. How had he ended up gravetating twords Terra, he could only assume it was when he found him on some backwater world, unable to move much less conjure up Unversed to defend himself against hordes of heartless. So, Terra ended up intervening and sticking with the golden eyed male until he was more or less able to at least run away if he needed to. It was strange to see the raven looking so....not weak, because even with a more then splintered and shattered heart; Vanitas was dangerous. He was strong, Terra would bet all his money on the fact that even if he hadn't shown up to help Vanitas would have gotten away. No, so weak wasn't the word...he wasn't used to seeing Vanitas look so damn tired.

He couldn't get up fast enough when the heartless had shown up, at least that's what he told Terra. Which he could believe, especially when he had stood there watching as he struggled to get to his feet. Stiff joints made for very unpleasant times when it came to simple movements. Either way, Terra believed maybe it was after that incident in which Vanitas started to show up more and more. Each time for a long while he looked worse then the first time Terra saw him. The brunette had started to become concerned that maybe, just maybe he would finally fade away. Which was a sad thought on its own. After all, Ventus' heart was whole, he couldn't go back to Ven. So he would simply....cease to exist. But, during one of their many encounters, Terra offered his own heart to be a place where Vanitas' could go and rest in should he need to, should he be unable to hold his physical form. Half, splintered and shattered heart or not, Vanitas still had one and it needed to heal. It needed to rest.

Surprisingly, Vanitas had accepted the offer. He looked relived, and when he collapsed to the floor Terra would admit he freaked out a little but relaxed when the other's heart seemed to just float into his chest. At first, Terra panicked thinking maybe the other would hijack his body like Xehanort did. But instead there was silence, peace. Vanitas was at rest for the time being, and that in itself was a good sign. So, for a long while, maybe about three months, give or take Vanitas' heart rested in his own silently. Never once seeming to give away that he was even there. Terra had begun to worry that maybe, maybe it hadn't it worked. After all, it's not like he was Sora who had this amazing heart full of light that could house and help other hearts heal and rest. No, his wasn't like that. Though it wasn't damaged, his own heart wasn't full of light either. He had darkness in him, that much was given away years ago during his Mark of Mastery exam. In fact, it had been what caused him to fail in the first place. But it was never a issue to where he was driven to harm people or seek the light out to destroy it. Either way, Terra wasn't sure if Vanitas' own heart was even healing all things considered. His worry would be put to rest however one evening when he found himself waking up in the middle of the night.

At first, he had no idea as to why he was awake, he usually slept through the night perfectly fine. He was a good sleeper in the sense that he also wasn't a heavy sleeper. It took him a few minutes to realize that someone was in the room with, well, in his bed to be specific. When he looked down to his right, he was shocked to see Vanitas sleeping peacefully next to him, face buried into the pillow and looking all to much like a content cat. Which was odd, considering Vanitas never looked like anything less then a threatening tazmainen devil. Any other normal person would have yelled and fallen out of the bed at the sight of the dubbed 'Prince of Darkness' (As Sora and Kairi had taken to calling him) laying there next to them. But, Terra he could say wasn't most people. He tilted his head at the sight, reaching down and pulling the blankets up to the smaller male's chin. He then proceeded to lay back down himself and go back to sleep. After all, the other seemed like he was doing okay, didn't look like he would he waking up anytime soon. But, by morning, Vanitas was gone. Terra had thought it to be all a dream, but when he started to wake up at night to see the golden eyed male sleeping next to him, he knew he wasn't a dream. He had asked him once if he could stay until morning, and he was given a very rare sympathetic smile.

"I can't do that." Had been his silent and soft response. Then the explanation of him not wanting to risk another fight with the Guardians of Light followed after that. The brunette was a bit sad that despite the time Vanitas' heart spent in his own, it hadn't healed completely, maybe it never would. But it had clearly been enough to allow him to regain his own physical form and continue on living. So, thus Terra found himself with a bedmate every night since then and it's how he found himself currently, sitting up and watching the smaller male sleep. Lucky him, none of the others ever sensed that Vanitas was around. And Terra assumed it was due to the fact that the Darkness that Vanitas carried around with him had dwindled down. Something he had told the other just the other night. Vanitas only gave him a small grin and shrugged. It seemed like Vanitas didn't know much about himself like how the others didn't know much about him.

Terra sighed softly, reaching down and gently running his hand through Vanitas' dark colored hair. It was a lot softer and much more silk like then what he had first believed. He watched as the raven let out a soft sigh of content, nuzzling further against the nest of pillows and blankets he had made himself. He couldn't help the warm and gentle smile that came over him at seeing just how relaxed the other was. Vanitas had always been anything but relaxed, despite the relaxed way he acted with them back then, anyone who had experience in dealing with Vanitas could tell he was always tense, on guard and ready for the unexpected. Honestly it was a bit sad to see, that he always felt the need to be so tense and braced for something bad to happen. He wasn't sure how he was now, seeing as he only ever saw him at night, but he hoped that he had some how grown out of that habit. But, Terra had his doubts. Vanitas was a creature of habit and routine, at least that's what the golden eyed male had told him once. He wasn't so sure if that was the case now though.

"Sleep, what are you doing awake? You got training with the others tomorrow, don't you?" Came the muffled, and sleep slurred question. Terra blinked, looking down at the smaller male and was met with sleep hazed golden eyes looking up at him with slight, but mostly sleepy curiosity. The brunette shrugged, reaching over Vanitas to grab his gummiphone from the windowsill. When his eyes landed on the date, he couldn't help but smile and chuckle softly. He set the phone back down on the windowsill. " 'hts so funny?" The raven asked with a yawn. He blinked a bit in confusion when the bigger male male leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead, running a hand through his hair. It wasn't odd for Terra to show him random acts of affection, it happened more often than what many would realize. Perhaps once or twice a kiss on the lips was given, but they never labeled what this was. Vanitas believed it was best to keep it that way. After all, not like he would be accepted so easily by the very people he had tried to kill. Even if Terra had assured him that he, Sora and Ventus would vouch for him, he still didn't want to risk it.

"Happy Heart's day." Vanitas stared at Terra with a raised brow which must have been funny if the soft laughter that escaped him was anything to go by. "You don't know what it is? It's called Valentine's day in some other worlds."

"Ah...no I don't know what that is." He admitted openly as the bigger male smiled. He watched as Terra sat up, holding his hand out to Vanitas who without a second thought slipped his hand into the bigger male's and allowed himself to be pulled up. And pulled to sit in front of him, but also leaning back comfortably against his chest. He waited for the other to finish arranging them, Terra eventually settled on wrapping his arms around his waist, his chin resting on Vanitas' shoulder.

"Heart's day, or Valentine's day is a day to show your love to people. Be it your friends, family, or a significant other. It's even a day to show just in general, kindness to those around you. Call it the day of Love if you want. Typically, on this day you hand out chocolates, or roses, even cards to those you want to say I love you, cherish you, or even care about you, to." Terra explained, moving his hands to hold them our facing upwards. Vanitas by second nature placed his own hands over his own, allowing the bigger male to hold his hands, run his thumbs over his knuckles and squeeze his hands as he pleased. Or when he wanted to be sweet, he would kiss his knuckles and whatever little scars he could find on his hands. "I honestly had forgotten about it until checked my phone. But, I guess I just wanted to say happy Heart's day. And I would love to take you somewhere for the day later today. Just the two of us...you know, like a date. But only if you want to. I know you're not to keen on being around during-" Terra found his words being cut off by the soft feeling of lips against his own. He hadn't even noticed when Vanity had turned his head to an angle to even do this. But he had, when the smaller finally pulled away Terra found himself blushing slightly at the sight of a soft and warm smile on the other's face.

Now that, that was a once in a blue moon chance. It was these chances that Terra may or may not live for. When Vanitas would let his guard drop, when the walls he had built up so high would come down, not in a violent way, but gently and slowly like a door opening. When he would allow himself to look vulnerable and at peace with his life. It was these moments Terra lived to see, and he wished he would see them not just started night in the confineds of his room. Terra found himself pressing their foreheads together, which got a small laugh out of Vanitas, another rare occurrence.

"Just you and me...right? N-no one else?"

Terra found himself perking up at the question, he nodded quickly, squeezing the smaller body tighter against his chest. "Just you and me. For an entire day and night. I want to take you somewhere and show you what Heart's day is like."

"So...a date. Between.... boyfriends?" Vanitas asked, placing his own arms over Terra's and squeezing. His tone was hopeful, and that's all Terra needed.

"Yes. Yes a date between boyfriends. Definitely."

At that, Vanitas snorted, laughing as he gently pushed Terra's arms away so he could sit across his lap and press his face against the crook of Terra's neck. It didn't take a genius to know and to tell that Vanitas was actually happy. Happy and if a little embarrassed if the slight tint if pinkish red that dusted over his cheeks to the tips of his ears was anything to go by.

Terra didn't need the smaller to respond with anything else, he was over the moon at the moment. Honestly, he was sure there wasn't a better day for them to finally labe their relationship other then on Heart's Day. With a low rumbling, purr, Terra squeezed the smaller male, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and whispered;

"Happy Heart's Day, Vanitas."

And for the raven, it was indeed a happy day.

#terravan #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts fanfiction #valentine's day #here i go into the terravan void #take a half-assed aesthetic cover page i made #TerraVan

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wackygoofball · 7 years ago

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Gifset: Jaime x Brienne - Ghost Hunters AU

Ever since killing his police commander “Mad King” Aerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister is haunted –literally so. Both the man he executed for reasons Jaime never leaked to the public following the news’s witch hunt that marked him as the “Kingslayer” forever, and the people he failed to protect, like Aerys’s son Rhaegar, come after him whenever he falls asleep.

In the beginning, Jaime thought that he was merely hallucinating Aerys’s presence in his apartment, but he soon had to realize that Aerys’s actual ghost is haunting him, and can take physical form to harm not just Jaime, but also his family, something the spirit threatens him with ever since.

Wanting to know his family safe, Jaime made a drastic decision, abandoned his old job, his old life, cut all ties, and dove into the world of ghost hunting, in the hope to find a way to rid himself of Aerys’s ghost – and hopefully return home some day. However, Jaime didn’t have any luck just yet. While he slowly but surely slipped into the life of a ghost hunter, the former police officer found no way yet to exorcise his very own demons, thus focusing his efforts on the vengeful spirits haunting others instead.

Matters get increasingly worse as Jaime’s lack of sleep starts to take its toll on him, to the point that he fears that one of these days, he won’t wake up from his nightmares in which Rhaegar and the people he failed to protect from Aerys’s plot, which may have cost the lives of many people, had Jaime not made the decision to execute his commander, come after him.

While working what he thought to be a regular job near Oldtown, a haunted house with what seemed to be no more than a vengeful spirit to shoot at with the specially designed hunter weapons that he gathered over time, Jaime finds himself in quite a trouble. Because Aerys’s ghost decides to now also attack him on the gigs, which leaves Jaime injured as he has to battle two ghosts at once, and on the verge of losing. However, he is rescued by a tall, blonde woman who instantly fires at the spirits to make them retreat from Jaime – at the very last second.

Yet, he is very much surprised at the fact that the woman has no better to do than lash out at him, talking about “hunters” as though they are the worst people ever, though she is evidently one of them.

“You may just as well get yourself into your car and leave the rest to me.”

“In case it went without your notice, I was here first, wench.”

“And in case it went without your notice, you would have been screwed had I not arrived in time. And do not call me ‘wench.’”

“I would have managed without you, wench.”

“Yeah right.”

Their banter is quickly interrupted when the vengeful spirit of the house reappears. Jaime is still gathering himself after the head injury he received in the fight, shocked when confronted with the danger of the woman now being attacked by the ghost they both came here for originally. However, for some reason, the hunter with brilliant blue eyes does not fire at the spirit hovering above her, but instead… starts to talk to the creature. Jaime’s irritation only intensifies as the ghost shifts shape, revealing herself as a young girl, no more than ten years of age, skipping up the stairs after the conversation with the woman, only to disappear into thin air.

While very reluctant about it, the woman gives Jaime a lift to the next best doctor to trust in to have his injuries taken care of. The former police officer obviously uses the opportunity of the car ride through the vastness of the outer rims of Oldtown to get more information on this most curious hunter whose acquainted he just made, wanting to know just how she did it – and why.

Because truth be told, Jaime never considered talking ghosts into going back to where they belong.

“That is why I don’t like hunters,” she scoffs when he brings the topic up.

“You are a hunter.”

“I am not.”

“You hunt ghosts. That means you are not that much different from me, sorry to inform you, wench.”

“You probably find it funny to take a shot at a vengeful spirit. But it’s no game to me.”

“Trust me, wench, that is no game to me either. One could say my life depends on it.”

“Well, for me, the ghost’s afterlives depend on it that there is at least one person out there who tries to be there for them.”

“To do what?”

“Pass the threshold. Travel across. Find peace. Like the girl today. She lost her way, didn’t know how to leave the house, until she remembered how she died, falling down the stairs, and went back up to finally find her way back to her family in the afterlife.”

“Wait, you are telling me that you are one of those ghost whisperer folks?!” Jaime laughs.

“I am not a ghost whisperer. I don’t whisper to them.”

“Talk, whisper, mutter, yell, whatever. But you are a medium… if that is the term you prefer?”

“I don’t like labels.”

“Well, you had no trouble labelling me as one of those hunters that you despise so very much, or did you?”

She says nothing at that, just grabs the steering wheel tighter as they carry on with their ride through the darkness of the night.

With a concussion confirmed by the retired doctor who takes care of hunters without asking too many questions, Brienne, yet again very reluctantly, agrees to have an eye on Jaime to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed out of sheer stupidity.

Though both are fully aware that he will use the time to interrogate further into her case. And yet, Brienne takes some courage in that, reckoning that she can do the same.

When Brienne keeps poking him for information about why Jaime decided to come to Oldtown for particularly this case at that point of time, she is surprised to learn that the other hunter came here for the same reasons that drove her to Oldtown: irregularities in the weather, increase of thunderstorms, and an increase of heavily injured patients slipping into a coma within a fifty-mile radius, among other things. To Jaime’s asking if she has more information about that phenomenon, Brienne reveals quite a big truth:

“You say that we, as hunters, take care of the bad guys, the vengeful spirits, and make them go to where they belong. And in that, yes, we don't differ much. However, there is something out there that is causing those irregularities that you also found, and it’s keeping the ghosts from going to where they belong.”

Jaime is ever the more irritated at that set of information muttered over a lukewarm bottle of beer. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“There is a shadow that is hunting ghosts, but it doesn’t help them cross the threshold, it takes them somewhere else, someplace they don’t belong.”

“To where?”

“I don’t know, but I will find out. And I will stop it.”

Brienne wants to continue in her quest to find the shadow reaping those ghosts that have lost their way, but for some damned reason, the fellow hunter with snarky smile now wants to join in – and even gives valid reason as to why she should let him take part in her quest: Jaime managed to gather data that Brienne was desperately searching for in ages, and he is only willing to share if he gets to work the case alongside her.

Jaime, for himself, hopes that if he figures what keeps those ghosts from travelling across, it may help him find out just why Aerys’s ghost won't disappear, no matter how many times he shoots him down, hoping that this is his ticket home at last.

Thus, a yet again very reluctant alliance is born.

As the two continue travelling the country in search for clues on the shadow hunting ghosts, they are bound to reveal some of their greatest secrets to one another: Jaime comes clean to Brienne about why he killed Aerys, following a late-night encounter with the ghost, which leads to increasing tension between the two as Brienne confronts Jaime not just on his self-induced insomnia but also his tendency of letting his guilt consume him.

Brienne takes some drastic measurements to help Jaime, thereby letting on more about how she is a medium and how she can communicate and see ghosts the way she does, an ability she acquired at a very young age, as was discovered when she kept interacting with her dead brother Galladon, and eventually helped him travel across. Jaime is quite surprised and shocked to learn about how she dropped out of the business, upon her father’s plea to know her safe, after all, not all ghosts are peaceful, and what brought her back into the game: The shadow.

As Brienne eventually admits to him, knowing she can no longer hide the truths from her hunting partner, she lost her childhood friend and former crush Renly Baratheon to the shadow reaping his soul before it could pass, and now fears for her comatose father to have fallen victim to the same dark entity.

“There is nothing more hateful than failing to protect the ones you love. And I can’t fail my father, not again. I have to find them to set them free.”

“Will you be able to do that, though?”

“To do what?”

“Let them go? Because let me tell you that one thing from experience, that is the hardest part. Are you ready for that?”

“We are about to find out, aren’t we?”

Battling their own demons in their continuous quest for the shadow threatening the living and the dead, both that of the ghostly kind and of memories and guilt haunting either one, Jaime and Brienne find themselves also battling each other’s hauntings, growing closer and closer in a time that may mean their deaths at every step, every case they take in the hope to get one step closer towards the final goal.

Retracing the paths of a medium called “The Red Woman” leads them down a rabbit hole that may very well be one without return, unless they find a way to battle the shadow reaping the living and the dead, which proves to be perhaps the toughest challenge of their lives as they try to hold on while also having to let go.

Only time will show whether they can turn out victor against the Red Woman, the shadow, their own guilt and ghosts haunting them…

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #au #wacky tries gifs #moodboard #fanfic

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theforgottensheikah · 7 years ago

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Prompt #1

@nickywolf1‘s prompt of Vaun having a tea party with a little girl Rae adopted.

Vaun walked the polished floors of the Olympian, red eyes ticking left and right, in search of his Bonded.

The dhampir wished to discuss a matter with Rae, but was unable to locate her with the vast rooms within that the club offered. His flesh brow wrinkled in puzzlement. This was a rather strange occurrence since merging with Quinlan’s group of humans, she was far easier to find as they were in a small fold of three at least.

A slight build of panic thrummed in his heart as he could not find his mortal love with each passing apartment.

Quintus, Augustine, and Fet were missing, probable reason that they were scouting. Velders, per usual, sat hunched over in her chair, fingers madly tapping away at the tiny keys in front of the screen. Both of the doctors were standing before a board covered from top to bottom in black formulas and other writings. And of course, the professor was ever diligent with deciphering the Occido Lumen.

Rae was the only odd absence in the picture. She normally secluded herself from people and he had checked her spots, but every one was empty of her presence. The young Born was stumped and growing more and more anxious with each step.

‘Calm,’ He urged himself, approaching one last place he could check.

It seemed most logical that she be there, as what was held behind this particular door had become dear to Rae over the course of time. At first, the group was torn on how to handle the ‘distraction’ Quinlan and the Professor labeled it. However, the argument eventually became null and void when Vaun was the final one to have any input.

His gloved hand curled around the brass knob and twisted. A light scent hit his nose quickly, one that filled the half-breed with uncertainty and mild dread.

“Vaun!” A bell like voice greeted him happily.

They had found a child, a little girl the age of six, cowering in the wall space of her turned family’s home. The strigoi had attempted to get at the young one, claws marks slashed with wild desperation into the wallpaper, but the blood hunger must’ve grown stronger; urging them to hunt and leave the Dear One for now. The family of four had been slain by Fet and Rae, the little one being discovered by the exterminator.

Her ringlets bounced as she raced over to him. Vaun allowed the collision of her body and arms wrapping around his knees to make him seem a bit more human. She had not been so keen to accepting he or Quinlan when they returned with her, especially him.

Vaun rattled with a frown, scenting that Rae had not been in the room for an hour at least.

His crimson eyes glanced down at the very short human. The decision on his part had upset more than the elder, Quinlan was not entirely thrilled with the fellow Born either. He expressed that Vaun would regret this however, the dhampir carefully laid a clawed hand on her black curls.

“Hello Dominique,”

The young Born did not have the heart to deny Rae a chance at what he felt like their union stole from her.

Dominique grinned widely up at him, the gap between her teeth in full view. “What’s up?”

“I am looking for Rae.” He was catching onto the phrases of this new generation quickly.

She stepped back from him, dark eyes trained on him. “Rae Rae left with Mr. Quinlan after lunch.”

“Ah,” Vaun didn't know what else to say.

Children were awkward beings to be around. He felt no compulsion to nurture or any other paternal instinct towards the little girl. The only urge the half-breed had was to protect Dominique for Rae’s sake. Maybe that would change if the pair grew closer over a length of time and forged a bond, but currently Vaun felt nothing for the girl.

He hadn’t the slightest inkling of what to do next besides turn around and leave.

Yet her gaze pinned him. Vaun saw something lurk in those dark brown eyes. He tilted his head to the side. “Do you require something?”

A nod and she said, “I’m thirsty. Could I have juice?”

Vaun froze. He didn’t think she’d actually ask for something! Dominique may have grown comfortable in his presence but she did not reach out more than necessary. The dhampir’s mind stuttered before replying. “Yes, I suppose.”

She smiled and reached to take Vaun’s hand, causing the muscles in his arm to tense. He didn’t want to hurt her, but the child held no fear of his unnatural strength. Her little fingers encircled his palm and she waited for him to lead.

Vaun rattled, nervous but returned down the path whence he came with her in tow. The noise of her sneakers squeaking against the smooth floor faded into the background as his mind constantly reminded him to ease his grip, don’t squeeze too hard; that he almost didn’t hear her voice. Dominique giggled at his dazed expression.

“You almost missed the kitchen, Vaun.”

The Born growled lowly. “I see.”

Dominique gasped when Vaun practically hauled her into the dining area, the Born nearly forgetting the very power his brain fretted over. Although, she didn’t seem too phased by it. Instead, she unclasped his hand and opened the steel fridge herself. She was an independent creature, very adamant about doing everything possible on her own.

A pout formed on her mouth as she struggled to reach the washed cup sitting on the counter. Vaun grinned faintly at the sight, reminding him of Rae’s shortness. He took the juice container and poured the liquid into the colourful cup.

“Thanks…” She mumbled, sipping it with annoyance.

Vaun churred. “You’ll grow, child.”

Dominique shrugged, having finished half the drink already. Vaun noticed her quirks with haste. A pout was immediate when something went wrong, no matter how insignificant. She wove a braid around her pointer finger while thinking. Also, when her ire was stirred, so was her appetite. Fet was impressed once after earning her wrath. She ate his entire aquired bag of strange orange puffs called ‘Cheetos’ in a single sitting.

Which earned Rae’s own displeasure at the devouring of junk, how she put it, before dinner.

The straw made the most aggravating sound that grated on Vaun’s sensitive ears. He cringed as she continued attempting to inhale every last drop. His shoulders pinched when she would not give up. The Born snatched the empty cup away and tossed it in the sink.

She frowned. “Hey!”

“You will not keep on with that noise. It hurts my ears.” He explained, crossing his arms.

Dominique vaguely understood and nodded, arms drooping. Another look like before was directed at him. Vaun sighed. “What do you want now?”

“I want to play.” She informed simply.

Vaun’s spine prickled. This was Rae’s area of expertise. He did not engage in playing.

“Dominique, Rae will surely return soon. Will you wai-” His words died as he could already tell this was not going to end well.

That furrow of her mouth already appeared. Vaun swallowed, stricken with aggravation and unease. He had no experience in taking care of little ones. He had vague knowledge of what activities they partook in but the Born didn't feel quite prepared for this.

He was faster than her, more adept at locating hidden persons, his body was created to be the ultimate predator. She couldn't outrun or hide from him. Quinlan did warn that young mortals took much patience and must be allowed some sense of possibility when confronted with them.

Vaun knew the Invicitus played such games with his own adopted child, Sura. If Quinlan could do it, then he could as well.

“Fine,” He conceded. “One time. What is it you wish to play?”

A happy grin spread over her dark face. “I want to have a tea party!”

Oh gods have mercy...

____________________

Vaun sat at the very small table, trying not to scowl. Dominique had insisted upon dressing up for the party. Now she did not have many toys, only a few Rae and Gus ventured back to obtain, so she improvised.

He was mildly calm being surrounded by Rae’s scent as he sat next to a large blue bear and and frog. She had used Rae’s scarf and draped one of her coats over his shoulders then donning her own items from her old flat. Vaun was not very amused with this turn of events but did so solely for the child’s amusement.

She hummed a tune Vaun did not recognize as she poured ‘tea’ into the plastic cup for him.

The dhampir frowned as she slid the cup filled with apple juice over for him to take. “I cannot drink this, Dominique.”

She let out a surprised gasp. “I forgot!” The child did not mind his refusal. “That’s okay! Blueberry can drink yours!”

He did not hesitate to gently shove that in front of the stuffed bear. Dominique chatted with the animals, including him from time to time. Apparently, she was a queen from another land and Blueberry and Mr. Ribbits were dukes. Vaun wondered silently as she spoke on in her own world, what his robbed childhood might have been.

Vaun’s ear twitched as he heard bloodbeats approach, snapping out of musings what did not matter. The door had been left cracked for Rae but two others noticed. Both were snickering, failing to stifle their amusement at his torture.

“I never thought I’d miss my phone dis badly!”

“Haha, right? I didn’t think V man had it in him.”

He darted over to the door and wrenched it wide open, resulting in Gus and Fet almost falling inside. Vaun glared. “If you believe blackmailing with this would help you in some way, you are very wrong.”

“Nah, Borno!” Fet tried to dissuade him. “See, I just thought Rae would like it recorded or somethin’!”

Gus nodded eagerly in agreeance. “That was the plan ese!”

“I doubt that.” He growled.

“Intruders!” Dominique shouted behind him. “Crashin’ my tea party!”

All three glanced at her. She had an evil smirk on her face. “Party crashers get punished.”

“Vat?” Fet asked, mildly afraid.

Needless to say, the group had a laugh when Vasiliy and Augustine were corralled into the tea party.

Sheikah: Not at all as long I wanted, I apologize. But I do hope you like it! @haineko16 your prompt shall be along within the next few days dear!

#prompts #vaun

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perpetually-jungshook · 8 years ago

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Without You: Bloodstone (Part 13)

Genre: AU, bts!werewolf, fantasy, angst

Warnings: language, violence, suggestive content

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Werewolves, contrary to popular belief, are usually gentle creatures. Except for a very specific set of circumstances, they would never hurt a human (on purpose). The few unfortunate times when mistakes were made put a permanent dark mark on the beasts and people began labeling them as monsters. What the human population failed to recognize was the fact that they were protecting us from something much more sinister. Luckily, a few survived and the gene was passed down hereditarily until one day finding its way to me… in the form of my best friend.

Link to: Storyboard (reference pictures) | General lore post Prologue | Previous | Masterlist | Next

Loyalty is often as blind as justice should be, as unstable as a lightning storm ought to be, and as misplaced as an opinion in the truth.

Chapter 13:

As it turns out, Jungkook isn’t angry with me for wanting to sneak into a dark, creepy, fortified hallway in the middle of the night.

No, the first thing out of his mouth is, “You couldn’t even think of a good excuse? Just in case?”

“What do you mean?” I huff in faux annoyance, “I got the watch. Isn’t that what’s important?”

My raven haired friend purses his lips momentarily before replying, “You broke down and told me what you were planning on doing the second I asked.”

“Yah! I held out for at least like ten.”

“I was rounding,” he rolls his eyes, flipping to lie on his back and look at me upside-down. “But seriously, I don’t think it’s a good idea to-”

“Before you start lecturing,” I interrupt, “I want to remind you that you don’t OWN me, no matter what your overly hormonal wolf alter ego says.”

Jungkook laughs, a reaction that is reassuring, “Eun-ah, I’m not mad at you for being curious. If you’d let me finish… what I was going to say, was I don’t think it’s a good idea to go alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Do you really think I’d let you put yourself in that kind of danger?”

“But… you’re not mad?”

Shifting so that he sits upright, Jungkook’s voice suddenly lowers a few notes, “I told you, there’s something about this place that bothers me.”

And with that, I momentarily abandon searching through my backpack, slowly walk over to him, and wrap my arms around his neck, whispering, “I love you.”

He returns my embrace easily.

“I love you too.”

Midnight. The watch band is loose on my wrist, but I’m too nervous to attempt to tighten it again. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jungkook pressing his ear against his bedroom door. While I’m not entirely keen on involving him, I can’t help but admit it’s nice to know I have someone to rely on- especially when that someone is both my best friend and a werewolf that will kill anything that tries to hurt me.

Still, I feel stiff.

I’m not sure if it’s caused by nerves, anticipation, or fear of disappointment. What if I’m just going crazy? What if Taehyung was right and those doors literally lead to a storage room?

“Kookie,” I whisper, jerking his attention sideways. “I…?”

My question trails off. I don’t even know what I wanted to ask.

However, with a small smile, Jungkook steps away from the door and extends his hand. It isn’t a demand, but an offer.

“It’s okay, Eun. Even if it’s nothing, I’ll be glad we checked it out. You know I have your back,” and with these words, he gives me the one thing I didn’t even need to ask for, reassurance.

I take his hand, lacing our fingers before slowly opening the door. Of course it chooses now to squeak, making both of us freeze. Only when I feel Jungkook relax do I continue down the hallway.

Not wanting to go past everyone’s rooms, I guide us across the kitchen, away from the mistletoe doors, and through the adjacent hallway. I’m unsure if it’s simply because I’m not alone this time, but there seems to be no supernatural pull. Whatever magnetic force caused me to originally go exploring is ominously absent.

We reach the second set of mistletoe doors, and after Jungkook recoils at the silver, I notice something that coils my stomach into a tight knot of dismay. A combination lock now rests between the handles, connecting two ends of a thick chain that prevent me from opening the entry beyond a crack too small to fit through.

Jungkook stands as far as our arms will stretch, fingers laced through mine, clearly trying to avoid the door. His voice is quiet, strained, as he asks, “Why would they lock it?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I whisper, pulling on the silver handles to take advantage of what little slack the chains offer.

My raven haired friend lets out a grunt of displeasure, but my awareness of him fades slightly as I try to recall the sensations from the other night.

The air that comes from behind the doors smells of mildew and dust, but it does not have the same suffocating quality. I press my face into the crack, trying to get as close as possible.

It’s quiet, but not uncannily silent. There’s no movement, but it’s not eerily still.

The whispering is gone.

“Eun.”

“Give me a second. I’m testing something.”

I glance down at Yoongi’s watch and the second hand ticks along the face as it should.

“Eun,” Jungkook says my name again, his grip on my hand tightening.

“What-?” I withdraw my face from the crack…only to meet Munhee’s unreadable gaze. I almost choke, “S-sunbae.”

“You know, when doors are locked, it’s typically because people don’t want you to see what’s behind them,” her tone is absent of emotion, something that scares me a little bit more than disapproval.

“I’m sorry,” I drop into a bow. “I…”

“It was my fault,” Jungkook offers, pulling me away from the mysterious entrance so he can effectively step between the older woman and me without being any closer to the mistletoe and silver. “I was curious but didn’t want to touch the handles.”

Munhee’s gaze slowly slides back and forth between us. Her voice is steady, but there’s something in the tone that anxiously nips at my nerves, “Jungkook, please go back to your room.”

“But-”

“Go.”

The word isn’t really an order. She can’t order him around, after all. But there’s something in her tone that makes it seem like a solid command, which is apparently enough for Jungkook.

“C’mon, Eun,” he tugs at my hand, ready to take both of us past Munhee.

“Hold on,” she steps in front of him. “She stays.”

Jungkook stiffens, his voice growing lower, “Why?”

“Because we have something to talk about.”

“We do?” my question isn’t rude so much as confused.

“Yes. About this,” Munhee extends her closed hand. Slowly, her fingers unfold until I can see what lies in her palm.

The bloodstone.

My bloodstone, the one I had dropped in the field. I recognize the crimson speckle patterns and the smooth shape. How had she gotten it?

“Kookie, I’ll be fine,” I assure, stepping away from him and breaking our hold on each other. “Go back to your room.”

“If you hurt her, I’ll-”

Munhee laughs, hopefully a good sign, “Kill me. Yeah kid, I know.”

Maybe her confidence comes from the fact that five other wolves would stand between her and Jungkook without hesitation. Or maybe her intentions are innocent so she knows he won’t have a reason to followthrough with the threat.

Hesitantly, my raven haired friend does as he’s asked and leaves me alone with Munhee. Only when I hear the sound of his door closing does she retract the offered bloodstone and walk over to the silver studded doors.

“How much do you know about the occult?” she asks quietly, turning the dial of the lock.

“A bit, but not much…” I confess warily, recalling the fact that she knows about the contents of my backpack, but also knowing that I have no experience beyond what I read in the leather bound book.

She pops the lock and opens the doors, gesturing for me to go inside.

“Just like that?” I glance at her, the small voice of paranoia at the back of my mind wondering if she would simply close the doors once I was past them.

“Just like that.”

Knowing that Jungkook is only a scream away, I nod to encourage myself and advance into the dark hallway, fueled by faith. Munhee follows a few steps behind.

“Sunbae, where are we going? What’s back here? Why-?”

“So many questions,” she cuts me off with another laugh. “Give me a second.”

I turn around to glance at her, to possibly attempt to see what she’s doing even if I have to rely on the dim light from the doorway and silhouettes, but a soft green glow begins to flood the hall. A vibrant emerald flame covers Munhee’s hand. It’s not hovering above the skin- her palm is literally on fire.

The rational part of me knows that it isn’t hurting her, or at least it isn’t burning in the conventional sense of the term. The odd color of the flame and the expression on her face tell me that much. I’m pretty sure I’d even read about this somewhere in the leather bound book; yet my head can’t seem to wrap around it.

Much like my initial denial with the werewolves, I can’t seem to find the courage to summon the word; yet Munhee, again, puts it in my mouth for me.

“Magic.”

This one is a little easier to metaphorically swallow. I’d tried divination on several occasions, even a luck charm or two, but I’d never actually conjured anything. Staring at the green flame, I can’t help but find it incredible. Beautiful.

Still, why was she being so secretive earlier?

“Eun-ah, I can teach you,” she smiles genuinely, almost excitedly, a few stray strands of her dark hair falling away from her eyes as she quickens her pace, gesturing for me to follow. “None of that bullshit from that book.”

I wince.

“I’m going to show you my workshop- well, less a workshop and more like the place I store my materials,” she continues talking, but suddenly I stop listening.

Along the bare concrete walls, I swear I can see… it isn’t necessarily a shimmer, but as if something rectangular momentarily fades in and out of existence. It happens again a few steps later.

My companion doesn’t seem to notice the phenomenon, so I chalk it up to late night exhaustion.

We reach the dead end of the hallway and I glance at my watch. The second hand still races around the face at a normal rate, causing me to sigh in relief as Munhee opens the metal door before us. Wait… door?

I can’t remember there being anything in the hallway when we first entered. Maybe it was just too dark to see. After all, it’s not like doors can just appear out of nowhere, right? My eyes inadvertently travel to the green flame on Munhee’s hand. I shake my head to clear it.

For some reason, as we pass over the threshold, a strange tingling sensation runs down my spine, but I ignore it to glance around the room, newly lit as Munhee flips on a light switch.

Like the rest of the bunker, it’s concrete and lined with air vents, but something seems a bit…off.

Shelves, bookcases, and tables line the walls, all covered in unused candles, bundles of herbs, jars of mysterious liquids, labeled stones, and dusty books. These seem innocent enough. What bothers me is the pit in the middle of the room.

It can’t be more than a step lower than the normal floor and would comfortably fit someone of Namjoon’s size lying down with all limbs spread, but the closer I get, the more it smells… like rotten eggs?

“What do you think?” Munhee asks, extinguishing the green flame as she rests her weight against one of the tables, setting the bloodstone down as well. “Sound like a good deal? I’d like to finally have someone to relate to, to teach, instead of just being a doggy trainer for all these wolf guys.”

Diverting my attention from the depression in the center of the room, I politely but genuinely laugh, “I’d honestly love to learn from you, sunbae.”

“Eun, I think you can drop the honorific. If you want to.”

“Thank you,” I offer shyly, bowing to hide my smile.

“Of course. And I know it’s late so we can always start tomorrow, but I thought I’d show you instead of having you sneaking around at midnight-”

A high pitched howl cuts her off, Munhee’s eyes become wide, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

“What was that?” I ask, breaking the panicked quiet.

“Hoseok,” Munhee’s response is a whisper. As if that was her cue, she frantically pushes off the table and grabs my wrist, pulling me through the door and down the hallway. At a sprint, we race down the corridors until reaching the main mistletoe entrance. Six of the wolves have gathered in the kitchen, Namjoon pacing, Seokjin speaking quietly and quickly to Jungkook, Taehyung and Yoongi intently watching Hoseok, who is staring at the double doors with an ominous amount of concentration.

Hoseok turns to Munhee, almost growling his words, vibrant amber flooding into and out of his eyes, “A little less than a kilometer north east.”

Munhee begins giving out instructions, but my attention turns to Jimin as he joins the hyper focused group, looking bored above all else. He stops at the back, putting an unusual few steps of distance between himself and the others. Save me, no one even spares him a glance. For some reason, despite the tense atmosphere or maybe perpetuated by it, this fact doesn’t settle right with me. He can’t possibly be that bad, right? That they would exclude him in an emergency.

Sidestepping until I’m standing beside Jimin, I ask quietly, “Sunbae, what’s going on?”

He looks confused at first that I’m addressing him, eyebrows knitting and top lip drawing back.

I continue when he doesn’t answer, “Please, everyone seems so tense and-”

“Demons,” he cuts me off with an irritated sigh. “There’s a demon heading into town.”

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

EOPQ 15: How interested are you in magic? Should I just stick to the wolves and gloss over Eun’s lessons?

Send me your theories/answers here. Or just come say hi ;) ~🐰 xx Please include the End of Post Question number upon submission, thank you!

Support me/Donate and get some super rad 😎 rewards

Much love ~🐰 xx

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #werewolf bts #without you: bloodstone #bloodstone #jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #werewolf jimin #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #werewolf jungkook

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glimpseofbeing-blog · 7 years ago

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A Letter to a Friend...

Copied below is a a letter written to a friend in prison on October 10, 2017. The body, beauty, art, ect., are reflections of the world. I think this writing is to. A representation of my processing of recent and ongoing events. Hopelessly bleak and still somewhat hopeful. A bit of Steppinwolf I suppose.

Hi Mike,

Been a bit, per usual-apologies for the delay. Honestly, I'm not even sure where the time goes. I make to do lists almost daily with "write Mike" always on there. It's strange: I haven't had a job in a year but I'm always busy, though I'm not sure with what. The little things in life I suppose. Maybe difficult to understand from your position, maybe not.

The world is wild. I'm writing this letter, or at least this portion, on my phone. I'll eventually email it, then print using a tiny memory stick at Kinko’s in town. And I'll pay for the print with my credit card, of course, so I can get a frequent flyer mile. After 12,000 of those I get a free flight. Ridiculous!

But the world is wild in many not so great ways too. I'm sure by now you've heard of the mass shooting in Las Vegas? I'd really love to hear your thoughts on gun violence and what you feel America can do? Only if you're comfortable and willing, of course. No pressure.

I have another sensitive question, only if you're willing as well: do you ever get depressed in there? If so, how have you learned to cope?

I'm newly seeing a therapist for my first time. Pretty excited though it took a minute to get started. The first one I tried was horrible but I've now connected with a woman who is intriguing in having previously worked on the stock market in New York before becoming a counselor. I like that she is into analytical business while holding a high value for emotional communication.

She shared that she knew 50 people who lost their lives in the world trade attacks on 9/11. After losing my friends in the fire this year I find comfort in speaking vulnerably with a person who also knows what grief comes when people disappear unexpectedly due to traumatic events.

My major motivators in seeking therapy are 3 fold. The first is dealing with ongoing grief from the passing of my friends. The second is improving my interpersonal communication approaches. I have patterns in intimate ongoing relationships where I tend to get frustrated and lash out at those closest to me. I've always done this with girlfriends and have lost a few great ones from my lack of self management. Never physical abuse, just saying things in anger that don't really communicate my interests. Likewise, I've struggled in work situations. After cooking in loud kitchens forever, I sometimes am too much for professional colleagues. I care a lot about work and invest a lot of energy in being successful. I try to communicate clearly but the high expectations of my drive to achieve have left some thinking of me as condescending. I can see what they mean though I certainly don't intend this to be. So hopefully I can find some new paths.

Thirdly, I find myself depressed here and there. Even with my job search: some days it's hard to stay positive, especially as political conditions and economic systems appear increasingly dismal. All in all, my life is great and I'm mostly a happy person. But some days things are cloudy.

As part of beginning therapy I have reached out to my sisters and asked them to share any relevant diagnosis and resulting medication choices. I've known since childhood that mental health was an almost ubiquitous challenge for the whole of my family. And I saw therapists fail with my mother time and again while witnessing both my sisters enter various kinds of treatments with mixed results.

Still, I was shocked to read the depth of medication and diagnosis that my sisters have recently shared with me. My middle sister also helped refresh my memory of my mom’s conditions, medications and family history. I had forgotten that her father, although adopted, had been labeled schizophrenic. Obviously there is no genetic connection but as my sister appropriately noted that being raised in a household with these types of conditions can also affect one's adult development.

So here I am. Reasonably happy but aware that I suffer from situational depression as well as limited anger and frustration. Feeling pretty damn lucky in light of the struggles those most closely related to me have continued to face since our childhood.

I admit it is pretty wild each time I look back. The more I study the legacy of global capitalism and the role of American imperialism, the more I become aware of the privilege I received growing up as an American male of middle class status. For a long time, I wrote off any sadness or feelings of emotional trauma as overly dramatic and unfounded due to my privileged upbringing. But now more than ever, I have creeping memories of family events that I seem to have suppressed in convincing myself that I had no right to feeling emotionally challenged from my childhood.

Please understand that I am far from asserting I was abused in any traditional sense. I hesitate to place myself any where near such a label as I feel that would devalue the significance of experience so many others have had to endure in this truly messed up world.

It's fleet week here. I stepped out to get a coffee and saw the blue angels flying fighter jets in formation over the city. I remember running a food vending station at an air show years ago. My location was right next to the crowd stands and so I got to watch all these amazing jets and planes race by all day long. I've also been on an aircraft carrier once in South Carolina.

These are the creations of man, or better stated in a non-gendered expression, the result of human ingenuity. To say the least, we are impressive creatures posing powerful intellectual potentials. But I'm left wondering what it says about our species when we acknowledge that many of our most monumental feats are focused about death, destruction and oppression.

The world, or at least the human experience of it, appears to be dying and at an increasing rate. I have limited knowledge of how limited your knowledge is as a result of your incarceration. I think the briefest statement is to say things look bleak from most any perspective. The Cold War is in full effect again, poverty and the division between wealthy and poor is widening, and climate-related emergencies are increasing at a rapid rate whether our government chooses to acknowledge it or not.

The catch is that all these considerations are largely the result of human action and interaction, and in my view particularly the outcome of social systems that lack compassion born from respect for equality of being. Yourself and the many others imprisoned in our nation and across the world come to mind as I struggle with these thoughts. Malcom X wrote in his biography that the most cruel thing a society can do to an individual is to place them in a cage.

I recognize from your writings that some good has come from the programs you have engaged in during your sentence. I'm glad for that at least. I do hear some sense of achievement and hope as I read of your accomplishments and ongoing betterment activities. Likewise, I am aware that your crime, regardless of your remorse, which I believe is sincerely genuine, was a heinous act requiring some societal response.

Yet Malcom X's words continue to ring in my head, especially as the house I'm in shakes from the jets flying closely above in demonstration of the destructive power of our nation's political might. Something is very not right here. Maybe you weren't a child at 17, but after all our letters and the time spent as boys I struggle to accept that you as a person are simply an animal so threatening to the world that you should be caged. Or that caging an individual is actually for that person's benefit.

And in the same regard, I struggle to accept the prison system as fair and just while being aware of the disproportionate incarceration of minority groups and people of color. We have a nation that more strictly regulates a woman's reproductive rights than an adult's access to technologies solely focused on the termination of life. That is not just, fair or respectable.

I am glad you've found success in your living condition and that you've embraced the opportunity to both help others and prepare for re-entry. But I'd be lying if I said I believed in the system's expressed intent to rehabilitate and support convicted individuals for success upon release. It's hard enough for the average individual to get a job and I know that a felony record only exasperates this universal struggle.

I am optimistic for you though. I know you to be kind, well mannered and focused on positively supporting those around you. I think that orientation goes a long way in a world where success is significantly impacted by both an individual's sheer will and their connection to gatekeepers who hold access to limited resources such as employment opportunities. And so, I like to imagine that you have impressed many who you've worked with to a point where you'll have the opportunity to pursue your dreams upon their social connections when released.

I suppose this letter is far too heavy and long winded. Best to wrap it up. My apologies for not being more up beat. Please accept my vulnerability in sharing the rather dismal view that currently dominates my outlook. I hope you're well and continuing to find peace in working forward toward the next stages.

Best regards,

#me

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the-gaia-mind-blog · 7 years ago

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R.E.A.L.:Get It - Keep It

One of the most fun things to do as a coach, is to make a simple Gnomic that can really work. R.E.A.L. can Really work for everyone who Really tries it.

R. Recognize the moment. I had years where I “Distance Watched” my Life. There always seemed a sheet of energy/glass between me and every event. As if I were watching a very, very, long movie. I was “Disassociated” from my own Reality. Being able to RECOGNIZE that something, is a really “Good Moment”, is an important key to Happiness. Take three deep Relaxing Breaths (breathe in for 4 count, hold for 4 count exhale out from the bottom of your lungs to 4 count, slow down the count for each Breath) Tell yourself, in a calm and loving voice (not like the one you often hear in your head) “This is a Wonderful Moment”.

E. Enjoy Entering the Experience. Literally, tell yourself to enter into the situation. If you are a “Disassociated Watcher” this may, take a bit of practice.(no one got to be a Gold Medalist the first and only time they did something) You may fail to totally Experience the whole moment, but you will get to be in your own movie for longer and longer periods of time. (when you wish to be involved, you can be involved) If you are already “Associated” turn up the “Enjoyment” Button. (Imagine a remote control in your hand. One of the buttons is labeled “Enjoyment” when you press down on this button you increase the level of enjoyment. (You also have a back-off button, that comfortably distances you from what is going on, more on the Remote later) When we can Enjoy, Entering the Experience, we can allow our Unconscious Mind (the great filer, and organizer) to really grab hold.

A. Allow the Unconscious to file and cross file, every nuance and shade of pleasure. Accept the gift. Do not seek to belittle the experience a.s.a.p. (Many of us feel we are not Worthy to be Happy. This lie was drummed into us by folks who felt that they were not worthy. Do not continue to let their voice have a place in your enjoyment of the moment) When we Live the Moment, and we Allow the Moment to really sink in, then, we can retrieve the moment, and relive it whenever we choose to do so. Yes, you really can be there, in a happy moment, just as you have so easily spun into the bad memories, (one nanosecond, and you are in second grade again being humiliated once more) The first time, you find yourself reliving a Happy moment, really re-feeling the joy you will be so amazed.

L. Live the Life Lesson whenever you want. I cannot fly to China and find the place I visited in 1992. That way of life is gone forever. But I can go back in my mind and re-live the experience of being the first Caucasian that most of the people in the town had ever seen. (The Flying Tigers of WWII did stop their, get rid of the Japanese, who had killed over 1,000,000 townspeople. Dropping the number from 1,300,000 to 300,000 nearly dead souls. The old folks were overjoyed to meet me, the young folks were amazed that I was such a weird color, all over, and wasn’t a ghost!) I can feel them touch my arms, my back, my long hair, and I rejoice in their merry laughter at what a strange creature I was. I can smell the scents of cooking, (spices I could not identify) feel the damp heat, (clinging to my every pore) know the pleasure of sitting on a stone bench, (in the shade of a huge tree, Absolutely No Idea what type of tree, but it had a sweet odor) I just enjoyed those memories as I sat (in the passenger seat) and waited for the traffic jam to release us. Let me know how much this helps. Flow Your Own Life Making Energy whenever you want to/need it.

#4 steps to happiness #how to ensure happiness you can be Happy

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kpoproleplayreviews · 8 years ago

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Hysteria Roleplay

Roleplay Name: Admin of Hysteria Roleplay

Link: https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/970993/hysteria-literate-master-slave-au-looking-for-females-roleplay-roleplayfacebook-auroleplay-facebookroleplay-fbrp/18

General/Themed: Master/Slave Au

Platform: Facebook

Activeness(1/10): 7

I usually come online everyday (If not, peep on and off throughout the whole day) just talking to members. It seems pretty active, but of course everyone can’t really be active since our age group of roleplayers are more mature.

Summary: Hybrids had been roaming alongside of humans on earth for over two generations now, thanks to a life-changing discovery by a group of young scientists. The old tradition of keeping regular house pets have now worn away with time, and in replacements, were the new hybrid creatures as a trend-setter.

Despite the fact that these hybrids were scientifically manufactured and are now being specifically designed and made in what we humans call a hatchery, they are also living beings with a heart and feelings — the perfect pets, as some may say.

Though for certain, not everybody is going to have a positive opinion towards these hybrids. A large sum of people do despise these fragile beings. They’d label them as monsters and a harm to society — a mere science experiment with fake and made up emotions. Even with those who accepts the existence of hybrids do grow into their own boredom and dispose of them over time. Perhaps they forget that the creatures do have a heart also?

Going into further explanation, hybrids are born and raised in a hatchery until the age of three to four and from then on, they are transferred to an adoption centre, where they are sold as companions to us humans. Those that fail to have someone adopt them by the age of eighteen will undergo a short training period for work experience and will be released from the adoption centre do make their own living.

When does our mansion come in, you ask? Well it comes in now. There are numerous amounts of stray hybrids out there, roaming the streets without proper shelter. Whether they had been abandoned by their owner, or have escaped from their respective adoption centre, or for various other reasons, none of it really mattered. What does matter is the fact that they are in need of a home, and here in our mansion, we can offer just that. It’s like a simple, fair trading game. They can exchange their bodies for food, shelter, companions here and there — a home.

Welcoming (1/10): 4

I think that people are a little cliquey here and tend to veer immediately away from newcomers (I used to deny the fact all the time but now look at me.) I do welcome new members with open arms once they come into my pm with questions, I try to make sure that the member is comfortable but usually most new members will leave if they’re quiet and expect to be asked to plot all the time. If I’m not mistaken, our roleplay is open to loud, unique members who really know how to make an entrance. This shouldn’t stop more quiet, shy members from joining though!

Admins. Explain positions, their work, activeness, and how you and the admins handle out of character situations.(1/10):

9 - Seungjun who is the main admin oversees everyone and usually handles all the activity checks and cleans out groups all by themselves, manages the aff and tumblr these past few weeks after an admin had left due to a busy schedule, usually announces most of the arrivals and departures of members. The most friendliest along with the other admins and always tries to keep up the tidiness of the role play completely. Of course some people don’t find her efforts satisfactory but they try their hardest and it’s known when people thank them for it!

4 - Youngjun is one of the admins that is only able to be on once in a while but very friendly! They try to help when they can which is awesome but should really take time out of roleplaying to focus on what they’re doing. Posts in arrivals when available and tries to plot as well which is awesome!

5 - Xiumin is one of the newest admins who is awesome at heart and tries their hardest to get into the groove of how the roleplay works. I feel like they should really be helping the main admin if they’re online this much. Good luck to them!

3 - Jungkook is one of the ex-admins who still sticks around to help the main admin with small things (arrivals, departures and sometimes PSAs for the members who step out of line and warn others.) They are awesome, no doubt but again with the busy schedules where she is online but doesn’t bother to plot or even post in ooc.

7 - Chanyeol is the first moderator of the roleplay, they regulate members and always make small announcements to people letting them know they need to have all the admins added which is very handy. The only thing about them is that they’re kinda illiterate (but also tries to prove that they can be literate) considering the head admin was strict on not allowing illiterate individuals into the role play. I think her literacy could really help people understand certain things she’s trying to get across.

Atmosphere(1/10): 7

There has been some drama apparently (I say ‘apparently’ because I haven’t seen it but others have?) due to holiday stress and people just feeling down on themselves because of it. The holidays are in full effect right now so I really hope the members and admins find a peace of mind because it felt like the chaos was brought to our roleplay and ruined some bonds with people as well.

Literacy(1/10): 5

We have some very good writers and then some that aren’t the best apples in the bunch who don’t even attempt to be literate it seems. The good writers usually write novella, or extensive para and they’re structured and detailed but when it comes to the ones who aren’t so good at writing, it kinda feels like they just don’t want to try. Some individuals use extensive punctuation, some misspell words and some use a combination of both, sometimes. There have been announcements about those kinds of things and we always check over our applications when members are applying to keep illiterate people out, but they eventually fall through the process. It’d be rude to kick them out because they aren’t up to par with being literate but giving them a chance is all they really need.

Do you think you need improvements of your role play?: Yes I do. Literacy is a big one and I think welcoming is one of the big ones as well. To encourage our members, I’ll start tagging new people (or people who ask to plot) on other’s plot offers to bring new bonds and maybe new friendships!

Why should people join your roleplay?: You’re guaranteed tidiness in this role play and structure if you really want that. We’re fun people (yes even the admins are fun, we don’t always try to use the boot each time we can) and we try to be as welcoming as possible which we’re improving on!

Overall Rating: (1-5 stars ☆) ☆☆☆☆

#kpop rp reviews #submission #admin #Hysteria Roleplay

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