#it’s my first large scale translation actually maybe I’ll do another

[adhd-languages]

ADHD secret power where you translate a whole episode of your current hyperfixation into your target language. Try today.

[scuttling]

Interview

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 1,729 Tags: SFW, Pre-relationship, First meetings Summary: Aaron finally gets the greenlight to hire a new agent. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 0-6 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) A/N: Sophie and Reid are partners, because I love them! Link to AO3 or read below!

It takes two months for Hotch to convince Section Chief Strauss to open a requisition for a new member in the BAU. There was a lot of paperwork to be filled out, including detailed explanations as to why he felt the team needed another profiler. He thought it was obvious: for all they do work together as a cohesive unit, Morgan and Elle were technically partners, and when she left, Prentiss took her place. Reid doesn’t have a partner, which makes him feel like a third wheel, sometimes.

(He won’t admit to it, but Hotch notices things. It’s kind of his job.)

Needless to say, the position becomes available, but it takes another couple of months—and several interviews—for Hotch to find the right person to fill it.

Agent Cortes comes highly recommended by the Intelligence Section’s unit chief, someone he worked on a case with in his early days at the BAU; she is young, just 29, but she is more than qualified, and the referring agent is someone whose opinion he respects, so he’s hopeful.

Gideon sits in on the interview because he respects his opinion, too, although Hotch will make the final decision.

Cortes is Latina, petite and polite, with a firm handshake, a warm smile, and dark, striking eyes. Gideon looks at her with somewhat passive interest (something only Gideon can pull off) as they go over the highlights of her resume.

“You have bachelor's degrees in Psychology and Sociology, and master’s degrees in Behavioral Science and Criminology, all from the University of Chicago. How did you manage all of that, at your age?” Hotch asks, wondering if maybe she is gifted like Reid.

“A lot of hard work,” she replies, and it’s an answer he likes. “I graduated high school, enrolled in a dual major program and completed the bachelors’ at 22. Then I was hired onto the Chicago Police Department, and I worked there and got my Criminology degree at the same time. The Behavioral Science degree came after; I began it in person, and they let me finish online when I moved here to join the FBI.”

“What interested you about behavioral science?”

“I grew up in a city that was rich with diversity, but I still noticed that certain people were susceptible to falling into certain patterns, and became curious about why we as people do the things we do. I was already interested in criminal justice, so it seemed a natural path to take.” He nods, jots down a couple of notes before looking back up.

“Tell us about your time with the Chicago Police Department.”

“I went through training while finishing my Criminology degree, worked a beat for about six months before being assigned to the Intelligence Unit; my sergeant found value in the way I was able to get people talking, and a large part of my work was with criminal informants. I worked in Intelligence for three and a half years, and for the last two I was on the Tactical Response Team as well.”

“Tactical Response—that’s SWAT?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you end up in SWAT?” Gideon asks, speaking up for the first time; she looks over at him for the first time, as well. “I mean no offense, you’re clearly more than capable, you’re just… small.” She gives him a brief smile.

“Well, there was a hostage situation, the team leader determined that we could get a vantage point from an air duct... and I was the only one who fit.”

“You don’t seem resentful of that,” Hotch notices, a bit surprised. It’s not an origin sorry everyone would be proud of. Her eyes turn back to him.

“I find it’s more important what you do with your time somewhere than how you got there. I contributed to many successful responses over the course of two years that had nothing to do with my size.” It is a great answer, and he holds back a smile of his own, simply nods.

“So you left Chicago to join the bureau; did you have your sights set on any department in particular?”

“I was torn between Language Analysis and Intelligence and ended up somewhere in the middle.”

“Intelligence because of your background, why Language Analysis?” Gideon asks.

“I speak 6: English, Spanish, and Italian as my native languages, plus Russian, French, and German. I have an ear for them.”

“Impressive,” Gideon says, nodding, lips pressed together. Cortes smiles, modest.

“It’s helpful; more than 30% of the population of Chicago speaks a language other than English at home.” Hotch does crack a smile at that, because the statistic reminds him of Reid.

“How would you describe your current role with Intelligence?”

“The official title is Intelligence Liaison. I’m part of a team that travels domestically and internationally, to law enforcement or government agencies, to debrief them on threats we’ve identified, or potential threat activity, and to help them formulate offensive countermeasures.” There is a lot of experience there that would translate well to the BAU, that much is clear. If anything, she may be overqualified, but they would never turn down the help.

“What’s the most frustrating part of your job?” It’s a question he always throws in, because true frustrations—and how one handles them—can say a lot about a person.

“When they don’t listen and people die. I do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen often.” He looks up from the form to the woman, who, in that moment, shows the things she’s seen all over her face. They’re gone from one blink to the next, and he breaks eye contact to choose his next question. No follow up needed there.

“It sounds like you have experience interacting with law enforcement, which is important here at the BAU. We can’t work on a case unless we are invited by the agency with jurisdiction, so maintaining healthy relationships is vital. We have a communications liaison who deals directly with police departments, sheriff’s stations, FBI field offices, and the media, but knowing how to handle them is a big part of the job.” It’s not a question as much as a confirmation, and she nods.

“I’m confident in my ability to interact with other law enforcement in a direct but respectful way. It’s something I’ve done a lot of as Intelligence Liaison.” He has one final question, and though he’s already more than pleased with the interview, the answer will make or break his decision.

“Why the BAU?”

“Curiosity is what got me interested in behavioral science, but it’s empathy that makes me interested in the BAU. My current work helps to save lives, but it’s all very large scale, and it can be detached, cold. I can be detached and impartial when I need to be, but I can’t deny it would feel like a better use of my skill set to make a more tangible difference.” He agrees, can already tell that she would thrive in the environment of their unit, and it’s just the kind of answer he’s looking for; he takes a few more notes, glances over at Gideon for input.

“Anything else you’d like to ask?”

“I think we’ve covered it,” he says, and he stands abruptly, which makes Agent Cortes stand as well. Hotch follows suit. “Nice to meet you. He’ll be in touch,” Gideon adds, shaking her hand briefly and leaving the room. She is left looking a little lost, and Hotch steps around the desk.

“I apologize for him, he’s a little…”

“Capricious?” she offers with a smile, and he laughs lightly.

“That’s accurate, actually. Please don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t. I’ve heard a lot about him, so he kind of lives up to my expectations.” She tilts her head, looking curious. “You don’t, though. Unit Chief Roberts told me you would be stoic; I expected someone much more aloof, but you’re actually rather warm.” He is a bit surprised by her directness, even more so that she would find him... warm.

“I doubt that my colleagues would agree with your assessment,” he says, thinking of the number of less than kind words used to describe him in the past. She just smiles again.

“I guess you really do need me on your team, then.”

He finds it hard not to agree.

“There are a few more things we’ll need from you, such as a psychological evaluation, recent performance reviews, a physical. I’ll be in touch with Agent Roberts, and then you, if we determine you are the right fit. I’ll see you out,” he adds, gesturing to the door, and she follows. The team, who was not yet in the bullpen when she arrived, looks on, curious, as they head to the glass double doors.

“Thank you for the opportunity to interview. I hope to hear from you soon,” she says with another firm handshake, and he nods.

“We’ll be in touch. It’s a pleasure to have made your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, Agent Hotchner.” She gets onto the elevator, and he heads back to the bullpen, stops specifically at Reid’s desk, though everyone is nearby.

“Congratulations, Reid: you’ve officially got a partner.” Reid smiles, looking pleased.

“Who is she?”

“Special Agent Sophia Cortes. She currently works for Intelligence. Bachelors’ in Psychology and Sociology, Masters’ in Criminology and Behavioral Sciences. Fluent in six languages. Got her start at Chicago PD like you, Morgan—Intelligence there too. And SWAT.”

“SWAT?” Morgan echoes, impressed. “She’s gotta be 5’2” out of those heels.”

“She’s got glowing reviews from her superiors there, and from her unit chief: he called her resilient, determined, empathetic, a team player. She’s good at communicating with law enforcement, victims, even unsubs. The BAU is the right place for her. We’ll just be waiting on paperwork to make it official.” He crosses his arms, leans back against the filing cabinet. “I’d have introduced you, but she doesn’t know she’s being offered the job just yet.”

“She must have made quite an impression on you for you to decide on the spot,” Prentiss says, and he nods his head in agreement.

“I think she’ll fit in well. I saw a little bit of each of you in her, and she’s very…” He tries to think of one word to sum up the woman he just interviewed, and decides with a half-smile: “warm.”

[tundrainafrica]

So, what's your overall opinion on snk 139?

Something doesn’t sit well with me with how people on Twitter are complaining about 139. Personally (Hange backstory aside), it was satisfying and despite what people are saying that it ‘romanticizes genocide,’ I do not agree. I wanted to give my thoughts on the chapter overall so I decided to write it out. 

In fact, I have another take on the overall message of the story and I hope people would give this a read. 

Disclaimer: Sure, I am defending the story line and the ‘message’ that’s coming with it but I in no way, agree with the genocide. But there is a more nuanced take on this which I think will help people understand that there is an underlying message to all this and I wanted to just talk about it below. 

Also, I found some cringe-worthy moments, I do not agree with Armin’s take on ‘Thank you for committing genocide for us’ one of the most horrible lines ever and I like to retcon that and never think about it again and I intend to read the Japanese raws though to check if it was just a translation error.

Maybe there is someone who already explored this but yeah, I’ll just write this in case no one has. 

For now though, allow me to give a more detailed analysis of the message over all so people stop hating on the ending for ‘romanticizing genocide’ because I think this is a low key pretty shallow take on the whole thing and I want to provide some information, some analysis and some comparison to make people realize, this isn’t as easy as people claim it to be. 

So let me start by mentioning something about the war with Marley to give people some perspective. 

Yams pretty much set up a trolley problem on a wider scale and Eren was the one with the lever. 

For people who don’t know what the trolley problem is, allow me to explain it below. 

Here is a sample I found online: (See this link for details) 

“A runaway trolley is heading down the tracks toward five workers who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. Adam is standing next to a large switch that can divert the trolley onto a different track. The only way to save the lives of the five workers is to divert the trolley onto another track that only has one worker on it. If Adam diverts the trolley onto the other track, this one worker will die, but the other five workers will be saved.”

There are a lot of variations to this like: 

“A runaway trolley is heading down the tracks toward five workers who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. Adam is on a footbridge over the tracks, in between the approaching trolley and the five workers. Next to him on this footbridge is a stranger who happens to be very large. The only way to save the lives of the five workers is to push this stranger off the footbridge and onto the tracks below where his large body will stop the trolley. The stranger will die if Adam does this, but the five workers will be saved”

And there are so many other variations of this.

The runaway trolley is going after your mom vs. five escaped prisoners. 

The runaway trolley is going after Pope Francis vs five serial killers. 

These trolley problems show the moral tension between two schools of thought which are in two different ends of the moral spectrum: ‘Utilitarian ethics and ‘deontological ethics’ which are both either way, inherently flawed yet not totally bad. Utilitarian ethics focuses on the net happiness of doing an action as a determinant of whether something is good or not. So a utilitarian will find a way to kill less people and will probably go for the action which will actively kill people if it means saving others. 

Deontological ethics emphasizes that the attention should be on the act in itself not the result is what makes something good. So ‘NOT pulling the lever’ even if it kills five people is the good thing to do.  

The thing is, the trolley problem is not completely applicable in real life because you cannot really predict what’s gonna happen. Utilitarian ethics assumes that you will know what will happen in the end. 

And here’s the thing, in the massive trolley problem created by Yams, Eren was the one with the lever. This was already proven in 138 and there were clear cut results. Eren knew what was going to happen. If he could, he would have just yeeted off to the woods with Mikasa and lived their remaining life together. 

If he didn’t do anything, Paradis would have been completely destroyed and lost in five years or so. Marley was gonna overrun Paradis, the other nations were going to destroy it, take their resources and massive genocide was going to happen anyway. 

Sure, Zeke and Hange offered their own suggestions to stop it. But as the founding titan, I’m sure Eren knew it probably wasn’t going to work. Because his daydream or the reality he saw where he lived in the woods with Mikasa implies  that someone else took over the peace negotiations and Eren said himself, they had at least five years of peace before Marley and the other countries invade. 

So with the results of both choices of the ‘trolley problem’ in Eren’s head at that time, he had a clear choice to make. Lemme quote the trolley problem again and apply it to his case. 

“A runaway trolley (aka the war) is heading down the tracks towards Paradis who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. Eren is standing next to a large switch that can divert the trolley onto a different track. The only way to save the lives of the people of his hometown  is to divert the trolley onto another track that has the rest of the world (or at least the victims) on it. If Eren diverts the trolley onto the other track, the genoicde (the intended genocide), but Paradis will be saved.”

Okay fine, it looks like Eren did do something horrible because he pulled the lever and let more people die which is considered bad under the paradigm of both utilitarian and deontological ethics. 

But lemme show you another variation of the trolley problem which can put Eren’s choice into perspective:

“A runaway trolley is heading down the tracks towards your beloved family who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. You are standing next to a large switch that can divert the trolley onto a different track. The only way to save the lives of your loved ones is to divert the trolley onto another track that has complete strangers that have only hated you and are ready to fight back and kill everyone you love if you let them live. What will you do?” 

This is difficult right? I don’t think it would be easy to make a choice to kill your family right? 

So Eren went for the easier choice...

“A runaway trolley is heading down the tracks towards Eren’s loved ones who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. Eren is standing next to a large switch that can divert the trolley onto a different track. The only way to save the lives of his loved ones is to divert the trolley onto another track that has complete strangers that have only hated him and are ready to fight back and kill everyone he loves if he lets them live.. So Eren diverts the trolley onto the other track, this trolley kills the current victims of the rumbling, but his hometown Paradis will be saved.”

So, what fueled Eren’s choice? Can love fuel Eren’s choice? Is love a valid reason to push or to leave the lever?

I personally believe love is the answer. But here my explanation. 

Utilitarian and Deontological ethics are on two different sides of the ethical spectrum and at their extremes they are both inherently flawed paradigms to live by. Most people actually flit between the two when making decisions in morally gray situations which I believe is generally the most appropriate way to navigate ethics. 

Let me introduce one new ethical paradigm to this discussion. “Aristotle ethics’ or Nicomachean ethics which claims there is a golden mean for everything. So goodness is finding that golden mean. 

So I personally believe the most ethical and the best option is the finding that golden mean in between utilitarian ethics and deontological ethics, and what is the golden mean? 

It’s difficult to find but I always believed the golden mean for something as complex as morality is the ‘most loving option’ but believe me, the most ‘loving option’ is very difficult thing to find. 

I never believed that ‘true love’ was an emotion. I always believed love to be something born of deep discernment more than everything else. Although Eren had touched on love when he made the final decision to kill, he lacked the discernment which makes his decision still inherently flawed in the grand scheme of things. 

So what was the whole point of the story? 

I never believed AOT to be a manga that ‘romanticizes genocide’ regardless of what people are saying. 

I think what Yams was trying to set up here, after giving Eren the very difficult decision, was ‘who set up the tracks in the first place?’ 

Who forced that young boy from Shinganshina to stand at the side of the tracks and have to make the decision to kill millions or to let his family die? 

Was it the cycle of hatred? Was it the crapsack world that just forces everyone to be an asshole?

And the thing is, their world is a shithole. Just like ours.

Everyone is forced to do evil every once in their life (even through small ways)  but it doesn’t mean that these people are completely at fault. There are structures in society that force us to do ‘evil’ to survive and the Catholic concept of social sin explains this. I won’t go into detail about this but I just want to say...

Morality is incredibly complex and I do not believe a clear cut right or wrong exist. But I believe if everyone discerned for themselves what right or wrong is, if everyone did their part to make this world a better place, maybe so many people wouldn’t be faced with their own version of the ‘trolley problem,’ maybe so many people wouldn’t be faced with the decision to make such an ethically gray and questionable decision like Eren. 

So what’s the message that I believe Yams is trying to relay with his story? 

Stop the cycle of hatred, start talking, start discourse. Stop fighting. And I think he has shown it multiple times with Eren and Reiner’s conversation and with Marco’s screams of ‘WE HAVEN’T EVEN TALKED THIS THROUGH YET.” 

Anyway, I hope this meta or this rant whatever you think it is, just gives some new perspectives on the ending. Don’t get me wrong, Eren made a very ethically questionable decision but it had never been an easy decision to make to begin with. 

And I hope this type of analysis and reflection could be useful to your own thoughts and your own ways on how you choose to navigate life.

[ct-multifandom]

MLB ideas/hopes/predictions/prompts

Bunnix using her umbrella to fly like Mary Poppins

Ladybug coming up with an overly convoluted Rube Goldberg machine type plan with her lucky charm, but not having some of the components, so she just sends Pegasus to the store in the middle of a battle

Characters who are close slowly finding out about each other’s superhero identities in funny ways

Pigella picking up something massive and like 10x heavier than her and chucking it

I really want one of these heroes’ tools to be a comically large anime-style weapon, but alas I don’t think they’d do it

Season finale boss fight featuring all the new heroes, which is totally gonna happen at some point, but it would look really busy on screen to have them all running around at once, so I’d split them into smaller teams based on their skills to carry out specific parts of Ladybug’s Epic 36-Step Plan™️. It would make for a satisfying “oh yeah, it’s all coming together” montage and also give us some unique character interactions.

Ladybug picking unique combo teams of new heroes based on their skills to fight specific strong villains

Alya starting a school paper and getting the whole team in on it. I love the episodes where the class does one big project together, they’re so cute.

Someone/a group getting akumatized on purpose to disobey Hawkmoth and take advantage of their akuma’s power for a noble goal

Episode from the POV of a boring background character detailing how the life of the average Parisian is affected by LB and CN. Unreliable scheduling, monster traffic jams, the sheer embarrassment of getting got by an akuma...

I want an animal to get akumatized. Someone’s dog who feels lonely when their favorite human gets a new, demanding job and turns into a terrifying Cerberus beast or something.

Mayor Bourgeois allocates some taxpayer dollars into a LB bank account to support her, and she has to make the very important decision on whether to save it for a real emergency or buy 17 hamburgers.

Okay part of me doesn’t want to make kwami/future hero predictions in case I accidentally come up with something way cooler than what will really happen and then be disappointed, but the other part of me is like hee hoo predikshun. So don’t expect these to actually happen lol.

I won’t talk about Multimouse because we kinda know everything about her, but she looks cute and it’s nice to see two heroes who aren’t super skinny.

The silhouette of Minotaurox in the intro doesn’t offer a lot of insight other than his epic horns. I have no idea what his tool might be. His costume looks to be pretty simple/practical, though, which is in line with Ivan’s character. I heard a theory that his power will be increasing in size, and it makes sense looking at Stoneheart and the pattern of flipping the characters’ flaws on their head, but that sounds kind of boring to me, especially compared to all the other creative abilities.

Tigresse’s silhouette makes me think her design will be awesome. Her tail looks like it might be her tool. It kind of resembles Amethyst’s whip from SU so maybe she can use it to grab things like Ladybug does with her yo-yo. I heard a theory that her power will be invisibility which I support because it takes the flaw that turned Juleka into Reflekta (wanting to be invisible out of insecurity) and makes it powerful like the stealth of a tiger.

From the silhouette, Caprikid looks a bit like a beginner’s Trollhunters cosplay, but I’m sure he’ll be cool. I’ve seen people argue whether he’s Nate or Marc and I’m positive he’s Marc (making Nate CC) so if anyone asks for an explanation I’ll make the comprehensive post on why. He’s holding his tool, and I’ve seen debate over which direction it’s in. If he’s holding it pointed up it looks like a giant calligraphy brush, but I think he’s holding it pointed down and the “brush” is just a decoration on the end. I’ve heard a theory that it’s a shepherd’s cane which is my favorite one. Personal idea here: I’d make his power telekinesis. Pretty basic, but I can imagine it being very useful for the type of scenarios we see in the show without it being OP. I like the idea of using a cane to “shepherd” something through the air. This could reflect Reverser’s desire for control, but flip it to be more collected and useful.

I fully support Coq Courage’s ninja pants, they are simply Correct. It’d be cool if his tool was a bow and arrow, and that seems like a pretty popular theory. The shape to the left of his torso looks like it might be a quiver but it’s probably just his other arm. Thumb rings are used in archery, but what little we’ve seen of the miraculous (disguised on Marinette and Chloe) shows a different type of ring. Still tho. Also get ready for my crazy never-gonna-happen idea: the bow can turn into a hang glider. Roosters can fly, but not super well/freely, which could translate to gliding. It’d add some versatility to the way the heroes move around since a lot of the temporary ones can only run, and it would let him reach places LB might not be able to. I’ve heard a theory that his power will be supersonic voice which could contrast how Nathaniel is bad at communicating and quiet until he gets mad and blows up.

Orikko might be the kwami of illumination. Roosters are associated with the sun and Evillustrator’s power was sourced from light. At first I thought his transformation words might be “sunrise” and “sunset” but someone said the activation code could be “rise and shine” which sounds awesome.

Traquemoiselle, believe it or not, is actually in the intro, she’s just hidden at the very top and only a snippet of the head is showing. All we know is that she has round dog ears. Barrk is surprisingly one of the more fleshed-out kwamis as of now, having a few solid lines of characterization in Furious Fu. Kwamis are usually yin-yang to their holder, so Barrk fits Sabrina perfectly, being loyal yet independent while Sabrina is loyal and an absolute doormat. No clue about her tool. Her power is kinda in the name: tracking. Maybe she can track down some one specific thing of her choice, but maybe she can sniff out akumas. As seen in Dark Owl and Gang of Secrets, Hawkmoth can be creative with akuma placement, so she can probably save the team from some close calls.

I have no theories for the transformation words of the other kwamis. Ziggy or Stompp could include “horns” or “charge” and Roaar “stripes” but I can’t think of any phrase including those words that isn’t too similar to an existing one. There are some phrases based on powers, though, not the animal. Or maybe they’ll just give up and give us another iteration of “Sass, scales slither”.

I think the theme for one of these remaining new heroes might be “assertion”. A lot of them struggle with that as their civilian selves, and the animals that are left can all be associated with independence/dominance, not that the animal traits always play into what the heroes are.

Ok last one, long one: in season 3, Luka’s main traits were “cool and nice” which doesn’t make for an interesting, complex major character, and at first he seemed like the perfect love interest, but from an outside perspective the extent of his kindness is kind of disturbing. I’m hoping they can flip this around and turn it into a character flaw where he has practically no boundaries, and it turns into a problem. Maybe he could agree to run random errands for the background characters for nothing in return, and at first it’s just him being nice, but later people start seeing his help as an obligation. They get peeved when he’s unavailable one day and get akumatized into a “boss rush” of classic akumas, effectively trapping and forcing him to help them. Then Tigresse Pourpe comes and helps save the day, expanding on Juleka and Luka’s relationship. The resolution can teach kids that putting yourself first isn’t necessarily selfish, and that sitting back and letting people take advantage of your kindness isn’t heroic.

There’s probably some stuff I forgot which I can put in a different post later, but lmk if you want a separate post about any of these things in more detail! This was just me rambling out all my new hyperfixation thoughts. Also if anyone uses any of the hypotheticals/scenarios as a prompt I’d love to see it.

[pi-cat000]

FMA:B/BNHA Crossover (2)

Summary: Ed gets stuck in the BNHA world after the end of brotherhood. He starts trying to find a way home and ends up inadvertently working for the league of villains.

Part 1 here

..

..

At one point, the ground level of Ed’s building had probably been a nice-looking shopfront, maybe a flower shop or grocers or something more befitting this weird world…like a tech repair store.  Now, the ground level doubles as apartment space, large windows caked with dust and grime, curtains permanently drawn to hide its occupancy. Heck, if Ed hadn’t been around to fix the glass with alchemy the ground floor would have been pretty much unliveable. Like many buildings in the area, it was a victim of a villain/hero confrontation which always seemed to generate an obscene amount of property damage. Great for leveraging his repair skills in exchange for free accommodation and about nothing else. Not that the people here saw it as much of a problem.

Ed scowls, flipping his OPEN sign to CLOSED, yanking the door shut, locking up as he goes.

Ed doesn’t quite understand the whole thing, and he had had one of the worst track records for property damage when it came to state alchemists. The difference being that he had always returned to reverse as much of the alchemical damage as he could and if he couldn’t Mustang had some other military alchemist/personal waiting in the wings to see to the problem. Rebuilding here was the responsibility of some external agency or other. Ed is a little hazy on how the system was supposed to work, seeing as the military had little to no involvement with anything hero related. Though, considering how the Amestrian military had been in the process of feeding the souls of its citizens to a loosely defined truth God, maybe that was a good thing. Honestly, researching how this place ran its bureaucracy was low on his priority list.

“Hey! Ed! You’re out early? Off somewhere interesting?”  

“Did you see the guy who just came through here,” he asks, eyeing his fellow apartment-liver who seemed to have nothing better to do than loiter outside and yell at people on the street. The greasy-haired man is puffing smoke near the corner of the building with his two equally scruffy friends. They all have a physical abnormally, a lizard tail, claws, bulging eyes, that remind him uncomfortably of chimeras despite knowing it was a result of more quirk bullshit.

The guy blows smoke in his direction, “Big, tall dude? Pretty suspicious looking with the hood and all. I saw him go in. Didn’t see him leave …funny that.”

“Yeah…funny…” Ed mutters, “Did you recognise him?”

“I might have.”

Ed huffs, rolling his eyes and continues down the road. He would leave bribing his neighbours for possible information as a last resort.

He passes the vacant lot holding a near identical half-collapsed block, followed by another nicer looking building, then another, before they gave way to shops and smaller structures. That was something he was still getting used to…the sheer scale of the city. Even Central had barely been a quarter of this city’s size. Luckily, his destination isn’t too far so he doesn’t have to worry about getting lost.  

The building he arrives at is taller than the rest and full of office space. The main lift is out of order so Ed trudges up three flights of stairs to the top floor, stomping into the empty reception/waiting area only hesitating for a second before slamming his hand onto the bell sitting atop the front desk.

There is a muffled voice, “I’m coming. I’m coming. No need for that racket!”

The door behind the desk swings open.

“Edward?”

“Hey, old man,” he gives a small wave, “It’s been a few weeks.”

The man, tall, well-built, cropped brown hair, stares at Ed.

“Yeah it’s been a few weeks! You need to check your phone and answer your messages every now and then. You’re giving me grey hairs. More grey hairs!”

“Right…my phone….” He forgot he had it when not using it to help with navigation. Also, messaging was a pain. He had picked up the local spoken language fast enough out of necessity, but his reading and writing were still a work in progress. Lucky for him, this reality had a few languages similar enough to Amestrian that if he really wanted to read something he could get a translation. It still made written communication tricky.

“I'll try and check it more often," he placates, "I’m here for some information about a job I was offered and seeing you know a bunch of the local businesses I thought I would drop by.”

“Information?” Masao Uraraka lets out a long breath, “And there I went thinking that you were going to take me up on my apprenticeship offer.”

Ed shoves his hands into his pockets, shrugging. The older man grunts, “Well come on through. You’re lucky you caught me in the office. I’m usually on-site supervising about this time. But, can’t do much of that until those idiots at HC Construction.co get the go-ahead from their insurance company.”

Ed slips past and into a dimly lit office space which is surprisingly well organised. Across the wall is a collage of family photos, depicting a woman and young girl at various stages of growth.

“…that’s not your problem though. How have you been kid? Hope you haven’t been in too many fights.”

“Hey,” he objects, “Some idiots need a good punch,” and then adds a little less aggressively, “But no. No fights. I’ve been researching quirks....”

“Quirks. That’s different? Weren't you studying chemistry or something?”

Ed shrugs again, unwilling to divulge much else. Uraraka tended to be nosey out of some misguided notion that he could help Ed ‘get back on his feet’ after whatever tragic backstory he had cooked up for him.

“You’re still living at Old Man Watanabe’s right? He not pulling anything is he? Old coot always tries to weasel more out of his deals.”  

Ed can’t help but agree,  “He’s been trying to get me to re-wire the whole building. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

Of course, this just sets Uraraka off on a round of angry muttering, “Is that right? I can have a talk with him. I’ve told him that he needs an electrician and a proper plumber. He owes me a few favours so I can… ”

“It’s fine,” Ed quickly interrupts. Uraraka had his own problems and family to look after. The guy reminded him of Hughes in that he cared way too much. “One grumpy landlord isn’t worth worrying about.”

Uraraka visibly deflates, “Yes, well, most kids your age shouldn’t be worried about that sort of stuff at all. You should be finishing up your schooling, getting your Japanese up to scratch and studying for college entrance exams. You remind me of my daughter. Stubborn.” He pulls a framed photo from his desk, pointing it at Ed, shaking it for emphasis, “She wants to be a Hero you know. A HERO! Can you believe it! My cute little girl, getting into fights with villains.”

Ed clears his throat awkwardly. Yeah, this guy was definitely this world’s weird version of Hughes. If Hughes had worked in construction and had, you know, not died. This isn’t the first time he has had a picture of Ochako, Uraraka’s daughter, shoved in his face.

“About that information?” He cautiously interrupts and gets another sigh.

“Yes, yes. You kids are always so impatient. What’s this job then? What idiot is going around hiring 16-year-olds.”

“Actually, the guy that came in just mentioned some construction work,” Ed rubs his neck, now slightly subconscious, realising he doesn’t have a whole lot to go on, “he didn’t give me a lot of details, just left this.” Ed pulls out the envelope placing it on the desk next to the assortment of framed photographs and scribbly kid drawings.

With a raised brow, Uraraka pulls it towards him, peering in. The man’s eyes widen and he closes the envelope, frowning, “This supposed to be a down payment in advance of a job, or is it for material costs? Because it’s a bit much for a down payment and nowhere near enough for materials. Not if it’s for anything serious. What sort of work is it? You know I can’t lend you equipment without a licence…but I’ll help you source anything that you…”

“No,” Ed rushes to interrupt, “the guy said it was a sign of goodwill. I take it that’s not a normal thing people do in the, ah, construction business?”

“No. It definitely is not,” Uraraka now looks concerned, “there would usually be a contract for services before any sort of payment. Especially, if you’re going to be working as an independent contractor.”

So that just confirmed what he already knew. Ed continues, “So you haven’t heard about people asking around for under the table construction work then?”

“No. I can ask a few of my freelancers if they’ve had similar offers but I deal above the board with licenced workers only, so it’s unlikely they’ll have heard anything.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He glares at the envelope.

“What did he look like? This man that came in?”

“Oh, he was tall, made of dark purple smoke and had a teleportation quirk…I think. He also asked about my quirk and its limits.”

“I’ll keep an ear out.”  Uraraka promises and frowns at Ed, “I hope you’re not considering this offer.”

Ed grunts noncommittally and gets a look of disapproval that reminds him so much of Hughes its almost painful. He tries not to feel disappointed at the lack of answers because coming to Uraraka had always been a long shot. ‘You’re sad, lonely and the only conversations you’ve had this last week were yelling matches with your landlord and neighbours. Uraraka is a nice man. Of course, you would come to him for advice.’ A voice that sounds suspiciously like Al chimes in. ‘I don’t want him to worry. I’m not staying here long. What’s he going to think when I suddenly disappear,’ he snaps back and immediately feels foolish.

Maybe the isolation is getting to him a bit.

“If it's money you need that I’m more than happy to help you get licenced and certified…” Uraraka continues to talk oblivious to the fact that Ed is barely paying attention.

He doesn’t want to settle down and get a popper job or finish off his schooling or talk to youth services or whatever other things Uraraka had brought up in the few months they had known each other. That would be admitting defeat. Also, he had no ID or history and he was pretty sure you needed both to work any legitimate jobs.

“I can handle myself,” he says out loud.

“Yes, you’re worryingly self-sufficient but there is a difference between unlicensed quirk use and aiding and abetting criminals. No self-respecting, above board, organisation hires a kid to do construction work and throws a bunch of money at them.”

“I know.”

Yeah, he knows Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious was probably a criminal of this reality. He knows he is probably getting himself into something dicey and illegal but he needs to follow whatever lead he can to get back home. Finding a quirk with either the ability to transport him between realities or one with the power equivalent to a few thousand souls was his last hope of ever hearing Al's, the real Al’s, voice again.

The older man rubs his forehead, visibly exasperated, “But you’re going to ignore me. Stubborn brat.”

[matthiasschoenaertsdaily]

Matthias Schoenaerts full interview for De Morgen Magazine (original in Flemish, translated into English by @matthiasschoenaertsdaily​)

Interview by Els Maes, published on November 28, 2020

Even a global pandemic will not destroy the optimism of actor Matthias Schoenaerts (42). Because he knows from his own experience how much beauty can emerge from the most hopeless situations. "I've had my back against the wall often enough, I'll always find a way out."

A bleak autumn day on a concrete square. There is lukewarm coffee, lukewarm Chimay and rolling tobacco. At dusk we see the silhouettes of fat rats that shoot past our ankles. And yet Matthias Schoenaerts will tell us in a glowing argument that this, here and now, is the very best place to be. That there is so much beauty to discover, he says. Le paradis c'est ici. As long as we want to see it.

"It's strange to say in this unpleasant period, but I've enjoyed the past few months enormously. It's the first time in ten years, since Runskop actually, that I'll be home for a long period of time. This is so beneficial: I am photographing, painting, writing. I can devote time and attention to the very simple things we'd otherwise race past."

"Seriously, look at that," he says, picking a leaf off the ground. "Those colors, that pattern. I can spend hours looking at the pure beauty of the things that surround us."

Above us a pigeon is wreaking havoc between the thinned out foliage. "While you are singing about the wonderful beauty of nature, that animal is going to shit on our heads," I say. "And that too will be a s-p-l-e-n-d-i-d moment," Schoenaerts answers.

Matthias Schoenaerts is Belgium's most successful international film star. But here and now, on a bench in his hometown, he is a technically unemployed actor, an all-round searching artist, but above all: fighter of cynicism. "I refuse to go along with all negativity and fear. The true battle today is cynicism versus courage. And I always choose the latter."

We're on the Oudevaartplaats, the square that everyone knows as the Antwerp Bird Market, and where Schoenaerts' childhood memories are waiting to be picked up. It comes into the conversation just like that: Brando, the cute chow chow that little Matthias got from his mom on this square, when here on the bird market puppies were still sold. "My dogs were my great loves. The home situation was often difficult, and with my dogs I found security. We had three chow chows, those fluffy lion dogs with a blue tongue. Brando was the first, I loved that animal."

"We lived in a small apartment with three dogs, anything but ideal. One day we let them go, to people with a large estate. That was heartbreaking."

There is a beautiful lesson in that, about love and letting go. It would have been selfish to keep your dogs if you could give them a nicer life elsewhere, wouldn't it?

"Absolutely, but I obviously didn't process that departure properly. Brando still appears in my dreams, after all these years. Then he returns home unexpectedly, and am I mad with joy.

"I often dream about my parents too: that reunion is so intensely beautiful and warm. Oh, there you are, finally! Those dreams are true to life, and the awakening is rock-hard."

Is that one of the reasons why you like being here in Antwerp, because here you feel more connected to the people that you loved?

"This is my home, my zero, I can't imagine a place in the world where I would rather live. When my mom was alive, and especially when she got sick, in between filming I tried to be with her as much as possible here in Antwerp. In the meantime I have an apartment here, my first permanent place of my own, but I've hardly been there in recent years. Now I can finally enjoy my home, I find peace, tranquility and inspiration there. I have seen fantastic sunsets on my roof terrace in recent months. So much beauty, and you can just admire it there, every day, for free. As long as you take the time to enjoy it.

"Normally I would have started filming again in April, and left for a hectic ride of at least two years, with projects that would follow each other quickly. I was at my limits, sooner or later I was going to bang my head against the wall. I feel how beneficial it is to slow down for a moment. David Lynch said that: 'Just slow things down and it becomes more beautiful'.

"As an actor you have to work in a big machine, according to a tight schedule. I have now discovered the pleasure of creating things for myself very spontaneously in my own cadence."

Is that work something you ever want to go public with?

"I want to do something with my photography someday, but I'm in no hurry. I'm also writing a film script, I've had an idea for a trilogy for a long time. It's a very personal project, and it takes time for it to crystallize into something very pure and proper. Maybe those films will come within ten years, maybe never.

"The most important thing is to keep busy. You have to look for something, anything, on which you can focus your passion, love and attention. Of course I would like to return to set, and those projects will come back later. But if I can't change anything about a situation, why worry about it?

"From a very young age I learned that there are not many certainties in life, I adapt easily to unexpected circumstances. There is one thing I can't stand, and that is feeling powerless. I never want to be the victim of a situation, I will always think: what can I do myself? Which way can I go? I have often enough stood with my back against the wall, I will always find a way out and take matters into my own hands."

So Schoenaerts decided to use this period to put Zenith - his artist name as a street artist - to hard work. Since the lockdown he has already created nine impressive murals, including one in the courtyard of the Oudenaarde prison, and one at the beginning of this month in the Antwerp Begijnenstraat, on the bare walls that form their furthest horizon for the prisoners. A moving event, he says. Not only by the touching conversations with inmates, and the forty-minute applause with which the prisoners welcomed him. "The mural contains a poem by my father. While I am there painting those beautiful words of my dad on the wall, I suddenly remember that my mom used to give meditation lessons to the prisoners there in the Begijnenstraat. I had completely forgotten about that until I stood there. How beautiful that is. Suddenly I felt my parents very tangible, very close to me."

It's a bit funny: a long time ago you were arrested for graffiti, now they invite you to prison to make a mural.

"I used to tag a lot, but I really don't like the vandalism that sometimes comes with graffiti. Defacing a facade, that's just ridiculous. But trains, bridges, tunnels.... frankly I think that's the max. Soon I'm going to do another oldskool graffiti wall, with some friends, back to the roots. But with permission, yes."

Scary dudes

The problems of the Belgian detention system are well known: outdated infrastructure, overcrowding and a system of pre-trial detention which means that some people are innocently stuck for years. Schoenaerts: "These are human lives that are destroyed by the Belgian state, isn't that scandalous?"

Schoenaerts' engagement started years ago, after meeting Hans Claus, prison director in Oudenaarde, who contacted him when he wanted to organize a screening of Le Fidèle, the film by Michaël R. Roskam starring Schoenaerts. Claus has been fighting for many years for a reform of our detention system, among others with the non-profit organization De Huizen, small-scale centers that are more focused on rehabilitation and reintegration of the detainee. How does Schoenaerts see his role? "Those murals are a kind of lubricant for me, to get attention for this problem. I am not the expert and I am certainly not a politician. This injustice touches me as a human being, and my message is clear: please listen to the people who have been working hard for decades to reform the system from the inside."

In The Mustang, your last feature film to be seen here before the lockdown, you take on the role of a prisoner who learns to tame wild horses and his demons. Has that role changed your vision?

"That rehabilitation program with mustangs really exists, and the chance of recidivism is almost zero percent. I had a conversation in the Begijnenstraat with the minister of Justice Vincent Van Quickenborne (Open Vld, ed.), and he told me that the chance of relapse here is 40 to 50 percent. Isn't that madness?

"That's what fascinates me most of all: what do we do with those detainees while they're stuck? How can we help to break the destructive patterns that put them in prison? Imprisonment is a punishment in itself, but someday we'll send those people back into society, so let's mainly support them in their self-development.

"In preparation for The Mustang, I visited prisons in the U.S., and talked to men who had been detained for 20, 30 years. Heavy guys: Aryan Brotherhood (powerful crime syndicate of neo-Nazis in American prisons, ed.), Mexican gang leaders... real scary dudes. You know what those say to me? That they live in fear every day, but they must not show weakness. Psychological counseling and things like that have their value, but that's often very cerebral. I especially believe in the healing power of art. Imagine that inmates can express all those fucked up emotions through art: I think that there is an enormous potential in this."

I heard you're playing with the idea of giving acting lessons to inmates?

"That's not a concrete plan yet, but I would love it if people from the creative sector would commit themselves to this: musicians, sculptors, dancers. Or writers who help prisoners put their own story into words.

"The cultural sector needs to start sticking its neck out. The sector is lying flat, and that's terrible. But we have to keep moving. We can all do something for the community, without being paid for it. Planting small seeds, doing something good for your fellow man, something beautiful always comes out of it."

Had you been to a prison before The Mustang?

"To visit friends, yes. In Merksplas, Hoogstraten, Hasselt, Dendermonde... We shouldn't talk about that any further. A prison is deep tristesse. Who dares to call that 'a hotel', shame on you."

This summer you painted an impressive mural in Paris in honor of George Floyd, murdered by American officers. And in Ostend last week a new mural was unveiled, with a 'decapitated' Leopold II. Is activism an important part of your street art?

"Graffiti used to be more of a style exercise for me, you want to create things that get noticed within the scene. But gradually I felt like communicating with a wider audience. I like to incorporate a lot of symbolism in my paintings, such as the cracks I photograph all over the world and then magnify them in another place. And the praying hands, a universal image of hope and faith in yourself. Art has the power to speak to our deepest emotions, and that is what binds us to the other. Connectedness, empathy, harmony, solidarity, that's the essence for me."

The corona crisis is one big exercise in empathy and solidarity. Sometimes we seem to lack that.

"I refuse to surrender to cynicism, and I surround myself with positive people who do beautiful things for others. This period would lead us to insights: how do we deal with each other? Do we help each other, or is it every man for himself? A human is such a wonderful creature, but we mess it up so much for ourselves.

"Yeah, I know. Some people who read this will think: this guy is smoking too many joints. (laughs) I don't smoke joints, and I'm not an unworldly idealist. But I will always focus my attention on the good, in spite of everything."

If you always want to see the good in people, are you sometimes disappointed?

"Yes, of course. I'm not a naive brat, I've learned to guard my boundaries. I can't please everyone all the time, and I don't let anyone rush me. I react badly when people put pressure on me because they want things from me. The perception of me that others have of me, I can't control. I don't let myself put out of balance easily anymore."

I saw that on your Instagram Stories you warned about fake profiles on social media, of people pretending to be you. That made you visibly angry.

"Really, that makes me angry. Every day I receive screenshots from people who have been tricked by crooks who approach innocent victims with my name and my pictures. There are stories of fans who have paid thousands of euros because they were promised a meet-and-greet with me. How disgusting is that? One person has transferred 14,000 euros to someone who pretended to be my manager.

"Of course, that raises questions about how gullible some people can be. But I've seen those chat conversations for myself: those criminals are terribly sneaky. They know how to play on the vulnerabilities of their victims in a very cunning way. This is manipulation and swindle of the filthiest kind.

"Really, I get physically unwell when I think about it. How can someone be so mean? If I ever catch these guys, I'm gonna bash their skulls in, I'm not kidding. Sorry."

Or: those crooks get a jail sentence, where you're going to give them acting lessons.

(laughs) "Okay, let it be clear that I think everyone should be punished for their crimes. My commitment to the prison system is not a plea for impunity, and I certainly don't want to romanticize crime.

"But when someone abuses innocent people's trust in such a cunning way, the question is: how did you derail so morally? And above all: how can we initiate a transformation in that person? Surely you can't lock someone up and expect that person to suddenly make better choices years later? First such a person has to take responsibility for his own actions."

Do you have something criminal on your conscience?

"No." (Thinks for a second) "No. Thank God. I couldn't live with that.

"I've probably hurt people in my life, like everybody else. Sometimes we just hurt people because of who we are, or because we can't fulfill what others want from us. But I have never harmed anyone consciously or criminally, no."

As a teenager you sometimes came into contact with the juvenile court, for vandalism. Do you think you could have ended up on the other side of the bars?

"Probably, a life can take strange turns sometimes."

What made you sit here today, and not get on the 'wrong' path?

"Wait... that's a good question. There's the one terrible dramatic event that caused a total turnaround in my life: when my dad went into a coma after a psychosis, and I was told he only had 24 hours left to live.

"I was 21 then, thrown out of school for the umpteenth time. I was doing graffiti and wanted to find my way creatively. But I was messing around, going with friends who... Anyway, there was latent danger, it threatened to go a little bit the wrong way.

"And then I got that phone call: come and say goodbye. Bam. The relationship with my father had been sour for years, we hardly saw each other. Until I stood there at his deathbed in intensive care... I only felt love, a wave of emotions that I had pushed down very deeply. That realization was rock-hard: this was it. My father and I will never get the chance to figure shit out, I thought.

"Long story, the rest is known: after 72 hours my father woke up from a coma against all odds. Like a plant: he could not speak, reacted to nothing or nobody. According to the chief psychiatrist, we had to accept that his condition would never improve. That was without the fighting spirit of my mother and me.

"It's because of that unlikely event that I've changed my whole lifestyle. For eight months, my mother and I went to visit my father every day. We talked to him, but he seemed to look straight through us. For hours we sat with him at the psychiatry department of Stuivenberg, how desperate those first months were also. We continued to fight, taught him to talk, to eat, to walk. A miracle, the doctors called it. Bullshit of course. It was love, dedication and stubbornness. Especially thanks to my mother, the lioness who kept fighting for him. And see how much beauty came out of it. My life then received an entirely different impulse.

"I suddenly think of an anecdote I've never told before. After a while we were allowed to take my father to the cafeteria once in a while, or to the garden. But he was absolutely not allowed to leave the hospital. Fuck it. I hid a bag of clothes for him, secretly dressed him in the toilet and took my father to the city. By bus, because I didn't have a driver's license. I wanted to stimulate his senses, test if any memories would come back. He was fond of Our Lady's Cathedral, so that's where I wanted to take him."

Matthiaske, why am I crying?

He plays it out. The written version here is only a dead script compared to the lived-through performance, right there on that dark square, just around the corner of the Arenbergschouwburg, where Matthias made his stage debut as a 9-year-old boy next to father Julien, as The Little Prince.

Matthias shows how he supported his frail dad, and how they shuffled in small, careful steps towards the cathedral. Dad looking at the ground to be sure not to fall. "I say, 'Dad, look up'. He looks up, and I see the tears rolling down his cheeks. I had never seen my father cry. 'Matthiaske,' he says, 'can you tell me why I'm crying?'

"I had already decided then that I would take my father into my house. Overconfident, yes, at that age, but they have become the most beautiful years of my life. Mom came by every day to help. Suddenly we were a bit of a family again, something we had only been for a short time when I was young."

It was at that time that you decided to become an actor. Why did you decide to become an actor?

"I had always resisted following in my father's footsteps. In my youth I mainly wanted to break away from my father, and seek my own path. I didn't want to have anything to do with him and all those loudmouths around him in the theater world. But most of all I was terrified that compared to the great Julien Schoenaerts I would never be good enough.

"Only now do I understand why I then decided to go to the conservatory. Not to become an actor, but to understand my father. We had so many years together, and now that we had been given a second chance, I wanted to get to know him as well as possible. By acting, maybe I could get closer to him." (pauses)

Sentimental fuss

He banishes the tears. It's one of the many things he has in common with his father, he says: they're both very emotional, but they hate sentimental fuss. "Come on, Matthias: breathe," he commands himself.

"Voilà, see how much beauty can come out of misery. What a chain of beautiful things came out of the fight my mother and I put up in the most hopeless situation. Who knows how differently my life would have turned out?"

"There are so many lessons in that. If we just talked about the rehabilitation of detainees, for example. It takes commitment. Not a workshop of two hours. You have to persevere, even in the event of a setback, with no guarantee of a happy ending. That's why I think it's so important to keep telling that story about my dad. Those are the values I believe in: dedication, stamina, attention, love. You can apply that to everything in life. Love is the fuel."

You often talk about your parents as if you want to keep them alive with your words.

"Because my mom and dad are the people I've loved most. With them I shared the most important moments, built the most beautiful memories. That loss is enormous. Life has been really fucking tough since they've been gone.

"That's what grabs me so much in this period. How many people have died of corona in Belgium?"

According to Google, today, on the day of the interview, the counter stands at almost 14,000 deaths.

"Fourteen thousand! Imagine how many people that has an impact on? How many people have suddenly lost their mother, father, brother, sister, best friend or neighbor? Behind those figures lie tens of thousands of poignant stories, of people who see a loved one torn from their lives. That is a mountain of unresolved grief, and far too little attention is paid to it."

Earlier during our conversation a guy had walked past coughing and maskless. It pissed Schoenaerts off: "And whining about masks or strict measures. Grow some fucking balls. Having to say goodbye to a loved one, that's the worst thing."

"Isn't that what this period teaches us? That our time here is limited? And what really counts in life: sharing moments of beauty with the people you hold most dear. All the rest is wallpaper. Having success, making movies, that's all fun. But the day you lie on your deathbed, you really don't think about the professional successes on your resume. No way."

[serpentinesarang]

Familiar

pairing: chan (bang chan) x gender-neutral reader

genre: no smut, married!au, emotionally heavy, lots of plot build-up/context description, slow burn, fluff at the end, second-person POV

word count: 2098

content warnings: themes of death, depression/grieving, lack of eating, swearing; this is a SERIOUS piece that may make you cry. please proceed with caution and take a mental breather after. 

summary: your husband chan died a year ago, and life hasn’t been the same until you meet a peculiar stray dog whom you decide to keep.

a/n: partly inspired by the netflix anime film “a whisker away.” hint hint: australian dingo...

korean key:

⦿ sasaengpaen (사생팬) = crazy spy-like super fans, sasaeng for short; pronounced “sah-seng”

⦿ annyeong (안녕) = multipurpose word that translates to hi/bye and no; in this story, it’s used in the hi/bye sense. pronounced “on-yawng”

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Preface

It happened a year ago. The crash. The sasaengs. The coma. The stroke. The doctors’ denial of life support. The funeral.

Your husband Chan had died tragically after a catastrophic car accident outside the JYPE building in Seoul when a group of sasaengs tried to take control of an already chaotic situation on the street. Chan had been rushed to the hospital, so bloodied and so internally fractured that he immediately fell comatose and incidentally suffered a stroke due to the bodily trauma. 

You’d begged with all your might for the doctors to put him on life support, but they refused, saying he’d be vegetative for the rest of your life. They even sent an insurance liason up to Chan’s ICU suite to speak with you about having to pay for his life support as long as you continued to live, and you were just so beaten down by all the hospital staff that you agreed to release his body to the funeral home his parents had flown in to coordinate with.

And you were destroyed. 

Your employer had given you three months’ bereavement, but you still couldn’t bear to go to work for four more months. You slept 12 hours on Chan’s side of the bed every night and only wore his clothes during those four months of intermittent crying. After you used up the remaining sick days and paid time off you’d accrued over the years, your manager finally terminated you for missing too much. The next two months were spent on the couch with no appetite and inconsistent sleep, the good memories of Chan continually flooding back to you at random times. 

This was when you’d decided it was time to get your shit together because the scale declared you 15 lbs [7 kg] lighter; the circles under your eyes scared you each time you dared to glance in a mirror; and your phone’s mailbox had filled to its limit with messages from anyone and everyone offering their condolences for your loss. So three months passed, and you were able to gain back most of your weight, sleep more consistently, and clean out your social media.

Those last three months were the cleansing your soul so desperately needed, and for the first time since the incident, you were starting to feel a level of normalcy again. You’d even pushed yourself to get back into the workforce, and thankfully, this new employer didn’t cause a scene about your 11-month gap in job history. 

The dominoes were falling back into place. Sadly, you’d felt compelled at one point to ghost the rest of Stray Kids because it was just too painful for you to act like you could handle yourself around them. Out of worry and compassion, they all individually sent you messages here and there, but you told yourself maybe in the future. After all, your life had disintegrated to less than dust, so you were your priority moving forward.

Now

Your phone’s alarm wakes you to another dreary November day. It’s a snippet of an audio message he’d left you long, long ago when he was away for a tour. “Good morning to you, [Mr./Mrs.] Bang, my beautiful angel. I’m thinking of you as always. Text me when you get this. Love you, honey.”

November 25th, to be exact: the one-year anniversary of Chan’s death.

You sigh, whispering to the ceiling, “I love you too, baby.”

You pick yourself up, go through all the usual motions, and head to work in the morning snow, trying to keep your mind as numb as you’ve been recently feeling. Perhaps you’ll do a little something once you return home, you resolve.

The workday passes; the snow continues blanketing the city; and nothing really good or bad has happened in the meantime.

You step off the elevator onto your floor of the apartment building. You’re freezing from the windchill, mindlessly deleting spam email on your phone while trudging in your heavy boots to your door.

Once you reach your unit, something at the edge of your eyesight causes you to freeze. You take in the sight before you: a large, tan and white dog lying on your welcome mat with its front paws extended toward you. Its deep brown eyes stare right into yours, and you feel all the air in your lungs disappear.

“A-annyeong,” you murmur softly, pocketing your phone. 

The dog blinks in response, not moving his gaze.

You crouch down in front of the dog slowly, trying not to spook it. “Are you lost, sweetie?”

The dog emits a barely audible whimper, and you can’t tell if it’s sad or relieved to have been found. It’s not wearing a collar, and its abundant fur looks clean, like an inside pet.

Feeling conflicted, you purse your lips. “You must be... I’ll tell you what: you be good and stay here for me, okay?”

The dog exhales sharply before closing its eyes.

Wow, well trained pupper, you think to yourself as you rise. You spend the next five minutes ringing the entire floor’s doorbells, even banging on the doors of the units that didn’t respond to the bell. Each and every neighbor of yours denies owning a dog that looks like a Shiba Inu, and they all claim to not know anyone else who might have one.

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath after the last person closes their door.

Returning back to your unit, you find the dog hasn’t moved an inch, but it must recognize your presence because its eyes fly open, and its head shoots up toward you.

“I guess you’re mine for now,” you address it. You enter your passcode and push the door open, pointing expectantly with an approving facial expression for the dog to understand it’s okay to go in.

And it happily trots inside, sniffing around the entryway while you shuck off your boots, parka, and other winter layers. 

The dog seems to be waiting for you to finish because, once you turn toward it, it immediately turns around and saunters to the bedroom on the far end of the apartment. You keep up at its side and determine with a friendly visual inspection that this dog is a boy.

Approaching Chan’s old side of the mattress, he turns back to you and sits down in front of the nightstand, digging his eyes into yours once more.

Your brow furrows as you try to piece together what’s happening. “What? What’s up, sweetie?”

The dog replies with a heartwrenching whimper, angling his snout forward as if asking for you.

You pad closer and sit on the backs of your legs. “Will you let me touch you?” you ask him softly, raising a hand for him to sniff.

Oddly, he straight up disregards your hand and leans forward to lick your chin.

“Awww,” you gush at his sudden affection. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” You stroke the top of his tan head, and again, the poor thing whimpers while leaning into your touch.

You scratch at the bases of his ears before cupping his jowls in your hands. “You’re such a sweet boy, you know that?”

The dog blinks rapidly, pushing forward again to gently lick at your unsuspecting lips this time.

Giggling and stroking his front shoulder areas, you say, “Ohh, thank you, thank you. I haven’t been kissed in a year, so I appreciate that, sweet boy.”

A moment passes, but you have to do a double-take when you notice the thick stream of fluid cascading from his shiny eyes.

You gasp. “Oh nooo, are you crying?” With your thumbs, you carefully wipe away his tears. “Don’t cry, sweetie. I did enough of that for nine months straight, and I can’t have you making me sad too,” you confide with the animal, stroking his head again.

He responds by standing on all fours and pressing the top of his head to your own forehead, and you go breathless again.

He’s so human-like... so emotional... you think, raising your arms over his body and hugging him. You stay there for a solid minute before he finally pulls back and sits again.

You sigh quietly, evaluating his expression. “I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long day.” You nudge your chin up to the bed. “Wanna rest for a while?”

The dog ever so quietly barks with its snout closed, as if in acknowledgement, and he waits for you to move first. So you rise and position the pillows on Chan’s side against the wall for you to sit upright. You spread your legs in a butterfly position, and without you having to beckon or give permission, the dog hops to the corner of the bed and situates himself between your legs. You notice then that he’s eyeing something on the wall above the bed.

The professional landscape shot of Chan with his arms tightly curled around you under a peony-adorned gazebo near a lake, the day of your wedding. You were looking into each other’s eyes with the sincerest of smiles.

You turn to glance at the framed photo. “Yeah,” you sigh deeply, turning back to the dog. “That’s Channie, my husband.”

The dog picks up on your change of tone and scoots forward as close as he can get, resting his paws on your upper thighs and his snout on your stomach. His gleaming eyes practically compel you to go on.

Placing your hands on his soft back, you continue in a strained voice: “He was taken from me last year, on this day actually, November 25th. He was so badly hurt in the accident that he went into a coma and had a stroke a couple days later.”

You pause, and the dog whimpers on your stomach, his sad gaze making your throat constrict and your eyes water. 

How can a dog be so in tune with me...?

You push that question away with a sigh and bring a hand to rest on his head. “I never left the hospital. The nurses had to kick me out of his room when he passed. And I cried my eyes out for almost a year.” 

Your eyes drift off, glancing at the ceiling and the walls while remembering your grieving process. “So now I sleep on his side of the bed... I wear only his clothes at home... and I shower with the same things he always did. He’s always with me, even when I’m not wearing my ring.”

Tears have started falling onto your cheeks, and you look back down at the quiet dog to find him crying again as well, his glassy eyes still intently watching you.

An uncontrolled sob escapes your lips before you mash them together, trying to keep it together.

“I love him so much,” you throw your head back against the wall. “I love him so, so fucking much,” you whisper, the hot tears falling faster now.

You hear the dog whine rather loudly, so you focus on him again as he raises his head. “He was my person, and now I have no one,” you blubber, using your hands to angrily wipe away the tears.

The dog replies with a seemingly uncharacteristic growl, its eyes still very soft in contrast.

“Okay, okay, now I have you,” you concede, catching your breath. “I don’t know where your parents are, and I’ve been alone for too long.” You pause, almost unwilling to continue. “Will you stay with me, sweet boy?”

He barks out a high-pitched yelp, spastically moving his paws against you so they’re digging into your abdomen now.

Cheered up by the dog’s responsive expressions of emotion, you burst into a brief laugh and scratch the underside of his snout. “You remind me of him, you know. Soft hair, gorgeous brown eyes, super caring.”

Again, he whimpers, very quietly this time. You tenderly kiss his moist nose. “I’ll call you Chris... because only I was allowed to call him that.”

Chris responds by licking your lips again.

Your random gasp makes him jump a little. “Oh my gosh, I bet you’re hungry or thirsty!” You try shifting on the bed, but Chris’s weight holds you firmly. “Do you want food?”

Chris lowers his snout, resting it on your chest now. He doesn’t make any noises, but you can guess what he means by this.

“Okay, Chris, I gotcha. We’ll stay here and eat when you’re ready,” you promise as you smooth his pointed ears backward.

...

I found them... if only they knew it’s me... I’m Channie, and I’m still yours, honey. 

[gothighunicorntolerance]

Planet Earth is blue

In a sudden urge of spontaneity, Logan joins a crew of aliens

AO3

Two

Logan looked down at the black water below him. It would be so easy. Just put his feet on the other side of the railing. Then push off. Just a moment of falling before he hit the water. It would be a far enough drop that he would likely die on impact. Then he might finally be able to relax in his last moments of free fall. He had no one- no family who cared about him, no friends to speak of. Not since he’d been outed, anyways. 

    There was nothing for him, so why couldn’t he do it? Just step over the railing, that was all he had to do to end it. Maybe it was the weight of his backpack holding him on the safer side of the bridge, on the empty stretch of road, filled with everything he owned- his phone, a change of clothes, his favorite book, and a wad of cash, decorated with a single pride pin.

    Logan kept staring into the water. What he was looking for, he didn’t know. Maybe a sign? But if it was a sign he was looking for, he found it.

    A flashing light reflected off the water below, and Logan looked up, startled. There was… something moving across the sky. Logan was no pilot or professional astronomer, but he knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t a plane or star. It looked like a bright disk, and it was getting closer. Logan stepped away from the railing- he didn’t want to have to explain himself if someone saw. 

    Suddenly the light came to a stop above him, and it began to descend, growing brighter. Logan shielded his eyes as the thing came down on the bridge. What was that thing? 

    He took a step back as the glowing faded, and Logan could make out what looked like to be some kind of- a spacecraft? 

    If Logan had been in his right mind (which he definitely was not, considering what he had been through in the past twenty four hours), he might have fished his phone out of his pocket and called someone, maybe the emergency services number, or at least started recording what was happening. But Logan was absolutely not in his right mind, so instead he just watched open-mouthed as the side of the ship began to open and a humanoid figure stepped out. 

    Well, Logan said humanoid, because he had no idea who- or what- he was actually looking at. There were four limbs and a head, he knew, but past that? 

    There were eight tentacle-like appendages sprouting for its- their? Back, each moving independently. Another figure stepped out of the craft with the same limb arrangement as the first figure- four limbs, a head, and tentacles. 

    They looked at each other and spoke in a language Logan had never heard before, and then looked around the bridge. 

    Logan shrunk back as the two creatures looked directly at him, and though it could have been his imagination, Logan swore the two of them let out a scream, though Logan heard mangled grunts. 

    Their shouts must have alerted whatever else was in that ship, as two more figures spilled out onto the roadway in front of Logan. 

    This time, it was Logan who screamed. 

    The tallest figure ran towards Logan, all six of its arms outstretched. 

    Wait- six? Logan didn’t have time to marvel at the biological diversity that had landed on earth before the shortest thing to come out of the ship said something in a croaking language, reminiscent of a frog, and the six-armed man-person-alien-thing skidded to a halt right in front of Logan and responded with a series of hisses, looking back and forth between Logan and the not-quite-humans still standing by the ship. 

    The shortest one began to move towards Logan, and it seemed like they not only had a language like a frog- they looked like one, too, albeit one that stood on two legs, wore clothing, and had glasses. The frog-person reached a webbed hand to grab Six-Arms and pull him back.

    But Logan was quicker, and grabbed Frog-Person (an easy task, despite Logan having never been athletic at all, considering Frog-Person weighed about as much as a regular earth frog. 

    Logan, still being in his not-right mind, did something that Right Minded Logan would have never even considered: he did something impulsive. 

    “Take me with you,” Logan said, his grip still around Frog-Person. He had no idea if Six-Arms or any of the Tentacle-Men could understand him, but Logan believed his point had gotten across the language barrier, as Frog-Person looked at Six-Arms who looked at Tentacles One and Two, who looked at each other and shrugged. 

    Six-Arms reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a metal device that looked similar to a hearing aid, and handed it to Logan. 

    He looked hesitantly at the device before putting Frog-Person down and sticking the thing in his ear. If he died, he died. 

    As the thing settled into his ear, it felt for a split second as if Logan had a bucket of water dumped over his head before the sensation faded, and he found he could now understand Six-Arms.

    “That was incredibly rude, you know,” Six-Arms said, frowning (did non-human things frown?). “Despite what I tell him, I actually enjoy having Patton around.”

    “You speak English?” Logan asked, suddenly not nearly as afraid as he had been. 

    “Yes, I took English immersion class in an earth school,” Six-Arms rolled his eyes, which Logan now noticed were two different colors with slit pupils. “No, this is a translator. It knows what language you speak, and then it translates mine into yours, so you can understand me.”

    “Oh. What is your language, then?” 

    “Your language, English you called it? Doesn’t have a word for it. So to you, it would sound like hissing.”

    Logan nodded. “My name is Logan, and I want to come with you.”

    “Right to the point? I’ll have to converse with my, ah, crew. Crew?” Six-Arms turned to look at the other aliens (that was what they were, right?) who, after a moment of looking at each other, shrugged and nodded. 

    “Alright!” Six-Arms clapped. “Welcome aboard the Silver Serpent!” Six-Arms put two of his arms on Logan’s back and led him to the ramp from the road to the ship’s doorway. “Everyone, this is Logan. Introduce yourselves.”

    The ones with tentacles- which now in the light, Logan could see they were green and red, and the red ones were more like elephant trunks- both waved (Logan noticed they had seven fingers on each hand). 

    “Roman,” the red one said.

    “That’s my brother. I’m Remus,” the green one smiled. 

    “Hello! I’m Patton,” Frog-Person held out a webbed hand for Logan to shake. 

    “Greetings, Patton. I, ah, apologize about earlier,” Logan said with a sheepish blush. 

“Oh, no worries! It was quite a sudden meeting!” Patton’s laugh sounded like the frog that had constantly croaked outside Logan’s window crossed with a warbling of a bird. An odd sound, but somehow pleasant. 

“And I am Janus, captain of the Silver Serpent.”

So Six-Arms had a name! Three of Janus’s hands helped Logan up the ramp, and it was only then that Logan realized that in addition to six arms, Janus had a long scaly tail the same color as the scales spread across his face. “I’ve never had a human on my crew, so I hope everything is sufficient for you. Though if you need more oxygen on the ship, just tell Virgil, he’ll fix it.”

“Virgil? Who’s that?” Logan asked, though as soon as he set foot on the ship he got his answer. At first glance, it seemed like a tall human sat in a chair at the front, though it became clear that instead of two human legs, there instead sprouted eight spider-like limbs from Virgil’s torso. 

“This is Virgil,” Janus said. “Virgil, have you met our newest crew member Logan?”

“Hi, Logan,” Virgil said, blinking all eight of his pitch black eyes.

“Hello,” Logan waved nervously. Virgil just gave a fanged grin in response and turned back around to whatever he was doing at the front of the ship. 

Logan looked around the ship in awe. The inside was much bigger than it looked, and Logan briefly wondered if Doctor Who technology had actually happened on different planets. The front of the ship where Virgil sat had eight large chairs facing the same direction out the window, and looking to his left, Logan could see what looked like living quarters. 

Janus led him down that way while Roman, Remus, and Patton went to sit with Virgil. 

“Do humans sleep? Is that a thing? If so, I hope what we have here is sufficient for you,” Janus opened a door with one of his hany hands and with another hand gestured around. It wasn’t large, but it definitely beat what Logan had in his too small apartment that likely did not come close to meeting OSHA standards. 

“Yes, humans sleep,” Logan found himself thinking about how other species got rest- or did they even need it? 

In the corner of the room there was furniture reminiscent of a bed and nightstand, though the ‘mattress’ was definitely not made of cotton, and the nightstand was yet another foregin material. The floor didn’t look or feel carpeted, but it was even softer than any rug Logan could buy.

“This is- this is perfect. Thank you, Janus.” Logan walked over to the bed and set his bag on the floor. 

Janus nodded, “I will let you rest and adjust. I believe there are very few humans in space. In fact, you might be one of the only ones. So get some sleep, and when you’re ready, the cafeteria is down the hall.”

Logan nodded and sat on the bed, almost sinking down into it. Whatever it was made of, it was the softest thing Logan had ever slept on. He fell almost immediately into a dreamless sleep, staying awake only long enough to place his glasses on the nightstand. 

When he woke, he found that he had gotten the most rest he had in awhile. Putting his glasses on and tiptoeing over to the door, Logan pressed an ear to the cold metal, listening for the others on the ship. They had seemed nice, but now that Logan was in space- actually in space!!- he wanted to stay alive to see as much as he could. Satisfied that there was no shouting or whatever other unpleasant noises aliens made, he opened the door and followed directions to where Janus had said the cafeteria would be. 

Sure enough, all five other crew mates sat at an oddly shaped table, eating… something.

It looked like a cross between oatmeal and toast, neither of which Logan found particularly appetizing (unless the toast had jelly on it, of course), yet the smell was somewhat nice. 

The aliens (should Logan keep referring to them as that? He was, after all, in space, so it was really him that was the alien, wasn’t it?) looked up from their meal and greeted him. 

“Logan! Hi!” Patton waved. 

“Logan. How did you sleep?” Janus stood.

“Very well, thank you,” Logan replied, now realizing that his hair must look like a mess and hastily trying to tame his bed head. 

“Here,” Janus handed Logan a bowl of the foodstuff with a spoon with his middle left arm, which Logan accepted hesitantly. “I know it doesn’t look great, but trust me. You’ll be fine. I don’t know what it will taste like to you, but I do know that it’s very nutritious.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows as he sat down. “Alright,” Logan picked up the spoon and took a bite. 

Eyes widening, he realized that it tasted exactly like strawberry Crofter’s.

“Woah,” Logan looked at Janus. “What is this?”

Janus chuckled. “Would you like the simple version or the scientific one?”

“Scientific, please.” 

“Well, it’s a dehydrated compound of vegetation native to a planet in the Andromeda galaxy, specifically engineered to taste like whatever you find most pleasant, as well as being high in nutrients, which makes it ideal for long journeys.”

Logan nodded, taking another bite. “So...where is it, exactly, that we’re going?”

“Well!” Janus clapped all six of his hands together. “That’s what we were discussing. So, ah, Logan, I probably should have briefed you on this before we left your planet, but you see, we aren’t exactly the most, shall we say, legal group of travelers.”

“So- so you’re space criminals?”

“More or less,” Janus gestured. 

Logan thought for a minute. “Alright then.”

“Is that it? “Alright then?””

“Well, I will finally be fulfilling the popular slang saying of ‘be gay, do crime,’ so yes. Alright then. Although, I am curious. What are the laws in space? How do you break them? What are the punishments? What kind of crimes do you all commit? Tax fraud? Embezzlement? Murder? Or- does tax fraud even exist outside of earth? Are there even taxes in space?”

“Well, you seem very excited about the prospect of crime, which is a little surprising, but-”

Janus was cut off by Remus jumping up on the table and pointing to Logan. “I like this one!”

Patton, Roman, and Virgil nodded in agreement. 

“Well, Logan,” Patton grinned. “You know why we only steal donuts?”

“What?”

“Because the case is full of holes.”

“Oh my gosh,” Logan groaned. “I am genuinely asking what kind of crimes I’m getting into. Janus, what kind of crime?”

“Smuggling, mostly,” Janus put a hand up to stop another pun from Patton. “There are a bunch of laws about what you can have and how you can get it, so we tend to… shall we say, help people bypass paperwork.”

Logan nodded. “As long as there’s nothing on here that will kill me, I am absolutely for it. Governments are shit, quite honestly.”

The members of the Silver Serpent nodded in agreement as they finished their food. 

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” Janus stood up and offered a hand to Logan. 

Janus showed him the engine room, the navigation center, the sleeping quarters, and the medical bay, though any hidden doorways or false floors were carefully avoided. “A need to know basis,” Janus explained. 

It took a few days of being on the ship for Logan to really understand where he was. Space! With aliens!

One of his big fantasies as a child was going to the moon, but now? Now, he had not only seen the moon’s craters out the window, but he was also outside of his galaxy. He was away from earth, away from his parents, away from all the problems he had on earth of unemployment and poverty and homophobia and transphobia. 

But here on the ship? The only problems he had were the loud clacking of Virgil’s spider-y legs on the hard metal floor or the slime secreted off Remus’s tentacle appendages. These minor inconveniences were a huge step up from earth. 

[m39]

Doom WADs’ Roulette (1997): Hell Revealed

In the fourth map called The Garden Terminal, at one point, you telefrag the first Baron of Hell of this WAD.

Let this picture be a warning for all of you, of what’s coming. The last call, to turn back from the suffering and insanity that is…

#7: Hell Revealed

Main author(s): Yonatan Donner and Haggay Niv

Release date: May 2nd, 1997

Version(s) played: ?!?!?!

Levels: 32 (standard 30 + 2)

Hell Revealed. The ball crusher. The nightmare incarnate. The fiendish creation that would make Hitler kill himself again like dozens of times if he saw who made this (which is a good thing if you think about it.) Why am I talking like this about the WAD you may ask?

Well, it’s because I played it years ago. It was one of the first custom WADs I’ve ever played if not THE first. I saw Decino’s playlists of this WAD and thought: Why not? I’d downloaded it, I played it… and I got my ass handed to the modern (by that time), Israeli mayhem. I was still a noob back then, I didn’t properly know how to use weapons at 100% efficiency, about in-fighting, proper circle-strafing, etc. I didn’t even finish it. I managed to pass through Afterlife and then I just gave up… or forgot about it, and didn’t want to return. Even today I feel dread thinking about playing it again. Post Mortem can traumatize men like me. But I am not the same, naïve, little twat I was before. I got some experience after playing the earlier, reviewed WADs, and I’m confident that I’ll beat this WAD…

Twice…

gulp

Maybe let’s start with the story, okay?

So the story is that you end up as a guinea pig for two WAD nutcases (who might be the actual WAD’s creators). Your task is to find out what the fuck you are supposed to do and send the complaint letter after escaping through this shithole (I wouldn’t be surprised if it was just a drawing of a middle finger).

Rarely do I speak out my opinion about the plot in WADs since I know they are just the excuse for the incoming mayhem. In this case, while still an excuse, the story here is very self-aware of itself, even insulting you for wanting more of it. It’s kinda funny, and I like where it was all going. It would be better if the intermission texts were also changed but I’ll give the makers the pass. I mean, come on, they were teens when they published Hell Revealed. I’m serious, take a look at the fragment of this comment under MtPain27’s Dean of Doom of this WAD:

At first, Hell Revealed won’t look that interesting. It will look like yet another generic, Vanilla WAD most of the time in the first eleven maps. After that, however, it only gets better. Sure, the maps look simple but there is something enchanting in their simplicity and scale sometimes. And I can see why it was made like this. This WAD cares more about combat rather than how it looks. Some of the maps like City in the Clouds, Hard Attack, and especially Afterlife, leave the feeling and thinking on what the creators would have done if they were still making WADs to this day.

If some of you are wondering why the first eleven maps look worse than the rest is because they (minus MAP01) were released almost a year before the full release, on June 24th, ’96.

If you played Hell Revealed, you know that it uses music from Rise of the Triad. And yes, it’s fucking amazing. Asides from Going Down the Fast Way (which is the only choice to be on the top), my favorite tracks were Run Like Smeg, Havana Smooth and I Choose the Stairs to name a few from the roster that was available in this WAD.

Another fun fact: The tracks Oww! and How'd I Do? does not translate through the MIDI conversion correctly because of the usage of pitch bend effects from what I’ve gathered.

The levels are easy to understand most of the time. They are either small or large but surprisingly, when there is no monsters option enabled, it’s really fast to finish them. Some of them try to end up differently than going from point A to point B. Some are more unlinear than others. Some of them can be tiring like the secret levels (slow-ass moving elevator in The Descent and waiting to die at the very end of Mostly Harmful).

The final level is meh. Yet another Icon of Sin finale but with a shit-ton of monsters and the wall shitting out four cubes instead of one. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy… -_-

Now here is something interesting. At the very beginning of Everything Dies, you are trapped with Pain Elementals (three on Hurt Me Plenty) but they can’t spawn Lost Souls. That’s because of a Lost Souls limit coded in the original Doom, where their amount cannot be higher than 21 or else Pain Elementals won’t be spawning them. In this case, the meatballs won’t do shit unless you grab the Megasphere in the middle of the room  There is something relaxing in punching them to death. Or using Chainsaw.

Okay, let’s change the subject. I think you already know that Hell Revealed’s difficulty is legendary hard. If there are people who say Plutonia is the hardest, tie them into a chair, and make them play this WAD on Ultra-Violence. When they are done, ask them about Plutonia again.

…

Okay, maybe better not do tha-

Now look, even on Hurt Me Plenty, this WAD kicks major ass. It kicked my ass many times on my two full playthroughs even after all of the experience I gained, especially on the second one surprisingly (probably bad luck) but I would be lying if I didn’t say that I had easier than that first time years ago. Playing this WAD, you have to remember a few things:

1) Kill a group of mid to high-tier enemies with the Rocket Launcher, finish individuals with Super Shotgun.

2) Stack up plasma for Cyberdemons. Hit them with five BFG blasts if you have the weapon. Finish them off with other weapons if they are still standing.

3) Remember, that you don’t have to kill all enemies on a map.

It feels to me that the makers' love towards Barons of Hell is closer to a fact rather than a thought. I’ve counted them, believe it or not, and it seems that there are almost 450 Barons on Hurt Me Plenty. What’s that? You think that’s bad? Well, on Ultra-Violence, from what I’ve found, the sheer number of Barons goes up to 592!

FfffffffffffffffFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK!!!

The opinion on these slabs of meat might differentiate depending on what skill level you will play and if you decide to Pistol Start every map. In my case, I was playing on Hurt Me Plenty (of course) without Pistol Starting, so it didn’t feel so sluggish killing Barons. On the other hand, though, I think it would be better if there were more Hell Knights than Barons to somewhat make the pace better.

If I had to choose which map is the hardest it would probably be Post Mortem. The sheer brutality of the beginning with Revenants, following by Mancubi respawning from the platforms, to the fucking Pain Elementals throwing all of your logic out of the window, not to mention how it’s all high platforms with hurtful blood at the bottom. Even the creator says it’s the hardest one.

As for the rest of the very tough maps, I would go with Resistance is Futile, Ascending to the Stars (50% for the wrong reasons), both Secret maps (Mostly Harmful especially), and Afterlife (that bloody marble arena). The rest of the maps after the first third of a WAD were hard but manageable.

You know what’s the funniest thing about Hell Revealed? Ignoring MAP30, the rest of the maps after Afterlife were easy compared to the barrage I’ve encountered before. AND I ENDED MY FIRST-EVER PLAYTHROUGH WHEN I REACHED CYBERPUNK!!

It would be funnier if it didn’t piss me off.

Now here is something interesting about the bugs in Hell Revealed. Afterlife purposefully uses the ghost monsters bug in one of the cases where hidden Arch-Viles resurrect carcasses in the hub area to make the already insanely hard map even harder. For some reason though, unfortunately (or rather in my case, fortunately), it didn’t happen, and I had this bug enabled. What’s even weirder is that it actually happened at my very first playthrough… I don’t even know anymore.

Coming back to Post Mortem, if you play this level on Ultra-Violence in the Vanilla version of Doom, you won’t be able to save because of the map being too fucking big. I feel sorry for the schmucks who played this WAD in 1997.

Do not be fooled by Hell Revealed. It may start pretty normal, but before you will notice, it will kick you in the nards and will keep doing it until you finish it. If you are however eager to play it, do me a favor, and don’t Pistol Start every map on Ultra-Violence. It will leave you traumatized. Finishing this WAD on Hurt Me Plenty will still make you feel proud. I think I felt some pride after going through this hell twice.

Will I ever return to this WAD? Oh, hell no! Twice is enough, and I don’t want to go through it again (at least for a very long time).

Before I’ll finish this review, I would like to recommend Decino’s let’s play on this WAD which kickstarted his carrier (the mad man actually did the thing and then some).

Secondly, there is the previously mentioned Dean of Doom review of this WAD where he did the same.

Phew

That was the last MegaWAD from ’97, and the toughest one I might add. Things can only get easier after that.

See you all next time.

Bye.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: Roman x His Mystery Boyfriend, Romantic Andy x Pryce, Intrulogical (Remus x Logan)

Word Count: 1,878 Words

Summary: Snakes, Deceit in the hospital yet again, and Roman being touch starved as usual.

Warnings: Sex Mentions, Cursing, Snake Mention, Cancer Mention, Sick Character, Immunocompromised Character, Food Mention, Death Mention, Touch Starved Character, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Note: Bolded and blockquoted are actions in their chatroom, not a message.

Usernames, a quick translation guide: Andy: Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero), Castor: schrodingersdumbass, Dayd: carniverousroomba, Dice: Dr. Bitch, Emile: Thera-pissed, Halley: aspermylastemail, Janus: SnekBoi, Logan: Momgan, October: eatpavementido, Orion: birdgeoisie, Patton: Papa Bear, Pollux: satantakemehome, Pryce: SwEeTvErUcA, Remus: Octopussy, Remy: Coffee Bandit, Roman: waaahluigi, Sirius: literalsunshine, Teal: uwu, Thomas: shrexy, Virgil: spipples, Vita: þiccness

A Very Sanders Group Chat: Chapter 8

1:17PM

SnekBoi: Inny, did you feed my snakes?

Octopussy: I did.

SnekBoi: Oh good, I was worried about Ceres. She's only taken her food from me before.

shrexy: Ceres?

Octopussy: baby Burmese Python Dee just got.

SnekBoi: And I have more snakes that will be laying soon.

Thera-pissed has kicked SnekBoi from the chat

Thera-pissed: Seriously, Inny, is he okay? He looks really pale.

Octopussy: well, he's in observation so, obviously, no. he's pretty much running himself down again. he said he plans to reopen his studio again on the fourteenth against me and Dice's medical advice. he's currently digging his hole and he's going to have to work his way out of it when he finally crashes again.

Thera-pissed: Well, how deep in the hole is he?

Dr. Bitch: Currently, he's at least twenty pounds underweight even though he's eating like he should, he's just burning it off by straining himself so much. He had at least two nosebleeds while he was hospitalized last night so it's inevitable that he'll have to do the induction again because it's just not working.

Octopussy: plus, this morning he couldn't open a tupperware I brought him, so I'd say he's pretty much back at the beginning again.

Dr. Bitch: You didn't tell me that you brought him extra food.

Octopussy: he said he'd tell you.

Dr. Bitch: So he's lying between us now.

Octopussy: maybe trying to make himself stronger by lying to people he's connected to emotionally?

Dr. Bitch: Maybe.

Octopussy: if he gets any better, maybe that's the point of his lying right now but just keep eyes on him so his lying can't backfire on him.

Dr. Bitch: I always have a nurse near his room. He's too dangerous left alone for too long.

Octopussy: I have to get back to work, Alice came in with Hannah and Hannah needs her fur de-matted again and if I make Riley deal with her for too long, he'll scream in the break room later.

Dr. Bitch: I wish you could just take the animal from the owners that don't care about them.

Octopussy: I'm not getting fired to rescue dogs, Dicey.

Octopussy: plus you have that kitten now, you can't take care of a month and a half old kitten, a dog, and your job.

Dr. Bitch: You're right and I hate you.

Octopussy: don't lie, bitch, you love me.

Dr. Bitch: Irrelevant.

Octopussy: anyway, work.

Dr. Bitch has deleted 12 messages

Dr. Bitch has added SnekBoi to the chatroom

SnekBoi: You booted me to talk about animals?

Dr. Bitch: No, we were talking about our Christmas present ideas for you and ended up talking about animals.

SnekBoi: Fine.

SnekBoi: Also, you're across the hall at the nurse's station talking to Miss Esme, I can literally see you, Dice, you could just say that to my face.

Dr. Bitch: And yet you just texted me back instead of calling over to me.

SnekBoi: Touche.

SnekBoi: Anyway, back to looking at snakes.

shrexy: Oh yeah, Dee, you breed snakes?

SnekBoi: Well, it started out an accident, actually. Me and Inny moved our rooms around last year after brumation and we put a few of my snakes that could be temporarily cohabed in bins together for a few days so we could do it and quite a number of the snakes got gravid. Roman owns a couple of the amazon tree boas, actually.

SnekBoi: This year we got a new adult garter thinking it was a boy and we only found out it was a girl when we saw Inny's garter snake locked with her and, by then she had already mated so we're just waiting now. Plus we actually decided to see what happens with our sunbeams, only because we want to at least try with them to get babies since it's so hard to get them not wild-caught.

waaahluigi: Livia and Caius are very happy by the way.

shrexy: I now want a snake.

SnekBoi: You really want me and Inny to vet you?

shrexy: Sure?

SnekBoi: Dice, can I have visitors?

Dr. Bitch: I have said this like four times each time you're in here. Only if they wear a mask and so do you.

SnekBoi: Fine. Thomas, come here and wear a mask.

shrexy: Why?

SnekBoi: Because I'm going to vet you first while Inny's working to get it out of the way and I can't leave the hospital for another six days so get in here.

shrexy: I guess I'm going in my head again.

2:40PM

SnekBoi: Trial number one is over. He passed.

waaahluigi: How!? It took me like three tries!

SnekBoi: He knows a lot about snakes, what can I say?

Momgan: Can confirm, Thomas knows quite a bit about snakes since he wanted learn if your scales were indeed slimy and he happened to fall down a rabbit hole and got extremely interested in them.

shrexy: Stop exposing my late-night rabbit hole knowledge to others, Logan.

Momgan: We all live in your head, it literally does not matter.

SnekBoi: Second trial; Inny. Someone you don't even know. Good luck.

shrexy: Yeah, I'm making him trial three, I'm buying snake stuff for trial two.

SnekBoi: Using the stuff I recommended or something else?

shrexy: Stuff you recommended.

SnekBoi: Smart man.

4:30PM

Octopussy: hey, Dee, I went home for lunch and guess what happened?

SnekBoi: No way. Baby garters? Did Venus have babies?

Octopussy: nope, neither. you remember how how we left Juno and Jupiter together earlier this year because we ran out of separators while we had to shift them from their quarantine bins to their enclosures?

SnekBoi: Tell me they didn't.

Octopussy: I think Juno's newly laid litter means they did.

SnekBoi: Well, it looks like unfortunately have baby rainbow boas.

spipples: I want one.

SnekBoi: You really want a snake? You've told us for years you didn't want to own them.

spipples: I was thinking of looking for a cute little noodle and Juno and Jupiter are just plain beautiful so their babies have to be pretty too.

SnekBoi: Reasonable, rainbow boas are pretty as hell.

Octopussy: do you even have an enclosure for a baby rainbow boa?

spipples: I already have an extra 20 gallon enclosure from getting Celeste. I got the wrong one. It was too small for Celeste so I ended up having a spare 20 gallon.

SnekBoi: Amazing, this one is the first one to already have both an enclosure and past snake experience with our babies.

spipples: Oh yeah, I've fed Minerva before.

SnekBoi: Do we even need to continue vetting him?

Octopussy: I still will, this is the first time Juno's had babies and I'm still counting.

SnekBoi: Jeez, how many are you at?

Octopussy: well, I'm doing it alone and I'm searching Juno's enclosure so I'm not even counting yet, I'm still cleaning. it has to be at least seven though.

SnekBoi: Good lord, Juno.

Octopussy: Juno cares not for your so called "lord", she will make any number of squirmy children she wants. and apparently that number was a lot. I'm already above ten.

SnekBoi: I believe it.

Octopussy: just look how pretty this bucket of large rainbowey worms are.

Octopussy: abakersdozenofrainbowboas.jpg

spipples: Wow, they're beautiful.

shrexy: Oh wow, they're so pretty!

waaahluigi: I would kill for them.

Coffee Bandit: I think they look very squirmy and cute. A+ work right there, Juno.

SnekBoi: Oh yeah, Virgil. Time for vetting. Come see me.

spipples: Wish me luck not to die.

Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero): Don't die, I'm not qualified to raise my nephews and niece.

spipples: Fair.

7:45PM

SnekBoi: I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep again. Live on without me, you feeble simpletons.

spipples: Yeah sure, jackass.

SnekBoi: Love you too, bastard.

spipples: Fair.

SnekBoi is offline

spipples: Hey, Inny, can we talk alone?

Octopussy: Nu-uh. I just got home and I'll be incriminated. Witness.

spipples: Fine, Andy, come with me.

Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero): Fiiiiiiine.

spipples, Raccoon Man (the trashiest hero), and Octopussy are now offline

shrexy: Should I be worried about them.

Dr. Bitch: Virgil seemed extremely worried about Deceit, which is seeable given Dee has declined in health quite a bit lately with his recurrence and he's not quite getting much better as of yet given he's stressing himself out more than he's helping himself get better.

shrexy: Isn't there a way to make him stop that?

Dr. Bitch: We're fortunately unfortunate that he's stubborn. His stubbornness has served well going through things like induction and maintenance but he's absolutely shit at consolidation.

shrexy: Do you think he'll be okay? He's just getting worse.

Dr. Bitch. Like I do with all my patients, I hope he'll get better but, right now, it doesn't seem like he will be unless something changes and he finally stops being so self-destructive.

shrexy: So, no?

Dr. Bitch: I don't think he will, but I don't think he'll die and he knows that. he's a part of you, he can't die, he'll just be in a lot of pain for a very long time and will likely go dormant.

shrexy: It's a relief he won't die but I don't want him to be in pain.

Dr. Bitch: Well, we don't really have a choice. We have the option of I either do my best and get him into remission again and hope it doesn't come back again or I give up on my favorite patient and let him drive himself into the ground again. And you have the option of living with him or rejecting him.

shrexy: I know.

Dr. Bitch: Now I need to work, I get to go home soon.

shrexy: Good luck, Dice!

Dr. Bitch: Yeah, yeah.

Dr. Bitch is offline

Momgan: I'm not surprised that I worked and this chat, yet again, is chaos.

Papa Bear: Yeah, it usually is chaotic while we aren't here, huh Lo?

Momgan: It is. Sometimes I'm shocked any of them have a single braincell between them.

Papa Bear: You're right! Our beloved braincell is at work, so they lose their minds.

waaahluigi: I resent that!

Momgan: We know you're chaotic because you miss us, Roman.

waaahluigi: No! I just get...

waaahluigi: ...bored stupid.

Momgan: Would you like to hug, Roman?

waaahluigi: Wait, you're offering to hug me? You? The robot?

Momgan: Well, given I am designated the group mother, I may as well give you motherly affection.

waaahluigi: I would kill to hug someone.

Momgan: Roman, are you touch starved?

waaahluigi: No! Of course not! I just like attention!

þiccness: He is. Mom refuses to admit it but he is touch starved quite frequently.

Momgan: I guess I'm staying with you then until you have had an adequate amount of touch.

waaahluigi: Hang on, gonna cry real quick because Lo's being so nice to me.

shrexy: Aw, bud! Cuddle pile on Roman time!

SwEeTvErUcA: You mean flop on my brother like he's a pancake and I'm butter? Great idea!

waaahluigi: Wait nonono!

uwu: Hey what was that bang?

waaahluigi: Ow.

uwu: Ah, two touch starved triplets. Makes sense. Carry on.

Momgan: Oh no, you're getting in on this too, Teal.

uwu: What god did I offend to be taken from doing my work like this?

Momgan: All of them.

uwu: Sounds about right, deal.

Taglist: @glaxyjellyfish @chronophobica @fear-ze-queer @imma-potatoo

[mashounen2003]

Here is the text of the video, translated into English. Seriously, check out this video, this guy is awesome.

"Conspiracy Theories" by Guille Aquino.

Posted on June 27, 2019.

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Warning: if you're influenceable, you need to watch this.

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Alright, before we start, I want us to welcome and applaud our new friends from the CIA, the FBI, NASA, the former SIDE -today, the AFI-, the KGB, Interpol, and the lazy virgins at the troll centre on Miserere Park, who are surely already watching this video because today we're gonna talk about...

Conspiracy Theories.

We all know some: the humans didn't go to the Moon, the 9/11 was a self-attack by the USA's government, Bin Laden never existed, Walt Disney is frozen, Elvis Presley is alive, the Simpsons predict the future, Marcelo Tinelli went to a famous hospital with a famous object inserted in a famous place on his body, and Dengue and Zika fever were created by Bill Gates who genetically modified mosquitoes to depopulate the Earth because it most likely was easier than making work that "Internet Explorer" bulls*** he sold us. But let's get to the news: in early 2019, YouTube modified its recommendation algorithm to avoid promoting conspiracy theories and false information. And let's stop here because I want us to become aware of the magnitude this matter took on and how this little joke of the conspiracy theories videos completely went to Hell.

Think of it this way: YouTube, the second most trafficked website in the world after Google, with over 30 million visitors per day and over 1.3 billion users -almost a third of all people connected to the Internet in the world-, where 300 hours of videos are uploaded per minute and almost 500 trillion videos are viewed per day, had to change its own recommendation system because all of us were watching too many videos denouncing that Lali Espósito is an Illuminati:

Video excerpt: [with obvious robotic voice] "Also, at the second Number Ten, she covers one of her eyes again, obviously symbolizing the All-Seeing Eye."

And I'm very sorry to tell you that, in today's world, if YouTube has a problem, we all have a problem.

Conspiracy theories are the Internet's new porn. In fact, if you filter the words "conspiracy" and "theories" by the number of views, the most viewed video has 36 million views. THIRTY-SIX! MILLION! VIEWS! That's like putting together the total populations of Belgium, Greece, Cuba and Jamaica, and then lighting a giant reefer to everyone and making them watch this video of people saying the Earth is flat:

Another video excerpt: [Channel 13 interview with Flat-Earthers, recorded in a park in Buenos Aires] "I pour water into this dish... Look, I pour water, and it stays, you see? But we pour water into the globe... and it goes down, people."

Okay, now we're gonna go over some of the most popular conspiracy theories of recent times, and we're gonna try to deconstruct the psychological profile of the average consumer of the conspiranoid world.

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We'll start with everyone's favourite...

The Flat-Earthers.

Excerpt of the second video: "This first meeting began to be announced in the groups I followed on YouTube. (And the tattoo you have there, what is it?) This is the flat Earth, the Sun and the Moon."

The Flat-Earthers basically hold the theory that the Earth is not actually spherical, and they claim Galileo Galilei was an old smoke-seller blabbermouth who often played into the Far-Right's hands, cut his hair in an old-fashioned barbershop and used the 1610 telescope mainly to bed with chicks. And I have nothing personal against the Flat-Earthers but I find it difficult to take them seriously, mostly because much of their scientific hypothesis can be explained with this blooper.

Excerpt of another, different video: "There's an inflatable pool filled with water and with two people in it, a third person suddenly jumps into the water, and the pool deforms and overflows on the other side, as one of the two previously present people also falls over the edge."

(Images from the film "Armageddon".)

The truth is that the "flat Earth" theory has one fundamental premise, and it's the same one that supports 100% of conspiracy theories:

There's a power above us that manages everything.

Governments, lobbies and other de facto powers are capable of lying on a massive scale, just as intelligence services, the New World Order and FlyBondi hostesses do.

Excerpt of the second video: "(And you can't see the curvature of the Earth from the plane.) Uh... I travelled by plane to Bariloche, and no, I didn't see it. There's some aircraft glass with a small magnification or something that changes your perspective, due to the thickness of the window, and because aircraft glass also has something."

Alright, stop, let's not turn this into "Point at the crazy assholes and laugh" either, right? Well, yes, a little- But we go beyond that! We're better than that!

Why do so many people choose to believe we're puppets of an evil system? One might say that, in the absence of a sense of real control over our own lives and in the face of the desolation of living in a seemingly random, chaotic world, believing there's an external force exerting control is, to some extent, comforting. Yes, phone the Vatican.

And according to a certain old white upper-middle-class snob who teaches at Harvard University, conspiracy theorists share several or at least one of the following features: they're paranoid, radical, extremist in their opinions; they aspire to a feeling of superiority, and basically, they feel special for possessing information that exceeds the common citizen. Yeah, it's like the row for an indie film festival.

Umberto Eco even said:

"The control syndrome invades us. When someone claims to have a secret, their strength is not in hiding something but in making people think there's even a secret in the first place."

And I didn't understand a f*** because I've never read a book in my life, but it sounds ultra-mega-hyper cool. I dare you to deny it!

So who would be the most likely to believe in these kinds of theories? People who had bad experiences in life, people in search of an answer that would rescue them from a deep existential crisis, and the most important: people in search of a place of belonging.

Excerpt of the second video: "Well, no, this opened a door for me to start thinking more, to question things, about a supposed alien invasion."

Wait, stop right there. Excuse me, but if I'm an alien and I have the power to cross the universe in a spaceship, with my own army and the ability to colonize a celestial body, I don't even waste my time invading a paper-thin planet. Give me a round planet or give me death!

And that's when the contradiction comes into play. Because if you believe in one conspiracy theory, you immediately start to believe in all of them. It's like the weed. Even the refutation of a plot fits within the plot itself: for example, if you believe Lady Diana was killed by the British Crown, you're also prone to believe Lady Diana is actually still alive.

(Woah, Mind Blown... She was totally killed anyway, sorry.)

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Good, let's move on to the next one:

The Anti-Vaccination movement.

Okay, here we come to a key point, since clearly there are the "harmless" conspiracy theories and the... rather dangerous ones. We've all heard someone say vaccines may cause autism in kids. Now, I'm clearly a specialist in absolutely nothing, and I ain't gonna explain why you guys have to vaccinate your children, so I better recommend to you the websites of any Ministry of Health or Wikipedia, so that you later visit them and find out how very important it is to inject legal drugs to your sweet little angels. And it's not to detract from any position or to err on the side of bigotry, but if you're an anti-vax and your baby coughs next to me, I swear I'll kick their head off.

(Tack! That bag of germs...)

And after all, that's why we invented Democracy!

(Ha, of course not, but...)

In fact, I dunno who gives a f*** about this but maybe someone will find it useful: I follow a pretty simple method when it comes to ideologically locating myself regarding any issue. And this is:

Always do the opposite of whatever Gisela Barreto says.

Gisela Barreto: [speaks with a flag in the background] "Vaccines show up, and they show them to us as something that heals us. Actually, they're part of our death."

(Seriously, she came this close to being in the Avengers.)

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Okay, and now let's move on to one that touches us all closely (at least here, in my country):

Hitler in Argentina.

It's the conspiracy theory ensuring that, after losing World War II, the Nazi leader, the most disgusting dictator and genocide in Human History, came to live incognito in our country. And I ask myself: what the heck did we need to shelter Hitler for? The birth of Alejandro Biondini, who's pretty much our local version of Nazism, was imminent:

Interview with Biondini in 1991 by Mariano Grondona in his program "Key Time":

Grondona: "Would you condemn Adolf Hitler?"

Biondini: "No, we vindicate Adolf Hitler."

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Okay, question: is it possible to keep a secret on such a large scale for so many years? Well, the Math says no. Seriously! I've read that a physicist at the Oxford University (Where else?) took the "humans didn't go to the Moon" theory, and then this guy created a mathematical calculation based on the number of conspirators involved, the time elapsed since the conspiracy, and the inherent possibility that a plot would fail.

For example, in the case of Apollo 11, 411 thousand NASA employees were involved, and according to the variables this physicist analyzed, the lie should have been known in less than four years; half a century passed, and no employee denied the mission. What does this tell us? Well... they were threatened and killed off, of course! It's obvious! [imitating Mirtha Legrand] Stanley Kubrick was not in the coffin! Nobody saw him. Nobody saw him!

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Gimme more!

Famous people who are actually dead.

For example, Paul McCartney. On the cover of the album "Abbey Road", he's barefoot; a clear subliminal message that the real one died and was replaced with a stand-in. (Why?!) It sounds silly, but the rumour got so big that McCartney himself had to go out and publicly deny it... Although come to think of it, he also came out to congratulate the butchers who named their butcher shop "Paul Mac Carne" ["Paul McMeat"], so maybe he's truly a stand-in and, to top it off, looks like a raisin.

Excerpt of another video: "Well, thinking of different names, someone said "Paul Mac Carne". And well, he, being a vegetarian, says the idea was very good, started laughing and sent us a greeting."

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I love this one:

The Reptilians.

It's basically the theory that there's a race of amphibian aliens [Wait for a second: aren't they called "reptilians"?] living among us for centuries and hiding their reptilian features behind human faces.

(Oh, you were telling me they're not actually aliens because they were born here?)

Excerpt of the 1996 movie "Mars Attacks!".

And who discovered this? David Icke! Or "Ique". An unsuccessful former soccer player and sportscaster. (How can you be unsuccessful as a soccer sportscaster?! All you need is a suit!) It's like believing in a religion where your Pope is Diego Latorre.

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Now, I know what you're thinking: after all, how dangerous can all this get? I mean, no conspiracy theory has someone popular to represent it, no spokesperson of ridiculous and implausible plots has reached a truly important position in today's world.

Bah... There's actually only one.

The President of the United States of America.

That's right! Donald Trump, once the leader of the most powerful country in the world, had come to power mostly by throwing out fake news and conspiracy theories. And here are some:

Barack Obama is an immigrant.

Trump: "And I just say: why doesn't he show his birth certificate?"

Global warming is a myth.

Trump: "Obama is saying all of this has to do with global warming and I say all that is a hoax..."

Gisela Barreto was right.

Trump: "At two and a half years old, the baby, the beautiful baby, went to get the vaccine. Now he's autistic."

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Okay, then... Conspiracy theories. For what? Well, in the case of Trump: influence on public opinion and accumulation of power. In the case of people who upload videos to YouTube... What do you think? A profitable, monetizable business! In fact, there's the conspiracy theory that we're actually making this video about conspiracy theories in order to have lots of views and earn buttloads of cash. (We'd never do that!)

And finally, a much deeper, inherent aspect of the human condition:

The need to believe in something.

The world is divided into two types of people: some think everything happens for a reason, everything is a sign, and perhaps there's also a magical entity organizing things for us; the other half of the people think we live in a desolate world without meaning or messages, there are only atoms randomly colliding with each other, and the Universe gives no f***s about us. Which of these two groups seems happier to you? Which one do you belong to? Which one would you like to belong to? I choose to join the conspiranoids! And listen to this, I know exactly what's going on:

The New World Order organized the Lollapalooza at the request of the Illuminati, who wanted to marketingly manage Lali Espósito, who actually wears a mask and underneath is "La Mona" Giménez, who's not actually a monkey but a reptile and has drank all the wine to get immunized against the vaccines at the request of Gisela Barreto, who was born in Corrientes just like Barack Obama, who claimed to have killed Bin Laden, who's actually alive and was driving the car that crashed that night and carried Chano Charpentier, who taught driving to Lady Diana, who was actually Mexican and was assassinated by Donald Trump, who was matched on Tinder with Hitler, who lives in a nursing home in Recoleta and has glaucoma, so he's hitting the reefers with Biondini, who is actually a hippie and a fan of León Gieco, invented global warming and, when being in a bad mood, takes a bus and goes to dinner at "Paul Mac Carne", where they invented the extra-thin Provoleta cheese, which coincidentally has the same shape as the Earth, which is actually flat!

*sigh* Knowledge is power. Quiero creer.

Soundtrack: State Anthem of the Soviet Union.

[buckybarnesbingo]

BBB Discord Party Round Robin

What started out as simple summary, one prompt and one sentence per person, ended up being so intriguing that we went all-out and created a fic!  Each person was given about half an hour to write up to 300 words, and the option to cross off one of their bingo squares, and this is the glorious result!

Prompts

cookies 

dragon

window cleaning

potato salad

cat stalker

sharing a bed

beach

Participants

@rebelmeg​

@fightingforcreativity​

@ladydarkphoenix-blog​

@psychiccatpanda​

@dreaminglypeach​

@ibelieveinturtles​

LiquidLightz

@menatiera​

Summary: To say that Bucky had been surprised when a FREAKING DRAGON showed up at the summer BBQ at his beach house would be an understatement. How should the ex assassin have anticipated a dragon, who seemed to have followed his cat to the BBQ? It didn't seem to be dangerous as of yet seeing as the two were happily sharing potato salad.

When Tony showed up late, he nudged Bucky, "Hey Buckaroo - I brought - WHOA! I didn't know you had a... cat."

Sure, it’s the cat that surprises you, Bucky thought, but Tony was still talking a mile a minute around the cookie in his mouth, “So, anyway, I brought that- fuck, is he your window cleaner, he’s gorgeous!”

"Window cleaning is just one of the many services I offer," the dragon said swinging it's head around to stare unblinking at Tony.

Bucky jolts back and stares at the dragon as he recognises the sound of that voice, then quickly pulls his phone out to text Steve... "where exactly are you right now?"

Steve doesn't answer his phone, obviously, but a telltale notification sound pings from somewhere inside the dragon's belly, audible through the slightly open mouth of the creature, and Bucky has to rub the base of his nose, muttering, "of fucking course you do this reveal to me after we've been sharing a bed for weeks."

And you can find the rest of the fic under the cut!

@rebelmeg

Tony, another cookie in his hand, held up a finger. “Um, excuse me, I hate to be nitpicky about weird details when Steve has apparently turned into a dragon, BUT…” he pointed at the dragon.  “Did I hear a cell phone in there? How did you manage to SWALLOW A CELL PHONE?”

Steve turned his large, scaly head in Tony’s direction, and it was amazing, he actually managed to have an extremely Steve expression on that reptilian face. “Classified.”

Tony snorted and dipped a plastic spoon into the potato salad. “You’re a lying liar who lies. And you’re going to need some very intense tech support for that phone by the time it gets… out.  And oh, ew, all of the options for how it gets out are just disgusting.”

Bucky, who had been standing there fighting the temptation to call Steve (he wanted to see what happened when the swallowed cell phone started vibrating and ringing), dragged himself back to the conversation. “Steve, I think you might wanna tell us exactly what’s going on.” He glanced at the cat that was now sitting next to Steve and very daintily licking its paws. “Maybe start with the cat?”

LiquidLightz

The dragon remained stubbornly quiet, a strange fiery blush spreading across its face.

Bucky waited him out for a full minute before he threateningly pulled out his phone and began to dial... 

"Ok, OK!"  Steve caved in as the first riffs of ‘Holding Out for a Hero’ echoed around inside of him and Bucky’s eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously as he mercifully ended the call while Tony coughed up cookie crumbs from all his cackling…  great, thanks Nat!  One more thing he would be having to explain later in excruciating detail.

Raising his huge snout skyward with a big defeated sigh, Steve let out a little spurt of fire before starting on some ridiculous explanation about how he had wanted to look good for the BBQ, so Nat suggested he go to a day spa she knows, but he had nobody to leave the cat with and so he took him along since they offered pet day care services... 

He trailed off as the laughter of everyone around him burst out in a crescendo and he leveled his steely gaze back down on them, now irritated beyond embarrassment. 

Bucky was the first one to compose himself, once Tony started making hot stone massage dragon jokes and he quickly recalled what was most pertinent here. 

"Steve, can you please get to the part where you're a dragon and if this is something you've been keeping from me or a temporary mishap?"  Bucky was not exactly sure what he'd prefer, since, well, dragons are pretty magnificent and he wouldn't mind having his own. His mind began to wander into the possible perks of a dragon boyfriend and whether Steve could fly now.

@psychiccatpanda

Dragons can scowl - that was a thing Bucky knew now.  

Steve harrumphed and glared, trying to work through his embarrassment.  “So I never actually made it to the day spa. I went to bed last night and the cat I adopted when you got Alpine - d”

“Inky?”  Bucky asked.

“No, I called him Beetle,” Steve said with a puff of steam.

“Still say Beetle’s a dumb name for a cat,” Bucky mumbled.

Tony nodded in agreement and helped himself to another cookie. “I’m gonna start the grill, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine Tony,” Bucky said and then tried to turn the conversation back to the dragon boyfriend issue. “So you slept with the cat and now you’re a dragon? Or were you a dragon before?”

“No. I’m not a dragon… well, I wasn’t,” Steve sighed. “So Beetle slept with me, sneezed… and turned into a guy named Loki. I freaked out, he got mad, and turned me into a dragon.”

From the grill, Tony said, “So where’s this guy now, Steeb?”

“I wish I knew,” Dragon Steve said miserably.

“Meow?” Alpine interjected himself and twined between the dragon’s toes and Bucky’s legs to situate himself at Tony’s feet. He looked up with wide blue eyes.

@menatiera

Steve turned his gaze to the cat. “I know, I know,” he said. “Food will be ready for you soon.”

Bucky’s eyebrow arched up. “If you tell me that you can talk to animals…”

The fiery blush somehow deepened on Steve’s dragon face. “Uh, not all animals. But cats… I think they speak a dialect of dragon, somehow, because I kinda understand them now.”

Instead of answering, Bucky decided it was a good time to stuff his mouth with two cookies at once, lest he let out a scream of excitement.

Alpine jumped on the table, and started to rub his face to Steve’s scales. He kept this up, right until Steve started to breathe heavily, and with one final tickling of his full body, Alpine threw himself off the table and ran under the cover of it.

Steve sneezed.

Several times.

With violent force.

The table turned out to be an inadequate hiding place, as it was blown away by the wind of the squeeze, along with most of the BBQ supplies, including the plates, utensils and napkins.

Tony was saved thanks to Bucky’s quick reflexes, who dragged him out of the way of a flying pitcher that was full of hot water to become Bruce’s tea later.

Steve was sniffling and scratching his snout. “Sorry,” he said nasally, then he stared at the ground. “Uh. I think the phone’s out.”

Bucky didn’t want to know. But he kind of did. “How did it get to your lung? Or is a dragon belly connected to sneezing somehow?”

Alpine slowly walked back into the scene, stepping into the dragon snot with delicate disdain, and poked the phone with his nose. He meowed a few times.

“He wants us to look at it,” Steve translated. “He says something about messages. Or notes? I’m not entirely sure. I’m not fluent in cat yet.”

@dreaminglypeach

My boyfriend the dragon isn’t fluent in cat yet, Bucky thought. How is this my life?

“Well, go on, then,” Tony encouraged, wafting his hand at the phone as Alpine curled into Steve’s side again, seeking warmth despite the fact that it’d been far too goddamn sunny all day.

“I would,” Steve said, raising one clawed… paw? Hand? Strangely enough, Bucky had no idea what the anatomy of a dragon is. “But there’s this whole no opposable thumbs issue at the moment.”

Tony looked at Bucky. Bucky looked back at Tony. Neither of them moved to pick up the phone.

“He’s your boyfriend.”

“And?”

Tony scoffed. “And that means you get to be the one playing with the phone he ate, duh.”

“I hate you,” Bucky said. “I hate both of you. And whoever this Loki jackass is, I really fucking hate him.”

Steve made a bizarre snarly noise, maybe a draconine laugh, maybe a growl, then nudged the phone in Bucky’s direction with his nose. “You know the passcode,” he said, baring a whole load of pointy teeth at him.

Dutifully, Bucky picked the disgusting thing up, wiped the slime coating it on his jeans (well, those were being burnt now), and tapped out his own date of birth to unlock it.

“Ha!” Tony said when it unlocked, peering at the screen over Bucky’s shoulder. “Stark Tech. Can’t beat it. I’d like to see an iPhone keep working after spending time inside a dragon.”

“Do we know a Valkyrie?” Bucky asked, ignoring Tony’s bragging to look at the long string of messages Steve apparently received over the last three hours. “Because she sure seems to know you, and boy is she unhappy.”

“Never heard of her,” Steve answered. “What’s she say?”

“Rogers,” Tony read, “be careful, Thor’s brother is

@ladydarkphoenix-blog 

on the loose and looking to cause trouble. Not sure what exactly but he is looking for mischief. Well that can't be good."

"Obviously not seeing as I'm now a dragon," Steve snorted in annoyance, a small puff of smoke escaping his nose.

"So how do we fix this," Bucky inquired as he sent back a text explaining the situation as it was before setting the phone down to not have to deal with the slimy mess for a moment. As the three discussed options and people they thought might be able to help, Alpine let out an angry yowl as he seemingly started floating away from where he'd been napping.

Steve let out a low rumbling growl, "don't touch him Loki or I'll eat you myself…"

Loki appeared, holding a fighting Alpine by the scruff to protect himself from claws and teeth. "Now is that any way to speak to an honored guest?"

@fightingforcreativity

“An honored guest my ass,” mumbled Bucky, pointedly ignoring the snickering coming from Tony.

“My my, so rude the company you keep, Anthony.” Loki drawled, still holding Alpine and only slightly being turned towards the three heroes. “I was just hoping my gift was well received.”

Tony sputtered at that. The assassin turned towards the other brunet, a questioning eyebrow risen. Tony, though, ignored him and started to ramble at Loki, “Serious? I hate that name. Stop calling me that, Reindeer Games! Why are you here? And what’s going on with Steve as a dragon? I mean sure, dragons are pretty cool and he’s quite a beauty like this but c’mon, Lokes, usually your mischief is directed against Thor not Steve.”

Sure, Bucky could say something about Tony obviously eyeing his dragon boyfriend up- and what a mess that was- but he was more interested in what the heck really was going on. Maybe after they figured out Loki's motive, Bucky could think about why Steve preened under Tony’s compliments.

Also, Bucky wasn’t sure what was going on at all between Loki and Tony, but by the look of it Steve had an idea. How Bucky could interpret his boyfriend’s limited facial expressions at the moment, was another mystery to be shoved in the ‘to never investigate’ box.

Before Loki could answer, the dragon rounded on him. “I told you to let him go!”

Steve’s hiss was threatening and Bucky didn’t blame Loki for gently putting Alpine back done and backing up a bit after that. “Fine. The good captain was collateral damage in my attempt at wooing.”

Everyone froze at that. 

‘Wooing? What the…?!’, Bucky thought disbelievingly. 

The first person to recover was Steve though, and cautiously the formerly blond asked, “Wooing who?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Anthony of course!”

@ibelieveinturtles

There was stunned silence as everyone gaped at Loki, then Steve started huffing, little bursts of flame spouting from his nostrils.

"Are-are you laughing at me?" Loki demanded haughtily. 

Steve shook his head. "The look on Tony’s face!" he chortled. "It's like he doesn't know whether to be flattered, insulted, or just plain horrified."

They all looked at Tony, who made an immediate attempt to control his face.

"Flattered," he said hastily, "definitely flattered but, er, I'm not sure how Pepper's gonna react."

Loki drew himself up. "It was her suggestion," he said. 

"Pepper suggested you turn me into a dragon as a courting… gift?"

Loki nodded. "She assured me you have the ego to pull it off."

Steve began to huff again and this time, both Loki and Tony glared at him.

"What?" Steve asked.

"She's not wrong," Bucky interjected in an effort to save his boyfriend from all the attention. "Also, she may have mentioned to me last week that dragons are her favourite mythical animal," he finished.

"Indeed," Loki said, smirking. "She told me she always wanted to ride a dragon."

Bucky's laughter joined Steve's draconic huffing and Tony’s expression changed.

"Really?" he asked.

"Of course," Loki replied. "It is a most exhilarating activity."

Bucky stopped laughing as an idea slammed into his mind. He turned a speculative gaze in Steve's direction. Steve must have felt the weight of Bucky's gaze as the giant head turned to look at him.

"Something on your mind? Steve asked in a surprisingly quiet voice.

Bucky nodded. "That riding a dragon thing," he said.

Steve's eyes glittered. "You wanna try it out?"

"Yes."

They looked at Tony and Loki who were now standing much closer together and seemed to be deep in some sort of negotiations. 

"Climb on," Steve said. "Before Loki remembers to change me back."

Bucky scrambled up Steve's outstretched leg and settled himself in front of Steve's wings.

"Ready?" Steve rumbled, and without waiting for an answer, launched himself into the air.

Bucky whooped as they climbed. This had undoubtedly been the best BBQ ever.

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

Title: BBB Round Robin Fic Collaborators: Rebelmeg, Fightingforcreativity, Ladydarkphoenix, Psychiccatpanda, Dreaminglypeach, Ibelieveinturtles, Liquidlightz, Menatiera Squares filled:

Rebelmeg: Y2 - tech support

LiquidLightz (LLightz): B3 - spa day

Menatiera: U4 - hot water

Dreaminglypeach: B1 - sharing body heat

Ladydarkphoenix: U5 - "Don't touch him!"

Fightingforcreativity: B4 - Collateral Damage

Ibelieveinturtles: K2 - Whiplash

Ship: Stucky, hinted Stony or Stuckony, Pepperony, pre-FrostIron /FrostPepperony Rating: Gen Major Tags: round robin fic, dragon Steve, animal transformation, Loki shenanigans, cats, multiple ships, hijinks and shenanigans Summary: To say that Bucky had been surprised when a FREAKING DRAGON showed up at the summer BBQ at his beach house would be an understatement. How should the ex assassin have anticipated a dragon, who seemed to have followed his cat to the BBQ? It didn't seem to be dangerous as of yet seeing as the two were happily sharing potato salad.

When Tony showed up late, he nudged Bucky, "Hey Buckaroo - I brought - WHOA! I didn't know you had a... cat."

Sure, it’s the cat that surprises you, Bucky thought, but Tony was still talking a mile a minute around the cookie in his mouth, “So, anyway, I brought that- fuck, is he your window cleaner, he’s gorgeous!”

"Window cleaning is just one of the many services I offer," the dragon said swinging it's head around to stare unblinking at Tony.

Bucky jolts back and stares at the dragon as he recognises the sound of that voice, then quickly pulls his phone out to text Steve... "where exactly are you right now?"

Steve doesn't answer his phone, obviously, but a telltale notification sound pings from somewhere inside the dragon's belly, audible through the slightly open mouth of the creature, and Bucky has to rub the base of his nose, muttering, "of fucking course you do this reveal to me after we've been sharing a bed for weeks." Word Count: 2300

[officialleehadan]

Hood and Strike

Hello darlings! Today's prompt was brought to you by JDR, who requested fluffy humor, and what better than Beastly Familiars to deliver! Thank you for all your support darling. It means the world to me!

This story concludes Prompt month! I can't wait to see what you pick in June. Until then, there are plenty more stories coming!

Enjoy!

+++

(!!!)

“It’s not food.”

(…?)

“Seriously, not food.”

(?!?)

“If you bite my hand while it’s full of your poop, neither of us are gonna be happy.”

There were some perils to being bonded with a snake. Oh, sure, Bhavini loved her Naja, who was, mostly, both easy to deal with and sweet-tempered.

But cobras, especially manacled cobras, were significantly ‘bite first and ask questions later’ when something caught their attention.

The concept of ‘hungry’ didn’t translate terribly well into snake-thought. Even Naja, who was clever for her kind, thought in punctuation, which made communicating with her downright difficult.

Particularly when something caught her attention, and she did that very particular perk that always meant she was thinking about hooding up and striking.

Snakes.

So now Bhavini was splitting her attention between her decidedly interested familiar, and the truly horrifying remains of her familiar’s last meal.

Unfortunately, to Naja, movement ment food,a nd scrubbing meant movement.

Bhavini might be immune to her venom as a cheerful side effect of their being bonded, but a cobra bite was still a significantly unpleasant experience.

(!!!)

The hood came up, and Bhavini yanked her hand back just in time as Naja struck forward, transfixed by the movement of the scrubbing brush. Her aim was good, as always, but the pure profanity of a cobra who had bitten what turned out to definitely not be food was hilarious.

“I told you it wasn’t food,” Bhavini said, and waited for Naja to focus on her, or more specifically on the hand she raised, palm out, to catch Naja’s attention safely. “I’ll feed you tomorrow. We both know you’re not actually hungry.”

(….) Naja said, more feeling than actual concept. And which translated more or less to ‘no she wasn’t hungry, but food might be nice and the brush had looked like food’ in snake-speak. (…<3?)

Bhavini understood the thought for what it was and proffered her hand out now that Naja was reoriented and knew it wasn’t food. Naja immediately coiled out, a solid five feet of dusty-brown and black scales, marked by the gorgeous pattern, the monacle that gave her species their name, on the back of her hood.

(<3) Naja said as she burruwed inside Bhavini’s shirt and wrapped around Bhavini’s shoulders. Once she was comfortable, almost completely hidden and secure, she tucked her head up against Bhavin’s cheek, tongue flickering out in a snake ‘kiss’. Bhavini smiled and turn enough to kiss her familiar’s cool, scaly head. (<3<3<3)

“I love you too, little menace,” Bhavini said, and finished with the tank. It wasn’t locked, of course. Naja liked to sleep there, and enjoyed both her heating pad and her cave, but had mostly free run of the rest of the facility. Mostly, she preferred to ride in Bhavini’s shirt.

“Hey, sweetheart!”

The Brooklyn accent rang out down the hall, and Bhavini sighed even as her shirt, or rather the snake inside, hissed.

($%^*(*@^^%#(&#)*)

“In here, Grant,” she called over the angry snake-cussing in her head. It was always easier to just find out what the obnoxious man wanted so he would go away. Unfortunately, Grant seemed to think Bhavini would go out with him if he asked enough, and wasn’t that willing to take no for an answer. Bhavini tried not to be alone with him if she could. OS far he had been polite, if insistent, but there was not telling how long that would last. “I told you not to call me that.”

“But you’re just so sweet,” Grant said when he came into sight, his usual ‘I’m a god’ smile on his face. Bhavini resisted the urge to hit him with her bucket full of snake poop. “Sweetheart, I’m thinking dinner. You. Me. The Starlight Room. What do you think?”

“That I told you no.”

“Awe, come on. Just gimme a chance.”

The feeling of Naja’s cool scales against her skin gave Bhavini an idea, and she smiled all at once even as Naja, always clever and who did not like Grant, cocked herself just enough to peep out of Bhavini’s collar.

Grant, of course, didn’t like snakes in general any more than Naja liked him. He only came around when there was a snake that needed to be relocated, and didn’t want to do it himself.

“Oh Grant,” Bhavini said, still smiling in a way that made Grant, who was apparently not as dumb as he looked, stare at her with just a little alarm. “I’m sorry, but you see, I would need to get my familiar’s permission before I could ever go out with you. After all, it’s her life too.”

This was going to be brilliant.

(<3!)

Especially since Naja was absolutely on board.

“You’re bonded?” Grant, of course, had never seen Naja in any of his visits. The cobra disliked him enough to hide when he came around. “Well, introduce me! I can’t wait! You’ll see. I’m great will all sorts of cute fuzzies!”

Fuzzies. The poor darling. Bhavini almost felt bad.

(!!!!!)

But not bad enough to stop Naja as she let out a horrendous hiss and, supported by Bhavini’s shoulder, cocked herself out of the front of Bhavini’s shirt, hood spread gloriously and mouth open in a clear threat display.

There was really something very powerful about a solid five feet of deadly cobra coiling up around her shoulders and absolutely furious at someone else.

Grant let out a shriek that could have shattered glass, and toppled backwards, only to scuttle backwards like a crab as he tried to get away from the large, angry snake. Naja, for her part, hissed again, the low, rasping growl that was iconic to an angry cobra. He almost made it to his feet when she charged down from Bhavini’s shoulder to her arm, secured herself neatly, and struck.

She was well out of range. Even a big cobra had a specific strike zone and Grant was comfortably out of it. Not that Naja wouldn’t bite him if she got the chance, but Grant wasn’t in any real danger.

Grant, of course, didn’t know that. Unfortunately, this time when he lunged backwards, he also hit the switches by the door. Specifically, the ones attached to the ceiling fan.

Sudden movement in a room full of venomous, sight-hunting snakes got him a lot of attention all at once.

It also made every single rattlesnake, thirteen in total, go off at once. Even Bhavini, who was entirely used to them, felt a chill at the sound that was last warning any rattlesnake ever gave before it struck.

Grant, who was not at all used to the rattlesnakes, or the angry cobra in his face, screamed again and somehow managed to fling himself out the open door. The sound of gravel, and then of car tires squealing on pavement, told Bhavini that the obnoxious man was gone.

When he was gone, Naja lowered her hood and slithered back up to give Bhavini another ‘snake kiss’, tongue ticking against her cheek.

(!) Naja said, entirely satisfied with herself. (<3?)

“You are definitely the best,” Bhavini told her, and kissed the top of her head again as the cobra begged for snuggles and got them. “Come on. It’s getting hot in here, and we have work to do. And you know what, maybe I’ll even thaw you out dinner a day early. What do you think about that?”

(<3<3<3)

“Yeah, I love you too.”

+++

Beastly Familiars:

Animals will be animals, no matter how intelligent. Sometimes animals will be… well… Beastly.

Nothing but Trouble

Bad to the Bone

Oil and Water

Master of All

Hunting Practice

Under the Desk, Up on the Bookcase

Mouse Hunters

Hooter

Bandit

In the Walls

Stone’s Throw

Fish Bucket

Caterwaul

Tilting at Windmills (Subscriber Only!)

Blue Rings and Crabs

Pounce (Free on Patreon!)

Fruity Fruit

Eyes Up

On Emerald Wings

+++

MORE STORIES!

+++

[norhimorovine]

The Mocking Sylph

Norhi leaned against the counter in her shop, tail flicking behind her in irritation. Course, the hyur in front of her did not seem to grasp the particulars of miqo’te body language. So, if Norhi’s ears were lowered in agitation, if her tail lashed a little more than normal, he didn’t even appear to notice.

No, the boor was too busy swirling a potion bottle in front of the window, as if he could discern some quality from the way it filtered light. “Hmmm…. I confess, I must question the efficacy of a healing potion that doesn’t glimmer properly.”

Norhi resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That was one cue that even inexperienced non-miqo’te seemed to pick up on. “I assure you, good sir, it’s an excellent potion. We make ours with a different recipe than the alchemy guild teaches. As such, it has a different look to the liquid.”

The hyur hums with a non-committal frown. “I don’t know. Deviating from the alchemy guild seems dangerous. After all, their methods are the most tried and true. They brew their potions for two or three times longer than most freelance alchemists.”

Norhi’s ear twitched once, then twice. “Ah, but you see, my husband, our alchemical master, grew up in Othard, where he did not have access to our guilds. He learned his recipes from ancient traditions passed down in his village. It is even said they sold them in Kugane for a while, with great success. Eastern recipes are going to be different. But they still work just as well.”

The hyur pursed his lips. “Why’d they stop selling them in Kugane?”

Norhi sighed. She hated when they asked for the full story. “A competitor had the… who was it? Great great uncle Kage? Something like that. It’s been a few generations. A competitor had Uncle Kage killed. Paid a small gang to do it. The Sekisegumi dealt with the matter when they found the gang carting Uncle Kage’s body to a foundry. And Zuki’s family decided they would not sell in Kugane anymore.”

The man grunted in soft disbelief. “Well that’s just life in Kugane. Kill or be killed. It’s so lawless there you know.”

Norhi stared at the man, barely keeping her incredulity off of her face. Did this man do nothing but talk out of his ass? Her frustrated ruminations were interrupted by the ringing of the bell over the shop door. She nods to the hyur and turns to move closer to the front. “Welcome to Stormvine Alchemy, Conjury, and Botany! Let me know if you need any help!”

It was a roegadyn man who’d come in. He was probably one of the shorter roes that Norhi had seen, but that still made him insensibly tall. She smiled though, recognizing the Sea Wolf. “Hollgeiss Blyngraeb! Welcome back.”

Hollgeiss smiled warmly and gave a bow. “Thank ye, Miz Norhi. I’m mostly here ta find my friend, Carter. He said he’d meet me here, to see yer potions.”

Norhi nodded and then half turned, gesturing to the back end of the shop. “Only other customer here is this gentleman by the window.”

Hollgeiss squinted and then shuffled to the side. “Ah yep, that’s him. Carter! Mornin!”

Norhi snorted, watching Hollgeiss move to his friend’s side. “Where are your glasses, Holl?”

The roe quickly winced and then patted his pockets and his belt pouch, before finding them hanging from his back pocket. He winked at Norhi and slid the glasses on. “Carter! So… Whatcha think?”

Carter gave his friend a dismayed frown. “I think you’ve been bamboozled, friend. She doesn’t even use alchemy guild recipes. Look. No shimmer.”

Hollgeiss blinked at this and then answered, “What in the seven hells does the shimmer have to do with shite, Carter? The potions work. I know they do cuz I take them. I survived my last run in with the Ixal, thanks to Stormvine’s alchemy. Hells, Miz Norhi was able to finish healing me, when I collapsed on her doorstep right after!”

Carter huffed. “But they’re eastern! Why can’t she use alchemy guild recipes?”

Holl shook his head and took the potion from his friend. “They’re her husband’s recipes and they work fine. If yer gonna be an arse about it, go wait outside. We can waste the money on the aetheryte to Ul’dah if yer gonna be so damned picky. But I’m buyin’ mine here.”

Carter opened his mouth to object, but Hollgeiss cut him off. “No. I hear another rude word out of ya about Miz Norhi, her shop, or their potions, yer gonna need healing after my fist catches ya.”

Carter fidgeted and then mumbled, “Pick me out a set.”

Holl smiled then and patted his friend on the shoulder. He turned and started grabbing bottles off the shelf. When he got to the counter with his selections, he gave Norhi an apologetic frown. “I am direly sorry, Miz Norhi. Carter.. Well, he likes thinking he knows what he’s about.”

Norhi started counting and tallying the cost of the purchase, accounting for Holl’s repeat customer discount. “He’s hardly the first, Holl. And I will be dearly surprised if he’s the last. Though, at least he wasn’t angling to bring the price down off of his comments. I’d rather deal with doubt about the product, than someone trying to work an angle. It’s a good thing he’s got a friend who’ll help him learn.”

Holl ducked his head over a goofy grin and rubbed his neck. “Aw, Miz Norhi. I ain’t that good a friend. I broke his nose plenty enough.”

Norhi shrugged and passed the pad with the total over. “Maybe. Or maybe some friends need their noses broken. Or else they’ll just be another mocking sylph.”

Holl tilted his head then. “A mocking sylph?”

Norhi huffed a laugh. “Sorry. Old miqo’te fairy tail. I’ve been sharing a lot of the old stories with my siblings lately.”

Carter shuffled closer then, having stayed inside. “I… like fairy tales.”

Norhi hummed and then grinned. “Alright. I’ll tell you the story. But you have to promise me that you’ll actually learn about the things you’re talking about, before turning your nose up at them.”

Carter nodded. “Of course, Miss.”

So, most miqo’te tribes avoid the sylphs, if only to avoid crossing into each other’s hunting grounds or sacred groves. Also, we like it when they don’t summon Ramuh. Life’s more peaceful like that. Anyhow, for all that we weave around their borders and steer clear, there is some benefit to trade with them.

One such tribe prized the sylph’s skill with silks and threads. And it was that they had a number of new training shamans among their kits. So, one of their healers and one of their huntresses went to the nearest sylph village. They took with them paints and dyes, glass vials bought from a lalafellin merchant, and quality sewn leather satchels.

As they neared the village, the huntress stopped the healer. “I hear something, sister.”

The healer looked around but heard nothing. But the huntress didn’t wait. She dashed off into the underbrush, chasing the sound. This distressed the healer, who had no real skill as a fighter. She stayed on the path and slowly started walking again, hoping the huntress would find her.

And then the healer heard a cry. Someone was in pain. She could not ignore that someone needed help. So she turned from the path and started searching. She heard the sound again and turned to keep following. But then she heard a mocking laugh. She frowned and kept searching, following the sound of pained groans and mocking laugher.

But then she ran headfirst into her sister. The huntress was uninjured, but angry. “It taunts me! Calling like a hunting party in danger and then laughing!”

The healer frowned and then looked around. “I thought I heard someone in pain, just a moment ago.”

And then they both hear another sound, a roar of a great beast. They quickly bolt for the path, racing to get out of the underbrush and to the safety of the sylph village. And then they heard the laughter. The healer then spotted movement. She pointed to the treetops and the huntress scaled the nearest trunk.

There was a squawk of surprise and a small green creature flew off down the path. The healer gave chase, just behind the huntress. And when they reached the sylph village, the small sylph was cowering behind her elder.

The huntress pointed at her and yelled, “That little scoundrel lured us from the path, fooling us with sounds of distress and fear, and then laughing at us for stumbling through the underbrush!”

The healer quickly nodded. “And then she chased us with the sound of a great beast! Before laughing again!”

The elder looked at the young sylph and shook her head. “Night-walking ones are these one’s friends. They bring these ones trade. Why does this one bring them trouble?”

The young sylph flailed their fists as they answered, “This one was making a joke! This one wanted to laugh!”

The elder sighed. “This one needs learn that night-walking ones carry spears and magic. And this one must learn that making night-walking ones fear, is not a good joke. Misplace their belongings, change into a large pumpkin, instead. Do not chase night-walking ones, like great beast. Lest this one is turned into a great beast for penance.”

The young sylph hung her head. “Yes, Elder one.”

After that, the young sylph was made to work on the silks the huntress and the healer had come to trade for.  And when that sylph once again mocked some poor traveler, the elder did indeed turn them into a beast of the forest, to learn their lesson.

Hollgeiss tilted his head in confusion, as Norhi finished the story. “Seems awful tame fer a sylph.”

Norhi shrugged. “Well, the story’s probably lost bits over time and translation.”

Carter, however, was humming excitedly, writing quickly in a little book. “Do not laugh at people chasing you,” he mumbled to himself.

Holl and Norhi looked at Carter and then exchanged a worried look. Norhi reached under the counter and grabbed one more healing potion. “Here. Call it insurance or something.”

Hollgeiss nodded. “Right. Thank ye, Miz Norhi. See ya soon.”

He then turned and herded his distracted friend from the store. And Norhi just sighed in relief. She hoped this wouldn’t come back to bite her later.

[a-spoonful-of-home]

My Top 17 Foods To Eat In Chengdu

Szechuan cold spicy noodles 四川涼面

These are hands down my favourite food to get in Chengdu. Sitting down in the heat outside with some cold spicy noodles (and a beer - of course) is the best way to spend a hot summers day here. It’s a great mixture of garlic, spring onions, ginger, and lots of chilli oil. I think I prefer cold noodles over hot noodles because it takes the heat down a level. Just writing about these noodles is making me want to go for a walk down to the noodle joint near our complex! An absolute staple of Szechuan cuisine - 10/10!

Steamed buns 包子

Steamed buns, or baozi, kept me alive when we first arrived in Chengdu and were running round trying to get all our documents sorted. They’re so convenient and you can really get them everywhere. I love the snacking culture here in China because it means you’re never very far away from some tasty street food. Steamed buns, sweet or savoury, never break the bank and you can pick one up normally for around 20p/30p. Steamed pork buns are my favourite bun but it’s always fun to try new ones - like the custard buns that you can poke with a chopstick and squeeze all the custard out… granted it can look a little disturbing but it’s still fun!

Dumplings in chilli sauce  红油抄手

Another classic here. I wasn’t a huge fan of these the first time I tried them but now I can’t get enough of them. I think I’ve really worked up my heat tolerance since moving here and now there’s nothing better to me than a big bowl of pork dumplings covered in spicy chilli sauce! It’s the intensely aromatic sauce they’re coated with, made with vinegar, garlic, and roasted chilli oil, that makes these dumplings so irresistible. You can also get dumplings in soup but I prefer the dry dumplings with chilli sauce.

There are lots of different types of dumplings in Sichuan and China as a whole, but Zhong dumplings are named for the family who first made these in Chengdu around 100 years ago - and now they’re recognised officially as one of Szechuan’s most famous street foods! They’re a simple dumpling with sweet soy sauce and chilli oil and they’re great for beginners. James and myself were actually lucky enough to get to go on a dumpling making course when we first arrived - it was really fun!

Roast pork 烤猪肉

This isn’t a Szechuan specialty but it’s still very much available here in Chengdu. My favourite way of eating pork here so far has been where the pork is served on a sizzling plate with a sweet sauce and peanuts. Normally the server will pour the hot sauce over the pork in front of you and it’s great to watch it sizzle. I love it when meals feel more interactive like that. It’s super sticky and sweet and is everything that roast pork should really be!

Hotpot 火锅

I think it would be a sin to come to Szechuan and not try hotpot at least once. Unfortunately, I’m not the biggest fan of hotpot with red oil but I do quite like the version of hotpot at a restaurant near us that uses what I think is some kind of chicken stock/soup to boil the ingredients. This restaurant is Hong Kong themed so it’s not typical Szechuan food. When the food is cooked you dip it in a sauce that you can put together yourself - this is chillis, garlic, soy sauce, and spring onions. There are a few different types of hotpot but some of the most popular here are chuan chuan 串串 (where you get your food on long sticks and place it in the pot) and huo guo 火锅 (where you place the food directly into the pot and scoop it out when it’s ready).

It’s a really fun way to eat though because at most restaurants you start by going around a fridge section of the restaurant with a basket and get to choose what you’d like to boil, then take it back to your table and cook it in the pot with your friends. Chinese style eating is quite different to the UK because typically you share food more instead of ordering just for yourself and I really prefer it like that - it just means you get to try more things and don’t have to worry about ordering something you won’t like! It’s a much more sociable way of dining and it’s just so much more fun.

Eating with friends

It’s always so much more fun to share your cooking with your friends - especially when you all come from different parts of the world. I really love the other teachers in my class and so I decided to cook them some ‘traditional British food’ because Tina, one of the teachers, really loves trying new food. It was also a bit of a thank you for how welcoming they’d been and how much easier the job is working in our team. Of course, being the welcoming people they always are, they came to the dinner with Szechuan food for us to try too! They made us kung pow chicken, fried chicken wings, and mapo dofu (silken tofu in a spicy sauce) and we shared with them a cottage pie, potato and broccoli soup, Hellmann’s egg mayonnaise sandwiches, biscuits with brie, and a steamed syrup pudding - the best of both worlds!

Dan dan mian 担担面

Dan dan mian (noodles) are so called because historically the walking street vendors who sold the dish would have a type of carrying pole (dan dan) that they carried over their shoulder with two baskets containing the noodles and sauce at either end. The name of these noodles is literally translated to noodles carried on a pole. They’re another Szechuan staple food and one of my favourite things to pick up when I’m walking around Chengdu. They're served hot with minced pork in a spicy sauce. They’re also served with preserved vegetables like zha cai 榨菜 (lower enlarged mustard stems) and ya cai 芽菜 (upper mustard stems). Living in Chengdu has meant that I’m a lot more into preserved vegetables than I was in the UK!

Xiaolongbao 小笼包

Now this is definitely not a Szechuan food but you can still get it in some places in Chengdu. It’s associated with Wuxi and Shanghai so I’m really excited to try some more when we move cities! It is a steamed dumpling with broth inside that's typically made from chicken or pork. You eat them using a soup spoon and a pair of chopsticks and bite into the dumpling on the spoon then suck out the soup. There’s a restaurant called ‘Modern China’ that we’ve been to a fair few times. It’s got a huge menu but recently I’ve been ordering just xiaolongbao and calling that my dinner. It’s been wonderful!

Roast Duck 北京烤鸭

Some of the best roast duck that we’ve had in China (so far!) was when we went to Hongyadong 洪崖洞 in Chongqing - which was once the site of the earliest and most developed pier in ancient China. It has since become a popular destination for visitors to experience Bayu culture and houses a large-scale stilt house complex built along the bank of the Jialing River. It was full of food vendors and we ended up going for a dinner roast duck which was skilfully carved in front of us. Again - I just love food where you get to see the chef or servers work with it! The restaurant we visited is called Quanjude and it’s a restaurant famous in China for its roast duck and longstanding culinary heritage since it was established in Beijing in 1864. There’s no way that we’re going to be able to live in Shanghai without at least one trip on the bullet train to Beijing now!

There’s also a restaurant called Bao Bao Ding just near our apartment and they sell really great roast pork and duck with rice. It’s not hard to find and I’ve never found it to be anything other than delicious! James also swears by the spicy duck neck snacks that you can get here but I think they’re still too spicy for me!

BBQ 烧烤

One of the first restaurants that James and I went to near our new apartment was a BBQ joint just across the street and I fell in love with this area! I’m a big kid and I just love getting involved in cooking the food myself so I really enjoy going for BBQ here. You’re supposed to dip the cooked meat in chopped peanuts and spices when you’ve cooked it on the grill and it’s so good. Unfortunately, I went to a different BBQ joint in the city and ended up getting food poisoning (I don’t think that I cooked the chicken enough) and so I’ve got off BBQ for the moment but I’m sure I’ll be able to get back on it!

Sweet water noodles 甜水面

I love these noodles so much - they’re always the star of the show. Most famously, you can get them from the Wenshu temple area where there are plenty of vendors selling this street-side snack. They’re quite different to the other noodles in this list because they’re made using a much thicker, square-cut noodle and are served in a sweet-and-spicy sauce. They're served cold and are very chewy with a rough surface to help them grab every bit of the sugary sauce that they're served in. I really love both the chunky look of these noodles and their mouthfeel and I think they’re always going to be something that distinctively reminds me of our wonderful times in Chengdu.

Pastries 蛋糕

Although I do miss a good Greggs sausage roll - Chinese pastries really are off the hook. We live by a bakery called Holiland which opened in the mid 90’s and became the biggest chain bakery in China. I think that’s fantastic news because we won’t have to go without our Holiland fix in Shanghai! Chinese pastries and breads are typically a lot sweeter and lighter than those in the UK and always seem to be much more creative in their presentation - maybe it’s just because they’re new to me but I really find them to be so beautiful. Some of my favourite pastries here are the hotdog pastries (literally just a hotdog in sweet bread) and the half baked cheese (which is sort of like a cheesecake with no base). It’s a very dangerous shop!

Bubble tea 珍珠奶茶

I really love just how readily available bubble tea is everywhere you go here. Every famous western fast food company that’s come over to China has their own bubble tea (McDonalds is the best one) and there are so many other chains (like HeyTeaGo and Fresh One More Time) which sell some really amazing teas. It’s really going to be one of the things I miss the most when we do eventually move back to the UK. One of the best teas you can get is a watermelon tea with a cheese foam topping. There’s a lot of cheese flavoured things here (like cheese flavoured yoghurt) which I’m really into. It’s not so much a hard cheddar cheese and is more like a cream cheese/mascarpone flavouring (if that). I’m really obsessed.

Vegetarian food at temples

I really like visiting temples. I think they’re such beautiful places that offer a calm that you don’t seem to find in many other places in the city. They also often have vegetarian restaurants nearby and the food is super tasty and affordable. When we went to visit the Leshan Buddha with my parents, we went to a restaurant near the temple there and had a lovely meal overlooking the square. I’m just really into these vegetarian restaurants and love what they’re about.

Cake at the kindergarten

We always bake a cake with the little ones whenever its one of their birthdays at the kindergarten. There’s a great mini kitchen downstairs and they’re so precious in the tiny chefs hats and aprons. The cake itself isn’t the most delicious cake I’ve ever had because we don’t put any sugar in it, so it’s more like a bread with fruit on top, but it’s so much fun to share it with so many excited four year olds. It’s great for them to get to bake the cake and then eat it together. I love birthdays at the kindergarten.

Street food 路边小吃

The best part of living in China is the abundance of street food. There have been so many new things I’ve had the opportunity to try from vendors in the road. It also keeps our cost of living down because they’re never that expensive and can be quite filling! I love just picking up some noodles when I’m out and about, or grabbing some Guo Kui 锅魁 (deep fried meat pie) which tastes a little bit like a sausage roll with lots of Szechuan spices.

Liang Gao (Glutinous Rice Curd) 凉糕

Liang gao is a sweet summer dessert which roughly means 'cold cake' (although it's more like cold tofu thing). It's served with sweet molasses and has a texture like jelly pudding but is just mildly sweet without the sauce. I first had it at the noodle shop near our first apartment and it was a great accompaniment to our noodle feast that we had!

Variety of crisps

China has some really out there crisp flavours. I’m not sure if they’re just novelty or if people really like them but I guess they wouldn’t sell if people weren’t buying them! The most interesting flavours I’ve seen have been lychee sparkling drink flavour and yoghurt drink flavour. Some of the flavours like spicy crab and hotpot flavour are really good but I think I’ll be avoiding the yoghurt for a while longer!

Sugar people 糖人

Sugar people is a form of traditional Chinese folk art using hot liquid sugar to create beautiful shapes and animals. This isn’t really something that is particularly delicious to eat - just because it’s made purely of hardened sugar but it really is beautiful. The reason I love it so much is because I think it’s such an amazing art form and it’s handmade and blown in front of you. I really enjoyed this pig candy because I got to blow it up myself (which a lot of help from the vendor). It’s kind of like glass blowing but you get to eat the finished product (highly recommend not doing this with actual glass).

[ciestessde]

Prologue

Author's Note

Well, after over a year of “helping” her -- after hiring professional editors and everything… Tess has decided to post our story FOR FREE.

… And I can’t even really blame her. Not with everything going on. She’s always had a soft heart, despite what she may think, and something on this scale… It was only a matter of time before she tried to do something to ease other peoples’ pain.

*sigh* Welp. I should probably introduce myself officially. I’m Noctu, Ciestess’s… “sibling” I guess you could call me. I’m an energy being that shares her physical form and travels with her through dimensions. I’m also one of the narrators of the story posted below.

“Crossroad of Infinity: Origins” is our way of introducing ourselves to you: Ciestess, the owner of this blog; Noctu, me; and Xihrae, a lovably annoying bastard you haven’t had the (dis)pleasure of meeting yet. Part 1, “Alone” focuses mostly on Ciestess herself. Part 2, “Family,” focusing on yours truly, will be the next in the series. Then Part 3, “Friends” will wrap things up with the story of how Xihrae came to join our group.

One chapter of Part 1 will be posted each week, most likely until all 28 chapters are available (unless Ciestess changes her mind, but I doubt I’ll be able to convince her). If you do wish to show your support through money, you can buy the book on Google (or through Amazon, but, for reasons explained in a previous post, Google is preferred). You can also donate directly to us through Tess’s Patreon or Ko-fi.

With all that out of the way, Pleasant Reading

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Prologue

Ok, let me admit something right off the bat: I’ve wondered more than a few times whether I actually remember anything about my early childhood at all.

Yeah, see, I might’ve just made it all up from pieces of different lives I’ve lived in other worlds. And since I can’t go back and check, I’ll probably never have an answer, either.

But the early childhood I’ve “imagined” is real enough to me. And it was pretty good. I think my parents both cared about me, that I never went hungry or was abused, and that I got to do a lot of things I loved. Sure, my parents were a little over-protective, and they didn’t understand me, like… at all.

But it’s not like they could have, anyway.

I dunno. Maybe it’s just the rose-tinted glasses, since I can’t actually remember things like what their jobs were, what their names were, what they looked like… But what’s the point in questioning it?

I just… I can’t see the point in fighting or fearing what I can’t change. I never have.

And if it makes me happy, then I REALLY don’t see the point!

And remembering the good parts of my homeworld? THAT makes me happy! So I’m going to start off this tale by indulging myself.

Now, I only have the memories stored in the First Memory Crystal to go by. Which, yes, is vastly better than my “memories” of my early childhood, but I wasn’t exactly expecting to continue living after dying in my homeworld. So, while admittedly better (and I’ll give a brief “thank you” to Noctu, that loveable pseudo-demon, for showing me I remembered more than I realized), my memories of my homeworld still aren’t all that detailed. Also, my homeworld was ruled by vastly different laws of physics compared to this world, so, while I’m going to do my best to explain and translate, please keep those things in mind, haha!

First off, we didn’t have a name for our world, per-say -- at least, not one I can translate beyond “our world.” So I’ve chosen to call it “Illunira.” After how it glowed.

It was cold. There was no sun to warm it -- in fact, there was no outer space at all! Instead, the heat from the center of the planet spread to the surface through lava, and our sky looked out upon a different dimension. Plants grew in that lava, and our sky- that dimension? … It looked like a prism.

There were no seasons. No day or night. Instead, we told time by the changing of the crops: the Planting, Growing, Harvest, and Rest. We sowed our crops in spots where large amounts of life-sustaining, silver-colored lava came to the surface. I’m going to call these “volcanoes,” but they didn’t erupt like the ones here do. They only spilled out and bubbled with lava. Our cities and towns formed around these volcanoes. However, never too close. Too close and we burned.

Well… some of us.

There were three species of intelligent beings: the Anima, the Florus, and the Symbi; and the Florus were able to live closest to the volcanoes, as they were plant-like beings (though, of course, sentient and mobile).

I say they were “plant-like,” but… Illunira’s “plants” more resembled flexible crystals than any vegetation from this world. But, unlike crystals, they glowed with energy siphoned directly from the lava. They were what transformed that energy into something that could sustain life -- much like how plants here do with sunlight. And this was how the Florus “ate” -- directly from the lava. However, since they lost the energy they siphoned rather quickly, they could never stray far from a source of their “food.” (In this way, perhaps they were more like reptiles that couldn’t let themselves get too “cold”?)

In contrast, the Symbi, clusters of single-celled beings that worked together to form larger “communities,” stayed far away from the blustering warmth of the lava. It would easily kill some of their members. Far from being crystalline, the Symbi were more like living, coordinated plasma; they only had a solid form or shape when they wanted to. And, as I understood it, it took quite a bit of effort to do so. So they rarely did.

The Symbi gained energy from… … Huh. Y’know, I don’t think I ever saw them feed -- but then, how could I? They were far too small. They almost seemed self-sustaining, in that way. Although I know they couldn’t have been.

The Anima, essentially humanoid beings, were something between the two. We were beings that couldn’t feed from the lava, nor get too close to it, like the Symbi. We held a more solid, crystal-like structure like the Florus, yet we also flowed with formless plasma internally, allowing us greater freedom of movement and separation from our energy-sources than them. We seemed able to feed off of almost anything that wasn’t the lava itself: smaller creatures, the “plants,” and even some… I’m honestly not sure what they were, but there were these floating, excess energy… things that we could absorb.

… Perhaps that’s what the Symbi ate…?

Regardless -- All of us glowed. All of us lived together, fed one another. Ruled over and under each other. All of us had souls. And, when our bodies inevitably died, all of us became the Dead Ones.

The Dead Ones... those whose physical bodies had died, lived on as beings of pure energy in the outer atmosphere -- inside the divide between Illunira and the dimension surrounding it. Though, only for a limited time. Only until their energy ran out.

This dimension I call “Prizmal” because it looked -- and still looks -- like a prism from a distance. Some believed Prizmal to be the afterlife, while others insisted it was what fed the planet’s core with energy. Either way, only the Dead Ones -- who had solely prizmal bodies, without any material elements -- were allowed to travel there. Anyone else would die so far from the planet’s heat.

I know because they tried, once. How could they do that, you may wonder?

Because we floated.

We weren’t tied down to the land. All of us: Anima, Symbi, Florus -- anything that wasn’t a plant -- floated and flew.

Because everything that lived there was only ever half-made of matter. And the other half was energy. So we floated.

  I said everything glowed, but it wasn’t a bright place. On the contrary, it was quite dark! But that darkness just made every light seem to shine that much brighter!

Small animals would skitter across pools of silvery lava, sparkling against it and any other reflective surface. Sometimes you’d see a light come up from under the non-glowing, pitch-black ground to reveal a tiny nose. Or you’d see a mass of similar-shaped flames rushing in one direction and, on closer inspection, realize it was a herd or pack of some larger creatures traveling together. Sparks would flicker in the sky, alone or in droves, looking for smaller sparks to swallow.

All of it against the empty darkness of the ground below, or the shattered, diffused light of Prizmal and the Dead Ones above.

Darkness and light extending in every direction, like a sea of living and moving neon signs on a starless night. Everything glowed. All so many different colors.

… I miss how colorful it was there.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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