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glitxhwayventeen · 2 years ago

Text

The Taken One

Kun

Characters: Kun x female reader

Warnings: mentions of childhood abuse, hints at past sexual assault by a family member, mentions of cheating, mentions of hunger and food, mentions of women not being allowed to do much because the governments shit, mentions of war, mentions of running away, mentions of an animal attack on a human (though not super graphic), mentions of passive suicidal ideations, mentions of parental death, dark humor about it tbh, sort of cheating but also not?, I think that’s all but let me know if i missed anything!

Author’s Note: This pairs with Joshua’s The Taken One as well, with Joshua’s first part going first then Kun’s. Then the same goes for part two. Prepare to be sad. She’s a long one folks.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Watch It All Burn Masterlist

The Taken One: Part 2

Joshua’s The Taken One: Part 1, Part 2, & Part 3

Mostly 🥀

Bold= Korean Dialogue Italics= Thoughts Pink= Cantonese Red=Mandarin Green=English

Tag List-

You had known Kun a long time. Everyone said you were the power couple. The ‘it’ couple. The couple that couldn’t be broken no matter what obstacles tried to throw themselves in your way. Who could’ve known that they could all have been so wrong?

You first met him when you were in school. Well, when you were sort of in school. You had known of him for most of your life since he was all anyone at your school had ever wanted to talk about. But he wasn’t in your grade. You were one grade below him and, even though you took advanced classes for your age, your paths never really crossed until one faithful day when he caught you walking through the woods with your backpack on.

Normally, Kun wouldn’t have thought twice about seeing a girl walking around with her backpack on her back out of the corner of his eye while he was playing a ball game in his schoolyard with some of his friends.

But because of the growing war tensions, many laws had recently changed. One of such laws made it to where women weren’t allowed to learn in a public setting anymore. Nothing specifically said they couldn’t learn, but the new conservative policies definitely put severe and direct restrictions over what women could and couldn’t do.

When Kun saw a small girl struggling to carry her school bag after the law was put in place, his first instinct wasn’t to run and tell a teacher that there was a girl breaking policy, it was to run and hide the girl out of sight so she wouldn’t get caught.

He and his family thought the law was stupid and should’ve never been implemented. He grew up with a sympathetic father who was saddened by the struggles of others and a strong willed ‘do it yourself’ mother who didn’t like when bad things happened to others. In turn, they taught their son to always protect and care for others even if his own life could’ve been put at risk, just as they themselves would.

So he knew immediately that he had to help her. He quickly dismissed himself from his game on the premise of having a leg cramp and bolted to the edge of the woods as soon as no one was looking.

He ran for what seemed like forever until he stumbled upon a very sad, very distressed smaller girl: you.

You were quietly sobbing into your hands while you sat on a tree stump with a bag stuffed so full of stuff, he was worried it would burst with any sudden movement from you.

“H-Hello, are-are you okay?” Kun practically whispered, trying to keep his tone down not just to not worry you but also so he wouldn’t raise any nearby alarms about a girl so close to school grounds.

You immediately darted up from your sitting position with wide eyes, allowing him to see the cuts and bruises on your face, and ducked behind the back of the stump, knowing full well that being caught would mean certain death for you.

Though you weren’t sure if at 12 years old you even cared at that point about whether you lived or died, you did know you didn’t want to die as vicious a means to an end as death by firing squad. You had already been through and gone through so much unnecessary and painful abuse and trauma. You weren’t sure if you could handle such a violent death too.

“It’s- It’s okay. I won’t hurt you or turn you in.” The boy promised, causing you to peak up from your hiding place just enough to see if you could tell if he was being honest or not.

You were met with a handsome boy in a slightly crouched, less menacing position. But based on his height and demeanor you figured he was probably a year or two older than you. You thought you vaguely recognized him but you couldn’t place a name to his face.

You did note, however, that his deep dimples and starry eyes held nothing but earnesty and compassion in them, “I don’t know if you know me or not, but my name’s Kun. Qian Kun.”

Oh. You definitely knew his name alright. Everybody knew him. He was a goody goody teacher's pet that did whatever he could to get ahead to some. To others, he was just a kind and thoughtful misunderstood boy who’d do anything for anyone and not ask for anything in return. But how could you know which version you’d heard about him was the truth?

Kun understood your hesitation and reluctance. Not only did he not recognize you, meaning you had most likely never met, but you probably didn’t know what to think of him.

He knew the stories surrounding him and you were probably trying to decipher which were true and which weren’t. Because being wrong could’ve meant being executed for you.

He could practically see you shaking with fear. It made his heart twist in his chest uncomfortably. He’d never felt such… sorrow for someone else before. You were trembling in fear and looked like you lost to someone in a fighting match even though you were so young. It didn’t seem fair to him that you were put in the position you were in, whatever that position was.

But because it was only a matter of time before someone noticed he was missing himself, he decided to play his odds and be direct with you, “Look, i know you must be scared. But why would I have told you my name if I was gonna turn you in? Even if you believe everything people say about me, you must know that even the informers can get in trouble sometimes too.”

You couldn’t deny that he had a point. Some people would go out of their way to find citizens who were breaking the law to turn them in for the reward money.

But you always thought it was stupid of them. Everyone had heard the countless stories of all parties involved going missing or being murdered simply because they stood next to someone who broke a law or because the government wanted to keep the whole thing quiet so they could pretend everything was just peachy throughout your country. But how could you be sure the boy was actually there to help you?

There were just as many cases of the informer being awarded money or much needed ration cards for turning people in after tricking them into thinking they would help harbor them. He could’ve easily just been trying to gain your trust so he could do the same, you didn’t know. So you opted to stay silent.

“I’m just trying to help you. I swear! You shouldn’t be around here. They’re patrolling more and more. You need to get out of here!” He pleaded quietly with you, but you couldn’t help but still worried.

You were always taught men were bad. You were shown that men were bad. That’s why you were out in the first place. And even if you did believe the boy, you didn’t have anywhere else to go.

You didn’t want to go back home. You wouldn’t go back home. You couldn’t go back home. After this last time, you promised yourself you’d break free and that’s exactly what you did. You threw your most important and necessary items in your old school bag and ran for it. You figured you could run away to a new country. Somewhere where people wouldn’t hurt you for sport. Somewhere where women and children had a say and were protected. Somewhere better.

Kun had just caught you in the middle of some much needed rest from your night of running and crying. Now, you faced each other as he tried to convince you trust him.

But before either of you could make any move at all, you both heard tire tracks hitting the dirt road not too far from where you were. And they were getting closer. Much closer.

Out of desperation, Kun ran and jumped over the tree stump. He crouched over you so his chest hit your back (which was of course covered by your backpack), wrapped his arms around you and threw you both into a rather large bush with him landing on the ground first before you could try anything that would’ve no doubt gotten you both killed.

Once you were both settled in the bush, you were practically in his lap with how you landed, he trapped his hand over your mouth and whispered for you to be quiet.

Almost as if on cue, you heard a car stop not too far from the bush you found yourself in and listened as soldiers got out. Though you could hear a group of them talking in mandarin. But, as you weren’t as fluent in mandarin as you were in your mother tongue of cantonese, you didn’t really understand what they were saying.

The voices were using a very formal way of speaking and a much more developed vocabulary than you had learned. Mandarin itself was already very hard for you as the language was very differently set up than your own. But you had only just begun taking lessons in it a year ago, when it had been mandated by the state that every Chinese citizen be required to speak it in public at all times in yet another new law.

Since you stopped going to school so early on in your teachings, your progress in the language all but stopped. So you hadn’t become proficient enough in it to be confident you understood what even fellow young students said, let alone what a bunch of adult soldiers said.

But as his arm tightened around you and his legs moved to cover your balled up body, part of you knew he could and realized he was doing his best to shield you from whatever could’ve been coming by using his body as some sort of a chrysalis around you. The move probably would’ve made your heart beat a little faster had it not already been pumping like crazy from terror.

Neither of moved. You were both hardly even breathing. As you heard the footsteps and their shoe crunching getting closer and closer, you were worried you’d freak out just from the sheer horrifying thought of the soldiers catching you and you didn’t want to risk potentially exposing the both of you when you could’ve still had a chance to get away.

So you decided to find something, anything, to focus on that wasn’t them. You landed on Kun’s rapid heart beating behind you, something you could still somehow hear despite your bag creating what almost certainly was at minimum six inches between your back and his chest.

Even though the both of you were the most scared you had ever been in your young lives, for some reason being in the situation with him made you feel less worried. Hearing his heartbeat so close to your own gave you a sense of comfort and security you had never had before that moment.

Sure you were downright terrified that the soldiers were gonna come and shoot you both. But for some weird reason, some part of you thought you wouldn’t have minded if the both of you met your end there so long as you had each other.

It was quite a while before the shoe crunching and footsteps went away. It seemed like hours till you heard their car turn back on and drive off. At least, that’s what it felt like. But once the elder of you deemed it save, he slowly uncoiled himself from around you and checked to see if the coast was clear. Once he realized it was, he fully got out of it and then turned his attention to helping you get back out as well.

Which itself proved a challenge as the near brush with danger left young you feeling as though your legs were jello and made your body feel faint. After a try or two he managed to sit you back down on the stump you had previously used to hide from him with so you could try and calm down.

While you were trying to steady your breathing again, he finally was able to get a real look at you. Sure he caught a small glimpse in the .03 seconds he had before you went straight to panicking at the site of him, but it didn’t give him enough time to realize you were actually kinda… cute.

Your long jet black hair now had little twigs and even a small leaf in it, your what he could tell were naturally large amber colored eyes were now widened even further from the shock of the military men trying to catch you, and the scarlet lips he had previously held behind his palm to keep you from giving away your location were now protruded into a child like pout.

He realized you probably weren’t much younger than him, or at least would probably be considered taller than most girls your age based on the fact that you weren’t really super short.

But something he definitely couldn’t help but notice was that you smelt amazing, like fresh linens with a hint of daisies, even though the both of you had literally spent the past hour hiding to save your lives. He figured his 13 year old self must’ve smelt nowhere near as good as you from the sweat that had formed due to the stress of him trying to keep you both alive.

“H-hello…?” You gently spoke to gain his attention in the sweetest little voice he had ever heard in his life.

Once he realized that you must’ve been trying to get his attention and that he had more than likely zoned out while staring at you, he jumped out of his trance, “uh- um sorry. W-What did you say?”

“I said: you should probably go. They’ll… probably come back and uh… I’m sure you don’t want to be here when they do.” You suggested, refusing to look him in the eye and instead determined to keep your eyes on your now cut up legs.

They were pretty banged up from the long walking and the suddenness of being thrown into hiding. And that’s not all. You had small cuts and bruises everywhere, you tights were snagged, the arm of your dress shirt was ripped, and you could’ve sworn you had some sort of new rather large cut on your forehead based on the dripping stinging feeling you were feeling.

Though, you weren’t trying to seem ungrateful for him saving you. Far from it, you were trying to thank him for saving your life by saving his life.

They’d probably come back again since they were cracking down on people even harder now. You didn’t want him around again for that since he still had a chance.

And the more you though about it, the more you realized you definitely couldn’t go home and really only had two options: let the soldiers find you and hopefully give you a quick death with a bunch of guns or starve to death slowly on the streets. You opted for the first of the two so you’d have less of a chance of suffering.

Kun moved around uncomfortably in his spot, “Oh… right. Yeah they’ll- they’ll probably be back soon. We should go.” He agreed, putting his hand out to help you off the stump like the gentlemen he was raised to be.

But instead of grabbing it to get up, you kindly pushed it down and shook your head, “No,” You simply stated, “You… You should go. I’m staying here.”

“What do you mean you’re staying here? You know what just happened. It’s not safe! We need to go!” He insisted in a haste, trying to pull you up from the stump using the closest arm of yours he could grab.

But you refused to leave your spot and grabbed onto the top of the tree stump with your free arm, so his efforts were much to no avail.

“Stop it,” you hissed through thickly accented mandarin, “I-I can’t go anywhere.”

“And why on earth not?” Kun questioned, still using as much strength as his tired body would let him in his current state to get you up out of your seat.

“Because- I… I have no where else to go okay?” You tried to pull your arm from his grasp but you soon realized he was too strong, so you instead settled for giving him the evil eye.

With your new statement though, he dropped your arm in shock anyways, “W-What do you mean you have nowhere else to go…?” He asked softly, now with saddened eyes.

He didn’t know you, but something about him already had him having a small crush on you. Which was stupid considering neither of you were really in a position to be making google eyes at each other, but he figured it was his teenage hormones. Either way, that same part of him didn’t like the way you said what you said and gave him a bad feeling in his gut.

“I… I won’t go home,” You spoke slowly as you tried to think of the correct words to say in mandarin, “It’s… not safe there.” You answered, once again refusing to look the strange boy in the eyes, “And since I’d just… go hungry living on the street, I’d… rather go down by the- oh what’s the word? The firing squad.”

Kun didn’t understand. Why were those what you saw as your only two options? Why did you choose those as your two options? Why would you choose to die? Didn’t you realize your parents were probably scared out of their minds looking for you?

“Why the firing squad?” He asked.

He was honestly just trying to scare you into backing down and going back home. He didn’t think you had thought out what you were saying properly and that bringing the idea back up may shock you into rethinking your whole statement. He didn’t think you thought any of of what you said through.

“At least it’s quick.”

Kun was in absolute disbelief. And if he hadn’t been in disbelief from your actual words, the look of pure acceptance on your face was enough to leave him completely dumbfounded.

Because he realized you had actually really thought it through. But what could’ve been so awful at your home that made you want to commit second hand suicide than to return? What in the world could’ve made you think that that was a better alternative than living at home with your parents.

“You’d prefer to be shot than to just go back home to your loving parents?” He asked a question, again just more trying to scare you than anything.

You nodded and answered in a tiny, “Yes.”

Kun was borderline in tears at that point. How could you in all your childishness think dying was better than going home to your family? He could never leave his parents. He loved them. And he knew they loved him. So how could you just get up and leave people who loved you so much?

“But… Why?” He quizzed quietly.

“Because my father he… he loves me too much…” you quivered barely above a whisper.

Part of you wasn’t even sure if the older boy heard what you said. Part of you hoped that he hadn’t so you didn’t have to live through the shame of telling your story out loud. But it just… slipped out.

He wasn’t sure what you meant by your statement at the time. He wasn’t even sure why you were crying as you said it or why you brought your legs up to your chest and began rocking back and forth. But it gave him an ominous feeling he had never quite felt before.

He didn’t know who you were, and he still wasn’t really sure of why you didn’t want to go home. But if you didn’t want to go to your home, surely he couldn’t just leave you out in the open to be found by soldiers by yourself.

So the older boy thought for a moment as he watched you, trying to decide what to do.

But in the end, he could only think of one option, “Well if you won’t go back to your home, why don’t you come back to mine?”

You quickly stopped your mini breakdown at the boys suggestion, wiped your tears, and sniffled to clear your throat, “W-what?”

“If you won’t go back to your home, why don’t you come back to mine? At least for the night. That way you’ll at least get some food and a warm bed to think on it for a little while.”

And that was how you found yourself at Kun’s house sitting in his room while him and his parents spoke in the living room without him having even known your name or where you came from.

——

You honestly only agreed to go with him because you figured best case scenario: you’d get a warm meal and bed for the night, Worst case scenario: they’d tell you to leave immediately at their son’s crazy idea. At that point you really had nothing to lose. It wasn’t like Kun was gonna take no for an answer and chances were that his parents would just throw you out and you’d be on your own anyways. What was the harm?

But to your ultimate shock though, even though they were fairly hesitant at first, after their little family talk they let you stay with them. Kun’s mom made dinner and you were able to have some like he said you’d be able to.

Had you’ve actually eaten that week, you’d have been slower eating and been more careful with your manners like you’d been taught. But the smell of an actual home cooked meal coupled with the grumbling knife feeling in your belly practically made you a wild animal at their dinner table.

You were sure after that little stunt they’d have kicked you out because of your unintended disrespect. But they didn’t.

They let you stay the night in Kun’s room and he instead took the couch in the living room. It was strange, having an actual bed to sleep in. It was soft and cloud like. The blankets were warm and inviting. And the pillow they gave you was calling your name. It made it easy to fall asleep.

But then you woke up screaming from another one of your nightmares. You’d had nightmares nearly every night of your short life back then, that night was no exception. And that’s when you were positive your luck had ran out and you’d be back on the streets in an hour.

Though instead of being angry at you for disturbing their sleep, the Qians were nothing but concerned for you. Kun’s mom even cradled you and sang old Hokkien songs from her childhood to get you to go back to sleep.

When morning came, you fully prepared yourself for them to throw you out as soon as daylight hit. You got all of your things repacked in your bag and got dressed for the long journey ahead of you before the Qian’s had even woken up themselves. You ended up falling back asleep waiting for them to come and tell you to leave.

But they never did. In fact, you didn’t wake up from the exhausting night before until Kun had already been in school for three hours and Mr. Qian had already gone to work.

Ms. Qian said that they figured it was best to just let you stay asleep after the day you’d had and she made you some eggs. She asked you a lot of questions about you and your life. She didn’t push you to answer them, but she was too welcoming a person to ever deny her answers. So you told her the truth. The whole truth, which was something you hadn’t ever done before with anyone.

When you were done you were a bawling whining mess and told her you’d understand if they wanted you gone as soon as possible. You told her you wouldn’t blame them in the slightest if she decided to throw you and your things to the curb the very next second.

But instead, she pulled you in for the most loving hug you’d ever had, possibly the only real hug you even remembered at the time, and told you you were welcome to stay for as long as you’d liked.

It wasn’t something that was uncommon. During the war, no one really cared about kids so they could do basically whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t break any laws. Millions went missing. Thousands got jobs or left schools. Hundreds moved to new families. Somehow, you happened to be all three.

Your father reported you missing of course because he was a twisted controlling man, but since the cops didn’t care about even their own kids, they didn’t care about his. You had to leave school because the government said the only role women had during the war was to bare children, to become housewives, or to prepare for their future duty to do both. And you became part of the Qian family.

And it was a good family. Mr. And Mrs. Qian loved each other just as much as they doted and loved their son. Their happy family environment took you a long time to get used to since you’d never had one like it before. But once you did, you were glad you got to witness it. Eventually when you were comfortable enough just seeing them be the sweet family they were, they also had you really become a apart of it.

They began treating you like the daughter they never had but always secretly wanted.

Mr. Qian was quiet and reserved but always had some stupid dad joke ready that seemed to make all the worried of the day all better and helped to tutor you for the subjects you’d missed in school so that you’d be able to continue whenever the war was over and the stupid law was reversed.

Mrs. Qian showed you how to cook, play musical instruments, and taught you all about herbal Chinese medicine and supposed potions to pass the time. They acted like you had been born into the family, something you’d never expected because they already had their own son. But they always told you that their son saw you as his family, and being his family meant you were their family.

Whenever you asked Kun what they’d meant by that or why he considered you his family when you were going through his homework for the day, he just shrugged and told you it was just a feeling he had. And for some reason that answer made you feel incredibly loved and cared for, you weren’t sure why either.

——

About a year into your staying with them, you and the Qian’s went to the park to get some fresh air, something that was only permitted on weekends by the new government as during the week it could’ve been considered a distraction. It was rare that Mr. Qian could get time off work for family time, so everyone was pretty excited.

You and Kun decided to go down by the Min River just off the park to skip rocks, something he was shocked to hear you’d never done before. He had only just finished helping you glide a small stone through the water successfully when you started hearing noises from behind a tree.

At first, you thought nothing of it. But then you notice that Kun was standing straighter and more rigid than usual. Even then, you didn’t think much of it. You figured maybe he was starting to get tired or maybe he had something on his mind.

It wasn’t until the hairs on his arms began to stand up and a growl like sound emitted past his chest that you really noticed something serious was going on with him.

Just as you were going to ask him what was wrong with him, you heard a voice you had prayed to a higher power you didn’t even believe in that you’d never have to hear again.

“So this is what you’ve been doing all this time my little ________?”

Immediately you turned on your heels, hoping the voice you heard hadn’t actually materialized into existence behind you.

But it did. He did. And once your fears were confirmed with your very eyes, you thought you’d pass out from the sheer anxiety and terror that suddenly started to radiate through your body.

“F-father I-” You couldn’t help but stutter in your native language out of habit, you didn’t seem to have control over your words, or your legs based on the buckling state of your knees for that matter.

“You ran away from home-” your father seethed as he started coming closer to you.

Which was something that had you attempting to walk backwards to gain some distance. But the previously peaceful scenery around you betrayed you once your feet soon stumbled upon the river’s dirt edge. You had no where to go.

“You worried your mother and I sick-” the closer he got to you, the more you’d wished you’d never had gone with Kun that day.

You wished you could’ve taken back the whole year of happiness and love because now you had to deal with a year of your father’s repressed rage and abuse. You suddenly wished you’d never ran away and that you just stayed back in your old home. You wanted to die everyday your father came near you, but at least you knew what you could expect of his treatment of you.

“Made us file a police report-” His everyday fury was enough to cripple the strongest man.

You didn’t want to even think of what he’d do to do now that he’d found you. Would he force you home? Would he hit you in public? Would he just kill you already and get it over with? Part of you already knew he’d never let you go, but part of you also hoped he’d just put you out of your misery before it started.

“All to be goofing off with some boy? Are you kidding me ________?! What’s our rule about men huh?! Huh!?” You debated whether or not jumping into the seemingly never ending river to end it all would be an option.

You knew he could swim and you couldn’t. And you also knew your father was definitely the type of man that would save you only so he could continue to torture you for the rest of your life. So it seemed like a pointless move. You’d never be free of him. He’d never let you go.

As he got within a five foot radius of you, you looked around for Kun so you could at least get one last glance of the boy that had given you the best year of your life, so you could say goodbye to the boy who had kindly taken you in when you had no where to go. You wanted to catch a glimpse of him for the last time to let your eyes express to him the words you had never gotten to say to him: i love you.

But you soon realized he was nowhere to be found. As much as you wanted to whine out loud at the thought of not getting a chance to see him before your fate was sealed, you knew it was for the best. You didn’t want him to see what would happen to you, whatever it was.

You gulped once you could perfectly see your father’s nostrils flaring, “I- I-” you tried to answer in the hopes of lessening the anger he felt towards you, but your words and voice still failed you.

You hoped Kun got to his parents. That he ran to them as soon as he realized it was your father who had interrupted your private moment together.

“Well ________?!?” Your father exploded, getting so close to your face you could feel his breath hit your face, the scent of vodka filling your nostrils as he tried to intimidate an answer out of you like he had done so many times before.

You hoped the Qian’s left already. You hoped they were gone and that they stayed gone. You hoped they’d forgotten about you the second Kun got to them to save themselves and that they realized trying to help you anymore than they already had was futile.

Your father would no doubt try to find the family that sheltered and cared for you. He’d make them regret ever crossing paths with you like he’d done to anyone else in the past that tried to show you even an announce of kindness. If they left, they’d at least get a head start. They’d at least have a chance to save themselves.

Tilting your head down to look at your feet, you tried one last time to give him acknowledgement, “T-They-” Your voice started to fail you once more, causing more anger to erupt from your father’s throat.

You wished you could have thanked the Qian’s. You wished you could have told them how grateful you were for their kindness and generosity towards you. You wished you could have thanked them for treating you like you were their own flesh and blood when you were just some strange girl Kun had picked up from school. You wished you could have told them that their help in your time of need meant everything to you and that you wished you could have repaid them somehow.

You wished you could’ve had one last day with them to memorize the warm feeling that hit you the second you’d walked through their front door to keep the cold abyss that would soon be your prison once more from getting to you.

You wished you could’ve sat down with the respectful Mr. Qian once more before you’d be stuck with your pig of a father for the rest of your life. You wished you could’ve cooked with the joyful Mrs. Qian as you chatted about your day one last time before you got stuck with your silent and resentful mother. You wished you could’ve sat at the dining room table while a happy Kun tried to explain his homework to you for the hundredth with his beautiful dimples flashing at you as he smiled before you lost the ability to see his smile forever.

“Look at me when you’re speaking! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your manners ________!!” Your father shouted in your face, quickly bringing his hand to grab you by the jaw to force you to look at him. It wasn’t until his rough hand squeezed your face that you realized the tears you had been holding back were now sliding down your cheeks.

But mostly, you wished you would’ve had the courage to tell Kun you loved him. Even if someone as kind and caring as him could’ve and should’ve never loved someone like you back, you wished you could’ve told him how much he meant to you before you never saw the light of day again.

Waking up to him and his lovely family everyday made you have hope that the world wasn’t such a bad place afterall. In that moment, all the hope you had left was praying he’d be able to quickly forget you and realize what he’d meant to you.

“I’m-” Just as you attempted to apologize in the hopes of softening the blow you knew was no doubt going to be making contact with your face soon, you heard a loud deep growl of what you could only assume was a wolf animal come from the trees.

Your father moved his attention to the sound as well, signaling that he too had heard it and was wondering what was going on. But instead of seeing a bear or some other creature, you saw Kun standing by the trees while tightening his fists so hard you could’ve sworn he would’ve broken his fingers.

“Let go of her. Now.” He sneered with a stone cold face, pushing himself out of the tree line and out into the daylight to be better seen.

You weren’t sure what but something seemed… different about him. Sure he had changed quite a bit since you had first met him, but you chalked that up to puberty. This however, was new. Something you hadn’t experienced before yet. Something strange.

Your father let out a dry chuckle, “Oh if i were you boy i would be running as far away as possible because you’re next on my list.”

But despite your father’s warning and your eyes widening to tell him to run, Kun just kept his same emotionless face, “How about we just put me at the top of your list now so we can get it out of the way then old man?” He suggested, not even seeming worried over the fact that your father was a grown adult and he was just a young teenage boy a little over half his size.

Your father let his grip on your face go and you fell to the ground, apparently your legs had finally given up what little strength they had and could no longer keep themselves upright.

“Fine kid. It’s your funeral.” Your father shrugged, turning around in his place so he could start to walk over to your beloved savior and probably off him.

You couldn’t let that happen. Even though your voice failed you, you refused to let it give up on the first person who showed you even a hint of kindness, “K- Kun, don’t!” You cried out.

This only caused your father to swing back around and kick you straight in your rib cage, making you go from your kneeling position to fall straight on your side.

“That’s enough out of you!” He spit at you as you desperately gasped for the air your lungs lost.

But this time when your father tried to turn around, he wasn’t met with Kun. He was met with the biggest wolf you’d ever seen lunging straight at him.

In second your father was on the ground being ripped apart by the beast’s long sharp teeth and claws as he cried out in agony.

As much as you should’ve been scared of the wolf because it would’ve most likely have come for you next, you weren’t. You were much more concerned for your friend and started scanning your surroundings to make sure he knew to run. But he was no where to be seen.

You went from being concerned to confused as you were sure that just before you hit the ground you saw a very worried Kun watching you fall to the ground out of the corner of your eye. You wondered where he could’ve possibly gone in the small amount of time.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when you realized your father’s pained yelps and screams had ceased and you saw that the wolf was headed straight for you. You couldn’t move your legs still, your arms couldn’t even lift you from the ground if you tried, and you were still struggling to catch your breath. You had no hope of getting out of the situation you found yourself in. So instead of even trying to get away, you just laid there and let it zero in on you.

Except when you closed your eyes so you didn’t have to actually see the wolf charge at you and began mentally preparing yourself for the attack, you soon realized it never came.

When you opened your eyes you could see the wolf clear as day with its muzzle in front of your face. But instead of the ferociousness you caught a glimpse of on its face just as it jumped on your father, you were met with a sweet almost puppy like face that began licking your face.

It quickly stopped licking you once it realized your eyes opened and that’s when you noticed it’s own big yellow ones staring at you.

You should’ve been afraid. You should’ve ran away screaming. You should’ve at very least been trying to push it away from you. But you weren’t. You actually felt… relieved that the giant animal was in front of you.

Which was again something that confused you, but it wasn’t until it laid down in front of you and emitted a small whine from its body that it clicked in your brain. It made sense why you weren’t afraid. There was no reason for you to run away screaming. You didn’t need to push the thing away from you.

You weren’t in any real danger. It didn’t want to see you get hurt. It was protecting you. It wanted to keep you safe. And now that it saw you were preparing for it to hurt you, it calmed down because it didn’t want you to be scared of it.

When you pushed yourself up on your forearms and watched the animals strange behavior, you felt a tugging flutter in your heart you’d only gotten from one other person before.

You didn’t understand what was happening. You didn’t understand why a wolf animal would suddenly come to a girl’s aid in the middle of the day where visitors wondered about frequently. Shouldn’t it be in the woods looking for food or something? More importantly, shouldn’t it want to hurt you for being foreign to it’s natural habitat?

Before you could personally seek any answers out yourself, someone came in and have them to you in a haste. And that someone was Mr. Qian.

“Kids!” He darted to you in a rush, eyes noticeably a similar color to the animal in front of you, “Kids are you ok-” Mr. Qian stopped dead in his tracks and sentence to take in the scene in front of him.

As he slowly got closer to you, both you and the wolf lifted your heads to turn in his direction completely.

Mr. Qian cleared his throat to regain some semblance of composure, “___, w-what happened here?”

That’s when you finally spoke up and explained what went on, at least, what events you knew for sure took place. You described to him the moments of you and Kun skipping stones, the fact that a man came out of no where to try to hurt you, and that Kun had disappeared.

“Okay that’s- that’s extremely worrying. First things first: The man,” Mr. Qian quizzed, seemingly trying to wrap his head around the situation at hand himself, “The man who tried to hurt you, where is he now?”

You pointed to the newly formed mangled corpse on the ground and told him it was your father and that the wolf came out of no where to protect you. You just weren’t sure why.

You also weren’t sure if he was truly just as shocked by the whole ordeal as you were or not. His facial expression showed nothing but concern, confusion, and worry. But his eyes gave off nothing but acceptance and compliance.

It wasn’t until he sighed heavily and bend down to the wolf’s level that you realized he probably wasn’t in awe of the whole scene for the same reason you were.

“Son, you’ve gotten us into quite the mess here you know that?” Mr. Qian shook his head with a slight airy laugh, something that caused the wolf to lay it’s head on the ground in a huff, “___, mama is back at the picnic blanket. I want you to go find her and tell her to bring me the supplies she always brings in cases of an emergency. Then i want you to stay at the blanket until we return, okay?” He tilted his head to look at you as he spoke as gently and as simply as he could to not scare you any further.

You vigorously shone your head after taking a moment to process his request, “N-No i can’t. What- what about Kun? We have to find him!” You insisted, unwilling to leave your dear friend behind.

Mr. Qian gave you a kind smile and nodded, “Don’t worry about my son. I’ll make sure he comes back with us i promise. But it’s not safe for you here and i know that he wouldn’t want you in any sort of danger because of him, alright?”

You were going to refuse again and push that you needed to help find him. But before you could protest again, the animal in front of you let out a small whine directed towards you that made your heart ache. And, though you still weren’t exactly sure why you felt the need to care about such a weird feeling, so you finally nodded in agreement and went to find Mrs. Qian to do as you were told.

——

It took a little while for them to get back to your meet up spot. You had already packed up the lunch you and Mrs. Qian prepared, folded the blanket that was brought to sit on into it’s large designated bag per your foster mother’s request, and began pacing in place before the small family came back.

Seeing Mr and Mrs Qian made you feel better, but seeing a very tired looking Kun nervously walking behind them put you at ease. You didn’t care that your father had came back and hurt you. You didn’t even care that your father was killed by the giant wolf thing. At that point, all you cared about was Kun’s safety.

So you ran to him the second he got close enough and wrapped your arms around his broad figure, “You’re okay!” You whimpered into his chest happily, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as Kun returned your embrace.

“Of course I’m okay ___. Are you?” He pulled you out of your hug and held either side of your face to no doubt check for bruises and injuries, his eyes being a very familiar but different color than you could’ve sworn they used to be.

But truthfully, even if you had any visible wounds, it didn’t matter to you. Those would heal. You were just mentally thanking every god that there ever was that he didn’t get caught in the cross fire of everything that happened.

You quickly nodded your head to confirm that you were, in fact, okay as you brought your own hand up to hold one of his that he had cupped around your face and squeezed it.

“Yes, yes. Everyone’s alright. But we really do need to be going. We can’t take any risks being out and about right now,” Mr. Qian smiled reassuringly.

“Wait!” You halted everyone from beginning the journey back to the house, “Don’t we need to talk about what happe-” You tried but you were quickly put at ease with Mrs. Qian putting her arm around your waist to usher you to follow them.

“Yes dear. We will. Just… not here. In fact, wait until we get back home to even think about it, okay? Let’s just be glad everyone’s okay, okay?” Her warm tone rhetorically questioned you, letting Kun and his father lead you to the car with a fair bit of distance between your two pairs.

——

Once you got back to the house, Mrs. Qian told you go up to Kun’s room to get cleaned up so she could refix the lunch you had all missed. You offered to help her as you usually did, but she insisted she had it covered and that you had been through enough for one day.

You did note that she didn’t have Kun go get changed the same way you had to. He stayed downstairs to speak with his parents.

As ashamed as you were to say, you did try to listen in to what they were saying as you had a feeling they were trying to get rid of you so they could speak to one another freely. But you recognized that they were speaking Hokkien, a language that, while you understood some due to living with the Qian’s for so long, you weren’t even conversational in. So it all sounded like a load of gibberish to you. At least you knew your hunch about them not wanting you to be around so they could speak was correct.

After you changed and made yourself presentable, you finally made your way back downstairs and found all three of them already sitting and mumbling to one another at the dining room table, no lunch in sight.

“___!” Mrs. Qian chirped to get the boys attention, causing them to cease their muffled talk and turn their attention to you.

Mr. Qian simply chuckled at you and made a silly comment about you taking a long time to get ready that you knew was just him teasing you, before he went to help his wife grab all the lunch supplies out of the fridge.

Kun on the other hand, immediately had his eyes locked on you and didn’t move an inch.

Not that it was an issue. It never bothered you when the elder boy gave you his undivided attention. You actually rather liked it when he did which, while not necessarily rare, definitely didnt happen every single day as he was generally too busy with school stuff and chores.

This time however, it was almost as if he refused to take his gaze away from you. Even when you pulled your chair out to sit down and cleared your throughly out of nervous habit, he didn’t budge. You weren’t even sure if he was blinking, not that you knew if he was or wasn’t.

You didnt dare to look at him back for more than half a second. Your teeny tiny crush on him plus your naturally introverted personality making such a task far too nerve wrecking for you.

Though even throughout eating lunch and you making small talk with his parents, you still felt his eyes on you. It wasn’t a creepy feeling you got when you noticed him staring. It was more of a… longing feeling maybe? You weren’t too sure if that was the right word you would place it as or not but it was the closest you could get to the right one.

Whatever it was, you just knew it made your stomach do cartwheels and made your cheeks feel as though they were on fire. Almost like your body was embarrassed that he was so openly observed you. In fact, him watching you so intensely had begun to make you a bit self conscious of how messy you could’ve looked eating.

Which was ridiculous. You had lived with the Qian’s for a year at that point. He had shown no sign of attraction to you that you recognized. As far as you knew, he just saw you as a little sister he never got growing up or as a close friend that just happened to live with him and his family. You, being the young girl you were, were just probably reading far too into what he was doing because you secretly wanted him to like you back.

He was probably just worried about you after everything that had happened throughout the day. He was probably just trying to look for any hint of discomfort or sadness by watching you closely. He was just being the good boy his parents raised him to be by looking out for his friend.

So you just had to slap away the butterflies in your belly, cool down the fire against your cheeks, and pretend everything was fine with you as you kept eating your food.

——

“Are we gonna talk about it now auntie?” You asked Mrs. Qian as you helped her clean the dishes from lunch.

Her eyes ever so slightly widened at your question and you saw a small panic wash over them, almost as if she had been hoping you’ve forgotten what happened earlier in the day.

She cleared her throat at turned to look at Kun, who was on her other side putting the dishes away in the cabinets after you washed and she dried them.

Kun was still acting weird. He wasn’t staring you down as he had been earlier, but he definitely wasn’t his usual self.

Normal Kun was always joking and laughing with his parents. The Kun you were dealing with was withdrawn and quiet. Normal Kun wouldn’t think twice about eating as much dessert as his parents would allow him to. The Kun before you barely even touched his lunch.

You would have understood if he had seen all you had at the park and was just in shock. But he didn’t see any of what you saw. He completely disappeared for that matter so you were really confused by his strange behavior.

He deeply sighed while running a shakey hand through his hair before nodding to his mother, who in turn turned to you with a smile, turning off the faucet in front of you and gesturing for you to sit at the table while she went and got Mr. Qian so you could all talk.

Truthfully, you weren’t even sure what there was to talk about because you had assumed they knew just as much about what happened as you did. But it just felt… odd to have witnessed your own father be killed by a wild animal and not discuss their ideas about what happened. Or at least acknowledge what you saw and potentially go to the authorities. You figured they left his body where it was, not that you cared too much about his final resting place after everything. You just didn’t want the Qian’s or yourself to get into trouble for not reporting it.

“Okay ___,” Mr. Qian puffed as he sat in the chair next to you and across from his wife, “What do you want to talk about?”

You tilted your head at the older man in confusion, “O-Oh. I- um- i dont know. It just… feels weird not to at least say something about it. It’s weird to like- i dont know- pretend it didn’t just happen,” you shrugged, biting the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from rambling anymore while waiting for one of the other three at the table to say something.

Mr. Qian nodded solemnly in understanding before letting out a long breath, “I see. Today’s been a very eventful day for everyone.”

Mrs. Qian smiles and shook her head in amusement at her husband’s obviousness but said nothing. Kun just stared straight at the center of the table, no emotion visible on his face.

“Well, Yeah. I- I mean giant dogs don’t just come out of nowhere and maul my dad to death after he also attempted to kill me everyday. So I’d say it’s been a pretty eventful day,” you tried to semi joke with a side smile, but instead of receiving a similar reaction from the others, you watched as Kun, who sat across from you at the square table, brought his head down almost shamefully to stare at his lap.

The confusion and hurt must’ve been written on your face at the idea of potentially having upset the older boy as Mrs. Qian grabbed and squeezed your hand under the table to comfort you.

At your word choices, Mr. Qian thought it was best for everybody involved that he just lay it all out on the table to prevent you from accidentally saying anything more to upset his son, “___, about the giant dog-” He uncomfortably shifted in his chair, “It… well you see, it wasn’t exactly a dog.”

“It wasn’t?” You innocently asked, completely dumbfounded that the large animal you’d met earlier wasn’t actually a canine.

“No sweetheart,” Mrs. Qian answered for her husband, who was looking increasingly distressed by the second, “It was- well still is that is- a human.”

After Mrs. Qian’s statement, the entire table went completely silent as they all watched you nervously and waited for your reaction. But really, you didn’t know how exactly to react.

The thing that stopped your father earlier surely looked like a dog to you. A very very large, very very bizarre dog, but a dog nonetheless. Granted you had never been allowed to own one before, but you still knew what they looked like. You weren’t an idiot. It was furry and it had four legs and a muzzle. How could it have been human?

“But Mr. Qian, you saw it. It was walking on all four legs and it had fluffy fur. Humans don’t do that and they don’t have fur they have hair!” You reasoned out loud, trying to get the room full of older people to see sanity.

And why wouldn’t you have? You didn’t know what they knew. You hadn’t seen what they had seen. You had no way of knowing that, while they knew you were telling the truth, they were telling you the truth too.

Mr. Qian broke out of his anxiety ridden state once he realized you would probably only listen to him on the matter. You trusted Mrs. Qian and Kun, but as far as you knew, he was the only other one at the table that had even seen the big dog, “Yes ________, you’re right. Humans don’t have fur. But what you saw, who you saw, wasn’t exactly human either,” he clarified, “It was, well, he is a werewolf.”

You were crazy, that’s what you decided. You were all crazy. You’d lost it at seeing the traumatic events you’d seen.

“…what…?” You spine just above a whisper, not even sure they had heard you.

But you weren’t aware that two out of the three people at the table would’ve definitely heard you yet.

“The animal that saved you,” Mrs. Qian reaffirmed her husband’s statement, “Wasn’t an animal. Not really. It was a werewolf. A human who can turn into a wolf.”

You were sure they could see the disbelief on your face, or at least they could see if in your eyes, “But werewolves, guys- werewolves don’t exist. That’s make believe stuff.”

Everyone had their own set of beliefs and morals, you knew that. But they were speaking of fairytales and nonexistent creatures parents told to their children at night to scare them.

You heard Mr. Qian let out an exhausted sigh before you watched him stand up from his chair and gestured for you all to follow him into the living room.

He then said something to Mrs. Qian in Hokkien and she rushed around the room quickly to close all the blinds and curtains.

“Dad,” Kun finally spoke fearfully around you for the first time since you’d gotten back from the park, “Are you sure this is a good idea? Isn’t there any other way?”

The elder man let out a dry laugh to his son, “Xiaodan, she’s been here for a year now. I think we all know her well enough to know that the only way she’ll believe us is if she sees it.”

And just like that, you watched as Mr. Qian began to grow his nails into what you could only call claws. You could only stare in shock as his usual perfectly squared smiled transformed into elongated fangs and black fur began to emit itself from his skin. You listened as you heard what you could only assume was bones breaking and moving inside his body. You witnessed the usually rather average size, meek Mr. Qian turn into a creature similar looking to the one that protected you earlier in the day.

For a moment, you thought you were going to pass out and fall over from the flush of color suddenly draining from your face. But before your buckling knees could drop you to the ground, Kun caught you with ease and held you against his strong body to compensate for yohr weakened one.

——

“So you do like him then?” Mrs. Qian asked you as you helped her make dinner.

With a darkening blush on your face you squealed, “Aiya auntie! Don’t put words in my mouth!” You giggled continuing to finely dice the onion as you were told.

After they told you, more like showed you, that werewolves existed, it took you a while to swallow the new truth you had been given. Once the Qian’s deemed you had accepted the idea as reality, they began to tell you more about them.

Between the knowledge that Mr and Mrs Qian and Kun had collectively given you, you thought it was safe to say you were an expert. At least, as much of an expert as one who didn’t actually turn into a werewolf could be on werewolves.

You’d learned all about how werewolves are genetically produced and not created by bites like some movies suggested. You learned that the fact that they traveled and found their own packs was true, but that they didn’t actually have to have a full moon to shift. You learned about alphas, something that apparently Mr. Qian, and eventually Kun when he matured enough, were and that they were the leaders of said packs.

They told you about werewolf hunters and how they tried to kill as many werewolves as possible with silver, but that if they’re wounded by something not made of silver they can usually regenerate and heal themselves pretty quickly. They told you that, while they had potions or contacts to conceal their real eye color, getting highly emotional could easily burn through either and show their true colors.

And thanks to Mr. Qian’s meticulously ‘no filter’ way of teaching, during one of his lessons you learned about rut, which happens once a season for males, and heat, which happens one week every month for females. It was during the very same lesson that you learned about mates and imprinting.

Which were, in Mrs. Qian’s words, essentially soul mates werewolves got instantly by looking at someone fate decided they needed to stay with forever. Apparently every werewolf had one, some unlucky werewolves even imprinted on the same person. But each wolf only had one themselves unless something happened to their mate. Then fate would do another lottery guessing game and let them have another one.

Mr. Qian made mates seem so scientifically simple. Mrs. Qian always made it sound much more serious and heartfelt. She insisted that, while her husband was right for the most part, he neglected to emphasize just how strong the feelings could be and that nothing else in the world could ever compare. According to her, everyone and everything practically falls off the face of the earth to a werewolf once he or she meets this mate and no one else will ever matter romantically to them again.

While you enjoyed the sentiment, you also wished Mr. Qian’s calmer version was more true than Mrs. Qian’s Romeo and Juliet version. You were glad that werewolves got to have the same happily ever after that everyone deserved. You were just sad that you would never get yours.

Werewolves apparently instantly fall in love with their mate and imprint at first sight. If it doesn’t happen then, it won’t happen later. Meaning Kun would get a happily ever after without you in it.

That sad reality hit your fragile little teenage heart more than you had ever meant for it to, and it must’ve been pretty obvious too. Because Mrs. Qian couldn’t seem to stop teasing you for your little crush on him ever since.

Mrs. Qian scoffed, “I’m not putting words in your mouth. I’m just asking a question i already know the answer to.”

“And how do you KNOW the answer already huh auntie?” You raised your eyebrow at her.

Because she had caught you crying over your pathetic teenage feeling for him a few days prior. You hadn’t told her that was why you were crying of course, she just… knew.

“Because a mother always knows ___.” She proudly smiled, taking your finished onions pieces and adding them to her pan.

Mrs. Qian treated you like the daughter she never had. And anytime she implied or referred to you as her daughter, it made you unbelievably happy. But when she brought the topic up when she had also been trying to get you to admit your unrequited love for her son, you couldn’t help but let the cosmic knife that hit your heart force you to miss a breath.

You didn’t know why she had insisted on bringing the topic up over and over again or why she wouldn’t just lay it to rest already. You both knew your feelings for him would amount to nothing even if you had told the truth.

Because Kun had already shifted. In fact, the first time he had was when he protected you from your father, which was a detail he was too ashamed to admit to you for the first couple months after it happened. You weren’t even sure why he felt that way. Your father was a monster in your book and, in your eyes, Kun had saved your life.

But it was because he had already shifted to protect you that you knew your feelings for him were nothing more than a school girl crush that never meant to be spoken about in the light of day. He would’ve imprinted on you that day if you were his mate and since he hadn’t told you he had when he told you he was a werewolf too, you knew he didn’t.

“Knowing stuff is overrated sometimes though auntie,” you sadly shrugged because you had started to think about how you and Kun weren’t meant to be, “Sometimes knowing stuff is a lot more painful than not knowing stuff.”

It was soon after this sentence that you began to feel burning tears brimming your waterlines and you had to excuse yourself so that you didn’t end up crying over everyone’s dinner, much to your foster mother’s dismay. But you knew in the end your decision to stop making dinner was what was best for everyone.

What you didn’t know however, was that when Kun got home from school Mrs. Qian was waiting for him. She told him how she thought you ran out on making that nights dinner with her because she had made you upset in her efforts to get you to admit your feelings for him.

Kun had been careful. He had been really really careful on how he interacted with you since he shifted. He never got too close to you, made sure to keep contact minimal, kept conversation light and simple, and refused to be left alone with you. He didn’t want to scare you away.

You had been so initially hesitant about werewolves and everything having to do with them, which was something that wasn’t helped by him attacking your father to keep him from laying his hands on you. He didn’t want to overburden you with more stuff that could cause you to have an emotional breakdown.

He didn’t want to tell you that even though you were already struggling with the idea of werewolves existing, he had imprinted on you which meant you were his mate.

But when his mother sat him down and told him he needed to be 100% honest with you because you were breaking down thinking he didn’t love you the way you loved him, he raced up the stairs to tell you the truth.

And that’s where he found you crying in his bedroom under his old comforter. He couldn’t help the small whine that escaped his lungs at seeing you so sad and hurt because of something he unintentionally caused. He pulled you onto his lap and let you cry for as long as you needed to before he told you you were his mate.

He actually practically got on his hands and knees so he could beg you to get you to forgive him for making you question his love for you. But you weren’t mad at him, you were just happy he told you because it meant that no one could take him away from you. Then Kun got happy because you accepting him mesnt no one could take you away from him. And everything seemed like it was gonna be okay.

Even after the both of you and your newly formed pack had to flee your home country so you wouldn’t get killed like some of your friends and their families had, you still didn’t really care all that much about the dangers and the hardships. When other packs came and tried to hurt yours you were never worried. When you had no money and no possessions but the clothes on your backs, you never once batted an eye. Because at the end of the day, you always had Kun by your side.

That’s how you and Qian Kun became the power couple. That’s why everyone knew you as the ‘it’ couple. That’s why some of the other couples even in your own pack envied what you both had.

No matter how stressful your respective college majors got, you never took it out on each other. No matter how limited your time got with each other due to crazy schedules, you never have up on making time with one another. No matter what life threw at either of you, you never once fought. No matter how hard the universe tried to break you down, you never once let the other break apart. No matter how tall the waves of misery and sorrow got, you never let the other drown. You were unbreakable together.

He was the love of your life. He was your other half. He was your soul mate. He was your world. But as you stood in the kitchen of your student Genji’s boyfriend’s home, you soon realized that those titles now also applied to a boy named Joshua Hong.

(Last Updated: 3/17/2023)

15 notes · View notes

shoutingsheep · 1 year ago

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It's been five years and I return to shout again.

I kind of hate the concept of like

Add representation or you're a bigot!

Also if you don't do representation perfectly you're a bigot!

And if you don't do representation but you're also part of the group you're trying to represent, well I guess you've got internalized bigotry and need to do better.

Guess I can't make an autistic character asexual because that's infantilization. Even though I'm autistic and asexual. As though one has to be sexual to be an adult. Can't make an autistic character like toys even though I'm autistic and love stuffed animals and toys. Guess I'm just self hating. I thought infantilization was treating people like they were little kids/stupid just because they aren't neurotypical and/or able bodied, but I guess anything that's ever been associated with kids counts too.

It's created such a fucking anxiety feedback loop for my writing because I'm just like. Ah, I should diversify my cast. Ah, what if I fuck it up. I'll write what I know for this character, but tweak it a little. Ahh- what if I fuck it up.

I wanted to do something fun for NaNo this year with a bunch of short original content, and then pick out my favorites to elaborate on. Most of these characters are just names at this point and it's give me so much trouble trying to visualize them and go any deeper then names because what I fuck it up.

Which sucks because it's making it so hard for me to get attached to them! It's making them feel like card board cut outs! The anxiety of screwing up is overwhelming even for personal projects, most of which won't be seen by anyone but me and my fiance!

And I feel like it's a situation of the loudest on either side are actually not all that many, and most people can understand that like. Stories have nuance and humans aren't perfect and characters that feel like real people aren't going to be perfect. But it's the vocal ones that get in your head.

I just want to love my characters again and writing but it feels like every time I try, I have to deal with getting out of my own head first. It's exhausting.

And that's not even covering the inability some people seem to have to distinguish liking a fictional character and completely endorsing everything they do. I like horror. I like horror movies with a good killer, because let's be real, if the killer sucks the whole thing is probably gonna suck.

That doesn't mean I think murdering anyone who happens upon your doorstep is okay! It means I think this character is neat and whoever made them did a good job.

Man I'm even getting anxiety about this post but it's one a barely used side blog specifically for venting so like. This is venting okay?? That's it. Sometimes a little venting is good for the soul.

#sheep vents

0 notes

hisunshiine · 3 years ago

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— armypedia 🧩 jungkook

Chapter 5: Jungkook: The Ones That Love Me So

⟢ pairing: none

⟢ credit: co-written with @heathfritillary ♡

⟢ rating: 18+ | mature themes & explicit content

⟢ story warnings: Horror, Psychological Horror, Violence, Kidnapping, Torture, Pain, Delusional Thinking, Explicit Language, Minor Character Death, Weapons, Fire, Blood, Additional Warnings Identified This Chapter: mentions of death, mentions of sex/sex workers, torture devices, pain: psychological and physical, fear

⟢ wc: 1,552

⟢ summary: Wanna play a game? 🧩 The members of BTS find themselves awakening, one by one, seemingly abducted and with no clue as to what is going on. Soon, they’ll have to piece together puzzles designed specifically for the KPOP group as they are forced to participate in a sick game of life and death, conducted by someone who has a point to prove. This eight chaptered horror fanfic takes inspiration from the movie franchise, Saw.

⟢ author’s note: thanks for reading for spooky season. please remember this is a work of fiction. we love all of the members equally and very much. this is only for spooky season. please respect their privacy irl.

| armypedia masterlist | hisunshiine masterlist |

Ankles bound, arms spread and unable to move, his voice grew raspier as he kept hollering after help. He had no clue where he was nor how he’d even gotten there. Pitch black. He couldn’t see anything and the only thing he heard was the sound of his own decreasing voice and the shackles that kept him in place. Although he wasn’t able to use his sight, the unbearable heat made the situation worsen. Sweat dripping down his temples as well as his back, Jungkook felt uncomfortable. He had no idea what time it was, let alone how long he'd been held captive.

“Namjoon?” He kept yelling after his bandmates, they were the few memories he could recall of before awakening. “Hyung!”

Defeated, he hung his head and attempted to catch his breath whilst slightly tugging at the heavy chains. He noticed a light begin to glow from below him, a square shaped box lighting up. Gazing down, he bewilderingly frowned at a pink stuffed animal approaching the screen, gasping lightly when he recognized the bunny as his creation for ARMY’s.

“Jeon Jungkook, I’d like to play a little.” The distorted voice of someone using a voice altering filter said. “You claim you love your devoted fans. For years, you have been beloved by many, but how much do you care for those who have devoted their lives for you?” A loud buzzer went off and he hastily glanced around when the place he was being held lit up. “Take a look inside.”

Jungkook blinked repeatedly to adjust to the rapid change from dark to light, and in front of him was a glass window. A flickering light turned on from the other side where he could make out two women; they stood bound and gagged. Disturbed by the vision of them standing on a plank with what appeared to be a noose loosely tied around each of their necks. Both sets of eyes lit up when they adjusted to the light in the room and recognized him. They began to scream at him for help, their pleading voices muffled through the glass, but filled with utter dread.

“You may know these women; they certainly know you, Jeon Jungkook. To your right is your most problematic sasaeng known by her fansite name headliner_jk and on your left,” his gaze moved to the other, who appeared to have wet herself in fear, “meet Carrot NUNA. Both of these women have gone above and beyond to capture your every little move and it is safe to say that they are known as horrible people who deprive artists like yourself of a moment of privacy. Jeon Jungkook, you have a choice to make here.”

“You sick fuck! What is this? Let me go!” he shouted at the screen below him while attempting to rip himself free of his confinements.

“If you love ARMY's, you love all of them, even the bad ones. There is a handle on each side of your hand, and you can only hold on to one, choose one you want to save. If you decide to do nothing, those chains keeping you steady will begin to move apart, eventually ripping your arms from your torso. The choice is yours, Jungkook, save a sasaeng or don’t. You have three minutes.”

The screen turned off and he immediately cursed after the creepy voice that was using his BT21 creation, Cooky, as a puppet for this diabolical game. The same buzzer went off and the timer began to tick seconds away off the clock. Simultaneously, the plank the women were standing on began to move, depriving them from having something solid to stand on, and eventually hanging them when they should lose that last bit of footing.

Whimpering, they called after him to the best of their abilities, and as much as discontentment and disgust oozed out of him, he hastily grabbed each handle on either side of his muscular thighs preventing their planks from retreating. Grunting, he cried out at the sting of his arms being pulled slowly.

Images then appeared on two screens on either side of the glass where the women appeared to Jungkook. To the right was the woman known as headliner_jk, and images of him slid through the screen on her side, showcasing the footage from when she had recently stalked him. He glanced up at her, teary eyes gazing back at him as he recognized the intimate pictures she had taken of him when he was not aware.

The chains pulled at him, and he screamed in agony as the excruciating pain overwhelmed him. The veins in his arms popped, as he tried to fight the pull. His gaze caught the other screen and images Carrot NUNA took kept appearing, equally as damaging, equally an invasion of privacy.

The timer blinked and the chains kept pulling at his arms. A minute and a half remaining and he couldn’t decide which of the two sasaengs he should help. Were it completely up to him, he would loosen his grip on both handles and watch as they struggled with their feet dangling until they eventually died. But he was, unfortunately, not programmed with such a vindictive personality. BTS loved ARMY’s, even the bad ones, as much as they didn’t want to. But the rotten ones, well, they helped him and his bandmates recognize the good ones; luckily for them, the good outweighed the bad.

The timer kept ticking away, precious seconds disappearing as he grew more and more indecisive. Choose one to save and live, or do nothing and die. It was not an easy decision, tears ran down his cheeks at having to play this role of God. He never wanted to be responsible for someone else’s pain, had spent years being responsible for their happiness, but he was given no choice. Do nothing and lose his life, lose the ability to make others smile... or make a tough decision and live with it for the rest of his life.

Both women cried out after him as their feet barely scraped the remaining wood beneath their feet. His strength was giving out and the deafening pain of his arms made it impossible for him to think straight.

Choose one. Which one?

Both images appearing on the screens were equally damning. They had managed to find and capture private moments of him. His gaze caught a glimpse as a frame slid into view that headliner_jk captured of him: Jungkook, golden maknae of BTS sat in his computer chair, masturbating to webcam girls.

A sense of shame and embarrassment overcame him. The images that were being displayed were all private and he wondered how they had even gained access. It was less of the act he was doing than the violation of his privacy that was upsetting. He was a young man in his prime; this was nothing out of the norm for other men his age.

His eyes then fell on Carrot NUNA’s screen as a picture of him getting a blowjob from a black, female escort appeared. He remembered this vividly, several months ago he had decided to give in to his fantasy and experience the pleasure he watched on his computer screen.

Why she hadn’t used this against him was baffling; she had plenty of time to have sold those images to the highest bidder. His eyes fell immediately onto hers and she pleaded with him not to choose her.

As the pain became overbearing, his hands grew weaker and the strength to hold onto both handles became too much. The mixture of the women’s sobbing cries and the deafening tick of the timer reaching its end made him scream as he made the decision and pulled back one of his hands.

All sound ceased and the only thing that filled the room was the cries of one of the women and his grunts as he held tightly onto Carrot NUNA’s handle. The strangled gasps and choking whines from Headliner pulled his gaze up to the woman as her legs bucked out, struggling to find footing that was no longer there and air that was nowhere to be found. It didn’t take long, before she finally gave in to inevitable strangulation of the noose.

A long moment passed after the chains around his ankles and wrists loosened. Carrot NUNA jumped down as her confinements loosened as well, maneuvering her way into the room with Jungkook. She ran into his arms, gratitude pouring from her mouth at being saved, promising to destroy all the footage she had, but he quickly shoved the woman away from him. His eyes glared, honed in on the woman he chose not to save, her body gently swaying in the air.

A door behind him opened, and a large neon sign showcasing the word EXIT lit up above it and he swiftly made his way through it with his surviving sasaeng. But the door they went through didn’t provide any clues to where he was; it was pitch black on the other side. Obstacles and locked doors made Jungkook feel as if they were mice caught in an impossible maze as he attempted to guide himself and the crying woman behind him away from where they had started.

Would he ever escape this nightmare?

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brown-little-robin · 3 years ago

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Today I thought I’d finally talk about my superhero poetry collection in an actual post instead of just grabbing poems from it. This post features a poem from the Jason Todd collection because I had to include an example, and Jason Todd’s collection is one of my favorite sub-collections.

Settle in, dears, because this is more a journal entry than a concise explanation.

I love poetry. But I have an awful time forcing my brain to slow down enough to enjoy reading a poem. In childhood, I developed a habit of reading 300+ page books in a few days, so my default mode is reading really fast. I have to trick myself into slowing down. With long books, I have a few methods: reading out loud to people is a good one, because I can savor the plot twists and the sounds of the words and stop to laugh over witty bits. Listening to people reading aloud works too— as long as I’m keeping my hands busy by, for example, doodling or sewing a stuffed animal. Rereading favorite books only works if I’m also drinking tea or sewing or something. The poor books end up being held open with an elbow or a foot. Sometimes I read slowly and write in the margins (but only with nonfiction books that I own!)

Poetry, as you can imagine, is a whole other level of difficulty, concentration-wise. They’re so short. If novels are lakes, poems are like deep wells. Poems contain a lot of water, but they’re far easier to miss and harder to dip water out of. You have to be so active, with poems, to catch their subtleties.

The tea-drinking methods, the ones that keep my hands busy, don’t work with poems. They’re just too short. I have to somehow convince my mind that a poem is worth the effort of lingering in.

And what’s guaranteed to catch my attention? Fictional characters. Superheroes.

It sounds silly, but associating poetry with superheroes has been revolutionary for me.

I think the idea started with a fanfiction—I don’t know which one—that had Jason Todd use e.e. cummings’ in time of daffodils as a grounding device. He’d repeat it to himself to distract himself from panic attacks.

That resonated with me.

I thought about it often. Every time I was using a grounding device for a while after that, actually, I would think of Jason Todd desperately whispering to himself: in time of daffodils(who know / the goal of living is to grow) / forgetting why,remember how /— and I would think next of Emily Dickinson’s poem that goes in this short Life that only lasts an hour / How much — how little — is within our power! and then, if I could, I’d go and find my two volumes of poetry: Emily Dickinson’s Envelope Poems and a little Oxford book of modern children’s poetry (modern, I think fondly. Modern. It must be at least fifty years old.) And I’d look though them and think, ah, this is a Jason Todd poem, he’d like this one. This is more of a Tim Drake poem. This one is like Damian Wayne.

So I got interested in poetry again. Rediscovered my favorites, and started looking online for more. And at the same time, I was learning how to create websites.

Oh, the incredible serendipity of it: the traditional first assignment in website design classes is to format a poem on a website.

I did my assignment with the required Shakespeare sonnet. And then, for fun, I created a private website and put my very favorite poems in it, dividing it into sections, one for each member of the Batman family. I gave each of them their own color scheme and font and visual style.

And the collection kept growing. I kept searching out more poetry until I had added a Superman section and a Flash family and a Rogues and a Teen Titans and an X-men and a Brotherhood of Evil Mutants and an Avengers section.

Whoops.

But it works. It’s so much fun and I’d love to share them with people who are interested, so if you’ve made it this far, feel free to request a poem from a specific superhero—chances are, I have him or her—or send in a poem and see it sorted and formatted for a superhero (possibly with commentary!)

The source for A Gargoyle on Notre Dame and the poem written out are below the read-more link!

poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=12647

A Gargoyle on Notre Dame

Edmund Kemper Broadus

With angel's wings and brutish-human form, Weathered with centuries of sun and storm, He crouches yonder on the gallery wall, Monstrous, superb, indifferent, cynical: And all the pulse of Paris cannot stir Her one immutable philosopher.

#Robin speaks #superhero poetry #jason todd #edmund kemper broadus #a gargoyle on notre dame #poetry

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mediaevalmusereads · 3 years ago

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The Alienist. By Caleb Carr. New York: Random House, 1994.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction, mystery, suspense

Part of a Series? Yes, The Kreizler Series #1

Summary: The year is 1896. The city is New York. Newspaper reporter John Schuyler Moore is summoned by his friend Dr. Laszlo Kreizler—a psychologist, or “alienist”—to view the horribly mutilated body of an adolescent boy abandoned on the unfinished Williamsburg Bridge. From there the two embark on a revolutionary effort in criminology: creating a psychological profile of the perpetrator based on the details of his crimes. Their dangerous quest takes them into the tortured past and twisted mind of a murderer who will kill again before their hunt is over.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: ableism, homophobia/transphobia, racism (including slurs), sexism, rape, abuse, child abuse and sexual assault, child prostitution, animal cruelty, blood, gore, violence

Overview: This book has been on my TBR list for a while, so I figured I’d finally get around to reading it. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I was actually surprised by how much I enjoyed the reading experience. Carr writes in a way that pretty closely imitates 19th century detective fiction, and while such a style might not be for everyone, I thought it went a long way in creating atmosphere. My criticisms have mostly to do with pace and the creative decisions that probably didn’t have to be made (such as depictions of child sexual assault, use of slurs, etc), but even with those faults, I have to give Carr’s craft and research a lot of credit, so this book gets 4 stars from me.

Writing: As I mentioned above, this book mimics detective fiction of the 19th century. If you’ve read any of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, you might get the idea: first person, characters displaying almost whimsical behavior, stuffed with contextual details that may or may not be relevant. At first, I thought the reading experience was going to be a slog, but once I realized what Carr was trying to do, I readjusted my expectations and found the prose to be quite engaging. If you like 19th century literature, you might appreciate what Carr does, but if you find older lit to be a challenge, this book might not be the thriller you’re hoping for.

That being said, I do think there were some areas where Carr could have picked up the pace or even cut some of the contextual details. It’s obvious that Carr did a lot of research before writing this book, and it’s understandable that he would want to show off some of that research, but there were times where I felt like it was a little much.

I also think there are a lot of things in this book that will offend modern sensibilities. I recall at least one use of the N-word (which is spoken by a racist minor character) as well as remarks that make it clear that characters think same-sex intimacy is “deviant” or abhorrent. I can understand why Carr put them in his book; if we’re trying to evoke an atmosphere and make the story feel like it’s set in the 19th century, it’s not realistic to expect everyone to be accepting of gay sex or treat POC with respect. But also, I think it’s on Carr to bear the responsibility of creating plot points and characters that have those attitudes in the first place. The character who uses the N-word could have easily not done so, and characters could have been more clear that their revulsion was at child prostitution rather than same-sex relationships.

Still, I was able to follow the plot with no problem and the sentences flowed in a way that made the reading experience feel quick (no 10-line sentences, thank god). So while there may be some things I would have liked to see adjusted to fit my own tastes, I think Carr did a wonderful job of making me feel like I was reading an older work.

Plot: The plot of this book follows a group of investigators as they try to use psychology to catch a serial killer. As far as being an “original” or unique thriller, this book doesn’t necessarily deliver a plot we haven’t seen before; but what made it so interesting (at least to me) was that it was less interested in the thrill of catching the killer and more interested in thinking through the “whys.” Why did the killer do X? Why did he do Y and Z when he could have done A or B? In this sense, the suspense doesn’t come from the action or the “chase,” but from the building of ideas and a foggy picture becoming more and more clear.

If I can fault Carr for anything, it’s that I think he crafted his mystery around some subjects that are... touchy (for lack of a better word). Most of the murder victims are children - specifically child prostitutes - and a lot of the killer’s motivations are rooted in some combination of racism and exposure to abuse. If you’re looking for a book which handles these issues with sensitivity, I think you’ll be disappointed. But I have to give Carr some credit for not overly sensationalizing these things; for example, while he did include characters who were racist towards Native Americans, he also included characters who were sympathetic and who insisted on not judging tribes for their defensive violence. Not everything is perfect, and there were some moments that made me uncomfortable, but I felt like Carr painted a complex picture of 19th century America, so I was able to keep going.

Characters: The plot of this book is told from the perspective of John Schuyler Moore - a newspaper reporter who teams up with his friend, eminent psychologist Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, to catch a serial killer. As a protagonist, Moore isn’t overly compelling - he’s more like a neutral, blank slate that the reader can project themselves onto. He serves much of the same function as Watson in the Sherlock Holmes stories: to be a witness to other characters’ brilliance while occasionally making some helpful insights. Still, I didn’t outright hate Moore - he was kind and loyal, and I admired how he went out of his way to try to help people.

Kreizler, the psychologist (or “alienist” as they were called in those days), is somewhat of a Sherlockian character in that he’s eccentric, confident, and had abilities that stun the people around him. For the most part, Kreizler was fun to follow. I think the only times I got truly frustrated with him were when he would allude to some knowledge and then leave Moore in the dark - like “aha! This thing is obvious!” “What thing?” “No time to explain! I’ll tell you at dinner!” Those moments were a little irritating.

Sarah, the most prominent female character, was more complex than I expected her to be. She has clear career aspirations and doesn’t let anyone hold her back, and I liked that she was presented as this kick-ass woman who still felt human. She struggles when faced with the horrors of the murder, but she doesn’t let the horror put her off of her task. She’s confident and never seems to have a moment of self-doubt (which is refreshing). She notices interpersonal things without being boxed in as “the woman who notices emotions.” Granted, Sarah does serve some token function - she’s brought on in order to provide a “female perspective,” which was a little frustrating, but she held her own so well that my annoyance melted away.

Marcus and Lucius, the two brothers who work for the police department, are also quite charming characters. I loved how they brought technical expertise to the group by being knowledgeable about anatomy, fingerprints, photography, and the like, and I especially enjoyed the way they bickered with one another. Their presence immediately made scenes feel lighter, and they brought something of a family aspect to the whole band.

Supporting characters were well-crafted in that no two felt quite the same. Teddy Roosevelt (yes, that one) was cheerful and warm while still demanding absolute cooperation and loyalty from his men. Cyrus and Stevie - two of Kreizler’s employees - were charming, though I wish Cyrus had gotten to do more than just kind of silently stand by awaiting orders. Mary - Kreizler’s maid - was a lovely character, and I appreciated the positive disability representation we got with her, though I do not like how her character arc ended and how it related to the main plot. The crime bosses were intimidating without feeling too much like stock characters, the thugs did their job. I don’t think there was a character that was poorly written, just characters who served purposes that may or may not have been needed.

As for the murderer... we don’t get to see him very much, but I felt like I got to know him because so much of the book was focused on mapping out his life and psychology. It worked much better than books where the antagonist is looming off to the side, acting as a vaguely threatening force but not really a character, and one that doesn’t even show up until the last quarter of the book. When the killer finally does appear on page, I felt like he had been involved in the story, even without being physically present, so I was able to accept him as an active force on the narrative, not just a surprise twist at the end.

TL;DR: The Alienist is a well-crafted mystery that uses atmosphere and psychology to create an engaging mystery. While some readers may struggle with the period-like prose or the more disturbing aspects of the story, Carr creates a compelling narrative by focusing on understanding and knowledge over spectacle and action, and by using well-developed characters.

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world-of-puppets · 4 years ago

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Puppetry Lost Media

In honour of reaching 50 followers last week (now 55 followers, as of writing this) I decided to cover two subjects of great interest to me: puppetry (of course) and lost media.

Everybody online loves a good old bit of lost media. Whether it be being a part of the many searches for the media in question, or watching documentaries about them on sites like YouTube. I’ve been mildly addicted to the latter kind of content for a while. From what I’ve seen, though, there aren’t many videos or articles out there specifically covering lost puppetry. So, in no particular order, here are a couple of pieces of lost puppetry I found while scrolling through the lost media wiki.

銀河少年隊 - Ginga shounen-tai AKA Galaxy Boy Troop (1963 - 1965)

Osamu Tezuka is one of the most pioneering figures in Japanese art and animation. Starting as a manga artist in the 1940s inspired by the animated works of American studios such as Walt Disney and the Fliecer Brothers, he adapted and simplified many of the stylistic techniques of both artists to create his own signature style of big shiny eyes, physics defying hair and limited animation. A style that would go on to heavily influence the world of anime and manga as a whole.

But animation and graphic art were not the only mediums Tezuka would dabble in. Ginga Shounen-Tai, or Galaxy Boy Troop in english, was a television series that aired on the public broadcast channel NHK from April 7th, 1963 to April 1st, 1965. Running for 2 seasons with a total of 92 episodes.

The series was a mixture of marionette characters that utilised the Supermarionation marionette technique, popularised by Jerry Anderson’s Thunderbirds, and limited traditional animation. The story revolves around a child genius named Roy who leads a rag-tag group of heros around the galaxy in a rocket ship in order to revive the earth’s sun and later protect it from alien invaders.

Out of the 92 episodes that aired, only episode 67 still exists in its entirety with French subtitles, and the full episode can be found on YouTube with English subtitles uploaded by user Rare TezukaVids. According to user F-Man on the Tezuka in English forums, footage of episode 28 exists but with no audio, and episode 87’s animated segments exist without the marionette segments. F-Man also claims the reason for Galaxy Boy Troop’s disappearance is due to Tezuka not being proud of the series and having all episodes of it destroyed.

Personally, I think it’s a shame that pretty much all of this series is gone. From what I’ve seen in episode 67, it looks really charming. Tezuka’s signature character design style was adapted suprisingly well to marionettes, and the puppetry itself isn’t that bad either. I love the little face mechanisms like the blinking eyes, flapping mouths and others. It gives the puppets a lot of personality and charm. Like, just look at this old mans eyebrow mechanism and tell me you wouldn’t want to watch 92 episodes of this show;

Tinseltown (2007)

Tinseltown was a 15 minute sitcom pilot created by the Jim Henson company under thier Henson Alternative banner. The pilot was commissioned by the Logo Network and aired as part of the Alien Boot Camp programming block in 2007.

The pilot (and likely the series, had it been picked up by the logo network) features a cast of both puppets and live actors as characters. The premise revolves around Samson Kight, an anthropomorphic bull preformed by Brian Henson and drew Massey, and his partner Bobby Vegan, an anthropomorphic pig prefomed by Bill Barretta and Michelan Sisti, as they attempt to balance thier lives working in Hollywood with life as parents to thier sullen 12-year-old foster son, Foster, played by Paul Butcher. Other human characters included Mia Sara as Samson’s ex-wife Lena and Francesco Quinn as the family’s manservant Arturo.

The Tinseltown pilot used to be available on the Logo Network’s YouTube channel, but was later removed for unknown reason. Since then, the pilot has not been made available online. However the characters Samson and Bobby have made appearances in other Henson related works, such as the improv stage show Stuffed and Unstrung, where they played the role as the shows producers, and in a 2011 video on the Jim Henson Company YouTube channel celebrating Jim Hensons 75th birthday.

I find Tinseltown pretty interesting as I feel like it should be more noateable or known, considering that this is (as far as my knowledge goes) the first Jim Henson Company project featureing openly lgbtq characters as its leads, and would have been the first Henson show to do so had it been picked up. As someone who’s interested in lgbtq+ representation in creative media such as animation, I realised that there’s not many examples of canon lgbt characters in puppetry. The only ones aside from Samson and Bobby I could think off the top of my head would be Deet’s Dads from The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance and Rod from Avenue Q. Though, obviously, there could be more I’m not currently aware of. I don’t think the Tinseltown pilot was a masterpiece or anything. After all, there’s probably a couple of good reasons Logo didn’t pick it up for a full series. But I think it be cool if either Henson co. or Logo made this available online again, if just so we could appericate it as an interesting little footnote in the history of lgbtq rep in puppetry.

With that said, considering the pilot’s obscurity and the fact that it’s main couple haven’t been used in any Henson Related projects in almost ten years, as well as the possibility that there may be legalities preventing the Henson company from releasing it such as Logo still owning the rights, it’s unlikely we’ll see the Tinseltown pilot anytime soon.

Sonic Live in Sydney (1997 - 2000)

Sonic the Hedgehog is a fictional character no stranger to multiple interpretations of him and his universe across a diverse range of media. From the more light-hearted and comedic stylings of The Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog and Cartoon Networks Sonic Boom cartoon series, to more serious faire such as the Sonic SatAM cartoon and the Sonic Adventure videogame duology. One of the more obscure and stranger adaptations of the character came in the form of Sonic Live in Sydney, a one an a half hour live show hosted at the former Sega World Sydney amusement park in Darling Harbor, Sydney, Australia. Originally beginning as a live show with actors in meet-and-greet style costumes, the show eventually was replaced with a puppet show during its last two years.

The shows plot was set in an alternate timeline whos continuity was a mix of the SatAM cartoon and Sonic the Hedgehog 3, where Doctor Robotnik’s Death Egg crash lands in Sydney, Australia instead of Angel Island and attempts to take over before being foiled by sonic and friends. According to Phillip Einfeld of Phillip Einfeld Puppetoons, the company that made the puppets, Sega felt the costumed actor version of the show wasn’t dynamic enough, and wished to replace it with a version featuring live puppets with animatronics. Both versions of the shows plot are identical.

While Sonic Live in Sydney’s soundtrack is available on YouTube, and some photos of the show are available on the Lost Media Wiki, no footage of either the costumed actors version or the puppet show version have resurfaced. The show was closed down in 1999, possibly due to cost, shortly before the Sega World park as a whole in 2000. So unless there is someone out there who viseted the show between 1998 or 1999 who recorded the show via a handheld camera, footage of both incarnations of the show are likely forever lost to time.

On a personal note, I don’t have much to say on this one other than how gloriously peek gaudy 90s Sonic the set/puppet design is. I have no doubt finding footage of these puppets in action would truly be a silly delight to behold...

Legend of Mary (year unknown)

This one is a little different from the other entries on this list as while the film itself in its entiraty is available on YouTube for anyone to view, the information surrounding Legend of Mary, specifically its year of release, remains a mystery as of writing this.

I have mentioned the film before on this blog so I’ll keep it brief here: in summary, Legend of Mary is a short film retelling of the Nativity featuring the Rod puppets of Austrian puppeteer Richard Teschner. the video was uploaded to YouTube by user canada 150 archive. I looked up the people credited in the film and was able to find most of them, but didn’t find Legend of Mary listed in thier credits, and was unable to find the film on sites like IMDB, tMDB or Letterboxd. I reached out to Canada 150 archive asking if they had any info regarding the Legend of Mary’s release date, and after a coupe of months, they replied saying they didn’t know.

And that’s as far as I got on my search for answers, if anyone of you guys has any information regarding Legend of Mary, then it be of huge help in finding the release date.

Sam and friends (1955 - 1961)

Sam and friends was the very first puppetry television series created by Jim Henson alongside his colabarator and future wife Jane Nebel. filmed in Washington, D.C. and airing twice daily on WRC-TV and the NBC affiliate in Washington, D.C. from May 9, 1955, to December 15, Sam and Friends would mark the first apperence of Kermit (though not yet as a frog) and paved the way for Henson’s iconic and revered legacy in the realm of puppetry on film and television.

With the impact this show had in mind, it may come as a shock to some that almost half of Sam and Friends, specifically, 42 of the 86 episodes, are considered lost. With 16 existing, 8 documented, 9 known from memory, plus 8 existing Esskay commercials and 1 memory-known Esskay commercial. Some taped episodes have been shown at venues such as the museum of the moving image while others have been erased. It’s unknown if copies of these erased episodes still exist.

This post would become far to long if I were too list every episode missing from Sam and Freinds, but if your curious, the lost media wiki article has a comprehensive list of all lost episodes.

Annnd that about it for this post. This type of content is pretty different from the stuff I usually post. So I’m egar to see what you guys think about it. If you enjoyed this article, want to see more like it or have ideas for what puppetry-related topics I should cover in the future. And again, thank you all so much for helping me reach 55 followers. Your support really does mean a lot to me, and I hope you enjoyed this as a follower milestone gift.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this dip into lost puppetry, and have a happy holiday season!

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

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Prequel to ‘The Crow’s Funeral’: How Agnes + Gerry met, then proceeded to set Jon on fire.

Exactly what it says on the tin. This exists because I was rereading TCF and went “hey did I ever figure out how Agnes and Gerry met”. I didn’t, so this is it. Rest under the cut. No specific warnings except for the fact that, shockingly enough, Jon had gone through a lot of character development prior to the start of TCF and was actually a complete asshole for a year or two.

“Daisy? What are you looking for?”

Agnes’s expression stretched into terror. She mouthed ‘fuck!’, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t breathe, and her chest never rose and fell, but she abruptly started trembling.

For the first time, Gerry reached out to reassure her. But her body heat had abruptly tripled, and Gerry was forced to pull back. In the small, unventilated space, it quickly became overwhelmingly hot.

“Shut it off!” Gerry hissed, as quietly as he physically could. “They’ll feel it -”

“That is the most dangerous monster in the world,” Agnes whispered, and Gerry fell silent. “Don’t move.”

For the first time in a very long time, in an apocalyptic world built on terror and fear, Gerry felt afraid.

Agnes was back.

Gerry didn’t know how she had found him. His hiding place was pretty well hidden, thank-you-very-much. Adults were always trying to barricade themselves in houses - stupid, when the nightshades could drift through shit - and kids were always trying to hide in closets or attics. But Gerry was the perfect mix of adult and child - or, as they’re known, teenagers - and he had way too much experience stripping houses down for the possessions of the recently deceased.

So Gerry knew about crawl spaces. Like in the Magician’s Nephew, some older row houses had little secret tunnels between each house. You couldn’t quite get into each house normally, but there were always gaps and weak points and hatches. Even better, at the very top there was a hidden attic where the generator and power box lived. It was small, and there were definitely some gross animal corpses that Gerry could have sworn moved, but it was mostly safe. So much as anything was safe.

But, somehow, Agnes had found him. Gerry didn’t know what she was doing exploring row houses for fun, but judging from the scent of smoke that’s been in the air lately he didn’t want to know.

The sharp rapping echoed through the small attic, directly under the hatch with a huge heavy space heater dumped on it. Gerry had other means of entry, and Agnes thought that was the only door. Please! As if Gerry would live somewhere with only one escape exit. That was just asking to get stuck in a nightmare for a month.

But, then again, maybe Agnes had never had to worry about that.

“I brought food!” The high, clear voice called out - slightly muffled from the ceiling/floor, but unmistakable. “It’s Twinkies! Come down to eat it!”

“No way!” Gerry called down back. “I bet you put offal in it!”

“What does offal mean!”

“It’s, like, organs! Go away, lady!”

“I told you!” Agnes called back, weirdly delighted. “My name’s Agnes! I’m a Princess!”

“Princess of what, being lame!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, Princess Agnes!”

“Fuck me yourself!”

Ugh! She was so annoying! This was her fourth fucking time coming by here, and ever since she had realized that he was just a teenage boy she had been leaving food in front of the attic door. It was always weird food, too. Didn’t she know what humans ate?

Stupidly on cue, Gerry’s stomach rumbled. Ugh.

“Go away,” Gerry called back, eager for her to just leave already so he could eat the shitty food she had undoubtedly left. “I don’t feel like getting turned into a candle today!”

For some reason, she didn’t reply to that. Gerry wondered if she was trying to fool him into thinking she was leaving, but joke’s on her - Gerry could hear footsteps all the way through the house. He waited with bated breath for a minute, two minutes, slowly growing confused why she wasn’t either yelling at him or leaving.

He’d never tell her, but he kind of enjoyed fighting with her.

Finally, she called out, with an emotion in her voice that he had never heard from her before, “Is that why you won’t come out? You think I’d turn you into a candle?”

Gerry was flabbergasted. “Yes?” he called back. “You turn everyone into candles.”

“...it’s not just because you don’t like me?”

Aw, man. Gerry abruptly felt a little bad for the flame monster cult leader lady. She couldn’t be any older than him. “You’re really nice,” Gerry called back, feeling like an idiot. “I just didn’t make it this far by not being careful! Thanks for the food, though!”

A longer silence this time. For some reason, Gerry felt a weird kind of anxious. Not the normal level of ‘aaah im gonna get eaten’ anxious. But something different. He couldn’t describe it.

Finally, Agnes called back, “Do you want me to stop bothering you? I’m sorry if I’ve been harassing you. I’m not good at - at all of this.”

Gerry sat in his own silence, sitting cross-legged in front of the space heater on top of the hatch. His baggy jeans clung to his legs, slightly sweaty and definitely unwashed, and his raggedy thin black jacket was also a little sweaty. His hair was plastered to his head, limp and dirty. Wherever Agnes went, heat followed.

People who made dumb decisions didn’t live very long. Gerry had lived for quite a while - well, he was fifteen, but he had made it all year without getting eaten, which was really quite impressive.

And he had made it alone. When he woke up in this green and terrifying world, Mum hadn’t been there. He had looked for her for months. He had almost been ripped to shreds in Pinhole Books. She wasn’t in any of their usual London hideaways, either. Maybe she was outside of London, somewhere far away…

In all of Gerry’s books, he’d pack up his backpack and set out to look for Mum. He wouldn’t stop until he found her. Then he’d find out that she’d been embroiled in some plot to stop all of this, and he’d help her, and she’d hug him…

But it wasn’t a book. No matter how strange this new world was, fiction couldn’t begin to match. And Gerry didn’t really miss his Mum. Not really. He missed the fact that he was alone. He missed the fact that she was powerful and smart and talented, and definitely would have been able to protect the both of them. Gerry had to protect himself now, and he missed that safety more than he ever missed Mum.

Gerry wondered if Agnes was lonely. How could she, with a whole cult?

It was a stupid decision. But Gerry had always trusted too easy, anyway.

He stood up and pushed the space heater with a thick, screeching grinding sound that scraped uncomfortably along the wood. With a final heave, he pushed it off the hatch, and reluctantly bent down to lift the hatch and unfold the ladder.

“If you turn me into a candle I’m giving you an allergy attack,” Gerry called down, and the girl known as Agnes Montague smiled up at him brilliantly.

***

That wasn’t how Agnes and Gerry started. But it had been, maybe, how they got going.

Agnes, Gerry found out very quickly, was a hot-tempered girl. Save the jokes. She was always dressed like a sixties hippie, and her long red hair was always somehow glistening and clean. She let Gerry touch it, very carefully, and - yep, even the hair was wax. What a weird person.

After a bit of frantic introductions and suspicious squinting from both sides, Gerry and Agnes had eventually sat down cross-legged from each other as Gerry stuffed Twinkies in his mouth and she eyed them warily. She had eyed them with a bit of trepidation, but Gerry’s obvious joy at eating them must have made her curious. That was one thing Agnes was: curious. Almost to death.

“You really live up here? And you’ve never gotten trapped by a nightmare?”

Gerry shrugged uncomfortably, sucking at his fingers. “Yep. I run around town a lot too, cuz I get bored otherwise. It’s easy to evade all of that shit if you know how.”

“Wow.” It was probably her being a fire person or whatever, but Agnes’ eyes seemed to sparkle a little bit. “My cult members barely even let me outside by myself, and I can set shit on fire. You’re really weird for a human.”

Gerry couldn’t help but puff out his chest a little, even if he would have preferred her to use any other word than ‘weird’. “That’s what happens when your Mum trains you since birth to be a demon hunter.” He faltered a little. “I’m not sure if she knew this would happen, but I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Your mum knew?” Agnes gasped. “I thought nobody knew about the Entities before the apocalypse!”

“Your cult members must have known, right?” Gerry pointed out, and Agnes nodded in concession of the point. “Yeah, there were always a few of us. Not a lot, though. Tight-knit community, everyone knew each other. Hobbyists, you know. It sucked. Most of the people who got involved in the supernatural were jerks.” Actually, now that Gerry thought about it… “That crazy apocalypse prepper Salasea must be coming out like a bandit right now.”

Agnes nodded sagely, as if she knew who Salasea was. Maybe she did? Gerry had always gotten the impression that if all of the demon hunters knew each other, then maybe all of the demons did too. Eventually word about Mum had really started to get around.

“You’re the first interesting human I’ve met,” Agnes said thoughtfully. “Most of them just - like, scream, you know? Or pretend I’m not there. Like if they don’t acknowledge me then I can’t hurt them. And, like, that’s the way it works for a lot of these things! But I’m a person too, you know?”

“You really aren’t.”

“I have feelings,” Agnes said firmly. “But maybe the reason why you’re still safe isn’t because you’re a super cool human hunter, Gerry.”

“It has to be a part of it,” Gerry said aggressively, eager to assert his masculinity and how cool he was.

“Of course,” Agnes allowed, making Gerry huff. “But I think it’s because you aren’t scared. You were wondering how I found you, right?” Gerry nodded slowly. He had been wondering how Agnes had caught on that he was living here. “It was because I felt a person - I can always feel body heat - but I didn’t taste any fear. I was setting some row houses on fire just to feel something, and you weren’t feeling anything either!” She set her expression firmly, almost bravely. “I think we’re the same.”

“A goth human teenager living in an attic and a flame princess of the fire cult?” Gerry asked skeptically. They couldn’t be less similar. Gerry lived each day in - well, as Agnes pointed out, not fear, but he was constantly just trying to survive. It was all he had ever known, but he knew that others didn’t live like that. He had known when he was a kid - that other kids were normal, were happy - and he knew it now. That a small handful of people in this world were having a blast, and that everyone else suffered. “We’re nothing alike.”

But Agnes faltered, just a bit, and Gerry just a little bit of that loneliness in her expression again. “You’re the only other kid who’s had a conversation with me.” She paused a beat. “Besides, like, Callum, but he’s a baby.”

Maybe, in a schoolyard or a town or a world, Gerry and Agnes weren’t so similar. Maybe they’d have nothing in common. But maybe, in this world that was both so isolated and so unified, they could be a little similar after all.

“I’ll allow it,” Gerry said graciously. He wanted to shake her hand, but he deeply knew that it was a bad idea. Instead, he broke his Twinkie in half, and held out the other one to her. “Friends?”

Agnes eyed the Twinkie warily. “Do you become friends by asking to be friends with someone?”

“I dunno, I don’t have any friends.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

But she took the Twinkie. It was a start.

****

Of course, Gerry and Agnes were far more alike than they had first thought. Mostly in the fact that their evil mothers had killed their fathers (which Gerry had the sneaking suspicion wasn’t a universal experience) and that the both of them were actually kind of literally protagonists of a YA book.

Well, Gerry had always been the protagonist of his own life. But he would write a story about Agnes too: about the spoiled princess who rejected her destiny. Who had a really cool previous life where she was all dramatic and sad and stuff, who died tragically only to be reborn as a magical teenage girl. Seriously, it was right out of a Sarah J Maas novel.

Maybe they latched onto each other too quickly, but it was the kind of latching on when you made friends with another kid at the orientation to summer camp and then religiously stuck to the kid once the actual camp started until you got another friend. Maybe. Gerry's never been to summer camp, how was he supposed to know.

But Agnes was sharply quick, surprisingly kind, and fiercely protective. Gerry had never met somebody who cared as much as her. It was really weird. He supposed that people like her, the powerful and destructive, had the privilege to care.

Agnes snuck over more and more often, and sometimes Gerry went to go visit her. Eventually they started roaming the streets together, loitering in businesses and committing general acts of tomfoolery. Gerry was an old hat at tomfoolery - he had only been vaguely supervised most of his life - but Agnes encroached every second of minor rule breaking with cautious glee.

Not that there really were rules anymore. Even if you were the kind of juvenile delinquent that got adults yelling at you and caused minor or major property damage, it wasn’t as if the cops were going to come and take you away. Either you got away with it, or you were eaten for a while. This was very natural to Gerry, and after a little bit of convincing it came easily to Agnes too. Maybe they really were well-suited for each other after all.

If Gerry’s Mum could see him now, she would call him ‘dreadful’ and ‘ill-mannered’ and ‘badly behaved’. But...she wasn’t there, so she could hardly complain. Served her right.

Months - maybe - later, Gerry and Agnes were hanging out in Gerry’s crawlspace again after a long day terrorizing demons and old men alike. They were splitting a blood orange - literally - and letting the sticky juice (juice?) run down their hands, laughing as Agnes imitated the look of shock on the old man’s face. Sitting down on the floor, flavor bursting sweet on his tongue, as Agnes teased him for dropping peels everywhere...Gerry was almost happy.

Rookie mistake.

Agnes sensed it first, stiffening slightly as her body pulsed slightly warmer. Gerry scooted a little further away from her carefully as she turned to look at the thin plaster wall, brow furrowing.

“Is it a nightmare?” Gerry whispered. “Or a person?”

“Neither,” Agnes whispered back. “It’s…”

Then Gerry heard it too: the clack of nails on hardwood, and a sound so terrifying it made his gut tie itself into knots. It was a growl, bestial and wet. Something was snarling outside.

Gerry stopped breathing, sitting absolutely still. The sounds of sniffing and snarling were loud and distinct, and he couldn’t help but stare at the sticky, juicy, smelly orange in his hands. Agnes was also still, far more completely than Gerry ever could be, carefully listening.

He wanted to whisper to Agnes, make a game plan, but the monster would hear them. Part of Gerry wanted to tremble in fear, but that wasn’t useful. He forced himself to calm down as best as he could while keeping his breaths minimal. Remember Dune. Fear was the mind killer. Fear is the little death.

But then Agnes smiled at him faintly, making a gentle gesture with her hand. Agnes was a literal fire messiah. She could take almost any monster. Gerry had never seen her afraid of anything, just contemptuous or annoyed. Having her there with him was more reassuring than any book quote, and Gerry exhaled softly as he smiled back at her. Agnes was going to torch that monster, and it would be super cool, and they’d high five, and -

“Daisy? What are you looking for?”

Agnes’s expression stretched into terror. She mouthed ‘fuck!’, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t breathe, and her chest never rose and fell, but she abruptly started trembling.

“Shut it off!” Gerry hissed, as quietly as he physically could. “They’ll feel it -”

“That is the most dangerous monster in the world,” Agnes whispered, and Gerry fell silent. “Don’t move.”

For the first time in a very long time, in an apocalyptic world built on terror and fear, Gerry felt afraid.

A faint yipping echoed through the space, almost like a dog. It could never be mistaken for a dog.

“Well, yes, there’s people everywhere. Other places have more people, even. Why can’t we just go there?” Another bark, a low bass cut. “Oh, if it’s a Hunt, then it’s alright.”

The heat was growing oppressive, and Gerry frantically motioned for Agnes to cut it out. He was withholding his own ragged breathing, and abruptly Gerry felt as if he couldn’t breathe. It was just making him more scared, the sweat trickling down his neck -

There was another yip, so close it might as well be made in his ear. It clearly came from directly in front of him.

Gerry couldn’t help it - he screamed, overwhelmed with fire and heat and fear and the wolf at their door.

The wall exploded.

Dust and insulation burst outwards in a fine white cloud, and Gerry and Agnes were abruptly coughing intensely and the wall cracked, folded, and collapsed inwards. Gerry was showered with fragments of wood and plaster, stifling another scream, and screwed his eyes shut against the sudden influx of light.

He cracked them open as quickly as he could, unwilling to meet whatever was in front of him with his eyes closed. Instantly, overwhelmingly, Gerry was brought face to snout with a giant wolf.

Gerry firmly believed that people weren’t meant to see apex predators up close. Nobody should be able to touch a bear, was Gerry’s opinion. What was an anaconda? Gerry was on the opposite side of the room. He wasn’t afraid, but he hadn’t made it to the ripe old age of fifteen without being highly cautious.

It wasn’t right, staring this wolf in the face. Every inch of it stood out to him: the slobber, the snarl, the canines almost as long as his hand. It was silvery white, with a thick ruff and coat, and Gerry watched in awe as the wolf snarled and -

And stopped snarling. It started looking at him curiously instead, bushy tail sweeping gently side to side.

The immediate problem almost solved, Gerry was able to take in the figure behind the wolf.

He was a guy. Unfairly tall, Black with curly hair drawn tight into a ponytail. Sharp features, undercut by unnaturally green eyes. He was in a suit that looked like he had put it on three months ago and had never changed. He was...wearing a trenchcoat? He was just a guy!

“A human!” The man - monster? Guy? Nightmare? Avatar? - cried. “Oh, good job, Daisy! You’re a fantastic investigator.” The wolf - Daisy was a stupid name for a wolf - barked lowly. “Yes, it is like an oven in here, isn’t it?”

Gerry opened his mouth, then closed it. He was still cowering on his ass, covered in dust and plaster. This guy was Agnes’ monster? Maybe she had mistaken him for someone else. “Who -”

“He’s even talking!” The man exclaimed, as if he was a dancing monkey. “They never talk to me voluntarily, you know.” Daisy barked again. “I think it’s cute! Kids are so repetitive, but this one smells great. Good job, Daisy.”

Before Gerry could protest the man stepped forward and looked down at him, and a sick realization trickled through him.

The man had nothing behind his eyes. Bright green, sick and churning, radioactive and poisonous. His expression was absent and vaguely curious, like a child watching an ant crawl through its anthill. Slowly, intensely, the man’s placid expression broke into a sharp and demented smile.

It wasn’t the smile of a human staring at a tasty sandwich. It wasn’t even the smile of a monster drawing a human into a nightmare. It was the smile of a child holding the magnifying glass to the ant: triumphant, because now the child got to see what happens when an ant blackened to a crisp. Elated, because they were the child, and not the ant. Victorious, because they could only remember the distinction in the act of causing harm.

“Statement of -”

“Leave him alone!”

The monster exploded into flames.

Agnes leapt from her position in the crawlspace, slightly tucked away out of sight, and shoved at the wolf hard. The wolf yowled, her handprints blackening its fur, and it retreated snarling.

It was not the first time Gerry had seen someone set on fire. It happened a lot, when you hung out with Agnes. But the man burned, in bright and beautiful red-hot flames, crackling and searing the skin and air and sky. His mouth was open in a silent scream.

Something green shone from within the flames.

Then the flames were gone. It was as if he had never been set on fire at all. At most he smelled vaguely of burning flesh, and his hair had broken free of its ponytail to settle in fuzzy waves.

The monster looked mildly peeved.

Agnes grabbed Gerry, leaving red-hot scorch marks on his hoodie, and yanked him behind her. Gerry was not embarrassed to say that he absolutely hid behind Agnes as she put herself between him and the monster and his wolf. The wolf who was now snarling deeply at them, and the slightly irritated monster who shook ash off his unharmed trench coat.

“I don’t care if you called dibs on him,” the monster bitched. “You don’t get to stop me in the middle of a - oh, Agnes!” The monster’s expression brightened as he snapped his fingers. “Agnes Montague, right? Your cult introduced me to you at - what was it -”

“Annabelle’s annual party five months ago,” Agnes said flatly. Her wax hair was still burning at the ends, and although Gerry couldn’t see her expression he knew it had to be fierce. “Nice to see you again, Jon. Now stay away from him.”

“If you called dibs then you shouldn’t have let me try to eat him,” Jon - which was the dumbest name for an evil monster - complained. He smelled his arm, grimacing. “Setting me on fire’s downright rude, Agnes. Didn’t Jude teach you any manners?”

“Go away!” Agnes yelled. Gerry realized quietly that she was still shaking. “He’s not yours! He’s the one thing you aren’t allowed to hurt!”

Jon frowned at her. Gerry could practically see it: Did_not_compute.exe. It simply didn’t make sense: that there was something in the world that he wasn’t allowed to hurt. That there was something in the world that was not his.

Before Jon could speak again, his wolf barked harshly at him. She kept barking, completely indecipherably, as Jon’s expression screwed up in uncomprehension. “What does it matter if they’re children.” The wolf barked. “I mean, I don’t actually care if we piss off the Desolation or not.” Bark, bark. “Why are you always guilt tripping me!” Bark, bark, bark, bark. Eventually Jon’s expression turned somewhat abashed, and then downright embarrassed.

“Right, right.” He turned back to Agnes and Gerry, a little sulky. “Sorry for trying to eat your human, Agnes. In my defense, he was quite -” The dog yipped. “ - innocent, and I’m sure he’s very fun. Great. Well, this was a waste of time. Call me if you get tired of him, Agnes.”

Jon turned to go, and Gerry could not see his back soon enough. The heat had died as Agnes calmed down, her arms crossed over her chest and scowling fiercely.

“Apologize to him!”

Jon froze, halfway across the room. Gerry quietly wanted to die.

The monster slowly turned on his heel, looking at Agnes with a faintly flabbergasted expression. “You can’t be serious -” The wolf barked again. Gerry had the impression that the wolf was in charge of him. “Stop ganging up on me -” Bark. “I don’t know how to talk to humans, don’t make me!” A very firm bark.

“Do it,” Agnes said firmly. “Or I’ll set you on fire again.”

Unbelievably, the monster groaned. He turned to Gerry, fluorescent eye twitching. “Alright, alright! Listen, uh - kiddo? Kiddo. I am very sorry that you tasted - I am very sorry that I tried to scar you for life and consume your trauma. I cannot stress enough how it’s nothing personal. There.” Weirdly enough, he looked a little proud of himself. “Hah. Totally rocked that talking to a human thing.”

“Uh,” Gerry said, too dizzy with the events of the last ten minutes to care very much about what he said, “is the wolf in charge of you?”

Even more unbelievably, the man brightened. “I’m her assistant! Not very many people pick that up. You’re very bright, little human. Do you want to pet her?” Jon glanced at Daisy, who looked unimpressed. Very loudly, he hissed at her, “Do children like petting dogs?”

The wolf, somehow, seemed to inform him that yes, they did.

They were in too deep now. Gerry walked up and petted the wolf. It was fucking awesome. Agnes groaned and pulled him back again very quickly. She seemed a little jealous. The wolf yipped at her and Agnes reluctantly petted the wolf too.

Jon clapped his hands. “Well! That was very unpleasant. I won’t ask what you’re doing hiding in a wall, Agnes. As a personal favor to you.”

“Thanks,” Agnes said flatly.

“Tell Diego and Jude that I’m not doing it. Or eating your human. As a personal favor to you.”

“Definitely will.”

“Fantastic.” Jon’s eyes glinted, in the soft light of Agnes’ flames. “I’m very happy you’ve reincarnated into that fun child’s body, Agnes. Children are so tempestuous and impulsive. I wouldn’t have tolerated an adult setting me on fire. You understand that, don’t you?”

Agnes nodded, almost shakily.

“You understand that for an adult, that would have had very different consequences.”

Agnes nodded again.

“Fantastic!” Then Jon was beaming again, all carelessness and laziness. “Have fun, you little delinquents. Come on, Daisy. I’m famished.”

He swanned off, wolf following closely on his tail. But the wolf looked back as it crossed the threshold, large yellow eyes piercing in a way that Gerry just couldn’t name, before they both disappeared. As slowly and terrifyingly as they had come.

Ten seconds passed, then fifteen.

Agnes crumpled to her knees and bent over the floor, shaking, and her hands pressed hot scorch marks into the wood. She was still shuddering, and Gerry bent down next to her. He couldn’t physically comfort her, but he could put his hand close to hers on the wood. As close as possible, yet never touching.

“We are so lucky to be alive,” Agnes breathed, before abruptly groaning. “I set him on fire! I set The Archivist on fire!”

The title tickled something in Gerry’s brain, bringing up an insane amount of questions, but he brushed them all aside. Gertrude was dead - or at the very least, very far away, where she was no good to him. She had to be, otherwise he would have noticed her cutting a swathe through Britain by now.

“Who is he?” Gerry asked. He didn’t really want to know, but...well, he was himself. He wanted to know everything. It was kind of his whole thing.

Agnes sat down on her knees, rubbing her forehead, and Gerry cautiously sat down next to her. “He’s the monster who sold the world. The most dangerous man ever made.”

“The most dangerous man in the world gets bossed around by his dog?” Gerry asked, before the words sunk in. “Wait, I thought that was Jonah Magnus!”

“Jonah Magnus doesn’t kill people because they annoy him!” Agnes snapped, before she groaned into her hands again. “And I set him on fire…Diego is going to kill me!”

“For what it’s worth,” Gerry said awkwardly, “I’m glad you set him on fire. He was kind of a dick.” He paused again, uncertain of how to say it. “And...thanks for caring, I guess. You really don’t have to.” He shrugged, unwilling to state what had always been unsaid between them. “I’m a human. These things happen to us. You just have to deal with it.”

That was the way of the world. It had always been that way, even before the apocalypse. The strong and powerful and important like Jon kicked around smaller people, and the smaller people just hoped they survived it.

Gerry was a survivor. Nobody had ever saved him before. Maybe because nobody had ever saved him before.

Agnes tackled Gerry in a tight, pressing hug. She wasn’t hot at all, just mildly warm - an incredible act of effort and concentration on her part. Her arms were solid and unyielding, never mistaken for flesh, but she clutched at him with a unique desperation. Gerry cautiously hugged her back, letting her bury her head into his shoulder.

“Not to you,” Agnes whispered. “Nothing bad’s going to happen to you. Not even The Archivist.”

“You can’t promise that,” Gerry whispered.

“We’re family.” Agnes separated from him, stubbornly fighting boiling tears. “And I’m sick of just dealing with it.”

Gerry opened his mouth, then closed it. “Family?” He said weakly.

Agnes blushed hotly. “If you want!” She tightened her fists on her skirt, winding the fabric between her fingers anxiously. “It’s just that - I know you don’t have anyone...and I have my cultists, but they don’t really care about me, not like you do...and I know it used to be different, that family used to mean something different, but I don’t care about what old people thought family meant. I care about you, and we’re sticking together, so that’s what we are.” She faltered a little. “If you want.”

“Siblings, then,” Gerry said faintly. “If you want.”

And he did want it. More than anything, Gerry wanted this.

When Agnes smiled at him, and she hugged him tightly again, Gerry was halfway certain that yet another disaster was about to befall them. He knew that meteors were going to strike, that the ground was going to open up and engulf them, that the world would end in fire and ice, because Gerry was so happy it clenched his heart. He was so happy he couldn’t breathe.

“It’ll be okay,” Agnes said into his shoulder, “we’ll never have to deal with Jonathan Sims again. I promise.”

****

It was not a promise Agnes kept.

They ran into him again. And again. And again. Eventually, after meeting a monstrous golem of fear and suffering that induced paralyzing fear so frequently, said simulacrum of human experience became slightly tiresome. And you realized that he was, actually, really not that bright. Or at the very least not very mature. And that his wolf sister kind of wore the pants in that relationship. That he and his wolf sister were like Agnes and Gerry, in every possible way. And that he was, weirdly, deeply kind. And that he loved, so bright and pure and fearsome that it had brought down the world. That he was capable of loving Gerry. Maybe even, given enough time, anyone.

Many months later, as Gerry, Agnes, Jon, and Daisy sat in an ice cream shop splitting blood orange ice cream (with real blood!) and bickering endlessly about if Friends was the Flesh or the Stranger, that Gerry thought he might feel something familiar in his chest.

Something that clenched his heart, something that made him so happy he couldn’t breathe. Something that felt like fire and ice and meteors and disaster.

Jon must have felt it. He looked at Gerry, surprised, with ice cream slowly dripping from his spoon and congealing on the table. “What’s wrong with you? Are you ill? Agnes, is he ill?”

“No,” Gerry said, wiping at his eyes. “I guess I’m happy again.”

Everybody stared at him, slightly dumbfounded.

Daisy barked.

“You’re quite right, Daisy,” Jon said.

He didn’t tell them what she was right about, and Gerry never asked. He already knew.

#my writing #be nice to jon this is like his first time talking with a human outside of eating them #how would YOU feel if people started waving a chicken in your face and told you to apologise #nobody asked for this and i haven't thought about jonbackers in a while but you know what? maybe i should #also I found an old scrapped short story of mine that was 'hey you know if jon hadn't run from martin in the beginning #then NONE of this story would have ever happened'#might post that too not sure #gerard keay #agnes montague #jonathan sims #daisy tonner #why the fuck do i write anybody other than teen gerry

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departea-archive-again · 3 years ago

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@flufftober2021 Event Prompt: 1. Winning a Teddy for the Other

Type of Fiction: Original Fiction. Features characters from my story “Death Wish” Which is a futuristic fantasy story.

Characters: Delphine Rosano, Richard Blaine

Rating:PG-13 for swearing

Trigger Warnings: Food mention. This is pure fluff but Delphine is an assassin.

Notes: They come from a futuristic city called “Whispering Sands”. They are a con-man and an assassin with superpowers and they are in love. YEAH!!

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They aren’t the type of couple who do things like this -- you know, do anything close to sweet or fluffy. What Delphine sees between her and Rich is pure desire and nothing else. He drives her insane, so actually dating him would be a huge mistake. Then, Delphine's life as an assassin made it hard for her to keep relationships. So someone who is simply seen as a body she can get under is better than her getting attached to someone and eventually having to tell them goodbye.

Today though, she was humoring him.

He had invited her to the carnival that mimicked old Earth rides and booths. They also had things like caramel apples, funnel cakes, and cotton candy. Which surprised Delphine, since most foods had been rationed up until five years ago. And not just that, they had little guides on what the people on Earth - their ancestors - used to do with some of the booths and games.

To accompany the guides, there were warning signs that said that you weren’t allowed to play if you had specific powers. Delphine thought that that wasn’t fair, and thought that everyone should be able to play games. But when she thought about it, she realized that it made sense since some people’s powers would cause a shit show if used on certain games.

She was about to bring that up to Richie, when he stopped a booth where you threw a baseball at a target and if you hit it you were given the chance to win a stuffed animal. “Do you want one?” Richie asked her curiously, eyebrow arched as he looked at her, standing in front of the game.

“Of course I do, you fool,” she replied to him, all smiles, pushing his face away childishly so he wouldn’t look at her anymore. She honestly couldn’t stand him looking at her. It always made her face turn red. “I love stuffed creatures. And you owe me more than a stuffie with all the insanity you bring into my life. I feel like it’s the least you can do.”

Richie laughed, turning to talk to the booth worker. After saying something that Delphine couldn’t understand, he picked up a ball and turned to her, throwing it up in the air and catching it. “The least I could do? Come on, love, your life was chaotic years before I came in the picture. I think the word you’re looking for here is ‘fun’. I made your life fun. And now you’re annoyed. But whatever you say, killer,” he teased, before he threw the ball and hit the target right in the middle.

Both of Delphine's eyebrows raised as he picked out a plush panda from the carnival worker’s wall. Then, without a second of thought, he passed it to her and smiled. “You made my life a little fun, sure. But I still stand by the fact that you made my life chaotic…”

“Uh huh,” he hummed before wrapping his arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. They then began to walk through the crowd of people.

“You cheated, by the way,” she stated calmly, before biting his shoulder and making him laugh.

“It was just a game. Cheating doesn’t matter when I won you the cutest piece of cute I’ve ever seen.” He turned to look at her and she pushed his face away.

“You’re still a cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater,” she mocked. “But I’ll forgive you because, yeah, it is cute.” Delphine then laughed. “But you used your powers, nonetheless. so you're a cheater."

Richie said nothing after that. He just guided her to an old fashioned tunnel of love boat ride and rolled his eyes.

#flufftober2021 #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #writeblr #wip: death wish #otp: delphine x richard #writing: death wish

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runolllo-fanboygirl · 4 years ago

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I'm going to start by clarifying that these are messages I got in response to my post here /// LINK /// After this, I'm not replying to messages about this kinda thing in a long time. Talking about sexualization and such other topics is important but I'm not in a state to be made the center of it. Please, don't come to my inbox asking for discourse, go and create your own posts if you want to raise awareness or vent.

And now to answer to these new asks:

FIRST OF ALL: while I love the way Murata draws men, robotic stuff, monsters... I actually HATE the way he draws ladies! I prefer their proportions in the OPM anime and games. Murata is literally SO BAD at drawing women compared to the level of expertise he has drawing men, and it's all ‘cos he keeps drawing ladies "the h0rny way". We all know this, let's move on.

"He's drawing all the monster girls sexualized" Did the fact that Manako's genre reveal deconstructs the trope "the default is male" totally go over your head? That Psykos's reveal as a woman running the whole MA was a big deal for this same reason as well? There are a bunch of female monsters… you just assume they're all male unless you see big b00bs and then complain about that very fact. They literally made a whole point about this specifically!

"He changed Mizuki's shorts to p4nties to please fanboys" I liked the shorts better too (just because I find her whole character design a bit more balanced that way) so that change bothered me as well, but the "p4nties" are actually standard athletic wear for competition. Shorts are not. Technically, she’s drawn more accurately now.

"Sports Bras don't work that way he just wants to draw b00bs" neither do the shirts and bodysuits the guys are wearing. You can see all their muscles and manb00bs and cr0tch lines, just as much as with Fubuki and Tatsu's hero outfits and Mizuki's top.

"But when the boys are drawn that way, it's not to please the ladies, it's male power fantasy" THERE IS NO HETEROSEXUAL MALE POWER FANTASY BULLSHIT THAT CAN POSSIBLY EXPLAIN THE WAY MURATA DRAWS GAROU, FLASH, SONIC, STINGER AND SOME OF THE OTHER GUYS. The fact is that the way he draws eye candy of them appeals to other collectives other than the cis het men and he knows exactly what he's doing. Period.

"He constantly draws sexualized art of Mizuki to please the fanboys" Why exaggerate so much? This is simply not true. She's a woman in athlete wear, most of the time she's either standing up talking or fighting, no weird angles or anything. There is like 1 sexy cover of her, the back cover with all the girls in bikinis and then that infamous watermelon sequence. That's all the sexualization you are talking about.

"Mizuki only gets so much screen time because of how much p0rn of her there is" oh yeah Mizuki got a grand total of, like, *drum roll* 1 chapter and a half dedicated to her! Wow! Which is NOTHING taking into consideration how dense Garou's arc is and the fact that they will need at least 2 seasons of the anime to finish it.

But think about this: OPM desperately needed more female presence, in special with the prospect of finishing Garou's arc in the anime. Making anime is hard and COSTLY. Most of the people who is going to watch the anime haven't read the manga and they'll be like "what the heck there are no female characters in this anime for like 3 seasons?" and there is no team that's going to risk it working with such prospects. We know why.

Of all the expansion that Garou's arc got in the manga adaptation (and later in the anime), one of the most sensible and balanced decisions was to add more ladies. They put all those monster ladies for season 2, and then for season 3 we get Manako and Mizuki having some strong presence, Shadow and Kamaitachi there a bit in the back too. It benefits the pace and balance of both the manga and the future season 3 so immensely because Fubuki, Tatsumaki and Psykos take a LOOONG while to be relevant during Garou's Arc… in special with all the filler the manga put in between (but all that filler is of the S-Class boys getting development and a reality check which is kinda important too lol).

Point is: the screentime Mizuki got was VERY necessary to balance things in between of all the relentless Garou fights and the boys being boys. Sure Mizuki is beautiful and sexy and all, but really EVERYONE was waiting for a new female character that was relevant, likeable, fun… and on top of everything, it's so rare to see a strong 2m tall girl in fiction in general, not even just anime. Everyone got instantly excited about her because she's exactly what we needed AND MORE. And sure, people draw p0rn of her like they do with most other popular characters, what did you expect.

"The ladies are always more sexualized-" YES, in the OPM manga, the ladies are a little more sexualized than the men –but not by much AND not during plot stuff. By that I mean that most of the so called "sexualizing the girls" happens in the covers, back covers and promotional art very exclusively, and not during the story itself. HOWEVER, a lot of the sexy men bits do happen during the story, curiously.

In the anime though, there is almost zero ladies fanservice (which makes sense since there is almost no female presence in the first 2 seasons anyway). Yet it's full of naked dudes, sometimes for a good reason, but mostly just so we can look at them being sexy and silly.

I personally don't care if the man candy and ladies fanservice is not perfectly even in Murata's manga adaptation, because there is enough of both in his work, as well as other official OPM stuff like the anime and games to bring a very nice balance in the s3xy department.

"The way the women are dressed-" Most of the background ladies are wearing skirt uniforms and shit, but all the relevant ladies primarily dress in nothing you can call "sexualized" except for maybe Tatsumaki with her strong leg game. To recall:

Lilly wears the same as the men of the Blizzard Group; Twin Tail just dresses like a jester; Mizuki is the first to show so much skin, but she's still wearing real standard competition wear for athletes. All the other sportwomen (Hornet and Swim) and martial artists (Shadow, Suiko, Lin Lin) wear standard clothes for their respective professions too. Sure we've seen Shadow wearing some, uh, ninja bikini thing under her ACTUAL work clothes, but for actual fights she's fully dressed and surprisingly not stuffed in a tiny nylon bodysuit that rips like stocking, like all the ninja men in the series do lmao.

Fubuki and Tatsumaki are, like, the only ones wearing dresses and they can because they use psychic powers anyway. Fubuki doesn't even show ANY skin, ever! She just happens to have big b00bs! Kamaitachi is the other one wearing a "skirt" but it's similar to what Japanese martial artists would wear, too.

So, again… all this sexualization we are talking about is not even happening anywhere except in Murata's covers and some promotional art. ONE is famous for treating ladies very fairly, even if Murata tries very hard to exploit the sexy out of every single of the ladies ONE creates. All these ladies have their own agenda and personality that have nothing to do with being pretty or f*ckable. In fact, in-universe, no one ever mentions if the heroines are beautiful or sexy and no one ever talks about liking them for those reasons (except for Lilly and Erika who are gay for Fubuki and Tatsumaki respectively, amazingly enough no hetero characters mention it). I think the first time we've ever seen a relevant character talking about dating another relevant character is when Suiryu told Saitama and Suiko to date (but Suiryu is the resident h0rny fuckboy of the series, if someone was going to say something so stupid for all the wrong reasons, it was going to be him).

For being an adult series, a seinen that parodies shonen tropes and all, OPM is seriously very tame in the sexy ladies department. For this series, the sexy is just a luxurious accessory, just one more little thing. It's always pretty weird when people get so angry and disappointed about a new sexy girl cover or a couple of compromising panels, like they don't know what to expect.

"He only draws that way to please the h0rny fanboys" Murata IS a h0rny fanboy himself and draws shit that appeals to him as much as he feels he’s allowed to insert in the series. Please remember he's the insane fanboy that reached up to ONE to beg him to continue One Punch Man and offered to make a manga adaptation to promote OPM.

From the moment Murata started drawing OPM, the tone of the manga was set and never changed: lots of blood and guts, comical and non-comical nudity, irreverence, sexy angles, Genos ripping his shirts off, ninjas in body suits that rip like they are nylons… people in shirts, tanktops and dresses so tight you can see all their muscles, boobs and even belly buttons whether they are men or women or otherwise… h0rny chapter covers, stupidly h0rny monsters…

Just reading the manga to the point where Genos and Mosquito Girl first appear, you know what you are in for with OPM. I don't know what some fans are expecting to see in OPM next, but I'm going to take a wild guess here and say: you should expect more of the same.

At the end of the day, the manga is Murata's work with ONE, and if he likes drawing h0rny ladies more than boys, that's how things are! This is just 2 guys with their passion project. I don't expect of them the same as if there was a bigger team with a big budget behind the series, like it happens with many games and shows. In this last case, I would be a lot stricter about all this, because with more resources you're expected to do better things.

#one punch man #captain mizuki #tornado of terror #blizzard of hell #psykos #manako opm #fubuki #tatsumaki #opm #manako #lunamaria on the phone

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spookyadhdgoblin · 4 years ago

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ADHD-related things I do that I did not realize were ADHD Behavior

-Nesting, AKA putting comfort items or special interest items near a specific sitting spot (the end of the couch, rocking chair, the table, by the side of the bed, etc.)

-Background stimuli needed to help me focus

-computer keyboards need to be click-clacky to help my focus when writing

-Tv shows, movies or anything involving conversation as background noise disrupts my ability to focus on person-to-person conversation

-eye contact makes me nervous

-My phone is laid out a certain way so as to not get lost when trying to do specific things

-”Oh that’s a {insert object here}!” because I was staring directly at it but I was not processing what that object was because my train of thought was completely elsewhere

-”What did that page say?” “I didn’t really read that.” “F&ck that’s the third time I haven’t registered what that paragraph said.”

-”What?” *responds .2 seconds later as they take a breath to repeat themselves*

-”Repeat what you just said.” *instantly forgets what I literally just said*

- *buffering symbol when asked to do something*

-Jumping onto completely different topics out of nowhere, usually interrupting the conversation and confusing the other participants

-loud noises divert my attention

-interrupting my partner mid-sentence because I realized something my brain deems “uber important”, when really its nothing special or groundbreaking

-not understanding that “what are you playing/watching?” is asking to join, and instead treating it as a literal question and explaining what I’m doing instead of inviting them to join

-”where did my pencil/phone/lighter/hairtie/remote/etc. go?” while holding said object/it being right in front of me

-having comfort items that are against societal norms; like stuffed animals, adult pacis, crayons and coloring books, cartoons

-Anxiety and depression are co-morbid disorders that can arise as negative effects from ADHD due to societies rejection of the norm for neurodivergents

-I have forgotten to add a specific thing I do four times now while writing this

-I still don’t remember that thing

-oh right its the rejection dysphoria; I always thought that was just separation anxiety or an illogical fear that everyone around me hates me or is annoyed by me

-I feel like I look and sound as if I’ve lost my mind whenever I try to explain why my brain led to an off-the-wall comment I made because the train of thought that lead there was funny to me and no one else has that context so now I must explain that context and explaining it makes me feel as if I appear crazy

-*catching flies face*

-constantly moving objects or bouncing my leg when I’m understimulated

-hyperfixating on one specific idea/race/character and then no longer having that hyperfixation or avenue to cope with so I spiral into a deep depression bc nothing will ever make me that happy again

-400 million brilliant ideas only half-started and lying in a pile

-I’ve forgotten another specific point I was gonna put on here

-Hyperfixation with psychology and how other people’s trains of thought work

-Self-loathing because I don’t feel perceived as “normal” or valid by the majority of society

-all caffeine puts me to sleep, rendering energy drinks useless for me

-This post was only supposed to be a few points long

-recognizing ADHD in other people

-feeling validated when I see another person or fiction character with the same issues as me

-feeling like I lost my mind when new trauma exacerbated my symptoms

I may add more later or make another post about this. Glad I found a new outlet though through this.

#adhd #actually adhd #attention deficit hyperactivity disorder #relatable #adult adhd #adhd things #adhd traits #i wish i had known this sooner #this is why my life is messed up bc i dont understand my core disorder #my life #adhd life

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years ago

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The Colors of my Soul(mates) [1]

[Second oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. Okay, okay! I’ve plaining this AU for almost an year so I’m pretty excited to post it!! dfghjsdfrtyucfvgbhjv yaaaay!! Thank you very very much @olliedollie1204 for such a positive feedback and awesome ideas. it helped me a lot!!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Virgil, Logan, Patton and Roman (only a brief mention of Remy) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish.

* Warnings: A bit of swearing and depreciative thoughts. It’s mostly fluff and hurt/comfort, tho.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 4.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

What can do a creature if not, between creatures, love? - Carlos Drummond de Andrade

- What the fu-

Virgil only discovered he had more than one Soulmate when he was twenty years old, more specifically the exact moment he took a wrong turn and kept going even knowing he was in the wrong way because one hour it would lead him to somewhere Virgil would recognize before his mortal being inevitably starved to death in the middle of nowhere and his eyes got dragged from the visions from thousands of futures created by his mind to a Teddy Bear Store - they seemed to replicate worse than bacteria during Valentine’s Day - and two bears from the crimson shelter suddenly dyed themselves in two milliseconds as he slightly glanced at them.

Two of them. Virgil felt his entire face burn in hot shades of embarrassment with drops of disbelief, almost as if all the people running, stumbling, locked in their own worlds and swearing while walked in the sideway because ‘some stupid teenager decided to just stop and block their way’ could, by only looking at him, stare deep into his soul and realize the one staring astonished the store already carried in his fate another one more Soulmate at home.

One completely different in shape and form, even if also blue, however in a light, sky blue completely opposite shade from the new navy one staring him down - Virgil knew plentily their link wasn’t bonded yet, albeit he was equally sure that the person behind those black glooming teddy bear’s eyes were already judging him, - wondering why, between all the people, he was their soulmate. The other red one was very much likely crackling in his face when an employee came and pointedly turn the adult’s attention to the sign in big, graphed words clued in front of their store:

“You dye, you buy.”

Virgil signed, pushing his hoodie down further, wondering how much time it would take of him hitting his head on the wall to finally pass out. This option sounded much more attractive when he realized that this new ‘discovery’ about himself would cost all his month’s saves.

He asked, to the Universe, the stars, the Earth and whoever was seeing him in that exact moment: why?

Was it a kind of prank? A punishment from fate when, years and tears ago, Virgil lifted his chin up and dared the Universe to give him more soulmates as he locked all his uncolored – although never really free of some weak drops of paint from what one day they came to be – simply stuffed animals, - and nothing more, anymore, - away and promised he would never, ever allow himself to go all through this shit again?

But… That had been… years ago. Almost a decade since that soft voice he got to know so well, the impulsive acts, long conversations and warm feelings.

But…

Time has passed, that is true. Nevertheless, deep down has he really changed?

Virgil stared at the bag carried so close to his chest since his bare hands were sweating and shaking way too much for this task. Yes, he knew his Soulmates won’t feel anything until both of them decided to ‘give the First Step’, accepting to link their souls and fates, for the longest as it lasts. However, he didn’t want to risk it, because what if they felt? What if he in some way broke the Soulmate System when got two at the same time and now everything was messed up and they could already feel his touches even through the bag and the first impression Virgil would gave to them was ‘That anxious, weird boy and his creepy, sweaty hands’ and-

A girl almost hit him as she passed running at his side, making his arms protectively hug further the teddy bears closer to him, arms protectively involving them, the soft touch somehow calming his tumulted thoughts. The lost man took a deep breath.

Clear your mind. Rational thoughts. Focus on the two sides of the coin. Three people wouldn’t be able to break a millennial, unknown system, don’t matter how good he was in screwin… No, a voice that sounded suspiciously a lot like his psychologist calmly pointed, not like that. Virgil huffed, trying again. He was a magnet of problems and bad…Okay, also wrong. Neutral thoughts, focus on neutral thoughts. Come on. Come on.

It was okay.

They wouldn’t feel him until they gave the first step. Right, that… sounded like a start. He didn’t do anything. Now, what Virgil needed to do was go to his house, clean his bed in order to find a good place where he could put and ignore them and then he would get his headphones, listen his playlists and wonder where the fuck his life was going.

It was okay. Everything would stay okay as long as he didn’t give the First Step.

Virgil unconsciously hugged tighter the teddy bears, his fingers finding way and drowning themselves in the soft, cozy fur, combing them in light, soothing touches as he continued his way.

Okay. Everything was okay.

[~*~]

Plurinfanto, or Multiple Souls, it’s the nomination used for the cases when a person has diverse soulmates at the same time and in a same period.

The first known case was with Pharaoh Cleopatra when multiples of her woolen fabric started to dye themselves in various colors and shades. In Ancient Roman, it was believed that the occurrences were blessings from Venus in a sign of prosperity and abundance. Grand, longstanding parties were executed through days nonstop in order to get together those intertwined souls. When the connection broke and the colors disappeared, it meant that days of pain and foreboding were waiting forward.

It is not known for certain the exact moment when the meaning changed, albeit researchers believe it was around the fall of the Roman Empire, when all the invasions resulted in a cultural reconstruction which led to the loss from much of their costumes.

CLICK HERE TO DISCOVER HOW TO HAVE THE SOULMATE OF YOUR DREAMS!!!!

[~*~]

The computer made a soft ‘click’ as Virgil closed it and sat on his bed, adjusting slightly his position to stare the three vivid, brilliant stuffed beings contrasting to the general dark theme of his room.

Virgil growled, resting his back on the cold wall, the shivers calming his flowing thoughts about all the variants this whole thing had. No to mention that people change with time, leading to the souls who they “relate” to change as well, meaning that you can have someone in your life for years and then, one month, or weeks or the next day, you can wake up only to discover you and the said person don’t “match” anymore.

And NO ONE talked about this just because it was a freak tabu to doesn’t have ‘an only one soulmate who will be with you until the end of your existence’. Oh, for fuck sake. Virgil ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he accidently pulled some tangled strands. That sounds like a line of commercial, does anyone believe that bullshit for real?

“Hello dear, newer fellow!!” The popping thought broke his line of reasoning, jumping excitedly in his mind and automatically pulling him out of his wanders. It has a strong and full of… about everything, tune demanding attention. Virgil felt a warm kiss on his forehead, meaning one soulmate – a deep part of him turned his attention to the red colored teddy bear, - had given the First Step. The one who in some moment changed his position so now he was sitting on the floor felt his face get hot again, heart thumping strongly in his chest as his arm moved, fingers stopping inches away from the fur, questioning if he was ready to retribute the gesture.

[~*~]

Many history icons have reports of being Pluriers, as shown in the book ‘The Romance in the History of Those Who Wrote It’, by historian Henry Senyura. The subject is also beginning to gain more visibility after the protest from the teacher Joan A. in 2010, who got touched towards the situation of some of her pupils being forced to choose only one among their Soulmates for the six-month annual exchange, by the end of that period most of them lost or weakened their bonding due lack of communication, small changes of personality and continuous absence. She held a protest at the front of the school, stating that no one had the right to interfere in ‘matters of the heart’.

A lot of fiction works are beginning to address the topic more frequently, as in I’m Not One, a movie directed by Devon Stan; The Seven Colors of Rainbow, a book written by Lílian Lee and the psychological analysis Life’s Watch, recently found between drafts by the famous writer Robin Green, published after their husband’s authorization, Josué Green.

[~*~]

Logan hummed. As it seems, this was a relatively common thing, since the concept of Soul Mates surpassed the barriers of unity and time, being ‘souls who in a way or other intertwined themselves in some part of their life. Sometimes it didn’t necessarily mean a romantic relationship, as the majority of society and media pointed, but it also didn’t hold any assurance that all of them were platonic.

He massaged the bridge of his nose. Remy wasn’t in the dorm so everything was silent enough for him to hear his own thoughts.

It has been a remarkable amount of years since he got his last soulmates, - except for Remy, however they both considered this occurrence as a separate incident - well, until, of course, this day. At least it was a good thing he always carried in his bag extra easy manageable stuffed animals or else maybe the System would dye one of clothes, what would be less than ideal for him in the middle of his philosophy debate. But things got even more interesting when, after his classes, as he arrived at the small, pleasantly well-organized store next to his university, one more stuffed animal colored itself right before him.

He didn’t exactly understand why. Logan considered himself an owner of a… quite strong, strict personality, this added with his difficulty in managing his and one another emotions usually tended to bring some complex tribulations in his rela-

Anyway, that is beside the important matter. The one laying his chin on his crossed fingers undid his pose for a bite of time in order to adjust his glasses, barely fixating his gaze on the two plushies in the desk before him, his third – Pat - resting a few centimeters away, closer to Logan’s fingers, who were barely touching. Mind running. Asking, reflecting, wondering what was the exact amount of time to be acceptable to give his First Step?

‘The First Step’.

Logan never really understood from where and how that expression emerged. It didn’t come from the words’ etymology nor some semantic detour. His most concrete hypothesis consisted of the phrase being derived from old romances.

“Did you know it used to be called the ‘First Kiss’?! But that confused a lot of people who really believed that, to be able to talk and interact with their soulmates they would have to kiss each other, like the Sleeping Beauty! I always got confused in this movie when I was a child, by the way! That ended up messing with a bunch of relationships before they even started, since a lot of peeps don’t feel comfortable enough with strangers kissing them. However, they also speeded up a bunch of them as well…” Logan blinked, his attention escaping from his previous thoughts to the light sky blue plushie of Baby Yoda, for a moment surprised with the sudden input. He felt fingers carefully holding his arms and a bit of ghost movements as Pat probably moved his representation to somewhere else, a hug and warmth engulfing the one yet absolving the new information moments later.

“That was… enlightening.” His voice danced across the room. Even though he was completely aware they could chat telepathically, the childish act of saying the words out loud still comforted him, in a way. “Thank you for your contribution.”

He took a deep breath and closed the tab of research on his cellphone, internally thanking from the escaping of his turmoil of thoughts, his free hand carefully combing the Baby Yoda’s head fur, almost methodic.

“Looo, no!” The other protested with no heat in his tune, leading a toothless smile to resurface in Logan’s features. “Stop doing this. You know I end up sleeping every time!”

“Oh no, what a tragedy.” He deadpanned, already plugging his phones and changing to a most relaxed position on his chair, his eyes traveling across the countless movies on the device before him. “In which episode did we stop?”

“I’m going to fight you.” Pat sounded like he was pouting.

“How so?” Logan asked, trying to hide his amusement.

Silence followed his words.

“Pat?”

“What is the skeleton’s favorite instrument?”

“Pat, don’t you fucking da-”

“Language! It’s a xiloBONE!”

Logan audible growled, fast in his final decision. “I’m going to drop you out the window.”

“I’m going to hug you!” And immediately the one rolling his eyes felt himself being squished in a strong bear hug, huffing only half annoyed.

“You are an incorrigible heathen, let me go in this exact instant.” His answer was a ‘butterfly kiss’ – as Pat was fond in calling them – on his forehead. “Urg, affection.” Yet he smiled and mirrored the act, lightly poking the other’s side.

“We’re on episode 19.”

[~*~]

Roman stared the paper, his pencil’s tip stopped in the middle of the biggest petal’s flower, his eyes narrowing in the hope of a clearest way of how to convert the vague idea he had in transforming the night full of stars in a flower. No to tell he also would need to choose a good pallet of colors indication for it, later, and probably re-do all the process over and over and over until got the best result as possible. A yawn found its way from his lips and the designer stretched, getting up to drink a bit of water and rubbing his eyes, wondering if it was really worth it to make a black tea to help him through the night.

A glimpse of color caught his attention. The navy blue teddy bear on his couch, the main inspiration of his newest tattoo. Roman wondered why it wasn’t resting in front of him while he drew. A corner of his brain, obscured by the tiredness, telling he had a previous good reason for this choice although his actual self carried absolutely no idea of why.

Well, if he couldn’t remember it, it means the reason wasn’t THAT good, right?

Roman held the stuffed animal, spinning with it across the room for a couple of minutes, imagining who would be the person behind it. A king, a queen, a non-binary royalty? Did they like Disney? Musicals? Sing? Would they chat for hours at first with a few words exchanged or would they take a bit to warm at each other? Was navy blue their favorite color or…

Or…

Navy blue.

Oh.

He fixed his glare on the plushie, his hands feeling and slowly drawing in the soft fur of it.

Navy blue, huh? A humorless chuckled flew in the air. It could have no significance, it could be a world of it. It probably didn’t mean what he, for a moment, a so silly, stupid moment, wished it meant. Of course, one day this would happen, right? It was something normal, something expected. Not the magical, right out of the story books or his old daydreams, occurrence.

This wasn’t a second chance. The Universe doesn’t give you second chances. He wasn’t the same boy from eleven years ago, holding his own costumed teddy bear crying his eyes out, hugging he – No, it – the closest as possible, wishing with all his heart and soul for the color, the voice, the thoughts, the rambling, their bickering, the forgiveness to come back again.

No, he grew up. He moved on. He got better.

Then why did a part of him still felt this way? Like he was about to hear the excited giggles, the soft reprimand, that lovely, deep and so truly -and sometimes boring, Roman had to admit – questions? Why would a part of him still say that he could have it all again if he just… waited long enough, hoped high enough, dreamed long enough…

…If he was enough.

There aren’t more than seven billion colors in the world. Roman would be stupid if he really believed there was a path where he wouldn’t stumble in that so (un)fortunate well-known shade of blue again.

Roman growled, his forehead making a loud, dry thumping sound as hit his desk. The one who should be asleep hours ago had absolutely no energy to battle against those thoughts, again. At least for now. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the teddy bear laid on the cold tabletop before him. Well, what a better way to get rid of your own means thoughts than put some stranger’s unpredictable thoughts in the middle of it? Roman slightly pushed the bunch of flowers and some warmup sketches he had out of the way, carefully carrying the representation next to him, nodding. Honestly, that was the best idea he had for a while, why did he even put the lovely thing away?

Awake Roman was so silly, thinking that… something he couldn’t quite recall right now would be a bad idea, he pointed as snorted softly, pressing his lips on the teddy’s forehead, the quote he knew by heart flying from them in a natural flow.

“It is not immortal, since it’s flame. But let it be infinite while it lasts.”

A warm sensation rested on his own forehead moments later, leading the sleepy form to hum happily.

“Is it… poetry?” Oh shit, Roman widened his eyes. His soulmate heard that?? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Roman mentally facepalmed himself. So that was why he usually said it before the First Step!

“Uhh, yeah. Of course. Fidelity Sonnet by Vinícius Moraes.”

“I see. Classicism, I presume. A literature of very soundly pleasant rhymes, indeed. The first sonnet was probably created by the humanist Italian poet Francesco Petrarca, although it got even more known in the western literature after the works of Camões, who- ”

“He is from Modernism, actually.” Roman didn’t know why he suddenly sounded so defensive. Logan felt a cold feeling run his body when the other’s hands let go of him, for a piece of second wondering if it was supposed for him to do the same with the red narwhal plushie on his hold.

“A very common mistake to make due the lack of context.” He retorted, unable to formulate another answer. He had, of course, thought, balanced options and chosen the best topics to discuss with his new soulmates when they bonded. However, his fingers firmly gripped the pen, its tip tapping on the first topic written in the notebook partially forgotten in front of him, the poetry figuratively threw him out of his tracks, leading the decision to be the most impartial as possible due his… not so impartial past memories with that specific shade of red an even more difficult task than it already was.

“Yes. Sure. Sorry, I- I’m just… very tired right now.”

“You should go sleep, then.��

The other snorted with the direct, immediate response. “I should, shouldn’t I? Gotta work, though.”

Some part of Logan’s brain registered the new fact, separating and keeping it in a special place so he would remember to write it down in the new folder he bought, later.

“I see.” … poetry? That wasn’t a hard topic to talk about. The one now nervously cleaning the very clear lenses twisted his mouth. He could talk about this for hours. No, correction: he already had previously talked about this for hours non stop.

Logan strangely felt the urge to rub his face and scream. It has been years, - eleven years and 10 months to be precise – and exactly eight years since the one wearing glasses learned poetry because of him. Because of his constant habit of reciting Shakespeare before they would go to bed, until Logan brought himself to research and decorate all the poems he could muster, taking the task to now wake Prince – the name still carried a strong taste in his tongue – in the same way every single day. Before they realize, that becomes something between them. There were times when both didn’t talk, content in only reciting some verses and hear the other complete them. A part of Logan, that illogical and unfortunately full of feelings one wondered how their rap battles would be if they found each other right now.

Did Prince even maintain his liking the same things he one day did? Does he still recite poetry? Does he maintain the same dreams? The same habits? Does he even remember about him?

Highly improbable.

“You can call me Lo.”

Roman slowly blinked, getting out the fog surrounding his brain to realize he was mindless staring at the pan’s boiling water, surprised the other still there. Well, it seems like he hasn't screwed terribly everything yet.

“Lo? Like Lowrance?”

“Even though my name does contain ‘Lo’ in it, no. It’s ‘Lo’ like Logic. I came to believe it’s a good idea the nomination after a predominant characteristic, since we can’t actively exchange our real names through the Soulmate System.”

Roman’s breath hitched, a memory with yellow-ish edges and nostalgic smell unrolling in front of him.

…

‘I think we should choose you a name with more personality in it, ya know?’ He threw himself on his bed, kicking his legs on the air before immediately scoping the plushie and laying it on his stomach. ‘Like a characteristic!’

‘I don’t see what is wrong with the nickname I choose.’

‘No, no! There is nothing wrong with it! But that could be something just between us!’ Then he gasped, picturing that, if he was inside a movie there would be a lamp shining right above his hair in this moment. ‘We could call you Ro!! You wanted to be a robot, right?’

His soulmate growled and Roman felt a few pokes on his arm, the verbal protest doesn’t taking long before accompanying it. ‘I was three years old!’

‘And I’m never letting you live this down.’ He beamed, both knowing the annoyed scoff he got as response held no real heat. ‘Besides, we could even match our names!!’

‘That would be very counterproductive.’ Roman felt his hair being softly smoothed, a usual indication the other was losing himself in his thoughts. ‘Nicknames are supposed to help us. Having two equal names is not the most efficient thing.’

Roman dramatically scoffed, picking the stuffed animal and half hugging it, his free hand occupying itself in making a couple of gestures to no one, since his soulmate couldn’t exactly see them. ‘It’s not about being productive, Bear! It’s about feelings!!’

‘And since when,’ a light poke was delivered on his belly, making him squeak and mess with the teddy bear’s hair in revenge ‘Everything isn’t feelings for you, your highness?’

…

“Okay,” Roman and his self past disappearing with the fading memory said, in synchrony “You shall call me by Prince, then.”

Suddenly he felt himself falling, his hands quickly holding on the tabletop as the cold, nauseous feeling took over his stomach, more like a punch on it, his veins being filled with amounts of adrenaline for a glimpse of a second.

“Excuse me? Warn a guy next time you decide to just drop his representation, dude! Damn.” Roman shook himself, trying to bring his body to calm down.

“Sorry, I got… startled.” Logan gulped. The word ‘Prince’ echoing on his mind as a broken vinyl disc. What were the chances? That couldn’t be such a common nickname, right? Nor color. Nor interests. What were the chances? What could be the chances? Maybe he was just projecting, being played, tricked by a dangerous partnership between his own brain and emotions. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions due the nostalgic feeling fogging his actions, his thoughts. Perhaps-

“Hey, Lo? Are you there?”

“Yes.” Logan answered, his fingertips colliding quickly with the fabric of his pants as he visualized his options. “Yes, I am.”

“Hm. Okay, then. I’m… glad to know.”

Silence. Logan took a wobbly breath.

“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back; Wherein he puts alms for oblivion; A great-size monster of ingratitudes:”

“Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd; As fast as they are made, forgot as soon.” Roman continued without even noticing until the words danced in the air, just like the years haven’t passed.

Then he understood.

His heart stopped for a second, his eyes widening and his voice disappearing, as if his whole being was afraid to break the moment, the spell; as if this was a dream and a miscalculate step would make everything fade.

“Bear?” Roman felt a light poke on his cheek.

“Hello, Prince.”

Roman choked a laugh, quickly crawling the teddy bear next to his chest, hugging it both firmly and yet so caring, curling around its - no, him - feeling an equal warmth involve his form as he hided his face on the soft fur, giggling and hugging, feeling so happy, so alive and right and good and he would never, ever, ever again let him go.

“I missed you, bitch. Never scare me like this again.”

“I… missed you, as well.” Logan tried to not let the emotion take over his tune, his hand petting the narwhal plushie softly, the words had abandoning him, as it seems. “This reunion is a… good surprise.”

“Oh, shut up, I know you’re having a blast somewhere in that logic soul of yours, too.”

Logan huffed, grinning. “Stop crying on my hair, your troglodyte.”

“Make me, I dare you.”

“Always so dramatic.” They both rolled their eyes, letting the moment be bathed in the deep waters of a comfortable silence.

“Eleven years.”

“We have so, so much to talk about!! Oh, my goodness gracious, I’m going to get my tea. Do you remember about that play I wrote about zombie princes and a dragon witch? You will NOT fucking believe what happened with it!”

“Good thing I have you to explain to me then.” Roman stopped, a gigantic smile taking over his features as he closed his eyes to feel everything even more.

“Yeah, I agree.”

Somewhere in the world Patton and Virgil smiled during their sleep, unable to control themselves when a gigantic wave of pure joy and delight filled every corner of their hearts, coloring it on the most brilliant gleam, just like their stuffed animals resting peacefully on their grip.

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