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tsukkeisimp · 4 years ago

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THE SAUROPOSEIDON AND THE LITTLE TINY PRINCESS

Pairing: Tsukishima X Reader

Genre: best friends to lovers, fluff

TW: cursing

A/N: this is part of my tsukki smau ‘i think i kinda, you know’, but you can definetely read it without the context of the smau if you want to! i’m so soft, i loved writing this so much. pls lemme know what you think, ily if you’re reading!

It was 2.16 am. MC slowly opened Tsukishima’s bedroom door, careful not to make any sound. The room was dark, the only source of light being the glow-in-the-dark stars that he had stuck on the ceiling when he was 8. MC had bought them for him as a birthday present.

The dim light coming from the stars brought her back to the times when she would spend the night there as a child, sharing the bed with Tsukki. They would stare at them for hours before falling asleep, making up stories about what was going on up there. Tsukki’s stories obviously always being about dinosaurs and MC’s stories were always in one way or another inspired by ‘The Little Prince’, her favorite book to this day.

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‘… and then the little tiny princess managed to get back to her home, it was that one star!’ MC finished her story, pointing at the biggest star on the ceiling.

‘But MC, we had already agreed that the sauroposeidon was living on that one star! He needs to be on the biggest star, because he’s the tallest dinosaur ever.’ Tsukki complained, reminding her of the story he had just finished creating.

‘Can’t the princess and the dinosaur share the star? Can’t they live together? I bet they could do that, because even though he’s so tall and big, she’s little and tiny!’ MC giggled excitedly at the idea of a princess and a dinosaur living together. She thought it was the best idea ever.

‘Mmmh… I don’t know about that…’ Kei was not convinced yet.

‘They’re like me and you! We can share the bed because even though you’re so tall and big, I’m little and tiny! And so we fit together! And we’re comfy! I bet they would become best friends! Just like me and you!’ Her eyes sparkled as she explained, she was bursting with excitement. She looked over at her best friend, waiting for his approval.

‘… I guess. I guess you’re right. They can be on the star together.’ he nodded, finally persuaded. He could have never said no to the sparkle in the little girl’s eyes. It was his favorite thing in the world, after dinosaurs of course: his best friend smiling, giggling and her eyes lighting up. He wanted her to have that expression all the time. And he wanted to be right next to her all the time to witness it.

‘Yay! Let’s finish the story then.’ she squealed and then tried to put on a serious expression to start narrating.

‘And so the sauropoidon –‘

‘It’s the sauroposeidon.’ he reminded her, annoyed she would forget such an important fact. It was his favorite dinosaur.

‘I’m sorry, you’re right. ‘ she rolled her eyes at the correction and then continued.

‘So the sauroposeidon and the little tiny princess lived happily ever after on their star, together. Because they fitted perfectly, and they were very very comfy together. And even though they would travel around to other stars a lot, they would always go back there. To their star. The end.’

‘And! They stayed bestest friends forever.’ he added.

‘Yes, they stayed bestest friends forever!’

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MC was standing at the door, her eyes glued to the ceiling, looking for their star. It didn’t take too long to find it, since there were two dots drawn on it. The morning after they made up that story, MC got on Kei’s shoulders with a marker and she drew one big dot and one small dot on the star. One representing the little tiny princess and one representing the sauroposeidon. This new story became their favorite one, the one they would tell over and over again everytime they were laying together in that bed.

‘Come here dummy, what are you standing there for?’ a sleepy raspy voice whispered, pulling MC out of the past and back into the present. They weren’t 8 years old bestest friends anymore. They were high schoolers. And they hadn’t shared a bed in so long. Last time that happened, they were probably 10 or 11. Once they started middle school and the other kids started to point out how close they were and how ‘they looked like boyfriend and girlfriend’, they both started to avoid physical touch at all costs. Truthfully, those kids weren’t the only reason they stopped hugging and cuddling. It was an attempt to run away from the butterflies they were both feeling in their tummies each time they got a little too close.

‘Hey.’ MC whispered back, walking up to the bed and stopping in front of it.

Tsukki groaned and rolled over to the side, making space for her to lay down next to him.

MC was just standing there, staring at the small place next to Kei she would have to fit into. They had both grown up a lot since they were 8. Tsukki was now basically a giant, taller than almost everyone they knew. A true sauroposeidon. He was still taking up most of the bed, despite his attempt to make space for MC. Seeing that, she got worried. She feared they wouldn’t fit. No, she knew they wouldn’t fit. It was obvious. And they wouldn’t be comfy like the sauroposeidon and the tiny princess on their star.

Kei was waiting for her to lay next to him, he wondered why she was taking so long. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. Why wasn’t she going back to their star?

‘Are you just gonna stand there or…?’ he asked, annoyed. He just wanted to sleep already.

‘… Do we even fit anymore?’

As soon as she asked that, Kei knew exactly she was referring to the sauroposeidon and little princess story.

‘Of course we fit, you idiot.’ he said confidently, but as he looked down to the space that was left on the bed for her he was filled with an unpleasing sense of uncertainty.

It wasn’t just about physically fitting on the bed. It wasn’t just about the sauroposeidon and princess fitting on the star. It was mostly about them fitting in each other’s life. It had been worrying the both of them for a while, but they never talked about it. Since the beginning of high school they both had started a new life, away from each other. They went to different schools. They hanged out with different friends. Their schedules were different. They were traveling away from their star. And it was fun. But also scary. What if one of them got lost and couldn’t find their way back? What if one of them would find a star they liked more than theirs? What if one of them was never gonna come back?

‘Just lay here.’ Kei grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down, forcing her to lay next to him.

They bed had obviously gotten too small for the both of them. They shifted around awkwardly, trying to make themselves more comfortable and fit nicely. The fact they were desperately trying not to touch each other too much while doing so, obviously didn’t help. No matter how hard they tried they kept thinking: we will never be as comfy as they are.

‘Well… not as comfy as I remembered but… we somehow fit.’ MC tried to convince herself, but her disappointed face said it all. She was somehow still hoping they would fit effortlessly, just like when they were little kids making up stories about the stars.

‘… Anyway my parents already mentioned they wanted to get me a new bed soon. Because you know, I barely fit on my own. When I get the new one we’re gonna fit perfectly again.’ Tsukki tried to comfort her, not even realising what he was implying by saying that. They were gonna go back to their star.

‘R-really? That’s good.’ MC’s heart started beating really fast as the image of her and Kei being as comfy as they were when they were 8 got clearer into her mind. She wanted that so bad. She wanted to be close to him again.

They stared at the ceiling together, both of their eyes naturally going to the star with the two dots on it. It was like the sauroposeidon and the tiny princess were staring back at them.

‘I’m so jealous of them. They’re probably all comfy and cuddly right now.’ MC yawned as she pointed to the star, as if Kei wasn’t already looking right at it.

‘Lucky bastards.’ he commented, yawning as a reaction to MC’s yawn.

‘Kei!’ she punched his arm playfully and laughed quietly. ‘Don’t call them bastards.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever, they are.’

They layed there in silence for a while, just listening to each other breathe and getting more and more comfortable with each passing minute. They both fell asleep while looking at their star, remembering the times they would be all comfy and cuddly on it. And secretly praying they were gonna get comfy and cuddly again soon.

Once they were asleep their bodies adjusted automatically. They started moving around in their sleep and just like magic, after a few minutes, they were fitting perfectly on the bed. MC’s head resting on Tsukki’s chest and his arms wrapped around her. His face resting on her head. Maybe Tsukki wouldn’t have had to ask his parents for a new bed afterall. Because right now they were oh so perfectly comfy and cuddly on their star.

taglist: @exoticlover @smellybananaz @maybesoph @daichislvt @im-way-too-many-fandoms @raspberrysunshinebby @akvvard

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei #tsukishima scenarios #hq tsukishima #tsukishima oneshot #haikyu x reader

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suckasstakenames · 5 years ago

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Craig and Those Guys Week: Day 1 - The Beach 🏖

“You definitely brought the towels didn’t you Craig?”

“Yes Tweek, for the third time, you saw me put them into the bag.”

Five teenage boys cross the parking lot and make their way towards the beach. It was the weekend and this particular beach was quite the tourist spot, but it was one of the only days of the week in which all of the boys were free. They’d assigned this trip as their monthly event; an event that wasn’t just meeting up at the cafe or hanging out at somebody’s house.

Leading the group was a tall, slender boy. The tallest of the group. This was Craig. His beach attire was pretty basic; he donned navy blue swimming trunks and black sandals. He wore a beige bucket hat over his jet black hair, and covered his blue eyes with blacked out sunglasses. He was carrying a big beach bag, filled with all the essentials. Craig was their ring leader, the centre of the group. Whenever anyone else would talk about their group it would be referred to as his gang.

Trailing closely behind him was a noticeably skinnier boy; Craig’s boyfriend, Tweek. He too wore a bucket hat, white this time, and covered his bony torso with a vest of the same colour. He had untamed wild blonde hair, shooting out from underneath the hat in all different directions. His hand was fiddling with the bottom of his khaki swimming trunks, clearly on edge. His eyes were bagged, but he wasn’t a bad looking guy overall. Tweek’s anxiety around large groups of people meant that he was practically clinging to Craig for dear life.

Not far behind was a more boisterous boy, rambling about his friends’ sense of fashion. Clyde was a little chubby in build, but wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. He wore an open red shirt with a palm tree design on it, and on the bottom half…a pair of black speedos. He even accessorised with some aviators and a shark tooth necklace. He was clearly the most enthusiastic of the group; flicking his chocolate coloured hair in the wind whenever he sensed a female within range.

Next to him was Token, who didn’t try as hard on the fashion side, but still managed to pull off a pair of violet trunks and gold-rimmed sunglasses. He was assigned the role of carrying the parasol. His body was probably the most toned out of the group, but he was cool about it, and wanted to come across as casual as possible to his peers. But that was slightly difficult when you’re the son of a millionaire…and it definitely showed.

The last boy was a brunette, using his crutches to keep up a steady pace with his friends. His ochre coloured trunks were accompanied with a brown baseball cap and a grey t-shirt. This was Jimmy, who had a form of cerebral palsy, yet was one of the funniest guys in their town. He was wearing trainers and had no intention of entering the water at all, simply content with chilling out with his best friends.

The boys eventually reach the beach, finding a spot nearer the back that wasn’t too close to everyone else for Tweek’s sake. Token forcefully stuck the parasol into the sand and opened it, Tweek immediately running underneath. With the palest skin out of them all, he’d coated himself in 3 layers of sunscreen before coming out for the day.

Craig sets down the beach bag, whipping out a pile of folded towels, leaving a couple spare in the bag. “Take your pick.”

Tweek is the first to grab one; a simple striped design.

Clyde was next, opting for the one with the slogan ‘Cool story bro’ on it.

Token passed one to Jimmy that had fruit decorating it, and then took a basic blue one for himself.

Craig was left with the towel with an adorable looking cartoon shark on it, one of which used to belong to his younger sister Tricia. He didn’t seem at all bothered and laid it out next to Tweek’s towel.

“Alright so who’s coming for a splash in a little while?” Clyde enthusiastically asks.

“FUCK no. I’m not gonna be present while you awkwardly try to pick up chicks by the water.” Craig protests.

“Oh Craig,” Clyde tuts, “You should be more supportive of me!”

“Yeah well, I’m not supportive of those speedos.”

Token chuckles, “Again with the speedos…you really aren’t a fan are you?”

“Dude, look at him. He looks like a middle aged dad who flirts with teenagers.”

Clyde pouts, “HEY…at least I’m not flexing a damn fisherman hat!”

“Nghh, not cool Clyde! Don’t drag me into this too!!” Tweek contributes, awkwardly tugging on his hat.

“Firstly, it’s called a bucket hat. Secondly, fuck you. It keeps us cool.” says Craig.

“Appearance vs p-p-practicality. A truly difficult decision f-for sure.” Jimmy jokes.

“Who cares about how good you look when you’re frying to death?!” says Tweek.

“Chill out Tweek, we’re not frying! We’re just sun-kissed.“ Clyde teases. Token pushes him playfully, shaking his head and smiling.

Jimmy looks out over the crowd of people, stopping when he sees someone he recognises. An auburn-haired boy of their age was sat reading a book next to his mother, who was watching his father and younger brother throw a ball back and forth to each other.

“H-hey, isn’t that K-K-Kyle Broflovski and his f-family over there?”

Token squints his eyes in the same direction, “…oh shit, it is! Shall we go say hi?”

“What?! I’m not going all the way over there!!” Tweek protests.

Craig lies back on his towel. “If Ike sees Clyde he’ll just annoy him with pirate songs again.”

“I don’t need reminding of that you guys!!” Clyde whines.

“Kyle looks pretty bored…” says Token.

“Damn…and S-S-Sheila is looking pretty…th-th-th-thick.” Jimmy stutters, watching as Sheila rubbed herself with sunscreen.

“Gross Jimmy, put your boner away.” says Craig.

“Relax b-buddy! Only her m-mother could love t-that face.” he jests.

Token gets up, “I’m gonna go say hi, Craig come with!”

“Ugh fine but we’re not staying long.” Craig groans.

“Bring us back ice cream will ya!” Clyde declares, pointing at the ice cream van nearby.

“Anything for you, princess.” Token jokes, before helping Craig up by the hand and wandering off towards Kyle.

They quickly return with 5 ice cream cones, one with toffee sauce since Tweek likes toffee.

Obviously, Clyde had something to say about this. “Uhhhh, where’s my toffee sauce??”

“Go and get some from the van if you want it, you lazy twat.” Craig says, handing the cone to Tweek. Tweek smiles warmly up at him before thanking him. Clyde takes his cone from Token, pulls a sour face and sticks his tongue out at Craig before heading towards the van.

After not even 2 minutes of receiving his ice cream, Tweek has a sudden large twitch and accidentally drops the cone onto his leg. Clyde bursts out with laughter, while Craig grabs a spare towel from the beach bag and helps him to clean up.

“I will literally pay you half of my w-w-wage if you lick some of that.” Jimmy jests.

“WHAT?! Are you nuts?!” Tweek yells.

“That’s a comment I’d expect from Clyde, not you Jimmy.” Craig retorts. “Fuck off.”

“What if it was Token’s wage?” Clyde suggests.

“Not even for Token’s wage.” says Craig.

“You guys, my wage isn’t that much different than yours!” Token objects. He’s not wrong; he only earns about 3 or 4 more dollars than the rest of them. However he serves wealthier customers and the tips tend to be double, even triple the average waiter gets.

Once Craig finishes cleaning up a very embarrassed Tweek, and returns to the van to buy him a replacement ice cream, the five of them lie on their respective towels and sunbathe quietly in each others company. So quiet in fact, that none of them realise until 20 minutes later that Clyde had fallen fast asleep. Only when he suddenly lets out a loud snore, waking himself up in the process, does he attract the other’s attention.

“Jesus Clyde, scared the shit out of me.” Craig snaps.

“The heat must’ve knocked me out…” says Clyde. “I need to cool down…time for a swim!”

Almost instantly, as if he hadn’t just woken up, Clyde immediately springs to his feet and flings his shirt off. “Who’s coming??”

“I will. The water looks fresh.” Token gets up a little slower, taking off his shades and placing them on his towel.

“Tweek?”

“Ngh, maybe later…” Tweek replies. And by ‘maybe later’, he meant ‘probably not at all’.

“No worries bud.” Clyde reassures. “Jimmy? Oh yeah Jimmy said he wasn’t swimming today…Craig?”

The two standing look over to Craig, who’s very clearly pretending he didn’t hear them. Clyde bends over him, casting a shadow over his face.

“Craig? Yoohooooo?”

“What?”

“Are you coming swimming with us?” Token asks.

“Nah.”

Token rolls his eyes, exchanging a disappointed look with Clyde, before leaning in and whispering something into his ear. Clyde grows a mischievous grin and looks over at Craig, who is completely oblivious.

Craig is a slim guy and relatively lightweight, so it wasn’t a problem for Clyde and Token to grab him by the legs and arms and lift him up abruptly.

“Wh-? What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Taking you for a dip.” Clyde replies nonchalantly.

“I hate you both so much, fucking put me down!”

Craig wriggles a little in protest, his hat falling off in the process, but it’s not long before he gives in and simply lets the other two carry him over to the water.

Tweek and Jimmy laugh as they watch them go.

“Ngh…am I an unsupportive boyfriend if I just sit back and let them pick on him like that?” Tweek jokes.

“It makes a ch-change from Craig p-p-picking on everyone else, I suppose.” Jimmy shrugs.

They watch on as Clyde and Token count down from 3, and on zero, Craig is slam dunked into the water. He resurfaces flicking his hair and immediately targets Clyde by jumping onto his shoulders and sending him underneath the water. The antics continue as Tweek smiles from afar, happy and tranquil. Seeing his boyfriend and his friends messing around and having fun made him feel so relaxed and carefree, and distracted him from any worries he may have.

He sighs with contentment. At least he didn’t have to worry about being alone. His friends were always there for each other and supported each other an equal amount. And days like this just proved that the five of them were closer than ever.

—

#craig and those guys #craigandthoseguysweek #craigandthoseguysweek2019 #craig and those guys week #craig tucker #tweek tweak #clyde donovan #token black #jimmy valmer #south park #south park craig #south park tweek #south park clyde #south park token #south park jimmy #south park fanfiction #south park oneshots

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5hining-aus · 5 years ago

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Royal Assassin AU (Key X Reader) (Part 1)

Here she is, perhaps the AU that I’m most excited about. This one has been in my head for a long time so I’m pretty happy that I finally got it written down. As always, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you thought or if you have any questions!

Note: So I decided to use a different dating system than the one we’re all used to now in the 21st century. Throughout the fic, you may see dates formatted like this: 1:2:3 Word. The first number refers to the day, the second is the month, the third is what year it is, and the word at the end is what age it is, so something like 25:5:8 Pearl would translate to the 25th day of the 5th month of the 8th year of the Pearl Age.

WARNING: This AU may contain slightly darker themes as it goes on. I would like to make it clear that if anybody ever needs anything tagged then please just tell me and I’ll do it, no questions asked.

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The library was silent, tranquil even, with the only sounds being the creaking of the castle, the gusting wind outside, and the rustling of pages as you flipped through the massive book detailing your family’s royal history. Over 500 years of lineage, all contained within this one text. And as the new ruler, you were expected to know it like the back of your hand.

Margaery the Wise, born 20:3:7 Rose, crowned 15:3:25 Rose. Married Cecily of House Bywater (10:7:5 Rose) on 4:12:25 Rose. Adopted and legitimized 3 children: Prince Bailin (7:8:26 Rose), Princess Kaina (5:3:30 Rose), and Prince Faroald (7:2:34 Rose). Ruled until her death (5:5:49 Rose). Succeeded by her son, Prince Bailin

Bailin the Blessed, born...born...shit, when was he born again?

You closed the book and rested your forehead in your hands. It had been over three hours since you started reading and you were only on the Rose Era, to finish the book would take all night, if not longer. Deciding that a break was in order but not wanting anybody who may enter the library to catch you neglecting your studies, you began absentmindedly flipping through the tome, stopping whenever something caught your eye.

Edmund the Faithful, a rather interesting epithet for a man who had over 100 illegitimate children, but I suppose that’s the point, you mused. The more you read, the more humorous some of the titles became.

Lets see, Bardolf the Clever was a notorious idiot, Helga the Red was blonde-haired, Geva the Small was said to be among the tallest women in the kingdom during her life, and Louis the Sweet was a tyrant.

You kept flipping, eventually reaching the names that you knew well. Cadeyrn the Bold, accurate, but an understatement, you couldn’t help but chuckle, thinking that “Wild” would have been a much more accurate word for your grandfather. “Y/N, watch this, I’m going to go wrestle that bear.” The bear almost won...Almost. “Of course that four year old stallion is safe for you to ride.” You were seven, you stayed on, but you saw your very short life flash before your eyes. And lastly, “Y/N, you will be the ruler one day, it’s time you learned how to wield a blade.” You were five and he decided that the first weapon you would try out would be a two-handed sword about twice your height. You fell over almost immediately and your grandfather didn’t even attempt to disguise his laughter. A small smile crossed your face at these memories.

You skimmed through the remaining histories until you came across a largely blank page, a single line written on it:

Y/N, born YBD:YBM:YBY Pearl, crowned 25:5:119 Pearl.

That was all there was. No epithet, no great achievements, nothing, just a name, a birthdate, and a coronation date. You had to earn everything else. You had to do things that were worth writing about. Honestly, you were terrified. All your life you had been told what to do, where to go, what to say, how to look, essentially, how to be the picture of perfection. Now there’s nobody to tell you what to do and while it does feel liberating, it is also very stressful. Would you be a good ruler? Would you be able to keep the kingdom safe? These were two of the many questions that had been keeping you up at night, filled with anxiety.

While in the midst of your worrying, you heard a peculiar sound. Taking a cursory glance around, you spot nothing amiss. Wait, has that window been open this whole time? It must have been. You were very wrong and, within seconds, there was an arm around your waist, a deep voice in your ear, and a knife to your throat.

“Well well well, what do we have here? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

You wanted to scream, but nothing above a yelp came out. Suddenly, you were twirled around and the blade, which was once at your throat, was now just below your chin, lifting your head ever so slightly and giving you your first candlelit glimpse of the intruder.

OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT! By the gods he’s handsome. OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT!

After a brief moment of panic, you noticed something. Your surprise visitor’s blade was no longer at your neck and, as luck would have it, your left knee was in a very “strategic” place. And so, your knee went up, and the intruder went down. However, you failed to notice that he still had you by the waist, so you fell to the ground with him.

In between pained groans and sharp intakes of breath, your visitor managed to spit out a complete sentence. “What the hell was that for?!?!”

You could do nothing but stare at him incredulously. Had he hit his head during the fall? Or was he just stupid?

“You were trying to kill me.”

Almost as soon as that sentence left your mouth, the stranger started laughing, though his laughter was quickly interrupted by another groan of pain.

“You are very cute, Your Majesty. Believe me, if I was going to kill you, you would’ve been dead before you even realized I was here.” As if those words were supposed to comfort you. You felt the urge to hit him again, maybe it would get rid of the arrogant smirk that was gracing his features. His very, very pretty features...Aggh, snap out of it Y/N.

You ultimately decide against striking him, you wouldn’t want to get blood on any of the books. Suddenly, you heard a sound from the end of the hall. It was your guards! They must’ve heard the commotion and came running. Strangely enough, the stranger didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. If anything, he was amused

“Tsk tsk, and here I was just starting to enjoy myself.” He got up and made his way to the opened window. Lazily leaning against the wall, he turned back to look at you once more.

“Watch yourself, Your Majesty. One of your noble friends paid me a good bit of gold to scare you, who knows what an enemy would pay me to do.”

You were shocked, but the stranger had climbed out the window and disappeared into the night before you could press him for more details. Little did you know, was that this wouldn’t be the last time you two would meet.

#SHINee AU #SHINee imagines #SHINee #SHINee scenarios #SHINee x reader #key x reader #Royal Assassin AU #kibum

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freetobcubed · 3 years ago

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For Tasha

Who didn’t have to take me into her heart

But seems to have done so anyhow

It was a long, long way down.

Nobody thinks about fifty downy mattresses being tall, but I am here to tell you--they are tall. I was way, way high up. Is it any wonder that I didn’t sleep? I’m absolutely petrified when it comes to heights!

My father used to say that was my major character flaw. “Climb higher, do better,” he’d say--though come to think of it, he usually wasn’t referring to distance from the floor. More like overcoming my dirt-floor, dirt-poor upbringing.

Wouldn’t he have loved to see me there, scrunched up near the top of the castle’s tallest tower, shivering under a blanket, too scared to look over the edge of the bed?

Maybe not. Maybe he would have been disappointed to know that I wasn’t only afraid of falling. The queen, her outrageous demands, her apparent madness, they all scared me. But my father died when I was fourteen; Mother went two years later. I was alone.

At the very first, I’d met Stefan quite by accident. I wasn’t trying to social climb. Love sneaked up on us, though I did try to keep it at bay.

You see, the prince--Stefan is the prince--had been ordered by his mother to find a bride and provide an heir to the throne. Then, his crazy mother had systematically undermined every single potential wife from every last surrounding kingdom. The princess from Asurra had been driven away with a test involving fire (no one would even gossip about the details, apparently it was too frightening,) and the princess from Regat had been driven away when she’d been asked to embroider a full-sized tapestry. In silks. In two days.

I don’t blame either girl for giving up.

The other princesses were gotten rid of in similar manners. Every unwed royal or noble lady from the nine kingdoms, it seemed, had been invited to try for Prince Stefan’s hand, then been sent packing after being faced with a dread fear.

Finally, the king had stepped in.

King Ion is a tall man. Skinny, too. He looks like a single gust of air could blow him away, and his wife, Queen Elena, is constantly blowing storms of air and words out her mouth. Maybe that’s why King Ion doesn’t argue with the queen. Either way, Elena runs the kingdom of Pim, and she does it--well, let’s just say that I’d do things differently.

But once in a while, King Ion will dig in his heels good and proper. This time, it was for the sake of his son.

“Elena, dear,” he’d said (so the gossip went,) “Stefan is going to have to choose a Pimmish wife now.”

“Pimmish? There are no ladies worthy,” the queen had argued (so they say.) The royal couple had gone back and forth for days. Finally, someone thought to ask Stefan what he thought ought to be done.

“Devise a test, mother,” he’d declared (I know because he told me himself.) “Find a way to identify a worthy bride. Then let the women of Pim prove themselves against it.”

Now, I know that sounds absurd. It was. But Stefan knew his mother’s ways, knew that she would never just let him choose a wife. The game had to be played, and the deck had to seem stacked in the queen’s favor. It was that, or have his own mother executed for crimes against the nation. Stefan chose the gentler course.

“It’s a good plan, Elena dear,” Ion had agreed. And so it was that, however reluctantly, the queen got on board with a Princess test.

“I don’t think she expects anyone to pass,” Stefan said when he told me about it. He and I had been friends a long time--Stefan is one that likes to mingle with his commoners, see who he can help and serve. He’ll be a good king. I’d admired him for many years by this point, but I’d never imagined I’d be anything more to him than a friendly face in the market.

“What are you going to do?” I asked him, wiping dirt off a cob of corn with the corner of my apron. “You have to find a princess to wed.”

“Not necessarily,” he answered. “ I have to find a woman to wed. Technically, nowhere in the rules does it say she has to be a princess.”

“Well, sure, but we all know your mother means--”

“I don’t care what she means,” he said. He gave me his wide-eyed look, the one that reminded me of my pup, Rapscallion. The one filled with a longing that I guess we both felt, though we’d never talked about it. “Can I have one of those?”

I handed him one of the pea pods I was polishing. He chomped it cheerfully.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

` “Not I,” Stefan said, and swallowed. “We.”

“We?”

“If you want to,” he said quickly. “That is, if you’re interested. If it sounds like something you’d like to do.”

“If what sounds like something I’d like to do?” I asked, puzzled.

“Marry me?” Stefan asked, his cheeks and ears reddenning. “Become a princess? Be my wife?”

“Oh, ha, ha,” I said, though my heart thumped so hard I was sure the prince could hear it.

“I mean it, Vi,” he said. I gave him a hard stare.

“You do?”

“Yes.” So unequivocal!

“But why would you want to marry me? You could have anybody!” “What?” Stefan looked utterly flabbergasted.

“I mean, you could marry just about anyone if you really tried,” I continued. “Even your mother can’t scare someone off for good, and those princesses that came--”

“I don’t want those princesses,” he answered earnestly, and his deep hazel eyes met mine. I had to fight back the urge to grin sappily. “I want you.”

“...You do?”

“Of course I do, Vi. I thought you knew that.”

“But--but--”

“Do you love me? I love you.”

“Of course I do,” I whispered.

“Then it’s settled,” Stefan announced. “We’ll get married.” “How? Your mother’s game--”

“Why, we’re going to cheat, of course.”

***

I didn’t recognize myself by the time the royal clothiers were finished with me. True, I’d never seen myself in a looking glass before--or anything nicer than a clear puddle on stone--but the girl who peered uncertainly at me didn’t seem to be me. She looked like a princess.

“You look beautiful,” Stefan said as I tiptoed out from behind the changing screen.

“I look like someone else.”

“No,” he said, standing and taking my hands in his. “This is what I’ve always seen you as.”

“A cupcake in a frock that costs twice what my land is worth?”

He laughed.

“No,” he answered, and squeezed my fingers. “I look at you and I see fierce strength, and quiet wisdom. Kindness, patience, and a good judge of character. Like a queen.”

“Not like the current queen, I hope,” I whispered, and Stefan chuckled again.

“No, I think it’s safe to say that you and my mother have nothing in common,” he agreed. “Now. That was the easy part.”

I nodded. The dress, paid for by the prince himself, was simple. Even learning to breathe in the strict corset wouldn’t be the difficult bit.

I had to pass as “worthy” before the queen. And no one knew what the test was!

“Do you know what she’s requiring of me?” I asked.

“No idea,” he said, and released my hands, cupping my chin in his fingers instead. “But whatever it is, we’ll get through it. Together.”

“Together,” I agreed. It was a lovely sentiment.

***

“Lady Viorica of Desen-upon-Evela, Pim,” the herald announced as I entered the Grand Hall. I ground my teeth nervously; masquerading as a lady before Their Majesties was probably a crime.

“What a lovely young woman,” King Ion observed, giving a nod of his head. I smiled a little. Ion might not have been much of a king, but he was kind.

“Hmm,” Queen Elena rumbled. I quit grinding my teeth then, standing as straight as I could. Here’s a thing about me: give me wiggle room, a way to squelch out of a fight, and I’ll make a run for it nearly every time. I hate conflict. But if you try to box me into a corner--if you want to make me feel small--if for even a tiny second you act like I don’t deserve my humanity--I’ll come back so strong and so fast, swinging so hard, that you won’t have a clue what hit you.

That hmm struck me wrong. If I hadn’t been ready to fight for my love before, I was then.

“Your Majesties,” I said, sweeping into a shallower curtsy than was strictly proper. I was angry.

“Lady Viorica,” Queen Elena replied, her lips snapping together when she’d finished, as if she could spit me out of the room. “I don’t know you.”

“Your son does,” I replied.

“That is not as strong a recommendation as you’d think, my girl,” the queen said. “My son consorts with commoners.”

“Oughtn’t a king to know his people?” I asked, trying to keep my tone demure. “Your royal Majesty,” I finished. King Ion cracked a small smile behind his wife’s back.

“Hmm.”

“May I know what I am to do to prove myself, Majesty?” I asked. Stefan, seated behind his parents by a few inches, gave me a glance of warning. Too bold, Vi, I told myself.

“It is late,” the queen said with a wave of her hand. “There is a bed prepared for you in thetower. Pass the night here, and we will test your worthiness in the morning.”

Which is how I ended up terrified, annoyed, and precariously balanced atop fifty downy mattresses, as I mentioned.

Stefan crept into the chamber as I lay at the top, fingers gripping tightly to the bedsheets, staring at the ceiling that was only a few inches above my nose.

“Your Highness,” I heard the chaperone say as the door creaked open. “Lady Viorica is not to be disturbed.”

“I’m not disturbing her,” Stefan said. “I don’t think. Vi, are you disturbed?”

“By you?” I asked. “Never.”

“By what, then?”

“By your mother,” I answered. “I’ve been expressly forbidden to sleep anywhere but atop this tottering pile of fluff.”

“Then should I leave you to sleep?”

“As if I could!” I exclaimed, and rolled just close enough to the edge that I could peer down at Stefan. “Will you read me a story?”

“Certainly,” Stefan said. He looked to the matronly woman guarding the door. “Sofi, may I?”

“The queen has said nothing against it,” Sofi agreed.

“Then I will fetch a book and return,” the prince said. He left, and I rolled back to the middle of the bed. The pile of mattresses shook, and I trembled too.

“Are you well, m’lady?” Sofi called up.

“Not in the least,” I grumbled. “You may tell your queen that no proper person could sleep on this… this mountain.”

“A mountain, is it?” Sofi chuckled. “You’re uncomfortable, then?”

“Beyond description,” I called back.

“I’ll inform her majesty in the morning.”

“That might not be wise,” I said, realizing I might lose out on the mysterious competition by complaining.

“It is my duty to report on your sleep, m’lady,” Sofi said.

“It’s what?”

“I found a book,” Stefan called as he re-entered the room. I inched back to the edge.

“Read at your leisure, please,” I answered.

Stefan read to me for the rest of the night--and into the gray hours of the morning, too. The tale was interesting, though it was not what kept me awake. He finally nodded off in the chair he’d landed in. I couldn’t sleep.

“Awake and arise, my lady!” The queen herself announced as the sun began to peek through the tower window.

“I can get down, then?” I asked from my spot in the middle of the bed. The queen’s footfalls came to an abrupt halt.

“Did… you sleep well, Lady Viorica?” She asked. More steps echoed, and I peeked down to see King Ion standing in my doorway. He gazed up at me.

“I beg pardon, Majesties,” I said with a shudder, “but I fear that I did not sleep. May I descend?”

“Certainly you may,” the king said. I gave a sigh of relief, then rolled to the top of the ladder and inched downward. I took another great, steadying breath when my feet hit the floor.

“I thank you for the hospitality, Your Majesties,” I said. “However, if there is a couch somewhere that I can rest on…”

“You didn’t sleep?” the queen demanded.

“Forgive me, Majesty, but… could you have?”

“No, but--” she lunged forward, past me, reaching toward the base of the pile of bedding, She wiggled her fingers around under the bottom mattress, her hand finally sliding out with a green smudge on the forefinger.

“But how did you know?”

Know what? I wondered. Was sleeping some sort of--was it the test? What kind of lunatic test is that?

‘ “She knew because she is worthy, Mother,” Stefan said. I hadn’t realized he’d woken up.

“Apparently so…” the queen agreed.

No matter how many years pass, the image of her confounded, stupefied face will never cease to be a source of amusement and comfort to me.

***

Anyhow, that’s how I, Viorica of the tiniest farm in Desen-upon-Evela, an orphan and a stranger to royal ways, ended up the princess of Pim. It’s strictly terrifying, being in charge, but I have Stefan beside me as guide, friend, and love. Every day, I try to climb higher, and be better.

But I do it from the ground.

#Short story #rough draft #Princess and the pea #fairy tale #retelling

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geek-patient-zero · 5 years ago

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Part 2, Chapter 1

Or: Gratuitous? I'll Show You Gratuitous

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Before starting Part 2, Robert Weinberg gives us another Edgar Allan Poe quote. This one’s from the short story “Ligeia”.

That she loved me I should not have doubted; and I might have been easily aware that, in a bosom such as hers, love would have reigned as no ordinary passion.

Who could this chapter be about, I wonder?

New York, NY—March 14, 1994

The most dangerous woman in the world rose each day with the sun.

She lived in the penthouse suite on top of one of the tallest skyscrapers in New York City. The building, from foundation to lightning rod, belonged to her. Few New Yorkers realized that the owner lived on the premises. Even fewer knew what she looked like or how much she was really worth. None were aware of the other, darker secrets the structure held.

A strong start so far. From here, the chapter will emphasize four things when introducing our new protagonist, Alicia Varney:

She’s super hot

She’s super horny

She loves being alive to a decadent degree

She’s a ruthless and unapologetic member of the 1%

In that order. Look, it’s the 90′s, this is a nerd property, and the story’s talking about a woman. You knew where this was going.

The name “Varney” might be a reference to Varney the Vampire; or, the Feast of Blood by either James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest. It was a penny dreadful vampire story that predated both Carmilla and Dracula and introduced several classic vampire tropes, like fangs that leave two puncture wounds and hypnotic powers. It’s also remembered for being terrible, so it’s maybe not the best story to associate your own book with.

As the sun rises, the light shines through her windows and slowly creeps over her lush carpet to her king-size bed.

It splashed across bright red silk sheets until it crested like a wave on the nude body of the woman sprawled in deep sleep in the middle of the crimson sea.

‘Cause sleeping naked on top of your bed covers is what anyone does when they live in New York City, a hundred floors up, in mid-March.

Her dark hair flared around her head in a halo, the sleeper had the face of an angel. And the body of a devil.

Her features, young and wrinkle-free, glowing pink with perfect health, were those of a twenty-five year old. Her body was taut and lean, well-muscled and deeply bronzed. Firm breasts, long, tapered legs, and flared hips proclaimed her one of those rare beauties who looked exceptional either dressed or undressed.

She must also smell like a gym sock dipped in stale perfume, given that she’s just waking up.

Quick comparison: In Part 1, Chapter 1 we didn’t get a physical description of McCann for about two and a half pages, and when we did all we were told was that he was a “big, broad-shouldered man” along with his height and weight. Before then we learned his name, profession, the situation he was in, what he’d been doing in the recent past and what he’s doing at present, and some exposition about a different character. For Varney, we get some brief hints at her wealth and power before being presented with a Playboy centerfold description three paragraphs into the first page of the chapter.

The sunshine caressed her face, causing the woman to smile in her sleep. Sighing softly, she rolled over, burying her head in the silk.

Varney has a grand old time waking up. She wipes the sleep from her eyes (or as we of the lower classes would describe it, scrapes off the hardened crust gluing her eyelids shut), does some lazy, sensual stretches, and shimmies her shoulders and back against the sheets to enjoy the feeling of them against her skin. After that “face of an angel/body of a devil” stuff it’s not like Weinberg was gonna write her groaning, scratching herself, and farting.

Still, I gotta call bullshit on this next line.

It feels good to be alive, thought Alicia Varney. It feels very good to be alive.

I don’t care who you are, how high your Humanity stat is, or how much you love being alive. No one likes waking up at sunrise.

Varney shuffles herself over to the intercom on her nightstand to alert the help.

“The princess in the tower has arisen,” the young woman declared. Her voice, low and sultry, was as smooth as melted honey.

That’d be the morning phlegm doing that.

She requests her usual breakfast and says she should be out of the shower by the time it arrives. The voice on the other end of the intercom acknowledging her wishes is a guy named Sanford Jackson, and he’s one of those fictional servants who’d be overqualified for their job if their employer was your average rich person. A former Green Beret and CIA troubleshooter, Jackson now serves as Alicia Varney’s manservant, chauffeur, bodyguard, and all-around sidekick.

And emergency cock.

During the rare periods where she was without a lover, he handled that job with reasonable competency as well.

“Reasonable competency,” hmm? Can’t tell if that’s a playfully coy way of saying he’s an excellent lover or a polite way of saying he’s meh.

Whatever his sexual skill level, the thought of Jackson’s “hard, muscular body” excites Varney. For the past few nights she’s been going through one of those previously mentioned rare loverless periods.

It was a situation she meant to remedy as soon as possible. Alicia Varney squeezed every drop of pleasure possible out of life. She did not like being denied anything for very long.

Still, she’s not quite desperate enough to fuck the help yet. Smart, since you don’t want a henchman in your stable getting too attached. It could also be evidence for the second of my two theories about Jackson’s Athletics ability.

Varney jumps into the shower, and as expected the narration doesn’t waste time on mundane actions like her scrubbing her armpits or rinsing the dandruff off of her scalp. Nor does Weinberg do the average male author thing of writing the woman doing an exotic dance in the shower while describing the water running down this curve and that tit. Nah, he skips all that and has Varney just go for it.

A few minutes under hot, pulsating streams of water, along with a session with the magnificent detachable shower nozzle, would serve for the moment.

You could give Weinberg credit for writing a woman masturbating for her own pleasure, rather than as foreplay or to show how lonely, pathetic, and manless she is, but keep in mind Varney’s only doing it because she didn’t have the real thing at the moment.

But self-stimulation was no substitute for the real thing. Later today she would go on the prowl. She needed a man.

We’ve only known Alicia Varney for two pages and I’ve read more about her struggling with her libido than I have Kindred with their inner Beasts since the start of the book.

When she steps out of the shower, Jackson has her breakfast prepared in her penthouse.

Dressed in a totally transparent dressing robe (because of course she is), Alicia nodded in satisfaction at the three slices of cinnamon French toast, selection of imported fruit jellies, pot of coffee, and copy of the Wall Street Journal.

This is very relatable to me. I, too, start my day by eating the Wall Street Journal.

She asks Jackson if she has any messages. He says she has a few, but nothing important enough to deal with before breakfast. He stands at attention nearby as she eats, and thanks to that transparent robe he does so literally and euphemistically.

Old habits died hard, Jackson never rested easy in the presence of his commanding officer. He always stood at rigid attention in Alicia’s presence. Though he couldn’t help sneak sideways glances at her firm breasts tightly pressed against the thin material of her gown.

I can guess why he ain’t with the CIA anymore.

As the former Green Beret tries to get his privates to stand at ease, Varney sets up her breakfast the way she likes it. Then she eats it the way you’d expect a hedonistic immortal billionaire to: like an asshole.

She feasted slowly, savoring each bite much like a condemned convict eating his last meal. Alicia rarely hurried doing anything. Eating, drinking, sleeping, making love,

using the bathroom, getting money from the ATM, deciding what to order at the drive-through,

she did them all at a controlled, measured pace that defined her existence. She believed in devouring her pleasures mouthful by mouthful, chewing them to a fine pulp, then swallowing. She was never in a rush. She had all the time in the world.

The WSJ doesn’t have anything in it that Varney hadn’t already learned from the better contacts her billions can afford her. This is typical even though reading the paper remains a part of her morning routine. Maybe so her sexy manservant won’t dare to try and start a conversation with her?

The mention of her billions leads to us learning more about the earnings of her company, Varney Enterprises, one of the largest corporation on Earth. Nothing about what services or products the company actually sells, though.

Estimating its actual worth was impossible, but corporate yearly reported income was more than the gross national product of many small countries. And that did not include funds from the company’s more profitable but quite illegal secret enterprises.

Someone’s muscling in on Cyberpunk 2020′s territory.

Eventually Varney puts down the paper, surely confident that Jackson won’t suddenly ask about her feelings, and gazes out the window. She lives in a skyscraper’s penthouse and the weather’s clear enough to see “for miles and miles,” and you’d think she’d admire the sight of New York City at sunrise. Instead, she looks toward New Jersey.

Her sharp gaze traveled past the slums of Tenth Avenue and the Bowery and across the polluted green and brown waters of the Hudson River. Beyond the river were the moldering Hoboken docks and the huge toxic waste dumps that had earned the town the nickname “the cancer capital of America.” At the edge of her vision, Alicia could catch sight of the crumbling coastal palisades that guarded the New Jersey swamps.

The World of Darkness is a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World; a Stark, Desolate Landscape where Nothing is as it Seems. So obviously nothing about New Jersey changed.

The view makes Varney feel like “a medieval princess in her tower surrounded by a world of peasants.” The narration explains America’s social situation in the World of Darkness: The rich are like aristocracy, there’s no true middle class, just rich and poor. Same old, same old. And while Varney has a history that should give her a unique and profound view on this social problem, the only conclusion she’d come to is that being rich is better.

Having experienced both extreme poverty and extreme prosperity many times in her life, Alicia knew without question that incredible affluence was the better of the two.

Wise words, Upton Sinclair.

She reveled in her riches, her lifestyle, and, most of all, in the physical sensations of life itself. There was no way she would give up any of it. For anyone or any cause.

Now with a set-up like that, you could normally predict a character’s arc. This time I have my doubts, as extremely long lived immortal characters tend to be set in their ways, but we’ll see.

(Spoiler: There's only one damn character in this trilogy who grows, and it's not this one.)

Oh, right. If you haven’t figured it out yet, Alicia Varney is actually Anis, Lameth’s former conspirator and lover, or whatever the ancient Mesopotamian term for “friend with benefits” was. It’s not revealed for another two chapters, but it’s obvious, so...

Having reflected on how the hardships she experienced over the millennia have taught her absolutely nothing beyond “fuck you, got mine”, Varney starts feeling philosophical. She asks Jackson if he can imagine living without the sun. Unfortunately the guy’s a bit of a dumbass when it comes to this sort of thing. Or so we’re told.

“Pardon, Miss?” Jackson was poised, bright, and articulate. He did not, however, possess an imagination. He viewed the world in terms of blacks and whites, positives and negatives. A wonderful bodyguard and right-hand man, he was less satisfactory as a conversationalist.

Jesus, all he said was “pardon.” No need to insult the guy’s worldview or conversational skills just yet.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Have you ever given any thought to what it would be like enduring in a world of eternal darkness. (I see what you almost did there, Mr. Weinberg) Without hope of ever seeing sunlight again?”

The big lug thinks she’s talking about being blind.

“Can’t say I have, Miss Varney. During the war, I trained wearing a blindfold, learning how to rely on my other senses if my eyes were injured.

Jackson’s secretly a kung fu movie protagonist.

But that never happened. I’ve been lucky that way. Always had perfect vision.”

Alicia sighed. She wondered why she bothered. With a shake of her head, she tried one last time.

“Big bright light in sky. What if... could kill you? Can only do awake things when big bright light go sleep at dark time? You like?”

But seriously. Varney tells Jackson to imagine he caught a theoretical disease that would kill him if he were exposed to sunlight, and cost him the ability to enjoy “physical pleasures” like eating and drinking. Never again able to see the sun, to eat or drink. Would he go mad? Would he adapt, if he even could.

Jackson finally figures out that his boss is talking about vampires, like the ones she deals with at a place called The Devil’s Playground.

“Became one of those vampire things who spend all their time plotting against each other? Or haunt the streets, drinking the blood from bums who don’t have a place to hide.”

“They are not prime examples of the Kindred,” said Alicia. “But close enough.”

Nah, that’s an accurate description of your average WOD vampire, even the older low-gen ones Varney no doubt thinks of as prime examples (and secretly is).

“It wouldn’t make a difference to me, Miss. I’m a survivor. I enjoy my food and drink,” his eyes widened suggestively, “and my lovemaking.

“Uuuuuuuugh,” groaned Alicia as she once again regrets banging him.

Can’t say I’d be thrilled if I had to live without them. But I ain’t quite ready for the great beyond, if you catch my meaning. If I had to drink some blood to stay around, I’d do it in an instant. Did worse in the war, ma’am. Lot worse once or twice. Survival ain’t pretty, Miss Varney. Still, death is awful final.”

“You are a practical fellow, Mr. Jackson,” said Alicia.

Me, I would’ve asked him to clarify on the war crimes and possible cannibalism he just admitted to, but fine, let’s go with practical.

Varney concludes that she sometimes thinks an eternity of darkness is no better than a short life followed by death, and Jackson can’t really understand because “Mankind is born of the sun” (not me though, I was born after nine o’clock PM) and “Humans are truly heirs of the morning.” Jackson counters by saying he’d heard vampires being called the Children of the Night. Varney says that’s poetic, but very true, proving that neither of these two idiots had watched the damn movie. Dracula was talking about wolves. If anything, werewolves are the Children of the Night. Vampires are more like the Stuffy Old Dudes or Moody Teenagers of the Night, depending on the story.

That was all a fancy way of them agreeing to disagree. The conversation ended, Varney stands up and reminds us that she’s not so much wearing a robe as a big sheet of Saran wrap.

She rose to her feet, grinning as her assistant’s expression froze, his thoughts as transparent as her robe. “Keep hoping, Mr. Jackson,” Alicia purred as she walked to the huge closets that covered one entire wall of her bedroom. “If I don’t find a candidate to satisfy my carnal desires within the next few days, I will be forced to rely on your services. I’m positive you will rise to the occasion.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will have an erection for you when the time comes.”

“...Mr. Jackson. We’ve talked about you explaining my wordplay.”

“...?”

“That you shouldn’t.”

“Of course, Miss Varney,” said Jackson politely. “I’ll try my best.”

“That will be quite satisfactory, I’m sure,” said Alicia.

It’s more clearly playful than the last time Jackson’s fuckin’ skills were brought up, but the fact that he still has to wait a few days before his boss gives up and settles for him still makes me doubt his ability to please.

This reminds me of some Spider-Man history. Do you know why Spidey’s relationship with Black Cat didn’t work back in the day? It’s because while she was in love with the mysterious, wise-cracking and crime fighting Spider-Man, she had absolutely no interest in boring old sad sack Peter Parker. Sure, he was dating this incredibly beautiful lady, but the nature of the relationship meant his self-esteem was at rock bottom.

The situations are different, but the results are similar enough. Jackson occasionally gets to have sex with his gorgeous and seductive boss, but she straight up tells him she’ll only do it if she’s going through an extended sexual drought and can’t find a different boy toy, and she’s too coy to straight up say whether or not she enjoys those rare times with him. It makes me wonder about poor Jackson’s mental health. That and that war time cannibalism he mentioned earlier.

Ah well. Next chapter we learn that Varney pays him enough for her to have no doubts about his loyalty, so he has that going for him at least.

Speaking of paying him enough to deal with her bullshit, as Varney enters one of her closets she orders Jackson to bring up her messages and Sumohn, her pet panther she hasn’t seen in several days. Not only is Alicia Varney a selfish corpo yuppie, she’s one of those people who thinks it’s a good idea to own an exotic animal.

Jackson blanched. His big hands clenched into fists as he scowled at Alicia.

Even her boner-addled henchman is judging her.

“That beast is dangerous, Miss Varney. Black Panthers aren’t made to be household pets. Not even for ladies like you.”

“Nonsense,” said Alicia, her tone of voice brooking no disagreement. “I can assure you that Sumohn is incapable of harming me. I repeat, Mr. Jackson, incapable. We have had this conversation before and it does not please me to repeat it again. The subject is closed.”

Jackson relents, understanding who writes the checks and provides the magic pussy. He says he’ll send word to the kennel, because of course the ignorant billionaire keeps the poor wild animal in a kennel. Following this is what I think they nowadays call a #girlboss moment, but I’m a little out of touch when it comes to cancelled Netflix shows and the social and anti-corporation essays they inspire. It’s the 90′s so let’s call it a Girl Power moment.

“You’re getting better, Jackson,” said Alicia, with a laugh. “But you’re still not perfect. I run my life the way I want. You worry about my business rivals sending assassins after me. I’ll worry about Sumohn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Jackson, his tone of voice indicating he thought his employer was crazy. “You’re the boss.”

“Exactly,” said Alicia. “Now go.”

Alright, Robert Weinberg, I believe you. Alicia Varney is a Strong Female Character and not the result of typing one handed.

The gimp goes down to warn the kennel people while Miss Varney gets dressed. Now, this is a young rich woman getting ready to take her pet out for walkies. It’s an... eccentric choice of pet, but still. You’d expect her to wear something trendy but casual enough to sweat in. But this is vampire fiction, so she’s gotta dress a little more extra than that. She puts on a long black velvet skirt, the Seinfeld puffy shirt a frilly white blouse, and, get this, a black toreador jacket. In this one case, it’s “toreador” as in a bullfighter, not an undead hack artist.

No word on whether or not Varney’s jacket has epaulettes, but I choose to believe they do.

She completes the look with a black beret worn at a “jaunty angle”, so that by the time Jackson gets back she looks like the french foreign exchange student from a 90′s high school movie.

(The only thing we were told about McCann’s wardrobe was that he wears a topcoat.)

Jackson came back with a folder full of documents and word from the kennel that the panther’ll be up in a few minutes. Varney can’t help but snark at Jackson one more time about his earlier common sense argument with her.

“At least they understand the wisdom of not arguing with me,” said Alicia, thumbing through the documents.

Making anonymous calls to the ASPCA, on the other hand...

Halfway through reading her messages, she learns some bad news about Russia. The Shadow Curtain has affected the country’s economic plans as well as secret vampire crap. Now we learn how Miss “I Run My Life the Way I Want”, earlier described as someone who “did not like being denied anything for very long,” reacts to being told she can’t have something.

Not well, as you guessed.

“The Russians refuse to let our people into the country? What the hell is happening there? It doesn’t make sense. Varney Enterprises has been doing business with the Communists since 1919. Did that fool in charge, Andropov, give any reason for the abrupt change in policy? I thought we were bribing the miserable son of a bitch plenty.”

She’s most likely referring to Yuri Andropov, third General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and, as of ‘94, someone who had been dead for ten years. I can’t find anything about him being a secret vampire who faked his death and ruled from behind the scenes, so Alicia Varney hasn’t been paying attention for the past decade.

She also seems to think the USSR’s still a thing when it fell three years ago. I don’t think WOD is one of those fictional universes where the Soviet Union stuck around. That only happens in things like Star Trek, which came out before the Soviet Union fell but takes place in the future and made the wrong prediction about Russia’s. It’d be a waste anyway. There’s plenty of darkness and misery to be found in post-Cold War Russia.

Jackson informs her that rather than dying of renal failure in the 80′s, Andropov has vanished without a trace, along with other people they’d been dealing with in the country, thanks to either Boris Yeltsin or the true power behind Old Drinky. They’d been eliminating the “Old Guard” and replacing them with their own people. Either a reference to the 1993 Russian constitutional crisis or just ”business as usual”. In any case:

“They’ve made it absolutely clear that foreigners are no longer welcome into the country. And that includes us.”

No McDonald’s for World of Darkness Moscow.

“Fuck,” said Alicia harshly. “That move is going to cost us millions. We spent years setting up that network in the Soviet Republics. It can’t crash just become some reformer has taken charge. I refuse to believe it. Russia doesn’t work that way.”

This is the second big change Russia has gone through in less than a century. Nothing stays the same forever. Countries and cultures change. You’d think an immortal would know this.

Jackson says that “things have changed drastically in the past few months,” and their agents, presumably the ones that haven’t become Nictuku food yet, delivered some disturbing rumors about Yeltsin’s secret advisors.

“Word is that to consolidate his position, he’s cut deals with some awfully ruthless characters.”

“Ruthless?” Repeated Alicia. “What’s new about that in Russia? Those bastards are colder than ice. They’d murder their own children and sell the bodies for medical research if it paid enough.”

The urge to include a vodka crack in that rant must have been so strong that if this were the tabletop it would’ve needed a dice roll to resist.

Unfortunately, no one knows the exact truth. Jackson says that despite all the talk, anyone who gets too close to the real truth disappears.

“I’ve studied the reports from the past twelve months.”

This has been going on for a year and you’re only now telling the head of the corporation?

“The closest thing we have to actual facts are several garbled reports of a gigantic old bitch with iron teeth and iron claws meeting late at night with the Premier.”

That sobers Varney up immediately. Or gives her a stroke. You decide.

Alicia froze, her mouth open in stunned surprise. All the color drained from her face, leaving her white as a ghost. Her eyes clouded, as if focusing on something deep within her mind. She stood unmoving, like a statue, for nearly a minute. Then her jaw snapped shut and she ground her teeth together.

“The hag,” she murmured, as if dredging a name out of her subconscious. “The iron hag.”

If Yeltsin had been in league with a powerful witch of legend in real life, I think he’d be remembered more fondly.

Jackson asks her what she means but she snaps out of it and dismisses it as remembering a story from her childhood. Then the elevator arrives and her mood brightens. Sure, Baba fucking Yaga is messing with her bottom line, but right now, KITTY!!!

She turned just as a short, swarthy man (oh for fuck’s sake) entered the parlor. Accompanying him, barely controlled by the steel chain leash around its throat and jaws, was a huge black panther.

The poor thing’s not even wearing a muzzle. They just wrapped a chain around its mouth.

She squees about how much she missed her giant baby as she rushes toward it to run her fingers through its neck fur.

The beast growled, a deep rumbling sound that Alicia insisted was its way of purring.

Oh surprise of surprises, the exotic animal owner knows jack shit about it. The largest species of cat that can purr are cougars. You can argue that some of the noises big cats like jaguars and leopards can make are equivalents to meowing, but I can tell you from experience that cats only meow when they want something, like food, or to bite your throat out and escape because you took it from its natural habitat and regularly stick it in a kennel for days in a row.

(Black panthers are jaguars and leopards with black fur, not a separate species, but we aren’t told which of the two Sumohn is. Cougars are sometimes called panthers, but there aren’t any with black fur, they’re smaller and, despite what the Red Dead Redemption games would tell you, they aren’t as deadly to humans as the actual big cats, and thus aren’t as impressive a thing for a sexy rich immortal to own.)

“Glad to see me too, huh?” said Alicia, scratching the monstrous panther behind the ears.

Yellow eyes stared deep into Alicia’s dark blue ones. The billionairess nodded, as if in reply to an unstated question. It appeared as if the animal and human were communicating by telepathy.

When it comes to animals, vampires are like ghosts and killer robots; animals can sense they aren’t human and freak out. A way around this for vampires here is ghouling the animal. It's heavily implied in Blood War, and will eventually be explained in the third book, that Sumohn is a ghouled animal, which makes it both a superpowered mutant cat and completely loyal to it's master. I also figure that Varney knows the Animalism discipline, which at its most basic allows vampires to communicate with and control animals. The first tier power, Feral Speech, allows one to do exactly what Varney did just now: communicate with animals telepathically if you look them right in the eye. The name of the power wasn’t mentioned, but that same thing happened many chapters ago with Vargoss’ Dominate attempt. There’re also Animalism powers that allow you to summon an animal, sooth its anger, and even possess it; all useful abilities to have if you’ve got a goddamn panther. Animalism isn’t a Brujah power, associated instead with Gangrel, Nosferatu, Ravnos, and, unfortunately for the animal, Tzimisce. But over the millenia old Anis could have learned it from a member of one of those clans. Varney orders Jackson to find out more about what’s going on in Russia by this evening. She tells him to call their people in the State Department and have them check with the CIA, a “subtle” example of her influence. Right now, it’s time for walkies.

“Sumohn’s tired of being kept in a cage. She needs exercise.”

Then don’t keep it in a fucking cage! There’s a reason zoos don’t do that anymore!

They’re headed for Prospect Heights in Brooklyn, to Jackson’s dismay. In this world, New York City has gotten even worse than it was in the 70′s. Here’s what he says about Prospect Heights.

“Prospect Heights isn’t safe. The police have declared it off-limits to civilians. Last week they threw in the towel and stopped patrolling the grounds, even during the daytime. Squad cars won’t enter, even if they spot a murder taking place. Too many gangs and psychos hide in those woods, all armed with heavy artillery and anxious for a chance of blowing away some cops.

“The mayor washed his hands of the whole situation. He called the park a national disgrace. The city council wanted the national guard called out to clean up the place. But the legislature vetoed the funds.”

Jackson shrugged his shoulders. No fan of politics, he was a strict believer in justice delivered from the muzzle of an automatic. ”No way Republicans are going to help a Democratic administration. Meanwhile, the park is a free-fire zone. You’ll be taking your life in your own hands if you go in there.”

What I believe he’s saying here is that The Warriors is canon to Vampire: The Masquerade. Deep down, I think I always knew that.

Varney laughs off the danger. Sumohn will protect her.

As if responding to her mistress’ comments, the panther growled. Despite the big cat’s mouth being muzzled by steel chains, it was a terrifying sound.

Fine, I get it, the panther loves her owner back. But still, GET HER A REAL MUZZLE! ONE THAT KEEPS THE PEOPLE AROUND HER SAFE BUT IS COMFORTABLE FOR THE PANTHER! YOU CAN OBVIOUSLY AFFORD ONE!

How do you even wrap a chain around a panther’s jaws without losing a hand? Christ!

“I hope she can catch slugs with her teeth,” said Jackson.

And take out enough creepy mute baseball bat-wielding psychos before you’re both overwhelmed.

Varney insists she’ll be fine and tells Jackson to focus on Russia. She’ll be back in a few hours. After all, she’s got evening plans at the Devil’s Playground.

“Alert the usual spies. It’s going to be a hot night.”

Which was more true than she could imagine.

#vampire the masquerade #vampire: the masquerade #vtm #vtmb #world of darkness #blood war

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wishingfornever · 6 years ago

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12/14/17 – No Contact: NationState Anniversary

It would appear that a year ago, MN was created. Hrm… Interesting. I thought I made it sooner. I was in Texas at this time. I thought I was in California when I created MN. Or when Castro died. Well, he died in November… yeah, I was in Texas. Weird. My memory is turning to crap.

Hrm… I coughed up some mucus mixed with blood. That’s a really bad sore throat.

244. I’m almost at 240. That’s great. Then 40 more pounds and I reach my goal. Which should be in about April. April is going to be the month for me. 2018 will be the year for me. I’m optimistic. :D

Watching Moana on Netflix. Charming movie thus far, of course it just began. I have one quip. This wisewoman is sharing the history of the tribe with these toddlers and they’re all scared except for the titular character. Two things that I take issue with:

Firstly, there are more male toddlers than female toddlers. That would be a truly rare occurrence to see in a culture such as theirs. Women have always outnumbered men historically.

Second, this old bat is talking about how everyone is going to die and Moana is smiling like a maniac. All the other children are afraid. So, I guess this has two points within it’s own point. Moana shouldn’t be smiling and it’s alright to be afraid. She is young, she has a lot of reasons to be afraid because if she’s not then she won’t grow up and will be carried off by predatory animals in the middle of the night. That said, why not tell the story when they’re old so that they won’t break down in tears and will remember their own history better? Just saying.

Also, why doesn’t Moana have any siblings? Especially since her father’s father’s father’s father’s father was chief that continued to son onto son onto son? Idk, I don’t understand how their government works. I like the poetic meaning with the rocks on the tallest part of the island, though.

Fuck, how old is this fucking chicken? Where are they getting their fabric from?

Moana isn’t a super narrow princess that we’ve grown accustomed to in Disney movies. She’s kinda buff. :o

Oh, shit. Moana’s grandma killed Steve Irwin. :o

Ugh… Just finished Moana. I feel like crying.

I ended up crying. Watched Lava by Disney/Pixar. Cute song. Very touching. I’m very emotional right now, I guess. Anyways, it’s time to walk Max.

Back. Watching the Jungle Book. The one with CGI animals. One of the wolves refers to a boar as wild. Like, really? You’re fucking wild! >:C

I noticed how there were hand drawn animations in this one (at the beginning) and in Moana. I guess Disney is still watching out for their old cartoonists. That’s nice of them.

Just like the old Jungle Book, they cheat. They’re recycling CGI animals from OTHER Disney movies and using them in slightly edited scenes! GAWD!!! Kidding, kidding.

Oh, Sher Khan sounds powerful. Good voice actor.

Fucking hell, Bill Murray is ruining the movie for me. Like, GOD DAMMIT. Everyone refers to Mowgli as the “Man Cub!” and speak very properly and in a distinguished manner. Then Bill Murray comes in speaking his fucking slang and just being… well, himself. Says, “Kid.” Like, really? I wish they got someone else to be Baloo.

Something I do like about the movie is how the animals have their own customs, traditions, cultures, languages, governance, and even religion. It’s crazy. So much lore. :o

Eh… the bear-necessities song seems out of place. Guess I was hoping it’d be more of a drama rather than a comedy/family movie. I mean, Bill Murray isn’t a bad actor but I don’t find him very… well, dramatic. He’s more comedy which is probably why I prefer someone more fluid with the other voice actors.

Mowgli forgot his rope.

Christ, Christopher Walken is King Louie. “I want… to… be like… YOU… I want… to… TALK… like you… in coherent sentences.”

I take back everything I said about Bill Murray. Christopher Walken, however… And yet again, the song feels out of place. Want more drama. Then again King “Louie” doesn’t sound like it belongs to begin with. All the other names are SUPER Indian. King Louie, however? Sounds French. I’ll look into it sometime.

Gigantopithecus? Is that what King Louie was in the original? I thought he was an orangutan. Ah, well. It’s kinda cool they’re using an extinct creature. It makes it extra creepy, like he were some sort of old god. I was wondering why he was so big. I feel like they changed the song since then.

HE SAYS “FIRE” IN THE FUCKING SONG!!! WHAT THE FUCK!?! THE LORE!!! YOU’RE BREAKING THE LORE!!!

Wait, Mowgli did a monkey crawl thing up the steps. Now that he’s running in terror, he knows how to run up them like a normal person? Consistency…

This is a weird thing to note, but Christopher Walken has a lot of screen time. Kaa’s voice actor has such a pretty voice, I was hoping we’d get to hear more of her. Maybe she’ll show up again. I’ll look up the cast when the movie is over.

I like how the monkeys swarm but can’t really do much damage. Like, lol, they the zerg.

Oh, fuck. Zerg is a perfect comparison. They have a hivemind. The temple collapses and they immediately coordinate a rescue effort. All in unison. In sync.

Mowgli is sneaking into the Human Village. I bet you he’s going to steal the fire and then leave. Obviously not trying to join them. Also, wasn’t it daylight a minute ago?

Now, I’m pretty civilized. But is it common to have a bonfire in the middle of the village every night? I feel like that’s a waste of resources. Also, how did he reach that torch? It’s like twice his height up. Also, how would they know fire is red? When it’s more orange? Not the point. Red flower. Aren’t most animals colorblind?

Fuck, that was a quick run. I thought it took him days to get to that village. It took him far less time to get back.

Ah, fuck! Mowgli just proved Sher Khan’s point! Whaaaaaat?! Moral complexity in a Disney movie?!

Sher Khan killed Baloo? Oh, shit. That was brutal. I wonder who would win. A tiger or a bear. Doubt they’d interact very often, tbh. Bears would win on strength but tigers are strong AND agile. Like, oof. They’re a feline. And Sher Khan is like… vicious. Baloo is lazy. Guess that settles that.

Drat. Sher Khan fell to his death. Though, admittedly, the fall probably didn’t kill him because tigers are just oversized cats. Rather, I’m fairly certain the fire did. Disney likes having falls into fire. Hrm…

Fuck! Baloo lived!

Elephants don’t strike me as the sort to alter the environment but I’m not an elephant specialist.

Alright, it’s over. I wonder what will happen when Mowgli gets older. Like, will one of the female wolves be offered to him as a “bride” or whatever? Will he fuck a wolf? Is he a furry? And what of King Louie? Will he come back for him? And also, his diaper. Why does he never take it off? I’m aware that it’s indecent and I don’t want to see an underaged penis. However, how would he know what decency is? And does he ever poop? Where does he poop? Does he eat meat raw? It seems like he must have. Can you actually eat meat raw? I think humans used to be able to but the organ responsible is no longer functional. There are so many questions. Really, he should have been brought back to the human village at the end to avoid, “When his balls drop, will he fuck animals?” question. I might be the only one asking it, but I’m asking it.

Oh, the outro is fucking awesome. Christopher Walken/King Louie crawling out of rubble and then singing in these temple ruins inside a book. Pretty cool, not sure if it’s canon. If it is, then that means he lived and Mowgli better beware.

Shere Khan? I’ve spelled it wrong this entire time. :o

HOLY FUCK!!! KAA WAS SCARLETT JOHANSSON!!! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!? Like, that’s a name I’m familiar with and I’m not that great with names. Jesus Christ, you fucking got her to play Kaa for a SINGLE scene? Less than that? Like, so little. I feel like she should have had more screen time. Like, really. She must have been EXPENSIVE to bring in. Geez. :o

Just googled Akela’s character. It’s Gus from Breaking Bad. Or the Dentist from Payday. That dude is usually a villain. They’ve got a great cast. He was a very powerful pack leader, I thought. Surprised his character died.

Then again, these actors are pretty expensive. Maybe that’s why they’re only in it for a little bit? Or because plot.

Alright, so that was it for the big names. I heard that in the original story of the Jungle Book, Mowgli had elephants destroy his village at the very end and killed everyone. Not sure how true that is. If it’s very true, then the book is immediately better.

Eh… looking for something else on Netflix. Recommended for me… all anime. I don’t watch anime. Esther does. Her spectre is back. :/

Going through critically acclaimed. That means they received high reviews. They’re considered good movies. One of these movies: Antz.

I’ve seen Antz. I remember it from when I was very young. Allow me to assure you, it wasn’t very good. It had Christopher Walken in it. That’s not really relevant to the quality, just thought it’d be interesting to point out since the Jungle Book also had him.

Holy shit, Antz is a children’s movie? There was an attempted rape scene in it. Christ. :o

Anastasia… that was a decent movie. It’s not a Disney movie. I know this because I cracked a joke involving Disney. I think it was the supposed hatred for Jews? I don’t remember the joke. Anyways, everyone quickly YELLED at me, calling me VERY mean things and informed me in a not so polite manner that Anastasia is made by Fox.

Whoops! Anyways, I remember that a lot because it was in my World of Warcraft days. Dark times, even then. Late high school, early… no school? Idk, but you get it. I basically had this guild I rolled with called the Bloodfury Clan. Orc-Only RP guild on an RPPvP (Role Play Player versus Player) Server. It’s where my writing talents sort of… came to me. These folks were very professional in a very brutish way. It was great. We never referred to our guild as a guild. It was a Clan. Because ORC!!! The head of the Clan was this Puerto Rican woman. A lovely person. Kil’Gora. Or Kilgora because the game wouldn’t allow punctuation in your name, but lorewise! It was Kil’gora. Real name was Miri. I looked up to her. She was very influential. Helped me through… a lot of dark times. Mostly caused by my dad.

I don’t remember if it was before or after my comment… I think after. But over Ventrilo, she sung to me. Out of the blue. Just… randomly sung. She knew I was going through a particularly rough day, so she sang to me. She sang a song from Anastasia. I cried. It may seem like I cry a lot, but I assure you, crying for me used to be rare. I hated crying. I didn’t want to seem weak. She was there for me. And she was the first person to hear me cry.

Esther, however, was the first person to see me cry. Weird how that works.

Anyways, a nickname of hers was Ariel because of her Disney singing voice. I pointed out to her that Anastasia isn’t by Disney but by Fox. It surprised her too. I also told her that the internet thought I was a fucking retard for not knowing. That didn’t surprise her. Tough love.

Decided to send her a message. Just something reassuring. Life hasn’t been easy for her. And considering how Puerto Rico has been this year, I’d say she’s probably worried about home. She doesn’t live there anymore… but it’s still her home. Weird to say.

You know, I never really considered California home until I left it. I was alone in Texas with plains. I felt like I was in the middle of a golden ocean. Why was it golden? Because it was piss. I missed the mountains. They were always so reassuring. Then I come back and realize that I never wanted to come back. And I couldn’t return to Texas because my dad fucked my credit. Well… I have now. I don’t really look outside. I don’t really pay attention to the atmosphere. A lot has changed. But, I keep my troubles to myself. To many, they see me and think, “Wow… he hasn’t changed one bit after all these years.”

The reality is, I’m always changing. I find new horrors, new regrets, new kinks in my personality. Every day, I feel more unhinged. What they see is what I rehearse. I plan conversations ahead of schedule, I alleviate thought and avoid improvisation. Should they deviate from the path… chaos. Panic. Fear behind a shy smile. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say.

Thus, many will see that I say the same thing over and over. This is intentional. This is the conversational package that will get me through my life. How long will that last?

Years ago, I predicted that I would die at the age of 27. This was during the Bloodfury Clan. So, perhaps I will die next year. Maybe I shouldn’t enlist afterall. Regardless, it’d be more convenient if I do perish. Simpler, rather. Not that I seek my own death but I will not seek to prevent it, either. If I die, then I will die. If I live, then I will live until I die. The age at which I die is irrelevant.

However, I will be disappointed to die at 28. That might actually piss me off.

Anyways, backtracking. Fun fact about Orc RP: It’s basically descriptive grunting. Like, it’s comical at times. You have to be fierce. Not necessarily sub-human but definitely animalistic. I was THE BEST recruiter Bloodfury ever had. At least… I think? Not sure. Might have changed since then. I’d post my advertisement in General Chat and Trade Chat. People would often comment with how well written it was. I had longer adverts, too, but Blizz prevented me from using them because spam filter.

Drat.

My best advertisement was actually a ripoff from the Napoleon: Total War intro cinematic. The thing is, I didn’t even own Napoleon: Total War until I was in Texas. I had already stopped playing WoW by then.

Not the point. The point is, people would send me a “Tell” or “Whisper” which is a direct and personal message directly to me. Tell me if I need to slow down. Anyways, we’d set up an interview to see if they can RP. Turns out, not many people can. It’s easy. Write a coherent sentence, right? You’d think.

Most people are illiterate. And though my advert was well-written, it appealed to EVERYONE. So, a lot of Non-Orcs and Non-RPers would have to be turned away. It was a shame, but purity. You know how that goes. #fascism

When the interview began, I started with a single statement. “The Prey approaches.” Nothing more primal than referring to someone who is your lesser as prey, something for you to sink your fangs into and tear their flesh out. It also establishes dominance. Not sure how, though. Miri said she LOVED that line because it was just… perfect. Orcs don’t HAVE to be stupid. They can be, but that’s not their purpose.

Big, dumb orcs? No. Orcs are brutes, but that doesn’t mean they’re stupid. Orcs should be Laconic, forceful, direct, perhaps impatient. Orcs can be really smart but they should still be prone to their instinct.

I mentioned a story here, I’m fairly certain. Of my orc in a forest? I might not have, but if I have then consider this a recap. The orc ended up looting a dwarven doll and then it broke and he angrily threw it at a tree so hard it shattered. He was basically an angry gorilla, pounding the floor and screaming over something so trivial. My Orc wasn’t dumb. He had my intellect, which has been praised by many. It’s also been denounced by far more, but fuck them; me am smart Orc!

PvP was my thing. It was my character’s lore. I basically leveled from 57 to 60 using NOTHING but Alterac Valley, one of the PvP modes. PvP, btw, stands for Player vs Player. So, I would attack other players. Miri got me turned on to WORLD PvP where you gank people. Gank means you ambush them while they’re questing. I was REALLY good at it. Like, I set up AMAZING ambushes.

Back in the day, you had to walk to dungeons. Now, you just magically appear there for… reasons. But back then? No. You had to be there in person and then you could summon people to join you. What I did was I waited at one of these dungeons. It’s entrance was an opened top box. On the top parts, were pillars and debris to depict the dungeon being ruins or whatever. What I’d do was have my cat, who was named “Mittens” because I’m a badass Orc Warrior but lol. I RP’d with Mittens. She was canon. It was… the best.

Mittens would break to be on one side. I’d use a bunch of potions to make my character small and turn him into a skeleton. I’d wait on the other side of the box. When someone entered, I’d pop out behind cover, throw my axe at them, pop back in, and wait. They’d look around, see the cat, and look at it. Then, when Mittens had their attention, I’d pop out from cover again and charge into their backs and just BEAT the everliving shit out of them.

Other times, I’d stalk people. Wait to strike. Like this one Paladin who I was following. She jumped down and bubbled (meaning she cast a spell making her immune to damage for a limited time). When the bubble faded, I charged her. She took so much damage she tried to heal. I spellblocked her in the middle, meaning that spell and any spells like it were unable to be cast for a limited time. Her defeat was SO absolute, her only response was to /cry.

I felt a little bad, so I apologized for it on my Alliance character almost immediately after. She was really nice it seemed.

Anyways, another time there was another Paladin. He was doing daily quests. He was pulling all these monsters all at once so he can kill them all at once and complete the quest faster. I saw this and ambushed him. Me plus ALL these monsters meant he had no chance. I won.

When you die, you have to find your body as a ghost and then you come back to life. He does this and immediately heals. He finds me. I wave. He changes his armor to PvP specific armor. He changes his specialization from Player versus Environment (PvE) Paladin to PvP Paladin. I get worried. I message Jer that I might need help. Then I realize he has no mana. I tell Jer, “Nevermind” and charge him again.

A Paladin is worthless without Mana. He loses again. I laugh and I laugh.

I use player’s instincts and strengths against them while feeding on their weaknesses. When you get attacked, you find where they attack from. You see a fortified position or a sign of previous occupation (like say a cat that follows a player anywhere they go) and you prepare for an assault from that position. Then you get attacked from what you thought was barren and had no sign of life because you didn’t expect a 6’5” Orc to actually be a 2’ skeleton hiding behind the least cover possible. The most powerful spells in someone’s arsenal will be used carelessly when they’re not threatened. So, if you wait long enough, they’ll expend what they think they won’t need and will be vulnerable for attack far sooner. Preparing for confrontation means you’ll have to reallocate resources. Failure to account for the resources lost means you’ll be targeted before you can replenish.

I could have written a world PvP book. Like, I suggested to clan members who were getting into PvP to get the Helmet and Shoulder armors last when it comes to PvP gear because it’s the easiest to recognize because they actually have unique models. If you have ALL the armor besides the helmet and shoulder armor, you’d be VERY well-geared, but you won’t look like it. Thus, you’d be underestimated and that’d give you an advantage in the initial engagement.

I miss PvP.

Anyways… watching Anastasia. If you ever read this and think, “Maybe Orc RP is kinda cool?” it is. At a time, I knew plenty of Orcish words that I’d just throw into conversation to make it sound so much more authentic. My axe was named “Lok’tra” which is an Orcish song about great battles or whatever. I LOVE naming weapons. ^^

Hrm, I’m not sure how historically accurate those uniforms are.

300 years? Um, not in 1916… 1913 would be 300 years. Though, I guess it was just rounding down at that point... But traveling to Paris? During WWI? Not with that German Uboat threat. And this bitch, with Rasputin? The Tsarina LOVED Rasputin because he saved their son. And then he said when he dies, their entire family would die.

This is something petty to point out, especially since it’s accepted regardless… but “Tsar” is better than “Czar.” I’m sure “Tsar” looks less pleasing, but the Russian character they use is basically a “Ts.” Pronounce the T and then the s. Czar is still correct, of course, but Tsar is perhaps more correct.

Rasputin did die from drowning. But it wasn’t an accident. He was assassinated by Russian nobles (not the Romanov family) who didn’t like how much power he had with the Tsar and the Tsarina. Or he was assassinated by the British. Long story there. The fun story is that he was poisoned. Excessively. And then he was shot. Excessively. Then he was tied up. Excessively. And then he was tossed in a river. His body was discovered and he had freed himself of the rope. He had drowned, though. He was a pain in the ass to kill.

Also, a fortnight? Really? The Romanovs were killed in 1918. Not 1916. Or 1917.

Wait, this bitch is taking a train to Paris? A train? Bullshit. Not with WWI. Like, no way. She could be taking it to a sea port, but still. Not very likely.

Saint Petersburg? Still? 1917, we’ll say, so in 7 years. She’d be 23 when it switches to Leningrad. So, I wonder how old she is. If it’s not too long, then she’d be stuck in a Russian civil war.

Oh, that’s dumb. They have a newspaper saying, “Anastasia Lives” and the “A” is the Russian character for “D.” That’s the only Cyrillic letter there. The rest are western letters. Commissar wouldn’t have a tie at this time. At least he shouldn’t, fairly certain they had only collars.

How come the main characters are the only people without Russian accents? More importantly, why would they have Russian accents? They’d be speaking Russian, not English. Thus they wouldn’t have much accent to themselves. Thus, it’d be more natural to have them use anglophone accents instead of Russian accents speaking English. Like, if they speak French? They can speak French in English but should have a Russian accent because French isn’t Russian so they would have an accent. It’s just… trivial, I guess.

TEN YEARS?!? FUCKING CHRIST!!! Anastasia was born in 1901! Assuming it all happened in 1916, that means she’d be leaving that orphanage at the age of 25. There is no Russian Civil War at this point, and it’d DEFINITELY be Leningrad.

Backing up to the Russian accents thing… something that I’d think would be cool would be Russian slang equivalents or idioms. I say that because there are a lot of American slang and idioms in movies like this. Like saying, “Pal” or “Guys” or whatever. When making someone sound foreign, you don’t need to give them an accent. Just alter the way they speak. It’ll still sound foreign when clearly spoken in English. A good example is Jade Empire. I think the character’s name was Smiling Mountain and he introduced you to the in-game language and then spoke regular English again. Mind you, Jade Empire is based in Fantasy China so they wouldn’t be speaking English. Thus, they reflected the foreign language through clear, concise, and proper wording and very poetic touches like Spear-Catches-Leaf. Of course, that’s a name. They’re are a lot of names like that, obviously… but the point of those names is that you understand the language so you know what the names mean. Very pleasant. :D I already hate the fucking dog. Fuck the dog. I hate the fucking dog. Die. Dog.

Also, I want to see this movie in Russian. I feel like it’d be better.

The squirrels should be hibernating.

The animation is weird. Like, multiple layers… the footprints in the snow move at a different pace than the snow does when the camera is moving. Peculiar.

No exit visa! No ticket! Glory Arstotzka! I love how he actually has a hammer and sickle. Red uniform was a thing for at least one unit during the civil war, not sure if he’d have one though.

Fairly certain the palace wasn’t abandoned. It was probably re-purposed. Might be wrong though since the governance did move to Moscow.

Singing the song Miri sang to me… It was touching, almost brought me to tears. Then I realized that all the dancers look the same. I realized Anastasia is a schizophrenic. Maybe not the real Anastasia. Just Anya. Tsar Nicky looks good for a 50 year old man. Or at least a ghost. Then again, he was always an attractive man I thought. That is unusually rare for royalty. I’m not sure why that is. Look at the queen of England. Who will inherit looks like he was kicked in the face by the ugliest horse in the stable. Who won’t inherit actually is a decent looker.

Of course, the uglier son… I heard he is supposed to be a very kind man. Could be wrong. But he is honorable.

She said she was 8 when the revolutions happened… um… no? She was born in 1901 not 1908-1909.

I’m fairly certain Tsar Nicholas II’s mother died before Anastasia did. The entire movie is her going to find her grandmother, who clearly played favorites. What a bitch.

I like how Rasputin actually expresses joy when he sees his old bat friend. It’s touching. :D

They get a period correct map but they couldn’t get the rest correct? Actually, how am I sure this map is correct?

It’s not! Estonia isn’t on there! Or rather, it doesn’t have any borders, really… implying it’s a part of Russia! Come on! >:C

It bothers me that Vladimir is the only one with a Russian accent. Either everyone does it or no one does.

Where did they get horses? Did they steal them?

The fuck is Tasha? The boat is in Germany? Why is Tasha everywhere?

Ugh… I always found France pretentious and overrated. Like, at a point France dictated what was considered art and what wasn’t considered art. Rembrandt is an example of what wasn’t considered art. However, more people recognize Rembrandt than any of the French artists of the same period.

Holy crap, someone’s actually speaking Russian. Really?

Where did they get the palace? In France? The French Republic? They leasing out Versailles now? Who are the nobles?

Dmitri gets hit in the head with debris. Then the dick. Then Anya says, “THIS IS FOR DMITRI!!!” Like, make sure he’s dead first. Otherwise, he might already have one. Won’t need two.

They eloped? Oof. Where are they going? Leaving Paris, it seems. Can’t go back to Russia because… well, they’ll kill her there. Curious. Probably a dumb idea. The monarchy could establish a government in exile, of course. That’s if she didn’t elope. She doesn’t think about Russia. Self-absorbed brat. This is why the Romanovs were shot.

Huh. The voice actors are up there. Kelsey Grammer. His last name bothers me. Christopher Lloyd was the Doc from Back to the Future. John Cusak. Kirsten Dunst. That’s all I recognize.

Oh, fuck. It’s 1 in the morning. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Um…

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moonshroooms · 8 years ago

Text

I’m bored and feel like answering random questions

and also no one is gonna ask me them so I’m gonna do it A++

Do you prefer city lights, or stars?

Stars. City lights are pretty since there’s much more color variety, but stars mean you’re probably around nature and less civilization. And city lights mean I have to go somewhere near the city. not my cup of tea. Unless we’re talking about photos. Then stars still win. What is the most romantic thing that's happened to you?

You know I’m not sure if this really qualifies. But one of my close friends had a crush on me, but hadn’t told me yet. I don’t remember the conversation, but I’d said something along the lines of “cause I’m fantastic!” And I’d been walking away and I think I heard him sigh “and beautiful” and I don’t think he really intended for me to hear it (if I did infact hear him right), but I did my brain kinda went ‘wut the faaack’ cause it was really sweet and a little embarrassing to hear. And while I didn’t return his feelings, I kinda think about sometimes and get a little twitterpated.

Describe the image that comes into your head when you see the word "ethereal".

Most often the image that comes to my mind is something of a ghostly creature. I think what creature comes to mind depends on the moment. But they might be white, with just the faintest blue tinge. And whether the blue is from their body or the faint glow around them you aren’t really sure. An eternal mist flowing from their body and dissipating into the air. They have bright eyes that glow stronger than the rest of them. And they move with a slow grace, a calm walk, a flowing movement. And when you lock eyes you’re frozen, and it pierces you. And you can’t describe the emotion that is evoked from their gaze, you only know that it’s strong, and changed something in you, even if it’s only a small thing.

What would someone have to do to earn your trust?

Die.

Describe the outfit you truly want to wear. Anything, a spacesuit, an Elizabethan style gown, a cape made from spider silk, reality doesn't matter.

To be honest, I like a lot of stereotypical ‘jungle warrior woman’ type outfits. Those ones that are basically a bra and a skirt with those leg slits. Kind of like what you see in the Disney move Atlantis. I’m far too self-conscious about showing skin to wear revealing things in my day-to-day life (I think only just started wearing shorts when I was like, 20. And even then I have like 2 pairs and barely wear them). I find it funny that while I could barely bring myself to wear basic shorts, I wear a bikini when swimming. I think that’s attributed to the fact that a lot of people wear skimpy swimwear though, so I feel like I stick out less. But I digress. A ‘shirt’ that goes across the chest, like tropical wear you often see. A really long skirt that’s knee-length or nearly floor-length, but there’s no real sides to the skirt. And like, cool swirly or squarish symbols all over my skin. And I want multiple ones of different colors. Also a robe/robe + hood for when it’s cold and because whipping those around is cool.

What impossible thing do you wish was real?

For me, and anyone I deemed worthy, to have super powers.

What kind of adventure would you like to have?

Something dangerous, something exciting. Traveling amongst nature, having to fend for myself. Exploring new lands, meeting interesting and previously unknown cultures, finding mystical creatures that are truly of magic. Keeping in mind in my adventure I’m perfectly equipped and knowledgeable to handle all of the things and wouldn’t die the second I poked the wrong plant.

What is the worst way for you to die? (In your opinion).

Parasites. OR, being stabbed to death by thousands of dirty and contaminated hospital needles. Just. Things that can eat me that are difficult to punch creep me the frick out. And as for hospital needles: there are so many infections and diseases on those things, and they sit there in their plastic containers. Festering off each other. And as if being stabbed by needles wasn’t enough, if you managed to survive the impaling, your body would fall apart because of the hundreds or thousands of festering plagues you just contracted.

(P.S. the hospital needle horror happened to be spawned from a really good comic called Awful Hospital located right the flip here: http://www.bogleech.com/awfulhospital/intro.html)

Seriously go check it out it’s really good, funny, dramatic, weird, interactive, and (as of May 3, 2017 as I post this), regularly updated!

Can you dance?

No. And I desperately want to. I think I can keep beat, but I have no idea what to do with my legs really. Most of my dancing includes acting out what the mood/lyrics of the song are, or aggressive tribal dancing. Make an obscure reference.

“Greetings my Tallest, it is I, invader Kiiiiish!”

What is your favorite color for a balloon?

Blue looks good on everything.

What store would you be the least likely to be found in?

A weed shop.

Bowties or Ties?

Bowties. They can be on your head or on your neck.

What’s wrong with taking the backstreets?

Being mugged or someone or their dog probably pooped back there and left it.

What is your favorite Pokemon type?

Poison and Dragon (though I like the concept of poison types rather than the actual Pokemon in it. When a poison eeveelution comes out I can die happy). And dragons are just dragons.

What if I told you that you were pretty?

Ikr, thx m8

What turns you on?

Stomachs, sour punch straws.

Sign?

Scorpio! :D

Who is your OTP?

Kisshu x Ichigi from Tokyo Mew Mew, and yes I know they’re unhealthy, dysfunctional, and also not canon, but dammit they were my first OTP and remain stubbornly at the top after all these years. They are my guilt OTP.

Shion x Nezumi from No. 6. Best part is I went into No. 6 not reading the description and going in completely clueless, so their romance blindsided me. Either way they’re just really cute and I’m not sure why I like them better than some older ships I like.

If you could dye your hair any color right now, what would it be?

A sunset gradient or a silver/blue gradient!

Put your songs on shuffle, and tell me the first song that plays.

What Can I Do For You? - Steven Universe

How do you compare to people’s expectations of you?

I fail them completely.

A fictional character you familiarize yourself with.

Rin and Razo from the Books of Bayern (Forest Born and River Secrets are their books specifically).

Favorite Animal?

I’ve been in love with beluga whales for my whole life. White lions are a close second!

Name a few of your insecurities.

Whether or not people think I’m stupid, and whether I am intelligent or not. Being myself, because I fear people would find me annoying. My opinions on the world, and if others would view them as childish or ignorant or naive. Mostly just a lot of how others view me.

What brings out a mean streak in you?

People that slight me.

Describe a person who would be the polar opposite to yourself.

Confident, social, aggressive, forgiving, outgoing, worldly, a people-person, strict, self-righteous, noticeable, impressive, rebellious, happy.

Have you ever helped/rescued a wild animal in trouble?

When I was younger my cat brought in a lot of animals she hunted as gifts. I did my best to nurse them back to health (mostly lizards. Anything warm-blooded was dead if she brought it back). Some lived, some didn’t and I was always happy to watch them zip back into the wild like a bullet.

Describe the backstory for a character you’ve created.

A siren who comes across a werewolf child she takes interest in and befriends. Through some ups and down she decides she won’t eat the souls of humans anymore, despite the fact that means she also gives up living forever and growing new powers/strengths as a result. If/when that kid dies, however, she plans on going straight back into her old ways. She believes that she is an inherently evil creature, and no amount of pretending to be good will ever change that.

What’s your signature scent?

Cherry Blossom lotions/perfumes, mint chapstick.

Favorite school subject?

Science, P.E.

What is the closest framed picture around you a picture of?

My late cat, Princess.

The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?

Their face.

Is cheating ever okay?

No.

What’s a nickname only your family calls you?

Peanut. Cause apparently when I was born I was shaped like a peanut.

What was your first stuffed animal and it’s name?

Probably not the ‘first’ per-say, but the first I remember was a big, sparkly, rainbow, beanie-filled boa constrictor that I named Bo-Rainbow. I still have him to this day :’D

Whats drink you always order at Starbucks?

Water.

Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?

Whatever position I happened to leave it in.

Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?

No sheets, useless piece of fabric and makes the bed to hot >3<!

Do you have freckles?

Kinda? Not typical freckles, but a few sun-kisses on the right side of my face and on random spots on my body.

What size is your bed?

Twin.

Ever used a gun?

Yes, a few times! But thankfully not against anything living!

Can you curl your tongue?

Yup, yup!

Are you open about your feelings?

Depends on the feelings. Usually no.

If you could choose between being able to play any instrument in the world, or being able to speak any language, which would you choose?

Speak any language. Singing’s the only instrument I like!

#personal #ramble #about me

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